Death's Cold Hand, J.E. Mayhew [book club recommendations .txt] 📗

have climbed into the taxi that night in the full knowledge that White was waiting to pounce on Paul Travis.”

“Maybe, but I’m not convinced by that story, Vikki,” Blake said. “I mean if you wanted someone killed, how would you be certain that White would carry out the deed without being there to supervise him? He isn’t the most reliable weapon. I mean, he can barely remember to tie his own shoelaces.”

“But Terry White has been linked to the scene of each crime in some way, either through the toy soldiers or by his physical presence.”

“It’s convenient, isn’t it?” Blake said. “Someone dies and White happens to be there but I don’t think he’s capable of that level of planning. He’d have to know when Travis was coming out of the pub, he’d have to get to Ufford’s house. That’s before we think about him gathering the weapons needed to cut someone’s throat or the means to inject a lethal dose of heroin.”

Kath looked dubious. “So somebody is just directing him to be at a certain location at a certain time, sir…”

Blake nodded. “Or even just taking him there. He leaves DNA and these bloody toy soldiers all over the place and then is told to run away.”

“So he gets the blame,” Kath murmured, considering the theory.

“Alex, has anything come from White’s mobile records?”

DC Manikas flicked through a file. “Not many calls sir. Quite a few from an unregistered mobile…”

“Any around the dates of the murders?”

“Mainly clustered on those days, sir,” Manikas said.

“It could be someone phoning orders through or giving White clear instructions about where to be and when.”

“Someone would have to know him really well to achieve that, though, boss,” Manikas said, looking pained. “I mean, really know what triggered him…”

“And how to get him to actually go to these locations,” Blake said, archly. “You’d have to know exactly what was going on inside his head.”

Vikki’s eyes widened. “The only person who fits that description…”

“Is Nicola Norton,” Blake said. “She has long periods of time with him. Time to convince him of things, to manipulate him. She may even have access to his medication. It doesn’t take a huge leap of the imagination to see how she could seduce Ufford into stealing for her. I bet if we try to locate where those unregistered calls are coming from, it’ll be Heswall and Port Sunlight.”

Kath Cryer pulled a face. “But George Owens told you that whoever was laundering money through Pro-vets killed Travis…”

“Why would they do that, though?” Blake said. “And why in such a public way? They have nothing to gain from all the publicity and scrutiny, have they? No, if Travis had told the money-launderers, they would have quietly dealt with Ufford and we would have been none the wiser. Maybe Ufford and Norton were working on their own and once Ufford had become a liability, she dealt with him.”

“She did this for money, sir?” Kath said, dubiously.

“It’s a theory. Norton said Owens grumbled about the amount of money Paul spent on her services. Ollerthwaite said something about Pro-Vets spending a small fortune on their psychologist. What if she was putting in inflated invoices and Ufford was clearing them? What if George Owens was hinting that she was taking more than her fair share?”

“So Ufford wouldn’t be hard to overpower, I agree, Sir, but Paul Travis was built like the proverbial brick crapper,” Kath said. “How would Norton take him down?”

“She’s fit, ma’am,” Vikki said. “Very athletic. I reckon she’d be capable of getting in a knockout blow with the baseball bat. She was a member of the medical corps too, so she’d have the know-how when it came to cutting his throat quickly and efficiently.”

“We’d better find her then, right away. Kath and Alex, check her offices in Heswall, Kinnear, Vikki, you’re with me. We’ll check her house.”

Chapter 41

Traffic choked the area around Port Sunlight. Cars were abandoned on grass verges or in shop carparks and streams of people marched along the pavements and roads, all going in the same direction. “What the hell’s going on?” Noel muttered as he slowed the van down behind a queue of cars. “Is there some kind of event going on?”

Terry White twitched and stared out of the window, his knee pumping up and down like he was a rock drummer. “Too many people” he said. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re going to find Nicola, remember, Terry? Nicola. Just hold on. She’ll know what to do,” Noel said, his heart thumping. Terry had been more and more anxious as they neared their destination. He’d been rambling about Corporal Graves and various other people. Noel felt sorry for the lad but he’d gone above and beyond the call of duty for him. There’d come a point where Noel was just going to have to bail out and he was getting close to it. The traffic ahead had just ground to a halt and Noel glimpsed a copper up at the front. His stomach lurched. He was definitely too old for this nonsense. Glancing around, he saw a side road and swerved the van up it.

“What are you doing? Where are you taking me?” Terry snapped.

“There was a copper stopping the traffic up there. I couldn’t risk us getting caught, Terry,” Noel said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Don’t worry, I’ll find us somewhere to park and we can walk the rest of the way. It’ll be safer anyway.”

Cars were double parked up this road, too and Noel inched the van along, searching desperately for somewhere to stop. Then Terry’s phone rang.

Noel cursed and pulled the van onto the pavement, bumping up the kerb. Terry pulled the phone out of his jacket pocket. “Put it on speaker, Terry,” Noel said. “So I can hear it too. Then I’ll know you aren’t going crazy, okay?”

Terry looked at him for what seemed like a century and then nodded, answering the phone. “Terry? Where are you?” A robotic voice said.

Probably the worst crime