On Cold Ground (Detective Karen Hart) Page 12

  Leo said, ‘You’re right. We should get a warrant, go over the accounts ourselves.’

  ‘Think yourself an accountant now, do you?’ Arnie said, looking Leo up and down.

  Leo blushed. ‘No, of course not. I just meant we could get a specialised team to go over it, a forensic accountant.’

  ‘I think that’s a good idea,’ Karen said, and Leo smiled at her gratefully.

  ‘I suppose,’ Arnie said grudgingly. ‘I’ll ask the boss about it.’

  Karen filled them in on what she’d discovered in their absence. She told them Lloyd Nelson had probably been driving on Friday night without a driver’s licence, and that Sam Pickett had been knocked from his bike in Waddington and killed that same night.

  ‘So you think Lloyd killed the kid, and then Lloyd himself was killed in some kind of revenge act?’ Arnie fiddled with his sauce-stained tie. ‘Interesting.’

  ‘It’s worth checking out,’ Karen said. ‘We need to test the theory. If Beverley Nelson’s vehicle hit Samuel Pickett as he was cycling home, there should be some trace evidence. Paint transfer. Blood . . .’

  ‘Sounds sensible. Have you got the car?’

  ‘No, apparently I’m not trustworthy enough. Your boss wants you two to do it.’

  Arnie gave a long drawn-out sigh. ‘I told you how to handle him. It’s not difficult.’

  ‘For you maybe,’ Karen muttered.

  ‘Great.’ Arnie folded his arms and huffed. ‘Looks like you and I are going to have to do all the work on this case, Leo.’

  ‘We’re perfectly willing to help,’ Karen said testily. ‘We don’t want to be excluded. Your boss is unreasonable.’

  ‘That’s one word for it.’ Leo grinned. ‘Come on, Arnie. You’ve got to admit it took you a while to get a handle on Churchill. It’s not like you had him eating out of the palm of your hand from day one.’

  Arnie cocked his head to one side, thought for a moment and then shrugged. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ He turned to Karen. ‘I’ll tell you what, why don’t I go and see Beverley Nelson with DC Jones? It makes sense. She’s the FLO. Beverley is familiar with her; there’s a level of trust there. We’ll ask for the car, but get a warrant in case she’s not cooperative.’

  ‘I’m not sure Churchill would like that,’ Karen said. ‘He was quite insistent he didn’t want us on the job. Do you want to clear it with him first?’

  ‘Not really,’ Arnie said. He winked at Karen. ‘I always find it easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ Karen said. She imagined Churchill finding out and becoming apoplectic with rage. She had to admit the idea gave her some pleasure.

  ‘I’ll sort the warrant,’ Leo said, getting to his feet and stretching. ‘When was the last time you saw the boss?’ he asked Karen.

  ‘She was lingering outside my office just a few minutes ago.’ Churchill’s cold voice came from behind them, and they all turned.

  ‘I came to ask you if you’d received the case summary I’d sent,’ Karen replied. That was her story, and she was sticking to it even if it wasn’t very convincing.

  He gave her a look that said he wasn’t born yesterday. ‘I’ve just spoken to Assistant Chief Constable Fry,’ he said, his eyes still fixed on Karen. ‘Apparently DS Hart had the time to attend another meeting this afternoon.’

  ‘I did,’ Karen admitted, willing him to ask what the meeting was about so she could tell him it was above his pay grade. She’d like to remove the satisfied smirk from his face.

  But he didn’t ask.

  ‘And if you were needed? Did any of us know where you were? Did you bother to tell the team? Perhaps you sent an email?’

  From his smug expression and his sarcastic tone, Karen could tell he knew she hadn’t sent an email. ‘I wasn’t needed. I’d offered to organise the warrant for Beverley Nelson’s car; you turned down my offer.’

  Karen glared back at him. Why was he talking to Assistant Chief Constable Fry anyway? Why had Fry mentioned Karen’s name? The meeting was confidential, for obvious reasons. The fact Fry had been discussing it with Churchill made Karen uncomfortable, especially as Churchill had been specifically referenced during the meeting.

  ‘Did Assistant Chief Constable Fry tell you what the meeting was about?’ Karen asked.

  Churchill bristled. He picked a piece of lint from his otherwise-pristine white shirt. ‘No reason why he should. I just know you weren’t working on our case.’

  Because I couldn’t. Because you told me I couldn’t, Karen wanted to shout.

  ‘You’re supposed to add any meetings to the diary,’ Churchill said. ‘You don’t just disappear for an hour. Without permission.’

  ‘That’s my fault, boss,’ Leo said quickly. ‘I haven’t told them all about the diary system yet. I’ll get them added today.’

  ‘No harm was done,’ Arnie said cheerfully, ignoring Churchill’s scowl. ‘We’re going to need an expert to go over the accounts for Sparks Software. Lloyd Nelson’s boss says there’s no missing money, but we should probably check ourselves to make sure. Don’t you think, boss?’

  Arnie was trying to distract him, change the subject, and Karen appreciated his efforts.

  Finally, Churchill turned away from Karen. ‘Yes, we have a financial and fraud investigation team. We can pass the details over to them.’

  ‘They’re on the system, are they? Shall I look them up?’ Arnie suggested.

  Churchill said, ‘Leave it with me. I know the head of the team.’

  ‘Right you are, boss. We’re about to head out and try to get access to Beverley Nelson’s car.’

  Karen noticed he said we’re, rather than me and DC Jones, so Churchill would assume Arnie was referring to him and Leo.

  ‘Good,’ Churchill said. Then he turned back to Karen, ‘Don’t forget, DS Hart, I expect all your little excursions to be included in the diary from now on.’

  Little excursions? Karen fumed, but managed to keep her temper under control. ‘Fine.’

  Leo and Arnie waited until Churchill had left the office and was out of earshot before turning to Karen and looking at her questioningly.

  Leo said, ‘He does seem to have it in for you.’

  ‘Not just my imagination then?’ Karen said dryly.

  Arnie leaned back in his seat, resting his hands on his ample stomach. ‘No, the DCI has got a bee in his bonnet about something. What did you do?’

  ‘Nothing. He’s not like this with everyone?’

  Arnie shook his head. ‘He can be a difficult so-and-so at times, but not normally this bad, no.’

  ‘Is it because I’m a female officer?’

  Leo replied, ‘No. He’s got lots of faults, but I’ve never noticed him to have a problem with women in general. There has to be something specific about you. Have you worked with him before?’

  ‘No. Probably just a personality clash,’ she suggested, though really she thought it was more than that.

  She suspected Churchill knew she’d spoken to Alice Price about him. Perhaps Churchill’s behaviour was defensive.

  Perhaps he suspected Karen was on to him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sophie sat in the passenger seat of the pool car. She kept glancing over at DS Arnie Hodgson, who was driving.

  She was glad to still be on the case. The idea she’d be taken off her first case as family liaison officer had been depressing. But she wasn’t sure about working for DCI Churchill, or with his team. Leo seemed okay. Pretty normal, actually. But Arnie . . . Well, she’d never worked with anyone quite like him before.

  He had a large circular stain on his tie. She wondered what it was. Coffee? No, some kind of food, she suspected. Did he know? Should she mention it? If she were walking around with stained clothes, she’d like somebody to point it out. But Sophie knew she was different from most people. Rick would say she was fussy. But she liked to think that she simply took pride in her smart appearance.

  She ran a hand ove
r her pinstriped suit, smoothing the creases, tucked her brown curly hair behind her ears. Then she frowned at the blob of colour on his tie again.

  Arnie turned, and Sophie realised he’d noticed her staring at the stain on his tie. She blushed.

  ‘Anything wrong, Sophie?’ He raised his bushy eyebrows before turning his attention back to the road.

  ‘No, sorry. I mean, did you know you’ve got a mark on your tie?’

  He glanced down and then chuckled. ‘It’s only a tiny smudge, barely noticeable.’ He grinned at her. ‘Adds a bit of extra interest to the pattern, don’t you think?’

  Sophie looked at the loud, swirling pattern and gave him what she hoped was a polite smile.

  Then she turned away and looked out of the passenger window. She had seen Harinder earlier. He’d smiled when she’d passed him in the corridor. He’d actually looked like he was pleased to see her. For a nerve-wracking moment, she’d considered asking him out for a drink that evening, but bottled it at the last second. If he said no, she’d never be able to face him at work again. And despite what Karen had said, she couldn’t shake the idea that it was unprofessional to date a colleague. Sophie prided herself on doing everything by the book.

  That was what she liked about DI Morgan. He was easy to understand. He followed the rules, he was fair, and Sophie always knew where she stood.

  Karen was easier to talk to, though. If she messed up, Karen was the one she turned to. She hated making a mistake, but even worse was making a mistake and DI Morgan finding out and being disappointed in her.

  ‘It’s just up here, isn’t it?’ Arnie asked, leaning forward over the wheel.

  ‘Yes. The next turning.’

  Arnie parked outside the Nelsons’ house. He turned off the engine and took a moment to look around.

  Sophie paused with her hand on the door handle. ‘Ready to go in?’

  Arnie’s large watery eyes scanned the surroundings once more, then he nodded.

  Beverley opened the door. Sebastian was behind his mother, clutching a carton of chocolate milk. He eyed Sophie and Arnie warily.

  Beverley blinked, focusing on Arnie, trying to place him.

  ‘Hello again, Beverley,’ Sophie said. ‘This is DS Hodgson. He’s part of the team investigating your husband’s death.’

  ‘You’d better come in.’

  She led them into the kitchen, and they sat down at the table. Beverley seemed a fraction brighter. ‘Can I get you a coffee?’

  ‘That would be lovely, thanks,’ Arnie said, leaning back and making himself comfortable.

  Sophie declined and watched Beverley move about the kitchen, opening cupboards and switching on the kettle.

  Sebastian lingered in the doorway. He took a long gulp of chocolate milk, which left a smear around his mouth.

  ‘Go into the lounge, love,’ Beverley said to her son.

  ‘I want to hear what they’re going to say,’ he protested, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Beverley shook her head. ‘Go. I’ll tell you later.’

  Sebastian sighed and left the kitchen.

  ‘Have you found the person responsible yet?’ Beverley asked as she shut the kitchen door.

  ‘We think we’re getting close,’ Arnie said. ‘But we’re here today to ask you for a favour.’

  ‘What?’ Beverley’s eyes were guarded.

  ‘We’d like to take a look at your car, take it away for a few days so our forensics people can give it a once-over.’

  ‘My car?’

  ‘Yes, we won’t keep it long.’

  She turned her back on them, shoulders and spine rigid.

  ‘I know it probably sounds like an odd request—’ Sophie began.

  ‘It does,’ Beverley said, cutting her off and placing a mug of coffee in front of Arnie. ‘Why do you want my car?’

  Sophie felt they should be honest with Beverley. She deserved that much. And the warrant was organised, so if Beverley refused, they could tell her she had no choice – and take it before she had time to get rid of any incriminating evidence.

  Sophie clasped her hands together, resting them on the table. ‘You said Lloyd used your car on Friday night.’

  Beverley sank into a chair. ‘That’s right. I told you we argued because he wanted to place a bet.’

  ‘But we’ve found out Lloyd doesn’t have a licence.’

  Beverley looked at Sophie. ‘Doesn’t have a licence,’ she repeated dully.

  ‘He’s not registered with the DVLA,’ Arnie explained. ‘He didn’t have a licence, so he shouldn’t have been driving.’

  A cold smile spread across Beverley’s face. She made a sound that was a cross between a scoff and a laugh. ‘He’s dead! You can hardly prosecute him for that now.’

  ‘Did you know he didn’t have a licence?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘No, of course I didn’t. Why? Are you going to try and pin that on me?’ She was becoming agitated. Sophie tried to remember her training. She needed to be supportive and firm, but understanding. Show her you’re on her side.

  But Arnie got in first.

  ‘You’ve got us all wrong, Beverley,’ he said, leaning forward and looking at her earnestly. ‘We’re trying to help.’

  ‘By going after a dead man for driving without a licence?’

  ‘We think it might have something to do with his murder,’ Arnie said in a low voice as he dipped his head towards Beverley, as though he was confiding in her.

  ‘I don’t understand. How?’

  ‘That’s why we need the car. We think there might be evidence on it that will give us a lead.’

  ‘What evidence? You’re not making any sense.’

  ‘Did Lloyd act strangely on Friday night after he got back?’ Sophie asked.

  Beverley’s head whipped around. ‘I told you. We’d had a row. We weren’t talking, so . . . I don’t know really. You think something happened when he was out?’

  ‘That’s exactly what we think,’ Arnie said gently. ‘There’s only so much I’m allowed to tell you without evidence. But I feel like we have to put all our cards on the table here. I can tell you’re an honest woman. You adored your husband.’

  ‘I did.’ Beverley sniffed and pulled a tissue from the pocket of her jeans.

  Sophie shot a look at Arnie. She wasn’t sure about the way he was handling this. It seemed a bit manipulative.

  ‘And of course you want us to find his killer as quickly as possible,’ Arnie said, patting her hand.

  Beverley nodded, dabbing her eyes.

  ‘Then we need to check if the car was in an accident on Friday night. We’ll have the folks in Forensics go over it. They can do all sorts of clever stuff. They’ll be able to tell us if the vehicle was involved in a collision.’

  Beverley blinked. ‘You think Lloyd had a crash?’ she said slowly, and looked down at the table, thinking. ‘You think there was some kind of altercation, maybe a road rage incident. And then the other person involved followed Lloyd, killed him?’

  Arnie smiled sympathetically. ‘That’s exactly the sort of thing we want to find out. I knew you’d understand.’

  Beverley nodded, eyes wide as she processed the information.

  Sophie sat in silence, unsure of how to proceed. On the one hand, Arnie had been kind to Beverley, and she was cooperating, so the interview was a success, but he hadn’t been strictly honest. They believed Lloyd could have knocked a twelve-year-old boy off his bike and left him to die. But that wasn’t the sort of thing you could say to a grieving widow without evidence.

  Arnie glanced at Sophie and gave her a smile that said: Job done. We’re home and dry.

  ‘Have you used the car since Friday evening?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘No, it’s been in the garage since then.’

  ‘Do you mind if we take a look?’

  Beverley pushed up from the table and moved to find the car keys. She plucked them from an empty fruit bowl near the fridge.

  She held them ou
t to Arnie. ‘I’ll unlock the garage for you.’

  When Beverley opened the garage, they looked over the car, searching for obvious damage. There was nothing major, but then how much damage could a twelve-year-old and a bicycle do to a hefty Volvo? It wasn’t a fair contest.

  There was a slight scrape on the bumper, light scratches against black. Sophie pointed out the spot to Arnie.

  Beverley looked over his shoulder. ‘Oh, that was me in Sainsbury’s car park. They’ve put new bollards in the most ridiculous places.’

  ‘Well, if it’s all right with you,’ Arnie said, straightening, ‘I’ll put a call in and get the forensics team to come and take the car away. Will you be all right without it for a couple of days?’

  Beverley shrugged. ‘I suppose I’ll have to be.’

  ‘We could organise an alternative,’ Sophie suggested. ‘Perhaps a hire car?’

  ‘That’s all right. The kids walk to school, and I’m not back at work yet. Haven’t felt ready.’

  ‘Perfectly understandable,’ Arnie said, meeting her gaze. ‘Thank you again, Mrs Nelson. I know this has been incredibly difficult for you.’

  Beverley gave a small nod, and dabbed at her eyes again with the tissue.

  Sophie felt a pang of guilt. Beverley had no idea the forensics team were already on their way. It didn’t matter whether she’d agreed or not, though Sophie had to admit it was easier this way.

  She watched Arnie talk to Beverley, handing her a new packet of tissues he just happened to have in his pocket. He knew the right things to say. They hadn’t been strictly honest, but maybe that was a kindness.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It was the end of a long day, and Karen needed a drink. She’d heard Leo say something about Churchill wanting them all to go out for a team dinner to get to know each other, and she’d bolted. Cowardly? Perhaps, but she’d had enough of the man for one day. And she had plans this evening.

  She’d driven home, grabbed an overnight bag, left her car on the driveway and walked down the road, heading to the pub.

  She waited until a noisy tractor chugged past, then pulled out her mobile and called Mike.