Blood Reckoning: DI Jack Brady 4 (34 page)

Conrad walked in. ‘Hughes’ brief is kicking off. Wants his client interviewed ASAP.’

Brady looked up at him and massaged his temples. He was tired and at this precise moment Hughes was the least of his concerns.

‘What’s wrong?’ Conrad asked, concerned.

Brady sighed heavily. ‘Jed went through De Bernier’s laptop and found a deleted email from last Thursday morning blackmailing the politician with the DVDs he had secretly filmed.’

Conrad looked stunned. ‘Smythe was being blackmailed?’

Brady nodded.

‘Robert Smythe killed his political aide because he was blackmailing him?’ Conrad asked, incredulous.

‘Unless we’re having completely different conversations, then yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying,’ Brady said, more forcefully than he intended. ‘And before you ask – yes, the evidence is damning. Enough to haul his arse in now on the grounds that the victim asked to meet him on the Saturday evening at a hotel to discuss how the MP would forward his career in politics. It didn’t quite go as he had planned.’

Conrad’s face paled. ‘You do know how serious this is? If you’re wrong . . .’ He shook his head.

‘I’m not wrong, though. That’s the bloody point, Conrad.’

‘But . . .’ Conrad faltered. He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Which part?’ Brady asked.

‘All of it,’ Conrad replied, nervously. ‘I’ve met him. He . . . he just didn’t seem the type to—’

‘To what? Murder someone? Show me the “type” and then we can retire. There is no “type”, Conrad. You’ve been doing the job long enough to know that, surely?’

Conrad didn’t answer him.

‘Sit down, will you? You’re starting to make me feel nervous,’ Brady said. He waited until Conrad had pulled out a chair and was sitting opposite him. ‘Until we actually hear from the suspect himself, we can only speculate as to motive. But I would suggest the victim blackmailing him is a good start. In his email, De Bernier threatened to go to the press with the film footage if Smythe didn’t do as he asked. Something of that magnitude would destroy his career. And his marriage. I can’t imagine Sarah Huntingdon-Smythe accepting that little indiscretion so easily.’

Conrad shook his head. ‘I understand the motive, but what about the signature? The MO? It doesn’t make sense. Even you believed it was the same killer from the Seventies murders. How could he have known the details from the original investigation? They were never released to the public.’

‘I know,’ Brady replied. ‘And that was the part that I struggled with. How did he know? How could he know?’

Conrad looked expectantly at Brady.

‘Let’s start with why he would copy the Seventies murders.’

Conrad waited.

‘Smythe’s from around here and of an age, late fifties, where he would remember the crime. What if he decided that murdering De Bernier that way would throw us off? That we would end up chasing our own tails trying to look for the original killer? Why else kill in exactly the same way as the Seventies murders? I mean, the first thing we would do is narrow down who knew the suspect and who had a relationship with him. It was a given that we would end up talking to Smythe. The man’s not a fool, he would have known that,’ Brady said. ‘What we established with the first seven victims was that they did not know their attacker. Smythe could have been trying to put as much distance between himself and the victim by attempting to make it look like De Bernier did not know his murderer. That it was a copycat killing, or even that the original killer had struck again.’

Brady could see that Conrad didn’t look convinced.

‘I accept that maybe it was an attempt at throwing us off his scent,’ Conrad conceded, reluctantly, ‘but how could he have known specifics of the murders that were only known to the police?’

‘I don’t know, Conrad. I honestly don’t know.’

‘And what about Hughes?’

‘Well, I think we ought to interview him. Don’t you?’

‘Why, if you already have evidence against Smythe?’

‘Because until his DNA comes back as negative, he’s going nowhere.’

Brady couldn’t give a damn about Hughes’ reputation or his powerful business associates. All he was interested in was holding people accountable, regardless of whether they believed themselves to be above the law.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Tuesday: 10:31 p.m.

Brady looked at Hughes. He was finding it hard to hide the disdain he felt. It was clear that Hughes would kick up a fuss about being questioned; that he would no doubt go as high up as Detective Chief Superintendent O’Donnell. But Brady wasn’t in the job to make friends.

‘So,’ Brady said, his voice relaxed. ‘Let’s go over your whereabouts on Saturday night again, shall we?’

‘I’m sorry, Inspector Brady, but this is ridiculous. My client has a watertight alibi for Saturday evening. He could not possibly have murdered this De Bernier,’ said Blake Edward Barrington as he shot Brady a contemptuous look. ‘We have already been through this.’

Brady returned the look with a casual smile. The Barringtons of this world did not bother him. Even if he was one of the best barristers in the country. Brady saw him for what he was – privileged and pretentious. Barrington was a tall, well-built man with thick curly hair and penetrating brown eyes, dressed impeccably. He had an edge about him. One that told people he was used to getting his own way. It was obvious why he was one of the most expensive barristers in the UK. Hughes had requested Barrington represent him as an attempt at intimidating the police – or to be precise, Brady. It hadn’t worked.

It was the first time Brady had met Barrington. No surprise really, since it was the first time a barrister had deigned to represent a client in Whitley Bay police station. But then money could buy anything; including the Barringtons of this world. Hughes had lots of money. Enough to be able to throw it at any problem that stood in his way.

Currently, it was Brady standing in Hughes’ way. But no amount of money could make him disappear. Brady sat back and folded his arms as he stared at the philanthropist opposite him. It wasn’t his altruism that had found him being questioned in a police interview room. It was his philandering ways with young men. Brady was sure De Bernier wasn’t the first, and that he would not be the last. Hughes might have had a short, sharp rap over the knuckles, but Brady didn’t think it’d be long before the shock from the blow lessened, and he would go back to cheating on his wife.

Hughes was a short, balding, barrel of a man whose appetites clearly stretched beyond his penchant for handsome young men. His small, indignant eyes looked straight through Brady as if he didn’t exist. But he did. As Hughes was about to find out.

‘Yes, wives are rather useful when it comes to alibis, aren’t they?’ Brady said as he stared at Hughes, not giving him a chance to answer. ‘So, you admit to having a sexual relationship with the victim?’

Red-faced, Hughes struggled to get his words out. ‘I . . . I . . . I’ve already told you everything. This is tantamount to persecution.’

‘I’ll put a formal complaint in to Detective Chief Superintendent O’Donnell later,’ Barrington advised his client.

Brady ignored Barrington. ‘What about the quayside flat that you had transferred into the victim’s name?’

Hughes looked uneasy. ‘I . . . I don’t know—’

‘Was Alexander De Bernier blackmailing you, Mr Hughes?’ Brady fired.

‘Don’t answer that,’ advised Barrington before Hughes had a chance to respond.

‘You see, we found the victim’s private film collection. I assume you know what I’m talking about?’ Brady asked.

The colour of Hughes’ face deepened.

There was a knock at the door. Harvey walked in.

‘Jack, you might want this,’ he said as he handed Brady a sheet of paper.

‘Thanks.’ He waited until Harvey had left the room before looking at the lab results. They were negative. It was no surprise. But there was something on the lab results that Brady had not been expecting. De Bernier’s blood test results. Brady handed the sheet of paper to Conrad.

Conrad’s eyes quickly took in the information. His expression told Brady he was as surprised by the findings as his boss.

Brady turned to Hughes.

‘You’re free to go,’ he said.

‘That’s it! No apology for wasting my time?’ Hughes spluttered, red-faced. ‘Believe me when I say this, DI Brady, after this façade your time on this force will be short-lived!’

Brady sighed wearily. He was tired. Too tired for Hughes’ bullshitting. He had bigger problems.

‘Did you know that De Bernier was HIV positive?’ Brady asked bluntly.

It had the desired effect. It shut Hughes up.

‘If I were you, I’d think about how you’re going to tell your wife you’ve had unprotected sex with an HIV-infected partner. May be worth having your barrister with you for that little conversation.’

The colour drained from Hughes’ face.

Brady had seen the films. He knew exactly what was going through Hughes’ head; that he had had unprotected sex with the victim – on many occasions.

‘If it’s any consolation, I’m sure De Bernier was completely unaware he was infected. After all, why would you want to intentionally damage a prosperous career as a high-class rent boy?’

‘What?’ Hughes exclaimed, offended.

‘Did you think you were exclusive?’ Brady asked with a faux-sympathetic look. He solemnly shook his head. ‘No . . . until he was murdered, De Bernier had quite a lucrative business on the go. Unfortunately, Mr Hughes, you were one of many.’

With that, Brady got up and left.

‘I’ll be having a word with your superiors, DI Brady!’ Barrington shouted after him.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Tuesday: 11:21 p.m.

‘For fuck’s sake, Jack! What did you think you were playing at?’ demanded Gates.

He was standing with his back to Brady, looking out the window. Hands tightly clasped together behind him.

‘I just thought someone should tell him. At least, for his wife’s sake. I’m sure Hughes would have appreciated my humanitarianism,’ Brady replied, unable to help himself.

He quickly regretted it.

‘Don’t fuck with me!’ Gates thundered as he spun around.

He was an imposing man at the best of times, but now he looked as if he was ready to jump over his desk and floor Brady. They may have roughly been the same height and build but Brady knew that when Gates was in this kind of mood, he was well and truly capable of knocking him out. Ordinarily Gates kept control, regardless of the situation. Not this time. Brady had obviously pushed him too far. His face was unusually flushed.

Brady could see the vein pulsating in Gates’ neck as he decided what to do with him. It wasn’t a good sign.

‘Sit!’ barked Gates.

Relieved, Brady did as instructed. He had been standing in Gates’ office for the past ten minutes waiting for his boss to finish bollocking him and let him get on with his job.

Robert Smythe was booked on a flight back from Brussels to Newcastle Airport. He would be landing at five a.m. Brady needed to be prepared. The longer he wasted in Gates’ office, the less time he had to get everything organised for Smythe’s long-overdue arrest.

‘Three bloody days! That’s all it’s taken you. Three days and you end up causing problems. Why the hell can you not learn to keep your mouth shut and play things by the book? Do you know how powerful Hughes is? Do you, Jack?’

Brady shrugged. He wasn’t bothered. The guy was a jerk.

Gates’ eyes were filled with cold fury as they bore into him.

‘Why do you make my bloody life so difficult? Why can’t you take some notes from Adamson?’

Brady could not help himself reacting to the name. Adamson was his nemesis. He was also Gates’ protégé.

‘I’m this close to handing your investigation over to Adamson,’ Gates warned, as he gestured with his thumb and forefinger.

It was close. Even a blind man could tell that.

Brady was about to object but the expression on Gates’ furious face told him to keep quiet.

‘Step out of line once more and that’s it. You’re off. And it won’t just be me who will want to see you walking the beat in Blyth. I’m sure there’ll be a line of people that you’ve pissed off. Hughes being one of them.’

Brady didn’t bother disputing the fact.

‘Tell me one thing,’ Gates demanded. ‘Are you certain that Smythe is responsible for De Bernier’s murder?’

Brady was surprised by the question. However, he didn’t let it show.

‘As sure as I can be without the DNA evidence, sir,’ answered Brady. And it was the truth. But there was something that Conrad had said earlier that had been bothering him. And then there were the lab findings. It was enough to make him feel a gnawing disquiet about what he had found out. But with Gates waiting for Brady to trip up, the last thing he was going to do was confide in him. He was just hoping that it didn’t mean what he suspected.

He shook it off. The evidence against Smythe was damning. It was better to focus on that than to start causing more problems.

‘The evidence is indisputable, sir. Jed found blackmailing emails from the victim to Smythe. De Bernier had quite a DVD collection of himself and the politician.’

Gates nodded. He clearly was not happy.

‘His car?’

‘Impounded for forensic examination.’

‘His house?’ Gates asked.

‘Forensics have already searched it, which is how Jed was able to access the emails on the desktop computer.’

Brady had applied for a warrant to search the MP’s premises as soon Daniels and Kenny had spotted the politician’s car. The white Audi sports car was only one of five cars registered to him. But that was the one they needed.

‘All right, because if you’re wrong on this and you arrest Smythe, then, Jack, I give you my word, you’ll be signing on at Whitley Bay Job Centre.’

‘Sir,’ Brady said as his feeling of unease mounted.

WEDNESDAY

Chapter Forty

Wednesday: 10:01 a.m.

Brady had spent the night at the station. He had been too wired to go home, so had decided to put his head down on the couch in his office. He had called Claudia to explain. But there had been no answer. If he had not been so focused on what the next few hours would bring, he might have been more concerned. But he had dispelled his unease and had turned his mind to the investigation. Brady knew that once the case was closed he would have to make some tough decisions; he and Claudia would have to be honest with each other and talk. Neither one of them could continue living the way they had been doing. If Brady was brutally honest, he was terrified of losing her – again. It was easier not to think about it and instead focus on the things in his life he could control. Such as Robert Smythe being charged with murder.