Authors: Ryan Casey
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Police Procedurals, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Murder, #Thrillers, #Thriller, #Mystery, #Crime, #Detective, #Police Procedural, #Series, #British, #brian mcdone
Cassy scanned Brian from head to toe as he walked through the chatter of the main office. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he said. “Just fine. Is the boy here?”
Cassy nodded reluctantly and pointed towards the interview room doors. “Came out of hospital this morning. Asked him if he wanted to pop down for a little chat, and he seemed okay with that. His grandma–your new girlfriend–she’s been on the phone, but you know what she’s like with me. So I couldn’t say much to her, y’know?”
Brian pulled off his coat and threw it onto his desk. DS Stephen Molfer jumped as the coat knocked over his pot of stationary, sending a bunch of freshly sharpened pencils to the floor. He glared at Brian with narrowed eyes.
“At least it’ll get you off your arse,” Brian said, and some of the other officers laughed as Molfer got down on his hands and knees.
Brian turned back to Cassy with a smile on his face. Cassy, however, was not smiling.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Brian asked.
Cassy sighed. “The press. They’re all over this.” She grabbed the copy of the
Lancashire News
from the desk and held it up.
BOYFRIEND SUICIDE ATTEMPT AS MURDER TWISTS.
Brian punched the paper out of his face and started walking towards the briefing room. “Murder ‘twists?’ What does that even
mean
?”
Cassy scrambled to pick up some notes and ran to catch up. “I dunno. But the press seems well-informed.”
Brian looked around the room at the officers at their desks. “Not surprised. Just the way things go. I bet half of these young rats are earning an extra few quid a day from the press. The problem with rats is, someday they get caught.”
“Do you think I’m a young rat?” Cassy asked, raising her eyebrows like an innocent puppy.
“For that, darling, you’d have to be young.”
She punched Brian in the arm before leading the way to the briefing room. Brian winced with pain. Nobody noticed, and he was completely content with that.
DI Price already sat in the middle chair, arms folded and cheeks more inflamed than ever. White hairs sprouted out of his nostrils like weeds in a garden, unstoppable and never-ending. He looked at his watch as Brian and Cassy entered. “On time for once. Maybe you’ll actually make some progress today, right?”
Brian bit his lip. “That’s certainly my intention.”
“None of that cockiness with me,” Price said. “Take a seat.”
Brian sat down at the corner of the table, Cassy beside him. DC Peters was clean-shaven and fresher looking than yesterday. He was perched in front of a laptop, keying in notes from a black notepad.
“H.O.L.M.E.S. up and running again?”
“For now. Got a few complaints through to the ACS. He says we’re using it wrong. I’d like to see him come down here and bloody use it right.”
“Don’t you get lippy, Peters, or I’ll make you spew again,” Price said. A few of the officers around the table snorted and sniggered. “McDone, the lad’s in the interview rooms. The boyfriend. Looking a bit fidgety for my liking. Stares into space like a fucking junkie. Not sure I like him.”
“DS Emerson and I will have a chat with him. He tried to kill himself last night. If that’s not a sign of guilt, then I’d like to know what it is. We have a clear motive for his attempted suicide. Now we just need to work out whether he might have a motive for something much darker.”
Price offered a slight nod in agreement. “We’ll have to interview under caution. He’s free to leave at any time. You’d best hurry up. Thanks to the press, I’d expect the girl’s parents’ll be paying us a visit today.”
“What are you trying to say?” Brian asked.
Price stood up and began rubbing out some old notes on the whiteboard with his dusty sleeve. “What I’m trying to say is that you’d better find out as much about this kid as you can, before the parents come in here and bloody kill him, or before he decides he’s had enough and takes off. Well, what are you waiting for?”
Brian and Cassy scrambled to their feet on cue as the rest of the officers, tired-eyed, remained slouched in their chairs.
“Carter, any word from forensics on Nicola’s body?”
DC Carter, a bulky man with a face like a bulldog, shook his head. “No word. Forensics staff is down to the minimum. Can only do one thing at a time.”
“And the CCTV?” Brian asked. “Pennison?”
DC Pennison shrugged and held out his hands. “Council CCTV doesn’t cover the crime scene. A complete blind spot, which is
very
handy for a seedy area like Foster Road.”
Typical. Forensics was taking its time, and CCTV was a dead end. Two leads down the pan, all thanks to inadequate council budgeting. “Right. We’ll go speak to Daniel. The rest of you, make sure the system is up to date, and check in on Scott and the Watsons. We need to make sure that lad doesn’t think he’s got away with things too easy, in case he does anything silly again. Get on the phone–I want an official statement from the boy, okay? A few of you get back down to Foster Road and expand the house calls. We need every single house in that surrounding area accounted for. Price will split you into groups. Understood?”
Pennison and Carter nodded as Peters continued to key into the laptop. Brian and Cassy walked to the door.
“Oh, McDone?” Price said.
Brian turned back to face him. “Yes?”
“Get a shower. You fucking
stink
.”
Chapter Nine
Danny Stocks wasn’t alone.
One of the duty solicitors, Jonny Marsden, moved up to the desk and held out a hand to Cassy and Brian. He was short and plump, with a ring of hair above his ears and a pair of wonky glasses gripping his shiny head. Danny, his hair matted and greasy, stared into the distance. Brian pulled a chair out for Cassy then one for himself before opening up his diary and getting comfortable. He clicked the record button on the tape recorder as Danny scratched at his arms.
“DS McDone and DS Emerson interviewing Mr. Daniel Stocks as an exceptional witness in the Nicola Watson case.”
Danny blinked.
“Also present is duty solicitor Jonny Marsden, who is representing Mr. Stocks.” Brian nodded and smiled in Marsden’s direction, who returned a nod out of politeness.
Fucking sap.
“Mr. Stocks, firstly, I should make you aware of your rights. You–”
“He’s very aware of his rights,” Jonny snapped. “He knows very well he doesn’t have to be here so soon after his incident. And he knows very well that he can leave whenever he wants.”
Brian attempted a smile. These duty solicitors always had to stick their noses in where they weren’t wanted, regardless of whether it was in the case’s best interests or not. All they cared about was their paycheck. “Thank you, Mr. Marsden. Mr. Stocks, can I call you Daniel?”
He looked at Brian. “Danny.” His voice sounded weak.
“Danny. As you’re aware, you’re being treated as a witness in the Nicola Watson case, hence the need for recording. We have reason to believe you were the last person to see her alive. First of all, and I hope you’ll excuse me if I’m blunt, but I don’t particularly care. Why the big show yesterday?”
Danny opened his mouth, but Marsden leaned forward and interrupted. “Mr. Stocks would appreciate a bit of sympathy on his behalf. He is still in a fragile state of mind after recent events, and your aggressive line of questioning, especially targeted at a witness, is only going to upset matters.” Marsden’s raspy, forced-posh voice indicated he was probably from Blackburn, really. Stupid bastard.
Danny, looking between Brian and Cassy, sat back into his seat and closed his mouth.
“Why did you do a runner yesterday, Danny?” Brian asked.
Danny reached for a pen on the table and twirled it with his finger. His grey eyes were vacant, his body rigid underneath his green Converse t-shirt. Dandruff dangled from his thin, greasy hair.
Marsden leaned forward again. “Detective, I would appreciate it if you–”
“It’s all right, I can speak for myself.” Danny glared at the duty solicitor then turned his attention back to Brian and Cassy. “I needed to get away from all this shit.”
Brian took down some notes. “Your grandma didn’t see you yesterday morning when you went missing. It all just seems a little too convenient for me. How did you know about any of ‘this shit’ if you had nothing to do with your girlfriend’s death?”
Danny shook his head at Jonny. “I thought this was…? I don’t see why that matters.”
“It matters if you want to clear your name, because the way I see it, you’re not in the best position, son–”
“All right, Scott told me. He called me as soon as he found out she was dead. And the night before, me and Nicola, we…Well, I saw her. Scott just thought I should know, so I ran. My…my girlfriend was dead. Someone told me my girlfriend was dead, so I needed some space. Satisfied?”
Brian shuffled in his chair. Scott Watson hadn’t told them anything about contacting Danny Stocks. “Right. You realise how this looks right now though, don’t you? You realise you’re our main lead. You realise you, the main lead, did a runner when the news came out and tried to kill yourself.” He reached into his pocket and slammed the camera down in front of Danny. “You realise that you, the main lead, were one of the very last people to see Nicola Watson before she was killed. So talk.”
Danny smiled when he saw the camera. “I knew this is what it’d come to. I knew you’d start throwing accusations at me. Just knew it.”
“Care to elaborate, Danny?”
“The camera. I knew I’d have left something that could ‘smear’ me or put me in the shit one way or another. That’s why I deleted the stuff off my hard drive. I was in the middle of putting the pictures on the computer.”
Brian took another note. “So what you’re trying to say is you deleted the pictures from your hard drive, but not the camera? Sounds to me like you went to a lot of trouble to cover these photos up, Mr. Stocks.”
Danny laughed, and Jonny opened his mouth before being interrupted.
“Not enough trouble, though, eh, seeing as we’re sat here now?”
“Mr. Stocks has a point,” Marsden said, his bald head a plum-red shade now. “If he were so desperate to cover up for something, then why would he leave a camera lying around with potentially incriminating evidence?”
“Maybe he was in too much of a hurry to get away,” Cassy suggested.
Danny closed his eyes and held his hands to his face. “And I really looked like I was trying to get away when you saw me, did I?” Tears collected in his eyes. “I didn’t want to
live
anymore. I deleted the pictures because I couldn’t bear to look at them. I just wanted to be back there with a spliff and to see my days out.” Danny’s eyes twinkled in Brian’s direction. Marsden stared at his hands.
“Mr. Sto–No, Danny,” Brian continued. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but you’ve got to see it from our angle and how this looks. You’re not in a good position. Where were you after eleven p.m. on 2
nd
January?”
Danny shook his head. “I…I was hanging out with Scott and Nicky. Smoked some new blend. And then I…” He froze. “Scott left for work. I chatted with Nicky. Not for long. Then I left.”
“New blend?”
“Cannabis. There, I said it–I smoke. Don’t pretend you didn’t already know.”
Brian noted down a reminder to mention this ‘new blend’ to Stephen Molfer. Perhaps it could help him with his little case. Not even on the drug lead and still bailing Molfer out. “What did you talk to Nicola about? Did you leave alone?”
Danny began to fidget in his chair. “Just–just stuff, y’know? Just general stuff. But we had a bit of a disagreement and…and then I left. I don’t know where she went after that.”
Brian took note as Jonny wiped his steamy glasses. “So what you’re telling us is that you and Nicola had a row, and then you left. After that, no one saw her. The following day, you try to kill yourself.” Brian threw his pen onto the desk. “You’d better have a good alibi, Danny.”
“I do.”
Brian smiled sarcastically. “Well, your grandma didn’t see you again that night, so you’d better enlighten us.”
Danny’s cheeks blushed, the first bit of colour Brian had seen in them all interview. “Turn the memory card ‘round.”
Cassy frowned. “Memory card?”
“The memory card, in the camera. Flip it over, then stick it back in.”
Marsden arched his neck over the table towards the camera to see whatever it was. McDone fiddled with the silver camera until the memory card port popped open. Bloody technology. There was a reason he hated it; it hated
him
. He pulled out the tiny memory card and flipped it onto its side, slotting it back into the camera with a satisfying click.
He switched it on again. New photographs.
Bloody hell–double sided memory cards.
Technology just got better and better.
“Those are the pictures I deleted from my computer, all right?” Danny said. “I didn’t want her to find them. Then I found out about her.”
Brian flicked through the photographs. Some portrayed another girl, blonde and naked, her nipples erect. Others showed Danny holding the camera above him and the girl, legs intertwined, sweat dripping from their bodies.
But the time-stamp proved most interesting about the pictures. All between eleven and twelve. And then they stopped, at twelve.
“This doesn’t disprove anything, Danny,” Brian said. “You can only account for your little sexual encounter until twelve o’clock, you cheating little toerag. If we call this girl now, she could tell us that you stayed with her all night, could she?”
Danny smirked. “You told me Nicola was killed some time after eleven. You asked me where I was after eleven. That’s where I was.”
“So you have a little argument with your girlfriend and then you go and cheat on her to prove a point. Do you make a habit of sleeping around, Danny? Are women all just meat to you?”
The door handle rattled. Jonny tried to rest his hand on Danny’s tense shoulder, but Danny knocked it away.
“McDone,” the voice at the door said. It was Price. Brian zoned back into the room now. Screaming and shouting in the corridor. “If I get my fucking hands on that murderer, I’ll fucking kill him, I’ll fucking kill him!”