An Eye for an Eye (Detective Kate Young)

by Carol Wyer

  The train rattles onwards and the sobbing intensifies. The gunman is drawing level with a woman with blonde hair. Kate steals forward but encounters an obstacle – the body of an elderly man is obstructing the aisle and she has to climb over his torso.

  Hurry, hurry, hurry, the train urges. Kate avoids the look in the dead man’s eyes that seems to say, ‘You are too late.’

  Kate woke to the sound of her alarm, set for 6 a.m. Chris’s side of the bed was empty so she traipsed downstairs and stood by the kitchen sink, where she ran a glass of water and stared out across their back garden. The sky seemed to be on fire, a vibrant crimson orange that, according to her father, heralded bad weather. Kate had never adopted his superstitions.

  She headed to what they laughingly called Chris’s den: a windowless cupboard under the stairs large enough to house a small desk and a filing cabinet. It was a mess of paperwork. Kate had once attempted to tidy the sheets for him, only to be admonished.

  ‘I like it this way. I know where everything is,’ he’d retorted crossly, on the only occasion she’d relocated important documents to the filing cabinet. It was his space, and the one room in the house Kate rarely visited. She’d learnt Chris had his own way of working and it was best if she didn’t interfere.

  The door was ajar. She didn’t open it fully, but spoke through the crack.

  ‘Chris?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘William’s somehow involved too in all of this. He told me someone had leaked my name to the press. I think it was him.’

  ‘Tell me why you think that.’

  Chris had a nose for these things. He’d understand her reasoning. ‘It’s more a hunch rather than facts. I’ve been studying his facial expressions and, although he pretends to be concerned, I sometimes see signs that say otherwise. I saw them yesterday.’

  ‘You have excellent perception, Kate. Trust in it. You know, if you’re right, and I believe you are, he and Dickson are both going to mess with your head and prevent you from uncovering the truth in this case.’

  ‘I’m stronger than they think.’

  ‘I know you are.’ He fell silent.

  Kate opened her mouth. Shut it again, then changed her mind and spoke. ‘There was a guy outside the station . . . Said he knew you . . . that you used to work together.’

  ‘Ignore him. You’ve got bigger fish to fry.’ He sounded irritated, no doubt because she was disturbing his train of thought. He had deadlines to work to and she was disturbing him.

  Their conversation was cut short by the ringing of her mobile and she raced upstairs to answer it.

  The woman was softly spoken. ‘Good morning, I hope this isn’t too early for you. I had a message to call this number and ask for DI Kate Young. I’m Dora Lancaster. You wanted to ask me about my gardener.’

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Lancaster. This is DI Young. Thank you for getting back to me so promptly.’

  ‘I’m afraid I missed your call last night. I usually turn in no later than nine and read for a while, and I always switch my mobile to silent.’

  ‘I understand. I wanted to discuss Rory Winters. He did some work in your garden last Thursday, didn’t he?’

  ‘That’s right. He did.’

  ‘Can you confirm he was with you all day?’

  ‘Oh, yes. There was such a lot to do. I’d let it go – my arthritis, you see – and it needed proper attention. Rory arrived at around eight in the morning and stayed until about seven. Emmerdale was about to start when he tapped on the door to let me know he’d packed up and was ready to leave.’

  ‘You were there all day as well?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I don’t go far these days.’

  ‘And, just to confirm . . . he was in your garden the whole time?’

  ‘Apart from around lunchtime, when he disappeared to collect a sit-on mower. I asked him mid-morning if he would cut the paddock field as well, but he couldn’t manage it with the mower he’d brought along. Fortunately, he had a friend who lived nearby who lent him a machine better suited to the job. He was gone about forty minutes.’

  ‘What time did he leave to collect the mower?’

  ‘I’m not too sure about that, but it was definitely before I had my lunch and I always eat at midday.’

  In that instant, the questions began mounting up. Rory had been working no more than ten minutes away from Alex’s house and had disappeared around the time of the murder. He’d already told Kate that he’d borrowed Alex’s sit-on for a job, so why not admit it was for Mrs Lancaster’s paddock? She was suddenly eager to talk to the man again.

  ‘Did Rory seem at all worried about anything?’

  ‘Not that I picked up on . . . although . . . there was something . . . when I took him some tea and biscuits. He had his back to me and was on his mobile. He seemed . . . angry. I’m not nosey so I didn’t eavesdrop. I put the tea down on the bench and left him to it. He hasn’t come to any harm, has he?’

  ‘No, I can assure you he’s fine. I’m only checking on some facts in relation to the death of Alex Corby. Did you know him?’

  ‘Alex Corby,’ she repeated slowly. ‘The name rings a bell, but I can’t think how I know him.’

  ‘Not to worry.’

  ‘Well, I hope I’ve been of some assistance.’

  ‘You most definitely have. If you can think of anything else, please give me another call.’

  Kate hung up and mused over the facts. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced Rory had gone to Alex’s house on Thursday to collect the ride-on mower.

  She rang Ervin, who sounded bright and breezy. ‘Morning, Kate. How’s it going?’

  ‘I might have a lead.’

  ‘Excellent! Sorry I missed you last night. I had to check on the team at the Corby house. We’re almost done there so I’m pulling them out later today.’

  ‘Okay. I have a quick question for you – did you or any of your team notice a sit-on mower in the Corbys’ garage?’

  ‘There’s no mower. Only a Porsche GTR.’

  ‘Okay. Cheers.’

  ‘Oh, by the way. You made quite an impression on Faith last night.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Without doubt. She told me you two had a nice little chat. I’m glad. She’s not got any friends here and I’m worried she’s too work-driven.’

  ‘Must be hard for her living and working so far away from family and friends back home. How come she left Africa to come here? It’s quite a dramatic change.’

  ‘Well, that’s quite interesting, because she studied at the Department of Forensic Science and Crime Investigations at Zimbabwe Institute of Legal Studies, but completed a finishing programme at University College London to certify her qualification. She graduated top of her year and was invited to stay on to take up the MSc programme. Afterwards, she was offered the chance to return to her alma mater to lecture, but she felt she needed some “global exposure” to forensics, had heard about what we do here at Stoke and wanted to join us. She’s actually overqualified for this position by a mile, but she wanted to start at the bottom and work her way up and see how differently we handle investigations, what methods we employ and so on. It won’t be long before she’s running this place.’

  ‘That won’t happen, will it? You’ve no plans to leave us?’ asked Kate. She’d miss Ervin if he moved on.

  He laughed. ‘No . . . no. She’s only staying for a year or so and then she’ll return to Zimbabwe. She’s incredibly diligent and we’re lucky to have her. I do worry, though, that she’s too insular.’

  ‘Maybe you should invite her out with some of your friends. She’d love them.’

  ‘Honey, my wacky friends would scare her witless and send her racing back home on the next plane to Africa.’

  As he chatted, Kate cast about for her bag. She needed to get going, but she’d always had time for Ervin, who was more than a work colleague; and his friends were truly crazy, but fun. It had been ages since she’d gone out with them. She located
the bag lying on the floor by the unmade bed, scooped it up and headed downstairs, spotting her car keys in a pottery dish on the ornate console table by the front door. ‘I adore your friends and so does Chris,’ she said, as she slipped on her shoes.

  There was an awkward pause before Kate grabbed her jacket from the peg and unlocked the door. She needed to check out Rory’s movements for Thursday. His words passed over her head. ‘Okay. Thanks again.’

  Rory must have taken the sit-on mower. Did he kill Alex while he was there? It was a fresh line of enquiry and one she needed to run past the team. This was going to be done by the book. There was no way she was going to slip up, not with Dickson and the whole of the media watching her.

  There was a sense of calm in the station and only one officer on reception when she arrived at half past seven. The door to her office was wide open and Morgan was working at his desk. He looked up immediately. ‘Morning, guv.’

  ‘Morning. How did it go last night with Gwen?’

  ‘She maintains she was at Palm Leisure Centre, had such a bad headache she tried to book a massage instead of taking the aqua-aerobics class and, when she couldn’t get an appointment, went for a sauna instead. After she came out, she couldn’t face lunch so she went home. Claims she drove the Range Rover, but we don’t believe her. Her body language was all wrong. Emma’s already gone to the centre to examine their CCTV footage. We didn’t bring her in for further questioning because we didn’t have any concrete evidence to contradict her story, and we didn’t want to make waves. Her husband wasn’t pleased to see us again.’

  ‘Fair enough. I’ve got some fresh info on Rory.’

  She dragged out the file of information she’d amassed on Rory the day before and gave Morgan a quick rundown on what she’d discovered.

  ‘We have a suspect who has motive and opportunity, but I can’t see anything in this file that raises any flags. He’s not in any debt, although he has a mortgage on a £250,000 house, and, according to his company details, he earns over 60K per annum. Although money is a powerful motivator and so is passion, I’m concerned about the killer’s MO. I can’t imagine why Rory, if this was a crime of passion, would feel the need to torture Alex or, indeed, how he would have sufficient time to carry out the whole plan: get into the house, overcome his victim, torture him, then clear up, collect the sit-on mower and head back to Mrs Lancaster’s house. What do you think?’

  ‘It sounds a little far-fetched to me, unless he had an accomplice. It doesn’t feel right, does it?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’ She rubbed the back of her neck. Whatever she and Morgan believed, they still had to adhere to procedure. She let out a heavy sigh. ‘We’ve no other option. We have to quiz him and we have to find the sit-on mower.’ She reached for her car keys again. This investigation was a tangled web of deceit, and perplexing, but good policing would get the results they needed, provided she didn’t make any wrong moves. She felt for the pills in her pocket. It wouldn’t hurt to take them before they left the building, to keep the bad memories, the faces of those on the train, at bay.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Why do you keep asking me that?’ she snapped.

  ‘You mumbled something about ghosts.’

  ‘I was simply saying the killer is like a ghost; leaves no evidence. I’ll meet you by the car in two minutes.’ Heat rose up her throat and she departed before he spotted her discomfort or quizzed her further. There was nothing wrong. She was fine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  SUNDAY, 6 JUNE – MORNING

  Rory opened the door wearing only boxer shorts. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and blinked in surprise at the sight on his doorstep.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, looking towards Morgan, who towered over him by a good six inches.

  ‘We’d like to look inside your garage, and if you wouldn’t mind putting some clothes on, we’d like to talk to you again,’ said Kate.

  Without a word, Rory signalled for them to enter. He pointed ahead. ‘You can reach it through a side door in the kitchen.’

  Rory headed upstairs, leaving them to find their own way. Morgan took the lead, stepped inside a space sufficient for a small car but filled with cardboard boxes, large plastic bags, tools, paint and what looked like wooden garden furniture, folded and stacked against a wall.

  ‘Bit of a tight squeeze,’ said Morgan, breathing in as he shuffled between a set of drawers and something hidden under a dust sheet. He lifted a corner to reveal a John Deere sit-on.

  ‘It’s got to be Alex’s,’ he said.

  ‘Looks that way. Come on, we’ll talk to him about it.’ Kate returned to the kitchen, leaving Morgan to edge his way back out. He brushed down his trousers.

  ‘No sign of him?’

  ‘Not yet. Look. There are thirteen jars,’ said Kate, pointing out a spice rack containing glass bottles, each with corks and filled with a variety of coloured spices.

  ‘Interesting. You don’t think—’

  They were interrupted by Rory, who’d changed into jeans and a polo shirt but still had bare feet. Kate noticed his manicured toenails and smooth heels. Her own feet were in a far worse state and her nails in dire need of trimming.

  ‘I’m going to cut to the chase. Tell us about the John Deere in your garage,’ she said.

  He dropped on to a stool, feet on a metal rung, and stared at them through a length of fringe yet to be styled into place. ‘It’s Alex’s. I borrowed it last Thursday to cut Mrs Lancaster’s paddock. I hadn’t planned on cutting it – I’d taken my Honda mower, but it wasn’t powerful enough to tackle such a big job, so rather than let her down, I decided to nip down the road, borrow Alex’s sit-on and return it after I’d finished.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me that when I last spoke to you?’ said Kate. ‘You lied to me.’

  He shrugged. ‘I really didn’t want to find myself in this situation, with you thinking I murdered Alex. It’s as simple as that. It wasn’t clever to lie to you, but I knew if I told you about the sit-on, it would only lead to further questioning, at the very best.’

  ‘Well, like it or not, it’s come to that, and you could have saved me time and inconvenience,’ said Kate.

  He made no apology, instead keeping a steady gaze on Kate who asked, ‘How long does it take to drive from Mrs Lancaster’s house to Alex’s?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  Morgan clicked his tongue in annoyance. ‘Don’t play hardball with us. It takes seven minutes door to door, doesn’t it? We tested it out before we came here.’

  Rory’s shoulders sagged. ‘Yes. Seven or eight minutes.’

  Kate continued with, ‘Let’s say it took eight minutes to get to Alex’s house, another eight to return to Mrs Lancaster’s place and about the same to load the sit-on. It can’t have taken you any longer than twenty-five minutes in total, yet you were gone forty minutes. How can you explain that?’

  A muscle flexed in his jaw.

  ‘I’m waiting.’ Kate stared unblinkingly at the man, but there was no reply. ‘Alex wasn’t at work when you went around to collect the sit-on mower, was he?’

  Rory dropped his gaze, forcing Kate to push harder. ‘Come on, Rory. Help us out here. Tell us what happened or we’ll have to do this at the station, which will only take up more time and delay our enquiries further. Unless, of course, you’d like to confess to murdering Alex.’ She sat back in her chair with a straight face and folded her arms. Her tactic worked.

  ‘You’re right. I’d expected him to be at work, but his car was on the drive, and as soon as I saw it I swung around and headed back to Newborough, but halfway back I changed my mind. I’d already agreed to cut the paddock and I was committed. Besides, financially, it was worth my while and I like to keep Mrs L sweet. She recommends me to her friends. I turned back again, this time with the intention of asking Alex if I could borrow his sit-on. I rang the doorbell, but he didn’t answer. When he didn’t respond, I figured he’d gone out and left his c
ar at home, so I decided to collect the machine as planned. The bloody thing wouldn’t start because it had run out of fuel, so I wasted time hunting down a can of petrol and then I had difficulty loading it on to the truck. It took a good thirty minutes to sort it all out.’

  Kate kept her arms folded and the questions coming. ‘Why didn’t you return the machine after you’d finished with it?’

  He sighed and shook his head. ‘I was going to. In fact, I was on my way back with it, but as I was approaching the house, I spotted flashing blue lights and I . . . freaked.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I got the idea into my head Alex had discovered it was missing and rung the police. I did a quick one hundred and eighty and buggered off.’

  Morgan’s eyes narrowed. ‘You could have explained to them why you took it. Nobody would have charged you.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I should have done, but I was completely knackered from the day’s work and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I decided to return the machine the following day when he was at work, and hope he’d let it drop.’

  ‘I’d say that was rather naïve thinking on your part. Mr Corby would certainly have deduced you’d taken it. You do have the keys to both his shed and his garage, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then he’d guess it was you.’ Morgan wasn’t going to make it easy for Rory. Kate let him have his say.

  ‘I’ll level with you. When I discovered the police were at his house, all sorts of crazy shit ran through my head, including the stupid notion that Alex was using the situation to his advantage . . . to discredit me and make my life difficult.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Morgan.

  Rory cleared his throat. ‘He knew about my relationship with Fiona.’

  ‘How can you be sure he did?’ Kate asked.

  ‘He’d already warned me off.’

  ‘Did he threaten you?’

  ‘Not exactly. He told me to back off and stay away from Fiona or he’d ensure I’d lose everything I’ve worked for. He fired me on the spot.’