Authors: Simon Leigh
Out of Promises (22 page)
The interrogation rooms at the Southbrook police station were small and well lit, yet soulless and distressing. A desk in the centre split the room with a chair on either side, the suspect chair being made uncomfortable to maximise the need to leave. A large two way mirror hung on the wall like an overbearing parent with a viewing area beyond.
On one of the chairs was Fraser. He was so close to the mirror he could touch it, all the time sensing someone on the other side.
Facing him was McGowan holding a file, just watching. He liked to begin the interrogation this way and then change the atmosphere. In his experience, piling the pressure on and then releasing it lulled the suspect into a false sense of security. He also knew it was hard to lie after you’ve been telling the truth. He could read Fraser’s fear. He’d seen it all before.
Fraser said abruptly, ‘I want a lawyer.’
‘There’s one on the way.’
There was silence for another minute, during which time Fraser moved uncomfortably in his chair and fidgeted with his fingers.
‘Are you married?’ asked McGowan.
Fraser didn’t respond.
‘I was married once,’ he said. ‘She was beautiful, but you know how it goes.’
‘What happened? The old cliché about being married to the job, that kind of boring shit?’
He smiled. ‘It just didn’t work out.’
Fraser looked at him.
McGowan opened the file on the desk and pulled out the Guns n Ammo magazine from the store. ‘I like this magazine. Not as much as Playboy, but I do like it.’
‘Where’s my lawyer? I’m not answering any of your questions.’
‘He’s on his way. So where were you last night between eight and ten?’
He didn’t answer.
McGowan passed the magazine to him and he took it. ‘Fraser, why did you try to run out of the shop?’
He didn’t answer.
‘A lawyer won’t make much difference when he does arrive so you better start answering my questions. We have you as an accessory to murder.’
Silence.
‘So why did you run?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘OK.’ He stood up.
Fraser sank into his chair.
‘We have a bullet that’s been traced back to your shop and we have you trying to run away. Am I missing anything?’
Nervous, he scratched his face and wiped his sweaty brow.
‘You’re part of the murder last night aren’t you?’ He sat back down and opened the file again, bringing out some photographs of Freddie’s dead body.
Fraser gasped and looked away.
‘You provided the murder weapon and bullet. You might have committed the murder yourself for all we know.’
No answer.
‘This isn’t the only murder you’ve been involved in.’
‘Where’s my lawyer?
‘On his way.’
‘I don’t know anything. You must believe me.’
‘Let me see if I have this correct. You take a gun from your store and shoot Wong six years ago. Could be for money, could be for the pleasure. Perhaps you dislike Asians. Then yesterday you shoot Freddie Mason. Maybe you had some help to lift him onto the cross, only you will know that answer.’ He paused for it all to sink in before continuing: ‘Or did someone come in to your shop and offer to buy a gun with ammo, doesn’t tell you what it’s for but you later see the news and a man has been shot. You have a small feeling it was your gun that was used as you were the only arms dealer in town. Then some years later another murder happens, only this time you know it was the same gun used, perhaps because the kill shot was to the head, call it a gut feeling. We tested the ballistics from the bullets and they match. They're from a gun that hasn’t been fired very often in the time between the two murders.’
Silence.
‘Where were you last night?
‘I didn’t do-‘
‘What were you doing?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t do anythi-‘
‘Come on, tell me. Why did you kill Wong and Freddie?’
‘I didn’t kill anybody!’ he shouted.
McGowan slammed both fists into the table. ‘Then why does all the evidence point to you?’
Fraser looked down at his feet. ‘I can’t say. He will kill me.’
‘Who?’
‘I can’t say.’
McGowan lowered his voice to a smooth, welcoming tone. ‘You can say, we can help you.’
‘No, you can’t. He will kill you too.’
Baker entered the station and walked up to a detective who was in a world of his own at his desk.
‘You seen McGowan?’ Baker asked.
‘Yeah, he’s questioning someone.’
‘Thanks.’
He walked the short corridor to the interrogation room’s viewing area, joining two cops watching the fun.
‘What have I missed?’ he asked.
‘Fraser has almost cracked. He knows something. Someone has their hand up his back.’
‘OK, I’m going in myself.’ He walked out and around to the door.
Walking in, he stood beside McGowan, wasting no time in getting down to business. ‘We know about a lock pick that was found at the crime scene with Fosters and Co. etched on the side. We’ve connected the murder this morning to the Wong murder six years ago.’
No answer.
‘We also have your fingerprints on the lock pick,’ he lied.
Silence again.
‘Who will kill me?’ McGowan asked.
Fraser said nothing.
Baker said, ‘You can help us now, or you can wait until someone else is murdered.’
Fraser put his head in his hands.
‘We can help you,’ said McGowan. ‘Just tell us who you’re protecting.’
Fraser thought it over for a while.
Baker leaned over the desk. ‘Fraser, think about this. Two people have been shot in the head with a weapon you supplied, one of them in the last two days. How many more have been killed I wonder? You hold the key to bringing this son of a bitch down. We can protect you and release whatever hold this man has over you.’
Fraser sighed in resignation. ‘All right, I’ll tell you but I want your word that you’ll get him. And I want protective custody for me and my family.’
‘You have my word,’ agreed McGowan.
‘Mine too,’ said Baker.
He leaned back with his hands behind his head. ‘All I know is that his name is Preston and he intends to gain power in the city. I don’t know where he lives. I mainly dealt with his right hand man. A horrid man. Before Wong was killed, Preston came to my shop with a proposition. He offered me lots of money and security for life if I worked with him, and like a fool I accepted. He explained his plan and told me I was part of something big and would be rewarded. I had no idea what I was getting into, and it was too late when I did. I tried to leave once and sever all ties to him and he threatened my now ex-wife and son. I was trapped. He terrifies me.’
‘Anything else?’ Baker asked.
Fraser nodded. ‘The lock pick you mentioned, someone came to my shop asking questions about it. They had it with them.’
‘Who?’ Baker asked, already knowing the answer.
‘You can protect my family right?’
‘Yes we can.’
He sighed again. ‘He was a private detective, Bill Yates I think he was called. He had a lady with him called Valerie.’
Baker whispered to McGowan, ‘We just found a body in Bill’s office.’ Then he said to Fraser, ‘Where did they go?’
‘Three zero three Elmsmere Drive. Ada Trent is her name. I was told to keep them busy in my shop while something happened over there.’
A man in a sharp suit walked in – the lawyer. ‘What the hell is going on in here? Fraser, don’t say another word. These guys are out of line.’
Baker stood up. ‘See what else you can get, McGowan, then get an e-fit of Valerie from him.’ He left the room, fast.
Fraser shouted after him, ‘I was forced into it, it was involuntary. You promised protection.’
With their warm breath steaming the cold windows, Valerie and Bill quietly watched the other cars in the parking lot, the news report weighing heavily on their mind.
‘That was close,’ said Valerie from the driver’s seat.
‘Yeah, so close we could almost kiss.’
‘Don’t read too much into that, OK? It was all I could think of.’
The low rumble of trucks coming and going broke up the atmosphere, the laughter from the truckers audible through the car windows.
Valerie slammed her hands on the wheel. ‘Dammit! We’re all over the news.’
‘They don’t have your picture, Val. If it comes to it I think we should part ways.’
‘If it comes to it, I’ll be gone faster than you can blink. But it’s harder now.’
‘It is harder now, agreed.’ His phone started ringing. ‘Do you mind?’ he asked, apologetically. ‘It’s another client.’
‘What? No. Who cares about that?’
‘Val,’ he said, almost begging.
‘No, Bill. Has it occurred to you your client has seen the news?’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, opening the door and stepping outside.
For fuck’s sake, Bill.
She was left in silence, cold and alone.
Having had enough of the chill, she started the engine and turned on the heater. With the low fan circling, she wondered if Lucy had seen the news, still feeling guilty about running out on her.
Outside, Bill started shouting down the phone. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but he was animated in a way to suggest it wasn’t going well and she feared he was drawing attention.
A snowflake fell onto the windscreen, followed shortly by a few more. In other circumstances it would be romantic. If only she could go out and have a gentle winter walk with a lover, or sit inside by the window watching a sheet of snow cover the ground; mere dreams right now, the burden of Jackson heavy on her shoulders.
Bill was still arguing on the phone.
Impatient, she opened the door and ushered him back inside.
‘Fine!’ he snapped, cancelling the call and almost smashing the phone on the ground.
She just looked at him.
Walking past her, he waved his hand as if to say: it’s nothing.
‘Problems?’ she asked anyway.
Somewhat deflated and disturbed, he jumped in the car like he had somewhere else to be. ‘Nothing to worry about, just a client not happy with my lack of progress.’
‘Can’t be everywhere,’ she said, walking to the passenger side.
‘Wish they were all like you.’
‘You want to tell me why you’re driving all of a sudden?’
‘I think we should see how Lucy is,’ he said, ignoring her question. ‘She’s probably seen the news. She needs an explanation.’
He started the car before she could object, speeding off like a man on a mission.
Detective Baker, followed by other officers in their black and whites and a tactical team, slid to a halt outside the wide open main gates of Ada Trent’s house, blocking the entrance.
It was now 21:45 and snow had picked up pace, falling harder by the second, intent on covering the ground before the morning’s sun rays turned this serene and eerie sight into a slushy paradise.
Baker stepped out of his car into the cold to meet a team of eight officers, wasting no time getting things moving. ‘You four guard the gate. Nobody gets in or out. The rest of you follow me.’
Jumping back in his car, he headed through the gates with two squad cars following.
Red and blue lights blinked a continuous pulse of light as they followed the pitch black driveway. Baker struggled to see through the pacing snow blanketing the road, just about making out the faint house ahead with its glow of lights a blur in the increasing torrent projecting a dull monotonous radiance against the roman style pillars.
Stopping at the main door, he climbed out, feeling an unnerving discomfort in his gut. He pointed at two tactical officers. ‘You follow me. We’re going in the front. You two go around the back and cover any exits.’
They agreed and began their trek to the rear of the house, flashlights up and weapons ready while Baker headed for the front entrance.
Lining up at the door, the two officers gave him a nod which told him everything he needed to know. He pushed the front door open and moved aside as they rushed in, following close behind.
‘Southbrook P.D.!’ he bellowed, his words only an echo against the hollow lobby walls.
The officer’s flashlights shone around the cold and empty room like mini spotlights searching for a target.
Baker flicked the lights.
The heavenly glow blazed brightly, reflecting against the light shiny surfaces of this expensive and lavish house.
‘Mrs Trent?’ he said loudly.
Nothing.
Bullet holes were scattered across wall to the left between the main door and open dining room; to his right was the living room with the door closed. He motioned his team to the open door belonging to the dining room, watching them, patiently covering their backs.
Vulnerable in the open space, he knew that if anyone was upstairs, they’d have the drop on him in no time.
‘Clear,’ his team shouted.
Next was the living room where he heard a noise inside and saw a glimpse of light shining under the door.
Baker nodded to one of the officers, who raised his foot and kicked the door open before rushing in, followed by Baker, Glock ready.
‘Freeze!’ he yelled.
‘Sir, it’s us,’ said a startled officer.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he asked, lowering his weapon.
‘We saw a light come on and came to investigate.’
Baker heaved a sigh. ‘Get back out in the garden, now! Jesus Christ, you have a damn radio!’ he yelled and walked out of the room.
He was angry. He liked every entrance covered.
In the lobby, he glanced around, looking everywhere for some sign of life. Upstairs maybe? Then he noticed the door beside the stairs dotted with holes and the pieces started falling into place – someone had been shooting from inside.
With his team behind him, he put an eye to one of the holes, too dark to see anything of interest, just the light from the lobby sending beams through the other bullet holes. He figured there was another door at the back for emergencies.
I hope those two are ready.
He grabbed a radio from one of the men with him and whispered, ‘This is Baker. We’re in front of the kitchen. Can you see an exit?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘OK, take up positions and get ready to burst through that door when I give the order.’
Same drill as with the living room: kick it and rush in.
Bringing the radio to his mouth, he nodded at his team and yelled, ‘Now!’
The officer kicked in the door and they rushed in. The pair to the rear did the same.
The sight was something Baker didn’t expect: Ada on the table face down with a hole in her head. One of the officers gagged to suppress a vomit and left the kitchen. She was now pale with a purple underside where the blood had pooled and dried.
‘Search the rest of the house and garden and get the usual crews down here,’ he ordered.
Walking back out, he called McGowan, who answered right away.
‘McGowan, we found Ada Trent. She’s dead. We need to find Bill and Valerie, and we need them yesterday.’
‘God dammit. We’re always one step behind. Just following a trail of bodies.’
‘Yeah, but I can’t help feeling like something doesn’t add up. Did Fraser say anything else?’
‘No.’
‘All right. Keep trying, I’m coming back.’