‘I understand that, Ma’am, but if there is information relating to the Alan Matthews murder, then I should be the first to know.’
‘You’re right, Helen, and it’s my fault. If you want to blame somebody, blame me.’
Which of course Helen couldn’t do, leaving her not a leg to stand on. But she tried one last time nevertheless:
‘McEwan may be involved in the Louszko killing, but I can’t see her connection to Matthews’ murder.’
‘We have to keep an open mind, Helen. You said yourself that his killing could be part of a turf war. Perhaps he was the collateral damage. Charlie’s turned up something genuinely interesting and I’d like us to investigate it fully.’
‘It doesn’t feel right. This is too elaborate, too personal. It has all the hallmarks of an individual who -’
‘An individual who has intelligence, ambition and imagination. Someone who’s happy to kill without qualm or conscience and who is adept at misleading the police. I’d say that’s Sandra McEwan to a T, wouldn’t you?’
There was no point fighting it any more so Helen conceded the point and departed for the interview room. Charlie was waiting for her and opposite her, flanked by her lawyer, was Lady Macbeth.
‘Lovely to see you, Inspector.’ Sandra McEwan’s grin spread from ear to ear. ‘How’s business?’
‘I might ask you the same question, Sandra.’
‘Never better. Still, you’re looking well. Don’t tell me you’ve got a man on the go?’
Helen ignored the taunt.
‘DC Brooks is investigating the murder of Alexia Louszko. She worked for you at Brookmire, I believe, under the alias of Agneska Suriav.’
Sandra didn’t deny it, so Helen continued.
‘She was murdered, mutilated and dumped in the open boot of an abandoned car. Her murder was meant to send out a message. Perhaps you could translate it for us?’
‘I’d love to help you, but I barely knew the girl. I’d only seen her a handful of times.’
‘She worked for you, you must have vetted her personally, spoken to her…’
‘I own the freehold of the building which houses Brookmire. I couldn’t say who runs the business.’
Her lawyer didn’t say a word. He was just window dressing really. Sandra knew exactly how she wanted to play things.
‘You plucked her off the street,’ said Charlie, keeping up the pressure. ‘Trained her, polished her. But the Campbells took exception, didn’t they? They abducted her. Killed her. Then put her back on the streets where she belonged.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Your girl. They took her from under your nose and killed her. How did the rest of your girls feel about that? I bet they were shitting themselves.’
