Killing for Keeps (10 page)

K
ate let herself in to the incident room at five to six. Even by her standards, that was early for a Sunday morning. She’d woken at four and started chewing over why
Bright wanted to see her so urgently and hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. It was drizzling. No point going for a run, so she decided to skip breakfast and go in early. With no cleaner
at the office to disturb her, and no squad due in ’til seven, she had plenty of time to skim the newspapers and organize a plan for the day ahead.

She didn’t linger in the MIR but went straight to her desk, made herself a pot of coffee and put her feet up. According to her paper, it was National Marriage Sunday. Roman Catholic
priests were spouting their hatred again. Cardinal Keith O’Brien, the leader of the Church of Scotland – the man who’d previously described gay marriage as a ‘grotesque
subversion of a universally accepted human right’ – had apparently stopped talking to First Minister, Alex Salmond.

Marriage . . .
Kate whispered.
Not gay marriage, you bigoted arseholes
.

The article did nothing but convince her to stay in the closet. Pushing her anger and her newspaper away, she checked her in-tray. A hard copy of Brown’s report was right on top where she
expected to find it, marked for her attention. Clipped to the front, a précis of what he’d gleaned from the CCTV she’d asked him to look at. At ten past eight, Terry Allen had
entered the QC Club. Half an hour later, at twenty to nine, John joined him. Both brothers arrived alone, Brown noted. They left together at nine forty-two. At the bottom of the page was a
handwritten note . . .

This is where it gets interesting.

Intrigued, Kate left her desk and walked into the MIR, switching on the lights on her way in. Dead computer screens, like giant eyes, watched her as she moved across the room to Andy
Brown’s workstation. Opening his top drawer, she found what she was looking for: a USB pen drive, an exact copy of the DVD he’d retrieved from the QC Club.

Wondering how long it had taken him to complete the task, she counted herself lucky that she had such a dedicated team member prepared to stay late for the sake of the job and not because he was
making shedloads of overtime. There was an embargo on at present. Headquarters were holding a tight rein on budgets. She’d have to go cap in hand to beg for an increase if the enquiry ran
on.

And this one surely would.

Back in her office, she slipped the USB pen into her computer. She poured more coffee and then sat down to see what had fired Brown’s imagination. Before she had a chance to access the
file and fast-forward to the relevant time, her office door opened and Hank walked in, a huge grin on his face.

She glanced at her watch.

Six-fifteen.

‘You sure Julie’s back?’ Her eyes shifted to the screen in front of her. ‘Mustn’t have been a very good night out.’

‘Ha! Very funny.’ He pointed at her monitor. ‘You got an adult movie on there?’

‘Touché! Pull up a seat for the Andy Brown show.’

Dragging a chair round behind her desk, Hank took off his jacket and sat down beside her. He smelled divine: his favourite shower gel. She sensed he’d turned the corner and was finally
getting his life back on track. He’d lost more weight, was drinking less and looking all the better for it. She loved it when they were the only ones in. It was times like this when they did
their best thinking.

Winding the timer to eight o’clock, Kate let the footage run on in real time. ‘Keep your eyes peeled while I read this.’ She tapped a few keys. The screen split in half –
the footage on the left, Brown’s report on the right – side by side so she could check them off against one another, noting that a copy had been sent to the Receiver, Detective Sergeant
Harry Graham.

‘Looks like Andy did a good job,’ she said.

‘Lisa too.’ Gormley’s eyes never left the screen. ‘I told her to get herself away home. She insisted on staying to help him.’

‘You do surprise me. I’ll have to have a word with those two. They’re spending far too much time together. You think they’ll ever—’

‘Nah, they’ve got more sense.’

‘You getting at me and Jo?’ She nudged him with her elbow.

‘Get off me!’ He grinned. ‘I’m trying to watch this.’

She smiled. ‘I wish you would.’

Kate relaxed. They never stayed mad at each other for long. That was the strength of their relationship.

Continuing to scan the report, she began typing actions into the remarks column in bold font. When she’d finished, she suggested that they run through the footage a couple of times,
checking the accuracy of the report along the way. Not that she doubted Andy or Lisa, just because it was pertinent to do so.

‘What’s remarkable is the fact that Terry and John were in the club for less than an hour,’ Kate said. ‘And not by design either, judging by the expressions on their
faces as they left. Not the cocky bastards of old, are they? They seem bloody nervous to me. Terry in particular, don’t you think?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Wait a
minute!’ She paused the footage, replayed part of it, freezing the final frame and zooming in on the brothers as they went outside. ‘Who the hell is Terry looking at?’

‘Whoever it is, they’re out of shot.’

They both glanced at Brown’s report . . .

To:
DCI Daniels

From:
DC Brown

cc:
DS Harry Graham

Report re: Action 36

DVDs recovered from QC Club – Evening of Thursday, 23 August 2012 – Exhibit references AB3 (Front door) AB4 (Dance floor) and AB5 (SE Corridor)

I have to report as follows: I’ve examined all the CCTV as outlined above and have come across Nominal 1 (John Allen) and Nominal 2 (Terence Allen) on only four occasions.
FYI, there is a discrepancy between the CCTV clock and real time. Clock running seven minutes slow, hence time on DVD and actual time recorded below:

Ref: AB3 – Front Door

Ref: AB5 – SE Corridor

Ref: AB4 – Dance Floor

Ref: AB3 – Front Door

They needn’t have bothered checking it. Andy’s account was spot on, no inconsistency with what they themselves had seen. The case had indeed just got
‘interesting’.

N
ewton Road, High Heaton. Kate rapped on the door so hard it hurt her knuckles. For some reason, Bright had delayed his visit to the incident room until eleven o’clock.
Still, she was pushed for time. Following information received, she needed to speak to Vicky Masters urgently. A British Telecom contact of Carmichael’s had been swift to assist the police.
He’d told her that John Allen paid for the privilege of a line rental but never used the phone. His landline was a broadband connection only. No calls, local or international, had ever been
made or received, despite the allocation of a dedicated number. Even worse news from Lisa: there was no record of a mobile contract for either John or Vicky with any major service provider. It was
as the DCI had expected – unregistered mobiles were a criminal’s best friend.

‘What now?’ Vicky’s shoulders dropped as she opened the door and saw her standing there. The young mum was still in her pyjamas, her son Nathan nowhere to be seen.

‘I need to talk to you,’ Kate said. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Do I have a choice?’

The DCI gave her a pointed look.

Without a word, Vicky spun on her heels and walked away. In the living room, she went back to a pile of ironing. There were fresh bouquets in vases and condolence cards scattered about. The TV
was tuned to some kind of talent show, the contestant proving only that he couldn’t sing. Seeing the look of disapproval on Kate’s face, the girl picked up the remote and killed the
set. Folding baby clothes was the method she employed to avoid eye contact.

Kate didn’t hang around. ‘I’d like to examine your phone,’ she said.

Vicky looked up, rattled. ‘I don’t have a phone.’

‘You expect me to believe that, in this day and age?’

‘Believe what you like.’ She was lying and not very well.

‘What about John? I bet he had plenty.’

Vicky’s colour rose ever so slightly. ‘Didn’t you find it on him?’ she asked.

‘Stop wasting my time, Vicky. I’m trying to get the people who murdered him and I need your help. Don’t you want them caught?’ Kate waited. The girl remained silent.
‘OK, I happen to know he had a phone with him because I saw him using it at the QC Club. It looked like a BlackBerry. And no, it wasn’t on him. If his phone is in the wrong hands, I
hope you weren’t daft enough to use your real names in the address book, or this bloodshed won’t be over.’

There was more clothes-folding – frantic now.

Vicky glanced at a photograph of John. ‘I want to see him,’ she said.

‘I’m afraid that’s not possible—’

‘Why?’

‘Technically, you’re not his next of kin.’ Kate acknowledged how difficult that must be to accept and hurried to change the subject. ‘The phone, Vicky . . . he was
shouting at someone on the phone. Was it you?’

Vicky looked up. ‘No! What are you on about?’

Kate backed off, allowed some time to pass, putting the pressure on her to answer. Somewhere in another room, the baby stirred and then went off again. After a while, the girl couldn’t
stand the lull in the conversation and began to fill the silence. Thank God she’d finally seen sense.

‘I binned all the phones,’ she said.

‘You did what?’ The DCI was furious and it showed.

‘It’s not against the law. John told me to.’

‘He rang and asked you to?’

Vicky shook her head, guilt creeping across her face. ‘Ages ago, he told me that if he didn’t come home your lot would probably have locked him up and I was to get rid fast. When I
got up to see to Nathan at five on Friday morning, he wasn’t there. I just did what he asked with all the phones in the house, mine included.’

‘How? Where?’

‘I burned them on the BBQ. The bits that were left, I chucked in a disposal bin at the hospital. John said all their waste is incinerated every day.’

Kate raised her eyes to the ceiling.

This wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

C
hief Superintendent Phillip Bright looked immaculate, as always. He entered Kate’s office bang on eleven o’clock, shutting the door behind him. His appointment as
head of CID had been the best thing to happen to the department in years. He was a no-nonsense copper, a detective of the old school, feared by the shirkers and loved by everyone else. He was quite
simply the very best detective the Northumbria force had ever seen, the man who’d chosen Kate to follow in his wake, the policeman who’d taught her all she knew – and then some.
He’d told her that one day his job would be hers, if she played her cards right.

Kate sighed.

At this moment in time, she didn’t fancy her hand.

Opening the button of his jacket, Bright hoicked up his beautifully pressed trousers and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. His shoes were bulled to perfection, so much so that he
could’ve been a guardsman on parade. Draping his left arm over the back of the chair, he looked at Kate, no doubt noting how tired she was, but telling her it was great to see her.

‘You too, guv.’

A smile began at the corner of his mouth and spread quickly –
always a good sign
.

Mindful of her recent drama, Kate wondered if she should mention that this week hadn’t been her finest. She decided against. He’d had plenty of disappointing weeks himself over the
years, not to mention twice as much aggravation on account of the way he approached his job, as well as a fair amount of associated stress.

‘Ron said you wanted a face-to-face,’ she said.

‘Don’t look so worried. It’s not about Theresa Allen, if that’s what you’re thinking. By the way, I know her of old. Came across her back in the days of the
regional crime squad when I was a rookie. She’s one piece of work, is Theresa.’ He chuckled. ‘I hear she did quite a job on you.’

Kate wasn’t finding it funny. ‘I can’t believe I swallowed her garbage.’

‘Hook, line and sinker, is the word on the grapevine. It happens, Kate. Move on.’

‘So that’s not why you’re here?’

‘Would I lie to you?’

They both laughed.

Of course he would.

‘Why then, guv?’

A flicker of something behind his eyes was hard to identify. ‘Later,’ he said. ‘Given that I am here, that I’m also an authority on Allen family history, it might be as
well if I chip in. I want to help if I can – unless you feel it would undermine your authority. I got on the wrong side of you once before, remember?’

He was teasing her.

She stared at him – almost a glare. ‘How could I forget?’

The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. The case to which he was referring was her first as SIO. On that occasion, he’d been the one making errors of
judgement – with catastrophic results for Jo Soulsby, who ended up in custody, wrongly accused of her ex-husband’s murder. Although the memory was painful for all concerned, it was
water under the bridge now.

Still, it was a lesson to all that the great man was himself fallible.

Kate stretched, easing the tension in her shoulders. ‘I don’t mind you holding my hand, guv. To be perfectly frank, I could do with your advice. If I don’t get this right I
have a feeling that Stanton will be screaming for space down at the morgue.’

He pointed to her cafetière. ‘Better get the coffee on then.’

H
is visit proved timely and invaluable to the investigation. There were few detectives with his ability to recall details of old cases with such clarity. Of particular interest
to the SIO was his knowledge of the older generation of the Allen family, especially their flight from Glasgow to Newcastle when their children were small.

Kate convened a ‘special’ meeting and, with the whole squad gathered round him, Bright was soon on a roll. It was like old times. Like he’d never been away. With his usual
panache and good humour, he shared what he knew about Brian and Theresa Allen – a formidable couple who had made a fortune from other people’s misery.

‘Back then, Brian Allen was fearless,’ Bright said. ‘Although Strathclyde force never proved it, it was strongly suspected that he and his partner in crime killed a rival gang
leader in Glasgow, sending a wreath to the family with the message “We done it” pinned to the front, taunting them.’

‘Rival gang leader?’ Kate was taking notes.

‘Dougie O’Kane. Nasty piece of work.’

‘The note was anonymous, I take it?’

‘Yes, but no one was in any doubt who’d sent it.’

‘How long after this did Brian bring his family south?’

Bright ran a hand through silvery grey hair. ‘Five, maybe six years.’

Kate was in the zone. ‘Do you know why, guv?’

‘Word on the street was, he wanted to get away from the next generation of gangsters. Dougie O’Kane’s sons were maybe twelve and thirteen when he died, into all sorts. As they
got older, threats were made – threats Brian knew they were capable of carrying out. Dougie was a hate figure. No one shed a tear when he croaked.’

‘Good riddance to bad rubbish, eh?’

‘You could say that. On the other hand – and this is going to sound strange – I liked Brian Allen. He was a hard-ass, but charismatic, renowned for his barefaced cheek when it
came to criminal activity. Even as a cop, you had to admire the guy. His kind doesn’t exist any more. It was them versus us – Brian understood that – respected it even. It was a
two-way street. Today’s prig is probably sitting behind one of those –’ He pointed at the computer on Lisa’s desk. ‘They don’t need to shift off the sofa
nowadays, let alone get their hands dirty.’

Kate scanned the faces of the Murder Investigation Team. They were like nursery children, mesmerized by Bright’s storytelling, hanging on his every word. And, boy, did he have stories to
tell – some that would make their hair curl. He’d been a hard-ass himself when he was younger, the Gene Hunt of Northumbria force in his heyday. What he was saying resonated in
Kate’s head. When she joined the police almost twenty years ago, you didn’t sit around waiting for DNA results to come in. You had to go out and find the clues. It was as upfront and
personal for the police as it was for the offenders.

Sometimes people got hurt.

‘So Brian effectively ran away to save his skin and died of a heart attack while playing golf?’ Maxwell said. ‘Doesn’t sound very fearless to me, guv.’

‘Not for his own sake.’ Bright focused on him. ‘He’d never do that. It was to protect Theresa and the kids. Like you, people thought he’d gone soft. His best mate
took a lot of flak for it at the time. But I know different. Let’s just say Theresa was the love of his life. He’d do anything for her, even drag himself out of the gutter.’

Kate’s pen was poised over her notepad. ‘Who was this mate?’

‘A heavy called Arthur Ross McKenzie.’

She wrote the name down. ‘Is he still alive?’

Bright shrugged. ‘Far as I know.’

Kate was way ahead of him. ‘Lisa? Start typing – a middle name will cut down the possibility of multiple hits on the PNC.’ She turned back to Bright. ‘How old,
approximately?’

‘Mid-fifties. Last I heard, he was banged up.’

Lisa’s fingers flew over the keys. She waited, but not long, before a list popped up on screen. Scrolling through it, she paused, pushed a few more keys.

Kate continued to question Bright. ‘Did McKenzie know Theresa, guv?’

‘Intimately, but only in his dreams.’ Bright was almost blushing, something he rarely did. ‘McKenzie had a thing for her. To be honest, we all did. Wouldn’t surprise me
if he didn’t hook up with her the minute she was available. He was a thug, not stupid. He wouldn’t have dared cross Brian when he was alive. He’d have lost his gonads if he
had.’

Detectives were grinning, enjoying the banter.

‘Found him.’ Carmichael could hardly contain herself. ‘Remanded in custody for attempted murder in 1998, sent down in ’99 by the Glasgow High Court. Spent a couple of
months in Barlinnie in isolation, several years at Shotts Prison.’ Her eyes were fixed to the computer screen. ‘It appears he was moved from maximum security in 2008. Jesus!’ She
paused, looked up. ‘Guv, he was released in 2009 from Acklington. Since then, he hasn’t put a foot wrong.’

‘I very much doubt that.’ Bright pulled his reading specs from his pocket as Carmichael turned her screen around to face the team. ‘What you mean is, he hasn’t been
caught.’

‘Why Acklington?’ Kate asked, getting to her feet.

Bright frowned. ‘It’s not unprecedented to transfer prisoners across the border.’

‘No, but it is unusual,’ Kate reminded him. ‘Lisa, get on to the Scottish Prison Service and find out. In fact, call Jo and ask her to do it on our behalf.’

‘Boss?’ Lisa was almost sulking.

‘Do it, Lisa. Asking Jo is no reflection on you. She has contacts we don’t have. I want the unofficial reason for McKenzie’s transfer, not the official one, and Jo is the best
person to get it for me. We don’t have time to piss about. Ask her to get back to me as soon as possible.’

Bright moved closer to take a look at Carmichael’s screen. ‘Yeah, that’s him.’

The squad gathered round, peering over his shoulder to view a photograph of McKenzie, before parting to let Kate through. All eyes turned in her direction as she viewed the image for herself.
When the phone rang in her pocket, she ignored it; there was no disputing that she’d found her man.

‘Gotcha!’ she said. ‘Guv, that’s the man I saw at Theresa Allen’s apartment. He’s aged a bit since this photograph was taken, but I’d recognize him
anywhere. He must be the target.’ Her phone rang again. She pulled it from her pocket, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Maxwell’s voice hit her ear.

‘Slow down, Neil, what is it?’

‘Boss, I found Sky.’

Kate punched the air. This was turning out to be her lucky day.