44. Rook In The Hand
After Sally showered and dressed, she found Liam sitting at a desk in the bullpen with DI Gemmell and CSM Akilota. She strode over and stood before them.
"DI, CSM, Liam. Where are we?"
"Not far off, ma'am," Gemmell began. He seemed slower than usual, almost as drained as Mayhew.
"The Rooks are quiet. Nancy Cagen's family have nothing to offer; no unusual recent relationships or behavioral changes.
There's nothing further on Harrow, either, not from his friends, family, the Black Hind or door knocks in the area. "
She turned to Akilota. "Dwayne?"
"Forensically, the scene around Nancy Cagen was very clean." He seemed torn. "We found trace fibers on the body, but nothing significant. There were boot prints around her, but they're a standard make and size, sold in large numbers nationally."
She considered. "Anything on access to the Sound Mirrors?"
"Multiple routes through the marsh. None of them are overlooked, though." He shrugged.
Sally had figured about as much. "You've all heard what Roarke Rook said in the sewer? He seemed surprised that Cagen was dead."
Akilota looked at Gemmell, and Sally felt something unspoken pass between them.
"What is it?" she asked.
"It seems only you heard that, Sally," Gemmell said gently. "And the Rooks have said nothing else since. So, as of now, they remain our best suspects."
Sally bit back a retort. She couldn't blame them for that. In any case, it all came back to Jerome Rook.
"Got it. Liam, you want a coffee?"
He turned to her. His expression was every bit as flat as in Mayhew's office. "I've had mine."
She grunted and headed for the canteen. She'd eaten nothing yet, and there was a queasiness in her stomach.
Her hand tremored as she poured the coffee and collected a few remnant Danishes.
The first sip was hot, bitter and awful.
She forced down a Danish then went to stand in front of the Cagen whiteboard.
In the center lay a close-up of her body.
Sally looked at it for a time. The same clothes she'd worn on the beach, and clean.
The killer must have been careful while ferrying her through the marsh.
Her face was blank. Older in death, maybe.
Eyes that had been so alive now gazed vacantly.
It was hard to tell her ears were missing, given the curls of her hair.
Sally looked at the surrounding information; mostly a social graph of Cagen's next of kin, friends and neighbors.
They all fit in a tight, interconnected circle.
At some level, it could probably expand to everyone in Romney Marsh.
Everyone knew everyone. She studied the details and the photographs until a hand came on her shoulder. DI Gemmell.
"The DCI's ready, Sally."
Her heart thudded. She followed.
Jerome Rook was sitting in Interview Room 2, arm in a black sling across his chest, face locked in a half snarl.
He was a doughier version of Roarke; thicker lips, puffier cheeks, but the same mocking half smile that warped his contoured stubble like a funhouse reflection.
The same slick lawyer sat beside him in a gleaming black three-piece suit, opposite DCI Mayhew.
"And here she is," Rook said softly, eyes latching onto her. "The arm-breaker."
"It's your brother's arm that broke." Sally pulled out her chair. "Not yours."
"In fact, my client sustained a fractured humerus," the lawyer corrected. "Due to your recklessness."
"Shouldn't have been firing a shotgun at me, then."
Mayhew gave her a cold glare. Sally sat, and the DCI began the recording. "DCI Gloria Mayhew and NCA Officer Sally Rogers, on Wednesday 11th February at 8:15 a.m., interview 4 with Jerome Rook and his solicitor Richard Carrack."
Sally restrained her surprise. This was the fourth interview? Mayhew hadn't mentioned they'd already tried three times.
"Mr. Rook," Mayhew began, "as already discussed, we're seeking precise details about what you saw on Dungeness beach, in front of Reactor A, between the hours of 3 and 3:30 a.m. on Monday, February 9th.
You requested my colleague, Officer Rogers, who is now present.
" She gestured to the side. "Now, what can you tell us? "
"Sweet F all," Jerome said, "until I get an apology from her."
"An apology connotes guilt," Mayhew said, "and it has not been proven that–"
"I apologize that you fractured your arm while assaulting a police vehicle," Sally said easily.
"That I fractured my own arm?" Rook shot back. "I didn't fracture it, bitch, you did. All because we were out for a ride on our boat."
"You were fugitives evading lawful pursuit," Sally said coolly. "I was justified and I've already been cleared to continue this investigation. So, answer the question please."
Rook spun to his lawyer. "Cleared? She hits me and my brothers with a sodding car, and she's cleared, just like that?"
"Shall we get to the point here, Jerome?" Mayhew said.
"The point?" He pointed at Sally. "This whole bloody thing, she's been profiling and persecuting us!
She trespasses on our land, assaults my brother, fires some fucking gel at us and beats the shit out of one of my dogs, and she's cleared?
This is a joke!" He paused to take a breath.
"Now you're trying to pin Cagen on us, but why would we kill some old bag? "
"What did you see on the morning of the 9th?" Mayhew repeated. "That's what we're here to discuss."
"It's not what I want to discuss, is it? My old dad's shotgun, that's cleared for killing vermin, and she's coming right at us in her muscle car, so what are we supposed to do? Just wait to be–"
Sally stood, cutting him off. She'd heard enough.
"Where are you going?" Rook demanded.
"You wanted an apology. I've given you one. But if all you want is an audience for your deluded bullshit, I've got better things to do. Either tell us what you saw on that beach or I'm gone, and that's your shot at leverage done with."
Rook's jaw twitched. "Shot at leverage? Fuck you!"
Sally headed to the door.
"Officer Rogers!" Mayhew hissed.
Sally opened the door and stepped out into the–
"Wait, for fuck's sake!" Rook called.
Sally paused. She didn't turn.
"Wait," he repeated. "I'll tell you, OK? It's got to clear us though. Of all the murders, anything to do with them. And the trafficking!"
"No," Sally said, and went through the door.
"Just wait!" Rook cried after her, as the door closed. "Shit, this is what she always does, it's what she did with the damn car, playing chicken. Get back in here!"
She was already gone, into the OR2, where she stood at the glass and watched. Rook looked frantic. To her credit, DCI Mayhew remained calm. Carrack attempted to steady his client.
Then Mayhew spoke.
"Tell us what you saw from that scaffold, Jerome. That's your only hope for clemency now. That you aided a murder investigation. You don't want obstruction charges added."
Rook glared at Mayhew. "Obstruction? You can't do that." He turned to Carrack. "She can't, can she?"
Carrack remained steady. "It's a possibility. If it's later proven you had relevant information, which you knowingly withheld."
Rook slammed the table. "Fuck! Get her back."
"I don't think she's coming back," Mayhew said. "You deal with me, now. What did you see?"
"She works for you. Get her in here!"
"She doesn't work for me." Mayhew almost seemed to be enjoying the moment. "Talk, Jerome, or I'll start preparing the charges."
Rook raised his fist, but Carrack caught it. He guided it back down. He spoke in his ear. Rook whispered back. Perhaps two or three minutes passed as they conferred, then Rook sagged in his seat.
"I've advised my client to be forthcoming," Carrack said. "Jerome?"
Rook's lip curled. His eyes darted to the one-way glass. "She's watching this?"
"I expect she's gone to continue her investigation," Mayhew said, playing it perfectly. "There's a larger machine here, of which you are one small part. Help us, and that help will enter the record."
Rook's jaw worked under the surface. He peeled his gaze off the mirror and turned to Mayhew. "Fine. I'll tell you what I saw. And the fact is, you're going to shit yourselves when you hear it."
"Whose boats were they?" Mayhew demanded.
"Not boats," Rook corrected. His face split in a grin.
"One boat. A Frankenstein's monster of a boat, sure, got its own bloody launch, couple of tanks, rear deck, but just one.
" His grin widened. "That mad bastard in the Mustang with you, Bledd?
Decked my Dad once. I'd recognize his pile of steel junk anywhere, hot-docking wherever he likes and spying on everyone. "
Sally stiffened at the glass.
"You're saying Arthur Bledd's boat arrived on Dungeness beach around 3 a.m. on the morning of the 9th?"
"That's the prick. Fancied him, did you, you dirty skank?"
Sally heard none of that. Her hearing compressed, like she'd just dived deep underwater. Could it be Bledd? Was Rook lying? It was possible. She'd considered him. He fit the profile. But then he'd led them to Cagen. Would the killer do that?
Or was this something else? The Rooks had clear bad blood with Bled, dating back to their father. It didn't seem like a lie, though, and this was a serious charge to make, all in service of some longstanding family grudge.
"You're certain it was Arthur Bledd's houseboat?" Mayhew drilled.
"Course I'm sure." Rook leaned back in his chair now, exulting in her shock. "Your golden boy, wasn't he? Out carving up boys in the middle of the night."
Sally flinched. The image came to her of Bledd easily scooping Jerome from the water. He was powerful. He'd have no trouble subduing an older woman like Cagen. Even a younger man.
"Ah, this is so worth it," Rook gloated beyond the glass. "Look at you now, you're going to faint."
Mayhew recovered. "Did you recognize anyone onboard, Mr. Rook?"
"Too far for that, love. Up to the beach comes Bledd's boat, out pop two pricks, and they stagger up the beach together."
"Two figures only?" Mayhew pressed. "Both walking?"
Rook beamed. "Never thought it was your precious marsh-shagger, did you?"
Mayhew stood.
"Go on, then, run off like the other one," Rook called as she stopped the tape and went for the door. "Go spray red gel in that crusty old bastard's eyes!"
Mayhew left the room. Sally went to meet her in the corridor.
"I've seen Bledd's boat, DCI. It's just like he described it."
"Everyone's seen that boat," Mayhew said, pushing past.
Sally followed. "I know where he docks, ma'am. Near Appledore, on the Rother."
Mayhew spun. "You are not on this operation! I gave you one directive in that room, and you flouted it."
"I got us Bledd," Sally fired back. "Open your eyes, DCI. This is happening now."
Mayhew's lip curled and she spun on her heel toward the bullpen. "You are done here, Officer Rogers."
"Enforce that after we find him." Sally kept pace.
"I've been on this man's boat, DCI. I know how he thinks, maybe better than anyone here.
" She snapped her fingers, stopping cold.
"He's got a drone. If it's in the air, he'll know we're coming.
He could have eyes on the entire marsh, if he wanted to.
We can't go in force, not in patrol cars either. "
"This is my operation," Mayhew snapped, stopping at the head of the bullpen. "You will not–"
"Stephen," Sally said abruptly, focusing on DI Gemmell. He shot to his feet. "We have a suspect, and we need to go in personal cars, not in close convoy. Staggered. Maybe two cars, eight officers, all armed with PAVA and batons."
"That is enough!" Mayhew spat, then whirled to Gemmell. "You do not take orders from this NCA Officer, DI."
"I know that, ma'am," Gemmell answered. "What are your orders?"
Mayhew stewed for a second. She looked at Sally, at the bullpen, then back. Her lower lip quivered. "You will notify Armed Response in Dover. They will come immediately, incognito, while we prepare a proper–"
"It's too slow, DCI," Sally urged. "We need to go now. That's how we caught the Rooks. Delay and he'll be gone, lost to the marsh for another 30 years."
Mayhew stared, a flush climbing up her cheeks. Her eyelid twitched, then something shifted. "Very well. We'll take my car, and DI Gemmell, we'll be requisitioning yours."
"Not a problem, ma'am."
"Two vehicles." She looked at Rogers. "Eight officers in stab vests, armed with PAVA, batons and Tasers."
"I'll ride with Stephen," Sally said.
"You will bring up the rear. Take Chakrati and Simms. Flaherty, Hawlin, O'Connell? You're with me. Now gear up and let's go."