Dying Eyes (17 page)

He needed time to cool off. It was only a five-minute walk. Enough time to compose himself. Enough time to think.

He fumbled around with the ring in his pocket as he walked through the urine stench of the bus station and towards his workplace.

Chapter Twenty Two

Price tapped the bottom of his pen against the table. He kept his eyes on Luther, clearly scrutinising every small movement and facial expression as if it was primary evidence.

Luther sat upright, his hands laid out in front of him. The bitten-down skin at the side of his fingernails was beginning to crust and scab. Every now and then, he looked up at Price and Brian to check if they were still watching him, then diverted his gaze when he realised they were. Luther’s solicitor, Kayleigh Wallbridge, accompanied him. Her cheeks wrinkled as if she were sucking a lemon. She blinked frequently as her overgrown bobbed fringe dangled into her eyes.

“Why did you keep it from us, Luther?” Brian asked.

Luther didn’t react. He remained focused, gazing at his hands as they rested on the table. Kayleigh made a note and whispered something to him.

Brian sighed. “Luther, you’re in a bad position right now. Really, really bad. You’re going to want to think about being a little more cooperative.” He twiddled the ring around in his pocket.

Luther and Brian held a stare for a few moments. Enough time to make him trust him. Enough time to make him think he had a way out.

He turned away again and gazed out of the blinds. Little streaks of light peeked through into the room, and silhouettes paced down the corridor. Kayleigh leaned back to Luther and whispered something else. He nodded and took a deep breath as if he was preparing for a speech.

“It was just a fling.” He tried to raise a trademark confident smile again, but it quivered and twitched at the sides.

“Just a fling?” Brian replied. “I don’t believe you.”

“Detective Sergeant,” Kayleigh said with a soft tone. “Unless you’re going to keep on acting on those hunches of yours‌–‌which I hear you’re becoming quite adept at doing so, may I add‌–‌you have no evidence to suggest that Mr. Luther’s relationship with the girl was anything more than casual. Two adults leading a healthy, normal lifestyle.”

Brian smiled at Kayleigh. He loved it when he had people right where he wanted them. She was clueless about the ring, and so was Luther. His ace in the pack. He was going to milk this for all it was worth. “These hunches of mine. Sometimes they’re right. Sometimes they aren’t. That’s just life. But, Mr. Luther, and I’m addressing
you
directly, can you please confirm that your relationship with Nicola Watson was nothing more than ‘casual’? And, come on‌–‌be completely honest with us.”

Luther glanced at Kayleigh, who rolled her pen between her fingers. Then he faced the detectives. “Yes, I…‌It was just once. I didn’t want it to come out. And then‌–‌then her death. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let our encounter come out. I was scared. I knew it would come to this, but I was scared.”

Brian slipped the ring across his knee. “It’s a reasonable enough reaction. In fact, if I were in your shoes‌–‌apart from probably being a little out of pocket after buying those shoes‌–‌I’d probably have reacted in a similar way.”

Luther’s eyes widened. It was great when they thought they had a way out. Luther rubbed his eyes. Kayleigh didn’t reveal a flicker of emotion.

Just you wait…

Brian slammed the ring onto the table and rolled it over to Luther.

The rest of the room watched as Luther blinked rapidly, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, just for a moment. Then, a return to the earlier cold, steely grey stare.

“It’s‌–‌I don’t know what it is.”

“Yes you do, Luther. You gave it to Nicola Watson.”

“What? I did no such thing. It was just a brief fling. Why would I give her a ring like that?”

Brian shrugged. “I don’t know, Luther. I don’t know. But this is what I think. I think you were in a relationship with Nicola Watson. Maybe it
was
just a short-term thing. Maybe longer. And I think she rejected you when you gave her the ring, or decided she didn’t want you anymore. Hurt you badly. So you lashed out.”

Luther looked at Kayleigh for support, disbelief in his eyes. “I‌–‌Why would I? Why would I do that?”

“Detective Sergeant,” Kayleigh interrupted, “are you going to elaborate on these ridiculous claims? What does a ring have to do with my client?”

“I think you killed her, Robert. I think you tried to cover it up.”

Luther shook his head. “Because of a ring? Why would you think that?”

Brian nudged Price as Luther and Kayleigh looked on. Price slipped a piece of A4 paper out of the brown envelope and placed it onto table.

“Is this not your father’s jewellers?” Brian asked. The picture had been taken some time ago and was in black and white, but the unmistakable “H.M. Luther” sign still peered down onto the Preston city streets.

Luther’s nostrils twitched. “Yes.”

“And if we paid your father a visit, he’d be able to tell us about this ring and who bought it, wouldn’t he?”

“I…‌I guess so. I guess so, yeah.”

“Right,” Brian said. “DS Emerson, get on the phone. Ring the jewellers. Ask him about the sales. And if his son bought the ring.” He peered into Luther’s eyes.

Cassy left the room and keyed in the number. She paced from back to front, waiting.

Kayleigh took some notes in her bumper-sized Pukka Pad. Her lips trembled.

“Did anybody else know about your relationship with Nicola Watson?” Brian asked.

“It wasn’t a relationship, okay? And no. No, I don’t think so. There was no reason to tell. It’s just…‌It’s private. It was irrelevant, in the wider scheme of things.”

“Right. Was Nicola Watson irrelevant when you killed her? Is that why you did it?”

Kayleigh coughed to get the attention of the room. “My client does not have to answer to any of these barbaric claims. He knows his rights.”

“Mrs. Wallbridge,” Price said, breaking his silence. “You’re sounding very much like a solicitor with no real defence. If your client knows his rights, he’d better bloody start taking advantage of them, because the way this is going, he’s going to have all of those rights stripped away very soon.”

Kayleigh backed down and returned to her notepad, muttering under her breath.

“Your assistant, Michael Walters. You wouldn’t happen to know why he was removing a CCTV DVD from CityWatch, would you?”

Luther squinted. “I…‌I don’t know. Why?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know about his…‌Let’s call them ‘relationships’, would you?”

“I know he’s a single man who just went through a rough end to a relationship. And I know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone.”

“Oh no, we weren’t accusing him. He has an alibi. Just trying to work out how far he’d go to protect his precious boss, that’s all.”

Luther rubbed the backs of his shaking hands and reached for his cup of water. The plastic cup was clearly empty, but he pulled it to his mouth, sending the final drip of water towards his chapped lips. He squeezed the plastic cup in his palm, his gaze shifting over to Cassy, who continued to move outside. “Okay. I had a relationship with her.”

Kayleigh’s glare shot up at Luther, who stared at the table. Brian swung ‘round in his chair and held his arm up towards Cassy. Cassy entered the room, looking like she’d nodded off for five minutes of a movie and wanted updating.

“Was that a formal confession?” Brian asked, his pulse racing.

Luther’s crusty, tired eyes peered at him. “I’m confessing that I was in love with Nicola Watson. And that’s all I have to confess. That’s all I’m guilty of.”

“Detectives, if you’d allow me a moment to talk to my client, please?” Kayleigh’s voice was shaky. Her pen rested against her notepad, completely static.

“Brian,” Cassy whispered in his ear, “I just spoke to the jewellers. His dad says there was a ring stolen.”

Luther had started sobbing.

“Did you steal the ring?”

Luther clenched his eyes shut, tears dripping down his cheeks. “What do you think?”

Brian turned to Cassy, who turned to Price in return. Nobody could speak.

“I’m…‌I’m just trying to do the right thing. Just the wrong place and the wrong person. Always the wrong person…” Luther mumbled hysterically. “Just trying to do what’s right…”

“Mr. Luther, if you could‌–‌”

The sound of the door swinging open tore through the limbo-esque room. Two officers stood at the door. Luther’s face reddened in confusion.

“Take him, boys,” Price said. “Mr. Luther, we’re taking you into custody on suspicion of murdering Nicola Watson. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be used against you in court. Sleep well, Robert.”

Price thumped a hard, heavy hand on Brian’s shoulder. “Well done, Brian. Redeemed yourself, good lad. Your work’s done here.”

The guards slipped handcuffs around Luther’s wrists. At first, it appeared he was going to protest and kick up a fuss, but he sank his head into his chest and slouched behind them like a prisoner being led to death row. Even Kayleigh Wallbridge was lost for words as she shuffled out behind her client, buzzing around him like a fly.

The guards edged Luther, who struggled, out the door. He twisted back towards Brian and Cassy. “I’m only guilty of loving her,” he said before being pulled away down the corridor.

Brian and Cassy sat in complete silence.

Chapter Twenty Three

The buzz of people in the background hissed in Brian’s ears as he watched the bubbles reach the top of his drink. A group of lads laughed at the corner table, playfully punching one another. Behind the bar, an old greying man wiped the surfaces and looked at his watch. He flipped over some glasses in preparation for the nighttime crowd’s arrival. It was always like this in every pub, didn’t matter which. The bridge between the afternoon drinkers and the nighttime louts. Brian liked this limbo. Gave him time to think. He was too young to arrive for an early morning pint and too old to mingle with the kids at night. He was just a novelty to them, a “fair play for coming out, old man!” symbol of eternal youth.

Cassy sipped on her Coke, to which she’d added a spot of vodka. “How’s things at home?” she asked, half-heartedly. She didn’t look at Brian. Her tired gaze wandered ‘round the table. It was always hard when something major came to a close. That niggling sense of the unsolved. The unresolved.

“Not quite like the crime shows, is it?” Brian asked.

“No, well…‌I guess. It’s just strange. I mean, why? Why would he?”

Brian took a sip of his pint. “Some things you just can’t explain. You
want
there to be more to all these cases and more going on. But these people, I dunno. Sometimes they just snap. Maybe he got jealous. But evidence is evidence. We’ve just got to get on with that. You’ll get used to it.”

Cassy watched Brian with her big brown eyes. She rubbed her hands up and down her black tights.

“What?” Brian asked.

She flinched. “Nothing. It’s just‌–‌”

“No, go on. Say it.”

Cassy exhaled theatrically. “I just get the feeling that you aren’t done with this case yet, for whatever reason. You should be happy. You can go back to your family now. Instead, you’re sat in here supping on a beer. What you doing, mate?”

For a moment, as he slumped in his chair, Brian saw himself from the perspective of a fly on a nearby wall. Fat as fuck, with a waistline growing at the same rate as his discontent. Greying hair greasy from the lack of exposure to shampoo. He’d meant to buy some, but he had to keep up the alcoholic facade. He had to keep on smelling of whiskey, or they might just suspect his reasons for absence after all.

“It’s nothing. Just the way it is when a case finishes. You’re right‌–‌I don’t get why he killed her either. But it’s done, and soon we’ll have more questioning, then the court shit. And the papers…‌They’ll be on to this tomorrow. And we’ll have a rough few days, but it’ll be on to the next case before we know it.” He swigged down a few gulps in quick succession. Cassy bit her lip. She hadn’t touched her drink in a while.

“You ignored my question,” she said.

“And what was that?” Brian asked, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

“Your wife. And your kid. Last I heard, you were off to see ‘em, before, y’know‌–‌”

“Why do you have to interfere?” Brian asked, sternly. The old man wiping glasses behind the bar shifted his gaze to their table. Brian mumbled and coughed, trying to disguise his anger.

Cassy stayed focused on him. “I care about you. Like, you’re my partner, you know? So I give a shit about whether you’re turning up on time or whether you’re getting drunk to the point you’re blacking out every night.”

Brian smiled as he took another gulp of his beer. At least she still believed him. “You don’t seem too fussed about stopping me.” He swilled another large mouthful around his cheeks.

“Oh yeah, how is the beer?” Cassy asked, folding her arms.

“Beautiful.” He placed the empty pint glass down on the table. He feigned a groggy throat and made his eyes twirl, slightly vacant and glassy.

“Good.” Cassy knocked back her vodka Coke and stood up to walk to the bar. “Another Becks Blue for you, then?”

Brian’s skin crawled. “Becks what?”

“Alcohol-free.” Cassy smiled. “Hope you’re not too much of a lightweight. I hear it still has like, 0.04% alcohol in it or something, so you’d better watch yourself.” She winked, then walked towards the bar and ordered him another pint of fake beer.

Brian drove Cassy home that night. He’d not drunk an ounce of alcohol, technically, so it seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. Why did she order him a non-alcoholic beer? Was she trying to catch him out? Get him pretend drunk? Or was she just looking out for her alchie friend?

Brian pulled up outside Cassy’s flat. The flats looked more like semi-detached houses, four residents in each little block. Nice area of Fulwood. Plenty of trees. Not a lot of scrotes, apart from the pub at the corner of the street. But that was closed now. A lot of places were closed. Businesses seemed to fall by the minute these days.