‘A couple of weeks before you were moving in.’
‘A couple of weeks!’ Samantha was incredulous. ‘No wonder he’s angry. Please don’t say you told him I was going to be managing the business at the same time.’
‘It was a good opportunity to put things straight with him. He needed to be told.’
‘Is that when he disappeared?’
‘He shouted at me, Samantha. Then he stormed out. Steven has never shouted at me. You were always the drama queen; he just used to go off in a sulk.’
Samantha tutted and gulped her coffee.
Dorothy leant towards her. ‘He accused me of being vengeful,’ she hissed.
Inwardly, Samantha applauded her brother. It was time he stood up for himself. ‘And had you been?’ she asked.
‘He had a fling I didn’t approve of and I told him to put an end to it. But that was before Christmas. He should have got over it.’
‘He’s thirty four... nearly thirty five, he’s old enough to have flings without your approval. You don’t get to decide who he has sex with,’ said Samantha. Dorothy’s smile was smug and Samantha braced herself. She had stupidly invited a comment about her relationship with Graham.
‘His fling was with that solicitor you found in the woods.’
The two women looked at each other and Samantha started to count on her fingers. ‘Are you saying that Steven went missing at the same time as the solicitor... that Abigail whatever her name is?’
‘He had nothing to do with that.’
‘How do you know he had nothing to do with it?’ The volume of Samantha’s voice was raised enough to attract the attention of a couple sitting nearby.
‘Shhh,’ said Dorothy. ‘This is about money. It’s nothing to do with that tramp.’ She reached out for a second biscuit. When I told him about Cliffside, and you coming back to the business, he was pleased. Said he could go to France now, and join the art school he’d read about.’
‘That doesn’t sound like an argument.’
‘He wanted me to pay for the art school, and to set him up in France. He had the nerve to tell me he was entitled to it.’
‘What happened?’
‘I refused, and he flounced out in a huff. Stopped turning up for work. Disappeared.’ She bit down hard on the biscuit. Samantha waited, certain that there was more. ‘He came to see me the day before you were supposed to be moving into Cliffside. Had the nerve to present me with an ultimatum. Shouted at me. Frightened me. He said I had to hand over my shares in the business, or give him the house. He wanted to move in that night. He looked terrible. He was dirty and he’d lost weight. I told him to grow up and get back to work.’
‘Well that worked. He hasn’t been back there since. When did he go to the caravan?’ asked Samantha.
‘I don’t know. He has keys, the same as you do. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t invite me to coffee to discuss my little tiff with Steven. What was it you wanted to talk about?’
‘Nothing really,’ Samantha replied although her brain was screaming ‘Are you going to tell Nick about Graham and me?’
‘I don’t think you’ve ever asked me to coffee to discuss “nothing,”’ said Dorothy.
Samantha’s mouth was dry and she couldn’t put the right words in the right order to get the information she needed.
‘So, tell me more about the cases then,’ said Dorothy. ‘I heard about the engagement ring. It belonged to that solicitor, didn’t it? They found it in a park home near where you were staying.’
‘I haven’t been following the case in the papers and I try not to have the radio on when the kids are in the car in case it upsets them. It’s a bit close to home.’
Dorothy nodded. ‘And you’ve got a lot on your plate at the moment too.’ She paused long enough for Samantha to feel uncomfortable, ‘I mean unpacking and getting the house the way you want it.’
Samantha shoved a whole biscuit into her mouth and softened it with a slug of coffee. ‘I know that Nick’s working on the solicitor case, but he hasn’t said much about it.’
‘The caravan where they found the ring belongs to the daughter of one of my fellow inmates, you know. The maintenance man, Danny, was just telling me.’
‘Oh, don’t call them inmates, Mum. I thought you liked it there.’
‘It’ll do for now, at least until I get a bit more mobile and you settle into Cliffside.’ As Samantha met her mother’s eyes, the price of her silence on the subject of Graham Fletcher began to dawn on her.
Chapter 71
Friday 28th February
The persistent rain which fell on the clubbers queuing outside Club Europium did not dampen their high spirits. It was the first Friday after pay day and they were here to enjoy themselves. Once inside, they were absorbed into a world of pounding music, flashing lights and overpriced alcohol. The management insisted that there was a strict “no drugs” policy, but everyone knew it was not enforced.
Just after one in the morning, the music was paused and there was an announcement that the bar profits for the next hour were going to be sent to the parents of Abigail Slater who were setting up a charity in her name to promote the safety of young women in the town. There was cheering and applause before the music and the intricate, erotic writhing of the dancers resumed.
‘Her parents are rich enough to fund the bloody charity on their own.’ The man shouted his opinion at the young girl who was serving him at the bar. She ignored the comment as she handed him his change and turned to serve the next customer.
A few minutes later, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face the barrel chest of one of the doormen. ‘I hear you’ve got a problem with us collecting for Abi,’ he said. He glanced back to the bar where the girl who had served him was watching.
‘Not a problem,’ he said, ‘I was just surprised that her parents need donations when they are as well off as they are.’
‘The club wants to donate,’ the doorman replied, ‘and if you don’t want to donate, then it’s time for you to leave.’
‘I paid to get in and I don’t see why I should leave.’
The doorman took his arm in a vice-like grip and guided him to the door. ‘You need to learn a bit of respect for the dead, mate,’ he growled as he hurled the man out on to the wet pavement. There was giggling and applause from the clubbers who were waiting patiently for their turn to enter.
‘I need my jacket,’ the man shouted to the door keeper.
‘Come back for it on Monday when you’ve learned some manners,’ the door keeper replied before turning back to the couple at the front of the queue.
The man got up and peeled his wet trousers away from his legs. He looked confused as he walked away, periodically glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching, but he was already distant memory for the excited crowd and doorman.
Chapter 72
Saturday 29th February
Penny Spence answered her husband’s phone and asked the caller to wait while she went to get him out of the shower.
‘DS Spence,’ he said, picking the phone up, ‘and this had better be good because I’m not on duty this weekend.’
There was a delay before the caller spoke. ‘DS Spence, this is DCI Johnson and I’m sorry to call you out on a Saturday but I’m going to need you at the station to interview a suspect. He was arrested last night and they are deciding whether to charge with ABH or GBH. It seems he hit a bouncer with a brick, after a bit of an argument.’
‘Sir, I...’
‘His fingerprints have come back as a potential match for the unknown prints on the Maguires’ van and keys but you need to keep that to yourself for the moment.’
‘The Maguire case is DI Morgan’s Op and I believe he is the duty officer this weekend.’ Spence moved his phone from one ear to the other.
‘I’m calling you because DI Morgan cannot interview this suspect. He’s Morgan’s brother-in-law, Steven Cooper.’ Johnson paused to let Spence assimilate the information. ‘I�
�m confident that you can interrogate Mr Cooper with your usual competence. DC Smart is already on her way in. Ring me when the interview is complete.’ The line went dead. Spence wrapped the bath towel tighter and dialled Jenny Smart’s mobile. She responded on hands free. He ran through the information he’d received from Johnson about the alleged assault. After some thought, he added the information about the fingerprint, swearing her to secrecy. She was sceptical.
‘We’ve already interviewed Steven Cooper and ruled him out of everything we’re working on. What’s going on?’ she asked.
‘Right on both counts,’ he said. ‘When we spoke to him on the day they brought him back from Suffolk, he didn’t strike us as being able to batter a fish, never mind two blokes intent on robbing DIY gear.’
‘Was he even here when the Maguires were killed?’
‘Uniform drove him back here about a week before. I don’t know where he’s been since then. How soon can you drive in? I’d planned to go clothes shopping with Penny.’
‘For you? Or for her?’
He laughed. ‘I always make sure she thinks we’re looking for her and then I have a quick browse while she’s trying stuff on. Is that not what’s meant to happen?’
‘Not so much,’ she said. ‘I’ll be there in about half an hour.’
‘Okay. I won’t start without you.’
Spence and Smart sat together at her desk in their designated area of the open plan office. There were a few officers at desks, but it was quieter than on a weekday.
‘How are we going to approach this?’ asked Smart. ‘Did Johnson have any suggestions?’
‘I don’t need any suggestions from him,’ said Spence. ‘I bet he can’t even remember the last time he interrogated a suspect.’ He pursed his lips as he thought. ‘We’re just going in with the assault initially. Johnson wants the fingerprints kept quiet. If we get the go-ahead, we can build up to them later. There’s plenty time. We’ve still got about sixteen hours on the custody clock.’
‘Will he not think it’s a bit odd that a DS and a DC from Major Crimes would come in on a Saturday for an assault outside a club?’
‘The door guy is in a coma. It’s pretty serious.’
Spence’s phone rang and he wheeled his chair over to his desk ‘DS Spence.’
‘Duty solicitor’s here,’ said the desk sergeant, ‘and there’s a young lady from Club Europium. She’s brought your guy’s jacket.’
‘I’ll be right down.’ He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a box of disposable gloves. ‘I might need some evidence bags. Someone’s brought Cooper’s jacket in.’ He crossed to a cupboard in the main office and took out a large bag and a couple of smaller ones.
‘If he wasn’t wearing the jacket when the assault happened,’ said Smart. ‘Is it evidence?’
‘I’m not taking any chances with this one. If it all pans out, we’re about to charge our new boss’s brother-in-law with two murders, and maybe two more.’
When he got downstairs, the desk sergeant beckoned Spence closer and spoke quietly. ‘Don’t look round but both these women are here for you, you lucky boy. The one nearest the door is Harriet Lees-Langham, your guy’s duty solicitor. I’ve called someone to take her downstairs. The other one is from the club.’
Spence thanked him before turning to face the visitors. Lees-Langham was standing by the side of a large briefcase. Unlike some of her colleagues who dressed down for weekend callouts, she was immaculate in a dark grey suit, cream jumper and soft leather boots which added two inches to her height. She was tapping her right foot and concentrating on her phone screen. She didn’t look up.
The second woman wore jeans and a padded jacket. She was clutching a battered carrier bag to her chest. When Spence approached her, she looked alarmed.
‘They asked me to bring the jacket on my way to the university library this morning,’ she said.
‘I’m DS Dave Spence,’ he replied holding up identification which hung from his MCT lanyard. ‘And you are?’
‘Tina Smith. I work behind the bar at the Europium.’ She awkwardly raised a hand as if unsure whether a handshake was correct etiquette.
Spence smiled his encouragement and held out his hands for the jacket.
‘It’s all my fault,’ said Tina. ‘If I hadn’t been so upset about the comment he made when I served him, he wouldn’t be here.’
A voice called out ‘Ms Lees-Langham,’ and the smartly dressed woman clip-clopped her way across the tiled floor towards the door which led to the cells. It seemed to distract Tina who stopped talking whilst she watched.
Spence looked back at the desk sergeant and nodded towards two doors which led off reception.
‘Be my guest,’ said the uniformed officer, ‘both free, at the moment.’
Spence led Tina into a small interview room and put the light on. ‘Have a seat. Do you want any water?’ She shook her head. ‘What happened at the club?’
Tina Smith recounted her story about the announcement at the club and how most of the punters were pleased. She said that some had asked who Abi Slater was because not everyone was aware of what had happened to her. When she’d served the man who had been ejected from the club, he had been narked by the donation, and that upset her.
‘What happened then?’
‘Tommy came inside.’ Spence was about to ask who Tommy was, but she pre-empted him. ‘Tommy’s one of our door keepers. I pointed out the man to him. He went across and had a word and I saw them walk to the door together. The next thing I knew was police and ambulance were outside. It’s my fault Tommy got hurt.’
‘You didn’t hit him, Tina, so you aren’t to blame. How come you got the jacket to bring in?’
‘We were tidying round and it was in the corner... where that man had been sitting. I said I’d bring it in on my way to the library. I’ve got my finals this year. That’s my life; work; eat; study; sleep.’
Spence noted her contact details and thanked her. He warned her that they would need a formal statement at some time, but he wasn’t going to ask her to wait. This time, they did shake hands before he showed her out of the small room and to the revolving door at the front of reception.
When he returned to the carrier bag in the interview room, he snapped his gloves on and reached inside. It was tricky, but he managed to remove a black leather wallet from the breast pocket without taking the jacket out of the bag. He opened the wallet and his shoulders slumped. ‘Fuck’s sake,’ he mumbled before slipping it into one of the small evidence bags. He gathered everything together and sprinted towards the stairs calling his thanks to the desk sergeant as he went past.
Chapter 73
Saturday 29th February
The custody clock continued to tick down.
Spence rang Johnson with the news that the man in custody was not Steven Cooper, in spite of that being the name he had provided when arrested. He also suggested that it might be more appropriate for DI Morgan to lead the interrogation for his own Operation. Spence could hear tango music playing in the background. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting you, sir.’
Johnson reluctantly agreed that Morgan should be called in but he ignored Spence’s reference to the music. When he ended the call, Jenny Smart told him that Johnson was an enthusiastic ballroom dancer and attended classes every Saturday morning.
‘With his wife?’ asked Spence.
‘With a neighbour. While his wife plays bridge, I think.’ Smart smiled at the expression on Spence’s face. ‘No really, I don’t think there’s any more to it than that. Just dancing.’
‘Well I hope it’s not Argentine tango,’ he said. ‘DCI Johnson dancing the Argentine tango is a picture I don’t want to have in my head.’
Spence set about making the call that would scupper Morgan’s renovation plans for the day.
When Morgan arrived at the station, he sent Jenny Smart home. ‘No point in buggering up everybody’s weekend plans,’ he grumbled.
‘DS Spence and I prepared th
e disclosure for the solicitor,’ said Smart, slipping her arms into her jacket. ‘He’s got hard copies and so has the solicitor. Oh, and they are ready for interview.’
Morgan glanced through the details of the assault that the police were willing to share with the defence. They were obliged to disclose enough information for an advocate to provide their client with appropriate legal advice. He read that there was CCTV and at least twenty witnesses prepared to provide evidence of the man hitting the door keeper with what looked like a brick or a piece of concrete. Surely a guilty plea, he thought.
Morgan and Spence had barely entered the interrogation room before Lees-Langham started. ‘Is this everything you have on my client?’ She was waving the sheet of paper. ‘I find it hard to believe a DI and DS would be here on a Saturday to interview someone, who I’m sure was recorded on CCTV, assaulting a doorman. Care to give me more?’
Dave Spence sat on Morgan’s left and flicked the switch to start the recording. Morgan identified himself and his sergeant before inviting the solicitor and her client to do the same. He completed the rest of the standard procedure whilst watching them both.
Morgan leaned back in the hard upright chair before speaking. ‘Well Danny, let’s start by establishing for the recording that you are not Steven Cooper and that you are, in fact, Daniel Francis Easton.’
Lees-Langham looked confused. ‘Who is Steven Cooper?’ she asked.
‘It’s the name your client gave to the officers who arrested him,’ said Morgan ‘earning him a charge of obstructing a police officer in the execution of his or her duty under Section eighty-nine brackets two of the Police Act 1996. We’ll be adding that to the assault charge.’ The solicitor frowned but gave no reply.
‘Are you Daniel Francis Easton?’ asked Spence.
‘Yes.’
‘Then I’m going to caution you in your correct name.’ Spence recited the words. At least this time, he wasn’t holding down a wriggling body which was all arms, legs, biting teeth and foul language.
Make You Sorry Page 23
