by Giles Ekins
‘Prick!’ muttered the reporter, ‘oops, sorry’, she said as she realised that Jessica had heard.
‘Sounds a pretty apt description to me.’
‘Just about everybody else in this building thinks so as well. He acts like he’s the editor of the ‘Times’ rather than a crappy twice weekly regional rag. He’s got a second class degree from a third class university and thinks he’s God’s gift to journalism. Anyhow, constable er, Bubbledover, how can I help you?’
‘By calling me by my correct name for a start, not your fault I know but it’s Babalola, detective constable, Jessica Babalola.’
‘He gets my name wrong as well, no matter how many times I tell him, it’s Celie, C- E- L- I -E, not Celia, but he just has to demean me, and not just me but every other female here, apart from Sarah Frazer that is, who he’s shagging on the quiet. But that’s not why you’re here is it?’
‘No, but I’m interested how an arsehole like that gets to be editor?’
‘The ‘Gazette’ is only one of several regional newspapers owned by the Selbourne Group?’
Jessica nodded, she knew of the Selbourne Group, amongst other interests they had the franchises for VW and Skoda in town.
‘Malcolm Selbourne, the MD of the group, is Marcus’s uncle,’ Celie explained‘OK, nuff said. No, as he said, we’re interested in the ‘from beyond the grave.’ article. What can you tell me about the meeting? Were you there?
Me? No way, I’ve got better ways of wasting my time than that nonsense, thank you very much. No, we received a phone call from somebody who had been there, Marcus wasn’t particularly interested, thought it was a hoax call but got me to follow up anyway. We had the caller’s number on caller identification, so I called him back, much to his surprise…
Celie told how she contacted the meeting organisers and obtained the details of attendees who bought tickets on-line and then phoned them. They all confirmed that a voice, supposedly Julia Jarrett, did accuse her father of abusing her, as did staff who were on duty that night.
This was now a big story, with accusations of sexual abuse ‘from beyond the grave.’ Celie wrote the article and gave it to Marcus, who did not, as he had told Jessica, tidy it up, ‘all he did was add a comma or two, change a couple of words, otherwise it’s all mine, but he ran it under his own by-line, so you can see why I’m pissed off with him, It’s the biggest story we’ve run for years, especially now with this murder.’
‘Yeah, I suppose. Celie, is there anything you learned that did not go into the article?’
‘Nearly everyone I spoke to, confirmed wording such as ‘Daddy, you evil fucking bastard, Things you made me do when Mummy wasn’t there. Our little secret’ and ‘little girls who love their Daddy’s do such things. ‘I hope your dick rots and drops off. Or words to that effect ‘Lastly burn in Hell you bastard,’ , Here, I’ll print it all out for you…’
‘Obviously,’ Jessica said at the briefing meeting, ‘the Gazette could not print all the swear words. And another thing, apparently some of the audience got quite aggressive towards Donald Jarrett. One man particularly, identified as an Adam Kennedy, apparently poked Jarrett in the chest and swore ‘to do him, if he saw him in the street.’
‘OK, Jessica, track him down and have a word. I don’t think he’s our man, but he needs checking out and warned about threatening behaviour. OK ,anything else?’
.‘I’ve also followed up on the medium, Sebastian Serrano,’ Jessica said, receiving a nod of approval from Grace. ‘I spoke to Colin Tuttle the manager of the community hall, it’s a volunteer position so I saw him at home. Mr Tuttle...’
‘Mr Tuttle, sounds like Mr Turtle. Is he old and wrinkled?’ chortled Fred Burbage.
‘Not as much as you, Fred,’ retorted Jessica, to delighted applause, ‘Mr Tuttle put me onto the agency who booked Serrano. He’s quite well known on the spiritualism circuit, but he’s only a second or third division attraction. Which probably explains why he was appearing at the community hall rather than say, Sheffield City Hall.’
Jessica paused to take a sip from her glass of water.
‘Where has he been since leaving here in such a hurry and where is he appearing next?’ Grace asked.
‘Yes, Grace. After leaving here he went to Keighley, then Malton and his appearances there have been confirmed. He is appearing tonight in Whitburn-on-Sea, at the Pavilion Centre, before heading to Consett, up Newcastle way.’
‘Very good, Jessica, thank you. Terry, I think you and I should pay a visit to Mr Serrano this evening.’
‘OK, Grace, I’m with you on that,’
‘Can I come as well?’ asked Fred, ‘there’s a fantastic fish and chip restaurant there, called the; Blue Onion’ or summat like that But, the town itself, Whitburn, is an absolute shithole. Went one time with Carol, me first wife. Or was it Maureen, the second, can’t remember?’
‘Or maybe Sylvia the third? I’ll bring you some fish and chips back, Fred ,if you like,’ said Terry, ‘mind you, they might be a bit cold by the time you get them.’
Grace stifled a yawn, she had not been sleeping well, all the pressures of the investigation, the pieces of the multi-facetted jigsaw playing around in her mind as she tried to sleep, her eyeballs seemingly rolling around her skull as if in a demented pinball machine. She consulted her folder again whilst taking a drink of water.
‘Emma! What did you get from the Met regarding the death of Julia Jarrett? Any concerns?’
Emma Cox, again dressed all in pink, wiped her nose on a tissue and tucked it into her sleeve before speaking. ‘Seems not. Far as they’re concerned it was accidental OD. They established from informants that her regular dealer, Demetrious Jackson, was in custody so she went out into the street to get her fix. She got more than she bargained for. The heroin she bought was almost pure, not cut down with talc or baking powder or whatever else these dealer scumbags use. Julia would have died from asphyxiation almost as soon as she stuck the needle in her arm.’
‘The ultimate high, eh?’ Fred interjected.
‘Thank you, Fred, such sensitivity,’ retorted Emma. ‘The only other point of interest is that the Met think the heroin that killed Julia came from a confiscated haul which disappeared from custody at Haringey nick.’
‘I’ve always said you can’t trust the Met,’ said Terry jokingly, ‘can’t even keep hold of their own stash.’
‘You know, David Jarrett’s reaction to his sister’s death just doesn’t sit right on me,’ Grace pondered, not really listening to the last exchange. ‘he is totally indifferent to it and I am convinced he’s hiding something, something he’s not telling us.’
‘I agree,’ answered Terry, ‘Dave Boothroyd, who broke the news of her death told me he was an utter bastard about it, totally uncaring and giving his poor mother Janet even more grief before storming out. He really is the nastiest little shit I’ve come across in a while.’
‘Absolutely. OK people. Let’s move on,’ Grace ordered, ‘Fred, what have we got back from SOCO?’
‘Yes, they hope to get the report back from the Met’s knots specialist sometime today, that is the knot used to hang Janet and the knot which tied the rope to the cross beam,’ he said, pointing to photographs posted on one of the whiteboards. ‘As for the hammer, the presumed murder weapon, fingerprints found were from all three of the Jarrett’s, but Janet’s were the most recent, the most prominent, many were however smudged, as if the killer wore gloves.
But, according to the pathologist.’ Fred continued, ‘Janet was likely already dead. Which means that that killer, David Jarrett, if it was him, wrapped her dead fingers around the hammer himself. Other fingerprints? Quite a few as you might imagine. Apart from the four Jarrett’s, there are other, unidentified, prints. Friends, neighbours, casual callers, boiler servicing engineers, the milkman offering more than a bottle of Goldtop when hubby’s away, take your pick.
David’s prints and those of his beloved Mom, Pop and sister are obviously all over his
bedroom. And one other, as yet unidentified. This print also appears throughout the rest of the house but most especially in Julia’s bedroom.’
‘A best friend over for a sleepover?’ Emma suggested.
‘That’d be my guess. One other detail, boss er, Grace, as you say, details are important. SOCO found no library books in the house, they were still in the car. You go to the library, you want to take your books into the house.’
‘Unless you are so eager to get inside to make a 999 call reporting a murder that you already know about, you forget them in your hurry.’ Jessica offered.
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘So kind.’
‘Put it up on the board,’ Grace said, making a note in her folder. ‘Fred, what else, anything from the techies on the various devices?’
‘Nothing very significant, if Donald Jarrett was a paedo, he’s kept it off his home computer. We’ll obtain his offices ones, but I doubt he’d keep paedo-porn on a works computer, but we’ve got to check it out and I’ll take the lad here,’ he said, nodding at Danny Moss, who scowled angrily, ‘with me to his office and look into his office computers and files.’
Grace nodded in agreement.
‘As I say,’ Fred continued,’ there are no footprints leading to any nasty stuff. His files are mainly business files and correspondence, accounts and such, he read the news on-line, ordered books from Amazon, mostly crime novels. John Grisham and the like, he followed Newcastle United and read team news and match reports, that was about it.
‘OK, what about Janet’s?’
‘There’s a load of links to spiritualist sites, as you might imagine, and she’s been in communication with a medium in Switzerland who seems to be more concerned with extracting money out of her rather than helping. Then there’s recipes, she looked for clothes on-line, Facebook stuff with on-line friends, she never cleared out her mailbox so there literally hundreds of messages but nothing of note.’
‘And David Jarrett? He seemed really anxious to get his lap-top back?’ asked Grace.
‘There’s the usual Facebook stuff, why some people seem to live their lives on Facebook I’ll never know but it’s mostly innocuous and utterly boringly non-descript. There’s a file called poems, he’s got a few games, Forge of Empires, jigsaws, Netflix subscription, etc, etc. And then there’s the stuff he didn’t want us to see. A lot of porn, a lot, but nothing nasty. Boy girl, girl on girl and he seems to like ‘em big and busty. Emma, now you’d be all right for him, that’s for sure.’
Grace Swan’s eyes blazed, incandescent with anger. ‘Are you deliberately trying to piss me off? she barked furiously. ‘First it was racist slurs and now it’s sexist remarks,
‘I’m not being sexist,’ he protested, ‘just stating what we can all see, Emma is big and busty, she’s got a lovely big pair of threpennies!’
‘I really cannot believe what I am hearing. If it’s not for the fact that we’re in the middle of a major investigation, I would put you on a charge, in fact I am still considering it.’
‘Grace. It’s all right,’ Emma interjected, ‘I don’t want a fuss, Fred is just being his usual self. A prick.’
‘Are you sure?’ demanded Grace, her anger still fierce in her eyes.
‘I’m sure. The case is more important than that.’
Grace turned her basilisk gaze onto Fred Burbage, ‘That is two strikes against you now, DS Burbage, be sure I will not tolerate a third. One more and no matter what, you will be on a charge,’
Fred Burbage spread his hands and shook his head, unable to comprehend what the problem is. ‘She has got big threpenny bits, I’m only telling it as it is.’ But he wisely kept his thoughts to himself as Grace continued to stare at him. Then his mobile rang, and thankfully he snatched it up, listened for a minute or two, taking down notes as he did so.
‘Boss, I mean Grace, we’ve got a hit on those fingerprints that were found all over the house and Julia’s bedroom. They belong to a Chloe Macbeth and here is the interesting thing. She is currently out on licence after serving two years of a four- year stretch.’
‘For?’
‘GBH! Grievous Bodily Harm.’
Twenty-Eight
Grace made her way up to the third floor, passed through a large open office. Outside the office she sought, a sour-faced civilian secretary asked, ‘Can I help you?’
‘DCI Swan, Superintendent Claybourne has asked to see me.’
‘He’s rather busy now, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait. Or better still, come back later.’
‘Considering he called me less than five minutes ago and I am in the middle of an intensive murder investigation, I don’t think I’ll be waiting, do you?’ Grace answered firmly, making it clear that she had no intention going away.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ the secretary said, reluctantly picking up her phone and pressing the button for a pre-set number.
‘Yes sir, sorry to disturb you but I have a DC Swain here, she says she has an appointment with you?’ she asked. ‘Very good, sir, I’ll let her in then, shall I?
Turning to Grace she said, ‘You may go in now,’ as if bestowing a great favour on her.
‘Thank you, you’ve been most helpful,’ Grace responded giving her a bright beaming smile. ‘And by the way, it’s DCI Swan, not DC Swain.’ Bitch!’ She knocked on Claybourne’s door, opened the door and entered.
Superintendent Andy Claybourne was in his late fifties, grey haired and considerably overweight with a protuberant belly straining the buttons of his white shirt. It was the first time Grace had met him and he rose laboriously to his feet to shake her hand and then pointed to a chair in front of his desk.
‘Take a seat Grace, Now, I need you to update me on the Jarrett case. if you but first things first, how are you settling down, I mean, you’ve hardly got your foot through the door and you’ve got a major incident on your hands, a murder/suicide, by all accounts.
‘Yes sir, as you say, I’ve barely been here a week I’m already embroiled in a double murder,’ she answered, smiling inwardly to herself. ACC Martin Vickers had banished her out to the sticks but almost immediately she was investigating a double murder which was attracting interest nationwide. She was due to give a press conference later in the day at which reporters from all the national papers would be present, together with news teams from the BBC, ITV, Sky News and Channel 4. She was going to get more publicity on this case than any other she had worked on in ‘the big city’ and imagined that Martin Vickers would be spitting nails about it.
‘Double murder, are we really sure about that? I understood that it was Janet Jarrett who killed Donald Jarrett before killing herself?’
‘There is no doubt, sir, we do have a double murder on our hands. Janet Jarrett was murdered.’
‘Murdered? She didn’t hang herself?’
‘No, she was killed, Strangled. And she likely died before Donald Jarrett.’
‘Now that’s a bit of a bugger. The ACC, Martin Vickers, is very anxious to get this cleared up quickly.’
Grace’s face clouded over at the mention of Vickers but was careful to keep her feelings concealed as she answered.
‘Yes, sir, you can reassure Mr Vickers that we are doing everything possible to wrap this up as soon as possible. Currently, we are looking at the son, David Jarrett, as a possible suspect, but we have nothing to take to the CPS.’
It was the Crown Prosecution Service who decide whether there is enough evidence to take a case to court.
‘David Jarrett? Can’t say I’m surprised, I always did think he was a complete waste. Doesn’t surprise me in the least.’
‘You know the family, then, sir?
‘Oh yes, you have to understand that Donald Jarrett was an outstanding pillar of the community. Regular church goer, St Timothy’s on Bankside, one-time captain of my golf club, that’s the West Garside Club of course, not the municipal Easedale course.’
Grace had difficulty imagining Andy Claybourne manoeuvrin
g himself around a golf course but said nothing as Claybourne carried on. ‘And he is a long-standing member of my Lodge, he is or was, Senior Warden this year, he would have been in the chair again next year if…well you know.
’Lodge?’
‘Yes, he was a Freemason, as am I, which is why these allegations of child abuse simply cannot be true. I expect you to seriously strive to refute them.’
‘Freemason’s are incapable of committing crimes, is that what you are saying, sir?’ she answered, without a trace of irony in her voice, no matter what she really felt.
‘No, no, of course not but such deviant behaviour could not be tolerated in a mason, masons have to be, and I quote, Just, upright and free men, of mature age, sound judgement and strict morals.’ It simply couldn’t be.’
‘With due respect sir, nobody knows what goes on behind closed doors.’
‘Quite, which is why it simply cannot be true, Now, what is this request for a search of the fields and woods, and municipal rubbish dumps? It will put enormous strain on the budget and the ACC is not happy about it.’
Yes, he wants to hinder my investigation. That’s why.’ Grace thought, before realising that no senior officer, not even Martin Vickers, would deliberately compromise a murder investigation, he’s just worried about budgets. She collected her thoughts before replying.
‘Sir, the killer must have blood stained clothes, the considerable blood spatter at the scene makes that a certainty and so we need those clothes. We surmise that the killer put those bloody garments in blue plastic bin bags that were in the kitchen and then disposed of them. The bins from that district were collected on Thursday last, so we need to search the council dumps, they’ve advised they can show us where the latest collections were deposited.
As per standard procedure, I have submitted my request for the searches, stating relevance to the investigation. It would also reassure the public if they could see signs of an active investigation, it would be bad PR if the papers were to imply that we were not being as diligent as we should.’
