Operation WetFish Book 14: Trust and Betrayal

by Adam Carter

  Lin allowed Foster to take the lead as they walked in. The gym was larger than the one back at the bunker, of which Lin was grateful since it meant they would be able to work their way around without drawing much attention. There were only a handful of people using the equipment, but the salty smell of sweat lingered in the air regardless. Lin spotted two members of staff – both large-framed men wearing tight white T-shirts – and clocked all the exits without thinking about it. She also caught sight of Hillman the instant they entered the place. He was lying on his back, lifting whatever those weights were called. That was something else Lin had never understood; it was a typical man thing, trying to lift as much weight as possible just to prove you can do so.

  Lin was about ask Foster where they should start when she realised she wasn’t with her any more. She almost groaned aloud, maybe even did, when she saw Foster laughing with one of the men who worked there. He was responding good-naturedly, but Lin could see there was actual interest there. Lin stood frowning in annoyance that Foster wasn’t taking their time seriously. They were on the run, their boss had possibly cut them dry and Foster was flirting. And what did Foster have anyway that Lin didn’t? Foster should have to lose some weight before a man like that was interested in her, and yet he was practically undressing her with his eyes.

  Striding purposefully up to them, she put on a coy smile and said, “Shaz, word?”

  Foster flicked a look of annoyance Lin’s way and was about to say her goodbyes to her new friend when Lin physically yanked her away by the arm.

  “What? Jeez, Lin, you got a problem.”

  “Hillman’s over there,” Lin said tersely, “in case you didn’t realise.”

  “Sure I realised,” Foster said crossly, her anger melting when she noticed the member of staff was still looking her way: she tossed him a friendly wave. “He comes in three times a week,” Foster told Lin. “Works out on various equipment but always in the same order. If we walk slowly we can head him off at the treadmill.”

  “You got all of that from that guy? You were only talking to him two minutes.”

  “Yeah. I’m a fast worker. And he never got the impression I was snooping about Hillman.” A look of stern seriousness came to her eyes then, and a resentment that Lin should have thought so badly of her. “I do realise what’s at stake here, you know.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “No you’re not. I remember when you first started working with us. All prim and proper because you found out about WetFish instead of Sanders headhunting you like he did the rest of us. The only officer ever to find out Sanders’s little team even existed.”

  Lin was taken aback. “How can you even know that?”

  “I keep my ear to the ground, Lin. You may not think it, but I’m good at my job, and the one thing I’m good at is brokering information. Just remember, we’re all in WetFish for a reason, and you’re only there because Sanders thought he could use you. You think you’re better than us because you found Sanders out instead of the other way around? Just remember I was hand-picked by the DCI. Think about that when you’re judging me.”

  Lin knew when she had been put in her place, and could hardly blame Foster for her reaction. Foster was right of course; they were all there because they were the best, and Sanders would not put up with any of them otherwise. It didn’t mean she actually liked Foster any better, but maybe that she didn’t dislike her so much.

  They headed slowly for the treadmill, thankfully something Lin knew how to use. They had nothing to change into, and so they both just stripped off their jackets and hoped no one noticed they were wearing work shirts. After a couple of minutes Hillman moved onto the treadmill as well, setting himself up on the one beside Lin. She had intended to allow Foster to do most of the talking here, but for Foster to move all the way over to him now would look suspicious, so instead Lin struck up a conversation.

  “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  She heard a groan from Foster and ignored her. A part of Lin was beginning to understand now why she was still single, however.

  Hillman glanced across to her, but his mind was elsewhere. “No.”

  That was it. No.

  Lin kept running, getting nowhere, as she struggled with something else to say. “You see the news this morning? Those poor kids.”

  There was a thump behind Lin which was Foster actually losing control of her legs and collapsing on the treadmill. It carried her to the end and dumped her on the floor but aside from a wince Lin managed to ignore it.

  Hillman had turned his machine off and was staring at Lin. Neither said a word.

  Lin kept running, focusing on her feet.

  “Your friend’s on the floor,” Hillman said dispassionately.

  “I’m sure she’ll figure out how to stand up eventually.”

  Hillman said nothing and Lin knew he was still staring at her.

  She thumbed off the running machine before her legs turned to jelly. As she looked back at Hillman it was to see no fear of discovery, no anger or resentment. Just blankness. Lin had never liked blankness in a look. It meant she couldn’t lead him either way.

  “How do you know I’m involved?” Hillman asked.

  “Are you?”

  “You know I am.”

  “Tell me.”

  Hillman grunted. “Liz was my cousin. But you already knew that.”

  “Oh.” She had known that, yes, but she was rather hoping he was admitting involvement with the triple murder. “I’m sorry, I’m not going about this very well.”

  “No. You’re not.” He threw a towel about his shoulders and walked over to a bench. After a moment Lin followed and sat beside him. Hillman drank steadily from a plastic bottle. “You’re a cop, I take it,” he said flatly.

  “Does it show?”

  “Next time you come to the gym try wearing proper gym clothes.”

  It was a handy enough tip, Lin had to admit. “Look, I’m sorry to dredge it all up, but someone killed that family. That poor woman and her kids didn’t do anything to your cousin, Phillip. They didn’t deserve to die.”

  “Stacey.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Their names were Stacey, Rebecca and William.” He glanced her way, and she could see his entire body was tense, his foot tapping a beat. Adrenalin was pumping through his body and Lin could see he was practically supercharged. She reasoned he came to the gym to find release for his body, but as therapy it didn’t seem to work.

  “Do you know anything about their deaths?” Lin asked carefully.

  “No.” He looked at her then, understanding her meaning, and revulsion passed across his features. “No.”

  “You threatened to burn down his house. In court.”

  “I didn’t threaten to go stab his family to death. If you want the truth, I probably would have. Burned down his house, I mean. If this dragged on any more, if we didn’t get Arcady put behind bars, I probably would have. But I wouldn’t stab kids, no matter who their father is.”

  Lin could fast see her only lead fizzling before her eyes. “I ... Do you know anyone else who might have?”

  “This is some detective work you got going on here, lady. No, there’s no one else in my family who would even think of doing what someone did. Anyway, it was a woman at the house, the paper said. They shot her. Do I look like a woman who’s been shot?”

  Lin was grateful Thompson had stayed with the car. “There’s more to this than meets the eye, Phillip. I need to figure out what happened.”

  “Good luck. A part of me doesn’t care,” he said, his tapping foot increasing in intensity, his jaw trembling with bursting energy. His eyes were focused beyond her, almost not even registering that she was there. “A part of me thinks Arcady deserved it. But they were kids, lady, and I can’t think that of kids. No kid deserves that, but a part of me’s happy. You know how that makes me feel?”

  Lin could see precisely how it was making him feel. It was tearing him apart i
nside. It did not mean he didn’t commit the murders and now regretted it, but she could not see that this man would have been able to kill all three without feeling such terrible regret. The wife perhaps, but he would have stopped there and fled. Phillip Hillman could not have murdered children, even if they were Arcady’s.

  She placed a hand over his. His skin was coarse, cold and shaking, and his eyes shot to her hand the moment their skin touched. Slowly his eyes moved up to find hers and his shaking began to slow.

  “It doesn’t matter how you feel about what happened,” she told him soothingly. “You didn’t do it, it doesn’t matter if when you close your eyes you’re happy.”

  “You’ll get the person who did it?”

  “I will.”

  Hillman rose, his hand slipping out of hers, and he moved back to the treadmill. He had a system to work through and he needed time on the running machine before moving onto the next one. Regime was the only thing allowing Hillman to live with his thoughts, Lin could see that now. He had been torn apart at the death of his cousin and now he was falling apart over the deaths of two children he had never even known.

  “We should bring him in,” Foster muttered, staring at his back.

  “He didn’t do it.”

  “Says you.”

  Shaking her head, Lin left the gym, Foster following only because she lacked the physical strength necessary to take the man down by herself. They found Thompson waiting for them behind the wheel and she started the car as soon as they were back inside.

  “You didn’t find anything,” Thompson said. It was not a question.

  “He didn’t do it,” Lin said. “Which means we’re back to square one.”

  “Not necessarily,” Thompson said stonily. “Who’s the one person who could benefit from all of this? Who’s the one person vilified by that trial?”

  “No one was vilified,” Lin said. “Arcady was found not guilty.”

  “By the courts, yes. But the press ripped him to pieces, it always does.”

  “You’re suggesting Arcady slaughtered his own family just to gain himself some sympathy?” Lin shook her head. “I don’t buy it. You spoke with him, surely you would have seen that in his eyes if he’d done it.”

  “A man able to kill his own family? You think I’d be able to see anything of the monster? Satan’s the deceiver, Lin. And that’s what Arcady is.”

  “How nice. You have any evidence for this?”

  “His Dobermans.”

  Lin vaguely recalled Arcady had some dogs. “What about them?”

  “They sure didn’t like us being there, but for all Arcady’s security, the dogs didn’t make any attempt to stop the actual killer, who must have gone to the house before us.”

  Lin thought about that. She had asked for evidence and what Thompson was providing actually did make sense. The Dobermans would not attack their master, that was true.

  “And how exactly are we going to prove this theory?” Lin asked sceptically. “Stalk him until he starts partying?”

  “We have a little word with him,” Thompson said. “Or at least one of us does.”

  “Why would he listen to me?” Lin asked defensively.

  “He wouldn’t.”

  Lin glanced into the back seat, where Foster was suddenly paying full attention. “Hey, hold on a minute, what do you want me to do exactly?”

  “Just what you do best,” Thompson said. “Flirt for information.”

  Foster said nothing. Lin was usually quite happy when Foster was shocked to silence, although in this instance she wasn’t all that certain she didn’t agree with her. What Thompson was suggesting was dangerous; but then their lives were already on the line. Perhaps it was indeed time they pulled out all the stops and solved the crime so they could stop solving problems for other departments and get back to their own work.

  They’d let Foster have her go, Lin decided, and see just what she could come up with.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Finding Arcady did not prove difficult. Foster did not bother to head back to the pub or to Eric’s home. Instead she went to the one place she knew he would be after his encounter with Thompson. She went to church. Foster had done her research and knew Arcady was a God-fearing man, knew he would even now be praying for Thompson to uncover information leading to his family’s murder. She knew he would be doing this because this, as a God-fearing man, was what he was expected to do. Everything regarding Arcady was for show, for he knew the media was watching and he had to act according to their expectations.

  After learning which church was his local, Foster approached carefully. The great building loomed above her, an ancient towering edifice of holy majesty. She shifted her bra strap and pulled out a compact so she could check her lipstick. Foster was dressed in high heels and a low-cut top, her skirt so short it was hugging her hips if only to stay on. Her eyeliner was in place, her lipstick hadn’t smudged and her make-up hadn’t run. Foster knew there was likely one thing on Arcady’s mind right at that moment, and it wasn’t communion with the Lord. He had wiped out his family and now he was a free man. Most likely he had already tasted some of the fruit of a bachelor, but he was about to get an eyeful of Sharon Foster, and unless he clocked her as a police officer as well there was no chance she would be leaving that church alone.

  Leaning against a gravestone to put away her mirror, Foster wondered why she had never thought before to pick up guys at church. Nodding a thank you to the grave, she headed inside.

  The church was darker than she had expected, since she thought the reason for the tall windows was to let in the light of God or something. There were candles burning and she wondered whether these represented something religious or if they were just to make the place look nice. It was also larger than it appeared from the outside, and that was to her mind pretty huge. The main hall was filled with many rows of pews, with a split down the centre to form an aisle and various dark recesses off to either side. The stone pillars holding the place together were crumbling and depicted strange faces and designs. This also confused her since she seemed to remember one of the Ten Commandments advising against worshipping effigies. At the far end of the hall there was an altar, an old-looking chair and another set of candles, smaller ones this time. Foster wasn’t sure, but she believed these to have been lit by visitors for various causes.

  There were only a few people in the church, seated on various pews, and one man in white ceremonial garb who was a vicar or priest or whatever they were called. He did not seem to have noticed Foster’s entrance, pottering about in one of the side alcoves as he was.

  Scanning the few people there, Foster located Arcady without any trouble. She had never met him, otherwise this little subterfuge would not work, but she had studied his picture and knew him by sight. Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly down the aisle, swinging her hips to get herself in the spirit of the role, and took up a position on the pew behind him. If he even noticed her presence he did not show it. He was holding no reading material, but had his head bowed, his eyes closed. He was obviously making a show of praying, but was likely just asleep. If there was no one else in the church with him she doubted he would even be here at all.

  She cleared her throat but he still did not notice her.

  She was just trying to think of a way to break the ice when a draught caught her. Wearing as little as she was a sudden shiver passed through her body. “Cold in here,” she whispered, and at last Arcady replied, although without opening his eyes.

  “Is there something you want?” he asked tiredly.

  “No. Not really. Just didn’t expect it to be so damn cold.”

  Arcady sighed. “Any other profanities you want to express?”

  Foster shrugged, although he could not see it. “Sorry. Don’t come here very often. Kind of nervous actually. But my brother was killed by shoplifters last year and I try to come every six months. Just didn’t make it last time.”

  “Which means this is your first time here?
” Arcady opened his eyes at last and glanced behind him. There was no recognition there of how she looked, no lingering gaze upon her practically bare chest, no interest at all. She thought for a moment that he hadn’t even seen her, lost in his own grief as he was, but that was ridiculous considering this was all an act on his behalf.

  She offered a sheepish smile. “I’m trying to be a better person. I just ... get sidetracked.”

  He continued to look her in the eyes as though sizing her up. “What’s your name?”

  “Sharon. My friends call me Shaz.”

  “Light a candle, Sharon. Light a candle, sit in silent contemplation for a while. And then go home.”

  He turned his back on her.

  Foster blinked. It was the most blatant brush-off she had ever had and she wasn’t certain she was all that prepared for it. Granted, she was not dressed in her usual attire when she picked up men, but the least he could have done was shown a little interest. “I kind of need to talk. What’s your name?”

  He sighed, made a show of it in fact. “Arnold.”

  “What are you here for?”

  “Pretty much the same as you. And I’m trying to pray.”

  “Maybe you need to talk too.”

  “No. I need to pray.”

  “I find talking always helps the soul, Arnold.”

  He opened his eyes and turned to her once more. “What is it with pushy women today?” He frowned; at last he’d noticed her assets. “Don’t you think you’re a little underdressed to be in the house of God?”

  “I don’t think he’ll mind. If it was up to God we’d all be walking around naked anyway.”

  He stared at her, trying to make up his mind whether she was being facetious, and finally said, “So you decided to flaunt it in His face?”