M. Arlidge - Little Boy Blue

Before long, he was in the back of a saloon car, moving fast down the road. As he pulled away from the bank that had been a happy home for many years now, he caught sight of his managerial colleagues staring out of the meeting room window at him.

This was it then. The end of his old life. And the beginning of something new.

‘What do we say to the press?’

There was more than a hint of excitement in Gardam’s voice, but Helen knew he was experienced enough not to get carried away.

‘There’s massive media interest in this case already and I don’t want to whip them up any more,’ he continued. ‘I take it you’ve seen the early edition of the Evening News ?’

Helen confirmed that she had, trying to put Emilia Garanita’s lurid four-page spread from her mind. It was written as if in sympathy with the dead, but in reality was a hatchet job on Jake and everyone ‘like’ him. She could tell that Emilia was hoping that this story would be a long runner and felt a small sense of satisfaction that she might be about to cut her enjoyment short.

‘I think we play it straight,’ Helen carried on. ‘We say that an individual is helping us with our enquiries and leave it at that.’

‘They’ll know he’s in custody. DS Sanderson has made sure of that. What details are we prepared to release?’

‘Gender, age if you want, but leave it at that,’ she replied, making a mental note to talk to Sanderson. ‘We don’t want a witch hunt.’

‘I think we’re probably going to get one, come what may, but I’m sure you’re right. I’ll give them enough and no more. If you want to come along to say a few words to start us off -’

‘I think I’m better used in the interview suite, sir.’

‘As you wish. I understand he’s already downstairs, so don’t let me keep you. I’ll field the hacks and leave you to do what you do best. The sooner we nip this one in the bud, the better.’

Helen thanked him and headed for the lift bank. Paul Jackson was an unlikely suspect in some ways, but he had history with Jake, a taste for the exotic, as well as access to people’s credit card details. Killers came in all shapes and sizes and Paul Jackson had a lot of explaining to do. Would he be able to tell her why her good friend had been so brutally killed? As she descended to the custody area, Helen felt a surge of excitement, a sense that they were finally getting somewhere. And unless her eyes deceived her, Gardam was feeling it too.

Charlie waited until Paul Jackson had been handed over to the desk sergeant before making her move. Having brought him in and cautioned him, Sanderson had ten minutes to gather herself, while he made his obligatory phone call. Ten minutes would be plenty for what Charlie had to say.

‘I didn’t think you’d stoop this low.’

Sanderson turned, surprised by Charlie’s sudden approach. Something – was it embarrassment? – stole across Sanderson’s face before she recovered her composure.

‘Come on, Charlie, you know the drill. We had a lead, I was the senior officer on duty -’

‘Jackson was my lead. I spent half the night watching his house…’

‘So I hear,’ Sanderson replied knowingly.

‘Don’t you dare take the piss out of me,’ Charlie spat back, anger suddenly flaring within her. ‘I questioned him, wrote the follow-up report. I got his bloody DNA, for God’s sake -’

‘No one’s denying that. It was good work. But you know what the boss has been like on this. She wants everything done yesterday -’

‘Great. So now you’re blaming her -’

‘Of course not.’

‘We’re equal rank, you can’t steal leads from me. Just because your undercover gig was a bust -’

‘You weren’t here, Charlie,’ Sanderson interrupted. ‘What was I supposed to do?’

‘You were supposed to call me. That’s what any normal person would have done. But you’re so busy trying to impress Mummy that you’d -’

‘You’re out of line.’

‘Deny it then. Look me in the face and deny that you deliberately stole my collar to make yourself look good in front of -’

‘Go to Hell.’

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Be just like the old days -’

‘What’s going on?’

Charlie was almost nose-to-nose with Sanderson, but pulled away sharply on hearing Helen’s voice.

‘We have a suspect in custody,’ Helen continued, approaching fast. ‘We have dozens of leads to chase up. So why are my two senior officers going at it like a pair of fishwives?’

Neither Charlie nor Sanderson answered. They didn’t dare, given the look on Helen’s face.

‘You’ve both been around long enough to know that any problems need to be settled in private, not paraded for the rest of the station.’

Charlie stole a glance at the desk sergeant who’d clearly been enjoying the show.

‘DS Brooks, you will accompany me to the interview suite. DS Sanderson, you will return to the incident room and lead the team.’

Sanderson opened her mouth to protest.

‘And don’t even think about answering back,’ Helen said, silencing her before she’d begun.

Without another word, Helen turned, walking away fast towards the swing doors. Charlie sped after her. She didn’t bother looking back at Sanderson – she could tell what she’d be feeling now. Not that this was any consolation – they were both in trouble now and had a lot of ground to make up.

Whatever way you looked at it, Charlie’s bad day had just got a whole lot worse.

‘You are making a monumental mistake and when this is all over, I will be expecting a formal apology.’

Helen Grace had already been surprised twice by Paul Jackson in the ten minutes they’d known each other. His agreement to field questions before his lawyer arrived was unusual, as was his decision to adopt such an aggressive tone. He was either extremely confident of his innocence or an accomplished liar.

‘As I’ve said, you’re here because your DNA was found on the victim’s body,’ Helen responded calmly. ‘In saliva on his cheek and ear. It’s highly unlikely that our laboratory got that wrong . They double- and triple-check their findings -’

‘You hear about mistakes all the time in these places,’ Jackson interrupted. ‘Petri dishes that haven’t been cleaned properly, evidence that has been cross-contaminated, your lot are constantly arresting the wrong people because of cock-ups at laboratories.’

‘I agree that there have been mistakes, but the fact remains that it is your DNA. The only way cross-contamination could have occurred is if they had a sample of your DNA stored there from a separate incident. Is that the case? Have you ever had to provide a DNA sample for the police before?’

‘No.’

‘Then the only “mistake” that could have occurred was if your saliva was accidentally transferred to Mr Elder’s face. Can you explain how this might have happened?’

‘I’ve no idea. Perhaps our paths overlapped on the way to work, perhaps we use the same gym -’

‘Mr Elder works from home, keeps very different hours from you and to the best of our knowledge didn’t have a gym membership.’

‘I can’t explain it then.’

‘You’ve never met him?’

‘Never. I’ve said this three times to three different officers now. Perhaps if you tried listening to me, we could sort this mess out?’

Helen was about to respond when the door opened and Jackson’s lawyer hurried in. Helen knew Jonathan Spitz to be an astute and experienced lawyer and he wasted no time in reprimanding her for proceeding without him. Helen ignored his protests and carried on: