Deadly Choices by Rachel McLean

Author:Rachel McLean [McLean, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Catawampus Press
Published: 2020-09-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty-Nine

Zoe pulled out from the Five Ways roundabout, wishing she could put her foot down and release some of this tension.

“Sorry, boss,” said Connie.

“Not your fault. I still want to speak to the partners, though.”

“Home addresses will be registered with Companies House.”

“Good. Did you believe those two?”

“Rice knew what he was doing. Coots… well, Coots was a PR guy. Who knows whether you can believe them?”

Zoe allowed herself a smile. She curled her toes inside her shoes, willing the traffic to clear. At last they reached the station.

Rhodri stood outside, shivering against the cold. The sky was leaden, and Zoe was grateful she wore a heavy shirt under her leather jacket.

“Not a fag break I hope, Rhodri?”

He blushed. Rhodri hadn’t smoked for eighteen months, and it had been a struggle for him.

“No, boss. Uniform have brought Mike Grainger in.”

She exchanged glances with Connie. “Excellent. Where from?”

“The hospital. He tried to get in another entrance.”

“Right.” Zoe walked into the station, feeling optimistic for the first time in over twenty-four hours. “Let’s interview him.”

The two DCs were behind her. She sensed a tension between them. Who would be chosen to accompany her?

She turned to them. “Is Mo around?”

Rhodri’s shoulders dropped. “No, boss. He’s gone to Erdington.”

“Don’t worry, Rhod. I was winding you up. Come with me. Connie, you check out Hatton and Banerjee, will you? I want to know everything about them. If they’ve so much as misfiled a receipt for a latte, I want to know about it.”

“On it.”

She smiled at Rhodri. “Have you seen Grainger, since they brought him in? Were you there?”

“I was at the flat. But it’s only ten minutes away. Fifteen, on a Monday morning. I got there just as the van left with him in it.”

“And he’s just got here.”

“Yep.”

“Good. Let’s not give him a chance to compose himself. Solicitor here?”

“Duty solicitor.”

She wondered which of the two regulars it was. Hopefully Frank Goad, who out of the two solicitors was less of a fan of the no comment interview.

Grainger was waiting with Goad in interview room three, the one that smelt of damp no matter how many times they cleaned it or brought in a portable heater. Zoe rubbed her arms for warmth and sat down.

“Michael Grainger, I’m DI Finch. We met yesterday at the hospital. This is DC Hughes.”

“You have to let me see my mum. She’s ill.”

“I know that, Mike, but I also know that when I spoke to you yesterday at the hospital, you ran from me.”

He shifted in his seat.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

He shared a look with his solicitor, who nodded.

“No comment.”

Zoe sighed. Not this.

“Mike, this really doesn’t look good for you. Most people don’t run away when they’re approached by a police officer.”

He shrugged.

“Do you know Alison Osman?”

Grainger looked up. He blinked a few times then looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap.

“You and she worked together, before you moved to Exeter.”

Another shrug.

“Mike, we really need to clear this up. Just tell me if you knew her.

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