Chapter 42
It was a call from Carleton Hall.
‘The chief constable wants you to head over here ASAP,’ the PA said over the phone.
‘I’m busy,’ Kelly said.
She didn’t like the woman. Kelly saw her as the snooty gatekeeper to hell. The PA thought her role above law enforcement. As a result, anybody who was a real copper was beneath her.
Timings were everything and the woman persisted.
‘He’s got a window of fifteen minutes so if you don’t head over now you’ll miss him and of course I’ll have to tell him that you decided something else was more important.’
Something else is more important, you stupid bitch, she felt like saying, but didn’t.
Sighing, she said she’d be there.
She called Kate on hands-free as she drove over to Carleton Hall HQ, filling her in on what Lee Lovett had told her.
‘There’s only one thing that is more urgent than a murder inquiry,’ Kate said. ‘And that’s you heading for a bollocking.’
She parked her car at Carleton Hall and walked slowly to the entrance to the 1960s concrete facade that had been plopped on top of a rather nice nineteenth-century home.
Inside, the modern had conquered the historic and it felt like she was inside any cop shop.
It was a pity, but most grand public buildings used for the services were now crumbling shadows of their former selves.
Kelly nodded to a few colleagues she knew. The atmosphere at Carleton Hall was different to Eden House. The pace was slower, the dress was more formal and the mood less urgent. It felt like what it was: an admin centre.
There was a new kid on the block. Chief Constable Derek (Del) Booker was approachable, firm but casual, and fair.
He had a worn but kind face, like a young Clint Eastwood, and he’d worked in the Manchester Met both with Dan and Fin at various points in their careers.
He’d also worked with DCI Craig Lockwood from Barrow-in-Furness, who she rated highly.
He was one of the good guys. It still wasn’t a woman, but that was fine by Kelly, if the best candidate got the job.
She knew from her days in London that female bosses could be just as brutal as male ones.
She knocked on his door and he shouted for her to enter. He smiled broadly at her when she did and beckoned her to relax and take a seat.
‘Sir,’ she said, sitting.
‘Kelly, I’ll get straight to the point. Your Grasmere case.’
‘Sir?’
To her, the chief looked uncomfortable, but she could have just imagined it.
‘Grasmere? Rydal?’
‘Ah, the double homicide, sir?’
‘Exactly. Where are we?’
‘In what way, sir?’
Del sighed and got up out of his chair. He walked to the window and peered out.
His side profile was terribly handsome, but Kelly forced herself to focus on the job at hand.
It was a sad situation that the only men she ever came across were at work.
She’d met Johnny in a bar in Pooley Bridge and she recalled those days before she had Lizzie fondly.
But now she didn’t get out. She was either at work or at home.
Her attraction to colleagues – senior or junior – was indicative of her narrow pool of choice, and nothing to do with coppers being especially attractive.
‘She was a famous artist wasn’t she?’
‘I didn’t know you were up to date on your artists, sir.’ Kelly grinned and Del smirked. It softened the tone a bit. ‘We’re releasing both their names today. And that of a podcaster who has gone to ground.’
‘Good God, there’ll be a frenzy.’
‘Yes, sir, but that’s kind of the point.’
She had prepared a whole speech about where they were in their inquiries and what they were doing. That’s usually what she came to Carleton Hall for but what he said next threw her.
‘Hold off on that.’
‘Excuse me, sir?’
‘I said, hold off. We don’t need a media circus right now. The Home Office is adamant that relations between us and the US remain solid.’
Clearly conversations had been had behind closed doors that Kelly had no idea about. And they weren’t just cosy chats; they were taking place in the highest offices of the land.
‘Is there something you wish to share with me, sir?’
He walked back to his desk and leant over it. Kelly felt disadvantaged and very small.
‘What have you got on them?’ He sat down and waited.
She recovered herself. ‘As you know the coroner has ruled homicide for both. They both had some kind of relationship with a famous podcaster which we haven’t worked out yet.
The CCTV from the guesthouse in Skelwith has flagged up some interesting leads but we’re still in the thick of it, sir.
His sister was hiding a suitcase full of documents, presumably for him as he was the one who checked her in, and there was a decoy suitcase in his hotel room. ’
‘So, nothing concrete then? What about the bodyguard? Can I assume you’ve let that idea go now?’
‘No, sir, the opposite in fact, it’s urgent we speak to him, if he’s still in the country. I’d appreciate your backing to put a bit of pressure on the VIPs at Dow Bank House.’
‘Anything else?’
It was abrupt. Distracted. Fucking rude.
‘They were close as brother and sister, and I’m tracking down their known associates, who weren’t many in number. Jamie’s business partner seemed to know her well, judging by photos in her camera phone, which we only discovered this morning. Also, she was pregnant, sir.’
‘Oh dear, that’s nasty.’
Kelly nodded. ‘We don’t know who the father is but we’ve taken DNA tests from the foetus just in case so they can be informed down the line. My suspicion is that it’s the podcaster.’
He stared at her and looked away, somewhere over her shoulder. She hated when people did that, not only was it unsettling and made you feel utterly irrelevant.
‘Look, I’ll get straight to the point,’ he said. ‘It’s sensitive.’
‘What is, sir?’
He sighed again. She felt as though it was code for her not being able to read his mind and she felt as though she was supposed to feel inadequate. But she didn’t. She was mad.
‘Give me a clue, boss, I’m struggling here,’ she said.
She could be open and candid with Del, despite having to call him ‘sir’ now.
They had previous form on cases going back to the London Met when he’d been involved in a fraud case years ago when she was a junior detective.
She’d been fond of him back then. Memories flooded back of her partner, Seb Crook, and a young Del Booker swooping in to handle a corrupt colleague whose betrayal left everybody blindsided.
You always had to watch the ones who worked in professional standards because they were picky about detail and made ruthless officers.
Del had a soft outer shell but was remorseless when it came to nailing the perp. He’d been an outstanding officer.
‘The company Jamie worked for is of vital importance to foreign trade agreements,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘You heard.’
‘Hampton-Dent?’
‘Yes.’
‘They don’t want to be embarrassed, is that it?’
‘You got it.’
‘Christ, Del. Sorry, sir.’
Del wafted his hand around. ‘Call me what you like behind closed doors, Kelly. I know you have impeccable standards when it’s important. Between us, this rank means very little if we can’t communicate.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I read in your brief report that you sent me that it’s rumoured that Jamie Robbins was a drug addict, and his suicide is a potential embarrassment for our partners at Polar Rock Global. You know they were in Downing Street last month. The PM is about to sign a deal on climate change, apparently.’
‘Our partners, sir? Since when are we politicians on the side of any government?’
‘Kelly, I shouldn’t need to remind you about optics. It’s not political; it’s common sense. Damage limitation.’
She’d heard that phrase before from Sandy.
‘And that has what to do with my investigation? By the way, for the record I don’t believe he was a drug addict. That’s a fallacy designed to throw me off a serious investigation, and now you’ve just confirmed it. And he didn’t kill himself.’
He stared at her.
‘Del, when did you grow scared of corporate suits? Are you telling me to back off because I might just find out the truth?’
He smiled. ‘Oh, Kelly Porter. I remember you in London, Major Investigation Team EAST. Your ambition hasn’t dimmed at all has it?’
‘I would call it passion for the truth.’
‘I know you would.’
‘Is this where you tell me that as we climb the ranks, our burdens become heavier and the little people at the bottom don’t understand the pressure from above. The load we carry is directly related to the responsibilities we take on. Have you become an establishment pawn, Del?’
The room suddenly felt very silent.
Kelly felt anger burning in her chest. If she was going to be promoted this year, she’d just fucked her chances.
‘Think carefully about your next move, Kelly,’ he said.
She got up and turned to the door, then back to him. ‘This is above my pay grade. You’ll have to remove me from the case if you want a cover-up.’
‘Be careful, Porter.’
‘Porter? Jesus, Del, when did you sell your soul?’
‘That’s enough.’
He got up again and paced back to the window and she stood waiting, folding her arms. She’d gone too far but so had he. But then he was paid more and could sack her on the spot. He must do a lot of staring out of that window, she thought.
‘Am I dismissed, sir?’ she asked finally.
He turned to face her. ‘Can you just be a little less noisy? Can you dig around without digging around?’
‘I can try,’ she said. ‘I’ll keep you in the loop so you can warn the dogs off when they come for me.’
‘I’m serious, Kelly. This is bigger than both of us.’
‘What is? I will not massage it to make it look pretty. I simply cannot do that, Del. Sir.’
‘I expected that from you. But tone it down. Don’t go public just yet.’
‘The press is all over it, sir. The media department is going crazy.’
‘I know. That’s why you’re here. Just tone it down. It’s no different to dealing with any other high-profile case; certain parameters need to be in place.’
‘Gagging restraints?’
He grinned. ‘We don’t have the resources for you to go charging all over the world to investigate this. And there is no will from above.’
‘I know. Justice is expensive.’
She walked to the door, and this time she didn’t look back.
‘Sometimes politicians make decisions that we don’t like,’ he said to her back.
She stopped with her hand on the door handle. ‘And sometimes they get away with it because money matters more than people. I’ll send you the autopsy photos and you can look at them before bed tonight.’
She opened the door and closed it gently behind her and left the building.
When she got back into her car she hit the steering wheel several times and swore loudly until her throat hurt.
After she’d finished her tantrum, she saw a female officer who’d been smoking behind the carpark staring at her with concern.
She smiled and waved and started the engine.