by J. E. Mayhew
“Do you think White thought Ian was…” Kinnear struggled to find the right word, “possessed by this Corporal Graves and attacked him? Same with Travis?”
“It’s a possibility, I guess,” Vikki said.
“Just to throw a spanner in the works, sir,” Kath said. “There could still be a more rational motive for Travis’ murder. I was talking to Alfie Lewis earlier today and he told me that Bobby Price had it in for Paul Travis because Travis was knocking off Layla Price, Bobby’s sister.”
“Jeez,” Blake muttered. “Maybe Travis wasn’t so perfect after all.”
“We’ve unlocked Travis’ mobile, sir,” Manikas said. “There might be evidence there.”
“But Bobby Price is a streak of the proverbial, Ma’am,” Kinnear said. “There’s no way he could take out Paul Travis…”
“Maybe Lex Price could though,” Blake cut in. “I can imagine he wouldn’t take too kindly to the news that his daughter was seeing an older, married man. Okay, it may be that Terry White just lost it and poor Ian was in the way, but we need to bring him in as a matter of urgency.”
“We’ve put an alert out on social media and all radio stations advising the public to look out for White but not to approach him.”
“Great Kath, thanks. Can you and Andrew check Travis’ mobile and have another word with Lex Price? We need to talk to his daughter, too. Talk to Tasha Cook, the FLO, as well, see if she’s picked up on anything that might corroborate the story.”
Kath’s phone rang and she hurried to the back of the room while she answered it.
“Sir,” Vikki said. “White lives just round the corner from Port Sunlight Village in a flat run by a housing association. It’s a ten-minute walk from the war memorial.”
Kath came back, her face pale. “That was CSI, they found a plastic soldier on the floor next to where Ian lay. They’ve also sent a team to White’s place and want you to go and see what they’ve found there.”
*****
Youth was such a powerful aphrodisiac for some men, DI Kath Cryer thought as she strode up to the counter at the Superdrug store in Birkenhead’s Grange Precinct. Layla Price was a good example of that. Beneath the false eyelashes, make-up and bottle-blonde hair, Kath reckoned she’d be a pretty ordinary-looking girl, but she was only twenty and that was all some blokes needed.
Kath had experienced similar advances from older men herself when she was younger and it always puzzled her what, beyond the physical, they got out of it. The idea of having a toyboy, a phrase she hated, left her cold. There would be no shared experience or culture, no common memories of pop songs or events from a certain year. Of course, she was fully aware that people of wildly different ages did fall in love for a whole host of reasons but she doubted that this was the case for Paul Travis.
Layla’s face dropped when she saw Kath’s warrant card. With a resigned look, she called a colleague over to take her place at the counter. “I haven’t got long, so you better have your questions ready. This is about Paul Travis, yeah?” She led Kath to the back of the shop and through a door into a small staff room.
“You seem very relaxed, Layla,” Kath said. “Have you had dealings with the police before?”
Layla gave a humourless grin. “With a dad like mine, they’re regular visitors, Inspector Cryer. All through my childhood, I’ve been told to be polite to coppers and give away as little as possible.”
“Right,” Kath said. “That might come under giving away too much information, Layla…”
“Are you here to ask about my relationship with Paul or my interview technique?”
“Fair comment,” Kath said, pulling out her notebook. “You don’t deny having had a relationship with Paul Travis, then?”
“No. I met him in the Bridge Inn a few months ago and my dad works with his charity so…”
“Really? In what capacity?”
“He does the security on their buildings I suppose. Guard dogs, watchmen that kind of thing…”
“Your dad knew Paul Travis quite well?”
“Not really. There was someone else who he dealt with, I think. Why are you asking about my dad?”
“Just building a picture, Layla, that’s all. Carry on.”
“Like I said, I met Paul in the pub. He bought me a drink, made me laugh and we hit it off. I liked him.”
“I see. Did anyone else know about this relationship?”
Layla rolled her eyes. “You mean Bobby, don’t you? Yeah, he knew. He wasn’t very happy about it for some reason. He called Paul a paedo for seeing someone so young. He threatened to tell my dad…”
“Threatened? I take it your dad wouldn’t be very happy, then.”
“What do you think? Most dads would go mad at the idea of their daughters getting off with an older man.”
“And how did you think your dad would react?”
Layla Price pursed her lips and Kathy saw something of her father’s steel in her eyes. “He might have had a quiet word with Paul.”
“’Had a quiet word?’ What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said. Dad wouldn’t do anything that might damage his business prospects and he had a security contract with Pro-Vets, didn’t he?”
“Your dad has a history of violence, though. He’s been locked up for armed robbery in the past.”
“D’you honestly think I’m going to stand here and say, ‘Oh, God, yeah, maybe he murdered Paul?’ My dad wouldn’t do anything like that. Besides, Bobby never said anything to him, did he?”
“I don’t know, Layla. Did your dad ever speak to you about it?”
“No, because he never knew about it. Now, look, I’ve got to go back to work or I’ll get into trouble with my boss.”
“When did you last see Paul Travis?”
Layla looked at the ceiling. “God, when was it? About two weeks ago. He told his wife he was working late and we went out for a meal. Posh restaurant over in town. It was a nice meal but he finished with me that night. I really must…”
“Finished with you?”
“Yeah. Not very original reasons, really. He felt guilty cheating on his wife, he had a little kid, it was all getting too much. It had been fun but we didn’t have much in common apart from the sex…”
“You don’t seem very cut up about any of this, Layla, the fact that he broke up with you, the fact that he’s dead.”
Layla price shrugged. “We had a laugh. I liked him but I wasn’t in love with him. Yeah, I’m sorry he got killed, it’s horrible but I’ve shed my tears, thanks and I don’t have to cry for your benefit, do I? Anyway, I’ve got to get back to the counter.”
Chapter 27
Terry White’s flat was small, with one bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and a living room. It felt claustrophobic even with just two other crime scene investigators. Mallachy O’Hare leaned over, frowning at a small green, mound that lay on the draining board in the kitchen.
“What is it?” Blake said.
“Looks like melted plastic, Will. It’s a wonder it didn’t set the smoke alarms off.”
“What melted it?”
Malachy kept his steady gaze focused on the mound. “Something hot, Will. Yep, definitely something hot…” He looked up and grinned.
“Hilarious,” Blake said. “You competing with Kenning for the crime scene comedy awards or something?”
“I’d win hands down, mate,” Malachy said, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Green plastic. Could it be a toy soldier?”
“I’d say so. Can you see there, at the base?”
“They look like boots. Yes, and there’s a leg…”
“The lab will be able to compare the composition of the plastic with that of the soldier found on Travis and at the scene of the assault earlier today. How is Ian?”
“Stable, last I heard. Have you found anything else?”
“You might say that. Nothing else that would put White anywhere near Paul Travis on the night of the murder, no. There are no blo
odstained clothes or anything like that, more’s the pity. Have a look in the bedroom, though.”
Blake walked into the tiny bedroom. The curtains were still drawn, giving the place a subterranean feel. His legs grazed the double bed that dominated the room. A small chest of drawers and a wardrobe took care of the rest of the floor space meaning Blake had to sidle in to get to the end of the bed.
The wall was covered with pictures. There were cuttings from recent news coverage of the Travis murder and two large photographs sat in the middle of it all. The first was of Paul Travis himself. It looked like a corporate shot, Travis half turning as if greeting a friend. A blurry picture of an older, bald man with a hawk like nose and a mouthful of tombstone teeth set in a mirthless grin sat next to the one of Travis. The picture had been blown up so there was little background but Blake could see the collar of a sandy brown uniform. He wondered if this was Corporal Graves. One thing was certain, they had to find Terry White as soon as possible.
Blake went back to Malachy in the kitchen. “Anything else?”
Malachy raised his bushy, white eyebrows. “What d’you want, a signed confession? If those pictures and these little melted fellas aren’t enough for you, I dunno what is.”
“I suppose so. Thanks, Malachy. Let me know if anything more turns up, okay?” He hurried out of the door, leaving his car in the flats carpark and heading out into the road. He looked at his watch. It was six forty-five. He needed to be at Jeff’s five minutes ago but, thankfully, his brother only lived just down the road. His heart thumped and his stomach squirmed. If Laura stayed long enough for him to talk to her, he could be a little while but he had a terrible feeling that she would take one look at him and leave.
Jeff had been house-sitting the semi-detached for almost a year now and banking the rent from his swish London flat. The house was in stark contrast to Jeff’s metropolitan writerly image; it was homely, with flowery curtains and a neatly trimmed front garden. Blake assumed whoever owned the house paid for a gardener because he couldn’t imagine Jeff getting his hands dirty. It still rankled with Blake that Jeff managed to land on his feet so many times despite being hopeless with money. So many things rankled with Blake about his younger brother, though. Maybe that was why he found Jeff’s discomfort at this plan so satisfying.
His little brother answered the door looking like he was sucking a wasp. People said that he and Jeff looked alike. They were both tall and square-jawed. Jeff was slim without the bulk of muscle that Will carried.
“I’m not happy about this, Will.” Jeff said as he let Will in.
“You could have said no.”
Jeff gave Will a mutinous look. “And how would you have reacted to that?”
“Fair enough,” Will said, with a sigh. “Look Jeff, I just need to talk to her. I can’t phone her; she’ll just hang up on me. At least this way, I can try and talk to her.”
“It’s borderline creepy, Will. And what if she has one of Kyle Quinlan’s heavies with her? Or Quinlan himself? If this place gets damaged in any way, you’re paying for it.”
“Relax. It’ll be fine,” Will said. “When she calls, just pretend you can’t open the front door and ask her to go round the back to the garden…”
“What?”
“If she sees you, she’ll know it’s all a plan for me to talk to her. You could disguise your voice, perhaps…”
Jeff looked horrified. “Seriously? Who do you want me to sound like? Kenneth Williams perhaps? Or maybe Sylvester Stallone.”
Will opened his mouth to answer but the sound of a car pulling up cut him short. He looked through the net curtains. A black BMW idled in the road outside.
“She’s here. Remember what I said. Get her to come round the back. I’ll be waiting.”
There was an old wooden shed in the garden, and Blake decided to hide behind it. He felt ridiculous but he didn’t want Laura to bolt at the first sight of him. He heard the back door open and then footsteps on the patio. They sounded heavy.
“You can come out now, Mr Blake,” a male voice said.
Blake peered round the edge of the shed and saw a tall, dark man dressed in jeans, a cream shirt and a bomber jacket standing with Jeff. He had a mane of black hair and a beard with a few flecks of silver in it. He smiled but his dark eyes smouldered with a suppressed anger.
“Laura couldn’t make it I’m afraid, or rather, didn’t want to.” He extended a hand. “My name’s Kyle Quinlan. You’ve probably heard of me.”
Blake narrowed his eyes, ignoring the hand. “What have you done with her?”
Kyle raised his eyebrows in a pantomime of surprise. “I haven’t done anything with her. She sent me to give you a message.” He pulled out a phone. “If you don’t believe me, you can call her if you like.”
Blake hesitated, not wanting to be part of Quinlan’s game but eventually, he took the phone and pressed the call button.
“Will, what the fuck are you playing at?” Laura’s voice was loud and Blake found himself colouring at the exasperation in it. It was like being told off by his mum.
“Hi Laura,” Will said. “More to the point, what the hell is going on?”
“Don’t try and wriggle off the hook like that. You tried to trick me into meeting you. Isn’t that stalking?”
“I’m worried about you. You could have called and told me you were around. What are you doing going back to him?” Blake had turned his back on Quinlan and paced down the garden.
“I could have called you but I didn’t. That’s my choice, Will. You know, I did a lot of thinking while I was away and it struck me that I was running away from the wrong person…”
“The man who beat you up? A criminal? He hasn’t changed, Laura, you wouldn’t have fled the Wirral when he arrived otherwise.”
“Maybe, but I’ve changed and he knows it.”
“But if you’ve changed then why be with him?”
“You’ll never understand, Will. Never. It wasn’t him I was running from, it was you.”
“Me? What? I never…”
“When we first met, you said you were like a ghost trapped in your mother’s house, remember? And I watched you break free, but you trapped me in your place. I’d hang around waiting for you to come home, prop you up when things got tough and slowly, I was being smothered and locked in that airless house. One thing the last six months has taught me is how to be myself.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to…”
“No, Will you didn’t, but look at yourself now. You were trying to trick me into meeting you. Trying to force your agenda on me again. And think back to how you judged me when you discovered just a little of my past. Don’t try and deny it, I could see it in your eyes. The shame.”
“Laura I…”
“At least with Kyle, I can be myself and don’t have to keep apologising for my past and who I am now. So please stay away from me, Will. Goodbye.” The phone went dead.
Quinlan stood with his hands in his pockets, with an apologetic smile. “She’s a feisty woman,” he said, taking the phone back from Blake.
“What have you got over her Quinlan?” Blake snapped.
Quinlan held his hands up like a footballer accused of a foul. “Nothing,” he said, his voice rising an octave. “Listen, I didn’t want to come, she sent me. And if you hadn’t pulled such a dozy stunt in the first place, maybe she would have let you down a bit easier.”
“What are you up to?”
“Me? Nothing. I’m just a businessman, making my way in life, Mr Blake. As far as Laura goes, I’m just lucky I guess. Some you win, some you lose. You lost her. Get over it.”
Blake took a step forward. “I’m warning you, Quinlan, if you so much as put a foot wrong, I’ll be down on you like a ton of bricks…”
“Did you hear that, Jeffrey? DCI Blake here threatened me because his girlfriend left him for me. I’d call that a conflict of interest, wouldn’t you?”
Jeff looked pale and said nothing.
�
�And what makes you think you can trust her, Quinlan?”
“I can’t, Mr Blake. That’s the beauty of it as she explained to me in great detail. You see, life is great until you start to take it for granted. You get complacent and you lower your guard. Then it rushes up and bites you on the arse. Hard. Laura keeps me on my toes. And if I’m on my toes, then I’m playing my ‘A’ game. She could have come here tonight without me knowing but she told me that this would be a perfect chance for her to betray me. She’s straight with me. I can trust her because I can’t trust her, if that makes any sense…”
“No,” Blake said. “Not to me.”
“Yeah. Laura explained it better.” Quinlan gave Jeff a thoughtful look. “You’re writing that biography of Joshy Gambles, aren’t you?”
Jeff nodded. “I am.”
“He’s a funny fish, he is. The stories I could tell you. Maybe you should pop by my house some time and I’ll give you an inside scoop.”
“That would be great…” Jeff said, his voice dry and raspy as he glanced at Will.
“Good,” Quinlan said. “In the meantime, tell him Kyle says hi.”
“You can tell him yourself after I’ve arrested you and put you away,” Blake muttered.
“Is that so? And what are you going to arrest me for, exactly? I’m a legit businessman, straight as an arrow. Besides, like I said, you better not come within a mile of me, Mr Blake, it wouldn’t be professional, what with your… association with my ex-wife, would it? It might seem like sour grapes or even a vendetta. Wouldn’t look good in a court of law, would it? I’ve already had to come here to ask you not to pester my ex-wife. Besides, imagine poor Laura standing in a court of law because you made some wild accusations. I reckon that’d break your heart Mr Blake. If it isn’t broken already.” Kyle Quinlan gave a little shrug and strolled out of the garden, gently closing the gate behind him.
*****
Darkness pressed in around Terry White as he crouched in a thicket of bushes and young saplings. There wasn’t really enough cover here for daylight but now it was late and Terry could relax a little. He had to think straight. Where should he go now? He pulled out the mobile phone from his pocket and dialled the usual number. It was answered but nobody said anything. “My mission failed. I need evac, quickly. They’ll find me by morning. I’ve got to get out of here.”
