The Hard Way by Duncan Brockwell (electronic book reader .txt) 📗

her out of the business altogether, that he wanted Accord to himself. Knowing she would stand to inherit his shares, that’s one big motive right there. You wait, I bet she has someone lined up, willing and raring to go in Curtis’ place. Because she ordered his murder.”

“You make a convincing argument,” Travis volunteered. “But like Inspector Gillan said, where’s your proof of all this? You can show us accounts, money exchanges, but there’s no plot to murder that I can see, just one person loaning another for a percentage of profits, and the other paying them back. I’m sorry, but I’m just not seeing it.”

Hayes sighed, looked at Miller and handed her the remote. She was certain of Demirci’s guilt, even if they weren’t.

“We did find something else interesting.” Her partner pressed the button, and another page of accounts came up. “Henry Curtis’ accounts here. The figure you see highlighted was transferred from his joint account with his husband, Colin Fisher, to Richard Fisher’s company account, Fisher Valves. Just a cool million jumping from one account to the other. We’d like to know what that cash injection was for.”

“You know, it seems to me that Richard Fisher’s the epicentre of this case, not Melodi Demirci, as much as we all think she’s a villain. I’d like you to interview Richard Fisher, find out what’s going on. First his brother, and now his brother-in-law.”

“And let’s not forget his employee dying in a car crash on Thursday night,” Hayes added for good measure. “Most probably a coincidence, but it could be something.”

“It can’t hurt to look into it.” Gillan stood and stared down at her. “Go and find Fisher, bring him back here and interview him. If you can’t find anything on him, widen your search again. Focusing on the Fishers might not have been the best move after all.”

“Uniforms have been interviewing people of interest over the weekend. And so far everyone’s alibis have checked out. They’ve spoken to Henry Curtis’ employees. They still haven’t located Dylan Oldham, Brandy Reid’s other half. He’s still out there.”

Miller stepped up to the table. “We’re not dealing with some psychopath on the loose here, though, sir, are we? With how accurate the gunshots were, we’re dealing with someone in the armed forces, either present or ex-Forces. It could be that this was a guy, and we’ll find him through our investigation, but it’s more likely that someone hired him. It’s going to make catching him that much harder.”

“You do what you have to do, of course, Detective Miller. But we’ve apprehended hired killers before. They often make as many mistakes as common or garden shooters do. They almost always leave trace. How did forensics go with the footprints on Colin Fisher’s chest?”

“Much the same as the glove prints found at the scene. They have records, but no match to any former crimes, sir. We have the suspect’s shoe size and print. Most of the trace came back negative. Demirci’s prints turned up in Colin Fisher’s dressing room, though, which we thought was strange.” Hayes turned off the projector, and began gathering her paperwork together.

“There could be a hundred reasons why her prints were in his room. Follow up with the brother, interview him, see what you can get. In the event it’s nothing, we’ll widen our search. Let’s go!”

Hayes picked up her papers, waiting for Gillan and Travis to leave. “I thought we had them on our side.”

“Same here.” Miller met her at the door and walked with her. “Let’s go get Fisher and see what he says. You never know, he might still be the key to all this.”

44

Richard was the first person to arrive at the workshop for the second day in a row. He shook his head, unable to believe Paula wasn’t there. After Friday, he hoped she was okay. Taking his mobile out of his jacket, he phoned her landline, which went straight through to an answer machine. “Where the hell are you?”

Figuring she must be running late, he tried her mobile, which also went to voicemail. He hated leaving messages, so he hung up, thinking she must be in her car on her way in. By the dash clock, it said: 09:36. She really was running late, abnormally so.

At the wooden door to the workshop, Richard let himself in, disabling the alarm on his way, which he so rarely had to do, he was surprised he could remember the code. After switching on the lights, the Fiesta sat there, glinting in the bright white overhead lights. “Morning, baby,” he said, stroking her paintwork with affection. “Friday’s the day. Everyone’s going to know what you are.”

With Vanu gone, and Paula currently AWOL, he wondered where Yurika and Nathan were; they should be there by now. He strolled over to the main PC on Vanu’s desk and switched it on, readying the workshop for productivity later. They still had some last-minute checks to run through before the press conference.

According to Vanu, the normal day saw Yurika arrive shortly after Paula, at around half eight. Then, at quarter to nine Nathan would arrive. It was now 09:45, so even Nathan was a full hour late. Where the hell was everyone?

After trying both Yurika Ishii and Nathan Stewart, Richard gave up. Straight to voicemail every time. Richard hated leaving voicemails, so instead he hung up and made himself a mug of coffee. While he drank it, drumming his fingers on the kitchen counter, he wondered where they were. Paula, Yurika and Nathan, none of them stressed they were going to be late that morning.

Up in his office, he turned on his own computer and sat in his chair, waiting for it to load, when his mobile went off in his jacket pocket. Looking at the caller ID: Yurika. “I’m sorry! They know everything. If you are in the office, get out now!”

Richard blinked twice, the information not registering in his brain. The second he read the message, police sirens, multiple, rang