Copycat

by Diane Saxon

  ‘Gerry, thanks.’

  She clicked Airwaves off.

  Jenna’s gaze skimmed across the patch of garden, flitting over Bitch and onto the uniformed officer tripping up the path towards them, dark eyes wide with concern. A certain sense of relief at the sight of the experienced and empathetic officer settled her. ‘Donna, any chance you could run DC Downey back to the station for me?’

  PC Donna McGuire nodded. ‘Of course. Is everything all right?’ Her blue-black hair danced in the first rays of sunlight to break through, her latte skin glowed smooth and flawless.

  ‘Yeah.’ Jenna stepped in close, lowered her voice. ‘Seems he knows the victim.’

  ‘He’s grey.’ Donna shot him a fast glance. ‘Looks faint.’

  Jenna crooked a smile. Quite the mother hen, Donna would take care of him. She’d taken care of Jenna when she’d needed someone. ‘The creamy latte shit he downed before he got here probably didn’t help.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’ Sympathy overflowed as she gave a quick nod at two other officers as they arrived, ready for the door-to-door search Jenna assumed Acting Inspector Evans had arranged. ‘I’m off to the station. I’ll be back later.’ She raised her chin and called over to Ryan. ‘Ryan, come on. I’ll give you a lift back.’ She touched Jenna’s arm. ‘He’ll be fine. I’ll take care of him.’

  Reassured, Jenna knew Donna would, as she headed for the squad car with Ryan in tow, his shoulders slumped, not in a teenage sulk but a deep sadness.

  Mason glanced up as Jenna entered the kitchen, but Jim continued with the precise, measured movements that his job required. She needed his attention though.

  ‘I’ve sent Ryan back to the station.’ She knew it would knock him. ‘He knew the victim, Jim. Turns out he was on a date with her last night.’

  She ignored Mason’s sharp intake of breath and concentrated on her CSI officer.

  Jim tilted his head to one side and squinted up at her over the top of his glasses. ‘He was home by eleven, Sergeant Morgan.’ The edge of formality sneaked into his words. ‘His mum can vouch for him. Not me, because I know what time the victim was killed. Give or take an hour or so, she was dead at around three this morning, no earlier than one.’ His smile was tight, not with her, but the situation. ‘Send someone around to speak with Lilian, you’ll need it recorded.’ He scratched his head. ‘I’ll let Acting Inspector Evans know what’s what. I think he went out back. He said he needed some quiet space while he was on the phone.’

  Admiration rolled off her at the calmness of his attitude and she reached out a hand to smooth it across his shoulder. A subtle gesture of solidarity.

  He patted her hand and skimmed his gaze around the room. ‘I’ll brief Phil, get him to finish up in here, just in case there are any questions later. It’s best I remove myself from the scene at this point and avoid any conflict of interest.’ He stripped off his gloves, looked around as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do next. ‘We’ll have Ryan’s prints on file. I don’t believe he touched anything in the brief time he was in here, but you’ll need to verify that.’ He flipped the gloves into the disposal bag and blew out a breath. ‘I’ll go back to the station.’ He caught her gaze. ‘I won’t speak with him until you come back.’ He placed his hands on his hips and hung his head for a moment. ‘I hope it doesn’t worry Lilian too much, she’s not had a good time lately.’

  It was an understatement, as Ryan’s maternal grandmother had died a short while ago, her body ravaged by cancer. Ryan said very little, but he was close to his mother and grandmother. The hurt would run deep and the empathy for his mother’s situation would put more pressure on him.

  Mason held his silence until Jim left the room.

  ‘Bloody hell, this could be messy.’

  She gauged the scene. ‘I don’t think so. We need to stick to protocol and everything will be fine. It’s coincidence.’ She rubbed her icy hands together to warm them through.

  Mason shot her a sour look. ‘No such thing.’

  ‘I hope to hell there is on this occasion.’ She sucked air in through her teeth while she contemplated her next step. ‘Okay, let’s go question the boyfriend.’ She glanced out of the window at the dark brown word etched into the lawn. ‘‘Bitch’, sounds like a real charmer.’

  ‘You want me to lead?’

  She flashed Mason a quick smile. ‘Nah, I’ve got this. Let’s see if we have any reason to take him in to the station.’ Her gaze fell on the block writing on the lawn again. ‘If he wrote that, he’s down the station, regardless.’

  ‘Yeah, prick.’

  Typical Mason bluntness brought a brief smile to her face, which she wiped off as she stepped into the minimalist living room, its neutral tones giving an air of quiet sophistication in sharp contrast to the indignity of the woman’s death.

  She took a quick glance at her notes and then stepped forward into the man’s personal space as he came to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the sofa. ‘Ray Horrobin? I’m Detective Sergeant Jenna Morgan, and this is Detective Constable Mason Ellis.’

  Panic skittered through reddened eyes swollen with crying. ‘Am I under arrest?’

  Already she didn’t like him as his concern was primarily about himself not the deceased woman. Mason was right. The man was a prick.

  Being a moron didn’t make him a killer though and Jenna shoved aside her personal opinion and deferred to her professional judgement.

  ‘Do I need to arrest you?’ Her tone was sharper than she’d intended, the personal slipping through despite her intention for it not to.

  His eyebrows shot up, surprise wrinkling his forehead. He really had no concept that he could be arrested. That just by being her ex-boyfriend and a prick he’d made himself the prime suspect. It still didn’t make him the murderer though.

  Jenna relented and drew her expression into one of sympathetic understanding. She needed his co-operation at least. ‘Ray – can I call you Ray?’ She pulled the bland smile from deep down. She was a police officer, one with enough experience to have an excellent acting repertoire at her disposal.

  He hitched in a breath, eyes filled with a desperate confusion she suspected was genuine. ‘Yeah, absolutely. Ray’s fine. That’s my name.’

  ‘Ray, take a seat.’ She laced her voice with compassion as she sank into the chair next to him and leaned forward, bringing her face in close to his. ‘I’m not here to arrest you, just ask a couple of questions. If we consider it necessary, we’ll stop the conversation and take you to the station. Right now, I just want to establish a few facts. Is that okay with you?’

  ‘Yeah. I think so. Do I need a solicitor? They always have a solicitor on TV.’

  ‘That’s on TV, Ray. A solicitor isn’t necessary right now, you’re not under arrest. We’re trying to establish what happened.’ If only people would stop believing everything they saw on TV. ‘Ray,’ She needed to get him to focus. ‘What’s your relationship with Marcia?’

  His brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Umm, I’m her boyfriend. No, umm ex-boyfriend.’

  ‘Ex?’

  ‘Yeah, we broke up fairly recently.’ He raised his hand to his face and screwed his eyes shut. ‘I can’t remember exactly when.’

  ‘Okay. That’s not important right now.’ They could pin that down later. ‘Can you tell me where you were last night?’

  ‘Last night?’ Confusion flitted through his eyes. ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry. I can’t think straight. I’m tired and… and shocked.’

  She’d leave that for later too. Corroboration would be under caution.

  ‘Okay. What brought you here so early this morning?’

  He shook his head as though the change in direction confused him. ‘Umm, Marcia wasn’t returning my calls. She needed to sign the contracts for the sale of the house. She’s ignored the solicitor’s request for the past ten days.’

  Jenna nodded, sympathised with him. She was on his side, understood his point of view. ‘You have a key to the front doo
r? Can you gain access any time you want?’

  ‘Yes, yes of course. It’s as much my house as hers. I paid half the damned mortgage, the bills, while she just lives… lived here.’ His mouth turned sullen, his tone hit belligerent. ‘She was being awkward. She refused to sell. I need the money.’ He dropped his face into his hands and scrubbed them over his skin. ‘My girlfriend’s pregnant.’

  Bingo. Two damned good reasons to murder your ex-girlfriend.

  Jenna grabbed eye contact with him when he looked back up. It didn’t look good for him. ‘Ray.’ She repeated his name to keep him focused, keep his attention on her. ‘The writing on the lawn…’ She caught the wary flicker. ‘Are you responsible for burning the word “bitch” on the lawn?’

  His breath juddered in. ‘Yeah. Umm, she wouldn’t fucking move out.’

  ‘It’s a pretty drastic message.’

  ‘She was ignoring me, pretending it was never going to happen, but every time I came around, we argued. She’d scream at me. Like that would make me come back. The last time I came around…’ he rasped his fingers over dry lips as he shook his head. ‘I just needed her to let go and move. She was clinging. I’ve got my girlfriend, you know…’

  Jenna had heard enough, she needed to caution him. If she could keep a lid on the temper she sensed bubbling just below the surface, perhaps she could have this wrapped up before the end of the day.

  ‘Ray, we’re going to stop here. I don’t think you should say anything further until I caution you.’

  Surprise rippled over his features. She kept her voice low and controlled as she proceeded to read him his rights.

  Before she was halfway through, he shot to his feet. He towered over her, his fists clenched in white fury, his eyes blazed with indignation. ‘It wasn’t me. I didn’t fucking kill her. You have to be kidding.’

  Ice formed in her veins. She’d been here before and these days she refused to wait for the assault. So close, he restricted her from rising to her feet without coming into contact with him, Jenna took a split second to consider her options.

  Before she had a chance, Ray stumbled backwards and Mason’s deadpan face appeared over his shoulder, a hard glint in his eye. ‘I’ve got this, Sarg. Mr Horrobin can tell us more at the station.’ He wheeled the man in the opposite direction, one strong hand encircling his biceps, the other holding tight to his shirt collar and called over his shoulder, ‘I’ll meet you back at the car.’

  Knees weak, Jenna melted back onto the chair, unable to get her feet under her. The adrenaline rush burned through her system, setting each nerve end on fire. She sucked air in through her teeth, desperate to control the fight/flight response. All too fresh in her mind was the knee to the face she’d suffered when her concentration had been blown after Fliss went missing. A rape enquiry which had quickly turned into an assault on her.

  It wouldn’t happen again, she wouldn’t allow it, but training didn’t matter. At the end of the day, if the guy was built and desperate, she’d learned, to her detriment, that no matter what she did, without backup, she was effectively defenceless. Too many officers had fallen foul of a bad temper and a fast fist.

  She unfurled her own clenched fists. She would have given him a good run for his money, done some damage, but being a police officer was about teamwork, backup and relying on your partner. She knew with absolute certainty she could rely on Mason.

  Under control once more, Jenna pushed up from the chair. The slight shake in her fingers could be attributed to caffeine overload or overindulgence the night before, but she knew better. With studied control, she made her way outside into the fresh air, passed the pool of vomit and the word ‘Bitch’ to the car, where Mason waited for her with his detainee in the back seat.

  She scoped out the stragglers starting to pay interest in the police presence, the familiar figure of Kim Stafford loitering on the outer edges of the cordon.

  A fine buzz of irritation skimmed over her. How did he know so quickly? Was he connected to the police scanners?

  Mind clear, the dull ache of the hangover long since forgotten, Jenna waited in silence as Mason fired up the engine of the Insignia and headed back to Malinsgate for what promised to be a challenging day.

  9

  Tuesday 4 February, 10:45 hrs

  Jenna’s detective constable sat pale as death, his freckles stark against his high cheekbones. Pride shimmered through Jenna at his quiet, dignified composure, so like his father. She’d not spotted it before, but every inch of him screamed morality, from the top of his light sandy hair to the shiny bulled shoes. She chewed her bottom lip while she studied him. He should have been a copper in the sixties, he’d have been more suited to the times.

  Her heart softened.

  She needed to be careful how she phrased her questions. He’d give her everything. Full disclosure. He’d lay himself bare before her and every other police officer who heard the tape.

  His father, Jim, sat quietly outside in the darkened hallway, his rangy body crushed into a small plastic chair. He wouldn’t come in. He wouldn’t ask. He was there for his son. Calm, supportive.

  Jenna wished she’d had a father like him. Unquestionably, immovably on Ryan’s side. Instead of the man who’d left before she barely knew him, never attempting to establish a relationship, never mind the one like Ryan had with Jim.

  Never an issue before her mother died, Jenna often dwelled on what could have been with her father.

  She shook off the melancholy. It wasn’t about her. It was about the poor lad who’d discovered he could be integral in a murder investigation.

  She drew in a long breath before she entered the interview room.

  Jenna closed the door and took a seat opposite DC Downey. She flicked the digital recorder on and waited while it went through the setting up motions, the dull buzz of the machine vibrating its warning. When it finished, Jenna looked directly into Ryan’s eyes and winked. She’d have leaned forward and patted his hand, but felt it was too overt a move. She was Team Ryan, too, but it wouldn’t help his cause if she made it obvious to everyone else.

  As long as he knew.

  ‘Interview with Detective Constable Ryan Downey commencing…’ She checked her phone for the time, ‘1045 hours.’ She glanced down at the blank sheet in front of her and tapped her pen twice before she raised her head again, her gaze connecting with his. ‘DC Downey, we’ve invited you in to be interviewed regarding your relationship and contact with the deceased, Marcia Davies, as we believe you may have been the last person to see her alive. You are not under arrest at this point in the investigation.’ She looked up and smiled at the woman diagonally opposite. ‘Currently you have Federation Representative Sandra O’Neill accompanying you and both myself, DS Jenna Morgan, and DC Mason Ellis are present. If at any time we consider the information you give us is at all detrimental or could in any way implicate you in an offence, or prejudice your position, we will stop the interview and invite you to seek legal representation. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He inclined his head in sharp acknowledgement. Good lad. Professional, he wanted the interview over as much as she did, but she needed every iota of information from him.

  ‘DC Downey, could you please tell me your relationship with the deceased?’

  The question had to be asked, but she hoped to hell he didn’t throw himself under the bus.

  ‘Yes. I met her on Y’ello.’

  Surprised, his answer threw her. ‘Y’ello?’

  ‘It’s a dating app. Relatively new.’

  Dating apps were not her thing. Perhaps they should be, given her long-term single status, but she couldn’t persuade herself to invest her precious time looking at profiles online when that’s what she did for a living. Every man she looked at would be a suspect. She’d profile them with a cynicism that wasn’t warranted on a date.

  Her lips twitched as she looked at Ryan. He’d learn.

  ‘Okay. Tell me about Y’ello. I’m afraid it�
��s not something I’ve come across.’

  The flash of pity almost made her reconsider joining – obviously everyone knew she was going through a dry spell. Ryan dug into his pocket, fished out his phone and placed it on the table between them. ‘You can filter this app to real specifics.’

  ‘Right. For the record DC Downey has placed his phone on the table and has opened the app for us to see.’ She narrowed her eyes as he tapped the screen and a bright yellow app opened up. ‘What specifics were you filtering through?’

  His pale cheeks pinkened and he ducked his head in embarrassment. His voice when it came was low and husky. ‘I prefer women who understand the uniform, the shift work, the commitment to long hours.’ He cleared his throat as he gave the Fed Rep, Sandra, a bashful peep. ‘But police officers aren’t for me. I want to get away from work when I leave for the day.’

  She could relate to that. Pillow talk would be forever arrests and convicts. She’d found that out pretty quickly once she joined the job and shied away from work romances.

  Jenna shifted in her chair while she waited for him to continue. She knew he’d go for full disclosure, but this could shift into the realms of deep discomfort. She could only pray he didn’t divulge every aspect of his sex life.

  ‘I chose nurses. They’d understand the shifts, the personal contact.’

  ‘Right.’ She nodded. So many police officers married nurses. It was logical. There was the shared sense of shift patterns, death and humour.

  ‘And I like gingers.’

  Disconcerted, Jenna squinted at him. ‘Gingers?’

  ‘Women with ginger hair.’ He stared at her as though she was mad and the soft snort from Mason verified she probably was.

  Gingers? They called them gingers? Whatever happened to redheads?

  ‘Ah.’ For a moment, her mind had zoned out. She’d been on a totally different plain. Before she could gather her thoughts, he continued.

  ‘I like the ones with brown eyes, you know the gingery ones that go with their hair colour?’