Death Trap

by Mitchell, Dreda Say

Nineteen minutes.

  Charlie appeared halfway through the eighteenth minute. Rio didn’t even give her time to speak; instead she thrust the polythene bag with the revolver in it into her hand.

  ‘I need you to test the DNA on this against the DNA in this file.’ She handed over the manila folder.

  ‘It will have to wait—’

  Rio savagely swung her head. ‘No-can-do; I need this now.’

  Charlie held the bag up and scrutinised the gun. ‘This looks like a really old piece of evidence. Any DNA might have disintegrated with time, although the bag might have offered a layer of protection—’

  ‘I don’t have time for this. Can you test it for me?’

  ‘It’s going to cost you a pint on a Friday of my choosing. Come back in an hour—’

  ‘I don’t have that kind of time. I need it in fifteen minutes flat.’

  Charlie twisted her lips. ‘I’m a forensic specialist not forensic Superwoman—’

  ‘Please, Charlie.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can, but I’m warning you that this isn’t possible in that time frame.’

  ‘I’ll be downstairs near the interview rooms. A young girl’s life depends on this.’

  seventy-two

  Fourteen minutes.

  Thirteen minutes.

  Twelve minutes.

  Rio paced outside the Interview Room waiting for word from Charlie. Strong stood leaning up against the wall, arms folded across his chest, a short distance away. He didn’t say a word, just kept a silent vigil with Rio.

  Come on, Charlie. Rio chanted the words over and over with the power of a magic spell to make the forensic officer appear. But she didn’t.

  Eight minutes.

  Seven minutes.

  Six minutes.

  Rio’s brain was screaming. She couldn’t let Foster go out of the main door because she knew she would never have this chance to nail him again. Life couldn’t be this unfair, could it? Then she thought of all the murder victims she’d come across in her career who’d probably thought the same just before their lives were snuffed out. She wasn’t going to add Nikki Bell to that list.

  Four minutes.

  Three.

  Two.

  Rio took up position in front of the interview-room door, her whole body guarding it as if she was not going to let anyone past.

  One minute.

  No. No. NO.

  The efficient, clean footsteps of the Assistant Commissioner broke through the air. The older woman reached Rio.

  ‘Just ten more—’

  ‘Cut. Him. Loose.’

  Rio didn’t bother pleading again. Her long shot hadn’t paid off. Her time was up.

  Rio stood there, feeling like the last person on this earth as her superior walked away. Just like she was going to have to let Foster walk away. She twisted around and raised her fist to slam it into the wall, but a larger palm closed over her balled hand.

  ‘He’s not worth it,’ Strong said. The electric tension in her hand vibrated through his body. ‘People like Foster always get what’s coming to them in the end.’

  He let her go, stepped back. Without looking at him Rio ran the hand that seconds ago had been a fist over her forehead.

  ‘I need to make a call.’

  Strong walked away as Rio pulled out her mobile.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nikki, we’re going to have to let him go.’

  ‘Go? How can you let him go? He murdered them all.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rio repeated. She couldn’t even add the promise that she’d try to get him in the future; once Foster was out of the door he would never give her another chance to get anywhere near him.

  ‘You did your best, Rio.’

  And then she rang off.

  When Rio returned to the interview room, Foster took one look at her face and smiled with triumph, ‘We’re finished here are we, Detective Inspector?’

  ‘This isn’t over, Foster.’

  The solicitor confidently stood up. ‘It’s over for you, Ms Wray. By the time I’m finished with you, you won’t be able to get a job cleaning this building, never mind detecting in it.’

  Rio’s whole team were waiting in the reception area. They stood in an ominous silence watching Stephen Foster with hard gazes. In that moment Rio was truly proud of her people – for their bravery and tenacity during this investigation.

  Once he had collected his belongings Rio escorted him to the exit. The doors to the front of The Fort swung open, letting in soft afternoon sunshine. There was a large crowd of reporters waiting for him outside. There was shouting and the clicking of cameras as Rio remained at the top of the stairs, left on her own in a lonely and troubled place.

  Rio watched as Stephen Foster descended into the middle of the media scrum. He held up his hands until everyone was quiet. The bastard was going to milk his triumph for all it was worth. She moved to the outer edges of the steps to see his lying face as he spoke.

  Foster cleared his throat and announced, ‘Ladies and gentleman, as you are no doubt aware, two days ago I was arrested by the police and questioned about a number of serious crimes. Of course, I fully answered the questions that were put to me and I’m pleased to say that I have now been released without charge. As you will know, over the years, I have always endeavoured to defend the innocent and stand up for justice, without fear or favour. Obviously my work has caused a lot of discomfort to the police.’

  His voice dropped slightly. ‘Perhaps it was too much to hope that they would respond in a professional way to my work, instead of pursuing a petty and vindictive vendetta against me. But I make no complaint about that. I’ve no doubt too that they are hoping that their campaign of intimidation will deter me from pursuing justice in the future. They are wrong, it will not . . .’

  ‘Rio.’ She left Foster’s sickening words and turned to find Strong next to her. ‘Charlie in forensics said to give you this. Said to tell you you owe her a fountain worth of pints for doing this in record time.’

  Rio ripped the paper out of his hand. Read.

  ‘Come with me,’ she told Strong.

  With a look of confusion he followed her as she pushed and struggled her way into the media ring.

  ‘My legal career has been based on two founding principles – a love of the law and a love of justice . . .’

  Abruptly Foster stopped speaking as Rio stood, legs braced apart, in front of him. The crowd fell silent, leaving an expectant, almost explosive hush in the air.

  ‘Stephen Foster, I am arresting you for the murder of John MaCarry in 1965. You do not have to . . .’

  As Strong cuffed a dazed and disbelieving Foster the crowd shifted and swelled into a crashing noise and flashing camera bulbs. As Strong led Foster away Rio looked at the man who had a few moments ago been speaking about justice; well justice had finally found him.

  seventy-three

  One Month Later

  7:00 p.m.

  ‘I would just like to say a few words,’ DSI Newman said to the crowd gathered in the pub.

  Rio smiled because his words came out more like, ‘I thood jus like to shay a phew wurds.’ The DS was well on his way to being rip-roaring drunk; and he had the right to be. This was his retirement and farewell do: a celebration of his thirty-seven years on the force. The place was packed with officers, but no family or friends; this was their time to say goodbye to one of their own.

  It was good to see everyone so outrageously happy, Rio thought, after the fallout from Stephen Foster’s arrest. Even though details about Foster’s past relationship with Maurice Bell had surfaced in the press, some of his glam-pack celeb clients were vowing to stick by him. More like he had dirt on them that they never wanted to come to light, Rio suspected. But she was determined that Foster was going down for life.

  ‘Looks like the guv is going to fall flat on his face,’ Detective Jack Strong whispered in Rio’s ear.

  They stood together, jammed with others at the back of the room near the bar.r />
  Rio turned to him. ‘You should be up there as well, Jack. This was your last day too.’

  That’s how she thought of him now – not Strong but Jack. His blue eyes twinkled. ‘Nah. I’m not into big goodbyes. A couple of farewell pints will do me fine.’

  They both looked back at the mini stage at the front as Newman addressed the crowd again.

  ‘When I came into the service, policing was a much simpler game. Two cops pounding the beat together, you really got to know the community, understood their needs. And that’s what this is all about – servicing the public. And, of course, taking the bad boys out of action. My dad wanted me to join him in the building trade, but I was interested in another type of building – keeping this glorious city of ours cemented and strong, making sure that its foundations withstood anything thrown at it. And I think that I did that. But I couldn’t have done it without the help of all you good people.’ Someone clapped and the room erupted into cheers and whistles.

  When the applause died down, he spoke again; this time his voice was much more sober. ‘I soon learned the importance of teamwork – that there was no way I was going to be able to do this job on my own. I was lucky because my first partner was the best cop there ever was. He walked the beat with me and put his arm around my shoulder when I needed support. It’s his final day on the force as well, so I’d like everyone to give a solid hand to Detective Jack Strong.’

  The crowd and Rio turned to stare at Jack. But no one clapped. There was an awkward silence as everyone looked at him. Rio knew that many hadn’t forgotten that fatal trip-up he’d made four years back and the storm that had hit the Met because of it.

  Rio tipped her head back defiantly and started to clap. It was a lone sound for a few seconds, then someone else clapped, and another person. Soon the room was back pulsating with whistles and cheers. A few people patted Jack on the back. He turned to Rio and gave her a single nod of thanks.

  ‘OK, OK, I’m not finished folks,’ Newman shouted from the stage. The pub grew quiet again. ‘I know you’re all eager to find out who will be taking my place. The honour goes to . . .’ A few people looked Rio’s way, but she kept her face straight, the emotions back.

  Newman gave them the name. ‘Detective Inspector Paul Mayberry.’

  The crowd clapped as Mayberry waved his hand in the air, but there was more than one person who sent Rio surprised looks.

  ‘Now people,’ Newman said, back in full merry-making mode, ‘let’s party!’

  ‘I thought it was a done deal,’ Jack whispered to her.

  ‘It was. I turned it down.’

  ‘Why the bloody hell did you do that?’

  Rio didn’t answer straight away; this had been one of the toughest decisions of her life. She’d thought AC Tripple was going to throttle her when she’d knocked the promotion back. The Assistant Commissioner had asked her why? Rio now gave Jack Strong the same answer.

  ‘Simple; it’s not my time yet. I don’t want anyone to think this was handed to me because of my colour, gender—’

  Jack seemed dismayed. ‘Look all that stuff and nonsense I said to you—’

  Rio placed her hand on his arm. ‘It wasn’t you; it was me. I like my job – love the thrill of the investigation,’ she shrugged, ‘and maybe I just can’t see myself sitting all day in an office. When my time comes, I will know.’

  Jack opened his mouth, but he never answered because someone slung their arm around his shoulder and dragged him away for a drink. He twisted his head to stare back at Rio. She just smiled and mouthed, ‘Good luck.’

  Rio took that as her cue to leave the festivities behind and head for the quiet of home. The air outside was cold, but there was a warm thread in the current that held the promise of a good spring to come.

  ‘Hey stranger,’ a voice called.

  Rio peered in the dark to find Calum sitting in his car, the driver’s window wound down. She might have made a decision about her job, but she hadn’t made one about him. Rio walked slowly towards him. She shoved her hands in her coat pocket when she reached him.

  ‘You don’t look bad for a man who was at Death’s door not that long ago.’

  Calum smiled, drawing Rio’s gaze to the thin scar line around his neck, a permanent memento from the wire the hitman had tried to strangle him with.

  ‘Nothing keeps me down, not for long.’

  ‘Well it’s good to see you up and about.’ Suddenly her tone changed. ‘Look if you want to discuss a divorce—’

  His smile dropped away. ‘No. Not now. Let’s leave that for another time.’

  That was the theme song for their personal life – let’s leave it for another time.

  ‘I love you,’ Rio blurted out. ‘I don’t know what that really means, but I do know that I hurt when I know you’re hurt. You are one of the best men I have ever known in my entire life. But if there’s ever going to be a chance for a you-and-me you have to tell me why you were made to leave the Met. Why you wouldn’t see me in the hospital after your accident. I’m not asking you to do that now, but sooner or later Calum you’re going to have to bring the truth to my door.’

  He stared back at her, the green in his eyes brightening. Finally he spoke. ‘There are things that I don’t want you to know —’

  ‘What things?’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re right. The time’s not now.’

  Calum turned away from her and got the engine in gear. A few seconds later Rio stood alone, the decreasing roar of his car the only sound in the distance. She finger-combed her ’fro and then walked towards her car. She had one more call to make before calling it a night.

  seventy-four

  8:28 p.m.

  When Rio saw the house she felt as if she’d come full circle – another house in Surrey, imposing and high-end, just like the Bells’. When she knocked, Mrs Harkins, the mother of Nikki’s friend, opened the door.

  ‘Detective Inspector Wray,’ the other woman said, a small smile lighting up her face. ‘Nikki has talked so much about you.’ She laughed. ‘Made you sound like a superhero.’

  ‘Is this a convenient time to see Nikki?’

  Mrs Harkins opened the door wide. ‘Of course.’

  Rio stepped inside a house that was a home – warmth and the presence of human life all around.

  ‘I’ll call her down—’

  Rio waved her hand cutting off the other woman’s words. ‘I’ll go up and see her, if that’s OK?’

  Less than a minute later Rio stood outside a partially opened door, the mellow shade of lamplight seeping onto the landing outside. She knocked.

  ‘Come in.’

  Rio walked in to find Nikki with her iPad, cross-legged on the middle of the bed. She was pleased to see the teenager still wore her fingerless gloves – this pair total black with no frills. There had been a flirty freeness about the way the teen had worn those fingerless gloves, like she was eager to touch and experience so many aspects of life. Rio was glad that at least the girl’s traumatic life hadn’t stopped her still wanting to do that.

  ‘I just wanted to check that you were OK.’

  Nikki twisted her teeth in her bottom lip. ‘Yeah, I’m good. I started school again last Monday. Everyone is being really nice to me.’

  ‘I meant it when I said that if there’s ever anything you want, you know where to find me.’

  ‘Is he going to go away for the rest of his life?’

  ‘I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that Stephen Foster remains inside the four walls of a prison.’

  Nikki nodded. ‘I just want to get on with my life.’ Then her face almost crumbled. ‘But I can’t. I see it every day.’ Nikki’s finger touched a spot on her cheek. ‘Can you see it?’

  Rio was baffled. ‘See what?’

  ‘The red mark.’ Rio’s confusion increased; there was no mark. ‘That’s where she spat her blood on me. I see it every time I look in the mirror.’

  Shocked, Rio realised what she
was talking about – Ophelia spitting blood, with her last breath, on her daughter’s face. God, if only parents realised how their actions could screw up their children’s lives.

  ‘Your real parents were Patsy and Frank Bell. They loved you. Ophelia Bell was a woman filled with spite and selfishness. Don’t let her screw up your life. One day soon you’re going to look in the mirror and you won’t see that mark anymore. And do you know why? Because you’re one of the bravest girls I know. You’re too smart to let some evil woman destroy your life.’

  Nikki just looked at her as her hand came up. A finger rubbed against the spot where she still saw her biological mother’s blood. Then her hand fell away. ‘I’m going to use Aunt and Uncle’s money to make a good life. A life Mum and Dad would be proud of.’

  Rio smiled and nodded. Then turned and was gone.

  Nikki flipped up the lid of her iPad and turned back to her Yakkety-Yak conversation.

  Madam B: My favourite music is urban stuff, not that crap about women being bitches & ho’s.

  Cheese Twist: Yeah. Totally get you there hun. OK to call u hun??? Women are goddesses ? Know what music I like

  Madam B: Head banger rock.

  Cheese Twist: Nope. Classical. All time fav is Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Graceful. Beautiful. Lures you into thinking everything in the world is fine . . .

  Alternative ending

  We rejoin the story with Rio in the final stages of her interrogation of Stephen Foster . . .

  10 Hours

  Desperately Rio went back over old ground with Foster.

  ‘Can you tell me why you decided to represent Gary Larkin when you heard he’d been arrested? And it was you who arranged for Gary Larkin and his gang to hide in that oast house in Kent wasn’t it? Once you had the gang cornered you arranged for them to be murdered so it would look like they were killed in our raid. Dead men tell no tales. That’s what happened isn’t it, Mr Foster?’

  Foster was still smoking the cigars that his secretary had brought in and left at the front desk. Foster looked pensive before replying, ‘How’s it going, DI Wray?’