She walks to her desk and flops into her seat, holding her head in her hands. Her phone pings and she hopes it might be Tina, but it’s a message from the shelter saying that they can take the dog off her hands next Wednesday. Sam smacks her phone down on the desk. A second later it pings again, this time with an email from Glasgow Police. They have spoken to Drew Mackay, the owner of the first account that the website revenue lands in. He’s admitted to money-muling to pay off his student debt. A man had approached him at a local food bank, and he’d not thought twice. Glasgow Police won’t be taking further action. There’s also an email from Neil Duggan with the subject “Jono?”:
DI Hansen,
Good to meet you the other day. Sorry for running out like I did. Needs must.
I’m readingHow to Get Away with Murderand the first murder, Jono (in the quarry), jogged a memory.
Betty kept a scrapbook and in it there were lots of newspaper clippings. I’ve attached a photograph of the one I’m referring to, but basically it’s about a young lad (Jonathan “Jono” Glenholme) who drowned in Stanhope quarry in the early nineties. Tragic.
The story loosely matches Denver’s but the strange thing is this: the boy who drowned was a local swimming champion who used the quarry for practice, as the council closed his nearest pool (typical story in the North, I’m afraid.) Jono’s death was definitely an accident. No one else was involved.
Seems odd that Betty has this newspaper article and Denver’s story is quite similar?
Anyhow, I’m still hoping that we can get justice for the old girl.
Keep in touch.
Duggan
DI Neil Duggan
Northumbria Police
Sam’s first feeling is irritation that neither she nor Taylor had found the article themselves during the course of their research into the named killings in Denver’s book. But, she reasons, they’re focusing on crimes rather than accidents. Sam clicks on the attachment and finds a blurry photograph of a newspaper clipping. Duggan’s thumb is partly covering the main photograph but Sam can make out a smiling young boy with pale skin and chubby cheeks. “Milky, doughy creature,” Sam recalls Denver writing.Very interesting, she thinks. Could Denver simply have been inspired by this story and morphed it into something sick? They already know Denver lies, so it’s perfectly possible Jono is just a disturbed fantasy. Sam immediately dials Duggan’s number. They need to discuss this idea more fully. Maybe there’s something here and—
“Sam,” Harry’s voice cuts into her thoughts, and she cancels her call at once. “Detective Sam Hansen, SIO in the case we’ve just been discussing. Let me introduce Cecil Taylor. He’s kindly stopped by to offer his support. Mr. Taylor is MP for Runnymede and Weybridge, that’s over in—”
“Surrey,” Sam finishes for him.
“Please, call me Cecil.”
She stands and reaches out her hand to the tall, finely dressed man with fiercely blue eyes and a familiar jawline. “Have we met before?” Sam asks, but before Cecil has time to answer there’s a loud smashing of ceramic from immediately behind him. Everyone turns to see Trainee DC Adam Taylor drop to his knees and begin to pick up pieces of mug, the tea-soaked carpet steamingaround him. Taylor’s cheeks are bright red and when he speaks, he doesn’t look up.
“What are you doing here?” Taylor asks, his voice deep and quietly angry.
“Ah, some things never change,” Cecil says to Harry, ignoring Taylor. “Adam’s always been a bit of a klutz. I hope he’s not too much of a nuisance for you, old chap?”
“Not at all, not at all.” Harry wobbles his head. She realizes then that Cecil is Adam Taylor’s “rich daddy MP” that Harry mentioned on her first day back at work. Sam looks down at Taylor, who is still fishing pieces of the former mugs from under desks. The back of Taylor’s neck is bright pink and Sam immediately feels protective of the young TDC, who took such care of her when she was at her most vulnerable.
“Actually,” Sam says, making her voice loud and clear, “Trainee Detective Constable Taylor is an excellent member of my team and is playing an invaluable role in solving a child homicide and potential serial-killer case.”
“If he was so invaluable, sweetheart,” Cecil scoffs, “he wouldn’t be earning less money than my man Barney who I pay to remove dog turds from my lawn.”
Sam just about manages to keep her cool. “Yes, police officers are significantly underpaid. I’m so pleased MPs recognize that, as you’re the ones with the power to change it.”
Cecil reddens, pointing at Taylor. “That boy has a first-class law degree from Royal College. His grandfather was Deputy Prime Minister. Adam is from excellent stock and should have followed the family line. We’re politicians, change-makers, ambassadors. Not street bobbies.”
“Sam’s father was an excellent detective,” Harry says, clearly trying to break the tension and missing the mark entirely. “A good friend of mine. Sam followed in her father’s footsteps and now shehas the highest solve rate on the fourth floor. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Thankfully, sir,” Sam says, holding Cecil’s eye, “in some cases, the apple falls miles from the tree. Let’s go, Taylor. We have a murderer to find.” Sam spins on her heel, turning her back on the MP and striding away from him and Harry without a backwards glance. Behind her, she hears Harry begin to waffle an apology and then the DCI drops his voice to a whisper. Sam doesn’t care what her godfather is saying about her; she’s proud of herself for standing up for Taylor only minutes after failing to support another colleague.
Watching Harry toadying to that asshole makes her see him in a distinctly unflattering light. Perhaps Tina was right, and Harry is motivated purely by self-interest—and maybe this isn’t the first time he’s put himself first when he should have looked out for her. She remembers, all those months ago, his warm hand on her shoulder and his whispered words of advice:Making a formal complaint could damage your career, Sam. Let me deal with this quietly. I only want what’s best for you.She pushes the thought away. She needs to focus on what’s happening here and now—Charlotte is the most important person, not her, not Tina and certainly not Harry. She shouldn’t be SIO, but she is, and she’ll give it everything she has left to give.
“That was brilliant,” Taylor hisses, matching Sam’s stride, his hands full of broken crockery. “No one ever stands up to him like—”
“Nothing’s harder than standing up to your own father, Taylor.”
“Thank you, Sam,” Taylor says, a little breathless.
