M. Arlidge - Liar Liar

Naomie looked directly at Helen once more, seeming to size her up before she replied:

‘I just wanted what they had.’

‘Which was?’

Naomie breathed out heavily, the fight seeming to go out of her at last, before she muttered:

‘A happy family.’

‘So do we charge her?’

Gardam dispensed with the formalities, getting straight to the point. Helen could tell he was wound up, so forgave him his unusually brusque manner. There was a lot riding on this call.

‘I don’t think we’ve got enough yet.’

‘I’m not going to teach you to suck eggs, Helen, but if we press charges then maybe she’ll realize there’s no virtue in continuing to hold out on us.’

‘But if we go too early we might lose her. Too many people have had their lives ruined by these attacks to let the perpetrator escape justice. We owe it to them to proceed carefully.’

‘I accept we don’t have chapter and verse but she has confessed . The interview was handled in exemplary fashion with a “thumbs up” from both the attending brief and the social worker. There can be no question that she was coerced. She confessed .’

‘So why the urgency to charge her? She’s not going anywhere. Let’s take the time we’ve got to continue questioning her and see if we can find more robust connections to the two fires she called in.’

‘What are you thinking?’

‘I want to know more about her connection to the Simms and the Harris families. She says she envied them, wanted what they had. But why them specifically? Why choose their homes above all others?’

‘She could have chosen them at random.’

‘But they are in such different areas of the city. She wouldn’t have passed these properties on a day-to-day basis and they were staked out with such precision, such patience. All of these attacks feel personal to me. The intent to kill was so clear. I can’t believe they were random. Can you?’

Gardam said nothing. He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t refute Helen’s arguments either.

‘I’ve sent Charlie to the Simmses and Sanderson to the Harrises to see if we can unearth a tangible link to Naomie Jackson. In the meantime, I’m going to ask Meredith Walker to go back to the sites of the second and fourth fires. Naomie had a clear motive to attack these properties, but as yet we have no tangible forensic evidence linking her to the crime scenes. There’s no witness statements placing her there, nor did she call them in. Why change her MO for the second and fourth fires? It doesn’t quite fit and I won’t be comfortable until it does.’

‘Then we keep on it. But after another twenty-four hours we’ll have to make the call. We can’t give the impression of drift on this one.’

‘Understood.’

‘So let’s find the evidence we need and bring this one to a close, right?’

Helen left Gardam’s office shortly afterwards, his gentle ultimatum still ringing in her ears. The team had clear lines of enquiry to pursue now and she hoped in time this would yield the breakthrough she felt they needed. She would be on it too, but not for the next hour or two. It was pushing midnight now and she had told the team to go home and get some rest. She craved sleep too, a moment’s peace, but there was somewhere she needed to be.

Or, more accurately, there was someone she needed to see.

It was late now and Charlie wasn’t welcome. She hadn’t expected Thomas Simms to answer the door and she had her speech ready, justifying her intrusion on this most difficult of days. But it was cutting no ice with Thomas Simms’s sister, who seemed determined to deny Charlie access, despite her insistence that her business here was both professional and urgent.

‘Mary, it’s ok. I know her and it’s fine.’

Just as the stand-off had threatened to become vocal, a visibly exhausted Thomas Simms intervened, ushering Charlie into the house. Luke was still up, chatting to his grandmother, who seemed to be running the show in a kind and caring manner. Charlie felt bad having to wrench him away from her, but she had no choice. This was too important to duck, despite the terrible timing.

Charlie quickly brought father and son up to speed but, not for the first time, Thomas Simms just looked stunned by the latest developments.

‘I’ve never heard of Naomie Jackson.’

‘Are you sure you haven’t seen her? Hanging around? Walking past the house? Have another look at the picture.’

‘I don’t recognize her,’ Thomas replied wearily. ‘I don’t know the part of town where she lives… I just don’t know her.’

Charlie nodded and handed the photo to Luke.

‘How about you, Luke?’

Helen had dispatched Charlie straight to the Simms house following the conclusion of her interview with Naomie Jackson. Charlie knew that across town Sanderson was asking the exact same questions of the Harris family. The case against Naomie looked good, but their weak spots were the Simms and Harris fires, where there seemed to be no specific motive beyond jealousy and spite. Any extra bite that the Simms or Harris families could give them now would pay dividends later. They needed a more concrete link than the fact that Naomie had called in both fires.

Luke Simms looked at the photo intently, then his expression lifted and he handed it back to Charlie, shaking his head.

‘I’ve not seen her before.’

‘Are you sure, Luke?’

‘Do you think I wouldn’t tell you if I did? Do you think I want whoever did this to go free?’

His tone was suddenly harsh, but immediately he retreated.

‘I’m sorry, it’s been a tough day…’

‘I know.’

‘I just… I just don’t recognize her. I wish I did.’

Charlie had been hoping for more than this, but she believed him. She believed both of them. Which left Charlie with an uneasy feeling. What were they missing here? And what would it cost them?

The heavy door opened and a man exited at speed, his coat pulled up around his face. The door swung slowly forwards, then began to roll back towards the frame. Helen didn’t hesitate, darting from her hiding place in the shadows and jamming her foot into the shrinking gap.

Charging up the stairs, she came to a first-floor door and knocked on it, with a swift, familiar rat-a-tat. Moments later, the door opened to reveal Max Paine. He looked like he was expecting it to be his recent client, who’d forgotten something perhaps, and the blood drained from his face when he saw who it actually was. He moved to slam the door on Helen, but she was expecting this and shouldered it roughly open, sending Paine barrelling back into the room. Helen shut the door firmly behind her, locking them both in.

‘What the fuck do you want?’ Paine demanded angrily. Despite heavy make-up, his bruising was still obvious and unsightly. His eyes darted this way and that, searching for something to defend himself with.

‘I just want to talk,’ Helen replied calmly.

‘So talk.’

‘I want to know what you intend to do.’

Max Paine eyed her warily, then replied:

‘Worried I’m going to report you, Helen ?’

Helen regarded him for a moment, before responding:

‘You obviously know who I am. And the awkward situation I find myself in. I wouldn’t blame you for reporting me – what I did was wrong – and you could probably get me thrown off the Force if you tried hard enough. But here’s why you’re not going to do that. Because I’m a good officer. Because I’m in the middle of a major investigation. And because, if you do, I’ll be forced to tell the investigating officers what a sadistic, cocaine-snorting, woman-hating little shit you are. I’ll be pushing for attempted murder, but I’d settle for GBH or even ABH at a push. Any one of those would land you in jail, Max.’