Gallows Drop

by Mari Hannah

  Carmichael ducked – not fast enough – as Gardner ejected saliva with all the skill of a marksman. ‘He has now,’ she said, wiping spit from her face and hair. ‘Resisting arrest will get him eighteen months. Assaulting a police officer will get him more. Do yourself a favour, pet. Find yourself a new boyfriend.’

  Carmichael wouldn’t allow either of them to see her disgust, although she certainly felt it. She couldn’t wait to reach the station and jump in the shower. Smiling at her prey, she spoke the words she’d dreamt of saying her whole career:

  ‘Liam Gardner, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder.’

  39

  Kate opened one eye, startled by the noise that was dragging her from sleep. Her clothes lay on the floor where she’d dropped them last night. Unusual for her to be untidy but she was wasted when she got in. It took a split second for her memory to kick in, a second longer to realize that her mobile phone was ringing.

  The hospital.

  Rolling over on one side, she hauled herself into a sitting position, panicking over whether her father had survived the night while she slept soundly in her bed. The room was chilly. Goosebumps covered her skin. Pulling the duvet around her, she snatched up her mobile, braced for bad news.

  ‘Hello?’ Her voice was thick with sleep.

  ‘Morning, boss.’ It was Andy Brown.

  Kate’s relief was momentary. He wouldn’t have called her if it hadn’t been important. Unless . . . her eyes shifted to the digital clock on her bedside table: eight twenty-one. Shit! She flew out of bed, dragged open a drawer looking for underwear, snagging a pair of red lacy knickers on a splinter as she yanked them out.

  ‘Shit! Shit!’

  ‘You OK?’

  Kate’s eyes came to rest on a dusty suitcase she’d lugged out of the loft. It lay empty on the bedroom floor waiting to be filled. The sight of it made her both angry and sad. ‘OK might be pushing it, Andy. But you’ll be pleased to know I’m human like everyone else.’

  ‘Boss?’

  ‘I overslept. You probably worked that out all by yourself.’

  ‘Hank suspected as much—’

  ‘Since when did you become his errand boy?’ There was a long silence on the other end. Kate quickly back-pedalled. ‘Sorry, forget I said that. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. Did he reschedule the briefing?’

  ‘For eleven o’clock.’

  ‘Thanks. Tell him I appreciate it.’

  She meant it – and didn’t need to ask why Hank hadn’t called himself. With no knowledge of what had gone down since he saw her, her devoted DS was most likely still brooding, angry with her for repeating past mistakes, putting her job before her private life. They had fought over the issue often. He’d get over it – eventually – and so would she. They respected each other too much to keep an argument going for long. Candour was good for the soul.

  ‘How did the raid go down?’ she asked.

  ‘Just as Lisa planned it.’ Andy was eager to praise her as always. ‘Gardner and his cronies are under lock and key, awaiting your company.’

  ‘Good. Anything else?’

  ‘Grant said to tell you that Gayle Foster would rather not come to us. She’s asked that you see her at her place of work.’

  ‘Fine. Arrange it. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to be seeing Adam Foster an hour and a half ago. Is he at the station?’

  ‘He was when I got in.’

  ‘Trust a squaddie to be on time.’ Kate grabbed some grey strides and a stripy shirt from her wardrobe and threw them on the bed. She practically ran to the shower, the phone still in her hand. Leaning in, she turned on the tap to let the water warm up, the list of things she had to do making her head spin. ‘Do me a favour,’ she said. ‘Get a message to him. Make an excuse and give him my profound apologies. Tell him to wait. I’ll be there within the hour.’

  Sometimes things don’t go according to plan. Even before she’d woken up, it was set to be one of those days. Kate was almost halfway to the station when her mobile rang loudly in the car, Andy Brown’s number appearing on screen. Turning the volume down, she knew what he was going to say before she took the call. ‘Don’t tell me, Adam Foster got bored.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  ‘’Fraid so.’

  ‘Damn!’ Kate pulled hard on the steering wheel, guiding her Q5 off the road and into a lay-by. ‘He’s legged it?’

  ‘Not exactly. Front desk said he got a call from his lass. He had to rush off. Said to tell you he’d be at her house when you have time to see him.’

  ‘Did he leave an address?’

  Andy confirmed that he had.

  ‘The poor guy’s recently bereaved. Like it or not, I’m going to have to follow through and grovel. I only hope he accepts my apology.’ As Andy reeled off the postcode, she reprogrammed her satnav. ‘Tell Hank to handle the briefing if I’m not back.’

  She rang off.

  Engaging first gear, she was about to pull out of the lay-by and into heavy traffic when a text message came in from Jo. It was brief and to the point:

  Didn’t call earlier in case I woke you. I’ve been at the hospital since early doors. Your dad had a comfortable night.

  Kate keyed a reply:

  Is he awake?

  Yes, but not up to visitors according to nursing staff.

  Won’t rush in then.

  No point.

  What are you not telling me?

  He thinks it’s YOU waiting to see him.

  Figures. You do know it’s an offence to impersonate a police officer?

  Did you sleep?

  Like a log. Need to go. I’m flat out. Tell him I’ll be in later.

  Let you know if there are any developments. x

  Owe you one.

  I will collect. x

  Ending the exchange, Kate put her foot down and sped away.

  By the time she arrived at the given address, military police were slamming the door of their van with Adam Foster inside. A crowd had gathered. A pregnant girl Kate assumed to be his girlfriend was in hysterics, sobbing into a handkerchief on the pavement outside a rundown terraced house, begging the redcaps to let him go. One of four males standing with her was having a verbal go at them.

  Screeching to a halt, blocking the van in, Kate jumped out of the car and marched round the back, curbing a growing desire to rip heads off with her bare hands.

  This could not be happening.

  ‘Guys?’ She held up ID. ‘I’m DCI Kate Daniels, Northumbria Police. Can I have a minute please? I need to speak urgently with your prisoner.’

  The two soldiers stood to attention when spoken to. Ignoring the abuse he was getting from the dickhead on the pavement, the most senior of the two, a sergeant, allowed his eyes to dart sideways, an explanation of sorts for what he was about to impart . . .

  ‘Sorry, ma’am. No can do. We’re under orders to transport Corporal Foster back to base to face disciplinary action for being absent without leave.’

  Kate stood her ground. ‘I’m fully aware of that.’

  ‘I’m not authorized to deviate from our intended route, ma’am.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to make a detour. Just give me a moment with him in the back of the van before you take him away.’

  ‘I can’t allow that while he’s in our custody and without legal representation. I’m sure you understand.’

  Kate bit her lip, taking a deep breath. After her row with Hank, a public slanging match with a jobsworth was not what she needed. She was about to try again when more swearing ensued from over her shoulder. Turning on her heels, she sauntered across the road until she was facing the mouthy civilian.

  ‘Shut it!’ she said. ‘One more word from you and you’re nicked.’

  He laughed. ‘You wanna call for backup, pet?’

  ‘Are you saying I need it?’

  ‘Fuck off, you daft cow.’

  He turned his head to smirk at his mates, playing the big man. Before he had chance to tu
rn back, the DCI had removed her snips from her trouser pocket, snapping them on his wrist in one deft motion, twisting them sharply, disabling him. He cried out in pain as she kept the pressure on, securing the other end to Victorian railings that bordered the small front garden.

  ‘Now will you shut the fuck up?’ Silence prevailed as she returned to the van.

  ‘Nicely done, ma’am,’ the MP said.

  ‘I don’t want your admiration, Sergeant. Foster’s brother was murdered. I must speak with him. It would’ve been nice if he’d been able to stick around to support a grieving grandmother. I appreciate that isn’t possible, but cut me some slack here. Going AWOL for a couple of days is hardly a capital offence—’

  ‘That’s a matter for my CO, ma’am.’

  Kate asked him to be reasonable.

  A pair of ice-blue eyes stared back at her. He wasn’t going to budge. ‘We’ll be keeping him in a holding cell. He’s going nowhere. You can interview him there.’

  ‘Thank you so much for the cooperation,’ Kate said. ‘I’m sure your commanding officer will be very proud of you.’

  She looked on as they locked the van, climbed in and drove off. She cautioned her own whingeing prisoner and called Control to have him taken away. There was no way he was getting in her motor. This day couldn’t end soon enough.

  40

  ‘Mr Gardner, will you tell us where you were between five p.m. on Saturday the eleventh of October and eight a.m. on Sunday twelfth?’ Gardner had already been cautioned and given the opportunity to consult with a solicitor. Charles Moffatt, the legal man he’d chosen, had a sickly complexion. He was completely bald with dark circles under his eyes. He checked his watch, as if he had somewhere else he’d rather be. Trying to move the interview along, he advised his client to answer.

  Gardner yawned, exposing surprisingly good teeth. A scar ran through his left eyebrow, giving him a sinister appearance. A war wound. Kate wondered if the flesh had been stitched by an amateur, causing the skin to pucker slightly above his eye. Apart from that, he wasn’t unpleasant to look at. Bruce Willis fans might even find him attractive.

  ‘What was the question again?’ he asked.

  ‘Five o’clock Saturday to eight o’clock Sunday,’ Hank repeated. ‘Where were you?’

  ‘Hmm . . . I have no idea. Can’t remember, can I?’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ Kate held his gaze for a moment. ‘You can do better than that, surely, young lad like you. It was only a couple of days ago. I know exactly what I was doing, everything I had to eat, every call I made. Why don’t you give it more thought.’

  ‘Nah, don’t think so. I’d like to help you out, pet, really I would, but I was pissed most of Saturday. That’s what weekends are for. Least they are in my book. You should try it some time. It’s called letting your hair down.’

  ‘You’re not helping, Mr Gardner.’

  ‘The name’s Liam.’ Gardner smirked, enjoying himself. ‘I had a skinful yesterday ’n’ all, come to think of it. And now I’ve got a hangover. Why d’you think I was so incensed when your lot dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night, terrifying my lass and upsetting my dog?’

  ‘Shame about the dog.’ Hank’s expression was deadpan. ‘You have our condolences . . . For the tape, Mr Gardner just raised his middle finger.’

  ‘For the tape, the cops are smiling,’ Gardner said.

  ‘Maybe I can help jog your memory,’ Kate interrupted. She didn’t want to rile this kid. Not yet, anyway. That would get them nowhere fast. Three days into the enquiry and she wanted to make it count. She sat forward, elbows on the table, hands clasped in front of her. ‘Let’s start from the beginning, shall we, Liam? When you woke up on Saturday morning, what time was it and what did you have for breakfast?’

  Gardner made no reply.

  ‘Too hard a question?’ Kate moved on. ‘So where did you go after breakfast? I’m assuming you were sober when you woke up.’

  ‘Met up with some lads, didn’t I? Went to the show like everyone else.’

  ‘You mean Alwinton Show?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘That’s better. And you were there until what time?’

  ‘Couldn’t say.’

  ‘You were in Elsdon village later that day though, weren’t you?’

  ‘Told you, I was pissed.’ When the DCI said no more, Gardner felt obliged to add something. ‘How do I know where I went? I reckon I was at the show until three or four o’clock. After that was a bit of a blur to be honest. I’d been necking booze all afternoon. It sometimes has that effect.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s true. It seems rather convenient, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

  ‘I’m not lying.’

  Gardner’s legal representative sighed. He seemed bored with his job and, on this shitty day, Kate understood exactly where he was coming from. She was sick and tired of dealing with the likes of Gardner. Her investigative skills and vast experience meant zip when interviewing suspects like him. He’d sit there for weeks and give her nothing she could use against him in a court of law.

  His brief was getting impatient. ‘My client has answered your question, Inspector. He told you he’s unable to recall. He told me the same thing during our consultation. Can we get on with it, please?’

  ‘With pleasure.’ Kate switched her focus back to the accused. ‘I have two witness statements claiming that you were in Elsdon having a heated discussion on Saturday evening with someone who was found dead on Sunday morning. If you weren’t there, I have a dilemma. It’s your word against someone else’s; someone who, for the record, wasn’t inebriated on Saturday. If you refuse to cooperate, I’m afraid this is going to be a very long process for you and for us.’

  ‘Who’s dead like?’ Gardner was pleading ignorance.

  ‘I think you know. It would be hard not to. It’s all folks round here are talking about. You being such a friendly soul, I’d have thought someone might have filled you in.’

  Another yawn. ‘I’ve not been out much.’

  ‘Nor seen the TV, listened to the radio?’

  ‘Xbox. That’s my thing.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Kate paused. Time to put him under some pressure, gauge a reaction. ‘The dead boy is Elliott Foster. If I’m not mistaken, you know him.’

  ‘No! You’re kidding me.’ His eyes opened wide in fake surprise. ‘Don’t suppose there’s any chance of a bacon butty? Only I missed my bait and my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.’

  ‘You’ll be fed in due course.’ Kate flicked open the file in front of her, taking a moment to study it, then raised her eyes to her prisoner. ‘For someone who claims not to have heard the news, you don’t seem too upset by it.’

  ‘I am. Elli was cool.’

  Elli? ‘You saw him at the show, didn’t you?’

  Gardner kept his lip securely buttoned.

  ‘Stop stalling and answer the question,’ Hank said.

  ‘Liam?’ Kate was wondering if the shortening of Elliott to Elli was a term of endearment or a cruel nickname. ‘Did you see him at the show or not? It’s a simple enough question.’

  ‘Yeah.’ The arrogant shit was smiling. ‘Course I saw him. He was in good fettle too. I shook his hand, gave him a pat on the back for winning his bout at the wrestling, didn’t I?’

  ‘Literally or metaphorically?’ Kate asked.

  Gardner eyeballed his brief.

  Whether for clarification or playing for time, Kate wasn’t sure.

  Moffatt was losing patience. He knew where Kate was heading and had the good grace to look embarrassed on behalf of the despicable loser he was representing. ‘She means did you actually touch him or was the pat on the back a verbal one.’

  Gardner shifted his gaze from Hank to Kate. ‘I gave him a big old bear hug. Ask anyone. I remember now. Must’ve been before I got pissed. After that I couldn’t tell you. I made it home somehow. Woke up on the sofa, freezing my balls off with the TV on and a mouth li
ke a sewer. My usual state on a Sunday morning.’

  Very attractive.

  Kate wanted to wipe the smug expression off his face. Gardner was an idiot, but not altogether stupid. If he persisted in this vein it made life difficult for her. He was clever enough to avoid the suspicion of a ‘no comment’ interview, blaming drunkenness for his memory loss. He’d already admitted knowing the victim, touching hands, putting his DNA all over him, all of which he knew she’d find on Elliott’s body or clothing.

  Time to turn up the heat.

  ‘So, just to be clear, you shook Elliott’s hand and gave him a hug.’

  Gardner rolled his eyes. ‘Said so, didn’t I?’

  ‘Is that the extent of your contact?’

  ‘Eh?’

  Was there any other transferring of bodily fluids between you, either then or later?’

  His eyes found Moffatt again. ‘What is she on about?’

  ‘I’m trying to establish if you bled or spat on him. I understand you’re good at that.’

  ‘That bitch had taken my dog!’

  ‘I’m not keen on people gobbing on my DCs,’ Kate said calmly. She could see he was riled. ‘Your cuddle with Elliott Foster didn’t go any further than you’re letting on, did it, Liam? When I examine his clothes, for example, your semen won’t be on them?’

  His hackles were up and it showed. ‘What the fuck—’

  ‘No need to get abusive, Liam.’ There was no emotion in the DCI’s voice. It was flat calm and businesslike. ‘I’m just trying to establish how far this contact went. If you were jealous of his success you might have fought with him. If you were close, it could have gone the other way. See what I’m getting at?’

  ‘Jealous? Of him! Do me a favour.’

  ‘Does it upset you that I might think that?’

  ‘I don’t give a fuck what you think.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’

  Moffatt cleared his throat, an attempt to get Gardner’s attention. It worked and he shook his head, warning him not to lose his rag. If this were a game, Kate was winning.