The Victim

by Max Manning

The Mastermind

  Norton put his hands behind his head, stretched, groaned, and stared at the ceiling. Beneath him, the mattress springs creaked like an old man’s bones.

  Two of the room’s four walls were still generously stained with the mold that had invaded during the damp winter months. Norton had gotten used to it. He definitely preferred the musty smell of the mold spores to the fatty aroma of reconstituted meat that wafted through the floorboards from Finch’s kebab shop.

  Not long to wait now, he told himself. Soon, he’d be out of this dump, living in comfort. He’d always known the time would come when he’d get the sort of life that was rightfully his. Bentley’s death had brought that moment a step closer.

  Some people found it hard to accept that bad things are fated to happen, but they are, and Norton was always happy to give fate a helping hand. Bentley had died a horrible death, his body crushed under the steel wheels of a Tube train. He had had it coming. Norton had understood that Bentley had to die if he and Gem were to have a chance.

  Bentley thought he was something special; he thought he was cool. Norton grinned. He’d be super cool now, lying on his slab in the mortuary chiller. Underneath that smooth veneer, he’d been a nasty piece of work, a fake, and the world would undoubtedly be a better place without him. He had puffed himself up as a man of law, but he had had no respect for it.

  Gem deserved more, and that’s what she’s going to get, Norton told himself. She just didn’t know it. Not yet. When the time came, Norton would explain, and she’d have no choice but to understand and forgive.

  Bentley had never loved her. That was obvious. He had wanted to make her something she wasn’t. If she didn’t shape up, he would have cast her off, wanted her gone, just like the other girl. The girl in the woods.

  Once Gem finished grieving, when she’d thought things through, he would explain why he’d done what he’d done.

  Since her display of disobedience at the carjacking, she’d shown her worth. She’d behaved perfectly, kept her head down. It wasn’t love, whatever that was supposed to be. The simple fact was he wanted her. She played his game and won. Not only her right to live, but the right to live a new life. A special life. She didn’t know it yet, but she already belonged to him. She’d understand. She had to.

  He closed his eyes and dropped his arms to his sides. If he was going to watch over Gem, he needed plenty of rest. Bentley had been taken care of, but there were still people buzzing around her who would ruin everything if given the slightest chance. That will not be allowed to happen, Norton told himself.

  Gem shouldn’t be wasting her tears on a man like Bentley. He knew that right at that moment, shock, grief, fear, and confusion would almost certainly be taking an enormous toll on her. She’d be at her most vulnerable. All sorts of people would be whispering all sorts of things in her ear.

  He’d make it his job, his mission, to protect her from the bad influences gathering around her, those who would do their utmost to keep them apart. Norton pictured himself standing in the shadows, watching over her like a guardian angel, unforgiving, steadfast, and all-powerful. The image made him shudder with pleasure.

  His eyes snapped open, and he sat up quickly. There would be no rest now; he was too excited to sleep. But that wouldn’t stop him. He had an assignment, a task to complete, and he’d do it, no matter what. Gem could depend on him to protect her, guide her, keep her safe from harm, as long as she followed the rules. His rules.

  He’d do everything in his power to make sure that nothing and nobody posed a threat to her happiness. To her future. To their future.

  The Detective

  Day summoned Shields and Stock into his office. He wanted to keep a lid on his belief that Bentley’s death wasn’t suicide or an accident. If that leaked, he’d have to report it to his detective chief inspector, and his old team would be called in.

  Shields arrived to find Day standing behind his desk, his back to the window overlooking the station parking lot. “We need to move quickly on the Bentley case,” he said. “It seemed clear to me on the CCTV footage that Bentley looked terrified when he saw the man in the baseball cap pushing his way through the crowd toward him. That suggests he knew him, knew him well enough to know what he might be capable of. He was clearly frightened of him.”

  Shields nodded. “It certainly looked that way to me. On top of that, Golding is positive that the image we showed her was the same man who attacked her. So somehow, Bentley knew the carjacker, or at least knew what he looked like.”

  Day shrugged and took a moment to think. “He knew his face, and he almost certainly was aware that he was a dangerous man, someone you wouldn’t want moving toward you if you were standing on the edge of an overcrowded Tube train platform. The question is, did he find this out before the carjacking or after?”

  Shields didn’t respond. Day hadn’t expected an answer. The question alone was enough for now. It meant that they had taken an important step toward catching Bentley’s killer. Once they had the answer, he’d be in their sights.

  “We need to pay a visit to Bentley’s place of work,” Day said. “Speak to his colleagues, get a list of his clients over the last few months. We’re going to need to speak to Golding again, but we can leave that a day or so. Understandably, the woman’s in a bad way. Cat, you’re coming with me. Can you call Bentley’s bosses and let them know we’re on our way? Bill, I want you to stay here, go through the Liverpool Street CCTV footage again in case there is anything we missed. Don’t forget, if anyone starts getting curious, we’re simply trying to nail down whether this was a suicide or an accident. Once we’ve established that, we’ll pass the case on to the coroner’s office.”

  After Shields and Stock had left the room, Day sat down at his desk, took a deep breath, and let the air out of his lungs loudly and slowly. He wanted this man caught. Needed him caught. Day cared about the victims of violent crime and the families of those victims. He cared too much for his own good, according to his soon-to-be ex-wife. Getting too emotionally involved in his cases had been one of the many points on her why-I’m-leaving-you list.

  * * *

  The offices of the Stone and Maddox law firm were situated above a coffee shop on the first floor of a red terracotta Victorian building in Chancery Lane. An immaculately groomed young man stood behind the reception desk, his eyes fixed on a computer monitor.

  He looked up as Day and Shields approached and shot them a smile so broad, it must have made his jaw ache.

  Day flashed his badge. “Detective Inspector Elliot Day,” he said. “I’m making inquiries about a possible serious crime, and I need to speak to Mr. Stone or Mr. Maddox or whoever is in charge.”

  The smile vanished. “Is this to do with Drew Bentley’s death?” A shiny badge on the receptionist’s right lapel announced that he was called Miles.

  “I’m not sure you understand, Miles,” Day said. “We are here to speak to your boss, whoever he or she is. We will ask him or her questions. We’re not here to answer your questions.”

  Miles turned back to his computer keyboard, his lips pursed like a sulking child. “Unfortunately, Mr. Stone doesn’t exist,” he said. “Not anymore. He died of a stroke a year ago. Give me a second, and I’ll take a look at Mr. Maddox’s schedule.”

  The detectives waited patiently as he typed. He tutted noisily and shook his head as he read the information on the screen. “I’m afraid Mr. Maddox is busy all afternoon. Would you like to make an appointment for later in the week?”

  Day turned to his detective sergeant again. The corners of her lips twitched, but she kept a straight face. “This is trying my patience,” Day said.

  Miles spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Mr. Maddox doesn’t like being interrupted. In fact, he’s made it very clear that he should never be interrupted when he’s with a client. He is a stickler for routine and never deviates from his
schedule. I’m afraid there is nothing I can do.”

  Day stepped closer to the counter and looked directly into the receptionist’s eyes. “Miles, I’d like you to do something for me right now. Go and tell Mr. Maddox that the police want to speak to him. If you don’t do that, then I will not be very happy.”

  Miles shook his head. “Sorry, sir, but I’ve already explained that’s impossible.”

  Day slowed his breathing and kept his voice calm. “Please inform Mr. Maddox that the police want to speak to him about an urgent matter. I’m sure he will understand.”

  The receptionist opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it. Without another word, he turned and swiped his card over the security mechanism on the door behind the counter. It buzzed, and he pushed the door and slipped through.

  Shields grinned at Day. “You made hard work of that, Boss. I hope you’re not losing your touch.”

  Day didn’t reply. He scanned the reception area, shaking his head. The building had an impressive Victorian façade, but inside, all the period features had been ripped out.

  The door behind the counter opened with a click, and a red-cheeked Miles beckoned them in. They followed him along a brightly lit, white-walled corridor. As they walked, Day counted three doors, all with shiny brass nameplates. The third nameplate read Drew Bentley.

  Ahead, at the end of the corridor, a fourth door was open, and Day guessed they were approaching the office of the boss man. Miles stepped aside to let the detectives enter and closed the door behind them.

  The huge desk looked like it had been carved from a single block of oak; on it sat a green telephone, what looked like a large legal tome, and a brass plaque with Edward Maddox scripted in black enamel. Why the hell are these lawyers fascinated with their own names? Day wondered.

  Behind the desk, in a throne-like upholstered chair, sat a man in his fifties wearing a silver-gray suit, a crisp, white shirt, and a silver tie. His hair was short and unnaturally black.

  “Please take a seat,” Edward Maddox said, his manner easy, unruffled by the unexpected arrival of a couple of detectives. “Tell me, how can I help you?”

  Day sat on one of the chairs he guessed Miles had positioned at the request of his boss, and Shields followed suit. Maddox wore a neutral expression. He showed no sign that he was inconvenienced by the interruption.

  “I am DI Elliot Day, and this is DS Shields. We want to ask you some questions about Drew Bentley.”

  Maddox’s face remained impassive. Day got the impression it’d stay that way even if someone shot him in the groin with a fifty-thousand-volt stun gun.

  “That was an incredibly sad business,” Maddox said. “Drew was an excellent lawyer. One of our best. I had big plans for him.”

  “How long had he worked here?” Shields asked.

  Maddox paused, a series of rapid blinks betraying his surprise that the female, lower-ranked detective had the nerve to jump in with a question. Day decided to sit back, watch, and see if Shields could unsettle him further.

  “Drew joined us four years ago. Ambitious and a fast learner, he cottoned on to what our business is all about incredibly quickly. Over the past two years, he brought more money into the business than anyone else. We are really going to miss him.”

  Day caught his sergeant’s eye, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. Miss him or the money? With people like Maddox, it always came down to the money.

  The lawyer made a show of looking at the expensive gold watch decorating his left wrist. Before he had a chance to remark on how they were wasting his valuable time, Shields fired another question at him.

  “Can you think of any reason why Mr. Bentley might have killed himself? Anything he said to you or other colleagues in recent weeks. Did he mention anything unusual that had happened to him?”

  Maddox glanced at Day and raised his graying eyebrows. “We don’t bring our personal lives to work with us at Stone and Maddox. I knew Drew lived with his girlfriend and that they were planning to get married and start a family. That was it. We don’t gossip about our personal lives here. In fact, we actively discourage it. It’s a distraction, not productive, and we want our staff to focus on our clients and their—”

  “Yet you say Bentley told you he was planning to marry,” Day cut in. Being lectured to always made him irritable.

  Maddox leaned forward, rested his elbows on the desk, and steepled his fingers. “He did, and I was glad to hear it. He told me all about it after I called him into my office and asked him outright.”

  Day had no idea where this was going, but something told him it was important that he find out. “Why would you do that? Considering how you encourage your employees to keep their personal lives to themselves.”

  Maddox sat back in his chair, sighed, and folded his arms across his chest. “How much longer is this going to go on? I’ve put myself out to cooperate here, but I have an appointment soon, and I don’t want to have to cancel it. Of course, I know that legally I don’t have to speak to you at all, but I don’t want to be deliberately obstructive.”

  Day didn’t answer. He wanted to leave their response to Shields, because it would annoy Maddox more coming from her. She read her boss’s silence perfectly and stepped in.

  “We are, of course, extremely grateful for your cooperation,” Shields said. “As you correctly point out, you are under no legal obligation to answer our questions, but if we have to apply to a judge for a warrant, we will, and that will result in us coming back with more questions and the authority to conduct a comprehensive search of your offices, including your computer network.”

  Maddox remained stone-faced. “I told you that Drew was performing incredibly well, so much so that I was considering making him a partner in the firm. He was delighted, naturally, but I pointed out that as a partner, he’d need to attend a lot more out-of-office events, networking functions, mix socially with some of our biggest clients and investors. You could describe it as old-fashioned, but I believe excelling in that kind of role is easier if you have a settled home life.”

  “And a wife on your elbow who can accompany you to these events?” Shields asked.

  “Ideally,” Maddox said. “We have no female partners right now, but if and when that happens, we will expect the same from them. We might be an old-fashioned law firm, but no one can accuse Stone and Maddox of being sexist.”

  Not without risking being sued, Day thought. “Doesn’t it seem strange to you that somebody whose career was going so well and who was planning to get married would take his own life? It seems like he had everything to live for.”

  Maddox shrugged. The gesture looked unnatural, forced. “Who knows what’s really going on in someone’s mind?” he said. “People can be dealing with personal issues, such as mental health problems, and even those closest to them might be unaware. All I know is that at work, he was doing everything he needed to achieve his ambition of getting made a partner. He’d assured me that marriage was in the cards, and he had upped his pro bono work. That’s something we like partners to do. It shows the firm has a social conscience.”

  “You deal exclusively with employment cases, don’t you?” Day asked.

  Maddox nodded. “Correct. Most of our clients are city executives, bankers, etc., who have gotten or are about to get the ax. We negotiate settlements. The threat of legal action is an efficient way to push them higher. We also offer free advice to less fortunate members of society. People who believe they have been fired unfairly but don’t have the resources to do anything about it.”

  “And Bentley did some of this pro bono work?”

  “He certainly did. It’s a requirement of becoming a partner.”

  A requirement, Day thought. Not something you’d consider doing out of the goodness of your heart then. “Okay, Mr. Maddox,” he said. “We’re going to need a list of all the clients Bentley saw in the la
st two months, including the pro bono ones.”

  The lawyer’s thin lips stiffened. “That’s impossible, I’m afraid. That’s confidential information. Why is this necessary anyway? Are you suggesting that Drew didn’t kill himself?”

  Day glanced at Shields, again inviting her to deliver the bad news. “It’s your right to refuse right now, of course,” she said. “But if you do, we will return with a warrant giving us the power to search Mr. Bentley’s office, and I have to warn you that we can’t guarantee that the press won’t get wind of what we’re doing. Everyone knows they have their police sources.”

  Maddox took a moment to think. His gray eyes flicked from Day to Shields, then back again. Day had no doubt the veteran lawyer’s legal brain was running through all his options and weighing up the damage a newspaper report about a police raid on his company’s offices would do to the firm’s reputation.

  Day stood up to leave, and Shields did the same. At that moment, Maddox reached out, pressed a button on the telephone, and lifted the receiver to his ear. “I need you in my office now, Miles,” he said. “I want you to compile a list for these detectives.”

  25

  Fight

  Gem the Warrior

  Gem drained her mug of tea, curled up in the armchair, and hugged her knees. Drew had jumped in a taxi and come straight home when she had called the office to tell him she was being stalked by the carjacker.

  She’d burst into tears as soon as he walked through the door. He’d seen her cry plenty of times before, usually tears of anger and frustration when they’d argued about her job. He’d never seen her cry because she was frightened before.

  Gem heard his footsteps on the stairs, lifted her head, and tried to muster a smile as he entered the room.

  “Fancy another tea?” he said.

  She shook her head. “No thanks. I think after the day I’ve had, I’d rather have a large vodka.”

  Drew walked to the sofa, brushed the seat with his fingertips, and examined them for dust before sitting down. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea, darling. I didn’t want to say anything before, but you’ve been drinking a lot more than usual lately. A good night’s sleep is what you really need.”