Dead Lucky (14 page)

‘I’m not there,’ said the voice.

‘Where are you then?’

The voice laughed. ‘How are your investigations developing?’

‘What do you care?’

‘I care a great deal. I haven’t finished yet.’

‘There’s a finishing point?’ asked Lambert.

‘That’s up to you.’

It was a brittle comfort knowing that the man planned to finish whatever quest he was on. It also meant there would be more victims. ‘What’s next?’

‘Let’s not spoil things by asking stupid questions. What does Matilda Kennedy think about all this?’

Lambert paused, unsure what to say. He opened his car, which was parked on the side street next to the shop, and sat in the driver’s seat. He began picturing everyone he’d seen inside. It had been busy, but he recalled the faces. A group of four businessmen, with their suit jackets and ties. Two mothers, their newborns in oversized prams to their side. He recalled five people sitting alone. Three men, two reading newspapers, one on his iPad. Two female students, working on laptops. ‘She thinks the same as me. That you’re desperate for attention.’

‘I hope she thinks a bit deeper than that, Lambert. With her roots, I’m sure she will.’

‘Roots?’ asked Lambert, despite himself.

‘You must know Daddy Kennedy, no?’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘Assistant Chief Constable Kennedy. North Shields. Quite a family. Probably explains her fixation with authority.’

Each word from the man was perfectly measured, as if he’d planned the conversation and learnt his lines like an actor. ‘Tell me what you want, or hang up,’ said Lambert.

‘I’ve told you before, Lambert. We’re alike, you and I. Not completely but almost.’

‘I’m nothing like you.’

‘Perhaps. Anyway, must dash. You should really take a break, Lambert. Make the most of the sunshine, pop to the seaside perhaps. Say hello to Eustace when you get there.’

The line was cut.

Lambert started the car, and rushed into the traffic. He hated himself for reacting to the call but he had to see Eustace Sackville. He slammed his fist onto the dashboard as he became caught at temporary traffic lights a mile from Sackville’s flat. ‘Come on,’ he screamed, pulling the magnetic siren onto his roof. The vehicles in front pulled over, and Lambert cursed, knowing he would have to report his actions.

There was no answer to the bell outside Sackville’s flat. He knocked on the glass panelled doors, and the concierge made his way over at the pace of a snail. Lambert displayed his warrant card, and seconds later was in the lift. He sprinted the short distance to Sackville’s front door and noticed it was open, the lock smashed.

He took the expandable baton from his belt and pushed the door open. A woman was looking through the drawers in the living room sideboard. She looked over at Lambert as if she had every right to be in the room. ‘Shit,’ she said.

‘You alone?’

‘Yes, I’m alone, DCI Lambert. Why not join me?’

The woman was Mia Helmer, the editor from Sackville’s newspaper.

‘I’ll be arresting you if you don’t clarify the situation to my liking,’ said Lambert, edging through the door. He glanced around the room, verifying that Helmer was alone. ‘And drop whatever you have there.’

Helmer glanced at a set of papers in her hand as if she’d just seen them for the first time. ‘The door was broken when I got here.’

‘Why are you here in the first place?’

‘I wanted to see Eustace. I hadn’t heard from him since the incident. I thought he could do with seeing a friendly face.’

Lambert remembered the journalist’s emotionless reaction to Moira Sackville’s murder, her only real interest being the story.

‘Take a seat, Mia. Start from the beginning.’

She still held the file in her hands. She carried it to the sofa and sat down. Lambert took it from her. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘Fifteen minutes. I saw the door was broken so I went in to check everything was okay.’

‘You called the police?’

She clenched her face muscles. ‘Not yet. Sorry, I got side tracked.’

‘You expect me to believe this is a coincidence. Look at the place, it doesn’t look as if someone else has been here first. What are you here for?’

Mia lifted her hands in the air. ‘I’m being deadly serious. The door was broken when I arrived, check for prints or whatever it is you do. I haven’t been near the lock. Anyway, why are you here?’

Lambert thought back to what the killer had said. ‘Does Eustace have another place?’

‘To live?’ asked Mia, surprised by Lambert’s change of direction.

‘Somewhere by the sea?’

‘Not that I’m aware of, why?’

Lambert was sure the killer had been here, had broken the lock. ‘Why did you come here?

Mia paused, about to go in defence mode. ‘Anonymous tip, would you believe. Told me to go here alone.’

‘And you did?’

‘I told my assistant to call you lot if she hadn’t heard from me in an hour.’

‘And what did you hope to find?’

‘A story.’

‘Well, you’re in one now.’ Lambert took out his mobile.

‘Wait, we’re about to go public with the Dempsey murders. We know about Laura Dempsey’s parents as well. You don’t want us going public with these revelations.’

‘If you know, then the others will.’

Mia paused. She took in a deep breath. ‘I’m not so sure.’

‘Why, who spoke to you?

Mia didn’t answer. She stared blankly at Lambert.

‘The killer?’

Mia paused then nodded.

‘What else did he say?’

‘He told me to listen, and listed all the murders from Moira onwards. He told me to go public.’

If she was shaken up by the revelations, she was hiding it well. She stared back at Lambert with the same icy composure she’d shown the first time he’d met her at her office. If it was all a show then she was an assured actress.

‘Did he give a reason?’

Mia shook her head. ‘He just told me to go here, to find out what Eustace knows.’

‘So what are you offering?’

‘We won’t print anything yet, but time is running out.’

It wasn’t the greatest of deals but he didn’t want the news getting out yet, and was sure Tillman didn’t either. ‘Okay, but I want a full statement. I need to know everything the killer said to you.’

He called it in.

‘Right, empty all your pockets and everything from your bag onto the table.’

He confiscated the journalist’s phone. ‘Did he tell you to look for anything specific?’

Mia pursed her lips, an unruly child sitting on time out. ‘No.’

‘And have you found it?’

‘You want to strip search me?’ Mia tilted her head.

‘I’m not ruling it out.’

He began searching where Mia had left off. The sideboard drawers were chaotic. He flicked through piles of bills and statements which stretched back for years, obsolete instruction manuals, tickets stubs, loose batteries and coins. If there was important information in the flat then he doubted Eustace would have hidden it somewhere so open.

Kennedy, Walker and Devlin arrived twenty minutes later. Lambert pointed to Devlin. ‘Arrest this woman for breaking and entering,’ he said.

For the first time in the brief time he’d known her, Mia showed some emotion. ‘We had a deal.’

‘I don’t remember agreeing to anything. You got me thinking, Mia. Why would the killer break in here then tell you about it? He would have taken whatever he needed.’

‘You must be fucking joking. This will be on the front page as soon as I get out.’

‘Tell my team all you know and we’ll go from there.’

Devlin lifted the journalist from the sofa and received a slap in the face.

‘You can’t touch me,’ said Mia, her neck tendons at breaking point.

Devlin cuffed the woman.

‘Add assault to the charges,’ said Lambert, as Devlin led the journalist away.

‘Okay, okay,’ said Mia. ‘Take these fucking things off and I’ll show you.’

Devlin looked over and Lambert nodded.

‘Do you mind?’ said Mia, opening her blouse.

‘Kennedy,’ said Lambert, turning his back.

‘You can open your eyes,’ said Kennedy, seconds later, smirking. In her hand she held a micro USB stick, wrapped in some sort of plastic covering,

Lambert shook his head. ‘He told you?’ he asked Mia.

Kennedy stared at him confused. ‘Eustace?’

Mia smiled. ‘Not the brightest, is she? He couldn’t find it, that’s why he called me.’

‘Can someone tell me what is going on?’ said Kennedy.

‘Hang on. Where did you find it?’

‘Why do you think it’s wrapped in polythene?’

Lambert put the stick to his nose. ‘Whisky.’

‘Always at the bottom of a bottle.’

‘Devlin, take Miss Helmer in for a statement. The agreement stands for now, Mia. If the story goes public in the next twenty-four hours you’ll be arrested and charged.’

‘I want every inch of this place searched,’ he said, once Devlin had led Mia away. ‘We need to know where Eustace is hiding and why.’ He thought back to what the killer had told him. ‘Eustace mentioned something to me about the seaside. Let me know if you find anything relevant.’

Sackville’s office was even more cluttered than the living room. Lambert counted five glass tumblers, each reeking of single malt. Piles of books and papers were strewn on the shelves about Sackville’s desk. He switched on the man’s PC, surprised to be able to go straight through to his desktop. He plugged in the USB stick, hoping his luck would continue. The PC was ancient, the fan struggling as the computer accessed the files on the drive.

A list of over one hundred files appeared on the screen. Lambert double clicked the first file and was dismayed to find a request to enter a password. He tried ten more random files, receiving the same message each time. He was about to give in, when he noticed the last seven files. The first letter of each file were arranged to make an acronym scrolling down the page in a vertical line. The acronym read: BLAKE.

Chapter 22

Lambert handed the USB stick to Kennedy. ‘Get this to the tech guys, priority. I need every file examined. Let me know when you’re finished here.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Best you don’t know.’

Kennedy paused. ‘Was that call anything to do with this?’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘The call. At the coffee shop. One second we’re talking, the next you’ve received a call and you’ve made your way here.’

‘Coincidence,’ said Lambert, leaving the flat.

Lambert drove through the rush hour traffic, under the Rotherhithe tunnel to Blackheath. He already knew Sackville was investigating Blake, and was sure the journalist had left the acronym on the files for a reason. Sackville, Dempsey and Blake were linked somehow. He needed to speak to Laura Dempsey again, to see what she knew about Blake.

It was an hour before he pulled up outside Blake’s house, adrenaline surging through him. He went to push the doorbell when he was shoved in the back.

He stumbled forward, losing his balance and having to soften his fall with his hands. He reached for the pepper spray from his belt. He turned to face his attacker, bracing himself for a further blow. ‘What the hell do you think you are doing, Sergeant?’ he asked the man standing over him, blocking the sun.

DS Harrogate reached out his hand. Lambert took it, fighting the urge to use the pepper spray, and let Harrogate pull him to his feet. ‘Sorry about that, sir, but I can’t have you speaking to Blake. I believe your superior has instructed you to leave him alone.’

The two officers stood inches apart. Harrogate was tensed, ready for confrontation. Lambert was surprised by the man’s nerve. He had confronted his superior, not to mention the way he blindsided him and pushed him to the ground.

‘I’m investigating Blake in conjunction with a murder enquiry,’ he told the junior officer.

‘That’s all fine and good, sir, but you’re still not speaking to him without my say so,’ said Harrogate, sneering as he said, ‘sir.’

Lambert was seconds away from knocking the look off the man’s face. ‘I’m two ranks above you’

Harrogate shrugged. ‘Well my boss is another two above you and that’s where I take my orders.’

‘What’s so important about Blake that you want to stop me going in?’

‘I’m not at liberty to say.’

Harrogate’s insolence was starting to become tiresome. Lambert knew it could go one of two ways. ‘So let’s get this straight. If I decide to press that bell again you’re going to try and stop me?’

Harrogate stood defiantly, his eyes not leaving Lambert’s. He was out of breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. ‘Before you do,’ said Harrogate, betraying the slightest trace of fear, ‘you may want to speak to Chief Superintendent Tillman.’

‘And why’s that?’

‘He knows all about the situation here and why you can’t speak to Blake.’

Lambert shook his head and cursed under his breath. It was one thing going against the DS and whoever he reported to, another thing entirely going against Tillman.

‘We’re going to get to the bottom of this, Sergeant.’

Harrogate shrugged and Lambert returned to his car, deciding confronting Blake again could wait.

Lambert drove back towards his bedsit, still reeling from his confrontation with Harrogate. It was typical Tillman behaviour, causing issues for him from behind the scenes.

He showered and changed, deciding to log into The System before heading out for a drink. Tillman was the only officer who had the authority to monitor his searches, but still he felt reluctant searching on Kennedy’s father. Whatever limitations Tillman had as an officer, diligence was not one of them. Lambert knew the man was monitoring everything. He would see that Lambert had run the search, and would probably demand an explanation. Lambert could try and pass it off as mere curiosity, but Tillman was a hard man to fool. There was also the possibility that whatever was happening with Tillman and Kennedy would prevent Tillman approaching him.

Deciding it was a future problem, he entered the search. Although The Group no longer existed, it seemed the limitations had not been placed on The System. Full details on Assistant Chief Constable Kennedy appeared in seconds. Such details would not normally be readily accessible to someone of his rank without going through innumerable obstacles.