by Carol Wyer
‘I need to know more about these so-called dealers. I want names, dates, where you met them and what you really bought, if anything.’ When the boy looked away and didn’t reply, she continued, ‘We’ve confiscated your computer. We will be able to prove you were behind this scam and we will be charging you. I’m giving you one last chance to explain yourself. Tell us what happened to Hattie and Fran. Were they involved in the scam too? Make this easier on yourself, Lennox. If you remain unwilling to assist, we’ll add perversion of the course of justice to the list. Your lawyer will go through the charges we’ll be making against you. You’ll be looking at intellectual property infringement, identity theft, criminal fraud and accessory to murder.’
‘What? That’s madness! I can’t be guilty of all of that.’
Carolyn Pickerton gave a low cough. ‘Lennox, I advise you to tell the police everything you know. These are pretty serious charges. You need to make this easier on yourself.’
‘But, Carolyn—’
‘No buts. Your mother hired me to sort this out. Now, tell them.’ Her words were enough for Lennox to finally drop the hard-man act and speak.
‘Oh, shit! I don’t know what to say. Okay. I began crapping myself after Gemma was killed. I thought if you looked into her death, you’d uncover the scam. As soon as I found out Fran had been murdered, I thought it was a chance to get myself out of trouble. I took money out of my account and hid it in her room. I figured it would be found, and if you knew about the catfishing, you’d think Fran was behind it not me.’
‘How did you get into her room?’
‘She’d left the door unlocked.’
‘You were responsible for the scam?’
He nodded. ‘I admit I set up the profile on Special Ones. I didn’t think I’d be hurting anyone, only a few wealthy blokes who could spare some money. I borrowed Gemma’s photographs off her Instagram page. I screenshotted them and created a profile. She was pretty and I thought blokes would fall for her. It started out as a way to get extra cash.’
‘But you knew it was illegal?’
He screwed up his eyes then released a lengthy, ‘Ye-es. It was just a daft idea that I tried out, thinking nothing would come of it, but within hours there were matches and I thought it might be possible to squeeze a few quid out of these guys. It’s rubbish having no money all the time. I’m not going to be able to clear my student debts for years, if at all. It costs a fortune to study, and if you don’t land a decent job after graduation, you’re fucked.’
‘According to your statements, you’ve been receiving money every three months – £1,000 from your mother. How come you never have enough money? I’d have thought that would be enough for you to live on. She pays your accommodation and university fees too,’ Murray said.
Lennox shrugged. ‘She’s recently stopped my allowance because I’ve been burning through it too quickly. She’s refusing to give me any more money until I “pull up my socks”. She told me to get a job but I couldn’t get one. I tried but there’s nothing going in town. I had to think outside the box. That’s all I was doing. I was being entrepreneurial.’
‘What you did was deceitful and illegal. You were stealing money from people through deception.’
‘I don’t see it that way. The government does that sort of thing all the time in the form of taxes. They take money from the workers to pay for all sorts of shit – weapons, wars, their wages – and we pay up thinking it’s going into the NHS or road repairs or education. It’s all bullshit. The BBC takes licence money from everyone, and for what? Most people pay for television channels and yet they still have to hand money to the BBC corporation to waste. Don’t you read the newspapers? What I was doing wasn’t that different. Besides, I was giving these guys what they wanted – a bit of fun, some flirty chitchat. I made them feel good about themselves. That deserved some reward, and they had the money.’
Murray scowled. ‘You’re trying to justify what you did by coming out with half-arsed political nonsense?’
Lennox shrugged. ‘It’s true. We’re all being duped by the government and powers that be.’
‘You stupid little twat. A girl died because of you!’ Murray unfolded his arms and pushed himself off his chair, his face inches from Lennox’s. His hand snaked towards him.
Lennox’s chair screeched and his feet scrabbled against the floor as he tried to edge away.
‘DS Anderson!’
Natalie’s sharp reprimand stopped Murray mid-movement and he sat back down. Lennox remained at a distance.
‘I think it might be best if we replace DS Anderson with another officer,’ said the lawyer.
‘DS Anderson stays. Lennox, the man you duped hired a private investigator to uncover Maisie’s true identity. He then went after Gemma, who he believed to be this fake character, Maisie, and threw acid in her face. You are responsible for that.’
‘I only made up a profile. None of that is my fault.’
‘Of course it’s your fault!’ Murray bellowed, making Lennox jump. ‘You used Gemma’s photographs. You wrote on the profile that Maisie lived in Samford. You even gave out Gemma’s real statistics – her height, weight, eye colour – you total prick.’
‘I… I didn’t say she was a student.’
Murray snorted. ‘Are you a fucking idiot? Gemma actually lived in Samford. She had photographs of herself all over Facebook and Instagram. Anyone with half-decent computer skills could have tracked her down.’
‘DS Anderson, maybe you should change your tone, please.’ Carolyn regarded Murray coolly.
His response was little more than a low guttural sound.
Natalie took over. Murray was doing a good job of unnerving Lennox. She stood a chance of uncovering the truth. ‘Lennox, what happened to Fran and Hattie?’
‘I don’t know.’ His hand was back in front of his mouth, fingers stroking his facial hair.
‘Did they know about your scam?’
‘No. It was my plan.’
Murray, head lowered like a bull about to charge, continued to glower at Lennox. ‘Your plan? Was it your plan to put Gemma in danger?’
‘No.’ Lennox’s Adam’s apple lifted and dropped. Murray’s nostrils flared.
Natalie tried again. ‘Have you any idea what happened to Fran and Hattie?’
‘I don’t.’ Again, his hand covered his mouth.
‘Did you kill Fran?’
‘Absolutely not!’
‘Hattie?’
‘No!’
‘Do you know who did?’
‘No.’ He moved his hand to completely cover his mouth, a gesture that Natalie noted.
‘Who else knew about your scam?’
‘Nobody.’
‘None of your friends?’
‘I didn’t tell anyone else about it. I don’t know anything about Fran or Hattie. I don’t even know how they died.’
Natalie decided to call a halt to the interview. They were going around in circles and they couldn’t squeeze any more information from Lennox at the moment. A night in the cells might help soften him up. ‘We’ll continue to hold you overnight. Your mother will have to be notified once we charge you.’
He shook his head. ‘She’s in New York, designing a penthouse for a client.’
‘Who would you like us to call?’
‘Not got anybody else.’ It was the first time any sign of unhappiness had crept into his voice.
‘Your mother will still have to be notified.’
He gave a weary, ‘Whatever.’
‘Is there anyone else you’d like us to contact?’
‘No.’
Natalie ended the interview and turned off the recording device.
Carolyn sat upright. ‘I’d like a few minutes alone with my client before he goes to the cells.’
‘Certainly. Knock on the door when you’re finished,’ said Natalie.
Lennox mumbled, ‘I don’t know anything.’
Murray stared hard at the young man. His voice
oozed menace. ‘You’d better be telling the truth.’
‘I am.’
Natalie watched the unconscious gesture, the hand covering his lips, a tell when people were lying. Lennox knew more than he was willing to impart, but what exactly was it?
Chapter Thirty
Tuesday, 20 November – Late Evening
‘Sorry, Nat. I’ve got no news yet. They’re still assessing him,’ said Mike.
‘You should come back to work. I’ll take over.’
‘I’ve rung the lab. They know I’m out of contact for a few hours. I don’t want to leave yet. I need to be here.’
‘I’ll join you.’
‘I know you want to but it’s best if you don’t. Apart from anything else, you don’t want the media to catch wind of what’s happened. He circled the article about the case that was in today’s newspapers.’
‘Oh, shit! He talked to me about that. I told him the press wouldn’t guess he’d been a suspect.’
‘I don’t think he believed you. He left a note too.’
Her heart sank.
‘Do you want me to read it to you?’
‘I… I guess so.’
He cleared his throat then began, ‘“To everyone I love. I love you all, and because I love you deeply, I’ve had no choice but to leave you. I am not who I want to be and I’m afraid of who I’ve become. I always prided myself on being the one person you could all depend upon, but you can no longer count on me. I’ve become weak and I hate myself for that. I don’t want you to grow to despise me too.”’ He stopped briefly.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ she said.
‘No, it’s fine.’ He paused again then continued, ‘“Please don’t mourn me. Remember me as I once was. I hope there is an afterlife, and in some shape or form, I’ll join Leigh. What I fear is eternal darkness alone, yet that is what I have already.”’ His voice cracked for a second but he continued, ‘“If you love somebody enough, you should let them go. I am releasing you all to live your lives, enjoy your moments. I wish I could share them with you. David.” And he ends the note with a kiss.’
Natalie couldn’t speak. She had known David was struggling but this was too painful. She ought to have pushed through his barriers, listened to him and been gentler with him. He’d needed professional help and guidance and she’d failed him.
Mike’s voice cut through the build-up of emotion and guilt. ‘You okay?’
‘Sort of. Oh, Mike! This is dreadful. I let him down.’
‘It wasn’t only you. We both let him down, one way or another, didn’t we?’
‘We did.’
‘I’ll ring you as soon as I hear anything, I promise.’
Mike ended the call. It was gone nine and Josh would be at the flat. She hadn’t yet broken the news to him and what she’d tell him depended on the next half hour. After that, she’d wait no longer. Josh deserved to know. She stepped out of the squad car, where she’d taken the call, and joined Lucy, who was waiting for her outside 53 Eastview Avenue. A forensic van was parked on the roadside. The unit would be upstairs in Lennox’s room, hunting for evidence to prove his connection to Fran’s and Hattie’s deaths.
‘If you want to talk about anything—’ Lucy began.
‘Thanks, but it’s all in hand.’
The front door was ajar and Natalie pushed it open. Scuffling indicated there were officers upstairs and they passed one on the first landing. A damp-faced Ryan, in jogging bottoms, T-shirt and trainers, was inside his room. The exercise mat on the floor, a set of weights beside the bed and the strong smell of perspiration suggested he’d been working out.
‘What’s going on with Lennox?’ he asked. His biceps rippled as he wiped his face with a hand towel.
‘He’s helping us with our enquiries.’
‘Why are the white-suited guys going through his stuff?’
‘As I said, he’s helping us with our enquiries.’
Ryan looked blankly at Natalie. ‘That’s crazy. He’s just a chemistry nerd. He won’t be able to tell you much.’
‘What can you tell us?’
‘About what?’
‘Let’s start with the day Hattie disappeared. You went to the gym and when you came back you worked in this room and went to sleep for a while. Is that right?’
‘That’s right.’ He dropped onto the edge of his bed, towel resting over one thigh. He glanced at the photograph of Gemma still by his bedside. His eyelids flickered momentarily. Floorboards creaked as officers continued searching Lennox’s room, and a drawer clattered shut. The house was not soundproof. Lucy stood closest to the door, leaving Natalie room to stand in front of the bed and ask her questions.
‘What can you remember about Saturday afternoon? Any detail at all.’
He blinked. ‘I can’t think of anything. I didn’t see Hattie or Fran. I was busy up here. I had a snooze, grabbed a shower. There was some noise going on. You can’t miss it: toilets flushing, taps running, people running up and downstairs, that sort of thing. If somebody is playing music or talking loudly, it travels in this building and I usually work with headphones on. I was wearing them that afternoon.’
‘Then you didn’t hear anything unusual.’
‘Not unusual. There was television noise and somebody was playing AC/DC for a while, which is why I put the headphones on. There was some shouting later on but that was about eight o’clock when I was getting ready to go out.’
‘Who was shouting?’
‘Rhiannon and Fran, I think. It was coming from directly below me in Fran’s room. I definitely heard Fran’s voice.’
‘What did she say?’
‘“You stupid fucking bitch,” was all I heard.’
‘Did they normally argue?’
‘Not like that. Fran was pretty het up though. I turned up my CD player to drown out the screeching.’
‘They were screeching?’
His words were clipped, his accent strong. ‘Yes, it sounded like a catfight.’
‘Did you see either of them?’
‘No. I went out about half an hour later and it was dead quiet so I thought Rhiannon had gone back to her place.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘Students’ union. I couldn’t face sitting alone in my room. I kept thinking about Gemma and everything in the house reminded me of her. I played pool and had a few drinks, chatted to friends, then went into town for a kebab after the bar closed at two in the morning.’
‘Did you see Lennox at all?’
‘He was at the students’ union as well, with a crowd. Don’t know where they went after the bar closed.’
‘I know this is inconvenient, but we’re going to have to ask you to move out for a few days while the forensic team is here. I believe the university authorities will be able to provide temporary accommodation.’
He scratched the side of his face but gave nothing away. ‘Okay. I don’t suppose there’s any choice in the matter.’
‘There isn’t.’
‘Will they go through my room too?’
‘It’s likely.’
‘Oh, right. Do I leave it as it is, then?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can I take anything with me?’
‘Check with the team downstairs. They’ll advise you.’
He merely nodded, as if all of this was not unusual, and Natalie couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of his upbringing or because he was masking his emotions expertly.
Given Rhiannon only lived a few steps down the road, Natalie decided to talk to her about the argument. They didn’t have to walk as far as the house. Rhiannon was outside, sitting on the pavement, head lowered and cradled in her arms, so only two pink pompoms stuck on top of a woollen hat that resembled a child’s bonnet rather than a grown woman’s accessory were visible. The knitted earflaps drooped like long rabbit ears.
‘Rhiannon? Are you okay?’ Lucy asked. When there was no reply she crouched down next to her and murmured, ‘Come on, Rhiannon.
You can’t stay out here. It’s miserably cold. Let’s take you back home.’
The girl unfurled. Her face, a bleached clown mask of horror with crimson cheeks and thick smudges of sooty mascara under eyes that dripped tears. ‘I wanted to feel near Fran. I went to her room, but the officers won’t let me inside.’
‘I’m sorry, but that isn’t possible.’
‘Why are they checking her room?’
‘They’re examining a couple of rooms, not solely hers. You won’t be able to go inside. You should return to your place.’
‘I can’t stand being there alone.’
‘Do you want to go back home to your parents for a few days?’
The pompoms waggled. ‘I don’t get along too well with my ma, and Da is away in Saudi Arabia. I’d rather stay here.’
‘Maybe the university could arrange for you to move into a different accommodation to be closer to your other friends.’
‘Fran was my only true friend.’
‘Come on. We’ll talk in your room.’ Lucy straightened up and caught Natalie’s eye. Natalie indicated she should continue taking the lead and talk to the girl. Accompanied by snuffling noises, Rhiannon struggled to her feet and mooched alongside Lucy, head lowered, arms held out at a forty-five-degree angle, suspended by volumes of goose feathers. The bulky puffa jacket resembled a sleeping bag with arms and did nothing to flatter Rhiannon’s figure.
Natalie fell into place behind them, aware of the bitterly cold wind that swept down the road, carrying a supermarket plastic bag, swirling it high over the cars until it became impaled on a low hawthorn bush and flapped to free itself to no avail. Cars lined the street, bumper to bumper. She walked past the old red Saab she knew belonged to Lennox, wedged in between a Honda Civic, littered with cuddly toys on the parcel shelf, and a Kia. She was the last to enter the old house where Rhiannon lived. The light from an energy-saving bulb barely illuminated the hallway, and Natalie picked her way cautiously around three rubbish bags and a traffic cone discarded in the passage, to the kitchen.
