MURDER IS SKIN DEEP by M.G. Cole (read dune .txt) 📕

“His brother’s reputation. Not his. He took all that crap from Noel and from Derek. Show me his criminal record.” She smirked and stabbed a finger at Garrick. “Exactly! You can’t because he is a good man.”

Garrick propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward, softening his voice. “I can see you’re concerned. And you understand that he’s wanted for questioning in connection to the murder at Fraser’s house and an armed robbery. That’s some achievement for an innocent man who has been in the country for three weeks, and it’s an even greater achievement for his brother who is still behind bars. And I can’t believe that he may have fled with the money, with no intention of ever returning to you.” She reacted to that; it hadn’t occurred to her. Garrick tried not to smile. “Yet, no matter how much you try to convince me he was a caring, lovely bloke who liked puppies and rainbows, I will not believe a single word of it until I speak with him. Where is he?”

She leaned forward, mimicking Garrick’s pose. She lowered her voice. “I don’t know. And if you want to play the dickhead game, he’s allergic to puppies.”

“What a bloody infuriating woman!” he bellowed across the incident room.

Wilkes and Chib had arrived back from Rebecca’s Airbnb, leaving Fanta and Harry to finish things up. So far, the frustrating news was they had found nothing incriminating. Forensics were still doing a sweep, but they could tell it hadn’t been used much over the rental period.

Raiding the house was now looking like a bad idea after all. He could already envisage the flak he was going to get from Drury.

“There is some bad news,” Wilkes said jocularly.

“That was the good news?” exclaimed Garrick.

“The press arrived quickly.” He jerked a thumb towards the door. “They’re also laying siege outside, so I wouldn’t show your face if you can help it. Unless you can do a little smoke and mirrors and throw them off the scent.” He caught Chib’s frown. “I saw a magic show on Friday…” he hesitated, unaware if she knew who his date had been. “And we, I, bumped into the DCI. It was a good show…” he trailed off.

“Smoke and mirrors,” Garrick echoed. “That’s what this feels like. Look over here while something else happens over there.” He waved both hands to make his point. He walked to the evidence board. “We are missing somebody. If, for the sake of argument, Oscar Benjamin was robber number one. Even if he was doing it as a sideline while trying to help Rebecca Ellis find Hoy, so she could screw over Fraser. Who was robber number two?”

Chib beamed at him. “Tonbridge have no leads. And with no car used in the escape, they have no prints either. But you beat me to my surprise.” She couldn’t stop smiling at Garrick’s baffled look. “Forensics came back with a match on the gun used last night. The blanks and the live shells fired during the robbery, came from the same weapon.”

21

Hard evidence linking the cases had buoyed Garrick’s jaded spirits and banished the fatigue that had been clawing at him all day. Even when Harry and Fanta had returned with no more news from the Airbnb, he remained optimistic.

Towards the end of the day, he received an unexpected call from Derek Fraser thanking him for being allowed to return home, and for placing a uniformed officer in a car at the end of his driveway. The sceptic in Garrick thought that his heartfelt outpouring was more to do with the fact he had yet again been a media darling as he recounted his near-death experience. He had used the opportunity to announce that it had happened with two more new pieces of artwork falling into his possession and, like the showman he was, he added further petrol to the story by suggesting that Hoy may be cursed. Rather than put buyers off, it seemed to have the perverse effect of attracting them to the works. Why spend money on an ordinary painting, when you could have one with links to the supernatural?

Forensic evidence showed the gunman had fled in a car parked in a country lane behind the hotel. It was probably the way he had gained entry too. Garrick had asked for security footage of everybody entering the orthodox way prior to the video cameras being sabotaged. If the gunman hadn’t cut them himself, then he must have had an accomplice on the inside. Garrick looked at everybody coming and going until the two key cameras went dead, but nobody leapt out as a possible suspect. As he’d only seen the man’s eyes and had a sense of his general height and build, he had little to go on, but everybody caught on camera seemed too old, tall, small, or fat.

He also noticed that the cameras had been cut before the black Hyundai arrived.

By the time it reached five o’clock the team drifted home, all of them were exhausted. Except Garrick. He called Wendy – noticing that he had three missed calls from Molly Meyers, who had also made capital by appearing as a guest on various news channels. He suspected it wouldn’t be long before the job offers followed; she was photogenic, articulate and savvy. It felt like the only people not yet benefiting from the case were Rebecca Ellis and himself.

The Pizza Hut in Gillingham was not exactly a glamorous location, but Wendy had been excited when he suggested they meet there. She greeted him with a big hug and a short, but passionate, kiss. She gently rubbed the scratches on his cheek. Then the red welt which had almost vanished save a red blotch.

“You’ve been in the wars.”

When he told her if they had sat at the Pizza Hut in Maidstone they would have been assaulted by the press, Wendy had almost bounced in her chair with delight. She