Death Do Us Part (DI Damen Brook 6)

by Steven Dunne

  He watched her wash three unmatched cups and drop a tea bag in each, then look up at her stone-faced audience as she poured hot water into the mugs. ‘Sorry. No milk or sugar.’

  ‘What’s that?’ said Brook, nodding at a pile of papers on the table.

  ‘A transcript of your interview with Luke Coulson,’ said Caskey.

  Something in her voice caught Brook’s attention. He picked up the sheaf of papers and shoved them into his coat pocket. ‘You’re off the case, remember.’

  She glared back at him, head held high before the hint of a smile creased her lips. ‘Vaguely.’

  ‘I’m going to ask you a question, Sergeant,’ said Brook. ‘And I want an honest answer.’

  ‘Ask away. I’m a professional. Or at least I was before Black Oak Farm, right?’

  Brook kept it simple. ‘Do you have any illegal handguns in your possession?’

  Caskey leaned back against the hob and folded her bare arms across her chest. ‘Reardon took her sweet time telling you, then?’

  ‘Answer the question, please.’

  Caskey’s breathing seemed to quicken and her eyes glazed. ‘I’m finished, aren’t I?’ This time Banach had no words of consolation or encouragement for her.

  ‘Sergeant, if we have to search your house, we will. We have a warrant.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to do what you think I was,’ said Caskey.

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘Blow my brains out in front of her. I’d never do that. Not after what you said about keeping my Georgie alive. In here.’ She banged a fist against her ribcage, then her head. ‘And in here.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Brook coldly. ‘Do you need me to repeat—’

  ‘I have a Glock 17.’

  ‘Just the one?’

  Caskey hesitated. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can we have it, please?’

  Caskey stared at him, then padded to the armchair in the lounge, her eyes drawn to the photograph on the chimney breast. Brook nodded for Noble to follow. She indicated the armchair cushion and Noble lifted it to reveal the Glock. He extracted a plastic evidence bag, pulled it over his hand then picked up the gun, folding the bag around the weapon and sealing it. He checked the safety through the plastic, then escorted Caskey back to the kitchen, not letting go of her arm. Banach moved behind her to snap on the cuffs.

  ‘Is it loaded?’ asked Brook. Caskey shook her head. ‘Where?’

  She nodded to a kitchen unit, and Banach slid out a drawer and dropped another evidence bag over a ten-round magazine of 9mm bullets. She showed it to Brook.

  ‘Any more ammunition?’ Caskey shook her head again. ‘Where did you acquire this weapon?’

  ‘Armed Response raided a pub in Gillingham when I was stationed in Kent. It was after my Georgie …’ She lowered her head, took a deep breath. ‘Intel told us the landlord was dealing in decommissioned PSNI weapons. When I entered the premises, I got separated from colleagues and ended up in a room with several weapons on display on a table.’

  ‘And you liberated one for your personal use.’

  ‘Georgie had just been killed,’ explained Caskey.

  ‘So it was for your protection,’ said Noble. She nodded.

  ‘Not self-destruction,’ suggested Brook.

  She glared at him. ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

  ‘And you’re sure it was just the one handgun you stole.’

  Caskey stared evenly back. ‘How do you steal what’s already been stolen?’

  ‘Did you take a second handgun?’ insisted Brook.

  ‘You have a very low opinion of me, don’t you?’ said Caskey.

  ‘I’m fighting it,’ said Brook. ‘Answer the question.’ Caskey lowered her eyes and nodded. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘I threw it in the river.’

  ‘Why?’

  She stared at him, then decided on a more conservative course. ‘No comment.’

  ‘Was it another Glock?’ asked Noble. No answer. ‘Was it another—’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where is it?’ said Brook, soft and slow. ‘Really.’

  Caskey looked beyond him, her head up. ‘I told you. In the river.’

  ‘Show her the warrant, John.’ Noble held it in front of Caskey’s face. ‘Where were you on the night of November the fifth when we couldn’t reach you?’ asked Brook.

  ‘I was here.’

  ‘Before that,’ said Noble.

  ‘Ask your daughter.’

  ‘So you went to Reardon Thorogood’s house,’ nodded Brook. ‘What happened?’

  ‘She wouldn’t open the door.’

  ‘Was she there?’

  ‘I thought so. She usually is. I decided to leave it, and came home and sat up with Georgie.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In the lounge, where you saw her.’

  ‘A local squad car came looking for you,’ said Noble. ‘They knocked on the door.’

  She shrugged. ‘The lights were off. They got no answer. They went away.’

  ‘So in fact you could have been anywhere,’ said Brook.

  ‘I was here.’

  ‘And the next morning, November the sixth?’

  ‘I returned to Reardon’s,’ said Caskey. ‘Early. We had questions to ask her, remember?’

  ‘Only this time you took your gun.’

  She looked at Brook. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Reardon’s front door has a security camera,’ said Brook. ‘You’ve been inside her apartment. You must have known you were being filmed.’

  ‘I didn’t care.’

  ‘So why did you take a weapon with you?’

  ‘To make sure I got in.’

  ‘Were you intending to kill someone?’

  Caskey was shocked. ‘No.’

  ‘Yourself? Reardon? My daughter?’

  ‘No, I told you,’ exclaimed Caskey. ‘Why on earth would I kill your daughter?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Brook. ‘But you had a conversation with Reardon and my daughter and left. A few minutes later, you returned with the gun in your hand and started hammering on the door, screaming and shouting. Why?’

  ‘I needed to speak to Reardon again,’ said Caskey.

  ‘You’d just spoken to her,’ said Brook. ‘Against my direct order.’

  ‘Because you didn’t want me finding out that she was shacked up with your kid.’ Caskey turned to Banach and Noble, but their expressions registered nothing. They already knew.

  ‘My daughter’s relationship with Reardon Thorogood is incidental,’ said Brook. ‘Yours, however, is not. Why did you take the gun? Reardon was terrified.’

  ‘Tough,’ sneered Caskey.

  ‘What was the plan? Who were you going to kill?’

  ‘I wasn’t going to kill anyone. Reardon made a fool out of me and I wanted to pay her back.’

  ‘Like you tried to pay her back by crashing her car.’

  Caskey took a deep breath, closed her eyes. ‘After the murder of her parents, Reardon and I started seeing each other. I know I shouldn’t have got involved with a victim, but I couldn’t help myself. She needed me and I needed … somebody. I’m not proud and I didn’t plan it that way, it just happened.’

  ‘And the crash?’

  ‘Sometimes I’d stay over at her flat in Nottingham. That day I was with her in the car. It was her first time venturing outdoors since the attack.’

  ‘Were you driving?’

  ‘No, Reardon was. She was getting better, you see. Wearing make-up, going out.’ Her face hardened. ‘I’d helped her get that far. I mean, really helped her.’

  ‘And you thought everything was rosy.’

  ‘We were in love. Or so I thought. After Georgie …’ Her expression soured. ‘There we were, driving along, and suddenly I can hear Reardon saying the words, but I can’t quite take them in. “I’m better now,” she says. “We’ve taken this as far as we can. I was vulnerable after my parents died, Rachel, but now I want to try and stand on my own two
feet.” Fucking bitch.’

  ‘You were angry.’

  ‘You have no idea. After all I’d given her, betraying my Georgie like that, I just wanted us both to be dead.’

  ‘Dead together,’ said Brook. She nodded. ‘The way you wished it could have been with Georgie. The way Reardon’s parents died.’

  Caskey narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I suppose. I know it was stupid, but I was in shock. I waited until she got some speed up, then grabbed the wheel and steered the car into a wall.’

  ‘And that brought you to your senses.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘And for the sake of your career, you made Reardon promise not to involve you in the accident report,’ said Brook. Caskey confirmed with a dip of the eyelids. ‘In return for you accepting the relationship was over.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you didn’t accept it, did you?’

  ‘I accept it now,’ she said sourly. ‘I was a fool and I deserve everything that’s coming to me. As for Reardon …’

  ‘What?’

  Caskey stared at Brook. ‘Never mind.’

  Thirty-One

  Brook escorted Caskey to the car and manoeuvred her into the back seat while Noble and Banach summoned Read and Smee to organise a thorough search of the house with DC York and uniformed officers from County. When they returned to the car, Noble started the engine.

  ‘They’ll let us know if they find the second gun,’ said Noble.

  ‘You’re wasting your time,’ said Caskey. ‘I don’t have it. I told you.’

  ‘We have trust issues, Sergeant,’ said Brook, disappointment seeping from his pores.

  ‘Did your daughter tell you about Reardon and me?’

  ‘I worked it out,’ said Brook.

  ‘And the film from Reardon’s security camera?’ No reply from Brook. ‘Let me guess. Reardon didn’t want to say anything about the gun, but your daughter persuaded her.’

  ‘I don’t think you should say any more until you speak to your rep,’ said Brook.

  ‘Why are we here?’ said Caskey, craning her neck as they turned into the car park serving Butterley Hall.

  ‘The search warrant covers all premises,’ said Noble. ‘That includes your locker at St Mary’s and the one at the firing range.’

  Caskey shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Knock yourselves out.’

  Noble jumped out of the car to extract Caskey from the back seat and the party made their way towards the underground shooting range.

  ‘Do you mind?’ said Caskey, at the top of the steps, waving her cuffed hands behind her. ‘I was a good copper once and they know me here.’

  Brook shook his head at Noble, who escorted her downstairs to the entrance, still cuffed. Sergeant Preston looked up in recognition, then dismay.

  ‘Hi, Freddie,’ said Caskey.

  ‘Sorry to hear your news, love. You know you’re not allowed to shoot until further notice.’

  Caskey smiled humourlessly and turned to reveal her cuffed hands. ‘I’m afraid it’s a lot worse than that, Freddie.’

  Noble handed over a copy of the warrant. ‘We need access to DS Caskey’s locker. We won’t be long.’

  Preston read the warrant, then logged the party in, and they set off past the armoury towards the locker room.

  ‘I don’t have my locker key,’ said Caskey.

  ‘You have a master?’ enquired Noble. Preston nodded and fumbled for his keys, springing up from his booth to join them.

  Brook’s phone began to vibrate. ‘Dave.’ He followed the others but realised that the call from Cooper was breaking up the further he penetrated the underground chamber, so he backtracked to the entrance. ‘Just a minute, Dave,’ he said, catching Noble’s eye and gesturing for them to continue. He stood on the bottom step to speak to Cooper. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘How could you, Rachel?’ said Banach, as they walked.

  ‘How could I what?’ demanded Caskey. ‘Reardon?’

  ‘We can start with that,’ said Banach.

  ‘You think I preyed on her?’

  ‘Her parents had just been butchered and she’d been sexually assaulted, for God’s sake. She was vulnerable.’

  Caskey’s eyes glazed over. ‘She was beautiful. And needy. I couldn’t help myself.’

  ‘Even though you knew it was wrong?’

  ‘The heart wants what the heart wants, Angie. What can you do?’

  ‘It’s tantamount to abuse.’

  ‘I know what I did, Constable,’ snarled Caskey. ‘But I was in love.’

  ‘In love?’ exclaimed Banach. ‘Rachel, seven people are dead.’

  Caskey looked askance at her. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  ‘There’s an email from Crumpet with an updated blood plan for Black Oak Farm,’ said Cooper. ‘He’s already spoken to Caskey about it, so I thought you’d want to know.’

  ‘What does it say about the fingerprint on the window frame?’ asked Brook, gazing blankly at the booth behind the Perspex screen. Steam rose from a welcoming mug of hot tea, and his mouth watered.

  ‘The blood was Patricia Thorogood’s …’

  Brook began to drift out of the conversation as the circled paragraphs on a dog-eared copy of the Derby Telegraph began to register. He stared at the trite little rhymes, composed to convey undying love to a partner, the hand holding his mobile gradually lowered from his ear. Then his eye was drawn to a photograph of a middle-aged woman smiling from a wheelchair, a black ribbon across one quarter of the frame. A younger Sergeant Preston stood behind her, clutching the handles.

  A second later, Brook was in full flight across the rubber matting, pushing violently into the locker room. Caskey, Banach and Noble were standing together in front of an open locker. All three were rooted to the spot, staring beyond Brook. The door closed behind him and he turned. Sergeant Preston stood in front of another open locker, two bottles of champagne visible between his legs. He brandished a gun in each hand, calm and unruffled, holding them steady. He flicked a wrist at Brook to move him away from the door.

  ‘It’s over, Sergeant,’ said Brook, looking down the barrel of one of the Glocks.

  Preston smiled. Brook saw relief there. ‘I know. I’m glad.’

  ‘His name was Sean Trimble,’ said Noble.

  Preston’s expression soured. ‘I’m sorry about the boy. I thought he’d gone out.’

  ‘Well he came back,’ said Noble.

  ‘And died alone,’ added Brook.

  ‘I know what that’s like,’ said Preston. ‘My Janet … I’m sorry. I truly am.’ He broke off as Brook tried to edge closer. ‘Don’t think my left hand is any less good than my right, Inspector,’ he barked, regripping the Glock to show he meant business.

  Brook put his hands out to acknowledge Preston’s prowess, trying to gauge the distance between them. Seven yards, maybe eight. He eased a few inches to his right, then glanced at Noble. The DS didn’t react, but Brook could see from a slight move to his left that he understood. If they could widen Preston’s field of vision, one of them might catch him off guard.

  ‘What about Sean’s father and his partner, Freddie?’ said Brook.

  ‘That went well,’ said Preston. ‘They struggled a bit because they didn’t understand at first, but I think they realised when the end came and they appreciated it. Now they’re together for ever. They’ll never have to suffer what I’ve suffered.’

  ‘You found Gibson through the personal columns.’

  ‘Well done,’ said Preston. ‘He put an announcement in the paper for his parents’ anniversary. I liked what I read and thought I’d pay them a visit, but when I cased the Ticknall house I only saw Gibson and his partner. I thought I’d made a mistake, but that morning I followed him to the house in Boulton Moor, and that’s when I saw Edith and Albert. I watched them as they went for a walk across the fields. They were the perfect couple for me to help – happy, but I could see Albert was failing and pain was on its way. Edith was lovely. I didn’t want her g
oing through what I did with Janet, and she was pleased to go with her Albert.’ Preston smiled. ‘It was a beautiful moment when they passed together.’

  ‘And Frazer and Nolan?’

  ‘Get me talking,’ said Preston, smiling. ‘Very good. You!’ he said to Noble, thrusting his gun at him. ‘Over there with the Inspector. Move.’

  Reluctantly Noble stepped across to Brook.

  ‘You too.’ He gestured at Banach.

  ‘No,’ said Banach, edging closer to Caskey.

  ‘There’s no time,’ said Preston, aiming at her. ‘Get over there.’

  ‘DC Banach has a small child, Sergeant,’ said Brook.

  ‘I’m not in this to kill colleagues,’ said Preston, a pained expression on his face. He smiled at Caskey. ‘Except those like Rachel who want to go. All those anguished looks at that girl in your locker. She was very beautiful.’

  ‘Thank you,’ smiled Caskey. ‘She was.’

  ‘I’ve watched you, love,’ said Preston. ‘The desolation, the pain. It never goes away, does it?’

  ‘Never,’ said Caskey. ‘It defines me.’

  ‘Me too,’ nodded Preston. ‘Looking at you was like looking in a mirror. I wish you’d felt able to tell me what happened to her. I’m sorry I’ve let you suffer for so long when I could’ve helped you. But it’s over and now I can set you free.’

  ‘Death isn’t freedom,’ said Brook. ‘Freedom is a construct of the mind. A living, thinking mind.’

  ‘You!’ Preston gestured to Banach. ‘On my desk, the framed photograph. I want it. And don’t be long or I’ll kill this lad here.’

  ‘I’m not leaving,’ said Banach.

  ‘It’s okay, Angie,’ said Caskey, nudging her away. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  Brook nodded for her to go, his expression telling her not to come back. Reluctantly Banach dragged herself to the door and, after a final look back, stepped out.

  ‘You must feel really tough, ordering people around with a gun in your hand,’ sneered Noble.

  Preston was unruffled. ‘It helps.’

  ‘So what happens when you get your wife’s picture?’ asked Brook.

  ‘Like you said, Inspector. It’s over. Ideally I would’ve have preferred to send Ellis and Rachel on their way together. They’ve both suffered enough, and if their loved ones haven’t waited, at least they’d have each other for company.’