rather not, but when you’ve not got anything else . . .’
‘What “conclusions”?’ Wide-eyed and mock-innocent.
Boyle pushed himself away from the wall suddenly, clearly irritated by the back and forth. ‘Like it was
you
, you poxy little wankstain. You strolled into Monahan’s cell and shanked him.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘Because someone paid you to,’ Thorne said. ‘You were contacted and told to get Paul Monahan out of the way. Now, if you could tell us who contacted you and how, it might make a difference when this comes to trial.’
‘You think this is going that far?’
‘I wouldn’t bet against it.’
Grover let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling, as though he were considering what Thorne had said. As though the accusations were perfectly fair and justified. When he looked at Thorne again, though, it was clear how little he cared if they were justified or not.
‘I’ll tell you what
your
problem is,’ he said. ‘This non-existent murder weapon.’ He was full of himself now, leaning forward and pointing at Thorne. ‘I mean, what am I supposed to have done with it? Did I stab Paul and then walk out of the cell covered in claret, nip off somewhere to get rid of the blade and then calmly stroll back in there again? Is that really what you think happened?’
‘No,’ Thorne said. ‘I don’t think that’s what happened.’
‘Well, until you can prove it happened any other way, you can kiss my arse.’
Thorne said nothing as Grover calmly stood and walked to the door. He knocked, then turned and smiled at Thorne and the others, waited until a guard arrived to take him back to his cell.
‘That go like you wanted?’ Boyle asked. He walked around the table until he stood in Thorne’s eye-line. ‘Happy with it?’
Thorne ignored him and turned to lift his leather jacket from the back of the chair.
‘Cocky bastard knows we’ve got nothing,’ Holland said.
Thorne stood up. ‘Not yet.’
It was dry and cold, and Thorne stared out of the taxi window as the streets narrowed and the greys of office blocks and multi-storeys gave way to those of rutted fields and spindly trees, with the black ribbon of the River Calder twisting alongside. ‘Whatever we turn up on Monahan money-wise is probably academic,’ he said. ‘Considering he won’t be around to spend it. So, we need to look at Grover as well. Find what he’s getting paid for doing Monahan and where it’s going.’
‘And where it’s coming from, with a bit of luck,’ Holland said.
‘I don’t think there’s too much doubt about that.’
‘Definitely Langford, you reckon?’
‘Got to be.’
‘But how’s he organising all this?’ Holland asked. ‘We’re presuming he’s still out of the country, right?’
Thorne turned away from the window, stared over the driver’s shoulder at the road unwinding in front of the car. ‘Monahan was killed within hours of me talking to him,’ he said. ‘So, wherever the hell Langford is, he’s tuned in to a seriously good set of jungle drums.’
Before they had left the prison, Boyle had told Thorne that he and his team would start getting stuck into Jeremy Grover and his family, see if there were any funds knocking about that could not be accounted for. Thorne told him that there might be a fair bit more to do, depending on how his and Holland’s next appointment went. Boyle said the overtime would come in handy.
Follow the money, that’s what Louise had said.
She hadn’t said anything else the night before, at least not about Thorne’s day out with Anna Carpenter. She had gone to bed early, leaving Thorne and Hendricks talking nonsense in front of the television. It was the way Thorne had been hoping the evening would turn out.
You’re not going to get it on a plate
.
She’d said that too, just before things had turned a little awkward, and, much as it pained him, Thorne knew she was right. There were too
‘What “conclusions”?’ Wide-eyed and mock-innocent.
Boyle pushed himself away from the wall suddenly, clearly irritated by the back and forth. ‘Like it was
you
, you poxy little wankstain. You strolled into Monahan’s cell and shanked him.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘Because someone paid you to,’ Thorne said. ‘You were contacted and told to get Paul Monahan out of the way. Now, if you could tell us who contacted you and how, it might make a difference when this comes to trial.’
‘You think this is going that far?’
‘I wouldn’t bet against it.’
Grover let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling, as though he were considering what Thorne had said. As though the accusations were perfectly fair and justified. When he looked at Thorne again, though, it was clear how little he cared if they were justified or not.
‘I’ll tell you what
your
problem is,’ he said. ‘This non-existent murder weapon.’ He was full of himself now, leaning forward and pointing at Thorne. ‘I mean, what am I supposed to have done with it? Did I stab Paul and then walk out of the cell covered in claret, nip off somewhere to get rid of the blade and then calmly stroll back in there again? Is that really what you think happened?’
‘No,’ Thorne said. ‘I don’t think that’s what happened.’
‘Well, until you can prove it happened any other way, you can kiss my arse.’
Thorne said nothing as Grover calmly stood and walked to the door. He knocked, then turned and smiled at Thorne and the others, waited until a guard arrived to take him back to his cell.
‘That go like you wanted?’ Boyle asked. He walked around the table until he stood in Thorne’s eye-line. ‘Happy with it?’
Thorne ignored him and turned to lift his leather jacket from the back of the chair.
‘Cocky bastard knows we’ve got nothing,’ Holland said.
Thorne stood up. ‘Not yet.’
It was dry and cold, and Thorne stared out of the taxi window as the streets narrowed and the greys of office blocks and multi-storeys gave way to those of rutted fields and spindly trees, with the black ribbon of the River Calder twisting alongside. ‘Whatever we turn up on Monahan money-wise is probably academic,’ he said. ‘Considering he won’t be around to spend it. So, we need to look at Grover as well. Find what he’s getting paid for doing Monahan and where it’s going.’
‘And where it’s coming from, with a bit of luck,’ Holland said.
‘I don’t think there’s too much doubt about that.’
‘Definitely Langford, you reckon?’
‘Got to be.’
‘But how’s he organising all this?’ Holland asked. ‘We’re presuming he’s still out of the country, right?’
Thorne turned away from the window, stared over the driver’s shoulder at the road unwinding in front of the car. ‘Monahan was killed within hours of me talking to him,’ he said. ‘So, wherever the hell Langford is, he’s tuned in to a seriously good set of jungle drums.’
Before they had left the prison, Boyle had told Thorne that he and his team would start getting stuck into Jeremy Grover and his family, see if there were any funds knocking about that could not be accounted for. Thorne told him that there might be a fair bit more to do, depending on how his and Holland’s next appointment went. Boyle said the overtime would come in handy.
Follow the money, that’s what Louise had said.
She hadn’t said anything else the night before, at least not about Thorne’s day out with Anna Carpenter. She had gone to bed early, leaving Thorne and Hendricks talking nonsense in front of the television. It was the way Thorne had been hoping the evening would turn out.
You’re not going to get it on a plate
.
She’d said that too, just before things had turned a little awkward, and, much as it pained him, Thorne knew she was right. There were too
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