by Carol Wyer
‘He lives close to Heather. Maybe he drank in her local pub. There are a couple in Longdon. I’ll look into it,’ said Emma.
Kate tapped the note Morgan had written. ‘And now there’s Steve Rushmore, Laura’s father’s partner. He’s been trading in Lichfield for the past twenty years. If we’re searching for possible connections between the victims, then the fact they both lived close to Lichfield might be significant.’
‘Let’s see what we can find out,’ said Emma, typing details into the search engine. She scanned the information on her screen. ‘Lichfield’s a popular city. Given where both women lived, it’s almost certain they’d have shopped there. It’s only about a ten-minute drive from Heather’s house and double that from Laura’s.’ She clicked onto a link. ‘According to this site, there are only two jewellers there. Lichfield Jewellers seems to be much larger.’
Kate got to her feet and looked over Emma’s shoulder at the stylish website, which offered designer jewellery and luxury accessories. Emma scrolled down the page. Steve’s face beamed out at them. ‘His shop also offers a repair service. Who knows, both women could even have been his customers.’
‘You read the notes on Steve, then?’ said Morgan, who’d appeared in the doorway. ‘I thought you’d be interested.’
‘I agree it’s worth looking into.’ Kate paused, eyebrows drawn together. ‘I’d prefer to delve further into possible connections between Kevin, Christian and our two victims. Both suspects lived near the two women and although it’s only a gut feeling, I’m sure both are keeping something from us. You felt that way about Christian too, when we spoke to him.’
‘I did and I’ve been looking into him some more. I haven’t found anything yet to arouse any further suspicions. I don’t think we should ignore this though. Steve and Laura didn’t get along.’
‘But Heather?’
‘He might not have needed a reason. He could have selected her for some arbitrary reason: had an argument with her or . . . maybe she reminded him of Laura. After all, they look very similar.’
Kate pondered the possibility. Morgan had a point.
‘I’ll check out Kevin,’ said Emma. ‘The same reason applies. He might have attacked Heather because she reminded him of Laura. And for what it’s worth, I think Morgan’s right. We should look into Steve.’
Kate glanced at Steve’s friendly face. People often wore masks to disguise their real emotions. It was conceivable that Steve was an expert at wearing one. ‘Okay. I’ll leave you and Jamie to dig further. Morgan, we’ll pay Steve a visit,’ she said.
‘The shop won’t be open yet.’
‘Then we’ll tackle him at home.’
Richard Dean, in pyjama bottoms and sweatshirt, sat slumped in an armchair. He had refused to leave Steve alone with Morgan and Kate. ‘This is nonsense. Steve had nothing to do with Laura’s death.’
Steve slotted a cufflink into position and tugged the shirt into place over his wrist. ‘It’s fine, Richard. Calm down. I’m sure the officers wouldn’t be here without good reason. Now, how can I help?’
Morgan, standing in the centre of the room, spoke. ‘We understand you own Lichfield Jewellers.’
‘Indeed, I do.’
‘Have you seen this woman before? Either at your shop, or around Lichfield?’ Morgan passed over the photograph of Heather.
Steve gave the photograph his full attention before returning it with a shake of his head. ‘Her face looks vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t say with any certainty if she’s been in the shop or not. You could try asking my staff. They might have served her. I tend to work in the back office on repairs, rather than deal with the customers.’
‘You don’t recall serving her, at all?’
‘No.’
‘Does the name Heather Gault mean anything to you?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘You didn’t do any work for her?’
‘No. Sorry I can’t be of any further help. I take it that’s everything?’ His round face became broader as he attempted a smile.
‘As a matter of fact, it isn’t,’ said Kate. ‘We’d like to know your whereabouts on Friday and Saturday evening.’
‘This is preposterous!’ Richard leapt to his feet, his face inches from Morgan’s.
Morgan didn’t budge. ‘Please sit down, Mr Dean. It’s perfectly normal procedure for us to question the whereabouts of everyone who knew your daughter. As a crime writer, you’d know that.’
Richard didn’t obey, instead jabbing his finger at Morgan’s chest. ‘What I do know is that it’s lunacy to ask if my partner has anything to do with my daughter’s murder! He was here with me on Friday evening and Saturday. Take a note of that, DS Meredith, and then find whoever killed her instead of wasting time here.’
‘I understand you’re very upset about your daughter, but please don’t prod me.’
Richard registered the act, dropped his head and mumbled an apology. Kate turned towards Steve. The wide-eyed look he’d briefly thrown in Richard’s direction when he vouched for his whereabouts hadn’t escaped her attention. ‘Is that true? Were you here all evening?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mr Rushmore, you understand we can request CCTV footage, or indeed your sat nav to check your vehicle’s movements. Then there are phone records—’
He tugged at both cuffs, head lowered, then said, ‘I might have popped out for a while.’
‘Steve!’ Richard hissed.
‘I’ve nothing to hide.’ Steve’s face had lost some of its ruddy colour.
‘Where did you go, sir?’ asked Morgan.
‘I dropped off a pearl necklace with a client. She needed it the following day, for her daughter’s wedding. It had been in the shop for repair and was trickier to fix than I’d first thought. It wasn’t ready when she called in late Friday afternoon to collect it. Given it was a family heirloom, and imperative the bride had it for the wedding, I promised I’d personally drop it off at her house that evening.’
‘Can you give me a name and address of the person you delivered to?’
Richard jumped in again. ‘No need. You could ring them. Steve has the phone number.’
‘Yes, yes. I can give you her number. She’ll confirm exactly what I’ve told you. As I said, I’ve nothing to hide.’
The evasion tactics weren’t working on Kate. ‘Where did the client live, Mr Rushmore?’
Another look passed between the men then Steve shut his eyes for a pinch of time before saying, ‘Uttoxeter.’
Kate gave an exaggerated sigh. There were three main routes from Lichfield to Uttoxeter; one passed through Abbots Bromley. ‘And what time did you deliver this necklace?’
‘About seven thirty.’
‘And you left your shop in Lichfield and drove directly to Uttoxeter?’
‘Yes.’
‘Which road did you take?’
‘Steve!’
Richard’s hiss was urgent but Steve ran a finger under his collar and answered, ‘The shortest, through Armitage and Abbots Bromley.’
‘And did you come back the same way?’
He nodded.
‘What time did you pass through Abbots Bromley on your return trip?’
‘Around eight thirty.’
‘I see.’
‘I have nothing to hide,’ Steve repeated. ‘If I was guilty, I’d have let Richard cover for me. I’d rather you knew the truth.’
‘You realise it places you at the crime scene at around the time the attack occurred?’ Kate said.
‘I didn’t attack Laura and I didn’t see anything unusual as I drove through the village. I’d had a long day. I only wanted to get home.’
Morgan spoke again, attracting Steve’s attention. ‘It’s true you and Laura didn’t get along, isn’t it?’
‘We’ve made no secret of the fact, have we, Richard?’
‘No, we haven’t. Many families don’t get on. None of this makes him a murderer.’
‘When did you l
ast see Laura, Mr Rushmore?’ asked Morgan.
‘Ages ago. I haven’t seen her in months.’
‘And how long have you known Mr Dean?’
Steve shrugged. ‘Years.’
‘How many years exactly?’
‘Twenty or so?’
‘Then you knew Mr Dean while he was married?’
‘Yes.’ He stroked his beard. ‘We knew each other.’
‘Can I ask, did you begin your relationship while Mr Dean’s wife was alive?’
Richard shook his head. ‘Stop right there. Steve, don’t answer them! DS Morgan, our private life is none of your concern, nor does it bear any relevance to your enquiry. Steve told you where he was, and I can confirm we were at home last night. Check our phone records or whatever you need to do, but we were both here. Now, if you want to caution us and continue this interview at the station, then do so, otherwise, I’d respectfully ask you to leave us alone. I have a lot to deal with and arrangements to make for my daughter’s funeral.’
Morgan remained poker-faced. ‘I had to ask you, sir, because Laura told her friends she believed you and Steve were involved in a relationship before her mother died, and that you were responsible for her mother’s death.’ Richard’s mouth flapped open but Morgan continued smoothly. ‘If Laura voiced her suspicions to her friends, she might have spoken to relatives or your friends and I’m sure those accusations would have had an impact on you both.’
The writer’s eyes narrowed into slits. ‘She was a mixed-up teenager and grief twisted her thoughts. She lashed out, searching for somebody to blame for her mother’s death – a death brought on by natural causes and not by others’ actions.’
Steve pleaded with a look that was ignored and Kate quickly read the situation. ‘Then, you were involved before your wife passed away.’
Richard gave a loose shrug. The truth was out. ‘I can assure you Megan never knew about our relationship. Laura only found out about us a few days before her mother passed away, and Steve and I put our relationship on hold immediately afterwards. Laura needed me. I sacrificed my relationship with Steve to give my daughter the time she needed to grieve and only when I felt she was sufficiently recovered did we began seeing each other clandestinely again, until I decided she could cope with the revelation. Unfortunately, she didn’t take the news as well as we’d hoped. Regardless of how difficult or rude she was to him, Steve took it all in his stride and has never had a bad word to say about her.’ He looked across at Steve, gave him a half-smile. ‘I don’t how he managed to put up with her, but he did. He’s been patient and understanding and he would never, ever harm her.’ His shoulders sagged and Steve scurried forward, put an arm around his partner. He met Kate’s eyes.
‘I think it might be time for you to leave. You can see he’s terribly upset. He’s lost his only daughter and you’ve been speaking to him like he’s a criminal.’
‘That was never our intention, sir,’ said Kate. ‘We are duty-bound to follow all lines of enquiry.’
‘I know you are,’ said Steve. ‘It’s just that, in the early days, she caused a great deal of trouble with her repeated accusations, and it took quite a long while for the rumour mill to die down. It was an upsetting time for us all, especially for Richard, and for you to bring it all back up again, especially in light of what’s happened to poor Laura, well . . . you understand.’
‘Yes, sir. I’m afraid we’ll still need to take DNA samples from you both before we leave. Purely to eliminate you. We have to ask everyone who might have had contact with her.’
‘What!’
Steve shushed him gently. ‘It’s okay. We must let the police do their job. They have to find out who killed Laura.’
Richard nodded his consent. Steve looked at Morgan. ‘Do it.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The car park outside HQ had filled up and they’d found the last space, sandwiched closely to a police van and a four-by-four.
‘We’ll see if anything comes back from the DNA results,’ Kate said as she squeezed out of the vehicle. Since leaving the two men, she and Morgan had been discussing the likelihood of Steve being their killer. Although a phone call to the owner of the pearl necklace had confirmed the timings, Kate was still on the fence regarding the overly helpful Steve.
‘He didn’t seem that upset by Laura’s behaviour. After all, she did try to sabotage their relationship.’
Steve didn’t strike her as thick-skinned and would surely have been hurt by Laura’s attitude. Nevertheless, she wasn’t as keen as Morgan to place Steve in the frame. Especially as they’d nothing concrete to support his suspicions. They’d stopped off at the jeweller’s on their way back to the station, shown Heather’s photo to the staff and drawn another blank. Nobody remembered seeing her in the shop. Morgan slammed the car door shut. Understanding his frustration, Kate said, ‘Delve further into Heather’s background. See if you can make a connection between her and Steve.’ It was sufficient to appease him.
‘Guv!’ Jamie was barrelling towards them. ‘I’ve spoken to Christian’s work colleagues who all confirm he was at the Red Lion on Friday night, though none could confirm what time he arrived, so I’m headed over to technical support to check through CCTV.’
‘Okay. Anything else I should know?’
‘The super was looking for you. I told him you were interviewing potential suspects. He asked if you could drop by his office as soon as you returned.’
‘Right.’
‘I’ll get off.’ Jamie spun on his heel and hastened away.
Kate paced towards the entrance, head held high. Dickson would undoubtedly pile on the pressure. She headed first to the ladies’ washroom, checked her appearance, tucked her blouse in where it had lifted from the loose waistband on her skirt, then climbed the stairs.
‘Come in.’
‘Sir, you wanted to see me?’
His head was lowered over a report. He glanced in her direction. ‘It was to let you know that ITV intend on broadcasting a televised reconstruction of the attack on Heather as part of Real Crime that airs tonight. Before you say anything, the order’s come from upstairs. I know it causes extra work for you all, but something useful might come from it. Also, I want you and your team to attend the filming.’
‘May I ask why? This isn’t normal procedure.’
‘I want eyes on the crowd observing the filming, in case the murderer is among them.’
‘That’s not likely. Not unless he knows about it.’
‘The programme makers have been granted permission to publicise this reconstruction. They’ve been shouting about it on social media.’
‘And I wasn’t informed? You’re planning on baiting the killer, draw him back to the scene of the crime and flush him out of a crowd of – I don’t know how many people – and yet I wasn’t consulted?’ she hissed.
‘You had other priorities at the time and I’m informing you now. Look, it’s a long shot, I know, but it has to be tried. He’s an arrogant son of a bitch, and that sort of cockiness often results in mistakes. Sometimes perpetrators will attend the crime scene, savour the moment of hiding in plain sight among other onlookers when the emergency services arrive. We’re testing out the same theory by giving him the opportunity to attend a reconstruction – relive the thrill of the moment – and we need eyes there to establish if anyone is displaying any unusual behaviour. We don’t want to frighten him off so I want your team on it, not uniforms.’
‘And what if a huge number of people turn up and we can’t spot any one individual?’
‘As I said, the decision came from above and I expect you to carry out instructions. If there are lots of people there, then you’ll have to deal with that situation.’
She opened her mouth to speak again, but was cut off with a stony look.
‘That will be all, Kate. Make sure you and your team are there by half past five, before the filming begins.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Back in the office, she told Mo
rgan about the new plan. He scratched his scalp, brows knitted together. ‘Let me get this straight. All of us are going to mingle with a crowd of onlookers at a crime reconstruction, in the hope the killer attends the filming?’
‘In a nutshell,’ Kate replied. ‘So, make sure everyone is at Newbury Avenue by five thirty, and in the meantime, let’s get on with trying to track him down.’
‘If it’s one of the guys we’ve been looking into, he’ll spot us and scarper,’ said Morgan.
‘We’ll have to keep our eyes peeled then and hope we spy him first,’ she said. Regardless of how she felt about it, they had to obey orders.
‘Okay, let’s get to work. I want to find out more about that bracelet Heather wore, so ring her ex-husband and see what he can tell you. I’ll start on her friends to find out if she was seeing anybody.’
The first on her list, Zoe Farrington, kept a horse at the same stables in Blackfields as Heather. She could see Morgan’s jaw working as he spoke, but she concentrated on her own call and the melodic voice at the other end of her phone. She introduced herself and broke the news about Heather. Zoe’s voice thickened with emotion.
‘Yes. Poor Heather. Everyone at the stables is in total shock. I can’t get my head around it.’
‘Did you know her well?’
‘Yes, pretty well. We’ve been friends for ages.’
‘We’re doing everything we can to find out who was behind the attack. I was hoping you might be able to tell me a little about her private life. She didn’t divulge a great deal to her fellow work colleagues and we only have a few scant details. We believe she arranged to meet somebody Saturday evening, and we’d like to talk to whoever it was. I don’t suppose you have any idea who that might have been, do you?’
‘It might have been Paul. She met him on Tinder and went out with him a few times. He works at Uttoxeter Racecourse.’
