Chapter 20

A phone call from Gryff summoned Sheila to the public counter, where he indicated with a tilt of his head the person she was to meet. A young woman, dressed in a designer suit and wearing dangerously expensive shoes, was sitting gingerly as if she might catch something from the chair.

Sheila looked askance at Gryff, who beckoned her over and whispered, "Paul Dunsmore's brief. A Miss Kowalewska." He said no more, but raised his eyebrows with more than a hint of scepticism. Boydeau, too, wondered how in the world this upmarket solicitor had got in tow with the likes of Dunsmore; she subconsciously brushed her suit jacket down and approached the woman.

"Miss Kowalewska? DC Sheila Boydeau. I'm handling Mr. Dunsmore's case."

"Pleasure to meet you." The brief stood up and shook hands.

"This way." Boydeau motioned for her to follow, and continued as they went through to the custody area, "Detective Sergeant Reid and myself will be interviewing your client. I believe they're waiting in the interview room, if you'd like to come this way." She ushered her in to join Reid and Dunsmore, and it was a toss-up which of the two looked more surprised at Miss Kowalewska's appearance. Sheila decided Dunsmore was marginally more bewildered.

The solicitor turned to Reid, smiled and said, "I would appreciate a few minutes in private with my client, if you please."

"Call it five," said Reid, shortly, and he and Sheila left the room.

"Where the hell did she come from?" he asked, once the door was closed behind them.

"Your guess is as good as mine, sarge. And Dunsmore seemed just as much in the dark as we are."

After the appointed time was up, Miss Kowalewska opened the door and said, "We're ready for you now."

They re-took their places, Sheila started the recording, and they all introduced themselves. "OK, Mr. Dunsmore," she began, "we'd like to ask you some questions about some items found in the living room of your home in Fairfax Road – or to be more accurate, found under the living room floor."

Dunsmore looked as if he was going to be sick but said nothing. Sheila carried on. "For the tape, I'm showing Mr. Dunsmore a photograph taken of items recovered from..."

"That Empey bloke, he put them there," Dunsmore broke in, desperately. He took a swig from the plastic cup of water in front of him. "You know who I mean? The cash and carry manager."

Reid nodded. "We know who you mean, Mr. Dunsmore. When you say 'he put them there,' do you mean that Frank Empey personally placed this crate of guns underneath your floorboards, in your presence?"

Dunsmore nodded. "That's right. Said if I didn't go along with it, he'd grass Dad up to you lot."

"Right. Did he often ask you to 'look after' things for him?" asked Reid.

"Sometimes. I hadn't been living there that long and he came round, offering me a job, only I didn't know, did I, there was strings attached. I thought he was doing it 'cos Dad worked for him."

"What did your dad think about the guns? After all, it was his house."

Silence ensued. "Did your father know about the guns?" prodded Sheila. Miss Kowalewska leaned over to Dunsmore and said something very softly to him.

"I don't know."

Reid sat back, arms folded. "What, you're telling me that although it was your father's property, he had no idea about Frank Empey hiding guns in the house?"

"No, my client is saying that he doesn't know if his father was aware of the guns,"answered Miss Kowalewska.

Reid looked belligerently at her, then back at Dunsmore. "All right. How many times did Empey get you to hide things for him?"

"Only once or twice. Listen, I never wanted to do it, but he was my boss! What was I supposed to say?"

"'No'?" retorted Reid, sardonically. He drew his chair closer to the table, nearer to Dunsmore. "I'll be honest with you, Mr. Dunsmore. It really doesn't look good for you. We only have your word for it that Frank Empey forced you to hide highly dangerous weapons in your home. The bottom line is, they were found on your premises. He didn't live there; you did. A jury is going to draw their own conclusions, and the penalties for gun-running are very stiff indeed – as I'm sure Miss Kowalewska here will tell you," Reid added, seeing the brief was about to try and placate her client, who by this time looked on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown.

Sheila pitched in now. "The best thing you can do, Mr. Dunsmore, is to tell us everything – about Gold Star, about Frank Empey, about those guns in your living room. Once we have all the facts we'll be better able to judge just how far your involvement goes."

"My client has already told you the truth, detective. He was an unwilling participant in... all of this," the solicitor said, not terribly convincingly.

"So he says, Miss Kowalewska," replied Sheila. "But just a snapshot of the basic truth isn't going to be enough – we need to see the whole picture to understand what's been going on, and where Mr. Dunsmore fits into it all."

The solicitor consulted her elegant Rolex. "I have a court appointment in half an hour," she said with a pleasant smile. "Would it be possible to defer the rest of the interview until early this evening?"

Reid and Boydeau exchanged exasperated and astonished looks. It was almost unheard of for legal representatives to desert their clients mid-interview like this. However, there was nothing illegal or inappropriate about it, although Reid made a mental note that if she tried this again he wouldn't be so understanding.

"I suppose if you have a previous engagement, there's nothing else for it," he sighed, a note of disapproval in his voice.

"I do apologise," said Miss Kowalewska to all three of them, as she slipped her pad and pen back into her attaché case. She stood up and tossed back her wavy raven hair as if she was in a shampoo advert, and Boydeau suddenly realised what Miss Kowalewska reminded her of: a model.

"I assure you," the solicitor continued, "that I will return here as soon as the court case is concluded. Good afternoon." She catwalked out of the interview room and, obviously familiar with the terrain, made her way back to the front office, with considerable interest from all the male officers en route.

Boydeau had Dunsmore returned to his guest accommodation, and came back to the interview room to discover Reid was still sitting there, deep in thought, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the table.

"Penny for 'em," she said, leaning against the door frame.

"I'm still trying to figure out where she came from." Reid paused, then rose to his feet decisively and said, "Let's set Leo and Claire on her and see if they can work their magic again."

**********

"There's something not right here, sarge." Even through the distortion of the police radio the mystification in Jordan's voice was clear. "She's not going anywhere near any court."

Reid and Boydeau exchanged glances across Danielle's desk as Reid spoke into the radio from his end. "Stay on her, Claire, and let us know as soon as you've got an idea of what's happening." He put down the receiver and paced the room irritably. "This stinks," he announced after a few moments. "Some glamour-puss we've never heard of, who's way beyond Dunsmore's pocket…"

"… and who he's never seen in his life before to judge from the look on his face when she walked into the room…" put in Sheila.

"… turns up for the interview, and the minute it looks as if we're going to get him to cough up, she finds an excuse to stop things in their tracks." He stopped pacing and leaned both fists on the table, bowing his head frustratedly. "Come on, come on…" he muttered under his breath.

As if in answer to a prayer, Claire Jordan's voice crackled from the speaker. "Sarge, she's gone to a house in Illingworth Avenue. Just seen her park in the driveway and let herself in the front door. And there's someone else in there – a bloke. Looks like it's her house and he was waiting there for her."

Danielle picked up the receiver, glanced at Reid, who hadn't moved, and handed it to Boydeau.

"Got that, Claire. Hang on a second." Boydeau said hurriedly. She handed the receiver to Danielle and looked over at her boss. "Sarge?"

Reid slowly raised his head. "I'm not messing about," he said. "Get a shout out to a couple of cars and let's get over there. We need to know what she's doing and who's in the house. Tell them it's a suspected robbery. Come on."

He took off for the door, Sheila hard on his heels, leaving Danielle issuing rapid instructions.

**********

Boydeau rang the doorbell of 85 Illingworth Avenue and stepped back from the porch. Reid glanced around the front garden of the large detached house, taking in the carefully manicured lawns and flower beds. Leo Gent and Clare Jordan had made their way round to the rear of the property to waylay any potential escapees.

The door finally opened, and Miss Kowalewska's composure disappeared in a nanosecond, her mouth agape.

Somewhat superfluously, Reid flashed his warrant card and announced, "DS Reid, Northcote CID, Miss Kowalewska. May we come in?"

Wordlessly, the woman stepped aside and waved them through, just as a slightly out-of-breath DC Jordan came jogging round the side of the house. Reid turned round expectantly as she arrived at the doorstep.

The expression on Jordan's face was unreadable. "Sarge, Leo's got a suspect who tried to leg it round the back, but he's not for coming quietly. I think you'd better..." She tailed off as Reid sprinted past her and met Gent coming through the side gate with a furious Detective Inspector Pyle.

"Sir?!" exclaimed Reid, incredulously.

"Reid! I might've known this dog's breakfast of an operation was down to you! Get your man to remove these!" The DI displayed his handcuffed wrists, and Reid was suddenly aware of a goggle-eyed Boydeau at his back. "Sheila, please take Miss Kowalewska into the house and wait for me there," he ordered. To Leo Gent, he said, "Undo those cuffs at once, constable."

Pyle rounded on the unfortunate Gent. "You just made the worst cock-up of your career, son! Consider yourself on desk duties until further notice!" Reid held up his hand to indicate that Leo should stay put for the moment.

"Let's get this cleared up before we go flying off the handle at anyone, shall we?" he said calmly. He noticed the small huddle of attending officers at the garden gate and realised that reports of the incident were, by now, probably halfway round the nick. He dismissed them with his thanks and they started to return to their cars, looking rather disappointed that they would miss the rest of whatever was occurring.

Pyle still looked as if he was about to self-combust. "Inside, sir, I think," suggested Reid.

They had hardly entered the living room when Pyle turned on Reid. "What on earth were you up to, you idiot? What the hell are you doing here?" he bawled in Reid's face.

Taking a step back, Reid said unemotionally, "I think you should have a seat, sir. Please calm down." This only had the opposite effect.

"Calm down? Why should I bloody calm down? I've just been chased and handcuffed like some lairy chav on the Petershill! I'll have that boy's guts for garters..."

Unexpectedly, Miss Kowalewska rose from where she was sitting, stood beside Pyle, and completely freaked Boydeau and Reid out by commencing to stroke the DI's hand. "Jonathan, be careful; your blood pressure," she said with concern.

Her actions had the desired effect. She was able to lead Pyle to a sofa and they sat down together. Sheila suppressed the overwhelming urge she had to run from the room and be violently sick. She looked sideways at Reid, who also seemed to be finding it a challenge to maintain his composure, and was studiously avoiding eye contact with Sheila.

"There's obviously been some kind of breakdown in communication," continued Miss Kowalewska. "Jonathan came round to visit me, and was out in the garden when you arrived. For some reason, your officer mistook him for a burglar and detained him." She turned to Pyle and said, "It was a genuine misunderstanding, Jonathan, I'm sure. No harm done."

Reid cleared his throat before speaking. "Miss Kowalewska...," he began.

"Please, sergeant, call me Renata."

Reid's eyes widened a little and he hesitated. "....Renata. Well, as you say, there appears to have been some confusion. We were under the impression you were in court this afternoon."

Renata gave a dazzling smile, showing her polished teeth (more adverts, thought Boydeau glumly), and without any sign of hesitation lied right through them. "I received a call just after I left you to say that my meeting had been postponed till next week, so I came straight home to freshen up and prepare for Mr. Dunsmore's interview."

Pyle looked increasingly uncomfortable. He put a hand on Renata's arm and spoke to her in a low voice: "I think I should go now. Call me when you have a minute." He stood up to leave. "I'll see you in a couple of days," he told Reid ominously as he went, and within a minute they could hear a car outside roaring off, tyres squealing.

"I didn't realise you knew the DI so well," smiled Sheila to Miss Kowalewska.

"We're good friends." The pearly whites returned, and Renata got to her feet. "And now, I must get ready. Shall I see you in about an hour's time?"

"Miss Kowalewska, can I ask you what your connection is with Mr. Dunsmore?" said Reid out of the blue, catching her off guard once again.

"Why, I'm his solicitor, of course," she said, rather too brightly.

"Yes, indeed," said Reid, patiently. "But how did he come to be your client?" He could almost see her struggling for an answer, and when it came, it came with a chill.

"I don't think that's any of your business, sergeant. And now, if you don't mind..." They were effectively dismissed as she stood up and walked to the door.