Rollover (21 page)

T
he house was easy to find. It was set back from a road that clung to the southern perimeter of a small wood. The front had open views over fields that rolled towards the ancient city of Winchester.

Temple was in the lead patrol car as it swept up the short driveway. He quickly took in the scene. A large detached property that looked grey and uninviting. Trees surrounded it. There was an outbuilding to the left that might once have been a barn or a stable. There were no cars in sight and this caused Temple’s heart to sink. But there was a garage attached to the house, its wooden doors painted a dull green.

Tyres crunched over stones as the three patrol cars slowed to a halt. Temple climbed out, cold air snapping at his flesh. The sky was a sullen shade of grey and the promise of rain had given way to a thin drizzle. He strode towards the front door, signalling to others to go round the back. The curtains inside the downstairs windows were
closed, but through the cracks he could see that there were lights on. He rang the doorbell and braced himself for the unexpected. Whoever was in the house must have seen or heard the cars approach. So they would be ready to respond. But how?

He rang the bell again. No answer. He was about to give the order for an officer to ram the door open, but at that moment there came shouts from the back of the house.

Temple pointed to the uniforms behind him. ‘You stay here and cover the front.’

Then he dashed round the back to where an officer was standing in the rear garden. The officer pointed towards the woods and Temple saw two armed officers in padded jackets running across a small area of open land.

‘We spotted people entering the woods,’ the officer said. Then he gestured towards a rear door that was open. ‘Looks like they just left the house in a hurry.’

Temple broke into a run towards the densely packed gloom of the woods. He scrambled through clumps of low bracken, the ground soft and heavy going. Mud spattered his suit trousers and it wasn’t long before he was panting like a dog.

He just made it to the woods before he was forced to stop and catch his breath. He leaned up against a large oak, a cold sweat
prickling
his forehead as he took big gasps of air. And that was when he heard the shots. Two of them in quick succession. He pushed himself away from the tree and hurtled into the woods, dodging branches and leaping over fallen logs. His stomach was cramping with exhaustion. Voices came at him from out of the gloom. He saw
movement
ahead, lumbered towards it.

He came to a small clearing. Three armed officers were pointing their guns at the ground. Temple stopped, his eyes following the direction of the weapons. He saw three figures lying face down in the dirt.

‘They’re not hurt,’ one of the officers told him. ‘We fired warning shots.’

Temple stared down at the three bodies sprawled on the ground. The one in the middle cranked his head to the left, exposing his face.

It was Joe Dessler.

‘Have you searched them?’ Temple asked.

‘Yes, sir. They’re clean.’

He wiped a sleeve across his sweaty brow.

‘Then get them up and march them back to the house. Let’s find out what they have to say for themselves.’

F
ive minutes had elapsed since the car drew up outside the house. The three of us were now huddled behind the sofa in the living room. The patio doors were locked, blocking our exit.

The lights in the kitchen and hallway would have alerted the kidnapper to the fact that something was wrong. I reckoned he was out there, circling the house, trying to determine whether we were still in the loft or someone else had broken in.

The sofa lay square across the room, facing the glass doors that gave access to the garden. It shielded us from the gap in the curtains which allowed the fading light of the winter afternoon to filter into the room. I should have had the presence of mind to close the curtains all the way after checking the locks. But I’d been in too much of a panic, not knowing what to do or how best to protect my family.

There was something else I should have done in those few crucial seconds after we heard the vehicle outside. I should have armed myself before rushing out of the kitchen. A knife. A rolling pin. Even a fucking saucepan. Anything that could be used to defend us against the maniac in the ski mask. As it was I had nothing. Crouched down between the sofa and the living room wall, we were like lambs hiding from the big bad wolf.

Maggie and Laura were either side of me. I could feel their bodies trembling. Feel their hearts pumping. My skin was hot. There was a
heaving in my chest and stomach. I had a real urge to vomit. We held our breaths, listened to the oppressive silence of the house. Where was the bastard? Did he have his gun? Had he come back to kill us?

Maggie turned to look at me, her eyes sending me a question.

Aren’t you going to do something
?

But what could I do other than wait it out? The kidnapper was still in control. He had the power, the weapon, the advantage of knowing we couldn’t make a run for it without his seeing us. And who was to say he wouldn’t shoot the first chance he got?

The situation was different now. We posed a serious threat. We’d put at risk his plan to claim the lottery winnings. He was—

We all stiffened at an indeterminate sound that came from beyond the glass doors. It could have been a shoe scuffing across the concrete patio, or a side gate opening.

‘Oh God, he’s out there,’ Maggie said in a hushed voice.

Laura started to shake more violently. I sensed that she was about to cry out.

‘I’ve got to get a weapon of some kind,’ I said.

‘Don’t leave us,’ Maggie pleaded.

‘Just stay put. I’ll crawl to the kitchen. If I keep low he won’t see me from outside.’

There was no carpet, just floorboards. That made it easier for me to slide my body towards the open door into the hallway. Here I was more exposed. I glanced up at the front door. There was no one outside it. I crawled across the hall into the kitchen. It was still empty and the curtains were closed.

I jumped up and looked around. I saw stainless-steel knives in a rack on the counter. I grabbed one with a big, serrated blade and squeezed the handle until my knuckles turned white. I moved back into the hall and paused for a second to listen. The house stayed silent and the front door remained closed. I got back on the floor, crawled into the living room. Maggie and Laura were just where I’d left them. Maggie’s eyes widened at the sight of the knife.

‘Have you heard anything more?’ I said.

Maggie shook her head.

I raised myself up and peered over the top of the sofa. I could see the sky through the gap in the curtains. Below it a wall of dark trees. Then suddenly the view was obscured by the man in the mask. He appeared as if out of thin air and stared at me through the window, his head and body black as the darkest night.

Instinctively I tightened my grip on the knife. In that same instant there was a crash of glass as the kidnapper put a boot through one of the doors. Maggie screamed and my stomach lurched. I watched the tall, dark figure step through the shattered door as though in slow motion. I stood up quickly and stretched out my right arm, displaying the knife in a threatening gesture. But it did not stop the kidnapper from striding towards me, his boots crunching over
fragments
of glass.

‘Put the knife down,’ he yelled.

I could barely hear him. Maggie was still screaming and the
explosion
of broken glass was ringing in my ears.

‘If you don’t drop it I’ll fucking shoot you.’

He was now directly on the other side of the sofa, both hands holding the revolver that was pointing straight at my chest. My heart thumped so hard it resonated across my ribs. I felt sure he would pull the trigger if I didn’t comply. But if I did we’d be back where we started. At the mercy of this lunatic.

Maggie was shouting at me.

‘Do as he says, Danny. Please.’

I ground my teeth together and slowly lowered my arm.

‘Drop it on the sofa.’ His voice was quieter now, with a measured menace.

I loosened my grip, let the knife fall on the cushion.

‘Now don’t move a muscle,’ he said.

Stepping forward, he picked up the knife with his free hand and put it into his jacket pocket. Then, without warning, he reached out and grabbed my jumper and pulled me across the back of the sofa. I tried to stop myself falling, but it happened too fast. As I landed face down on the cushions, I felt a blow to the back of the head.

Then another.

I heard him swear. I heard Maggie yell for him to stop. I heard
Laura scream. And then I felt the explosion of pain behind my eyes. It sent me hurtling into oblivion.

T
emple stood with his back to a wide brick fireplace. The fire had burned itself out and there was a pile of ash in the grate.

It was the focal point of a large, L-shaped living room. Like the rest of the house the room was packed with furniture. There was a glass-fronted bar at one end, stacked with drinks. Two white leather sofas faced each other across a black glass-topped coffee table. Temple had noticed that the same light and dark theme was evident throughout the rest of the house. He had looked in all the rooms. Four bedrooms. Two bathrooms. Kitchen. Utility room. Dining room.

There were two cars in the garage. One belonged to Dessler, the other to his minder, Noakes.

The third man had identified himself as Tony Weekes, another of Dessler’s henchmen, who had been living in the house.

The preliminary search had revealed that the property was not just used for outlandish parties. One of the bedrooms was like a mini studio with two video cameras mounted on tripods on either side of a king-size bed. There were also a couple of arc lamps on stands. In the converted loft they found a digital editing suite and a stack of DVDs, all with the same label; it read
Sluts and Slappers.

It seemed that Dessler wasn’t only into loan sharking and
prostitution
. He was also in the business of producing his own brand of porn.

Now the three men who had fled into the woods were seated on one of the sofas, their wrists cuffed, their faces suffused with
righteous
indignation. Dessler was in the middle, head and shoulders above the other two. Noakes was a short, stout man in his thirties
with a square face and blotchy skin. Weekes was bald and
powerfully
built, everyone’s idea of a punch-drunk boxer. Temple had listened to their protestations and their demands to know what was going on. He’d refused to allow Dessler to phone his lawyer and had told him they would shortly be taken to Southampton central police station to be formally interviewed.

But first there were some questions.

‘Why are you hiding out?’ Temple said, addressing himself to Dessler.

The big man shrugged. ‘I’m not hiding. I rent this place. Often stay over when I’m bored with the city.’

‘That’s a lie. Your bent copper friend Jordan told us you were in a panic over what we had unearthed. So you decided to disappear for a while.’

‘That arse doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’

‘We’ve seen a draft of the article that Mayo was writing,’ Temple said. ‘It’s extremely incriminating. We also know about the photos that you sent to Mayo.’

‘He owed me money,’ Dessler snorted.

‘And so when he wouldn’t pay you decided to kill him.’

‘That’s bollocks.’

‘You arranged to visit his house on Saturday night. Jordan told us. And so did Mayo’s girlfriend.’

‘I didn’t go. I swear.’

‘Then maybe you sent one of these morons.’

The other two men looked suitably outraged.

Noakes said, ‘Don’t fucking lay that one on us. We had nothing to do with it.’

Temple jabbed a finger at Dessler. ‘You told me you were at the casino all Saturday evening. But it wasn’t true. We have security video showing that you left early and didn’t return until much later. We also have a tape of you at a city centre pub. You called Mayo from there.’

Dessler nodded. ‘Look, I called Mayo on Friday to ask him what he thought about the photos. They had him worried and he agreed to stop writing that fucking feature about me. He said he’d square it
with his partner by telling Cain that the evidence he’d gathered wasn’t safe and therefore they should drop the piece. He didn’t think Cain would have a major objection to it.’

‘And what about the money?’

‘He agreed to pay me an instalment of a few grand. I said I’d collect it on Saturday. But I got involved so I called from the pub to cancel. Said I’d pick it up on Monday.’

‘So where did you go after leaving the pub? There’s a gap of several hours during which Mayo was murdered.’

Dessler shook his head. ‘I was doing the rounds. Collecting money from the girls. You can ask them. I’ve got names. I dropped in on two more houses and a pub. It’s what I do every Saturday night. I didn’t have time to go to the forest.’

‘So why come here?’ Temple said. ‘And don’t give me bullshit about being bored.’

‘Look, when you turned up at my flat I was gobsmacked to hear about Mayo. Honest. But straight away I could see where it was going. I knew I’d be a prime suspect and you would start digging into my affairs. I reckoned it was only a matter of time before you hauled me in and I’d be banged up on a raft of fucking charges. I was also worried that once you had me you’d try to pin the murder on me and lose interest in catching the real killer. So I decided to lie low for a bit and sort out a few things.’

Temple had to admit he sounded convincing, but then the really smart criminals always did. It was their nature. Part of their
make-up
.

‘Where’s Cain?’ Temple said after a moment.

Dessler shrugged expansively. ‘I have not the slightest idea. I’ve never even met the guy.’

‘But he knew as much as Mayo did about your activities,’ Temple said. ‘They worked together. He was involved in the article that was going to expose you.’

‘That maybe so, but my gripe was with Mayo.’

‘So you have no idea where he’s gone?’

‘None, but from what I’ve heard he’s the one who whacked Mayo and you know it, so I don’t know why you’re hassling me.’

Temple sucked in air through his nostrils. He felt his anger mounting. This wasn’t going well.

‘Did any of you lot pay a visit to Jennifer Priest’s flat last night?’ he said, knowing it was a shot in the dark.

The three men exchanged glances. It was Dessler who spoke. ‘Why would we do that?’

‘Maybe you’ve taken the view that she’s inherited her boyfriend’s debt.’

‘Don’t talk crap.’ Dessler said. ‘None of us has been near the Priest girl.’

‘Is that a fact?’

‘It’s a fact, Inspector. And I can tell you now that you won’t get another word out of any of us until I’ve spoken to a lawyer.’

Temple knew there was no point continuing, at least not here. ‘Then I’m taking you all down to the station,’ he said. ‘You can call your lawyers from there before the formal interviews.’

‘You’ll be wasting your time,’ Dessler said.

‘We’ll see about that.’

Temple signalled to the uniforms to take the three men out. He followed them, his mind in turmoil, a queasy hollowness in the pit of his stomach. To say that he was disappointed with the outcome of the raid would be an understatement.

On the way back to the station he reflected on what Dessler had said. It was clear that he had threatened and blackmailed Vince Mayo. But it was unlikely that he’d killed him. His alibi would be checked out, of course, and they’d seek to bring a variety of charges against him, but it was almost certain that a murder charge wouldn’t be one of them.

Temple stared out of the window of the squad car, his mood matching the gloomy grey of the sky. So what now? he asked himself. Was it time to concentrate all their efforts on finding Cain and forget about chasing down other leads? It was the obvious route to take. The reporter was still the only viable suspect and the evidence against him continued to stack up. But there were still too many loose ends. Too many unanswered questions. Maybe jealousy wasn’t the motive. Maybe Cain hadn’t acted alone. Temple racked
his brain going back over the evidence and all the interviews they’d conducted. What hadn’t they done?

He took out his notebook and started making a list of questions. Was Dessler telling the truth? Was DC Jordan more involved than he was letting on? Who or what had caused Jennifer Priest to flee from her flat?

This last question triggered a snap of electricity in his brain. He recalled checking Jennifer’s landline to see if someone had phoned her during the evening. But he wondered whether anyone had checked her mobile. Maybe she’d received a call on that and it had spooked her. He recalled that he had mentioned it to her father, but Priest was in such a state at the time that he probably didn’t take it in. Temple whipped out his phone and rang Angel.

‘I was just about to call you, guv,’ she said.

‘I’m on my way in,’ he told her. ‘I want you to do something for me. Get the call log on Jennifer Priest’s mobile phone. See if she had any calls last night before she bolted from her flat and had the
accident
.’

‘I’ll get on to it right away, guv. Meanwhile there’s something you should know. Bill Nadelson turned up at his cottage a short time ago. He’s been arrested and they’re bringing him in.’