Call to Arms

by Rachel Amphlett

  ‘Right now, I reckon he’s panicking. He can’t speak with Harrison – he’s being held in custody in an open prison for the next four months while the investigation into the shooting of Jozef Demiri is concluded.’

  ‘I’ll make a call to the prison anyway, and request that they let us know if Harrison receives any visitor requests.’

  ‘Good idea.’ She turned away from the window as Stockton finally opened his car door and got in. ‘We need evidence that he was the buyer, Ian. It’s too circumstantial at the moment – I’ll never get Jude to take it on if we don’t come up with something to prove this case.’

  Forty

  Kay suppressed a yawn and turned the page of a report she was meant to have read three days ago, and only because the author of it had phoned her an hour ago seeking her feedback.

  She wouldn’t have minded, except that the subject matter was drier than the Gobi Desert, and it was keeping her from reviewing her team’s caseload.

  She skimmed over the final page and tossed it into the top tray on her desk with a groan, and then printed out the comments sheet she was meant to return before the end of the day. Once she’d scribbled a note of her thoughts across the page, she opened her desk drawer, reached inside, and cursed aloud.

  ‘You all right?’ said Debbie as she wandered past.

  ‘Bloody Barnes has nicked my stapler again.’

  Carys laughed, and wandered over with her own stapler. ‘Here, use this.’

  ‘Thanks. I swear blind I’m going to put a lock on this drawer. For a copper, he’s got incredibly sticky fingers. Did you sort out those typing lessons for him, Debs?’

  The uniformed officer grinned. ‘I haven’t told him yet. He’s got three days’ solid training next week.’

  ‘Good. That’s what I call karma.’

  Kay handed back the stapler, and then peered into her desk drawer to find a black pen with which to sign off the report. Her brow furrowed at the sight of a business card that lay face down under a hole punch, and she reached out for it before turning it in her hand.

  ‘Jonathan Aspley. I’d forgotten about you.’

  She cast her mind back to the beginning of the winter when she and the team had been in the final throes of their investigation into Jozef Demiri. She had been approached by a local reporter who had told her about Simon Harrison’s reputation for putting his own officers in danger.

  Her mistake had been not to pay heed to his warning.

  She glanced up, but Carys and Debbie were deep in conversation, so she pulled out her mobile phone and dialled the number on the card.

  Aspley answered immediately. ‘Detective Hunter – I was glad to hear you were back at work. How are you?’

  ‘Hungry, and I need food. Interested?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Out of town. Where we won’t be overheard. Do you know The Tickled Trout at West Farleigh?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Last one there buys lunch.’

  She ended the call, pulled her jacket off the back of her chair, and swung her bag over her shoulder.

  ‘If anyone is after me, I’ll be back in a couple of hours,’ she said to Debbie as she passed her desk, and hurried out to her car.

  She relished the drive to the countryside pub, a firm favourite of hers.

  As she turned off the Tonbridge Road at Teston and drove over the railway crossing, she glanced out of her window at the river that bisected the water meadows.

  A narrowboat meandered along the water course, and she wondered what the occupant did for a living that meant he could spend his time relaxing in such a way.

  She slowed as she approached the narrow stone bridge that crossed the Medway, pleased to note a van travelling from the opposite direction paused to let her pass with a flash of its headlights. She held up her hand in thanks to the driver, and accelerated up the lane.

  Within moments, the painted white façade of the pub came into view, its brick chimneys soaring above a russet-coloured tiled roof.

  She pulled into the car park behind the pub, and noted with satisfaction that she had beaten the journalist.

  His car appeared as she was locking her door, and he hurried over to join her, a smile on his face.

  ‘I hope you weren’t speeding, Detective.’

  ‘No need to be a bad loser, Aspley.’

  He grinned and held open the door to the pub for her.

  Kay unbuttoned her jacket as the warmth of the pub began to ease the cold from her body, and stood at the bar with the journalist while they ordered their food.

  He handed her drink to her, and gestured to a table next to the window. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘When did you get back to work?’

  Kay dumped her bag and jacket on the plush seat next to hers, and rested her elbows on the table. ‘A couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘Settling back into it okay?’

  ‘I guess so, yes.’

  ‘I heard about Sharp. That was a rough deal, sorry.’

  She shrugged. ‘What have you been up to?’

  ‘This and that. I’m working on a new story at the moment about illegally low wages in the fast food industry. Students and foreign workers are too scared to speak up for fear of losing their jobs most of the time, so it’s hard to get anyone to talk to me about it.’

  ‘Your career’s going from strength to strength since I last saw you.’

  ‘Yeah, well I think I got the better end of the deal. I got an exclusive story that went nationwide and accelerated my career, and you ended up nearly drowning. You were bloody lucky, you know that, right?’

  ‘I do. Congratulations on the story, too. You did a good job.’

  ‘Hey, thanks. That means a lot coming from you.’ He broke off as the waitress brought their food over and they began to eat. ‘Well, I’m guessing you didn’t ask me to meet you to make small talk. What did you want to see me about?’

  ‘Simon Harrison.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Did any of your investigations into his past conduct uncover any evidence of substance abuse? Alcohol, drugs, or something?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I can’t tell you at the moment, sorry.’

  ‘What? I buy you lunch—’

  ‘You lost a race—’

  ‘If I’d known you had ulterior motives…’

  ‘Oh, come on, Jonathan. Stop messing around. What else have you got on Harrison?’

  He put down his knife and fork and picked up his glass instead, taking a sip of ale.

  Kay resisted the urge to kick him under the table, and instead held her breath and waited.

  ‘All right,’ said Aspley. He checked over his shoulder, and when he saw the landlady had moved across to the other side of the bar, he turned back to Kay. ‘A few years ago, a detective on Harrison’s team suggested that the DCI might have a drug problem.’

  ‘A habit, you mean?’

  ‘Yeah. No evidence, though and no-one would talk to me about it. The bloke who first brought it to my attention was transferred out a couple of months later.’

  ‘Frightened off?’

  ‘Punishment, I think. Ended up in Reading.’

  Kay pushed the last of her jacket potato to one side, picked up her orange juice and took a sip. ‘A cocaine addiction might go some way to explain his gung-ho attitude towards his investigations.’

  ‘What are you up to, Hunter? I heard you were meant to be on light duties at the moment.’

  She smiled. ‘You’re the journalist. You know you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.’

  * * *

  Kay swung her chair from side to side and tried to concentrate on the emails she was scrolling through.

  She hadn’t stopped rushing around the station to attend different meetings since returning from lunch, and although she’d never admit it to her colleagues, fatigue was starting to set in and take its toll.

  She had waited until no-one
was looking before reaching into her bag and removing two painkillers from the small bottle she’d been prescribed, swallowing the bitter pills with a mouthful of coffee.

  Her arm ached, and she welcomed the sight of the clock’s hands swinging round to six.

  Ever since she’d left the pub at lunchtime, she’d been wondering about Aspley’s information that Harrison was rumoured to have had a liking for recreational drugs.

  Did Jamie Ingram have a falling out with Giles Stockton?

  Had Stockton killed Jamie, before Harrison had helped him to cover up the crime? But, why?

  Had Stockton been supplying Harrison’s drugs? Had he threatened to blackmail him?

  Carys began to clear her desk as Kay rubbed at her temples, the clink of crockery reaching her as the team began to tidy away for the night, carrying dirty dishes and tea mugs into the small kitchenette.

  Kay sank into her chair, reached out and wiggled the mouse to wake up the computer screen, and then began to scan through the emails that had appeared in her absence.

  Her phone vibrated on the desk, and she smiled as she read the text message from Adam.

  Cooking a Thai curry. Ready in an hour X.

  She looked up as Gavin burst through the door to the incident room and strode towards her desk, waving a page in the air.

  ‘What’s got your knickers in a twist?’

  ‘Natalie Ingram. She hasn’t been telling us the truth about her counselling sessions ten years ago.’

  She pushed back her chair and gave a low whistle in the direction of where Barnes and Carys stood next to the kettle.

  ‘Get yourselves over here.’

  Forty-One

  Kay waited until the small team had filed into Sharp’s office, then closed the door and gestured to Gavin.

  ‘All right, Piper. Explain.’

  ‘Okay, so I had some spare time this afternoon, and I thought I’d go through the statements we’ve had to date. This time around, I mean. Not the original documentation.’

  ‘As a wise man once remarked, “get on with it”,’ said Barnes.

  ‘Right, well. When you and Kay first spoke with Michael and Bridget Ingram to tell them we were reopening the investigation into Jamie’s motorbike accident, Bridget told Kay that Natalie received three months’ worth of counselling afterwards to deal with her grief. Natalie confirmed it when you caught up with her.’

  Carys edged forward on her seat. ‘Hurry up, Gavin.’

  ‘Sorry. Anyway, I did a bit of digging around in the system, because none of them mentioned to us which counsellor she’d gone to. Lucky for us, one of the uniformed officers working on the original case with Harrison was smart – he found out that Natalie didn’t go to a local counsellor. She opted to check in to a private clinic near Guildford for three months.’

  ‘Guildford?’ said Kay. ‘Why on earth would she go all that way?’

  ‘And why for so long?’ said Carys. ‘Surely she’d only have a couple of sessions a week or something like that? Why stay for three months?’

  Gavin held up the document in his hand, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. ‘Because she wasn’t suffering from grief. I think she had a cocaine addiction.’

  The shocked silence that followed was eventually broken by the sound of Barnes hissing through his teeth.

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  Kay took the page from him and scanned her eyes over his notes. ‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’

  ‘Yeah. I phoned the place. They’ve never offered grief counselling. Their staff specialise in drug and alcohol addiction, nothing else. Apparently, they’re one of the top private clinics in the country, and they cost a fortune.’

  ‘So, you think Jamie and his friend Carl Ashton were supplying, and Natalie was buying as well as Giles Stockton?’ said Carys.

  ‘No way. That was a lot of cocaine they were smuggling into the country,’ said Barnes. ‘More than two people would ever need.’

  ‘Not if Natalie was selling it on to contacts she made through her job in the City,’ said Gavin.

  Kay leaned against Sharp’s desk and handed Gavin’s notes back to him. ‘Good work, Piper. I think you might be onto something here, but we’re going to have to proceed very carefully.’ She cast her eyes over the assembled team. ‘News about this development doesn’t leave this room until the facts have been fully substantiated, is that understood?’

  A murmured response reached her ears.

  ‘Okay. Next steps. We don’t want to alert Natalie Stockton to the fact that we’ve found out about this. Gavin’s speculating that she may have had a cocaine addiction, that’s all at the moment, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Gav – can you phone the centre again and see if there’s someone we can talk to this evening to establish the facts involving her stay?’

  ‘Will do.’

  He pulled out his mobile phone and retreated to a corner of the room, speaking in a hushed tone.

  ‘Ian, I’ll need you to cover for these two while we’re working through Gavin’s theory. What’s your workload like at the moment?’

  ‘Not too bad. I can take on the community policing thing Carys was going to attend in the morning at HQ – it’s only a meet and greet, anyway. What else do you want to throw my way?’

  ‘Piper was supposed to be finalising a report for the CPS about Carl Ashton. It’s all written; I won’t have time to review it before it goes over to Jude Martin, that’s all.’

  ‘Leave it with me.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She paused as Gavin shoved his phone in his pocket and wandered over.

  ‘I spoke with the receptionist,’ he said. ‘None of the counsellors are around at the moment, and she won’t release any information to me without checking with them first. She sounds like she’s only about eighteen, so she’s probably erring on the side of caution rather than being deliberately obstructive. On the upside, she has confirmed the name of one of the counsellors who was there ten years ago, and even went so far as to make an appointment for me to speak with him in the morning. Bloke by the name of Zack Ellington.’

  ‘Brilliant, that’s great. All right – Carys, I’ll need you to find out the name of Natalie’s employers in the City from ten years ago. If they’re not mentioned in any of the statements, then check her social media. Carefully, mind. Set up an appointment for us to meet with someone there tomorrow if you can. And, if they give you any trouble about it, remind them we’re dealing with a murder investigation here.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Okay, that’s enough for one day. It’s late, so clear off and get some rest. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be busy for the next few days.’

  Forty-Two

  Kay peered out of the rain-lashed train window and rested her chin in her hand as the Kentish countryside turned to urban sprawl.

  She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but she worried that she hadn’t told Sharp about the breakthrough in their investigation. Part of her felt obliged to keep him up to date about progress, but her conscience wrestled with the fact that he was so closely connected to the Ingrams.

  How on earth was she supposed to inform any of them that Natalie could have been Jamie’s buyer?

  ‘Here you go.’

  She turned at the sound of Carys’s voice, and then took the cup of coffee she held out with a smile of thanks.

  ‘You were miles away,’ said the young DC. She slid into the seat opposite Kay and placed her own cup on the table between them. ‘What were you thinking about?’

  ‘I’m kicking myself for not considering that Natalie could be the buyer before now. The other part of me is wondering how on earth I’m going to tell her parents if we’re right.’

  ‘Do you think Gavin is onto something?’

  Kay shrugged, and took a sip of her coffee before wrinkling her nose.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Carys. ‘They only had decaf.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’ll live. I think he is, yes. Unless Zack Ellington can confirm tha
t at the time Natalie was residing at the clinic they were offering grief counselling as part of their programme, then I think we need to seriously consider the fact she could have had an addiction and was using her brother to obtain the drugs she craved. Like I said last night though, we have to approach this a step at a time – we can’t assume anything.’

  The train began to slow, and Carys glanced out of the window as the sign for Herne Hill station came into view. She glanced at her watch, and sighed.

  ‘Good job the only appointment they offered us was for eleven o’clock. Any earlier, and we would have been late the way this train is running.’

  Kay smiled, and pushed her coffee cup away, unable to stomach any more of the foul-tasting liquid. ‘I can’t remember the last time I came up to London. Before everything happened to me, and before Adam’s veterinary practice became so successful, we used to try and get up here once a month.’

  ‘Did you go to the theatre to see a show or something like that?’

  ‘No – and this is going to sound really boring, but we used to like wandering around people watching and finding interesting bars tucked out of the way to have a drink in. I think it was more about the change of scenery than anything else.’ She reached out and used her paper napkin to wipe condensation from the window. ‘I couldn’t live there though. I’m definitely a country person.’

  ‘Me too. Last time I was here was to go to an exhibition at the V&A six months ago.’

  Kay’s phone vibrated in her bag, and she fished it out, inwardly groaning as she read the text message.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s Sharp, wanting an update.’

  ‘What are you going to tell him?’

  ‘Nothing. If I have anything to report, I’ll do it when we have all the facts, and I’ll speak to him face to face.’

  She shoved the phone back into her bag as an announcement came over the intercom, advising passengers the train would soon be entering Victoria Station.

  Carys began to gather up her things. ‘We can walk to the office from the station. It’s only about five minutes from there.’