‘You know we got a rollicking about letting him into the ICU unit. I held my hand up about that. But after seeing this footage, I’m having second thoughts about it being a coincidence. He could be involved, Mike. I mean, Detmar Steinburg was bloody crucified...’
Collingwood slammed the door shut behind him, not wanting to listen to any more. But he had a stomach-churning feeling that Ralph was right.
Chapter 32
Collingwood had been trying to reach Jack all day. He called him at home and spoke to Penny, who told him he’d be at the station. At the station he was told Jack was unavailable. And the mobile number he had for Jack was dead. So far, Jack had been lucky. The officers working on the phone camera footage had tried to get Morrison’s attention all morning and when he finally agreed to accompany them to the viewing room, he was called to a meeting with Detective Superintendent Broadbent. But Collingwood knew it couldn’t last.
Unaware of all this, Jack, along with Laura, was taking a statement from a frail elderly woman who had called 999 to say she had murdered her husband. He had been found in his wing-back chair with a plastic bag tied around his head, his feet resting on the chair’s footrest. She explained that they could not afford to send her terminally ill husband to Switzerland for the end-of-life programme, so when he had begged her to help him die, she had decided to do it herself. She said he was in terrible pain and had been for the past ten years. She said all this through quiet sobs as she sat on a sofa crying in the little drawing room, surrounded by officers. A doctor had already been called, and a care worker was also on the way.
Jack told them all to leave the crime scene, then crouched down in front of her, talking to her in a soothing voice, gently explaining that she would have to be taken to the station to be interviewed.
What a Jekyll and Hyde character you are, Jack Warr, Laura thought.
Eventually Jack and Laura left it to the uniforms and returned to the station. This time they were in the same squad car. Jack seemed tired, resting his head against the window and closing his eyes.
‘I was down in the records department earlier,’ Laura said. ‘You know, still trying to find out about that little thug I’ve had in for the burglary. Are you listening?’
Jack grunted. ‘Did you find anything?’
‘I did, actually. But not what I was looking for. I noticed that you logged in a few days ago.’ Jack turned to look at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eye. She continued, still not looking at him. ‘I don’t know if you remember, I told you when I was at Fulham, in their incident room, I saw your photograph pinned up, alongside another man wanted for questioning.’
‘Yes, I remember.’ He still kept looking at her.
‘I said I had a sort of déjà vu.’
‘What are you trying to tell me Laura?’
‘You accessed that file, the big drug bust when you and I spent months trying to trace the prime suspect.’
‘Yeah, we did.’
‘It was Adam Border, Jack. I recognised him from an old photo in the file. Ridley kept him on the wanted list. I think he still is.’ Jack turned away and stared out of the window. ‘You know it was him. I just don’t understand why you never said. I mean, why?’
‘He has nothing to do with the murder, they’ve got the killer, just forget it,’ Jack said.
‘Do you know what can happen to you if this gets out?’ Laura persisted. ‘Not only is he still wanted, but you could be charged with withholding evidence.’
‘So what do you intend to do about it?’ Jack asked her.
‘You could lose your entire career if it got out Jack, I mean why have you lied?’
‘Mind your own fuckin’ business, Laura!’ Jack said in a low voice. ‘Just forget about it.’
She had never seen that quiet, icy anger before; his dark eyes frightened her. Could this really be the same man who had just treated the old lady with such gentleness? They passed the rest of the journey in silence.
The press coverage was creating a lot of anxiety among the top brass, and Morrison was still in a tense meeting with Broadbent and a high-ranking commander from Scotland Yard. The press seemed to have a lot of details about the guests at the gallery. Was there a leak at Fulham station? Or was Ester Langton the source? They debated whether to bring her in again.
Morrison explained that they had extensive footage from mobile phones sent to the station, which would hopefully make up for the fact that the CCTV cameras at the gallery had been destroyed. He explained that he had not yet had time to view them as he had been focusing on interviewing Norman O’Reilly, who was now in custody.
‘That’s all potentially positive,’ Broadbent concluded. ‘The important thing is that we appear to be making progress. We just need to make sure we control what details about the murder are released. We have to hope some of that mobile phone footage doesn’t get into the press.’
After another half an hour, they had managed to draft a statement. ‘Now’s as good a time as any,’ said Broadbent, ‘with all the cameras outside the station. It’s four o’clock now, so it’ll make the six o’clock news. I’ll read out the statement, and you, DCI Morrison, can take any questions.’
Morrison went to the washroom to splash his face with cold water, comb his hair and try to straighten out his crumpled suit. ‘This is the bit I bloody hate,’ he muttered to himself.
Jack and Laura had not spoken since they had returned to the station and written up their reports on the death of the old lady’s husband. The body had been taken to the mortuary and the old lady, after being interviewed, was released into a care facility while the Crown Prosecution Service determined what charges, if any, she would have to face. By the time she had been taken from the flat, she seemed to no longer comprehend her situation, asking anxiously who would take care of her cat. The care worker, who had been responsible for the couple’s welfare for the last two years, gently reminded her it had died years ago.
Jack was putting on his jacket. ‘Well, that was a wretched day. I’ve had enough. I’m off home.’ She stared at him. All the years they had worked together, and it had begun to dawn on her that she didn’t really know him at all. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘Yeah, bye Jack,’ she said.
Morrison had started to sweat profusely as he sat watching the mobile footage. He turned to Collingwood in a fury.
‘Why didn’t you show me this earlier? This is fucking making me have heart palpitations. Warr’s on a fucking shedload of recordings and I’ve just been out there on the bloody news. I should have had this hours ago.’
‘I did try, Sir, but you were unavailable all afternoon, and I was unsure exactly what to do with this new evidence or what connection he has with the case. I mean, we have Kurt Neilson admitting his guilt, and we have confirmation from Norman O’Reilly that he was cleaning up blood in the shop with the bloke in the carpet.’
Morrison swivelled round in the chair to face him. ‘Am I hearing you right? Don’t you recall I interviewed Jack Warr about his presence at the ICU? He bullshitted his way out of that, and now we have him at the fucking gallery on the night Neilson was arrested! What the fuck do you think he was doing there, directing traffic?’
‘I don’t know, Sir.’
Morrison cocked his head to one side. ‘Wait a minute... unless he was behind that anonymous phone call that got you running like a dog out of the traps to the gallery. Just think about it... if Kurt Neilson offered fifty grand to Norman O’Reilly, how much do you think he offered Jack Warr? I want him arrested and I want it done tonight, and I want him brought here in cuffs and chucked into a cell for withholding evidence.’