The Death Collector (34 page)

‘Are you talking about Aidan Molloy?’ Sam said, his eyes narrowed.

‘Humour me.’

Sam sighed. ‘Okay, if you really want my opinion, that isn’t going to happen. If a case goes anywhere, it has got to convince a lot of people. Us, the prosecution, and then a judge. If there is something wrong, it will be found out.’

‘But if it is founded on lies, and the lies are believed, who would know?’

‘That’s always been the way, Joe, but don’t get all precious,’ Sam said, his tiredness making him react to the argument he’d had with Joe too many times. ‘I don’t know how often I’ve seen people get away with bad things just because people like you have presented some fake alternative that explains the evidence. It just isn’t right that you get it the easy way.’

‘You allege it, so you prove it. That’s how it should be.’

‘All I know is that we have to have some degree of certainty before we take anyone to court. All you need to do is spin a bit of doubt, so everything is weighted in your favour.’

‘I’m talking about something different this time.’

‘How so?’

‘What if we could show with some certainty that a person was innocent, and that police lies had put that person in prison?’

‘That’s a pretty serious thing to say, Joe.’

‘I know.’

‘And this is about Aidan Molloy?’

Joe nodded. ‘I’m still looking at it.’

Sam paused as he thought about that. ‘I’m here for the same reason.’

‘What do you mean?’ Joe said, confused.

‘You’ve heard about me finding David Jex on the moors?’

‘Hell of a coincidence.’

‘Yes, I suppose so, but that’s just how things are sometimes.’

Sam rubbed his eyes. Joe knew he was just creating a space for his thoughts. Eventually, Sam said, ‘If you’re going to accuse a police officer of telling lies to get Aidan convicted, you need good proof, solid unassailable proof.’

‘And if I had it?’

‘I’d take it higher.’

‘What if that was part of the problem?’

‘You need to stop talking in riddles,’ Sam said. ‘We’re sharing here. If you won’t tell me, just let me go home and I can spend some time with my family.’

Joe exchanged glances with Hugh, who gave a small nod of his head.

‘How much do you remember about the Aidan Molloy case?’ Joe said.

‘He was convicted of killing the assistant chief’s daughter,’ Sam said. ‘That raised his profile, and his mother is always in the paper, and campaigning and leafleting.’

‘Mary Molloy,’ Joe said, nodding. ‘She’s a powerful woman. Has never stopped fighting for her son.’

‘But since when was justice about who had the loudest voice?’

‘It’s not. It’s about getting the right person for the right crime. Aidan is the wrong person, and the reason for that is someone in your force.’

‘Who?’

‘DCI Hunter.’

Sam started to respond, but then stopped, surprised. ‘Hunter?’

Joe nodded slowly, letting Sam’s thoughts catch up.

‘So tell me,’ Sam said.

‘He convinced witnesses to change their stories to fit his theory that Aidan had done it. I’ve spoken to two of them. A young couple. One admitted it, more or less, and I think I can get her to repeat it in court. There is no other evidence. No DNA. No saliva. No blood spatter. It is all based on eyewitness evidence and items that could be planted.’

‘But why would Hunter do that?’

‘Because he’s a glory boy.’

‘Where’s the glory in getting the wrong person?’

‘Plenty, provided no one realises. He was under pressure – it was his boss’s daughter. He had to get a result. He convinced himself that Aidan was guilty, and made sure the evidence proved it.’

Sam shook his head. ‘There must be something else. I can’t investigate my own boss. It would be the end of my career. Even if it were true, there would be too many who would never trust me again. I’d be the grass, the snitch.’

‘What about doing the right thing?’

‘Come off it; don’t lay that one on me. Why don’t you just take the case back to court, if these witnesses will talk?’

‘I thought you’d want more than just an unsafe verdict, Sam.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What if there was another murderer still out there, because of Hunter’s lies?’ When Sam looked confused, Joe added, ‘If it wasn’t Aidan Molloy, the real killer is out there, and he might have killed again.’

Sam thought about that for a moment. ‘Tell me what you’ve got.’

‘The evidence in Aidan’s case was strong but not so strong that it couldn’t be false. Three young women said Aidan had threatened to kill Rebecca, overheard in a pub car park. They knew Aidan. His car was seen fleeing the scene. A spade was found in his boot, but he lived in a terraced house with a concrete yard, so he didn’t need it for gardening. Not the strongest case, except his mother gave conflicting accounts of when he got in that night.’ Joe shrugged and held out his hands. ‘The stories are made up. The threats were just tall tales by silly teenagers who wanted some attention. Problem is, when these things start they are impossible to stop. That’s what led the police to Aidan’s door and I don’t know what it was about him that made Hunter think he was guilty, but the whole case was then shaped around Aidan. Hunter put pressure on the witnesses to change the description of the car at the scene so that it matched Aidan’s. The spade was planted in the boot. It can be the only explanation. Hunter believed that Aidan Molloy was a killer who was going to get away with it, so he padded the case. Except that Aidan Molloy isn’t a killer, and I think there’s been another murder since, by the real killer.’

Hugh sat forward. ‘What are you talking about, Joe?’

‘David Jex,’ Joe said. ‘He became obsessed with Aidan’s case, and his son was scared of Hunter. And where is David Jex now?’

‘Dead,’ Sam said quietly. He chewed on his lip until he said, ‘Just a detective who went missing, they said. Marital strife, they said. They kept expecting him to turn up hanging from a tree or something.’

‘There’s more to it than that,’ Joe said. ‘What sparked his obsession with Aidan’s case? It was all done, neatly wrapped up, Aidan behind bars.’

Sam’s eyes widened. He was starting to catch up. ‘If he found something out that suggested that Aidan was innocent.’

‘And what could do that?’ When Sam didn’t respond, Joe added, ‘What about another murder?’

Sam pulled a face. ‘Come on.’

‘Why not? Rebecca was murdered, and if it wasn’t Aidan, why not another murder? The whole case was built around the fact that Aidan was Rebecca’s lover. What if she had another lover and Hunter went after the wrong one? Why would David Jex become obsessed with the case? I’ll tell you: he’s a murder detective, like you, and what would upset you more than anything?’

‘Missing something that allowed a killer to get away with it,’ Sam said.

Joe shook his head. ‘No, it wouldn’t. What would eat away at you would be if you missed something that allowed a person to kill again. But what if you did something deliberate that led to that? What if you had caused one person to be a suspect and allowed the real killer to remain free? It’s against all the reasons you became a murder detective. Aidan’s case is solved, all done. So what changed? What made David become obsessive?’

Sam pondered on that. ‘So you’re saying David Jex was put there by Rebecca’s real killer?’

‘It’s what makes sense.’

‘Why would the killer highlight it, though?’

‘What do you mean?’ Joe said.

‘I went digging on that spot because of a body found there the day before. It was set out as if it was a sign. I thought there might be something else at the scene, and there was: David Jex. Why would the killer want me to find him?’

‘Sometimes people just want to be caught,’ Joe said.

‘There is one thing though,’ Sam said.

‘Go on.’

‘Hunter has been acting strangely, ever since we discovered the body yesterday,’ Sam said. ‘He’s even worse today.’

‘He might know the same thing David found out, and now David’s body points the spotlight at whatever David was doing before he went missing.’

‘Which was looking into the Aidan Molloy case,’ Joe said.

‘So you think there might be another murder connected with whoever really killed Rebecca Scarfield, and Hunter knows that?’ Sam said.

‘I’m guessing, surmising,’ Joe said. ‘This is where you come into it.’

‘Me? How come?’

‘You can have a look. See if there are similar murders. Has anyone else been caught or suspected? And get me the address where Carl was arrested. That’s why I called this morning. It must have some relevance.’

Sam let out a long breath as he thought of that. Eventually, he said, ‘You have to do something for me too.’

‘Which is what?’

‘Let me have copies of the files Carl had. Lorna told me about Carl’s obsession. That’s why I’m here. She told me that you had the files.’

Joe smiled. ‘So you know what I’m saying is right?’

‘I don’t know. I would need some kind of clearance to go after Hunter. More likely it will go to a different force.’

‘That will take a long time,’ Joe said. ‘All the time Aidan is locked up. So why not go off-plan? Do something yourself. Work with us.’

‘I can’t. I have to do it properly. You’re going after Hunter because he broke the rules and you want me to help by breaking the rules too. Only a lawyer could think like that.’

‘Is there any connection between Rebecca Scarfield and the woman found yesterday?’

Sam thought about that. ‘Apart from the fact that they were married women having affairs, nothing.’

‘Isn’t that enough, when you throw David Jex into the mix?’ Joe said.

Sam sighed. ‘All right, I’ll speak to my boss.’

Joe smiled. ‘I knew you’d see it my way eventually.’

Joe and Hugh watched Sam drive away, back into the city-centre traffic.

‘Do you think he’ll come up with the right things?’ Hugh said.

‘Sam gets it done, don’t worry about that.’ He looked at Hugh. ‘So what now? I’m going to head to the office, to see if I’ve still got one. What about you?’

‘I’ll join you shortly,’ Hugh said, checking his watch. ‘Just got an errand to do. Niece’s birthday. Got to get a card in the post.’

Hugh set off walking towards Deansgate, his head down, and Joe headed off on his preferred route, along the canal and under the bridges, where the cars didn’t disturb him.

As he threaded through restaurant tables on the other side of a long footbridge, his phone buzzed. A message. When he looked, it was from Kim Reader.
Come to the Crown Court. Alone. Need to talk about Molloy.

He texted back.
On my way
.

Joe was curious. It was the
alone
part that troubled him.

He was soon at the Crown Court, through the now bored-looking security people, the wave of the radar wand perfunctory, and then up the stairs.

The Crown Court is a long corridor, with high windows on one side, and rows of seats for those awaiting a court appearance. Facing them are the heavy wooden doors into the courtrooms, controlled by ushers in long black gowns and clipboards, often retired police officers.

It was a different atmosphere to the Magistrates’ Court, where Joe commonly plied his trade, which is chaos and noise, nuisance offenders making nuisances of themselves, a sea of strut and snarl. There are some flashes of dread, those who only fall foul of the law once or twice in a lifetime, the drink-drivers, the neighbour disputes, but the rest is drink and drugs and fights and theft and a never-ending stream of wasted lives.

The Crown Court is where the serious cases end up, so those who go carry more fear in their eyes, that the view they have through the huge windows could be the last one for a few years that isn’t through thin metal bars. They edge around nervously, bite fingernails, receive words of comfort from girlfriends and mothers, have more open space to ponder their fate, the corridors quiet and pensive.

Kim was sitting on one of the chairs near the large windows. Her court wig was on her lap, her legs crossed, her demure look ruined by the fatigue in her eyes and her ruffled hair.

The court day was drawing to a close, and the only people left were those who had been made to wait all day, the end of the list. Barristers walked quickly along the corridor. Some of them still wore the horsehair wigs, but they were cock-eyed, tired-looking, whereas others were done for the day, their court dress tucked away in leather bags, their wigs in black oval tins. Theatre was over.

‘Rough day?’ Joe said.

Kim looked up and smiled. ‘You know how it is. Six briefs in four different courts, with the judges bellyaching in each one. Let me tell you, Joe, that if you want to make sure your case in court four gets called on, just go and sit in court seven and start dealing with that case. You can guarantee that court four will suddenly need you.’ She sighed. ‘Then this evening is crossed out with the preparation for tomorrow, and I daren’t think about having some of the weekend free.’

He sat next to her. ‘I could take you away from all of this,’ he said. ‘I’ve always thought we should have gone into practice together. Parker Reader Solicitors.’