Dead Lucky

by Matt Brolly

  Lambert took that as confirmation. ‘Do you know who it is?’

  Tillman stared back at him blankly. Lambert thought about Blake’s team. His security personnel and the faces he’d glimpsed inside the house. It was some feat infiltrating Blake’s world, and it was possible the operation had been going on for years. Lambert held his hands up. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You going to tell me who you punched?’ he added, as an afterthought.

  ‘Get out,’ said Tillman.

  Kennedy was still at her desk when he returned to the main office. ‘You look terrible,’ he told her.

  ‘Thanks, sir.’

  ‘Well, you do.’

  Kennedy laughed. ‘Charmer. I may have had one drink too many last night. It won’t affect my work.’

  ‘It better not. When are you seeing Laura Dempsey?’

  ‘I spoke to the ward sister, and we’ve arranged for me to visit at eleven a.m. Dr Hughes will be present. Dr Hughes took the decision to tell Laura about her parents’ death last night. She has been placed under psychiatric care.’

  ‘Jesus, I’m not surprised.’ He could only imagine, and was scared to do so. He’d seen tragic loss in his time on the force but nothing like this. To lose your husband and children, only to be told your parents had died as well, all by the same killer, by the same gruesome hand. If it was a revenge killing, Lambert shuddered to think what Dempsey must have done to provoke such a reaction.

  ‘Come on,’ he said to Kennedy. ‘You can come with me to see Mia Helmer and we can go together to see Dempsey.

  Lambert drove. Kennedy’s mood had not brightened. She stared out of the windscreen as if she was suffering tunnel vision. All the colour had left her face, even her red hair looked dank and lifeless. ‘Have you eaten?’

  Kennedy took a few seconds to answer. ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘Dry toast.’

  Lambert didn’t answer, not wanting to lecture her. He’d been in her situation too many times to start pointing fingers. ‘Anything you want to tell me about last night?’

  He sensed a shift in Kennedy’s breathing, as if he’d stumbled on something she wished to keep secret. ‘Like what?’ she said, her focus still on the oncoming road.

  ‘You tell me. You’re not your useful bubbly self.’

  She tore her eyes from the road and looked at him. ‘Bubbly?’ she said, a hint of brightness in her tone.

  ‘I don’t know. Effervescent? Energetic? Still breathing?’

  ‘I’m just hungover, sir. I’ll be fine soon enough.’

  Lambert nodded. ‘You heard from Walker today?’

  Although he was concentrating on driving, he noticed her body tense. He’d seen Walker approach her and Shah last night and the conversation had looked uneasy at best. He’d hoped partnering them would have helped resolve whatever differences they had, but feared it may have served only to have strained their relationship.

  ‘Phone’s on silent,’ she said, her focus returning to the road – signalling the conversation was over.

  The entrance to the newspaper’s offices was full of hurrying people. The temperature had dropped significantly since yesterday, and Lambert zipped up his jacket. ‘Mia Helmer,’ he said to one of the receptionists, displaying his warrant card. ‘We know the way.’

  No one bothered them as they made the way across the open-plan area to Helmer’s office. Heads were leant forwards, eyes straining on the copy in front of them, their presence nothing out of the ordinary.

  Lambert didn’t bother knocking. He opened Helmer’s door and walked straight in. Helmer was in conversation with two suited men. Both were in their sixties and looked like identikit models of each other. Both had full heads of greying hair, and finely tailored suits which did a good job of masking the considerable girth of their stomachs. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ said one of the pair, getting to his feet.

  Lambert didn’t offer any explanation, simply waited for Helmer to dismiss the men. ‘They’re for me,’ she said.

  ‘Shall I call security?’ said the man who’d got to his feet.

  ‘No, it’s fine, Lance. I’ll get back to you shortly.’

  Both men grimaced as they walked by, the talkative one looking Lambert up and down with a look of distaste.

  ‘Now that wasn’t very friendly, DCI Lambert,’ said Helmer, once the men had left and Kennedy had shut the door.

  ‘You’re lucky I haven’t dragged you out of this office,’ said Lambert. ‘Yet.’

  Helmer rolled her eyes, ignoring Lambert’s threat. ‘DS Kennedy, how are you?’

  Kennedy nodded her head an inch and took a seat. Lambert eased his breathing and sat next to her. ‘Would you like to tell me what the hell is going on, Helmer?’

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Don’t test me, Helmer. What were you thinking, printing that story?’

  Helmer pushed the lid of her minute laptop shut. She had long fingers, her manicured nails painted a garish red. ‘The last time I looked there was still something called freedom of the press.’

  ‘The last time I saw you, you’d illegally gained entry into Eustace Sackville’s flat.’

  ‘Come now, Michael. As you are well aware, I was checking on Eustace’s wellbeing. The door to his flat had been broken. What was I supposed to do?

  ‘Not steal his flash drive.’

  ‘Everything is so black and white with you. I was simply recovering company property.’

  ‘Let’s leave that for the time being,’ said Kennedy, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the office. ‘Why did you print the story about the killer without speaking to us first?’

  ‘Why would I have done that?’

  ‘The reason you would have done that, Helmer, is that it was the professional thing to do. Your amateur profiling could result in all sorts of unwelcome repercussions.’

  Helmer drummed her fingers on her desk, the sound of bone on glass reverberating around the room. ‘What sort of repercussions?’ she asked.

  Lambert heard the killer’s words in his head, wondered again if he should share the information with someone. Helmer wouldn’t have reached the position she was in by being so naïve. Lambert was convinced she was hiding something. ‘Let’s cut the crap. Why didn’t you share your so-called expert’s view with us first?’

  Helmer looked incredulous. ‘Since when do we have to run everything past you? If we did that, we’d never get anything published.’

  ‘What do you know, Helmer? Was there a second file you smuggled out of Sackville’s flat?’

  ‘Is he always this paranoid?’ said Helmer to Kennedy.

  Lambert stood. ‘If you are withholding something, Helmer, I will arrest you for obstruction. Think about what you’re doing, for Christ’s sake. You could be responsible for another killing.’

  Helmer scratched her head. ‘I don’t know what you’re getting at. Naturally, I would share any relevant information for you. I’ll keep you updated, DCI Lambert.’ She raised her eyebrows, taunting him.

  ‘Come on, Kennedy,’ said Lambert. ‘We’re wasting our time here.’

  As Kennedy stood, Helmer surprised Lambert by getting to her feet. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, DCI Lambert. You’d probably find out anyway.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Eustace Sackville has been suspended indefinitely from work, subject to an internal investigation.’

  ‘What? You’re kidding?’ said Kennedy.

  ‘I can’t tell you any more than that at the moment.’

  ‘Is it related to this case?’ asked Lambert.

  ‘It’s all I can tell you at the moment,’ repeated Helmer.

  Chapter 29

  ‘What the hell is that?’

  ‘It’s a breakfast bagel, what’s it look like?’ Lambert winced as he looked at the congealed mess he’d placed before Kennedy. ‘Eat that and drink your black coffee and you’ll be right as rain.’

  They were at the hospital where Laura Dempsey was u
nder psychiatric care. ‘You don’t have to be here, sir, I’m fine,’ said Kennedy.

  ‘I’m not here because of you. If I was concerned enough to accompany you, then I’d be concerned enough to take you off the case. Now Laura knows about the death of her parents, I think it prudent that we both go to see her. I can only imagine her mental state.’

  Kennedy took a bite of her bagel, a line of yellow liquid dripping from the bagel onto her plate. She chewed diligently before speaking. ‘I’d be surprised if she’s coherent. I imagine she’s on suicide watch.’

  ‘That’s one hell of a long term project for someone,’ said Lambert. Again, he wondered if it was a revenge killing, and if so what Dempsey had done to illicit such a savage response. Not that revenge was always delivered in equal measure. He’d seen countless incidents of revenge killings. With the very rare exception, they were always disproportionate to the original offence.

  Kennedy looked as if she was enjoying her meal. The colour was returning to her face, and she was becoming more agitated. ‘She was some piece of work,’ she said, wiping a line of ketchup from her upper lip.

  ‘Helmer?’

  Kennedy took a final bite, nodding. ‘What do you think she meant about Sackville?’

  ‘Christ, I don’t know. I’ve only known her a couple of days but I can tell she likes her games. I’ll speak to Eustace later and find out more.’

  They met with Dr Hughes before they were allowed to see Dempsey. ‘I don’t really like this,’ said Hughes, in her Geordie lilt. ‘She’s refused sedatives, so she’s lucid, but she’s obviously not in a good place. I don’t want you speaking to her about her parents at the moment. I don’t think she’s fully come to terms with that yet. She saw what happened to her family, but the thought of her parents’ deaths is abstract at the moment. She is almost definitely in denial, and for the time being I think that is the safest place for her.’

  ‘We won’t mention that. We need to ask her a couple of questions about her past.’

  ‘You will stop as soon as I say,’ said Hughes, the inflection in her voice suggesting the comment was final.

  ‘Of course,’ said Lambert, thinking back to Dr Patel’s more abrasive approach, marvelling at the difference and the reaction it received.

  Hughes knocked on the door and led them through. Laura Dempsey sat up, pulling her sheet over her shoulders so that the only part of her body visible was her neck and head. Ghost-white, her face looked devoid of emotion. Lambert saw a complete emptiness which was difficult to look at. The room had that cloying hospital smell Lambert was becoming over familiar with. Starch sheets, antiseptic, and Laura Dempsey’s body odour, mixed together to create something which made Lambert close to nauseous. He placed his hand on the frame of Dempsey’s bed, surprised by the coldness of the metal. He nodded at Kennedy, told himself to remember why they were there.

  ‘Laura, my name is Matilda Kennedy. I am a detective sergeant working on your family’s case.’

  Dempsey turned her head to look at Kennedy. Eyes wide and vacant, she stared at Kennedy as if she hadn’t realised she was in the room.

  ‘I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you, Laura. I need to ask you a few questions if that’s okay?’

  Dempsey shrugged and pulled her sheet down. She was wearing a hospital gown. Lambert noticed a dark rash on her neck, and patches on her forearms.

  Kennedy pulled out an iPad from her bag and opened the screen. ‘I’m going to show you a picture, Laura.’

  Dempsey’s body tensed and she pulled the sheet back up above her shoulders.

  ‘Please don’t worry, Laura. It’s just a picture of a man who has also suffered a loss. His name is Eustace Sackville. Do you recognise him?’ Kennedy turned the iPad so Dempsey could see the screen. It was hard for Lambert to tell if she was looking or not. The same impassive look was stencilled onto her face. Her mouth hung open and her eyes looked as if they were staring into space. ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘Please take a second to think. Mr Sackville is a journalist. Have you ever had any dealings with journalists?’

  For the first time since entering the room, Lambert saw a flicker of recognition in Dempsey’s eyes. ‘We deal with journalists now and again at the hospital but I don’t recognise him.’

  ‘Thank you, Laura.’ Kennedy displayed another picture. ‘This is Mr Sackville’s wife, Moira.’

  ‘She’s dead.’ It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact. The words came out in monotone with a terrible finality.

  Kennedy exchanged a look with Lambert. He nodded for her to continue, receiving confirmation from Dr Hughes.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Laura.’

  ‘Him?’ said Dempsey, in the same monotone voice.

  ‘We believe so, Laura. Do you recognise this woman?’

  Dempsey pursed her lips and stared at Kennedy as if she was stupid. ‘No,’ she snapped.

  ‘Sorry, Laura. One last photo.’ Kennedy glanced again at Lambert for confirmation. It was a long shot but Lambert thought it was worth pursuing. ‘Do you know this man?’ asked Kennedy.

  Lambert had studied enough suspects over the years to notice a look of recognition. Dempsey’s eyes squinted and she asked to hold the iPad. Her hands were shaking. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘His name is Curtis Blake.’

  Dempsey looked up at the ceiling, her porcelain skin shading with colour. Lambert tensed, and stopped himself from pushing the matter further. She would tell them when she was ready.

  Laura began shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry. There’s something about his face, those eyes… but I can’t quite place him.’

  ‘I think that will do for now,’ said Dr Hughes. Dempsey was becoming agitated and now seemed the right time to stop the questioning.

  ‘Thank you, Laura. You’ve been very helpful. As soon as you remember anything, please call us or speak to one of the officers outside your room.’

  As they were leaving, Dempsey called out. ‘It’s not him, if that’s what you think.’ The words came out in a high pitched squeal. ‘He’s too old. He was young, unbelievably strong.’

  ‘That’s fine, Laura. Thank you, officers,’ said Dr Hughes, ushering them out and shutting the door.

  ‘She recognised Blake,’ said Kennedy.

  Lambert had been thinking about the same thing ever since they’d left the hospital. The steering wheel felt sticky beneath his hands, and he noticed his palms were sweaty which was unusual for him. ‘She definitely recognised him. When we get back, I want you to try and dig out some other pictures of Blake. Perhaps look at older photos. She may have known him from the past, and didn’t recognise him as an older man. Check both their work histories. We need to find a time or place where the paths crossed.’

  Kennedy’s head bobbed up and down in assent. She’d recovered from this morning’s hangover, and was full of energy.

  ‘It wasn’t appropriate, anyway. We’ll quiz her again later.’

  Lambert dropped her at the station, parking the car in the underground carpark. He stopped when they reached the entrance to the lifts.

  ‘You not coming in, sir?’

  ‘No. Work on the photos. I’ll be back in an hour or so. We can go and see Sackville together. Let me know as soon as you uncover something.’

  Kennedy nodded, clearly energised by the trust he was showing in her. He left the building, intending to catch the tube to Holborn, when he was stopped by one of the team. ‘Christ, what happened to you?’

  DC Walker was dressed in his normal attire. Tailored suit, crisp shirt and tie, shoes polished within an inch of their life. Everything looked in place, except for the purple-black bruise which discoloured his eye.

  Chapter 30

  A number of things clicked into place at once. Lambert sighed, fearing what Walker was going to say. ‘Been in the wars, Constable?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘You missed the debrief this morning.’

  ‘Sorry, I went to get this checked
out,’ said Walker, pointing to his eye. ‘My vision is still a bit blurry.’

  ‘Okay. Well, get back to it. We need everyone on top form for today.’

  ‘Sir…’

  Lambert interrupted him before he had time to finish his sentence. ‘Look, before we go any further with this can you just take some time to think. I don’t know what happened to you, or who was responsible, but I have my suspicions. If you are about to make an accusations then I would suggest you tread carefully. I take it this happened at the party last night.’

  ‘Sir.’

  Lambert pinched his nose. He could do without this at present. ‘Look, Walker, I don’t know you very well. You seem to be a diligent worker but I get a sense that you wind people up the wrong way.’

  Walker went to interject but Lambert stopped him. ‘I may be wrong, but either way I think you should think carefully before you report anything to me. I don’t want you to hide anything, and if you feel strongly about this then I will help you pursue it. However, I still think you need some time to think. You’ll have a long time to regret any hasty, emotional decision. Do you agree?’

  ‘I’m not making an emotional response, sir, and it’s not just this.’ He touched his eye, wincing at the pain. ‘I want to report unprofessional behaviour. I can go to you, or I can take it to elsewhere.’

  Lambert wanted to tell the officer to pull himself together, that there were greater concerns at the moment, but realised if he did so his words could end up being used against him. ‘Okay, Walker. As soon as you tell me what you want to tell me, then it’s out there forever. There will be no turning back. I’ll take a report from you now, or you can go home, wait twenty-four hours and we can revisit the situation then.’

  Walked swayed on his feet, his lips were pursed, his face reddening. ‘Fine, but I’m not going to change my mind.’

  ‘Good. Go home, get some rest. We can meet tomorrow at lunchtime.’

  ‘Sir.’

  The tube was full of over-heated and underdressed people. When he should have been focused on the case, all he could think about was Walker’s black eye, and the marks on Tillman’s knuckles. He’d probably done Walker a favour by not taking the report yet. It would be a mistake, going up against Tillman. Unless there had been a witnesses, and Walker could prove the attack was unprovoked, then Tillman would escape punishment. He knew too many people, and knew too much about those people, for such an incident to have any detrimental effect on his career. If Walker made an official complaint then he would end up regretting it. There would be some sympathetic ears but Walker would struggle to regain any trust from his colleagues. It shouldn’t be that way, but it was, and hopefully Walker would come to his senses in the next twenty-four hours.