‘Did you report it to the police?’ Ramouter asked even though he knew the answer.
‘No. Tabitha didn’t want me to. She’d been through enough.’
‘Were there any more demands for money?’
‘Yes. Last Thursday. A letter was sent to my office. They wanted £10,000.’
‘And did you pay it?’
Graham pulled himself up, grimacing slightly as he reached for the glass of water. He took a long drink. ‘I did,’ he finally answered. ‘I paid it all, but I didn’t tell Tabitha. I thought that the harassment would stop if I paid but then … well, look at me now.’
‘Can you remember the name on the bank details?’ Copeland asked.
‘Oh my god,’ Graham said as his eyes widened. ‘Everything is so out of order in my head that I … Durant. I don’t know the first name because it was just initials but it was Durant.’
Ramouter turned and looked at Henley. ‘Durant,’ he said. ‘It’s the surname of the woman that Tabitha killed.’
22
The sharp rapping on his office door pulled Pellacia away from his screen. He looked up to see Joanna standing there.
‘Not like you to knock. What’s going on?’ Pellacia asked suspiciously.
Joanna placed a cup of coffee on his desk. ‘DC Copeland is waiting outside,’ she said. ‘I haven’t buzzed her through yet.’
‘The same Copeland who was the SIO on the Ashcroft case?’
‘Yep, and I reckon that she wants in,’ Joanna said, her eyes wandering around the organised chaos in Pellacia’s office.
‘Maybe she’s got some additional papers to hand over,’ said Pellacia as Jo picked up a file from a chair.
‘At 7.30 on a Monday morning? And you call yourself a detective. She wants in. So, what do you want me to do with her? Tell her to piss off?’
‘No. Don’t do that. Do you mind bringing her up?’
‘You wantmeto go and get her?’ Joanna sneered.
‘I’d be very grateful,’ Pellacia said, overdoing the gratitude.
‘Fine. But there’s one thing you should know before DC Copeland attempts to sweet talk you. She made two transfer requests to the SCU and Rhimes knocked her back each time. I bet you any money that there’s probably another transfer request in your inbox.’
Pellacia sighed wearily. He opened his inbox as Joanna left the office. He scrolled through endless emails until he stopped at the one that had landed in his inbox on Friday afternoon. He usually received at least three transfer requests a month from detectives eager to join a specialist department that was rumoured to run by their own rules. Pellacia usually forwarded each request to Joanna who would send the pro-forma rejection email. Pellacia noted the time that DC Copeland had pressed send on her transfer request. She’d made the request an hour after he’d informed her DCI that they would accept the Graham Ashcroft case. He opened his drawer, pulled out a packet of paracetamol and popped three into his mouth when Joanna appeared at his doorway with DC Copeland at his side.
‘Thank you very much, Jo,’ said Pellacia ‘And I’ve just printed out a document; can you bring it for me.’
‘Of course, sir, and should I bring DC Copeland a cup of tea?’ Joanna asked sweetly, glaring at him.
‘There’s no need,’ Pellacia answered before Copeland had even had the opportunity to ponder her beverage decision. ‘We won’t be long. Take a seat, DC Copeland.’
‘Thank you. I really appreciate you seeing me, sir, considering the time.’
‘I did wonder if you’d camped outside.’ Pellacia caught the flush rising on Copeland’s neck and wondered how close to the truth he’d been with his quip. Jo quickly handed him the printout and left.
‘It’s not the way I usually do things. We have a procedure for a reason,’ he said.
‘I know I should have waited for a formal response, but I know how long the transfer requests can take and I didn’t want to wait,’ Copeland replied.
‘You are aware that I’ve closed this unit to requests?’
