Ten Guilty Men (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 3) (21 page)

Mayberry shook his head.

‘Did any taxi drivers identify her?’

‘No... b-but...’ Mayberry turned away from Morton and booted up a laptop. ‘L-look here.’

Morton moved over to the conference table and pulled up a chair. Mayberry had a video open showing the platforms at Richmond Station on the night of the murder. Brianna Jackson was clearly visible getting on the district line heading east on a train bound for Upminster. Morton watched the train pull away. The video was time stamped for 23:45.

‘What route did she take?’ Morton asked.

‘To get to Southwark? D-d-d... Green line to Westminster.’

‘Right – so district line to Westminster and then change for the Jubilee Line. How long did that take?’

‘I d-don’t know. Forty-five minutes?’

‘I don’t need guesses, man. Get me the CCTV for Southwark.’

‘I’ve asked for it. Not got it y-yet.’

‘Then check the Oyster records. We can do that remotely, right?’

Morton watched as Mayberry rewound the CCTV at Richmond, then queried Transport for London’s database to get Brianna’s Oyster card details. She’d entered the station at 23:42. He typed in a query asking the database to spit out the details of where she ‘touched out’ at the end of her journey.

ERROR: NO TOUCH-OUT
was displayed on screen, which meant she’d been charged the full daily fare.

‘How the hell did she manage that?’

‘B-broken b-barrier?’ Mayberry suggested. ‘A place with n-no b-barrier?’

‘There aren’t any places on the district line without a barrier. She could have jumped it, I suppose, but why bother? Touching out would have meant a single journey rather than paying the maximum possible fare. Barring some unusual equipment failure we’re left with two scenarios. She either tailgated someone, which would be pointless for the same reason there’s no reason to jump a barrier, or she left the underground network somewhere else.’

‘O-OK...’ Mayberry replied, unsure what Morton wanted to hear.

‘What other stations are there on the district line? Get me a map up,’ Morton demanded.

Mayberry did so. Morton squinted at the screen. ‘There. Kew Gardens. It’s the only station really close to Richmond. A little over a mile. That’s pretty easy to manage on foot. I’m guessing we can’t remotely access their CCTV?’

‘N-no, boss.’

‘Send in a request. Actually, scratch that. We can see journeys from Kew that used Oyster cards, can’t we?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then check journeys at Kew after 23:42. They locked up for the night not long after, so I can’t imagine there’s be a lot of footfall.’

‘W-what am I l-looking f-for?’ Mayberry asked.

‘I want to know if anyone went through a barrier at Kew using a ticket, either paper or Oyster, for which there isn’t a station of origin. If there is any ticket showing a check-out without a check-in then it could well be the other half of Brianna’s journey.’

Mayberry tapped away in silence for a few minutes. Morton began to pace up and down impatiently. He kept muttering to himself: ‘Taxi, Number 53, District Line, Richmond, Kew.’

‘Got it! One journey terminating at 23:48 that didn’t have a first arm,’ Mayberry said proudly.

‘First leg. But well done! We’ve just put Brianna back in the frame.’

Mayberry beamed.

‘Get the CCTV and confirm it. We need to be sure. How long will that take?’

‘P-p-probably Monday.’

‘Right. I guess we’re not going to get much help over the weekend,’ Morton said. He turned his attention back to Mayberry’s timeline display.

‘And that leaves us with only the lovebirds. We’ve got them on CCTV getting into a taxi at 02:17 British Summer Time. It takes fifteen to twenty minutes to get from Edgecombe Lodge to the station on foot. That puts them in the house until just before one o’clock. We know the central heading cut out at three, so the house was occupied after two... That’s pretty tight. If they left at fifty-nine minutes past midnight then we’ve proved someone was in the house after them. If they left one minute later, two o’clock accounting for the clock change, then the central heating system could have been responding to them.’

‘But boss, if the th-th-ther–’

‘Thermostat?’

‘If it u-uses warmth then couldn’t the v-victim–’

‘Have triggered it? Yes, you’re right. There’s a margin for error there. If they killed her together at ten to the hour then perhaps her residual body heat could have keep the bloody heating on. But that requires two murderers, which seems unlikely.’

‘B-but what if they s-split up?’

‘They were together at Richmond Station.... But then they did conveniently put themselves in front of the CCTV.’

‘B-before then.’

‘At the house? We’ve no indication anyone left during the party. But what if they weren’t together, even for a few minutes? Could someone have committed murder while the other was outside smoking a cigarette? I suppose so. If they left, as Paddy said before, after Culloden went running out... then we’ve got the better part of an hour unaccounted for. Fancy a trip to HMP Pentonville?’

‘Y-yes, sir!’

‘Good. But don’t say anything. If you’ve got a question during the interview, for God’s sake write it down.’

Chapter 42: Then I Got High

Saturdays were rarely the best time to question witnesses. Witnesses were prone to travelling around when they weren’t working, and finding a witness in a crowded shopping street like Oxford Circus was akin to looking for an innocent man in HMP Pentonville.

But Paddy was still in jail. He had no right to refuse a visitor, as long as Morton kept the warden onside.

At the lockers with Mayberry, Morton checked his mobile. One new message. He thumbed the slider on the screen to unlock it, and the message pinged up.

‘What a git.’

‘W-who is it?’

‘Kieran. He’s sent me a picture of him inside the stadium. I’m going to have to get him back for this.’ Morton turned the phone off, put it in the locker and put a pound in the locking mechanism. It was the same pound he’d liberated from Ayala on their last visit.

They quickly made their way through to the interview room to find Patrick Malone waiting for them. Paddy looked pale, almost dishevelled. His fingernails were worn down to the quick, and his hair was tousled and unkempt.

‘Paddy, Paddy, Paddy. Prison doesn’t suit you at all,’ Morton said.

‘It ain’t prison. It’s my new celly. The freak keeps doing
it
, all day long.’

Morton didn’t want to ask what
it
was, though he had a fair guess. ‘Then I expect you’d appreciate it if someone had a word with the Governor about moving you.’

‘What’s the catch?’

‘You answer my questions. Honestly. And you agree to testify to those answers in court should I need it.’

‘Sod off. You’ll have to do better than that. You shades are all the same. You think I’m an eejit.’

‘Got something to hide?’

Paddy placed an elbow on the table and leant on it. ‘Jaysus, what do you think? I’m a drug dealer. No sir, I don’t have nothing to hide.’

‘No need for sarcasm,’ Morton said. ‘I’m not interested in you, nor is the prosecutor. You’re a small fry. Assuming you haven’t killed anyone.’

‘No, I bleeding haven’t.’

‘But you did take money from Kallum Fielder.’

‘I would have,’ Paddy said bitterly. ‘If the guards hadn’t stopped him handing it over. You don’t know what it’s like in here. One slip, one show of weakness... It don’t end well.’

‘You’ve only got three more weeks. You could always go into solitary.’

‘Three weeks in the hole? I’d go mad. I’ll take my chances.’

‘Then talk to me. I’ll get you moved. Besides, Kal already cut a deal. We know he forged Ellis’ will, and paid you to say you signed it.’

‘I ain’t been paid nothing.’

‘Right. Well, I don’t care about that. But I do want to know what you did after Kal left the party. We know he left at midnight. Barchester fled at almost the same time. You didn’t leave for an hour after that. Why?’

‘We did leave,’ Paddy said.

‘We’ve got you on CCTV. And that’s the last lie that I’ll forgive. Another one, and I’ll have you charged with conspiracy to commit probate fraud.’

‘Fine. We stayed. We had a few drinks. So what?’

‘Then why lie about it?’

‘I don’t know. I was drunk. Look, we had a few drinks while we played gin rummy. She won. Happy now?’

Morton flashed back to his meeting with Gabriella Curzon in Fitzrovia. ‘That’s exactly what she said.’

‘See. Told you I wasn’t lying.’

‘No. That’s exactly what she said, word for word.’

Paddy paled noticeably.

‘You’ve prepared this. You split up that night, didn’t you?’

‘No. I just comforted her, and we played some cards, alright?’

‘Which is it? If she was distraught and in tears, why would you play gin rummy? Paddy, you’re digging yourself into a very deep hole. If you were apart, even for a cigarette break, then I need to know about it. Otherwise you could be facing accessory to murder charges.’

‘Murder? You think Gabby killed Ellis? No way. They were tight.’

Morton smiled. If he had to defend their relationship, then it was obvious he knew that Gabby had the physical opportunity to commit murder. ‘So you did split up. How long for?’

‘Half an hour, but that’s it.’

‘Where’d you go?’

‘No comment.’

‘Right. Something illegal then. If it’s unconnected to Ellis’ death then I’ll see to it that you get blanket immunity.’

‘All charges? I walk out of here a free man?’

‘All charges,’ Morton confirmed. ‘Once the prosecutor sorts the paperwork, you’re a free man – unless you screw up again.’

‘I won’t,’ Paddy promised. ‘I went to see a client.’

‘You were dealing?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where?’

‘Just around the corner. Look, I was gone for half an hour at most. I got the text at twenty-five past midnight. I took the drugs around, got paid and came back.’

‘What time exactly did you get back?’

‘How would I know? Maybe five to one.’

Brilliant,
thought Morton
.
Maybe it could have been five to the hour or it could be five past. Never before had such a tiny amount of time seemed so important.

‘Then what?’

‘I went back. Gabby was outside smoking a ciggie, waiting for me. We went into town to find a cab and went back to my place. There was no way I could have been gone long enough for Gabby to be involved.’

‘She was outside the house? At one?’

‘It’s not like I checked my watch, but yeah, about then.’

‘How can you be sure? You said you’d been drinking all night.’

‘I guess I can’t. But the tube was closed so I can’t have been far out. I know we paid the night rate in the taxi too. That cost a bleeding fortune.’

‘But you were flush from selling drugs, weren’t you?’

‘You obviously don’t smoke. Fifty quid for a quarter of an ounce doesn’t even cover a taxi trip from Richmond to my place.’

Don’t smoke
. The words resounded in Morton’s head. Why were they important?

‘Paddy... Does Gabby normally smoke?’ Morton asked. He didn’t recall the smell of cigarettes pervading Gabriella’s flat, though that wasn’t conclusive of anything.

‘Only when she’s stressed. But she’d just argued with Culloden, sorry, Barchester I mean, hadn’t she?’

‘Right.’ Unless she was stressed because she’d just committed murder.

‘Are we done here?’

Mayberry tapped Morton on the shoulder, then pointed at his notepad upon which he’d scribbled
‘Why did she go home with him?
’

Morton nodded his thanks to Mayberry, and continued his interrogation. ‘You can go back to your cell in a minute. You said you took Gabby home. Did you sleep with her?’

Paddy rolled his eyes as if it were a stupid question. ‘Why else would I take her home?’

‘But if you were drunk, as you claim you were, then, well, wouldn’t your performance have suffered?’ Morton said.

‘Oi! Don’t you insult me like that.’

‘I’m serious. This doesn’t have to leave the room, but she’s miles out of your league. Had you been together before?’

‘I, err... well... no.’

‘So your first time was on the night one of your oldest friends got murdered, and you didn’t think that was strange?’

‘Look, she was upset alright. But that party was deadly. We had loads of drinks. Maybe I was taking advantage–’

‘From what I’ve been told, you drank far more than she did. Let’s move on. What time did she leave in the morning? Did she stick around for breakfast?’ Morton asked. He was trying to discern if it were anything more than a drunken fumble.

‘I don’t remember.’

‘You don’t remember,’ Morton said. ‘That’s bloody convenient. I think you’re playing games here, Paddy. Unless you want our little deal to be taken off the table, you need to man up and tell me the truth.’

‘Fine. I didn’t sleep with her. Or maybe I did. I don’t know. I woke up the next morning and she was gone.’

‘What was the last thing you remember?’

‘Meeting her outside the house.’

‘You don’t remember going to the station?’ Morton probed. If he couldn’t remember it, it clearly wasn’t a deliberate attempt to set up an alibi – at least, not on his part.

‘No.’

‘Then she could have gone at any point after getting into the taxi. It could even have dropped her off somewhere else, couldn’t it?’

‘I guess so.’

‘I think we’re done here. Let’s go, Detective Mayberry. We need to find that taxi driver.’

And then there were two.

Chapter 43: Sleeping Beauty

Mayberry was oddly talkative on the way back from HMP Pentonville. Whether it was the use of his notepad to write down what he wanted to say before he said it, or that he was beginning to relax around Morton, he seemed to be less affected by his aphasia and much more willing to discuss the case.

‘Depending on the exact timing of Paddy and Brianna’s departure, we’ve got two windows. Window number one – the time Paddy was out of the house. Number two, after Paddy left,’ Morton said.