Authors: Dreda Say Mitchell
A banging noise sounded from the hallway. Footsteps ran towards the room. Jack Strong appeared in the doorway.
His blue eyes took in the scene. ‘Bloody hell.’ He rushed over to Rio. ‘I went over to check on Burns and Doctor Green told me what she told you so I figured you’d be here.’
But Rio didn’t answer him because Nikki’s sobs tore up the room. The teenager was bent over Ophelia, holding her hand.
Rocking she said, ‘I didn’t eat the food she gave me because I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t want to disappoint her so I threw some of it in the bin to make it look like I ate some. I loved her so much. I didn’t know she was my real mum. Why couldn’t she just love me back?’
Ophelia’s eyes suddenly opened. With her last dying breath she viciously spat blood into her daughter’s face.
sixty-three
8:15 a.m.
Rio gritted her teeth as the bandage was wrapped tight around her left knee inside the hospital room. DSI Newman looked at her with a measure of sympathy. The Assistant Commissioner did not. Jack Strong stood near the closed door, arms folded, wearing a neutral expression.
Once the nurse had left the room AC Pauline Tripple said, ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t take your badge from you for good?’
Rio didn’t hesitate with her answer. ‘Because I was trained to find out the truth, which meant saving the life of a sixteen-year-old girl.’
The AC turned around and paced. Then turned back. ‘The truth, as far as the public are concerned, is that the Greenbelt Gang committed those raids and murders.’
Rio jacked up from the pillow, wincing in pain. ‘You can’t mean that—’
‘If it’s ever found out that a suspended police officer
disobeyed
orders and was tearing around this city do you know what additional scrutiny that would bring to the Met—?‘
‘Bullshit.’
‘Rio,’ DSI Newman warned softly.
But Rio was having none of it. ‘What about Nicola Bell? Don’t you think she deserves for everyone to know the truth – to have an opportunity to live a smooth life?’
‘You think that girl is going to ever be able to live a normal life after killing her own mother, albeit in self-defence? There’s nothing
smooth
about your whole family and boyfriend being murdered. Plus, do you want to face the possibility of Nicola Bell facing a trial?’
Rio knew that her superior was right. How was a teenager going to come back from all of this?
Rio leaned back into the pillow. ‘How is she?’
Strong answered. ‘She’s OK and was checked over a little while back. I think they’ll discharge her soon. She’ll be in the care of one of her friend’s family. We didn’t tell them what happened, just that Nikki had met with a little accident.’ He let his arms drop to his side. ‘The hitman was thirty-one-year-old Ronald Miller. Former Para who left the army after he was put out of action in the Iraq War. He was part of a class action, with four other soldiers, who were preparing to take the MoD to court because they said that they weren’t provided with adequate and safe equipment while on duty during the war. Their lawyer managed to negotiate an out-of-court settlement. Miller returned to his native Cornwall and became a fisherman. And obviously used what he’d learned in the army to become a gun for hire.’
Rio remembered what Calum had said about the knife Nikki had taken. ‘Fisherman. That probably explains the specialist knives he used. Thank God he didn’t have a chance to use them on Nikki.’
‘You need to stop thinking of that girl,’ the AC said quickly, ‘and start thinking of your own career. You start talking about this and any chance you have for promotion is off the cards.’
‘So I’m still in the running for a promotion?’
‘Let’s put it this way,’ the AC answered, ‘you’re still one of the best officers I’ve ever known. As of now your suspension is over and you can return to duty any time you like. We still need to investigate what happened on the raid so it’s going to have to be desk duty for you until the investigation is complete.’
Rio felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. ‘Thank you.’
‘There’s someone to see you,’ Strong’s voice broke in.
Rio looked over to find Nikki standing nervously next to him in the doorway.
‘We’ll give you some privacy,’ Assistant Commissioner Tripple said.
As the others filed out of the room Nikki stepped inside and moved towards the bed.
‘Hey, how are you doing, kid?’ Rio’s tone was soft and gentle. This girl had been through so much.
Nikki was still pale and the expression in her eyes was wary and sad. ‘I just wanted to come and say thank you for everything you did for me.’
Rio smiled. ‘All part of my job. I hear you’re going to be staying with a friend’s family.’
Nikki nodded. ‘My friend Muriel’s parents. They’re nice people.’ There was a hitch in her voice. ‘I hope that Calum’s going to be alright.’
‘He’ll be fine. It’s going to take a lot more than that to keep him down.’ She hoped that her words would come true.
‘I should go; they’re waiting for me.’
They continued to gaze at each other for a few seconds. Then Rio said, ‘If you should ever need me, just give me a call. Anytime.’
Nikki nodded and then turned and left the room. As soon as she was gone Rio leaned back and let out a long punch of air. The last six days had been a roller-coaster ride that she hoped never to repeat in her life. She truly prayed that Nikki was able to take up the reins of her life and put all this behind her. She knew that wasn’t going to be easy, but the young are resilient and have the energy needed to bounce back. There was still one part of the investigation that troubled her – what had Ophelia Bell meant by another twist in the story? Was there some part of the puzzle that she had missed or was it the ramblings of a woman who hated her parents and her child?
Her mobile pinged. She leaned across and found her bag and took out her mobile.
You figure it our yet Mizz Wray. Help me!!! I’m being attacked by mustard gas.
hehehe
Samson Larkin. No skull and crossbones this time. If only she’d let the psychotic genius say what he’d had to say in Cyprus. She renewed her vow of a reckoning when she caught up with him.
‘Detective Inspector Wray.’
Rio pushed up to see Strong standing in the doorway. It felt good to hear her official title again.
‘I thought you’d like to know that Burns has regained consciousness and is calling for you. He’s really agitated.’
9:02 a.m.
Neither Strong nor the nurse were pleased that Rio had decided to walk instead of using a wheelchair to visit Calum. The pain in her legs was persistent, but not too bad; she wasn’t the type of person who resisted standing on her own two feet. But she didn’t care about any of that; all she wanted was to make sure Calum was going to make it.
He looked weak, his eyes a mixture of liquid green and bloodshot white. A bandage circled his neck, hiding and healing where the wire had wrapped around his skin. As soon as he saw her he tried to lift himself off the bed.
Rio rushed forwards, despite the shooting pain in her legs. ‘What the heck are you trying to do?’ she let out crossly as she eased him back down.
His fingers clawed into her shoulder. ‘No time to talk.’ His breathing was laboured. ‘Maurice . . . Bell . . . partner . . . Slim—’
‘It’s OK,’ Rio soothed. ‘It had nothing to do with Terry Larkin. I know that the text you sent me said it was him—’
Calum furiously shook his head. ‘Didn’t manage . . . to finish . . . text. Was writing . . . Terry Larkin . . . isn’t partner.’ He swallowed. ‘My . . . bag . . . rucksack.’
Strong stepped forwards and retrieved it from the floor, and handed it to Rio. She unzipped it and inside saw sheets of printed white paper.
‘Read,’ was all Calum said.
Rio made herself comfortable on the edge of the bed as she pulled the pages out and started reading. The air pulsing in her chest got rougher and rougher as she read page after page, not able to quite believe what she was reading. But there it was in black and white. Finally she turned to gaze dumbstruck at her husband.
‘Maurice Bell’s partner,’ Calum said more clearly.
Determination and old-fashioned anger gripped Rio as she turned to Strong. ‘Get the nurse to find me some painkillers that will keep me on my feet. We’re going to make one final visit. Now I understand what Ophelia Bell meant by the last twist in the story.’
sixty-four
9:51 a.m.
Rio and Strong strode into the Old Bailey as if they owned the place. Any attempt to interrupt Rio’s progress was met with a withering look and a flash of her warrant card. When the two detectives arrived at the entrance to court number two, an usher barred their way. ‘I’m sorry, you can’t come through; the court is in session . . .’
Rio showed her card. ‘I’m in charge of a murder investigation, so you need to step out of my way.’
‘I’m sorry, madam, you’ll have to wait until the court has—’
Rio, followed by Strong, pushed past him, leaving his outraged protests behind. They entered the court. The chamber was packed. The two made their way down the aisle. A witness was in the box being expertly grilled by a lawyer.
‘Miss Jamieson, you are lying,’ the lawyer proclaimed. ‘Admit to these twelve honest and good people of the jury that you have been lying since the beginning—’
‘No I haven’t.’
But the lawyer wouldn’t let up. ‘Admit that your motivation in bringing these very serious allegations against my client are fraudulent. That your motivation is greed, pure and—’
The judge banged his gravel when he finally saw Rio and Strong. ‘What is going on here?’
Rio called across the silent court. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord, but I’m Detective Inspector Wray and I’m here to detain a suspect in a murder inquiry. I promise this won’t take a moment.’
The lawyer turned around.
Stephen Foster.
Rio couldn’t help herself – she enjoyed the expression on his face. It was one she had never seen before. Foster looked like a patient who’d just been given some seriously bad news by a doctor. He looked at Rio, then at Strong, then back at Rio. He looked over to the judge, the witness, the jury and the other lawyer as if expecting their support. When his gaze finally settled back on Rio his expression was the professional blank face he so often wore.
In a firm voice that was audible to the whole court, Rio said, ‘Stephen Foster, I’m arresting you in connection with the murders of Maurice Bell, Linda Bell, Frank Bell, Patsy Bell, Adeyemi Ibraheem, Ania Brown and the attempted murder of Nicola Bell and Calum Burns.’
Strong immediately handcuffed him. As Rio read him his rights there was uproar in the courtroom as astonished onlookers started talking at the same time, and the three journalists in court raced outside to be the first to break the shocking news.
Rio gently took Foster’s arm and escorted him, without resistance, towards the exit. As they left the court, Rio heard the judge behind her say, ‘Stephen Foster? Murder? What the hell’s going on . . .?’
News had already filtered through by the time they got Foster to The Fort. The desk sergeant told Rio that Assistant Commissioner Tripple was waiting in Newman’s office for her.
When she got upstairs her mentor was alone.
‘Judge Patel is not a happy man. He claims that the Met have brought his court into disrepute. You were specifically told that you’re restricted to desk duty.’
Here we go, Rio thought, she’s going to fire my arse.
Pauline Tripple leaned forwards. ‘You’ve got forty-eight hours to squash that bastard. Make sure you do.’
sixty-five
48 Hours
‘It was you pulling the strings all along wasn’t it, Mr Foster?’ Rio said in Interview Room Two.
But Rio had left it too late. In the interval between his arrest and her first question, Foster had recovered and re-inflated himself with his own diamond-edged and bomb-proof persona. He was so confident he waived having legal representation. He was no longer the shocked and bewildered suspect she’d detained at the Bailey.
He was Stephen Foster.
He took a half-smoked cigar she’d permitted him to keep, lit it carefully and blew pungent smoke across the table. ‘I’m only too happy to answer any questions you may have, Detective Inspector – however ludicrous they might turn out to be – but I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.’
It was too late. She should have hit him with questions when he was reeling with shock. He might have made a mistake then. That was the brief moment when the untouchable Stephen Foster had crashed into the brick wall of reality and been arrested.
‘We know that you were Maurice Bell’s elusive partner, Slim, back in the days when he was Maurice Cloud, slum landlord.’
He took another slow puff of his cigar. ‘It’s not a crime to have had a life before I came to the bar, which is not an admission of having known Maurice Bell during, what you so delicately called, his “slum landlord” days.’