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Author:
Genre:
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Ken
Orford
Crime
15 |
At that point, one of his mates from uniform came in.
“Christ Terry, you look bloody awful! You okay?”
“Yeah, just a bad sandwich at lunchtime, I think.”
He wiped
his face. “Think I’ll be okay.”
When he got to his desk, Rupi stared at him:
“You’re white as a sheet, Terry. Is everything
alright?”
Terry gave her the same answer he’d given Sergeant Harris in
the
gents. Rupi suggested he go home, but right now that was the last place
he wanted to be. He needed to think. After a few minutes JJ came out of
her office and said for Terry to grab his car keys, and
they’d go
to the other club and see what else they could find.
Before Terry could answer, Rupi told JJ she didn’t think
Terry
was up to it, explaining he’d just brought up his lunch. JJ
was
sympathetic, told him to go home and she’d see him in the
morning
if he felt okay. Then she turned to Rupi:
“Come on, you can ride shotgun!” And with that, the
two
women officers smiled sympathetically at him, wished him well, and left.
Terry Jackson stared at the screen and at the list of numbers that had
shattered his life. He then picked up his desk phone, and dialled the
number that was next to Claire’s crossed out mobile number.
He
made sure his originating number was turned off, so the recipient
wouldn’t know who it had come from. He held his breath,
willing
it to be a man’s voice that answered. But he recognised the
woman’s voice and the hesitant “Hello”
that answered
the call. Rather than just hang up on his wife, or let her know who he
was, he put on his best Geordie accent, and asked if Dave was there.
He could feel and hear the relief in Claire’s hesitant voice
as
she told him it was a wrong number, and hung up on him. So, Claire had
a phone that had presumably been given to her by Alex Cramer, so he
could contact her. Jackson hung around the office in thought until he
was pretty sure Claire would be in bed. He knew he couldn’t
face
her at the moment. His face, his mannerisms, his eyes would give him
away. He went home feeling like he was dragging the shattered fragments
of his world around in a carrier bag. It all seemed worthless now. He
got home and she was asleep, he undressed as quietly as he could,
putting his muddy trousers into a bag to take to the cleaners.
Sergeant’s have got to be smart – in both senses of
the
word.
The slamming of the front door the next morning, the lingering of her
perfume, and those words:
““Don’t forget, use my mobile number to
call
me!”
that had triggered his review of the past twenty-four hours hung
heavily on his whole being. He rang the station and told them
he’d be in later. He had to think. His thoughts during a
fitful
nights sleep had been disjointed and panicky. He needed to apply some
clear, disciplined thinking if he was to get to the bottom of this
bloody mess.
He poured himself some fresh coffee, and thought about
Claire’s
change in behaviour. That seemed to be the key. She had gone from
loving wife, and a wannabe mother-to-be to a distant, hesitant woman.
He wracked his brains for when he’d first noticed the change.
There was a Friday a couple of weeks ago that it seemed to have
started. She’d been fine all week. Well, not quite as bubbly
as
she had been maybe, but okay. Then on that Friday she’d said
she
was tired, and gone to bed early. They’d hardly spoken that
weekend, and had only made love since then when he’d
initiated it
– and even then she’d been hesitant. He’d
put it all
down to nerves about a family, but now he knew, there was definitely
more.
He thought about that week. He looked on the calendar in the kitchen
– nothing exceptional at all, a routine week. Then he noticed
the
previous Saturday. Big red letters. “Claire’s Night
Out
(Sophie)”. She’d been out on the town with her best
friend
and some other girl friends. She hadn’t come home until
Sunday
morning, but that was usually the case – she almost always
stayed
over at Sophie’s when they went out. He dredged up the
memories
of that Sunday. She’d been quiet – not surprising
really as
she had admitted to getting completely trolleyed. He remembered her
hugging him, smiling and saying:
“Well, once I’m carrying our firstborn
I’ll have to
lay off the booze, so I thought I’d go for it!”
So she was still okay then, though she had said she was a bit worried
because she couldn’t even remember Sophie getting them home.
So
something had happened between the Sunday, when she’d been
okay
but just hung over, and Friday, when things had started to go
pear-shaped.
He needed to talk to Sophie – preferably without Claire
knowing.
He needed to find out where they had gone that Saturday night. Though
he was at this point willing to lay money that it was either
“Sub
Zero” or “Kas-Bar” – Alex
Cramer’s two
clubs. He looked at the list of mobiles and decided to try them all. He
started with the ones immediately before and after Claire’s.
The first phone was answered by a strong Brummie accent. Terry asked
for Dave again, and the call ended quickly. It was unmistakeably Sophie
that answered the second one. Geordie Terry asked for the fictitious
Dave and once again, the call ended. So Sophie was in this too. For
some reason Terry felt relieved at this. Somehow he felt it
wasn’t just him that was being betrayed. Patrick,
Sophie’s
long term partner, was in the same boat as he was – and he
probably had no idea.
He rang Sophie and Patrick’s place. Sophie was a nurse and
worked
shifts, and Pat had his own high profile consulting company, that did a
lot of work for the council. He sometimes worked at home, so there was
a chance someone would be there. Sophie answered the phone and Terry
cheerily asked if Pat was there.
“Sorry, he had to go in and do a presentation today.
He’ll
be back about five-ish I guess.”
“No problem. Just thought he might fancy nine holes this
afternoon.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway, how are you?”
“Oh okay.” Sophie sounded cagey. “Look I
must run
– sorry. Say ‘Hi’ to Claire for
me.” And she
was gone. But her voice had triggered something else in his mind.
He’d heard it yesterday at the club. The woman’s
voice
– she was leaving out of the back when he and JJ had come in
at
the front. What had Shifty said? They’d had a private
corporate
booking, and he had laid on a couple of girls to entertain the clients.
He had a very bad feeling about who the other girl had been.
Terry planned out the afternoon in his head. First he’d drop
his
trousers off at the dry cleaners, then he’d catch up at the
station, and after that he would go and pay Sophie a visit. Depending
on what he learned from her, he’d confront Claire. He drove
into
the car park at the station as JJ and Rupi were getting out of
Rupi’s car. As he got out of his car he noticed the carrier
bag
with his trousers in still in the back. He cursed his memory and the
return of “Jackass Jackson” and turned to the two
women
detectives. He asked them if they’d learned anything from
Alex’s ex wife. Rupi dived in before her boss with a response.
“Nothing we didn’t already know. She says she was
home
alone with her son, who was in bed. She knows she’s not
getting
anything, and she says Cramer took great pleasure in telling her that
their son’s money was locked tight until he was eighteen. So
no
real motive.”
“Apart from hate,” added JJ.
Terry smiled to himself:
“Hmm, Cut-throat Bitch still has a bit to learn about
JJ.”
JJ then asked Terry how he was feeling, commenting on how bad
he’d looked last night. Terry said he’d been
feeling a bit
better though he did have a late start because of it this morning. JJ
was sympathetic and asked if he’d found anything yet. He
shook
his head and said he’d come in to the station to check on the
phone numbers and to see if any of the neighbours that uniform had been
talking to knew or saw anything. His first stop was Sergeant Harris,
whose first comment was to say how much better Terry looked than the
last time he’d seen him.
Jackson got down to business and asked about how the questioning of the
neighbours went.
“Well, the chap next door but one said that they’d
seen a
blue Peugeot in the drive when they’d taken the dog for a
walk.
Wasn’t sure of the model but thought it was a 208 or 307,
something like that.
He gave the Sarge the list of numbers, minus Claire’s two and
Sophie’s and asked him to find out what he could. He then
left to
go and see Sophie. His stomach was still churning and he had that tight
feeling across his chest. He had hardly eaten anything, fearing that it
might reappear in a similar fashion to yesterday’s lunch.
Before he left, a thought flashed through his mind. He decided to try
something. He got out his mobile, flicked through the
“C’s” until he found “Claire
Work”, and
hit dial. The receptionist answered after only one ring, and he asked
for Mrs. Jackson.
“Hold on a moment please. I’ll just check if
she’s in
this afternoon. She went part-time last week, and I can’t
remember which afternoons she’s in.”
Terry felt the nausea rising in his throat, and another body blow had
been dealt to their relationship. His head was spinning again. What he
hell was going on? His racing thoughts were dragged back to earth when
he heard ringing and Claire’s voice. He hung up. He wished he
could just go out, get blind drunk and crawl under a stone and never
come out. It felt like his life was over. Well, that explains why she
wanted me to use her mobile. She’d wouldn’t be
there for
– how many? – one, two, three afternoons a week? It
was
getting worse the more he dug.
Ten minutes later, he was sitting outside Pat and Sophie’s
place,
staring in disbelief. Parked outside was a blue Peugeot 308.
Coincidence maybe – but surely it was no coincidence that the
mud
splashes all along the side matched those on his and Rupi’s
cars.
The nausea that had subsided as he drove was rising again. No, no, no.
Claire and Sophie had gone out two nights ago. He’d wanted to
talk to her, but it had been late when she’d got back. Well,
things were progressing – he’d found out who
Cramer’s
visitors had been.
He rang the bell, Sophie opened it with a smile, and as soon as she saw
who it was, Terry saw the panic reflected in her eyes.
“Oh, hi Terry, sorry, Pat’s still not
back.”
“I’ve not come to see Pat. It’s you I
need to talk
to.”
“It’ll have to wait, I’m, err, just off
to
work.”
“Work’ll have to wait. We have to talk.”
He pushed
past her down the hall, and into the kitchen.
“Come on, come and sit down.”
“Look I’ve told you I’ve got to
go.”
“If you have, then I’ll ring them and tell them
you’re helping the police with their enquiries, and
you’ll
be a bit late.”
Sophie sat down, biting her lip and frowning. Terry smiled:
“Sophie, I know some of what’s going on. About you
and
Claire, and Alex Cramer. But I don’t know everything, so why
don’t you start at the beginning and fill me in.
The tears started to trickle, and they soon became heavy sobs. Terry
grabbed some kitchen towel, and poured her a glass of water. He let her
cry a little longer, then slowly encouraged her. She started to babble
about how it was all her fault, and Claire had warned them about the
guys, but she’d said it was only a laugh, and…
“Woah, slow up. What guys? Where? When?”
Sophie blew her nose and took a large drink of the water. She gathered
her thoughts and started to tell the story:
“It was at Sub Zero, the Saturday we went out a few weeks
back.
We were having a great time. Claire was really on form, she was so
pleased that you’d decided to have a family and was
determined
that she’d get drunk because she knew she wouldn’t
be able
to for much longer. She kept going on about how she’d be
pregnant
in no time because you two had been at it all the time since
you’d made the decision.”
Terry smiled, thinking back to those few weeks. Sophie went on:
“We’d had guys buying us drinks all night, but
these blokes
came along and were giving us champagne. They seemed really nice. By
this time there was just me, Claire and my friend Kate. Well, the guys
said they could get us into a VIP room, Kate and I were all for it, but
Claire didn’t want to. She still had some common sense.
That’s when I said it would be fun, and I dragged her with
me.
Well it’s all a bit of a blur after that. I remember loads of
drinks and I remember sitting on some guys knee, and Kate dancing round
lifting her top. And one of the guys had a camera. Everyone was
cheering and laughing and we were all having a great time.”
“If Kate was dancing around and you were on some
guy’s
knee, what was my … Claire doing?”
“I really don’t remember too well, she was dancing
with one
of the blokes. He was really dishy, but …” and the
tears
started to flow again. Terry had learned a lot about these situations
from JJ, he knew that Sophie wanted to tell him, and wanted him to
know, so he just spoke softly to her and encouraged her to take her
time. He got her more water and more kitchen towel, and Sophie gathered
her thoughts and continued.
“Well, something happened and the whole thing stopped. I
don’t remember any of it, neither does Claire or Kate. The
next
morning we all woke up and we couldn’t remember anything
after
about the first ten minutes in the VIP room. We assumed the champagne
had just gone to our heads. None of us can even remember how we got
home.”
More sobs came and through them Terry could make out the words
“found out later”, “drugged”
and
“photographs”. It was all starting to fit into
place.
“When did you find out they’d given you
Rohypnol?”
“It was the next Friday. I got a call from a man who said he
wanted to see the three of us. He said he had some interesting photos
of what we’d been up to in his club. When the two of us got
there, he knew our names and everything. They’d
obviously
been through our bags at the club. He showed us the photographs. Oh
Terry it was horrible. You could see we were all drunk, but there we
were…”
Half of Terry wanted to know what was in the photographs. How bad were
they? The other half just wanted to go to that stone and crawl under
it. At the back of his mind was the thought that she was drugged. But
it didn’t stop that nauseous feeling, and the desire to throw
up.
This time it was Terry that grabbed the glass and drank the water.
Terry asked her if she knew why Kate hadn’t been asked to go
along. She said that Alex had said something about her not being the
kind of woman he wanted. Terry had met Kate once, and he knew she could
be a bit coarse.
Sophie sat there quietly sobbing with her head in her hands, and Terry
could start to feel his mood changing. The pain in his chest was still
there, the feeling that his guts had been ripped out too. But now they
had been joined by something else – a growing anger. The
worst
thing was he wasn’t quite sure who he was most angry with.
Sophie
and Kate for leading Claire astray. Claire for actually going with them
and not walking away. The guys who had set her up, or Cramer. Yes, the
girls were to blame, for being stupid and naive if nothing else
–
but he knew right there and then that if he could find out who the
slimeballs were that had drugged his wife and her friends, then he
would take the law into his own hands.
In that instant, it was crystal clear to him too, why cops are always
taken off cases they are potentially involved with. He knew he could
lose his job if he didn’t get control of himself. But anger
is a
powerful emotion. His mind was brought back to Sophie’s
kitchen
as she started to talk again:
“Alex was all smooth and reasonable. He just said that the
photographs of our ‘indiscretions’ –
that’s
what he called them – ‘indiscretions’
– oh God,
I know what Pat would call it. He said that they would remain just
between us if we helped him. And he said he would pay us for helping
him. He said how reasonable he was, and how well we’d be
paid.”
Terry knew exactly where this was going. He wanted to ask Sophie some
direct questions, but was scared to death of the answers. But in the
end, she continued, so as tutored by JJ, he just let her talk,
interspersed with gentle sobs.
“He said he liked us, because we were classy, nice women. He
said
all he wanted us to do was to come along one, maybe two afternoons a
week and look after some clients. I remember Claire was crying when he
said this. Alex told her not to worry, it would be okay, and she would
probably actually get to enjoy it. Lots of attention from men. He said
he didn’t want us to do lap dances or strip or anything. He
had
plenty of girls that could do that. No, we’d be hostesses,
looking after them, and yes, there may be the odd grope or something
and some guys might want a few ‘extras’…
that’s what he called it –
‘extras’….
but he said we’d be well paid for it. Very well paid. Claire
said
that we’d go and get a blood test, and that would show
we’d
been drugged. She said that Rohypnol is detectable for ages. Alex had
raised his eyebrows and said that was very good and that she was right,
but six days was more than enough for no trace to be found.”
The sobs that had interspersed her story started to get louder, and she
broke down again. Terry gently stroked her shoulder, and reassured her.
With tears filling her reddening eyes, she looked at Terry:
“What am I going to tell Pat? He’ll kill
me.”
Terry smiled and shook his head:
“No, if he wasn’t already dead then I suspect Alex
Cramer
would find a seven iron embedded in his skull. Pat won’t kill
you.”
He smiled, but the anger that was growing in him, the desire to strike
out and seriously hurt someone was getting unbearable. He forced it
down, and regained a bit of control:
“So, let me guess… he gave you some phones for him
to
contact you with. So how many times have you been … you know
… contacted.”
“He told us it would only be a couple of times a week. He
wanted
us to work together so he asked when my shifts were, and he told Claire
she had to be available on those days. He said he’d try to
give
us notice, but if he wanted us there then we’d better show
up.”
“So, how many times then?”
“He rang Claire last Friday, and told her he wanted to see
her on
Wednesday - at his house because he wanted to talk to her. That was the
first contact we’d had. He said we had to be at Sub Zero on
Thursday at twelve. He told us not to worry about clothes,
he’d
arrange for all that.”
“So yesterday was the first?”
“Yes. It was okay. Nothing happened. We just talked, gave out
drinks, made sure everyone was okay. I didn’t even get felt
up.
Shifty paid us a hundred and fifty quid each.”
“Clever,” thought Terry to himself, “very
clever. New
girls, worried about everything. First couple of times nothing happens.
Easy money. Then it’s a bit of roaming hands, still pretty
harmless. Then some heavy groping, then on the fifth or sixth time
they’re in a back room and someone’s got them on
their
backs with their dress pushed up round their waist.”
Terry shivered at that image of Claire that thankfully would never now
happen. Well, apart from the Rohypnol induced time three weeks
ago… The rage started to rise, competing with the empty
feeling
in the pit of his stomach. He snapped back to here and now.
“Okay, tell me about Wednesday night.”
Sophie was slowly regaining her composure, and showing some signs of
increasing confidence that Terry would help her sort the mess out.
“Well, Alex only wanted to see Claire, but she said she
wanted me
along. I think she thought Alex … you know …
wanted
…”
“Yeah, I know… go on.”
“Well he said he just wanted to talk, but if she wanted me
there
too, then that wasn’t a problem. Well, we went in my car and
got
to his place just after eight. He told us off for being late. He got us
a drink, we both had a G and T, and he had this big wine glass and was
demolishing a bottle of red.”
Sophie took a gulp of water. Until that point she’d been
looking
down as she talked, now she looked up into Terry’s eyes. To
him.
her eyes looked a strange mixture of sadness and relief. He smiled with
a reassuring nod. One thing was for sure – either she was a
liar
that would have fooled the KGB, or this was the truth.
“He asked how we were looking forward to the next afternoon,
our
first ‘appointment’. He told us they were nice guys
and he
was sure they’d respect us and that we’d have fun
and earn
some good money.”
Terry wanted to ask if it had been good fun, but that side of things
could come later. Right now he was Detective Sergeant Terry Jackson,
plain old Terry Jackson (husband) would come later. That’s
when
those questions would be asked.
“Well, he waffled on about his businesses, and
about how
successful they were. God he liked the sound of his own voice. And then
all of a sudden, he turned to Claire and said ‘Well, Mrs
Jackson,
I’ve been doing some research on my two newest recruits, and
guess who Mr Jackson is. Or should I say Sergeant Jackson?’
He
smiled at her, a really horrible smile and said something about a deal.
He said he’d cancel our contracts working the
‘afternoon
shift’ as he said, providing Claire could get him
information.
Well they had this discussion that went on for ages. Claire was saying
she couldn’t get information from you, he was saying
there’s always a way, and how it would make our lives easier.
In
the end, after what seemed like hours, he said for us to think about it
and we’d talk again after the entertainment the next
day.”
“So, what happened then?”
“Mmm, nothing really. We took our glasses into the kitchen on
the
way out, and left.”
“What did you do with the glasses?”
“Well your bloody Mrs Prim and Proper wife bloody washed
‘em up! Alex said the cleaner’d do it. But I guess
old
habits and all that.”
Terry asked her what time it was when they left, and she told him it
was before ten, probably about quarter to. Then he asked her if
they’d noticed anything unusual about Alex.
“Hard to say. Remember this was only the second time
we’d
met him. But he seemed okay. He did look at his watch a couple of times
when he was talking to, well arguing with Claire. You know, like he was
expecting someone else.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“No, but as we were leaving some twat drove past us and
splashed
mud all over my car. I think they may have gone into Alex’s
drive. But I wasn’t paying attention. Claire was upset, and I
was
driving. It’s dark and bumpy in that road, you
know.”
“Yeah, I know,” and he thought back to his muddy
trousers
the previous day. He then took a deep breath:
“Listen, you’ve been brilliant. Do you want me to
stay
‘til Pat gets here?”
“No, I think it’d be better if I did it
alone.”
“Okay, but if you want, you can both come round tonight. Then
tomorrow, you’ll have to come and make a formal statement.
Bring
Pat with you for support. Okay?”
“Yeah. Oh Terry!” and she jumped up as the sobs
started
again. She hugged him and he held her until she calmed down. All the
time he was thinking he’d have to go through all this again,
and
next time it would be worse.
He checked the time, and he was pretty sure Claire would be home. He
wanted to go and get it over with. But something Sophie had said
triggered a thought and he needed to check something first. Something
that was almost as hard to comprehend as his wife becoming a call girl.
He drove to the station half in a daze, his head spinning with what
he’d learned and what he suspected. He had a brief chat with
Sergeant Harris, then stopped off at one of the other departments,
finally he arrived at his desk. Rupi said “Hi” and
asked
him where he’d been and if he had any luck. He wanted JJ to
be
the first he told about his wife and Sophie’s involvement, so
he
fobbed her off with a “not really”. He took a deep
breath
and went into his boss’s office. He closed the door and sat
down.
She asked how he was, saying he looked much better.
“Yeah, well I’m not sure I feel it.” He
paused, JJ
was a master at using silence, and said nothing.
“I found out who the two women were at Cramer’s
place the
night of the murder.”
JJ’s eyes lit up and she congratulated him. He looked at her
and
slowly, methodically he related Sophie and Claire’s story,
omitting their names. He started with the night out and went through to
their leaving Alex’s house two days ago. Then, he dropped his
first bombshell by telling her one of the women was his wife.
It was the first time in the two years he’d known her that
she
was stuck for words. Twice she started to say something and stopped.
Finally, Terry let her off the hook by asking her if she’d
mind
taking their statements tomorrow. He continued:
“I think I know who did it. But I know I’ll be off
the case
in the next sixty seconds, and besides I want to talk to Claire. She
doesn’t know I know. She must have been living though hell
for
the past two weeks. So can you pursue a couple of things for
me?”
The question was rhetorical so he continued to relate to her what
he’d asked the Sergeant to do, and he gave her a piece of
paper
with a list of suggestions. JJ read it and listened
carefully,
shaking her head. When they’d finished, she stood up, she
didn’t even reach his shoulders, and she shocked him
completely
by putting her arms around him and telling him to go and see Claire,
and not to worry, and she’d see him tomorrow.
When you’re as in love with someone as Claire was with her
husband, you can detect tiny changes. As soon as Terry walked in the
front door, Claire knew. She could see in his eyes that he knew. The
bottom fell out of her world in that instant. Terry went to hold her,
to reassure her but she’d fled upstairs and when he got there
she
was lying on the bed, face down, sobbing into the pillow. He
couldn’t make out many of the words, but they sounded similar
to
the ones he been listening to all afternoon.
He lay down next to her, stroked her, told her it was going to be
alright, and waited far an age, until the sobbing eased off. He then
turned her round to face him and smiled.
“It’s going to be okay now. Sophie’s told
me most of
it – there’s no hurry, but I want you to tell me
too.”
She babbled on about how could he ever forgive her, how she’d
been a fool, and she should have come and told her, but she was afraid
he’d lose his job. He let her talk on until she’d
calmed
down, the got her to recount the story. It matched Sophie’s
– apart from she didn’t mention the other car as
they’d left Cramer’s place. But Sophie had said
she’d
been upset. At the end of it she shocked him by asking a question.
“Don’t you want to know?”
“Know what?”
“What happened … what was in the
photographs.”
Terry’s mind was in turmoil. Half of him wanted to know, the
other half wanted to forget it all. He made a decision.
“I know you were drugged, so it doesn’t
matter.”
“It does matter, remember I’d come off the
pill.”
Terry wanted to throw up again, and his eyes gave him away. But it was
her turn to smile.
“It’s okay. We were saved by Kate.”
“Kate? Why? What did she do?”
“I overheard two of the guys on the Friday we went to the
club.
It was while we were waiting for that asshole to talk to us. Well, the
photographs were pretty bad, and there’s no doubt in my mind
what
would have happened … and we wouldn’t have
remembered a
thing. I think Kate had no clothes on at all and Sophie and
me…
well, let’s say we were pretty much in a similar state, and
some
of the guys were undressed too. But then it seems Kate threw up. And
from what these guys said it was like ... massive. Apparently
two
of the guys were covered. So Shifty just told them that they had enough
on film and to get us home before it got worse.”
Terry hugged her, and she was worried as she felt his body shaking.
“Are you okay?”
But he couldn’t speak. The laughter was a mixture
of relief
and a picture of a bunch of semi naked, aroused thugs covered in puke.
“Will you arrest them?”
Terry calmed down.
“Oh I won’t be allowed anywhere near them. I think
everyone
knows what would happen if I was left in the same room as them. I
really would lose my job. And I actually think it might be worth
it!”
“They will be caught won’t they?”
“Depends on the photos really. We need them as a minimum.
Even
so, a conviction would be tough … but I think something
might
happen.”
At that point the phone rang. It was Sophie. Terry let the girls talk
for while until she shouted him back.
“We want to go out, get some food and go somewhere loud, and
busy
where we can just get our minds off this.”
So they settled on the new comedy club that had opened in town. As
Claire and Terry waited for Pat and Sophie outside, Terry looked across
the road to “Sub Zero” where there was a small
queue
waiting to get in. He noticed Claire didn’t look at it but
faced
firmly in the other direction. Terry caught sight of three well dressed
late twenty somethings and smiled to himself. Then Pat and Sophie
arrived and they all hugged each other’s partners and set
about
having some fun, for the first time in weeks.
It was eleven the next morning when they arrived at the station. To
Claire, Terry seemed quite edgy, anxious. JJ met them and explained
that the two women would be interviewed separately, but she’d
do
them both, along with another female detective.
“Will that be the new one that works with you and Terry?
Rupi?” asked Claire.
“No, Rupi’s doing another interview at the
moment,”
and JJ gave the merest hint of a nod to Terry. If you hadn’t
been
looking closely, you wouldn’t have seen it. Then she turned
to
face Terry:
“And you have to be interviewed by the Internal Investigation
Team that I called in last night.”
It was late afternoon by the time the two women and Terry had all
finished and signed their statements. Terry was the last to finish, and
had been cautioned about concealing information, the telephone numbers,
but given what was happening elsewhere in the station, that was highly
unlikely to amount to anything. JJ was waiting for him, and took him
into an interview room.
“Well it looks like you were right, but we’re not
sure we
can make a murder charge stick. But her police career is over, and
she’ll certainly do some time. The car was definitely a gift
from
Cramer. And we found a bank account in her mother’s name, at
her
mother’s address with some substantial payments. But
it’s
obvious it wasn’t the money that motivated her. She wanted
the
kudos, and the recognition of the arrests. Cramer fed her information
about his rivals and she set up the arrests. She also obviously fed him
information too. Look at that hot tip off and the failed raid at the
warehouse. She tipped him off.”
“Christ, she really is a Cut-Throat-Bitch! What about the
mud,
did that come through?”
“Yes, the mud on your trousers matched that from
Cramer’s
road. Good job you forgot to get them dry cleaned. And yes,
you’re right it puts her there before the murder, but
it’s
pretty loose and a good lawyer would drive a tank through it. We need
something that links her to the doctored bottle of wine.
We’ll
keep looking – for antifreeze that matches, or a syringe or
something.”
“Yeah, you can picture the scene. She calls him using the
mobile
he gave her. What time was it? About seven? Says she’s got
some
info and wants to see him. She uses a syringe to extract some of the
wine through the cork, replaces it with Ethylene Glycol –
she’d need to do about a hundred cc – using a
syringe
again. She goes to see him, splashing her car with mud as she arrives.
Mud that I get on my trousers the next morning as I squeeze between the
cars. She brings the expensive wine as a gift, they talk a bit of
bullshit business – she probably made up some raid or
investigation or something, knowing he’d never find out the
truth. He keels over and she leaves, cleaning the glasses and bottle
– I bet she put his fingerprints on the bottle too.”
“Yes, she did – and by the way, your wife and her
friend’s prints are only on the two other glasses. Come on,
when
did you think it was Rupi?”
“Well, firstly it pointed to a woman, like you said. Claire,
Sophie and his ex were off the hook. The cleaner? No, don’t
think
so. So, who else? Then we struggled with motive. We’d
discussed
someone being disgruntled with him from a business perspective
–
and that turned out to be it. He’d served his purpose for
Rupi
– she was well on her way in the express lane for promotion.
She
needed him out of the way.”
JJ looked at him. He was definitely worth his promotion. Even when
under huge personal pressure that many would have cracked under, he
kept thinking logically.
“Oh by the way, three young ladies were taken into a private
room
and administered Flunitrazepam last night. Shame they were three young
ladies from drugs and vice. Five men your wife may recognise were
arrested for all kinds of things. Attempted rape, sexual assault
– they won’t be pulling that stunt again for a
while. Well
done – I’ll make sure you get some
credit.”
“I can honestly say that really was a pleasure. But
you’d
still better keep them away from me.”
“Well done Sergeant. Listen, why don’t you and
Claire go
away for a few days. Have the time off on me. After all, I suspect
you’ll be needing all the leave you have in nine months or
so.”
Acknowledgements:
Thanks to Dawn
Reed and Matt Orford of LGC Forensics for their help and information
about the properties and effects of Ethylene Glycol and Flunitrazepam
(Rohypnol).
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©
Ken Orford, 2008
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