THEN SHE RAN an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist Read online

  ‘That he does. Do you know Emily Ryker?’ Emily held out her hand. Jane took it up and they exchanged pleasantries.

  ‘Ryker, here, is an intel officer through and through. No doubt she’ll want the personnel file before we leave.’

  ‘It’s all ready for you.’

  ‘Of course it is! Let’s see what he has to say then, shall we?’

  On looking over his file, George discovered that Adrian Minter was in his mid-twenties and had previously worked as a phone-based sales agent for an insurance company. He had no police record of course, having been vetted as part of the force application process. His home address was a one-bed flat in Maidstone. He looked nervous. He wore black trousers and a short-sleeved shirt tucked into a belt with an oversized buckle. He had a slim build and an awkward posture. He dropped straight away into the chair George had positioned deliberately, so it that was obviously intended for him.

  ‘I always find it respectful to ask permission to sit when you’re meeting with senior officers.’

  Minter flushed red, redder even than when he came in. He fidgeted, glancing to where Jane was perched on the edge of a desk in the background. Jane had checked with George that it was okay for her to sit in before she had gone to fetch Minter. George had positively encouraged it. He wanted to build the pressure, to put Minter on the back foot. The chair was part of that too. He had asked Emily to sit next to him. He deliberately didn’t introduce her so that Minter wouldn’t know who she was. This was his chance to get the information he needed. Once someone was arrested they became part of a slow, methodical process where the offender had time to reflect. Then a solicitor could get in their ear and the opportunity for a genuine, panicked reaction was much harder to prompt.

  ‘S-sorry.’ Minter fidgeted as if contemplating standing up again. Then he changed his mind and shuffled straighter in his seat.

  ‘Do you know who I am?’ George said.

  Adrian looked back over at Jane. ‘Jane . . . she said you’re an inspector. She said you need to talk to me.’ He turned back to George, then to Emily.

  ‘A woman died, Adrian. Because of the phone call you made. So you need to know from the off that this is serious. Conspiracy to murder, Adrian . . . are you aware of that offence? Fifteen years in prison — minimum.’

  ‘Consp . . . murder? What are you talking about?’

  ‘Take your time. Get your thoughts in order and then you need to tell me how you came to make a phone call that led to a woman’s death.’

  ‘I didn’t. I don’t know what you mean. What call?’

  ‘How many outbound calls have you made today?’

  The red in Arian’s face had run out completely, his face was suddenly whiter than looked possible. ‘A few, I think. I don’t know. I’ve been busy.’

  ‘One.’ George held a sheet of paper in his hands, he gestured with it. ‘One call all day. Your job is to take emergency calls. Jane here tells me you’re good at it. No problems at all. It’s mostly inbound but there can be a need for you to make outbound calls, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So the one outbound call you made today . . . why was that? And give me a little credit for a second, Adrian, and pretend that I already know.’

  Adrian looked at everyone again. They all stared back. He must have realised there was no one there to bat his corner for him. ‘I-I didn’t want to.’

  ‘Didn’t want to what?’ George sat back. He wanted Adrian to know that this was his time to speak. Adrian peered back at Jane. She still stood behind him leaning on a table, her arms crossed.

  ‘Someone called me. They said they knew where I worked. They said they needed some information, nothing that would cause any trouble. They just needed to know if someone called in and a few details of that person. That was all.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘How much what? Information?’

  ‘Money, Adrian. How much did they offer you?’

  ‘Jesus, they made it sound like it was nothing. Like no one would care.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘It was five hundred quid. They dropped it through my letterbox some time yesterday. I don’t know when. I got in from work and it was there. They’re supposed to do the same thing today, now I’ve done what they asked.’

  ‘A grand. A thousand pounds, Adrian. Think about that. That’s not a small amount of money is it? What information did they want?’

  ‘There’s a job running — the shooting in the south of the county yesterday. You know all about it right?’

  ‘Assume I don’t.’

  ‘Okay, well there’s a girl missing. She ran away from it all. We’ve appealed for her to get in touch. There’s a set protocol when she does. I was told I just needed to text a number when she got in touch.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  ‘That’s all.’

  ‘Just text a number to say she had got in touch with the police. Nothing more?’

  ‘No, that was it.’

  ‘For a thousand pounds?’ George sat straighter and then leaned forward into Adrian’s face. ‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’

  ‘No. No, sir.’

  ‘After that call came in, you phoned the informant straight back. You had to get some information, what information?’

  ‘Fine. Look, fine! But this is it . . . they said they wanted to know where she was. Failing that, where she was going and how. I called her back so I would know what car she was in. I reckoned this was the best I could do. As soon as I made the call, I knew it was a mistake. I know every call here is monitored, but these people dropped the money through my door. They know where I live. I made the call, made an excuse to get off the floor and then I sent the text. I was praying that would be the end of it. I didn’t expect them to drop any more money but I didn’t care. I was almost hoping they didn’t. I don’t want nothing more to do with them.’

  ‘And you don’t know who them is?’

  ‘I don’t know. I have no idea, you have to believe me.’

  ‘What did you think they were going to use that information for? I mean, it’s obvious to me, but what were you thinking?’

  ‘I don’t know. I guess I could have worked out that they were looking to find her before she got to us. But I didn’t know that, they never told me that.’

  ‘And a woman died.’

  Adrian slumped forward. His mouth hung open, he snorted a sudden intake of breath. It all looked very staged. ‘Am I going to prison?’

  ‘Well, right now you’re helping me. That’s the right thing to do at least. What number did they contact you on?’

  ‘My phone, it’s in the locker. It wasn’t hidden or anything. It will be the last number I sent a text to. I can go get it if you want?’

  ‘We already have your phone, Adrian.’

  Adrian hung his head again. ‘Okay.’

  ‘And you don’t know anything more about who contacted you?’

  ‘No.’

  George nodded at Jane. She moved to the door and tugged it open. Two uniform officers were standing on the other side. They paced in, Adrian immediately looked up.

  ‘Adrian Minter, you are under arrest for conspiracy to murder. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Do you understand?’

  Adrian snorted again. This time his anguish seemed more genuine. He looked straight at George. ‘I thought I was helping you! You just said!’

  George stood up. ‘You were helping yourself, Adrian. A thousand pounds wasn’t it? I hope it was worth it.’

  George left the room as the handcuffs were being applied. Jane followed him out. Emily split off to make a phone call. She had Adrian’s file open in her hand.

  ‘Such a shame,’ Jane said.

  ‘He made his choice. I wouldn’t worry about him.’

  ‘No, I meant I literally just typed up his three-month assessment. I needn’t have bothered!’

  George bro
ke into a smile. ‘I hope it wasn’t glowing.’

  ‘It was actually. You’ll stay for a cup of tea, George?’

  ‘I would love to, Jane, but I have to get back to Area. It’s manic down there. I don’t think Mr Whittaker would appreciate me taking a break right now.’

  ‘You work too hard, George, I’ve always said that.’

  ‘I think I’ve always agreed with you too. I meant what I said . . . I owe you one. When everything’s a bit calmer you can make me tea. I’ll bring a cream cake up or something. I know you look after me, Jane.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure, George. Anytime.’ She smiled and her cheeks flushed a little. George had always thought she was naturally flirty but he was beginning to think that maybe she saved a little extra for him. He smiled back, now reconsidering if he should stay for tea. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to see Whittaker’s name on the screen. It made up his mind.

  ‘Boss.’ George waved a cheery goodbye to Jane as he made for the exit. When he turned sideways to push the door open, Jane was still watching.

  ‘George, what news?’

  ‘Just this second out of my meeting with our friend Adrian. The boy’s an idiot. He’s been very naïve but I don’t put his involvement as any more than that.’

  ‘Has he been nicked?’

  ‘Yeah, he’ll get the full treatment, he’ll be formally interviewed but I don’t expect anything more to come out of that. I have what I needed.’

  ‘He was helpful then?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure he told me everything he knew. Unfortunately, that isn’t a lot. He was called out of the blue. We have the phone number but it will be a burner phone at a guess. He was offered a grand in two payments for the information he gave. He’s had five hundred already. It was stuffed through his letterbox. The other five hundred is due now he’s given the information.’

  ‘I see. So he has no idea who these people are?’

  ‘He says not. I believe him too. He got greedy and stupid.’

  ‘So where are we? Someone sitting up on his address for this next payment?’

  ‘I don’t think so, boss. They got his number from somewhere. We have to consider it was someone else here and someone who knew him well enough to know that he might be susceptible. They may already know he has been arrested — that’s if they ever intended on paying him the rest. I wouldn’t, would you?’

  ‘No, I guess I wouldn’t.’

  ‘I have his address. While I’m up here I’ll do some house-to-house, see if his neighbours saw anyone dropping anything through his door. You never know, we might get lucky.’

  ‘Okay, George. Keep in touch.’

  ‘I will do. I was planning on dropping in on my job on the way back. I want to see the old boy again. I want him to know I’m about.’

  ‘Understood. I’m sure Paul Bearn is very capable.’

  George finished his call. He considered calling Paul straight away to get an update on how Stan was doing. He decided against it. He trusted Paul like no other; George would let him get on with his job. He could talk to him soon enough. Emily was already standing by the car.

  ‘Did you say goodbye to your girlfriend?’

  ‘That was Whittaker. I think you might have misunderstood the signals between us two.’

  ‘You know what I mean, George.’

  ‘Let’s go knock some doors.’

  Adrian Minter lived in a reasonable area. It was walking distance from his place of work, off Coverdale Avenue towards the town centre. It was a busy road in both directions and had a parade of shops servicing the densely populated estates close to the police headquarters. Behind these shops was an L-shaped building with two levels of flats. Adrian’s was on the first floor. George walked the concrete stairwell noting the standard smell of urine. Adrian’s flat was four along. The walkway was exposed to the elements, the frontages of all the flats were featureless and identical. He knocked on Adrian’s door — just in case. There was no answer. The next flat along was the last one. All the front doors were the same: dull, white UPVC with three frosted panes: two squares and a semi-circle at the top. At least this one had a welcome mat. He knocked. He readied his badge in his hand.

  ‘Hello?’ an elderly female voice called through the door.

  ‘Good afternoon. I’m sorry to bother you, my name is George Elms. I’m a police officer, ma’am.’ The door scraped with chains and turning locks. The door was opened an inch — just enough for George to see half a wrinkled face looking out at him. He held his badge up to the gap. ‘Nothing to worry about.’ George added.

  ‘Just a moment.’ The door was pushed shut. George exchanged a smile with Emily. The door opened wider. ‘Oh!’ The woman exclaimed at Emily.

  ‘This is my colleague, DC Emily Ryker.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Like I said, nothing to worry about. Do you know your neighbour? The flat next door?’

  The woman stepped out of her front door to have a look, like she needed a visual reminder. ‘I say hello, you know? I wouldn’t say I know him. I mean, I keep myself to myself. You got to round here. Is he in some sort of trouble?’

  ‘Not really, no. I’m more concerned about people that might have come up and spoken to him. Have you noticed anyone at his door in the last couple of days? Or anyone hanging around that you haven’t seen before?’

  ‘Always people hanging around here. They use the stairwell, see. We get the kids from over the estate. They come and sit in there and have a drink. I mean they don’t give me any bother but I’m usually in and settled before they come out. Sometimes I see them in the summer.’

  ‘So you haven’t seen anyone new around?’

  ‘No. Did you want to come in rather than stand out there?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t take your name.’

  ‘Rose. Rose Miller. Do you need my phone number?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Rose. Thanks for talking to me though. I’m really sorry to have bothered you.’

  ‘Oh, it’s no bother, officer. I like to help you lot. You know where I am if you need me!’ The woman seemed to suddenly be aware of herself. She mumbled her goodbyes and stepped back into her flat. George ignored Emily’s wide grin. He stepped past her to get to the front door on the other side of Adrian’s flat.

  ‘You know where I live, Inspector Elms. You can come here anytime. Do you need my phone number? Are you wearing a new aftershave or something?’ Emily’s voice was low and mocking. She was chuckling too.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Ryker. We’ll just do this one and then we’ll call it a day. This is a poke in the dark.’

  ‘I know where else you might be able to get one of those!’

  George composed himself before knocking on the next door.

  This one was answered quicker and by a far different animal. George stepped back. The man filled the doorway. He wore a white vest pulled taut over his chest by a protruding stomach. His head brushed against the top of the doorway and he had black football shorts straining against the size of his thighs. He had a flashing blue games console controller in one hand and a large packet of cheese and onion crisps in the other. He held the bag like a throttled chicken.

  ‘What you want?’

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, mate. I’m George Elms and this is Emily Ryker.’ George held up his badge and the man’s gaze stayed fixed on him.

  ‘So?’

  ‘We’re doing some enquiries around someone that might have been to your neighbour’s house. There’s been a rather serious incident and we think someone involved might have been here. Have you seen anyone knocking at his door?’

  ‘Nah, mate. I don’t really take much notice. You get people up here knocking at doors an’ that, but they don’t bother me. They wouldn’t fucking dare, you know what I mean?’

  ‘I think I do, yeah. So you haven’t seen anyone out of place or that you haven’t seen before?’

  The man shook his head. ‘I got a leaflet. That was it. I don’
t get much post. People don’t know I live here. Soon as they do, they start asking for money. I’m still on the run from Brighthouse. Them people need to get their house in order before they start coming to mine, you know what I mean?’

  George had absolutely no idea. ‘Okay, so just a leaflet. No problem. Thanks for your time.’

  ‘Yeah. One of these restaurant ones — kebab house. I called them up too. I like a kebab and I thought it was a new place — but it weren’t. It was some setup on the other side of the town. They don’t even deliver out here. I said to them on the phone, ‘why the fuck did you stick it through my letterbox then, you cunt!’ They never had no answer to that.’

  ‘What leaflet?’ Emily cut in. George was moving away, looking to leave.

  ‘Wassat, babe?’ he said.

  ‘Have you still got the leaflet?’

  ‘I don’t fuckin’ . . .’ The man was half-turned as he spoke, he was inspecting the floor. He bent down behind the door. He handed the leaflet to Emily. ‘No good to me, babe. You can have it.’

  He shut the door.

  ‘Babe?’ George said.

  ‘I still got it, too, George.’

  ‘Do you want to knock again? He might be single?’

  ‘Oh, he’s definitely single.’ Emily lifted the leaflet. ‘Best Kebab,’ she read. ‘Go knock on your girlfriend’s door, see if she got one of these too.’ George did as he was told. She confirmed that she had.

  ‘You’re thinking the leaflets are linked?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s a common tactic, right?’

  George nodded. He’d used it himself. If he needed to get close to an address for a peak through a window or to work out the easiest way to force entry, he would scoop up some menus from a local takeaway and drop some through the letterboxes of the target address and a few houses either side. No one would look at you twice. It was also a tactic used by some burglars or con artists. It would be a good way of getting an envelope through someone’s door if you wanted to be certain of blending in.

  ‘You fancy a kebab?’

  Emily screwed her face up at the menu printed on the flip-side. ‘Definitely not.’

  George checked his watch. ‘We’ll do this one last enquiry and then I’ve got to get back.’