Requiem for a Whistleblower: The Detective Inspector Benedict Paige Series, #3

By Joshua Black

Maybe she deserved to die…

In a London park, Gayle Patterson, a former teacher, is found dead with stab wounds.

Detective Inspector Benedict Paige's investigations lead to a 25-year-old called Colin. The murder weapon is recovered from Colin's garden, and, under questioning, he confesses to killing Gayle.

The problem is that Colin has the mental age of a seven-year-old, casting doubt on his ability to comprehend the severity of his actions and his culpability.

Colin's older brother, Roger, has his own problems with the police. Wanted for dealing with stolen goods, is he manipulating his vulnerable sibling?

DI Paige discovers Roger and Gayle had been lovers. This family is clearly implicated.

As a teacher, Gayle had her enemies, and it soon becomes clear that there were several individuals who had reasons to want Gayle dead. She'd lied, blackmailed and used people.

Had her past caught up with her?

As DI Paige delves deeper, he finds a toxic mix of bitterness, revenge and jealousy lurking beneath the surface.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rathbone
• Release date: Apr 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224286713

Book preview

Chapter 1: Roger

The last thing Roger McCarthy wanted to do was to go out. He’d ordered in a pizza, had lined up three cans of his favourite lager and the football was about to start on TV. But his brother, three years younger, was standing in the living room zipping up his coat, struggling to get it over his large belly while Buster, his cocker spaniel, yapped with excitement. ‘You’re on your own, mate,’ said Roger.

‘I don’t mind,’ said Colin.

‘I can’t miss the football.’

‘It’s fine.’

But it wouldn’t be fine, their mother would kick off. Sure enough, she came bustling in, drying her hands on a tea towel, and stopped short on seeing Colin ready to go out.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Colin, it’s too late to be going out now.’

‘Buster needs a walk.’

‘You took him earlier, didn’t you?’

‘He needs to go again.’

‘No, he doesn’t. Not now. Sit your arse down. Do your jigsaw.’

‘I want to go out for a walk.’

‘I know, you said but…’ She looked at the living room clock. ‘It’s eight o’clock, it’s darker than a cow’s gut out there. I don’t want you going out this late.’

‘Buster needs to go.’

Roger knew what was coming next.

‘You’ll have to go with him,’ his mother said.

‘No, I’m watching the football.’

‘You’re always watching the bloody football. Just take him out will you and stop his bleating.’ His mother returned to the kitchen.

And so they’d come to an impasse. Colin wanted to go out, his mother didn’t want him going out alone and Roger was refusing to accompany him. But he knew he’d give in sooner rather than later.

Colin was twenty-five years old but had a mental age of a seven-year-old. Buster was the centre of his world, he spent all day with his dog, even taking him to the day centre where he spent his days. His mother looked after him, made sure he was fed and washed. She’d given up work as soon as Colin was born, giving up a career to look after her son. But when it came to going out – that was Roger’s job. Normally, Roger wouldn’t mind but right now he was settled for the evening. He opened his first can of lager and took a hefty gulp, his eyes on his brother standing at the door expectantly, with the dog at his feet looking up at him with equal expectancy.

‘Sit down, mate, watch the football with me. It’s Arsenal against Liverpool.’

‘Come on Liverpool.’

‘No, Arsenal, you dipstick. We support Arsenal. We’re Londoners, remember? We’re not bloody Scousers, are we? Thank God.’

‘I’m taking Buster out.’

‘No, you’re bloody not. We are watching the footie. Now, sit down. Have some pizza.’ He didn’t want to share his pizza but it was a price worth paying not to have to go out.

‘I don’t want pizza.’

‘You don’t want pizza? You always want pizza. Come on, it’s nice. It’s got pepperoni on it, your favourite.’

‘I want to go out.’

‘Well, go out then,’ he shouted. ‘I’m not stopping you.’

Colin pulled that mopey face he always did when someone, usually Roger, shouted at him. Again, this followed a predetermined sequence of events – Roger would get frustrated with his brother and shout, Colin looked as if he might cry, and Roger, hit by remorse, would apologise. During the day, Colin could be trusted to take Buster out alone. He liked routine, indeed, he lived his life by routine, so Roger and his mother knew full well where Colin would go and how long he’d be. By sticking to a routine, they managed to get by. So, this sudden need to go for a walk this late was, in itself, a departure from the norm. But it was best not to question it. Colin didn’t like being questioned, it stressed him.

Not this time though. Roger was determined that Colin would not get his way – for once. But his raised voice brought his mother back through.

‘You’ve not left yet?’ she asked, stating the obvious.

The game had started and Arsenal were already on the attack. Roger bit into his pizza. Delicious.

‘Roger?’

‘Nah, we’re staying in.’

‘Stop pissing about. It’ll take twenty minutes of your time.’

No, it wouldn’t, he thought. There and back and twice around the park, he’d easily miss the whole of the first half.

She reached for her cigarettes from the sideboard. ‘You can pause the football.’

‘You can’t pause… Oh, sodding hell, OK, I give in.’ He shot up from the sofa. Colin grinned, pleased to have got his way. Buster, sensing something was happening at last, yelped. ‘I’ll get me coat.’

‘Thank you, Roger,’ said Mum with a curtsey.

It was mightily cold out. Roger wished he’d brought his bulkier coat. It was early March but there was scant sign of spring on its way. The park was an eight-minute walk from their flat. The streets to the park were quiet. A bicycle whizzed by, a delivery boy, a large Deliveroo sack swung around his back. Buster pulled on his lead, his nose to the ground. Colin, as always, walked slowly; he was incapable of walking any quicker. ‘Hurry up, will you?’ said Roger. ‘My pizza’s getting cold and my beer’s getting warm.’

‘It’s nice out,’ said Colin. He always said this. It could be blowing a blizzard and Colin would still say it was ‘nice out’.

‘Yeah, whatever.’

‘We go round twice.’

Colin always wanted to walk around the park twice, each lap took six minutes. Colin could probably tell you to the second.

‘No, just once.’ Anyone else, thought Roger, would recognise the sacrifice he’d made here and would compromise on how long they stayed out. But not Colin. Oh no, Colin liked his routine. ‘It’s too late to go round twice.’

‘No, we go round twice.’

‘For f–’ He stopped himself. There was no point getting upset with Colin, it never did anyone any good and just caused more hassle than it was worth. ‘Alright, alright, we go round twice. Sod it, what’s another six minutes. Have you got your poo bags?’

Colin patted his coat pocket and gave Roger a thumbs up. He was very community-minded, was Colin; he’d never fail to scoop up Buster’s mess. ‘Children might step in it,’ he’d say.

They were approaching the park when Roger’s mobile rang. It was Debbie, his ex-girlfriend, still a friend. It was one of those relationships where they got on better as friends than partners. ‘You alright, Debs? What’s up?’

‘Where are you?’

‘In the park with Col. Why?’

She was at the Red Lion pub, she said, speaking to some bloke who wanted a new Bluetooth speaker, could Roger help? ‘Is he kosher?’ he asked. He lived in fear of some potential customer turning out to be an undercover copper. He preferred returning customers, people he could trust. Yes, he needed new customers but there was always that risk. Debbie vouched for this bloke although how she could be sure, he didn’t know. ‘I can’t do anything now. I’ve got me brother.’ Debbie would understand that.

‘Just pop over for a minute and meet the fella. It’s only the Red Lion, it ain’t far.’

‘Suppose I could.’

‘Listen, he’ll be back from the bog in a minute. I told him me name’s Tracey, right? So don’t call me Debs. And your name is Barry or Baz.’

‘Right. Got it. Give me five.’ He rang off.

It was a good idea, thought Roger. Get the measure of the man. He could usually rely on his instincts. If he liked this new guy, he’d sort him out tomorrow because, for sure, he had a couple of Bluetooth speakers in the lock-up, his Aladdin's Cave, as he called it.

They were at the park gates now. The Red Lion pub was but a three-minute walk away, less if he jogged there and back.

‘Listen, Colin, you take Buster round – twice. I’m just popping over to see Debs. You remember Debbie? You like her, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, she’s nice. She gave Buster a biscuit once.’ Roger knew this – Colin mentioned it whenever Debbie’s name came up. And by this one token of kindness, it meant Debbie would forever be in Colin’s good books.

‘So, you walk around slowly and do not speak to anyone, unless it’s a woman. Women are OK but smile and be nice to them. I don’t want you scaring anyone. But you’re not to speak to no men, alright?’

Colin nodded earnestly.

‘Good man.’ He checked the time on his mobile. ‘I’ll be about twelve minutes. Keep an eye on your phone. If I’m not back in time, I’ll message you and you wait here.’ He pointed at the ground beneath their feet, emphasising the point. ‘Right here, OK?’

‘OK.’

He patted Colin on the shoulder and experienced a sudden rush of affection for his brother. Colin could be a right pain most of the time but, whatever, they were brothers and Roger loved him. Addressing the dog, he added, ‘You look after Colin, won’t you, Buster?’

Colin laughed.

‘Twelve minutes,’ said Roger over his shoulder as he rushed off towards the Red Lion.

In the months and years to come, Roger McCarthy would often think back to this moment. If only Debbie hadn't called; if only he hadn't rushed off. Indeed, he was only gone for twelve minutes, fourteen at the most, but in that time, his comfortable existence as he knew it came crashing to an end.

Chapter 2: Colin

Colin McCarthy didn’t mind being on his own. In fact, as much as he liked his brother, he preferred it. Roger talked too much and a lot of the time, Colin had no idea what he was talking about. But he loved it when Roger took him to his Aladdin’s Cave. It was like lots of Christmases rolled into one – so many shiny things, mostly electrical stuff and most of them still in their boxes. He had phones, always loads of new phones – iPhones, Android, those Google ones, the lot. He had electric toothbrushes and shavers, and always loads of handheld games. Sometimes, he had something unusual, like a telescope or a robot spider or a Bluetooth sleep mask. And he had trainers, lots of different types of trainers.

The grass was squelchy but that was OK – he had his walking boots on. As long as he remembered not to walk inside the flat with them on or his mother would go ‘spare’ as Roger called it.

He let Buster off his lead and smiled as the little dog scurried off, sniffing at things and running around in circles. It was properly dark but the street lamps surrounding the park gave off enough light. The moon was quite bright but it’d made little difference. Colin knew about light pollution. A cold breeze cut into him and his hands were cold but he was fine; he could cope with a bit of cold. Given a choice, he’d like to have his earphones in, listening to some music but that was a battle he’d lost with his mother. She flatly refused to allow him to listen to music while he was out. He couldn’t see what the problem was.

Buster brought him a stick. He’d have preferred not to get his hands dirty but how could he refuse his dog so he threw it and Buster ran off with a happy yelp.

‘That’s one happy dog,’ said a man’s voice. Colin looked up to see a couple, their arms linked, the woman holding a dog by its lead, a little terrier of some sort.

Roger said he wasn’t allowed to speak to any men but on account there was a woman there too, he reckoned it’d be OK. ‘He likes it here.’

‘Is he a spaniel?’ The man wore a sort of trilby hat, like in those old Hollywood films. They were both black and had nice smiles.

‘A cocker spaniel. Is your dog a Yorkshire terrier?’

‘That’s right.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Her. She’s a girl. Her name’s Wilma.’ They spoke dogs for a while before the man, tipping his hat, moved on.

That’s the thing about having a dog, thought Colin, people always spoke to you.

The main part of the park, the part illuminated by the nearby streetlamps, was quite small, but it led to a small woodland on a hill. Sometimes, he’d venture into the woods but he always told his mum beforehand that he was going for a ‘long walk’. Not tonight though. He’d be too worried about losing Buster in the dark woods. Best to keep to the main part. And it was rather cold.

Roger had gone off to the Red Lion to see his girlfriend, Debbie. Although he wasn’t entirely sure whether Debs was still his girlfriend. It was hard to keep up sometimes – Roger seemed to have so many girlfriends. Sometimes, they’d sleep over and he’d get up for breakfast to find someone new in the flat. He didn’t like that, it upset his routine, especially if they started talking to him. But they were always nice to him. Except one. Her name was Racquel. He never forgot a name. She stole three of Mum’s cigarettes and winked at him as she slipped them into her handbag. Mum never noticed but he still felt sorry for her. He never saw Raquel again.

He saw Buster squat and do a shit. He knew other people wouldn’t bother clearing it up; they leave it there where a child might step on it. He’d heard of toxocariasis, an infection caused by small worms found in the poo of dogs, cats and foxes. He knew it was particularly hazardous to small children which could, on occasion, result in blindness. He rolled a poo bag off its roll. Just as he finished, he heard his name being called.

‘Colin? Is that you, Colin?’

He recognised that voice. He had to adjust his eyes for a moment. Short woman, white, a cheerful, round face, a ring in her nose. ‘Oh, hi, Gayle.’

‘Hey, Colin, you’re out late.’ Buster wandered over to say hello, and she reached down to pat him.

‘I’m walking Buster.’ Gayle was another of Roger’s girlfriends but, unlike the others, she’d been a proper girlfriend by all accounts. They stayed together a long time and after it’d finished, it was the only time Colin had ever seen his brother upset.

‘You OK by yourself?’ She was wearing a thick red scarf and a smart green coat.

‘Roger’s gone to the Red Lion.’

She stared at him intently. ‘He’s gone to the pub and left you to walk around the park by yourself at this time of night?’ It sounded like she didn’t believe him.

‘He’s only going to be twelve minutes.’

‘Right. Very precise.’

‘He told me I wasn’t allowed to speak to any men but women are OK.’

She laughed at that. ‘Sensible advice. How is Roger?’

‘He’s fine, thank you very much.’

She seemed to think about this. ‘Has he got a girlfriend?’

‘He has a lot of girlfriends.’

She seemed to step back. ‘Oh, right.’

Colin sensed this was a bad answer. ‘But he liked you the best.’

She smiled at that and Colin knew he’d said the right thing this time.

‘Well, look, I’d better be off. Say hello to Roger.’

‘You can wait for him if you like.’

She hesitated and looked at the time on her mobile. ‘I’d better not. I’ve got to be… somewhere. Nice to see you again, Colin.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Bye now.’

‘Bye bye.’

Continuing on his first lap, worried that it was going to take longer than six minutes, he watched her rush off diagonally across the park, her hands in her pockets. Buster barked as if saying goodbye. Yes, he liked Gayle. She used to give him bars of chocolate whenever she came over. And once, for Christmas, she gave him a large assortment box of chocolates which Mum had to hide to prevent him from eating the whole lot at once. It was a shame that she and Roger were no longer together. Gayle wouldn’t steal Mum’s cigarettes. She was too nice for that.

Colin could still see her silhouette in his peripheral vision. He threw another stick for Buster and laughed when Buster couldn’t find it, running around in frantic circles in his attempt to find it. ‘Where is it, Buster? Where’s the stick?’

When he looked over again, he noticed that Gayle had stopped to talk to someone else. He squinted but it was too far and too dark to see properly. Even from this distance, he saw a flash of light – probably the light from a mobile. And then they started walking away from the park entrance. Were they heading for the woods? They seemed to be. Why would they be going to the woods at this time?

Buster barked, demanding his attention. ‘Sorry, Buster. Do you want the stick? Good boy. Go fetch.’ Buster had recently turned two years old. That meant he was fourteen in human years, still a teenager, still lots of life ahead of him. That was good. He remembered when his previous dog died – it’d hit him hard, really hard. He thought he’d never get over it until the day Mum returned home one day with a puppy in a basket – and that was Buster.

He passed by the entrance to the woods and wondered what happened to Gayle and her friend. Passing the park entrance, he circled around again – lap two. Roger should be returning from the Red Lion by now. Once he got back to the place where he’d spoken to Gayle, he looked across the park again and stopped short – Gayle’s friend was running across the park, away from the woods, heading for the park entrance. He held his breath. Why was he running? And where was Gayle? Had she already gone and he hadn't noticed? Something wasn’t right. Some deep instinct told him something about this was off. He hurried across the park, needing to know what had happened to Gayle.

Approaching the woods, he called her name. The man, her friend, had long gone by now. Colin wondered why he was in such a hurry. ‘Gayle? Are you here, Gayle?’ Entering the woods now, he heard a noise in front of him. He stopped but it was nothing, perhaps just a dormouse or something under the leaves. Why did the night feel that much colder all of a sudden? He crept forward, his every sense on full alert. He wished Roger was here; he’d know what to do.

His phone pinged causing Colin to jump and shriek with fright. It was then he heard it – a whimpering of some sort, someone groaning. He spun around trying to find the source of this noise. ‘Hello? Who’s there?’ He heard it again, a definite groan, somewhere nearby.

And then he saw her. His mouth dropped open; he heard nothing but the hammering of his heart.

Gayle was lying on her back in the grass at the base of a tree, something shiny sticking out of her chest…

Chapter 3: Roger

Roger was almost at the Red Lion when his phone rang. His heart jumped on seeing Gayle’s name on the screen. Of all his former girlfriends, Gayle was the one he missed. A teacher, gorgeous woman, gorgeous looking, OK, maybe a bit too left-wing for his liking, always sticking up for worthy causes. Any ism, and she was into it, or rather against it – racism, sexism, environmentalism, anything. But he liked Gayle. He liked her a lot and when she finished with him, for reasons he still wasn’t sure about, it’d hurt like hell. They hadn't spoken for a while. But he couldn’t talk to her now; he was in too much of a rush, had to get back to Colin. He’d phone her back.

The pub on a Monday night was almost deserted. He clocked a couple of older guys playing cards while a woman sitting with them painted her fingernails. The jukebox was playing some old Rick Astley track. He spotted Debbie sitting at a table with a thick-set white gentleman, maybe in his forties, wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap and a blue puffer jacket, a pint of lager on the table. Debbie, nursing a tomato juice, waved at him as he approached. He and Debs had been an item for a few months a year or two back but she’d broken it up when she moved away, only to return within a couple of months. He sort of missed her. She always made him laugh and, having an OK if menial job in some office in town, she paid her way. But, if truth be told, he’d never really been into her and was happy for them to remain friends. Having a girlfriend like Debbie was, at times, too much work; she was always wanting to do things, to go out places and have fun and be sociable. She never gave him any space and it got on his tits after a while. Still, she was a decent sort. Colin liked her – but to be fair, Colin liked everyone, he never thought ill of anyone. You’d have to be a right blighter for Colin not to like you.

‘Want a drink, Baz?’ asked Debbie, having greeted him with a peck on the cheek.

Ah yes, he thought, he was Baz and Debs was Tracey. ‘Nah, don’t have time, Tracey. Got to get back to Colin in a minute.’

‘This is Del.’

‘Alright?’ said the man called Del. He tipped the peak of his cap.

‘Alright.’ A big-boned man, he had deep-set eyes and large eyebrows. He didn’t look like a copper but you could never be too careful. Roger sat. ‘So, D… Tracey tells me you’re looking for a Bluetooth speaker.’

‘Yeah, need one for a present for the wife. What sort you got?’

‘I could do you a portable Sony for twenty quid.’ He showed the man a photo of it on his phone. ‘Nice piece of equipment. Chucks out a decent sound.’ In truth, he had no idea. ‘Or this.’ He swiped to the next photo. ‘That’s an Amazon Echo Dot, quality stuff, sells for forty but I could do it for twenty again.’

‘Is it new?’

‘As good as. Barely been out of the box. One careful lady owner.’ Everything he sold had belonged to ‘one careful lady owner’. He could be selling a Sherman tank and he’d still say it had belonged to ‘one careful lady owner’.

Del nodded. ‘Fifteen quid.’

Roger sighed although he’d fully expected to haggle. ‘Nah, sorry, mate. I can’t go that low. I’ll do you for seventeen fifty.’

Debbie, watching them, said, ‘Sounds good, Del.’

‘Yeah alright. Seventeen fifty. Done.’

The two men shook hands on it and made arrangements to meet the following morning outside the pub at eleven. Del wanted Roger’s number but Roger needed to trust a fellow before he went around handing out such information willy-nilly.