The Truth Will Out (29 page)

Chilli’s eyes were fixed upon her, as if deep in thought. It was now or never. She pulled a deep breath. “Let Robert go. Keep me if you want, but let him go. Please. He’s just a kid.”

Chilli darted forward, raised his hand and slapped the side of her head. Helen crashed across the floor. The room blurred for a second. She raised a hand to her face as pain seared through her cheekbone. Defiantly, she flickered her eyes towards Chilli.

“Like Nate.” Chilli’s expression remained unchanged. The sound of the water heating rose and mingled with the dampness in the room. It felt uncomfortably eerie.

“The right address this time?” he said. The kettle started bubbling merrily.

Helen looked from Chilli to the kettle and back. “Please,” she said. “I’ll tell you if you let Robert go.”

Chilli snorted. “You’re lucky he’s still alive. If you don’t tell me now we’ll bring him in here and you can watch me pour the boiling water over his feet. Then we’ll move up his body, nice and slowly.”

Helen flinched. Steam rose into the air. The kettle switch flicked off. A sharp pain sliced through her like the blade of a knife.

Chilli turned to Dean. “Go get him.”

“No!” Helen leant forward.

“Well?”

She reeled off the address of Eva’s hotel, praying inwardly that Pemberton would have raised suspicions back at the station over her disappearance and be there with her now.

Chilli’s lip curled into a sneer, as if he’d just won a ton of cash in a game of poker. This time he knew she was telling the truth. He raised his pistol.

Helen blanched. For a split second nobody moved.

Finally, Chilli blinked. “Oh, I’m not going to kill you,” he said with perfect calmness. He flicked his glance to Dean. “He is.” Dean’s body flinched slightly but he kept his eyes buried in the floor. And with that, Chilli Franks flashed her one more contemptuous gaze, and disappeared up the stairs.

Helen could taste bile rising in her throat. Dean stood perfectly still. She could just make out beads of sweat collecting on his upper lip. The light bulb flickered. The walls felt like they were closing in on them. And then she saw his gun.

Helen was no marksman. She knew handguns were notoriously inaccurate, but at what range? She thought hard, wondering whether Dean had ever pulled a trigger before.

“What have you done with Robert?” she said.

Dean finally met her gaze. His eyes were unexpectedly soft, almost apologetic. “Don’t worry, he’s safe. I made sure of it.”

“Where?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Can’t or won’t?” He didn’t answer. “Why not? I’m going to die anyway. Can’t you at least save my son? He’s just a boy, Dean. I trusted you.” Again, he didn’t answer.

Anger like no other infused Helen’s limbs. “Safe? I don’t know what you owe Chilli Franks, but kidnapping Robert… ” Her voice faltered. The audacity of his words grabbed her and at that moment a ball of maternal rage exploded within her, sparks of anger ricocheting through her torso.

“Where is he?” She flew at Dean, grabbing the wrist of the hand holding the gun, pushing it away with all her might. Every tendon in her body struggled against his overpowering weight. He pushed her back, evenly at first, then brutally as she persisted.

Helen clawed into Dean’s face, her free hand slicing through the flesh. She elbowed him in the stomach, the other hand still clasped firmly around the wrist holding the gun.

Hard as she tried, Helen could feel her strength starting to wane. The gun moved towards her. She couldn’t stop it, her muscles were weakening. Using every inch of energy in her body, she lifted her knee to his groin.

He folded instantly, butting her forehead as he did so. Her eyes blurred. Pain seared through her brain. Then she heard the crack slice through the air.

***

Eva turned off the tap and froze. All was quiet. She swung round, hands still wet and approached the bathroom door, hardly daring to breathe.

Slowly, tentatively, she peered around the gap. The room was still. She pulled the door open slowly and strained her ears. Nothing. Eva approached the room’s main entrance and looked through the peephole, closing one eye to sharpen the other. Wet hands pressed on the door. The corridor looked empty.

She let out a shallow breath. She definitely heard something. And it wasn’t followed up by the sound of a door opening and closing - this wasn’t a neighbour on the move again. Her fingers moved across the locks, checking each individually.

Standing very still, bare feet sinking into the carpet, Eva collected her thoughts. The DCI said somebody was trying to trace her. Surely the noise didn’t come from within the room? Her blood chilled. She turned quickly. How could they get in? And where would they hide?

Her eyes rested on the wardrobe. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and slid the door back. A few stray hangers wobbled on the rail. She exhaled sharply. But something didn’t feel right.

She recalled how, as a child, she was always scared that a monster would be in her room, wait for her in the shadows, ready to attack when she slept. She remembered even into her teenage years, checking her wardrobe, underneath her bed, every corner and every space, no matter how tiny, to satisfy her mind that it was empty.

And she regressed back now, leaning down to look beneath the bed, poking the long curtains. Finally satisfied she was alone, Eva sat on the edge of the bed, head in hands.

The soft sounds of footsteps on carpet caught her attention. Her ears pricked. There were more. This time she wasn’t mistaken.

Eva gripped the end of the bed tight, waiting for the sound of a neighbouring door to close.

The bang that followed shook the whole room like an earthquake.

***

Helen became aware of voices mumbling around her. She felt like she was lying in a warm bath, the heat of the water pressing down on her. Her mind drifted. She was in the park with the boys, although they were much younger, Robert barely a toddler. They were on the seesaw, Matthew bouncing his feet hard as they touched the ground, sending them higher and higher. She opened her mouth to tell them to slow down but her voice was mute. She raised her hand desperately, glancing anxiously from one son to another. They ignored her, chuckling merrily, enjoying the thrill.

The image changed. Helen was sat at her mother’s kitchen table in her old house. Her father was there grinning, his eyes shining as they always did when he relayed an anecdote.

Somebody was calling her name in the distance, breaking the image. She strained her ears. Part of her wanted to reach out towards them, yet it felt cold, distant. Helen returned to the warmth of her memories and the voices slowly hushed, as if someone had turned the volume right down.

Chapter
Thirty-Four

Pemberton stared across the table at Chilli Franks. “What were you doing at the hotel today?”

Chilli didn’t answer. He sat perfectly still.

Pemberton tilted his head. “Why break into the girl’s room? What did you want with her?”

Nothing.

It had been several hours since, following Pemberton’s alert, Sawford had organised an armed team to evacuate Eva’s hotel, removing her and laying in wait for her pursuers. Later, Chilli had arrived with three henchmen, surprisingly unarmed. They weren’t expecting Sawford’s team.

“I’m guessing it was something pretty important since you took your guys with you. And you created quite a fuss when you met the police, didn’t you?” Pemberton snorted. “I heard they had to use the stun gun to calm you down.”

Pemberton paused as his colleague’s pen scratched the pad beside him. He’d been in the custody suite when Chilli was brought in. Later he’d watched Sawford pace the room, his face pallid, fingers fidgeting on the hands clasped behind his back with every step, as he listened remotely to the dull silence his own detectives faced from their interviewees. He was two officers down and every one of his suspects refused to comment.

As time passed, Pemberton had watched the sea of tired, hollow faces grow around him in the custody area. Attacks on cops were rare, but when they reared their ugly head they pulled every rank and file out of the woodwork. Nobody could rest until they had some answers.

Finally, he’d pleaded with Sawford to let him have a shot at interviewing Chilli. Pemberton and Chilli were old adversaries, after all. Their paths had crossed many a time over the years. If anyone could get through, he believed he could. Although half an hour later in the interview room, he was beginning to wonder.

Pemberton rested his hands on the table between them. He decided to change tack. “What can you tell me about the cops attacked in the cellar of your warehouse?”

A chair squeaked on the floor as David Easton, Chilli’s solicitor, shifted in his seat next to him.

“Come on, Chilli. You can’t deny you’ve been there today. I saw you leaving the premises myself.”

A faint flicker of alarm rippled across Chilli’s face.

“You didn’t know I was there, did you?” Pemberton asked. “I parked behind the garages next door.”

Easton cleared his throat. “My client acquired that warehouse for conversion,” he said. “There’s no reason why he shouldn’t spend some time there.”

Pemberton ignored him. “I’ve been in that cellar, Chilli. I saw what you did this afternoon. And I also saw the holdall containing used Glocks and Baikal guns, the stash of cocaine in the warehouse. There must be at least half a kilo there. You’re not going to deny they’re yours too, are you?”

Easton cast his client a sideways glance, but said nothing.

“You forget, Chilli, we’ve got Eva Carradine,” Pemberton continued. “We know about the holiday she took to Milan with Naomi Spence. We know how they smuggled drugs back in the lining of the Mini for Jules Paton. And now Naomi Spence and Jules Paton are dead, killed by somebody pursuing something missing from that car. We also know Eva was being hunted down by the same people, this time using her dead friend’s mobile phone. Tell me - why was that phone found on your person when you were arrested?”

“This is ridiculous.” Easton heaved a sigh. “Jules Paton committed suicide.”

Pemberton shook his head. He didn’t take his eyes off Chilli. “On the contrary, new evidence has come to light that indicates he was murdered.”

Easton heaved himself forward. “Is my client a suspect in the murder of Jules Paton?”

Pemberton ignored the solicitor, leant in closer to Chilli. “What was missing from that car? What was so important it meant attacking so many people, including cops?”

Easton shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Pemberton sighed. “We also know that your boy, Nate, killed them.”

A single muscle flexed in Chilli’s jawline, but he maintained his steely reserve.

Pemberton eased back. “Oh, he worked hard to make it look like Naomi Spence knew her killer, planned it well. But he left footprints in the snow in her neighbour’s garden, footprints that matched the shoes he was wearing when he died. He wore her watch, the engraved Rolex her parents bought her for her eighteenth birthday. Jules Paton’s mobile phone was found in his pocket.”

Easton put his pen down. “That means nothing.”

Pemberton cast him a cursory glance and turned straight back to Chilli. “No, not on its own. But the samples of their hair found on his person does. We also found more hair samples folded amongst the clothes in his bedroom. Who do those belong to, Chilli?”

Wolf-like eyes met his gaze. “How dare you plant evidence on my dead nephew.”

Pemberton felt a pulse of adrenalin. He rushed to keep up the momentum. “Thought you’d got it all tied up, didn’t you? But Eva was your scorpion, the sting in her tail holding the capacity to bring down the whole operation. You couldn’t let her live, could you? That’s why you abducted Chief Inspector Lavery, to find out her location. That’s why you broke into Eva’s room at the hotel today, isn’t it?”

Chilli snorted. Shook his head.

Pemberton sat back in his chair. Nate’s young face filled his head. The boy who’d revered his uncle, been nurtured into the same murky world. He shared Chilli’s dark eyes, the same eyes that stared back at him now. Pemberton lowered his tone and when he spoke his voice was grave, “Why Chilli? You could have given Nate anything, found him an apprenticeship, kept him away from the club and the criminal underworld. But instead you got him to do your dirty work. You used him.”

Chilli bolted forward. His solicitor shot a guarded hand to his arm.

“Careful Chilli,” Pemberton said, belligerently. He glanced at the clock. The tension in the room was mounting. Pemberton’s frustration grew by the second. “I’ve been speaking to you now for thirty-five minutes, Chilli,” he finally said. “My colleague interviewed you before, for over an hour. You won’t talk about DCI Lavery. Why?”

Chilli’s stare was accompanied by thick silence.

“Okay, let’s talk about Dean Fitzpatrick.”

“Get Fitzpatrick in here,” Chilli suddenly said.

Pemberton continued to return his stare. He allowed the silence to hang in the air for a moment before he responded, “Not possible.” He shook his head, began gathering his papers.

“Get Inspector Fitzpatrick in here now!” Chilli’s hand thumped the table in front of him. A biro scattered off the table, hit the floor and rolled in circles.

Pemberton watched it a moment, then stared back at Chilli. “Not possible. Unless you can raise him from the grave?”

A tick formed beneath Chilli’s eye as comprehension spread slowly across his face.

“We know about Dean Fitzpatrick, too. We found your black book in the safe at Black Cats. The book containing coded details of all your debtors. We know he was into you for over £70,000. What was it, gambling debts?”

Chilli shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on, Chilli. If you’re gonna use codes, you need to be a bit more cryptic. Breaking those was child’s play.”

Chilli’s eye twitched again.

Pemberton stood. “You can’t wield the power in those codes anymore, Chilli. The inspector isn’t here to mask your dirty secrets. And neither is Nate.” He bent forward, squared his hands on the table. “You’re finished.”