Page 100 of Her Last Breath

Reflected in the light from the kitchen window, Jane could see the grey in his beard. She hadn’t really noticed before.

‘Alice had a small amount of cash at her place when we found her. Just a hundred quid. The value isn’t so much of interest as the notes themselves. I think they came from police funds.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Lancs have been monitoring money that they’re giving to officers.’

There was a discernible swallow in DS Johnson’s throat. He obviously hadn’t known.

‘What sort of monitoring?’

‘Serial numbers of the bank notes they’re giving officers for running operations. Running informants. They use batched notes to make the logging process easier. When I compared the money Alice Rogers had to the money we found with Mark Burrows, there was a crossover. Same batch and a sequential pattern of serial numbers.’

Letting what she had just said sink in, Jane stopped to take a gulp of tea.

‘Mark Burrows, I know, was being paid by you. But I don’t understand why Alice Rogers would also have the same serial numbered cash? Unless …?’

Jane let the question hang between them.

‘He gave her some cash maybe?’ he said.

‘Why? From what we know, Mark Burrows was friends with Liam Harrison. Neighbours said he mostly visited when Alice wasn’t home. You were part of this investigation; you know despite our best efforts we couldn’t find a solid link connecting the two beyond the altercation he witnessed.’

‘Maybe he felt sorry for her? Gave her some cash to help her out?’

‘Alice Rogers came into cash on a regular basis even before she met Harrison or Burrows. Out of interest, how much were you paying your informant each month?’

‘Two thousand pounds.’

Immediately her throat tightened, feeling dry and closed. Jane took a gulp of her tea to help. The nervousness she was suddenly feeling didn’t add up; unless she didn’t like where this conversation was heading.

‘His accounts show a regular income of a grand every other month.’ She let that fact land before she added, ‘Where did the rest go?’

DS Johnson seemed to freeze, unable to answer. Or even look at her.

‘That’s three thousand pounds he would have had to spend or stash away every couple of months,’ Jane persisted, not wanting to give him time to think of a lie.

‘You know what sort of life he led,’ DS Johnson said uncertainly.

‘Surprisingly methodical when it came to cash,’ Jane was matter-of-fact as she recounted Mark’s financials. ‘He was even disciplined about depositing the irregular sums he made from the crap he was selling on the streets. His bills, food, subscriptions … All logged. We searched his flat, car, lock-up … There was no hidden cash anywhere.’

Her breathing was rapid, as though she was chasing him, even if only verbally. She had him cornered, building a picture of Mark’s money that raised some serious questions for DS Johnson.

‘Gambling debts? Or he owed someone?’ It felt like he was scrabbling for an explanation, a justification, not just for Mark, but for himself.

‘Did we find any evidence to indicate either of these scenarios?’

A beat as DS Johnson registered her words. He was annoyingly stoic, no strong reaction. Jane tapped the tabletop, considering her next move. The information she had found didn’t give credence to the idea that Mark was conveniently losing or spending three grand on a regular basis.

‘The evidence seems to suggest you were paying him one thousand pounds every other month only. Which makes me question what you did with the rest of the cash?’

DS Johnson stayed quiet.

‘You want to know what I think was happening? I think Alice was also an informant of yours. I think that you claimed a hefty sum of cash each month and used it to run informants off the books. More than that, I think you were keeping some of the cash for yourself.’

He blinked back at her, leaning forward.

‘Tell me it’s not true, Dave.’