Vanished

Chapter 43

The amount of time Angel spent at crime scenes was nothing compared to the amount of time she spent sat in front of a computer or hunched over a microscope. So, it wasn’t unreasonable for Jack to assume that he’d catch her if he wandered into her office unannounced. Angel was in fact trying to unfold a wet piece of paper found in the suit pocket of a man pulled from the canal several hours earlier. Millimetre by millimetre, she was separating the layers and opening the whole thing out into what she hoped would turn out to be a receipt. Jack knew that she knew he was standing behind her, but he didn’t disturb her until she finished what she was doing. The delicate job she was currently in the middle of could be make or break for the SIO. So, Jack waited.

Eventually, Angel looked up. ‘Bloody bingo. At 1 a.m., he was buying chewy at a garage seven miles upriver from where he was found. And who lives seven miles upriver from where he was found?’

‘Your prime suspect?’

‘Got it in one.’ Angel stood and stretched her spine. ‘Simon’s got your ID, you know.’

‘Yeah, I’m heading there next.’ Jack took the now-empty cardboard tube from its carrier bag. ‘I need you to lift prints off this, please. One set will be mine, but I made a point of only touching the bottom. In the middle you’ll find another set which might match the cigarette butts I gave you. That’s it for now.’

Angel said she was glad to help and asked for the case number. Jack just gave her a sparkling smile. She took the cardboard tube and said that it would cost him a Thai takeaway as she was done with helping him for free. He didn’t need her to clarify a potential timeframe: she was a fast worker — even with sneaky, off-the-clock favours.

Jack was the last to arrive in the squad room. He quickly entered Ridley’s office and shut the door. Jack didn’t need to ask the question.

‘The print belongs to Michael Mahoney,’ Ridley said. ‘But it’s only a partial, so it’s weak on its own. Mahoney’s been “no comment” all the way with the Drugs Squad and his brief is trying to get him bailed. So far not one of the men arrested has named Mahoney or implicated him in any way. This is his mug shot taken over twenty years ago when he was arrested in Leeds for possession — take a look at him, and tell me if he’s the man you saw in the videos.’

Ridley pushed the mug shot towards Jack and waited. The young man in the photo had collar-length hair, blonder than Jag’s, but he had similar features. Jack hesitated... then rushed out into the squad room.

Jack hurried to the whiteboard that still had numerous still-unidentified photographs pinned up. He turned to Laura and clicked his fingers.

‘Don’t you click your fingers at me, Jack Warr!’

‘Sorry, sorry, this is important. The photographs we had pinned up on the board — ones of Avril’s early years and the unidentified boy, not her brother or the Dutch guy, the blond kid.’ Laura could feel Jack’s impatience as she crossed to the banks of files already being logged and listed.

Jack hurried back into Ridley’s office with two small black-and-white photographs. ‘I might be wrong about this, but we never got to identify this kid.’ Jack jabbed his finger down on the image of the small blond boy. ‘Adam Border said that Avril had met someone in Leeds when she went back for a funeral, and he was the one she brought into the house...’

Ridley put his hand up to interrupt Jack, who hadn’t noticed that he was on the phone. Jack placed the two small photographs down beside the mug shot and waited. Ridley thanked the caller and replaced the receiver. ‘The Jaguar with the black-tinted windows was bought from their new dealership, posh showrooms by that big Costco store. The buyer had it customised and paid in cash nine months ago. We ran his name and address but it’s a dead end. However, we have a pretty good description of him, and to me it could be that big bruiser we’re holding — Dave with the tattoos. So, we’ll get a warrant to search his house.’

‘These bastards are too savvy,’ Jack said, shaking his head. ‘The Jag will be wiped clean.’

Ridley clenched his fist. ‘I’m sick of hearing no comment, no comment, no bloody comment!’

Jack glanced down at the innocent face of the small blond boy. How does a child like that grow into Mahoney? ‘After what Mahoney did, when he cracked open Avril’s skull, they’re scared, sir. They’re all too scared.’

Ridley knew Jack was right. They needed to bring Mahoney down before the men under arrest would start talking. Ridley drew the photographs towards him. It was a real possibility that the boy from Avril’s past was Mahoney. But time was ticking.

‘Christ, I hope we get the footage from Adam Border, because I’ve already set the wheels in motion to transfer Mahoney across from Staines. In the meantime, figure out how on earth we can trap him without the videos.’

Within seconds of Jack settling to his desk, Laura had perched next to his keyboard. ‘You look tense. Is that because Ireland wasn’t as relaxing as you’d hoped, or because you just arrived in a car that looks like a peeled kiwi? The fruit, not the bird.’

‘Both.’

‘And, whilst you were over there, I don’t suppose you stumbled across the elusive Adam Border, did you?’

Jack smiled and said that Adam Border’s day would come, and much sooner than he imagined, but, for now, they’d just found evidence that Michael Mahoney was the man who struck the first blow in Avril Jenkins’ murder.

‘What evidence? Where from?’

Jack started accessing Mahoney’s arrest record. ‘He’s being transferred for interview as we speak, Laura. Let me prep, OK. I’ll explain everything when I’ve got more head space.’

Laura slinked away, whilst Jack tried to work out how he was going to break a fearless man with a mob of high-powered lawyers in his back pocket and a queue of people willing to lie for him, without the film footage from Adam.

Jack stared at his computer screen and the details from Mahoney’s one and only arrest. From the date, he calculated that Mahoney would have been twenty-one years old, so younger than Avril by about ten years. He kept looking at the photographs he had taken from Ridley’s office. Laura was leaning over his shoulder. When she saw the comparison Jack was making, she immediately saw the likeness too. ‘Oh my God, the young blond kid is Mahoney!’

‘He and Avril were kids together,’ Jack said. Laura perched on his desk and asked how that information helped them. Jack sighed and shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Leverage? We’re grasping at straws.’ Jack glanced at the clock on the wall. The 24-hour head start was ticking down, and they’d soon know if Adam Border was an honourable thief.

The cavalcade bringing in Mahoney entered the building an hour before Jack and Ridley were allowed anywhere near him, because he was consulting with his banks of solicitors. Steve Lewis had insisted on being the one to escort him across and, whilst they waited, he insisted on giving Ridley a few tips.

‘This is a man who preps his defence months in advance, Simon. He’s got alibis coming out of his arse, for dates I’ve not even asked him about yet. He’s fearless. If you want my advice...’

‘Steve...’ Ridley rubbed his brow, where he could feel the pressure building, ‘just let me focus. In silence preferably.’

Steve quickly pointed out that he could insist on sitting in on the interview. Ridley had had enough.

‘You won’t, though, Steve, will you? Because you haven’t got the intuition or the stamina to interview a murder suspect for several hours. Starting slow and gaining their trust. Giving them the time and space to back themselves into a corner before you pull the rug and hit them with the facts that contradict every word they just said on tape. You won’t sit in on the interview because you have the patience of a small child. Would you like to report me and lose this murderer, or would you like to shut the fuck up?’

Ridley then dropped into a chair with his back to the room. If there were any consequences from his outburst, he’d tackle them after they’d secured their murder conviction.

Jack had a brief meeting with Ridley before Ridley went into the interview room, armed with the photographs and some notes made by Jack. Ridley had made the decision to lead. Jack was disappointed, but his priority had to be getting the video footage from Adam

As Ridley entered the interview room, Jack entered the observation room where he could watch live through the two-way mirror, as well as watch either of the two cameras currently filming Mahoney.

Mahoney looked confident. He’d been allowed to shave and put on a change of clothes, choosing a grey cashmere sweater and cord trousers.

Two male officers joined Jack in the observation room — they had been assigned to be in the interview room with Ridley, but he’d requested that they step out. Jack stared at Mahoney. It was definitely him! The man who had swung the poker with such enthusiasm down onto Avril Jenkins’ skull. He was calm, expressionless and confident that they had nothing on him.

Jack watched Ridley as he laced his fingers on top of the file in front of him. ‘Go on, sir,’ Jack whispered. ‘Get the bastard.’

After a lengthy pause, Ridley read Mahoney his rights and then got straight down to the questions, omitting any formalities of explaining that Mahoney could ask for a break or refreshments at regular intervals and could refrain from answering any questions if he so wished. Mahoney was an old hand at this, so didn’t need telling. And besides, Ridley had already been given a statement from Mahoney’s solicitor, Nathaniel Barker, that his response would be ‘no comment’ to all questions.

‘When did you first meet Avril Jenkins?’ Ridley asked, opening the file on the table in front of him. ‘In your interviews over in Staines, your solicitor, Mr Barker, read out a statement claiming that you don’t know Avril Jenkins, nor have you ever been to 27 Woodridge Place in Kingston.’ Ridley paused. ‘What about Avril Summers? When did you meet her?’

For a split second, Mahoney’s intake of breath paused, before quickly resuming. It was a fleeting involuntary response in an otherwise perfect act.

In the observation room, Laura had joined Jack. Neither thought Mahoney was going to speak a single word today; the best they were hoping for was that his refusal to speak turned out to be equally as damning.

In the same relaxed, informal tone of voice, Ridley continued. ‘It’s been suggested that you have dozens of bolt-holes similar to Woodridge Place scattered across London. Possibly hundreds across the UK. And the same in Europe. I don’t know: they’re not connected to my case. I assume that part of your confidence in police interviews, Mr Mahoney, comes from the fact that you can’t be forensically linked to any of those properties. I assume you’ve not even been to them. So, why did you go to Avril’s house?’

Nothing from Mahoney.

‘Had she changed much since the last time you saw her? In Leeds, I mean.’

Mahoney pushed himself back in his seat and crossed his legs. It was a small, natural movement, but now his relaxed disposition had gone, replaced with a more defensive stance. Mahoney was far from crumbling, but he was certainly getting uncomfortable.

Barker felt the need to justify his presence. ‘My client has already stated that he does not know Avril Jenkins.’

‘I know what your client has stated, but he’s lying. Object to that if you like, but it’s not speculation, it’s a statement of fact.’

From the file, Ridley removed the old photographs that had been pinned to the whiteboard in the squad room. Images of Avril and a series of friends playing in back streets, playgrounds and fields, through summer and winter. He laid them on the table one by one, directly in Mahoney’s eyeline so there was no way of him avoiding them. Ridley pointed to the teenage Avril, identifying her in each image. Then he pointed to the small blond boy. ‘This is you. Facial recognition says it’s you.’

Jack and Laura looked at each other. ‘He’s certainly a chancer!’ Laura grinned.

‘He’s a bullshitter,’ Jack corrected her. ‘It’s fascinating watching him working, though.’

Ridley had used the words ‘facial recognition’ carefully. They implied, but did not state, that he was referring to computer software, whereas in truth, he’d had no time to check the photographs properly. Like Jack, he was working on a hunch. But the likeness between the small blond boy and Mahoney was undeniable. Ridley placed the old mug shot of Mahoney onto the table, tapping it with his finger. Mahoney gritted his teeth but remained silent.

‘When you bumped into her again, Michael, what did you think?’

Mahoney placed his hand flat on top of all the photographs. Barker was now faintly grimacing at the thought of the secrets Mahoney might be about to give away.

‘It must have been very interesting when you met Avril more recently and discovered she was a wealthy widow.’

Mahoney’s cheek muscles twitched almost imperceptibly.

In the observation room, Jack instructed the two uniformed officers to go and stand outside the interview room as Mahoney became visibly more tense. Ridley checked his watch. Eleven forty a.m. — the video footage that Adam had promised to send should be arriving shortly.

‘Did she remember you, Michael? I mean, she wouldn’t remember you in the same fond way that you remembered her, but did she remember you at all? Or did you have to introduce yourself? Did you finally make advances towards her?’

This made Mahoney look up and, for the first time, they locked eyes. Mahoney was clearly angry.

Ridley tapped the photograph of the young Mahoney looking at Avril with adoration. ‘You look as if you were infatuated back then. So, tell me Michael, if you once loved Avril Summers, why did you kill her?’

Barker quickly stepped in, for fear of what Mahoney might say or do. ‘Will you be presenting actual evidence at any stage, DCI Ridley?’

Ridley ignored the question and focussed completely on Mahoney. ‘Mr Mahoney, do you still maintain that you never entered Avril Jenkins’ home?’ Mahoney’s nostril’s flared as he desperately tried to think what Ridley was working up to. ‘Were you ever inside 27 Woodridge Place, Kingston?’

Again, Barker stepped in to protect his client. ‘Mr Mahoney has already answered that question.’

‘I’m asking him again because he’s mistaken.’ Ridley sat forwards, well within Mahoney’s long reach. ‘You know what I think, Michael? I think you knew she was going to die that night and you just couldn’t stay away.’

Barker tried to butt in, complaining about fishing trips and unfounded speculation, but both Mahoney and Ridley ignored him. Mahoney now stared, dead-eyed, unblinking, allowing his anger to build. This is what Ridley was banking on. If he could tip Mahoney beyond the point of no return, they’d have him.

‘I think you sent your men to kill her, then thought, Fuck this, I’m gonna do it myself. What did she do, Michael? Was she pissing you off by reporting thefts to the local police — patrol cars and uniforms coming and going, and you with a mega delivery ready for distribution? She was playing with fire. Playing with you! Didn’t she know who you are now? Or did she still see that little blond boy? No respect. Is that why you picked up that poker and shattered her skull?’

Mahoney raised both his fists high above his head and slammed them down onto the desk, sending the photographs bouncing into the air. Barker jumped almost as high out of his chair.

Jack stood in the open doorway of the observation room, from where he could still watch Ridley. In the corridor, the two uniformed officers were like coiled springs, waiting for his signal to go in. He held a hand up — Ridley wasn’t done yet.

‘No fucking comment, you bastard, NO COMMENT!’ Mahoney roared. His white-knuckled fists were pressed hard against the desk, as he tried to stop himself from lashing out.

Ridley gestured for Barker to sit down. Then he collected the photographs and replaced them in the folder.

‘Mr Mahoney, you left one fingerprint in her home. The home you deny ever being inside of. We matched that one print to the prints in your file.’

Ridley watched Mahoney open his fists and spread his fingers and then clasp them together as he retained control of his temper.

‘No comment.’

Jack perched on the windowsill watching Ridley make two decaf coffees. ‘His outburst, plus the partial on the poker, plus the video should be enough. It means we’ve got him for another forty-eight hours, not that I think he’ll say anything else.’

Jack sipped his coffee, grimaced and threw Ridley a filthy look. Ridley repeated the health benefits of decaf coffee and said it would do Jack the world of good to detox — then they both froze as Jack’s mobile pinged and an email landed. They held their breath for the few seconds it took to open.

‘Do you want two-for-one vitamin supplements from Holland & Barrett?’ Jack asked.

Ridley headed for his desk and slumped into his chair. ‘Fuck’s sake.’ The waiting was killing them both.

By 12.50, Jack’s mobile had pinged another seven times. None of the emails were from Adam Border. He was now around an hour late in delivering on his promise but while Ridley was losing faith, Jack was still sure that Adam would be true to his word. He had to be. Three more insignificant emails landed. And by now the tension was mounting. Mahoney’s brief had been demanding an explanation as to why their interview had been terminated without Ridley sharing any evidence regarding an incriminating fingerprint. He was told that they would be served refreshments and must remain in the interview room or Mr Mahoney could be taken to the cells to wait if he preferred.

Laura had remained in the observation room, watching their suspect become more and more angry, and demanding answers from his brief. Every time Mahoney moved from his seat, one or both officers told him to sit back down. He clearly hated being told what to do. He was almost ready to explode.

Ridley was beside himself, pacing the carpet. And Jack was sweating now.

Then, at 1.05, a video link arrived from an unknown email address. Jack clicked the link and a still image appeared.

Avril sat in the middle of the sofa in her front room. Her knees were clamped together, her fingers clenched on her lap...

Jack hurried to his desk to collect his iPad, then propped it on the desk in front of Ridley. ‘I don’t need to watch it again.’ And with those words, Jack left Ridley to it, closing the door behind him.

Jack sat at his desk, sipping his vile coffee, watching Ridley’s every move via the window in his office door. He could even see the reaction from Ridley when the video turned to snow and then he saw him concentrate as it jumped to the second video from inside Avril’s en suite.

Inside his office, Ridley stared at the screen, motionless, for a good few minutes after the video ended. He then pushed his chair back, very slowly made himself another cup of coffee and retook his seat. He hovered his hand over the play button, took a deep breath and watched the whole thing again. Jack watched, his nerves on edge, but seeing Ridley replay the video told him for certain that Adam had also been true to his word about the video not corrupting after being watched once.

At that moment, Angel appeared in the squad-room doorway holding the cardboard tube in its carrier bag. Jack jumped up to meet her. ‘There’s one print on this — and it’s yours.’

‘That can’t be right, I saw him touch it...’ Jack’s words faded to nothing. He knew Angel hadn’t made a mistake — which meant that he had. Angel wished him luck with whatever he was up to, then left him to his thoughts.

Jack stepped into the corridor and hurried into the gents’ toilet. He quickly called the local police station in Killarney and asked them to check the name Adam Border against the art studio’s location. The last street name he’d noted was Runda Street, but the track that led to the studio itself had had no signage. He described the route taken from his hotel as best he could and said that it was also a cannabis farm. The officer he spoke to said he’d get back to Jack as soon as he had news.

Jack walked to the canteen hoping a change of scenery might help him think more clearly. And because he needed a coffee with caffeine in it.

He stared down into the car park at the awful pea-green Nissan, turning recent memories over and over in his mind. How could the cardboard tube have no prints on it when Adam had handed it to him?

He closed his eyes and tried to find the memory he needed.

When Adam left the studio to take a call, Jack had used the time to discreetly explore the studio. It was an intriguing space and — right in the centre — was the tantalising canvas hidden beneath a muslin cloth. Jack remembered how he had glanced at the door Adam had left through — nothing — he had then moved towards the easel, reached out his hand and caught the muslin between his fingertips. This was the moment he heard Adam’s voice moving closer. Jack had dropped his hand and by the time Adam returned Jack was scanning the painting materials on the floor beneath the easel — brushes, paints, artists’ glue, palette knives, pots...

‘Glue.’ Jack opened his eyes and clenched his jaw. ‘Fucking artists’ glue.’ He didn’t know for certain, but he now speculated that Adam could have used glue on his fingertips to level his prints and make them undetectable. It would have been easy to prepare. He knew Jack was coming because Greg had told him.

Ten minutes passed and Jack’s mobile didn’t ring. Frustration, humiliation and sheer bloody fury made him want to call the Killarney Garda back and demand to know what the hold-up was before he realised how unreasonable he was being. Jack headed back to the squad room to see if Ridley had finished watching the video for a second time.

As Jack headed for his desk, he could see that Ridley was now in the company of a thick-set man in a cheap grey suit, holding a brown paper bag. Jack glanced at Laura. ‘He’s a DCI from Hammersmith. Been here a couple of times about Tania’s suicide.’ Laura drew quotation marks in the air around the word ‘suicide’. ‘Did you read yesterday’s paper?’ Jack nodded as he eyed Ridley’s office. Laura perched on the edge of his desk again. ‘Up. Her. Arse. Her own dad. He claimed that he was trying to calm her down, unaware of what she’d already taken. I mean...’

Jack’s mobile rang, and Laura’s dissection of the Wetlock case faded into a low hum. The Killarney Garda Jack had spoken to earlier was now calling him back. ‘We’ve got no Adam Border connected to any cannabis farm or artist’s studio in Killarney. I sent a boy to the only studio building you could have been referring to, but it was empty. We do get artists using it as a retreat in the summer, but it looked like there’d been no one there this year.’

Jack interrupted him, asking if there were any flowering plant baskets hanging by the studio door.

‘No, nothing hanging up, no plants, no property, no furniture, no personal items. If you want the place to have a full going-over, SOCO and all, make it official and I’ll oversee it myself.’

Jack knew that if the cardboard tube didn’t have Adam’s prints on it, then neither would anything else. He thanked the Garda for his help and hung up.

Jack was gripping his mobile tightly in his fist to stop himself from exhibiting any outward signs of the turmoil he was feeling inside. when Ridley summoned him into his office.

Jack was surprised that Ridley was now alone. He must have missed the departure of the Hammersmith DCI whilst he was seething at being outsmarted by a bloody drug-smuggling art thief.

Ridley gestured for Jack to sit down. ‘Well, that’s one of the worst things I’ve ever had to watch. But when it’s played in court, it’ll turn the stomachs of the jury, too, and once we submit the partial fingerprint, they’ll associate it with Mahoney. So let me give you a quick catch-up on a few loose ends. We just found the Jaguar in Dave’s garage in Leeds. It’s being towed in by forensics, and he’s asked for a solicitor. So he’s not as stupid as he looks.’

‘Well, no, he can’t possibly be.’ Jack’s flippant remark was just what they both needed after the day they’d had so far.

‘I reckon,’ Ridley continued, ‘with Mahoney being charged with Avril’s murder, the Drug Squad have lost him. Their hope of striking a deal with him to name names, being a super grass... gone. He’s getting life — no deals — so why cooperate? His men, however, who’ve been “no comment” throughout, especially those who feature on the video, will open the floodgates to save themselves.’ Ridley rocked back in his seat. ‘There’s one more thing that needs discussing.’

Jack sat in silence assuming that, any second now, he’d have to explain how he traced Adam Border across forbidden Ireland and made the deal to give him 24 hours in exchange for the video.

Ridley unwrapped a clear mint, twisting the wrapper in his fingers before he continued.

‘I’ve had a number of conversations with that DCI from Hammersmith over the past few weeks because he wanted my opinion on you — as a man, not as an officer — in relation to the death of Tania Wetlock.’ Ridley’s change of subject was a welcome surprise for Jack.

‘I should have told him to get lost, but I went by the rules and put you on leave. Apologies.’ Ridley put his hands in his lap. ‘You had a meeting with their DC Lyle. He said that with your direction they brought in Elliot Wetlock for questioning. He subsequently admitted that he’d supplied his daughter with barbiturates, allegedly to help manage her anxiety. He also admitted that on the night of her death he administered rectal diazepam, having given it before for insomnia. His defence is that he had no knowledge of what she’d taken earlier that day, so he had no way of knowing that it would become a lethal cocktail. They’ll go for manslaughter. Until you pointed Lyle in the right direction, they were going for suicide.’

Ridley leant sideways and reached down for a brown paper bag. He took out a bottle of Jameson’s and pushed it across the desk towards Jack. ‘They’re cheapskates over there, but the sentiment is the same.’

‘Shall we?’ Jack took the bottle, then amended his question. ‘Can you?’ Ridley said that while Jack was in Ireland he’d been told that his cancer was in remission. ‘That’s the best news I’ve heard all day, sir. Congratulations.’

‘Thank you. I have to say, facing Mahoney really got the adrenaline going! I’ve missed that.’ Ridley glanced at Jack’s laptop. ‘This is going to be one of the most horrific evidence disclosures I’ve ever done. And, tomorrow, I’ll have to bring in Steve’s team to explain how we got it. I plan to say that it was delivered anonymously.’ Ridley looked directly at Jack and waited for a response, but he remained silent. ‘I want you in my office at eight for a full and frank disclosure of what went on between you and Adam Border. I want to know everything, Jack. Then, together, we’ll decide what leaves this room.’ Ridley nodded to the bottle of in Jack’s hand. ‘Just the one, for now. Then let’s go and charge Mahoney and get him locked up.’

As Jack poured two whiskies, he thought of Adam, and remembered talking to Julia — her astute words now meant more than they had at the time.

‘We got out Jack, me and you. But it leaves scars. My scars draw me to kids like these... your scars draw you to people like your missing man. We know them because we’re seconds away from being them.’

Jack knew he would have to think very carefully about what he was going to tell Ridley and what, for self-preservation, he would never tell a soul.