DI Sean Corrigan Crime Series: 6-Book Collection: Cold Killing, Redemption of the Dead, The Keeper, The Network, The Toy Taker and The Jackdaw. Luke Delaney
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why he was so surprised.
‘Afraid not. But I get some quiet spells, sometimes. I could have a play with them for you, if you like.’
‘You’re a good man,’ Sean replied. ‘Call me as soon as you get anything.’ He hung the phone up only for it to immediately ring again. At the same time Sally appeared at the door. He held his index finger up to stall her and grabbed the phone.
‘DI Corrigan.’ Still early morning and already his telephone-answering manner was degenerating.
‘Guv’nor, it’s Stan.’ It was DC Stan McGowan, the detective in charge of the second makeshift surveillance team. ‘I don’t know what happened here last night,’ he went on, ‘but someone on the other surveillance crew fucked up.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘I was told Target One didn’t leave the office last night.’ Stan used surveillance language to describe Hellier.
‘That’s what I heard.’
‘Then why did we just see Target One enter it?’
Sean sat slowly. ‘Impossible.’
‘Impossible or not, I’ve seen him with my own eyes. It’s been confirmed by O.P. One and Three. And he’s wearing fresh clothes too. Sorry, boss. Someone fucked up.’
Sean knew what it meant. Hellier had been running free again. All night. Would there be a price to pay for their mistake? Had it cost someone their life?
Donnelly appeared in his doorway as he was slamming the phone down. ‘Problem?’ he asked.
Sean gave a long sigh before answering. ‘Whoever was covering Hellier last night lost him.’ He sprang to his feet and began moving toward the briefing room. Donnelly and Sally followed.
‘No way,’ Donnelly insisted. ‘Not while I was covering him, no fucking way. He made it easy for us and stayed at work all night, too scared of the press to show his face.’
‘Sorry, Dave.’ Sean spoke without looking at him. ‘It’s been confirmed. No mistake. Hellier slipped past you. I need you to work out how that could have happened and when it could have happened.’
‘I don’t fucking believe this,’ Donnelly protested.
‘It’s done, Dave.’ Sean still didn’t look at him. ‘Let it go.’
Sally tried to help. ‘There were no murders last night. I’ve already checked.’
‘You mean there were no murders discovered last night,’ Sean pointed out. ‘There’s a difference,’ he added unnecessarily. ‘Let’s hope there’ll be no more cock-ups today.’
‘Wait a minute, guv’nor,’ Donnelly protested. ‘I said this half-baked surveillance was a waste of time. I had five tired detectives to cover a target. It was never going to be enough.’
Sean realized his mistake. ‘Okay. Okay. I know you and the team would have done your best. Maybe there’s another way out of the building?’
‘There is,’ Donnelly snapped. ‘Through a basement car park, but we had that covered.’
‘Something else then.’ Sean wanted to leave the subject.
‘Maybe,’ Donnelly conceded.
They swept into the briefing room. There were only five detectives waiting for them. Sean was running out of people. The surveillance effort was putting pressure on his resources.
What chatter there had been died down quickly. Everybody automatically took a seat. Sean decided not to mention that Hellier had slipped through their surveillance. He’d let Donnelly tell them later. He knew where Hellier was now, so there was no point making more of it. He could ill afford divisions in his team.
Conscious of time closing in on him, he got straight to business: ‘We may well have linked our boy to another murder,’ he informed the small audience of detectives. There was a murmur around the room, but no looks of surprise. Sean had told Donnelly the night before. He must have spread the news already.
‘On what grounds?’ Donnelly asked.
‘Three things,’ Sean replied. ‘The lack of usable forensic evidence. The fact a shoeprint belonging to a plain-soled shoe approximately the same size as those found at our scene was recovered. And the type of victim.’
‘Hold on there, guv’nor,’ Donnelly said. ‘I thought the victim out east was a teenage girl.’
Sean felt the eyes of the room watching him, waiting for a response. ‘I don’t think the sex of the victims is relevant.’ He knew he had to convince his team that he was right. It was vital that he took them with him. If he lost their confidence now, he would be alone. Isolated.
‘Okay,’ Donnelly said. ‘How we going to move this thing forward?’
‘Publicity,’ Sean answered. ‘It’s the one tool left in the box that we haven’t used. It’ll spread the inquiry wider than we can without it. I’m hopeful it’ll turn up a key witness. Someone placing Hellier at or near the victim’s home on the night of the murder. Maybe he used a cab. Maybe we’ll get lucky.
‘You sort out a press conference, Dave,’ Sean continued. ‘But make sure you keep our Press Bureau informed. I don’t want to piss on anybody’s chips. Sally, you’ll take care of Crimewatch.’
‘Gonna be a TV star, eh, Sally?’ Donnelly teased. Sally flicked him a middle-finger salute.
‘The Murder Investigation Team investigating the East London killing will do their own press stuff,’ Sean announced. ‘At this time we’re not going to mention there could be a link between the two.’
‘Why?’ Donnelly asked.
‘We don’t want to panic the public,’ Sean told him. ‘We want to use the press in a controlled fashion. We’re not out to make headlines here.
‘Secondly, and more importantly, we don’t want the killer knowing we’ve made a link. If it is Hellier, then let’s leave him thinking we’re only looking at him for the one. Keep the pressure on him for our murder and maybe he’ll be distracted and make a mistake with the other. No point in showing him our hand. The next time I interview Hellier, I want to be able to take him to pieces, bit by bit. If we can get the evidence, then I’ll be able to break through to him and get him talking – and if I can get him talking, I can bury him. If I can get him talking, he’ll bury himself.’
‘What about the other two suspects?’ Zukov asked before the detectives scattered. ‘Paramore and Jonnie Dempsey?’
‘Anything, anybody?’ Sean asked.
‘Paramore’s still missing,’ said Donnelly, ‘but Fiona’s dug something up on Dempsey. Fiona …’
DC Fiona Cahill, a tall, slim detective in her mid-thirties with short, neatly cut hazel hair, got to her feet, her slightly deep voice and cultured accent further setting her apart. ‘I’ve been working my way through Daniel’s friends one by one. I spoke to a guy called Ferdie Edwards who tells me that Dempsey did indeed know Daniel and that they were friends, but he also told me they were more than just that.’
‘Lovers?’ Sean jumped in, a flicker of excitement in his heart.
‘No,’ said Cahill. ‘Business partners.’
‘What?’ Sean asked disbelievingly.
‘Apparently, Dempsey worked as a kind of middle-man. If he heard of a customer in the club who might be willing to pay for sex, he’d steer them towards Daniel – for a cut of the money, of course. He’d also look out for Daniel, watch his back, so to speak.’
‘This is all very interesting,’ Sean said impatiently, ‘but where are we going with it?’
‘Well, Edwards reckons that