Deadly Deceit (20 page)

‘You got something for me, Andy?’

Brown nodded, turning to address his colleagues. ‘I was checking the force-wide incident log earlier and noticed a domestic disturbance at the home of Nadia Turner, Maggie Reid’s
sister-in-law. Officers from West Area Command attended the scene, reporting a row between two females. A fight ensued, but no further action was taken in view of the recent family bereavement. I
just spent the last hour following it up.’ He paused for breath. The room was heavy with anticipation as he took out his notebook, flipped it open and found the appropriate page.
‘Maggie and Nadia were still rowing when I got there. I spent some time calming them down and then questioned Maggie about the rubber glove we recovered. The boss thought it might scare her
into telling the truth. But she didn’t bat an eyelash, said she buys them in Tesco – a new pair every week.’

‘She’s got a point,’ Robson commented. ‘The wife’s got some like it at home.’

Brown glanced at Daniels. ‘She’s still off her face on medication, boss. Had absolutely no idea what I was alluding to. I then tackled her unsafe alibi. Told her Stella Drew had
coughed that they weren’t together when she said they were. At this point Nadia got really agitated. I’m guessing that’s what they were arguing about in the first place. She then
blurted out the name of the mystery boyfriend.’ He glanced at the scribbled note he’d made. ‘A man by the name of Charles Milburn, known locally as Charlie.’

Milburn?
Mention of the name set alarms bells ringing in Daniels’ head. Gormley had homed in on it too. They glanced at one another, hoping that Brown had stumbled on a break in
the case.

‘Is he local?’ Daniels asked.

‘Very . . .’ Brown scanned his notes. ‘Unemployed welder, forty-five, married with one son, lives less than two streets from the crime scene. Bit of a hard man, by all
accounts. He’s been pulled in a time or two.’

‘How old is the son?’ Gormley queried.

Brown’s enthusiasm wavered. ‘Didn’t ask. Sorry.’

‘You got a name though?’ Daniels pushed. ‘For the son, I mean.’

The tension and urgency in her voice made Brown and the rest of the Murder Investigation Team sit up and take notice. No one in the room – bar Gormley – had a clue why the son might
be of interest to her. Brown shook his head, tripping over himself to apologize again. He glanced frantically at Carmichael and gave her an address. Her fingers were already on the keyboard. The
room fell silent as she accessed the council’s electoral role. Milburn was a common name up north. Daniels had relatives so called. But she had a feeling that this particular Milburn might be
highly significant. From the start, an old man’s sudden death in the same street as her crime scene had played on her mind. If her instincts were right, then Maggie Reid was seeing the old
man’s son – Elliot Milburn’s father, Charlie.

A few seconds later, Carmichael confirmed it.

Daniels was silent for a moment, considering this new information. Then she swung into action, outlining what she knew about the Milburn family so far. She left nothing out, including the bad
feeling between George and Charlie and, of course, the money Elliot had reported missing.

‘If George Milburn had knowledge of the affair with Maggie, it gives him motive, maybe not for murder but for arson, certainly. It also explains his estrangement from his son. He lived
next door. Plenty of time to nip out in the dead of night and set fire to the property. Maybe he knew Maggie was going out for the evening with Charlie and thought he’d cause them some aggro.
I’m speculating here, but he might even have known the child was due to stay with his father.’ Daniels glanced again at Gormley. ‘Hank had a theory that the old man might somehow
have been involved. Initially, I thought it a bit far-fetched, but it looks like he may very well be right.’

‘No one likes a smart arse,’ someone said.

A ripple of laughter went round the room.

‘If the old man stopped speaking to his son because of the alleged affair, maybe he did something about it and threw a wobbler when he realized his mistake had caused the death of a
child,’ Carmichael offered.

‘That’s a real possibility,’ Daniels said. ‘Unfortunately, dead or alive, we still need to prove the case.’ She paused, before reminding them how difficult it was
to do this without a live suspect to bring in for questioning. ‘What I’d like to know is, why has Charles Milburn not come forward? I want him in here first thing tomorrow
morning.’

E
xcusing those not involved in the second incident up for discussion, Daniels thanked everyone and broke off the meeting to allow the rest a ten-minute break in which to
stretch their legs, grab a coffee, or have a quick fag. The fire escape was the last remaining hiding place for the nicotine addicts among them since the smoking ban was imposed a few years back.
Naylor and a couple of civilian indexers nipped out for a hit, the smell of cigarettes following them in as they returned to the MIR.

With the arson filed away, for the time being, their thoughts were entirely on the A1 case as they got back down to business. With fewer bodies in the room, the temperature had dropped to an
acceptable level and there was enough space for everyone to sit comfortably. Robson, who had interviewed Ivy Kerr’s only daughter, was first up. He looked positively upbeat as he began
précising what he now knew and the rest of the team didn’t.

‘Annaliese Ridley is a sixty-eight-year-old retired head teacher. Really nice woman. Totally shattered by her parents’ deaths and still in shock, as anyone would be. She lives with
her husband in Whickham . . .’

Robson’s voice became lost, drowned out by thoughts running through Daniels’ head. Her heart went out to the poor woman he was describing. Losing one parent was bad. Losing two at
the same time must be devastating. Although she’d never met Annaliese Ridley, she felt empathy with the woman. Daniels had lost two parents also, even though her father was still alive. They
had had very little contact with each other in the past few years. She was a mug to think she could involve him in her life, and knew that he’d consider it a weakness to reach out to her now.
Result? Their relationship was deadlocked: both waiting for the other to make the next move.

Robson paused for breath.

The resulting silence broke Daniels’ daydream.

‘Was her mother in the habit of buying lottery tickets?’ she asked.

Robson nodded. ‘Always at Tesco Extra at Kingston Park. Always on a Friday, the day she collected her pension. She played the same numbers every week and kept the repeat slips in a writing
bureau at home so she didn’t have to write them out each time. I accessed the house and found these, right where Annaliese said they’d be . . .’ He raised his arm. In his hand
were three credit-card-sized transparent plastic folders, familiar to almost everyone in the room. Inside were little pink tickets bearing barcodes of Ivy’s chosen numbers. ‘These three
slips represent Wednesday, Friday and Saturday draws.’ He dropped his arm down by his side. ‘Our Camelot contact claims that the barcode on Wednesday’s winning ticket proves
without a shadow of a doubt
that it was bought with the corresponding one of these—’

‘Good work, mate!’ Gormley said.

Others in the room echoed the sentiment.

Daniels was pleased to see Robson on top of his game after a period of uncertainty and a struggle to put his gambling behind him. ‘I presume they were also able to ident the retailer where
they were bought?’

‘Time, date, the works.’

‘You’ve requested the CCTV?’

‘And sent someone out to pick it up.’

‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’ Naylor sounded impressed.

The Super had been quiet up to that point; so quiet Daniels had forgotten he was in the room – an unlikely situation had Bright still been her guv’nor. She had great respect for both
men, but their styles of leadership were poles apart. She turned her focus back to Robson, who was waiting patiently to resume.

‘Anything else we need to know?’ she asked.

‘Only that Mr Kerr was a secretive man. Annaliese was adamant that the trip would’ve been his idea. She said Ivy would’ve been desperate to share the news of their good fortune
but that her dad made the rules and her mum generally followed. It came as no surprise that he’d taken off for London without telling her where he was going. It’s the way he was,
apparently. Not cold exactly. Just a man who played his cards very close to his chest, a man with hidden depths.’

Gormley had a wry smile to himself. Daniels did her best to ignore it. He’d asked her earlier if she and Jo had been arguing again. It was as if he could sense it. She hated to think that
she was so transparent. Gormley was the only one in the force – barring Bright – who knew of her intimate past with Jo Soulsby, her own
hidden depths
.

She moved on. ‘Lisa, what’s the state of play with David Hedley?’

‘Lives alone, or so he says.’

‘You have reason to believe otherwise?’

‘Hard to say . . .’ A vague expression crossed Carmichael’s face. ‘There were no sign of a female presence in his flat, but he was difficult to read. He seemed more than
a little nervous around me—’

‘It’s the effect you have on all men,’ Maxwell quipped. ‘’Specially Andy.’

Maxwell’s joke drew a few sniggers and a hard look from Naylor. Regretting his indiscretion, Maxwell stuck his tongue in his cheek and looked at the floor. Andy Brown blushed, avoiding
Carmichael’s gaze. It was common knowledge that he liked her – more than liked her, if truth be known. Not that he’d ever have the bottle to do anything about it. He was far too
shy to make the first move and Carmichael’s focus was exclusively on her career. Everyone knew it and so did he. He didn’t stand a chance.

Daniels eyeballed Maxwell. He had an attitude problem where female officers were concerned. He’d improved a lot in recent months but occasionally reverted to type, allowing his mouth to
run away with him. Time to pull him back in line with a few choice words, let him know she was not remotely amused.

He mumbled an apology and the DCI invited Carmichael to carry on.

‘Hedley
was
the first to arrive at the scene but doesn’t remember Ivy’s car. In fact, he doesn’t remember much at all. He seems genuinely traumatized by the
things he saw. Quite raw, actually.’

Daniels understood perfectly. At one point while standing on the hard shoulder taking notes, her attention had shifted from the pad in her hand to the road beneath her feet. Rivers of blood had
trickled across the camber and pooled around her sodden shoes. Not just blood either, but bits of flesh and stuff she couldn’t immediately identify as human. No autopsy she could recall had
been as gory, probably due to the fact that the bodies in the road were still alive – albeit, in the worse cases, barely hanging on. That was what had made it so distressing. For hours
afterwards, she hadn’t been able to shake those images from her head.

‘So, your impression is what . . . ?’ Naylor interjected. ‘Hedley’s on the level?’

‘Honestly?’ Carmichael hesitated. ‘At this stage, guv, I wouldn’t rule him in or out.’

‘Maybe I can help?’

Daniels knew that voice.

She turned towards it, a smile appearing on her face. Stewart Cole, a handsome man of about her age, was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He had deep-set eyes,
chiselled features and a captivating smile. He was dressed casually – jeans, trainers, police sweat shirt. It was the first time she’d seen him out of a flying suit, which these days
bore the logo of the police air support unit.

He stood up straight as she addressed the floor.

‘For those of you who’ve not been introduced, this is Stew Cole, Air Support Unit’s newest recruit.’ She turned back to Cole, her expectations raised. What he had to say
must be important. If not, he’d have called her instead of attending the briefing in person so late in the day. ‘What you got for me, Stew?’

Cole moved towards her, taking something from his pocket. ‘This is footage taken from the air following the accident.’ He handed her an encrypted USB flash drive. ‘The images
are pretty blurred in view of the appalling conditions on Thursday morning, but I think you’ll find them enlightening. I’ll talk you through them if you like.’

Daniels took in the clock on the wall. It was nearly eleven. Her team were wrung out. They had been pushed to the point of exhaustion. ‘In view of the hour, I think we’d best leave
it till the morning. Can you get in here tomorrow, Stew? First thing would be good.’

Cole nodded. It was his day off, but what the hell.

When the meeting finally broke up it was too late to call Jo. But Daniels had a lot to feel glad about. Both briefings had gone well and she was a damn sight closer to a result than she’d
been an hour and a half ago.

As the detectives filed out of the MIR, Cole and Gormley hung back. Packing up her things, Daniels turned off the lights on her way out of the door. In the dimly lit corridor, Gormley opened his
mouth to speak but Cole got in first.

‘Fancy a nightcap at mine?’ he said.

‘Careful . . .’ Daniels made for the stairwell. ‘You’re not wearing wings now.’

It was a private joke between them. But the warning was real. As a pilot, Cole had had his fair share of attractive women falling at his feet. Some offers he’d taken up, some not. One in
particular he wished he hadn’t. The tryst had landed him in a love triangle and a fight with the other man that ended in a prison sentence for Cole as well as the loss of his military
career.

‘Excuse me?’ His brow creased. ‘I don’t understand. I heard your wheels got stolen.’

‘My mistake.’ Daniels walked on, embarrassed at having misread him.

‘Besides . . .’ Cole caught up with her, ‘I couldn’t be that lucky.’

She punched him playfully. ‘You never give up, do you?’

‘Give it a rest!’ For once, Gormley wasn’t laughing. Acting like a jealous husband, he squared up to Cole and said, ‘Your patter stinks, mate. The boss is coming home
with me.’