Foul Justice (22 page)

•     •     •

After finishing the paperwork,
Lorne drove to the designer’s showroom, and parked the car around the corner, out of sight. If Styles saw them approaching, she might make a run for it.

Lorne turned to Katy. “Tell you what. You go round the back. She might try and leg it. If she does, you have my permission to stop her any way you can.”

Smirking, they split up. Lorne opened the front door. The bell chimed, and Styles glanced up at her. She looked worried as she made an excuse to the woman she was dealing with, and slipped through the door to the office beyond the showroom. Up for the chase, Lorne sprinted through the same door, almost removing it from its hinges as she burst through it.

The woman was nowhere to be seen. When Lorne asked Styles’ shocked assistant where her boss had gone, the young girl glanced at the rear door and shrugged.

“I’ll deal with you later. The charge will be aiding a criminal.” The woman suddenly changed her mind and pointed in the direction Lorne was already running in. “Thanks.”

Hearing a woman’s voice, Lorne opted to creep up to the nearest wall on tiptoes. She couldn’t make out what Styles was saying, as she was using a hushed tone. Lorne struggled to hear any names mentioned or what the call was about. She had a rough idea though.

Then Lorne heard Katy’s abrupt tone telling the woman to hang up.
Shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I should have told her to hang back.

Lorne stepped out from behind the wall. “Ah, Ms. Styles. I’m glad we bumped into you. We have a few questions to ask you. Such as, who were you calling?”

Looking behind Lorne as if searching for an escape route, Danielle Styles shifted in her platform-high heels and shook her head. “No one.”

“Bollocks. Excuse my language,” Lorne added when the woman gave her a horrified look. “I’ll give you two minutes to tell your assistant that you’re leaving and to pick up your bag.”

Styles looked confused. “What? Why?”

Lorne winked at Styles. “Because I think you’ll talk more openly in our environment than yours.”

Styles floundered for a moment, giving the impression that she was about to argue, before thinking better of it.

Usually when a suspect was transported to the police station for questioning, they remained silent. Styles was anything but, declaring her innocence and incredulity at the situation. She huffed, puffed, and sighed frequently during the twenty-minute drive, asking on more than one occasion if she could smoke after being adamantly told that she could not. Styles finally folded her arms in front of her and pouted like a teenager.

As intended, when they arrived at the station and the desk sergeant booked Styles in for questioning, the woman started to visibly shake. Just the thought of being in a police station had Styles’ type quaking in her high heels.

 Standing behind Styles, Lorne winked at the sergeant and told him authoritatively, “I don’t want to be disturbed for the next couple of hours.”

Nodding sternly, he replied, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure of it.”

Lorne led the way into interview room one, with a reluctant Styles behind her and Katy at the rear. The duty solicitor, Tyler, was already in the room, waiting for them.

Lorne and Tyler acknowledged each other briefly while Katy unwrapped the cellophane from a new tape and inserted it into the machine. Then she said the usual blurb while Lorne sat opposite Styles, giving her an intense stare. The intimidation had begun.

“So, Ms. Styles, where would you like to begin?”

The woman frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Come now. We know you’re involved in the robberies, so please don’t bother denying it.”

The woman’s head snapped round to her solicitor, who as usual, was focused on the A4 pad in front of him. When he didn’t register her, she looked back at Lorne with her mouth hanging open.

“What’s wrong, Ms. Styles?”

Her fists clenched and unclenched on the desk in front of her until she interlocked her fingers. Avoiding eye contact, she said shakily, “I know nothing about any robberies.”

“For the tape, that statement is totally untrue. Sergeant Foster and I questioned Ms. Styles about the robberies a couple of days ago. Perhaps our meeting has slipped her mind. Has it?”

The woman looked on the verge of having a meltdown. “You’re twisting my words, Inspector.”

“Am I? I’d hate to be guilty of that. So, in your own words, how do you know Zac Murray?”

Confusion was clear in her face. “Who?”

Frustrated, Lorne tried a different name. “What about Carl Ward?”

The woman’s mouth turned down at the sides, and she shook her head vigorously. “Never heard of him.”

Lorne suspected she was telling the truth. Exhaling, she asked, “Kim Smalling?”

Recognition filtered her eyes, and Styles nodded. “She’s a personal friend of mine, but I’ve never heard of the two men…‌Oh, wait a minute. Kim was going out with a Carl. Not sure what his surname is, though.”

“Have you been in touch with Kim lately?”

“Not for a couple of weeks. Why?”

“I’ll ask the questions, if you don’t mind. How do you know the footballer Les Kelly?” Lorne asked.

“He’s a client of mine. Actually, I dealt more with his wife Sandra than him.”

“And you got the contract from Kim. Is that right?” Styles fidgeted in her seat and glanced down at the table. “Is that right?” Lorne repeated when her question went unanswered.

Styles nodded.

“For the tape, Ms. Styles is nodding. Well, here’s the thing: We had an interesting chat with Kim Smalling yesterday, and in her distraught state, she let a few things slip.”

That grabbed the woman’s attention. Styles glanced up at Lorne, her eyes wide with alarm. “Such as?”

“Where do I begin? Zac Murray, Carl Ward, and Trevor Murray—those are the names that cropped up, along with yours. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you when you say you’ve never heard of them.”

“I corrected myself and told you I had heard of Carl Ward, but I’ve never met him. And I’ve definitely never heard of the other names.”

“You see, that’s what I find hard to believe. From the second I stepped into the Kellys’ home after dealing with the murder scene at the Dobbs’ house, I had an inkling we were looking at a team. Thanks to Kim, who put all the final pieces together for me, I can now start arresting people and charging them with murder.”

Styles stood up and knocked over her chair, pointing at Lorne, she said, “I had nothing to do with any murders, and I’m not going down for them, either.” She prodded Tyler in the arm and added, “Say something. Tell her I had nothing to do with this—not the murders, anyway.”

Lorne held back a smile when Tyler spoke. “Sit down, Ms. Styles. You’re making a damn fool of yourself. Just tell the Inspector what she wants to know, and we can all get out of here.”

Defeated, Styles picked her chair up and slumped into it. “I know nothing about the murders,” she repeated, angrily. “I refuse to be held accountable for any of that.”

Tilting her head, Lorne asked calmly, “So what was your part?”

“I don’t really know how I got mixed up in this. Honestly, I don’t.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now, tell me what you know.”

Moistening her pink lipstick-coloured lips, she began, “Kim told me her boyfriend was planning to rob some footballers’ homes. She’s friends with the Kellys and wanted to know who else was worth robbing. They knew that most of my clients nowadays are wealthy footballers. I gave them a list, but I felt bad about doing it. Kim said I owed her for putting the work my way in the first place.”

“Go on. Was there anyone else involved?”

Styles remained quiet for a while, and Lorne could tell she was torn about whether to answer the question or not. She pushed the woman again for an answer. “It’ll be to your benefit to tell us, Ms. Styles.”

The woman blew out a long breath and looked at all the people around the table in turn before she said, “Stuart Russell.”

Lorne tossed the name around in her mind for a few seconds, but it didn’t ring any bells. “Stuart Russell?”

Styles sat forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the desk. She supported her head in her hands.

With reluctance, Styles repeated the name. “Stuart Russell. He helped me set up my business. A silent partner, if you like.”

“Ah, the business you’re not qualified to run, you mean.” The woman looked stunned by the news. “We do our research thoroughly, Ms. Styles. Any reason you gave up your course at college?”

Shrugging, she sat back in her chair again. “I got bored. I met this Stuart a couple of years ago. He said I had talent. He offered to back me if I set up a company. He even put some clients my way.”

Lorne saw the woman cringe when the final words were out. “What
aren’t
you telling me?”

Styles sighed heavily. “Stuart Russell is an agent.”

Perplexed, Lorne asked, “An agent? For what?” Then it dawned on her where she’d heard the name before.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

T
he interview came to
an abrupt halt. After instructing Katy to get down Styles’ statement, Lorne bolted into the incident room. She approached the evidence board and shook her head in disgust. She knew the information had been in front of her all along, but other things had steered her away from the one person she should have questioned right from the start.

AJ walked up and stood beside her. “Everything all right, ma’am?”

She thumped her clenched fist against her thigh and faced him. “No, it’s not.” Stepping closer to the board, she tapped her finger on the name that she knew would haunt her for years to come. “Stuart Russell. Why the heck haven’t we questioned him yet?”

“Are you saying that he’s got something to do with this?” AJ asked, looking shocked.

“Okay, enough farting around. Get his address, home and office. We’ll take a ride out there to see what he has to say.”

While the sergeant sorted out the information, Lorne rang DCI Roberts.

After filling him in on the details, she said downheartedly, “Sorry, sir. I messed up.”

“Not sure how you work that one out, Inspector. Do you want me to organise some form of backup?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Let’s see what he has to say first. I’m so bloody annoyed with myself.”

“It’s understandable after all you’ve been through.”

“Please don’t try and make excuses for me. I should have spotted—”

“You can make amends now. It’s not too late, Lorne, and definitely not worth beating yourself up about. Let me know how it goes.” With that, he hung up.

Lorne was left feeling grateful that he hadn’t shouted at her and chastised her incompetence. If her commanding officer had been anyone else, she knew that would have been the case.
Enough self-pity. Crack on, and bring him in.

•     •     •

The personal assistant was
out of her chair like a shot when Lorne and AJ swept past her and into Russell’s office.

The man in his early forties studied Lorne with what appeared to be amusement. “Did I miss this appointment in my diary, Lizzie?” he asked the outraged blonde holding onto the door.

“No, sir. They barged in before I could stop them.”

Lorne flashed her warrant card at the secretary, then Russell. The secretary gawped at her ID, but Russell seemed to be unperturbed, which made Lorne even more suspicious of the man sitting confidently behind his oversized desk.

“Got time to squeeze in a little chat with the police in your busy schedule, have you?”

His smile broadened, and his eyes sparkled mischievously. “Never been one to not help out the police when I can. Mind if I ask you what this is about?”

 Lorne noticed the way his pen picked up speed as he wound it through his fingers. She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop her. “Can I get you any refreshments?”

“No, thanks. We won’t be long,” Lorne responded curtly.

“That’ll be all, Lizzie,” he said, dismissing the furious secretary. He pointed at the chairs in front of them, but Lorne and AJ remained standing.

Lorne said, “Over the last couple of days, we’ve had some pretty interesting conversations.”

He gave a derisory laugh. “I’m sure you have, in your line of work.”

There was no fooling Lorne. She noticed the nervous twitch at the side of his mouth. “Care to tell me how you know Danielle Styles?”

“Why?” he retorted a little too sharply.

“Just answer the question, please.”

“The young lady has talent.” When Lorne cocked an interested eyebrow, he clarified, “As an interior designer, I meant.”

“How long have you known each other?”

The smile had slipped from his tanned face, “I guess a couple of years. Is she in any trouble?”

Ignoring his question, she asked, “Is it right that you’re a silent partner in her business?”

“That’s right.” Another short, curt reply.

“Can I ask why?”

His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Inspector.”

“Why did you decide to invest in her company?”

“It was a business opportunity that I couldn’t pass up. Is there a law now against investing money that I haven’t heard about?” he responded.

Lorne held his gaze for several seconds and soon concluded that he was a very cagey character. “Are you sleeping with her, too?”

At first, he appeared taken aback by the question, but he recovered quickly to admit, “We might have been bedfellows at one time. Do you mind getting to the point of this intrusion, Inspector?”

“The point is that we’re from the Serious Crime Squad. We’re investigating a couple of robberies and believe that you and your lady friend have something to do with the crimes.”

His temper momentarily flared up but soon died down again. “In what way?” he asked, calmly.

Lorne moved to the chair and sat down. AJ followed her. “Come now. Don’t tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about.” Shrugging, he pulled a ‘So what?’ face. Lorne decided to play along with him for a while. “Tell me, how long have you been a football agent?”

“A couple of years.”