Dead Time Read online

  ‘Someone was seen fleeing the apartment building,’ said Tillman. ‘Minutes before Beckinsale’s body was discovered. We have some images on CCTV.’

  ‘You don’t think this was a suicide?’ said Lambert.

  ‘Why plug the radio into an extension cord? This was no suicide. Beckinsale was coerced into that bath, I’m sure of it, and whoever we have on CCTV is the culprit. We need to wrap this up as soon as we can.’

  ‘Who is going to be the SIO?’ said Lambert.

  Tillman stared hard at him, eyes unblinking. It was a classic Tillman gesture, one Lambert had experienced countless times over the years. In most officers it had the required effect of instilling fear and upping concentration levels. In Lambert, it only provoked a weary resignation.

  ‘I’m going to be the senior investigation officer,’ said Tillman. ‘And by I, I mean you.’ He also liked talking in riddles.

  ‘How can I run this investigation if my name has been left on that note?’

  ‘Because officially you’re not on the investigation, I am. And you will be working with Kennedy. We want this kept as quiet as possible, you’ve been in the papers enough as it is. An incident room has been set up at West Hampstead nick. It’s just up the hill on West End Lane. Keep us updated.’

  ‘Your name is on the card, so to me it makes sense that you run the operation,’ said Assistant Chief Daly. ‘Don’t let us down.’

  Lambert didn’t have time to complain before Tillman walked away with Daly.

  ‘Who found the body?’ Lambert asked Matilda.

  ‘Marcus Barnett, lives directly below Beckinsale. He’s left for work now but he’s given me permission to view his flat.’

  ‘Let’s go.’

  Barnett’s flat was a mirror image of Beckinsale’s. ‘There,’ said Matilda, pointing to a wet patch in Barnett’s bathroom. ‘That’s where the water leaked down. Mr Barnett didn’t notice it at first because he was having a shower. It was only when he turned it off and the water kept coming that he realized something was wrong.’

  ‘And he went straight upstairs?’

  ‘Yep, pulled on a dressing gown and ran up. He was scared the floor was going to cave in, and then he found Beckinsale.’

  ‘What were his actions after that?’

  ‘He had enough foresight to turn the taps off, if that’s what you’re getting at,’ said Matilda.

  ‘Contaminating the crime scene?’ said Lambert.

  ‘Potentially.’

  ‘Any neighbourly disputes?’

  ‘Not between these two, according to Mr Barnett. We’ve talked to the other residents. Beckinsale was a quiet sort by all accounts, though he’d recently been voted onto the housing committee.’

  ‘Christ, those things are always fraught,’ said Lambert. ‘We’ll have to get them all in for questioning, starting with Barnett.’

  ‘Sir,’ said Matilda.

  They waited until the body was removed before leaving. The wind had grown in intensity and hit them face on as they walked the short distance up West End Lane. The neighbourhood was in full Christmas mode, the shops adorned with tasteful festive decorations. Matilda ignored the occasional glance in her direction. Lambert had grown accustomed to the burn marks on his colleague’s face and didn’t notice them any more. They were part of who she was, and he would have ignored them completely were it not for the occasional stab of guilt that she was marked because of him.

  At West Hampstead police station they were greeted by DI Jack Canon who showed them to a newly refurbished incident room. The room was empty. ‘Tillman wants a team in from head office,’ said Matilda, by way of explanation.

  ‘So we have a potential murder case and it’s just you and me working on it?’ said Lambert.

  ‘For the time being.’

  DI Canon heard the conversation but didn’t comment. Lambert didn’t have the energy to ask him if Tillman had explained the parameters of their investigation.

  ‘Let me know if you need some extra numbers,’ said Canon, before exiting.

  They spent the next hour setting the place up.

  ‘Bickland and Croft will be here soon,’ said Matilda. ‘They’ve been researching Beckinsale back at HQ, so we should have something to get our teeth into when they arrive.’

  ‘Let me see these CCTV images,’ said Lambert.

  Matilda played the grainy footage of a man leaving the Beckinsale residence in the early morning.

  ‘Is this all we’ve got?’ said Lambert. He zoomed in on the man’s face, covered by his hoody, the image black and white and heavily pixilated.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  The image was next to useless and Lambert was surprised Tillman gave it such prominence. ‘How do we know he isn’t a resident?’

  ‘We don’t. We’ll eliminate everyone one by one, but look at the way he’s standing like he’s trying to avoid the camera.’

  Lambert sighed and retreated into a side office to begin his own research. He agreed with Tillman it was likely his name was left at the scene due to his notoriety, but there was also the possibility the assailant had something more specific in mind. He began with a simple Google search on the name Beckinsale before widening it out.

  He wasn’t sure if he was being obsessive, but his first search was for a link to the Manor. He searched for a link between Beckinsale and the eight wealthy middle-aged white men who’d used their money and power to devastating effect. Reluctantly, he thought back to the underground prison where he’d uncovered the remains of over ninety children. Even after the eight arrests, they were still far from uncovering the full extent of the atrocities committed by the group.

  The Manor was a vast and organized underground organization with codes of secrecy almost impossible to penetrate. A specialized division had been setup to continue the work Lambert started. So it felt logical to check if Beckinsale was somehow linked to the group. His initial search proved fruitless. He was about to log into the System, his department’s specialized criminal database, when three officers arrived in the incident room.

  DS Bickland was sweating. Lambert noticed the sweat patches on his cotton shirt. He was accompanied by the newest member of his team, DS Gemma Croft, whom Lambert had recruited from a small investigation team in Chislehurst. Finally came the lumbering figure of Lambert’s boss Glenn Tillman.

  Lambert was surprised, and disappointed, to see Tillman with Bickland and Croft. He tended to work better without the involvement of his boss, and his presence usually coincided with bad news.

  ‘A word,’ said Tillman, walking into Lambert’s office.

  Lambert studied Bickland and Croft’s demeanour for clues, wondering if they knew something he didn’t, before following Tillman into the office and closing the door.

  Tillman sat behind the desk. He’d removed his tie since the morning and his thick neck bulged beneath his striped shirt. ‘It’s not your day, Lambert,’ he said.

  ‘Do I want to hear this?’ said Lambert, sitting opposite.

  Tillman pushed his lower lip beneath his teeth. ‘It’s Peter Saunders.’

  Lambert shrugged.

  ‘He’s escaped.’

  Chapter Three

  White noise filled the room as Lambert processed what he’d been told. ‘Is this a joke, Glenn?’

  Peter Saunders was one of the eight members of the Manor convicted in the last year. A drawn-out trial had resulted in Saunders receiving life imprisonment with no chance of parole. Saunders had owned a medium-sized architecture firm, hence the nickname. Although they’d failed to prove it, it was believed Saunders designed and helped build the underground prison at Waverley Manor. In the end forensic evidence had been the man’s undoing, with his DNA found throughout the site. The possibility he’d escaped captivity was too horrific for Lambert to accept.

  Tillman rubbed his chin, his only stress indicator. ‘No. He was being moved this morning to a high-security unit in Luton. It was very hush-hush.’

  ‘Not hush-hush eno
ugh by the sounds of it.’

  ‘He was in a car with two prison guards and an armed officer. One of the guards was murdered. The other, by the name of John Prine, is missing along with Saunders.’

  ‘The officer?’

  Tillman shook his head. ‘Gunshot to the head.’

  ‘Didn’t we have a second car following?’

  ‘No. Everything was being monitored from headquarters.’

  Lambert placed his head in his hands, the adrenaline pumping through his body making him nauseous. ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘This morning.’

  ‘Why the hell are we only finding out about it now?’

  ‘It’s lucky we’ve found out about it at all. The whole operation was on a need-to-know basis. Saunders was moved as there were concerns over his safety. Only a handful of people knew. Two of them are now dead and one is missing.’

  Lambert sat back in his chair. ‘This can’t be a coincidence, Glenn. We have a murder victim, the assailant leaving my name on a card, all at the same time a major member of the Manor escapes from prison.’

  ‘It had crossed my mind, Lambert. That’s partly why I’m here.’

  ‘Partly?’

  ‘You’re not to get involved.’

  Lambert snorted. ‘Fuck off, Glenn.’

  Tillman tilted his head, taking in a deep breath. ‘I realize you’re upset so I’ll let that go.’

  ‘What do you mean I’m not to get involved? This is my case – our case, for Christ’s sake. I put Saunders behind bars.’

  ‘Yes. That was your job. Finding out how he escaped is not.’

  ‘Bullshit. This relates directly to me, to all of us, now more than ever.’ Already, Lambert’s mind was working overtime trying to connect Saunders’ escape with Beckinsale’s death. Did Beckinsale have prior knowledge of Saunders? Was he a member of the Manor? The new turn of events blew the parameters of the case wide open.

  ‘Nothing links Beckinsale to Saunders,’ said Tillman, without conviction.

  ‘Where does this come from, Glenn? Who has told me not to get involved?’

  ‘Look, Michael, the feeling is you are too close to the case.’

  This didn’t sound like Tillman. He’d never seen the man back away from a high-profile case or suggest his team didn’t have what it took to investigate. ‘Yes, I am close to the case. I saw what those animals did, what they’re capable of, and what they are no doubt doing somewhere else.’

  Lambert had spent the last year pushing for the opportunity to head a special task force to investigate the Manor, but the general feeling was the Manor in itself didn’t technically exist. The eight arrests were considered to be like-minded men working together. The higher echelon of the force refused to officially recognize them as a group. It meant they had to be investigated on a case-by-case basis, though Lambert hoped this would now change following Saunders’ escape.

  ‘I’ll keep you updated, Michael, you know that,’ said Tillman, getting to his feet to signal that was the end of the matter. ‘For the time being, concentrate all your efforts onto the Beckinsale case. If you find a link between Beckinsale and Saunders then we can examine it at that time.’

  Lambert read between the lines of Tillman’s last statement. ‘That’s it, then?’ he said, as Tillman stood up and moved to the door.

  ‘That’s it. No one else in your team is to know about this. Am I clear?’

  Lambert glared at his boss but didn’t respond. He watched as Tillman exchanged words with Bickland and Croft before leaving the incident room.

  Logging onto the System, Lambert searched for details on Saunders’ escape to no avail. It took thirty minutes of analysis until he determined where the incident occurred. A section of Holloway Road in north London was closed earlier that morning, and emergency services received reports of the sound of gunshots in that area at the same time. As Saunders had been travelling from Woolwich to Luton prison, it was feasible his vehicle had taken such a route. In such high-profile prison transfers, the routes were random.

  Lambert pulled on his coat and was about to brave the winter temperatures when Matilda knocked on the door. ‘Mr Beckinsale’s partner has arrived, sir,’ she said.

  Lambert lowered his eyes, exhaling. ‘Has she been informed of his death yet?’

  ‘Probably put two and two together following the messages we left for her. One of the uniforms from the scene drove her here, so she knows.’

  ‘OK. Go and talk to her. See if she’s in a fit state for questioning.’

  ‘Sir,’ said Matilda, not moving.

  ‘Well?’

  Matilda stood at the edge of his desk, moving from one foot to the other. ‘What did Tillman want, sir?’

  Lambert pulled his shoulders back. It was not a question a junior officer should have asked. He didn’t want to reprimand her but was unwilling to get involved in the domestic situation of the DS and his boss. ‘That’s all,’ he said, returning his gaze to his laptop.

  * * *

  Matilda returned thirty minutes later. ‘Sir, I wanted to say sorry for earlier…’

  Lambert held his hand up and shook his head. ‘How was Mrs Beckinsale?’ he said, the previous matter forgotten.

  ‘She’s waiting in Interview Room Six. Daniella Bolton. They weren’t married. They’ve been together about a year.’

  ‘He was married before?’

  ‘Yes, sir, we’ve been onto the ex.’

  ‘Right,’ said Lambert, feeling underprepared, his focus still on the Peter Saunders’ escape. ‘Let’s get the ex in as soon as we can. Find out what the hell is going on, shall we?’

  Lambert was surprised by Daniella’s youth. Beckinsale was fifty-four and Daniella appeared to be at least twenty-five years younger. Matilda introduced him and he shook hands with the woman; her grip was weak, her skin clammy.

  ‘Thank you for your time, Miss Bolton. May I call you Daniella?’

  Daniella smiled. ‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ she said.

  ‘No, I do understand what a traumatic situation this must be. Could you perhaps tell me when was the last time you saw Mr Beckinsale?’

  Daniella glanced upwards. ‘I saw Alistair two nights ago. We went out for dinner. I was going to stay at his house for the night but he had to work early in the morning so I caught the Tube home.’

  ‘And where do you live?’

  ‘Only in Finchley.’

  Daniella’s voice was nearly inaudible. Her words trailed away as she spoke and Lambert leant in to hear her properly. ‘How long have you been together?’ he asked, keeping the conversation light, probing for any indication she was hiding something.

  ‘About a year.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘It will be a year in January,’ she said, as if Beckinsale was still alive.

  Lambert forced a smile onto his face. ‘That’s quite a long time. How did you find living in separate homes?’

  ‘It was fine. Neither of us wanted to rush things. Alistair was married before and I…’ She faltered, her voice failing completely.

  ‘Can I pour you some water?’ said Lambert, lifting the jug on the table.

  Daniella took a large drink of the water while Lambert waited. ‘Sorry,’ she said, her voice a croak.

  ‘Don’t worry, Daniella, you take your time. You were saying?’

  Daniella smiled, the gesture vanishing before it fully appeared on her face. ‘I’d only got out of a relationship when I first started seeing Alistair,’ she said, as if confessing.

  ‘I see. If you don’t mind me asking, were you with your former partner for long?’ asked Lambert, keeping his tone light.

  ‘Ten years,’ said Daniella, gazing down at the desk, ashamed by the admission.

  ‘You must have been young when you met,’ said Matilda.

  ‘Too young,’ said the woman, looking towards Matilda as if she’d found a comrade.

  ‘What was his name?’ asked Matilda.

  ‘Will.’

&n
bsp; Lambert and Matilda said nothing. Daniella wanted to tell them something, and they were both experienced enough to know when to remain silent.

  Sensing something was wrong, Daniella became flustered, glancing around the room in confusion. ‘I’m sure you already know,’ she began, staring in accusation at Lambert.

  Lambert’s eyes widened. ‘Sorry, Daniella, you have me at a loss. What do I already know?’

  ‘About Will.’

  ‘What about him?’

  She reddened, as if realizing she’d fallen into a trap. She folded her arms, sweat forming on her brow.

  ‘It would be easier to tell us,’ said Matilda.

  Daniella sighed. ‘He was in prison.’

  ‘For?’ said Lambert.

  ‘GBH, but he shouldn’t have gone to prison.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Matilda, playing good cop.

  ‘We were out one night, some guy was talking to me at the bar and Will kind of flipped.’

  ‘Flipped?’ said Lambert.

  Daniella leant towards them, pleading her ex’s defence. ‘It got out of hand. They were pushing each other, mouthing off, you know?’

  Neither officer responded.

  ‘Anyway, this guy strikes out at Will and they have a scuffle and Will ends up hurting him.’

  ‘Did he have a record?’

  ‘Will? No.’

  ‘Then how did he end up going to prison for a simple bar fight?’

  Daniella sat back, glancing at Matilda for support. When none was forthcoming, she closed her eyes. ‘There was a bottle on the bar. Will grabbed it and lashed out. It was in self-defence but…’

  Lambert raised his eyebrows, waiting.

  ‘It connected with the other guy’s eye and he ended up losing it.’

  Lambert let out a breath as Matilda excused herself and left the room to check on Daniella’s ex-boyfriend.

  ‘So he was the jealous kind, this Will?’ said Lambert, once again softening his tone.

  ‘You could say that,’ said Daniella.

  ‘When did you last see him?’ said Lambert, trying to assign as little importance as possible to the question.

  The tension in Daniella’s body was visible. Her back straightened as she held her breath.