She found her friend and joined her. Picking up the menu, she decided on a club sandwich and bottle of water. The calories didn’t matter too much; she would be playing tennis with her girlfriends later. Every Thursday the girls were picked up from school by Samuel’s parents, who spoilt them with sugary drinks and cakes, much to her annoyance.
Greeting her friend with a kiss to both cheeks, she ordered her food and settled in for a natter and gossip. Gail was one of her most complimentary friends, always there with a “you look great in that”, which boosted Charlotte’s confidence.
She tried to find nice things to say in return, but Gail was overweight and dressed down.
“You always look so made-up, Lottie, you put me to shame.”
She pretended to be all coy, waving Gail’s comment away. “Oh stop! It’s just a vest.” Of course, she knew how great she looked; she felt great. “So, what’s the goss? Tell me everything you know.”
It was a safe bet that one of their many friends had something going on. Gail would know what that something was. Her friend was about to talk when Charlotte’s mobile rang. “Hold that thought.” She smiled and answered the phone. “Henry? Is that you? Calm down. What’re you saying? I can’t understand you.”
When he told her that Colin was dead, she covered her mouth with her hand and gasped.
8
Richard Fisher turned away from his computer and took a couple of deep breaths. His team were waiting for him downstairs in the workshop, all eager and excited. He opened his desk drawer and popped out two paracetamol from the packet, put them in his mouth and swallowed them with water from his glass on the desktop.
Getting up, he strolled over to his internal window, and parted the blinds to find his team leaning on the blue Ford Fiesta, chatting. Test number fifteen coming up, he thought, heading towards the door.
When he emerged from the office and stood at the top of the wrought-iron stairs, they cheered and clapped him. He had to steady himself as he descended the twenty steps, adrenaline pumping. “How’s she looking?” The question aimed at them all.
His second-in-command, Vanu, a highly intelligent Indian engineer with two doctorates to his name confirmed with excitement, “We’re ready for test fifteen, Richard.”
He regarded his team for a moment, taking stock of this momentous occasion. They were the best team of employees he could have put together. Two women and two men, each leaders in their respective fields. He hired Vanu Parekh for this project three years earlier, and paid him handsomely for his expertise.
At the blue Ford Fiesta, he walked around her, stroking the chassis as he circled her. When he peered through the passenger window, he thought how ordinary she seemed, yet everyone here knew she was anything but. This little car would change the world like nothing else had, more so than the last great invention: the internet.
“Are the cameras set up and ready to go?” He stared through the window and up at the ceiling, where Germany-born Paula Lang had mounted the tiny audio and visual recorder. When she replied in the affirmative, he nodded. “I guess it’s time to go.”
Paula opened the driver door for him. Richard had hired her for her technical wizardry. She was the fastest techie he’d ever met, an asset to his crew. “I think we should mark this occasion. She’ll work today, I can feel it.”
Having marked fourteen previous tests, Richard went along with the group photo opportunity in front of his record-breaking Fiesta. He put his arms around his top two teammates and smiled at the camera. “Is that it? Are we done yet?”
Going around each team member, he shook their hands and thanked them for their tireless efforts over the years. They had put themselves out there for him, working through weekends and into evenings sometimes.
Stood by the open door, he stared at the camera Paula held. “As you know, my name’s Richard Fisher. This is test fifteen, and today’s the day. Come join us as we make history in this ‘ordinary’ little Ford Fiesta.”
When he sat in the driver’s seat, Vanu was already in the passenger’s seat, strapped in, raring to go. After closing the door, Richard did all his checks, including a dashboard monitor. “Everything looks ready. The ceiling camera’s running. Can everyone hear me?” The rest of his team confirmed they could, through Vanu’s mobile phone.
Richard gave the green light to open the workshop garage door. Paula obliged by pressing the button on the remote control. And when he started the engine, he accelerated out onto the courtyard. From there, he turned right onto the main road.
He had to admit to feeling better about himself now he was on talking terms with Colin, thanks to Charlotte’s intervention before his brother’s wedding. He’d almost cried at witnessing his brother marry Henry, because his parents never had the chance to see their youngest happy.
For years, he blamed Colin and his drug habit for the family’s misfortunes, never forgiving him for breaking them apart. Charlotte told him on a couple of occasions, it was their parents’ fault for not accepting Colin’s sexuality, and favouring Richard over her and Colin that pushed their younger brother into the arms of recreational drugs, but he didn’t believe her. Their younger brother was a selfish bastard.
It took Richard years to finally forgive Colin and shake his hand. He missed his stupid little brother, not that he admitted it back then. Despite Colin’s behaviour, he still loved him. This love was partly the reason he’d confided in Colin and Henry about what they were trying to achieve at the workshop, and once they knew, Henry had offered to invest.
At a time when funding was tight, the extra investment helped. With Henry and Colin as ghost investors, he didn’t need to worry about them; they were happy to help, and didn’t involve themselves. All Henry asked for was to be kept in the loop and informed when they achieved their goal. Richard looked forward to phoning Henry later, fingers crossed their test worked.
On the A23, he checked the dashboard. “Won’t be long now. I’ll take her out to the M25 and give her a good run.”
Once on the M25, he ramped up the speed to a little over seventy, sticking to the fast lane, only pulling into the first inside lane to let faster cars pass. “It won’t be long now. Are you all still with me?”
The rest of the team replied in the positive, although their voices were almost drowned out by the sound of travelling at high speed along a motorway. “The gauge says empty. Any time now.” He took the car up to seventy-eight.
Bombing along, Richard heard a clunk. He glanced over at Vanu. “Was that it? Was that the changeover?”
“What does it say?” His passenger leaned in. “That was it! We bloody well did it, everyone. Test fifteen was a success.” His voice held the excitement of a five-year-old boy on Christmas Day, waiting to open his presents.
The team back at the workshop cheered. Richard was beyond words. The gauge went from empty to full, and the car ran still. Adrenaline peaking, he searched for an exit, not wanting to drive along the M25 anymore. His hands and feet shook with excitement. “You know what this means, don’t you! This is so fucking huge, I can’t get my head around it.”
“You’ve had three years to digest it, Richard.” His usual frown gone, it was replaced with elation. “I can’t believe we’ve done it. It works; it bloody works. It only took three years and fifteen tests.”
After turning off the M25, and managing to traverse the complex road system, Richard sped along the A24 towards the workshop. At a convenient place, he pulled over at the side of the road and got out, his legs wobbly.
He did a circuit of the Fiesta, stroking the paintwork as he walked around her. The bonnet warm to the touch, he figured he’d given her a run. “You did it, baby. I always knew you would.” Standing back, he admired her ordinary appearance, and knew that beneath the hood, she was the most extraordinary car in the world. No other engine resembled hers. His phone rang.
“Go ahead, Richard; I’ll wait in the car.”
Taking his mobile out of his jeans pocket, he identifie
d the caller: Lottie.
“He’s dead, Richard! Someone murdered our Colin.”
It took Richard a couple of moments to register the information. He smiled first, not believing it, waiting for the punchline. When his sister continued to cry, his smile faded. “What? That can’t be. I only saw him on Tuesday. He was fine.”
Charlotte explained that Colin had been shot at work, or so Henry had informed her. Colin’s co-star and producer were also shot and killed. Richard’s first question to her was “why?” Silly, really, how could his little sister know? He had to lean against the car to prevent himself from falling.
“Hey, are you all right?” Vanu got out of the passenger seat and rushed over to him. “What’s happened? Richard? Talk to me.”
“He’s gone!” Richard still couldn’t believe it. He dropped his phone and sank to the ground, numb. “Colin. Someone killed my little brother.” Even saying it aloud didn’t make it feel any more real.
Vanu helped him up. “I’m driving us back to the workshop. Here, let me help you. Let’s get you all strapped in.” He closed the passenger door and ran around to the driver’s side. “We’re on our way back now, peeps.”
Richard sat staring out of the window for the duration of the journey back. Someone had murdered his little brother. His Colin was dead!
9
Miller climbed out of her coveralls and left them in the tent. After brushing off her suit jacket, she binned the face mask and foot covers.
Hayes met her at the door to the tent and she followed her partner out to their waiting car. Journalists swamped the police cordon, the uniforms trying their best to keep them at bay. “They’re a lively bunch today.”
“Two local celebrities have been murdered. Of course they’re going to be eager. Must be a slow news day.”
“Except on the Brexit front.” Hayes pulled a distasteful face.
“Right!” She opened the passenger door. “They’re getting louder.”
“Hayes! Can you answer some questions? Is it true Colin Fisher was murdered? Was it a gangland hit?” A male reporter at the back of the fray stuck his microphone in the air. “He was into the Demirci family for thousands.”
“Inspector Hayes, can you tell us how many victims there are, and how they were murdered?” A female reporter stuck her microphone between two uniforms in front of her. “Is it true they were executed?”
Miller didn’t say a word, instead she left Hayes to speak to the press.
“Is it true Kurt Austin was shot, Hayes? Is his boyfriend a suspect?”
Getting in the car, Miller closed the door and waited for her supervisor to join her. When Hayes sat, she stared at the throng of journalists. “They’ve got theories already. How the hell are we going to play this? We’ve got three lots of suspects to chase down.”
Hayes sighed, starting the engine. “Tell me about it. We’re going to go through each suspect’s background with a fine toothcomb.” She reversed, turned and steered towards the cordon, the journalists clearing a path for them. “First, we’re going to interview the next of kin of each of the victims, starting with Fisher’s and Reid’s.”
“Do you still think Reid’s the intended target?”
“I’m not sure. The extra stab wounds suggest she’s special. The male victims got a bullet a piece in the head and chest, but Brandy also has stab wounds. My money’s still on her.”
At first, Miller would have bet on Brandy being the target. “But what about Fisher being into gangsters for thousands?” She stared at a brunette journalist through her window, as Hayes drove them off the plot’s car park and past the cordon.
“I think we’re looking for someone with a military background.”
She nodded in agreement. “Makes sense with how precise the entry wounds were, especially Fisher’s central forehead shot. I think the suspect stood over him and fired that kill shot. It was too perfect.”
“I was thinking that myself. Keep your eye out for cameras along this road, would you? I saw one on our way in, so I’ll contact the council and see if we can get a car type, or registration.”
“The neighbouring factory had one above their doors.” Miller received a surprised reaction from her supervisor. “What? First rule of studying the crime scene: look out for cameras. I’m surprised you didn’t see it yourself.”
“Well done. While I’m pratting about with the council, you contact the factory and ask for their footage. Then, we’re going to set up interviews for tomorrow morning with the families of the victims.” Hayes wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her suit jacket.
“I’ll make a start on Brandy Reid’s next of kin.”
“And I’ll contact Fisher’s husband. They’ll all need to identify their loved ones before we interview them, so we’ll ask to meet them at their homes. No need to make it too formal just yet, not until we’ve dug into their histories.”
“You think it could be a hired hit?” Miller pondered the hired assassin scenario. It wouldn’t be against the realms of possibility for someone to hire a hitman to murder a radio presenter.
“Anything’s possible. Like you said earlier, it wouldn’t be the first time.”
10
Charlotte Edwards pulled up outside Henry and Colin’s five-bedroomed palatial detached house. Surrounded by an eight-foot perimeter wall topped with razor wire, Henry’s home was an impenetrable fortress controlled by a remote in Henry’s charge. “We’re home, Henry. You need to open the gates, honey.”
Her brother-in-law reached into his pocket and pressed the “open” button on his key ring, as the wrought-iron gates opened. Every time she drove there, she wondered how Henry could own such a magnificent home. The interior décor matched the awe-inspiring exterior, every touch and nuance chosen by Henry.
Stopping outside their huge pillared front doors, Charlotte switched off the engine and sat waiting for Henry to move. Numb. She picked him up from the radio station, where she found him trying to get through the police cordon. “Let’s get you inside, shall we?”
Getting out of her car, she went round to Henry’s side and opened his door. He sat motionless, staring into the void, his eyes dead. She reached across him and unclipped his seat belt. “Come on, Henry, help me out here. I’m not strong enough to carry you.”
Not comatose, he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled himself out. Charlotte walked with him up the three concrete steps to the huge front doors. He handed her the key and she opened up, helping him inside. After closing the door, she walked him through to the huge lounge and eased him onto his expensive sofa. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
Fussing over Henry made her forget about her poor little brother, slain. In the kitchen, she prepared two mugs of tea, while waiting for the kettle to boil. Her Colin was dead! Too numb to believe it, she made the beverages and carried them through.
After placing Henry’s mug on the coffee table, her mobile went off in her handbag. “That’ll be Richard.” Her brother-in-law lay on the sofa, sobbing. Charlotte went through his trouser pocket and took out the gate remote key ring. “I’ll bring it right back.”
She answered Richard’s call and pressed the “open” button. A couple of minutes later, she opened the door to her elder brother, who greeted her with his customary kiss on the cheek.
“How is he?” Richard seemed genuine.
“As you’d expect, devastated. He’s lying on the sofa.” She walked with him through the hallway to the lounge. “I’ve just made tea. Do you want one?”
While Richard sat with Henry, she went through to the kitchen and made another mug of tea, this time to her fussy brother’s specifications. She was used to his meticulous ways. Charlotte couldn’t fathom how her sister-in-law had put up with his habits for so long before separating from him. “Here!” In the sitting room, she handed him the mug.
Silence. When she sat on the sofa next to Henry, he crawled towards her, and lay his head on her lap, sobbing. Charlotte stroked his hair. Her poo
r Colin. She tried swallowing the lump in her throat.
Richard leaned forward. “Do you know what happened? Do you know how he died? Has anyone spoken to you?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I drove to the radio station and found Henry trying to get through the police cordon. I didn’t get a chance to speak to anyone before I drove him back here. I’m sorry! This is all too surreal for me. Who’d want to hurt Colin?”
Richard stood. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
When her brother took out his mobile, Henry’s landline phone rang. It sat next to the sofa, within Charlotte’s reach. “Shall I answer it, Henry?” When he failed to reply, she lifted the receiver. “The Curtis residence. How can I help?”
“Yeah, hi, I was hoping to speak to Henry Curtis.”
She looked down at him. “I’m afraid we’ve received some devastating news. He’s unavailable right now.”
“Oh, excuse me. I’m Detective Sergeant Rachel Miller, I’m investigating Colin Fisher’s murder. I was hoping to arrange a convenient time to come and speak to him?”
Charlotte waved at Richard, who stood faffing with his phone. She covered the mouthpiece on the receiver. “It’s the police. They want to set up an interview.” Her brother strutted over and took the receiver from her, identifying himself as Colin’s brother.
Still unreal, dreamlike, she listened to Richard converse with the detective with the lovely voice. “And? What’s going on?” She waited for him to place the receiver on its docking bay. “Did she tell you what happened?”
“Detective Miller and Hayes are coming over tomorrow at eleven. I’m going to identify Colin’s body at nine, and then drive over here straight after.”
“Identify his body?” Shit was becoming all too real, although it felt like a dream, a bad dream that she wished she could pinch herself to awake from. She only saw Colin a couple of days earlier, and he was in great spirits, all excited about his upcoming holiday with Henry. They were borrowing a friend’s luxury yacht and crew for a couple of weeks. Charlotte wanted to wake up now.
The Hard Way Page 4
