Stark Contrasts (An Adam Stark novel Book 1) (17 page)

“I know, sir, it's very frustrating but I am a little unsure of this now...”

He never got the chance to complete the sentence before Hargreaves tore into him.

“Unsure? Unsure?” he hissed. “I didn't give you this bloody case for you to turn round and tell me you're unsure. What the hell is there to be unsure about? The lying toad is as guilty as any person I've ever seen in an interview room.”

Stark decided to respond firmly but politely. It was pointless to deliberately antagonise someone like Hargreaves and Stark wanted to maintain his own dignity. The man's default was unreasonable and it would make little difference to how the senior officer regarded him, no matter how reasonable Stark's point may be.

“With respect, sir, what I meant was, I don't know for certain that he committed the follow-up crimes. He seems so plausible and convincing. It just doesn't sit right.”

Hargreaves' face was a rather unattractive shade of light purple. He didn't appreciate being contradicted or interrupted and needed a resolution. For all his relish in dishing out contempt and derision, he found it very hard to cope with it when he was on the receiving end, and the Chief Super had given him a very big plateful that morning.

“Stark, I was convinced by your boss in Glasgow to take you on here, despite my misgivings that you weren't really up to it. It has become abundantly clear to me that I should have listened to myself instead of that Mancunian idiot, Smith! Get on with it! You've got one more day and then my patience finally runs out.”

 Stark had to control his emotions. Bryan Smith had been his mentor - his hero. Sure, after Stark's promotion and move to the MIT things went downhill for Whistler; his maverick approach doing him few favours in career terms. But, Smith remained a giant in more ways than just his stature. Stark attended his funeral and held a cord as the coffin was lowered into the ground. It would have given him nothing but the most intense pleasure to smash the teeth from Hargreaves' mouth but it would also be just what the arrogant, bitter, little man wanted. He chose seething quietly instead and left the room.

Katz approached Stark looking animated.

“Sir, we need to get down to the coroner's office. There's been a development.”

“What development?” he replied morosely. He was finding it hard to be enthusiastic about life in London in general, never mind this bloody case.

“They say they've found some DNA evidence linking Steve Welch to the murder of Calvin Jacobs.”

His mood brightened slightly. This may well be the thing they needed to finally back Steve Welch into a corner he would not squirm out of.

The car screeched to a halt outside the Coroner's office but they decanted calmly. Stark was always a little anxious when Katz drove but, at the same time, it was a nice way to get the adrenaline flowing.

Professor Logan Irwin was a tall, spindly creature with wispy hair and features. He looked cadaverous - rather appropriate given his profession. Stark imagined a strong breeze might lift the old codger off his feet. However, he was also one of the country's most respected men in his field. He greeted the two cops warmly and offered coffee, which they declined.

“Sorry, Professor Irwin, but can we just cut to the chase? What can you tell us about the DNA evidence you've found?” asked Stark.

The voice matched the body. It wafted out of him in a light, husky drawl.

“Well, Detectives, we found a single hair during the original post mortem. It took a bit of finding I can tell you but find it we did. We sent it off for analysis and just this morning we received notification that it matched the profile of someone you have in custody - Steve Welch.”

The Coroner pushed a graphic across the desk for them to look at.

“Statistically, it's too good a match for there to be any doubt.”

Stark looked at the coloured lines on the page and the screeds of text and remembered his last visit to this building.

“Was it, er,” his brain was desperately trying to dredge the pixie's name from his memory banks, “Doctor, er, Watson, at least I think that's her name, that found this evidence?”

The gaunt Coroner looked at him enigmatically.

“If you mean Dr Watkins, then yes, but, of course, we've had to remove her from the case now.”

Stark looked at Katz but the bemusement on her face was like a female reflection of his own.

“Sorry?”

“Didn't you know, Detective Inspector? I thought that's why you wanted to come in to see me. She's married to your main suspect, and the owner of this hair - Steve Welch.”

Stark felt his stomach fall and touch his toes, then catapult upwards over his head, before settling back in his midriff. This was the coup de grace of a case that had already hit new heights of weirdness.

“Ok, no, I didn't know that, Professor. Can I ask you where she is?”

The old man leaned back in his chair and interlocked his fingers in front of his stomach. “She's on compassionate leave. It was clearly inappropriate to have her work on the case any further and, for obvious reasons, she was very upset at discovering the evidence that might condemn her husband to prison for committing some pretty heinous crimes.”

Stark and Katz were looking at each other with the kind of intensity that was normally experienced by those deeply in love...or filled with antipathy. They couldn't voice any of their thoughts in front of the Coroner but Stark was fairly certain they were thinking the same thing. Even at this moment, he couldn't help feeling aroused. He broke their gaze and returned to the conversation.

“When did she last come into work?”

“Let me see...she was here this morning...the result came in about nine...I think I decided to send her home about ten o'clock.”

“Thanks, Professor. Appreciate the information and your time. We'll see ourselves out.”

They shook hands and Stark and Katz left.

They took a moment to compose their thoughts but Katz spoke first.

“Sir, she might be involved.”

Stark ran his hand through his hair.

“I'm not sure. She could be. There
was
something slightly odd about her but...” he tailed off.

“OK, but surely we need to at least get her in for questioning?”

He snapped out of his contemplation.

“Yes, we do. Definitely. She might have been blissfully unaware of what Welch was up to but, then again, maybe she's in it up to her neck as an accomplice.

“Welch and, therefore, Watkins live out in Surrey somewhere don't they?”

“Yes, I think so, sir.”

“Right, get onto the station and organise someone from the local plod to go out there and pick her up. I'll let DCI Hargreaves know the good news while you drive our butts down to Surrey in a hurry.” He grinned and she scowled.

Katz made her call and hung up as they climbed back into the car. He braced himself for the white knuckle-ride to follow...and the drive to Surrey.

28. Non, Je ne Regrette Rien

Am I sorry?

No, I'm not sorry.

I would do it all again.

I believed in our campaign. We were righting the wrongs that make all our lives so intolerable. He didn't have the stomach for the harsh lessons but I could live with that. I had more than enough guts for both of us. He never knew and that would keep us both safe. It was a beautiful thing - a symbiosis of justice. Then he became one of them. A betrayer, morally bankrupt, selfish...unrepentant.

He thought he was clever. He thought I was blind, stupid or deluded. I was, and still am, none of those things. I knew about her and I had my eye and my ear on him. He was the cat in the ass hat and I needed to put him in his place.

The gangster deserved to die and my loving husband deserved to take the blame for his death. It was the ultimate revenge and an elegant solution.

It was easy enough to follow him. I was monitoring his movements through his phone and he had no idea. I tracked him to the farmhouse and well... the rest is history. As are the gangster and his gang. An unexpected bonus in terms of ridding society of parasites and despoilers.

I thought about killing her. I nearly sullied myself with her whore blood. But it was revenge enough to see her terrified, drugged and, best of all, aware that when it's all over, he'll be gone and she'll be alone. I think that lesson will be enough to deter her from any future affairs with married men.

I knew this day would come. The day I would be discovered, unmasked. I'm ready. I have prepared well. I will not go quietly into the arms of my captors. I will not acquiesce to fate. I will not be like Bub, wandering a prison yard only as far as the chains of incarceration will allow me to go. I have already fitted my length of elastic.

29. Loose Ends

The M25 strangles London in a concrete and tarmac noose, choking the city to death with lane upon lane of traffic. Traffic that spends most of its time as a stuttering, solid, clod of metal, more like a modern art sculpture than a highway. Stark and Katz were only minutes into the torturous process of circumnavigating it, when the call came through to tell them Sadie Watkins was not home. Her car still sat in the driveway and her next door neighbour claimed not to have seen her since the previous evening.

“Damn! I think we can safely assume she was involved in some way. Innocent people don't go on the run,” stated Stark.

“I agree, sir. I thought she was part of it as soon as the connection came up. She would have the skill to cut and sew-up our victims, she'd have access to drugs and she knows all about forensics, which would allow her to avoid leaving clues.”

Something else began to nag at Stark.

“That's all true, Katz, but why would she not try and lose the hair? How could she know it wasn't hers and take the chance on getting it analysed?”

Katz frowned as she thought about it and they fell into silence and just kept driving.

“She
knew
it was her husband's,” said Katz suddenly and matter-of-factly.

“She set him up?” asked Stark.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I reckon she found out about the affair. My guess is, they were in it together, working as a team. He cheated, she found out, and then she set him up for the fall!” rattled Katz with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

Stark told Katz to stay on the motorway for a while. Watching the embankments and slip roads that lined the M25 slide past unused, he tried to make sense of what was going on; weighing up this theory of Katz's.

“I'm just finding it hard to get my head around the scale of her activities. Are we saying she was jointly responsible for all the mutilations and deaths? It still puzzles me that Welch is so adamant he had nothing to do with the more severe stuff.”

Again they fell silent, contemplating. Katz impressed Stark with the way she picked apart the case and tried to come up with plausible solutions to this most devious of puzzles. Nothing she'd put forward so far had been outlandish, naive or illogical. The feelings of attraction were swelling again. He re-tuned his mind to the task in hand.

The pixie he met a few weeks previously certainly appeared physically fit, perhaps even trained in some form of martial art, but could she really have been so ruthless...capable? He felt another thought push its way right to the front of his mental queue.

“Katz, we need to set an APB up for her and alert customs to check the airports and ferries. We might be too late of course, but we need to at least give it a go.”

He pulled out his phone and made the requisite calls. Once finished, he asked Katz to stop at the next service station. Nature called and he needed a cup of tea. He also wanted to compile a list and try to ensure they hadn't missed anything vital.

***

Thanks to the stray hair, they had enough to charge Welch with the murder of Calvin Jacobs; this gave them plenty of extra time to interview him in regard to the other offences.

“Steve, where's Sadie?” asked Stark bluntly.

The big cop looked at him askance, “What?”

“It's a simple enough question, big fellah. Where's your missus?”

Welch shook his head, “No idea. At home, at work, at the shops - take your pick. She's not been in touch since I got arrested.”

“Really? Why's that then d'you think?”

Welch looked at the table and shrugged.

“Is it because she knew about your affair with Abby Hester?”

Another shrug.

“Is that why she broke your little pact and set you up for the Jacobs murder?”

Welch's head snapped up, his eyes wide with genuine confusion. His mouth dropped open a little and he moved his jaw ever so slightly as if trying to form words, but failing. If this was acting then Stark was impressed.

“Oh, come on, Steve. We know you and the wife were in it together. I reckon she found out about Abby and dropped you right in the dung. She's left you to carry the can for everything and done a runner, hasn't she? She's not at home and she's not at work. I'm going to stick my neck out on this and say she's not out shopping either. Where else might she be, Steve?”

The colour drained from Welch's face, he shook his head and looked around erratically. Stark was absolutely convinced this was news to the guy. Even RADA couldn't have prepared him to give this performance.

“So, am I right then, Steve?” Stark pushed.

“I, I, don't...I've got nothing to say to you. Just get on and charge me with whatever you've got and let's get this over with,” replied Welch angrily, his voice cracking slightly.

“Are you telling me you didn't know anything about Sadie's involvement in these crimes?” insisted Stark.

The big cop folded his substantial arms and glared back defiantly. Stark suspended the interview and left him to sweat for a while.

***

I don't know what to do now. Part of me thinks, of course, it was her all along. But another part of me won't embrace complete acceptance. If it
was
her, I'm both impressed and disgusted. Sure, Sadie's a tough cookie. Sure, she seemed enamoured by my pranks, but pulling all these things off would be quite something.
Why
she did such extreme things, that's what's bugging me most of all. I've rarely encountered a moral compass stronger, but the farmhouse...