Simon Kernick - The Murder Exchange

We both stopped and made small talk for a minute or two. I asked her how she was getting on with the new case and she told me that, like all sexual assaults, it was a difficult one, but particularly so when the victim was so young. ‘She’s bearing up well, considering,’ she told me, ‘but it breaks your heart, John.’ There was a genuine pain in her eyes as she spoke, and all I could do was tell her that hopefully the girl was young enough to shrug off the trauma of what had happened. I wasn’t sure I believed it, though.

‘Have you managed to get anywhere further with the poisons lead?’ she asked me.

‘No, I’m still not sure where else I can go with it.’ I’d taken Boyd’s notes on what she’d uncovered regarding the venom that had killed Shaun Matthews after she’d left the murder squad. They were very thorough but didn’t contain any hidden gems of information. ‘You seem to have covered every angle,’ I told her.

‘I’ve covered the obvious ones, but I’m sure there’s something I’ve missed and we’re missing.’

‘Did you ever search for any matches on the Internet?’

‘I had a couple of dabbles but as soon as you put in key words, you get hundreds of pieces of information that are totally irrelevant. Sometimes I think the net’s overrated as a means of finding out about stuff. And you know what it’s like round here. If you start surfing, people think you’re just messing about and not working. They’re still Luddites in CID.’

‘I think I might have a go at home,’ I said. ‘I bought this PC a while back and I never seem to get the time to use it.’

‘Story of our lives,’ she said.

I wanted to ask her what she was up to now and whether she had time for a quick drink, and I was just about to open my mouth when Knox appeared round the corner, looking troubled.

‘Hello Tina, John.’ He stopped and took hold of my arm. ‘You’ll have to excuse us, Tina, but we’ve had some movement on the Matthews case. John, I need to speak to you in the incident room. Urgently.’

I said a brief goodbye to Boyd then walked back towards the incident room with Knox. ‘What’s happened, sir?’

‘That stain in the car we stopped the other day. The one you phoned in about.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘It was blood. And guess who the blood belonged to?’

‘I couldn’t tell you, sir.’

‘None other than Mr Arcadia himself, Roy Fowler. It matched the sample we took from him when he was nicked for driving under the influence.’

‘Well, well, well.’

He turned and fixed me with a self-important stare. ‘I think I know what’s happened,’ he said.

Capper, Hunsdon and Berrin joined us in Knox’s office in the incident room. Capper asked me how it had gone with Malik that afternoon. ‘Has he heard anything from Dennis Milne lately?’ he asked with a snide smile as he grabbed a chair and sat down.

‘Yeah, he got a postcard from him the other day,’ I said, smiling back. ‘Apparently he’s opened a guesthouse in Bournemouth. Says he’ll do discounts for CID and pensioners.’

Capper didn’t look too amused, knowing that his attempt to score a point, however pathetic, had backfired, but he didn’t say anything. Hunsdon yawned.

‘All right, gents,’ said Knox, bringing the meeting to order. ‘Important news.’ He then explained what had happened for the benefit of Capper, Berrin and Hunsdon, before sitting back, bolt upright, in his chair. There was a moment’s silence while the news sank in.

‘That puts the cat among the pigeons,’ said Capper, exhaling dramatically.

‘My theory’s this,’ said Knox, looking at us each in turn for maximum effect as he spoke. ‘Fowler had Matthews killed. He used poison to make it look like an accident but obviously wasn’t aware how easy it was for us to find out about it. That’s why I don’t think it was the work of organized criminals. They would have just shot him. Fowler’s motive was drugs. We know that dealing went on at the Arcadia in fairly sizeable quantities, we know that Matthews ran it, and we’re almost certain that Fowler organized it. I reckon Matthews was ripping Fowler off, Fowler found out about it, and took revenge.

‘But I think Matthews had a business partner. Someone involved with the drugs with him, and that person was Max Iversson. He and Matthews were both ex-soldiers, same regiment in fact, and I think we’ll find that the two of them knew each other. Iversson found out about what Fowler had done and decided to take revenge. He may have simply assaulted Fowler, but more likely he’s killed him, and is consequently lying low.’

‘It certainly sounds plausible,’ said Capper, nodding.

I wasn’t sure. Given that there was no evidence whatsoever to suggest that Iversson and Matthews knew each other, Knox’s theory relied one hell of a lot on suppositions.

‘What about McBride?’ I asked. ‘Where does he fit into it? And what about the Holtzes?’

‘I don’t know is the short answer,’ he said, which at least was honest. ‘McBride may well be something completely different. And, as for the Holtzes, I just can’t believe that they’d use an obviously traceable and extremely rare poison to get rid of a business rival.’

‘Fair enough,’ I said, because he had a point. I still didn’t go with it particularly, but it was hard to argue with the logic. A poisoning did seem a very odd way for a gangster to operate.

‘Anyway, the most important thing is we find Max Iversson and see what he’s got to say for himself. His details are going to have to be distributed to other forces, along with that photo of him we’ve got.’ He looked at Hunsdon. ‘Paul, you get that sorted out, OK?’ Hunsdon nodded. ‘ Crimewatch is going out next Wednesday and I want a photo of Iversson on it for the rogues gallery. That ought to get some response. Plus, I’m organizing a search warrant for Fowler’s place.’ He looked at Capper. ‘Phil, you and Paul turn it over and see what you can find. At the same time, start really digging up on Fowler’s background, generate some clues. I know he’s the key to it.’

Next, Knox turned to Berrin and me. ‘John, something’s going on down at this Tiger Solutions company, or whatever they’re called. It may be coincidence but that missing person, Eric Horne, worked for them and he still hasn’t turned up, has he?’

‘Not that I’m aware of, sir, no. I spoke to his exmissus briefly yesterday and he hadn’t then. She seems pretty worried.’

‘I don’t know how we missed the fact that he and Iversson worked for the same outfit. Anyway, you and Dave go back, grill the people there, particularly Iversson’s partner, and get some answers. Something very dodgy’s been going on, and I want to find out what it is.’

Which were my sentiments exactly. I hoped Knox’s theory was right, because if it wasn’t we were left with dozens of pieces to a jigsaw that seemed to be getting more complicated with each passing day.

Introducing Krys Holtz

Krys Holtz was a man who knew that a show of weakness, any show of weakness, inevitably destroyed a man’s authority. You had to be strong. You had to break the bastard in front of you and shut out every last fucking scream for mercy he made, however loud it was. After all, if a bloke didn’t do Krys any wrong, then the bloke had nothing to fear. It was only cunts who took major fucking liberties who found themselves paying the price, and the price was always justified. They could yell and squeal and beg as much as they fucking wanted. They could piss their pants, even shit in them (and some of the bastards did, too), but it was never going to make a blind bit of fucking difference, because if he let the geezer go, gave him a pat on the head and told him not to be naughty again, then they’d be lining up to put one over on him, and that was never going to happen. No fucking way.