Crown Court Killer Read online

“It’s not twaddle when my team’s higher up the table than yours.” Osian needled him further. They’d supported rival London football teams from the time they were kids. “Would you rather not watch?”

  Dragging himself out of bed, Dannel chose to ignore his fiancé. It would only encourage him to keep talking nonsense. There was no way his team would lose.

  The only time Osian and Dannel ever disagreed on anything was over footie and which bread made the best toasties. A promising sign, in his mind, to the strength of their relationship. His parents had argued over loads of things until they’d divorced.

  Dannel put that thought out of his mind; he didn’t want to think about his dad’s push for reconciliation. He was trying to be less stubborn. It wasn’t easy for him, no matter how much everyone encouraged him.

  He didn’t understand how non-autistics seemed to easily forgive and forget.

  Maybe twenty-plus years is too long to hold a grudge when I didn’t understand what was happening at the time to begin with?

  Maybe.

  Does any kid grasp the intricacies of their parents’ relationship?

  Probably not.

  During the journey to Wayne’s flat, Dannel mulled things over. His proposal to Osian had forced the issue with his father. If they had a full-on wedding, Myron would obviously want to be there for his son.

  Or so Dannel had been told by everyone else in his family.

  The jury was still out for him.

  “We’re here.” Osian nudged him out of his thoughts. “Not sure the Uber driver wants to idle forever.”

  “Sorry.” Dannel muttered an apology to the driver and got out of the car. He leaned his forehead against Osian’s shoulder after the vehicle had driven away. “Maybe we should’ve stopped for coffee.”

  “Poor lad.” Osian reached up to gently massage Dannel’s neck. “It could always be worse.”

  “How?”

  “Chelsea could’ve already won.”

  “Arse.” Dannel went to push him away when flashing lights caught his attention. “Ossie.”

  “Hmm?” Osian followed his gaze to the numerous police vehicles blocking off a section of the car park. “Someone’s died.”

  “Checked your crystal ball?”

  “Don’t be daft.” Osian gestured to a group off to one side near the entrance to the building. They walked closer, trying to see what was happening. “Haider’s over there. Why else would they call him in, since he mostly handles homicides?”

  “Rolly.” Dannel spotted his brother speaking with Detective Inspector Haider Khan. Roland was waving his hands about quite animatedly. “He’s not happy.”

  “Inside voice,” Osian murmured. “Let’s not draw the attention of the nice constables and detectives just yet.”

  “Look.” Dannel elbowed Osian in the side, nodding his head toward a familiar figure seated in the back of one of the police vehicles. “Not good.”

  “Wayne locked up in the back is more than not good.” He caught Dannel by the arm, guiding him forward. “Let’s see if Haider will tell us anything.”

  “Wayne’s car.”

  They’d moved close enough to easily see the vehicle cordoned off with caution tape. Several detectives were inspecting the interior while others, who Dannel recognised from the coroner’s office, lifted a body out of the boot onto a stretcher. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “Danny.” Roland drew their attention, jogging over. He gripped Dannel’s arms tightly as if he’d fall over without the hold. “They won’t listen to me.”

  Gone was his confident and strong brother. Dannel awkwardly hugged Roland. He couldn’t recall ever seeing him so affected.

  Dannel didn’t quite know how to help his brother. He couldn’t tell if Roland was angry or sad; deciphering emotions didn’t come easily to him. “Who’s not listening to you about what?”

  “DI Khan. Any of them.” Roland shook his head, stepping back and standing up straight. “They’ve taken Wayne in for questioning because they found Barnaby’s body in his boot.”

  “I’d honestly hoped we’d run out of dead bodies to find.” Dannel kept a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  “Maybe third time’s the charm?” Osian suggested.

  “We’ve discovered more than three bodies.” Dannel noticed several of the detectives continuing to inspect Wayne’s vehicle. “What have the police found?”

  Maybe if they focused on the facts, Roland would have a chance to collect himself. Dannel would do anything to help his little brother. He also didn’t believe Wayne was capable of murdering anyone.

  Destroying with sharp words? Definitely. Wayne had a gift with them. It made him a devastating opponent to face in court.

  “Constable Ortea. I see you’ve found supporters.” Detective Inspector Khan joined the three of them. “Why are you two always at my crime scenes?”

  “We can’t always be at your crime scenes,” Dannel argued. “Not logical. You’ve had more than three cases in the months we’ve been acquainted. If you haven’t, London’s got a lower crime rate and a higher number of detective inspectors than I imagined.”

  “He didn’t mean literally every crime scene.” Osian leaned in closely, keeping his voice low.

  “Right.” Dannel appreciated Osian’s always keeping an eye or ear out for him, helping him when things got muddled up. “Have you arrested Wayne?”

  When in doubt, distract them with a difficult question.

  “We haven’t made any arrests,” Haider insisted. “A body has been found in the boot of his vehicle. The death was clearly not accidental. We quite naturally have questions needing to be answered. Mr Dankworth has thus far refused to cooperate.”

  “Asking for his solicitor to be present isn’t a lack of cooperation.” Roland folded his arms across his chest. He glowered at Haider, who remained unmoved. “He’s within his rights to not speak with the police.”

  “I agree.” Haider nodded. “We can’t, however, ignore the facts. Once we have him at the station and his solicitor arrives, I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of things quickly.”

  “We could—” Osian started only to be cut off by Haider immediately holding a hand up.

  “You could both stay out of this. Haven’t you come close enough to serious injury playing amateur detective?” Haider glanced behind him when one of the constables called his name. “I’ll try to keep you up-to-date with what’s happening.”

  They watched him stride across the car park. He got into the vehicle with Wayne and drove off moments later; Roland muttered several curses under his breath. It had definitely not been the best way to start their day.

  Dannel grabbed his brother when he went jogging towards his car. “Where you going?”

  “I’m not leaving Wayne to face a potential murder charge on his own.” Roland tried to jerk away from him. “Let go, Danny.”

  “Focus. Who’s Wayne’s solicitor?” Osian leapt into the conversation. “Get them on the phone. They’ll want to know what’s happened and be there with Wayne. We’ll hang around here for a few minutes to see if we can’t sniff out any of the details.”

  “I’m going,” Roland reiterated. He had his phone out and was already beginning to dial. “Give me a second. Not sure I should drive.”

  “Of course you shouldn’t.” Dannel had no doubts his brother would stand firmly behind Wayne. “Just remember to try not to give them a reason to sack you.”

  Despite his constant protesting about not being a detective yet, Dannel knew his brother had ambitions for his career as a police officer. Roland putting himself out for Wayne might tank those goals. Not that it mattered to him.

  “What would you do for Osian?”

  Dannel didn’t need to consider the what-if. Osian had been falsely accused of murder several months ago. “I’d do anything I possibly could.”

  “Exactly,” Roland muttered through gritted teeth. “And so would I.”

  THREE

  OSIA
N

  When the police drove off with Wayne, Osian had worried he’d have to restrain both Ortea brothers. He hadn’t been looking forward to the attempt, but they’d calmed themselves down. A small miracle.

  It didn’t take long for Roland to disappear. One of the barristers from Wayne’s firm showed up. They’d be representing him during the police interrogation.

  Once Roland had left, Osian turned his attention to Dannel. They’d both been hoping for a calm November. And no more bodies. Hadn’t three murders in a row at the Evelyn Lavelle theatre been sufficient?

  “I see Willa.” Dannel pointed toward a well-dressed woman chatting on her phone near the entrance to Wayne’s building. “I think. Maybe?”

  Wrapping his arm around Dannel’s shoulder, Osian eyed the woman. She did seem familiar. He knew Dannel often struggled with remembering faces.

  It had become almost a phobia.

  “Why don’t we go have a chat with her?” Osian thought it might be helpful to get an outside perspective on what happened before they arrived. Roland had been too upset to give them any information. “Or you could snoop around Wayne’s car while I speak to her?”

  “Excellent plan. I’ll be sneaky.”

  “Just pretend you’re walking around on the phone. No one ever pays attention when someone’s nattering to someone.” Osian gave Dannel a quick kiss then made his way over to the solicitor. She finished up her conversation as he walked up to her. “Willa Abraham, right?”

  She eyed him suspiciously for a moment before accepting the hand he’d held out to her. “Obsidian? Right?”

  “Osian.” He tried not to laugh at her obvious dismissal of his existence. “We met at one of Wayne Dankworth’s parties. You work with him, right?”

  Willa raised an eyebrow at him. She didn’t answer for several moments. “Oh, yes, you’re the one who pretends to be Sherlock Holmes.”

  Pretends?

  Bit rude.

  If anything, Dannel and I bumble along while everyone else assumes we’re investigating.

  That’s my story, and I am sticking to it.

  Osian decided to harness her disdain into something more useful. “Police seem to be drawing a lot of attention this morning.”

  “They found a body in the boot of Dankworth’s car.” Willa was suddenly almost gleeful in her excitement. She’d definitely been waiting to share what she knew with someone. “Not surprised.”

  “Oh?” Osian tried to appear only mildly interested. She might clam up if he pressed too hard. “Was he acting suspiciously?”

  “Hadn’t you heard? Barnaby Sharrow, he’s the one in the boot.” Willa shifted closer when one of the detectives went by. “He cocked something up in court, hurting one of Wayne’s clients in the process. They had a fantastic argument, got themselves into trouble with a judge.”

  “Did they?”

  Willa nodded. “I wasn’t surprised.”

  “At the argument?” Osian prompted when she fell silent.

  “About Barnaby. He’s annoyed a fair number of people at the firm. Drinking in the office, leaving files about. He’s shown up late for court. I even heard from another barrister he punched a judge. No idea why they didn’t arrest him.” Willa sniffed dismissively. “No one knows what’s going on with him. Or was, I suppose.”

  “You don’t seem beaten about his death.” Osian made a mental note to find more out about the judge.

  “Barnaby jeopardised one of my cases recently. I’d been preparing to make a complaint about him.” Willa shrugged. She checked her phone when it beeped. “Dankworth’s saved me the trouble of dealing with the forms.”

  “You said he punched a judge?” Osian couldn’t help his curiosity.

  “Judge Hamnet Allsop. He’s an old crony of Barnaby’s wife and her family. Old money. You know the type.” Willa held her phone up. “Must take this.”

  Walking away without another word, Willa returned to the building. Osian decided to add her name to the suspect list. And the judge. He hadn’t wanted to pepper her with too many questions initially.

  He joined Dannel, who’d found a bench not far from Wayne’s vehicle. One of the constables appeared to be preparing it to be towed. They probably had to take the car somewhere more secure for processing.

  “Find out anything interesting?” Osian leaned into Dannel, who had his phone in camera mode, focused on the police. “Clever. We can review the video at home.”

  “Apparently, Wayne and Roland called the police.” Dannel pocketed his phone when one of the constables glanced in their direction. “They came out to get something from his car and found….”

  “A stiff?”

  “Ossie.” Dannel shushed him. “But yes, basically. They called the police. Constables obviously detained Wayne since the car belongs to him. Detectives arrived. How does a body get into someone else’s vehicle?”

  “Happens in movies all the time when someone’s being framed.”

  “This isn’t a movie.” Dannel fell silent when the constable glanced in their direction again. “Inside voice?”

  “Not quite.” Osian coughed through a laugh. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to themselves. “Why don’t we go to the police station? Offer moral support.”

  “Pretty sure Haider will call it offering to be a distraction and disruption.” Dannel stood up and grabbed his phone. “Uber?”

  “Why don’t we walk? We can pop by a coffee shop. I’m going to need more than what we’ve had to handle yet another murder mystery.” Osian decided leaving sooner rather than later would be wise. The constable kept looking over at them. “Ready?”

  Making a quick getaway, they strode away from the car park. Osian found it hard to fathom anyone believing Wayne capable of murder. A man wholly dedicated to truth and helping others. He went so far as to offer his services free of charge to those in need.

  Wayne? Murder someone? Not a chance.

  So, the question is, who wants the police to believe he did it?

  Barnaby Sharrow’s body had definitely been placed in Wayne’s boot on purpose. The killer didn’t pick a car randomly. They’d obviously attempted to get rid of two solicitor birds with one murderous stone.

  “I’ve got a few potential suspects.” Osian waited until they got far enough away from the police to speak.

  “Already?”

  “Willa, definitely. A judge. And Barnaby’s wife.”

  “His wife?” Dannel paused to wait at the zebra crossing.

  “It’s almost always the spouse.” Osian had done loads of research for an upcoming podcast episode all about the subject. “Or maybe not every time, but enough to make them top on the list of potential suspects.”

  After picking up coffee at the café around the corner, they made their way to the Charing Cross police station. Osian wasn’t sure what they’d accomplish. He wanted to be there for Wayne, nevertheless.

  Coffee in hand, they walked up the steps toward the police station. Osian had a strange sense of déjà vu. He remembered the immense anxiety from being questioned about his friend’s death.

  Questioned by Haider and several other detective inspectors.

  Suspected of murdering her when Osian had, in fact, been attempting to save her life. It had been Wayne who’d come to the rescue, talking his way around the detectives. He’d met their probing questions with pointed logic.

  Osian believed in returning favours. He wasn’t sure they were clever enough when it came to the law to be as much help as Wayne had been. “Ready to storm the castle?”

  “More of a building than a castle.” Dannel paused on the top step.

  “Castle’s a building, isn’t it?” Osian opened the door for him, bowing slightly. “After you. Beauty before the Beast.”

  “Daft git.” Dannel kept his voice low. “What if they don’t let us in?”

  Osian didn’t get a chance to answer. He spotted Detective Inspector Khan waiting for them inside the lobby. “Expecting us?”

  “O
ne of my constables spotted you on the way here.” Haider seemed almost resigned to their presence. “Mr Dankworth is speaking with his solicitor at the moment.”

  “Is he?” Osian pressed his lips together to keep from grinning at the obviously irritated detective. “You’d miss us if we weren’t here. How else would you solve your homicide cases?”

  “Forensics? Witness statements? CCTV footage? Mobile phone messages and tracking?” Haider ticked the items off on his fingers. “The list is endless.”

  “I mean, don’t hold back. Tell us how you really feel. We’re devastated by your casual dismissal.” Osian struggled not to snicker when he heard Dannel’s surprised laugh that he managed to turn into a coughing fit. “See? He’s all choked up by your disregard of our talents.”

  “I’m sure.” Haider motioned for them to follow him. He led them through the door off the side of the reception area and back to his office. “Have a seat.”

  “I sense a lecture coming.” Dannel perched on the edge of a chair, obviously prepared to bolt if necessary. He was the very picture of unease.

  Osian sat beside him, reaching a hand out to rest on his arm in the hopes of calming him down. “DI Khan knows we’re harmless.”

  “Harmless menaces who stumble into dangerous situations under the guise of solving mysteries.” Haider glanced pointedly between the two of them. “I’m hoping to head you off this time before you embroil yourself in my murder investigation.”

  “Wayne’s not a killer,” Dannel blurted out. “He’s not.”

  “We haven’t accused him of anything—”

  “Yet.” Osian cut the detective inspector off mid-sentence. “You had him sitting in the back of a police car and dragged him here for interrogation.”

  “First, stop watching detective shows. It makes you overdramatic.” Haider held a hand up to stop them both from reacting. “Second, we found a body in the boot of his car. What else could we possibly do but bring him in to answer a few questions? He’s not been arrested. We haven’t accused him of anything. Third, have you considered the possibility that if he’s innocent, someone’s obviously after him? Fourth, and most importantly, you are not investigators.”