DS Jessica Daniel series: Locked In/Vigilante/The Woman in Black - Books 1-3 (16 page)

‘Is there anything in this list of “rights” that tells you aiding a criminal is an offence you can go to prison for?’ Jessica didn’t actually know if you could go
to prison for it – but you probably could. It sounded good in any case.

‘What are you on about?’

‘You do know we can check your phone records?’

That statement clearly rattled the woman, whose confident expression changed instantly.

‘Where is he?’ Jessica said. ‘I’m not going to ask again.’

One of the officers unclipped the handcuffs from his belt with timing Jessica couldn’t have wanted to be better. The woman looked at the constable holding the cuffs and then back at
Jessica. Her face fell, the snarl finally removed.

‘I don’t know. He just said “thanks” and hung up.’

Cole spoke next and Jessica wondered why he hadn’t said anything before. ‘Do you have any idea where he might have gone?’

‘Where he always goes,’ the woman replied. ‘A pub somewhere.’

The officers made their way back to the station in convoy with Jessica following Cole and the marked car they had waiting. Jessica realised she still didn’t know the
woman’s name, or even who she was. Presumably she was a girlfriend or something similar? They could have arrested her for aiding Lapham’s escape but she could have made a complaint
about Jessica ransacking her house without a warrant. Arresting her wouldn’t have done too much good in their attempts to find their suspect in any case. One of the uniformed officers had
been left with her in case Lapham returned. She hadn’t been too pleased about it but Cole had told her they wouldn’t push charges if she cooperated.

Jessica knew it was her mistake. If she hadn’t charged in without waiting for Cole to arrive in the first place, somebody could have been left to keep an eye on the woman. That would have
made a lot more sense than a leisurely stroll to the pub. She phoned into the station to say they were returning without their suspect and that the press office should try to get a photo of Lapham
onto the evening news and into the next day’s newspapers if possible. At least that way they could get the whole city looking for their guy. With any luck, if the woman was right about him
propping up a bar somewhere, he would return home at closing time and the uniformed officer would have him in custody that night. Jessica knew it was too much to hope for.

The traffic had now all but cleared and for most people it was officially the weekend. Jessica still had to return to the station to explain what had happened. She drove steadily, following
Cole, waiting when he waited and giving way when he gave way.

Back at the station, to his credit, Cole backed her when they went to see Aylesbury. No mention had been made of Jessica going in ahead of him and he certainly hadn’t tried to push any
blame onto her, even though she felt she deserved it. The whole incident hadn’t turned into the mess she thought it would, largely because the DCI was ready to go on to the television news
that evening to appeal for help finding Lapham. It was as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck.

He dismissed the two of them and made his way downstairs to wait for the cameras. Jessica offered a ‘thanks’ to Cole but he shrugged his shoulders and gave her a half-smile.
‘Have a good weekend,’ she added.

Caroline had gone out with Randall for the night and Jessica watched the evening news at home on her own. They had invited her but she didn’t fancy it. She had been
finding reasons to avoid the flat for the past couple of nights in any case. Although last night had been the first time Caroline’s boyfriend had stayed over, they had spent most evenings in
together that week. Jessica was glad her friend was happy but the lovey-dovey stuff drove her mad. She didn’t want to say anything and at least she could now have an evening in by
herself.

Jessica flopped into the sofa with her feet curled underneath and watched the news on one local channel before flicking to the other. Aylesbury was in his element. For the first piece he was
outside the station as the sun set. He had his best ‘this is serious stuff’ face on, speaking about the need for the public to be vigilant. He said that some press reports had been
wildly inaccurate, added that people shouldn’t panic and then went on to say the police were looking for help in finding Wayne Lapham to ‘help us with our inquiries’. He
didn’t once mention the word ‘suspect’. The channel then showed the mug shot of Lapham with his name underneath. On the next station, the DCI had moved into the Pad for his
interview. He went over much the same information the second time around but, if anything, looked even more sincere, despite sitting on the edge of a desk.

Jessica changed the channel to some reality show spinoff. She wasn’t particularly interested but was happy to sit through anything that would take her mind off the day’s shambles.
The sun had almost set and, even with the flat’s curtains open, the room was pretty dark. She was still wearing her work suit but felt warm and a little sleepy, putting her head on the
armrest of the sofa and sinking further into it before closing her eyes for a moment.

She awoke with a jump what she thought was a few seconds later. She had finally changed the ringtone of her phone to some rock song she loved from when she was younger. She
could hear the tune kicking in but didn’t know where the sound was coming from. The television was off and the room was light. She looked at the analogue clock on the wall above the TV but
couldn’t take in what it was telling her. Disorientated, she tried to sit up and a blanket that had been covering her fell to the floor. The noise stopped and she rubbed her eyes to get a
better look at the time. It was sometime around five past nine. Had she really slept all night? Caroline must have come in and switched the set off and put the blanket over her.

She shook her head, trying to wake up, and went to look for her phone. Her bag and shoes were on the floor next to the living-room door as they always were but her phone wasn’t in her bag.
Jessica hunted around the room, looking under the pile of magazines on the coffee table and then the table itself. Eventually she found the device under the sofa. She thought she had left it in her
bag but had long since failed to be surprised by where her phone or keys ever ended up. She had once found her keys in the fridge, so anything was possible.

Jessica thumbed a few buttons and saw she had a missed call from the station’s landline number. She called the number back.

The desk sergeant’s familiar voice answered. ‘I wondered what you were up to. Big night, was it?’

‘Not really. What’s up?’

‘Want to guess who walked into the station half an hour ago?’

‘Lapham? Really?’

‘Yep. It’s not him you’ll have to worry about though. Guess who he was with?’

Jessica started to rack her brain but was still too half-asleep for a guessing game. ‘Go on.’

‘He’s downstairs with everyone’s favourite lawyer: Peter Hunt.’

Jessica’s first thought was that Hunt was supposed to be busy dealing with Harry’s stabbing case and then she remembered it was Saturday. A second thought then
occurred to her; how on earth had a career criminal like Wayne Lapham managed to get one of the best-known defence lawyers in the city, possibly the country, to represent him?

Then the penny dropped.

Lapham had been all over the previous night’s news and there was little doubt he would be on the front of most of that day’s papers. The chance to represent someone as high-profile
as that must have been too much for Hunt to resist. Maybe Lapham had even read about Tom Carpenter handing himself in via Hunt? Or perhaps he had seen something of the Worrall case? Hunt certainly
got enough coverage so most of Manchester’s underworld must have been aware of him.

Jessica had a peek around Caroline’s door and could see two bodies entwined with each other sleeping under a sheet. She thought she would leave them to it and left the house quietly
without changing. She had slept in her suit from the day before but reckoned it would do for a Saturday.

At the station, even with a reduced staff for the weekend, Jessica could feel a buzz as she walked in. A couple of officers were hanging around the entrance area and stopped to look at her as
she headed towards reception. The sergeant who had phoned called her over and handed her an envelope with her name on it. ‘This was dropped in for you,’ he said.

Jessica ripped across the top to find a court summons inside. After the trial’s start had been delayed, her day at Crown Court was going to be Tuesday. She was not only going to be facing
Peter Hunt today but in three days’ time as well. She wanted to phone Harry but figured it could wait, doubting he would answer anyway.

‘Cole is already in his office,’ said the sergeant. ‘He said to go see him when you got in. The DCI’s upstairs too.’

‘A full house then?’

The desk sergeant gave her a wink. ‘Just like any other day.’

Jessica went to see Cole first. His office was only two doors down from hers and next to the canteen. It was a room smaller than the office she and Reynolds shared but the inspector did have the
space to himself. Jessica knocked once and went in. He was sitting behind the desk typing on the computer but stopped and looked up as she entered.

‘Hey,’ Jessica said.

‘You’ve heard then?’

‘Hunt? Yeah, I got the call. Are we going in together?’

‘Yes. I spoke to the DCI already. He was fuming that Hunt was involved but said to play it cool.’

Jessica gave him a small smile. ‘That’s a given for you anyway.’

‘I think he was talking about you.’

Jessica went to the interview room to set up the tape as Cole went to get Wayne Lapham and his solicitor from the holding cells below the station. Although he had come voluntarily, Lapham was
still their only suspect in a double murder and had been arrested accordingly. He had been locked in a cell awaiting Jessica’s arrival. A few minutes later, he was brought handcuffed into the
interview room by Cole and a uniformed officer, Peter Hunt by his side.

Wayne Lapham was short but still had broad shoulders and a fiery look about him. Jessica knew from his file that he was forty but he looked older. He was unshaven, his greying dark hair cropped
close to his head with a visible scar across his forehead that ended above his left eye. He was wearing a sweatshirt but with the sleeves rolled up revealing two arms completely covered with
tattoos of varying designs. Jessica saw that his tracksuit bottoms had a small hole in one of the knees. Peter Hunt looked immaculate on the other hand. He stood tall next to his client, towering
over him in a brown pinstripe suit that appeared to be custom-fitted. He was wearing a white shirt with a wide collar and a thick matching brown tie knotted tight to his neck. His blond hair had no
traces of white or grey and was impressively styled almost into a quiff but with something of a side-parting. He was carrying a leather briefcase that looked very expensive.

They couldn’t have looked more different.

Lapham was the first to sit, Hunt taking the chair next to him. He put his case down by his side and placed a notepad on the table. Cole sat next to the tape recorder, pressing the buttons to
start the recording and, as usual, introduced everyone present and formally cautioned the suspect. Jessica stayed standing while that happened before finally taking her seat directly opposite her
only suspect.

Nobody had said a word before Wayne Lapham commented: ‘Ye are pretty cute, y’know?’ He was looking directly at Jessica and gave her a wink. She noticed that he had an earring
in his right ear and another tattoo just below his earlobe. He had a Scottish accent that had mellowed with time but was still noticeable.

Peter Hunt said nothing so Jessica let the silence hang before asking him where he had been during the hours Yvonne Christensen had been killed.

Wayne’s reply was forceful, a direct challenge. ‘Pub? Home? Sleeping? I dunno. Where were you?’

Cole stepped in. ‘Mr Hunt, would you like to
advise
your client?’

Hunt had a neutral expression on his face, looking down at a notepad in front of him. He glanced at his client. ‘Just answer as best you can.’

‘I’ll try again,’ Jessica said before repeating the question.

Wayne said nothing but smiled ever so slightly. ‘Tuesday at twelve I was at the pub until I went home for tea. I stayed there until midday the next day when I went back to the pub. Simple;
if I’m not at home, I’m at the pub.’

His attitude was already pushing Jessica’s buttons. ‘Not breaking into people’s homes then?’

Hunt immediately cut in, looking up from his notes at Jessica. ‘Excuse me. Are you accusing my client of breaking into homes on that day?’

Jessica ignored him, asking where Wayne had been between the times they thought the murder had happened.

Wayne didn’t even sound angry, just antagonistic. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Jessica once during the interview. ‘Are you deaf?’

‘Just answer,’ Hunt said quietly.

‘Home and pub. It’s not hard.’

Jessica met his glare. ‘The problem is, Wayne, that you’re the only link we have to both of these murders. Isn’t it funny, you burgle both their houses then a year later they
end up dead?’

Wayne slid his chair back slightly, making it screech along the floor. Finally taking his eyes from Jessica he laughed quietly as Hunt spoke again. ‘My client has never been found guilty
of a burglary. I think you should be careful of who you’re accusing.’

Jessica again let it hang in the air, refusing to rise to the retort. ‘Okay then,
Wayne
, let’s go back to last year. Let’s talk about this man in the pub you
“bought” all those stolen items from, shall we?’

Hunt moved as if he was about to speak but simply let out a little cough. Jessica met Wayne’s gaze again. He had eyes that were a very pale blue, almost grey. His stare was unwavering.
‘I don’t really remember.’

‘Come on, Wayne, this mysterious man is the number one suspect in a double murder. You’re our star witness. Do you want to try again?’