by Giles Ekins
A look of concern flashed across Claybourne’s face ,South Yorkshire Police could not afford any more bad press, not after the Hillsborough disaster inquest, the Rotherham grooming scandals and the bungled raid on the home of Sir Cliff Richard.
‘Very well, then’, he said slowly, I will approve the searches, but I rely on you to keep the cost to the absolute minimum necessary,’ and he picked up his pen and scrawled the necessary signature.
‘Thank you, sir,’ taking the signed request for inclusion in the case files.
‘Good. I won’t keep you any longer, just keep me informed of any developments and remember, those child abuse allegations against Donald Jarrett have to be disproved, as I have made very clear.’
‘Yes, sir, of course, Grace answered. ‘Not a chance of that, you fat slug, if Donald Jarrett did abuse his daughter it will not be swept under the carpet just to appease a bunch of masons with funny handshakes and rolled-up trouser legs.
Twenty-Nine
Grace was annoyed with herself for apparently acquiescing to Claybourne’s demands, ‘I should have stood up to him , made it clear that Freemason or not. Donald Jarrett, even though dead, would not get away sexual abuse of his daughter. Bastard.
She drew herself a cup of coffee and then worked on the press release she would give later. Terry knocked on the door and at Grace’s nod of welcome ,entered and sat down.
‘So, Grace, what did old Clayboots want?’ he asked.
‘Clayboots?’
‘Yeah, Clayboots, as in feet of clay because he moves so very slowly and never moves at all until he’s cleared it with ACC Martin Vickers.’
‘I know Martin Vickers.’ Grace responded warily
‘Bastard.’
‘He’s not a man to cross, for sure, he’s vindictive and will destroy your career given the chance.’
‘Sounds as though you are speaking from personal experience?’
‘Let’s just say that I did not come here out of choice.’
‘Yeah, I did wonder, a high-flyer like you in the back-waters of the River Gar.’
‘Martin Vickers is not my favourite, leave it at that.’
‘That’s why I keep my head below the parapet as a DS, as I said yesterday. I don’t like the politics up in the heady heights of senior rank.’ Terry stretched his back and rotated his head and neck, ‘Get cramp in my shoulder blades sometimes’, he explained. ‘Anyway, what did the Super want, anything I should be aware of D/SIO?’
‘He wants it wrapped up soonest, all neatly tied with pretty ribbon. And he would prefer, or I assume Vickers, would prefer it if Janet Jarrett had killed Donald and then hanged herself
‘Not going to happen, is it? You told him that Janet had been strangled?’
‘Yes, and he doesn’t like it, considers it an inconvenience. Oh, and Donald Jarrett was a shining pillar of rectitude, and could not possibly be an abuser because he’s a Freemason, senior wizard, or some such bollocks’
‘Oh, right.’
‘You’re not a mason, are you?’ asked Grace as she finished her coffee and tossed the empty cup into the waste basket.
‘Me a mason? No, I was invited, or rather dragged along to an open night one time but I had too much going on in my personal life to be bothered. Lots of guys in the force are masons though. They do do good work, raise loads of money for charities; about a month or so ago I know they gave a big cheque to St Wilfred’s, children’s hospice, it was in the ‘Gazette’
‘Whatever! The point is, Vickers wants the allegations of child abuse refuted, we can’t have a mason as a child-abuser, can we? Gives them a bad name.’
‘Tough shit on that one, I’d say. I’ve no time for paedos and if Donald Jarrett did abuse his children or went kiddy-diddling elsewhere, it’s going to come out in the wash. You’re with me on that. I hope Grace? Not toeing the line with Vickers. That would disappoint me. Sorry for being blunt but that’s the way I feel about it.’
‘Absolutely! Go for it, tiger. I’m with you all the way. However, whilst we’re here, what the hell is it with Fred Burbage’s racist and sexist remarks, is he also anti-Semitic? If so, I want to know now, I will not tolerate anti-Semitism under any circumstances, Now, you’ve vouched for him, so tell me.’
‘Unlikely, since he’s a Jew himself, although I doubt he’s seen the inside of a synagogue in years and he likes a bacon sarnie as much as anybody else. No, you’ll get no anti-Semitic remarks from Fred.’
‘Good. Now, let’s see what David Jarrett has to say for himself, but I doubt he’ll be any more cooperative than he was yesterday’
Thirty
Jessica Babalola and Emma Cox walked into the branch of Simpson’s in the Riverside Mall and asked to speak to Chloe Macbeth.
Simpson’s was a nationwide franchise of dry cleaners, shoe repairers and key cutters, established more than sixty years ago by the now deceased Bernard Simpson who lived by the maxim that ‘everybody deserves a second chance. But not a third.’ Everybody deserves a second chance, which is how Chloe Macbeth, recently released from prison after serving two years of a four-year sentence for Grievous Bodily Harm came to be working there.
The job was not particularly interesting, but Chloe appreciated the chance it gave her and was a diligent and well-liked employee. Nobody knew what her crime had been, it was irrelevant so far as company policy was concerned and Chloe had no desire to enlighten them.
She was taking in a bundle of clothes for dry-cleaning when Jessica and Emma approached her, but they gave her time to take the order and issue the receipt to her customer.
‘Chloe Macbeth?’ Emma asked quietly,
‘Yes?’ she answered cautiously, readily recognising them as coppers and a cold flutter of fear surged through her stomach.
‘We’d just like to talk to you, your manager says it’s OK to come with us, we’ll get a coffee and have a chat, OK? ’ Jessica said., ‘There’s a Costa’s just by, we’ll go there.’
‘What’s it about, I’ve done nothing’ Chloe responded anxiously, her heart pounding.
‘Just some routine questions.’ Emma said.
‘Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.’ Chloe said following Emma and Jessica out into the mall.
In the coffee shop, Chloe was so nervous, she could barely hold her cup of latte without spilling it.
‘Chloe, we are not here to give you grief, ‘Jessica said soothingly, ‘but we do need to ask you some questions, but first, would you tell us your side of the GBH conviction?’
‘Do I have to? I’m not proud of it and I want to put it all behind me. Move on, you know?’
‘Yes, it is necessary I’m afraid., the bare facts of your record don’t really tell us anything about you. About who you are as Chloe Macbeth, rather than the dry legalise description in your files.’
‘Yeah, OK’, Chloe answered, able at last to take a small sip of coffee.
It was even quieter than usual for a Thursday night in the ‘Fox and Duck’ A television in the corner was showing snooker from the Crucible in Sheffield, not that Chloe was remotely bothered. Some students from the College of Arts were playing pool, whilst an elderly man fed one of the slot machines
Chloe sat at the bar slowly drinking a pint of Peroni lager from a tall glass.
‘Hi there, Chloe, howya doing?’
Chloe turned to look at the man standing beside her. He was tall, thin faced wearing a white T-shirt, scuffed black leather jacket, ubiquitous jeans and black trainers. She stared at him blankly, no idea who he was.
‘It’s me, Kevin, Kev, you know, we met at a party, Billy Foulds place, right? We had a cuppla drinks and shared a spliff’
‘Yeah, hi.’ Chloe said, turning away from him. She did not go to parties to make friends, she went to get wasted, smoke a joint or two, occasionally get laid. Memories were sometimes vague but was she was fairly sure she had never laid this guy.
‘Buy you a drink?’ Kev asked. Chloe hesitated, offers of free drinks usually came with condi
tions and she was not in the mood to fight off unwanted advances.
‘Nah, s’OK, but thanks anyway,’
‘Go one, just the one, like,’ he insisted and nodded to the barmaid. ‘Same again here, love, and a pint of Doombar.’
‘OK, thanks,’ Chloe answered, uneasy as Kevin stood even closer to her. She could smell cigarettes on his breath, cheap after-shave and she shifted further away. But he moved up close to her again. She took a couple of drinks from her pint, trying to work out how to get rid of him once she had had her drink.
‘You fancy going outside, when you’re done?’ ,he asked ‘you know, bit of fun? and slid his arm around her waist. She shrugged the arm away, annoyed with herself for accepting his drink.
‘No, I’m not going outside with you but thanks for the drink,’ she said as firmly as she could.
He pressed in even closer and this time put his hand on her backside , Chloe angrily him brushed away, getting very annoyed with him. And herself. ‘Come on, just a bit of a cuddle, everybody knows you’re a right shag-slag, and I’ve bought you a drink.’
At that, he put his hand high on the inside of her left thigh and began to creep it upwards. A violent surge of red-hot rage seared through her and without a thought, she smashed her glass onto the rim of the bar top and then thrust the jagged edges into his face.
‘I know I’m cheap,’ she told Jessica and Emma, ‘bit I’m not so cheap that I’m going to fuck a guy just ‘cos he’s bought me a pint of lager.’ Both detectives nodded sympathetically, they had been harassed by men their time.
‘He assaulted you, right?’ Jessica asked.
‘Yeah, he groped my arse and then put his hand on my leg, way too high, too close to the Promised Land, you know what I mean and that was when I lost it.’
Blood, broken glass and spilled beer. Kevin was screaming, holding his face as blood streamed down to soak his white T-shirt. Chloe’s hand was also cut and bleeding heavily, but she did not realise it until the pain kicked in. It did not seem real. Everything was a blur. She looked at the broken glass in her bloody hand and without thinking, ordered another pint, which the barmaid refused to serve. She sat there in a numb void until an ambulance arrived to take both Chloe and Kevin to the hospital. Once the wound on her hand has been stitched and bound, she was arrested.
At her trial, the jury did not believe Chloe’s account of the assault on her by Kevin Leeds. In turn, he denied assault, agreed that he had bought her a drink, ‘only being friendly, like’ when for no reason she had suddenly smashed the glass into his face. He still had facial scars from the attack and wished to God he had never laid eyes on her.
‘The judge, an old fart, believed him, obviously thought I was a slut and gave me four years. Now I’m out on licence and don’t want any trouble.’ Chloe insisted.
‘Thank you for telling us about it, it can’t have been easy.’ Emma said. ‘Now, we have to ask you about other issues. Have you ever been to a house on Blackmires Road, in Fallswood?’
‘Blackmires Road, yes of course, number 27, it’s the Jarrett’s house, I couldn’t believe it when I read about it, their deaths. That really shook me up, I can tell you.’
‘Why did you go there, Chloe?’
‘Can I get another cup of coffee, first?’, she asked, deciding she could not carry on the conversation without one.
‘Of course, said Jessica, getting up from the table, ‘Emma, you want another?’
‘Yeah, go on,’
Once the fresh coffees were on the table, steaming aromatically, Chloe spoke up again.
‘I used to go to the Jarrett’s all the time, Julia, Julia Jarrett, she was like my best mate ever. We went to the same schools together, we first met at junior school and hit it off right away. Strange really, she was this posh kid from up Fallswood. I was this working-class scruff from a council flat down Firth Hall. Ravensworth Road Junior School, where we met, was in the catchment area for both of us. I say working class, I don’t think my Dad did much work but then I hardly knew him, he pissed off when I was about five. and my Mum, she says she’s got depression and can’t work, so she’s been on benefits all her life, well, all my life, put it that way. Dead now, she is, died just after I got out of Askham Grange, breast cancer.’
‘Sorry to hear that. How often did you go to the Jarrett’s house, Chloe?’
‘I was there all the time, we were inseparable, really together, like twins. And later, when we went to Grange Manor Comprehensive, I’d go to her house and we’d do our homework together. She never came to my place, I was too ashamed of it. It was always a tip, and smelled sour, since me Ma didn’t do any housekeeping. Just sat on her arse all day. watching telly.
Donald, Julia’s dad, he wanted her to go to St Mary’s, you know that posh fee-paying school, but her Mum, Janet, wouldn’t have it. She was a staunch Labour supporter and wouldn’t have nothing to do with private education.
Lucky really, else Julia and I wouldn’t have been together so much. I loved that girl, really loved her and it broke my heart when I heard she died. What was she doing, doing heroin, the stupid cow?’ Chloe wiped a tear that was rolling down her face, picked up the napkin that had come with the coffee and loudly blew her nose.
‘Sorry about that, I always get emotional when I think about Jules, that’s what I called her sometimes, Jules.’
‘That’s all right. When was the last time you visited the Jarrett house?’ Jessica asked.
‘Not long after I came out of Askham Grange, I went around to pay my respects, offer my condolences to her Mum and Dad. About Julia, I mean,’
‘And who was there?’
‘Just Janet.’
‘Was she pleased to see you, after all. You were Julia’s best friend?’ asked Emma.
‘Nah, quite the opposite. Dead cold she was, I don’t think she ever liked me, just tolerated me for Julia’s sake and she could hardly wait to get me out of the house. I think she thought I was the reason Julia went off the rails, got her onto drugs, but I didn’t, I swear. Her drug taking was nothing to do with me. Then we just sort of drifted apart and then she was gone, buggered off to London. I never saw her again after that, nobody did, not even her Mum and Dad, nobody, it was if she’d cut the whole world out of her life. But I do still miss her, even now.’
‘And have you been back since?’
‘No. not after that icy reception.’
‘What about Donald Jarrett? Did you see him after you were released?’ Jessica asked.
A cloud flooded across Chloe’s face. ‘No, no,’ she stammered. ‘No. didn’t see him. He was a nice guy, always nice to me and I’m sorry he’s dead. And Janet, despite, well you know, her dying like that, Hanging herself.’ She’s lying about something, Emma thought.
‘What about David Jarrett?’ Jessica asked. ‘Have you seen him lately/’
‘That odious creep, no thanks.’
‘And why is that?’
‘He was always hanging about, even when we were young, say nine, ten, something like that, he was just…about. He’d come into Julia’s room uninvited, you know, even when we were teenagers he’d come in, invade our privacy. I think he peeped through the keyhole, hoping to see us undress when we changed out of our school clothes. He’s just a fucking creep, a real perv.’
Emma then asked Chloe about her life, what she did when not working, ‘Not much, really, after work might I grab a Chinese takeaway or pizza, go home and watch telly or go to my writing class, that’ s about it, As I said, I’m on licence and don’t want any trouble so I don’t go out much.’
The day of the murder she was off sick, a vicious head cold and heavy period and did not go out all day, just laid in bed feeling sorry for herself.
‘Can anybody verify that?’ queried Emma.
‘Well, Peter, the manager, he will confirm that I rang in sick, I never take days off unless I’m feeling really, really crap and I was that day, a total bag of shit, and he’ll confirm that, for sure.’
�
�No, I mean, can anybody confirm you were in bed all day?’
‘Only Jeremy.’
‘Jeremy?’
‘Yes, Jeremy, my teddy bear. But he’s a very reliable and honest witness.’
Jessica and Emma both smiled, able to relate to Chloe’s teddy bear, Jessica still had a rag-doll called Bella she kept in her bedroom whilst Emma once had a teddy bear called ‘Bare-bear’ (because he had no clothes) which she now remembered with fondness.
‘Nobody else?’
‘No, I live alone in the council flat I took on after my mother died.’
‘You didn’t talk to a neighbour at all?’
‘No, I keep myself to myself.’
Chloe had no confirmed alibi for the day of the murder, but if she had left the flat, ‘which I didn’t, but if I had, nobody would’ve noticed it’ she said, ‘not with all the comings and goings of dealers and customers to the drug den on the floor above.’
‘What about CCTV, that would confirm you didn’t leave home, wouldn’t it? Jessica said.’ Or, more critically, if you did’
‘CCTV? You must be joking, soon as the cameras are put up, the dealers come and spray the lens with paint, don’t want anybody to see who comes and goes, do they?’
Emma made a note to report the drug dealing to the Drug Squad and they then returned to the station.
Thirty-One
Chloe was lying one her bed, unsettled by the visit from the police. a hard knot of unease roiling around in her stomach and nausea close to the surface.
Since coming out of prison, she had determined to get her life straightened out, her past life was behind her, sloughed off without a moment’s regret Out on licence after serving half of a four-year sentence, any misdemeanour could see her back inside for the rest of her sentence and that was simply not going to happen. Ever.
