by Carol Wyer
‘Maybe he stuck to a flimsy alibi because he couldn’t come up with a more concrete one,’ said Lucy with a shrug.
Natalie put a halt to the conversation. ‘It’s no good us speculating and given all the victims have come from the same address, those two young men need to be interviewed again. Our backs are against the wall here. The press is going to be watching our every move. We have to jump on this quickly. Lucy, you deal with Ryan and Lennox, and ask Ian to go through all CCTV at the entrances to the university. We’ll need to talk to the drivers of every vehicle that passed through campus after 4.25 p.m., which is when she rang me to arrange to meet me. Murray and I will speak to Hattie’s father and join you afterwards. Can you also get the tech team to go through all social media accounts and phone records of all three women? There has to be some other connection that we haven’t yet uncovered.’
Natalie made for her car. White-suited forensic officers had moved into the area surrounding the drama studio, a ghostly squad, silently searching for clues. Were these incidents university-related or was there something else that connected these victims? The answers, like pieces of a puzzle, were in front of her but she could make no sense of them.
Chapter Twenty-One
Monday, 19 November – Night
Gemma,
Look at what you’ve done!
This needn’t have happened.
I hold you responsible for all of this.
You’re to blame, Gemma. You.
If only you’d been nicer to me.
An Ex-Admirer
Mr Caldwell’s face looked pained. ‘Is this about Hattie? Is she all right?’ He dropped lightly onto a chair and rested his elbows on his knees. His stripy blue-and-purple dressing gown was wrapped tightly around his slim frame, held together by a knotted belt. His pale blue pyjamas had been washed so frequently that the colour was completely faded in patches, and the sole of one of his red checked carpet slippers, peeling away from the material, flapped open like a gaping wound whenever he lifted his foot. He raised a hand and dragged elegant fingers through his beard as he waited for an answer. A clock chimed – a melancholy sound that seemed to echo – and Natalie spoke before it could chime again.
Natalie shook her head. ‘I’m truly sorry, sir. Hattie was found dead only a few hours ago.’
The man squeezed his eyelids tightly together and tilted his head to the ceiling. The clock’s mechanism whirred and clicked like a mechanical heart and it rang out again in defiance at the news. No sooner had one chime’s lengthy echo finished than another began, and only after the eleventh time, when silence had finally fallen, did Mr Caldwell open his eyes and speak.
‘How did she die?’
‘She sustained a head wound which we believe might be responsible for her death but we haven’t had official confirmation of that yet.’
‘Do you think it was an accident?’
‘We don’t have sufficient information at this stage, but we are considering the possibility that she died under suspicious circumstances.’
‘I see.’ He dropped his head so he was looking directly at Natalie. ‘Her mother passed away when she was eleven and Hattie was all I had.’
‘Once again, I am very sorry to bring you this terrible news.’
‘I know you are, DI Ward, and I’ve read about your own recent personal tragedy. I thank you sincerely for your kind words. You will understand how I feel right now.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He blinked back tears that leaked from the corners of his eyes.
‘I know I spoke to you before about this but I really need your help. Did Hattie mention anything about any of her housemates to you? No matter how small a detail, I’d like to know.’
‘We talked about many things: her future, life, politics, religion and culture, but not her private life. Naturally, I asked her about her course and time at university and enquired about her fellow students, and she told me that this year, she was sharing with a bunch of really nice students and they got along well, but she didn’t divulge more than that.’
‘Has she ever been in any trouble or mixed with people who got into trouble?’
‘No. She had a heart of gold and wanted to help those less fortunate than herself. She did volunteer work for the homeless. The most rebellious thing Hattie ever did was run off to join the commune and get married. As for trouble? No. Not Hattie.’ He pressed his clenched fists to his mouth and bit back tears. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘There’s no need to apologise. Can we get you anything or contact anyone?’
‘No, thank you. There will be plenty of support once this gets out. We’re a very tight-knit community. I will undoubtedly be smothered in sympathy.’ The humour was feeble and failed to prevent the emotion which suddenly overwhelmed him. His eyes shone with tears and his face screwed up again. He managed to stutter, ‘I think… I’d like to be… alone… if you don’t mind.’
There was nothing further he could help them with. She’d ensure he received the emotional and practical help he needed. ‘We’re very sorry for your loss. I can assure you that we will do everything in our power to discover what happened to Hattie and bring to justice the person, or persons, responsible.’ The man couldn’t answer. He pressed his lips tightly together and nodded several times. They headed into the hall to let themselves out, pursued by keening that seemed to emanate from the very walls of the house.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tuesday, 20 November – Early Morning
On the way back to Samford from Little Beansfield, Natalie and Murray took a detour to Castergate. It was a few minutes past midnight, but she had no other option than to talk to David and didn’t want to wait. If he knew all three women, he had some serious explaining to do.
Murray pulled up onto the driveway where she’d often parked behind David’s Volvo. He killed the engine and glanced in her direction. ‘You want me to stay in the car?
‘I’d rather you came too. This is official business and I’d like you to hear what he has to say.’
‘If you’re sure about it?’
‘I’m sure.’
He flung open the car door. Cold air rushed in to rapidly replace the warmth of the interior. She mimicked his movements and stepped outside, the soles of her sturdy shoes slipping on the moss-covered slabs. She sighed inwardly. The house would never sell if David let it fall into a state of neglect. She hoped the interior was more appealing. A blue glow flickered in a thin gap where the heavy sitting room curtains had not been drawn together – light from a television screen. At least she wouldn’t have to raise him from slumber. It felt alien to be pressing the doorbell to what had been her home for many years. She knew the tune by heart – a cheerful melody that was one of several programmed into the device that Eric, David’s father, had fitted for them back when they’d been a happy family. She knew it would sound loudest in the kitchen – the room furthest from the front door – and that if the television was on in the sitting room, the tune would be muffled and blend in with whatever programme was on. Her ears were more attuned to it than David’s and he often didn’t hear it, consequently, it came as no surprise when he didn’t answer the door.
She moved towards the window, rapped on it and waited until the curtain twitched. She called out, ‘I need to talk to you, David.’ The curtains were pulled to once more and the glow disappeared. She returned to the step to stand next to Murray and was rewarded when the door opened.
‘I’m sorry for the late intrusion but we have to speak to you again,’ said Natalie.
David’s shoulders sagged, the effect making him seem even smaller than he had looked at the station. Before her stood a shrunken, wizened man whose eyes had lost their light. What had she done to him?
‘Can we come in?’
He nodded but only moved back enough to allow them space to step over the threshold and remain in the hallway. The house was silent and Natalie felt icy fingers run over her scalp then down her neck and back. This no longer felt
like a family home or a place in which they had shared many happy memories. It was familiar yet strange, filled with the ghosts of a life she’d lost. She fixed her eyes on David rather than look about. She didn’t want to be distracted by memories.
‘I’d like to know if you’ve ever met or had any contact with this woman,’ she said, passing David a photograph of a smiling Hattie Caldwell, in a bright strappy top and waving a straw sunhat at the camera.
He shook his head.
‘Please look again, carefully,’ she said.
He did as she told him. ‘I don’t know her.’
‘Does the name Hattie Caldwell mean anything to you?’
‘No.’
She searched for signs of lying but saw nothing but sorrow.
‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ he said, and without waiting for a reply continued, ‘You wouldn’t ask me otherwise. I don’t know her. I’ve never met her. I’ve never seen her. That’s all I can tell you.’
‘Did Gemma or Fran ever mention her?’ Her eyes held David’s as if tethered.
‘If they had, I would have come clean and told you, but I swear, I don’t know her. Is that everything?’
‘Can you tell me where you were Saturday evening?’
He raised his hand to the back of his neck, left it there. ‘I was at home.’
‘At home again?’
‘Is there a problem with that?’
‘Was anyone with you?’
‘I was alone.’
‘Did you leave the house at all that evening?’
‘I don’t think so?’
‘You don’t remember?’
David’s fingers roughed his hair. Natalie knew the tell-tale sign. He was holding back.
‘I don’t think I went out.’
‘David, it’s really important you tell me the truth. I can’t help if I don’t have all the facts. You want me to prove you’re innocent but you’re keeping something from us.’
His mouth turned downwards and his brows lowered, closing his face. ‘I’d have thought you’d have enough faith in me to clear my name.’
‘I want to but you’re not making this easy for me.’
‘I didn’t kill anyone. Is that not clear enough for you? Now, I’d like you both to leave. I was about to go to bed. I have an early start. Somebody is coming to view the house tomorrow at eight thirty. Obviously, if you need to talk to me again, I’ll oblige, but I honestly have nothing more to add to what I’ve already told you. I have nothing to do with your investigation. It’s unfortunate I knew two of your victims but it’s no more than coincidence –and, DI Ward, I know you don’t believe in coincidences, but they do exist. Please bear that in mind.’
She nodded abruptly, determined to maintain a level of professionalism. Silence fell again, followed by an audible soft cough. There was somebody in the sitting room. She threw David a sharp look but he would no longer meet her eye.
‘Is there somebody else here?’ she asked.
‘I don’t see how that has any bearing on your questions.’
‘Is there?’
‘Goodnight, DI Ward,’ he said.
For a second, she considered entering the sitting room and ascertaining who the mystery guest was, but Murray opened the door and a draught of cool air snapped at her ankles. She retreated towards it without a word.
It was well after one thirty by the time Natalie and Murray had returned to the station. She wasn’t tired or hungry and was keen to press on. Her colleagues seemed to be of the same frame of mind.
‘What’s the situation with Ryan and Lennox?’ she asked Lucy.
‘Couldn’t raise either of them. They didn’t answer the door or their phones.’
Natalie massaged her temples. Could something untoward have happened to the boys? ‘You tried the friends who live three doors away, didn’t you?’
‘Stuart and William. I did, but no joy. They’d left to go to William’s house in Bournemouth for a few days until lectures start again. I’ll try again later when it’s light. Maybe Ryan and Lennox nipped off to a friend’s house or to Lennox’s for a few days because the university is shut.’
Natalie kneaded the tender spots by her eyes and asked, ‘We need to track them down. Murray, check out Lennox’s house in case he or both of them are there. While we’re waiting for DNA results, post-mortem reports and for the technical team to come back to us about vehicles entering the university campus on Saturday afternoon after 4.25 p.m., I’d like to return to the start of this investigation. We still don’t know who attacked Gemma. Let’s go back over all the statements and alibis and see if there are any holes. I’m pretty sure these deaths are connected, so if you have any ideas about what you think happened, I’m all ears.’
‘You know my theory,’ said Murray. ‘Fran was responsible for the attack on Gemma, Hattie found out about it and threatened to give Fran up to the police, or Fran overheard her on the phone to you, panicked and killed her; then, overcome with guilt or afraid of the consequences, she took her own life. It has a logic, after all: she lived with the other victims and she was jealous of Gemma.’
Ian waved a pen in Murray’s direction. ‘What if there’s somebody else who knew all three of them – maybe somebody who didn’t live with them?’
Natalie wrote David’s name on a notepad and circled it. He’d denied knowing Hattie but they hadn’t yet established if that was really the case, and he had exhibited signs of hiding some information from her. ‘I’d like to go through Hattie’s emails and phone call log – see who she was in contact with.’ She sincerely hoped it wasn’t with David. It seemed odd to think she was investigating the man she’d been married to for more years than she cared to remember. She waited for more thoughts. Ian had another.
‘All the victims were female students. Maybe they all knew or dated the same person,’ said Ian.
‘You mean a housemate?’ Murray replied.
‘No, I was thinking more another student who is on one of their courses, or a tutor, or even somebody they met online.’
‘What about Professor Young?’ said Lucy.
‘He denied any involvement with Gemma and was having an affair with his wife’s best friend. I doubt he’d have time to be having an affair with all three students, as well,’ said Murray.
Lucy made a tutting noise. ‘Don’t be too sure. He struck me as pretty arrogant. I wouldn’t put anything past him, and what about all that bullshit he gave us about being “paternal” towards his students – the creep!’
‘True,’ said Murray. ‘There’s one problem with that, though – he didn’t lecture either Fran or Hattie.’
‘He might still have been seeing them.’
‘Bit odd though that he’d choose them – two other girls living the same house as Gemma – from all the possible other choices at the university. Besides, it’d be a risky move. They could have easily found out about each other. It would be madness to string along three girls from the same street, let alone the same house.’
‘Yeah, okay. I’m tired. Not thinking straight. Go back to the online idea,’ said Lucy.
Natalie shrugged. ‘Not sure about that. We’ve examined Fran’s and Gemma’s devices. Neither girl was using any dating apps, were they?’
‘We’ve only looked at social media sites. Want me to dig deeper?’ Ian asked.
Natalie didn’t want to waste time but there was a chance an outsider was involved. ‘Okay, but let’s go back through statements and evidence we gathered for all three victims. We could be missing something important,’ she said. ‘If any of you want to grab some shut-eye, I don’t have a problem with that. We can restart this first thing.’
‘All good here. I’ll try to track down Ryan and Lennox,’ Murray said.
Ian raised a hand but kept his head lowered as he studied his computer screen.
‘I’m fine to stay too. Anyone fancy a coffee or grub? I’ll make a trip to the all-night café,’ said Lucy.
Natalie stared into space. What t
he hell was she missing? Murray peered over Ian’s shoulder and stared at a couple of photos of young women on Ian’s screen. His voice was low when he said, ‘Mate, that’s really a long shot. There’s no evidence to suggest these victims were dating. Get on with something more productive.’
Ian grunted but continued to scroll, and Murray scowled. ‘Fucking waste of time.’
Natalie could sense the frustration. This was laborious and Murray had a point. They had no reason to assume the students had been on a dating website or met up with anyone. ‘Ian, try the girls’ browsing history on their computers again. See what that turns up.’
The office fell silent and each of them settled into a rhythm. Natalie became oblivious to the world around her, concentrating on statements and trying to fathom who was responsible for harming Gemma. The deaths had begun with Gemma’s, and the more Natalie thought about it, the surer she was that the others were related to it. Lucy returned. Food was consumed at desks, only the rustle of packets interrupted the industrious silence. The ringing of the internal phone made them all look up simultaneously. Murray, the nearest to it, answered.
‘Really? Okay, I’ll put you on loudspeaker, Mike.’ He pressed a button and Mike’s amplified voice was transported into the room.
‘I’ve got some information for you. First off, there were some grey-white particles of dust on the tips of Hattie’s boots, which we’ve now matched to a patch of dry cement by the road, directly outside the drama studio. I’d suggest whoever moved her drove to that point by the cement, as close to the back of the drama studio as possible, and then hauled her out of the car, but instead of dragging her along the ground, they lifted her up high enough that her feet would make no contact and leave a trace. They probably didn’t allow for her feet falling forward and the tips of her boots trailing as they did.’
