Hogarth scrunched his eyes shut and sighed.
“Look. No, it’s not a cold case. I’m asking you to do something off the record because you’ve got the skills. This is a favour. And it’s also highly personal. Are you okay with that?”
“Guv?” said Simmons.
“I can assure you, there’s nothing criminal in this. I’m not doing anything wrong. In fact, I’m doing this for the right reasons. I need to see if someone is lying. Can you trust me?”
“I have to. You saved my life, guv.”
Instantly, Hogarth felt terrible.
“You won’t need to access the database for this one Simmons. So there shouldn’t be any footprint. Do you think you can do it?”
“It’s simple request, guv. If Red Mobile have it, I think they’ll do it.”
“Good. Thank you, Simmons. You can use my name if you like, keep yours out of it.”
Simmons nodded. Hogarth watched as Simmons opened his police email account. He clicked into a section of the database dedicated to RIPA, a section Hogarth didn’t even know existed. He copied and pasted the email address for Red Mobile and typed a quick email.
Simmons signed off under his own name, then pinged the email away.
“I’ll call them later, to chase up,” said Simmons.
Hogarth nodded his appreciation, but he felt lousy. It was the second red line he’d forced a colleague to cross inside twenty-four hours. If this one ever came to light he would be in serious trouble. Hogarth tried to put the idea behind him, and pulled the scrunched sheets from the X-L gym from his jacket pocket. Simmons watched as he unfolded them on his desk. Two plain white sheets of A4, covered with black type. Hogarth smoothed them out with the palm of his hand. Simmons took an apple from his jacket and took a bite. He pointed to the papers in front of Hogarth.
“Is that something to do with your RIPA request as well, guv?”
“This?” said Hogarth. “Oh no. This is something else. This is the day job. We’ll wait for Palmer before I get into this stuff. With what we learned last night we’re going to put a few people in their place today. I just need to get a couple of things straight first.”
Simmons nodded and took another bite.
It was too early to call Marris or Dickens, but he needed both their help. Quentin was already on the case, but he needed more.
He wrote one email, addressed to them both, for clarity and to save time.
For the attention of Ivan Marris and John Dickens
Re: Aimee Gillen case, HK Studios.
Gents,
I’m writing with regard to the broken tile, fragment of glass and trace of dried liquid found beside the sauna at HKS. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind looking at these elements again as a new possibility has come to light…
It was a tangled web, but seen through the prism of Aimee Gillen’s final phone calls he felt as though the elements of the case were beginning to align. Hogarth still felt like he was losing perspective. No one else had seen the case his way since the beginning. He was alone on the murder charge, even now. And if it turned out that he was still wrong, he knew he could never trust his own judgement again. If he was wrong, he would lose everything. But if he was wrong, Hogarth reckoned he would deserve what was coming to him.
Twenty-nine
DS Palmer walked into the CID room but stopped just past the threshold. She found herself facing Hogarth and Simmons, the two of them sitting together in the centre of the room like a pair of naughty school boys. It seemed they were waiting for her. Palmer checked the clock by the incident board. It was seven-fifty am.
Palmer felt a hangover of disappointment from Hogarth’s actions the night before, but had since decided to let it go. Hogarth hadn’t yet shared what he’d found at the gym, he’d only hinted at it, and those hints had kept her awake through the night. Deep down she still wondered if he had found anything at all. The case for murder had seemed weak all along; his fixation with the abandoned line of coke and the random cracked tile seemed flimsy at best. And Palmer could hardly forget Melford’s deadline. Today the case would come together, or the CID team would soon fall apart.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” said Hogarth.
“But I’m not late,” said Palmer, dumping her bag at her desk.
“Nope. You’re bang on time,” said Hogarth. He turned away and took the two pieces of paper off his desk and laid them flat on the small meeting table in the middle of the room. As Hogarth concentrated on the sheets, Palmer caught Simmons’ eye. She mouthed a few words.
“Is he alright?”
Simmons looked awkward. He replied with a cautious nod.
Hogarth glanced up at them, aware something had been communicated between them, but he didn’t pass comment.
“So… last night we went to the X-L gym. Darryl Regent’s palace of health, right next to the studio.”
Palmer nodded.
“And while we were there we performed a bit of manual data extraction. I know Palmer here thinks I took a liberty,” said Hogarth.
“I never said that,” said Palmer. “But it certainly wasn’t best practice. We nicked a file from the gym and almost got caught in the act.”
“I took it,” said Hogarth. “But it had to be done. They tried to hide exactly what we asked for.”
“Which was?” said Simmons.
“Chrissie Heaton’s employee records, and more besides. You probably already know that Chrissie Heaton was an employee of the gym before she started work at Harry King Studios. A super career move that was, eh?”
“Yeah. I wondered about that,” said Simmons. “Do you think Harry King made the approach? Maybe he letches after those gym girls when he sees them at work every morning?”
“That’s what I thought, but I don’t think Harry King needs to letch. Like it or not, that little old man already has his pick of the litter.”
“What did you want with Heaton’s employee file anyway?” said Simmons.
“Chrissie Heaton has been a closed book ever since we first interviewed her,” said Hogarth. “She gave Palmer the run around twice, but still acts terrified, and as if she’s hiding something from us. If we’re to get to the truth, we had to know what she’s all about. From what Marvin told us, I’d bet money that Chrissie Heaton was the friend Aimee Gillen wanted to talk to the newspaper about. And if that’s true, it undermines Heaton’s story about Aimee Gillen trying it on with her. Which means Chrissie Heaton – and others – lied to cover something up. What is Chrissie Heaton so bloody scared of? I think it’s the same thing that got Aimee Heaton killed. The gym and the film studio are an odd match, right? But they are both secretive and controlling. We saw that last night. Chrissie Heaton broke the rule when she joined Harry King’s outfit. She formed a friendship with Aimee Gillen, and let something slip. Something Aimee couldn’t forget, no matter the rules. Aimee Gillen’s conscience wouldn’t let her keep it quiet. That’s what got her killed. Chrissie Heaton is too scared to tell us what that secret is… we had to work around her.”
“But Chrissie Heaton’s story does fit with Lana Aubrey’s version of events,” said Simmons.
“Yeah, and that means it wasn’t just Chrissie who’s been lying.”
Simmons narrowed his eyes, pondering Hogarth’s meaning. Palmer looked intrigued too.
“You think Lana Aubrey’s been lying too.”
“Several times over. Marvin outed her on the drug request, but she denied knowing anything about drugs. At this stage, Marvin has no cause to lie. And it’s not just that. The woman isn’t what she seems.”
Palmer and Simmons eyed one another for a moment. Hogarth caught it but looked away.
“What did you get from those files guv?” said Palmer.
“A few things. First off, I saw Chrissie Heaton’s interview notes – from when she got interviewed for the gym job. There were typed questions and handwritten notes, made by the interviewers. They said she was a good candidate, right for the gym in almost every w
ay, and they scored her a nine out of ten. Which seemed reasonable to me in the first place, because some of those typed questions were about academic experience and performance. But as Marvin told us, Chrissie Heaton dropped out of school. We can check on that, but I expect he’d be right on that score. When he first saw her, Marvin was interested in Chrissie Heaton as a girl his age. Those kinds of details would have mattered to him.”
“So what does that mean? Chrissie lied at her interview?” said Simmons.
“It’s possible, but there are other factors to consider,” said Hogarth. “I think it wasn’t Chrissie who blagged at the interview. I think the whole interview was faked.”
“But why rig it?” said Palmer. “Why even keep notes of a fake interview?”
“That’s easy enough to answer. You’d rig an interview to justify an appointment that must be forced through. And then you create the necessary paperwork to back it up. Anyone checking that paperwork later on may not have known Chrissie Heaton’s background, but we do. From the paperwork, you’d say due process was carried out. But the gym people weren’t interested in due process, they’re only interested in the appearance of it.”
Simmons shook his head. “You’ve lost me, guv.”
“And me,” said Palmer.
“Okay,” said Hogarth. “Then look at this. This was from the supposed interview. Look who the interviewers were.”
“Darryl Regent… and Lana Aubrey,” said Palmer.
“Yes. They signed off the interviews,” said Hogarth, as he traced a finger underneath their hasty signatures.
“Darryl Regent and Lana Aubrey?” said Simmons. “But why would Aubrey be on that interview panel.”
“I didn’t say the interview was fake, Simmons. Just that it was rigged. Those interviews took place – but they already knew who they wanted to win the job. Each and every time.”
“Hang on,” said Palmer. “Now you’re saying this happened more than once?” said Palmer.
“Yes, I am. Do you remember what Marvin said? He said another girl had died at the studio a while back. A girl topped herself. Remember?”
“Yes…” said Palmer.
“Her name was Freya Dunton. And this is Freya Dunton’s interview notes from 2016. Look at it. She was interviewed by Darryl Regent and Lana Aubrey. They signed the sheets here. And the answers were marked highly again. I saw her files. Freya Dunton worked at the X-L gym for nearly a year before she transferred across to the studio. I looked for news about her death. I’m sure there’ll be a pathology report to be had, but I haven’t had time for that yet. I managed to find a one paragraph snippet in The Record’s archive about her. It said Freya Dunton took an overdose of sleeping pills. She had a record of depression, ever since leaving care. Who cared about what happened to poor Freya? And who cares about what happens to poor Chrissie Heaton? Or the girl who comes next. Which could well be the girl Aimee Gillen was seen talking to – the girl we see Chrissie talking to on the steps. Those interviews were fake. Those appointments were fake. They were done to cover up what was happening behind closed doors.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” said Simmons. “Why would Darryl Regent want to be involved in interviewing lowly gym staff. The man’s virtually famous.”
“Don’t I know it?” said Hogarth “Darryl Regent is the reason I’ve got DCI Melford up my backside. You know these people now. Think about it. Why are they doing this?”
Palmer and Simmons stayed quiet.
“Chrissie Heaton was appointed at the gym for a purpose. It wasn’t good. She wasn’t like the others. There’s no record of her being trained or learning towards any fitness trainer qualifications, unlike what Jody Castleton said. But when I looked at her quarterly appraisals, it was Darryl Regent again who signed them off. The same happened to Freya Dunton. These two girls came under Regent’s trained eye. And these two girls ended up being shipped over to Harry King Studios around a year after that started. Do you want any more coincidences?”
Palmer waited for it.
“Freya Dunton and Chrissie Heaton had just turned seventeen when they were recruited. They were both cut loose and turned over to Harry King as soon as they turned eighteen. Moving from one code of silence to another, being closely supervised by Darryl Regent to being closely supervised by the other name on their interview sheet.
“Lana Aubrey?” said Simmons.
Hogarth nodded.
“Chrissie Heaton wasn’t being protected from Aimee Gillen by Lana Aubrey. No way. What was the word Aimee Gillen gave to Alice Perry? The word she used was ‘coercion’. Those calls to the solicitor. They were filed under sexual harassment and employment laws. Close. Very close, but they still don’t do the seriousness of the crimes justice. Coercion comes much closer. I’m sure that Chrissie Heaton, like Freya Dunton before her, was a victim of sexual abuse. Freya Dunton went straight from care into employment with Regent’s X-L gym. Chrissie Heaton strikes me as the vulnerable type too. The girl is frightened of her own shadow. Vulnerable, and barely even an adult. And after lasting a year with the gym, they both move into a porn studio. Odd, right? So why do you think that is?”
Simmons shrugged. “This is just a theory, right guv? So, maybe so the abuse can continue at the studio?”
Hogarth shook his head. “No. The abuse is perpetrated next door.”
“Harry King Studios serves an altogether different purpose. It’s the knackers yard, Simmons. It’s where they go to finish the job. You’ve seen them. It’s a scrap heap of ne’er-do-wells. Who would ever take seriously anything they had to say? A lonely old porn queen screams abuse? Forget it. The studio and that gym exist together for only one reason. It’s where the girls get thrown when they’re finished.”
He saw they were sceptical. They had been from the start. Hogarth turned to his computer and slid the printout from under the keyboard.
“Something you said last night bothered me, Palmer.”
“What?” said Palmer, looking to Simmons.
“Don’t worry. I realised you were right. I thought that sometimes there could be smoke without fire. I suppose it was all that tax dodging which distracted me from those other little rumours. The ones he paid to go away.”
Hogarth laid the fresh printed sheet on the table in front of them. The printouts were from the UK News website, but with a very dated looking header. The date on the top of the sheet said the article was from 2003. It was a minor article from the local news section. Palmer leaned across the table and read the sheet before handing it over to Simmons.
Essex Ice Cream Magnate Cleared of ‘Underage Sex’ Allegations
A fifteen-year-old girl who had accused Essex ice cream tycoon, Darryl Regent, of offering to pay her for sex has since withdrawn her allegation. In response, Essex Police have withdrawn all charges and apologised to Mr Regent for the incident. The family of the girl who made the allegation - whose identity must be withheld due to her age – have issued a letter of apology to Mr Regent following their daughter’s mistake. The parents letter also states that the girl will be undergoing a psychiatric assessment and receiving counselling to support her mental wellbeing.
Darryl Regent was unavailable to comment.
“I can smell a bung a mile off,” said Hogarth. “Regent paid to make that allegation go away and so it did. Along with the damage it should have done him. Well guess what? I think our friend Mr Regent still has a sweet tooth,” said Hogarth, with a raised eyebrow.
“But he was cleared, guv. Which means you can’t use it. No one can. And those files last night – they’re useless too. You took them without consent. You’ll hang yourself if you try and use those.”
“It doesn’t matter. Do you see what we’re dealing with here?”
Simmons looked at Hogarth in shock. The scales had fallen from his eyes.
“You’re saying they are covering up a sexual abuse scandal. Chrissie Heaton – you’re saying Darryl Regent abused her, then passed her over to the gym to contain it.”
>
“And I think we know who helps do the containing. Don’t you?”
“Lana Aubrey?” said Simmons. “What about Harry King?”
“I don’t know,” said Hogarth. “Not yet.”
“Guv, with due respect. It does matter. You haven’t got anything official you can use against them. All you’ve got is old news clippings and a lot of compelling supposition. There’s still no case for murder.”
“You’ll make a decent DI one day, Palmer. Granted, that’s what it looks like. But providing our experts pull their fingers out, we can still get what we need for an arrest.”
Hogarth sat back in his seat.
“Up to now we’ve been treating Chrissie Heaton like she was a villain. Because she kept running away and lying to us, it was difficult not to see her as being implicated. But now we know that’s not the case. Chrissie Heaton is another victim here. No wonder the girl’s been terrified. I think it’s time we let her know that she’s out of danger. And if we can persuade her of that, maybe she’ll give us the full statement, so we won’t even need help from forensics. We can still blow this thing wide open, just like Aimee Gillen wanted.”
Their minds were still whirring with new information and misgivings when Hogarth’s mobile started buzzing on his desk. When Hogarth leaned across to retrieve it, Palmer and Simmons exchanged a fraught look. Hogarth glanced at his mobile screen, then tossed it back on his desk. He left it ringing and slid it into his blazer pocket.
“You’re not going to answer it?” said Palmer.
“No chance, not today. It’s Melford. No doubt he’s had Darryl Regent and the Commissioner on the phone before he called me. If I answer that, I’ll never get out of here.” Hogarth stood up. “But look. What do you know? I think my phone must be playing up. Come on. Grab your things. It’s time we got out of here.”
Hogarth led them out of the CID room, walking briskly past the desks of the uniforms. The office was loud as the uniforms began to arrive with their morning banter, grabbing coffees and, settling behind their desks. Covered by the hurly burly, Hogarth and Co slunk out of the station’s back door towards the car park.
The Darkest Deed_A Gripping Detective Crime Mystery Page 24
