Foul Justice (23 page)

“And before that?” she asked.

“I had several businesses.”

“What
kind
of businesses exactly?”

Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms. He obviously worked out regularly, by the way his suit pulled across his upper arms. He slightly screwed up his eyes for a brief second. “Mostly I dabbled in stocks and shares. But when the market collapsed, I had to invest my money elsewhere. Hence my partnership with Danielle.”

“I’m confused. So what experience do you need to be a football agent, then?”

“A smart brain and the gift of the gab, most of the time,” he said, laughing.

“Ah, I see. Yes, I can tell you’re a master of that.” Her words didn’t seem to offend him in the slightest. If anything, he seemed to take the mild insult as compliment. He was beginning to piss her off.

“So, perhaps you can answer me this, then. What do you do to earn your vast fee?” She surveyed the plush office to make her point. Everything was still glistening as if it was all totally brand new.

“I look after the players’ needs, mainly, and negotiate good deals on their contracts.”

Puzzled, she tilted her head and asked, “Look after their needs?”

“That’s right,” he replied, giving very little away.

Not satisfied with his response, she pushed him further. “Give me a rundown of what your day entails, will you? Just so I have it clear in my mind how important your role is.”

Lorne spotted a couple of beads of sweat forming on his brow.

“I’m not sure I care for your tone, Inspector. Are you
doubting
my abilities?”

“How can I doubt what I don’t know you do?” she fired back at him without pause.

He sat forward in his chair and opened his diary. “Here’s a usual day for me. This all happened on Friday of last week. Most of the morning was spent going over the various contracts I’m negotiating for some of my players who are without a club at the moment. Here’s a prime example of what I do. One of my players wants to build an extension to his property. He needs a games room, of all things. Therefore it’s my job to get quotes for him. Another player wanted a suit made for a wedding. Again, it’s down to me to sort it out for him.”

“I think I’m getting the picture now, and your fee would be?”

Russell smirked. “Generally it’s ten per cent. From time to time, that figure will vary, depending on the player or club involved.”

“So when a player needs an interior designer, of course you arrange for Ms. Styles to quote for a job, is that right?”

“That’s right. Although I don’t tend to put that kind of work out to tender. I know Danielle is the best around, so I tend to guide my players to use her services.”

“In other words it’s a win-win-win situation for you, what with you being a silent partner in the business and all.”

“If you like,” Russell said, grinning at her.

“So you’re telling me, you do everything for these players apart from wipe their arses for them, is that right?”

His grin broadened, and he nodded. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

One more question, and then she’d hit him where it hurt. “What happens when one of your players gets caught drunk driving or something like that?”

He kept grinning. “It’s muggins here who has to clear up the mess with your lot.”

She gave him a killer smile. “That’s what I thought. So you’ll forgive me for wondering why you haven’t felt the need to contact me over the past week.”

“Sorry, I’m not with you,” he said, looking confused.

“Let me refresh your memory. Last week, two of your players’ houses were robbed. Dave Dobbs and Les Kelly, and yet, as SIO, I’ve never once been contacted by you with regard to the investigation. Why is that?”

Panic filled his eyes, and Lorne knew she had him by the short and curlies. He picked up his diary and swept back through the week, showing her how busy he’d been. “It’s been a hell—of a fortnight,” he stammered unconvincingly.

Then Lorne played her ace card. “I put it to you that you were behind these robberies and subsequent three murders. Therefore, Mr. Russell—or is it Trevor Murray?—I’m placing you under arrest.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

A
J ran around the
desk and slapped the handcuffs on Murray before he had the chance to reach for any likely weapon tucked away in his desk, while Lorne read him his rights.

“What the fuck? Are you out of your tiny little mind? Get yer fucking hands off me, pig.”

Neither of the detectives responded to his foul-mouthed tirade as AJ marched Murray past his open-mouthed secretary and placed him in the back of the car.

Lorne drove. AJ sat in the back with the suspect just in case he tried to interfere with her while she was driving. She laughed when he kicked out in frustration at the back of her seat.

They reached the station. After instructing the desk sergeant to lock Murray in a cell and to notify his ‘top’ solicitor that he was in custody, Lorne headed up the stairs to fill Roberts in.

“That’s great, and you’re sure it’s Murray?” Roberts asked, looking pleased by her accomplishment.

“I’m going to see if the pathologist can help us out there. Russell can swear till he’s blue in the face that he’s not Murray, but I’d bet a year’s wages that I’m right.”

“Can you get AJ or someone to check back to see if they have any photo ID of Murray before the supposed accident?”

“Good idea. If it’s out there, we’ll find it. He might even confess to it during questioning. Talking of which, how are you fixed? I thought you might like to sit in on the interview.”

“You’re not doubting yourself, are you?” he asked, quietly.

She grimaced. “I’m not doubting myself as such, but I’m conscious of the fact that I should’ve picked this guy up—or at least hauled him in for questioning—last week.”

“These things are easily missed, and you’ve had a lot on your mind.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. Those were the very words she didn’t want to hear. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she wasn’t up to the job. “Tony has nothing to do with this. Sean, as a friend, just help me ensure all the
T
s are crossed,
et cetera
, please?”

He gave an understanding nod. “Got you. It’ll be like old times.”

God, she hoped not; he used to be crap at interviewing. “Just to clarify, I’m still in charge of the interview. You’ll be there to back me up, to prompt.
That’s
all.”

He had a glint in his eye and gave a nonchalant shrug. “But of course.”

“We’ll give his solicitor time to get here. In the meantime, I’ll go prepare some questions.”

“I have some paperwork to do anyway. Ring me when you’re ready.”

•     •     •

Stepping back into the
incident room, she clapped to get the team’s attention. “Listen up, guys. Drop what you’re doing. We’ve got half an hour or so before I have to question Murray. I want everyone to concentrate on trying to find some kind of photo ID for Murray. I’m talking driving licence, passport, sports club membership—he looks as though he works out regularly—anything. I also want you to find out what his previous career was before he became an agent, and where Russell came from. My suspicion is that he appeared a couple of years ago after Murray’s supposed disappearance. Tracy, any idea what’s happening with regard to Ward?”

The young sergeant shook her head. “No, ma’am. He’s totally disappeared.”

“Okay, you can be sure if he knows or when he finds out the two Murray brothers have been picked up, he’ll try and run. Molly, get onto the ports and issue an alert,
after
you see what you can find out about the IDs.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll be in my office.”

Katy spoke as she passed her desk, “Do you want me to sit in on the interview with you?”

“No, that privilege is going to DCI Roberts, I’m afraid. I reckon he’s going to be a slippery shit, so I asked the boss to sit in on it.”

Katy smiled but didn’t quite cover her disappointment. “I’ll keep on top of the team, then.”

Lorne thumped her lightly on the top of the arm. “Thatta girl.”

Grabbing a coffee on the way, she settled down to sort out her interview questions. She’d just begun making notes when the phone rang. She picked it up. “DI Simpkins.”

“It’s Edwards.”

She immediately dropped her pen and gave the caller her full attention. “Is it Tony? Is he all right?”

“Don’t be alarmed. I just wanted to tell you that he’s regained consciousness and is now off the critical list.”

“Oh, thank God!”

“The medics in Basra are the dog’s bollocks…‌Ahem…‌Sorry about that,” he apologised after clearing his throat.

“No problem. I’ve heard far worse. When will he be fit enough to travel?”

“That’s really why I’m ringing. He’s coming home tomorrow. Four o’clock, he’s due to touch down at Brize Norton. He asked me to let you know. Would you like to meet him?”

Lorne paused for a second or two to summarise how she saw the next couple of days panning out regarding the case. “I’m sure that’ll be okay. It’ll be wonderful to see him.”

Awkwardly clearing his throat again, he said, “I’m sure it will. Take care.”

She disconnected and instantly placed another call. “Patti, can you talk?”

“Lorne? Whatever is the matter? I’ve got two minutes before the next post.”

“Keep it quiet, but Tony’s coming home tomorrow. I’m so excited, I just had to tell someone.”

Laughing, Patti’s words matched her enthusiasm. “I’m so thrilled for you. We must arrange a celebratory drink, you know, when Tony feels up to it.”

“That’d be excellent. Thanks again for your role in all this.”

“Nonsense, I did nothing. I must go.”

“Wait! We’ve arrested a suspect. I believe he’s a guy who disappeared a few years ago and he’s assumed another identity. Can you help at all?”

“If you can get the duty doctor to take a buccal swab for me, I can see if we can make a positive ID, providing we have a sample of his DNA in the system.”

“Ah, now that’s what I’m not sure about. He’s part of a gang, but I think the other two members took the rap for any crimes they committed,” Lorne said thoughtfully.

“That might cause a problem then. Send it over ASAP, and we’ll see what we can do. Why don’t you delve into his medical records?”

“Of course, just to see if his blood group is the same. He might be something other than a regular type O. You’re a star, Patti. Speak soon.”

She called out for Katy, who immediately appeared in the doorway. “Get the duty doc to get a buccal swab from Murray and a sample of blood, too. Then try and track down his medical records—both of them, Murray and Russell. We’ll get the bastard one way or the other.”

“Good idea. I’m on it.” Smiling, Katy asked, “Everything all right? You look as though you’ve had some good news.”

Winking, Lorne mouthed, “Tony’s coming home tomorrow.” Then she placed a finger to her lips.

Katy whispered, “That’s brilliant news.” She tapped her nose and left the room.

By the time Lorne had finished her list of questions and rang the DCI to join her, the team had found the one piece of incriminating evidence she needed to knock Murray off his confident pedestal.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

P
lacing her notebook on
the desk along with the brown envelope containing the pictures she’d shown his brother, Lorne sat in the seat opposite Murray-Russell.

DCI Roberts started the tape and named everyone in the room, including Russell’s solicitor, Williams.

Lorne began, “Mr. Russell, for the tape, can you please tell us your connection with the footballers Dave Dobbs and Les Kelly?”

“They’re my clients. I’m their agent.”

“For how long?”

His mouth twisted before he answered. “A couple of years.”

“Do you mind if we get to the point here. I have to be in court in a couple of hours, and if things progress any more slowly, I’m going to be late,” Williams stated, offhandedly. All three of them gave him a dirty look, the harshest one coming from his own client.

“Fine by me. Mr. Russell—or would you rather me call you Trevor Murray? That is your real name, after all, isn’t it?”

Williams looked up from his notebook, looking baffled. Lorne had to stifle a grin when he asked his client, “Is this true? Do you go by an alias?”

“Shut up,” snapped Murray.

“Let me fill you in a little, Mr. Williams, on what we know about your charming client here.” Lorne ran through what they’d uncovered about the suspect, and while she did so the amazed solicitor kept opening and shutting his mouth, like a fish out of water and gasping for air.

By the time she told the solicitor about the robberies and the murders, Murray was glaring at her in rage, giving her the impression that had they been alone, he would have quite happily throttled her.

“Sums it up nicely, doesn’t it?” she asked the suspect.

He wrung his hands together in front of him. “You think you’ve got all this sussed, don’t you, bitch?”

Sensing that DCI Roberts was about to stick up for her, Lorne touched him gently on the thigh. Then she took the photos of the crime scenes out of the envelope and slid them across the desk between the solicitor and his client. She watched Williams take a cursory glance at the photos and heard him gag. Murray smirked, making Lorne angry.
You callous bastard!

Then she reached into the envelope again and brought out something the suspect hadn’t been expecting. She thrust the picture from an old driving licence in the name of Trevor Murray before him.
Get out of that one, shitface.

“It’s hard to deny with proof as damning as that, isn’t it?” Lorne said.

His brow furrowed for a time before he started smiling, a smile that sent shivers running up her spine. “So what?”

“What did you mean when you said ‘You think you’ve got all this sussed’? Is there someone else connected to these crimes?”

She watched him chew the inside of his mouth as he debated whether to tell her or not. She didn’t have to wait long.

Finally, he admitted, “The robberies weren’t my idea.”

“But you admit you and your gang were behind them?” Lorne asked, her heart thumping.