“I’m famous for it,” Hayes replied. “Like a dog with a bone, me. And I’m glad for you. It’s about time you had some luck in love.” Hayes turned and looked out of the passenger window. “I’m happy for you. I mean, you know my thoughts on Walker, but I’m not the one going out with him.”
Pulling up at traffic lights, Miller stared at her passenger. “And you’d be wrong. He’s not a poser. If anything, he’s the opposite; he has self-esteem issues. And he works bloody hard for that body, why shouldn’t he show it off?”
That shut her up, Miller thought, accelerating past the lights towards Henry Curtis’ place around the corner. She noticed there was a camera on top of the lights.
It took a couple of minutes to pull up outside the open gates to Curtis’ home. “Why are these open?” Miller passed the gates and drove along the gravelly driveway.
“I don’t know. Something’s not right.” Hayes opened her door as the car slowed.
Miller parked behind a car she took to be Charlotte Edwards’, with the woman still in the driver’s seat.
“Why hasn’t Mrs Edwards gone inside?” Hayes asked, getting out of the Peugeot.
Miller switched off the engine and joined Hayes, who tried to calm Mrs Edwards. “What’s going on?”
Mrs Edwards was crying as she spoke. “Something’s happened. I can’t get through to Henry.”
24
“I told you one of us should’ve stayed with him last night.” Charlotte Edwards waved at Hayes to give her a second or two to finish her phone call. “Thanks a lot, Richard. You’ve been a big help.” She hung up and greeted the officers. “He’s not answering his mobile. There’s something wrong, I know it. Henry would never leave his gate open like that. Please, help. Can’t you do something?”
Miller put her mobile to her ear. “We’ll try his phone. He has a landline number, too, doesn’t he?”
“I’ve already tried both, several times. What makes you think he’ll answer you and not me? Can’t you knock the door down? I know something’s happened. We should’ve stayed with him last night, or had him stay at mine.”
She would never forgive herself if something had happened to him. The longer he remained silent, the more likely it was they would find him dead inside his house. Desperate, she pleaded with the lead detective.
“I’ve tried both numbers. Straight to voicemail.” Miller put her phone back in her suit jacket. “Shall we have a nosy round the back?”
In her state, Charlotte hadn’t even thought about that. “Yeah, great idea. Henry doesn’t smoke indoors. He has his cigars out on the patio.” She tried his mobile for a sixth time, while following the two detectives round the side of the large house.
“Kitchen,” she said to the taller detective, who tried the door handle. It wouldn’t open. “Keep going. There’s a patio door at the back.” When Henry’s phone went straight to voicemail, she hung up and carried it. They approached the rear glass door. “There it is.” She prayed Henry had left it unlocked.
When she arrived on the patio, there were two thin Café Crème cigar butts in the ashtray sat atop the ornate wrought-iron garden table. His Zippo lighter was on top of his tin of Café Cremes. Seeing the lighter triggered fear. “Henry wouldn’t leave his lighter like that. It’s precious to him. His dad gave it to him years ago.”
Miller put her hand on the sliding patio door and yanked it, as it slid to the right. “We’re in luck.”
“Nice. Miller, do you mind going and getting the evidence kit, please,” Hayes ordered to a nod from Miller.
“Why aren’t we going inside? He’s probably right in there.”
“In case this is a crime scene, Mrs Edwards. If something has happened to your brother-in-law, we need to document everything as we find it. We can’t contaminate the area, do you understand? So, we’ll wait for my partner to return with the kit, okay?”
Going out of her mind with worry, Charlotte wanted to march on in there and find him. A part of her said not to worry, that he’s probably fast asleep upstairs. But the larger part thought something terrible had happened. Call it intuition, whatever.
Detective Miller returned with a bag over her shoulder. Hayes and Miller put on blue latex gloves. “If you’re coming in, put these on. Touch nothing, until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Hayes went inside first, pulling back the net curtain. “Mr Curtis. It’s the police. Call out if you’re here.”
Charlotte waited for Miller to enter. When Charlotte stepped inside the lounge, the television was on quietly in the background. Henry had it on Sky News.
“There’s a note here.” Miller read it out loud: “Sorry! And his signature.”
“Wait! Let me see that.” Charlotte stood next to her and read it for herself. Her urgency to find him increased. She wanted to rush upstairs, but she had to wait for the police officers. “Shall we go upstairs? He’s probably in his bedroom, or his bathroom.”
Time dragged out as they searched each room in turn. The master bedroom happened to be the furthest from the stairs, so naturally it was the last one to be searched. Holding her breath, Charlotte stepped inside her late brother’s bedroom. “Through there, the en suite bathroom.”
Hayes and Miller walked through first. “Oh shit! Don’t come through here, Mrs Edwards. You don’t need to see this.”
She wasn’t about to let a detective dictate to her. Charlotte barged past Miller first, then pushed Hayes out of the way, until she saw Henry’s peaceful body floating in red water. His eyes were closed, his skin pallid, but apart from that he appeared serene, like he was lying in the water, having a soak. “Oh no! Please, not Henry now too.”
With strong arms around her shoulders, Charlotte was escorted downstairs and out onto the patio, where a chair was pulled out for her. The detectives left her alone while they carried out their professional duties. She delved into her bag and took out her packet of cigarettes. Lighting one, she drew in a lungful of smoke.
Why Henry? Why Colin for that matter? Why hadn’t she put Henry in her car and driven him home to stay with her? Because she was selfish. The smoke made her feel nauseous, but it didn’t make her put it out.
She should be crying. Why wasn’t she sobbing? Her brother and now brother-in-law were both dead. All she felt was numb. Nothing. Stubbing out her cigarette, Charlotte popped a mint in her mouth. “Do you want one?”
Both detectives declined. “We’ve had to call in a crime scene unit, Mrs Edwards, just so you’re aware. It’s standard practise in cases like these, where the obvious cause of death is suicide. But we must be cautious here, okay? So, to be on the safe side, we’re going to treat this as a crime scene. Do you understand?”
Charlotte nodded her understanding. “Do you think something else happened?”
Hayes shook her head. “No! It looks like Mr Curtis committed suicide, but we must be a hundred per cent sure. Our Scene of Crime Officers will be here shortly to process the area. They’re going to go through the motions, just like they would at an obvious crime scene. It’s called due diligence. We need to be certain.”
Detective Miller grabbed a chair, sat down, and took a small notepad out of her pocket. “Mrs Edwards, we were due to discuss your brother’s case with Mr Curtis this morning. Because you and your elder brother didn’t know him well enough, is there anyone you can think of who knew Henry well? Maybe someone he worked with?”
“Ilya, Henry’s personal assistant. You should talk to her.”
25
Processing Henry Curtis’ suicide took most of the morning. Hayes spoke to the coroner and asked her to carry out a full autopsy, which was routine in these kinds of cases. Chances were high that he’d sliced his own wrists, grieving over the death of his husband, but she wasn’t convinced, especially in light of finding the “suicide note”.
By the time her partner pulled up at the official offices of Accord FM, it was a little after two in the afternoon. She and Miller bought sandwiches and ate them in a n
earby park half an hour earlier. As she opened her door and stood, Hayes saw a crumb drop to the floor. She flicked her blouse, making sure all crumbs were gone.
“Not bad for a local radio station, huh!” Miller stood admiring the glass frontage of the offices.
She wasn’t wrong. There was little in the way of brick to the building, the vast majority being tinted glass. Still, it was more sophisticated than its tiny factory-turned-radio-station sister building. This was the main broadcasting station.
Hayes met Miller at the front of their Peugeot and walked towards reception. At the doors, they had to be buzzed in. “Ilya said she’s around all day.”
Finally, after a couple of minutes a voice answered. The doors buzzed and Miller opened the door for her. Having a boyfriend agreed with her partner, she thought, thanking her. Inside, the doors clicked shut and Hayes sauntered over to the unmanned reception desk, which she leaned on. “This really is nice.”
Everything inside the building screamed sophistication; the carpets were brand new and springy. Hayes enjoyed walking on it. The desktop was marble, the wood dark brown. There were two computers. She would be forgiven for believing it to be the reception of some high-end telecoms company.
Ilya Yashnikova opened a door and greeted Hayes with what looked like a forced smile. She stepped behind the reception desk, pressed a couple of keys on the computer and gave Hayes all the attention she could muster. “I must look a fright.”
Hayes shook her head. “I think you look lovely, actually.” Apart from the slight redness to her eyes where she’d been crying, Ilya brushed up great, wearing a smart suit, white blouse, and her hair up in a gorgeous display. She noticed how big and appealing Ilya’s eyes were. And to top it all off, Henry’s PA had beautiful, straight white teeth.
There was the slightest twang of a Russian accent when she spoke. “Oh, you are too kind. I have not stopped crying since Lottie called me. I still cannot believe he’s gone, and Colin. They were both so kind to me. I would not be where I am now without them. I owe them everything I have.”
“Ms Yashnikova, we’d like to talk to you about Mr Curtis, if we may. As you know, we’re investigating Mr Fisher’s murder, and since we can no longer speak to Mr Curtis about him, we were hoping you might have some background information for us.”
“First, please call me Ilya. My surname’s a mouthful in my own language. And of course, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“Is there an office, or somewhere a little more comfortable?” Hayes waited for their interviewee to show them through to a plush office, complete with large desk and two leather upholstered chairs for her and Miller to sit on. They were comfortable. She waited for the pleasantries to finish. “Just to let you know I’m recording this interview, okay?”
“Can you start by giving us your name, occupation, and how long you’ve worked for Mr Curtis, please?” Miller sat back, notepad in hand.
“My name’s Ilya Yashnikova, I’m Henry Curtis’ personal assistant, and I have worked here at Accord for two years.”
“And how long have you known Mr Curtis, Ilya?” Hayes hated formality.
“I would say a long time. Maybe ten years?”
“In what capacity?” Miller, straight to the point.
Yashnikova’s brow furrowed. “As a friend, I would say. Why don’t you ask me what you need to know, and if I know the answer, I’ll tell you. I want this animal caught like you do, detectives.”
Miller nodded. “Okay, Ilya, we’d like to know if there’s anyone you know of who might harbour a grudge against Mr Fisher, or your boss, Mr Curtis. Have they upset anyone recently? Have there been any arguments with anyone that you know of?”
“No! Nothing like that. As far as I know, they were both happy. I see Henry once a day, and I can say he is happy, for months. If I knew of anyone like you are describing, I would tell you. But there isn’t.”
It didn’t appear hopeful that they were going to get anywhere with Henry’s personal assistant. “Have you heard the name Melodi Demirci?” And she’d hit the motherlode if Ilya’s expression were anything to go by.
“Oh yes, I have, she’s Henry’s silent partner, a forty per cent stakeholder in the station,” Ilya replied, sitting back in her seat, a look of disgust on her face.
“Partner? I didn’t realise Mr Curtis had a business partner?” Miller waited expectantly for a reply from the Russian.
“Actually, Henry was in the process of buying her out.”
Hayes was fascinated. “Go on, there’s more, isn’t there?”
“Henry offered to buy her out a couple of weeks ago, but she refused. She said she would buy him out. You see, detectives, Henry started this radio station using his parents’ money. Years ago, it was a tiny concern, costing his parents thousands a month, but they doted on him, handed him the money no question. Until about three years ago, they told him to ditch it, to focus his efforts on other projects. Being Henry, being the stubborn man he is, he did not give up. He applied for loans from banks. In the end, he gave up trying, until an acquaintance told him that Melodi offered business loans. He went to her, offered her forty per cent, and the rest is, as you say, history.”
“And Demirci gave him the money? Just like that?” Her suspicions about the casino owner were well-founded, it seemed. Hayes doubted Inspector Gillan would object to them interviewing her now, not after this.
“She jumped at it. Henry went to her with a strong proposal, a decent business model, and an even stronger hook.”
“What was the hook?” Miller asked, pen poised.
“Simple. Melodi put in a million for forty per cent of the profits, which she received every month. Payments started off modest, and grew. Last month, she received three-quarters of a million. But the hook was this: if he ever wanted out, or if anything happened to him, he would let her buy him out. They both signed a legal contract to that effect.”
“So, Demirci stands to gain a lot from Henry’s passing, is what you’re saying? She will effectively have first dibs on his sixty per cent of Accord FM?” Miller glanced at her again, before scribbling something down.
“Well, yes, but you make it sound suspicious, detective. Henry committed suicide, didn’t he? At least that’s what Lottie told me.”
“We have no reason to suspect foul play at this time, but it does sound a bit suspect, though, doesn’t it? Why wouldn’t Henry give his shares to Colin, his husband? Why hand them over to a ‘supposed gangster’?”
Ilya leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “It was a sweetener to secure her investment. Henry wanted to go back on it as soon as he signed the contract, but he needed the cash injection. And besides, Colin was awful with money. He had a huge gambling problem, and Henry wouldn’t trust him with money.”
“While we’re on the subject, Ilya, is there a connection between Colin and Demirci? We’ve heard rumours that he owed her a significant amount of money.” Hayes was keen to establish if this was in fact the case.
“I know Henry and Colin were arguing a lot recently, because Colin got himself in debt with Melodi, even after Henry made her swear to cut Colin off from using her casino. When she did not, when she let Colin build up debts in the thousands, it caused ill will between Henry and Melodi.”
Melodi Demirci was all over this case. Hayes asked a few more questions. They had a lot to move on already. “Can I ask how well you knew Brandy Reid?”
“Well enough, being a regular on air here. Why? Do you think it might be something to do with her?”
“We have three murders, which gives us three sets of suspects to wade through. Do you know of anyone who might mean to harm her?”
“She’s had her fair share of stalkers, yes. Then there are her ex-boyfriends, scum most of them. Even the one she’s with now–”
“Dylan Oldham–”
“Yes, that’s him. He’s the worst. He uses her for her money to buy his drugs. I would not put it past him to offer her to his friends for money; he is that kind o
f man. Scum! He was always jealous of Brandy’s on-air relationship with Colin. Colin almost punched him one night.”
Hayes hadn’t even considered it a crime of passion. Could it be Dylan shooting Fisher, Reid, and Austin in a fit of jealousy? She doubted it but had to at least entertain the possibility. “If you’re here all the time, Ilya, how do you know this?”
“Henry comes by the office every day. I find out all the latest gossip from him. Like how Kurt’s boyfriend went to Melodi for a business loan. It was silly. Fernando wanted to open a bicycle shop, and when the banks declined him, he went straight to Melodi. She gave him money, the shop lasted a year, and he couldn’t pay her back.”
And there she was again: Melodi Demirci. “What happened? We’re looking to speak with Fernando, but we can’t find him.”
“He ran away, afraid for his life. He knows what Melodi’s cousins are like. If you have not heard of them before, they’re total psychopaths. They like to torture their victims in the cellar of the casino. Anyone caught stealing is punished down in that dank place. I do not know if this is true, but her cousins are her muscle. I heard a rumour that they shot and killed Melodi’s dad, their uncle, at her request.”
“Don’t go believing everything you hear, Ilya. These stories have a way of becoming legend, and someone like Melodi Demirci will lap it up, play up to it even. I doubt there’s a shred of proof in it.”
“But you still think she hired someone to shoot Colin, or Brandy. That woman’s capable of anything. Excuse me, but if I didn’t respect Henry’s carpets so much, I would spit on them. Spit on Melodi. She’s behind this, I know it.”
So, there was no love lost between Ilya and Melodi Demirci. Hayes spent a further fifteen minutes questioning the personal assistant. She and Miller had so much to do, so many leads to follow up. The first thing she wanted to do was pop by Fernando Linares and Kurt Austin’s apartment.
With how involved Demirci was in this investigation, Hayes doubted Gillan would put up a fuss about bringing her in. No doubt the casino owner would have a high-end lawyer, who would advise her not to talk. She and Miller needed to make her want to talk, to want to blab. It wasn’t unheard of, especially on criminals with egos.
The Hard Way Page 10
