Twice the Lie

by M K Farrar

  “Everything okay, boss?” she called out.

  He faced her, his expression surprised, as though he hadn’t quite realised what he was doing. “Absolutely.”

  He joined her on the doorstep, and she rang the bell. Phillipa Lowry answered the door, her eyes red and puffy from crying, twin streaks of mascara below them.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly. I haven’t been able to go up there since I found it.”

  “The knife you mean?” Erica asked.

  “Yes, the knife that was used to kill that poor mother and daughter. Their blood is on it.” Her voice shook as she spoke. “It’s still on the bed where I dropped it. I couldn’t bring myself to touch it again.”

  “You did the right thing, both by calling us and not touching it.”

  She dropped her gaze and nodded.

  “Do you want to show us what room it’s in?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She led them up the stairs. “Will...will my Conner be in trouble for this?”

  “He’s a minor. He’ll get a warning, but that’s all. Hopefully it’ll be a lesson to him, and he’ll think twice before doing something like this again.”

  “He’s going to be grounded until he’s eighteen, so I’m hoping the opportunity won’t arise.”

  Erica exchanged a glance with Ryan. In both their experience, boys who liked to cause trouble continued to cause trouble, at least until they were grown men with responsibilities of their own, and even then, it was questionable.

  Phillipa showed them to her son’s room where the bed had been half-stripped, and the bloodied knife lay on the bed.

  Ryan took a couple of photographs. “Was the knife open when you found it?”

  “No, it wasn’t. It was shut. I don’t know why I did it, but I pushed the button to open the blade. That was wrong, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have done that?” She shook her head and covered her face with her hands.

  “It’s fine,” Erica reassured her. “We just need to get all the details. Do we have your permission to search the rest of the room as well? We’ll bring in a crime scene officer to do it.”

  “You won’t find anything else,” she replied, a hint of panic to her voice.

  “Probably not, but we still need to check.”

  Phillipa wrung her hands together. “I mean, if that’s what you need to do, then yes, you have my permission.”

  “Thank you.”

  The click of the front door opening came from downstairs.

  “That’ll be Conner,” Phillipa said.

  “Good.” Erica offered her a smile. “It’s important that we speak to him.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Ryan said. “Bag that up.”

  Erica nodded and proceeded to put on a pair of gloves to place the blade into the evidence collection container. The mother and son had probably done a lot of damage to any fingerprints they might have been able to get off the handle, but it was still possible the forensic scientists would find something of use. Even a partial fingerprint might be enough to convict someone.

  As she placed it inside the plastic tube, she noticed a small sticker for a fishery stuck to the handle. Was it a fishing knife? She made a note to put it in the report, then took the knife back out to the car where she waited for her boss.

  “What did he say?” she asked Ryan when he came out.

  “Only that he noticed the knife lying on the passenger seat when he looked through the window. He said his friend didn’t see him when he stuck his hand in the gap and picked it up and stuck it down the waistband of his jeans. When he leaned on the window again to make it look as though he’d been peering through the whole time, the door fully shut.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “Yes, I think so. I just wish he’d been truthful with us before. We could have made some headway on this case a lot sooner. I’ve put a call in to have the room thoroughly searched as well.”

  Ryan’s phone rang, and he glanced down at it. “It’s DC Lawson.”

  He answered. “Yes, Lawson, what have you got?”

  He listened for a moment and his gaze lifted to Erica. “Hang on a second, I’ve got Swift here with me. Let me just put you on speaker.”

  He did as he’d said, and DC Lawson’s voice came through the phone.

  “I think we’ve tracked down the car that picked up Lloyd and Mabry. It was caught on CCTV a mile down the road, and we were able to blow up the image enough that we could make out the first part of the license plate number and match it to the description we were given. The car’s registered keeper is twenty-four-year-old Alec McKenzie. Looks like the address we have for him is up to date. He has a couple of priors, minor offences, mainly. Public intoxication, unlawful possession of suspected stolen property, minor assault.”

  “He sounds like a delight,” Erica commented.

  “Guess we’ll find out,” Ryan said. “As soon as SOCO get here, we’ll go and pay Mr McKenzie a visit.”

  ALEC MCKENZIE LIVED in a run-down flat not far from Bristol city centre. An old sofa had been dumped in what barely passed as a front garden, black bin bags of rubbish piled on top of it.

  Erica nodded at the banged-up red Honda Civic parked on the street. “That’s our vehicle. We’d better call for backup.”

  “We’ll get it towed so we can do a thorough search,” Ryan said. “If it’s the right one, forensics will find blood inside.”

  “What’s the bet Mr McKenzie won’t be happy about losing his car?”

  Ryan grinned. “Do we care? Let’s go and see what he has to say for himself.”

  They approached the door, and Ryan knocked with a short, sharp rap. Music was coming from the property, and he knocked again, the sound authoritative.

  Footsteps approached, and the door swung open. A young man with curly hair that was in need of a cut opened it and frowned at the two detectives standing on his doorstep. “Yeah?”

  “Alec McKenzie?” Ryan asked.

  “Who’s asking?”

  Ryan flashed him his ID. “Do you own a car at all, Mr McKenzie?”

  “Yeah, I do. Why?”

  “Would you mind pointing out to me which one is yours?”

  His gaze shifted between them and then over their shoulders to the car. “Yeah, it’s the Honda Civic parked over there.”

  “We’d like to come in and speak to you, if that’s all right.”

  His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What about?”

  Ryan jerked his head towards the inside of the house. “I suggest we don’t have this conversation on the doorstep.”

  “Fine.” He backed away, letting them through. “It’s a bit of a mess,” he said as he followed them into the lounge.

  He rushed around, plucking clothes off the furniture so they were able to sit down. He was left holding a bundle of dirty laundry in his arms which he dropped into the corner of the room.

  “We’re not interested in your housekeeping skills, Mr McKenzie,” Erica said with a tight smile, having to raise her voice over the noise.

  Then he remembered the music and crossed over to a small wireless speaker and switched it off, plunging the room into silence.

  “No, of course not.” He dropped to perch on the edge of a chair. “What do you need to speak to me about?”

  “We have reason to believe you picked up two people involved in a double murder on Friday afternoon,” Ryan said.

  The blood drained from his face. “Oh, shit. You’re talking about those two blokes the other day, aren’t you?”

  “You admit you picked them up?” Erica asked.

  “Yeah, I stopped for them. I thought they needed help. I didn’t do anything wrong, though.”

  Ryan’s lips thinned. “I’m afraid we’re going to need to ask you to come down to the station with us for a formal interview. You’re not in any trouble, but it’s important we track down these two men, and we’re going to need your statement as a witness on record.”

  McKenzie’s gaze darted betwee
n them. “Do I have any choice?”

  “Only if you prefer to be arrested first.”

  Alec McKenzie let out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll get my coat.”

  “COMMENCING INTERVIEW with Mr Alec McKenzie in interview room one. DI Chase and DS Swift are both present,” Ryan said out loud for the sake of the recording. He went on to ask McKenzie’s current address, date of birth, and current employment.

  “Mr McKenzie, can you please tell me the make of the car you own and the registration number?”

  McKenzie reeled it off.

  “Thank you. Now, tell me what happened on Friday afternoon,” Ryan said.

  “Umm, well, I was on my way home, and I saw these two people by the road. One was hunched over, and the other one was holding him up. I could see they needed help right away, so I pulled over. I mean, it wouldn’t make me a very good person to ignore them, right?”

  “I’m sure you’re a model citizen,” Erica said, doing her best not to let the sarcasm lace her tone. She’d already seen his priors.

  “So, I helped them in the car and said that I should take them to the hospital, but the man who wasn’t so badly beaten up said he didn’t want to go to there.”

  “What about the other man, the one who was worse off?”

  Alec shook his head. “He was barely conscious. I don’t think he had any idea where he was.”

  “But you didn’t think to call nine-nine-nine?”

  “No, the other man said not to.”

  Erica stepped in. “And you didn’t think to question why he didn’t want you to call the police or take them to the hospital?”

  Alec shrugged. “It wasn’t any of my business.”

  Erica exhaled through her nostrils, trying to control her temper. If he’d just called the police, they could have picked up both men within a couple of hours of the murder.

  But Ryan had clocked something else. “Are you sure there wasn’t something else that prevented you from calling us, Mr McKenzie? I see you have several priors. Did you actually not call us because you were trying to hide something from us?”

  “Nah, you’re jumping to conclusions. It’s nothing like that. I’ll admit that I don’t exactly have a good relationship with your lot, and maybe that’s why I didn’t call, but it was more that I know how to mind my own business, and I didn’t want to get caught up in whatever mess those two had got themselves into.”

  “But you still stopped for them,” Erica said. “Why do that if you didn’t want to get involved?”

  “I didn’t see how badly hurt the other one was until after I’d stopped. I thought they were just pissed or something.”

  “You didn’t notice any blood on them?” Ryan asked.

  “Well, yeah, but again, who hasn’t had a big night and walked into something.”

  Erica cocked an eyebrow. “A big night? It was just past five in the afternoon.”

  “Friday afternoon,” McKenzie pointed out. “Maybe they’d got off work early and had a heavy night.”

  Ryan laced his fingers together. “Are you working at the moment?”

  “Not right now. I’m on benefits.”

  “Where were you before you picked up the two men?” he asked.

  His cheeks flushed, and his gaze skuttled away. “Uhh, nowhere really. Just driving around.”

  Ryan didn’t appear to be buying a word. “Mr McKenzie, you do understand that the reason we know someone picked those two men up, and then were able to track your identification and your address here, is because we have eyes everywhere.”

  “You didn’t manage to track those two men down,” he muttered. He clasped his hands between his knees.

  He had a point, but Erica wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “We can find out where you were, Mr McKenzie,” Ryan insisted, “so you might as well tell us.”

  He blew out his cheeks. “Fine. I was with some mates at The Rose Arms.”

  “You were at the pub?” Ryan confirmed.

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t drinking, I swear.”

  Erica and Ryan exchanged a glance. Erica thought they’d both put their money on the fact Alec McKenzie had drunk a few pints at the pub that Friday afternoon. It would explain why he’d let his guard down and picked up Lloyd and Mabry, thinking they were two new drinking buddies or something, and he hadn’t wanted to call the police when he’d realised they were actually hurt. It had nothing to do with his dislike of the police and everything to do with him not wanting a drink-driving charge.

  “As you know,” Ryan continued, “there’s nothing we can do to prove that now, so how about we focus on those two men. What happened after they refused to go to the hospital?”

  “It was only one of them that refused,” he said. “The other one didn’t say much at all, and he was the one who really could have done with medical attention, though the one who was talking had a bashed-up face as well, like a broken nose or something, and I think his leg might have been injured, too.”

  “They were in a car accident shortly before you picked them up,” Erica said.

  He nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  “What happened then?”

  “The one with the nose started getting angry, ’cause I really was insisting they get medical attention, you know? I’m not a complete arsehole. But the more I insisted, the angrier he got, so in the end I just stopped the car and let them out.”

  Ryan straightened. “Where did you drop them?”

  “He got me to let them out near Purdown. I’ve no idea why, though. There’s nothing there.”

  “Maybe someone else was coming to collect them? Did you see any other cars?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Purdown?” Erica asked. “What’s out there?”

  Erica pulled up the map on her phone. There was nothing out that way except fields and a fishing pond that the public could pay to fish at. That stopped her. She remembered seeing the sticker stuck to the handle of the knife.

  Erica looked to her boss. “I think I know where he’s hiding out.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  DOUGLAS LLOYD TRIED to groan, but he wasn’t sure he was even making a noise in real life or if it was all in his head. When he willed his arms or legs to move, they also refused to comply, and he was so cold he felt like the chill was coming right from the core of him.

  Where was he? If he could only get his eyes to open, maybe he could figure it out.

  He remembered, though, oh, yes, he remembered. He didn’t want to. Each time he thought of what happened, he died a little more inside.

  His wife and daughter were dead.

  That son of a bitch, Russell Mabry, had killed them, and then he’d taken him from his house. He’d tried to fight back and had attacked Russell while he’d been behind the wheel of Douglas’s car, but had only succeeded in driving them both off the road.

  That fucker had murdered his wife and daughter. Russell had been in their house, searching for the thing Doug had stolen from him, when Beth and Keira had come home.

  The sales job was just a cover. Between them, they moved large quantities of cocaine around the country. Everyone thought drugs were taken by the lower class—the homeless and the benefit claimants and the students—but that wasn’t the truth. There was a different class of drug-takers–the businessmen and women, the celebrities, the rich. They didn’t want to be dealing with some dodgy person they’d found down the pub. They liked to buy their expensive cocaine from someone with good teeth in a suit who didn’t cause any awkward questions when they were seen showing up at their million-pound houses and city apartments. They wanted someone respectable, at least on the outside.

  He’d worked well with Russel up until recently. The two of them had met at a conference several years ago. They’d got chatting over some drinks, then shared a couple of lines in a toilet during the evening drinks party. He’d noticed how Russell always seemed to have the best of everything—suits and watches and expensive shoes, more than what
their job could have afforded. And he was in the same position, a young family at home, both with wives taking care of a child. How could he afford all of that when he was supporting a young family? There weren’t many families who could survive on one wage these days, even if that wage was a decent one.

  It had taken a couple of cocaine- and alcohol-fuelled meetups when they’d been on the road for Doug to eventually build up the courage to ask Russell. Russell had responded by taking Doug out to his company car, lifting the lining of the boot, and revealing a large block of clingfilm-wrapped white powder. Then he’d asked him if he wanted in. It was easy. They sold in bulk to wealthy people, depending on where they were in the country. Think of it like Uber, only with drugs. Whoever was closest to the order was the one who filled it.

  Russell was the one with the contacts. He did the big pickups and then divided it off to Doug. Doug handed over any money he’d made, minus his cut, to Russ. It had been running this way for years, until recently. Doug noticed how his orders were growing sparser, how he wasn’t getting as big deliveries as he had before. When he tried to bring it up with Russell, he’d got blown off, Russ telling him that things were just quiet right now, it was only a blip.

  Doug hadn’t believed him.

  He’d taken it upon himself to do some digging. Russell often took secretive phone calls, and when Russ had been distracted during one of those meetings, only two days ago, Douglas had slipped the phone into his pocket. He’d monitor it for calls and see if business really had died off. Maybe he’d even intercept a call from whoever was higher up the line, the person Russell dealt with, and ask a few questions for himself. He’d spent too long with Russell as his intermediatory, it was about time he spoke directly with the main man.

  He’d never thought Russell had it in him to hurt his family. He swore he wouldn’t have got involved if he had. But Russell must have realised he’d taken the phone and had come looking for it. He didn’t know what had happened when Beth and Keira came home, but he assumed Beth had confronted Russell, and things had quickly turned ugly.