DI Sean Corrigan Crime Series: 5-Book Collection: Cold Killing, Redemption of the Dead, The Keeper, The Network and The Toy Taker

‘Guilt, aye,’ Donnelly agreed. ‘But guilt for the death of Daniel Graydon?’

‘I don’t know,’ Sean admitted, ‘but I’ve got a very strong feeling James Hellier and I are going to cross swords again, and soon.’

9

James Hellier left Belgravia police station two hours later, only slightly annoyed at being kept longer than necessary. Feeling pleased with himself, he indulged in a little smile. He hoped his solicitor hadn’t noticed.

They walked along the road a short way. Hellier felt certain he was being followed by the police. No matter. No need to tell Templeman. No need to tell anyone.

So the police had samples from his body. The detective constable had made sure the doctor was thorough: blood, saliva, semen, hair of various types. All for elimination purposes. All taken voluntarily. The detective had had a strange name. Paulo Zukov. Hellier had been tempted to ask him if he was more wop than Slav, or the other way around. He had managed not to.

Hellier and Templeman shook hands and went their separate ways. Templeman clearly had no notion that Hellier might be anything other than an innocent man dragged into somebody else’s mess. God bless lawyers. They pump them full of some serious self-importance bullshit in law school. They all think they’re in a John Grisham novel, protecting the innocent from their oppressors.

They’d taken his fingerprints too. He’d known Corrigan was lying about finding prints on the victim’s money, even if his solicitor had not. It was unfortunate he had to give them, but he had foreseen it. It wouldn’t be a problem. It mustn’t be a problem. It wasn’t.

Sean and Donnelly watched Hellier leave the same way they’d watched him arrive. They watched him shake hands with Templeman and move off. Hellier looked over his shoulder back towards them and walked on.

Donnelly broke the silence. ‘He thinks we’re following him.’

‘Not yet, we’re not,’ Sean replied. ‘I just got a message from Featherstone – surveillance starts tomorrow. What about the other men the victim had sex with? Have we spoken to all of them now?’

‘We have. They came forward of their own accord. They’re not happy about admitting to paying for sex, but not exactly ashamed either.’

‘Not like Hellier,’ Sean stated rather than asked.

‘No. The others seem straightforward. They’ve provided statements, prints and samples, no problem. None of the lads who interviewed them get any sort of feeling. We’ll run them all through the system anyway, but no one looks interesting.’

‘Any sign of a boyfriend?’ Sean asked. ‘No matter what I think of Hellier, I still have to consider that possibility.’

‘According to his friends, there was no boyfriend, now or in the recent past, other than the possibility he was seeing our missing barman, Jonnie Dempsey.’

‘And further back? No jilted John with an axe to grind?’

‘Apparently not. It appears Daniel was more careful with his private life than he was with his business one.’

‘Anything else?’ Sean asked.

‘I took the liberty of sending out a national circular, asking if other forces have come across any murders similar to ours.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing. Our little shop of horrors appears to be unique.’

‘So,’ Sean said, ‘Hellier’s still our main man. Until I say different.’ Donnelly opened the car door unexpectedly. ‘Going somewhere nice?’

‘I just want to check on Paulo. Make sure everything went okay.’

‘Don’t worry about Paulo. He knows what he’s doing.’ Sean trusted Paulo. He trusted all his team.

‘All the same. I’ll not sleep tonight if I don’t check.’

Sean wasn’t used to seeing Donnelly so concerned. ‘Okay, check. I’ll wait here. And ask him if he needs a lift.’

Donnelly was gone. Sean watched him running across the road, dodging the traffic. He moved pretty well for a big man.

DC Zukov waited for Donnelly in the basement toilet of Belgravia police station. He was relieved to finally see Donnelly’s considerable frame enter, shrinking the room. Donnelly stopped in front of the large mirror and began to comb his scruffy salt-and-pepper hair with his hands.

‘There’s no one else in here. We’re fine,’ Zukov assured him.

‘Then why you fucking whispering?’

Zukov spoke normally. ‘I don’t know. It’s just I’m not used to talking to strange men in public toilets.’

‘I hope not, young man.’ In an instant Donnelly’s tone became more serious. ‘Did you get what I asked?’

Zukov smiled. He put his hand in his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a small plastic evidence bag containing two hairs that only minutes earlier had been plucked from Hellier’s scalp. He handed it to Donnelly, who snatched it away. ‘I take it the official samples have been sealed accordingly?’ he asked.

‘As you requested,’ Zukov told him. ‘Everything’s been bagged and tagged properly. These are the little extras you wanted kept off the books.’

‘Good.’ Donnelly opened an empty metal cigarette case and folded the bag carefully, making sure he didn’t bend the contents. He put the bag in the case and snapped it shut. He tucked it into his blazer pocket and patted it. ‘Just to be on the safe side. You never know when you’re gonna need a helping hand.’

‘You gonna leave them in Graydon’s place to be found by the forensic boys or you got some other idea how to use them?’ Zukov asked.

‘I’m not going to do anything with them,’ said Donnelly. ‘Not yet anyway.’

‘Why? What you waiting for?’

Donnelly puffed out his chest and raised himself to his full height. ‘Listen up, son. These are the three rules of life according to Dave Donnelly: Number one – never accept a bribe, no matter how skint you are. Number two – never fit up an innocent member of the public. Villains, fine, but never Joe Public. Number three – never, absolutely never, fit anyone up for murder unless you’re absolutely positive they did it and it’s absolutely necessary to get them off the streets. Understand?’

‘So you’re not positive Hellier’s our man?’

‘No. Not yet. He’s not our only suspect either, remember? Now drop this lot off at the lab before it closes, then run his fingerprints up to the Yard. The guv’nor wants them compared to marks from the scene tout suite, so don’t take no for an answer. Understand?’

‘Not a problem,’ Zukov replied. ‘And what will you be up to?’

Donnelly looked him up and down before answering. ‘Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I thought I’d head back to the nick with the guv’nor, see if I can’t find out what’s going on in that head of his.’

‘Problems?’ Zukov asked.

‘I’m not sure yet. Let’s just say I get the feeling the man’s not telling me everything he knows.’

At about 5 p.m. Sean was back at his desk ploughing through emails and paperwork, oblivious to the chatter and ringing phones in the incident room. A detective constable whom everyone called Bruce knocked on his door frame, somewhat startling him.

‘Fingerprints returning your call, guv’nor,’ he said without enthusiasm, but Sean felt his heart jump and his stomach sink. He crossed the office and took the phone.

‘DI Corrigan speaking. You can give the results to me.’

‘I don’t have the results yet,’ the anonymous voice replied. ‘The marks from the scene are still being worked up. Identification Officer Collins is working that case. He’ll run comparisons to your scene as soon as he can, starting with the various elimination prints you’ve sent us. If you’re lucky, they’ll be ready by Monday or Tuesday.’