Gone Too Far : DCI Miller 4: Britain's Most Hated Celebrity Has Disappeared

by Steven Suttie

  “But presumably, Kathy felt differently?”

  “Yes. She did. I can’t say what her motivation was, however.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, Kathy has never done something which hasn’t been a headline grabber. In the years that I have managed her career, we have never had a conversation where we discussed something that hadn’t worked. I have a joke with her, that she holds only one dart, but she always hits the bullseye.”

  “And as far as Janet Croft is concerned…”

  “As far as Janet Croft was concerned, well, I’m sure that her plight would have been a great motivation. But I doubt that it would be as great a motivation had the person responsible for the sexual and emotional abuse been a Night Casino Live presenter from Channel Five.”

  Miller looked at Saunders who was sitting beside him. They understood the point that Sally King was making. Saunders spoke.

  “So, in theory, Kathy’s greatest motivation in all of this, was to bring Bob Francis down?”

  “Yes, I’d say that was a fair assessment, to be honest.”

  “So, after Kathy left your building, did you hear from her again?”

  “Yes. I went round to her house, practically straight away.”

  “Alone?”

  “No. With a colleague.”

  “What’s the name of the person you visited Kathy with?”

  “He is called Piers Marshall. You’ll be aware of him, a very influential player in the media. He is the MD of London TV.”

  “And how did Piers Marshall become involved in this?”

  “I phoned him, I wanted to ask him, off the record, if there could be any truth in the claims.”

  “Why?” asked Miller, this wasn’t stacking up to the DCI. “If you told Kathy that you weren’t interested, and that your company would have nothing to do with this… why then would you try and investigate it further?”

  “I don’t know… I just, I guess I was stunned that Bob Francis could be responsible for something like this.”

  “So you phoned Piers, and said what exactly?”

  “I said, I asked him if he knew of any unsavoury comments surrounding Bob Francis. All of a sudden, he changed. He got really angry and nasty, and said that he was coming round to see me, and told me to wait for him.”

  Saunders opened a new page in his notebook and wrote “Piers Marshall” in the centre of the page. He circled the name slowly.

  “And that was all you asked, if he knew of any unsavoury comments?”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t state what the comments were about?”

  “No. I said that Kathy had uncovered another side to Bob’s personality, and asked if Piers knew of any unsavoury comments that had ever been made.”

  “Sounds like you touched a nerve, then?”

  “Absolutely. I knew the way that he had put the phone down that I’d made a mistake. Twenty minutes later, Piers was outside my office in his Range Rover, beeping the horn. I went straight out, and got into the passenger seat beside him. He seemed weird, nervous. I’ve known him for nearly thirty years, I’d never seen this side to him. I was scared.”

  “And where did Piers take you?”

  “He drove straight to Kathy’s house. He was driving really recklessly, it was alarming, and all the time I was thinking, why is Piers getting so stressed out about this? It made no sense to me. Then, suddenly, he began to calm down, he returned to his usual relaxed, charming self.”

  “Did he say anything on this journey?”

  “Not much. He just said that some people in our industry knew the rumours, and that he would be happy to help Kathy in doing the right thing. But he needed to know who else knew about it first.”

  “That was a bit of a U-turn, wasn’t it?”

  “Well, yes, looking at it now, retrospectively. But at the time, I was just glad to hear that Piers was going to help. I had thought that he was going to end her career right then and there.”

  “And could Piers Marshall really do that? Could he honestly put a stop to her career? Realistically?” Saunders didn’t seem too convinced that one man could put a stop to such a successful career.

  “Oh yes. Of course. Don’t underestimate the power that these people hold. It would only take a few calls from Piers to his network of friends, and she’d never be in front of a TV camera again, unless it was presenting Night Casino Live on Channel Five.”

  “So you arrived at Kathy’s? Then what?”

  “Piers told me to phone her, and ask her to come outside and speak to us in the car.”

  “And did she?”

  “Yes, she came straight out, she looked really pleased to see me, I think she thought that I’d changed my mind. But then she saw Piers, and looked a little less enthusiastic. But anyway, Piers asked her to get into the car, he said that he had a proposition for her. Typical Kathy, she was completely fearless, and jumped in. Piers set off driving, and said that he wanted Kathy to tell him everything that she knew about Bob Francis.”

  “And did she?”

  “Yes, of course she did. This is Kathy Hopkirk we’re talking about. She couldn’t give a shit. Piers seemed sympathetic towards what was being said. After the whole story had come out, Piers told her that he wanted to be part of the deal.”

  “What deal?” asked Saunders and Miller at the same time.

  “There was an idea that Kathy had for outing Bob Francis on a live TV show. Piers said that it was genius, and that he wanted to make the show. It was all concluded within about an hour – and Piers pulled up outside Kathy’s home, made her swear to secrecy that she wouldn’t breathe a word to anybody else about it. She agreed, and seemed really excited that things were moving in the right direction. Piers was very charming, and he was talking about Kathy receiving a BAFTA Life-Time Achievement Award off the back of this. Kathy was horrified by the idea, and said that it wasn’t about her, or about receiving awards. She seemed really genuine. Finally, Piers said that none of us must communicate about this over the internet, under any circumstances. He told us to watch out for a parcel the following day, he said he would send us both a phone, but only he would have the number. He said that we could only use that phone to discuss this, as our ordinary phones could easily be hacked. Piers seemed really pumped up in the end, reminding us that if this was leaked, it wouldn’t be possible to present the live, trick broadcast that Kathy had suggested, where they pretend Bob Francis is getting some amazing award, but instead, we call out him as a seedy, nasty little sex monster. Piers told her again that she would go down in history for this. Kathy got out, went into her house and Piers then drove me back to the office. I’ll be honest with you, I needed a lie-down by the time I’d got back to the office, my mind was all over the place.”

  “When did you next hear from Piers?”

  “The next day, a deliveroo man came to my office. I signed for the parcel, opened it, and inside there was a phone and a charger, and a small box of Belgian truffles. The phone was one of those old Nokia bricks from the nineties. It had a text message on it, it read something like “these phones are the hardest to hack as they work on older technology. Keep it charged, and keep it on. Love P.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Well, nothing. I kept the phone in my bag, kept it charged, but nothing else happened. I assumed that Piers was communicating directly with Kathy, and that I was surplus to requirements for the time being.”

  “And when was this exactly?”

  “Two weeks ago. In fact, it was the Friday before Kathy went to Manchester. So it’s, what six days before her disappearance.”

  “Well, this is amazing stuff Sally. It’s a real shame that you didn’t step forward with this earlier…” Saunders sounded disappointed in Kathy’s manager.

  “I know… I wanted to, honestly… but once I thought about it, well, I just thought that it was quite clear what had happened. I didn’t wan
t to put myself in any danger.”

  “Has Piers been in touch with you since Kathy went missing?”

  Sally looked scared, all of a sudden. She nodded. Eventually she spoke. “He called me, on Monday morning, on my mobile.”

  “The one that he sent to you…?”

  “No, no. My mobile. He seemed in good spirits. He told me that he was shocked and saddened by the news, and said that he hoped that it wasn’t connected to the stuff she’d been saying about you-know-who.”

  “Is that what he said, you-know-who?”

  “Yes, word for word.”

  “And that was it?”

  “He just said that if I needed anything, that I knew where he was, and he said that it would be wise, under the circumstances, to forget all about that other programme idea that Kathy was working on, for the foreseeable future and beyond.”

  Chapter 46

  “Okay, how’s it going?” Miller looked shattered, his usually healthy, tanned complexion was drained and grey. There were dark bags under his eyes and he looked like shit. However, there was still plenty of enthusiasm in his voice, and lots of activity in his eyes. He wasn’t ready for bed just yet.

  “Oh, DCI Miller, good to have you back.” DCI Paxman had been desperate to speak to his opposite number, but hadn’t wanted to interrupt the interview with Sally King.

  “How is everything going?”

  “Well, not too bad… but there are a few issues, I’m quite sure that we are going to have to put this operation back by at least one hour.”

  “Really, why?” Miller opened another can of coke and tried to remember how many he’d had now. They always caused him a bad bout of IBS if he had too many, and he hated it when his teeth went furry too. But, despite the downsides, when he was on these frantic all-nighter jobs, the thirteen spoonfuls of sugar in each can certainly helped to keep him going.

  “There are a number of issues. The main one is a lack of resources in a neighbouring borough. Kent say that they can’t spare any bodies.”

  “And who is in Kent?”

  “That’s the property of Christine Mason, she’s Bob Francis’ P.A.”

  “And what is her domestic situation?”

  “She lives with her husband, they have a couple of big dogs too, from what we can gather. But that’s not the only difficulty.”

  “Oh? Go on…”

  “Bob Francis’ house is on a huge country estate in Hertfordshire, so it’s also on another force’s manor. I’m waiting for the necessary permissions from Herts’ Chief Inspector. Assuming that’s just a box ticking exercise, we are then faced with several operational difficulties at the address.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, basically the gaff is like a fortress. To get to the property itself, you need to get through the perimeter gates, and drive half a mile through his country park, where he keeps a herd of deer and God knows how much game. Once you’ve got through there, you then encounter a nine-foot high wall and another set of electronically controlled security gates, behind which is his mansion, and his staff’s quarters.”

  Miller took another slug of the sugary drink, and began to realise that plan A was beginning to sound like a non-starter.

  “So you’re saying that there’s no way that we can just spring up and surprise them?”

  “Absolutely no way. The first gate will alert them that we are on site, the CCTV will give away the amount of vehicles we are taking in. There will be absolutely no element of surprise. The operation is just not going to work in its current format.”

  “Okay, well, good work on figuring this out. I’m glad we’re learning this now, and not while we’ve got a convoy of police vehicles locked outside the gates. That could have been very embarrassing.”

  “So what do you suggest we do?” Paxman was really leaning on Miller to call the shots. Miller had a head full of other thoughts regarding the new prime suspect in all of this, Piers Marshall. This was a development in the case that Paxman was still unaware of.

  “Well, the interview with Sally King has been extremely productive, and my DI, Keith Saunders is just doing a few back-ground checks on a couple of queries which have cropped up from Sally’s interview. There’s a delivery driver that we need to interview, and a couple of other loose ends which need tying up to check that her information is reliable. But if all that checks out okay, we may need to look again at this whole operation. Potentially cancel the dawn raid, and apply a completely different tact.”

  “Oh? That sounds like a major breakthrough. And, well, its music to my ears to be honest because this raid at Bob Francis’ house is going to be a total nightmare. It’s almost as though he’s got himself prepared for such an eventuality!”

  “He probably has, to tell the truth. Sleeping must have been pretty hard work for him over the past few years. Whether the allegations are true or not… he’s one of a very small number of superstar celebrities that haven’t cropped up on Operation Yew Tree.”

  “True. God, how depressing, to imagine that his security system is designed to keep out the police! But like you say, he must have been expecting us, sooner or later.”

  DI Saunders came bounding into the incident room. There were no greetings or salutations, he just came straight over to Paxman’s desk in the corner of the huge room, beneath the case-file wall which was littered with various photos of Kathy Hopkirk, and some random notes and comments that had been pinned up by the pictures in the past few hours. It looked as though it was more for effect, than any useful, operational benefit.

  “What’s up with you?” asked Miller when he saw his side-kick. Saunders looked annoyed, livid.

  “Sir, Sir, can we please go somewhere private to talk?” He was talking to both DCI’s, which made him sound as though he’d suddenly developed a stutter.

  Paxman stood straight away, “Of course, follow me.” Miller stood too, and started following the London DCI as he headed out of the incident room and onto the stair-well outside the office. Saunders took a good look around the incident room to see if any of the detectives had been eaves-dropping on the conversation that he’d just burst into.

  “There’ll be an interview room available at this time of night, we shouldn’t be disturbed there,” said Paxman as he strode up the stairs to the floor above.

  “What have you just said, in that incident room?” asked Saunders, quietly of his boss.

  “Nowt really. DCI Paxman was doing the talking, mainly.”

  “Have you said anything about what Sally King told us?”

  “No… I mean, I was about to. But I couldn’t get a fucking word in edgeways.”

  “Good. Well, can we just keep it that way, for the time being at least?”

  “Why, what’s up?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. Just keep that whole new angle to yourself for now, okay?” It was hard to believe that this was a DI speaking to his senior rank. But Miller knew his DI well, and trusted him implicitly. Saunders wouldn’t take the role of the gaffer if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, and he was clearly onto something here. Miller understood that he would have to keep shtum about Piers Marshall, for the time being at least.

  DCI Paxman was standing at the doorway, holding open the door. He wondered what the two Manchester detectives were muttering about, and the look of wariness was clear on his face.

  “Problem?” he asked, as Miller grabbed the door handle, and held it open for Saunders.

  “Yes, actually, there is,” said Saunders, before Miller had an opportunity to think up some kind of well-mannered explanation for Saunders’ whispering.

  “But let’s get into the interview room first.”

  “Okay, well… just on the left here, and… interview room six is free.” Paxman held open the door and gestured Saunders and Miller through.

  “What’s going on?” asked Paxman, as he sat down.

  “You’ve got a snide in your team.” Said Saunders. Paxman looked conf
used.

  “A what?”

  “A snide, a grass, an underhand little twat, who has informed the press about the forth-coming raid that’s due to take place at Bob Francis’ house.”

  “You… what? There’s no…”

  “I’ve sent three of my officers, Rudovsky, Grant and Kenyon to do a reccy around Bob Francis’ estate, their brief was to have a drive about, find the easiest route in, and out. I told them to look for a tradesman’s entrance, the place where the staff enter and leave. Well they’ve got up there and they’ve found at least four photographers and cameramen hiding in bushes.”

  “Aw for fuck’s sake!” said Miller, there was the clear sound of condemnation in his voice.

  Saunders was furious, he couldn’t hide his anger.

  “Hey, now just a minute…” Paxman had raised his hands in the air.

  “Don’t start any of that denial shit DCI Paxman. It’s one of your team – they’ve tipped off the press. This is going to be a fucking disaster now.”

  “How do you know it was one of my…”

  “Because we do. It’s not going to be one of ours, is it? We’re both here, and Rudovsky, Grant and Kenyon are at Bob’s house. Besides, we’ve never had anything like this happen before, for fucks sake, and we’ve run some of the most publicised cases in modern policing history – such as the search for Pop, the paedo killer.” Miller was fuming, not just because of this totally unnecessary complication – but also because the opposite DCI had the audacity to question Saunders’ and his own team’s integrity.

  “So, what are we supposed to do now?” asked Saunders, of Miller.

  “Fucking hell bollocks.” Said Miller, completely lost as to what the plan was going to be now. “How many press did they say were there?”

  “At least four separate photographers, stood in different bushes, long lens cameras all set up, night vision aids. It’s the professionals. They saw our officers, but didn’t look remotely arsed.”