73
Six days in and things were moving fast. Having deposited Chantelle in the Accident & Emergency department at the General Hospital, ordering a uniformed presence to remain with her at all times, Daniels had returned to the station to meet up with the team. Her phone rang constantly on the way there. Asking the press for help to identify Laidlaw had lifted the profile of the case in the eyes of local and national journalists who wanted chapter and verse on progress and she’d had to fend off their questions for fear of tipping them off.
‘So now we know where they are,’ Naylor said. ‘How do you propose to handle it?’
‘Do we need armed response?’ Maxwell said, interrupting.
Daniels shook her head, feeling under pressure to bring in Laidlaw and her cohort. ‘There’s no question that she’s violent, but no evidence she’s armed. If she had been, Chantelle wouldn’t be alive to tell the tale.’
Maxwell was disappointed. Years ago, he’d applied to be part of the armed response unit but was turned down flat: not the right persona and therefore unfit. The powers that be were very careful about who they let loose with a gun and, on this occasion, she thought they had made a good call.
‘I’d like to handle this as quietly as possible,’ she said. ‘But it’ll be hard to observe her in the Turnbull Building when we don’t know exactly where she is.’
‘I vote we keep observations,’ Gormley suggested. ‘Inside and out, see if we can spot her before she spots us. Then we grab her and her boyfriend when they’re least expecting it. That way no one else gets hurt.’
‘You’ve all seen the pictures . . .’ Daniels pointed at the murder wall where images of Laidlaw remained. ‘You know she’s clever at changing her appearance, so she may not look like any of these. Chantelle told me she’s a natural redhead, but bear in mind Dixon’s general description: blue-eyed blonde, short hair, oval face, five ten, fit build, edgy-looking. Think Hermione Norris but ten years younger.’
‘That won’t be difficult.’ Maxwell feigned a shiver.
‘She certainly floats my boat,’ Gormley added.
‘Mine too,’ Brown joined it. ‘Problem is, I don’t have an ice pick.’
Everyone laughed.
‘No wonder Dixon fell for her charms,’ Robson said.
‘He’s an idiot!’ Daniels said.
‘An unemployed idiot!’ someone added.
‘All right, that’s enough! We have work to do.’ Daniels waited for the team to pay attention before moving on. ‘According to Chantelle, Laidlaw was seeing Dixon, Reid and other men, milking them for all they were worth. She describer her as a money-driven arsehole who can twist men round her little finger. Always could, even at school. She was the one poured petrol through the letterbox. Chantelle saw her do it and captured the image on her phone. She was looking to put the bite on her when police activity died down. A dangerous plan, in my view. Chantelle could easily have come a cropper – and very nearly did. She may not have committed any offence in the eyes of the law but her actions were morally reprehensible.’
‘I agree,’ Naylor said.
‘And if she’d made an emergency call, maybe Mike Reid and his boy would’ve lived. She swears she didn’t know anyone was in there, guv. I’m inclined to believe her and, if it’s any consolation, I think she’s learned her lesson.’
‘Will she be charged?’ a uniform at the back asked.
‘With what? Failing to make a phone call?’ Daniels looked at him, nonplussed. ‘I take your point that she might have come forward after the event and that she may have wasted our time. But, given the information she’s now supplied, I think it would be harsh to charge her. The CPS would most probably agree. She couldn’t have prevented a death if she didn’t know anyone was in the house.’
‘Boss?’ Carmichael caught her eye. ‘You can’t just walk into the Turnbull Building. It’s like Fort Knox in there. Name any security device going, they’ve got it: secure underground parking, electronic gates, video entry and CCTV, all designed to keep unwanted visitors out. Probably the reason Laidlaw chose it.’
‘Is there a concierge?’
Carmichael nodded. ‘On duty, eight ’til four. But that doesn’t help us. He’s a regulations man. Only a warrant gets you inside. Says it’s more than his job’s worth to allow us into an occupied apartment whether or not we’re –’ she used her fingers as inverted commas – ‘“wearing a badge”.’
‘He’s been watching too much telly,’ Naylor said.
All eyes were on Daniels. ‘I might have a quicker way in,’ she said.
‘Yeah?’ Gormley said. ‘How?’
‘I happen to know someone who lives there.’ She looked at Naylor. ‘Can you hold the fort while I check it out, guv?’
Naylor said he’d be happy to. Daniels told Gormley to meet her in the car park. Walking towards her office, she felt guilty for what she was about to do. But what the hell. She’d burned her bridges with Jo Soulsby and now there was no going back. Happy ever after endings only happened in books and movies. It was a pipedream, no more, no less. Time to move on. Sitting down at her desk, she took Fiona Fielding’s card from her wallet and dialled the number.
Fielding picked up on the third ring.
‘It’s Kate,’ Daniels said. ‘I’m feeling a little peckish.’