TRACE - CSI Reilly Steel #5 (Forensic novel Police Procedural Series) (6 page)

Chris and Kennedy were about to begin the interview with Blair Burke. His solicitor had since shown up and made a fuss and if they weren’t going to file a charge, he had told them, they had better let his client go.

So a bedraggled Burke was brought into the interrogation room at Harcourt Street. Even his solicitor seemed to balk at the foul smell emanating from him. He had been sweating heavily, the stains under his arms almost reaching the waist of his pants. Chris tried not to breathe through his nose. It was hard to believe that someone as attractive and successful as Jennifer Armstrong should want to have an affair with this man. It was hardly surprising that his wife appeared to detest him.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Burke slurred as soon as he sat down. ‘I loved her.’

His solicitor bristled. ‘It’s best if you don’t say anything, actually, Blair. I’ll handle it.’

‘How long did your relationship with Ms Armstrong go on for?’ asked Kennedy.

‘I was waiting for her all my life,’ said Burke. ‘Forty three years.’

‘How long were you having a sexual relationship with her?’

‘That’s none of your goddamn business! Get the hell away from me, pigs!’

Chris could already tell that this would be useless. They would have to let Burke go, interview him another time, when they could catch him sober. His solicitor seemed to be at a loss too, frantically whispering in his ear.

Kennedy tried one last time. ‘How long were you seeing Ms Armstrong?’

Burke sprung up, took a hold of his chair and swung it at Kennedy. For a big man he ducked surprisingly easily but as the chair completed its arc, it hit the solicitor in the face. Blood poured forth almost immediately. The man demanded to be let out at once.

‘Find yourself another lackey,’ he hissed at Burke through the blood coming from his nose. ‘I’ll send you a final bill.’

Chris was almost relieved at the debacle. At least now they could book Burke for assault and keep him for questioning until he sobered up.

‘Do you really think this is our guy?’ Kennedy asked him.

‘Could be,’ he said. ‘But he seems too stupid, too volatile. Every indicator we have shows that this wasn’t a crime of passion. It was so well planned. This guy looks like he couldn’t plan getting up in the morning.’

‘And,’ Kennedy pointed out, ‘La Boca isn’t one of the restaurants that imports or uses Joker Fruit.’

‘Doesn’t mean he couldn’t get hold of it,’ said Chris. ‘He’s got the right connections.’

‘Let’s interview him in the morning,’ Kennedy said yawning. ‘I’m sorry that someone had to get their head busted in, but at least Burke will be sober enough to answer our questions.’

‘Tomorrow, then,’ Chris agreed. ‘Bright and early.’

Chapter 7

Despite what his colleagues thought, Chris Delaney did not mind being alone. For years, he had enjoyed his own company. He had built up a cosy life for himself. He had good friends, and was godfather to Rachel, his best friend Matt’s daughter. And he had his work. If he ever watched the relationships of Kennedy and Josie or Matt and Emma and felt jealous, that was a feeling that could usually be worked out of his system at the gym. He often turned to a rigorous workout to cure all ills, and it had worked for a long time. Although a more recent ongoing ill had to be cured in different way, but that was another story.

Lately however, he was finding it harder and harder to stay satisfied with solitary life. Given the nature of his work and his past relationship issues, he had always believed that he would be better off single. He couldn’t bring the complexities and the sheer harshness of his work life home with him. But recently he thought that perhaps he had a duty to seek out and create any warmth he could, as a kind of rebellion against the darkness and cruelty he encountered every day. He imagined teaching his children about right and wrong; ensuring they grew up to be good people. He imagined coming home to someone who loved him, someone who understood what he faced every day.

Chris sighed and pushed the weight bar out parallel with his chest. It was an impossible dream, he knew. You couldn’t teach children to be good people. Procreation was a game of Russian roulette: he had seen many good families be devastated by an evil seed in their midst. People sometimes were just bad; there was no real reason for it. Of course, that wasn’t to say he had seen many potentially good kids ruined by terrible upbringings. It was risky all round, having children.

As for the relationship business, that was just a pipe dream. One after the other of his past romances had been ruined by his work and the effect it sometimes had on him. It was hard to believe in love when you knew what people would do in the name of it, never mind that that was a sick, twisted kind of love. More about possession than anything else.

He pushed the weights harder and faster, until his biceps, shoulders and chest muscles strained. It’s no good thinking about Reilly the way he had been lately, either, he told himself. Reilly didn't think that way about colleagues and certainly not about him. He wondered who she did think that way about though, and suspected that something had changed in her since her return from the US.

Had something happened there? Not with Forrest, he guessed, for starters she viewed the guy as a second father and for another he was way older.

Yet
something
had happened though, Chris reckoned. And Reilly was only human after all.

Me: Hi there.

Her: Hi yourself.

Me: You’ll have to forgive me for being a little overwhelmed. I don’t usually speak to women who look as good as you.

Her: This isn’t really speaking LOL. Wait until you meet me in person. I’m used to that kind of response.

Me: I’ll bet. You’re a very impressive woman. How is it that you’re single, if you don’t mind me asking?

Her: I haven’t really focused on love. There’s been more important things for me. There still are more important things LOL. I guess you better know that straight up. I don’t want to waste your time.

Me: I don’t think I am.

Her: I think we’ll get on just fine then, LOL. Just as long as everyone knows we’re they’re at.

It starts like this. Lies and flattery will get you where you need to be.

Only I need to caution myself: slowly, slowly. To rush is to scare your prey.

To rush is to lose, and you no longer lose.

The detectives interviewed Blair Burke early the next morning.

It was 8am, and Reilly’s hair was still slightly wet and fragrant from her post gym shower. She wanted to sit in on this interview and get a sense of him as a potential subject and it was fine to do so, since Burke hadn’t actually been charged with anything.

‘I see you brought the arsenal with you this time, boys,’ says Burke, eyeing Reilly. ‘You couldn’t do this all by yourselves? Had to bring the little lady in with you? I’m more likely to end up coming on to her than confessing to her.’

Reilly didn't react. None of them did. But each one of them knew that this would be a hard interview. Hard for Burke that was.

‘How long were you having intercourse with Ms Armstrong?’ she asked.

‘You interested in all the gory details, love?’ asks Burke. ‘Want to see what you’re missing?’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a solicitor?’ Chris asked. ‘Without representation of any kind, I have the feeling you are going to sink like a stone, Mr Burke.’

‘Don’t need a lawyer,’ Burke scoffed. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘Well, the evidence might suggest otherwise. Answer our questions please.’

‘How long was I with Jen? How long is a piece of string? Every time I tried to call it off she was begging or more.’ Burke leaned back in his chair, hands in his pockets so the fabric of his pants stretched tight across his crotch. Reilly felt a sudden nausea creep up. This guy was a creep.

‘Were you aware your wife knew about the relationship?’ asked Kennedy.

He shrugged. ‘I didn’t care if she was. If Helena’s aware of something, it’s only between 6am and 10am, before she’s doped to the gills.’

Already Reilly was frustrated. This interview wasn’t going as planned. Burke was not going to give them anything except more smart answers.

‘Why did you engage Ms Armstrong’s services in the first place? Why did you need someone in PR?’ probed Chris.

‘Restaurant stuff. We were growing, needed a bigger profile.’

‘From what I gather, Ms Armstrong didn’t deal with small time things like that. She was more about damage control, which leads me to believe that you had some kind of trouble.’

‘Believe what you want.’

Burke was still leaning back in his chair when Chris’s palm hit the table top between them. ‘Give me some straight answers and I might be able to,’ he said shortly. ‘Keep messing me around and you’ll end up with a murder charge hanging over your head. See what that does for business.’

Burke swallowed, and brought his chair down on all four legs. ‘We had some problems,’ he admitted, sounding less cocky now. ‘We hired her to smooth over some bad press we were getting. My ex-business partner had … unpleasant connections and we were accused of muscling out any competition. There had been a few incidents. For the record, I wasn’t involved with any of that. My partner and I went separate ways and I cleaned the place up, made it what it is today. I couldn’t have done it without Jenny’s help.’

‘When did your relationship change from business to more romantic in nature?’ asked Chris.

‘Pretty soon after we met. She had no qualms about mixing business with pleasure. She was hard-line, knew how to get the job done. In all respects,’ he said, with a return of his smirk towards Reilly. ‘I make no bones about liking an attractive woman.’

‘Were you serious about your relationship with Jennifer?’ Chris asked, trying to keep him on topic. ‘Did you plan to leave your wife for her?’

Burke became serious. ‘I couldn’t leave Helena. We have shared business interests. I told Jen that from the start. At first she was fine with it, but then…it wasn’t just a fling,’ he spat. ‘We loved each other.’

‘Were you still seeing each other at the time of her death?’

‘How could I be seeing her when she bloody well wouldn’t let me? Wouldn’t have a thing to do with me? Seeing all these other men and letting me know about it, too. It broke my heart.’ His voiced cracked, an intimate sound that surprised them all. ‘If we were still together then she wouldn’t be dead. She’d still be here and eventually she would come around. We had a good thing. A good, warm thing.’

‘Have you ever heard of antimine?’ asked Kennedy suddenly.

Burke looked truly surprised by this question. He had no idea where it had come from. ‘Like, protesters against mining and stuff?’ he asked. ‘I’ve seen them on the telly. What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘Where were you the night Jennifer died?’ asked Chris.

‘With Helena. Ask her; she won’t lie, even if she is devoid of all feeling.’

Reilly had a feeling that his alibi would check out. She thought that they were looking at a scumbag, but not a killer. She exchanged a look with Chris and knew he was thinking the same.

‘Ok,’ he said. ‘We’re going to take a break.’

Outside, the three of them watched Blair Burke as he held his head in his hands. He seemed truly upset by Jennifer Armstrong’s death, even if he was a horrible person. He treated her like a possession, thought Reilly. People are always upset when their things got broken or taken away.

‘Let him go?’ Chris suggested.

‘I wouldn’t jump the gun,’ said Kennedy. ‘I agree that this doesn’t look like our guy, but you can’t be too sure. Best to bring the wife in and check his alibi.’

Reilly sighed. She hated to admit it, but Kennedy was right. It did pay to be careful, where you could. The last thing they needed was Blair Burke skipping the country if he was the one who had killed Jennifer.

‘I’ll get Helena in,’ Chris said. ‘She could have saved us a lot of messing about if she had just told us he was with her in the first place.’

Later, after watching the interview with Helena Burke, Reilly felt more drained than ever, and strangely dirty. She had had enough of humans and their problems.

Burke’s wife had been diminished by the stark reality of the interview room. Chris and Kennedy had interviewed her, but Reilly had watched through the one way mirror. Helena had kept glancing at her own reflection, as if surprised at how small and scared she looked.

‘Was your husband with you the night Jennifer was killed?’ asked Chris.

Helena nodded.

‘I need you to say it. For the record, please: was your husband with you the night that Jennifer Armstrong was killed?’

‘Yes,’ said Helena. ‘He was with me. We were at a charity gala. He used my phone to call Jennifer.’

‘Did he go home with you?’

‘Yes, we went home together. He was drunk. He fell asleep on the couch and was still there in the morning when the children got up. I don’t think he could have moved, to be honest. Not even to take his shoes off.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us this in the first place? You have taken up precious resources of this investigation by withholding,’ Kennedy chided.

‘I’m sorry.’ Helena lifted her eyes in appeal. ‘I just wanted him to feel a tiny bit humiliated. Having the police show up at his restaurant…you can’t know what he’s put me through.’ The mask of perfection had slipped, and anyone could see how desperate and scared the wife really was. Reilly watched as Chris turned off the tape recorder.

‘Why don’t you leave him?’ he asked.

‘I wouldn’t know where to begin,’ said Helena. ‘I’ve been with him since I was sixteen. I don’t have the first clue how to get by without him.’

‘He won’t change,’ said Kennedy.

‘I know,’ said Helena. ‘But if he keeps drinking, maybe he’ll die first. That’s what keeps me going.’

Reilly thought it was a slim hope to live on. A life that was barely a life at all. She felt sad for the whole lot of them. Jennifer, Helena, Blair Burke: what kind of loneliness drove them to do the things they did?

‘Not a nice thing to end your days with,’ said Chris, when he got out of the interview room.

‘We’ve seen worse,’ said Reilly. ‘It’s just all so…sad. I used to be better at handling this kind of thing, letting it slip away. But at the moment I get home and feel it needling away at me. I think about it, and it keeps me up at night. Maybe the older I get, the softer I get.’

Chris laughed. ‘I’m not sure it’s that. Maybe as you get older you start to realize how precious everything is, how fragile. It’s happening to me too. Things that used to be like water off of a duck’s back give me nightmares now.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe we’re just becoming more human.’

‘Well,’ said Reilly, ‘if it gets in the way of me doing my job, I’d rather be a robot, thanks.’

‘At least we’ve got dinner at Amuse Bouche to look forward to tomorrow,’ said Chris. ‘Bring your appetite. I haven’t looked forward to a work outing like this for a long time. Good food, good company… I even think Kennedy is starting to feel a little left out.’

‘You know, it’s not strictly protocol that we do this,’ said Reilly. ‘Actually dine at the restaurants serving Joker Fruit, I mean. I’m starting to feel a little guilty, not to mention nervous. I know what that stuff can do.’

He grinned. ’What? Give up the opportunity for a slap-up meal on the job with the department picking up the tab? You must be nuts.’

He left the station then, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. She watched him go. Everything Chris did was so effortless. Watching him move was like watching a silverfish in water, or a bird gliding in the sky. He was in his natural element wherever he was. She wondered if he had been flirting with her just now. If he had, it was effortless too. Just enough to make her wonder.