Motive Page 29

  “Yes, I am. I’m ensuring you investigate this case fully rather than relying on evidence that has clearly been planted.”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” Latimer insisted. “In fact, I’ve just discovered a vital piece of information.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I think the person we’re looking for is female. Either she’s the killer, or she’s working with him.”

  Ryan was stunned. He’d been hoping he was wrong about Kelly, despite the new information he had on her, but this seemed to cement her guilt.

  “Do you have a suspect?” Ryan asked.

  “Not yet. I was on my way to speak to someone about her, to get a description. His name’s James Knight. I think she framed him for murder, too”

  “No need,” Ryan said. “I have her address. Let’s go.”

  “Wait. Who is she?”

  “Her name’s Kelly Thorn. She was my alibi, but she disappeared. I tried the place she worked but they’ve never heard of her, and her passport wasn’t used to leave France, even though her last debit card transaction took place in London two days ago. You need to go to her place and verify that it’s her.”

  “How do I do that?”

  Ryan handed Latimer the pen Hayes had given him. “Click the top and it starts recording after the light stops blinking. Put it in your top pocket, with the clip facing outwards. I’ll be able to see her face.”

  “And if it’s her?”

  “You can ask her where she was on the fourteenth and fifteenth,” Ryan said.

  “What if it isn’t her?”

  “Then you’ll probably want to know who was using her passport.”

  Ryan directed him to Harlech Tower on the South Acton estate. Kelly lived on the eighth floor, and Ryan accompanied Latimer as far as the piss-stained lift.

  “I’d better wait here. If, as I suspect, she’s working for Franklin Marsh, one of his men might be up there. I don’t want them knowing I’m back in England. She’s in eight-oh-three.”

  Latimer nodded and took a deep breath before getting into the elevator.

  “And don’t even think about calling in back-up to pick me up,” Ryan said as the doors slid closed. “If I spot anyone, I’m through helping you.”

  Ryan walked outside and over to the next tower block, where he went into the bin area to keep an eye on Kelly’s building.

  * * *

  Latimer was glad to get out of the elevator, but the eighth-floor landing didn’t smell much better. Boiled cabbage came to mind. He found 803, clicked the top of the pen, and when the light stopped flashing, he knocked on the door.

  The woman who answered looked to be about thirty, with dark hair tied up in a rough bun. Not exactly beautiful, but a pleasant face despite the dull look in the eyes. “Yes?”

  Latimer showed her his warrant card. “Kelly Thorn?”

  “Yeah. What do you want?”

  “A word. Can I come in?”

  “What’s it about?” she asked, giving the impression that letting him in was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “I’m leading a murder investigation and your name came up. Now, we can do this here or down at the station.”

  “I’ve got my kids with me,” she said

  “Then it should be an easy choice.” Latimer raised an eyebrow, and she sighed before stepping back and letting him into the flat. As she walked to the living room, Latimer noticed the tattoos on her arms and the back of her neck. Funny how the unemployed complained about never having enough money but could always afford to cover themselves in ink.

  The hallway was cluttered with plastic bags and shoes, and she led him into the living room. For someone on benefits, she was doing well for herself. The TV on the wall must have been fifty-five inches.

  She plonked herself down on the sofa and lit a cigarette. A young boy wandered into the room, his head stuck in a phone.

  “Get back to your room.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Then get some crisps and disappear.”

  The child left, and she blew a cloud of smoke at the ceiling and looked at Latimer. “So?”

  “How do you know Ryan Anderson?”

  She shrugged. “Never heard of him.”

  “Really? You didn’t spend time with him in France recently?”

  She laughed. “I’ve never been as far as Manchester, never mind France.”

  “Then why does your passport say you went there on the fifteenth of last month?”

  Her face dropped, and she played the end of her cigarette across the floor of the ashtray.

  “She said she was desperate. Her boyfriend used to beat her and she had to leave, but couldn’t apply for a passport because he always got to the mail first. She said he was going to kill her one day.”

  “Who did?” Latimer asked.

  “I don’t know. She came up to me while I was shopping and asked if I’d have a coffee with her, no questions. Even gave me twenty quid just to talk for half an hour.”

  “Then what?”

  “She told me she had to get a passport, but couldn’t get one in her own name. She asked if I ever went abroad, but I told her there’s no way I could afford it. She said she’d give me fifteen hundred if I applied for it, and another fifteen hundred when I gave it to her. I was desperate for the cash, so I said I’d do it.”

  “And you used your own photo, or hers?”

  “Mine. She looks like me. I mean, it’s spooky. We could be twins. Only, her hair is blonde.”

  “What if you ever wanted to go abroad in the future?” Latimer pressed.

  “I asked her that, and she said she only needed it to get away from her boyfriend. She said when she got to Europe she’d apply for a passport in her own name and she’d post mine back to me, but she never did.”

  Latimer had all he needed. If Anderson verified that this was the Kelly he knew, then she must be lying. Either that, or Anderson was.

  “I just need to take a quick look around,” he said.

  “Have you got a warrant?”

  Latimer stared at her. “Seriously? You’ve just admitted a crime that could see you go down for a couple of years. Do you really want me to make this official by getting a warrant?”

  Kelly sighed and gestured to the door. “Go crazy.”

  Latimer walked from room to room. He was only interested in knowing whether she had any male guests that could be Marsh’s men, but the place was empty apart from the boy in his bedroom and a little girl asleep on Kelly’s double bed.

  He went back to the living room. “Did this woman give you a name, contact details, anything?”

  “No, nothing.” She put out her cigarette. “Am I going to be in trouble?”

  “I don’t know. If it turns out you’re hiding something, then yes. If not, worst case scenario, you’ll have to jump through hoops to get another passport.”

  He walked out of the flat and back to the lift. The policeman in him wanted to call it in and have Anderson arrested so that they could continue their discussions under caution, but the man had been right so far. Betray his trust, and he might run into a dead end.

  He descended in the lift alongside an old woman who didn’t seem to notice the smell, then hurried out into fresh air. He saw Ryan strolling towards him and took the pen from his top pocket.

  “How soon before you’ll know if it’s her?” he asked.

  Ryan already had his phone in his hand. “A minute or two.” He took the pen and ran his finger over the phone’s screen, then stared at it for a few seconds. “It’s not her. Looks a lot like her, but Kelly doesn’t have tattoos, and her hips aren’t as big.”

  “This one claimed she applied for a passport and gave it to a woman who looked just like her.”

  “I believe her,” Ryan said. “Does she know who it was?”

  Latimer shook his head. “But she said the woman was blonde. Does that fit?”

  Ryan remembered the blonde he’d seen on the tube, the one who’d looked just
like Kelly. “The girl I knew had dark hair, but that can easily be changed these days.”

  “Then it’s not all bad,” Latimer said. “Whoever your Kelly is, she’s now a person of interest in this case, perhaps two other cases we’re investigating. I need to go and see James Knight and get a description of the woman he told me about. If it matches, you could both be in the clear.”

  “You do that. In the meantime, I’ll run this woman’s passport through facial recognition and see if we can find a match through the passport office database.”

  Ryan turned to walk away, but Latimer grabbed his arm. “We can’t keep up this cloak and dagger crap. I need a way to contact you.”

  Ryan looked down at the hand on his arm, and Latimer released his grip.

  “Give me a minute.” Ryan walked away and made a call. After a hushed conversation, he returned. “Call this number,” he said, and Latimer put it in his phone as Ryan read it out. “Don’t bother trying to trace it. The phone has a marker on it. One attempt to find out where I am, I disappear forever.”

  “I won’t,” Latimer promised.

  “And I don’t want anyone trying to pick me up. We’re close to finding her, and you’re going to need my help.”

  “Ryan, I believe you. It’s time to start trusting me, too.”

  “At the moment, I’m not ready to trust anyone. I’ll be in touch.”

  Ryan walked away, and Latimer took his phone out and called DS Benson.

  “Paul, I need you to arrange an emergency visit with James in Brixton. I’ll be there within the hour.”

  “Will do.”

  “And I need a photo of Kelly Thorn, 803 Harlech Tower, Acton. Get the one from her passport and send it to my phone.”

  “On it,” Benson said, and hung up.

  Latimer got in his car and drove south. He was crossing Battersea Bridge when his phone chirped to indicate an incoming message, and the next time he was stopped by a red light, Latimer checked it. It was the photo he’d requested.

  At the prison, Benson had again come through. Latimer was escorted to a private room, and James Knight was brought in a few minutes later.

  “I hope this is worth it,” the prisoner said. “I had to miss exercise.”

  “I pray it will be. Take a look at this.”

  Latimer held out the phone and Knight studied the picture on the screen.

  “Is that the woman who tried to sell you the solar panels?” Latimer asked.

  “The face looks familiar, but the girl who came ’round was blonde.”

  Latimer beamed. “That’s just what I wanted to hear. Tell me everything you can remember about that day.”

  Knight puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly. “Well, I can’t remember the exact date. She knocked on the door and said she was with this company, I can’t remember the name. Regency something.”

  “Regency Renewables.”

  “That’s the one. I’d been considering getting solar panels for a few years, actually, so I let her in and we had a chat. At some point she went to the toilet, and when she came out, it was blocked. She went again, later, but used the upstairs bathroom.”

  “Did she have time to get a good look at your shoes at any point, perhaps take a picture?”

  “Possibly. It happened weeks ago. I remember she left me with a brochure to look through, but I have no idea how long she was gone. It could have been two minutes or five, I can’t be sure.”

  “What would you say if I told you Regency Renewables don’t employ any female salespeople?”

  Knight’s face lit up. “Then she must have been there to gather evidence. I mean, she wasn’t there to steal. I’d have known if she took anything.”

  Latimer took the phone back and clapped Knight on the shoulder. “I’ll be in touch, mate. Hang in there.”

  “Do you know who she is?”

  “Not yet, but we soon will. We’ll have you out of here in a couple of days.”

  As Latimer left, he prayed his prediction would prove true.

  Chapter 38

  Ryan had called ahead, and when he walked through the doors of Thames House, Marcus Hayes was waiting for him at the reception desk. Ryan had checked the area around the entrance beforehand, but there was no sign of a police welcome.

  “We’ve re-activated your old account,” Hayes said as they walked to the elevator. “Between you and me, I think Brigshaw wants it to stay in use.”

  “That’s a conversation for later,” Ryan said. He didn’t want to commit to anything right now, and whatever he told Hayes would surely get back to the old man.

  The office hadn’t changed in the two years since he’d last been there. He recognised a few of the people and they acknowledged him with nods, then Hayes escorted him to one of two hot desks.

  “Your password has been reset to 123456. Once you log in, you’ll have to change it and confirm biometrics.”

  Ryan sat down at a terminal and entered the default password, then changed it to something new, ensuring Hayes wasn’t looking over his shoulder. He then put his right thumb on the pad attached to the CPU by a USB lead.

  He was in, but a little rusty on the system. He had to ask Hayes how to access Kelly Thorn’s file, then put it in facial recognition and run a comparison against the passport office’s database. Ryan knew that things like a change of hair colour wouldn’t fool the software. While that processed, Hayes took him to see Brigshaw. Halfway to his office, Ryan’s phone rang.

  “It’s me,” Latimer said. “I’ve just spoken to James Knight. He remembered a blonde visiting his house selling solar panels. I went to the company and they said they didn’t have any female sales staff, so that’s how I suspected the person we were looking for was a woman. James said the photo of Kelly Thorn was a great likeness. If we can find out who paid Kelly for her passport, we could have our killer.”

  Ryan wasn’t so sure. He’d spent a lot of time around people for whom violence was just an everyday activity, like eating or breathing. Kelly simply wasn’t like that. If anything, she was working for Franklin Marsh, either willingly or under duress.

  “I’m running a search for her now. I’ll get back to you as soon as we have a hit.”

  Ryan put the phone away and followed Hayes into Brigshaw’s office.

  “Ryan,” Brigshaw said, standing. “How’s the search going?”

  “Just started. Hopefully it won’t take too long.”

  “Good. Good. Marcus, some coffee, if you will.”

  Hayes left, closing the door behind him, and Ryan took a seat.

  “Are you still convinced Franklin Marsh is behind this?” Brigshaw asked.

  “He has to be. Who else would want to frame me?”

  “I don’t know, but you have to face the fact that it might actually be the woman masquerading as Kelly Thorn.”

  “Impossible,” Ryan said.

  “Perhaps, but I want you to go into this with an open mind. You’ve been under a lot of mental strain over the last year, and if it does turn out to be her, there’s no telling how it might affect you.”

  “I was ‘under strain’,” Ryan said, making air-quotes, “because I was almost killed—twice—on an operation you sold as safe.”

  “It was safe, but you insisted on sending someone to check out the weapons exchange with the jihadist group. I warned you against it.”

  “So now it’s my fault?” Ryan said, his voice rising.

  “Not at all,” Brigshaw said. “I was running the operation and I made the call. What happened to you will be on me, always. If I could go back and overrule you, I would, but I thought the man in the field, the one closest to the action, would know the lay of the land better than I ever could. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  “That still makes it sound like I was taking unnecessary risks, when all I did was try to achieve our objective: bring Franklin Marsh down.”

  “I didn’t mean it to come out that way. All I’m trying to say is that there could be some emotional backlash if it
turns out Kelly was behind this. I’d like you to reconsider the help we offered.”

  Ryan knew he meant the psychiatrist. The counsellor, as he’d liked to be called, had been assigned to Ryan while he was still recovering in hospital the first time. The only good thing about their sessions had been the soporific effect of the counsellor’s voice, which ensured Ryan fell asleep within minutes of him starting to talk. After half a dozen meetings, Ryan asked Hayes to cancel any further sessions.

  “Talking about it isn’t going to change what happened,” Ryan said. He’d never put much stock in mental-health warriors.

  “That’s true, but it can often help you come to terms with it. There’s always a danger that it’ll consume you, and you’ll cease to function rationally. I’ve seen it happen.”

  “Not to me,” Ryan insisted. “I was in a dark place a year ago, but I’m fine now.” It was an outright lie, but there was no way he would willingly submit to further scrutiny. All he needed was something to focus his mind, something other than alcohol and Netflix. “Tell me about this joint operation between you and Six,” he said, keen to change the subject.

  If Brigshaw noticed his tactic he didn’t let on. “We’ve been working on Operation Broadfoot for some time now—”

  Hayes returned with a tray of drinks and put it on Brigshaw’s desk. “Your search should be done by now.”

  “Really?” Ryan said. “I thought it took hours.”

  “A couple of years ago, maybe, but technology has moved on.”

  Ryan picked up his cup and stood. “Sorry,” he said to Brigshaw. “I need to get on this.”

  “By all means. We can discuss it later.”

  Ryan returned to his desk and signed back into the computer. The search wasn’t quite finished, but it had already thrown up half a dozen matches. He looked through them and stopped on the third picture.

  It was Kelly. At least, it was the Kelly he knew. Her real name was Karen Harper, and she lived in Richmond.

  “Is that her?” Hayes asked. Ryan hadn’t noticed him standing so close to his shoulder.

  “Let’s see.”

  Ryan queried the immigration database to see when her passport had been used. There was a trip to France about six weeks before they’d met, then another, two days before she’d introduced herself. The most telling was the flight to London on Saturday the fifteenth, the day he and Kelly had travelled back to France. She must have dropped him off at his place, then gone straight to the airport. She was back in France early the next morning, according to the database. Why make that journey if she was just passing information and his hairs to Marsh’s people? Why not meet them while he was in the cinema?