by Mari Hannah
Kate was in the zone. ‘Do you know why, guv?’
‘Word on the street was, he wanted to get away from the next generation of gangsters. Dougie O’Kane’s sons were maybe twelve and thirteen when he died, into all sorts. As they got older, threats were made – threats Brian knew they were capable of carrying out. Dougie was a hate figure. No one shed a tear when he croaked.’
‘Good riddance to bad rubbish, eh?’
‘You could say that. On the other hand – and this is going to sound strange – I liked Brian Allen. He was a hard-ass, but charismatic, renowned for his barefaced cheek when it came to criminal activity. Even as a cop, you had to admire the guy. His kind doesn’t exist any more. It was them versus us – Brian understood that – respected it even. It was a two-way street. Today’s prig is probably sitting behind one of those –’ He pointed at the computer on Lisa’s desk. ‘They don’t need to shift off the sofa nowadays, let alone get their hands dirty.’
Kate scanned the faces of the Murder Investigation Team. They were like nursery children, mesmerized by Bright’s storytelling, hanging on his every word. And, boy, did he have stories to tell – some that would make their hair curl. He’d been a hard-ass himself when he was younger, the Gene Hunt of Northumbria force in his heyday. What he was saying resonated in Kate’s head. When she joined the police almost twenty years ago, you didn’t sit around waiting for DNA results to come in. You had to go out and find the clues. It was as upfront and personal for the police as it was for the offenders.
Sometimes people got hurt.
‘So Brian effectively ran away to save his skin and died of a heart attack while playing golf?’ Maxwell said. ‘Doesn’t sound very fearless to me, guv.’
‘Not for his own sake.’ Bright focused on him. ‘He’d never do that. It was to protect Theresa and the kids. Like you, people thought he’d gone soft. His best mate took a lot of flak for it at the time. But I know different. Let’s just say Theresa was the love of his life. He’d do anything for her, even drag himself out of the gutter.’
Kate’s pen was poised over her notepad. ‘Who was this mate?’
‘A heavy called Arthur Ross McKenzie.’
She wrote the name down. ‘Is he still alive?’
Bright shrugged. ‘Far as I know.’
Kate was way ahead of him. ‘Lisa? Start typing – a middle name will cut down the possibility of multiple hits on the PNC.’ She turned back to Bright. ‘How old, approximately?’
‘Mid-fifties. Last I heard, he was banged up.’
Lisa’s fingers flew over the keys. She waited, but not long, before a list popped up on screen. Scrolling through it, she paused, pushed a few more keys.
Kate continued to question Bright. ‘Did McKenzie know Theresa, guv?’
‘Intimately, but only in his dreams.’ Bright was almost blushing, something he rarely did. ‘McKenzie had a thing for her. To be honest, we all did. Wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t hook up with her the minute she was available. He was a thug, not stupid. He wouldn’t have dared cross Brian when he was alive. He’d have lost his gonads if he had.’
Detectives were grinning, enjoying the banter.
‘Found him.’ Carmichael could hardly contain herself. ‘Remanded in custody for attempted murder in 1998, sent down in ’99 by the Glasgow High Court. Spent a couple of months in Barlinnie in isolation, several years at Shotts Prison.’ Her eyes were fixed to the computer screen. ‘It appears he was moved from maximum security in 2008. Jesus!’ She paused, looked up. ‘Guv, he was released in 2009 from Acklington. Since then, he hasn’t put a foot wrong.’
‘I very much doubt that.’ Bright pulled his reading specs from his pocket as Carmichael turned her screen around to face the team. ‘What you mean is, he hasn’t been caught.’
‘Why Acklington?’ Kate asked, getting to her feet.
Bright frowned. ‘It’s not unprecedented to transfer prisoners across the border.’
‘No, but it is unusual,’ Kate reminded him. ‘Lisa, get on to the Scottish Prison Service and find out. In fact, call Jo and ask her to do it on our behalf.’
‘Boss?’ Lisa was almost sulking.
‘Do it, Lisa. Asking Jo is no reflection on you. She has contacts we don’t have. I want the unofficial reason for McKenzie’s transfer, not the official one, and Jo is the best person to get it for me. We don’t have time to piss about. Ask her to get back to me as soon as possible.’
Bright moved closer to take a look at Carmichael’s screen. ‘Yeah, that’s him.’
The squad gathered round, peering over his shoulder to view a photograph of McKenzie, before parting to let Kate through. All eyes turned in her direction as she viewed the image for herself. When the phone rang in her pocket, she ignored it; there was no disputing that she’d found her man.
‘Gotcha!’ she said. ‘Guv, that’s the man I saw at Theresa Allen’s apartment. He’s aged a bit since this photograph was taken, but I’d recognize him anywhere. He must be the target.’ Her phone rang again. She pulled it from her pocket, her eyes never leaving the screen.
Maxwell’s voice hit her ear.
‘Slow down, Neil, what is it?’
‘Boss, I found Sky.’
Kate punched the air. This was turning out to be her lucky day.
24
They still didn’t know her real name. Maybe they never would. The leggy brunette lay sprawled in the mud, wet hair draped to one side, a large gash to the back of the head, dead eyes staring at nothing, lips slightly apart. She was dressed in the same sparkly top, short skirt and thigh-length boots she’d worn on the CCTV. For a moment, Kate’s mind played tricks on her. She could see her alive, smoking a black cigarette outside Grant’s nightclub, flirting with punters as they traipsed in and out the door – a tragedy waiting to happen.
It paid to be clinical in situations like these. Kate was finding it hard. She was a person first, an SIO second, and death by homicide was never easy to deal with. Glancing back at the girl, all she could see was congealed blood and brain matter, mascara-stained cheeks the colour of plaster. She didn’t need a forensic pathologist to tell her that Sky been struck with a heavy object from behind. Or that wiping away her make-up would reveal a child of no more than sixteen, not long out of school.
In the pouring rain, Kate closed her eyes and tried to breathe, desperate to cover the kid up – afford her some dignity while she remained on this earth, but that wasn’t possible because it would contaminate the body. Even after death, the unfortunate girl would be prodded, poked and forensically examined for trace evidence of who might’ve killed her.
Suddenly aware of Hank’s presence, Kate met his gaze, an unspoken message passing between them: there were times when the job was too much to stomach. He said something she didn’t quite catch as another panda car arrived on the scene – blues and twos engaged. There was no need to hurry. Not now anyway. Maybe if help had arrived a couple of hours earlier, Sky might have lived. She might. Kate glared at the officer who got out of the car. He hurried off in the opposite direction. Hank was asking if she was OK. She nodded, grateful for his concern.
‘Along with a bit of loose change, this was found in her pocket.’ His expression was sombre as he extended his arm, handing her the scanned image of an unborn child. ‘It’s dated last Friday. Should be able to get an ID.’
‘Whatever.’ She turned away, her comment drifting away in the wind. ‘Will anyone care?’ She turned back, letting out an audible sigh. ‘I’m sick of all this, aren’t you?’
‘You don’t mean that. Sky needs us. She needs you.’
‘I know she does . . . I need someone too, Hank.’
It was a rare moment of vulnerability from the DCI. Hank had no answer. Under the parapet of the Byker Bridge they stood facing one another, police tape flapping in the wind, the rain hammering down on the pavement beneath their feet in an area flooded with police cars and forensic vans, while officers rushed to erect a tent to preserve the scene and
screen the body from prying eyes. Others stood around, awaiting instructions on how to proceed – expecting Kate to take the lead, unaware that she wanted to walk away, get as far away from police work as she possibly could. She wanted to give it all up and make a life with Jo. She’d need her later. She needed her now.
25
Only halfway through the third day of a major enquiry and Kate already felt jaded. Back at the MIR, the mood was sombre. Sky’s death – the fact that she was pregnant had raised the tempo of an investigation that was escalating in seriousness by the hour. Fielding calls from all quarters, the DCI was being asked by the media to comment on yet another murder in the city. Three in as many days made people nervous.
‘They’re screaming for a press conference,’ she said to no one in particular. ‘If they knew my schedule, they wouldn’t ask.’
‘Don’t worry about that.’ Naylor arrived by her side from his office. ‘I’ll sort it later.’
‘Thanks, guv, I appreciate that.’
‘On one condition.’ He dropped his voice. ‘I’m worried about you.’
‘Why?’ She met Hank’s eyes across the room. ‘Listen, if Gormley said anything—’
‘He didn’t. Grab your jacket and come with me.’ It was an order, not a request.
Leaving the incident room, they went outside to stretch their legs and get some air. As they would be pushing through into the night, Naylor insisted they nip across the road for something decent to eat. The inevitable consequence of working long hours meant that detectives had to eat on the hoof: takeaways, sandwiches, crisps and chocolate. A few days into an enquiry they all began to look and feel unhealthy.
‘Except Carmichael.’ Naylor had already begun to cross the road. ‘I notice she never eats anything green.’
‘What, guv?’ Kate practically had to run to catch up with him, dodging stationary traffic waiting for the lights to change. ‘Look, it’s nice of you to shout me lunch, but I haven’t got time. Besides, it’s hardly fair. My team’s working flat out—’
‘And one by one they’ll be following us.’ He used the old cliché about armies marching on stomachs. ‘Whine all you like, but I’m not taking no for an answer.’
They turned down Pilgrim Street, then right on to Mosley Street heading along the Diamond Strip, an area promoted by local businesses as Newcastle’s answer to London’s W1. It was essentially two streets that ran from the Swan House roundabout to the city’s Central station. Streets that had chic-sounding, contemporary cocktail bars like Bijoux, Floritas, Baby Lynch and Madame Koo representing the upmarket end of what the city had to offer.
The Living Room was on Grey Street, not far away. Naylor was well known there and got a table right away. Explaining that they were short of time – that he’d be putting more diners their way in the course of the afternoon – he ordered Sunday lunch for two.
‘Any drinks?’ the waiter asked.
‘Water . . . Beer,’ Kate and Naylor said together.
The waiter hurried off.
Minutes later, he was back with their drinks, and not long after that steaming plates of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding arrived. Content that this was a working lunch, Kate picked up her cutlery and got stuck in, bending Naylor’s ear about the case before he’d even raised his fork to his mouth.
‘So what do you reckon, guv, linked enquiry or not? Any number of punters could’ve slapped Sky on the head just because they could. She was a vulnerable kid. You know as well as I do child prostitutes get beaten every day.’
‘Or maybe there was a motive,’ Naylor suggested. ‘Albeit a weak one. She might have been killed because she was carrying a baby belonging to one of her punters.’
‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘It’s more likely that Sky saw too much in the gents at Grant’s, don’t you think?’ She broke off as the waiter returned, asking if their meal was satisfactory. They both nodded, thanking him. The food was delicious.
As she waited for him to move away, Kate felt reenergized, more able to concentrate on the case away from the distractions in the office. She should’ve eaten breakfast. Naylor had been right to take time out. As Hank had so eloquently pointed out, Sky needed her, all the victims did. Through her they would get justice. She was the voice they no longer had. No way she would let them down.
‘It’s your call,’ Naylor said. ‘What do you want to do?’
‘I want to run the incidents together. If it becomes clear that it’s a father-to-be who wasn’t ready to acknowledge a child, then it’s very easily hived off into a separate incident.’ Kate put down her cutlery, propped her cheek up with her left hand, her elbow resting on the table. ‘I want to link it for two reasons. One: I don’t want my guys taking their eye off the ball while we’re looking into this. Our priority has to be finding the evil bastards who are riding roughshod over our patch.’
‘And two?’
‘Sky worked the area surrounding Grant’s. A lot of the witnesses will be the same people in both incidents. I don’t want anything missed while we’re investigating her death that might impact on the enquiry we’re already running.’ Kate paused a moment, unsure whether to be absolutely honest with him. ‘Guv, between you and me, there is a third reason.’
Naylor put down his beer. ‘Which is?’
‘We might get a little more finance out of headquarters if they think the incidents are linked and the body count is rising and likely to rise further. That might make me sound like a devious cow, but I’ve a feeling we’re going to need it.’
‘You are a very clever woman, Kate Daniels.’ Naylor smiled. ‘Go for it! I can’t imagine you’ll get any grief from Bright. By the way, what did he want to see you about?’
‘He didn’t say. We got so caught up in the Allen family history, it must’ve slipped his mind. He’s coming back for the briefing later. I’ll let you know.’
Naylor looked away, not soon enough to hide his thoughts: Must’ve slipped his mind, my arse. Kate didn’t challenge him, just took the hint that it was something important if Bright wanted to see her on a day he’d much rather be playing golf. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, that thought made her very nervous.
26
With Kate’s blessing, Naylor split the team in two to ensure continuity and sent them off in pairs to eat. For operational reasons, it wouldn’t do to have both detective sergeants missing at the same time. So he sent a DS with a DC, Hank and Carmichael first, a list drawn up for the remaining squad members to follow suit in a kind of tag-team arrangement.
While Hank was away, Kate called Jo and Bright asking if they could get into the office for a briefing at five o’clock sharp. They both agreed. Another call to Vicky Masters’ landline went unanswered and, for the next three-quarters of an hour, a mountain of paperwork kept the DCI occupied.
Tackling only high-priority stuff, she dumped the rest in a pile to be dealt with later and tried Vicky again, but still she didn’t pick up. Putting the phone down, Kate slipped on her jacket and left her office, arriving in the MIR at the exact same time as Hank returned from the restaurant.
‘Don’t bother sitting down,’ she said.
He looked at her, a guilty expression on his face. ‘Am I in trouble?’
‘Why, have you done something wrong?’
‘I was just—’
‘Sticking your nose in where it didn’t belong? That about sums it up, I think. We’re going out, that’s all you need to know, seeing as you can’t be trusted to keep it shut.’
Hank received and understood the message. Slapping his left hand with his right, he tried to make light of the situation. Kate wasn’t laughing. Fearing a row, detectives working nearby kept their heads down. Not that there had been many spats between the SIO and her trusted DS over the years, but it paid not to get involved when there was a falling out.
On the way out of the incident room, Hank dropped his voice. ‘Am I forgiven, or are you going to sulk all day? I hate it when you get arsy.’
> They arrived at Vicky Masters’ house bang on three-fifteen. There was no answer at the door so Hank bent down, lifted the flap on the letter box and peered in. He listened. No noise from the flat whatsoever. No radio. No chat between mother and son. He stood up, shaking his head as a young woman arrived at the house next door pushing a double buggy with identical twin babies inside.
She fixed them with a wary look. ‘Can I help you?’
So young, Kate thought. No more than eighteen, by her calculation, but already tied down for the next eighteen and looking like she knew it. Her eyes were dull with black circles underneath. Something about her appearance struck a chord. It was the same downtrodden expression the DCI had seen a thousand times before. Pound to a penny she was in an abusive relationship. There were no bruises visible. There never were. Those who inflict violence against women were often clever enough to strike where it wouldn’t show.
‘I’m trying to find Vicky Masters.’ Kate held up ID. ‘Any idea where she might be?’
‘She’s at the park with Nathan.’
‘Paddy Freeman’s?’
‘Yeah, I just came from there.’
The park they were talking about was popular, a spot much loved by locals, a place where they could play safely with their kids, walk their dogs, play tennis or kick a football around. Abutting Castle Farm playing fields and Jesmond Dene – a nearby wooded valley – it was possible to get lost along its twisted paths and hidden walkways. With a child in a buggy, Vicky could be away several hours.
Kate didn’t have time to wait. ‘Where did you see them exactly?’ she asked.
‘In the kids’ play area, near the pond. She can’t bear to be in the flat since, y’know—’
‘Yeah,’ Hank cut her off. ‘I can imagine it must be hard for her. Thanks for giving us the heads-up. We’ll make sure she hears of your concern. We’d love to stop and chat but we must get on.’
The girl scowled at them as they got back in the car.
