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

Chib lay the picture of Rebecca and the black-clad figure loading the bags into her boot.

“That is Terri Cordy.” Chib leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands together. “By all means continue telling us about this phantom Jenny friend of yours. But Miss Cordy is now in custody. She’s not as tight-lipped as you. Which probably shouldn’t be a surprise since she has a child to consider in all of this. You’re not a mother, are you? You don’t know how strong that bond can be.”

Rebecca glowered at Chib but said nothing. Garrick could almost feel the slap Chib’s veiled threat contained. So far, all Terri Cordy had done was sob hysterically and answer only the most basic of questions. He made a mental note, Chibarameze Okon was not as sweet as she made out to be.

“Derek couldn’t have children,” Rebecca said quietly. “Thank God. It would have been like giving birth to a weasel.” She took a moment to compose herself. “You have the wrong opinion about me.”

“I can only form an opinion on what you tell me, Rebecca.” Chib’s tone was warm. She was playing a one-woman good-cop/bad-cop routine.

“Everything I told you about Jenny’s situation was the truth. Except, Jenny is Terri.” She toyed with the photograph. “She wanted to get away from Huw. He was abusive. The problem is, she couldn’t admit that to anybody. She certainly wouldn’t admit that to you. But she was frightened and wanted to run.” She picked up the photograph and studied it. “She really wanted to jump on the train and head to the continent. But she didn’t even possess a passport. I was trying to help her move some things out, so when she left, she wouldn’t lose everything.”

They had run background checks on Huw Crawford. There was no sign of a violent past, he came across as the quiet boy next-door. However, the armed robbery, attack on Fraser, and the hit-and-run were more than enough to convince Garrick that Crawford was a nasty piece of work.

Rebecca shifted in her seat, battling her own self-doubt. Garrick was surprised to see tears roll down her cheeks. Just how good an actress was she?

“The plan was for me to move as many of her things as I could to Portugal. She was going to stay with Oscar and me until she could find her feet.”

Garrick couldn’t hold back. “That was very understanding of you.”

She fixed him with her steely gaze. “You do not know how understanding I am, Detective.” She spat the words out as if they were a threat.

“Once she has her passport, she is coming over with little Ethan.”

“It sounds like you took a lot of time planning it,” said Chib softly. “Which is confusing because you told us you’d only come over when you discovered Derek was still alive.”

“Oscar had suggested it before all of this happened.” She waved her hand to take in the interview room. “And I came to see for myself that the son of a bitch was still alive, and to find Oscar.”

“Oh, we’re still looking,” Garrick said. “Don’t worry about that. In fact, Interpol has just issued a Red Notice for him. Do you know what a Red Notice means?”

Rebecca gave a thin smile. “It means he can be arrested and brought back here for questioning. I also know what it isn’t. It isn’t an international arrest warrant. Which means you are scrambling to find any evidence to link him to your theories.”

She was irritating Garrick more than usual. Mainly because she was right, but partly because his migraine was returning. They had evidence that placed Crawford at the heist, and assaulting Fraser and Garrick at the hotel, but nothing yet that placed him with the corpse in Fraser’s house or the death of Mark Kline-Watson, other than the ownership of the gun.

“If you ask me, Rebecca, it looks as if your beloved Oscar Benjamin has disappeared so you can all take the fall for everything he’s done. Just like his brother did.”

“For what he’s done? Enlighten me.”

Garrick held up the Tonbridge Station car park photo. “You met Terri Cordy here. She came straight from London. We have her movements logged on the tube gates she swiped in and out of. You didn’t meet to help her move her possessions out because, she had very few of them to begin with. I saw her flat. In fact, according to the CCTV footage, she arrived empty-handed. Those bags were ones you picked up from Stanley Matthews dealership next door. You must know good old Stan. He’s an old friend of your beloved Oscar.”

He noted the solicitor’s growing concern. Obviously, the facts were not tallying with what she had told him.

“Those bags were then spirited away.”

Rebecca leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. She kept one hand on the table, tracing lazy patterns across the surface.

“Why would we do that?”

“One thing about the heist that puzzled me, although it was smart. Risky, but smart. They performed the getaway on foot. No car to be stopped and swabbed for forensic evidence. Just a quick sprint down a couple of streets and they can deposit the bags at good old Stanley Matthews’ dodgy dealership and stroll out of town looking like a pair of innocent guys. Then, after they lie low and things die down, they can send in their better halves to pick up the loot.”

The intrepid solicitor waved his pen to intervene. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t right. You arrested my client on suspicion over the death of Mark Kline-Watson and the other fellow in Mr Fraser’s house. Yet you are now trying to connect her to an armed robbery that happened when she was out of the country? Are there any other unsolved crimes the Kent constabulary wants to throw at her? This is ridiculous! I demand that you release her immediately!”

Garrick completely blanked the indignant man. “That cash was bound for Mark Kline-Watson, wasn’t