Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #3: Books 9-12 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (read a book .TXT) 📗

with Don McLean. It seems like a trivial detail, but put in context, it is irrefutable.”

He stared at me for a long moment. Then Dehan spoke up again. “Sir, with the greatest respect in the world, we are not going to solve your daughter’s murder by answering your questions. We already know the answers to the questions you’re asking us. We are going to solve this murder by asking you questions, and by you getting on board and answering them.”

I smiled and watched Harry turn white. Chiddester turned to face her and raised an eyebrow. “Quite so,” he said.

“So, did Katie ask you for help relating to an article she was writing?”

He sucked his teeth and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “She called me about three weeks ago. I don’t remember exactly. She was very enthusiastic about a project she had. She was mad about the idea of becoming a journalist. She was staunchly right wing, and keen to do something about the sad state of affairs in this country. We talked, I can’t remember exactly what about, this and that, the Brexit fiasco, the problem of Islam… the usual stuff.”

“Did she ask you, can you remember, did she ask you for help or advice?”

He kept his eyes on the desk. “Not that I can recall, no.”

I said, “She had been dating a young man called Mark…”

He sighed. “On and off, yes. Bit of a drip, long hair, always apologizing. Good family, but no guts. You know the sort.”

I nodded like I knew the sort. “But recently she had stopped seeing him. Were you aware of any other romantic involvement in her life?”

His cheeks colored and there was no mistaking the building rage in his eyes. “Yes!” he said. “And I suppose there is no way around this. She had got herself a Muslim boyfriend. I told her she was insane, for any number of reasons, but she told me she was certain he had ties to God knows what, and she was going to use him to get information for her project, as she called it. I told her again and again that she was playing with fire. And here we are.” He glanced at me. I realized I was making a face of skepticism. He said, “You disagree?”

“I don’t know. It just seems odd that a Jihadist would go to the trouble of disguising the murder of a British Lord’s daughter to make it look like a fifteen year-old serial killing. It’s not only unlikely that he would know the details of those killings, but you’d think the propaganda value would have him and his associates falling over themselves to claim responsibility.” I gestured at him. “Especially as you are known in this country for your anti-Islamic stance.”

He thought for a moment. “I take your point. It is a good point.”

“What’s this guy’s name?”

“Sadiq Hassan.” He flipped open a diary on his desk, scrawled something on a piece of paper and slid it across to me. It was an address. I handed it to Harry, who took it without speaking.

Chiddester went on. “She assured me she wasn’t sleeping with the grubby little fellow, but just wanted to get information out of him. She had the idea he was some kind of terrorist. A refugee, not born here. She wanted me to have MI5 look into him. Perhaps I should have. She was still a child at heart. Poor Katie…”

There was a spasm of pain across his face, but it vanished as soon as it appeared. Then he frowned at Dehan. “You married?”

She pointed at me. “To that man over there.”

I smiled blandly. “This is our honeymoon.”

He grunted. “Pity,” he said ambiguously. “Where are you staying?”

“The Ritz.”

His eyes went wide. “The Yard is putting you up at the Ritz?” He turned to stare at Harry. “No wonder the country is going to the dogs!” He turned back to me. “But if I need to contact you, I can find you at the Ritz, can I?”

I muttered something about it being a long story and handed him my card. “You have my cell phone there, and my email.”

“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know. Meantime, you should talk to that Hassan chap. He’s your man.”

We were being invited to leave. We stood and he stood with us. “My secretary will see you out.”

We didn’t speak on the way out, but Harry pulled his cell from his pocket and made a call. As we stepped into the humid heat of the gray midmorning, he started to talk.

“Yeah, DI Harry Green here. I need a dispatch rider, Little College Street. Going to Union Road, SW8. Very urgent.”

Dehan sat on the hood of his car, looking at him. A brief gust of cool wind came in off the river and far off a barge moaned. He gave us a humorless smile and said, “Well, that went well, didn’t it?”

Dehan shrugged. “I’m sorry, Harry. I knew he was sympathetic to the Israelis. He was being a pain in the ass and we were getting nowhere. I thought it was worth a shot. Guys like that, sometimes you have to bust their balls a bit.”

“No, you’re quite right. I let him walk all over me. I invited you to consult on this case because you’re good. I can’t really complain when you, um… do your thing, can I?”

I looked up at the seagulls wheeling overhead under the gray sky and asked, “What do you want to do next? You want to see this Sadiq guy alone?”

He gave a small sigh. “No, I think I’d rather like to let Carmen loose on him.”

We all managed a smile and a short while later, the police dispatch rider pulled into the street. Harry went to talk to him and give