‘Did you have any reason to suspect him of being on the take?’
Nothing solid was the answer to that. Hints, inconsistencies. Pryce has always had one eye on the career ladder, and bringing in Goran would have been a feather in both of their caps.
‘There was a certain amount of rivalry between us. Nothing wrong with that. Look, Kelly, maybe you shouldn’t be hearing all this. You have a career to think about.’
‘Maybe I’m the best judge of that.’
‘Pryce takes things personally. If he gets the idea you’re siding with me he could get nasty.’
‘Okay, then consider me duly warned. Now tell me why anyone would hold on to her head for so long?’
It was the question that had been going through Drake’s head since this thing first broke. He was still no closer to an answer.
‘Whoever is behind this has been planning it for a long time.’
‘But what for?’
‘Could be for blackmail, or an insurance policy.’
‘Meaning, maybe the people who killed her didn’t trust each other?’
‘Maybe we’re not seeing the big picture. We’re so focused on the idea that it’s about Goran we can’t see anything else.’
‘You’re saying someone else could have been involved back then? Someone nobody could see?’
‘A third party.’ Drake had considered the idea long and hard. ‘The obvious candidate is Adonis Apostolis. He used Goran’s death to move in on his operations. He did very well out of it.’
‘You’ve never taken him down.’
‘Donny is a tricky one. I’ve tried, but he moves around, keeps his nose clean.’
‘You and him are tight.’
Drake glanced sharply at her. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘I read Pryce’s report. He claimed that Donny killed Goran. Lured him to Brighton, telling him that he had found his witness there, living in hiding.’
‘Gunning down Goran in a car park in Brighton is not Donny’s style.’
‘Maybe it was the only chance he had.’
‘It was a textbook killing, if your textbook was written by Hollywood mobsters.’ Drake shook his head. ‘Donny is a lot more subtle than that. He doesn’t like to draw attention to himself. He’s been trying to go straight for years.’
‘So, what? Somebody was trying to make it look like Donny?’
‘I don’t know,’ Drake admitted. ‘But if you wanted to throw shade onto the obvious suspect, that’s how you would do it. Even if that was the case, it still doesn’t point to Donny killing Zelda.’
‘Goran wouldn’t have gone to Brighton if he’d known she was already dead.’
‘Everything points to a third party.’
Marsh said, ‘So we’re talking about someone in the shadows. Someone nobody thought about at the time.’
‘Someone who was on the inside but kept his head down. A lieutenant, or a foot soldier with ambitions.’
‘No names spring to mind?’
‘None, but we’re making progress.’
Drake felt as though he had been going round and round on a funfair ride with no way of getting off, until now.
‘How do you think Pryce fits into all this?’
Drake glanced round to be sure there was no one within earshot. ‘I think DCI Pryce has a lot of secrets and he’s probably shaken up by this. He’ll try to sit on the case for as long as is humanly possible.’
Marsh tapped her fingernails on the rim of her mug. ‘I get why you turned your back on us.’
‘It wasn’t about you,’ he said, looking over at her. ‘It was about me.’
‘Sure.’ Marsh sat back in her chair and contemplated him. ‘Look, we’re still catching up with last month. Break ins, assaults, burglaries, you name it. We’re just treading water, and in this day and age that means the bad guys are way ahead of us. Especially when it comes to in-depth investigations, organised crime.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that if you want to run with it, this thing is yours, unofficially. Nobody’s going to bother you. I can give you as much support as possible, mainly in the form of Milo dredging through the IT stuff.’
‘Can you handle Pryce?’
‘What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. If he changes his mind and decides he wants to go for it then all bets are off. Until then, you’re welcome to dig around. Unless you’re too busy with all your wealthy clients.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘That reminds me, the minicab you were interested in? Milo dug up a summary of his movements.’ She reached into her jacket for a sheet of paper, which she handed over.
‘Minicab? So, not Uber?’
‘Puntland Private Cars.’ Marsh spoke as Drake read. ‘Driver’s name given as Lal Ferit.’
Drake ran a finger down the list until he found what he was looking for: Kingsland Road to Pimlico. He looked up.
‘Thanks for this, Kelly.’
‘Just use it wisely.’
Drake folded the paper again and put it away. ‘I let her down, Kelly. I promised I would keep her safe, and I didn’t.’
‘You couldn’t.’
‘Same thing, isn’t it, at the end of the day?’
‘Chief, I hate to break this to you, but you’re a cop, private or otherwise. It’s in your DNA. Your job was to get the bad guys, to use whatever means necessary to get the job done. Goran was the target. He did a lot of bad things, remember?’
‘I remember.’ Drake got to his feet. Kelly put out a hand to touch his arm.
‘Cal, don’t forget you’re not alone on this.’
‘Thanks, I won’t. Just let me know if Pryce decides to change course.’
As she watched him through the window walking away, Kelly couldn’t help wondering if she had made a mistake letting him get involved.
11
The big iron gate down at the road stood half open, which was not how Crane remembered things. In itself it was unremarkable, but it felt like a portent of what she could expect to find. Steering the bike through the gap, she twisted the throttle to send the Triumph shooting up the track that wound its way gently up the crest of the hill. To her left was a broad hillside dotted with trees. The grass a deep green. To her right a wall gave way to a high fence that ran alongside the unsurfaced track, separating empty fields from a more densely wooded area.
The sun broke through the indigo clouds as she reached the top and circled in front of the big house. Sunlight glinted off the high windows and painted the honey-coloured sandstone of the big house a rich amber. The driveway was empty but for a battered old white Range Rover that was parked over to one side. Crane climbed off the bike and looked up at the house. Her grandfather always used to tell the story that back in Cromwell’s day a party of his Roundheads had commandeered the house as they headed north to do battle with the Royalists. Stories. This house was full of them. The last time she had been here was more than a decade ago, the day of her grandmother’s funeral. Nothing else would have brought her back.
The front steps were worn and chipped. The original parts of the