Flawed Beauty Page 13

  “No. You can have this one. It will be a nice feather in your cap. And, besides, you already know the guy. It may make things a bit easier for everyone.”

  “But you’re the senior investigating officer,” Terri says, unconvinced by Erin’s explanation. “And I wasn’t born yesterday. What’s this really about?”

  Pausing a moment to carefully choose her words, Erin frowns before saying, “It’s about you, me and Tony Bolton. You’re a first-rate police officer, Terri, but recently, I’ve let my personal feelings and our prior history get in the way of what should be a solid working relationship. Worse still, I’ve also failed to deal with Tony Bolton’s wanton insubordination towards you. And for both of these things, I’m truly sorry.”

  Terri tries to say something about an apology not being necessary but is quickly cut off.

  “No, let me finish, please. It is necessary, and it’s something that needs to be put right today. While you lead the arrest this afternoon, I’m going to be having an open and honest chat with our DS Bolton.”

  “His annual appraisal?” Terri asks.

  “If that’s what you want to call it,” Erin replies with a knowing look. “Whatever it is, I want Tony to understand that his current behavior is unacceptable, and his insubordination needs to end today.”

  “Wow,” Terri says. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. Do you think he will listen to you?”

  “He doesn’t have a choice. This has gone on long enough already. As far as I’m concerned now, it’s either shape up or ship out. And besides, what’s the worst that can happen?”

  “He could hate and resent me even more,” Terri replies with a grimace.

  “Not possible,” Erin says with a smirk. “He already hates you to the absolute max. The only way is up.”

  “Thanks, that’s very comforting,” Terri says sarcastically. “I appreciate your support, though… whichever way it goes.”

  “It will be fine. I’ve worked with Tony Bolton long enough to know how to handle him. You just concentrate on not screwing up the arrest of Johnny Murray. The next headline I see needs to be a positive one. Go on. Go get your team together and get the job done. Call me when you’ve got the cuffs on him and you’re on the way back.”

  After thanking Erin again, Terri leaves to make what she expects will be one of the more memorable arrests of her career to date.

  As the door shuts, Erin picks up the phone to arrange the annual appraisal discussion with Tony Bolton. In the same way that Terri is anticipating the arrest, Erin expects that this appraisal meeting will be one of the more memorable of her career. But for quite different reasons, of course.

  Chapter Eight

  With all units in position and ready to go, Terri gives the green light to DCs Potter and Thorne to initiate the pre-agreed plan for Johnny Murray’s arrest. “Okay, I’ve just spoken with his supervisor. Our man is currently preoccupied with changing the exhaust on a black Honda Civic. And as of now, there are nine customers in the waiting room. I need them all out before we make our move. The last thing we need is any collateral damage if this arrest goes tits up.”

  “And what about his workmates?” Potter asks.

  “Other than Murray and the supervisor, there are five others inside,” Terri replies.

  “The supervisor is the only one that currently knows what’s about to go down, though, and that’s the way it needs to stay. There is too high a risk of Murray smelling a rat if we try to bring those guys out as well. We’ll just have to work around them. Send the customers out two or three at a time. And keep it as casual as possible. I don’t want any red flags. Once half are out, grab a seat in the waiting room and call me. We’ll come and join you to make up the numbers.”

  “Understood,” Potter says with a nod.

  “Good,” Terri replies. “Get a move on then. Mick Bartlett is the supervisor. You can’t miss him; he’s a dead ringer for Ed Sheeran’s dad.”

  “Ma’am?” Potter asks quizzically.

  “He’s a chubby ginger nut with a greying beard,” Terri explains with a smirk. “He’ll meet you at the counter and take you through to the waiting room to make it look more natural. Go on then. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  The two young constables leave, and Terri turns towards her counterparts from the Manchester Murder Squad. “What’s up, guys? You look like someone’s just pissed on your chips. It’s a bit late to start stressing now if you aren’t happy with the plan.”

  Detective Inspector Sam Benson shakes his head. “We’ve no problem with your plan as such, Terri. I just think it would have been better for all concerned if we’d kept the response team closer to hand.”

  At Terri’s insistence, the armed response team have been placed in reserve two streets away. Her reasoning is that their vehicle and attire would have stuck out like a sore thumb and possibly spooked their target.

  “Your concern is duly noted, DI Benson. But as I said earlier, I know this guy, and whatever he may or may not have done, I’m confident he won’t give us any trouble during the arrest.”

  “And if you’re wrong?” Benson asks.

  Terri nods towards Benson’s holstered sidearm. “If I’m wrong, that’s why you and DS Lloyd are armed. Either way, the success or failure of this arrest is on me.”

  With her point made, Terri turns her attention back towards the entrance to the Kwik Fit depot. Thirty seconds later, a young couple nervously emerges and turns to the left as instructed by Potter and Thorne. Clear of the entrance, they are met by a pair of uniformed officers, who quickly usher them away to a safe location. Shortly afterwards, another couple hurriedly exits the depot pushing a baby stroller. They are barely out the door when Terri’s cell phone rings.

  “Tell me?” she asks. “How many more?”

  “Another three already on the way out,” DC Thorne replies. “And the last two are waiting to go.”

  “Okay, we’re coming in now,” Terri says. “As soon as you see us, send out the last two. We’ll join you in the waiting room. Is Murray still working on the Civic?”

  “He is,” Alice confirms. “He hasn’t got a clue what’s going on.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way. Okay, guys, let’s go.”

  . . . . . . . .

  As agreed earlier, DI Marchetti and DS Cheeseman move directly towards the waiting room, where they are met by the two young detectives. At the same time, DI Benson and DS Lloyd split up and position themselves beside the main entrance and the depot roller-shutter doors. The sudden arrival and menacing demeanor of the two Manchester officers is quickly noticed by some of Murray’s previously unaware colleagues.

  One of them is about to say something when DS Lloyd shakes his head and brings a finger up to his lips to indicate that he should remain silent. Murray himself is thankfully so engrossed in his work under the hydraulic ramp that he is completely oblivious to the sudden and dramatic change in the atmosphere.

  After confirming that Lloyd and Benson are good to go, Terri instructs Potter and Thorne to cover the remaining exits.

  “I’m not expecting him to run. But better safe than sorry. Frank, you stick with me.”

  All four officers leave the waiting room, and Terri nods for Mick Bartlett to follow. She silently approaches her target, stopping a few feet short of where he is busily working. Head down and still blissfully unaware, Murray continues tapping away at the seals of the Civic’s exhaust with a rubber-headed mallet.

  Gently pulling Bartlett towards her, Terri quietly says, “Call out to him. Tell him he’s got a visitor.”

  Bartlett is clearly terrified and hesitant, so she quietly repeats the instruction. “Go on, Mick. It’s okay. You’re quite safe.”

  Cautiously taking a step forward, Bartlett stumbles over his words and is barely audible. Still none the wiser, Murray continues working, and Terri impatiently pushes Bartlett closer.

  He takes a deep breath to steady his nerves, then moves another pace forward
and lightly taps Murray on the shoulder, “Johnny Boy, you’ve got a visitor.”

  “Yeah, just give me a minute while I get this fucker off,” Murray grunts without interrupting the flow of his work or looking back.”

  “Actually, this won’t wait,” Bartlett says. “I can finish that for you.”

  Reluctantly lowering the mallet, Murray loudly tuts as he turns around. “For fuck’s sake, Mick, who is—?”

  The sight of Terri’s warrant card is enough to stop Johnny in his tracks and the color visibly drains from his face. A moment later, there is a spark of recognition and he nervously stutters, “It’s… it’s Miss Marchetti, isn’t it? You arrested me—”

  “That’s right,” Terri interrupts him. “I arrested you for aggravated robbery a couple of years ago.”

  Then with extra emphasis, she adds, “That was when I was a detective sergeant on the Manchester robbery squad.”

  Failing to pick up on the obvious prompt, Murray quietly asks, “What’s all this about? I haven’t robbed anything since I got out of the nick. I’ve kept my nose clean.”

  “I’m not here about a robbery,” Terri says. “I’m not on the robbery squad anymore. I’m here to ask you about something else.”

  Sensing the atmosphere and looking increasingly agitated, Murray nervously looks from side to side for a way out.

  Conscious that he still has the mallet in his hand, Terri slowly extends her arm. “Why don’t you give that to me, Johnny? Let’s do this without anyone getting hurt.”

  Behind Terri, DS Cheeseman is gently tapping an extendable steel baton against the side of his leg. This and the sight of Benson and Lloyd moving closer is intimidation enough to quickly convince Johnny to surrender the mallet without the need for Terri to ask a second time. Carefully taking the mallet from him, she hands it over to Murray’s supervisor.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bartlett. Why don’t you go and put that away? Then you can wait outside with the rest of your lads, please.”

  Relieved to be excused, Bartlett scurries away, and Cheeseman directs the rest of the mechanics to follow him.

  Left alone with her colleagues and Murray, Terri smiles reassuringly before asking, “What color are the paint markings on your toolkit, Johnny?”

  Clearly confused, and desperately trying to understand what is happening, his eyes nervously flit from side to side. “My toolkit? “What’s this about? I haven’t done anything.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Terri softly reassures him. “I need to ask, though, if the tools in the kit issued to you have been marked with blue paint?”

  Still unsure of the reason for this seemingly random question, Murray hesitates before slowly nodding his head. “I don’t understand what this is about, though. What am I meant to have done?”

  “We’ll get to that, Johnny. But first, I need to ask you another question. Is it true that you were issued a replacement claw hammer after your New Year break?”

  Suddenly panic-stricken, Murray starts to shake. “Hang on. Is this about the dead girl over in Liverpool? There was something in the paper about that yesterday. That was nothing to do with—”

  Keen to wrap things up before they can escalate, Terri abruptly cuts him off with a shake of her head and a barked, “Enough, Johnny! You need to listen to me and answer my questions.” Indicating for the rest of the team to move closer, she takes a step forward and snaps again, “What happened to your hammer? Why did you need a new one?”

  “I… I lost it,” Murray stammers. “It was there before the New Year, but when I came back, it was gone.”

  Sizing him up for a moment, Terri nods and then turns to DS Cheeseman. Without taking his eyes off Murray, he reaches into his jacket pocket to retrieve a clear plastic evidence bag.

  Taking the bag, Terri holds it up and asks, “Is this it? Is this the hammer that you lost sometime before the New Year? Go on. Take a close look at the blue paint on the end of the shaft and the gouge on this side.”

  Terri helpfully turns the bag around to allow Murray a clear view of both sides of the claw hammer inside. Puzzlement and curiosity quickly give way to recognition and Murray’s skin takes on a deathly pallor. His nod, though, is barely noticeable, and Terri asks again, “I need you to say it, Johnny – is this the hammer that you reported missing from your toolkit?”

  Trembling uncontrollably, Murray quietly mouths that it is, before a rare and sudden moment of clarity brings home the seriousness of his predicament. As if by the flick of a switch, the quietly cooperating submissive man straightens up and aggressively goes on the defensive.

  “No, this is bullshit. I mean, it looks like my hammer, but no. No fucking way. I had nothing to do with what happened to that girl. I was in Liverpool that day, but it was to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with some friends. You can ask them. I’m telling you. I had nothing to do with—”

  Deciding she’s heard enough, Terri nods to her companions to move in. Surprisingly, and in direct contradiction to her earlier assertion that Murray wouldn’t resist or cause a scene, he actually puts up quite a fight in the struggle to break away from DI Benson and DS Lloyd.

  It is only with the assistance of Cheeseman and Potter that they are finally able to subdue Murray and cuff his hands behind his back. They stand him up, and ignoring his continued declaration of innocence, Terri reads him his rights.

  “John Murray, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Shreya Singh on or around the 17th of March 2019 and of the murder of Shelley Wilton on or around the 29th of December 2018. You do not—”

  Hearing Wilton’s name is enough to send Murray over the edge again. Struggling to break free, He lets out an anguished howl that dramatically interrupts Terri mid-flow.

  “Nooo, Miss Marchetti, it wasn’t me. You know me. I’m not violent. I never hurt nobody. Please, miss. It wasn’t me. Please, no.”

  “John!” Terri barks. “You’re not helping yourself. If you are innocent, then you have nothing to worry about, do you?”

  Emotionally and physically drained, Murray gives up struggling and starts to sob quietly to himself. Satisfied that there won’t be any further trouble, Terri continues where she left off. “You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?”

  Visibly in shock and clearly unable to focus, Murray doesn’t respond to the question, forcing Terri to repeat herself more assertively. “Johnny, look at me, please. Do you understand what is happening and what I’ve just said to you?”

  Responding to her voice, he slowly looks up and quietly says, “Yes, I understand. But I didn’t do it. You have to believe me.”

  Adding to her earlier statement, Terri does her best to reassure and keep him calm. Half-smiling, she nods and says, “It doesn’t matter right now whether I believe you or not, Johnny.

  But if you really had nothing to do with the death of either of those women, then you have nothing to worry about by coming with us to answer our questions.”

  Before Murray can respond, Terri nods to her Manchester colleagues. “Thanks for your help, guys. I’ll see you in a couple of hours to take handover.”

  Turning to leave, she is still not entirely convinced that Murray is capable of cold-blooded murder. The sudden burst of resistance and aggression, however, has demonstrated a side to him that Terri has never seen before. Muttering under her breath, she quietly ponders, “But if it’s not him, then him being in Liverpool on St. Patrick’s Day is one hell of a bloody coincidence.”

  . . . . . . . .

  Whilst her colleagues have been hard at work in Manchester executing the plan to arrest Johnny Murray, Erin has been nervously awaiting the arrival of DS Bolton for his annual review. Twenty minutes after the allotted time, he is yet to make an appearance, and it takes a call from Erin to remind him of the meeting. Frustratingly, a further ten minutes pass before he finally
sees fit to make an entrance.

  Taking a seat in her office, Bolton makes no attempt at offering an apology or excuse for his lateness. His complete lack of respect and contempt is made all the more obvious by his dismissive bearing and body language.

  Angry and annoyed by the wanton show of disrespect and defiance, Erin takes a deep breath and a moment to calm herself. Sensing the obvious tension in the room, Tony can barely conceal his smirk before he foolishly snipes, “Sorry, I thought you wanted to see me, boss?” Getting to his feet, he sarcastically adds for good measure, “But, if it’s not a good time, I’ll come—”

  Losing her cool, Erin angrily strikes the top of her desk. “Don’t, you bloody dare, Detective Sergeant Bolton. You are already skating on thin ice, so if I was you, I would sit back down and lose the bloody attitude right now. Do you understand me?”

  Clearly shocked by her outburst, Tony is no longer grinning. He sheepishly retakes his seat and mumbles, “I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t mean any—”

  “You’ll kindly address me as ma’am or DCI Blake,” Erin informs him with a scowl. “I was intending to talk to you today colleague to colleague, but I’m happy to make this something more formal if that’s what you would prefer?”

  Taken aback, Bolton is momentarily lost for words. With the upper hand, Erin presses him for an answer. “Well, DS Bolton? Should I make this a formal meeting?”

  Deflated, he slowly shakes his head. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

  “Won’t be necessary, what, DS Bolton?”

  Now well and truly put in his place, Tony takes a deep breath before replying again. “It won’t be necessary to make this a formal meeting, ma’am.”

  “Good,” Erin says. I set this review meeting out of respect for you as a colleague and a friend. But I’m not sure now whether I want to waste my time or my breath.” Disappointed, she shakes her head and frowns. “What’s going on, Tony? Why the attitude? You’re a fine police officer, but whatever is going on with you right now is not going to be made any better by directing your negative attitude and frustration towards me or DI Marchetti.”