Minds That Hate (21 page)

He swung the lounge door open. He’d chosen wrong. The windows at the back were intact. He turned quickly. Not fast enough. The hall light silhouetted him. Nash saw the bulky figure in front of the window. There was a bright flash and a report. Nash felt something tug at his shirt. He raised his pistol. Knowing he’d be too late. The intruder was already taking fresh aim. Nash braced himself for the impact, even as he squeezed the trigger.

There was an enormous explosion of brilliant, blinding white light. The gunshots merged in a deafening crack. The gunman dived through the open window, scrambling to his feet in a desperate attempt to escape.

‘Mike, you alright?’

Nash looked up, blinking. ‘I told you to stay in the kitchen.’

Vickers ran downstairs. He was wearing only underpants and socks. ‘I heard shots. What happened?’

‘Somebody broke in. Took a shot at me. I fired back. There was a giant flash. Put him off his aim. What the hell it was, I’ve no idea.’

Becky grinned. She brought her hand from behind her back. ‘The camera was mightier than the pistol; especially with the flash on.’

‘That’s brilliant.’ Nash stared at her in awe. ‘It certainly ruined his aim. I don’t suppose you...’

‘Of course I did.’ She offered Nash the viewer. ‘There’s your man.’

Nash looked at the image. ‘Becky, you’re a marvel.’ The shot contained every element they needed. The background would identify the room. The date and time would confirm the incident. And the clear, sharply focused figure at the centre of the frame would have no chance to deny the charge against him. Especially not with the raised gun in his hand.

‘You know him?’ Vickers was peering over Nash’s shoulder.

‘I certainly do. That’s Danny Floyd. Jake Fletcher’s right-hand man.’

Within minutes, a patrol car was outside. Nash quietened the nerves of the officers sent to investigate. Then he sent them to calm the neighbours. He rang Pearce and Tom Pratt. ‘I don’t see why others shouldn’t have a sleepless night,’ he told Becky, who was examining his shirt.

Pratt agreed to send an ARU over to guard the property overnight. ‘We need a forensics man as well,’ Nash told him. ‘No, I’m fine; he’s a lousy shot, thank God. I need a new shirt, that’s all. The bullet passed straight through. There are two bullets lodged in the walls. One might have cotton
fibres attached. ‘When the ARU arrives I’ll get off home. I’m not passing up the chance of a decent night’s sleep.’

It was almost 2 a.m. before they got away. ‘You want me to drive?’ Becky asked. He wasn’t used to this. She seemed to know what he was thinking almost before he thought it.

‘Would you? Then take my car. You can bring it back tomorrow.’

‘I’m going nowhere until I’ve seen you settled.’ She ordered him to bed the moment they arrived at his flat.

Nash yawned. ‘Will you lock the door?’

‘I’ll see to everything.’

Ten minutes later she tiptoed into his bedroom. He was fast asleep.

Nash could tell by the position of the sun round the edges of the curtains that it was late. He felt warm and comfortable, didn’t want to move. He stared at the ceiling, thinking of Becky. For a second time he owed her his life, wondered how he could hope to repay her, decided he couldn’t. As if the thought disturbed him, he turned to check the time on the bedside clock. He stared in surprise. Becky was lying alongside him. She was awake, watching him. She smiled, her eyes heavy with sleep.

‘Good morning, lazybones. I couldn’t summon the energy to drive home. And your couch isn’t the most comfortable place. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not.’ He felt desire stirring. ‘What time is it?’

‘Almost noon.
Does it matter?’

‘I don’t suppose so.’ Nash reached out to caress her.

She put her hand against his chest. ‘You know the rules.’

‘Damn the rules.’ He pulled her close and kissed her.

For a second she responded, before holding him off. ‘No, Mike, that’s not fair.’

He broke off. ‘Sorry, it was inexcusable.’

She slid out of bed. She was wearing only bra and pants. Nash’s arousal was almost painful. She smiled. ‘It was excusable. Just not permitted. Why don’t you shower whilst I make coffee?’

He rolled onto his back. As she reached the door, Becky looked back and noticed the bedclothes. ‘Better make it a cold one.’

‘Vixen,’ he muttered. But she was gone.

When Nash reached his office, Andrews was studying the files. ‘There’s a note on your desk from ballistics,’ she informed him.

He rang them. ‘We recovered the two rounds fired at you last night. They match casings recovered from the shooting incident earlier. The gun was also used to shoot the man whose body was recovered from the fire. There were
fibres on one; we’ll need your shirt at some stage.’

‘
Good, and we’ve identified the shooter. Now we can charge him with murder.’

His next call was to Ramirez, who confirmed the body was that of
Appleyard.

Nash had barely put the phone down when Becky entered. ‘I printed that photo off,’ she announced. ‘I did half a dozen copies and e-mailed one to you as well.’

‘Thanks, Becky.’ He told her about the identification of Appleyard and added the news about the bullets.

‘Right, I’m going home to write that up.
Unless you object to us printing it?’

‘No problem. At the same time, put in that “in view of new evidence, we’re reopening the Stacey Fletcher murder investigation”. Quote me as
saying,“We now believe the original conviction was flawed.” That, and the shooting story, should stir things up.’

‘That’s what you enjoy, isn’t it? Stirring people up?’

‘It often gets results.’ Nash would reflect on that later. But even he couldn’t anticipate the reaction to the statement. ‘Before you dash off, I need a favour.’

‘I’ll help if I can.’

‘Lisa!’ Nash shouted through the open door.

DC Andrews appeared. ‘Lisa, this is Becky Pollard from the
Netherdale Gazette. Becky, I know this is asking a lot, but do you have a spare camera with a telephoto lens? If so, will you lend Lisa it and show her how to use it?’

‘I’ve got my own digital. It’s not as powerful as the one from work, but it’s more than adequate. And it’s virtually idiot proof.’ Becky winked at Lisa. ‘So even you could use it.’

Lisa stared at the building. There’d been no movement since she’d arrived. She guessed
Gemma Fletcher was in her office. Her red sports car was in the car park. Lisa was wondering whether to risk going for a sandwich when Nash pulled up. ‘Anything happening?’ he asked.

Lisa shook her head. ‘Are you going straight in? I could do with something to eat. And I need to take a leak.’

Nash looked over at the public toilets. ‘I wouldn’t risk going in there. If you can hang on, we’ll get Gemma and take her to the station. How did you get on with Becky?’

‘The camera’s easy, as she promised.
Anything going on? She’s a really nice girl.’

‘She’s also the chief’s goddaughter.’

Lisa whistled. ‘That might cramp your style. Mind you, nothing else has.’

‘You’re getting as bad as
Mironova for snide remarks. Anyway, after we’ve done with Gemma, I want you to head out to Houlston Grange. I need photos of everyone leaving and arriving. If you can’t get a facial, make sure you get the number plate.’

‘What makes you think there’ll be any action?’

‘I’m sure our chat with Gemma will stir things up. If it doesn’t, I’ll be disappointed.’Nash was surprised that Gemma didn’t put up any resistance. It was only when he started to interview her that the reason for her acceptance became plain.

‘This isn’t a formal interrogation,’ he began. ‘Nevertheless it’s being recorded for everyone’s protection. If you feel you need someone else present, just say so.’

Gemma nodded to show she understood, and Nash continued. ‘The first question I want to ask is about an attack on Gary Vickers. To be exact, the second in three days. His house was broken into last night by a known associate of your brothers. Do you know anything about that?’

‘Was he killed?’ There was no mistaking her eagerness.

‘No, he wasn’t harmed. But it seems everything that’s happened to Vickers can be traced to you.’

‘Why should I care? I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire.’

Nash’s tone was silk-like. ‘I think you should care. Especially as we now know Vickers didn’t kill your daughter. That’s why we’re reopening the case. And that’s why you’re here.’

The colour drained from her face. Her expression changed. The confidence vanished. It was several moments before
Gemma could speak. ‘How do you know?’

‘I can’t disclose that. But the evidence is overwhelming. So, if he didn’t kill Stacey, who do you think did?’

Gemma shook her head. Nash continued. ‘Can you tell me where you were on Tuesday last, between 4 p.m. and 8 p.m.?’

There was a pause, before
Gemma replied, ‘I was at home. Writing reports for a sales meeting.’

‘Alone?’

‘Of course.’

‘And where were you when Stacey was murdered?’

‘I don’t... I can’t remember. It was fifteen years ago.’

‘Really, but this was your daughter, your only child. You expect me to believe you can’t recall where you were when she was murdered?’

‘I think I’d like my lawyer present.’

Nash looked at her. ‘I’m not going to ask you any more questions.’ He paused before adding, ‘For the time being you’ve given me all the answers I need.’

When Gemma had left, he turned to Lisa. ‘What did you make of that?’

‘When you told her about Vickers, she was shocked that we were sure he wasn’t guilty. And when you told her you were reopening Stacey’s murder investigation she was terrified. But although she was afraid, she wasn’t surprised. I think she knew Vickers didn’t kill Stacey.’

‘I agree, and there’s only one reason Gemma could know Vickers wasn’t guilty. Because either Gemma killed Stacey herself, or she knows who did.’

‘What’s next, Mike?’ Pearce and Lisa were in Nash’s office.

‘I want a warrant out for Danny Floyd. See to that, will you,
Viv? The charge is the murder of Councillor Appleyard. Throw in two counts of attempting to murder me as well. Then I want a team getting together to arrest him. If I can find the men.’

‘I presume Danny must be behind the arson attacks too. Stands to reason, if he shot
Appleyard, he also torched the building. That’d put him in the frame for the Druze family killings and the other fires.’

‘Probably,’ Nash agreed. ‘But we’ve no evidence he was the arsonist.’

‘I’d better get off on my photo shoot,’ Lisa said, pocketing the borrowed camera.

Becky’s copy was too late for the early editions. However, the print room held the final edition until the report on Appleyard’s murder could be included. Late that afternoon Pearce brought a copy of the paper into Nash’s office.

Nash looked up from the paperwork he was reading. ‘What is it,
Viv?’

‘This item your girlfriend’s written. It’s dynamite.’ Pearce held out the paper.

Nash skim-read the piece. The contentious bit was at the end. The writer speculated whether Appleyard’s new political directive had provoked an extreme reaction. Any hope that the problematic paragraph would escape notice was dispelled by the headline. ‘Councillor Slain,’ it read. ‘Was Immigration Policy The Motive?’

‘Oh hell!’
Nash muttered. He looked up. ‘That’s like an invitation to declare open season on all migrants. And there’s bugger all we can do about it, except ask for reinforcements.’

‘At least King’s not on hand to block your request,’ Pearce pointed out.

‘No, but neither is the chief here to override him. And we don’t know where he’s gone and for how long. For all we know, he might be back. Anyway, I’ll soon find out. I’m going to ring Tom immediately.’

Pratt was in the midst of reading the article. ‘I can guess why you’ve rung. I’ll put as many officers as I can on standby, and do the same at
Bishopton. I’ll get Binns on it straightaway.’

‘Isn’t it
Creepy’s province?’

‘I’m not wasting my breath on him. Just stand up for me at the tribunal. At least King isn’t around to stick his oar in.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Gone to that conference the chief’s attending. One of the delegates couldn’t make it, so they asked for King. My informant reckons that shows he’s in line for a chief constable post.’

‘Only time will tell,’ Nash said. Fortunately Pratt was unable to see the expression on his face. ‘Thanks, Tom.’

‘I wish I could do more.’

Lisa Andrews was uncomfortable. Not only that, her perch was precarious. She’d been sitting in the car for over an hour before there was any activity outside
Houlston Grange. Then two vehicles arrived in quick succession. The first was a pick-up truck; the second a Range Rover. Lisa’s position was too distant to get identifiable photos of the occupants, even using the zoom lens. But she’d got legible snaps of the number plates. She knew Nash wanted more. He needed to know who Rathmell was meeting. She’d done a swift reconnaissance and seen a spot where the wall surrounding Rathmell’s estate could be scaled. Just inside the grounds was a huge copper beech, which commanded a good view of the house. The tree was in full foliage and offered excellent cover. From thirty feet up, she could see clearly across the manicured lawns into the ground-floor rooms. This was better; with the zoom lens she could bring the occupants into sharp focus. For a long while all she could see was Rathmell. He was standing in front of one of the bay windows, his back to her. It looked as if he was addressing the others.