Could It Be Him? (DI Sally Parker Book 13), page 14
“He’s making his way up the alley now.”
The three of them ran back downstairs and sprinted around the corner to the back of the property. Harper was leisurely walking towards them.
Sally smiled and showed her ID. “Going somewhere, were you, Mr Harper?”
“Fuck off, leave me alone. I knew this would happen. I’ve been out of the nick barely two days and already the coppers are knocking at my door.”
Sally held her hands up. “If you’ll give us a chance to explain why we’ve come to see you, all this can be over and done with in a couple of minutes.”
He folded his arms and leaned against the fence alongside him. “Go on then, let’s get this over with.”
“All we wanted to ask you is if you’d had any dealings with Bob Wallace when you were inside.”
“That tosser? No way. I was told to steer clear of him the day I arrived. I appreciated the warning. The guy gave me the sodding creeps.”
“Did anyone hang around with him?”
“Not that I noticed. Everyone felt the same about him, none of us trusted the fucker. I’d heard he’d slashed a guy’s throat not long after he’d been banged up. I had no intention of asking him if that was true or not.”
“Okay, that’s all we needed to know. See, it wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sally smiled.
“Why do you want to know?” Harper asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Just making enquiries as part of an investigation we’re working on.”
“What, the three of you? And they say there are not enough coppers to man the streets these days. That’s a laugh.”
“Thanks for your time. I might suggest you use the front door to return to your room, less chance of you breaking your neck.”
“Screw you, lady. I’ll do what I want, not what some stuck-up copper tells me to do.” He left the alley ahead of them.
“Effing tosser,” Sally whispered. She stared after him and jumped when her phone rang. “Shit! Scared the crap out of me.” She fished it out of her pocket. “Hi, Joanna, what have you got for us?”
“We’ve managed to locate Lawrence’s address, boss.”
“Thanks, we’re out of the car right now, can you send it to me?”
“Will ping it across now. Good luck.”
“Thanks, we’re not having the best of that so far today. Just to bring you up to date, we’ve had a word with both ex-prisoners and, while they were talkative, they told us that they didn’t go near Wallace on the inside and added that no one did. Apparently, he slit another prisoner’s throat not long after his arrival. I think that served as a deterrent for the others not to go anywhere near him. He was also in a single cell. Which leads me to believe we might be barking up the wrong tree. Hopefully, speaking to Lawrence will put us back on the right track again, because at the moment, we’re more than a little dejected about where this investigation is leading us.”
“I get that, ma’am. We’re doing our best back here in the hope that something else surfaces, but we’re scuppered if nothing comes from the image at the garage.”
Sally continued the walk back to the car and puffed out her cheeks when she reached the end of the alley. “Depending on how the time goes, I might pop into the lab on our way back, impress upon them how urgent it is for them to give us something we can use to move the investigation to a swift conclusion before someone else dies.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“See you later.” She ended the call and pressed the key fob to open the car. “Do you want to follow us this time, Helen?”
“Makes sense. Is it far?”
“Back towards the station in Wymondham.”
“Lead the way.”
CHAPTER 7
In Sally’s opinion, the low-rise block of flats either needed a major overhaul or razing to the ground. She’d passed this particular building and thought that many a time, but it was still standing and, by all accounts, was full of desperate families the council had let down over the years. “What a bloody choice, either live here or take your chances on the streets. Makes you wonder if the people working for the council know what they’re doing, right?”
Lorne shuddered and exited the car that Sally had parked a fair distance from the property, just in case. “Makes you sick to think there are places like this still in existence. It is the same down in London. We had a fair number of deprived areas that I reckon the council had purposely forgotten about.”
“Disgusting. Still, it’s not our problem. I wonder how many councillors have said that over the years when they’ve held a meeting about this place.”
Helen shut her car door and approached them. “It’s the pits, isn’t it? I had to come out here to a drug addict only last week. I don’t mind telling you, when you sent me the address I nearly backed out.”
Sally smiled. “Had I known we were coming to this very building, I think I would have done the same. It wasn’t until we pulled up that I realised. Okay, that’s all of our griping out of the way, let’s go see what Lawrence is willing to tell us.”
As they walked closer to the building, the smell hit them. Urine, faeces, vomit, stale food and more, all rolled into one, giving off the foulest of stenches. Sally pulled up a mask they’d been forced to wear for safety reasons during the pandemic and covered her nose.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare couple lingering in your pocket, have you?” Lorne asked, her voice muffled by her hand cupping over her mouth and nose.
“Sorry, you’re out of luck.”
Helen ran back to her car and returned carrying two masks, one of which she handed to Lorne.
“Cheers, Helen, that’s very thoughtful, thank you.”
“Creep,” Sally muttered and turned to walk up the concrete stairwell that would lead them up to the second floor. “I suppose we should be grateful his flat is only two flights up. I think if it had been more, we’d be gagging for breath and would be forced to suffer the consequences.”
“Definitely a blessing in disguise,” Lorne agreed. She fiddled with her mask that was too big, shortening the ties at the side for a snug fit.
Sally used her jacket to cover her hand and knocked on the door. It took a while, but eventually a tall, slim, unkempt man opened it and stared at each of them in turn.
Sally held up her ID and announced, “DI Sally Parker, DS Lorne Warner and DI Helen Edmonds.”
Lawrence eyed Sally from head to foot. “Yeah, what do you want, another badge for bravely telling me your names or setting foot on this estate?” He sniggered at his own inane joke.
“We’d like to come in and have a chat with you, if that’s all right, Mr Lawrence?”
“About what? I ain’t done nothing wrong. I mind my own business most days, I suggest you do the same. Your lot ain’t welcome around here. I hope you had the common sense to park on the other side of the estate, if not, you’re risking your tyres being slashed, or worse still, nicked. Cop cars always stand out a mile around here.”
“Don’t worry about us, we’re aware of the problems in this area. Are you going to let us in?”
“Nope. Next question?” He leaned against the doorframe, folded his arms, and then watched, amused, as his spittle landed on the floor two inches from Sally’s new boots.
“You’re not doing yourself any favours, Mr Lawrence,” she warned.
“Let’s get one thing straight, shall we? I didn’t invite the frigging cops to show up at my door. So, who’s in the wrong, me or you?”
“No one. All we need to do is ask you a few questions and then we’ll be on our way.”
“Go on then. Just because you’re gonna ask them, it doesn’t mean I have to answer them, does it?” He grinned, his teeth, what he had left of them, stained from nicotine.
Sally glanced to the side of him rather than analyse the remains of food settled in the cracks of his teeth. He was vile, pure and simple, but nothing a good clean wouldn’t put right, so why didn’t he do it? No running hot water? Unlikely these days. “We believe you’ve recently started visiting Bob Wallace in Norwich prison. Can you tell us why?”
Beside her, Lorne extracted her notebook and pen.
He laughed, giving them another unwanted view of his uncared-for teeth. “Ha, you won’t be needing that, ’cos I ain’t got nothing to say. Ask all you want, I ain’t going to give you no answers.”
Sally smiled and shrugged. “We can either do this the easy or hard way. The easy way would be here, with you respectfully responding to our questions, or the hard way would be to carry out this interview down at the station.”
“Fuck off. You can’t do that. I know my rights.”
“And we have rights, too. We’re investigating two serious crimes that have been committed and we have reason to believe you know something about both of those crimes.”
“Bollocks. This is you lot talking shit and trying to fit me up again, ain’t it? I don’t know anying. I’ve been nowhere for weeks, so don’t think you can go pinning any crimes on me, lady.”
“It’s inspector, and you’re lying. We know that for a fact, because you visited Wallace in prison.”
“All right, I meant apart from that. That was out of necessity.”
Sally inclined her head. “Which was…?”
“That’s for me and Bob to know.”
“I have to inform you that my patience is wearing thin, Mr Lawrence. You’ve got two minutes to tell me why you visited the prison or I’m going to arrest you for perverting the course of justice.”
He launched himself off the doorframe and glared at her. “You’re talking out of your arse. Mind you, I’m not surprised, that’s all coppers fucking do anyway, ain’t it?”
“Not this copper. I’m warning you, either you answer my question within two minutes, or I’ll call for backup and get them to escort you to the station where I will conduct the interview under caution. The choice is yours.”
“Screw you. You can’t show up here, tossing your threats around. I’m an innocent man and I have frigging rights,” he reminded her.
“Here’s the thing, during a murder inquiry, so do we.”
His face screwed up, and he shook his head a couple of times as if to wake his brain up. “What? Who’s been murdered?”
“We have two victims, so take your pick. We believe they’re connected. So, are you going to tell us why you have started visiting Wallace after all these years?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Sally heaved out a sigh and faced Lorne. “Make the call. Might as well ask for an Armed Response Team to come. Tell them that a suspect is refusing to come to the station with us and he’s armed and dangerous.”
“That’s a fucking lie, only to be expected from your mob. I know you’re winding me up, that you’ve got nothing on me other than visiting an old pal of mine. Like I’ve already told you, I know my fucking rights.”
Lorne made the call. Sally knew her partner was pretending. Lorne played her part, stepped away from the door and turned her back on Lawrence.
He craned his neck to try and hear what Lorne was saying.
Lorne ended her imaginary call and announced, “They’ll be here in five minutes. They’ve just finished another job two streets away.”
“What the fuck? You can’t do this. If they lay one hand on me…” Lawrence objected.
Sally held up her hands. “There’s an easy solution to that, start talking.”
“I don’t know anything. I visited a mate in nick, so what?”
“Why? There must be a reason for you suddenly visiting him. Tell us what it is.”
“You’re nuts. I don’t have to tell you nothing about my private conversations. So screw you, lady. Not that I would, I’ve got more sense than try it on with a copper. Filth by name and filth by nature, ain’t ya?”
Sally ignored the rude comment and folded her arms. “Tell us why you visited the prison. The clock is ticking. You really don’t want me to pass over the baton to the ART when they arrive, the outcome is never a good one.”
“Fuck off. I don’t know nothing, and you can’t make me talk, despite flinging constant threats at me. All I did was visit him, end of.”
“Except it’s not the end, because after your visit one of our victims was found.”
He held his hands up in front of him. “That’s got nothing to do with me. You’re trying to fit me up, and I ain’t having it.”
“Far from it. All we’re trying to understand is why you have started visiting Wallace in prison.”
“Because I have. Is there a bloody law against that? If there is, I wasn’t aware, and neither was he.”
“No, there’s no law against it, but when a victim is found with the same MO as a serial killer’s victims, but that killer has been inside for four years, then you can understand why we’re here, can’t you?”
“No, not at all. It’s a coincidence.”
Sally got the impression that the news about the victim hadn’t come as a surprise to Lawrence. “Here’s the thing, I don’t know a copper still doing this job who has ever believed in coincidences. Do you want to give it another shot?”
“Not particularly.”
He grinned, and again, Sally averted her eyes. This time she peered over her shoulder and winked at Helen and Lorne.
“I wonder how long the ART are going to be.”
“Do you want me to chase it up, boss?”
“Please, Sergeant. I think we’ve wasted enough time around here as it is, and Mr Lawrence is clearly not going to give us any pertinent information in these surroundings, so we might as well take him in for questioning.”
Lorne punched her phone, again pretending to call for backup.
Lawrence fidgeted in the doorway, his nerves showing by the sweat beading on his forehead.
“You’re not doing yourself any favours, Mr Lawrence.”
“I’ve got nothing to tell you other than I visited Bob at his request.”
“Why?”
He shrugged and then leaned against the doorframe once more. Sighing, he replied, “Because he needed a mate to talk to. We all get days like that, don’t we?”
“It was his choice to remain in a single cell during his sentence. Are you telling me he’s complaining that he’s lonely?”
“You can put that spin on it if you want to.”
“So how did the conversation go?” Sally prompted. She was tired of trying to worm the truth out of him.
“That’s between me and him and no concern of yours.”
“Ah, but it is. As I’ve stated numerous times already, your visit coincides with a dead body showing up on our patch with the same MO as the victims Wallace was convicted for.”
“Tough shit. That has nothing to do with me.”
Sally’s eyes narrowed. “The problem is, Mr Lawrence, I don’t believe you.”
He shrugged and pushed away from the doorframe again to raise his palms upwards. “So what? I know what you’re up to. The trouble with you lot is you’re so frigging transparent.”
“Go on,” Sally said.
“You’re trying to fit me up for something I ain’t done. I ain’t gonna fall for it. If you ain’t got any proof placing me at the crime scene, I suggest you put your detective skills to use elsewhere, because they’re not working ’round here.”
“Maybe that will change once the ART show up and ask you to accompany them to the station.”
Nonchalantly, he shook his head. “They can try. I believe you need to have a reason for arresting me, and without any evidence at your disposal, I’d say you’re up shit creek, wouldn’t you? And another thing, don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes, she didn’t ring for backup. Do you really think I’d be dumb enough to believe that crap?”
“Okay, we’re going to give you one last chance to tell us how the conversation went between you and Wallace.”
“You forgot to mention the or… last chance to tell us or…”
“I didn’t, I can assure you. Time is running out, Mr Lawrence, what’s it to be?”
“Your time or someone else’s?” He laughed. A wicked twinkle appeared in his grey, soulless eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sally challenged, incensed.
He laughed. “That’s for me to know and you to find out. Now, if we’re done here, I have things I need to be getting on with.”
He went to close the door, but Sally jammed her foot sideways in the gap.
“You’d be wise not to mess with me, Lawrence.”
“Think you’re a tough bird with your two pals standing behind ya, don’t ya? Bring it on. Come back when you’ve got something worth talking to me about, this conversation is over. Either you remove your foot or you’re going to end up in hospital getting it set in plaster, the choice, as they say, is yours,” he said, his final words mimicking the way she’d said them during their conversation.
Sally relented and withdrew her foot. He sneered and slammed the door in their faces. Rather than hold a conversation within earshot of the man’s front door, they descended the stairs quickly and returned to their cars.
The three of them ripped off their masks and sucked in a lungful of fresh air.
“Bastard, he knows we haven’t got anything on him.” Sally slammed her hand on the top of her bonnet.
“He doesn’t, not really. I think he was toying with you as much as you were with him,” Lorne said. She stared back at the building, her gaze rising to the second floor. “He’s up there now, laughing at us, the gormless shit.”
Sally turned, and there he was, in all his glory, with a pint of beer raised in front of him.
“Cheers, Inspector. Nice speaking with you. No sign of the ART yet. Tut-tut, not good, is it? Let you down a lot, do they? Can’t rely on no one, not these days, eh?” He laughed and stepped away from the concrete balcony.
“Fucking prick. What an arsehole. I’m determined to nail his arse,” Sally muttered through gritted teeth.
