Someone knocked at the door, saving Brady from torturing himself with unanswered questions about Madley and Munroe.
‘Yeah?’ Brady called out.
Conrad walked in. He was carrying two unopened sandwiches and a bag of salted crisps.
He threw them at Brady.
‘Dinner, sir,’ he said. ‘All they had left in Sainsbury’s. Chicken salad and tuna mayonnaise.’
Brady gave Conrad a surprised look.
‘What’s this in aid of?’
‘Felt bad about the Chinese last night. And with everything else that’s happened today I knew you’d have forgotten to eat.’
‘What makes you think I might be hungry now?’ Brady asked, ripping open one of the sandwiches. ‘By the way, much appreciated,’ he said before taking a large bite.
Conrad was right. He’d been too busy beating himself up over Munroe’s release to think about food. His hunger surprised him.
‘I’ve got some news that might put a smile on your face.’
‘Go on,’ Brady said through a mouthful of chicken salad sandwich. He gestured for Conrad to pull up a seat.
Conrad did as instructed and sat down in front of Brady’s cluttered desk. Rarely had he seen it cleared.
‘The CCTV footage of the silver car. It was a Mercedes Benz C-Class saloon.’
Brady nodded.
‘He’s a driver. But not a taxi driver. Name’s John Summerfield. He’s Mayor Macmillan’s driver.’
‘What?’ spluttered Brady, nearly choking on a piece of malted bread.
‘Yes.’
‘What the fuck is Mayor Macmillan doing in those parts on a Thursday evening, or should we not be asking that question?’
‘Well, allegedly the mayor wasn’t in the car. John Summerfield had decided to take a drive and found himself in that part of North Shields.’
‘What, looking for sex?’
‘By all accounts. It’s taken Bentley some time to get this out of him.’
‘So, I take it he didn’t come forward with the information?’
Conrad shook his head.
‘No, sir. They managed to trace the car from a partial registration they got on the CCTV. They were certain it was the car that Trina McGuire had seen – the time on the footage matched the time she said she saw it.’
Brady couldn’t help but smile at this news. Mayor Macmillan’s driver scouring the streets looking for sex. His smile broadened as he wondered whether Macmillan was actually in the back, hidden behind tinted glass. Nothing would have surprised him where Macmillan was concerned. Brady had given up watching him. He was a corrupt politician with an equally corrupt gangster brother banged up in Durham prison. He had been elected and re-elected as Mayor of North Tyneside. But the public didn’t realise the kind of man they had representing them. The police and press were well informed of Macmillan’s questionable past. Even Rubenfeld, the snitch who had written the damning piece on Brady’s failure to apprehend the Whitley Bay rapist, couldn’t sink his teeth into Macmillan, despite the fact he had a gangster for a brother and a prostitute for a sister. Macmillan had put a great deal of distance between his political career and the criminal element that were his family.
The problem Brady had with Macmillan was that he socialised with the right kind of people. Powerful people. Even his penchant for prostitutes, the younger the better, was never reported to the police, let alone in any of the papers.
Mayor Macmillan had even foiled Rubenfeld, who was a hardened hack. There were countless front-page spreads that Rubenfeld could have done on Macmillan aside from one slight problem – no editor would touch it.
‘The greasy git has the right approach. He knows how to stop people talking. Money, Jack. Money!’ Rubenfeld had often grumbled over one too many pints followed by countless whisky chasers. Most of the time at Brady’s expense.
Brady knew that Rubenfeld was right. Macmillan had protection. Whether he paid for it or not, Brady had no idea. But there were quite a few powerful North-East businessmen, and even high-ranking police officers like Detective Superintendent O’Donnell, who weren’t afraid to be seen publicly with him.
‘And Bentley? What’s his take on this?’
‘Well, you know how it goes with Macmillan. There’s nothing he can do. From what I’ve gathered, word came down from the top to not pursue it any further. That Mayor Macmillan’s driver was in the wrong area at the wrong time. In other words, he got lost.’
‘You’re serious?’ Brady spluttered.
Conrad nodded.
‘What’s his driver look like?’
‘Short, fat and bald.’
‘One out of three isn’t bad, Conrad,’ Brady said with a wry smile.
‘He’s definitely not our rapist, sir,’ Conrad answered. ‘If you saw him, you’d know what I mean. Guy would have a heart attack if his pulse got above forty.’
‘Does Bentley think he could be connected to McGuire’s attack?’
Conrad shook his head. ‘They’ve got nothing on him.’
‘Poor sod. I bet he’s married. Yeah?’
‘Yes,’ Conrad answered.
‘Imagine explaining that one to the wife? Bet he told her he was on some official mayoral business and there he is driving around in the mayor’s car looking for a good time. So, has the rest of the team gone home as I instructed?’
‘Not yet. That’s why I’m here.’
‘What? You’re not here to bring me food and keep me entertained while I eat?’ Brady asked, feigning disappointment.
His mood had lightened considerably after hearing about Mayor Macmillan’s driver.
‘Afraid not, sir.’
Conrad prepared himself. He didn’t want to take his boss down another blind alley. Not after the fiasco with Trina McGuire’s attack and then Jake Munroe. The press were dining out on the fact that the police had released a potential suspect. Conrad was already steeling himself for the scathing headlines in tomorrow’s Northern Echo. He’d seen no need to bother Brady with the endless calls from journalists requesting information on why the suspect had been released and demanding developments on the serial rape case. The problem was that they had nothing new to give them – until now.
‘You know we’ve been studying the CCTV footage from the nights when the victims were attacked? In particular, the night that Chloe Winters said she was stopped by a taxi driver?’
‘Yeah. But this whole car business has been blown out of the water by Macmillan’s idiot of a driver, surely?’
‘No, sir.’
‘You’re telling me Chloe Winters was actually approached by a silver taxi? That it wasn’t just a false memory induced by Bentley’s press call?’
Conrad shook his head. ‘We found it. Took all day and most of this evening. But we found it.’
He was clearly pleased with himself. It was a rare moment to witness.
‘Got it on the CCTV camera from the Siam Bay restaurant as you turn off the Promenade onto Marine Avenue. That was why we couldn’t find her before – we were looking in the wrong place.’
It was just the break they needed.
Brady breathed out. He resisted the urge to get up and hug Conrad.
‘What made you broaden your search?’ Brady asked.
‘You, sir. You’d insisted that the rapist was there. He had to be. So if we couldn’t find him that meant we were looking in the wrong place.’
‘What have you got then?’
‘A silver Passat pulls up beside her opposite the Promenade. She goes over to the driver’s window. They talk. Then she turns and walks back the way she came.’
‘Which direction?’
‘Back along the Promenade past the Spanish City dome.’
‘What did the driver do?’
‘He sat and watched her until she disappeared. Then he appears to follow her.’
‘Did he pull up beside her again?’
‘No, sir. He takes a right turn up by Brook Street and then we lose sight of him when h
e reaches Oxford Street.’
‘Do you have any other footage of the driver after that?’
‘No. Unfortunately there’s no cameras up Oxford Street. He could have turned off anywhere and parked up.’
‘Yeah, and he could have picked her up as well.’
Brady thought about it for a moment.
‘What about Chloe?’
‘Nothing, sir. Same information that we had before – she turns up the alley behind the Avenue pub. That’s the last we see of her for forty-eight hours.’
‘We need this driver, Conrad. Registration details?’
‘I can do better than that. Lee Harris, twenty-seven years old. Part-time weekend taxi-driver for East Central. No priors though.’
‘Doesn’t matter. I want him picked up and brought in for questioning. And I mean now! He was the last known person to see Winters before she was taken. I’d say that he’s crucial to our investigation. Is he working for East Central tonight?’
‘No. Their dispatch operator said that he’d called in sick earlier.’
‘Harvey and Kodovesky are still here?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. I want them to pick up Lee Harris and bring him in to the station. We need to get an interview room sorted. But first, I want to see this CCTV footage for myself,’ Brady said, standing up.
‘Of course, sir.’
‘What about Kenny and Daniels?’ Brady asked as he walked towards the office door.
‘Still here.’
‘All right. Let’s see if they can find this Lee Harris’ taxi in the CCTV footage from the nights the first two victims were raped. Now we know what car we’re looking for, it shouldn’t be that difficult to either eliminate him or implicate him. You’re certain there’s no previous convictions?’
Conrad shook his head. ‘Nothing. Completely clean.’
Why did Brady not buy it? His gut was telling him that they could be on to something here. Before he questioned Lee Harris, Brady wanted to make sure that he ran a check on him personally. He wanted to be sure that nobody had missed anything. Not that he didn’t trust Conrad. But the last thing Brady wanted was to screw up. Not again. Not after letting Munroe slip through his fingers.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was now 1:33 a.m. Too late to still be at work. But things hadn’t quite gone to plan.
‘Where the fuck is he?’ Brady demanded.
Conrad caught Brady’s darkening expression as he walked into the office. He kicked the door closed with the heel of his foot. He stood still waiting for Brady to finish his call.
Brady nodded at Conrad, gesturing for him to put his coffee on his desk.
‘I honestly don’t know, Jack,’ Harvey answered.
‘What the fuck is his girlfriend saying?’
‘Kodovesky’s with her now. She thought he was working for East Central. She had no idea that he’d rung in sick.’
‘You believe her?’ Brady asked, unable to hide the scepticism in his voice.
He massaged his tired eyes as he listened to Harvey’s response.
‘What do you think? She’s hysterical. Thinks something serious has happened to him.’
‘I can give you serious. What about the police are after him as a suspect in a serial rape case? You’ve tried ringing him from his girlfriend’s mobile and landline I take it?’
‘What do you think, Jack? Of course we have.’
‘And she seriously has no idea where he could be?’
‘I’ve already said – she hasn’t got a clue.’
Brady thought about what to do next.
‘Stay put until he shows. OK? Because he will turn up,’ he said. However, he didn’t feel as confident as he sounded.
‘OK, Jack. Your call.’
Brady cut the line and then turned to Conrad.
‘Bastard still hasn’t showed up,’ Brady informed him as he walked over to his desk and picked up his coffee. ‘Thanks by the way,’ he said. ‘Pity you couldn’t have made it a pint.’
‘Believe me if I could have done, I would, sir,’ Conrad answered as he tried to stifle a yawn.
‘Look, why don’t you head off? There’s nothing else you can do here. As soon as we get him, I’ll let you know. OK?’
‘Are you sure?’ Conrad asked. Not that he needed much persuading.
‘Yeah. We’ve got an APB out for his car so all we can do is wait it out. Uniform numbers have been increased tonight in Whitley Bay. They’ve all been briefed about him. So, everything’s covered, Conrad. Go home.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Conrad answered, relieved. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ve got my bed sorted,’ Brady said, gesturing with his head towards the beat-up old leather sofa positioned under the window.
Conrad didn’t make a move to leave. Instead he looked at Brady. His face was filled with concern.
‘Sir? What if . . .’ Conrad faltered, unable to finish.
‘What? What if he strikes tonight? What if he called in sick because he’s busy trawling the streets waiting to attack his latest victim?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Conrad answered.
‘I don’t know, Conrad. I honestly don’t know,’ Brady answered. The reality of the thing scared the hell out of him. He dragged a hand back through his hair as he thought about what could be happening right now to some young woman. It was unbearable. Brady had uniform crawling through Whitley Bay in an attempt to scare him off – just in case he actually had decided to attack tonight. But was it enough? Who knew?
Brady’s mobile rang. He looked at it – Claudia.
It took him a moment to register that she was actually calling him. He hadn’t heard from his ex-wife in months. She’d made her point. She had moved on with her life. Unlike him.
Conrad waited, expecting it to be connected to Harris.
‘If I hear anything I’ll call,’ Brady instructed.
‘Yes, sir,’ Conrad answered.
Brady watched Conrad leave before answering his mobile.
‘Jack?’
‘What’s wrong?’ Brady asked. It was direct and to the point.
‘Oh, God, Jack. I . . . I didn’t know who else to talk to . . .’
Brady waited.
He was trying to rein in the tumult of emotions he was feeling. Just hearing her on the phone was difficult. But he couldn’t afford to get emotional. There was too much at stake – primarily his career. He had Lee Harris’ whereabouts to worry about. So he didn’t have time for Claudia and whatever mind-fuck games she wanted to play at this time of the morning.
‘Jack? Are you still there?’ Claudia asked.
Brady tried to ignore the fact that her voice sounded small and fragile. Desperate even. But she had DCI James Davidson to turn to, so why the fuck was she calling him?
‘Yeah . . .’ he muttered, reluctantly. It was the best he could do.
‘I . . . I need to share something with you.’
Brady resisted the urge to say that they stopped sharing anything the day she gave him divorce papers. Instead he kept his mouth shut.
‘God, you’re making this awkward!’
‘Look, Claudia. I’m busy, all right? I’m in the middle of working on a case.’
‘What? At this time?’ Claudia asked, incredulous.
‘That’s what I said.’
Neither one spoke for a couple of moments.
‘Claudia? Why don’t you just tell me why the fuck you’ve called?’
He heard her sigh. ‘OK. But promise me you’ll help?’
‘How can I promise when I don’t know what you want?’
‘Christ, Jack! You can be so difficult.’
She sighed again. It took her a few more moments before she talked. Whether she was debating just hanging up on him, Brady couldn’t say.
‘It’s about Nicoletta . . .’ Claudia began.
She now had Brady’s full attention. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Everything . . .’
‘For fuck’s sake, C
laudia! Stop playing games!’
‘I’m not. It’s all one big mess and I don’t know what to do. Nicoletta’s been denied residency, Jack.’
He suddenly sat back. He felt as if someone had punched him in the guts.
‘You’re fucking with me?’
‘Would I do that?’
Brady didn’t answer.
‘We found out on Thursday morning. I’ve been doing everything in my power to try to get an appeal. But . . .’
Brady knew the way the system worked. It was highly unlikely the decision would be overturned.
‘Do you know why she’s been refused residency? I mean, they know, don’t they? What she went through with those Dabkunas bastards?’ He suddenly realised he was shouting. Not at Claudia, but at the situation.
‘Of course they do. I’m trying, you know? I’m trying to do everything to keep her here. God, Jack, if she gets sent back they might get her—’ Claudia’s voice broke off.
‘They’ were the Dabkunas brothers. Brady didn’t need her to spell it out.
‘How’s she taken it?’ Brady asked.
‘How do you think? She’s terrified. Absolutely terrified about what will happen to her if she gets deported.’
Brady didn’t know what to say.
‘I promised her, Jack. I promised that I wouldn’t let anything happen to—’
‘We promised,’ interrupted Brady. ‘We both gave her our word.’
Brady was sure he heard a muffled voice in the background. He knew who it would be – DCI James Davidson.
‘Look, I’ll call you back when I get more news. Yeah?’ she whispered.
With that she hung up.
The more Brady thought about it, the more he convinced himself that Claudia would be able to get the decision revoked. She had powerful contacts and he knew she would do everything she could to secure Nicoletta’s residency.
It didn’t take long before the phone call was overshadowed by other more pressing matters. There was still no sign of the suspect. Brady had ordered Kodovesky and Harvey home. He had other officers stationed at Harris’ house for when he returned – if he did actually return. Brady was worried that he had run. That he’d got wind of the fact that the police were after him and he had just disappeared. Brady was under no illusions – their man was dangerous. He was clever enough to have eluded the police for two months. Would it surprise Brady if he had been waiting, expecting this moment? No. This was a situation he would have been anticipating for some time now.
Blind Alley Page 17
