48
Detectives from several departments were milling around the MIR, anxious to get the briefing underway. Even civilian indexers whose hours matched those of the Murder Investigation Team were in attendance, despite grafting since the crack of dawn. They all looked jaded, keen to get the meeting over and done with so they could go home. Daniels knew how they felt. For the second time that day, a telephone call had prevented her from explaining herself to Jo. She’d been a fool not to tackle the subject of her leaving earlier. She should’ve told her the truth, begged her to stay and persuaded her not take the damn job. Instead she’d reverted to type and let the matter fester, until Jo forced a confrontation. Inevitably, what Daniels had said had come out wrong.
It was standing room only. And still detectives piled into the room, their conversations ranging from the long hours they were keeping to England’s chances of progression in the World Cup. The next game was scheduled for tomorrow, a game they now knew they’d miss ‘live’ on TV.
Acknowledging them as they passed her by, Daniels’ mind was on promises she’d made to Jo. Empty promises, as it turned out. As people, they were poles apart. They wanted different things of a relationship. A free spirit, Jo deserved a partner she could introduce to friends and family. Daniels, on the other hand, didn’t see the need. As long as they were happy together, all the rest was unimportant. She feared being alone and craved the special kind of relationship her parents had enjoyed. But she was her own worst enemy in achieving this. Even before Jo came into her life, she’d failed to balance home and work successfully. And it wasn’t only the job that was holding her back. Her father’s disapproval was also eating away at her. She hadn’t even told Jo about that yet.
Another secret.
God, will you ever learn?
Daniels hated that she needed her father’s approval. It had taken such courage to bare her soul to him and he’d reacted as if she’d fallen in love with a woman just to piss him off. Maybe she had: payback for not being there for her when her mother died. He’d been at pains to point out the obvious: that all of her former relationships had been normal. That really went down well. He’d since tried apologizing, vehemently denying any homophobia on his part, citing several gay acquaintances.
She noted he didn’t say friends.
As far as Daniels was concerned, the hurtful comments that came out of his mouth could never be unsaid. They were out there for ever and she had no intention of forgiving him. She glanced at her watch. It was already nine-thirty and the troops were getting restless. Hardly a time for psychoanalysis. Besides, she didn’t want to think about Jo any more. It would sap what little energy she had left. No matter how much she wanted to go home and sort her life out, the job she prized so highly kept getting in the way. And that meant leading by example with her mind focused on the job.
Later . . . I’ll call her later. One more stab at explaining how she felt wouldn’t go amiss.
The door to the MIR opened. Maxwell walked in, last to arrive as usual. Apologizing for keeping them all waiting, he slid into the crowd out of sight. Conversations immediately died down and all eyes were turned in Daniels’ direction.
‘Right, if everyone is ready, we’ll begin with the fire and then move on to the A1 incident.’
A hand went up. Officers parted so she could see who it belonged to. DC Andy Brown wasn’t the tallest detective in her team. He edged his way forward to stand near the front, his eagerness to contribute raising her expectations. She knew exactly what this was about before he opened his mouth, but asked the question anyway.
‘You got something for me, Andy?’
Brown nodded, turning to address his colleagues. ‘I was checking the force-wide incident log earlier and noticed a domestic disturbance at the home of Nadia Turner, Maggie Reid’s sister-in-law. Officers from West Area Command attended the scene, reporting a row between two females. A fight ensued, but no further action was taken in view of the recent family bereavement. I just spent the last hour following it up.’ He paused for breath. The room was heavy with anticipation as he took out his notebook, flipped it open and found the appropriate page. ‘Maggie and Nadia were still rowing when I got there. I spent some time calming them down and then questioned Maggie about the rubber glove we recovered. The boss thought it might scare her into telling the truth. But she didn’t bat an eyelash, said she buys them in Tesco – a new pair every week.’
‘She’s got a point,’ Robson commented. ‘The wife’s got some like it at home.’
Brown glanced at Daniels. ‘She’s still off her face on medication, boss. Had absolutely no idea what I was alluding to. I then tackled her unsafe alibi. Told her Stella Drew had coughed that they weren’t together when she said they were. At this point Nadia got really agitated. I’m guessing that’s what they were arguing about in the first place. She then blurted out the name of the mystery boyfriend.’ He glanced at the scribbled note he’d made. ‘A man by the name of Charles Milburn, known locally as Charlie.’
Milburn? Mention of the name set alarms bells ringing in Daniels’ head. Gormley had homed in on it too. They glanced at one another, hoping that Brown had stumbled on a break in the case.
‘Is he local?’ Daniels asked.
‘Very . . .’ Brown scanned his notes. ‘Unemployed welder, forty-five, married with one son, lives less than two streets from the crime scene. Bit of a hard man, by all accounts. He’s been pulled in a time or two.’
‘How old is the son?’ Gormley queried.
Brown’s enthusiasm wavered. ‘Didn’t ask. Sorry.’
‘You got a name though?’ Daniels pushed. ‘For the son, I mean.’
The tension and urgency in her voice made Brown and the rest of the Murder Investigation Team sit up and take notice. No one in the room – bar Gormley – had a clue why the son might be of interest to her. Brown shook his head, tripping over himself to apologize again. He glanced frantically at Carmichael and gave her an address. Her fingers were already on the keyboard. The room fell silent as she accessed the council’s electoral role. Milburn was a common name up north. Daniels had relatives so called. But she had a feeling that this particular Milburn might be highly significant. From the start, an old man’s sudden death in the same street as her crime scene had played on her mind. If her instincts were right, then Maggie Reid was seeing the old man’s son – Elliot Milburn’s father, Charlie.
A few seconds later, Carmichael confirmed it.
Daniels was silent for a moment, considering this new information. Then she swung into action, outlining what she knew about the Milburn family so far. She left nothing out, including the bad feeling between George and Charlie and, of course, the money Elliot had reported missing.
‘If George Milburn had knowledge of the affair with Maggie, it gives him motive, maybe not for murder but for arson, certainly. It also explains his estrangement from his son. He lived next door. Plenty of time to nip out in the dead of night and set fire to the property. Maybe he knew Maggie was going out for the evening with Charlie and thought he’d cause them some aggro. I’m speculating here, but he might even have known the child was due to stay with his father.’ Daniels glanced again at Gormley. ‘Hank had a theory that the old man might somehow have been involved. Initially, I thought it a bit far-fetched, but it looks like he may very well be right.’
‘No one likes a smart arse,’ someone said.
A ripple of laughter went round the room.
‘If the old man stopped speaking to his son because of the alleged affair, maybe he did something about it and threw a wobbler when he realized his mistake had caused the death of a child,’ Carmichael offered.
‘That’s a real possibility,’ Daniels said. ‘Unfortunately, dead or alive, we still need to prove the case.’ She paused, before reminding them how difficult it was to do this without a live suspect to bring in for questioning. ‘What I’d like to know is, why has Charles Milburn not come forward? I want him in here first thing tomorrow morning.’