Dying Eyes (16 page)

He looked up at the news on the TV screen in the corner. Robert Luther was being escorted through the crowds of media and into the police station. “Watson Murder: Robert Luther Returns for Questioning.”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket. The voices in the room became clear again.

“Brian, is everything all right?” Vanessa had her arm on Davey’s back.

“I…” Brian, still in a trance, eyes glazed, smiled at Davey again. He squeezed his son tightly. “Daddy’s got to go do something very important,” he whispered. He rose to his feet and sprinted towards the doorway.

“Brian, what the hell?” Vanessa shouted as Brian raced out of the visitation centre and towards his car.

Chapter Twenty

The media already swarmed around the entrance to the station. Lights flashed in his face as a group of journalists turned their attention to him, jostling and climbing over each other for a closer view of this crazy show.

“Sir, what can you tell us about Mr. Luther’s arrest? Is he the man?”

Brian kept his head down.

Another journalist, wearing a blue anorak, appeared in front of him. His goatee flicked out at the ends as he waved a microphone in Brian’s face. “Detective Sergeant, is Robert Luther Nicola Watson’s killer? What does this mean for BetterLives? What does this mean for our city?”

Brian shook his head. What did it mean for “our” city? Was that all he was concerned with right now? What mattered was Nicola Watson and finding her killer, not BetterLives. They might have been the city’s “great hope”, but this was real life. And real life was depressing.

Price was waiting by the door of the interview room as Brian walked down the corridor. His arms were folded, and he chewed at his lip, a frown etched into his forehead. “Wondered when you might turn up to gloat,” he said.

Brian tried to smile at him. He peeked in between the half-open metallic blinds at Luther’s silhouette. “I’ll go in there and have a word. Then, I’ll‌–‌”

“No, you won’t.”

The spotlight had spun to him, blinding his eyes. “But I…‌Look, I know what happened between us, and I apologise for it, but I’m the best officer to handle this‌–‌”

“Your ex-wife’s just been on the phone. Sounds like you aren’t very good at handling
anything
at the moment. I hate to have to do this right now, but I’m temporarily demoting your status as Detective Sergeant. This is my investigation, Brian. Mine.”

Brian lowered his head as Price continued to glare at him.
Typical.
He did all the hard work then along came a couch potato to hijack the investigation and claim all the credit. Absolutely typical.

“Ah, Cassy.” Price grinned from cheek to cheek and waved for her to join them. Cassy approached, bug-eyed and caught in the moment.

“I figured one of you had to be doing something right, and for a bit of continuity, I’ve had a word with DS Emerson. She and I are going to speak to Luther. I figured this would be some good experience for her, right?”

Cassy nodded and smiled at Brian.

Two-faced bitch
. “So what do you propose I do?” Brian asked, dejected and flushed in the cheeks.

Price looked down at his watch. “Well, DS Emerson and I are going to speak to Luther. Maybe…‌I dunno, really. Maybe you could head down to Nicola’s parents’ house and ask them if they knew anything about her dating older men?”

Brian gritted his teeth.

“What’s that look?”

He shrugged.

“No, you tell me what the fuck that look was, right now.”

“Okay,” Brian said, scornfully. “It’s just I’ve spoken to the parents before. They know nothing at all. We’ve got someone in here with semen samples all over Nicola Watson, and you’re asking me to keep myself busy? It just doesn’t seem right.”

“Keep yourself busy?” Price said, widening his eyes. “It could be important. You’re keeping the case under control whilst we move things forward here. Isn’t that right, Cas? Go on, cheer the man up.”

Cassy shrugged. Her cheeks glowed pink.

“Well, whatever. Good luck.” He took a final glance at Luther in the interview room. Upright. Shadowed body. No real signs of emotion. “We didn’t take a DNA swab when we interviewed Mr. Luther last time. How did you match the samples?”

Price rubbed his hands. “Turns out our friend Robert isn’t as innocent as he’d like us to believe. Was suspected of fraud a few years back. Got away with it, but don’t they always? At least he left us a nice gift in the form of his DNA.”

“Did he kick up a fuss?”

“Not a flinch,” Price said. “Barely seen a man look so defeated.”

“And Walters?”

“I imagine he’ll be down to sing his man’s praises in no time. Now come on‌–‌we only have him for thirty-six hours before we have to make a decision whether to charge him. Don’t want to have to start worrying about applying for the ninety-six, not with somebody as slippery as him. He’s so smooth he’s practically oily.”

Brian remembered what Danny had said about cover-ups. “Right. I won’t be long. Cassy, you get this sorted for us.”

She winked at Brian. “I give the orders now, ‘Detective Constable’.”

Shenice Watson’s face grew greyer and more vacant every time Brian saw her. Like a stroke victim seeing a relative and having no idea who they were, she didn’t seem to recognise him at first. Then a spark of recognition returned to her eyes, and she gestured him inside without saying a word.

The small pile of sympathy cards that Trevor had collected from the doorstep when Brian last visited were unopened and gathering dust. The Christmas tree shed spikes all over the floor near the entrance. A dustpan and brush lay by its side, Shenice’s cleaning attempts clearly half-hearted and disinterested.

Shenice flicked the kettle on as Brian sat down at the table.

“What’s the latest?” she asked, cutting straight to the point.

Brian cleared his throat and edged forward in the creaky kitchen chair. He wasn’t sure whether or not to mention Luther yet. But then the press…

“No doubt you’ve seen about Mr. Luther. The man from BetterLi‌–‌”

“Was it him?” she asked. Flecks of spit shot towards Brian’s face.

Brian loosened his collar. “We’re investigating BetterLives as a lead because your daughter spent a lot of time volunteering there. Right now, it’s too early to say.”

Shenice’s jaw trembled. The kettle screamed as the water boiled, but she didn’t seem to notice it.

“Mrs. Watson…‌the reason I’m here might seem a little strange, but I was wondering if there were any little clues that Nicola might have been dating somebody other than Danny Stocks.”

Shenice gasped. “Do you think we’d be having this conversation if I knew? Do you think‌–‌” She stopped and covered her face with her hands for a moment. “Do you think we’d be arranging her funeral if we had any idea?”

“Sorry. I…‌I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just really important. If there’s anything you might have been suspicious about, or maybe didn’t think much of at the time, now’s the time to tell us.”

Shenice paused and squinted. “No. I don’t. I don’t believe there was ‘owt wrong with her, really. She was just our girl. My girl. My Nicola.”

Brian heard movement behind him. Footsteps. Scott Watson‌–‌Nicola’s brother‌–‌lumbered towards them in baggy black jeans, hair gelled forward onto his acne-covered forehead.

“Scott,” Brian said, nodding at him as he entered.

Scott rubbed at his arm and nervously nodded back.

Shenice clicked on the kettle again even though it had just boiled. She sniffed back tears and sprinkled another spoonful of sugar into her teacup.

“I was just asking your mum here if‌–‌”

“There was a ring,” Scott said, his lips quivering.

Shenice stopped tinkling her teaspoon against the side of the cup.

“What do you mean?”

Scott reached into the front pocket of his checkered blue and red hoodie and pulled out a little golden ring with a diamond on top of it. He dropped it into Brian’s open hand. The ring was shiny and regal. Hell, it would probably have cost more than he’d ever been able to afford.

“Scotty, what is that you have there?” Shenice asked, staring at the ring. Brian looked up at Scott as he continued to rub his arm.

“I didn’t think ‘owt of it at first or when all this kicked off, but when I heard you saying about the other bloke, I remembered it.”

Brian twirled the ring around in his fingers. “How did you get hold of this?”

Shenice marched towards Brian and snatched the ring from his fingers, getting a closer look at it herself.

“Someone delivered it a couple of weeks back. To Nicola. In an Amazon box. And I’d ordered a pen drive through her Amazon account, so I opened her package instead by mistake. I never wanted to tell Mum or Dad about it, ‘cause‌–‌”

“Why didn’t you tell us, Scott?” Shenice gazed directly at her son, venom in her eyes. “Don’t you realise ‘ow fuckin’ important this could be?”

Scott shook and stared at his feet, mumbling something under his breath.

“Just calm down, Mrs. Watson. What did you say, Scott?”

“Because Nicola didn’t want me to tell anyone, all right? She didn’t want that.” The words blasted out of him louder than anything else he’d said. His cheeks flushed at the vocal explosion. Shenice turned back to the kettle before crying out with frustration and throwing the ring to the kitchen floor.

Brian picked it up from a dirty crevice by the corner of the fridge. He moved it between his fingertips again.

“What did Nicola say about this ring?”

Scott blinked fast. “Well, I just thought it was from Danny and that’s why she didn’t want Mum and Dad to find it first.” He turned his stare towards his mother. “But then Nicola just kind of went along with that. She seemed happy. Shocked but happy. She just went along with things. I guess you never look into stuff when it’s family, but I did find it a bit weird.”

Brian slipped the ring into his pocket. He patted Shenice on the back before walking up to Scott and shaking his bony, spidery hand. “We’ll be in touch. Look after your mum.”

Scott nodded but avoided eye contact with Brian.

Shenice scooped another spoonful of sugar into her teacup.

Chapter Twenty One

Brian thumbed the ring around his palm. Shiny, golden, a little diamond reflecting against the light. Too expensive for Danny to give her, surely.

Could Luther have something to do with it? He clenched the ring in his fist before slipping it back into his pocket and driving through town towards the police station.

Traffic was a nightmare, and Price wasn’t answering his phone. Probably interrogating Luther, gobbling up whatever bullshit he and his expensive solicitor were feeding him. Brian bit his nails as rain pounded against the windscreen, engine fuel from the car in front coughing up through the air vent and into his face. He flicked the radio on, some Scottish rock band that used to be pretty decent with another pop song. He switched the channel over. Voices on Radio Four debating some shit or another. He yawned as he looked through the city centre at people scurrying to escape the wind, hiding underneath reversed umbrellas. A fat kid chewed away at a Big Mac whilst his tight-assed mum bit her lip and giggled on the phone.

When the shop caught his eye, he didn’t think much of it at first. It had always been there after all.

But when it caught his eye again, he couldn’t quite comprehend it.

H.M. Luther.

The honking of the car behind him seemed directed at somebody else at first. On the third honk Brian realised he was holding up the traffic as the green light pierced its way through his window.

He stuck his middle finger up at the driver behind anyway, even though it was his fault.

After getting out of the town’s windy roads, crawling with absentminded shoppers and slow moving taxi drivers, Brian pulled in near the bus station and grabbed his phone, his hand shaking. He opened up Safari and closed down the last tab he’d looked at, something about Top 10 Unsolved Mysteries. He pushed his chubby thumb into the search bar, missed it at first, and pressed it again. He cursed but was luckier third time round. He typed into Google with his sausage fingers.
Fucking not-so-smartphones.
Like hell were they designed for him. FatPhones‌–‌they’d be all right.

The search results interrupted his train of thought. He hit the home button and dialled Price again. One buzz. Two buzzes.

“Brian, I was just about to‌–‌”

“Price. Before you start‌–‌H.M. Luther. It’s his father. Y’know, the rich, pompous jeweller?”

Price grunted at the other end of the line. Voices were audible in the background.

“There…‌There was a ring.” Brian struggled to string a sentence together. “Nicola Watson received a ring. Anonymous. The family didn’t think much of it, but…‌I think there might have been something more going on with Robert Luther and Nicola Watson than we first thought.”

Price was silent again for another few moments. Other voices muttered somewhere near him.

“Are you getting this? I think Nicola and Luther were lovers. I think there could be more to this than‌–‌”

“Brian,” Price snapped. “Listen, for God’s sake‌–‌I’m trying to fucking tell you something here.”

Brian was immediately brought back to earth. “Right, right…‌Sorry. Go on.”

Price sighed and mumbled something. It didn’t sound all that polite. “You need to get back here, Brian. Well done on your little bit of Sherlock Holmes work‌–‌you can have your DS powers back for that. But the lovers thing? We’ve figured that out, anyway.”

“What…‌what do you mean?”

Price muttered something to someone else before returning his attention to the phone. “Luther’s just confessed to an intimate encounter with Nicola Watson. You need to get down here.” He cancelled the call.

Brian held the phone to his ear, unable to move it. His head spun with thoughts, but none of them seemed comprehensible right now. Jealous lover? Or coincidence? He needed time. He needed air.

He turned the car around into the private parking area, almost clipping the side of an already bruised silver Rover, before parking and grabbing a ticket. The rain was more violent now, the sky a charcoal grey. He slipped £3.30 into the machine‌–‌three hours of parking‌–‌perched the ticket behind his police car windscreen wipers, and zipped up his black jacket as he walked through the milder, albeit windy, air, towards the police station.