Gina smiled. ‘You’ve been a great help, Mr Reed. I won’t take up any more of your time. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me before we finish?’
Jacob caught up with the notes on the witness statement as Gina waited for him to answer.
‘Not that I can think of. If I do remember anything, I’ll let you know straight away.’ He placed her card in his shirt pocket and patted it. ‘For now, I have some work to do, then I’m heading home to be with my family.’
Jacob scribbled out the blank end of the form and turned it around. ‘Could you please sign and date each page.’ The man obliged before standing to put his jacket on. ‘I’ll see you out.’
As they left, Gina grabbed her phone and checked to see if Hannah had messaged but there was nothing. She hoped that Samuel Avery had gone to his sister’s in London because that would mean that Hannah was nowhere near him. She now had the witness statement of a dead woman and Trevor Reed. This had to be enough to make a charge stick.
She’d left Robin Dawkins long enough to sweat it out. It was his turn next.
Briggs hurried along the corridor. ‘Update with regards to Robin Dawkins and you’re going to like this.’ That was just what she needed, some ammunition to enter the next interview with.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Cass’s finger hovered over the message she’d prepared for Kerry.
Kerry, is everything alright? I thought I’d have heard from you this morning. Hope you’re okay. Please message me when you read this.
The icon flashed, telling her that Kerry had read her message. She paced around her tiny lounge, stomach churning as she thought about Elvis and everything he was hiding. Had the neighbours seen him getting into the back of a police car? She pulled the curtain aside and scanned the streets and road below. No one was looking up at the house. No reporters had arrived to get a photo and dredge up Elvis’s past. As her mind ran away with that thought, she imagined trying to get out of the communal door below and being mobbed by people with microphones. Holly’s murder had already been on the news daily; they were hungry for a lead. Maybe they’d ask questions she didn’t have an answer to. Was Elvis having a relationship with Holly? What had he done time for? Maybe she’d been living with a rapist or a murderer. She’d read stories in her magazines, stories about women who’d lived with people and later found out that they’d done something terrible. Would she be another story?
She stared at her phone. Why wasn’t Kerry answering? Cass had skived off work and she wasn’t going back soon. Not only because she couldn’t face her judgmental colleagues if the news broke out about Elvis but also because she wanted to be there for Kerry. Today would test whether Kerry could be there for her too and now Kerry was ignoring her. Be patient, she kept telling herself. Besides, she couldn’t tell Kerry what had happened. Her mouth watered as she imagined Kerry finding out that Elvis had killed Fran. Is that what she thought?
Yes, he had been acting weirdly.
He’d been out at the time of her murder.
Maybe he’d been at Lilly’s house after the murder, at the same time Cass had been checking the last bridesmaid out, trying to decipher what Lilly had that she didn’t.
She felt her stomach roll as she imagined the headlines when it all came out. Elvis the Bridesmaid Killer. It had to have been him, especially with this past she had no idea about. The police had come for him and he had no option but to go, that confirmed his guilt.
She thought back to all the messages he was getting at all hours, the passwords on his phone and laptop, his evasiveness and his increasing irritation towards her; the fact that he was pushing her away when she wanted affection. All the signs were there. She had to find out what he’d been up to but he’d been one step ahead. She was sick of passwords. She hit send on another message.
Kerry, please answer me. I’m worried about you.
Maybe Kerry had been hurt. She had been fine when they’d been drinking together. Elvis had been out. Maybe when he went back out he’d hurt Kerry. Stop it, Cass. You’re letting your imagination run away with you.
Just tell me you’re okay then I’ll stop messaging. I need to know you’re safe. Please message me. Cass.
Phew, Kerry had now read all of her messages. Cass held her breath. Kerry was typing, then she stopped. She swallowed and swiftly went back to Kerry’s Facebook page, her trembling fingers almost accidentally closing the app. The last thing Kerry had posted was how sad she was over what had happened to Fran. She flicked over to Instagram. Kerry always posted at least a couple of selfies a day, but nothing. Not a selfie in sight. Twitter – nothing. Kerry started typing again. Cass bit her bottom lip as she waited.
Cass, please stop messagin me ov and over again. I’ve got nough to deal with and I cant handle all these messages. I’ve just lost my 2 best friends.
Kerry was still drunk. That was it. That had to be it, otherwise she’d want Cass to go over to be with her. The spelling in the message told her all she needed to know. She almost tripped over her rug as she started to pace again. Then again, didn’t drunken people always tell the truth? Maybe she was being officially friend dumped again. After all she’d done to change, all for Kerry.
I’m sorry. I just wanted to help you. I didn’t mean to upset you. Cass.
She couldn’t help sending another message. She had to smooth things over. She waited and waited. This time Kerry hadn’t read the message and her photo greyed out. She’d been blocked. She flung the phone onto the coffee table and slumped into the threadbare armchair. At this moment, she had no one. How dare Kerry dump her again? How dare she?
Cass gripped her over-spilling muffin top under her jumper and punched it with the other hand.
She wasn’t good enough. She hadn’t tried hard enough.
She stood and ran to the bathroom, taking a moment to stare at her reflection. The crooked eyeliner and deep pink lipstick made her look like a clown. Elvis was right. She looked ridiculous. She pulled a few sheets of dry loo roll and rubbed her face like she was scrubbing tidemarks from the bath. That’s all she was to everyone, a dirty, ugly, tidemark. She rubbed and rubbed at the make-up until it had smudged and her face had reddened. She looked even more revolting when she sobbed, knowing that she’d never be a Lilly, a Holly or a Frannie. Never would she be good enough for Kerry. She wouldn’t look good in a wedding photo.
She had to make Kerry see that they could become the best of friends still. She was upset, that was all. She hadn’t meant to block Cass from messaging her. Cass had to speak to her before rumour got out about Elvis going down to the station. This would not defeat her. She had some investigating of her own to get on with and it started with her boyfriend.
Hurrying to the bedroom, she emptied Elvis’s drawers, feeling along the backs of them for a clue, anything. She checked under his side of the bed and amongst his shoes. As she tipped his old Doc Martens boot upside down, several packages dropped out onto the floor. Tiny cellophane wrapped white powder and lumps of black, which she knew was cannabis resin. Wiping the tears from her face, she stood and put her coat on. She couldn’t sit around any longer. Kerry had made a mistake in blocking her and she was going to fix it.
Chapter Fifty
Gina and Briggs sat as they waited for Robin Dawkins to say something. A twinge ran through her hand – she wanted to slam it onto the table and demand that he talk. Also, Phillip Brighton’s solicitor had turned up. Jacob and PC Smith were interviewing him at that very moment. Gina felt a warmth coming from Briggs as she pulled her chair in closer.
‘Mr Dawkins, please answer the question. Where were you last night between six and eight in the evening?’ It was the third time she’d asked him and her patience was wearing thin. Given his past assault on a girl at school he had now shot up to the top of her list of suspects. She pictured her hand slamming onto the table and him recoiling as he spilled out all the answers. She gripped her hands together in her lap.
Briggs maintained eye contact and the m
an looked away, his hair bouncing as he did. He looked different without his quiff, if not a little scruffy with a few kinks around his ear.
‘I was out.’
‘As you know, Francesca Carter’s body was found last night. She’d been murdered in her home. Can you imagine how her family felt? I need to know where you were!’ Gina glanced at the wall clock and all they could hear was the hand ticking away.
‘I didn’t do anything to her. I was nowhere near her house. This is all because of my past, isn’t it? I’ve paid for what I did. I got rehabilitated and took some hospitality qualifications. I did everything I was supposed to do. They said I could start afresh and have a normal life and now this happens. You have nothing on me because I wasn’t there.’ He scratched his arm under his jacket. Welts began to surface on his pasty flesh and his cheeks flushed.
‘All you need to do to clear this up is tell us where you were.’
He shook his head several times and closed his eyes.
‘Mr Dawkins, a woman was murdered and, yes, you have a past conviction that involves sexually assaulting a girl. That puts you in the picture. Where were you?’
Eyes still closed, Robin snorted and rolled his shoulders. ‘I can’t.’
‘You have no choice, Mr Dawkins.’
Briggs maintained his stare but it was no good, the man refused to even open his eyes. He began grinding his teeth and his tiny sideburns moved up and down with every clench.
‘What size shoes do you wear?’
He opened his eyes and scrunched his nose. ‘What?’
‘Shoe size?’ Gina eased off slightly.
‘Nine. What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Thank you.’ She made a note on the file and paused for a moment, just long enough to make him feel comfortable once again. ‘Where were you last night?’
His hands shook as he gripped the plastic cup of water and took a sip. ‘Work.’
‘We know you weren’t at work.’ Briggs had filled her in with their most recent update before stepping into the interview room. On checking out his workplace, the truth had come to light. Elvis had not been at work during the time of the murder.
‘Maybe I wasn’t. I work all shifts. I can’t remember what time I finished.’
‘How about Monday night? You were fired. You were the one who tipped off the gatecrashers, weren’t you, and Mr Avery found out and fired you? One of your colleagues confirmed that today. Why are you lying to us?’
He exhaled slowly and scratched his nose. ‘I haven’t told Cass that I was fired. I was out walking the streets so that she’d think I was at work.’
‘Which streets?’
‘Really?’ He scraped the chair across the floor and crossed his ankles as he slouched back.
‘Yes. A woman was murdered while you were out walking the streets. Which streets?’
‘I. Can’t. Remember.’
‘Did you know Holly Long?’
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘For the tape, Mr Dawkins shrugged his shoulders. Does that mean you don’t know if you knew her?’
‘Okay, I knew her. I saw her drinking on a couple of occasions in the Angel Arms but I don’t really know her. I barely recognised her at the reception but when the news reports came out, I recognised her from the pub.’
Gina glanced down at her notes and flicked to the next page. ‘No one can place you behind the bar at the time of her murder. The statements we have state that your girlfriend, Cassandra Wilson, was manning the bar all night and was mostly on her own.’
‘I was there. I may have popped out for a cigarette but that was it. I knew some of the people at the party and she was managing okay.’
‘You say you knew some of the party attendees, did that include Francesca Carter?’
Jaw clenched, he half smiled. ‘No. I didn’t know Francesca Carter.’
‘Where were you last night?’
He grinned and leaned back. The little bit of cooperation they were receiving had come to an end. Briggs nodded her way.
‘Robin Dawkins. I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Francesca Carter on the evening of Monday, the eleventh of May. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’ She only hoped that twenty-four hours would be long enough to gather the evidence needed but with another bridesmaid in potential danger, she couldn’t let him back out on the streets without doing all she could. He had size nine feet and he had no alibi during Francesca or Holly’s murders. He also had opportunity in both cases.
‘I’m not saying another word until I speak to a solicitor.’ He kicked the table leg and turned to the side, refusing to look at her.
‘Interview terminated at seventeen twelve. Let’s book you in.’
Her thoughts drifted to Phillip Brighton and his interview. She hoped that her colleagues had managed to get more out of him. She was missing something that was right in front of her. Phillip Brighton and Robin Dawkins, both of them refusing to speak, both of them not having alibis. Maybe there was a connection between them. She had to keep the possibility of there being more than one person involved at the front of her mind. Two similar murders but different murder methods.
Briggs hurried to her side as she left Robin with the desk sergeant and a PC.
‘Maybe a few hours in a cell will make him remember where he was and hopefully his solicitor will drum some sense into him.’ Gina paused. ‘I can’t stop thinking about the girl he assaulted all those years ago. Can a person really change that much and not have the same urges, or maybe he needed to go further to satiate his urges? And, if Robin Dawkins gave into such urges, what would have triggered him to have done so? The party maybe?’ The questions were coming thick and fast and she had no answers.
‘We have twenty-four hours to work that one out. Wyre and O’Connor should be back soon. Maybe the post-mortem will tell us something.’ Briggs smiled.
As they entered the incident room, it seemed a little quiet. The Phillip Brighton interview was still going on and most of the others were chasing up leads. PC Kapoor walked in.
‘Any updates?’
‘No, guv,’ PC Kapoor replied before turning to Briggs. ‘Only the press. They keep calling. Annie told us that she’s preparing a press release for you.’
Briggs nodded. ‘Great. I best head over to corporate communications and get onto that. I’ll catch you later.’
Gina hoped he wouldn’t. She needed a rest from everything and she needed to find out why her daughter hadn’t called back. She hurried to her office and logged onto the system. Samuel Avery still hadn’t been located. At the very least, she had Trevor Reed’s statement about his behaviour towards Francesca at the wedding reception. There was a knock and her door was pushed open.
‘Alright, guv. We have news.’ Jacob sidled into her office and sat.
‘Hit me with it.’ She needed news. ‘I have a list of suspects with no concrete evidence and I’m now on the twenty-four hour timer with Robin Dawkins. Is it to do with Phillip Brighton?’
‘Yes, we’ve just finished his interview. He was on a bus at the time of Francesca’s murder. With stops, that takes care of forty minutes. We’re just checking out the pubs in Redditch he said he was drinking at. I suspect he went there to deal but we’re not likely to get a confession out of him.’
That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wanted something that could tie him to Francesca Carter’s murder.
‘We’ve had to let him go for now.’
‘Okay, thank you.’
‘We’ll catch this person.’
She smiled. There didn’t seem to be enough to go on. ‘Organise a search of Robin Dawkins’s flat for first thing but in the meantime, keep digging. We can speak to his girlfriend too. A six o’clock wake-up call will ensure she’s in and catch her off guard. Does Cassandra Wilson have a record?’
‘N
o, not a jot.’
‘Have we managed to crack Robin Dawkins’s phone?’
‘Not yet, but that should come back soon. It takes a lot to keep our tech team out.’
‘At least he has a phone. We still haven’t come across the phone or tablet that Holly Long had been using.’
‘Oh, Wyre and O’Connor are back.’
‘It’s all happening at once. I’ll come through in a second. Maybe Francesca Carter’s post-mortem will tell us something.’ She quickly scanned the system. Holly Long’s bank statements had been fully uploaded. She needed to delve further into Holly’s life and take a closer look at the flags against certain transactions.
Her mind flashed back to Francesca’s body lying in the bathtub, her hair splayed out and her bleeding toes, then she shivered. There was no putting it off.
She tried Hannah one more time but her phone was switched off. Hannah had to be with Samuel Avery, regardless of her daughter’s reservations when she spoke to her the other night. Her stomach fluttered as she pushed the image of the two of them out of her mind. What was Avery playing at?
Chapter Fifty-One
He hurried through the door and scurried down to the cellar to see his victim. He’d been gone a while but his absence had been unavoidable.
The light flickered on. There she was, waiting for him. Exactly where he’d left her with her hands bound behind her back only a couple of hours earlier. She’d drifted off to sleep, her head leaning against a dusty shelf.
Her Last Mistake - Detective Gina Harte Series 06 (2020) Page 21
