Cold Shoulder (53 page)

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Authors: Lynda La Plante

Tags: #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction

BOOK: Cold Shoulder
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He turned away.

‘She was only seventeen and she was beautiful, wasn’t she? Take a look at her pretty face.’

He glanced at the ten-by-six photograph. Then Lorraine pointed to the morgue shots, which showed the injuries that virtually obliterated her face, broken nose, eye-sockets filled with blood and the gaping mouth with the front teeth smashed.

‘Someone hammered her face, broke her skull, her nose, even her teeth. What kind of person do you think would do this? What kind of
madness
did this?’

Lyall wouldn’t look at the photographs but kept his eyes on the wall.

‘I keep on telling them that you couldn’t have done it but they won’t believe me, you know why? Because—’

‘I didn’t do that. I’m innocent.’ His voice was high-pitched, bordering on hysterical.

‘I know you are — of course you are — all you were involved in was blackmail. I know that but—’

‘Janklow did it, he admitted it — so why don’t you piss off and leave me alone? I want my lawyer here.’ He sounded less hesitant now, his voice lower.

‘Your lawyer will be here, Craig, but he’s just finalizing Nula’s release. She’s going, so I hope you’ve made arrangements for your share of any money you had, because she…’

Bickerstaff covered his face. She was really pushing it.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Lyall said sullenly.

‘Believe what? That she’s being released?’ Lorraine flicked through the dummy documents. ‘This is her statement. You can read it, if you like, but you won’t be released, Craig, because Nula has stated that you were involved in murdering this girl and David Burrows.’

Lyall sneered, ‘I know you’re lying.’

Lorraine pushed forward Didi’s photographs, the before and after shots. ‘Am I? That’s naïve of you, Craig. You know Nula killed Didi, even though she insists that you did it — that you drove her to the apartment, sat and drank tea, even offered her the banana bread. Didi lived on that banana bread of hers, didn’t she? Anyway, according to Nula, the three of you started to argue because Didi had kept a ring, one of Mrs Thorburn’s pieces. You’d all agreed to get rid of everything because the items could be traced, but Didi kept a ring. This one. Look at this picture, Craig — that is the ring, isn’t it? On the third finger of her right hand.’

Bickerstaff had no idea what Lorraine was talking about. What ring? Was it in the files? He turned to his back-up. ‘Get me the files down here, will you? And fast.’ He turned his attention back to the interview room.

Lyall’s fists were clenched so tight the knuckles stood out white. Lorraine placed in front of him the full-length mortuary shot of Didi in which she was wearing the ring.

‘Just nod if it is the ring, Craig. You don’t have to say anything. I’m only trying to help you, you must know that. I’m not even pressing charges about your part in trying to kill me.’

‘What are you?’ he snapped.

‘I’m a private investigator, not even attached to the station or the FBI, but because I was there in San Francisco they’re allowing me to talk to you. You both tried to kill me and you almost succeeded but what you didn’t know was that I was wired, so everything you said in that apartment has been recorded. That’s why you were both arrested in Las Vegas.’

He still didn’t believe a word.

‘Nula knew that she had to frame somebody to get herself released and that was you, Craig, because as soon as she saw me with the FBI agents she knew the game was up. She’s been talking since they brought her in. Look at these statements. Don’t you think it’s strange your lawyer isn’t here?’

Bickerstaff could feel sweat running down his back. He was relieved no one else was privy to what Lorraine was saying as all hell would have broken loose.

‘I never killed anybody,’ Lyall snapped, but his hands were shaking now.

Lorraine sipped her water. ‘I know that, Craig, but let me read you a section of Nula’s statement…’

Lyall was sweating even more than Bickerstaff, who couldn’t believe Lorraine’s audacity — the way she was lying.

She sifted through the dummy documents, and continued to talk quietly and calmly. She drew a page forward and started to read.

‘“It started as an argument between the three of us. Didi wouldn’t give the ring back, she said she couldn’t get it off her finger so then Craig said he would cut it off and she started to get hysterical.”’

‘That’s not true,’ he interjected. Lorraine held up her hand as if to tell him to be patient, then carried on reading in the same steady voice.

‘“Craig became more and more angry because Didi could get us all into trouble. We’d been selling Mrs Thorburn’s jewellery for years, bits and pieces. Art would find the buyer and we would just collect, but because of the killings it was dangerous for Didi to walk around showing off this big ring. It was a topaz with a row of diamonds around it and it was worth a lot of money.”’

Lorraine was making it up as she went along. All she had pieced together was that according to Janklow’s lists and description the ring belonged to Mrs Thorburn and it was possibly the ring Didi was wearing. She looked at Lyall. ‘I presume when she says Art she is referring to Art Mathews, is that correct?’

‘Why are you asking me these questions?’

‘I used to be a cop, now I’m freelance, insurance claims, that kind of thing. Before they charge you I want to get my facts straight and until your lawyer is available they can’t talk to you. There’s nothing illegal about it — there’s nobody else here.’

He was really sweating now. ‘You mean it’s true? They’re releasing Nula?’

She nodded, tapped the dummy file. ‘She’s given her statement and all I want to do is get onto her for my clients and before she skips the country. I don’t care who did what to whom just so long as I hold onto my job.’

Lyall tried to fathom how she was sitting in front of him. He knew she’d been dead drunk. How in hell had she got herself together?

Bickerstaff shook his head. Lorraine was giving to him, piece by piece, a section of the jigsaw puzzle, the stolen jewellery, the blackmail scam, but Lyall had not as yet implicated himself in any way.

Lorraine asked, ‘You took the photographs of Janklow, didn’t you?’

Lyall sighed. ‘Art did. Well, some of them, years ago when he had a studio in Santa Monica. Janklow had this thing about looking like his mother, you know, all dragged up. At first Art didn’t know who he was — he’d used some false name, they all do — and then he saw him at some society dinner with his mother, years ago, and started milking him. That’s all I know. I swear before God, I honestly had nothing to do with it. I didn’t even know it was going on…’ He trailed off. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said suddenly, helplessly.

‘Maybe tell me the truth. Then I’ll tell you what I think, as a friend, you should do, and in return, you tell me about the whereabouts of the stolen jewellery. I’m not interested in the murders. If you did them with Nula that’s your business.’

‘I didn’t,’ he said flatly. ‘I’m so confused, I don’t know who I can trust and I don’t believe a word you’re telling me.’

Lorraine snapped the file closed. ‘If that’s the way you feel I’ll walk. All I wanted to do was get my insurance claims sorted out. There’s more than three million dollars’ worth of gems missing. Mrs Thorburn’s son Brad asked me to look into it. They’ve let me talk to you because they aren’t quite ready to charge you.’ Bickerstaff’s mouth was bone dry. She was fishing in dangerous waters again: actually
naming
people — that could get him into real trouble.

‘They can’t charge me with anything,’ Lyall said shrilly.

Lorraine slapped her hand hard on the table and Lyall jumped. ‘Don’t be so fucking stupid. Nula’s named you as Holly and Didi’s killer. You’re crazy if you think they’re not going to lock you up for a very long time. Art Mathews is dead so she’s only got you to blame. Now, if you’re saying you didn’t have any part in those murders then you’d better have a good alibi because she’s given them evidence to prove you killed them both. Because you were in Didi’s apartment, weren’t you? If you didn’t kill her then Nula did, right?’

He sniffed. ‘I didn’t touch her.’

‘So who did?’

‘She did, of course. Nula.’

Lorraine felt as if she had been punched. She’d expected him to say Mathews, not Nula.

‘You saw her?’

Lyall put his head in his hands. ‘Yes, she said she pushed Didi and she fell and hit her head against the coffee table. We couldn’t find any pulse and she began to panic. Well, she had reason to.’

‘Because of Mrs Thorburn’s jewellery?’


Yes.
And then I panicked, it was just all confused and terrible. We couldn’t get it off her finger, the ring… we couldn’t get it off.’

He broke down and started to sob.

‘So who decided to make it look as if it was one of the hammer murders?’

‘She did. She said no one would believe it if they just found her, especially not after Holly.’

He sobbed, muttered to himself that it wasn’t him, he hadn’t done anything.

Lorraine touched his hand. ‘Craig, what do you mean “after Holly”? What about Holly?’

Lyall flapped his hands wildly. ‘Oh, Christ, this is terrible, it isn’t right, I know it.’

‘Come on, Craig, get it off your chest, tell me.’

He steadied himself. ‘Holly had somehow found out about the blackmail — God knows how but she had. She’d been picked up by some john, taken back to his place and—’

‘Do you know who it was?’

Lyall chewed his lip. ‘I think it was — you said his name before — Brad Thorburn.’

Lorraine couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘
Brad Thorburn?
You mean he’s involved in all this?’

‘Yes, in as much as he picked up Holly and took her back to his house. I dunno what happened but she somehow knew what we were all doing — maybe she saw Janklow there — but she started pushing Nula and Didi for money. They got on to Art — they were really worried — and next thing I read she was murdered. I don’t know which one of them did it but they got away with it because they made it look like this serial killer had done it. I think Art was involved. I swear before God I don’t know. I was caught up in it all because I’d taken photographs of that Norman Hastings and he was a friend of Janklow’s but I didn’t know that. It was just, well, I knew
they
were doing it and it seemed so easy.’

Lorraine was trying to take on board what he was saying and then it clicked. ‘Were you blackmailing Norman Hastings?’

‘Yes, but then he went to Janklow and asked him what he should do about it. I suppose the two of them discussed it together. I’ve told you all I know. I had nothing to do with any of the murders. All I did was a bit of blackmail.’

Bickerstaff checked his watch, told one of his aides to bring in Brad Thorburn. He said he didn’t give a shit if he was still in France. He was feeling elated and couldn’t wait to get his own hands on Lyall. And he couldn’t wait to lay it all before the Chief for the sheer pleasure of seeing his face.

Lorraine continued to question Lyall as he sobbed out his part in the blackmail racket. She made only a few notes, knowing that Bickerstaff would go over everything. She didn’t even feel self-congratulatory. She couldn’t stop Brad Thorburn’s face drifting into her mind and she only half listened as Lyall talked, freely now as if relieved it was all out in the open.

Lyall had used Didi to make up the men who came to him for secret photographic sessions. They had met through Mathews when they worked together in Santa Monica. When they met again in Los Angeles they continued their old tricks and Mathews let Didi and Nula use his apartment for photo sessions. He moved out, leaving them there. Didi continued to pass on potential blackmail victims. Janklow was paying first Art, then all three to keep silent. None had any indication that he was also a killer. He had always paid up without argument, regaining one negative after another, until he began to get edgy, saying he had no more money, no more jewellery.

Lyall asked for water, sipped it and then traced the rim of the glass with his finger. ‘Hastings didn’t have much cash but he paid up, fifty bucks here and there. But when Art found out he went crazy.’ The rim of the glass squeaked as he ran his finger round and round.

‘Did you kill Norman Hastings, Craig?’

‘No, I didn’t, and I had nothing to do with any of those others.’

Lorraine leaned forward. ‘What about Didi?’

Lyall closed his eyes and sighed. ‘I saw her — she was already dead, she was at their apartment. Nula called me. She was lying on the floor. I never touched her. I think they had something to do with that girl Holly, but I don’t know what — they knew something, I’m sure of it.’

‘What about Mathews? Was he involved in Holly’s murder? That’s what you’re suggesting, isn’t it? That Nula and Didi had something to do with Holly’s death?’

His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. ‘Yes, but I don’t know if Art was involved.’ He started to cry, biting his bottom lip to stop the tears. ‘I swear all I’m guilty of is helping Nula to—’ He broke down, and Lorraine waited until he had composed himself. ‘I helped move her body, carry it to the stolen car.’

‘When you carried Didi, did she have these injuries?’

Lorraine brought out the photograph of Didi’s hideously beaten face again and he straightened up.

‘No. When I last saw her her head was covered in a black plastic bag, I never saw her face, and after she was put in the car, I went home.’

When he had finished Lyall seemed more relaxed. He had stopped crying and seemed resigned. As Lorraine gathered her notes and files together, he gave her a weak smile. ‘I loved her, you know, really loved Nula. We were going to be married in Vegas — that’s why I helped her. It wasn’t anything but that, I didn’t do anything.’

Lorraine walked across to the door. ‘They’ll want a statement from you, Craig, and I think you’d be wise to tell them everything you know, just as you’ve told me. Don’t let her get away with it.’

Bickerstaff didn’t congratulate Lorraine. He almost grabbed her notes from her while directing his men to begin the detailed requestioning of Craig Lyall. Lorraine sat in his office, drained, as the atmosphere around grew charged with excitement. She felt ill, her head thudded, but all she could think of was Brad Thorburn. Had she been wrong? Could he be implicated in the murders? Had he always known more than he had indicated?

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