Tell Me Lies

Book 0: Gardner and Freeman

by Rebecca Muddiman

Genres: Mystery; Police Procedurals

Synopsis

What would you do to protect your family?

Tell a lie?
Break the law?
Or solve the problem... for good?

The body in Lauren James's back garden belongs to her ex-boyfriend, Ritchie. DI Gardner thinks it's an open-and-shut case. But he reckoned without the interference of Lauren's father, local businessman and aspiring politician Walter James. And he couldn't know about the secrets that everyone involved wants to hide.

When a murder touches so many lives, not even the cops are immune from the consequences. In the end you must decide what you can live with: a loving lie or the deadly truth?

(P)2016 Hodder & Stoughton

Release date: March 10, 2016

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 400

Sample

Chapter 1

Tuesday, 28 December

‘Pick up, pick up, pick up. Please.’

She fumbled with her phone, dialling another number, praying to God that he’d answer her. ‘Please, please, please . . .’

The ringing cut off. She was through to voicemail. But what should she say?

‘Daddy. You’ve got to come over. It’s . . . Just come. Please.’

She hung up. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she could feel dampness seeping through her jeans onto her knees. She wondered if it was the frost or the blood.

She tried calling again. Tried another number. Why wouldn’t he answer her? Why wouldn’t anyone answer?

She closed her eyes. She could hear a bird chirping somewhere. She tried to focus on that. Tried to get out of her own body, her own thoughts. Think about the bird.

Still no answer. Who else? Who else could help her?

She tried another number, listened to the ringing, drowning out the bird.

‘Where are you? I need you. I don’t know what to do. Please call me back.’ She dropped her hand to her side. Clutched her phone. ‘Please, tell me what to do,’ she whispered.

She stood up. Her legs were soaked, frozen. She wanted to go back into the house but she couldn’t. What if someone saw her? What would that look like? Just leaving him there?

She squeezed the phone in her hand. Anger started to creep in through the gaps in her fear. Why had they just left her to deal with this alone? Again. They all claimed to love her. Claimed they’d protect her until the ends of the earth and yet they’d all disappeared. All hiding somewhere, away from the mess. Away from her.

She threw her phone to the ground and it landed beside him. Almost touching him. He could’ve reached out and taken it, easily, if he wanted to. He’d always wanted to before. Always checking her phone. Always asking where she’d been. Who she was with. What she’d done.

And what had she done?

She stepped closer. She was standing over him now. He looked smaller than usual – feeble, somehow. She kind of liked it.

Her feet were almost touching him. She wondered if she kicked him whether it would leave a mark. If they’d know she’d done it.

She blinked and stepped away. What was she doing? She picked up the phone, rubbing it against her thigh to dry it off. She knew what she had to do; knew that no one else was going to help her now.

She made another call. This one was answered straight away.

She listened to the words the woman said. She’d heard them before so many times but only on TV. It seemed strange that they were the same words in real life.

‘Hello?’

She realised that the TV words had stopped and she didn’t know what to say. What was the next line? Maybe if she’d stuck with drama school she’d have been able to do this better. Do something right for a change.

‘He’s dead,’ she said. It wasn’t the best opening line but it’d do. It was the truth at least.

‘Who’s dead?’

‘Ritchie.’

‘Who’s Ritchie?’

‘My boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.’ She wondered if the woman thought she meant ex in the sense that he was dead. But that’s not what she meant. ‘We broke up weeks ago,’ she explained. ‘I broke up with him. He didn’t want to.’

‘Okay, love, what’s your name?’

‘Lauren. Lauren James.’

‘Okay, Lauren. Where are you?’

‘At my house. In the back garden.’

‘Okay. And where’s your house? What’s your address?’

Lauren reeled off her address as she stood looking down at him. She could still hear the bird singing somewhere above her head. She wanted to focus on the bird but the woman on the phone interrupted.

‘Okay, Lauren. An ambulance is on the way. Can you—’

‘It’s no good. He’s dead already.’

‘Okay. Can you tell me what happened?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Did you find him?’

‘Yes.’

‘When?’

‘Not long ago. I saw him in the garden. I looked out the window and saw him. On the ground.’

‘Did he have an accident?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Is he ill? Heart problems?’

‘No.’

‘Tell me what you see, Lauren.’

‘Ritchie. He’s dead.’

‘Did you check his pulse?’

‘No,’ Lauren said.

‘Okay, do you think you could try that?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I can’t. There’s too much blood. Too much . . .’

‘Okay, Lauren. It’s okay. The ambulance will be there soon.’

‘It’s too late,’ Lauren said. ‘He’s dead. Send the police.’

Lauren hung up the phone. She could hear the bird again but this time it was louder, not so sweet. Not a bird, a siren.

Chapter 2

 

Lauren sat on the garden bench watching the paramedics pack up their things. She’d seen the disappointment on their faces when they saw the state of Ritchie. There was nothing they could do. But she’d told them that. Told the lady on the phone. Ritchie didn’t need an ambulance. He didn’t need anything any more.

But they’d looked at her like she was to blame. That she’d wasted their time. The one with the moustache glared at her. The other one, the skinny one, asked her if she was okay. But she could tell he didn’t care too much. She nodded and so he turned back to his partner and they both looked past her as more people showed up. Police, this time. And then she didn’t remember much. She watched them as they walked up to Ritchie as if they didn’t quite believe her when she’d told them he was dead. But why would she lie about it? Why would someone say their boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – was dead in their back garden when he wasn’t?

She could hear them talking, hear their radios. Hear them moving around her. But nothing made sense. It was like just another scene from The Bill. If only she’d watched to the end instead of falling asleep in front of the TV. Maybe she’d know what to do.

Lauren closed her eyes. Her head was banging. She shouldn’t have drunk so much last night, but it was too late for regrets now. She had bigger things to deal with: the police, the body, her dad. What would her dad say when he found out?

She wondered if Peter would be the one to tell him. If he’d go straight to her dad or if he’d do what she’d asked first. She’d called him again after hanging up on the police. She’d done what she had to. Done the right thing. Now she needed to protect herself.

Lauren opened her eyes to the commotion around her, the police, the paramedics, on their way out now. More people showed up. Men in suits, mostly. Some carried cases, bags of tricks. One started to pull on a plastic suit and she turned away. Someone was holding a reel of blue and white tape, someone else pointed towards the alley. This was a crime scene. That’s what it was.

She looked at the small crowd gathering by her back door. Another new face had arrived. This time people collected around him, talked at him. She heard someone address him as DI Gardner. He seemed to take it all in before speaking. And then he looked past them all to where Ritchie was. His eyes narrowed. Maybe he should’ve been wearing glasses.

Lauren stared at him and a shiver went through her as Gardner looked in her direction. Their eyes met and she felt like she was being judged.

Chapter 3

 

DI Michael Gardner stood on the patio, stamping his feet in an attempt to warm them up, and listened to each person relate in turn what they knew. He glanced down the garden, seeing the body at the end, sprawled, face down. The house owner, Lauren James, had called it in. He scanned the small crowd for her, stopping when he saw a young woman, late twenties at most, standing a few yards away, her jeans soaked with blood and mud. She saw him looking at her, held his gaze. Didn’t look too distraught for someone who’d found her ex-boyfriend dead in her garden.

He focused his attention back to those around him. The deceased, Richard Donoghue, had several injuries, mostly to the head. Time of death was approximately six to ten hours ago.

Gardner checked his watch. Nine fifteen a.m.

He stepped out of the huddle and assessed his surroundings. Lauren James couldn’t have been short of money. Her house was large, detached, in one of the nicer parts of Middlesbrough, a part they rarely talked about on the news. The garden was bordered by tall hedges on both sides. She liked her privacy.

He stepped onto the lawn, facing the house. Lauren had apparently seen the body from the kitchen window when she came down this morning. He looked up at the neighbouring houses and then back down the garden towards the body. The garden was long. It was likely a neighbour could see the end of it from an upstairs window. He’d check with them later, but for now he headed for Lauren.

‘Ms James?’ She nodded. ‘I’m DI Gardner.’

Lauren barely made eye contact, instead looking beyond him. She didn’t look like she’d been crying at all but maybe she was in shock.

‘Sir?’

Gardner turned to find one of the uniforms nodding towards the gate they’d all come through. DCI Atherton walked in, catching Gardner’s eye immediately.

‘Excuse me,’ Gardner said to Lauren, and walked slowly towards Atherton. He wondered why his boss was there. He rarely got his hands dirty, only when it was a high-profile case. As far as Gardner could tell this was not a high-profile case. The name Richard Donoghue rang a distant bell but Gardner got the feeling it was because he was some low-level criminal who’d made a small impression rather than that he was some kind of kingpin. So what was Atherton’s interest?

Gardner was about to ask Atherton when someone else came through the gate. Detective Superintendent Hadley. What the fuck was Hadley doing here? Gardner wondered what he was missing. The bloody Queen would turn up in a minute.

He glanced back at Lauren for a reaction. Maybe Hadley was a relative. That’d explain Atherton’s arrival, too. Ready to kiss arse at any given moment. But Lauren didn’t show any sign of recognition.

‘Atherton,’ Hadley called out, and he jumped round like a trained poodle. Hadley took Atherton aside and had a quiet word.

Gardner waited for the confab to finish so he could get his orders but Atherton and Hadley kept talking, glancing at Lauren every so often until their eyes settled on Gardner. Hadley patted Atherton on the shoulder before walking away.

‘What was that about?’ Gardner asked Atherton as he came towards him.

‘What was that about, sir?’ Atherton said and Gardner wanted to punch him in the face. He refused to repeat his question but he knew that wasn’t the point anyway. ‘Is there something I should know about the case?’ Gardner asked.

‘Superintendent Hadley wants me to be SIO on this,’ Atherton said.

‘Why? I’m quite capable of—’

‘I know your capabilities, Inspector, but Hadley wants me on it. You will act as deputy SIO.’

Gardner knew there was no point arguing. If Hadley wanted Atherton, there had to be a reason. Whether Gardner was ever let in on that reason was another matter. All he knew was that he was the better detective. Atherton was a politician.

‘He’s someone important, then?’ Gardner said, nodding towards the body of Ritchie Donoghue.

‘Not so far as I’m aware. But she is,’ Atherton said, his eyes settling on Lauren James.

‘Make sure none of them get past the cordons in the alley,’ Hadley said to no one in particular, addressing those gathered by the house as one before wandering back over, interrupting Gardner and Atherton. ‘Media’s here already,’ he said.

Gardner studied Hadley’s face, trying to work out how concerned he was, whether this was going to be an enormous, or merely a large, pain in the arse. He still didn’t know who the hell Lauren James was but she was clearly someone worth something for Hadley to be there. Gardner hadn’t had much to do with Hadley personally, didn’t know a great deal about the man. He knew he was capable; he hadn’t got where he was through politics alone, though it helped. But there’d always been rumours that Hadley was someone willing to turn a blind eye to certain things. Gardner didn’t know if those rumours had any truth to them, but he wasn’t willing to discount them altogether. Hadley was a climber, just as much as Atherton, and just because someone is good at their job, doesn’t mean they’re not also immoral. Gardner would take orders from the man but it didn’t mean he’d grant him his trust.

‘Should I talk to them?’ Atherton said, nodding over his shoulder towards the gathering reporters they could hear beyond the fence.

‘No. I’ll handle it. I don’t want any names out there yet but no doubt it won’t be long before the rumour mill starts to turn.’ Hadley glanced down the garden, his eyes resting on the prone body of Donoghue. ‘I really hope something horrible happens today. Make this look about as interesting as littering.’ He sighed and then walked away.

‘So?’ Gardner asked. ‘Who is she?’

‘Lauren James,’ Atherton said and Gardner shrugged. ‘Daughter of Walter James.’

Gardner felt his stomach drop. At least now he knew why Atherton was there. Why Hadley was there. But knowing didn’t make it any more palatable.

Walter James. A man with fingers in so many pies Gardner was amazed he hadn’t burnt them all off. Self-made millionaire. Owner of various businesses. On more committees and boards than it was really necessary for one man to be. A man with connections to anywhere that could give him a little boost of power, the local police department included. Also, a man who was currently campaigning to be elected as MP for Middlesbrough.

Gardner doubted that Walter James would win the seat. Despite playing up to both sides – his humble beginnings were flaunted in some areas, his status as Rich Important Man highlighted elsewhere – Gardner got the impression not many people liked him. Or maybe that was just him. Either way, James had little experience; a few years as a councillor at best. Surely no one was going to vote for him, even if the other options were limited. As far as Gardner could tell, the campaign was nothing more than another way to boost his ego and his profile, another grasp at the power he desperately wanted.

But win or lose, the man did have power, if only because of his available cash flow and his association with those in real positions of power. One of James’s campaign slogans was ‘Family First’, a ridiculous proposal from a man on his third marriage. But it seemed those marriages had been another stepping stone to his power grab. His former brother-in-law, from marriage number two, was a high-ranking officer, currently the head of the Professional Standards department. His current brother-in-law, a man who was apparently easily swayed by gifts, was a member of the police authority. Having the ear of both men meant Walter James was someone to be careful around. Basically, the man was a major pain in the arse.

Gardner had never liked him; he had the smarm and smugness of the politician turned up to eleven. But more than that he interfered in things that weren’t his business. Gardner was aware of several cases that had been prevented from going to court due to Walter James’s intervention. Often it was due to some business association rather than him trying to help out a mate. As long as his money was protected, James didn’t seem to give a damn whether his associates were sent down. But if it was going to affect him in any way, then clearly something had to be done. Favours had to be called in. Gardner himself had never had any major investigation disrupted by James but about a year earlier, Gardner had arrested James’s son, Guy. If things had gone smoothly, Guy would’ve been looking at a prison sentence for possession with intent to supply, but the case never got past the first hurdle. Somehow all the evidence seemed to disappear in a puff of smoke. It was hardly the crime of the century. Guy James was a stupid little rich kid rather than anyone they should really be concerned with. But it bothered him nonetheless.

Since then, any mention of James’s name – and with his campaign in full swing it seemed to be mentioned a dozen times a day – made him bristle. So no, he didn’t want to be working on a case in any way related to the man.

This investigation wasn’t going to be allowed to proceed as normal. Walter James would see to that. He had friends in high places and clearly wasn’t afraid to call in favours. Gardner looked around for Hadley and found him beside Lauren James.

Atherton leaned in towards Gardner, his voice low. ‘I don’t think I need to tell you that this is a sensitive matter.’

‘A murder, you mean?’ Gardner said. ‘I always treat murders with sensitivity. It’s part of the training.’

Atherton did his almost-laugh thing and then scowled at Gardner. ‘This needs to be dealt with quickly and quietly. If you can’t help me with that, I’ll find someone who can.’

Gardner wanted to tell him he’d treat this case the same as any other case, but Atherton had already walked away.

Gardner watched the three of them – Atherton, Hadley and Lauren. Apart from the blood on her knees, they looked for all the world like they were gossiping at a fundraiser, not standing yards away from a dead body. Hadley’s hand rested on Lauren’s shoulder. Protective. Reassuring.

Hadley looked up at Gardner, nodding, before breaking away from the party. Gardner steeled himself. ‘I just want to say you and DCI Atherton have all of my confidence. I’m sure you’ll clear this up for us.’

Gardner smiled. ‘That’s what I’m here for.’

Hadley gave him a tight smile and straightened his tie. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said and walked back to Lauren and Atherton. Gardner watched as Hadley said something into Atherton’s ear before disappearing to spin some stories to the press.

Gardner knew that Hadley was tight with Walter James. Had seen the photographs of them together at charity events, had read all the sickening sycophantic shows of support in the papers. There was no way Hadley was going to let this investigation proceed as normal either. At least not until Lauren was cleared of any suspicion.

Walter James was going to make sure his daughter didn’t go down for this. But Gardner wasn’t about to let someone guilty get away with anything. He didn’t give a shit whose daughter she was. If Lauren James had killed Ritchie Donoghue, he was going to prove it.

Chapter 4

 

One hour later, Gardner was fuming. Not only had Atherton been acting as if he were organising a wedding rather than a murder investigation, fluttering around making sure everything was just right, making sure Lauren was comfortable, that Walter was going to be happy, he had also assigned DC Craig Cartwright to the case. Gardner couldn’t stand Cartwright any more than he could Walter James. Cartwright made mistakes. He was more interested in working his way up the ladder than actually doing police work. And he was an arrogant little shit, too. But he was Atherton’s little shit, so there he was.

At least Cartwright had been put on house to house. He could manage to fuck that up as well, but anything as long as he was out of Gardner’s way. But no sooner had Gardner arrived back at the station than Cartwright was there, handing out orders and requesting information from support staff.

‘What are you doing?’ Gardner asked and Cartwright turned with a smug little grin. ‘You’re supposed to be knocking on doors.’

‘DCI Atherton thought I’d be better utilised here,’ Cartwright said.

‘And the door to doors?’

‘Covered,’ he said and turned his back on Gardner, who wanted to throw the little shit across the room. But what would be the point? Atherton probably had authorised the change, but not because Cartwright’s talents were being wasted out there, because Cartwright thought knocking on doors was below him and would’ve had a tantrum.

This might not have been Gardner’s case but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Cartwright rub his stink all over it. If he had to work alongside him, fine. He’d worked with people he didn’t like before, he could do it again. But he was here for one reason only and that was to find out who killed Ritchie Donoghue. That was if Lauren James’s solicitor ever showed up so they could get started.

Unable to watch Cartwright lording it over him any longer, Gardner headed outside for some fresh air. He leaned against the wall around the corner from the main entrance to the station, glad he’d had the foresight to put his coat on. It was times like this that he wished he still smoked. Not that he was overly stressed yet, not that he was craving one, it was just something to do. Truth was, he hadn’t smoked since he was in his early twenties and even then it had been more about something to do with his hands than a real addiction. But it was a good reason to be standing outside in the drizzling rain by himself. The weather hadn’t even had the good grace to snow for Christmas, just brought ice and freezing rain. As his mum used to say, it was too cold for snow. Someone walked past in a hat with reindeer antlers on the sides, possibly a pre-Christmas insanity purchase or an unfortunate gift. Either way he didn’t look thrilled to be wearing it.

Gardner watched people come and go as he stood there and wondered if he should call Freeman. He’d met DS Nicola Freeman a couple of weeks earlier on a case that he really should’ve stayed out of. But she’d dragged him into it and maybe it’d done him some good. He might not have completely exorcised all his demons but he’d at least given them a bit of a kicking, and that was pretty much down to Freeman. There was something about her. She was easy to talk to; didn’t seem to care much about what anyone thought of her. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since that day in the pub. He’d even turned down a second date with a woman he’d met on the internet because of her. Or maybe that had been because the idea of internet dating made him feel a bit queasy. But anyway, if it hadn’t been for a drunken phone call – hers, not his – on Christmas Eve they might not have stayed in touch. It was likely he’d have bottled it and never called her again. She’d been through her own shit lately and was obviously feeling down – alone and needing someone to talk to. Gardner knew the feeling and was more than happy to listen. What else was he going to do? It wasn’t like he was inundated with festive visitors either. The next day he’d invited her down for New Year and instantly regretted it in the face of her uncharacteristic silence. At least she’d had the good grace to say she’d think about it.

So now New Year’s Eve was closing in and it didn’t look like he’d be doing any partying, never mind having an awkward encounter with a colleague he barely knew. But did he really need to call her to cancel? Was it likely she’d show?

‘Oi.’

Gardner looked up and saw Harrington standing in the doorway, freezing in his short-sleeved shirt.

‘Her solicitor’s ready,’ Harrington said.

Gardner nodded and followed him inside. ‘Let’s do it.’

Chapter 5

 

DS Nicola Freeman did another circuit of the TV channels, barely pausing long enough on each one to figure out what it was, never mind if it was worth watching. In the end she let it stop on some animated film that was bound to start annoying her eventually.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the Christmas tree lights blinking away and wished she hadn’t bothered with decorations. Not that a single foot-high tree with two baubles and a few lights constituted decorations. It was worse than not bothering at all. At least having no decorations was a statement. This was just lazy. She shuffled around on the settee until she could no longer see the thing and pretended it wasn’t there. Maybe she should just take it down anyway. It wasn’t Christmas any more. It was that stupid, depressing time between Christmas and New Year when all the goodwill people had been feeling for weeks had worn out and now everyone was just counting down the days until life got back to normal. There was New Year’s Eve, of course, but only idiots thought that was something worth looking forward to.

She switched the TV off and sat there in the half-light of the grey morning wondering how long it would take to drive to Merthyr Tydfil. Not that she particularly wanted to go to Merthyr but at least her brother, Mark, and his numerous offspring would be making noise, distracting her from her own thoughts. And there’d be food, lots of food. They’d have had a proper turkey dinner for Christmas instead of an overdone baked potato.

Freeman turned her back on the room, pulling the blanket around herself, and tried not to think about how shitty she was feeling. Why had she thought putting in some annual leave over Christmas would be a good idea? It wasn’t like she had anything to celebrate, and with the rest of the Family Freeman gone to Wales she didn’t even have anyone to pretend she was having fun with. She’d spent Christmas Eve moping around, wondering if she’d done the right thing in not telling her ex, Brian, about the abortion. And then she’d got drunk and almost called him. Thankfully a knock on the door had saved her from that fate. But after a couple of hours and half a dozen sherries at her neighbour’s, she’d ended up making a stupid, drunk call anyway. Fortunately she’d been beyond calling Brian at that point and instead chose to call the one person who knew what she’d done, the one person she felt she could talk to at 11.30 p.m. on Christmas Eve – Michael Gardner. And why wouldn’t she? She’d met him barely a fortnight ago. He was an acquaintance. Why wouldn’t she drunk dial him at Christmas?

Freeman pressed her face against the blanket, cringing at the memory. He’d answered her call, somewhat bewildered, but to give him credit he’d listened to her ramble on and even called her back the next day to wish her a more sober happy Christmas as well as to check she was okay. Despite the unbelievably bad hangover, she’d enjoyed talking to him, but after half an hour or so it had become awkward and she’d said she had to go and sort the dinner. She didn’t tell him that meant her Christmas potato was burning. So he’d wrapped things up, wished her happy Christmas again, and then asked her if she’d be interested in coming down to Middlesbrough for New Year. And then there’d been that buzz on the line where no one speaks for just a second or so but it seems like forever. She’d eventually said she’d think about it but that pause had made it awkward and she bet he wished he’d never asked. And to be honest she wished he hadn’t either. Not that she didn’t enjoy his company or that he wasn’t attractive, it was just that she didn’t know what kind of offer. . .