by Tara Lyons
‘Oh, I remember. She’s the hot blonde one, right?’ Todd laughed, as Mel punched him in the arm. ‘I’m kidding, babe. I’ve only got eyes for you.’
He leant over and gave the attractive woman a lingering kiss. Felicity had to look away. Not out of jealously or bitterness, but she’d caught sight of how Mel looked at Todd. There was evident lust; there always was in the early stages of a relationship, but she also hung on his every word. When he moved, Mel moved. Felicity could see now. It was exactly how she and Warren would act. She missed the expert touch of his fingers on her bare legs. His piercing blue eyes could swallow her like the torrential waves of the ocean.
‘When’s the funeral?’ Calvin blurted, and Todd jabbed him in the ribs.
‘I’m not sure,’ Felicity replied quietly. ‘The police haven’t released his body.’
‘He’s still in Ambleside?’ her friend continued to question.
‘Yes. I’m not sure, I haven’t been given all the information, but, for some reason, the Met are involved in this too. His body may be transferred to their morgue after the post-mortem.’
Todd grabbed Mel’s packet of cigarettes, handed his girlfriend one, and took one for himself. He ignored her offer of a lighter and drummed the white tobacco stick on the table.
‘What the hell was he doing there?’ he exclaimed, looking at no one in particular, before lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag from the tip.
They were all used to Todd’s habit, and had long since stopped telling him the dangers of it. Felicity wafted the smoke away from her face, the attack of fumes doubled now two chimneys sat around the table. Todd’s question repeated over and over in her mind. She couldn’t stand not knowing, and the vagueness of everything surrounding the murder of her fiancée. Not for the first time since the police had knocked at her door, she wanted to scream. The frustration was eating away at her. The smoke blurred the faces in front of her.
‘I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,’ Felicity said and slowly looked around the table, holding eye contact with each one of them for a few seconds. ‘We’re all going to find out. And I think we need to start by telling the truth about what happened two years ago.’
Later that night, when Felicity had wiped away the layers of make-up and shed herself of the labels, she curled up on her lonely double bed. She clung to Warren’s pillow, breathing in the faint smell of his DKNY aftershave lingering on the material, and cried herself to sleep. The agony of losing her best friend, her soulmate and her lover ripped at her heart until she felt nothing.
6
Hamilton’s feet pounded the pavement as he raced through the bustling crowd of Leicester Square. Despite Rocky clearing a path ahead of him, the mob of tourists and popular caricaturists was never ending. Barging shoulders, knocking shopping bags, and hopping over small children like a hurdle jumper, he’d expertly avoided the street bollards. Except the last one, hidden behind a family taking a group shot outside the M&M store. Hamilton swerved around them, but dashed directly into the thick, steel post, grinding him to painful halt.
‘Why do they always have to bloody run?’ he muttered, doubling over and clutching his crown jewels. ‘And why do I never jump back in the car to give chase?’
He stretched up, grimacing as he did, and slowly swirled around. He’d lost his bearings and couldn’t see Rocky, or the suspect, running away in any direction. Amidst the dazzling lights of the huge buildings, and serenity of the near-by greenery and Shakespeare fountain, Hamilton inhaled deeply. The pride he felt when calling this picturesque London town his home sometimes overwhelmed him.
Hamilton decided to return to the car, and walking through Cecil Court, his mind briefly wandered to Elizabeth. Christmas was less than six months away, and his wife read books like they were going out of fashion. He made a mental note to come back to this array of book shops on his next rest day. As he turned right on to St Martin’s Lane, where they’d parked the car less than twenty minutes earlier, he whistled aloud. Rocky leant casually against his silver Vauxhall Corsa outside Gymbox. The lad stood to attention immediately and frowned when he noticed Hamilton’s limp.
‘I’m fine,’ he said, waving away Rocky’s concern. ‘It’s just my pride that’s dented. I’m sure you understand. Given me the slip too.’
Rocky made a clicking noise with his tongue and thumbed in the direction of the car window. ‘Got our guy, sir. Thought he’d lost us and tried to double back. I might have a heavy build, but it’s muscle not fat, and I’m a fast runner.’
Hamilton couldn’t contain his smile. ‘Well, for someone who’s still learning the winding, busy streets of London, I’m impressed.’ He took the keys from Rocky and walked around the car. ‘Oh, and I think it’s time you stopped calling me “sir.” It’s an old-fashioned title that makes me feel ancient. And no more jumping to attention when you see me. Yes, I’m your superior, and most of the time, I’ll give the orders, but we’re a team.’
‘Good to know, sir … sorry, I mean, gov.’ Rocky climbed in the passenger’s seat. ‘You didn’t do too bad back there. I’m looking for a new gym to join in London. You’d be more than welcome to join me. I could help you work on your core muscles and speed.’
Hamilton laughed out loud and started the engine. ‘Let’s mark that down as a maybe for now, Rocky.’
‘This ain’t fair! I can’t fucking be treated like this,’ a gruff voice roared from the back of the car.
‘Did you read the man his rights, DC O’Connor?’
‘Yes, DI Hamilton. First thing I did, after pinning him to the ground to stop him escaping again, of course.’
‘Of course,’ he echoed.
Hamilton sniffed, mockingly taking his time as he allowed pedestrians to cross the road, before turning onto William IV Street. Despite Charing Cross Police Station being situated just yards away, so close in fact they could have walked, Hamilton was training his new recruit. He needed Rocky accustomed with London’s vibrant roads before going out in the field alone.
‘Well then, you should know running away from us was a pretty stupid thing to do,’ Hamilton finally said and peered into the rear-view mirror.
The man’s face was freshly shaven, and he could have easily passed as a teenager. Especially with his fashion choice of a black Yankees cap, which he pulled further over his dark eyes when he caught Hamilton’s gaze.
‘I ain’t done nothing wrong! This is racism. Bullying. A black man can’t walk around London without the pigs thinking he’s done something wrong. And from you too, fella, a copper of colour. I’d expect more loyalty from you,’ the man said, jabbing his finger in Hamilton’s direction.
The car came to an abrupt stop directly outside the station. Hamilton parallel parked into a tight spot with ease, ignoring the man sitting in the back, who continued to mouth off about equality and race. Before he released the detainee from the car, he called Rocky to one side.
‘Don’t waste your breath on him once we’re inside. We’ll get the desk sergeant to book him in, and he can wallow for a while.’
‘You don’t want to interview him straight away, gov?’ Rocky frowned.
‘No. I can’t handle loud mouths like him. He’s under suspicion, he’s been cautioned, and he’s a flight risk. An hour in a confined space won’t do any harm. Might actually shut him up for when I’m finally ready for him.’
‘Your call, gov.’
The man continued to swear, yell, and fight against Hamilton and Rocky as they yanked him from the car. Although he had no choice in the final destination, it was clear he wasn’t going to enter the building quietly. Regardless of the fact the man’s wrists were handcuffed, Hamilton gripped his arms just that bit tighter than he normally would.
‘You really are a prize prat, aren’t you?’ Hamilton muttered into the man’s ear, as they dragged him up the steps and through the main door. ‘We only wanted to ask you a few questions … for your help, really. Now, I couldn’t be more suspicious of you.’
>
He felt the man’s shoulders slump, the struggle ceased, and quietness resumed. Hamilton grinned and shook his head. How predictable, he thought.
‘For the benefit of the tape, Calvin Robinson has declined the offer to have a solicitor present,’ Hamilton said an hour later, when he began the interview. ‘Why did you run from us, Mr Robinson?’
The man, slouched in the chair as though he was waiting for a movie to start, simply shrugged his shoulders and continued to stare at the table.
Hamilton couldn’t work it out. The man was a potential witness. A friend of the missing girl, who, by coincidence, worked closest to the station and was therefore their first port of call. He could understand people instinctively felt nervous when a police car cruised behind them in slow traffic or approached them on the street. But to run from your place of work, before enquiring as to why they were there, sounded alarm bells in his head.
‘Do you want to explain why you ran when we entered the coffee shop and asked for you?’ he continued.
Calvin rubbed a hand over his tightly plaited hair and sat up straight. Hamilton glimpsed something, a look of wretchedness in the man’s eyes, and for the first time, the red glare around his pupils.
‘I don’t know. Guess I haven’t had the best of experiences with you pi … with you coppers,’ Calvin replied and returned his gaze to the large metal furniture separating them.
Hamilton cursed himself for not delving further into this guy’s record. But then, he hadn’t previously noticed the bloodshot eyes, and he hadn’t planned on interrogating him.
‘Mr Robinson, are you on drugs?’
‘What?’ the man screeched, a little too high-pitched for Hamilton’s liking.
‘You know, drugs that make you a little wavy. Marijuana, weed, sunk … whatever it is you guys smoke these days.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘What are you, twenty-four? Think that crap is going to help you get anywhere in life?’
Calvin sighed and folded his arms across his broad chest, the black T-shirt stretching tighter over his large muscles. They were getting nowhere. Frustrated, he decided to question the man about what really interested him right now.
‘Look, Calvin, this has all blown out of proportion. You don’t trust the police, that much is obvious. But we were seriously just coming around for a friendly chat. It wasn’t even about you … not directly.’ He had the man’s attention once again. ‘We’re trying to get some information on a young woman, Donna Moran.’
Hamilton watched Calvin’s reaction as he said the name. The way his Adam’s apple protruded a centimetre more as he gulped. His knee, jittering under the table, and the way his eyes darted between Hamilton and Rocky.
‘I … don’t know,’ the man stuttered.
‘Don’t know what, Mr Robinson? Who she is, or where she is?’
‘Well, no. I mean … yes.’
‘Yes, you do know Donna Moran, and you know where she is?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You said no, then yes. So, what does that mean? Do you know where Donna Moran is?’
Calvin slammed his fist on the table, but the rest of his body stiffened.
Hamilton folded his arms on the table and slid in closer. Inches from the man’s face, he repeated his question. ‘Mr Robinson, do you know the whereabouts of Donna Moran?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know Donna Moran?’
‘Yes.’
Hamilton sat back in his chair, watching Calvin’s dry tongue attempt to moisten his even drier lips. He let the silence simmer in the thick air for a few moments longer. The man was over a decade younger than him; a boy, in Hamilton’s opinion. But as Calvin sat there, with a temper somewhere between blasé and fury, he knew this boy had important information. The tiny droplets of sweat, brimming at the top of his forehead, was just one of the tell-tale signs an inspector with over fifteen years’ service wouldn’t miss.
‘DC O’Connor, can you get Mr Robinson a strong coffee, please? I think there’s something significant he needs to share with us.’
7
‘Chief, come on. Surely you can see this is a Met case, regardless of where the crime scene is. It needs to be transferred over to us,’ Hamilton almost yelled at his superior. ‘The links to London are obvious. I’m sure even Inspector Ray Bennett will understand that.’
DCI Allen rested back into the office chair, folded his large, muscular arms over his chest, and clamped his fingers together. He had achieved his position with the backing of everyone he’d worked with; a fair boss, who supported his colleagues but had no time for insubordination. Growing up in Cork as a six-foot tall brute, he’d learnt to defend himself and speak up for those weaker than him. By the age of twenty, he knew the career path he wanted to take and headed for London. Now, despite knocking on the door of his sixtieth birthday, and the grey hairs outnumbering the black, it was clear the man still felt that same fire of his youth; everyone deserved justice.
‘I can understand why you want to reopen the Donna Moran case, Denis,’ Allen finally said. ‘As a potential victim and witness, I’ll let you and your team have that. But we cannot demand the local police of Ambleside hand over a murder which took place in their own backyard.’
‘What if I speak to Bennett, try and appeal to his better nature?’ Hamilton pleaded, wondering if the local man had one at all. ‘They would still be involved in the case, of course, I’d ensure that.’
Allen groaned. ‘Maybe … The force won’t want the extra expense of their officers travelling back and forth.’
‘In this day and age, sir? No, we can … Skype, if they have to physically see us. I’ll keep them in the loop with anything we find, as I’m sure they will us. They still have Warren Speed’s body, after all.’
The Chief laughed out loud. ‘I see your team are having an influence on you, Denis.’
He rolled his eyes and held up his hands. ‘What can I say? It’s all video conferencing and technology these days. But, yes, they are teaching me a thing or two.’
‘Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, hey?’
There was a spark in Allen’s eyes, and the hopeful feeling rose in Hamilton. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason he pushed for the case; maybe because he’d been at the lake the day the body had been discovered, or because his heart went out to the mother who had no clue where her daughter was. Unsure as he was, he wasn’t prepared to give up.
‘So, what do you reckon, Chief?’
Allen sighed heavily and sat forward, his large physique overshadowing the oak desk. ‘I think it’s better I support you with this, because I have a feeling you’d go off behind my back anyway. Start with Donna Moran, for now. Let’s see if we can discount her as a potential victim. I have a contact in Ambleside, so leave that side of things with me for the time being. The press is having a field day with this Warren Speed case, so it might be in the Met’s interest to be involved, or at least have a finger in the proverbial pie.’
‘Cheers, sir. I appreciate your backing,’ Hamilton said and raced from the office.
On his return to the incident room, he was pleased to see the newest member of the team, DS Yasmine Dixon, had joined them.
‘Inspector Hamilton, I’m being bought up to speed right now, and I’ll work late to make up the time,’ she blurted out.
Hamilton raised a hand, hoping to slow her down. ‘I know we all have a life outside of this office, Dixon. Don’t get in such a panic over it. Are your kids okay?’
‘They’re fine. It’s the final week of the summer holidays, and things get a bit out of control with dance clubs and football practice and dentist appointments,’ Dixon explained and pulled her long, dark hair away from her slim, golden-brown face. ‘My husband is with them now, so he can deal with it. Jeez, couldn’t you just wring their necks sometimes.’
Hamilton smiled, but noticed the aghast expressions spread across Clarke and Fraser’s faces. Dixon’s hand flew to her mouth, and the room suddenly lacke
d any fresh air, despite the wide-open windows. He knew no-one would speak first, all waiting on him, and difficult relationships between his new team members was the last thing they needed.
‘Hey, we all need to rant somewhere, right? We’re here for that … anything you need to guarantee you aren’t really wringing anyone’s neck when you leave this building.’
Clarke was the first to slice through the thick atmosphere with a hearty laugh, and Hamilton was thankful for it. Dixon obviously knew about Maggie, and while that fact didn’t bother him, the thought of colleagues walking on eggshells around him again did. It had been five years; people had the right to talk about their children freely in front of him.
He clapped his hands and undid whatever spell had mesmerised them for a few moments. The blush eased from Dixon’s face, and he was eager to pull them all back to the task.
‘Now, talking of children, there’s a mother out there who hasn’t heard from her daughter in two years,’ he said.
Clarke perched on the desk. ‘Well, that’s what we think, gov.’
‘Yes, you’ve got a point. Fraser, did you manage to contact Joan Moran?’
She grimaced. “Sorry, boss, not yet. It’s the next thing to do on my list.’
‘It should have been actioned already,’ he snapped. ‘Even as a courtesy, the woman needs to be informed her daughter’s case has been reopened. When you speak to her, don’t mention the note extracted from Warren Speed’s mouth just yet. Explain we’ve reopened it as the anniversary has recently passed. Find out if she’s spoken to Donna, or her friends, or has any other information.’
‘Will do, boss. I have her contact details. I’ll see if she’ll have a chat with me over the phone first,’ Fraser said.
Hamilton nodded, grabbed a black marker and wrote notes on the white evidence board as he spoke. ‘Unfortunately, the details Calvin Robinson gave us were not as interesting as I’d hoped. It was pretty much what he’d said two years ago, but there was something about him … I don’t know. Plus, his is only one side of the story, and there were six people involved that weekend. One of those is missing, and another one’s been murdered. What I suggest we do is split up and interview the three remaining friends who were on the Lake Windermere trip. See if they have any fresh material we can work with.’
