‘Who had?’ asked John.
‘Hey, I didn’t ask any questions. Some drug cartel I reckon...but because of how prolific a robber he was, the boys gave him time to raise the money when he got out, that’s all I know.’
‘The boys?’ asked Dylan.
‘Don’t even go there. So, where’s the money? Where’s the bloody half a million if Frankie didn’t have it?’ Malcolm was sweating: his face was red and contorted in anger.
‘The money wasn’t in the case at the scene. It looks like remnants of books had been inside when it was set alight...forensics is trying to find out more for us.’
‘Books? Liz doesn’t do books. She does magazines with pictures. What are you telling me, you think she gave Larry the money?’
John looked at Dylan.
‘That’s what you’re telling me isn’t it? Larry caused her death didn’t he? He’s a dead man walking. I’m telling you now I’m gonna take his bloody head off.’ Malcolm paced the visitor’s centre’s floor.
‘Slow down Malcolm. We don’t know that, but when we’ve got all the facts I promise we’ll come and tell you in person, then you’ve got it from the man in charge and you can be sure it’s right. Don’t be making idle threats.’
‘They’re not idle threats mate, believe me...’
‘I’m going to ask you one last time before we leave, have you told us everything, Malcolm?’ said Dylan.
‘What else can I tell you?’ Malcolm was overcome with helplessness, or so it seemed.
‘We know Larry Banks came to see you in prison. What was that about?’ asked John.
‘I’ve ’eard enough,’ Malcolm said, slamming his hands on his thighs. He stood up and walked to the door, where he waited in silence to be let back into his wing by the prison officers.
‘Do you get the impression he is holding back?’ John asked Dylan en route to the station.
‘I don’t warm to the man that’s for sure, but then again, look at Larry Banks; a drinker, a womaniser who’s had some close shaves over the years with angry husbands, but a thief? A murderer? Someone who did Reynolds a favour when he was on my team? Who knows? We’ll just have to see what the evidence tells us now. Only then will we get the truth, I suspect.’
Chapter Thirty One
Jen couldn’t settle: the lump was still there, when she showered, when she lay down, when she stood up. On impulse she picked up the phone and rang the doctor’s surgery.
‘No, it’s not urgent,’ she told the receptionist. ‘I found a lump in my breast, but I’m not ill,’ she explained.
‘I can get you an appointment today Miss Jones,’ she said, without delay. ‘Would half past four be okay?’
Back at the station, Tracy stopped Dylan as he walked into the CID office.
‘Millgarth Police Station has just had a call from Screen Yorkshire. A mobile home hired by Larry Banks has been abandoned in front of their studios at 42, The Calls, Leeds, LS2 7EY,’ she read from her pad.
‘Leeds? Bloody hell, so he’s back. Wonder where? Vicky, John, can you get over there and take Senior SOCO with you? The van will need searching and we’ll need forensics to examine it. We might get CCTV from the surrounding area if we’re lucky. Tracy, once Vicky and John get a statement from the hire company about the mileage that was on it when it left them and any further information they may have that might help us with our enquiries. Can you also get Leeds police to watch for him...and get someone to watch his flat, Lisa. That cheeky bastard has enough gall to go back there. Keep me updated everybody. I’ll get him circulated over the radio across the force area, again.’
Vicky looked crestfallen as she reached for her radio.
‘What’s up mate?’ Dylan asked.
‘I thought I was in for a trip to the South of France, not bloody Leeds.’ She groaned. ‘Story of my chuffing life; don’t you know I need some sun,’ she said.
Dylan grinned. ‘Look on the positive side. You’ll get some smashing pie and peas from the van in the car park next to Kirkgate Market for your tea; better than frog’s legs any day.’
Dylan’s phone rang.
‘Hi love. How lovely to hear your voice,’ he said.
‘Do you know what time you’ll be home tonight?’ Jen asked.
‘No, why?’ Dylan’s brows furrowed.
‘Oh, I’ve just got a doctor’s appointment that’s all.’
‘You didn’t say. You okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m sure I’ll be home before you, but I was just letting you know in case by any stretch of the imagination, you got home before me,’ she said sarcastically.
‘Point taken. It’s manic here. The mobile home Larry went off in has turned up,’ he said. ‘Looks as if he’s back...so it may be a late one.’
‘Oh, you better go then. I won’t keep you. Love you.’ Jen said as she replaced the receiver and started planning a nice supper for Jack, to try and take her mind off her doctor’s appointment. ’Sirloin,’ she said out loud. Max licked her hand and then paced in circles, before finally resting at her feet.
Feedback about Larry started to come in quick and fast, from all directions. The mobile home appeared to have been carefully cleaned before he dumped it. He was told there was a strong smell of bleach in the van, but there was nothing inside it to cause concern. This was more like it. Dylan would have expected Larry to clean up after himself.
Tracy rang Dylan, ‘Sir, I’ve got the mileage for you from when it left. I’ve told them we need to examine it, so they wouldn’t be able to have it back yet.’
‘Thank you. Can you tell them we’re searching it now, so we’ll get it back to them ASAP.’
‘Yes sir.’
Dylan ran his hands through his hair and checked his watch, waiting for news. A million thoughts raced around his head. Was Larry trying to make it easy for them? Or was he still scheming? Could he trust him when they caught up with him?
Dylan’s mobile rang, ‘unknown number.’
‘I’ve got people hovering outside my flat. I’m near the electric sub- station in the car park of the Riverside apartments. Send two of your team over. They don’t need to kick in my door. I’m ready to come in.’ Larry hung up. Dylan quickly made calls to arrange for officers outside the flat to stay there. He diverted John and Vicky to Larry’s flat to arrest him. Was he sober? He sounded like he was at least lucid.
Dylan texted Jen, ‘Will be home much later than intended tonight love, sorry x’
An hour later, John and Vicky were back.
‘Larry Banks is in the cells. Arrested on suspicion of murder. His brief, Mrs Linda Perfect, has been requested,’ panted Vicky, her face red and glowing as she collapsed in a chair in Dylan’s office.
‘How is he?’ asked Dylan.
‘Quiet but he seems okay,’ John told him. His eyes were bright and dancing.
‘Sober?’
‘Yeah, he is boss. His face is bloated from continual drinking and his eyelids are hooded over bloodshot eyes, but he doesn’t seem unduly concerned about being locked up… His flat’s being searched but as far as we can see there is no luggage. He was obviously anticipating his arrest.’
‘Yeah, well he knows the system better than most and he’s going to use handing himself in, to his advantage, isn’t he?’ said Dylan.
‘Boss, I hate to ask, but it’s my youngster’s birthday today and although I’d love to get stuck into the interview, is there any chance I can get a flyer?’
‘John, I’m glad you asked. If I’d have found out you’d missed tucking your little ’un up on his birthday for the sake of a prisoner, I’d have been annoyed.’
‘Thanks boss.’
‘I’d love to interview him but if I don’t make it home at some point before my son goes to bed, my missus will have my guts for garters,’ he laughed.
‘Vicky, what you doing tonight gal?’
‘I’m all yours,’ she said suggestively.
‘Fancy interviewing a murder suspect with me, since you didn’t
get to go to France?’
‘Don’t I just,’ she beamed.
‘Just don’t tell me Larry Banks intimidates you?’
‘Me? You must be bloody joking. You know me better than that. No man intimidates me,’ she said, grinning.
‘I thought you might say that,’ Dylan winked. ‘Come on girl; let’s get our interview strategy sorted. You wanna be the good guy or the bad?’ he teased.
‘Definitely the bad,’ she said laughing, as John left them to it.
Right on time, Jen pushed the heavy fire door open into the light and sparse vestibule of the doctor’s surgery. She peered into the vacant receptionist office and waited patiently. Time seemed to stand still. ’Why am I wasting the doctor’s time when I’m fit and healthy,’ she thought sitting down uncomfortably close to infected people, who were coughing and spluttering in the waiting area. Posters adorned every wall: informative and something to look at whilst you wait? ‘More like overwhelming, hyper stimulation, confusion inducing overload,’ she thought.
A bell rang, her name was called, and the doctor took no time at all to examine her.
‘I don’t think there is anything sinister there to worry about, but just to be on the safe side, I’ll get my secretary to contact the hospital and we’ll arrange for you to see a specialist. It’ll give you peace of mind.’
Jen waited whilst the doctor’s secretary rang the hospital.
‘Tomorrow morning, okay?’ she said, looking up at Jen.
Wide-eyed Jen nodded her approval.
‘Thank you,’ she said blindly, as she stumbled out of the surgery, an appointment for the Breast Clinic in her hand.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was a strange feeling, sitting in the familiar interview room, opposite a man whom Dylan had interviewed with many times before. The atmosphere was electric as Larry’s opaque eyes met his. Larry’s solicitor spoke directly, after the introduction and caution for the purpose of the tape.
‘My client denies emphatically the murder of anyone, or indeed any wrongdoing, other than a relationship with a married woman. That said, of course he will assist you all he can with your enquiries.’
‘Mr Banks is very capable of speaking for himself, Mrs Perfect.’ Dylan said, turning to Larry. ‘You know why you’ve been arrested. Can you tell us what your relationship was with Mrs Reynolds?’
Larry cleared his throat. ‘She came on to me; her husband was inside. I know I shouldn’t have, but you know me and women Jack: temptation got the better of me.’ His lips curled in a half smile. ’With the breathalyser job pending, it was a bit of light hearted relief; a bit of fun, that’s all it was.’
‘So when did you last see her?’
‘You obviously know, because you’ll have examined her house, it was the night before she was killed.’
‘So tell me then, how you met and how the evening went,’ continued Dylan.
‘She gave me information about Malcolm Reynolds and his business dealings, which helped us put him away.’ Larry sighed. ‘I hadn’t seen or heard from her since, until she texted me, right out of the blue, saying she’d just come across my phone number.’
‘Just like that.’ Dylan scoffed.
‘Yeah, straight up. I met up with her at her house and before I knew it we were in bed,’ he sniggered. ‘Well, you know what I’m like.’
‘Did she call you on the mobile you’ve got now?’ Vicky asked.
‘No, not this one,’ he said, shuffling in his seat.
‘Don’t worry; we’ve got your old phone number, Larry. You’re billing and cell site information, as you’re aware, will show your contacts and where it’s been used.’ Dylan said, wishing he’d already got the data.
‘I’ve nothing to hide, feel free.’
‘Why did you clear off after you’d spent the night with her?’ asked Vicky.
‘I was going on my holidays, you can check. The van was planned and I’d a ferry to catch.’ Larry shrugged his shoulders.
‘So when did you and how did you find out about the death of Liz Reynolds?’ Vicky continued.
‘I saw the headlines in a newspaper while I was away.’
‘Why didn’t you come straight back?’
‘I was on holiday, wasn’t I? She was a one-night stand for God’s sake. What would you have liked me to do? I sent a note to Dylan.’
‘Drink’s not affected your memory then?’Vicky commented.
‘No.’
‘So, a bit of light relief for you and then she was murdered the next day, just like that,’ Vicky said.
He didn’t reply.
‘Was Liz being blackmailed?’ Dylan pushed him.
‘She didn’t say.’ Larry said, his voice rising.
‘You’re lying to me Larry,’ he tutted, shaking his head. ‘I’d expect better, but there again, why should I?’
‘No...no, straight up I don’t know...if she was, I wish she’d have told me, then I might ‘have been able to do something to help her.’
Larry was gambling on his knowledge regarding the time it took for the team to get the telephone data back, and Dylan knew it.
‘She’d all night to talk to me...but she didn’t say ought.’
‘So you’re telling me you didn’t see any money?’
‘I never saw any money.’
‘Your prints won’t be on the suitcase that we found at the scene then?’
Dylan held his breath; he didn’t have any evidence or information on the suitcase, but his gut instinct told him that if Larry was involved then his fingerprints would be on the suitcase.
‘Inspector, I must interrupt...if you have my client’s fingerprints why haven’t you disclosed that to me?’ asked Mrs Perfect.
Dylan ignored her comment.
‘Well, Larry?’
‘Well what? I touched all sorts of things in her home, which I’m sure you’re well aware of. I never saw any money though. I left early the next morning as she didn’t want any gossip getting back to Malcolm. I was well on my way before she …’ He gulped.
Was he upset? Dylan couldn’t read him. Larry was sat on his hands. Dylan knew he was being shrewd. He was giving away as little body language as possible; controlling his reactions. He’d had plenty of time, knowing what he knew, to rehearse the interview in his mind, before giving himself up.
‘So tell me, why did you wait so long to make contact with us, if everything was as innocent as you say? Or, for that matter, feel that you had to profess your innocence?’ Dylan asked.
‘With the old man…’
‘Fred White’s his name,’ Vicky interrupted.
‘Fred White, being on a life support machine...going to court for drink-driving...knowing I was going to lose my job and my pension, enough for you?’
‘Do you know Malcolm Reynolds, Larry?’
‘You know I do, coz I was part of the team that got him sent down.’
‘He says he knows you.’
‘And your point is?’
‘Well, we had to go and tell him about his wife’s last known movements and who she was with; and apart from being very angry he told us you were bent.’
‘I’m sorry inspector: I have to object to your line of questioning. My client has been arrested on suspicion of murder.’ Mrs Perfect said.
‘You just did,’ Dylan nodded to Mrs Perfect. ‘Larry, is Malcolm telling the truth?’
‘No, he isn’t. Tell me what con wouldn’t be angry if they’d just been told their wife had been found dead, and the night before, she’d slept with another man and that other man just happened to be a copper? He’s just trying to get his own back, I can understand that. Like I said, I’m not your murderer.’ Larry was keeping his cool.
The interview was going nowhere, and after forty minutes it was concluded.
Dylan walked quickly back up to the incident room, with Vicky running in the wake of his long strides. Their shift was far from over.
‘Boy is he a slime ball. Urgh …’ Vicky griped as
she caught up with Dylan.
‘Let’s try and get something that will rock him a bit, before round two, eh? The bastard’s lying, I know he is.’
Jen went to bed early in the hope that tomorrow would come quickly. As much as she tried to sleep, Dylan’s absence made it harder for her to nod off. What if she had cancer? She tossed and turned. Her stomach grumbled. She got up and took two paracetamols. The sight of the blood on the plate, that had ran from the Sirloin steak in the fridge, made her wretch as she took out the milk. It would have to wait for another night to be cooked, a night when her stomach allowed her to cook it, and Dylan was home to eat it.
It was pitch black outside the station, with not even a star visible in the sky but the incident room was a hive of activity and Dylan wanted a debrief before the next interview. The update from forensics gave them the information, that pages retrieved from amongst the ashes near the suitcase, were definitely law books. On arrest, Larry had had one hundred and thirty seven pounds on him, plus keys for his flat and two post office receipts. Unfortunately, getting evidence from the SIM card of Liz Reynolds’ phone was not as easy as first thought. Carbon deposits had to be removed, which was a slow process, and it wouldn’t be known for the next seventy-two hours if the process had worked or not.
Dylan was tense but focused, as they went into the next interview. He knew that Larry Banks, with all his experience of interviewing, wouldn’t simply roll over. He opened up after the formalities.
‘Was Liz Reynolds studying law, Larry?’
‘No idea. Why?’ he said, looking surprised.
‘Because her suitcase the bank had filled with money the day before her murder, was found to contain nothing but law books.’
‘I don’t know what she was up to, I don’t think we discussed it,’ he said momentarily, looking up to the ceiling as if in thought. ’I once took her some of my old books round because she was arranging a book sale to raise money for Harrowfield Hospice. I’ve no idea why she would have kept ‘em though, and why she would have them in the suitcase, if they were the same ones that is.’ He looked puzzled. ’Perhaps she was on the way to the charity shop with ’em.’
Consequences Page 25
