Then She Was Gone (27 page)

‘Can you take us through what happened.’

‘Got picked up – or should I say, I was taken on a “date”, just to cover myself – and he seemed nice at first. Then it went wrong very fucking quickly. What do you
want me to say?’

Murphy could see the veneer of guardedness was close to cracking.

‘Let’s go a little slower,’ Rossi said, removing her notebook from her pocket. ‘You were picked up from where?’

‘Not telling you that. I’m not stupid.’

‘Fine, we’ll come back to that. Who picked you up?’

‘Well, it’s good you asked me now, as his face has been everywhere since yesterday, otherwise I wouldn’t know. It was that guy that got killed. The MP guy.’

‘Right, so he picked you up and took you where?’

‘An apartment on Mount Pleasant in town. I thought I was made, you know, because it was a nice bit of cash like. Seemed all cool and that, but I should have been on my game. It was a bit
too good to be true, but I just got blinded by the fucking Audi and nice suit. I should know better.’

‘You went back to the apartment. What changed?’

Tania was silent for a few seconds, her voice a little quieter when she spoke again. ‘He did. He was so nice in the car, when he picked me up and that. Then, as soon as we got in that
apartment, he totally changed. He was just barely speaking, you know. He asked me to wear something, then took me into this bedroom at the back.’

Murphy knew the story that was coming next and he really didn’t want to stand there and listen to it again. It would be the same as the one Vicky had told him that morning. Another tale of
sickening violence.

Not for the first time that day, he questioned whether he really wanted justice for Sam Byrne, or if he was just going through the motions.

Murphy waited for Rossi to finish up at the counter, tutting quietly to himself as she unfurled the plastic covering of the cigarettes and removed one. He took the rubbish from
her and placed it in the bin outside as she fiddled with the brand-new lighter.

‘You’ve been doing so well,’ Murphy said, walking back to the car as Rossi tried to get the cigarette lit. ‘Seems a shame to start back up now.’

‘You think I can listen to
merda
like that and not smoke? You must be out of your mind.’

Rossi inhaled another long drag and blew smoke towards the clouds above them. ‘What a bastard.’

‘Seems to be the prevailing opinion of the guy.’

‘I just want to say screw it, let him rot. Whoever snuffed him, good luck to them, all the best. Did us all a bloody favour.’

‘We can’t do that . . .’

‘Would be damn nice to, though,’ Rossi said, interrupting between drags of her cigarette. ‘He was going to be an MP.
Dio Mio
. Doesn’t bear
thinking about.’

‘I think he would have fitted in quite nicely with that crowd. They’re hardly running a monastery down there in that London.’

That earned a grin from Rossi, but it wasn’t enough. He could see she was steaming, and he was working out how he could calm her down before returning to the station. Wondered if it was
pointless or even needed. ‘We can’t have people killing someone in our city and then cutting up their body. Doesn’t seem the best way of dealing with these issues.’

‘No, you’re right,’ Rossi replied, rubbing her eyes with her free hand and steadying herself against the car. ‘Castration would have been enough.’

Murphy winced at the mere mention of it, but didn’t argue with her. It wasn’t as if he was about to disagree with the idea. It would save a lot of time.

‘What now then?’ Rossi said, stubbing out the cigarette and immediately removing another one from the pack. ‘She doesn’t know anything about what happened after she left
the apartment and I believed her when she said she hadn’t told anyone about what went on. All we have to do is check with the hospital anyway. She said she was there all night. I think this
might be a dead end.’

Murphy thought for a second, sticking his hands in the pockets of his long coat. ‘It goes on the list of things we need to keep in mind. She didn’t really seem the type to just let
something like that go, but I don’t think she had anything to do with what happened to Sam Byrne.’

Yet another thing.

‘It’s a pattern, isn’t it?’ Rossi said, rubbing her eyes again. ‘Maybe someone did something about it. A nice vigilante for a change. Would make our job
easier.’

‘I can’t see our big boss being too happy about that story, somehow.’

‘Butler can do one if he thinks we’re going to sugar coat this for anyone. People need to know what he was like. Might stop those bastards ever trying to get elected in this city
again.’

‘Not sure that has anything to do with what’s going on here . . .’

‘No, you’re right,’ Rossi said, bending down to stub out her cigarette on the ground and then tossing it towards the bin. ‘They’re all the bloody same.
Doesn’t matter what colour they’re representing.’

Murphy waited to see if she was going to light another one, then unlocked the car door when she stood silently by the passenger-side door.

It was only a short drive back to the station, but it felt much longer in the oncoming rush-hour traffic. The radio was playing quietly in the car. Murphy and Rossi listened as the chirpy radio
presenter introduced the evening news bulletin. The main story was of no surprise to them.

‘Police are still investigating the death of prospective Conservative MP Sam Byrne who was found on Tuesday afternoon. His parents have described Mr Byrne as being
someone who was always looking after other people’s interest . . .’

‘That’s why he wanted to work for the community, to give something back. He was always thinking of others. The city of Liverpool has lost something with his
passing. We have lost our son, but the city has lost someone who would have fought for every hard-working man and woman out there.’

Murphy listened in silence as Arthur Byrne’s voice filled the car. Gone was the faltering tone of the previous day, in its place, the Arthur of old. The ex-MP, always ready with a quip or
slick sound bite, had returned. Murphy wondered if he was enjoying the spotlight again, or if he would rather be back at home, sitting in his chair and sliding into comfortable retirement.

‘
Cazzo
,’ Rossi murmured under her breath as Arthur Byrne’s voice gave way to DSI Butler’s.

‘Anyone with any information, please do not hesitate to get in touch with my officers. This is a sickening and despicable crime and an innocent man has been brutally
murdered. We won’t stop until we have the perpetrator off the streets of this great city of ours.’

‘Have you heard anything from his campaign people?’ Rossi asked, turning off the radio.

Murphy had a sudden jolt, as if something was revealed to him then snatched away. It was the mention of Sam Byrne’s office, but something else was nagging at him, a thought he
couldn’t quite catch. It was beginning to annoy him. ‘No, which is very strange. What’s the likelihood they’re still there now?’

Rossi checked the time on the car dashboard, then pulled out her phone. ‘It only just turned five . . .’

‘Not sure that matters,’ Murphy said, interrupting Rossi as she scrolled through her contacts list. ‘It’s not like they’ve got any work on at the moment.’

‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ Rossi replied, lifting the phone to her ear. ‘They’ll already be working on the next guy they’re going to put
forward.’

Murphy grunted in response, hoping people would allow bodies to cool at some point before moving on. He remembered whose body it was and decided to get over it.

‘Hello, it’s DS Rossi here, is that Charlotte? . . . Good, you’re still in the office? . . . No, we’re just going to pop in, if that’s
OK? . . . Now . . . OK, great, see you soon.’

Murphy waited for her to end the call. ‘Still there then?’

‘Yeah, which sounds about right. She’s staying there until we arrive.’

It was another half an hour before they arrived back in Waterloo, the day dimming around them. The street outside the shop-cum-office was still packed with traffic. Rush hour was in full swing,
but there were still cars jammed bumper to bumper in the parking areas outside the shops on either side of the road.

Murphy managed to squeeze the pool car into a space a little way down from the office, meaning they only had to walk a hundred yards or so back up the road. It was enough time for him to do a
little window shopping in the various places still open.

‘Has this road ever been that great?’

‘Probably at some point,’ Rossi replied, moving between two parked cars and waiting to see if the traffic was stationary before stepping out into the road. ‘It’s hardly
like it’s going to be anything other than this these days.’

‘This’ was a collection of charity shops, bookies, convenience stores and a single bookshop – which Murphy actually quite liked the look of, despite not being an avid reader.
He was still only halfway through Steven Gerrard’s autobiography, with no end in sight.

‘It must be popular with some people,’ Murphy said, joining Rossi on the other side of the road. ‘It’s mad busy down here with cars.’

‘There must be quite a few commuters. Train station is close by.’

Murphy looked back towards Waterloo train station entrance and shrugged. He let Rossi lead the way towards Sam Byrne’s campaign office and stood behind her as she knocked.

They were let in by Charlotte, the young woman still as fresh-faced as ever, her youthfulness making them both feel tired and jaded in comparison.

‘I can’t stay long,’ Charlotte said, closing the door behind them. ‘We’ve got yet another meeting on this evening.’

‘Trying to pick up the campaign again?’

‘Something like that,’ Charlotte replied, looking at Rossi for a moment before turning away. They followed the young woman into the main office, Murphy looking for and finding Emma
at her desk. ‘Anyway, what can we help you with? We’ve said as much as we can already. Didn’t think we’d be needed again so quickly.’

‘Just a follow up, really,’ Rossi said, removing her notebook from inside her jacket. ‘We’ll talk to you separately to save you some time.’

They had worked that out in the car, the two detectives pairing with the women they had spoken to a couple of days previously. Murphy nodded and waited for Charlotte and Rossi to leave, then
walked over to where Emma was sitting.

‘How are you getting on?’

Emma eyed Murphy, then turned her chair to the side and picked up a bundle of paperwork. ‘Well, it’s not been a great week, if you must ask. You know, given my boss has been murdered
and cut up. HQ aren’t helping much either. They’re just worried about losing momentum.’

The woman’s bluntness didn’t shock him. Everyone experienced grief differently. ‘Still think you can win the by-election without Sam?’

‘You must be joking,’ Emma replied with a tinny laugh. ‘He was the only reason we got this far. We’re done now. Too much bad press over this whole thing. Whoever comes in
won’t have the rapport with the locals that Sam had. We may as well pack up now.’

‘You won’t, will you?’ Murphy said, leaning against a filing cabinet near Emma’s desk. It shifted slightly as he put his weight on it, making a scraping sound against the
floor. He straightened up a little, just in case it was about to collapse. ‘They’re not going to give up just like that.’

‘Of course not, but we all know what’s going to happen now.’

Murphy could sense something, a similar feeling of anticipation to the one he had picked up the other day. ‘What are you expecting?’

‘I think we both know what is going to come out about Sam.’

‘Humour me.’

Emma gave him a withering stare, then shifted the paperwork she had set down on the desk to one side. ‘He was a bastard. A smarmy one at that, which is the worst kind to be.’

‘You were aware of what he was doing in his spare time.’

It wasn’t a question. Murphy knew now why she had been so amenable when he’d spoken to her before. She had suspected what Sam Byrne was doing in his private life and didn’t
want it to continue.

‘I knew something was going on. Something he didn’t want getting out,’ Emma said, unable to look Murphy in the eye. ‘What was I supposed to do, though? He was the boss.
It wasn’t just him I would have to contend with either. It would be the people around him too. I bet you’ll never even know they exist, but they’re there. Making sure everything
runs smoothly, that nothing can come out that might embarrass the party. That’s the way these things are run.’

‘Why are you here then?’

‘Because I believe in the greater good,’ Emma replied, still looking away. There was an uncertainty to her answer, which Murphy took to mean she wasn’t quite as sure about this
belief as she had been a few weeks earlier. ‘We needed a candidate like him around here. Someone who could start to have some effect in the area. I know what you’re thinking, but for a
Tory, his politics were OK. I’ve supported Labour for the past twenty years, ever since I was sixteen and started being interested in politics. The party isn’t the same any more, so I
moved to the Conservative Party. I hoped he would stop his extracurricular activities once he was elected.’

Murphy shook his head, not for the first time wondering about the ability of people to leave their morals at the door in pursuit of selfish aims. It was life in the twenty-first century.

‘You need to be straight with me,’ Murphy said, moving closer so he was now in Emma’s eyeline. She still averted her gaze from his, but shrank back a little. ‘If
there’s a chance that what happened to Sam may have something to do with what he was doing either here, or related to here, then you need to tell us.’

‘What do you think it could be?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe someone found out about what he was doing and decided to try and use it to their advantage? Bribe him or something. I need to know if anything out of the
ordinary has happened here recently.’

Emma glanced up at him. ‘There is something, but he said he was going to take care of it and it meant nothing.’