“Come on, Miller, let’s go!” Hayes went to walk towards them.
The white guy put his hand up, stopping Hayes. “Hold on. You’re investigating her murder, though, right?”
“Don’t put your hand on me,” Hayes warned.
“That’s assaulting a police officer, right there.” Miller waited for her supervisor to make the first move, which she would; she could feel the tension in the air, everyone could. The teenagers moved back, giving her and Hayes room. To the right of her was the passenger side door. “What do you guys want? Trying to intimidate us?”
“We want to know where that worthless piece of shit, Dylan Oldham’s hiding, and we know you must have asked that fat bitch daughter of hers by now. If you tell us where he is, we’ll walk away–”
“And if not? If we refuse to tell you, what then?” Hayes was defiant.
Miller could feel the anger emanating from her partner. “Yeah, we know where Oldham’s at, but we’re not going to put him in harm’s way by telling you, are we?”
The white guy grabbed Hayes.
Hayes gripped White Guy’s hand, twisted it until he groaned, bent his arm and turned him round, almost breaking the guy’s arm in the process. She tripped him, and he went belly first on the ground, with Hayes kneeling on his back while she cuffed him. “What’re you waiting for, Miller? Stop playing with him; we haven’t got all afternoon.”
Black guy stared at his partner cuffed, then back at her. Miller gave him a “Well?” stare, and he put up his fists, like he was about to fight her. Going along with it, she raised hers, hearing the excitement from behind her.
Bored, Miller dropped her guard, lunged forward, grabbed his T-shirt, and brought her knee through. It connected with his genitals with a satisfying thud. He collapsed on the floor. “You see, boys? It never pays to pick on girls.”
Their mouths hung open. Miller grinned, as she crouched and forced Black Guy onto his belly while she cuffed him. She read them their rights to cheers from the teenagers. She noticed some teenage girls had come to see what the fuss was about.
“Now it’s your turn, boys. You’re going to tell us everything you know about Dylan Oldham, starting with why you want him, and who you work for.”
Miller yanked Black Guy to his feet and opened the back passenger door, while Hayes walked her collar to the opposing side. With the two suspects in the rear, she sat in the front passenger seat and waited for her supervisor.
20
“It was good of Inspector Gillan to offer to interview them for us.”
Hayes opened the front door of The Half Moon Wetherspoons pub on Mile End Road and held it open for Miller to walk through. “Yeah, they know we’re under the cosh. Besides, I think they’re repaying us for giving them a second chance with Helsey.” She followed her partner into the open plan pub.
“I bet they’re shitting their pants, though, right? How’s it going to look if they have the wrong guy in lock-up?” Miller huddled in towards her. “I know I would be.”
“It’s not just Gillan and Travis, though, is it? The CPS must’ve thought they had enough evidence. They’re lucky it hasn’t gone to trial yet. Can you imagine the shitstorm if they’d convicted the wrong guy?” She tried attracting the barman’s attention by holding up her warrant card.
Even at half four in the afternoon the bar was busy. Hayes leaned on the polished surface and scanned the room. There were two large groups of regulars. A group of fifteen heavy drinkers to her left and about a dozen to her right. The other tables were occupied by a mixture of older and younger punters. “My bet’s on her.”
Miller spotted the old woman. “Mine too. Excuse me!”
After Miller’s less-than-subtle attempt at grabbing the server behind the bar, the young lad excused himself from the couple he was serving. “Yes, I’m right in the middle–”
“Detective Sergeant Rachel Miller.” She held up her identification. “I just need to ask, is that Katherine Reid over there?”
“Kat, yeah, sure.” He apologised to the couple. “Is that it? Can I go now?”
“By Kat, you mean Katherine, right?”
“I wouldn’t call her that – she’ll throw you out if you do. She likes to be called Kat.” He walked back to his paying customers. “And good luck, by the way, she hates cops.”
Hayes joined her partner and walked towards the group of fifteen drinkers, who looked like they’d started when doors opened. As soon as they headed in the group’s direction wearing their suits, the comments began. “Afternoon everyone, we would like a word with Kat, please.”
One of the men said, “You can have two words from me: fuck and off. Or is that three?”
Hayes laughed with the group, like she hadn’t heard it before. She encouraged Miller to join her in laughing. “Yeah, that’s really good. And you are?”
The craggy old guy seemed confused. “I am what? You asked me.”
Both tables of well-oiled drinking machines erupted in laughter, with a couple of heavy-handed old guys thumping the table, spilling drinks. “We’re not going to get much out of anyone here,” Hayes whispered. “Look at them; they’re wasted.”
“Let me try it a different way.” Miller took out her identification. “I don’t mean to break up this party, but you’re all under arrest, unless one of you tells us which one of you is Katherine Reid.” She made a point of emphasising Katherine.
“Ooh, Katherine! Toffee-nosed twat,” one old boy shouted.
An old woman, the one she’d pointed out to Miller, mumbled to herself.
Behind the tables, the woman mounted a mobility scooter.
Hayes ran to get in front of her. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere, Mrs Reid. You’re going to answer some questions about your daughter.”
Katherine “Kat” Reid, drunk, pushed her, hard.
Hayes stumbled back as the old woman zoomed towards the glass doors.
“What’s the matter? Can’t you handle her?” Miller grinned, before
