Two Evils: A DI Charlotte Savage Novel (34 page)

‘Shit,’ Savage said. ‘Brenden Parker’s been Tasered.’

Riley received a text message from Kenny Fallon at a little after six thirty p.m.

Flat A, 25 Emma Place

Ten seconds later, Riley was talking to somebody in the control room and within ten minutes he had confirmation from officers on the ground over in Stonehouse that Stone was in handcuffs in the back of a squad car on his way to the custody centre.

‘Result,’ Riley shouted to Collier, who was fixing a picture of a forty-something man to one of the
Lacuna
whiteboards. ‘We’ve got Ned Stone.’

‘Great.’ Collier tapped the picture and smiled. ‘If you could just round up this guy as well, I’d be very grateful …’

‘Sure thing.’ Riley laughed. ‘But after I’ve dealt with Stone, OK?’

He left the crime suite and went in search of Enders. Once he’d found the DC they went over to the custody suite in the centre of town, where an hour went begging while Stone sorted a lawyer. While they were waiting, a call came through from DI Savage. Brenden Parker was now the main suspect in
Lacuna
, she said, leaving Riley free to question Stone under the auspices of Operation
Caldera
. While he was doing so though, he should try to connect Stone with Parker. Stone apparently knew Parker well enough to send him a condolence card.

When Riley and Enders entered the interview room, Riley caught a whiff of pine disinfectant mixed with a heavy perfume. Neither did anything to disguise the fact somebody had recently urinated in one corner.

‘Really, mate,’ Stone said, shaking his head. ‘I’ve been grilled over the disappearance of Angie’s boy and now you’re trying to pin a murder charge on me. It’s out of fucking order.’

‘We’ll see.’ Riley approached the table where Stone was sitting, the source of the perfume, his brief, Amanda Bradley, perched on a chair alongside. Bradley was one of the area’s top lawyers. She had a preference for Chanel suits worn with low-cut tops and push-up bras. Riley had long suspected her attire was designed to win over male clients and distract male officers, but he wondered why she bothered; with her encyclopedic knowledge of the law and shrewd argumentative powers, she was a formidable opponent whatever she was wearing. Riley nodded a greeting to her and then turned back to Stone. ‘Once you’ve answered our questions.’

‘I’m not answering—’

Bradley put out her hand to silence her client. She smiled at Riley, her teeth glinting like diamonds. ‘I’m sure Mr Stone will be happy to answer your questions.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ Riley pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Otherwise he’s in deep shit.’

Enders prepared the interview equipment and conducted the preliminaries. Stone was suspected of being involved in the murder of Benedict and the abduction of Sleet. In addition, there were still questions regarding the disappearance of Jason Hobb.

‘So you see, Ned,’ Riley said, ‘You are, to all intents and purposes, fucked.’

‘No way!’ Stone said. ‘I didn’t do any of those things.’

‘Really?’ Riley picked up his notes. ‘You went to see Sarah Hannaford about Perry Sleet. First, Sleet goes missing and then Tim Benedict turns up critically injured. He dies a day later.’

‘You can’t fucking pin all that on me.’ Stone spat the words out, phlegm on his lips. ‘I never went near Sleet or the vicar.’

‘Do you deny you visited Mrs Hannaford and asked questions specifically about the whereabouts of Sleet?’

‘That old bint?’ Stone grinned. ‘She should keep her mouth shut.’

‘So you admit you did visit her?’

‘Might have.’

‘Why did you want to know where Perry Sleet was?’

‘He’s an old friend. We go way back.’

‘Right. Would that be back to the Neanderthal age then?’ Riley shook his head. He took a piece of paper and slid it across the table to Stone. ‘Here’s a picture of Sleet to remind you. Where do you know him from?’

‘I told you, he’s an old friend.’

‘And one morning you suddenly decide to look him up. This after how many years?’

‘Be twenty, twenty-five years. More. And yeah, that’s about how it happened.’

‘And you and Perry Sleet …’ Riley gestured at Stone. ‘You’ve got a lot in common, have you? Him with a good job, loving wife, nice family and house. You with, what? A pile of clothes on the floor of some stinking bedsit? Come on, Ned, you can do better than this. At least spin me something believable.’

‘I just fancied meeting up with him, all right?’

Riley sighed. This wasn’t going well. ‘You knew him from the home, didn’t you? Woodland Heights? You were a resident there.’

‘So what if I was?’ Stone shook his head. ‘I was eleven fucking years old. Perry lived in the village. I guess he must have been my friend.’

‘You guess? And that was good enough for you to try and make contact after nearly three decades? “Hello, Perry. I was a little tyke in the children’s home and you were a middle-class kid in the village. We might have been friends. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”’ Now it was Riley’s turn to shake his head. ‘Come on, Ned, we’re in fantasy land. Tell us the truth.’

‘Fuck off.’ Stone turned to Bradley. ‘It’s no wonder people don’t come forward if this is what happens when they do.’

‘No, you’re right.’ Bradley, silent until now, scented an in. She bared her teeth. ‘I think it’s entirely unreasonable to expect my client to discuss events surrounding the children’s home with you when he’s under arrest. These are sensitive and possibly distressing matters we are talking about and he was only eleven years old. Nothing which happened back then can be relevant to this investigation, therefore I ask you to desist from that line of questioning.’

‘We’re trying to get to the bottom of why Mr Stone was interested in reacquainting himself with Perry Sleet,’ Riley said. ‘A man he just said was a friend. Let’s start with what happened when you met him, Ned.’

‘Met him?’ Stone stared deadpan across the table. ‘I didn’t meet him. Scout’s honour.’

‘And you expect me to believe that?’

‘I think you should,’ Bradley said, leaning back in her seat and shifting her shoulders to emphasise her cleavage. ‘If my client says he doesn’t know … well, he doesn’t know. Remember, Mr Stone is possibly a victim himself and I keep hearing from the police that victims are to be believed in all circumstances.’

‘Bollocks.’ Riley leant forward. ‘We’ll soon have evidence from your bedsit and car, Ned. Our CSI guys are so good that if Sleet or Benedict have even breathed in your general direction they’ll find something. It will be too late for explanations then, so you best tell us now what happened.’

‘Look, you thickos.’ Stone leant over the table too, his face just inches from Riley’s. ‘I never met Sleet, OK? I tried to find out his details but failed. Then I thought better of it. Like you said, me from the scrote end of Plymouth, and him all married with kids and a new house and all. Not compatible, were we?’

‘Where were you on Sunday night, Monday morning, Ned? You’ve been AWOL for days. What have you been up to?’

‘I was with Angie. Went round there Saturday night and stayed until yesterday.’ Stone smiled. ‘She needed comforting, didn’t she? I’m sure she’ll back me up.’

‘Angie?’ Riley half turned to Enders. The DC hunched his shoulders. This wasn’t what they needed to hear. If Stone really was over at Mrs Hobb’s house in Torpoint in the early hours of Monday, then he couldn’t have been dumping Tim Benedict in a bin on the Erme estuary. ‘Can anyone else confirm you were there?’

‘Yeah, as a matter of fact I reckon they can.’ Stone was grinning now, realising he was off the hook. ‘I ran out of fags Sunday night, so first thing Monday I snuck round to the local shop. The guy there’ll remember me because we had a natter about the Pilgrims. We won away at Luton on Saturday, didn’t we? Top of the league, by a mile. Reckon we’ll—’

‘There.’ Bradley tapped Stone on the shoulder and motioned for him to be quiet. ‘I’m sure you can verify Mr Stone’s account, but I don’t think my client could have put it plainer or been more helpful. Any more questions?’

Riley cursed to himself. Things weren’t going to plan. The elation he’d felt when Collier had identified Stone from the EvoFIT had long gone. Riley was about to wrap the interview so they could take a break and reassess when he remembered Savage’s request.

‘One more question,’ Riley said. ‘When did you last see Brenden Parker?’

‘Bren?’ Now it was Stone’s turn to be wrong-footed and he appeared to be lost for words for a few seconds. Then he smiled. ‘Oh, yeah, I bumped into him a while back. Went for lunch. Brenden, Angie, and me.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Old times. Jobs. Plymouth. You know. After lunch we went to the park for a kickaround.’

‘A kickaround?’ Riley raised an eyebrow, trying to imagine Stone larking about, having fun. ‘What, you and Brenden?’

‘Yeah. Me, Brenden and the kid. We had a right laugh, especially since we’d had a couple of jars. Three and in. Penalties. One v two. Angie even had a go. Brenden loved it. You could see he wished he had kids of his own. Funny thing was, it reminded me of when I was back at the home, playing footie on the fields out the back. Good times in amongst all that crap.’

‘By “the kid”, do you mean Jason Hobb?’

‘Hey?’ Stone cocked his head. ‘Yes, of course. Why do you ask?’

Chapter Thirty

Crownhill Police Station, Plymouth. Wednesday 28th October. 9.01 p.m.

Savage returned to Crownhill, leaving Brenden Parker’s house swarming with police. Layton and his team of CSIs were going through every room while a team of locals checked a patch of scrub at the back for any evidence of Jason Hobb. Up in the crime suite, she found Gareth Collier finishing off some admin.

‘Any sign of the boy?’ Collier said.

‘No,’ Savage said. ‘He’s not at Parker’s place.’

‘Well I’ve put the Dartmoor search and rescue teams on standby and made sure the force helicopter is available. I’ve informed the RNLI too. Wherever Jason is, I’m confident we can be there within the hour. Oh, and I’ve let Derriford know they might be dealing with a medical emergency as well. I wanted to make sure all the bases are covered.’

‘Good work, Gareth.’ Savage stared at one of the whiteboards where little red stickers adorned a map of South Devon and wished she was as positive about finding Jason Hobb alive as Collier.

At half nine, DS Riley called through from the custody suite.

‘Two points, ma’am,’ Riley said. ‘One to do with Stone, the other Frank Parker. First, Stone’s come over. He seemed genuinely shocked when I said Brenden Parker had probably kidnapped Jason Hobb. Turns out that Stone, Angie Hobb and the boy met up with Brenden a few weeks ago. That’s how Brenden knew about Jason. Anyway, Stone’s pretty much changed his tune now. Says he’ll do all he can to help.’

‘And you don’t think Stone’s got anything to do with killing Tim Benedict?’

‘No, ma’am, I don’t. He’s got a cast-iron alibi.’

‘So if not Stone, then who?’

‘Brenden Parker. Stone said he spoke to Sarah Hannaford about Perry Sleet and then passed the info on to Parker. I believe that was the extent of his involvement.’

‘That doesn’t ring true. We’ve just discovered Taser evidence in Brenden Parker’s bedroom. Parker’s not the killer. At least not
Brenden
Parker. I’m leaning towards Frank Parker being responsible for everything.’

‘Perhaps, but that leads me to my second point. Parker Senior has been ensconced with a duty solicitor for the past two hours and together they’ve come up with a written statement. Not being on the case, I don’t get much of it, but the good news is he’s admitted to killing the Caldwell boy. The bad news is he’s going “no comment” until he’s charged with an offence.’

‘Shit.’ With a confession they had enough to charge Parker, Savage thought, but it didn’t help with the search for Jason Hobb. ‘Thanks, Darius. Send the statement through, would you?’

Savage hung up and went across to a nearby terminal. She logged into her email account and five minutes later an email pinged into her inbox. She read the statement. The fact Parker had coughed to the Hobb murder was good. What was not so good was he was now blaming the minister for putting him up to it. Parker’s first wife, Deborah, had apparently been having an affair with the minister and he’d used his relationship with Deborah to get close to the boys. Parker had tried to stop the abuse but he was in too deep. The sordid triangle had left Parker on the verge of a breakdown, but in the end, the death of Jason Caldwell had pulled Parker to his senses. He escaped from his wife’s clutches and left the home with Edith Bickell, the housekeeper. Six months later, Parker filed for divorce from Deborah, citing irreconcilable differences.

‘Problems?’ Collier had taken his jacket from a nearby chair. He pulled it on. ‘Or can I go home?’

‘Nothing I can’t deal with.’ Savage smiled at the office manager. ‘You can go. Goodnight.’

With Collier gone, Savage focused in on the details about the minister again. What part had he played? Whatever it was, she needed to speak to Hardin right now. She pulled out her phone, aware there was a text she’d missed.

Urgent. Call me now. CH.

She cursed.
CH
? Conrad Hardin. Savage pressed call and Hardin answered after a single ring.

‘Charlotte, thank God! Everything’s turning to ratshit. When I got home there was a letter waiting. The wife picked it off the front doormat mid-afternoon. Hand-delivered for Christ’s sake!’

‘Sir?’

‘Are you listening, Charlotte? The bastard knows where I live.’

‘The letter, sir, what does it say?’

‘The nutter wants me to go to Soar Mill Cove. Tonight.’

‘Shit, you’re joking?’

‘No.’ There was silence for a moment. ‘I’ll sort out some backup, but I want you to meet me there in forty-five minutes. Can you come?’

Savage was already on her feet. She crossed the room and pushed through the doors into the corridor. ‘Yes, sir, I can.’

‘I’ll see you in the coast path car park then. Soonest.’