The Darkness Within, page 23
‘So even though you were a politician – a man in a position of power and able to help people – you decided to keep quiet about serial child abuse?’ Molly was trying not to raise her voice. Sims was old and this had happened years ago. But that didn’t excuse any of it. ‘You could have stopped it.’
The dog was looking up at her, its watery eyes blinking in confusion at the sound of a raised voice. Sims sat there in silence, knowing there was nothing he could say. It was Jon who spoke. ‘Mr Sims, you have to tell us what you know. It isn’t too late to do the right thing.’ He leant his elbows on the table again, looking directly at Sims. ‘You said you wanted the truth to come out. Well, this is your chance.’
The dog was doing its bark/whimper thing again. Sims shooed it away with his hand. ‘What could I do? I was one man. And a junior minister. I didn’t have any political clout. If I’d made this public, I’d have been destroyed. These kinds of things went on all the time back then. As I said to you – it was a different era.’
But Molly still wasn’t buying it. He had covered up a crime, which was a crime itself. If Jon hadn’t been there, she might have arrested Sims. She still might, as she was sure he was holding back the truth from them.
‘But you do know the names of some of the men involved in the gang?’ Molly asked, refusing to let him off the hook entirely. ‘There was a judge. The boys called him “Judge Dredd”, like the comic book character.’
‘Most of the men involved will be dead now. Or very old. Too old to face justice for what they did.’
‘Mr Sims, Magda Kilbride is dead – she’s been murdered. It’s possible that whoever did it could be targeting anyone involved in the original cover-up.’ She looked at him. ‘For your own safety, I’d advise you to tell us what you know. You could still help to get justice for these boys. Boys who are damaged men now.’
‘I only met him once. The judge. He was introduced to me by a mutual acquaintance.’
‘What was his name?’ Molly demanded.
The dog had returned and somehow managed to clamber onto Sims’s lap, where Sims patted it affectionately. ‘I don’t want it to get out that it was me that told you. The man in question is still alive. There may be repercussions from his family.’
‘Mr Sims, if we believe you have information about a crime and refuse to assist us with our questions, I can have you arrested and formally questioned in a police station. In which case, I couldn’t guarantee the press not finding out and the whole sorry tale becoming public knowledge. If you think things were bad for you thirty years ago, they will be a lot worse this time. Are you really willing to go down that route?’
Sims played with the dog for a while, stroking its neck and rubbing its muzzle while the dog made happy sighing noises. Sims was clearly chewing things over in his head, weighing up his options before realising he probably didn’t have any.
‘Boswell,’ he said eventually. ‘The judge’s name was Grayson Boswell.’
Finally Molly felt they were getting somewhere.
Chapter Forty-Four
The atmosphere in the room was electric, like a thunderstorm was about to burst from the sky. Kane sat opposite Denning and McKenna, his solicitor on his left. McKenna clearly wasn’t happy. And neither was Kane, though he was doing a first-rate job of pretending otherwise. The only person who didn’t seem bothered by it all was Kane’s solicitor.
‘These are very tenuous reasons for asking my client to come down here today,’ she said, eyes darting between Denning and McKenna. ‘Luckily for you, he is more than happy to help the police in any way he can.’ She paused and looked directly at Denning. ‘However, your grounds for bringing him in are highly questionable, and we will be raising the matter with your superiors.’
The last comment was directed at both of them, though the solicitor had now turned her gaze towards McKenna. McKenna was twiddling a pen between her fingers and saying very little. This was never a good sign.
‘Mr Kane doesn’t deny having once owned the West End Arcade,’ the solicitor continued, ‘nor having employed Gordon Lomax to run it. But he insists he had no knowledge of what went on there, and you have no evidence to prove he did. Additionally, he denies ever knowing former DCI Frank Buckfield, and certainly played no part in his murder, nor that of Magda Kilbride, whom he had also never met.’
‘We have evidence that links you to Buckfield,’ Denning insisted. He pointed to a photocopy of Gordon Lomax’s statement.
‘A pack of lies written by Gordon Lomax, who – as I have already made clear to you – my client had cause to dismiss from his employ for theft. I would suggest that Mr Lomax has some kind of axe to grind and has been presented with an opportunity to do precisely that.’ The solicitor sat with her arms on the table. Kane looked cool under pressure; too cool. There was something about his demeanour that told Denning he knew he was going to get away with this, and Denning began to feel that maybe he had a point.
Denning could sense McKenna wanting to bring the interview to a close. There was an iciness emanating from her that lowered the temperature in the room. She wouldn’t give him eye contact.
They had the written statement by Lomax, which Denning had initially thought was dynamite, but McKenna had wanted Lomax to be formally interviewed before they hauled Kane in to confront him with Lomax’s accusations. ‘He’ll be well prepared,’ she’d argued. ‘We need to make damn sure we are too.’
He’d thought they had been. He was certain they had enough to nail Kane, and at least make him sweat. Now, however, he’d allowed doubts to creep in and rock that certainty.
‘We know you had dealings with DCI Buckfield,’ Denning said. ‘We have good reason to believe that you were bribing him to provide you with information about any police operations that may impact on your business interests. We also believe former DCI Buckfield was about to reveal all this – and more besides – placing you in a very difficult position. This gives you a strong motive for his murder.’
Denning had wanted more. CCTV from outside Buckfield’s flat had so far failed to show anything, and the post-mortem report on Magda Kilbride had failed to show up anything significant, either: no DNA had been found on the masking tape, and the only wound was the one to her throat. Her phone still hadn’t been found.
Kane had willingly surrendered his phone, saying he was happy for them to check his calls and texts, but Denning didn’t honestly believe they’d find anything incriminating on it.
‘And you don’t deny owning the arcade where Gordon Lomax procured teenage boys,’ Denning continued. ‘That links you to the story Magda Kilbride was working on.’
Kane smiled. He slipped a sly wink in the direction of his solicitor. It was brief enough to be almost imperceptible, but Denning had noticed it out of the corner of his eye. ‘I certainly owned the arcade,’ Kane said, fixing Denning with his smile. ‘Gordon ran it for me, and for the most part did a good job – until I found him with his hand in the till. However, I was totally in the dark as to what went on there. Gordon was paid to run the place. I acquired the property as part of a portfolio of properties from a former employer who needed to raise capital quickly. It was in a good location and a profitable business, but my ambitions took me in a different direction. If I’d known it was used for something like that…’ He screwed his face up in an exaggerated display of disgust. ‘Well, I would have had it closed down immediately.’ Kane sat back on his chair. He was dressed in a dark brown leather jacket, with a Kenzo black woollen pullover underneath. The scent of his designer aftershave lingered in the airless room. ‘I really would like to help you all I can, but I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can tell you.’
He was good. Denning couldn’t deny Kane knew how to handle himself under pressure. But he’d had practice. It was becoming obvious they weren’t going to make progress and Denning was aware of the clock ticking and McKenna’s patience wearing thin. They could only hold Kane for twenty-four hours. His lawyer was smart; she’d know how to play the system. And then there was McKenna. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a gnawing doubt that he’d called this one wrong. The evidence against Kane was circumstantial at best, and entirely dependent on Lomax’s written statement. He’d left a message for Lomax to get in touch, but there had been no reply. They were clutching at straws, and both Kane and his smart solicitor knew it.
Denning could feel a crick developing in his neck. He was about to request a break, to give him a chance to stretch his limbs and let him and McKenna plan a last-ditch plan of attack, when there was a knock at the door. McKenna paused the tape as a member of the MIT support staff stuck their head round the door and handed McKenna a sheet of paper with something written on it. She quickly scanned the paper, then flicked a withering look at Denning. He’d tried to read what was on the paper, but she’d been too quick for him.
‘OK, Mr Kane, you can go.’ McKenna’s voice was unsmiling.
The solicitor offered a curt nod of thanks in her direction.
‘Thank you,’ Kane said, smiling at McKenna. ‘If you think I can be of any further help, please don’t hesitate to contact my solicitor.’
As they stood up, his solicitor said, ‘I’m afraid we will be lodging an official complaint with DCS Harrison, as well as the deputy commissioner.’ With that, she led her client out of the interview room and into the corridor.
McKenna turned to face Denning as soon as they’d left the room. ‘Well, I’d call that a monumental fuck-up. What would you call it?’
‘Why did you terminate the interview?’
She handed Denning the piece of paper. He read it, then scrunched it up into a tight ball.
Lomax had withdrawn his statement. What little they had on Kane had just melted away to nothing, like snow on a red-hot griddle.
‘He’s guilty,’ Denning said. ‘Of something.’
‘Oh I don’t doubt he’s probably parked his Mercedes on a double yellow on the street outside, or nicked a bag of Jelly Babies from Woolies when he was kid, but I think we can safely assume that what he didn’t do was murder Frank Buckfield and Magda Kilbride.’
Denning wanted to argue; fight his corner and defend his decision to bring Kane in, which he still believed he’d been justified in doing, but there was no point. McKenna had clearly made her mind up. His first thought was to go straight round to see Gordon Lomax and throw the book him, but what would that achieve?
As they left the interview room, McKenna said: ‘I have a feeling in the pit of my spleen, that we haven’t heard the last of this.’
Predictably, she wasn’t wrong. Within an hour of returning to the MIT office, there was a phone call from Harrison to join him in his office immediately.
‘I’ve just had Kane’s solicitor on the phone.’ He was standing by the window. There was no suggestion of anyone sitting down. ‘What the hell’s going on? You were told not to go after Kane, and yet you did.’ He was looking at McKenna when he spoke, refusing to look at Denning. ‘Do you realise how this makes us look?’
‘We had evidence that suggested Kane may have been involved in the murders of Frank Buckfield and Magda Kilbride,’ McKenna said. ‘We had to act on that.’
‘Yet your “evidence” turned out to be nothing more substantial than a half-baked confession from a known criminal? That’s not how this works, Liz, and you know that. How long have you been a senior officer?’
Although Harrison’s ire was being directed at her, McKenna remained calm. Despite her faults, she would cover Denning’s back for as long as he let her. But he wasn’t afraid to fight his own battles. This was his fuck-up, and he was fully prepared to own it. ‘It was my decision, sir. I persuaded DCI McKenna to back me. I take full responsibility.’
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see McKenna shaking her head, but he ignored her. He told Harrison about his suspicions concerning Kane, especially in light of what Lomax had told him. ‘I feel we were justified in bringing Kane in for questioning.’
‘Up until your star witness got cold feet. Even if Lomax hadn’t withdrawn his statement, you can’t go after someone like Alfie Kane without strong grounds.’ He nodded at McKenna. ‘I’ll leave you to sort this mess out, Liz. I’ve made my feelings clear.’
The meeting was over.
As soon as they left his office, Denning turned to McKenna. ‘I appreciate I’ve put you in a difficult position.’
‘That has to be the understatement of the decade, Matt. You’ve really fucked this up.’
He wanted to fight back, but he didn’t have the strength to argue. This was an exercise in damage limitation, and he was the damage that had to be limited.
‘If that’s how you feel, then I think you’re making a mistake.’
‘Do you? Well, thanks for sharing that with me.’ They’d reached the lifts at the end of the corridor. McKenna jabbed the button with her thumb. ‘You were told to leave Lomax alone, but you chose to ignore that order. You now appear to be pursuing what looks like a personal vendetta against Alfie Kane, for reasons known to only yourself.’ She paused, sighed and shook her head. ‘Look, I’m very sorry, Matt, but I’m going to appoint Neeraj as SIO on the Buckfield and Kilbride investigations.’
She looked at him just as the lift doors opened. ‘You should be grateful we’re already an officer down, otherwise I would be suspending you.’
Chapter Forty-Five
Denning finished work early. There had been no point hanging around the office and making his humiliation complete. His team would have received the news by now and would be raking over its significance, trying to unpick the finer details. McKenna would have given them the bare bones, leaving their imaginations and idle gossip to flesh out the rest. He’d been with that particular MIT for less than a year and it had taken him that long to be accepted as part of the team, let alone to earn their respect as its leader; and now all that work was potentially compromised. First Molly is suspended, then he’s demoted. The team would certainly have enough to talk about.
Neeraj would have taken over as SIO by now. In all fairness, he deserved a break. He had been chasing promotion for some time, and had recently been turned down for a couple of inspector jobs, lack of experience being cited as the reason. Neeraj was a good detective, despite sometimes forgetting the subtleties that went with the job. But if Denning was being honest, he resented the fact Neeraj was getting his break at his expense.
He was in a quiet pub on the South Bank, not far from the former industrial monolith that was the Tate Modern, drinking a bottle of Italian lager and glancing at his watch every few seconds. He felt like he was on a date, nervous about being stood up. But he needn’t have been: he looked up to see Morrow striding towards him, carrying a glass and a bottle of mineral water. Morrow sat down at Denning’s table. ‘Matt, how’s things? Thought any more about joining me on the squash court sometime?’
Denning struggled to find a smile. ‘Yeah. I’d be up for that. It’s been a while since I’ve played, though.’ Rugby had been his game, though he hadn’t played it since school, when he’d been in the First XV.
Morrow opened the bottle of sparkling mineral water, and poured it into the glass.
The pub’s clientele mostly consisted of professionals from nearby offices making the most of a leisurely lunch break. There was a menu on the table, but Denning’s appetite had deserted him.
‘Emma tells me Sarah’s suggested we do dinner again.’ Morrow sat back in his chair and sipped his drink. ‘We’ve got quite a bit on at the moment, but next month sometime would be good.’
Denning nodded. He hadn’t asked Morrow to meet him because he wanted to spend the afternoon making small talk. But equally he couldn’t exactly just come out with it. He wanted to ask a favour, and that would take careful handling.
‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me. Sorry to drag you away from whatever it was you were in the middle of.’
Morrow smiled and shrugged. ‘Nothing that can’t wait. You said you wanted to chat.’
‘I’d appreciate it if we could keep things off the record.’
Morrow nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Well, it’s a bit awkward. I don’t like going behind people’s backs, but I have to talk to someone, and you seemed the obvious choice.’
‘Shoot.’
‘I have concerns about DCS Harrison.’
Morrow took another sip of his drink then cocked his head to one side. ‘In what way?’
‘I suspect he has links to Alfie Kane. Kane’s a former criminal who may have been involved in an armed robbery. I’m not suggesting Kane is in any way abusing this relationship, but I think this is something he should have disclosed before being appointed to the post of DCS. And I don’t trust him.’
There was a pause while Morrow digested this. ‘And none of this has anything to do with your recent run-in with him, Matt?’ He offered Denning another smile, although this one failed to reach his eyes. ‘I’ve just had a lengthy phone call with Ian and he mentioned the situation. This wasn’t in connection with you, incidentally, and he didn’t go into any details. I don’t know the ins and outs of it, and I don’t want to. It’s none of my business. But I’m sorry to hear you’ve got a problem with Ian. I can only once again reassure you that he’s a good officer. I know he’s got lots of ideas, and that can be unsettling for any organisation that’s, well, set in its ways I suppose.’ He placed his glass on the table and looked at Denning. ‘From what I hear he’s doing a good job.’
‘I’m not denying that.’ Denning was trying not to sound defensive. ‘I just have concerns about him. How much do you know about his background?’
‘I didn’t appoint Ian. I admit I recommended him, and I have always enjoyed a good working relationship with him. I can’t speak for this Alfie Kane character, but I can tell you Ian is very sociable. He likes to get to know people. Perhaps you’re reading too much into his relationship with this Kane.’
