“Well, as first dates go DI Saunders, you’ve a lot to live up to!”
“Oh. Why?” Saunders looked crest-fallen. He had a lot of self-doubt, particularly where his love-life was concerned.
“Because that was, without shadow of a doubt, the most exciting date I’ve ever been on!”
* * *
“I am really not joking now, there is going to be a fucking thunder-storm of shit when I get out of this cess-pit, and there are going to be a lot of coppers losing their jobs. Starting with the inbred piece-of-shit who is operating this intercom! You’ll be the first to pick up your
cards Sir!”
“Are you done?”
“No, I am not done, captain fuck-wit.”
“I find that insult very upsetting.”
“Oh, go and stick your dick in a mincer.”
“Is that all?”
“Seriously. GET ME OUT OF HERE!”
“You’re not a celebrity.”
“Oh, you’re enjoying this.”
“I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“Can you tell me, when I will be allowed out of this fucking prison cell?”
“No. I can’t. But if you give me your star-sign I’ll read you your horoscope?”
* * *
“Right, thanks for the break, I’m jiggered. Ready for a good sleep. I’m getting too old for all these all-nighters now you know Jo. I’m telling you, once you pass your fortieth birthday, you’re goosed.” Miller was deliberately talking shit. It was intended to send a subtle message to Kathy Hopkirk, who was sitting opposite him across the interview room table, as he returned to his seat. The message was that this was just another day at work, and that Kathy Hopkirk might be a big celebrity out there, but in here, she was just another insignificant person that the police had no alternative but to tolerate for a small while.
“I must admit, I feel like shit.”
“You look like shit Jo. Honestly, you look like you’ve been in a plane-crash.”
“Charming!”
“Seriously. You don’t want to go home looking like that, Abby will ring a priest.”
“Right, shush now Sir. Can we get on with this so I can go and get my head down in the car for half-an-hour?”
“Yes, yes, sorry. Right, where were we? Oh yes! I remember, Kathy was talking a right load of old bollocks, the kind of crap that would see her in prison for perverting the course of justice at the very least, and then I went for a can of pop and a bathroom break.”
“I’ve spoken to Kathy, Sir. She’s fully aware of all the developments.” Rudovsky had a sympathetic expression on her face, and Kathy seemed to have warmed to the DC.
“Yes, I’m sorry about earlier,” said Kathy, without making eye contact with anybody, which made the apology seem hollow and insincere.
“Okay, let’s start again then,” said Miller, seemingly upbeat and cheerful. “Do you know Janet Croft?”
“Yes.”
“How well did you know her?”
“I knew her very well. I mean, I haven’t known her for a very long time, less than a month. But in that time, I’ve learnt a lot about her.”
“Would you like to share that information with us please?”
Kathy told Miller and Rudovsky the whole story, from the TALK AM Facebook message, right through to the revelation about who had been responsible for the abuse. Forty years of Janet’s life story was covered in just under fifteen minutes.
“That’s such a heart-breaking story,” said Rudovsky, sincerely moved by Janet Croft’s awful story, despite having heard the most-part already from Jack Greenwood. Today’s rendition, from Kathy, was made all the more tragic, as it concluded when Janet had finally found some happiness, and peace with herself.
Rudovsky had seen the poor soul involved, after the ghastly, brutal end of her dismal, pitiful life. It genuinely did upset the DC, and reminded her that sex crimes always lead onto bigger, darker, more upsetting problems further down the road. It is not a crime that just lasts the few minutes while the abuser takes their pathetic gratification.
“Are you alright mate?” asked Miller, putting his arm around Rudovsky’s shoulder.
“Yeah, its fine, carry on.”
“We can take five minutes if you want? Go and have a breather.”
“No, it’s alright, honestly, let’s just crack on.”
Miller looked across at Kathy. “My colleague found Janet Croft’s body last night, that’s why she is so upset by what you’ve just told us.”
“You knew she was dead, didn’t you?” Rudovsky had an angry tone in her voice. She hadn’t meant to sound so enraged.
“Yes.”
“How did you know?”
“I was shown a photograph of her, I think she was still alive on it, she was being strangled. It was the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Who showed you that picture Kathy?”
“Piers. On the night I disappeared. I went to meet him, a place in the countryside near Manchester, the taxi driver took me to meet Piers there. It was somewhere near Tameside Hospital, that was the last sign I saw in the taxi. Piers showed me the picture not long after I’d been in his car, but just before he did, he’d made me drink from a mug, and handle some other items, I’m guessing they came from Janet’s house. He was trying to get my DNA on it. He tried to make me touch a door handle, as well.”
“A door handle?”
“Yes, from an inside door, I assume it was from Janet’s flat. It was an old, scruffy thing. He wanted my finger-prints on it. He wanted to set me up for the murder, in order to blackmail me.”
“Blackmail you?”
“Yes. It was insurance, to keep quiet about Bob Francis.”
“And did you touch the items?”
“No. That’s why I have these injuries.”
“Good, good, this is better Kathy, this is far more helpful. Nice one.” Rudovsky’s tone had calmed down a little now, and the kind, caring inflection that Kathy had warmed to was back in her voice.
“Kathy, do you have any idea why Piers Marshall was so concerned about protecting Bob Francis? It doesn’t add up to me.” Miller couldn’t make the connection. Sure, he understood that Bob Francis was a big star on Piers’ TV channel back in the day. But it wasn’t Piers’ TV station at that time, Piers would have only been in his twenties in the seventies, so it wasn’t really anything to do with him. Miller was desperate to know why this man had made himself so involved.
“I have had all week to come up with a theory about that.”
“I’d like to hear it, please.”
“Janet didn’t name him, but the way that he’s been acting, I think that he must have been one of the abusers. He worked at London TV then, while Janet was being abused. He’s worked there since leaving University. His family own the business. His dad was the previous MD, so he could be trying to protect himself, or possibly his dad.”
“Well the thing is Kathy, he’s not protecting anybody anymore. The whole sordid thing is going to be splashed all over the news within the next few hours. Journalists are already trying to find out why we were at Bob Francis’ house at five o’clock on a Saturday morning. Piers Marshall’s time is well and truly up. No mistake about it.”
“Why were you trying to protect Piers, Kathy?” asked Rudovsky.
“Oh, come on! For fuck’s sake. Why do you think?”
“I’m asking you the question Kathy. I want to hear your reason.”
“Because I’ve got no alternative have I? I’m going to have to volunteer myself onto the Witness Protection thing, like Jack and Sally.”
“Why, though?”
“What do you mean, why?” Kathy looked confused. “I’m a dead-woman walking. You’ve seen what happened to Janet. I’m next.”
“Okay, that’s a reasonable point-of-view, and we both respect that. But, bearing in mind that Piers is in our custody, and Bob Francis is dead
… I’m not sure who your enemy is now, Kathy. It’s over. You’ve survived it.” Rudovsky was ace at these jobs, and Miller was glad to be sat there, watching her as she skilfully controlled the witness’s confidence and mood.
“It’s not just Piers. There’s somebody else. But I can’t say anymore about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not prepared to say anymore. My life is at risk. The only reason that I’m not dead is because I managed to convince Piers that he wouldn’t get away with it. They were taking me to a grave they’d dug for me on Saddleworth Moors. I managed to spook him, I said that I’d told various people that I was meeting him. Since then, he made me promise to the story that we are a couple. He said that if I went along with it, you guys wouldn’t have any proof that it wasn’t true, and that it will all blow over in a few days.”
“Kathy, if that’s what Piers Marshall thinks, then he must be a very deluded person. This is not going to blow over, it’s a murder enquiry, a sex abuse enquiry and a missing persons investigation all rolled into one. These kinds of jobs don’t just blow over. It’s not a stolen car we’re investigating.”
“I’m not about to defend his opinion, DCI Miller. I’m merely repeating what he told me.”
“Has he confessed to you, that he killed Janet?”
“Not in as many words.”
“Meaning?”
“He has never openly announced that he killed her, but he has certainly alluded to it, he has certainly made dark threats about what could happen to me.”
“Is he working with somebody else?”
“I’m not prepared to be drawn into that.”
“In the picture he showed you, of Janet being strangled, what could you see?”
“It was a rope or something, might have been a tie-back for a curtain, it was that kind of thing. It was being squeezed around her neck. Janet was….” Kathy began to break down as the awful image came to the front of her mind.
“It’s alright Kathy, take your time.” Rudovsky had found her most reassuring and sympathetic voice.
“…there were two hands, pulling at either end of the rope. The knuckles were white, like piano keys, he was pulling so hard.”
“So somebody else took the photo, which suggests that at least two people were there when Janet was killed.”
Kathy didn’t say anything, she just wiped away the tears that were flooding out of her eyes.
Rudovsky handed her a few tissues. “Kathy, I’m sorry, I get it that you are scared, but you have nothing to fear, if we can take this other person off the streets. We have no idea who it is, and we need to go and interview Piers Marshall soon. If you want us to have a concrete case against him, you have to help us. There is no other way.” Rudovsky was pleading with Kathy, but her head was still facing the floor, and she was still visibly trembling. Kathy Hopkirk was a very scared lady, it was plain to see.
Miller decided to try. “Please Kathy, we need something hard to hit Piers with from the start. As things stand, it’s going to be his word against yours that you two are lovers. We need to divert him and his legal team away from that kind of bullshit right from the very start.”
“I know what you want, I’m not a moron. But I’m sorry, I’m not prepared to run the risk.”
A cold, prickly silence filled the air. This was a difficult situation, and Miller and Rudovsky knew that Kathy had clearly been through a lot, and was terrified of this other person. None the less, it was bloody frustrating. Miller’s phone shattered the silence as it pinged with a text message. It was from Saunders. It read.
“I’m outside your interview room. Need to talk urgently.”
Chapter 53
DCI Miller excused himself from the interview room, and met DI Saunders in the corridor. He didn’t speak until the door was firmly closed behind him.
“Alright Keith, how did you sleep?”
“Not much. Something’s been bugging me.”
“Go on…”
“Cast your mind back to Monday morning. Dixon came in while me and you were having a briefing. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat.”
“Yeah, I remember, had his end away the night before, was my assessment. Go on.”
“Well he passed this Kathy file to us, which I was buzzing about. But he was trying to off-load another case onto us as well if you remember?”
“Yes, I do. What was it now, a suicide on the motorway wasn’t it?”
“Bingo. Well, that was the assumption. Dixon suggested that the stiff had jumped off a bridge.”
“That’s right. What about it?”
“Well, it’s been playing on my mind. The dead man was called Ben Thompson, he was from London, a bit of a low-league gangster. I just thought it was a bit strange that this had happened on the same night Kathy had disappeared.”
“Oh, right yeah. I hadn’t made that link. Mind you, I haven’t given it another thought since Dixon left the office with the file. Where’s this going Keith because Jo’s getting really tetchy now, she needs a break.”
“Sure, sorry, I’ll get to the point, I’ve done a bit of digging. The dead man has worked as a bodyguard for London TV for the past fifteen years.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Miller’s eyes were popping out of his head as Saunders’ revelation hit the back of the net.
“Seriously Sir, I’ve had a good scrape around. He’s Piers Marshall’s hired muscle. Sorry, he was. He worked on an ad-hoc, casual basis, in amongst running his security firm, which has the door contract for a number of night-clubs in London.”
“This is interesting stuff Keith, keep going…”
“Something very iffy was going on between Piers Marshall and him. He has invoiced the TV channel every month for the past five years for exactly the same amount. It’s never gone up, never gone down.”
“How much?”
“Twelve grand. Never more, never less..”
“Bloody hell. Twelve grand a month, that’s, well it’s a hundred and thirty odd grand a year. So…”
“So, yes. Exactly. The plot thickens.”
“And the theory you have is that the squished up man on that motorway was part of the abduction plan?”
“I’m guessing so. But I feel amazingly confident Sir, it can’t be a coincidence, can it?”
“Well, it could be. You’ve been doing this long enough to know that.” Miller started stroking his chin, and realised how badly he needed a shave. His stubble was at the scratchy length that his twins found hilarious to touch.
“It couldn’t Sir. It’s linked, no two ways about it. The body was reported at around eleven pm, but the attending officers thought it had been in the carriageway for a while, judging by the state it was in. It just looked like an old curtain off the back of a wagon, one of the witnesses said. There were no lights on the motorway, that section is marked by cat’s eyes only.”
“Jesus.” Miller exhaled quickly, as though the thought of the body on the motorway had given him a fright.
“So, I want to be in the interview with Marshall, Sir.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Here, I’ve brought you a picture of Ben Thompson. Why not put it in front of Kathy, see if it sparks a reaction?” Saunders handed his boss the photo. It was a police mug-shot, and the man looked cocky, arrogant. He just had that same toe-rag expression on his grinning face that Miller had seen on a thousand similar police pictures.
“You are an absolute, top drawer legend Keith Saunders. Top man. Cheers.”
“Where are you up to with Kathy?”
“Come in, join in, you can put that picture in front of her yourself.”
“Oh right, cheers.”
Miller opened the door and gestured Saunders through.
“Kathy, I don’t know if you remember my colleague from this morning?”
Kathy looked up and smiled at Saunders. “Vaguely.”
“I’ve asked DI Saunders to c
ome in and talk to you about something that has come to light.”
“Do you mind if I sit here, next to you Kathy?” asked Saunders.
“No, no, it’s fine.”
“Cheers. Right, you okay Jo?” Saunders noticed that Rudovsky looked uncharacteristically miserable.
“Yes, I’m fine Sir, just want to get a nap, I’ve reached the drunken stage of sleep deprivation now.”
“Right, soz, well, where are we up to?”
“Kathy has been extremely helpful, she’s helping us with everything we ask her about. The only issue is the fact that she refuses to discuss Piers’ accomplice.” Miller smiled kindly at Kathy, who was still shaking quite dramatically.
“Why not Kathy?” asked Saunders, calling on his most charming and comforting bed-side manner. “We need to know who it is so we can put an end to this, once and for all.”
“I’m next,” said Kathy, her lips were trembling. She was as white as a sheet, and she looked terrified. Saunders decided to get stuck in. He pulled the photograph of Ben Thompson out of his file, and placed it on the table facing Kathy, and himself.
“Do you recognise this man, Kathy?”
A noise escaped Kathy as she made eye-contact with the grinning man in the picture. The sound was like a gasp, but in reverse as all the oxygen left Kathy’s chest. It was the sound of shock. All three of the detectives looked at one another. There was no disputing that Kathy had a very personal connection to the man in the picture. Kathy’s shaking got worse, and now she was crying.
“Kathy, do you recognise this person?” repeated Saunders, very gently. Kathy didn’t reply vocally, but her body-language told all three of them everything they needed to know. Miller nodded at Saunders. It was a gentle nod, but it was full of respect. The younger detective had done it again, and Miller was visibly proud of his DI.
“Well, I can see that this picture has upset you Kathy, so to make things a little easier for you, I should tell you that this man is no longer with us.”
Kathy looked up, and across at Saunders. Rudovsky suddenly looked much more alert, too. This bombshell had really livened up the worn-out DC.
“His body was found on the motorway, just near the border of Manchester and Cheshire, last Thursday evening, a few hours after you’d left The Midland.”
Gone Too Far : DCI Miller 4: Britain's Most Hated Celebrity Has Disappeared Page 33
