The Sister(127)

Chapter 109



It was almost midnight. With Miller gone, only Kennedy and three cleaning staff were left in the hall. He reflected back over the evening; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an enjoyable time in the company of another man. He wished he’d met him again years ago. Different roads. In Miller’s company, his predicament had faded for a while. Several times, he’d almost confided in him, but the right moment never quite presented itself. Now sitting alone, his reverie complete, his thoughts returned to his tormentor.





A day earlier, he’d received a telephone call, and before he’d even lifted the receiver to his ear, the caller had started speaking.

‘What will you do, John, when they find you have been visiting prostitutes?’ The voice accentuated his forename to ridiculous effect. ‘She kept a diary, you know.’

Kennedy’s heart sank, but he responded automatically. ‘Now you listen to me!’

The voice talked right over him, mocking him with a lisp. He’s changed his voice yet again. It sounded tinny. He got straight to the point, and Kennedy listened in stunned silence as the words unfolded.

‘What will you do when they find the deleted number of a major criminal on your mobile phone? When the records indicate you called him from right there in your office. That’s right. That is what I said, from your office and not just the once, either.’

The sound of air sucked through clenched teeth came down the line. ‘One whiff, a sniff you are talking to anyone else about these calls, John and I will drop you so far in it you’ll never see the light of day again. Your father will never be able to forgive you. You know that, don’t you, Johnny.’ Another deeply drawn breath, followed by another well-timed pause.

Kennedy frowned. ‘Hey, you, kiss my arse!’ There was no response. The caller carried on speaking, regardless.

It’s a recording!

‘There’s also the question of the cash payments into your saving’s account, that’s right; you never check them do you? You go for those online statements, but you never read them anyway. How are you going to explain the five thousand pounds cash deposit that coincided with Wharton walking free, or the ten thousand put in this morning, after he was killed? The cash came from Lynch, by the way. He stashed it in Marilyn’s safe, but you know, John, best of all Johnny – and you’ll like this one… The DNA samples from the Gasman’s last two victims … can you guess what they’ll find, Johnny?’ he said, pausing for effect.

Kennedy listened in dismay.

‘Of course you can’t! The DNA is yours John. Do you really think they will listen to your protestations of innocence? What a coincidence it is, that every one of your visits to a murdered prostitute coincided with a Gasman attack?’ Another breath. Another silence. The recording continued.

‘You have no alibi’s now do you, Johnny? Do you remember when you said – and you don’t even know me, do you, John – These people are vile. Do you remember that on television? Well, now you’re one of us, John. Checkmate.’ A millisecond hiss indicated the end of the message. The phone disconnected abruptly. Some of the unanswered questions were resolved. He’d wanted to tell him, ‘It wasn’t me. I didn’t say it. It was Kendricks, and the editors screwed it up’, but he couldn’t, of course, because no one was listening at the other end of the line.





The caller disconnected the mobile phone from the laptop. If the police got a fix on the call and triangulated the signal, they'd discover it originated from an area close to the A1 on a pay-as-you-go telephone routed through an auto dialer on a computer. The police wouldn’t get that far, but he disposed of the phone anyway. He removed the battery and dropped both parts through the grill of a roadside drain and then sped away.





Although Kennedy had been a detective for long enough to know if a suspect was telling the truth or bluffing, he called his bank anyway. They confirmed two deposits into his account, one of five thousand, and another of ten thousand pounds. His heart sank. The caller had framed him with something from which he couldn’t easily extricate himself, if he could at all. It would be only a matter of time before the DNA flagged up a match against the Police Forces DNA database. How long have you got – possibly a few days? If you are lucky, it might only be a day or two. It was a problem that over shadowed the rest of the day and weighed heavy on his mind all night. He knew he was screwed. He slept very little.





‘Was that really only yesterday?’ Kennedy stunned himself with the realisation he’d spoken out loud. Glancing around, he was relieved none of the staff appeared to have heard, they were too busy clearing tablecloths and wiping down the bare tops. They were working their way back down the hall towards him. He had a few minutes before they reached him. The high ceilings, the sedate atmosphere and echoes of a million prayers, did indeed remind him of a church. The walls released memories for him, and he drifted away from his troubles into a higher plane of consciousness.

He knew now with certainty, what he had to do.





Chapter 110



Miller was dreaming. The ghosts of his past slowly paraded before him. They were mostly grey images of the people he missed the most. In the crowd as they passed, he sometimes thought he caught a glimpse of himself. How he was back then. Lost, struggling to find a way back.