The Hard Way

by Duncan Brockwell

  “And you love him, right?” Hayes stood behind the girl, staring at her in the mirror on the wall above the sink. “Does he love you?”

  “He says he does, although he’s been preoccupied recently, what with the press conference coming up on Friday. He says he’ll find time for me when the product’s out.”

  Acting nonchalant, Hayes asked, “What product’s that? It sounds important.”

  “Oh, it is. Groundbreaking, he says. Richard told me it’s so environmentally important that we’ll soon have every car manufacturer and consumer coming directly to us. He says Fisher Valves will be bigger than British Steel, in its day.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Richard’s a clever man.” But she was no nearer knowing what the product was. “So, are you going to tell me what this magical product is?”

  “Oh, I don’t know that. His team in the workshop never come here. I asked Richard once, but he wouldn’t tell me. He was due to give us a glimpse on Thursday. But I guess that’s not happening now, not if he’s in prison.” She burst into tears again.

  After calming the youngster, she helped her back to her desk. Hayes signalled for Miller to meet her at the door. “We’re on our way over to the workshop now. Are you sure you’re going to be all right here?” Given the green light, she marched over to Miller, rushed through the glass door and marched up to their waiting Peugeot. “This is about something Richard’s working on. He’s due to go public with some groundbreaking new product, something that will make Fisher Valves, and I quote, ‘bigger than British Steel’.”

  Miller sat in the passenger seat beside her, closed the door and clipped her seat belt in place. “So, what’s the product?”

  “The receptionist’s sleeping with Fisher. Even she doesn’t know.” Hayes started the car and reversed out of the space, turned and drove to the main road. “Whatever it is, though, it’s big enough to murder for.”

  “You think this product’s the link?”

  Turning onto the main road, she sped up. “It was something in the way that she spoke about the product, like it was the next big thing, going to make the company billions or something. I’m willing to bet that when we find out what the product is, it’ll explain these murders. Although I can’t see how two radio presenters and a producer link to it.”

  Miller regarded her. “Are you still thinking Melodi Demirci’s behind this?”

  Hayes glanced over at her before turning her attention back to driving. “I don’t know. We have to find the link between Colin Fisher, Henry Curtis, and Richard’s employee, the one in that collision.”

  “You think he was murdered now?”

  “This is all linked somehow, I know it is. I think the suspect murdered Colin Fisher, Brandy Reid, and Kurt Austin together to throw us off course.” Her partner nodded. “Then, they went for Henry.”

  “And? Why?” Miller waited for her response.

  “I don’t know. I’ve no idea why they would murder Henry Curtis. If they ran Richard’s employee off the road, it was to silence him because he worked on the product. Which would mean the rest of Richard’s staff at the workshop are in danger. We need to find them before it’s too late.”

  46

  Charlotte finished her run on the treadmill, sweat dripping down her cheeks. Picking up her towel, she wiped her face, before sitting on the rowing machine. Rowing was the most laborious part of her ritual morning workout, but the gains were immeasurable. Next to swimming, she believed rowing was the best form of exercise: low impact and heart rate increasing. “Here we go!”

  She leaned forward, took hold of the handle, and pulled back, the front wheel acting as a fan spinning away. After ten, or maybe eleven pulls she heard her mobile bleep, signalling she had a text. It could wait until she completed her workout.

  Still mad at Richard, she had mulled over their row for days. He was such a pig sometimes, she wondered how they were related. How were Richard and Colin related, for that matter?

  For the whole weekend she tried to get hold of Richard, wondering what he meant by it wasn’t safe to be at the workshop. He told her he would call, but he didn’t. Every time she phoned him, it went straight to voicemail. Richard must have known his actions would freak her out.

  When she told Sam what happened at Richard’s workshop, and about the van following her, he thought she was joking. And now that she had not seen a transit van all weekend, she wondered if it was just a coincidence. Maybe it wasn’t one of the two vans she passed down the road from Richard’s place?

  After five kilometres on the rowing machine, she stopped, replaced the handle, feeling the wind in her face die down. Even the fan didn’t stop her sweating. Standing, she dried her face for the third time, then walked over to the windowsill where her phone lay.

  “Now you want to talk?” Seeing her brother’s name on her text list, she replaced her mobile. “Arsehole!” Charlotte decided to read it after her workout, or perhaps after lunch, to make him wait, like he’d made her wait all weekend. Why was he such a pig?

  Fifteen minutes on the exercise bike later, she stepped off and dried her face. Taking deep breaths, she sauntered over to the windowsill, picking up her phone. Charlotte wanted to leave it, to let him wait, but curiosity defied her. ‘Key in drain in workshop. Being arrested. Come get key. Important!’ She read it three times.

  Arrested? Her brother wouldn’t hurt a fly. What could the police possibly arrest him for? She ran into her bedroom, whipped off her training clothes and changed into jeans and T-shirt. It was warm outside, so she ran downstairs, put on her flip-flops, and headed out the front door.

  Richard was a good man. He might be an arsehole to her, but overall his heart was in the right place. If the police had evidence of wrongdoing, it was falsified evidence. On the road, Charlotte headed for the workshop. She thought having the radio on might help calm her nerves; it didn’t. She switched it off.

  Forty-five minutes later, she pulled up in front of the courtyard where police cars parked in every direction prevented her from getting in. On the way there, the two white transits sat doing nothing. “Shit!” There were so many police cars, their lights flashing.

  Parking on the opposite side of the road, further up, Charlotte got out of her car and started walking towards the entrance to the courtyard. Before she reached it, two uniformed officers erected a cordon. “Oh shit!” She would have to jump the tape or go under it somehow. She had to see Richard.

  “I’m here to see my brother, Richard Fisher,” she told one uniform, who blocked her way. “Let me pass, please. I need to speak to my brother.”

  “Not this morning, I’m afraid, ma’am. Your brother’s under arrest. He’s being taken to a police station any minute now.”

  She screamed at him, asking him what Richard was under arrest for. “Let me through; you don’t know what you’re doing. He’s a good man.” The officer stood in her way, moving with her each time she stepped left or right. “Get out of my way! I have to see him.”

  Eventually she gave up, stepping back, until the uniform walked over to his colleague, talking to her. Spying Richard’s hung head in the back of a panda car, she made a run for it, jumping over the cordon, the uniform calling after her.

  “Don’t let her through!” the uniform shouted to his colleagues.

  Charlotte dodged every police officer, managing to stop outside Richard’s window. When he saw her, he started shouting something. After a couple of seconds, it sounded like ‘get key from drain’.

  “I know, I got your text. I’ll get it,” she shouted through the glass.

  It was only a few seconds until she felt hands on her shoulders dragging her back towards the cordon. Charlotte didn’t listen to the officer telling her off; she didn’t care. Richard was all she cared about. By the way he sat in the rear, his wrists were cuffed. “I’ll get you a good solicitor, Richard. Don’t worry, we’ll have you out in no time.”

  “I don’t fancy your chances, ma’am. Not with what he’s being charge
d with.”

  Behind the cordon once more, she regarded the officer. “Why do you say that? What’s he being charged with?” She didn’t like his disgusted expression. “What?”

  “Distributing indecent pictures of minors, for one,” the uniform replied.

  “And that’s just for starters, eh, Sarge?” the female uniform added.

  “Yeah, one sick puppy, your brother. I’d love to put him down.”

  No. It couldn’t be, not her brother, not her Richard.

  “I don’t think you’ll need to, Sarge. They don’t like nonces in prison. The inmates will do it for us.” The female officer gave her daggers, like she was Richard. “He deserves what he’s going to get.”

  Charlotte thought about the text. ‘Key in drain in workshop’. Somehow, she had to get into the workshop, find the drain, grab the key, and get out without the police seeing. Vowing to wait for as long as it took to get that key, she turned and walked away from those opinionated, hateful police officers.

  Repeating the lapel numbers of the officers to herself, she crossed the road to her car and sat inside, the doors closed. In her mobile’s notes app, she typed the numbers of the lapels, telling herself she would report them to the IOPC, or whoever. “Judgemental bastards!”

  In the rear-view mirror, Charlotte saw a white Peugeot pull up outside the cordon. Turning in her seat, she saw Hayes driving with her partner in the passenger seat. Charlotte still had Hayes’ card somewhere.

  47

  Miller got out of the still running car, walked up to the uniforms in front of the cordon and showed them her ID wallet. “We’re here to speak to Richard Fisher.” As she put the wallet away, the uniforms glanced at one another. “What? Don’t give me weird looks. What is it?”

  Beside her, Hayes waited for them to speak. “We’re not going to, are we?”

  “Not unless you outrank the NCA officers dealing with him, no,” the male uniform replied. “They’ve given us strict instructions not to let anyone inside the cordon.”

  “Like you’re going to stop us.” Miller turned and raised an eyebrow at her partner, grabbed the tape and lifted it. Expecting an argument from the uniforms, she handed it to him. “If you’ve got a problem with this, make a complaint in writing.” The smile she gave was in complete contrast to her actions. “Thank you!”

  Hayes walked by her side. “Thanks for doing that; I was about ready to punch him. There he is!” She pointed out a sorry-looking Richard Fisher.

  Noticing the suits walking out of the workshop, Miller knew they would have only a short window with which to speak to Fisher. She sped her walk into a run. Arriving at Fisher’s window, she tapped on it. “Mr Fisher, we need to talk to you.”

  When he looked up, his eyes widened. “I’m being set up. They’re going to plant pictures in my computers. Help!” He tried to find the window controls.

  Hayes tried to open the door. It was locked.

  “You! Take your hand off the car!” A suit’s walk turned into a run towards them. “Just what do you think you’re doing? Get away from the car.”

  Miller looked past the two suits at the police officers carrying items from the workshop. She pulled out her identification, not looking at them. “Detective Sergeant Rachel Miller, and my partner, Detective Inspector Amanda Hayes, Metropolitan Police.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll need to hand Mr Fisher over to us,” Hayes added. “He’s a witness in a triple murder. So please, go on about your business and we’ll take Fisher to our station and interview him, okay?”

  She had to grin at Hayes’ bravado, at the suits’ faces turning redder with each word she said. Miller thought the taller suit was about to explode. He puffed out his chest, produced his ID. Reading it, she grinned at her partner.

  “National Crime Agency? Why, I must apologise most profusely. Had I known it was you…” Hayes even curtsied at them, like they were royalty, the sarcasm draped over every word. “Now, if you’ll open up, we’ll be on our way.”

  The taller suit stepped up to her partner, looking down on her. “The only place you’ll be going is our holding cell for obstructing justice, Detective Inspector Hayes.” He grinned at the shorter suit. “Fisher may be a witness in your case, but he’s one of the prime suspects in our child exploitation case. We’ll be sure to let you interview him after we’re done with him, okay? We’ll call you.”

  “I’m not sure he’ll be of much use to you by the time we’re done with him, mind,” the shorter suit said, laughing with his partner. “I’ll drive.”

  “We’ll be sure to take it up with your supervisor,” Miller shouted, as the suits got in the front, with Fisher cuffed in the back. “Corrupt pieces of shit. How many kiddy porn pictures are you going to plant on this poor bastard’s computers, huh?”

  Hayes put her hand on Miller’s shoulder, pulling her back. “Leave it, he’s not worth it. We’ll go over their heads at the agency. You’ll be at the Job Centre by this time tomorrow.”

  “You have a great day now, ladies.” The taller suit laughed, closing the door as their car attempted to get through the throng of panda cars.

  “Let’s take a look around the workshop, shall we?” Miller watched the uniforms faff about trying to move their cars for the NCA officers’ car.

  “Yeah, you never know, we might get lucky. The rest of his staff might be inside. It’s about time we had some luck on this case.”

  Waiting outside the front door, a couple of uniforms carried computers and monitors. The last officer to leave told his sergeant that there was nothing left. Miller waited for him to step out of the way, poking her head around the door frame, spotting the blue Ford Fiesta in the middle of the workshop, and feeling a hand on her shoulder.

  “We’re locking up now, detective.” A uniformed sergeant stared at her. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

  “Detective Hayes, you need to move your car, the NCA officers can’t get out,” a female constable said apologetically.

  Miller stayed put while Hayes ran off to move their car. She regarded the sergeant. “What do you make of all this? It’s a bit suspect, isn’t it? Did the NCA get an anonymous tip-off about Fisher, or what?”

  He checked there was no one listening. “I don’t know for sure, but I think so. At the briefing this morning, that taller NCA officer said they’d been investigating Fisher for months, as part of an ongoing child exploitation investigation, but I don’t know. When I pressed him for more info he was hesitant. The shorter officer didn’t even know where the offices were for Fisher Valves, like he’d only just heard of Fisher. I didn’t tell you this.”

  “Of course not. Goes without saying. Fisher told me he’s being set up, that the NCA are going to plant pictures inside his computers.”

  “Nothing would surprise me with these guys. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Remember what I said, we didn’t speak about this, okay?” He gave her a stern look, then took off towards the main road.

  Miller cursed when she tried the locked door. Walking back to the car, she noticed Hayes across the road talking to someone in a car in front of their Peugeot. Her partner leaned on the open window. Intrigued, she double timed it, made sure the road was clear and ran across, arriving at the car in front of theirs. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “Look who it is,” Hayes said, leaning back and letting her see.

  “Mrs Edwards? What’re you doing here?” It might be a stupid question, Miller thought, when Fisher’s sister stared at her.

  “She received a text from her brother just before he was arrested. He’s left something in there,” Hayes informed her, pointing to the building.

  “What is it? What’s he left you?”

  “He said it’s a key, but he hasn’t told me what it’s for. He said he left it in a drain in the workshop, said it’s important.”

  Miller opened the passenger door and sat, while Hayes leaned in. “We spoke to the receptionist at his other site, and she told us he’s working on a groundbr
eaking new product that’s going to change the world. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  “Anything you know, no matter how small, will help, Mrs Edwards. Please, your brother needs us to work together.”

  “I don’t know anything about it. All I know is I heard Richard telling Henry that something was ready, then when I entered the room he clammed up, wouldn’t say anything about it. I came by here on Friday and spoke to some woman working on a Fiesta in the workshop, and she told me they were bringing out a new valve that would change the world. I remember thinking, ‘cuckoo’. It’s just a valve; how life changing can that be?”

  Miller looked up at Hayes. “A valve?” She concurred with Mrs Edwards. How groundbreaking or life-changing could that be? “It has to be something else.”

  Mrs Edwards opened her door. “We won’t find out until we get that key.”

  She grabbed Mrs Edwards’ shoulder and pulled her back in. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re not breaking into that building; not unless you have a key?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “No, I don’t, but you’re detectives. It’s my brother’s place. I give you permission to go in there and look around. Don’t you have little lock-pick devices like I see in the TV programmes?”

  With a tut, Miller grumbled as she lifted herself out of the passenger seat.

  “No, we can’t risk anyone seeing us go in there. We’ll wait until it’s dark,” Hayes suggested. She stared at Miller. “You’re not going to get all Girl Guide on me, are you? We need to find out exactly what we’re dealing with here, and getting hold of that key is vital.”

  “You know how many laws we’ll be breaking if we do?” When she received pleading looks from both Hayes and Mrs Edwards, she sighed. “Are we ever going to have an investigation where we don’t have to break the law to do our job?”

  Hayes grinned. “Probably not. It’s the price we pay, I guess.”

  “Fine! We’ll come back here tonight. But if we get caught, it’s on your head, understood?” She only half meant it. “What are we going to do in the meantime?”