Macmillan. But before Brady could get something on Macmillan, some bastard had blown his cover; literally.
Brady knew when to keep his mouth shut, more so after Gates had told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t interested unless Brady had concrete evidence against the man. And that was the problem with Macmillan, he made sure he socialised with the right kind of people. Even his penchant for prostitutes, the younger the better, was never reported at the station, let alone in any of the papers.
Rubenfeld knew all about Macmillan’s dirty little ways, but even he couldn’t get anyone interested in exposing the Mayor.
‘The greasy git has the right approach. He knows how to stop people talking. Money, Jack. Money! In the right hands you can get away with murder!’ Rubenfeld had grumbled that night in the pub before knocking back his fifth whisky chaser.
Brady hadn’t been able to resist counting; after all, it was his money that was loosening Rubenfeld’s tongue.
Brady sighed now as he thought about it. Rubenfeld was right and he knew it; money could buy anything.
As soon as he opened the door to the Incident Room it hit him. Perfume. It was an intoxicating smell, one that embodied the wearer; expensive, distinctive, desirable, and equally unattainable.
An attractive, tall, dark-haired woman in her early thirties stood up. Her long, slender body was dressed in a fifties retro-style grey woollen dress. A large buckled belt accentuated her narrow waist and shapely hips, which provocatively swayed as she walked over in her three-inch designer heels.
She smiled at Brady.
‘I’m surprised to see you back so soon,’ Dr Amelia Jenkins coolly greeted.
Jenkins’ sleek, raven-black razor-cut bob swung back from her prominent cheekbones as she turned to DS Adamson who remained seated at the long conference table.
‘Robert has been an excellent replacement,’ she added as she flashed him a smile.
Brady refrained from saying what was on his mind. The arrogant look on Adamson’s face assured Brady that he hadn’t wasted any time with Jenkins.
‘He had a lot to say about you,’ Jenkins continued.
‘I’m sure he did,’ Brady said as he looked straight at Adamson.
Brady couldn’t stomach the guy and he was certain the feeling was mutual. He definitely didn’t like the idea of Adamson and his ex-shrink discussing him. He wanted Adamson out of the way. He could see that Adamson was already starting to make himself quite at home. Next thing, Brady would find him setting up office in his damned room.
‘Adamson, I’d like you to accompany Harvey to Rake Lane Hospital with the Simmons so they can ID the body,’ Brady instructed.
‘Surely I’m better off working on the investigation here rather than wasting my time acting as a chaperon?’ Adamson asked disdainfully.
Brady stared at Adamson.
‘You’re done here,’ he firmly answered. ‘And Adamson?’
Adamson looked at Brady contemptuously.
‘Don’t ever undervalue the significance of accompanying the next of kin when identifying a murder victim. Their reaction to the victim’s body will be very telling.’
‘What exactly do you expect them to do given the fact that her face is unidentifiable?’ sneered Adamson.
‘I’m more interested in their reaction to the tattoo,’ replied Brady curtly.
Brady heard Conrad shift his feet uncomfortably behind him. He couldn’t help but notice that Jenkins was watching his reaction to Adamson with great interest.
Then again what else did he expect from her? She was after all the police shrink; his shrink. That was until he refused to cooperate. He had been forced by Gates to sit in front of her, hour after hour while she watched, waiting for him to break. She had tried to make a big deal of Brady’s childhood but he refused to talk about it. When he did eventually talk, it wasn’t to discuss what had happened, it was only to tell her that he was going to deal with his problems the old-fashioned way; with a bottle of Scotch. That had been over five months ago and he hadn’t seen or heard from her since.
Brady noticed the sneer on Adamson’s face at the mention of the tattoo due to its intimate location.
‘Just do as I’ve instructed otherwise you’ll find yourself removed from this investigation,’ Brady ordered.
‘On whose authority?’ challenged Adamson as he clenched his heavy-set square jaw ready for a fight.
‘On mine. This is my investigation, regardless of what you think. So either you accept your orders or you go back to North Shields.’
Adamson’s bright blue eyes blazed with anger, telling Brady that this wasn’t over.
‘And you’ll find that DCI Gates will back me up, Adamson. So don’t think he’ll be interested.’
Brady watched as Adamson’s jaw clenched even tighter but he kept his mouth shut. Adamson straightened his tie before picking up his suit jacket. He looked at Brady.
‘Anything else before I leave?’
‘Tell Harvey to wait for Dr Jenkins. She’ll be accompanying you.’
‘Whatever you say, boss,’ replied Adamson thickly.
Brady waited until Adamson had left the room before turning to Jenkins.
‘Look, Jack. I really wish I could help but …’ Jenkins stopped and apologetically shook her head. ‘I don’t know what good I would do by being present at an identification.’
‘I need you there. I wouldn’t trust Adamson answering the bloody phone, let alone accompanying the Simmons to ID their daughter,’ answered Brady.
‘Still … I don’t see how me being there helps?’
‘The victim was just a kid, a fifteen-year-old kid,’ Brady quietly said. ‘She was choked to death first. And then for some reason, whoever murdered her decided she was too pretty. So her face was bludgeoned beyond human recognition.’ Brady’s eyes drifted over to the explicit photographs of the victim displayed on the whiteboard on the wall in front.
‘I will use every resource available to me to get whoever did this to her. And that includes you, Dr Jenkins,’ Brady said as his eyes met hers.
Jenkins didn’t react but Brady knew he’d hit a nerve. It was a cheap shot but he had no choice. He needed her to be there when the Simmons identified the victim, that was all there was to it. He knew she had a background in criminal psychology. It wasn’t his business to ask her why she opted out and turned to practising clinical psychology instead but he presumed something had shaken her to her core. Which was why he was so surprised that firstly Gates had asked her to be part of the investigation, and secondly, that Jenkins had agreed. He made a mental note to do some homework on Dr Amelia Jenkins to find exactly what had caused her sudden departure from criminology.
‘How can you be so sure the victim is their daughter anyway?’ asked Jenkins. ‘Don’t you think that such an elaborate tattoo is unusual for someone her age?’
Brady stood his ground calmly.
‘No, it’s her,’ he quietly insisted. ‘And yes it is unusual, but something about this tells me she wasn’t your typical fifteen-year-old schoolgirl.’
Jenkins raised her eyebrows.
‘Don’t tell me, a hunch?’
Brady shrugged.
‘Something like that.’
Brady walked over to the table and poured himself a drink of water. He slowly drank the lukewarm liquid conscious that Jenkins was watching him. Finished, he placed the glass down and looked up at her.
‘I need you with them when they identify her. In particular I need you to watch Paul Simmons’ reaction.’
‘Why can’t you do it if it’s so crucial to the investigation?’
‘Because the man doesn’t trust me. He knows that I suspect he’s hiding something. Without me there he’s more likely to let his guard down. I believe he’ll know it’s her, but it will be the tattoo that will convince him.’
Jenkins shook her head, unsettling her raven-black, sleek bob.
