The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(33)

She came to a sudden stop.

Dropping her head on one side, she narrowed her eyes. ‘You have good news?’

‘Makes you say that?’

‘You’re grinning like a cat.’

‘My mind had drifted elsewhere.’ He couldn’t tell her where. ‘There is good news, but sadly nothing to do with our case. The jury in Caroline’s trial returned guilty verdicts on all but one offender late yesterday afternoon. The judge adjourned, sending them back to Durham prison in no doubt that they were facing jail, with sentencing scheduled for ten this morning.’

‘So that’s where she was, out celebrating.’

‘And she will be again. The trial judge just doled out eighty-one years between nine offenders. The public gallery was in uproar. Crown Prosecutors were commended for a job well done, as was the undercover drugs team – it’ll be all over the papers tonight. Caroline is thrilled.’

‘Result! I’m relieved, actually.’

‘Sorry?’

‘You checked your phone several times last night, I was beginning to think I was boring you.’

‘You’re a lot of things, Eloise. Boring isn’t one of them.’

O’Neil flushed slightly and changed the subject. ‘Do you have any news for us?’

Ryan shook his head. ‘I tapped a few court officials: two clerks, a stenographer and an usher who had a lot more nous than I initially gave him credit for. They’re under threat of prosecution if they breathe a word.’

‘They told you that?’

‘I overheard them talking, didn’t I?’ O’Neil fixed him with a stare; she wasn’t buying it. Ryan grinned. ‘OK, if you must know I left my phone on someone’s desk. How was I to know the recorder was switched on? The clerks should’ve waited until I cleared the room before reacting to my visit. It’s not nice to talk about people behind their backs. Besides, you asked me to use my initiative.’

‘You bugged their office?’

‘Inadvertently!’ Ryan lifted his hand, inviting a high five.

O’Neil gave him one.

‘I wasn’t half as lucky,’ she said. ‘The police and press stonewalled me. They’re being gagged too. The administration team were worse. They were so nervous they asked me to leave. Cheeky sods escorted me to the door. Do you see any point in hanging around?’

‘None. It’s a brick wall, guv.’

‘Then we drop one ball and pick up another.’ She threw him the car keys. ‘It’s your turn to drive.’

They arrived at their Newcastle base shortly after two p.m. The journey south had flown by, the conversation flowing, mainly about the case, in particular the silence surrounding Trevathan’s trial. They had concluded, jointly and separately, that it probably involved the prosecution of suspected terrorists, the accused anonymized by false names or merely referred to by letters of the alphabet. Cloaked in such secrecy, a legal action involving national security would be difficult, if not impossible, to penetrate. Anyone caught leaking information would be liable to prosecution for contempt of court, punishable by imprisonment.

O’Neil told Ryan she’d give the matter more thought before coming to a decision as to their next move. Then she steered the conversation to the North Shields crime scene and James Fraser’s death. His post-mortem was scheduled for later.

This time, she agreed, he could go in her place.

‘I want you to contact the Family Liaison Officer,’ O’Neil said. ‘Tell her what we suspect might have happened to Fraser. Be very clear: we need more information from his mother without alarming her. We don’t tip her off that he may have seen something suspicious in North Shields or might’ve been followed. Ram that message home, Ryan.’

O’Neil handed him a list of questions she wanted answers to: Did James have a key? Did he let himself into the house on Sunday or did Mrs Fraser open the door? Was anyone waiting for him when he left the house? Anyone in the street that she can recall? Beneath the list, O’Neil had scrawled a further instruction: On no account must Mrs Fraser be made aware that there’s a possible link to an incident a couple of miles down the road.

Ryan looked up from the note. ‘I think this last one is a must. The poor soul has been through enough. Mind you, if she thinks about it hard enough, asking her if anyone was waiting outside when Fraser left will be like telling her he was being followed.’

‘We can’t help that, Ryan. We need to be clear on what happened. On second thoughts, meet with the liaison officer personally. I’d like you to see the whites of her eyes. If you don’t think she’s up to getting the information we require without compromising our investigation, do it yourself.’

‘You think she’s safe?’

‘Mrs Fraser?’

Ryan nodded.

‘I’m not sure. If there is any suggestion that she met James at the door, we must assume that those who killed him saw and can ID her. We can supply a panic alarm—’

‘And say what?’

‘We don’t need to give the real reason. We could tell her it’s basic procedure following a sudden and violent death, to ensure a quick response if she needs help, or just to put her mind at rest. Pass that on to the liaison officer. Depending what comes back, we’ll return to it later.’