Minds That Hate (17 page)

‘We’d have a job proving it.’

‘Maybe, but we’ll have to try, and I think I know how. Bring Vickers from the cells.’

The interview was short, the outcome less than satisfactory. ‘I intend searching your house at Grove Road tomorrow. We’ve applied for a search warrant. We’ll be
examining the clothing you were wearing on Tuesday. Just pray there’s nothing on it to connect you to Tucker’s murder.’

Vickers shrugged. ‘I didn’t kill him. Why would I? But I didn’t kill Stacey either, and it didn’t stop them then. So, do your worst.’

When Vickers was back in his cell, Clara pulled out a slip of paper from her pocket. ‘I’ve just remembered this. It’s that information from Jack Binns.’

Nash read it. ‘Right, I’m just going to have a word with Doug Curran.’

Clara stared after him in surprise as he walked down the corridor. She thought she knew her boss better than most people. But there were times when she was miles away from fathoming out how his mind worked. Fifteen minutes later he was back. He signalled to Mironova to follow him into his office. Inside, he picked the phone up and dialled Netherdale.

‘Jack,
it’s Mike Nash. I need a favour. I want you to photocopy the original of that stuff you gave Clara. Let me have it, will you? And Jack, keep it quiet. I don’t want anybody to know. Not yet.’ He put the phone down; his expression was grim, grimmer than Clara had seen it for a long time.

‘What is it, Mike?’ she asked quietly.

He laid two sheets of paper on the desk. ‘That’s the info Jack gave you about the Hassan’ flat fire.’ Then he pointed to the other one. ‘And that’s what I’ve just got from Curran about the same incident. Look at them carefully.’

Clara read them twice before she realized the significance. ‘That’s impossible.’

‘No, it isn’t. Not in certain circumstances.’

Clara caught on. ‘Good God! What are you going to do?’

‘Nothing, for the time being.’ Nash smiled with neither warmth nor humour. ‘I need more than this.’ He tapped the paperwork. ‘For the moment, these stay locked in my desk. I’ll be looking for something as backup though. And when I’m ready...’

Clara had seen that look before. It was the look of Nash the hunter, Nash the shark. She almost felt sorry for his prey.
Almost, but not quite.

Rathmell felt a slight tremor of apprehension when he saw the man at the door. He recognized Nash. Then he remembered what he’d been told about him, and relaxed. If rumour was to be believed there was little to fear. ‘Can I help you?’

Nash showed his warrant card. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, sir. I appreciate how busy you must be. I wonder if I could take up five minutes of your
time? I’ve a couple of questions regarding a matter we’re investigating. Purely routine, of course.’ Nash smiled, wondering if he could have crammed any more clichés into so few sentences.

‘As long as it doesn’t take longer than that, Inspector,
er?’

‘Nash, sir.’

‘As you said, I’m particularly busy at the moment. Do come in.’

Nash followed the MEP across the hall and glanced to the right, where the lounge door was open. He took a second look, grateful that
Rathmell was in front, that the politician couldn’t see his expression.

‘It’s to do with the murder of a journalist, JT Tucker, sir. We examined his mobile phone and found your number listed in the memory. I wondered if he’d been in contact. And if so what he wanted from you?’

‘I certainly haven’t spoken to him that I’m aware of. But you must understand this last week I’ve had hordes of journalists and other media people buzzing around. It’s because of the new political initiative we’ve laid out.’ Rathmell smiled. ‘No doubt you’re aware of it, Inspector Nash? I can only assume that was why he had my number. No doubt he was going to call me, had this terrible event not happened.’

‘Quite so, sir.
And that’s all? You can’t think of any other possible reason Tucker might have wanted to speak to you?’

‘Absolutely not,’
Rathmell assured him.

He escorted the detective out and watched as Nash’s car drove slowly down the drive. He turned and walked back into his study. The apprehension he’d felt at the beginning of the interview was compounded now.
Rathmell felt threatened. He picked up the phone. ‘I’ve just had a visit, one that’s rather concerned me. I think we need to take some, shall I say, radical steps.’

A few minutes later, he
dialled another number and waited. ‘Frank, it’s Carl. Can you get hold of Jake? I’d like you both to come up to the house as soon as you can. Yes, this afternoon if possible. There are things to sort out; urgently.’

His third call took even less time. ‘It’s me. I’ve visitors coming. It’d be better if they don’t see you here. Who?
Martin, Frank, and your brother.’

Once he’d reached the main road, Nash stopped the car and reached for his mobile. ‘Clara, I won’t be back until late. No, I’m starting a surveillance job. I need
Viv to take over from me as soon as he can get here.’

He reversed into a farm gateway and parked. It was almost half an hour before there was any activity. The first car contained two people. Nash recognized them as
Councillor Appleyard and Jake Fletcher, too deep in conversation to notice either Nash or his car. He watched them turn into Houlston Grange and then saw another vehicle approaching. At first he thought it was Pearce. As it got nearer he realized his mistake. A DC’s salary doesn’t run to a Range Rover. Nash bent down to avoid being seen. Despite his crouched position he managed to get a good view of the driver. He stared in disbelief as he watched the vehicle pull into Rathmell’s drive. He was still recovering from the shock when Pearce drew alongside him. ‘Keep a note of arrivals and departures,’ Nash instructed him. ‘But whatever you do, avoid being seen. That’s absolutely crucial, okay?’

Nash set off for Helmsdale and called
Mironova again. ‘I’ll be half an hour or so. I’ve just got to do a bit of shopping.’ Clara would have been astonished had she seen the shop he went into.

Appleyard was getting twitchy. It was one thing to pontificate on the perceived wrongs of the nation; direct action was quite another matter. When he’d learned that the supposed protests at the Residents’ Association meeting had been carefully orchestrated, that hadn’t seemed too bad. It was when the violence spiralled that Appleyard became scared. Scared of the monster he’d help to create and scared for his own well-being. The presence of Jake Fletcher in the car didn’t help.

Later, as they drove away from the meeting,
Appleyard was unaware that his own position was being debated. It was a strictly private meeting. No sooner had the second car left the Grange than Pearce observed the arrival of Gemma Fletcher’s sports car.

She’d only been inside the building five minutes when
Rathmell hauled her upstairs. Their first encounter took only a short time. As they lay recovering from their exertions, she asked how the meeting had gone. ‘We’ve got a potential problem,’ Rathmell said.

‘What’s that?’

‘One of our number is less keen than I’d hoped.’

‘That’ll be the officer of the law, I assume?’

‘You’re wrong.’

Gemma
turned and supported her head with her hand. ‘Really? I thought if anyone was going to backslide, he’d be the one.’

‘No, he’s as keen as ever – keener in fact. No, it’s our worthy
councillor whose feet are getting cold.’

‘How much does he know?’

‘Too much. He could cause a lot of bother if he decided to turn on us.’

‘He’d be dropping himself in it.’

‘True, my darling, but we can’t afford to take the chance.’ Rathmell began to caress her. Her response aroused him again.

‘What have you in mind?
Apart from what you’re doing with your hand.’

‘In the history of politics, every great cause had at least one martyr. I believe the time is right for us to create ours.’

‘You mean?’

‘With careful stage management, the deed can be ascribed to our enemies. Frank will become the victim of those who are afraid of his philosophy. In his death, he’ll do our cause the world of good. Whilst mourning our brave colleague, we’ll point out that it was his courage in speaking out that was responsible for his callous assassination. It will be up to us to carry on the struggle in his memory. There, what do you reckon?’

‘That’s genius, Carl; fucking genius.’

‘No.’ He rolled over until he was on top of her. ‘This is fucking genius.’

Much later, as they ate a leisurely meal, she asked, ‘How will you arrange it?’

‘A shooting, I think. It’s traditional, particularly in America. Who are we to fail to uphold a noble tradition?’

The cold-blooded cynicism with which Rathmell was discussing a man’s murder would have appalled many. Gemma found it overwhelmingly sensual. But then she’d already lost everything to him, given him all she had. Many years ago, she’d stepped across that divide and entered his dark world. There was no way back, even if she’d wanted to return: which she didn’t.

‘Is that all you’ve got planned?’

‘Not quite. This lawless element in our midst will stop at nothing. When our colleague’s brutal murder is being investigated, the officer in charge of the investigation will get too close to the perpetrators. These scoundrels will stop at nothing to avoid being brought to book. Even to the extent of killing a high-ranking police officer. A detective inspector, no less.’

‘Nash? Are you really worried by him?’

‘I wasn’t, until he turned up here this afternoon. He asked me a couple of banal questions.’

‘So what’s to worry about?’

‘He was asking about Tucker. Said he’d found my number in Tucker’s mobile. That was when I realized how dangerous Nash is. And how much he might have found out.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘The reason I think Nash is dangerous –’ Rathmell reached into his pocket ‘– is because this is Tucker’s phone.’

Chapter nineteen

When Nash returned, Mironova was filling in forms. She glanced up. Nash looked brighter than she’d seen him for a while. ‘You look as if you’ve had a good afternoon.’

‘I have, and I’m looking forward to an enjoyable evening.’

‘Oh yes, what’s her name?’

Nash smiled. ‘I’m taking Becky Pollard to dinner.’

Clara whistled. ‘You’d better be careful, or you’ll feel the wrath of God.’

‘I said I was taking her to dinner, not to bed.’

‘With you, there never seems to be much difference.’

‘If you’ll stop making offensive comments about my personal life, I’ll tell you what happened this afternoon.’

‘They may be offensive but they’re accurate.’

‘Do you want to hear or not?’

‘Go on.’

‘I went to see
Rathmell. I made up some lame tale about finding his number on Tucker’s mobile. I asked a couple of meaningless questions and left.’

‘What was the point?’

‘I wanted to see if Rathmell would get rattled. He’s intelligent enough to know there had to be more to my visit. And if he was involved in Tucker’s murder, he’d know we hadn’t recovered his mobile. So I parked down the lane and waited. Within half an hour he’d called a meeting. And very interesting personnel attended it too.’

‘Such as?’

Nash told her.

‘That confirms your suspicions.’

‘That’s not all. When Viv took over, I went shopping like I said.’

‘What did you buy?’

‘Nothing, but I got some very interesting information.’ Nash related his experience.

‘What made you think of that?’

‘Something I saw at Rathmell’s house.’

‘That’s proof, surely?’

‘No, it isn’t. Not in itself. It might prove useful as circumstantial evidence, but no more. We need to find something else. That’s why I want that search warrant.’

‘It’ll be here in the morning. Do you want Vickers present?’

‘I think so. We can’t leave anything to chance. We still don’t know what we’re looking for.’

When Becky returned from work, she found a message from Nash on her voicemail explaining he was running late. She decided to phone her godmother. ‘Aunt Gloria, I want to ask you about Mike. You said he was looking for a substitute. What did you mean?’

‘Tell me why you’re asking.’

‘He’s invited me for dinner.’

‘Oh, I hoped this wouldn’t happen. Mike Nash is one of the nicest, most charming people you’re likely to meet. Unfortunately, a lot of women have fallen for that charm. I’m not saying he’s the sort to go in for one-night stands and I think when he enters a relationship he intends it to last. That never seems to happen. I believe that’s because he’s constantly searching for a replacement.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Part of my job is to know all about my officers. Nash is an exceptional detective. He met a girl during the course of an investigation soon after he came here. She got
badly injured, ended up in a wheelchair. Later, by tragic coincidence, she was attacked and died. You remember that big human trafficking case?’

‘Yes, now you mention it.’

‘Anyway, Mike took it very badly.’

‘You’re saying he’s more sinned against than sinning?’

Her aunt laughed. ‘I’d hardly put it that way. What I’m trying to say is, don’t get too involved. Nash may start out with all the right intentions, but it’s highly likely to turn sour. Anyone who gets entangled with him will have to fight against ghosts. The ghosts of his failed relationships.’

‘Thanks for the warning, Aunt Gloria. I’ll be careful.’

‘Of course, if all you’re looking for is companionship, to put it politely, that’s an altogether different matter.’

‘I don’t think I’m looking for anything in particular.’

‘In that case I don’t see the point in this call.’

Becky put the phone down and went for a shower. As she was dressing, she found herself humming a tune. It was a few moments before she realized it was the theme from Ghostbusters.

When Nash arrived, Becky opened her door and peered out, looking for his car. He interpreted her glance. ‘I hope you don’t mind walking? That way I can have a drink. I’ll get you a taxi later.’

‘Don’t mind a bit, as long as it stays fine.’

‘Where would you like to go? The choice is between Italy, India, China or Mexico.’

‘Mexico, I think.’

‘Very well, the Aztlan restaurant it shall be.’

‘Do you know where the name comes from?’

Nash explained.

‘How do you know all that?’

Nash smiled. ‘I asked Chico, the owner.’

‘Is he Mexican?’

‘Not unless Barnsley is an outpost of the Aztec empire. He researched it on the internet. If he comes to talk to us, don’t laugh.’

‘Why would I?’

‘He’s got the worst Mexican accent imaginable. He sounds like a cross between Speedy Gonzales and Manuel the waiter.’

‘You seem cheerful tonight. I take it you’ve had a good day?’

‘Partly that –’ Nash turned to smile at her ‘– but mainly the company.’

The meal was good, better than she’d expected. As Nash put it, ‘More spice than fire,’ which suited her perfectly. They talked little until their dessert, when Becky confessed she was being pressured into providing copy for the Gazette about the Tucker killing and the arrests made by Helmsdale CID. ‘I’m in a bit of a bind. I promised not to write anything until you gave me clearance. But I’m not sure how long my editor’s going to remain patient. He’s already threatening to put someone else on the story.’

‘Tell him to be patient – the story will be an exclusive, and it’ll be the best scoop the paper’s ever had.’ Nash thought for a moment before adding, ‘Tell him it’ll be a fitting memorial to Tucker.’

‘Can you say anything more?
Off the record, of course.’

‘I’m going to Grove Road tomorrow. I must find that missing evidence, if it exists. I’ve got a theory as to who killed Tucker and why. But all the evidence is circumstantial. If I can’t get enough to make a murder charge stick, the whole thing could become very messy.’

‘What do you mean by circumstantial evidence?’

‘I can’t tell you that. Not yet anyway. Put it this way, what I’ve found out points away from Vickers. But it’s more complicated than I thought.
Far more complicated.’

The evening light had faded during their dinner. They emerged from the
Aztlan into a fine, warm, starlit night. Despite her protests Nash insisted on walking her home. ‘This town is far too dangerous at present for a woman to walk around in darkness alone.’

Becky gave in. Her protests had only been half-hearted anyway. As they walked, Nash held her hand. She was mildly surprised but certainly not unhappy with this arrangement. They walked slowly, but all too soon for
Nash’s liking they were outside her door.

‘Do you want to come in for coffee?’

Nash hesitated. He thought of her godmother. He thought of all the reasons he shouldn’t. ‘Just coffee,’ he said.

‘Just coffee,’ she repeated, as firmly as she’d said ‘just dinner’.

She was waiting for the kettle to boil when Nash slipped his arms round her from behind. She turned to face him. He kissed her, gently at first then with increasing fervour. After a moment she pulled away, put a restraining hand on his chest. ‘No, Mike. Not yet.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean that. You look so lovely, I just couldn’t resist. I realize it’s too sudden.’

‘It’s not that. Well, not exactly. I want to be sure it’s me you’re kissing.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I need to be certain you’re not kissing me and thinking of someone else. I won’t be anybody’s substitute. Not even for you.’

‘Ouch. I suppose I deserved that. Who’s been talking?
Your godmother?’

Becky nodded. ‘Come to me when you’ve got rid of the ghosts.
When you’ve got your lost-loves out of your system. Then we’ll see.’

‘When I was little, if I asked for something and my mother said “we’ll see”. I always used to get it.’

‘Your mother was obviously a very nice woman.’ Becky leaned forward. ‘And here’s a little incentive for you.’

Mironova had just taken her coat off when Nash entered the CID suite the following morning.‘Morning, Clara.’ He waved a sheet of paper. ‘The warrant’s arrived. As soon as Viv gets in we’ll head off for Grove Road.’

‘I thought you had
Viv on surveillance at Rathmell’s place?’

‘I phoned him first thing. This is more important.’

‘You’re looking very sprightly. How did last night go?’

‘We had a very pleasant evening.
And a very nice meal.’

‘Where did you go? Not La Giaconda, I’ll bet.’

‘No, we went to The Aztlan.’

‘And that was it? No
afters? I mean, when you go out with a girl, next day you usually look like something the cat dragged in. Don’t tell me you failed? No leg over for dessert then?’

‘I told you – just dinner.’

‘You’re not chicken, are you? Afraid of what’ll happen when God finds out?’

‘Nothing of the sort.
And stop taking the piss – it’s insubordinate.’

‘Bollocks! I don’t believe it. She turned you down, didn’t she?’

‘Clara!’

‘She did! She actually turned you down! You must be getting old, or losing your touch. Poor thing! It’s all downhill from now. Before long you’ll have to rely on the little blue pills.’

‘When you’ve quite finished, DS Mironova! Now, bugger off and fetch Vickers.’

They arrived at Grove Road shortly after 9 a.m. As soon as they were inside, Nash signalled to Pearce to release his prisoner. ‘Clara, make sure the doors are locked and bolted. Gary, before we start I think it’s time you told us what we’re looking for.’

‘I told you, I don’t know.’

‘Who told you about it? Was it Stacey?’

Vickers looked down. ‘Yes,’ he admitted.

‘I know it’s hard to talk about her, but I need you to think.’

There was a long silence.

‘Gary, this is the only thing Stacey can do for you now. Do you understand? I want you to think very carefully. What did she actually say when she told you about this thing? What were her exact words?’

‘As far as I remember, she said it was something to use if her mother found out about us. Later on, she said she was sure her mother was on to us and that she was going to have to use it.’

Nash shrugged. ‘Okay, we’ll do the ground floor first.’

Pearce turned to Vickers. ‘That doesn’t give you the right to put that bloody CD player on, right?’ He saw Clara’s enquiring glance. ‘He plays ruddy Beatles albums back-to-back non-stop. Nearly drove me crazy.’

‘I like The Beatles,’ Vickers muttered.

‘That’s no reason to play them all day and all night.’

‘It’s got to be better than that crap music you play,’ Nash told him.

‘The expression’s rap music, Mike.’
Clara paused. ‘No, on second thoughts, maybe you were right.’

It was almost 1 p.m. before they were ready to tackle the first floor. Even with four of them, Nash’s insistence that they take up the carpets made the task wearisome. ‘I propose we have a break.
Viv, you go get some sandwiches.’

The food and rest gave them renewed energy. By 5 p.m. they’d searched the upper floor. Nash and Vickers had even entered the roof void. They stopped for a drink. Their lack of success had dampened their enthusiasm.

Nash paced up and down the hall, deep in thought. He turned to Vickers. ‘This is just a wild idea, so bear with me, but I’m going to call in somebody to help.’

Nash got on the phone. ‘Can you pop round to Grove Road? We need your help. I’ll explain when you get here.’

It was no more than twenty minutes later when a yellow Mini Cooper drew up outside and the doorbell rang. ‘Answer that, will you, Viv? It’ll be Becky. Clara, go with him, be on the safe side.’

They returned in a matter of seconds. ‘Gary, you’ve met Becky Pollard before.’ Vickers nodded to the newcomer.

‘Becky, the reason I asked you to come round is we’ve searched everywhere, without success. I want you to walk through the house and look again for us.’

‘What makes you think Becky will have any more luck than we’ve had?’

‘Good question, Clara. I said it was a wild idea. But Stacey was studying photography. Maybe another photographer will spot something we’ve missed.’

Becky walked slowly from room to room, looking at the photographs, followed by her interested entourage. Eventually she returned to the lounge. Over the fireplace was a large photograph. ‘Did Stacey take this?’ she asked.

Vickers nodded. ‘It was her entry for a photographic competition. Stacey won second prize.’