Lewis fic: Suspect 1/2
Story: Suspect
Author: wendymr
Characters: Robbie Lewis, James Hathaway, Jean Innocent, other minor characters/OCs
Rated: PG
Word count: 10,400
Summary: "I'm very sorry, sir, but there are some questions I need to ask."
Written for the Lewis Summer Challenge 2012 event on lewis_challenge, and with excellent BR services by lindenharp - obviously all errors remain mine.
This is an alternate version of part of Old, Unhappy, Far Off Things, based on a 'what if?' premise which occurred to me when I started thinking about the fact that Lewis was the last known person to see one of the victims alive.
Suspect
Chapter 1
Robbie takes a step backwards, shifting his gaze from the body in front of him, and from Laura Hobson’s too-keen gaze.
Ali, dead. It doesn’t make sense. Who’d want to kill a boat-builder, of all people? And so viciously, too.
Robbie shivers, and it’s got nothing to do with the coldness of the early December morning.
James is waiting near the open doorway, head bowed respectfully, though he glances up as Robbie approaches. By this stage at a murder scene, James usually has several things to report, so it’s a surprise when he doesn’t immediately speak.
“Well?” Robbie barks, immediately wincing inwardly at his tone. Damn. He already owes Laura an apology; now his sergeant too. “James,” he adds in a more normal tone, meeting the bloke’s gaze.
“I’m very sorry, sir,” James begins, and his tone is very formal, which sets all of Robbie’s instincts on edge. He’s not offering his sympathies on Ali’s death, that’s clear. “But there are some questions I need to ask. First of all,” he continues before Robbie can say a word, “what time did you leave Ms McLennan yesterday evening?”
Bloody hell! That’s the way James speaks to a possible suspect. He can’t possibly imagine - that’s fucking offensive. “Is that any of your business, Sergeant?”
“Sir.” James’s tone is apologetic but firm. “I’m afraid it is.”
His response is the kind of freezing glare that normally makes James either apologise or find something urgent that he’s required to do elsewhere. But even that doesn’t work. “Sir, Dr Hobson has estimated the time of death at between two and four this morning. I need to work back from there, and at this point all I know is that you were with the deceased yesterday evening.”
I. Not we.
“Ali,” he corrects sharply. “Her name was Ali McLennan. And...” He trails off. Bugger. Obviously Ali’s murder’s messed with his head; he’s not thinking straight. “Oh, shit, I was probably the last to see her alive, wasn’t I?”
“Except for her murderer.” Robbie draws his brows together, giving James a questioning look. “I hope you didn’t imagine I suspected you?”
“You can’t assume anything.” He sighs. “I went straight home. And o’ course nobody saw me, unless you happen to find me on CCTV. Not many cameras around here, though, or near my flat. I don’t have an alibi. You have to consider me a suspect.” He paces up and down. “We’ll have to talk to Innocent. I’m off the case, obviously. But I’d like you to stay on it, if possible.”
James looks surprised. “I’m not sure I could be. It’d be seen as a conflict of interest, wouldn’t it? I’m hardly going to look to prove you did it.”
Robbie raises an eyebrow. “I’d hope you’ll look to prove I didn’t.”
“Naturally. Don’t need to be on the case to do that, though it’s true it would be easier.”
“Yeah. But that’s not why I want you on it.” James quirks an eyebrow. “Want it done properly, don’t I? I want the bastard who did this found. You’re the only copper I trust to do it right, besides meself.”
For an instant, James looks taken aback - what, surprised that Robbie has that much faith in him? But that’s ridiculous. The bloke’s the most thorough investigator Robbie knows. Oh, he doesn’t catch everything, and he doesn’t always make the right connections immediately - that’s how they complement each other - but he’s persistent and capable and the only detective Robbie’d want to have on a case like this if he can’t be on it himself.
“I’ll do my best, sir,” James says after a moment. “And, yes, I will need to interview you. At least some preliminaries, for now.”
Robbie glances around. The boatyard office is over there - no, that’ll have to be searched, and as a possible suspect he can’t go anywhere near there. “My car,” he says, nodding in the direction of his Insignia. James nods once in response and follows him, hands buried deep in the pockets of his overcoat.
He waits until James is sitting beside him before speaking. “Last night, we went for a drink. Well, more than one. We were at the Barge’s Rest - Ali’s choice, it’s walking distance from here. She lives - lived,” he corrects with a grimace, “in a flat above the office. We had...” He pauses to think. “Well, I had two pints - all I could have if I was driving. Switched to orange juice after that. Ali was drinking wine, and she had more than me. Maybe five glasses? She was definitely a bit tipsy when we left. Not plastered, but enough to - well.” He scrubs his face, remembering her flirting and the kiss. Definitely something she wouldn’t have done sober - or, at least, he doesn’t think so.
But then maybe he didn’t know Ali as well as he thought he did. What she told him about why she resigned from the force... Had to have been something serious for demotion to be in the picture. Hardly just a bit of banter. Course, the force takes racism very seriously, but demotion just for one stupid comment? There must have been a lot more to it. Ali’s own body language told him as much, though he’d decided not to pursue it. What was the point? He was supposed to be having a drink with an old friend, not interrogating her.
So maybe she had a habit of upsetting people? Could that be what got her killed?
“Sir?”
He shakes himself and turns back to James. “Sorry. Was thinking. Right. Anyway, must’ve been close to eleven when we left. She wanted one last drink, but I made me excuses - getting late, work this morning. We walked across the bridge, said goodnight, an’ she went off down the towpath. I walked back to me car - car park’s in the opposite direction.”
James nods. “I know the layout.”
“Right.”
“Did anyone else see you leave?”
He pauses to think, casting his mind back to their surroundings: the bridge, the water, the dark path, the trees. “No. It was quiet. Pub’d been almost empty all night.”
“Okay.” James writes that down. Throughout, he’s been the consummate professional copper interviewing a witness: non-judgemental, matter-of-fact, giving nothing away. He wants to shake the bloke and ask him what he’s thinking, but he can’t. James is just doing his job, after all, and Robbie’s fortunate that it’s him doing it and not someone else.
Robbie takes a deep breath. “Anything else you need to know?”
James is scribbling in his notebook, avoiding Robbie’s gaze - deliberately or not, he’s not sure. “I realise it’s been a while since you’d seen her - well, at least I’m assuming-”
“It was. We were on the Chloe Brooks case - she’d been my bagman around two years by then - and then I got the news about Val.” Miraculously, he manages to continue without faltering. “Kerrison took over from me, an’ Ali stayed on the case - made sense, she’d been there from the start - and then when I came back to work... well, I wasn’t up to much for a while.” And that’s a gross understatement, but James doesn’t need to know the details. Bloke’s clever enough to figure it out for himself anyway. “Ali stayed with Kerrison. Year or so later, I went on attachment. I didn’t look her up when I came back - should have, it wasn’t her fault, but the memories were still too raw. I just didn’t want to see anyone who was around at that time. Can’t remember when I heard she’d left the force. She sent me a Christmas card a year or so later. Wrote a note inside giving me her address an’ mentioning she owned a boatyard. Always meant to look her up, but never got around to it.”
“Until the other day,” James comments, expressionless, still writing. Robbie wants to ask why James took such an instant dislike to Ali, but it’s not the time - and even if it were, he suspects James wouldn’t answer.
“Pity you didn’t come with us last night,” he says after a moment. “You could’ve been my alibi.”
James glances at him then, and there’s faint regret in his expression. “Yes,” is all he says. He puts his notebook away - interview over for now - and turns properly to Robbie. “What will you do now, sir?”
Robbie shrugs. “Can’t stay here, obviously. Best get back to the station an’ let Innocent know I’m off this case. I’ll ask her about you stayin’ on. No doubt she’ll be in touch. It’s not like I don’t have anything else to do, anyway, and I don’t need the distraction from finding Chl-” He stops himself abruptly. James is right: why is he still so focused on an attack that happened almost nine years ago? “Poppy Toynton and Samantha Coyle’s murderer.”
James drums his fingers on the door-handle. “You realise that if I stay on this investigation I probably won’t be able to help you with the Lady Matilda’s case? I shouldn’t have routine contact with you.”
He hadn’t thought of that, no. But of course James is right. “Damn it. Doesn’t make any difference,” he adds after a moment. “I want you finding Ali’s killer.”
“I’ll do my very best, sir, I promise.”
James is starting to open the door, but he stills when Robbie lays a hand on his arm and squeezes. “I know you will, man,” he says softly. “Thank you.”
***
He didn’t tell James about Ali kissing him. Why that thought occurs to him on the way back to the station he’s not sure, but it does, and it sticks in his mind.
Maybe because it’s just none of James’s business, besides not being relevant to Ali’s murder? Maybe because he’s had James wind him up before about getting involved with women who are involved in their investigations? Not that James himself has any room to talk there. Still, for some reason it seems he didn’t want James to know.
It’s not important, though. It’s not as if the kiss even meant anything. No strings, Ali’d said, and she was half-cut anyway. He let her kiss him because... well, he’d had a couple too, and she was an old friend, and it’d been nice just relaxing over a drink with someone familiar, someone he didn’t have to pretend with. And, as he’d been driving home afterwards, it’d been a nice feeling to realise someone actually fancied him - an old, set-in-his-ways bloke like him - and would’ve been perfectly happy to go to bed with him last night if he’d wanted.
If he had spent the night with Ali, would she still be alive? What was she doing in the boatyard at between two and four in the morning anyway, instead of in her bed?
But that’s for James to find out. He pulls into the station car park and into his designated senior officer’s space and switches off the engine.
***
“Ali McLennan? Wasn’t she your bagman once, Robbie?”
He’s surprised that Innocent knows that, since it was well before her time - but then he’s forgetting. Ali resigned after he got back from the Virgin Islands, and that was Innocent’s time. She must have handled it.
“Yeah. An’ there’s more, ma’am. I was with her last night. Left her between three and five hours before Dr Hobson’s estimated time of death. It’s possible that, other than her killer-”
“You might have been the last person to see her alive.” Innocent draws in a sharp breath. “Oh, dear. Well, you’re off the case, naturally. I don’t know why you were on it in the first place. You and Hathaway are already busy with the Lady Matilda’s murders.”
“James happened to get the call from Dispatch. When he phoned me, he said he would have told them to call another team, but he recognised the address. He knew I’d want to know.” That had to have been before James remembered that Robbie had been with Ali last night.
“Where is he now?”
“Still at the scene, ma’am.”
Innocent gives him an impatient look. “Well, if you’re off, he’s off.”
“I’d like him to stick with it.” As Innocent starts to shake her head, he adds, “He’s already there and gathering information. Anyone else would have to start all over again. And...” He sighs. “Whatever Ali may have done that ended her career, she worked for me. She was a decent bagman, too. I want her killer found, and - well, James’ll do it right.”
It’s several moments before Innocent speaks, time she spends toying with the small gold oval in her ear. Finally, she nods once. “All right, but I’m going to assign a DI to the case. Not because I don’t think James is capable. We both know he is, but that’s not the point. You’re a potential suspect - not that I think you did it, of course not, but procedure dictates that you’re treated as such - and he’s too close to you. You’re going to have to be formally interviewed, and he can’t do that. Well, not alone, anyway.” She turns to her computer, clicks on her mouse a couple of times, then studies the screen. “Lawson’s just finished a case. He can supervise this one. I’ll inform Sergeant Hathaway. You can’t have any contact with him until this is over.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’s dismissed. Robbie turns and leaves the office, forcing his mind back to his other investigation and the fact that he’s now without a sergeant. No, not without a sergeant - he can pull someone from another team without a problem - but without James, which is far more significant.
***
Robbie’s clearing away his dinner dishes later that evening - he’s getting better; microwaved jacket potato and a salad he picked up at the Marks and Sparks food hall on Queen Street this afternoon - when there’s a familiar knock at his door.
He’s been hoping James would at least phone. Not to update him on the investigation into Ali’s murder - that’s against procedure and he knows James better than that - but because he wants his sergeant’s input on their other case. James put the timeline together, after all, and he’s been working on trying to figure out who wore what costume.
James is looking troubled. He follows Robbie into the flat without a word, and without a word Robbie gets him a beer. “You shouldn’t be here, man, but I’m glad you are.”
“I know I shouldn’t.” James’s voice has lost its usual smoothness. He’s not at all certain of himself and what he’s doing, and the last thing Robbie should do is take advantage of that. No, his responsibility right now is to save his sergeant from making a mistake out of loyalty that could ruin his career.
“Then go,” he says roughly. “James, don’t do something you’ll regret.”
James looks straight at Robbie, determination in his eyes. “I’d regret not doing it more.”
“James-”
“No.” James sheds his coat, hanging it on the back of a chair. “Innocent’s going to phone you, most likely later this evening, to tell you that you’re off the Toynton case as well. She won’t tell you why, but you’re clever, sir. You’ll work it out.”
Robbie sighs. “Don’t have to be clever for that, do I? Obviously there’s a link between Ali’s murder and the Lady Matilda’s cases. How, I don’t know. Doesn’t make sense. Ali didn’t even remember Poppy Toynton. You know that, you were there.”
James dips his head, raking long fingers through his hair. “I have reason to believe she was lying, sir. To be honest-” He looks up again and meets Robbie’s gaze. “I had my suspicions at the time. This wasn’t any other case. Two days in, you got the worst news you could possibly have received. She was your bagman. There’s no way she’d forget that. I know if it’d been me in her place...” He shakes his head. “That happens to her governor, someone she seemed, when we met her the other day, to have been fond of, and she’s forgotten many of the details around the case? It didn’t make sense. Especially as what struck her first and foremost was how long ago it was, not - well, the personal significance for you.”
James would have remembered every little detail. Of course he would - but then he’s James. Few people are like him. All the same, he’s right. Robbie was surprised at Ali’s claim not to remember much about the case.
“So the cases are linked somehow,” he says; he’s not going to comment on what James said about Ali. “And I’m - what? On enforced leave? Or assigned to other duties?”
“I didn’t ask.” James starts pacing, nervous energy leaking from him, and again Robbie wants to tell him to go, not to risk his future. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you without DI Lawson present. Oh, you’re not really a suspect,” he adds quickly, emphatically. “No-one believes that - especially not with what we now know. But you’re still the last known person to see Ms McLennan alive, so for procedural reasons we have to keep you away. Which is completely ridiculous, as it’s now clear that we’re looking for a single murderer, and that’s obviously not you. Regardless, you’re still being kept away.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He waves a hand to show it’s no big deal. “What I don’t understand is what has you so agitated. So, I’m off the Poppy Toynton and Samantha Coyle investigation. I’m not too fussed about that, especially if it means I can strike House Beautiful off my visiting list for the foreseeable future. The only thing that does bother me is I’m not gonna get the chance to find out who left young Chloe Brooks for dead. Really thought I was gonna put that one right.”
“I’m still working on that, sir,” James reminds him. “I know it’s not the same as you doing it, but I’ll do my best for her.”
“I know you will, mate.” He waves James over to the sofa, and the two of them sit. “Come on, out with it. What’s got you so worked up? And don’t tell me anything you’re not supposed to.”
“You’re not a suspect,” James repeats, and there’s an undertone of almost raw emotion in his voice. “So. I’m not allowed to tell you this, but I’m going to anyway.”
“James-”
“I spent most of the day going through Ali McLennan’s office. You need to know what I found. No, you have a right to know.”
Robbie gives up trying to change James’s mind. The bloke’s an adult, an experienced copper; he knows the rules and if he’s decided this is what he needs to do - well, it wouldn’t be the first time either of them has decided to ignore official procedure.
He listens in increasing bewilderment as James describes the “incident room” he found in the back room, the photos and newspaper articles and links drawn between different people and events. Why? Why would Ali do that, for a case she claimed she barely remembered? Why do it at all? She left the police - yes, she told him she felt pushed out, but she didn’t give any indication of missing it.
There can’t be an innocent explanation, and his gut’s starting to tell him that whatever else James has to tell him is going to be even worse.
It is. Ali was the one who was blackmailing Poppy Toynton. Ali.
So that’s the link between Ali’s murder and Poppy Toynton. Though Toynton was killed several days before Ali, so there’s obviously someone else involved, someone who knew Ali was blackmailing Poppy. Who? And what could Ali have found out about Poppy that was worth not only over a grand a month, but her life?
And how could he have been so wrong about her? He’s always thought of himself as a pretty good judge of character, but in this case - unless Ali changed fundamentally after she stopped working with him - he really hadn’t a clue. Mind, Val never liked her much, did she? He’d never made much sense of that - after all, she’d had much more to complain about with Morse. With Ali, he was the boss and it was much easier to keep his commitments about being home.
But then, if Val had realised that Ali would have welcomed him into her bed - and women do notice that sort of thing, don’t they?
James touches his arm lightly. “Are you all right, sir?”
He glances at his sergeant - no, not his sergeant first and foremost at the moment. James has come to him with this information, risking his own position, out of friendship, not out of any sense of obligation to his governor. That much is obvious. And it’s clear that James’s nervousness earlier was because he knew he was about to shatter his boss’s illusions about a former colleague, someone Robbie’d made clear he liked. If James had any concerns that Robbie’s reaction might include shooting the messenger - as he’d done over Simon Monkford - he hadn’t let it affect him.
He covers James’s hand with his own, stopping the bloke from withdrawing. “Yeah. Yeah, I will be. Just a bit of a shock findin’ out that someone I trusted...” He shrugs. James understands, after all.
His mobile rings.
Robbie takes a deep breath. “That’s probably Innocent. You should go.”
Instantly, James shakes his head. “There’s more I haven’t told you yet, sir. She won’t know I’m here.”
Again, he nods agreement without hesitation, even as he frowns at his own selfishness. As James’s governor, his concern should be to protect his sergeant, including from himself and from James’s own inclinations where they’re not in the best interests of James’s career. “All right, then. You can go an’ put the kettle on.”
***
He wanders into the hall as he answers the phone, ensuring that the sound of a kettle being filled can’t filter through to his Chief Super. “Lewis. Evening, ma’am.”
“Robbie.” She sounds stressed and unhappy. “DI Lawson tells me that Sergeant Hathaway found some items that suggest a pretty solid link between Ali McLennan’s murder and the Lady Matilda’s cases. On the positive side,” she continues, not giving him a chance to interject, which is just fine by him, “even in the absence of forensic evidence relating to murder weapons, what Hathaway found does seem to indicate that we’re looking at a single murderer - which clearly rules you out on evidence grounds, let alone motive, opportunity or alibi.”
“Does that mean I can take over the McLennan investigation again, ma’am?” He’s certain the answer’s going to be no, based on what James said, but it’s a natural question to ask.
“Absolutely not, Robbie! In fact, it means you’re off the Lady Matilda’s case too. Best all round, in fact, if you just take a few days’ leave. Stay away from the station, don’t talk to any officers - and that includes Hathaway, incidentally. No sneaking off for pints at the Trout. I want this case to have a clean resolution. I refuse to give the murderer’s defence any opportunity to claim that one of the investigating officers could have been involved.” Robbie doesn’t comment, and after a moment Innocent adds, “You do know, I hope, that no-one at the station considers you a suspect?”
“I’m glad to hear that, ma’am,” he says dryly.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Robbie,” she says immediately, impatiently. “That said, for form’s sake you will need to be interviewed. I believe Pete Lawson will be in contact tomorrow to arrange it.”
“Yes, ma’am. If that’s it...?”
“Yes. Goodnight, Robbie.”
He bids her goodnight and ends the call, coming back to the living-room where James is just carrying two mugs of tea over to the coffee-table. “All right, sir?”
He pulls a face. “If bein’ told that no-one believes I had anything to do with it but I’m still officially a suspect an’ have to take leave is all right...” He shakes his head. “I’m glad you came to tell me. Would’ve been a lot worse hearin’ it from Innocent like that.”
“I suspected as much,” James says, remaining standing even though Robbie’s sitting. Robbie gestures to the sofa-cushion beside him, but James grimaces and shakes his head faintly. “I said there was more, sir.”
Robbie sighs. “You did. Go on, then.” As James hesitates, he adds, “Look, I already know Ali’d become a blackmailer. Unless you’re gonna tell me she’d turned to murder on top of that, there’s not much worse it can get.”
“Yeah.” James nods, but stays standing. “There was a tape. A police interview tape,” he clarifies. “We think it’s the original - at any rate, I sent Julie to search Records and it’s not there.”
Right. So even while Ali was still in the force, she wasn’t playing by the rules. Chances are the racism accusation was just an easy way to get rid of her, if her superiors had any suspicion of what she was up to.
“What was it about?” he asks, hearing the rough edge to his voice.
James produces his mobile. “I recorded it, sir. But it’s up to you. I could just summarise.”
“James.” Robbie shakes his head. “If Lawson or Innocent found out...”
“They don’t know. I was alone in Ms McLennan’s office when I found the tape. Once I realised what it was, I replayed and recorded it. There was no-one else around.”
After a moment, Robbie nods. “Go on, then.”
It’s not good. All right, bullying, insulting and threatening suspects is common practice, and he’s done a bit of it himself, though he hopes not as nastily as this. And, of course, doing deals is common as well, if there’s a chance of catching a bigger fish - but, again, this doesn’t sound right.
And then James plays the bit about the body. Judd Havelock, by the sound of it - the bloke Ali swore blind had to be living it up in Bogota. And all along she had bloody good reason to believe that he’d been murdered.
Blackmail’s bad enough, but she had evidence of a possible murder, and a way to track down a suspect, and she never reported it. Worse still, she covered it up, stealing the tape and hiding it.
“I’m glad I didn’t know about this before she was killed,” he tells James, not bothering to hide his anger.
Putting his phone away, James finally comes to sit down. “Because you’d have had to arrest her?”
“Because I’d’ve been bloody tempted to murder her meself!” He thumps the arm of the sofa. “I wouldn’t have, course not, but... bloody hell! She was me sergeant, James. I trained her. Taught her how to do things right, I thought. Didn’t think I set that bad an example.”
“Of course you don’t, sir,” James says immediately, forcefully. “Look at what you’ve done with me, as if it really needs saying.”
He shakes his head, looking at James with a disbelieving glance. “You had it all to begin with. You’d just never been given the chance to prove it.”
“Not true. You’re the best governor in the station, and I’m very, very lucky to have you. But we’re getting distracted.” James turns matter-of-fact again; oh, he really doesn’t like getting too personal. “This has given us a lead on the Chloe Brooks case, or at least on the fate of Judd Havelock - and, if I’m not mistaken, the same person is behind four murders and one attempted murder.”
“Right. Get anywhere with that number-plate yet?”
James’s lips tighten. “Unfortunately, DI Lawson didn’t see the same significance in the tape. But then he’s not as familiar with the other cases. He prioritised other tasks that kept me too busy to follow up with DVLA. I’m going to phone again first thing in the morning.”
“If you’re not too busy arranging interviews with a DI who’s clearly got nothing to do with any of the murders,” Robbie comments, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.
James snorts faintly, but then sobers again. “One more thing, sir.”
“Oh, bloody hell.” He stares up at the ceiling, as if searching for strength. “What else did she do?”
“What? Oh! No, not Ms McLennan.” The lad’s being surprisingly respectful, given what they’ve found out about Ali - but then Robbie did cut up at him yesterday for referring to her as the deceased. “It occurs to me that all the murders and the attempt so far have been in some way related to the original case. Chloe because she saw Judd Havelock being attacked. Poppy Toynton was being blackmailed, but she can’t have been the murderer, because she was killed and there’ve been two more deaths since. Samantha Coyle because, presumably, she saw someone on the stair, and then Ali because of what she knew.”
“Right,” Robbie says. “So obviously the murderer was there that night, back in 2002 - but we already knew that.”
“Not what I’m getting at, sir.” Now there’s a worried frown on James’s face. “Of everyone who was involved in the original investigation, you’re the only one left. And you’ve been asking questions, not just about the recent murders, but about Judd Havelock.”
Ah. “You don’t think I might be a target?”
“I think it’s very likely, sir.” James’s jaw clenches. “And it makes me infuriated that everyone’s running around shutting you out of the investigation, putting you on leave, insisting that you have no contact with anyone from the station, when what they should be doing is giving you protection!”
His first instinct is to tell James he’s over-reacting, that there’s no reason why their murderer would come after him and that he doesn’t need protection. But even as he opens his mouth to speak he observes James properly. The lad’s genuinely worried, and in his mind it’s a logical fear based on evidence, not paranoia.
He’s not going to ridicule genuine caring - and, besides, his sergeant has excellent instincts, even if he’s not always right.
“I don’t know if you’re right,” he says after a pause, his tone gentle. “But, you know, I’m tougher than I look. Not so easy to kill, me.”
“Bloody better not be,” James mutters, barely above his breath, and Robbie pretends he didn’t hear.
***
“Go on, get yourself off home,” Robbie says a short time later, ushering James to the door. “Expect I’ll see you at the station tomorrow.”
James nods. “Complete waste of everyone’s time, when we could be out there finding the killer. You included.”
“You’ll do that. Sooner you do, sooner I can get back to work.” He pats James’s shoulder. “You’re a good detective - y’don’t need me to solve this one.” James doesn’t answer, but the sudden widening of his eyes shows his surprise. “An’, in case I haven’t said, I’m grateful for what you did tonight. Just...” He shakes his head. “Don’t do it again, all right? Don’t want you ending up out on your ear.”
James doesn’t answer, but for some reason Robbie suspects he’d just say it’d be worth it - and that’s absolutely ridiculous.
Sleep’s elusive for Robbie tonight. Images and thoughts chase themselves in his head: Ali as his bagman, the down-to-earth and funny young woman she was then, and the occasional post-work hour or so they’d spend in the pub chewing over cases and, more often than not, laughing over the ridiculous aspects of police work they encountered daily. Ali in the pub last night, bitter and defensive as she told him why she left the force. Kissing him, making clear that she was available for more than that if he wanted. Her viciously-murdered body lying beside the boat she was repairing.
And James, worry still in his eyes as he left, concern for his boss’s safety warring with his anger over Robbie’s exclusion.
He can sort James later, once all this is over, and he will. But there’s nothing he can do now for his other sergeant. Too late for that - far too late. Ali made her own misfortunes, of course he knows that, but he still can’t help wondering: if he’d made the effort to stay in touch with her, or even contact her once he got back from attachment, could things have been different?
He’ll never know, and that’s what keeps him awake, staring at the ceiling, for far too long.
***
tbc
Chapter 2
Author: wendymr
Characters: Robbie Lewis, James Hathaway, Jean Innocent, other minor characters/OCs
Rated: PG
Word count: 10,400
Summary: "I'm very sorry, sir, but there are some questions I need to ask."
Written for the Lewis Summer Challenge 2012 event on lewis_challenge, and with excellent BR services by lindenharp - obviously all errors remain mine.
This is an alternate version of part of Old, Unhappy, Far Off Things, based on a 'what if?' premise which occurred to me when I started thinking about the fact that Lewis was the last known person to see one of the victims alive.
Suspect
Chapter 1
Robbie takes a step backwards, shifting his gaze from the body in front of him, and from Laura Hobson’s too-keen gaze.
Ali, dead. It doesn’t make sense. Who’d want to kill a boat-builder, of all people? And so viciously, too.
Robbie shivers, and it’s got nothing to do with the coldness of the early December morning.
James is waiting near the open doorway, head bowed respectfully, though he glances up as Robbie approaches. By this stage at a murder scene, James usually has several things to report, so it’s a surprise when he doesn’t immediately speak.
“Well?” Robbie barks, immediately wincing inwardly at his tone. Damn. He already owes Laura an apology; now his sergeant too. “James,” he adds in a more normal tone, meeting the bloke’s gaze.
“I’m very sorry, sir,” James begins, and his tone is very formal, which sets all of Robbie’s instincts on edge. He’s not offering his sympathies on Ali’s death, that’s clear. “But there are some questions I need to ask. First of all,” he continues before Robbie can say a word, “what time did you leave Ms McLennan yesterday evening?”
Bloody hell! That’s the way James speaks to a possible suspect. He can’t possibly imagine - that’s fucking offensive. “Is that any of your business, Sergeant?”
“Sir.” James’s tone is apologetic but firm. “I’m afraid it is.”
His response is the kind of freezing glare that normally makes James either apologise or find something urgent that he’s required to do elsewhere. But even that doesn’t work. “Sir, Dr Hobson has estimated the time of death at between two and four this morning. I need to work back from there, and at this point all I know is that you were with the deceased yesterday evening.”
I. Not we.
“Ali,” he corrects sharply. “Her name was Ali McLennan. And...” He trails off. Bugger. Obviously Ali’s murder’s messed with his head; he’s not thinking straight. “Oh, shit, I was probably the last to see her alive, wasn’t I?”
“Except for her murderer.” Robbie draws his brows together, giving James a questioning look. “I hope you didn’t imagine I suspected you?”
“You can’t assume anything.” He sighs. “I went straight home. And o’ course nobody saw me, unless you happen to find me on CCTV. Not many cameras around here, though, or near my flat. I don’t have an alibi. You have to consider me a suspect.” He paces up and down. “We’ll have to talk to Innocent. I’m off the case, obviously. But I’d like you to stay on it, if possible.”
James looks surprised. “I’m not sure I could be. It’d be seen as a conflict of interest, wouldn’t it? I’m hardly going to look to prove you did it.”
Robbie raises an eyebrow. “I’d hope you’ll look to prove I didn’t.”
“Naturally. Don’t need to be on the case to do that, though it’s true it would be easier.”
“Yeah. But that’s not why I want you on it.” James quirks an eyebrow. “Want it done properly, don’t I? I want the bastard who did this found. You’re the only copper I trust to do it right, besides meself.”
For an instant, James looks taken aback - what, surprised that Robbie has that much faith in him? But that’s ridiculous. The bloke’s the most thorough investigator Robbie knows. Oh, he doesn’t catch everything, and he doesn’t always make the right connections immediately - that’s how they complement each other - but he’s persistent and capable and the only detective Robbie’d want to have on a case like this if he can’t be on it himself.
“I’ll do my best, sir,” James says after a moment. “And, yes, I will need to interview you. At least some preliminaries, for now.”
Robbie glances around. The boatyard office is over there - no, that’ll have to be searched, and as a possible suspect he can’t go anywhere near there. “My car,” he says, nodding in the direction of his Insignia. James nods once in response and follows him, hands buried deep in the pockets of his overcoat.
He waits until James is sitting beside him before speaking. “Last night, we went for a drink. Well, more than one. We were at the Barge’s Rest - Ali’s choice, it’s walking distance from here. She lives - lived,” he corrects with a grimace, “in a flat above the office. We had...” He pauses to think. “Well, I had two pints - all I could have if I was driving. Switched to orange juice after that. Ali was drinking wine, and she had more than me. Maybe five glasses? She was definitely a bit tipsy when we left. Not plastered, but enough to - well.” He scrubs his face, remembering her flirting and the kiss. Definitely something she wouldn’t have done sober - or, at least, he doesn’t think so.
But then maybe he didn’t know Ali as well as he thought he did. What she told him about why she resigned from the force... Had to have been something serious for demotion to be in the picture. Hardly just a bit of banter. Course, the force takes racism very seriously, but demotion just for one stupid comment? There must have been a lot more to it. Ali’s own body language told him as much, though he’d decided not to pursue it. What was the point? He was supposed to be having a drink with an old friend, not interrogating her.
So maybe she had a habit of upsetting people? Could that be what got her killed?
“Sir?”
He shakes himself and turns back to James. “Sorry. Was thinking. Right. Anyway, must’ve been close to eleven when we left. She wanted one last drink, but I made me excuses - getting late, work this morning. We walked across the bridge, said goodnight, an’ she went off down the towpath. I walked back to me car - car park’s in the opposite direction.”
James nods. “I know the layout.”
“Right.”
“Did anyone else see you leave?”
He pauses to think, casting his mind back to their surroundings: the bridge, the water, the dark path, the trees. “No. It was quiet. Pub’d been almost empty all night.”
“Okay.” James writes that down. Throughout, he’s been the consummate professional copper interviewing a witness: non-judgemental, matter-of-fact, giving nothing away. He wants to shake the bloke and ask him what he’s thinking, but he can’t. James is just doing his job, after all, and Robbie’s fortunate that it’s him doing it and not someone else.
Robbie takes a deep breath. “Anything else you need to know?”
James is scribbling in his notebook, avoiding Robbie’s gaze - deliberately or not, he’s not sure. “I realise it’s been a while since you’d seen her - well, at least I’m assuming-”
“It was. We were on the Chloe Brooks case - she’d been my bagman around two years by then - and then I got the news about Val.” Miraculously, he manages to continue without faltering. “Kerrison took over from me, an’ Ali stayed on the case - made sense, she’d been there from the start - and then when I came back to work... well, I wasn’t up to much for a while.” And that’s a gross understatement, but James doesn’t need to know the details. Bloke’s clever enough to figure it out for himself anyway. “Ali stayed with Kerrison. Year or so later, I went on attachment. I didn’t look her up when I came back - should have, it wasn’t her fault, but the memories were still too raw. I just didn’t want to see anyone who was around at that time. Can’t remember when I heard she’d left the force. She sent me a Christmas card a year or so later. Wrote a note inside giving me her address an’ mentioning she owned a boatyard. Always meant to look her up, but never got around to it.”
“Until the other day,” James comments, expressionless, still writing. Robbie wants to ask why James took such an instant dislike to Ali, but it’s not the time - and even if it were, he suspects James wouldn’t answer.
“Pity you didn’t come with us last night,” he says after a moment. “You could’ve been my alibi.”
James glances at him then, and there’s faint regret in his expression. “Yes,” is all he says. He puts his notebook away - interview over for now - and turns properly to Robbie. “What will you do now, sir?”
Robbie shrugs. “Can’t stay here, obviously. Best get back to the station an’ let Innocent know I’m off this case. I’ll ask her about you stayin’ on. No doubt she’ll be in touch. It’s not like I don’t have anything else to do, anyway, and I don’t need the distraction from finding Chl-” He stops himself abruptly. James is right: why is he still so focused on an attack that happened almost nine years ago? “Poppy Toynton and Samantha Coyle’s murderer.”
James drums his fingers on the door-handle. “You realise that if I stay on this investigation I probably won’t be able to help you with the Lady Matilda’s case? I shouldn’t have routine contact with you.”
He hadn’t thought of that, no. But of course James is right. “Damn it. Doesn’t make any difference,” he adds after a moment. “I want you finding Ali’s killer.”
“I’ll do my very best, sir, I promise.”
James is starting to open the door, but he stills when Robbie lays a hand on his arm and squeezes. “I know you will, man,” he says softly. “Thank you.”
***
He didn’t tell James about Ali kissing him. Why that thought occurs to him on the way back to the station he’s not sure, but it does, and it sticks in his mind.
Maybe because it’s just none of James’s business, besides not being relevant to Ali’s murder? Maybe because he’s had James wind him up before about getting involved with women who are involved in their investigations? Not that James himself has any room to talk there. Still, for some reason it seems he didn’t want James to know.
It’s not important, though. It’s not as if the kiss even meant anything. No strings, Ali’d said, and she was half-cut anyway. He let her kiss him because... well, he’d had a couple too, and she was an old friend, and it’d been nice just relaxing over a drink with someone familiar, someone he didn’t have to pretend with. And, as he’d been driving home afterwards, it’d been a nice feeling to realise someone actually fancied him - an old, set-in-his-ways bloke like him - and would’ve been perfectly happy to go to bed with him last night if he’d wanted.
If he had spent the night with Ali, would she still be alive? What was she doing in the boatyard at between two and four in the morning anyway, instead of in her bed?
But that’s for James to find out. He pulls into the station car park and into his designated senior officer’s space and switches off the engine.
***
“Ali McLennan? Wasn’t she your bagman once, Robbie?”
He’s surprised that Innocent knows that, since it was well before her time - but then he’s forgetting. Ali resigned after he got back from the Virgin Islands, and that was Innocent’s time. She must have handled it.
“Yeah. An’ there’s more, ma’am. I was with her last night. Left her between three and five hours before Dr Hobson’s estimated time of death. It’s possible that, other than her killer-”
“You might have been the last person to see her alive.” Innocent draws in a sharp breath. “Oh, dear. Well, you’re off the case, naturally. I don’t know why you were on it in the first place. You and Hathaway are already busy with the Lady Matilda’s murders.”
“James happened to get the call from Dispatch. When he phoned me, he said he would have told them to call another team, but he recognised the address. He knew I’d want to know.” That had to have been before James remembered that Robbie had been with Ali last night.
“Where is he now?”
“Still at the scene, ma’am.”
Innocent gives him an impatient look. “Well, if you’re off, he’s off.”
“I’d like him to stick with it.” As Innocent starts to shake her head, he adds, “He’s already there and gathering information. Anyone else would have to start all over again. And...” He sighs. “Whatever Ali may have done that ended her career, she worked for me. She was a decent bagman, too. I want her killer found, and - well, James’ll do it right.”
It’s several moments before Innocent speaks, time she spends toying with the small gold oval in her ear. Finally, she nods once. “All right, but I’m going to assign a DI to the case. Not because I don’t think James is capable. We both know he is, but that’s not the point. You’re a potential suspect - not that I think you did it, of course not, but procedure dictates that you’re treated as such - and he’s too close to you. You’re going to have to be formally interviewed, and he can’t do that. Well, not alone, anyway.” She turns to her computer, clicks on her mouse a couple of times, then studies the screen. “Lawson’s just finished a case. He can supervise this one. I’ll inform Sergeant Hathaway. You can’t have any contact with him until this is over.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’s dismissed. Robbie turns and leaves the office, forcing his mind back to his other investigation and the fact that he’s now without a sergeant. No, not without a sergeant - he can pull someone from another team without a problem - but without James, which is far more significant.
***
Robbie’s clearing away his dinner dishes later that evening - he’s getting better; microwaved jacket potato and a salad he picked up at the Marks and Sparks food hall on Queen Street this afternoon - when there’s a familiar knock at his door.
He’s been hoping James would at least phone. Not to update him on the investigation into Ali’s murder - that’s against procedure and he knows James better than that - but because he wants his sergeant’s input on their other case. James put the timeline together, after all, and he’s been working on trying to figure out who wore what costume.
James is looking troubled. He follows Robbie into the flat without a word, and without a word Robbie gets him a beer. “You shouldn’t be here, man, but I’m glad you are.”
“I know I shouldn’t.” James’s voice has lost its usual smoothness. He’s not at all certain of himself and what he’s doing, and the last thing Robbie should do is take advantage of that. No, his responsibility right now is to save his sergeant from making a mistake out of loyalty that could ruin his career.
“Then go,” he says roughly. “James, don’t do something you’ll regret.”
James looks straight at Robbie, determination in his eyes. “I’d regret not doing it more.”
“James-”
“No.” James sheds his coat, hanging it on the back of a chair. “Innocent’s going to phone you, most likely later this evening, to tell you that you’re off the Toynton case as well. She won’t tell you why, but you’re clever, sir. You’ll work it out.”
Robbie sighs. “Don’t have to be clever for that, do I? Obviously there’s a link between Ali’s murder and the Lady Matilda’s cases. How, I don’t know. Doesn’t make sense. Ali didn’t even remember Poppy Toynton. You know that, you were there.”
James dips his head, raking long fingers through his hair. “I have reason to believe she was lying, sir. To be honest-” He looks up again and meets Robbie’s gaze. “I had my suspicions at the time. This wasn’t any other case. Two days in, you got the worst news you could possibly have received. She was your bagman. There’s no way she’d forget that. I know if it’d been me in her place...” He shakes his head. “That happens to her governor, someone she seemed, when we met her the other day, to have been fond of, and she’s forgotten many of the details around the case? It didn’t make sense. Especially as what struck her first and foremost was how long ago it was, not - well, the personal significance for you.”
James would have remembered every little detail. Of course he would - but then he’s James. Few people are like him. All the same, he’s right. Robbie was surprised at Ali’s claim not to remember much about the case.
“So the cases are linked somehow,” he says; he’s not going to comment on what James said about Ali. “And I’m - what? On enforced leave? Or assigned to other duties?”
“I didn’t ask.” James starts pacing, nervous energy leaking from him, and again Robbie wants to tell him to go, not to risk his future. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you without DI Lawson present. Oh, you’re not really a suspect,” he adds quickly, emphatically. “No-one believes that - especially not with what we now know. But you’re still the last known person to see Ms McLennan alive, so for procedural reasons we have to keep you away. Which is completely ridiculous, as it’s now clear that we’re looking for a single murderer, and that’s obviously not you. Regardless, you’re still being kept away.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He waves a hand to show it’s no big deal. “What I don’t understand is what has you so agitated. So, I’m off the Poppy Toynton and Samantha Coyle investigation. I’m not too fussed about that, especially if it means I can strike House Beautiful off my visiting list for the foreseeable future. The only thing that does bother me is I’m not gonna get the chance to find out who left young Chloe Brooks for dead. Really thought I was gonna put that one right.”
“I’m still working on that, sir,” James reminds him. “I know it’s not the same as you doing it, but I’ll do my best for her.”
“I know you will, mate.” He waves James over to the sofa, and the two of them sit. “Come on, out with it. What’s got you so worked up? And don’t tell me anything you’re not supposed to.”
“You’re not a suspect,” James repeats, and there’s an undertone of almost raw emotion in his voice. “So. I’m not allowed to tell you this, but I’m going to anyway.”
“James-”
“I spent most of the day going through Ali McLennan’s office. You need to know what I found. No, you have a right to know.”
Robbie gives up trying to change James’s mind. The bloke’s an adult, an experienced copper; he knows the rules and if he’s decided this is what he needs to do - well, it wouldn’t be the first time either of them has decided to ignore official procedure.
He listens in increasing bewilderment as James describes the “incident room” he found in the back room, the photos and newspaper articles and links drawn between different people and events. Why? Why would Ali do that, for a case she claimed she barely remembered? Why do it at all? She left the police - yes, she told him she felt pushed out, but she didn’t give any indication of missing it.
There can’t be an innocent explanation, and his gut’s starting to tell him that whatever else James has to tell him is going to be even worse.
It is. Ali was the one who was blackmailing Poppy Toynton. Ali.
So that’s the link between Ali’s murder and Poppy Toynton. Though Toynton was killed several days before Ali, so there’s obviously someone else involved, someone who knew Ali was blackmailing Poppy. Who? And what could Ali have found out about Poppy that was worth not only over a grand a month, but her life?
And how could he have been so wrong about her? He’s always thought of himself as a pretty good judge of character, but in this case - unless Ali changed fundamentally after she stopped working with him - he really hadn’t a clue. Mind, Val never liked her much, did she? He’d never made much sense of that - after all, she’d had much more to complain about with Morse. With Ali, he was the boss and it was much easier to keep his commitments about being home.
But then, if Val had realised that Ali would have welcomed him into her bed - and women do notice that sort of thing, don’t they?
James touches his arm lightly. “Are you all right, sir?”
He glances at his sergeant - no, not his sergeant first and foremost at the moment. James has come to him with this information, risking his own position, out of friendship, not out of any sense of obligation to his governor. That much is obvious. And it’s clear that James’s nervousness earlier was because he knew he was about to shatter his boss’s illusions about a former colleague, someone Robbie’d made clear he liked. If James had any concerns that Robbie’s reaction might include shooting the messenger - as he’d done over Simon Monkford - he hadn’t let it affect him.
He covers James’s hand with his own, stopping the bloke from withdrawing. “Yeah. Yeah, I will be. Just a bit of a shock findin’ out that someone I trusted...” He shrugs. James understands, after all.
His mobile rings.
Robbie takes a deep breath. “That’s probably Innocent. You should go.”
Instantly, James shakes his head. “There’s more I haven’t told you yet, sir. She won’t know I’m here.”
Again, he nods agreement without hesitation, even as he frowns at his own selfishness. As James’s governor, his concern should be to protect his sergeant, including from himself and from James’s own inclinations where they’re not in the best interests of James’s career. “All right, then. You can go an’ put the kettle on.”
***
He wanders into the hall as he answers the phone, ensuring that the sound of a kettle being filled can’t filter through to his Chief Super. “Lewis. Evening, ma’am.”
“Robbie.” She sounds stressed and unhappy. “DI Lawson tells me that Sergeant Hathaway found some items that suggest a pretty solid link between Ali McLennan’s murder and the Lady Matilda’s cases. On the positive side,” she continues, not giving him a chance to interject, which is just fine by him, “even in the absence of forensic evidence relating to murder weapons, what Hathaway found does seem to indicate that we’re looking at a single murderer - which clearly rules you out on evidence grounds, let alone motive, opportunity or alibi.”
“Does that mean I can take over the McLennan investigation again, ma’am?” He’s certain the answer’s going to be no, based on what James said, but it’s a natural question to ask.
“Absolutely not, Robbie! In fact, it means you’re off the Lady Matilda’s case too. Best all round, in fact, if you just take a few days’ leave. Stay away from the station, don’t talk to any officers - and that includes Hathaway, incidentally. No sneaking off for pints at the Trout. I want this case to have a clean resolution. I refuse to give the murderer’s defence any opportunity to claim that one of the investigating officers could have been involved.” Robbie doesn’t comment, and after a moment Innocent adds, “You do know, I hope, that no-one at the station considers you a suspect?”
“I’m glad to hear that, ma’am,” he says dryly.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Robbie,” she says immediately, impatiently. “That said, for form’s sake you will need to be interviewed. I believe Pete Lawson will be in contact tomorrow to arrange it.”
“Yes, ma’am. If that’s it...?”
“Yes. Goodnight, Robbie.”
He bids her goodnight and ends the call, coming back to the living-room where James is just carrying two mugs of tea over to the coffee-table. “All right, sir?”
He pulls a face. “If bein’ told that no-one believes I had anything to do with it but I’m still officially a suspect an’ have to take leave is all right...” He shakes his head. “I’m glad you came to tell me. Would’ve been a lot worse hearin’ it from Innocent like that.”
“I suspected as much,” James says, remaining standing even though Robbie’s sitting. Robbie gestures to the sofa-cushion beside him, but James grimaces and shakes his head faintly. “I said there was more, sir.”
Robbie sighs. “You did. Go on, then.” As James hesitates, he adds, “Look, I already know Ali’d become a blackmailer. Unless you’re gonna tell me she’d turned to murder on top of that, there’s not much worse it can get.”
“Yeah.” James nods, but stays standing. “There was a tape. A police interview tape,” he clarifies. “We think it’s the original - at any rate, I sent Julie to search Records and it’s not there.”
Right. So even while Ali was still in the force, she wasn’t playing by the rules. Chances are the racism accusation was just an easy way to get rid of her, if her superiors had any suspicion of what she was up to.
“What was it about?” he asks, hearing the rough edge to his voice.
James produces his mobile. “I recorded it, sir. But it’s up to you. I could just summarise.”
“James.” Robbie shakes his head. “If Lawson or Innocent found out...”
“They don’t know. I was alone in Ms McLennan’s office when I found the tape. Once I realised what it was, I replayed and recorded it. There was no-one else around.”
After a moment, Robbie nods. “Go on, then.”
It’s not good. All right, bullying, insulting and threatening suspects is common practice, and he’s done a bit of it himself, though he hopes not as nastily as this. And, of course, doing deals is common as well, if there’s a chance of catching a bigger fish - but, again, this doesn’t sound right.
And then James plays the bit about the body. Judd Havelock, by the sound of it - the bloke Ali swore blind had to be living it up in Bogota. And all along she had bloody good reason to believe that he’d been murdered.
Blackmail’s bad enough, but she had evidence of a possible murder, and a way to track down a suspect, and she never reported it. Worse still, she covered it up, stealing the tape and hiding it.
“I’m glad I didn’t know about this before she was killed,” he tells James, not bothering to hide his anger.
Putting his phone away, James finally comes to sit down. “Because you’d have had to arrest her?”
“Because I’d’ve been bloody tempted to murder her meself!” He thumps the arm of the sofa. “I wouldn’t have, course not, but... bloody hell! She was me sergeant, James. I trained her. Taught her how to do things right, I thought. Didn’t think I set that bad an example.”
“Of course you don’t, sir,” James says immediately, forcefully. “Look at what you’ve done with me, as if it really needs saying.”
He shakes his head, looking at James with a disbelieving glance. “You had it all to begin with. You’d just never been given the chance to prove it.”
“Not true. You’re the best governor in the station, and I’m very, very lucky to have you. But we’re getting distracted.” James turns matter-of-fact again; oh, he really doesn’t like getting too personal. “This has given us a lead on the Chloe Brooks case, or at least on the fate of Judd Havelock - and, if I’m not mistaken, the same person is behind four murders and one attempted murder.”
“Right. Get anywhere with that number-plate yet?”
James’s lips tighten. “Unfortunately, DI Lawson didn’t see the same significance in the tape. But then he’s not as familiar with the other cases. He prioritised other tasks that kept me too busy to follow up with DVLA. I’m going to phone again first thing in the morning.”
“If you’re not too busy arranging interviews with a DI who’s clearly got nothing to do with any of the murders,” Robbie comments, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.
James snorts faintly, but then sobers again. “One more thing, sir.”
“Oh, bloody hell.” He stares up at the ceiling, as if searching for strength. “What else did she do?”
“What? Oh! No, not Ms McLennan.” The lad’s being surprisingly respectful, given what they’ve found out about Ali - but then Robbie did cut up at him yesterday for referring to her as the deceased. “It occurs to me that all the murders and the attempt so far have been in some way related to the original case. Chloe because she saw Judd Havelock being attacked. Poppy Toynton was being blackmailed, but she can’t have been the murderer, because she was killed and there’ve been two more deaths since. Samantha Coyle because, presumably, she saw someone on the stair, and then Ali because of what she knew.”
“Right,” Robbie says. “So obviously the murderer was there that night, back in 2002 - but we already knew that.”
“Not what I’m getting at, sir.” Now there’s a worried frown on James’s face. “Of everyone who was involved in the original investigation, you’re the only one left. And you’ve been asking questions, not just about the recent murders, but about Judd Havelock.”
Ah. “You don’t think I might be a target?”
“I think it’s very likely, sir.” James’s jaw clenches. “And it makes me infuriated that everyone’s running around shutting you out of the investigation, putting you on leave, insisting that you have no contact with anyone from the station, when what they should be doing is giving you protection!”
His first instinct is to tell James he’s over-reacting, that there’s no reason why their murderer would come after him and that he doesn’t need protection. But even as he opens his mouth to speak he observes James properly. The lad’s genuinely worried, and in his mind it’s a logical fear based on evidence, not paranoia.
He’s not going to ridicule genuine caring - and, besides, his sergeant has excellent instincts, even if he’s not always right.
“I don’t know if you’re right,” he says after a pause, his tone gentle. “But, you know, I’m tougher than I look. Not so easy to kill, me.”
“Bloody better not be,” James mutters, barely above his breath, and Robbie pretends he didn’t hear.
***
“Go on, get yourself off home,” Robbie says a short time later, ushering James to the door. “Expect I’ll see you at the station tomorrow.”
James nods. “Complete waste of everyone’s time, when we could be out there finding the killer. You included.”
“You’ll do that. Sooner you do, sooner I can get back to work.” He pats James’s shoulder. “You’re a good detective - y’don’t need me to solve this one.” James doesn’t answer, but the sudden widening of his eyes shows his surprise. “An’, in case I haven’t said, I’m grateful for what you did tonight. Just...” He shakes his head. “Don’t do it again, all right? Don’t want you ending up out on your ear.”
James doesn’t answer, but for some reason Robbie suspects he’d just say it’d be worth it - and that’s absolutely ridiculous.
Sleep’s elusive for Robbie tonight. Images and thoughts chase themselves in his head: Ali as his bagman, the down-to-earth and funny young woman she was then, and the occasional post-work hour or so they’d spend in the pub chewing over cases and, more often than not, laughing over the ridiculous aspects of police work they encountered daily. Ali in the pub last night, bitter and defensive as she told him why she left the force. Kissing him, making clear that she was available for more than that if he wanted. Her viciously-murdered body lying beside the boat she was repairing.
And James, worry still in his eyes as he left, concern for his boss’s safety warring with his anger over Robbie’s exclusion.
He can sort James later, once all this is over, and he will. But there’s nothing he can do now for his other sergeant. Too late for that - far too late. Ali made her own misfortunes, of course he knows that, but he still can’t help wondering: if he’d made the effort to stay in touch with her, or even contact her once he got back from attachment, could things have been different?
He’ll never know, and that’s what keeps him awake, staring at the ceiling, for far too long.
***
tbc
Chapter 2