Mortal Men (The Lakeland Murders Book 7) (13 page)

‘My mum won’t be going to prison.’

‘Are you sure about that? Look, Tiffany, this isn’t only a robbery case now. Why do you think there’s a Detective Superintendent in the room? This won’t just go away, I’m afraid. So talk to me. Tell me what happened, that’s all I’m asking you. I’m sure we could help your mum, and do everything we can to make sure that she doesn’t go to prison. That has to be worth something to you, surely? I know it would be to me, in your position.’

So they didn’t have anything. Not a bloody thing. Tiffany was sure of it now. She knew better than to trust the likes of this bloke. So what if he had a nice smile? There was probably nothing wrong with his mum at all. And what if she did grass up Taylor? It couldn’t happen to a nicer bloke, but what would happen to mum while she was inside? He could have her mum killed, and no-one would ever know. A pillow over the face and she’d be gone in thirty seconds. Less, probably. Hardly any breath left in her, anyway. No, the risk was too great.

‘I’ve told you. I wasn’t there. It wasn’t me. So can I go now, or are you going to charge me?’

Iredale was about to reply when he heard the knock at the door. He glanced at Hall, who nodded. So Iredale suspended the interview, and went out into the corridor. He knew before the Duty Inspector started talking that his news was all bad.

‘Sorry, lad. Doc’s completed his initial examination of the body, and says there’s no evidence that the old lady was pushed, or assaulted. Says he’ll know more tomorrow, but he said that it’s already a racing certainty that he won’t be able to prove foul play.’

‘Thanks, sir.’

‘There’s more, I’m afraid. Sandy’s been on as well. None of your suspect’s prints on any of the likely surfaces, and although she’s confident that your thief had a brew and a biscuit it doesn’t look like there’ll be any DNA.’

‘Shit. Really?’

‘Seems like your con is no mug, if you’ll excuse the pun. Didn’t so much as touch the tea. And there wasn’t so much as a crumb on the plate.’

‘Bollocks.’

‘Aye, lad. It’s bloody annoying when cons are clever. Anyway, don’t shoot the messenger, as they say.’

‘I won’t. Sorry, sir.’

‘Don’t worry about it. I like to see a young copper who actually cares. The day being a bobby becomes just a job, that’s the time to get out. Know what I mean?’

‘I do, thanks. I know exactly what you mean, sir.’

When Iredale sat down again he had no idea what he’d say next. Should he just take a statement, and leave it at that for now? It was the sensible thing to do, there was no doubt about that.

‘Would you like to know what that was about?’

‘Not really.’

‘It was to do with the robbery. And because of what I just heard I don’t have enough to charge you at present, or your mum, come to that.’

‘So I can go?’

‘As soon as I have your formal statement, yes. But you do need to understand what happens now, Tiffany. Because I won’t rest until I know who committed those burglaries, and why that old lady, why Joan, is dead. Every previous case will be re-investigated, every witness re-interviewed. Your whereabouts when every single burglary took place will be established, and then re-checked. Your financial and phone records will be examined. Let me be very clear about this: you aren’t our prime suspect here, you’re our only suspect. We know that you did this, Tiffany. I know it, and I really can’t understand why. What is it that makes you do it? I just can’t work it out at all.’

‘You don’t know me, copper. You don’t know anything about me. You’re just another meddling twat, trying to tell me how to run my life. Why should I take any notice of a word you say? You’re all fucking liars, every last one of you. You can’t change anything, or do anything. Now just let me go.’

Afterwards Hall asked if Iredale really had needed to look after his mum.

‘No, sir, she’s absolutely fine. I just thought it might help. Empathy, like.’

Hall nodded slowly, but didn’t look convinced.

‘Did I do wrong, sir?’

‘It wasn’t true, was it? That’s my only concern. You were on tape, and you said something that you knew not to be true. It just blurs the line a bit. That’s all I’m saying.’

‘You mean she was right? About us being liars?’

‘I didn’t say that, Keith. They all play the victim card at some point, even the real hard men. You’d be surprised. Sometimes it’s probably justified as well. I don’t doubt that. But it’s not our concern. Anyway, has Mike Lightfoot been booked in?’

‘Waiting for us, sir. Interview room three this time, just for a change.’

Iredale followed Hall down the corridor. He was pretty sure that he’d just been told off, and he was pretty sure that he’d deserved it.

Mike Lightfoot looked nervous. He started to speak when Hall and Iredale walked in, but the Duty Solicitor put a hand on his arm. ‘Just wait for their questions, Mike, and answer those.’ Lightfoot nodded, and stared down at the table, as if he was trying to read something in its scratched and blotched surface. Hall thought that he couldn’t have looked more guilty if he’d tried, but he knew better than to buy all that body-language baloney. He’d been on a course about it once, years before, when it was all the rage, and it hadn’t helped at all. He’d always found it hard - going on impossible - to spot a liar based on their physical behaviour and demeanour, and he still did after the course. But maybe the cons had been on it as well.

‘You’ve been informed of the death of Mrs. Pearson?’ said Iredale.

‘Yes. She was a client. Really nice old lady, was Joan.’

‘And you know that a young woman was seen running from the house, very soon after the death?’

‘I’d heard. That’s terrible, but I had nothing to do with it. I’m not robbing my clients. Why would I?’

‘And where were you this morning, Mr. Lightfoot?’

‘At work. In the office until about eleven.’

‘And there are people who can vouch for you?’

‘Of course. We have CCTV in the office anyway, just in case any clients get, you know…physical.’

‘Let me ask you again, and please remember that someone has died this time. Do you know who this thief is, the one who may have caused the death of your client?’

‘No. How could I?’

‘Because you’ve been supplying her with information about your clients.’

‘No. No. That’s not true. I haven’t.’

‘So who have you been telling?’

‘No-one. Why should I?’

‘Come on, Mike. Get it off your chest. I know you want to. It’s one of your old drug buddies, isn’t it?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘You’re using again, aren’t you?’

‘No, I’m not.’

Iredale was leaning right across the table now, and Hall had to reach forward to place a hand on his arm.

‘The woman who’s committing these robberies is using your name’ he said, quietly. ‘Why?’

‘Yes, aye, she is, but I still don’t know who it is. Honest I don’t.’

‘Come on, I know you’re holding out on us, Mike. And, let me tell you, that’s a really bad idea. So can you think of anyone who might want to implicate you in this? Forget about this young woman for a minute. Is there anyone that you’ve fallen out with?’

Lightfoot hesitated, and Iredale fought the urge to lean in again.

‘No, I can’t think of anyone.’

‘Try harder, Mike. A client from work perhaps. You used to work with young offenders, yes?’

‘Aye, I did.’

‘And did you piss any of them off?’

Lightfoot smiled briefly. ‘Any of them? All of them, I expect. I wasn’t their mate.’

‘Enough for any of them to want to settle the score with you, then?’

Lightfoot shook his head. ‘Not that I can think of.’

‘All right. How about from the old days? You know, from when you were younger.’

‘When I was a user, you mean? No, not that I can think of. Like I keep saying, I don’t see those people any more. None of them.’

‘OK, enough about that for now. Let’s talk about work for a minute. All your files are computerised these days, I assume? There’s nothing on paper?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘And each client’s record contains their name, address and is linked to you, as their case officer?’

‘Aye.’

‘Good. So who has access to those files? Who could see that client’s name, address and your name linked to it?’

‘Well, everyone in the department, obviously. And if the client used a service, for example if they were admitted to hospital, then the medical staff would see those details. So they could contact me.’

‘I see. And have the robbery victims had contact with medical services recently?’

‘I’d have to check but it’s almost certain that they will have. They’re all in their eighties, and vulnerable in one way or another.’

‘So plenty of people could be aware of the connection between you and all of the robbery victims, including Mrs. Pearson?’

Lightfoot looked up, but he didn’t look especially pleased or relieved, and that pleased Hall.

‘I suppose that’s right. I hadn’t thought about it, really. People just keep telling me that I must be involved, but I’m bloody not.’ Lightfoot looked straight across at Iredale as he spoke.

When Lightfoot had gone Hall walked Iredale out to his car.

‘If I can just find a link between Tiffany Moore and the bloody carer of the year that we’ve just released then I’ll have him,’ said Keith.

‘But there isn’t one, is there?’

‘Are you sure, sir? The bloke’s just another junkie, underneath it all.’

‘Underneath what exactly? It’s not like you to take such a hard line, Keith. Is there something I’m missing here? Because to answer your question no, I’m not sure that there’s no absolutely connection between them. Not completely. But I do think it’s highly likely that there isn’t. So your time would best be spent on Tiffany. We both know that she did it, don’t we? That’s something we can agree on. So is there any chance that we could break her alibi for today?’

‘No, sir. The mother is very ill, and very vulnerable. We’ve got her statement, and that’s all we’re going to get now, worse luck. We couldn’t pressurise her at all, not unless we had definite proof that she’s been lying.’

‘All right, then let that go for now. Why not come at it from a different angle?’

‘Like what, sir?’

‘Why is she doing it? Why is Tiffany, who we know is going to college because she wants to, why is she thieving again? And why do another robbery straight after we’ve just interviewed her? She’s not stupid, we know that.’

‘I don’t know. But maybe she did push Mrs. Pearson down the stairs, because she was worried she’d be identified. That’s the thought that’s been at the back of my mind, sir.’

Hall shook his head.

‘So the kid’s a killer? Really? She’s not a user, is she?’

‘Not as far as we know, no.’

‘Well, anyway, let’s wait for the full PM results. But whatever they tell us I still think that the key here is to understand why she’s been doing these robberies. Find that out and I’ll lay you odds that we’ll find out why she’s been dropping Lightfoot’s name with such enthusiasm.’

‘I didn’t know you were a betting man, sir.’

Hall smiled. ‘I’m not. Just a figure of speech. I think I only say it to make people think that I’m one of the lads, or something.’

Iredale laughed out loud. ‘I’m not sure that your strategy is working then, sir.’

Now this is strange. I’d expected the usual endless rounds of questions, the same ones over and over, and maybe a car tucked away in the lane end or something. But there’s been nothing. Just a TV appeal for information by that DI Francis. What was that all about, anyway? And why are they so interested in that Nissan Murano all of a sudden? It’s got sod all to do with anything. Strange to see Andy Hall sitting there in the background, though. Not saying a bloody word. He looks just the same. Or at least his expression hasn’t changed. Almost blank, but not quite. Like he wants to believe you, wants to trust you, but somehow he just can’t. I remember that expression, and I know the other lads did too. More disappointed than anything else, really. I remember talking to poor old Matt about it when we were all on remand. When it still seemed like something it made sense to talk about. He said he almost told Hall everything, two or three times. And I told him I did too. But we didn’t. Neither of us did. Because we did what was right by each other. And I promised him then, didn’t I? I promised that we’d get even with that little shit Frankie Foster. And I bloody did it, too. It took me a bit of time, I admit it, but I did it. I bloody did it.

So what happens next? They must have some other line of enquiry, something that’s caught their attention. I wonder how long it will take them to work out that they’ve got it wrong? Of course I know exactly what happened, and they don’t. She seemed sharp enough, that DI. Nice looking too, if you like the school teacher type. But she’ll be a proper do-it-by-the-book merchant I expect, always going on about the glass ceiling or whatever it’s called. I wonder why she even became a copper? Doesn’t seem the sort at all. A bit out of place, somehow. Now that DS, Mann, he’s more the way I remember them. Old school, ex-military of course, you can spot it a bloody mile off. I bet he understands why sometimes the only right way is to use a gun. Or at least to kill, anyway. She couldn’t ever do that, couldn’t begin to understand it. Doesn’t even try, I expect. And as for that Andy Hall. He doesn’t look like he could pull the skin off a rice pudding.

It’s simple enough for me, though. From here on in, like. Just keep going. Usual routine, normal life, for a long as it lasts, anyway. It’s comforting, is that. And what else is there to do? I wouldn’t change anything now, not even if I could. Frankie’s gone and I’ve not lost a second’s sleep since. No flashbacks, nothing. It’s as if it all never happened, somehow. But what if someone else gets nicked for it? What then? It depends who it is, I suppose. Knowing Frankie it’ll be some other thieving twat who they’ve got in mind for this one. Maybe he’ll even deserve to go down for it.