“Someone has to, sis. Henry’s not up to it, and I don’t want you to remember Colin lying on a slab in a morgue. So I said I would.”
She had to hand it to Richard, he always came through for the family, every time. Richard was a reliable rock. Whenever she found herself in trouble, she would seek out Richard’s advice. The family would have imploded without him. Charlotte nodded her understanding, while stroking Henry’s hair.
“I’ll do it.” Henry’s tiny voice, barely audible, broke their focus. “He was my husband. I’ll go and identify him. I need to say goodbye.”
Richard objected. “I don’t want you remembering Colin lying on a slab, either. Please reconsider, Henry. You mean a lot to us.”
“I’ve made up my mind. It’s something I have to do.”
Charlotte stopped stroking his hair and he sat up. “This is a shock, Henry. Lie back down, please?” He sat there, staring into space. Instead of forcing him, she got up and took the mugs back to the kitchen.
After putting the plug in, she filled the basin with hot soapy water and started washing up the plates left on the counter from the previous night. It seemed as though Henry and Colin had entertained at some point. Obviously not the previous night, because Colin was working at the radio station until late. There were a dozen plates to wash.
She would do anything to take her mind off Colin, including washing-up, which she detested. She opted to handwash the plates, just to have something to do in the background. Now she’d spoken to a detective, it felt more real. Her mobile phone rang.
Marching into the hall, she retrieved it from her handbag and answered the call from her husband, Samuel. Taking it in the kitchen, she closed the door and unloaded on him, telling him everything in one outburst. Charlotte was angry with him for not picking up when she’d needed him earlier. “You weren’t there, again. I needed you, Sam.”
He apologised, kept on, until she’d had enough and forgave him. Only a few hours earlier, she’d been happy with him, but today wasn’t the first time he’d not been there for her. After the last time, she thought he would be faster at picking up his damned phone and calling her, especially after the urgent nature of her voicemail.
He agreed to drive over to Henry’s. Terminating the call, she finished the washing-up and dried her hands on a tea towel, before meandering into the hallway. Charlotte listened to Richard trying to talk to Henry.
“I thought you’d like to know it works. We took her on her fifteenth test-run just now, and she passed with flying colours. Who’d have thought it would only take three years, and fifteen tests? She’s sat in the workshop now.”
Silence. Henry failed to respond.
“Did you hear me, Henry? We made history today.”
Charlotte entered the lounge and her brother sat back in his armchair. He was not a subtle man; she felt like she’d interrupted something. “Everything all right in here?” Richard looked away. “What works now, Richard? I heard you say something works.”
“Oh nothing, a work thing. It won’t interest you.”
“But it will interest Henry? Why?”
“No reason, Lottie. Forget about it. Forget I said anything.”
Charlotte sat on the sofa and coaxed Henry to lie with his head on her lap again. She didn’t mind Richard having secrets, but he didn’t have to be so obvious about it. Now she wanted to know what he was talking about.
11
Hayes put her desk phone receiver on its dock and turned her attention to her computer. “I spoke to Fisher’s older brother, Richard. We’ll be meeting Curtis, Richard Fisher and Charlotte Edwards, the middle sister, at Henry Curtis’ home. Looks like we’ll get the whole extended family in one hit.”
Miller poked her head over the partition. “And we have an interview lined up tomorrow afternoon with Brandy’s daughter, Ellie, and Brandy’s mum.” Getting up from her swivel chair, Miller strolled up to the board and wrote Ellie’s name beneath her mum’s.
Hayes went over to the whiteboard that she had drawn three equally spaced vertical lines down. At the top of each column she wrote the names of each of the victims: Colin Fisher, Brandy Reid and Kurt Austin.
She wrote the names of Fisher’s relatives beneath his name: Richard Fisher, Charlotte Edwards and Henry Curtis. And then she wrote the name of Kurt Austin’s partner underneath his name: Fernando Linares. “Here’s our next of kin for all three victims. This is going to get complicated.”
Three lists of interviewees, three lives to trawl through, which would lead to three shortlists of suspects. Hayes sighed, going back to her computer. She picked up her phone and dialled the number for the local council. It took her a while to connect to the right department.
After a lengthy exchange with the council worker, she finally managed to acquire the footage she needed, except she had to wait for the email to ping through, and she wouldn’t hold her breath for it arriving today. She leaned back and stretched. “How’re you getting on with Brandy’s background check?”
“She’s led a colourful life, I can tell you that much. Brandy Reid’s been in trouble most of her life, by the length of her sheet. At fourteen she was expelled from her first school for beating another girl up so badly she spent several weeks in hospital. The second expulsion was for having sex with her female history teacher.”
“Quite the charmer, then.” Hayes continued listening.
“It gets better. She eventually graduates with eight GCSEs in all the decent subjects, and not bad grades, mostly Bs, with a couple of Cs, so she’s not unintelligent. But it’s post-school that her record gets really interesting.”
“Go on! I’m listening.” Hayes sat back and took it all in.
“In and out for minor offences, the last one being solicitation. In all, she’s been inside five times, for a total of four years and eight months. Brandy’s been clean and out for six years. That’s where her sheet ends.”
“We’ll have to find out more about her through interviewing friends.”
“What about you? Have you found out much about Colin Fisher?”
“He has a record, but nowhere near as lengthy as our Brandy’s. Colin Fisher was arrested for solicitation back in 2009, and for ABH in 2012. One count of lewd behaviour in a public toilet. He’s only been sent down the once, though, an assault charge, and spent fifteen months inside.”
Having read out his criminal record, Hayes clicked on Google and typed in Colin’s name. Thousands of entries appeared on her monitor. There were already news reports of Fisher’s murder on various online news outlets. Clicking on one, she caught Miller’s attention. “They’re still shouting the gangland hit theory. One local reporter claims Fisher was into Melodi Demirci for thousands in gambling debts.”
“Demirci, why have heard that name before?” Miller went to her PC.
Pulling up another Google window, Hayes typed in the gangster’s name. “Melodi Demirci took over the family’s casino after her father was found dead in the car park. He had eight bullet wounds in the chest, a little over two years ago. It says here, in an interview with her, that she almost had to close the casino, but thanks to her business savvy, it’s now a profitable enterprise.”
“Yeah, I bet she’s a real pillar of the community. Here it says she was pulled in for questioning last year over the death of a croupier who fell off a nearby roof. And I bet if we dig, we’ll find more on her. If Fisher was into her for thousands, she doesn’t sound like the type to let debts go, does she?”
“No, she doesn’t.” Hayes went over to the board and wrote “Demirci?” in red pen below the list of Fisher’s family. “We have our first suspect, if we can put the two together. I’ll call the casino later and see if I can book an interview in with the lovely entrepreneur.”
“I’m onto Kurt Austin now. It seems he’s clean. No arrests, charges, or detentions, as far as I can see. The PNC has him living with a Fernando Linares, who does have a record. He’s done time for aggravated burglary. Oh, and he’s ex-Forces
in Spain. He’s lived here for seven years, still registered as living with Kurt.”
Up at the whiteboard, Hayes scrubbed out Fernando’s name in black and rewrote it in red felt pen. “Ex-Forces, he has to be added to our suspect pool. Right, I think we have enough to be getting on with.”
12
Miller pulled her navy jog bottoms up and put on her white vest. Once she tied her shoelaces, she came out of the cubicle and walked through to the gymnasium, where her colleagues worked out.
Joining the police gym down the road from the station was the best idea. She started with a gentle jog on the mill, which turned into a frantic sprint at the end to get her lungs burning.
Next up: the rowing machine. She climbed on and started the motion, back and forth, the wheel at the front whirring away, blowing air in her face, cooling her down. She found it hypnotic, the same motion for fifteen minutes.
A couple of people she’d spoken to before came in and nodded at her. She acknowledged them in return, before wiping her face with her towel. Leg press next. She sat on the seat and adjusted the weight pin. Holding the handrails either side of the seat, she pushed down hard on the foot panels.
After her first set of ten, the tenth almost killing her, she relaxed. Catching her breath, the doors opened and there he was: Luke “Not the Sky Variety” Walker entered with Zuccari, one of his armed unit colleagues. He was too pumped, even before his workout. She could only imagine what his biceps would feel like after.
Deciding to play it cool, she put her earphones in and listened to her compilation on Spotify, a mix of heavy metal, hard rock, and country. Miller adored country music more than any other genre. Her dream was to visit Nashville one day.
On the chest press, she started her reps, occasionally catching glimpse of him. Luke and his mates stuck to the free weights area, picking up huge dumbbells that she thought obscene. He almost caught her staring at him, but she turned her head in time.
As he walked towards her, Miller jumped off the chest press and meandered over to the cross trainer, where two female colleagues were halfway through their workouts. She hopped on, set the programme, and commenced when Luke leaned on her machine. Miller pretended she had not seen him. “Oh! Hey, Luke.” She continued using the cross trainer.
“Hi! I didn’t think you used this gym. I haven’t seen you here before.”
She smiled while doing the action, sweat forming on her brow, and dripping down her back. “We must keep missing each other. I’m here three or four times a week.”
“Huh! Strange. You’d have thought we’d have bumped into each other by now.”
She wiped her forehead, then placed her hand on the bar. “Well, I only joined a couple of months ago.”
He hit his forehead gently. “Of course. That’ll be it.”
Miller smiled while cross training. Her eyes went from his face down to his pecs, which were on display. When he’d entered, he wore a vest, but he’d taken that off and now stood next to her in his glorious perfection. Hayes was right: he was a poser. With a body like that, though, it would be a crime not to. Shame about the lack of smarts.
The long awkward silence between them made her want him to leave.
She kept on the cross trainer, occasionally looking at him.
He didn’t seem to get it. “Are you after this?”
Walker woke up. “Huh? Oh, no, you’re all right. I only do free weights. I get my cardio from early-morning runs.”
“Me too.” She smiled, then blew hair out of her eyes. “I only come here as an extra workout. My ex and I had a gym at home, so I never used to have to use a public gym.”
“Were you married? I notice you’re not wearing a ring.”
“I’m recently divorced, actually.” She stopped the apparatus and stood on the foot panels, her vest clinging to her skin. “What about you?”
“Me? Nah, married to the force. Funny, but for some reason women don’t seem to like dating armed cops. I can’t say I understand it.”
His colleague called for him. Miller felt a little disappointed when he made his apology and went back to lifting huge dumbbells. Walker liked her; it was in the way he wouldn’t take his eyes off her when he had to go back to his colleague. Even from his area, he kept checking her out, so she hovered on the apparatus near him, showing off her gains.
Miller smiled at a couple of female colleagues as she went around the gym.
After a further forty minutes, she decided she’d had enough and headed for the changing rooms, where she stripped and showered, before sauntering to the cubicles, grabbing her belongings and changing into her civvies: running shoes, light blue jeans and white T-shirt.
After blow drying her dark hair, Miller picked up her gym bag and made her way out to her car. She placed her bag in the boot.
“Hey, Miller!”
The voice made her jump. “Jesus Christ, Luke. Has no one ever told you off for sneaking up on people?”
Walker held his arms up in surrender. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think you’d jump. Please, forgive me?” Again, his concern appeared sincere.
She waited for her heart rate to slow. “It’s all right.” She laughed and closed the boot. “So, what did you want to say just now?”
He looked scared and shuffled his feet. “Well, it’s all gone to shit now, hasn’t it? I might as well go back and start over. Shit! I hate this crap.”
“What crap? What’re you talking about?”
“I was all confident just now. I was going to ask if you want to join me for a beer, or something. I was going to be all smooth, like, but now I’ve gone and botched it.”
Miller smiled. “You’re asking me out?”
“It looks like it, yeah. I know a decent bar nearby if you fancy it?”
Walking round to the driver’s side, she waited until she opened her door before replying. “No, I don’t fancy a bar tonight. Sorry!” She noted his disappointed expression. “I’m trying to avoid bars at the moment, but you’re welcome to join me for a beer at my place. I’ve got cold ones in the fridge. Best I can do, I’m afraid.”
His gorgeous face lit up. “You’re on. My car’s back there, I’ll follow you?”
“I was going to offer you a lift, but–”
“I’m on call tonight, so I need my motor with me. Give me a sec, I’ll be right with you.” He strutted off.
His strut made her grin. Such a lad, she thought. The dash clock said it was 21:25. The night was but young. And Miller was looking forward to an energetic evening with the lovely Luke Walker.
13
“So, what’s it like working with the legendary Amanda Hayes?” Walker held Miller in his lap tighter. “I bet you’ve learned loads from her.”
Miller sat up, her TV on in the background. “She’s a workaholic. That’s why she’s so legendary. The woman lives and breathes the force. Don’t get me wrong, I put more than my fair share of hours in, but Hayes, man she obsesses. She’s already on her second divorce, no children. I can sum her private life up in two words: she reads. Like, a lot. It drove her second husband mad, apparently. She either works, or she reads.”
Finishing her can of Carling, Miller placed it on the coffee table in front of her. “Anyway, enough shop talk. Are you ready for another?” By another, she meant squash for Walker, who’d already drunk his limit of one can of lager. She’d polished off three cans already, not that she was counting.
“Nah, you’re all right. Don’t want to go into the station in the morning with a squashover, now, do I? What’ll the boys think?”
She chuckled to herself, unfolded his arm from around her waist and stood from the couch. They had some banal action-drama programme on in the background. Whenever he stroked her arm, he sent shivers down her. She loved it. “I’ll be right back.”
Grabbing her hand, Walker pulled her towards him and forced her to sit on his lap again, which Miller pretended to fight against, until he leaned forward and kissed her. With his strong hands on her waist, she l
et go and enjoyed him.
Opening her eyes, her palm on his stubbly cheek, she stared into his blue eyes. “Hi!” Was the only thing she thought of to say.
“Hi!” He seemed equally nervous.
Instead of getting up, she leaned forward this time, her lips meeting his. As she kissed him, deeper and longer each time, she thought how she’d never felt like this before.
Miller felt safe with Walker, protected, which was a strange sensation, as even her husband had never made her feel safe. Miller was strong, in both body and mind. She didn’t need protecting by any man. So, why did she feel so feminine sat on Walker’s lap?
His hands began to wander. This was the part she dreaded. “Wait!” She pulled away from him, remained sat on his lap and stared into his lust-filled eyes. “I have something I need to tell you, before we go any further.”
He pulled a surprised face. “You’re not a man, are you? You’re not going to whip something bigger than mine out from between your legs?”
Miller liked him, liked his sense of humour, his body, everything. Walker was the first guy she’d liked since her marriage had broken down. Her fling with Billy, a stockbroker, didn’t count. Now was crunch time.
After she moved into this awful, tiny flat, and after the divorce, she tried dating on three occasions. All had ended badly. Miller was by no means a girly-girl, in any sense of the term. “Of course not. I might even be too much woman for you to handle.”
“Ouch! Then what’s up?” He tried lifting her T-shirt.
“Stop it! I’m being serious. I have something I need to tell you.”
Walker pretended to zip his mouth, wiped it from smirking to serious. “Go on. I’m listening. I’m sorry! You have my undivided attention.”
Now she had him quiet, she didn’t want to go through with it. “God! This is so embarrassing. I’m sorry to even tell you this.”
The Hard Way Page 5
