by Alex Walters
Yardley thought for a moment, then said, ‘I just wondered how it felt for you, Mr Donahue. Losing contact with your own son, I mean.’
The question seemed innocuous enough, simply the first that occurred to Yardley on the spur of the moment. But Zoe noted that the question had disconcerted Donahue. There was something in his expression she couldn’t interpret.
‘Like I say,’ Donahue said, ‘I didn’t really have any kind of relationship with him. I didn’t even really think of him as my son. It was all a long time ago. I’ve put all that behind me. That’s all.’
He stopped, and for a few moments Zoe allowed the silence to continue, intrigued by Donahue’s evident discomfort. Finally, she said, ‘Even so, our commiserations on your loss, Mr Donahue. The news must have been a shock to you. We won’t take up any more of your time at the moment. Thank you for talking to us.’
Donahue stared at her as if he hadn’t followed what she’d said. ‘Oh, aye. No worries. I’ll be here if you need to speak to me again. I usually am.’ He allowed the ghost of an ironic smile to cross his face. ‘It’s not like I’ve anywhere much else to go these days.’
Chapter Ten
‘You’re sure you want to do this, Zo?’
‘I don’t see why not. I worked as a Family Liaison Officer for a good while until I was promoted to DS. It’s been a while but it was something I – well, I’m not sure enjoyed is the word, but something I found rewarding.’
‘I’d almost forgotten you’d worked as an FLO until you brought it up at the meeting.’
At the briefing session earlier in the day, Annie had been discussing the need to designate a Family Liaison Officer to support Michelle Wentworth. This would have been standard procedure in any case of this nature. It wasn’t normally a role that Annie would expect a Detective Sergeant to undertake; but here the circumstances might justify it.
Annie had been keen to identify someone who might encourage Wentworth to be more open with them. She knew Zoe was skilled at building relationships with others, but she also had a detective’s nose for what might be important. She knew how to retain her objectivity, and she was sharp and perceptive, astute at spotting the verbal cues that could provide an insight into what someone might be thinking. It wasn’t that Annie wanted Zoe to be a spy in the camp, but she felt they needed a better understanding of Michelle Wentworth, her business life and her relationship with Justin.
‘So what am I looking for, do you think?’ Zoe asked. ‘Do we really think there’s a possibility Wentworth’s responsible for her son’s death?’ They’d touched on this possibility the previous day but aside from Michelle’s derogatory comments about her son’s laidback attitude there wasn’t much to go on.
‘I can’t see it, personally,’ Annie said. ‘What would be the motive, for a start? And I don’t see Wentworth as the sort who’d commit a frenzied killing just because she loses her rag. It’s not impossible, obviously, but she’s not high on my list of suspects at the moment. But I do think there’s something. Maybe nothing directly to do with our investigation, but something she’s holding back from us.’
‘Be interesting to see what state of mind she’s in today. Must be an awful shock for her, however resilient she might be.’
‘That’s my feeling. I wonder if she realises how much of a shock she’s had. She strikes me as the type who’d think she can work through it until the reality suddenly hits home. But we’ll see.’
They emerged from the car into the scorching sunshine. The weather had remained unchanged, the sky still empty of clouds, the temperature unseasonably high. They were having problems with wildfires on the moors as they had off and on all summer, and there would be more yet if the weather didn’t break soon. Out here, the day seemed eerily silent, without even the faintest trace of a breeze.
While they waited at the front door, Annie looked back across the huge front garden. It was largely lawn, but there was enough in the way of bushes and shrubbery to provide cover for anyone wanting to approach undetected. If their killer had driven up to the house, it would have been impossible for them to avoid being caught on one of the cameras, either in front of the house or out by the gate. That suggested the killer had parked somewhere outside the gardens, avoiding the cameras at the main front gate, and had then made their way to the house on foot. Wentworth had said that, prior to the killing, she’d been in the habit of leaving the main gates open in the daytime to admit mail and other deliveries.
Annie had had a couple of members of the team check out the gardens’ perimeter. Most of it was securely fenced, but there were several points where it wouldn’t have been difficult for a determined intruder to gain access. They’d also identified a number of places where it would have been possible to leave a car unobtrusively. They were in the process of checking out potential witnesses or camera sightings on the surrounding roads. It was laborious work, but so often that was what provided the key breakthroughs.
It was a few minutes before there was any response to the doorbell, though Annie had contacted Michelle Wentworth earlier in the day to set up the meeting. Annie suspected that might be indicative of the kind of woman Wentworth was – keep people waiting, ensure the meeting’s taking place on your terms. Wentworth struck her as someone who liked to be in control, even in circumstances like these.
When she finally opened the door, Annie thought Wentworth looked a different woman from the one who had greeted them the previous day. It was partly the simple fact that then she’d been wearing a dressing gown, whereas today she was rigged out in her full business attire. And very imposing she looked, Annie thought, in her expensive-looking suit. Annie wondered whether Wentworth was heading out to a meeting or two later, or whether she always dressed like this when working at home.
‘We won’t keep you long, Mrs Wentworth,’ said Annie after a brief hello. ‘We just wanted to confirm that my colleague, DS Zoe Everett, will be acting as your Family Liaison Officer. You met Zoe yesterday, of course, but we thought it might be helpful for her to explain the role.’
Wentworth gazed at Zoe for a moment, and then led them through the house into the garden. The large table by the pool was spread with files and papers. ‘Forgive the mess,’ Wentworth said. ‘I couldn’t face working inside on a day like this. I was planning to go into the office, but everybody told me it was an insane idea.’
‘Probably a good idea to have a break,’ Annie said. ‘In the circumstances.’
‘I’m not sure that being stuck alone in here is any better. And I’m not one for taking breaks even after something like this. If I try to do nothing, I get stir-crazy. So I’m working as usual. I can’t afford to take any real time off.’
‘Are you particularly busy at the moment?’ Annie enquired.
Wentworth hesitated for a second. ‘Not really. No more than usual. But I generally have to work my arse off to keep us on track. I’ve got some good people working for me, and I’ve invested a lot in developing talent in the business. But in the end it’s the same old story. If you want to make sure a job’s done properly, you have to do it yourself.’ She shook her head. ‘I just don’t want to end up taking my eye off the ball because of what’s happened. But it’s difficult to keep focused.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Annie said. ‘I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through.’
‘I’ll get through it, I don’t doubt. You have to, don’t you? Let me get you some coffee.’
‘We don’t want to put you to any trouble,’ Annie said.
‘It’s no trouble. I’m gasping for one myself so you’ll be doing me a favour.’
They took seats at the table while Wentworth headed back into the house. Zoe was looking round, taking in the pool, the large garden, and the spectacular countryside beyond. They had only glimpsed this rear garden during their previous visit, though since then a team of officers had painstakingly searched it and the surrounding countryside in the hope of finding the murder weapon or other potential evidence.
‘What do you think?’ Annie asked Zoe while they were alone.
‘There’s something odd about her, isn’t there? I know grief hits people in different ways, but something doesn’t quite gel. She didn’t seem comfortable talking about what they’re working on at present.’
‘That’s what I thought. I’ll do some more digging into the business when I get back to the ranch.’ She was about to say more when she heard the sound of Wentworth’s raised voice from inside the house. Annie placed a finger to her lips and gestured for Zoe to listen.
At first, it was difficult to make out more than the occasional phrase. ‘…the hell do you think you were doing… me first… I hope you do…’ There was an extended silence while Wentworth presumably listened to whatever was being said at the other end of the phone. When she responded, her voice was a little louder. ‘I hear all that, Roger. But I don’t like it when people go off-piste without consulting me. Even you. Next time tell me before you go off on some frolic of your own. I’m not comfortable with this. Somebody’s setting up somebody, that’s for sure, but it all just sounds a bit too convenient. Before you go any further, make sure you speak to our PR people. Peter Hardy’s got all the details. I just want to make sure it’s all properly coordinated, and I haven’t got time to think about it at the moment. No, that’s fine. You weren’t to know. Thanks, Roger. That’s much appreciated.’ They heard her end the call, and a few moments later she reappeared carrying a tray of coffee mugs. ‘Sorry I was so long. Got waylaid by a call from one of my managers. Poor bugger hadn’t heard about Justin, so I gave him a bit of an earful to begin with.’ She placed the tray on the table, before sitting down opposite them. ‘It all comes at once, doesn’t it?’
‘Problems?’ Annie asked.
‘Something and nothing, probably. We’ve got some industrial action taking place at one of our sites. Usual story, but this one seems to be turning a bit nasty.’
Annie thought back to her conversation with Sheena the previous evening. ‘Nasty in what way?’
‘Some trouble on the picket line yesterday. Then last night the manager’s car was vandalised. Your lot have been informed. Could just do without the publicity at the moment. Along with what’s happened here, it starts to make us look as if we’re not on top of things.’
It was an interesting perspective, Annie supposed. Worrying that your son’s brutal murder might reflect negatively on your company’s profile. ‘It sounds as if you’ve a lot on your plate.’
‘You can say that again. And I feel guilty even thinking about the work stuff after what happened to Justin. But it wouldn’t help me to be sitting here brooding. I’m built to work, and throwing myself back into that’s probably the surest way of getting me through this.’ She sounded as if she was trying to persuade herself. ‘Anyway, that’s not why you’re here.’
‘We just wanted to explain Zoe’s role,’ Annie said. ‘The idea is that she’ll be your main day-to-day contact with ourselves. If we need anything more from you, we’ll organise that through Zoe.’
‘And I’ll make sure that you’re kept fully up to speed with all developments in the investigation, Mrs Wentworth,’ Zoe added. ‘If you have any questions at any point, then just ask and I’ll get the answers for you. Similarly, if you’ve any concerns about the way the investigation is being handled, please raise them with me in the first instance and I’ll ensure the issue’s resolved.’
‘And no doubt you’ll be keeping an eye on me in the meantime?’ Wentworth’s tone was light-hearted, but it sounded as if she was letting Zoe know exactly where she stood.
‘That’s not the purpose of the role,’ Zoe said calmly. ‘If we do need to gather further information from you, then I’ll be involved in that. But the primary aim is simply to ensure that you have a single, approachable point of contact with the investigation.’
‘If you say so,’ Wentworth said.
‘It’s standard practice in all major inquiries,’ Annie said.
‘I’m sure it is.’ Wentworth was smiling but there was no humour evident in her expression. ‘It doesn’t really matter. I’ve nothing to hide. All of my failings are fully out in plain sight.’
There was little point in arguing, Annie thought. In any case, Wentworth wasn’t entirely wrong. Zoe wasn’t expected to act as a spy, but Annie did want her to build a rapport with Michelle Wentworth and, if possible, to penetrate at least a little below her public image. If there were things Wentworth wasn’t saying to them, that might in part be because she didn’t trust the police to act in her interests. If they could build up some trust, she might be prepared to be at least a little more forthcoming about her business affairs. Whether that would assist their inquiry remained to be seen, but they were still at the stage where any information could potentially be valuable. ‘We won’t take up any more of your time, then, Mrs Wentworth. You’re obviously very busy.’
‘I’ll be in touch in due course, Mrs Wentworth,’ Zoe said. ‘What I’d like to do is set up a regular session with you, either by phone or face-to-face as you prefer, to catch up on any developments. But if you’ve any questions for us, or if you think of anything that you feel might be pertinent to the inquiry, please don’t hesitate to contact me at any time.’ She slid a business card across the table. ‘My contact details are all on there.’
Michelle Wentworth picked up the card and gazed at it for a moment, as if assessing the value of its contents. Then she dropped it on to her pile of papers, in a manner that suggested she’d rather be dropping it in the bin. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I very much look forward to speaking to you, DS Everett, as soon as you’ve something worthwhile to tell me.’
Chapter Eleven
Stuart Jennings was pacing up and down the incident room when Annie and Zoe arrived back.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Jennings said. ‘I’ve been trying to phone you.’
‘And a good afternoon to you, Stuart. We’ve been up to see Michelle Wentworth. Couldn’t get a signal up there, so didn’t pick up your message till we were on our way back. Tried to phone you a couple of times but you were engaged.’ Annie forced herself to remain calm. Jennings was clearly rattled about something but she wasn’t going to let him bully her.
‘That was because I’ve had the Chief and the Assistant Chief on the phone almost constantly for the last hour,’ he said.
‘Did rather prevent me from calling you back, though,’ Annie pointed out. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘This is the problem.’ Jennings was holding a copy of the Evening Telegraph, which he thrust in her direction.
It was today’s early edition. Jennings held it up and jabbed his finger at the front-page headline. Union Thugs Trash Car. Below the headline was a picture of a badly damaged BMW with the word ‘SCAB’ painted along its bodywork.
‘Nasty,’ she said. ‘I take it this is one of Michelle Wentworth’s places? She was just saying something about it. Didn’t go into any detail, though.’
‘Too right it is. Look at the state of that bloody car.’
Annie assumed Jennings’ irritation was based on something other than a hitherto unknown love for BMWs. ‘I don’t understand. What’s the concern?’
‘It’s the Comms team who were concerned in the first instance. They were intending to do the media release about Justin Wentworth’s killing this afternoon to catch the early-evening news bulletins.’
‘That’s what we agreed,’ Annie said. ‘We thought that would prompt some calls, maybe even help identify some potential witnesses. We’ve got the call handlers primed. I still don’t see what the problem is.’
Jennings slumped down on to one of the chairs, as if he’d suddenly run out of energy. ‘You know what Comms are like. They want everything completely under control. Everything just the way they’ve planned it.’
‘Life doesn’t always work out that way. We’re police officers, for goodness sake. Shit happens. What do they expect? In any case, how does this cause them a problem
?’
‘They think, maybe rightly, that the media are going to put two and two together and make five. That they’ll link the story of the car being trashed with Justin’s death, and conclude the murder was politically motivated.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Annie said. ‘What are they envisaging? A trade union hit squad?’
‘You know that most of the press jump at any opportunity to bad-mouth the trade unions. This is right up their street.’
‘Even for them, the idea of a trade union taking someone out’s a bit far-fetched, surely?’
‘It won’t be that, though, will it? They’ll claim that it was some hothead, high on his own rhetoric. The unions will get the blame for leading him astray, filling his head with dangerous socialist nonsense.’
‘But there’s nothing to link the two cases. And, just to be pedantic, it would be a bit odd for an activist to progress from murder to vandalism. It would suggest they’d peaked too early.’ Before Jennings could intervene, she held up her hands. ‘That was a joke, Stuart.’
‘Not the best time for your jokes, Annie. That won’t stop them making the link. And that will make the whole thing messier and even higher-profile than before. That’s why I’ve had endless calls from whatever the collective noun is for Chief Officers.’
‘A murder?’ Annie suggested.
Jennings glared at her. ‘Very clever. But, yes, that’s what they’re worried about.’ He paused. ‘Apart from anything else, I understand your partner was there yesterday.’
Annie felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Sheena was a relatively uncontroversial figure as Labour MPs went, largely because she avoided shooting her mouth off to the national press about anything and everything. She preferred to get on with working for her constituents. Even so, she was undeniably on the left of the party and the media were generally only too glad to find an excuse to stick their boots in. They’d no doubt be delighted at the opportunity to paint her as an associate of the thuggish tendency. ‘She paid a brief visit to the picket line, yes. Just to show solidarity.’
