Page 16
Chapter Thirteen
OCTOBER 2095
Josiah
There was a crowd of reporters, social media sleuths, and paparazzi waiting outside Inquisitus when Josiah arrived for work – far bigger than when he’d left the previous day. As soon as they saw his duck, they descended on him.
“Investigator Raine – do you have any news about who murdered Elliot Dacre?” one of them asked, shoving a microphone under his nose.
“No,” he replied shortly.
“Would you tell us if you did?”
“What do you think?”
“Indiehunter! Indiehunter! Here – over here! Have you charged Alexander Lytton with Dacre’s murder?”
“Nobody has been charged yet.”
“What happened to your face, Investigator Raine? Did Lytton attack you?”
Josiah ignored the question and pushed the man aside.
“Will you be charging Lytton?” another demanded, standing right in front of him, her hands planted on her hips.
“If we do, I’ll be sure to rush out here and tell you immediately,” he replied, with the sardonic tilt of his head for which he’d become famous.
“ If? ” She stood there, unmoving. “Yet another innocent houder has been mowed down in cold blood, and you’re saying ‘if’ you charge him?”
“Your assumption that Dacre’s indentured servant had anything to do with his murder is premature. Now – move.”
“Oh, come on. We all know he’s guilty. Alexander Lytton is a spoilt brat with no conscience.”
“Is he?” Josiah asked, feeling oddly defensive of the man in his custody.
A dozen microphones were immediately thrust under his nose.
“What have you found out, Investigator Raine?”
“What makes you think he’s different now?”
“Are you saying Alexander Lytton is a changed man?”
“I have nothing more to say.” Josiah reached out, picked up the woman in his way, moved her bodily to one side, and strode into the safety of the Inquisitus building.
He was greeted by a dishevelled Reed. Never a sartorial dresser at the best of times, Reed’s holotie was fading fast and clearly required charging, its colours no longer the glaring reds and blues of yesterday but muted pinks and turquoises flickering wanly instead.
“Were you here all night?” Josiah demanded.
“Me and my entire team. With all the data you wanted, where else did you think we’d be?” Reed frowned. “What happened to your face?”
“Cut myself shaving,” Josiah said smoothly. “I read the update on the file; it seems Elliot Dacre was living the high life on the never-never – and he had a croc habit.”
“Do you think his drug dealer got pissed off about not being paid and put a bullet through his head?”
Josiah shook his head. “In my experience, people who are owed money want their debtors alive so they can pay up, so no. What do we have back from forensics?”
“Early days yet, but so far, not much.” Reed pinged some holodocs into the air and flicked through them. “No signs of forced entry, no fingerprints that aren’t Dacre’s, Lytton’s, or the housekeeper’s, either, although we’re still looking. Chantal Boucher kept things pretty tidy – everything was cleaned and polished every day. It looks to me like Lytton shot Dacre, took himself off for his gym session like nothing happened, then returned with that innocent look on his face a few hours later, prepared to bluff it out.”
“Maybe – where is our prisoner right now?”
“In the interview suite as you requested.”
“How does he seem?”
“Fine. Slept like a baby, apparently.”
“So, no sign of a guilty conscience?” It seemed as if their prime suspect had slept better in a cell than he had in his own home.
“No sign of a conscience at all,” Reed said darkly. “You’ve read his file – Alexander Lytton leaves a trail of destruction wherever he goes.”
“He hasn’t been in any trouble since his sentence, though,” Josiah said, scanning the holodocs as they walked towards the interview suite.
“Yeah, he’s quite the model IS, apparently.”
“Hmm.” Josiah stroked his cut jaw absently, wondering how much being a “model IS” was an act. Reed was probably right to be sceptical.
“Find me a list of Dacre’s biggest creditors, track down his drug dealer, and make me an appointment with the solicitor who drew up his will,” Josiah ordered, waving the holodocs away as they reached the door of the interview suite.
“Do you want me on standby in the observation room?” Reed asked.
“No, I want you downstairs working. Leave Lytton to me.”
He watched Reed scurry off down the corridor, then took a deep breath, bracing himself for another encounter with his challenging prisoner.
Alexander was sitting at the table in the interview room, looking calm, when he entered.
“Good morning, Investigator Raine,” he said politely. Josiah grunted and sat down at the table. “Bad night?” Alexander glanced at the cut on his jaw and then at the black leather gloves covering his bruised knuckles. “Ah, not just a bad night, but a very bad night. You should try spending a night in one of your cells – it’s very peaceful. I slept well. ”
“God knows why; the press are outside, baying for your blood.”
“I’m sure they are. They’ve always had a ridiculous fascination with me. Do you intend to give it to them?”
“What?”
“My blood. Are you going to throw me to the wolves?” There was a weary, resigned look in his eyes.
“That depends on whether or not you killed Elliot Dacre.”
“I’ve already told you that I didn’t.”
“You had motive and opportunity.”
Alexander nodded slowly. “I know. I can see it doesn’t look good for me.”
“It doesn’t.”
Josiah folded his arms over his chest and studied his prisoner. Alexander looked deflated, the bravado of yesterday less in evidence. He seemed simply… sad. The scrubs he’d slept in were crumpled, there was a layer of dark stubble on his chin, and his hair was tousled.
“It would be easy for you to charge me and wash your hands of this entire case,” he said. “And of me.”
“That would be easy, yes, but I need to be sure before I do that.”
“You know there isn’t a jury in the land that wouldn’t find me guilty. It would be chalked up as one more glorious success for the famous Investigator Raine.”
“I don’t care about that,” Josiah said impatiently. “I need to be sure, and I’m not. I know you accidentally killed your mother, but could you murder a man in cold blood? Hold a gun to his head and pull the trigger?”
“I’ve asked myself this question before, but the answer is always no,” Alexander said. “And it would make your job so much easier if you didn’t believe me, but you do.”
Josiah snorted. “Don’t try and get inside my head, Lytton. You don’t know what I believe.”
“Is that so?” Alexander leaned forward, studying him intently. “I know that every time one of those idiots from the press calls you ‘indiehunter’, it makes you angry. I’m also pretty sure you got into a fight after you finished interrogating me last night, because you have a cut on your face and you’re wearing gloves to hide the bruises on your fists.”
He paused, then added softly, gently: “And I know that yesterday was the anniversary of your husband’s death, and I think maybe that’s why you wanted to fight.”
Josiah sat there stonily, giving nothing away, but he was unsettled by Alexander’s accuracy.
“As you know so much about me, or think you do, maybe you should be the investigator.”
“I would be exceptionally bad at it.” Alexander gave a wry smile.
“What do you know about Dacre’s drug habit?” Josiah asked, changing the subject abruptly.
Alexander shrugged. “Elliot loved croc and various other recreational drugs. He spent a lot of money on them.”
“You were high on croc when you crashed that duck thirteen years ago and killed your mum.”
“Yes.” Alexander didn’t even flinch.
“Did you do croc with Elliot Dacre?”
“If he wanted me to. He was my houder; I did whatever pleased him.”
“Are you a croc addict, Alexander?” he pressed. “Were you high on croc yesterday morning? Was that why you killed Dacre?”
“Croc doesn’t give that kind of high, but I’m sure you know that.”
“What does it do, then?”
“It makes you cry.” Alexander smiled. “It makes everything hazy, and sweet, and mellow, and then it makes you weep like your heart is breaking, only you don’t feel sad. You’re about as likely to murder someone on croc as you are after drinking a strong cup of coffee.”
“And when there’s no croc? Did Elliot’s money trouble mean he couldn’t provide you with the croc you wanted? Did that make you angry? Did you kill him in a fit of rage because he controlled whether you could have croc or not?”
“No,” Alexander said flatly. “Croc’s mildly addictive – on a par with caffeine or sugar, although a bit more intense. It’s nice, but it doesn’t turn you into a homicidal maniac if you can’t have it. My turn now: Do you miss him that much? Does the fighting make it hurt less, or do you just need the release it offers?”
“Why do you want to know?” Josiah fired back, annoyed with himself for getting drawn into this personal conversation, but somehow unable to resist.
“Because you intrigue me. What’s it like to have been so much in love that it still hurts so badly, after all this time?”
Josiah sat back in his chair, winded. “How did you know it was yesterday?” he asked. “The anniversary of his death – how did you know?”
“I read about it. I remember things. I have a good memory.” Alexander shrugged.
Josiah sensed a glimmer of a lie, but he couldn’t identify it. There had been numerous articles written about him since he’d risen to fame a couple of years ago; it wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility that Alexander had remembered such details.
“Elliot Dacre died owing a vast amount of money,” he continued doggedly. “It doesn’t matter what it says in his will – legally, you’re counted as an asset, and as he died with so many creditors, you’ll be sold to settle his debts. You aren’t free, Alexander.”
“Oh, I know that.” The indie waved his hand dismissively. “Elliot liked to talk big and live large, but I knew he was in trouble financially. If he put in his will that I was to be freed after his death, it was simply to charm me.”
“He owned you; why would he want to charm you?”
“Because of what happened on Saturday, at the show.” Alexander gestured impatiently at his shoulders. “Elliot felt guilty about that. Freeing me in his will was a grand gesture, designed to make him feel better and to show me how sorry he was. It didn’t really mean anything; I knew his party lifestyle was out of control – he spent money like water and always lived beyond his means.”
“If you didn’t kill Elliot Dacre, then who did?” Josiah asked suddenly, hoping to wrong-foot his prisoner.
Alexander blinked, and Josiah pressed home his advantage. “Do you know who killed him? Or maybe suspect someone?”
“No,” Alexander said, and was his reply a shade too fast? “I have no idea who killed him. As far as I know, Elliot didn’t have any enemies. He was harmless – most people who knew him were fond of him. I can’t think why anyone would want to kill him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday that Elliot was in debt?”
“And do your job for you?”
“Don’t be facetious.”
Alexander straightened. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know for sure. Elliot didn’t share his financial status with me – I simply guessed his spending was out of control from conversations I overheard and because I’m not stupid. I certainly didn’t go snooping into his private affairs. Yesterday, you told me quite clearly that you’re only interested in the plain, hard facts. I didn’t think you’d appreciate hearing what are merely my suspicions.” He spoke in a rapid, serious tone, and Josiah felt a grudging respect for the reply.
“Why did you run away yesterday when we approached you outside the house?” he asked, changing tack again. “If you’re innocent, why run?”
Alexander sighed. “I’m a valuable piece of property. I’m sure you know how much Elliot paid for me. He was always paranoid that I’d be kidnapped and ransomed. He told me that if anyone tried to steal me, I should run.”
“Even from state-appointed investigators?”
“I didn’t know that’s what you were. In fact, I didn’t see you at all – I saw Investigator Reed, running towards me, yelling. He had his gun drawn, and, no offence, but he doesn’t exactly look sweet and cuddly.”
He had a point. There was no doubt that Reed’s burly body and squashed nose often gave people the wrong impression.
“Are you saying that if you’d seen me, not him, you wouldn’t have run?”
Alexander looked at him from under lowered eyelashes. “Oh, I’d never run away from you, sir,” he said, in such a provocative tone that Josiah couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter.
“I’m far more dangerous than Reed.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“One more thing – do you always have an answer for everything?” he asked, exasperated .
Alexander grinned at him, and he found himself grinning back; there was something so exhilarating about verbally sparring with this man. He cleared his throat and stood up, annoyed with himself.
“I think we’re done – for now.”
“Will you be holding me for much longer?” Alexander asked. “If so, then a shower and a change of clothes would be nice.” He gestured at his crumpled clothing.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Josiah left the room, feeling as he always did after a conversation with Alexander Lytton – confused, irritated, and fascinated, in equal measure.
“That was interesting,” a familiar voice said, dryly, from the observation room. “Get in here and talk to me, Joe.”
He squared his shoulders and did as he was ordered. “Esther.” He inclined his head at his boss. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
“With the press laying siege to us outside, I thought I should see what all the fuss is about – it seems to be related to that young man in there.” She jerked her head at where Alexander was sitting at the table in the next room. “Having seen him in action, I can understand their interest.”
Josiah crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “Did you watch the whole interrogation?”
“Yes, although at times I wasn’t sure who was interrogating whom.”
“Alexander Lytton is a clever man. He likes to get into your head and use what he thinks he knows about you to throw you off your game – it gives him an illusion of power and control.”
“Hmm.” Esther glanced in at Alexander again. “It didn’t always look like an illusion from where I was sitting, Joe.”
“I let him run with it.” He shrugged. “I’m trying to work out who he really is.”
Her dark eyes lit up. “You think he’s lying?”
“Oh, I think he’s an accomplished liar – I just can’t work out what he’s lying about – and why.”
“Surely the most obvious thing is Dacre’s murder.”
“You’d think so, but actually that’s the one thing I sense he’s being truthful about. ”
In the next room, Alexander moved his head and looked directly at the mirror as if he could see them, which was impossible.
“So, you don’t think he did it?” Esther pushed.
“No,” he said without hesitation, surprising himself with his certainty.
“Based on what?”
“It doesn’t feel right.”
“Feel?” she repeated incredulously. “Am I talking to the same Josiah Raine who always follows the facts? Who meticulously examines everything for absolute proof before presenting me with a clinically precise report? Is this the man who despises investigators who work on a ‘hunch’, or a ‘gut feeling’? Who always insists his team follow the evidence, the whole evidence, and nothing but the evidence, so help them God?” She raised an eyebrow, a little grin playing at the corners of her lips.
Josiah raised his hands in mock surrender. “You know me too well, Esther.”
“Well, you and I go back a long way.” She smiled at him affectionately. “Do you know why I hired you, all those years ago?”
“I assumed it was my excellent record in the Military Police.”
“That helped, but no. I get applications like yours every day of the week. What made yours stand out was the fact you’d once arrested your own husband for disobeying orders – an arrest that led directly to the end of his military career. I knew that someone who’d do that was someone who would always put the law first and his own feelings second.”
Josiah stared at her, startled. “All these years, and I had no idea that was the deciding factor.”
“I’ve never regretted that decision, Joe, but I am intrigued about these ‘feelings’ you’re having now.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Do I have to spell it out?” Esther glanced through the mirror at their prisoner. “I mean, look at him. He’s a beautiful man, with the kind of charisma you could eat with a spoon. So maybe those feelings you mentioned aren’t about the case at all.”
Josiah stood stiffly to attention. “If you’re doubting my professionalism, or if you think I’d let a pretty face distract me from getting to the truth, then you don’t know me at all,” he retorted in clipped tones.
“Oh, get down off your high horse,” Esther scolded. “Of course I know you, Joe. You can’t work with a person for nine years and not get a glimpse of what makes them tick. I know how much you loved Peter and how hard it’s been for you since his death, so I’m not accusing you of falling for any cute young thing who bats his eyelashes at you. What I’m saying is, Alexander Lytton is a skilled manipulator. He’s beautiful, charming, and he’s got under your skin – but maybe, after all these years of self-imposed purdah, you want someone to come along and do just that.”
“For God’s sake, even assuming you’re right – do you seriously think I’d be tempted by him ?” Josiah jerked his head contemptuously at Alexander. “That man has screwed up every which way under the sun. His entire life has been a fuck-up.”
“While yours has been a study in order and self-discipline.” Esther’s gaze flickered over his cut face and down to his gloved hands. “I’ll say one thing for Lytton – I think he knows how to handle you, and that unsettles you because you’re so used to being the one in control. Maybe that’s why he fascinates you so much; it’s been a long time since anyone ran rings around you, Joe.”
“He didn’t run rings around me,” he said tightly.
“But you don’t think he murdered Elliot Dacre?”
“No, I don’t. Trust me – it would be a lot easier if I did.”
“Reed thinks he did it. I’ve read all the reports, all the forensics, all the data, and there is nothing putting anyone else at the crime scene. As you so adeptly discovered, Alexander has been recently abused – badly, by the look of the photographs Doctor Baumann took. It would hardly be surprising if he was holding a grudge. The altered will arriving when it did is also pertinent. It fits, Joe.”
“Too neatly.” He shook his head stubbornly. “You’ve seen him, Esther. He’s clever. There is no way that sharp mind did something so obvious as to kill Dacre and leave all this circumstantial evidence behind. He’d have found a much smarter way to murder his houder, if that’s truly what he wanted. ”
“I agree,” she responded unexpectedly. “I’m not convinced Lytton is our killer, either.”
“What?” He blinked.
“Everything we have is circumstantial, although a jury would convict him on a wave of anti-IS feeling alone. But we aren’t here to pander to the mob. We’re here to do our job and catch a killer. So, if Lytton didn’t do it – who did?”
Josiah glanced through the mirror again. Alexander had rested his chin on his hands and was staring absently into space. “I don’t know, but maybe he does. He definitely knows more than he’s telling.”
“I agree – but we can only hold him for another five hours. After that, you either have to charge him or release him.”
“If I release him, where does he go?”
“Well, that’s the problem.” Esther sighed. “Dacre’s entire estate has now gone into probate, and that extends to all his property, including Lytton. Dacre has no living relatives who’ll take Lytton in, so if we release him, he’ll be shipped off to a probate holding house. From there, he’ll be sent to an auction house and his contract will be sold to pay off Elliot’s sizeable debts.”
“No,” Josiah barked. “I might have more questions for him. Once the probate lawyers get hold of him, they won’t let me question him again in case it puts off potential buyers and lowers his value.”
“We can get a warrant.”
“You know as well as I do that the lawyers will wrap him up in so much red tape we’ll never get access again. I’ve seen it happen before.”
“True. There is another way,” Esther said slowly. “I could apply for a court order to bring him under our temporary jurisdiction, on the grounds that we expect him to provide testimony in any forthcoming murder trial. We can’t hold him in custody in the cells as a prisoner unless we arrest him, though – we’d have to apply to become his de facto houders until the case is settled.”
“That’ll at least buy us time. Let’s do it.”
Esther held up her hand. “It’s not that easy. He’s a valuable piece of property, so someone at Inquisitus would have to take custody of him, be responsible for his health, safety, and actions, and ensure he’s delivered safely to the probate office after the case has been resolved. Basically, someone here would have to be his houder until all this is over.”
Josiah stared at her. “You cannot possibly mean me.”
“Well, you’re the one running this case,” Esther told him sweetly. “He’s clearly your responsibility.”
“Why can’t you put him up in Inquisitus accommodation? He can share with Doctor Baumann.”
“Unsupervised? An IS worth a hundred and sixty million pounds, who might possibly be a witness in a murder trial?”
“A safe house of some kind then?”
“We’re not MI5, Joe. But I’m sure your place will be as safe as any until you decide what to do with him.”
“No,” Josiah said flatly. “I will not have an IS living under my roof. You can’t ask that of me, Esther.”
“I’m not asking.” Esther shrugged. “You have three choices when it comes to Alexander Lytton – charge him with Dacre’s murder, send him into the probate system, or become his temporary houder. Those are your options, Joe. You decide.”
“Surely I can’t be allowed access to the prime suspect in a murder investigation outside of an interview suite? There must be a legal objection to that.”
“You’d think, but I checked because this is an unusual situation, and IS law is clear on the matter. He’s our responsibility. You think he’s innocent – you look after him.”
“I don’t keep indentured servants. Never have, never will,” he snapped.
“Then don’t. Like I said, it’s up to you. Let me know what you want to do, and I’ll get the paperwork ready.”
She glided towards the door. “You should be aware that there is pressure on me, too, Joe,” she added. He looked up, startled. “If we can’t solve this, then the Home Secretary will hand it to another agency. They might well decide, as Reed did, that there’s enough circumstantial evidence to charge Lytton. As we’ve already discussed, we both know that a jury will almost certainly convict him.”
“Yeah. If not on anti-IS feeling, then they’d find him guilty on his past notoriety alone. ”
“Probably. If he is innocent, then you might be the only person who can save his life, Joe.”
“And he’s going to do his best to make that as hard as possible,” Josiah sighed.
“Well, you know how much you love a challenge.” She gave an impish grin. “You have five hours to decide. How you handle the situation is up to you. You’re the chief investigator, and I know you’ll get it right. You always do – I’d expect nothing less from the man who arrested his own husband.”