The Scandal, page 9
part #3 of Stone and Oliver Series
She refocused on Wiley. ‘Do you recall anything unusual happen during the evening?’
‘No . . . actually, yes. Not long before Chris left, he was nudged from behind and spilled his drink down his shirt. We all fell about laughing at first. He was a bit of a snazzy dresser.’
‘A fight?’
‘No, though for a moment we all thought there might be.’
‘I thought you said he wasn’t drinking.’
‘It was tonic water,’ Wiley explained. ‘He brushed himself down and glanced over his shoulder to see who’d bumped into him. There was this guy. Well-built, tats, early thirties. He gave Chris a strange look. It was obvious to everyone that they knew each other. Chris never said anything to me, but I could tell he was uneasy.’
‘Had you ever seen this man before?’
‘No.
‘And he nudged Chris on purpose?’
Wiley nodded. ‘A deliberate attempt to provoke him. I remember thinking that he might’ve been responsible for Chris’s mysterious eye injury.’
‘Chris didn’t mention how he came by that?’
‘No. He was deep, a very private person. If he wanted to share, he would. If not, he kept schtum. If you’re who I think you are, you’ll know that already.’
Frankie frowned. ‘Excuse me?’
Wiley gave her hard eyes, one sceptical eyebrow raised: You know exactly what I’m on about. ‘There can’t be many detectives called Frankie Oliver on the force. He talked about you non-stop. Not to everyone, only to me. There are some things too painful to share. You were the one. He never told you, did he?’
She shook her head, the sucker-punch almost knocking her over, confirmation that she was still important to Chris Adams – more so than he was to her. Frankie could have denied knowing him. What would be the point? It was out there now. Wiley couldn’t retract it even if he wanted to.
‘Chris and I hadn’t seen each other for a very long time,’ she said.
‘Aye, he told me that too . . . He couldn’t bear to see and not have you. I told him time and again to get in touch. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Ever ask yourself why you didn’t bump into him when your parents live across the road? He used to hide if he knew you were visiting your folks.’ Wiley put her out of her misery. ‘Anyway, he didn’t rise to the incident in the pub. The guy who’d spilled his drink fucked off. No apology or owt—’
‘No words were exchanged?’
‘None.’
‘And Chris didn’t tell you who he was?’
‘No. He didn’t stick around long after that. You think he might have been followed?’
That thought had occurred to Frankie too, but she was still reeling from the words spoken a moment ago by her witness. ‘We’ll look into it. Thanks, Liam. You’ve been very helpful. If you think of anything else, call me.’ Handing him her card, she left as fast as her wobbly legs would carry her.
10
David emerged from his office feeling pretty positive after a call from a uniform cop who’d found Chris Adams’ car. The search for his motorcycle was ongoing. The SIO’s day was shaping up nicely. As he entered the incident room, Frankie was standing with her back to him, talking to DC Mitchell. Something about her body language wasn’t quite right. Mitch acknowledged David’s presence over her shoulder, pulled his coat off his chair and left the office in a hurry. As Frankie turned to find out who was standing behind her, she looked rattled, and that wasn’t like her. David wandered over to find out what was troubling her.
‘Guv.’ Her tone was flat.
‘What’s going on?’
‘I sent Mitch out to follow up on a lead.’
David glanced at the door Mitchell had walked through. ‘What lead?’
‘We need the CCTV from PTMY. I told him that’s his only reason for breathing today. There was an incident there on Friday night, enough to warrant further investigation—’
‘Then you’d better call him back. Dick’s already on it.’
Frankie frowned.
‘He took a call from a young woman in Chris’s company on Friday night,’ David explained. ‘She told us all about it.’
Frankie took a couple of paces to the exit, glancing along the corridor. No sign of Mitch. Pulling out her phone, she made a call, telling the young DC to stand down, apologising for wasting his time, then hung up, eyes on David. ‘Sorry, I should have run it by you first.’
‘Yes, you should. Half our crew are missing, Frank. It’s like the Marie Celeste in here. Two more called in sick. We can’t afford to send anyone out on a wild goose chase. Besides, I ordered that footage as soon as I found out Chris had been in there. I also put out an action to see what route he took to Northumberland Street to see if he was alone or if he had company. That’s basic procedure . . .’ He dropped his head on one side. ‘Are you feeling OK? You seem distracted.’
She didn’t answer.
‘Frankie, you need to concentrate.’
His gentle ticking off didn’t touch her.
She had other things on her mind.
‘Anything else?’ she asked.
‘As it happens, Chris Adams’ car has been located in the Quayside Car Park. Thanks for the tip-off.’
‘Thank Wiley, not me.’
‘I will, if I ever get to meet him.’
Frankie looked into the middle distance at nothing in particular, Wiley’s words ringing in her ears. David didn’t question it. She turned to face him. ‘What time did he park up?’
‘Eleven minutes past seven on Friday night, which meant his ticket was valid until eight o’clock Saturday morning. The vehicle was locked and secure. Apart from a ticket attached to the windscreen for overstaying his welcome, it appears not to have been tampered with in any way. The vehicle has been uploaded for examination.’
‘That’s great news.’
‘So why have you got a face like a smacked arse?’
‘I wasn’t aware that I had.’
‘Try looking in the mirror . . .’ She was out of sorts and not thinking straight. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ She looked away.
‘Doesn’t look like nothing. Did you check the murder wall on the way in?’
‘No. I—’
‘Why not?’
‘I had other things on my mind.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like my meeting with Liam Wiley.’ Stone listened carefully as she recounted the interview with the witness and his statement that there was a minor altercation in the pub everyone called PTMY. ‘Does that tally with what the other witness said? He seemed very plausible.’
‘It does, which is why Dick is down there now. I want to know who spilt that drink, whether it was deliberate and, more importantly, if anything untoward happened afterwards. Did Wiley say anything else?’
‘No.’
‘Don’t you mean yes?’
‘Yes then.’ Frankie averted her eyes, a quick scan of the incident room. Indira was loitering. It wasn’t her Frankie didn’t trust. Stone had pulled in a couple of extra call-takers, people she didn’t know that well. Both were within earshot. She turned to face him, lowering her voice. ‘Guv, I’d rather not discuss it here.’
‘Guv?’ David was caught off guard. She wasn’t in the habit of addressing him so in private conversations and her secrecy worried him. Intrigued, he led the way to his office, stood aside to let her in, then closed the door behind her. Parking his butt on the edge of his desk, he crossed his arms and waited. A dialogue she was reluctant to have in the open must be pretty damn serious. ‘The floor is yours,’ he said. ‘C’mon, spit it out. It can’t be that bad.’
She stalled. ‘David, he talked about me.’
‘Who did?’
‘The IP.’
The sudden formality hit David like a brick. Since he’d launched the investigation into Chris Adams’ death, Frankie had only ever referred to their victim by his first name and now suddenly he was the ‘injured party’, an attempt to distance herself perhaps. He allowed the silence to grow, waiting for a fuller explanation. It was a long time coming, so he gave her a shove.
‘Chris talked about you to the witness?’
‘Yes, and I swear I’ve not seen him for years.’
‘Is that so unusual? They were mates after all . . . and so were the two of you.’ David dropped his head to one side, another nudge for her to elucidate.
‘I’m concerned about Chris’s state of mind,’ she said.
‘I’m concerned about yours, but don’t let that stop you.’
She didn’t laugh.
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ David said. ‘One minute, he’s the salt of the earth, the good guy, and now you’re not so sure.’
‘With good reason.’
‘I’m listening . . .’
Frankie appeared conflicted, on the verge of a disclosure but unsure whether she was ready and willing to repeat the conversation she’d had with Wiley. She did, word for word, including the personal bits. ‘Chris was very deep, and yet he’d given Wiley and his mum the impression that we were still in touch when we weren’t. Wiley said he talked about me non-stop.’
‘Is that why the two of you drifted apart, because he wanted your friendship to develop and you didn’t?’ David locked eyes with her. Was she unaware of the effect she had on men? It wasn’t the first time he’d posed this question in the privacy of his own head. He didn’t know it, but she was about to give him an answer.
‘No, nothing like that. That’s what’s so bizarre. He seems to have invented this fantasy figure and pinned my name to it, and yet I’m the only one he didn’t confide in. There were no signs of it when we last saw each other, I swear, let alone hints that I might’ve picked up on . . . or maybe I’m too dim to have noticed.’
‘Maybe you only saw what you wanted to see.’
‘There is that . . . I mean, what idiot in their right mind would get involved with me, right?’ She didn’t stop for breath. ‘Don’t you dare answer that. The question is, should I withdraw from the investigation?’
‘I don’t see why. It’s hardly your fault if Adams fantasised about a relationship he didn’t have the balls to pursue. I’ve been there too, remember? We all have our hang-ups, Frank. Don’t worry about it.’ She was. He could see that. ‘Hey! Don’t think too badly of him. He’s human, like the rest of us. We can’t castigate him for having great taste, can we?’
‘Sod off! My love life, or lack thereof, isn’t a joke. Our line of work doesn’t leave much time for romance or even a one-night stand. That’s my excuse. What’s yours?’
‘Maybe I’m waiting for the right girl—’
Frankie made a crazy face. ‘Did you just step out of the 1950s?’
He laughed.
The banter between them had raised their spirits, but their laughter soon vanished. Beneath her comedy routine, Frankie was mortified by Wiley’s revelation and the perceived mess it had landed her in. David forced himself to concentrate. Despite her tendency to fly solo on occasions, she’d never jeopardise a case. She’d made full disclosure at the first opportunity and that was good enough for him.
‘Forget Wiley,’ he said.
‘How can I? What’s said can’t be unsaid.’
‘Frankie, let it go. In the time we’ve worked together, you’ve played with a straight bat. I know that.’ He did. She’d never let her personal feelings cloud her judgement or risk the collapse of legal proceedings should they apprehend the perpetrator who’d cut short a life – and still she was fretting. ‘Would it make you feel better if I ran it past Bright?’ He was referring to Detective Chief Superintendent Bright – the head of CID. ‘That way your back is covered.’
‘Would you?’
‘Consider it done.’
She relaxed. ‘If he laughs, I want to know about it. And if my dad finds out, tell Bright I’ll sue him for sharing confidential information.’ Her father and Bright were the best of friends.
David pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to laugh. ‘Anything else?’
‘Isn’t that enough?’ she snapped.
‘I can tell there’s more and you know I’m no good at guessing games.’
‘Susan Adams may have misled us . . . unintentionally.’
‘In what way?’
‘Wiley told me that Chris was penning a thriller. It had me wondering if that was the story that would make his name. Given our conversation thus far, it’s entirely possible that the public interest case he talked about was imagined too, the synopsis for a novel he hadn’t yet finished rather than a factual exposé. Writers are an odd species, don’t you think?’
‘That’s a generalisation if ever I heard one.’
‘Name me one that isn’t.’
David put a finger to his lips. He was struggling.
‘I’m suggesting that Susan either misheard or took it the wrong way,’ Frankie added. ‘You heard what Wells said: the paper was in trouble. Maybe he was trying to impress his editor by finding an alternative career, a chance to jump ship before he was pushed. Or maybe he was doing both, investigating an issue that needed telling and writing a novel. By the way, if I’m mentioned in his bloody shorthand notebooks, dead or alive, I’ll never forgive him.’
She looked away, her expression hard to read.
David wasn’t fooled by her indignation. It was an attempt to mask her grief and hold back the anger that bubbled to the surface every now and then. Frankie was in limbo, unable to move through the stages of bereavement until their investigation into Adams’ death was resolved. He recognised the signs. He’d have to keep a close eye on her.
11
At Stone’s instruction, Dick Abbott had pored over CCTV footage from PTMY and had found nothing of the minor incident two witnesses had referred to independently. It had not been caught on camera and can’t have been serious if bar staff hadn’t felt the need to intervene. At the risk of embarrassing Frankie, Stone had no choice but to ask Wiley to call in at Middle Earth and take a look at the recordings on the off-chance that he’d spot the man who’d bumped into Chris Adams an hour before he met his death.
A couple of hours later, with his help, the SIO had a name: Gary Armstrong.
Known to the rank and file, Armstrong had spent periods in care and detention, graduating to adult prison as he reached adulthood. With a string of previous convictions to his name – GBH; Going Equipped; Affray; Possession of Class A Drugs, and more convictions dating back over fifteen years since he was a juvenile, including one of attempted rape – he was no stranger to the police. Further back still, at the tender age of eleven, only just within the age of criminal responsibility, he’d been in court on three separate occasions for Causing Unnecessary Suffering to an Animal.
‘Well, that comes as no surprise.’ Frankie pointed the offences out to David on the computerised criminal record. Childhood animal abuse was often an indicator of worse to come. Clinical evidence had established a close link between that and other forms of cruelty, women and children bearing the brunt of it from violent men. She looked up from her computer, meeting his gaze. ‘And I don’t believe in coincidence, do you?’
‘Meaning what?’
She nodded at the screen. ‘Take a look at his most recent court appearance. Looks like the CPS lost their bottle again, accepting a plea to the lesser offence, reducing a Section 18 Wounding to ABH. It’s the date that interests me.’ She swivelled her chair round to face David and crossed her legs. ‘Armstrong was in court on Friday, the same day we launched our murder investigation. Chris was also in court. It’s conceivable that they were in the same courtroom, Armstrong in the dock, Chris on the press bench. Maybe his death wasn’t a botched robbery, but something more sinister. Wiley told me there was history between the two. The wrong kind.’ She threw it out there, hoping he’d take the bait. ‘It begs the question as to whether Armstrong is mixed up in the story Chris was investigating—’
‘If there is a story,’ David reminded her. ‘Fox denies there was a scoop. He said—’
‘I know what he said,’ Frankie interrupted. ‘And what Wiley said about Chris turning his hand to fiction, but he didn’t tell his mum a pack of lies to make her day. That’s not his style, David. He’s wasn’t delusional . . .’ She blushed. ‘Well, maybe he was on some level, but he was as honest as the day is long in every other respect. Whether or not Susan misunderstood what he was doing in his spare time, there’s more to this case than we first thought.’ Frankie paused, a sad look in her eye. ‘The day before yesterday, Chris was alive, enjoying the company of friends, planning a road trip . . . writing—’
‘It would help if we knew what.’
‘Whatever it was, this case hinges on finding out what he was hoping would make his mother proud. If Armstrong had anything to do with his death, we need to pursue him with every weapon in our armoury. He’s a bully who thinks he’s bulletproof. He should’ve been locked up on Friday. Instead, he walked free. If he hadn’t, Chris might still be alive.’
‘That’s quite a leap.’
‘Do you have any better ideas?’
‘At it happens, no. Dig up what you can on him and check in with Chris’s editor. Find out what courts he was covering. If we can put the two men in the same courtroom, with Wiley’s statement that they’ – he used his fingers as inverted commas – ‘“bumped into each other” in the pub that evening, that gives us cause to question him.’
‘We already have cause.’
‘Humour me.’
Frankie picked up the phone to access the number.
‘Frankie?’
She looked up. ‘What?’
‘Be nice to Fox.’
She feigned innocence. ‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘Not even as far as I can throw you.’
Smiling, she made the call, putting the phone on speaker so he could listen in.
From the minute Fox came on the line, he made it perfectly clear that he was busy and she’d have to make it quick. It took him no time to confirm that Chris was indeed present when Armstrong was sentenced and that he strongly disapproved of the court’s decision.
