Devil in the Detail by A.J. Cross (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📗

understanding of what happened to your brother-in-law and his wife?’

She stared at Judd. ‘What’s there to understand? It’s obvious. They were somewhere they shouldn’t have been. Some rundown, scruffy area, by all accounts, although what they were doing there …?’ She shrugged, took another mouthful of brandy. ‘I didn’t get on that well with them, but I’m sorry about what happened … and the baby, of course.’ Her lower lip quivered.

Following a further ten minutes, during which Gemma Lawrence wept, told Watts about her dislike of her in-laws and her regret that she hadn’t had children, but nothing which moved the investigation on, they were back inside the BMW and in a line of slow traffic.

‘Takes all sorts, Judd.’

‘I think Mrs Gemma “with-a-G” Lawrence is keen on you, Sarge.’

He shuddered. ‘Behave. What did you make of her and what she said?’

‘She’s confirmed that the two brothers had little in common. She comes across as a hard case and she’s no fool. Brendan Lawrence has an eye for women but he’s in no rush to lose what he’s got, so he toes the line.’

‘A cynical summation from somebody still on work experience.’

She laughed – the first he’d heard from her in the last day or two. ‘It’s families, Sarge. People doing or going after what they want, while avoiding losing out to anybody else.’

Watts stopped behind a dithering Fiat, craning his head to see what was slowing down the traffic three cars ahead. ‘If that’s how it works, I was lucky.’

He glanced at her. She was staring out of the window. Given what he knew of her background, which wasn’t a lot, and none of it good, he decided that she probably knew more than he did about families and their goings-on. ‘What do you think about what she said about Brendan Lawrence having an eye for his sister-in-law, Molly?’

‘I believe it, if that’s what you’re asking. Sounds like Gemma landed like a ton of builders’ bricks on him because she wasn’t the first he’d used his eye on. That needs exploring directly with Molly, Sarge.’

He shook his head. ‘I can’t see Will doing that with her in her current state, and right now his brief is specific: get an account from her of the attack that night.’

‘How about I leave it a while then talk to her?’

‘We haven’t got a while.’

The nervous Fiat owner turned left. Watts picked up speed. ‘My picture of Brendan Lawrence, alpha male, is that he’s a main-chancer who drives his employees hard and gets what he wants without losing sleep over how.’ He drove on.

‘And he had no time for brother Mike.’

TWENTY-TWO

Tuesday 18 December. 2.30 p.m.

Judd was typing up the visits to Brendan Lawrence and his wife. She finished, her eyes fixed on the lines of text, searching for errors before she emailed it upstairs, hearing the door open.

‘Hello, Chloe. You look busy.’

She looked up at Julian. ‘Hi. Just finishing something.’

‘How about that coffee you offered me?’

She hesitated, then grinned. ‘OK.’

She sent the email, got up from the table, her foot striking one of its legs. Peripheral attention on him, her mind on coffee, she absently patted the table with a whispered, ‘Sorry,’ and headed for the kettle.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone apologize to furniture.’

Reaching for the coffee jar, she looked back at him and saw that he was smiling. She gave the coffee her full attention. ‘I don’t know why I said it. It’s just a thing. From when I was little.’ She tensed, hearing him coming closer.

‘It’s OK. We all have quirky stuff.’

She looked up at him then quickly away, feeling that his eyes were looking into her soul.

‘It just says to me that you were a kind kid. Maybe a little vulnerable.’

She forced a laugh. ‘Thanks for the psychological opinion. How much do I owe you?’

He came closer and reached for one of the filled mugs. ‘Just this.’

The door opened and Watts came in, followed by Traynor. ‘When did you pull all of this together?’

‘Late last night,’ said Traynor. ‘It was too late to ring you.’

‘How sure are you?’

‘Come on, Bernard. How sure were you about the carjack-homicide approach?’

‘Ninety per cent, as it happens.’

Watts went to the table, looked down at Colin Wright’s single-page statement, searched the words, getting nothing from it that they hadn’t already heard from Wright himself. He checked his watch. ‘Judd and I saw Brendan Lawrence and his wife earlier. There’s no love lost between the brothers, plus Brendan’s got an eye for other women which, according to his wife, occasionally wandered in Molly Lawrence’s direction.’

Traynor looked up at him. ‘That’s interesting.’

‘I want verification of it from another source.’ He reached for his papers, seeing that Judd and Julian had already left. ‘Ready to share what you’ve said with the investigation?’

‘Yes.’

‘Got some notes on your theory?’

‘No.’

‘Impressive. I need notes for meetings.’

The incident room fell silent as they came inside. Watts put down his papers. ‘What have we got on Huey Whyte?’

One of the officers working the inner-city inquiries raised a hand. ‘I talked to his immediate neighbours. A couple of them confirmed seeing him in their local bar on the night of the Lawrence shootings. That he was there from around nine p.m. to closing time. CCTV inside the bar bears it out.’

Watts grunted. ‘So much for Whyte. No wonder he was so chipper during his interview.’ He looked around. ‘Anything else?’

‘An email from Jonah Budd’s probation officer.’ Miller pointed at her screen. ‘She’s done some checking. On the day of the Lawrence shootings, Budd was attending a Young Offenders’ course in Nottingham which started at four p.m. and finished at nine thirty.’

‘She’s got verification of his attendance?’

‘She’s following it up.’

‘Let me know as soon as you get her response.’ He looked around the packed room. ‘Anybody get anything on sightings of unfamiliar or out-of-place persons and/or vehicles?’

Julian held up several sheets. ‘I’ve already got a hundred-plus responses from officers who started on it yesterday. I’ve analysed three quarters of them but so far there’s