by Dave Lacey
“Do you have the names of any other people associated with this church?”
“No, as I said, it held no interest for me.”
“Did your wife attempt to discuss anything with you which she may have talked with other people about in the church?”
“Like what?”
“Like anything. Anything unusual she might have talked to you about when she got home.”
“Then, no, she didn’t. She had seemed different of late, distracted. I have no idea why before you ask. It’s just an impression I got.”
“You never asked what might have been bothering her?”
“We….” For the first time, Edward Warwick displayed an emotion other than revulsion. His face crumpled slightly and his eyes stared at the ground before he gathered himself. “We’ve not been so close for the last few years. We didn’t talk about anything much for the last year or so. So, perhaps you can understand why we wouldn’t have discussed what might have been bothering her?” Another first, he looked for understanding.
“I can, and I’m sorry. Is there anything you can think of that might help us find Paul?”
“I’m sorry, no. Why have you predominantly asked questions about my wife, when you’re looking for my son?”
“Well, at the moment, we’re not absolutely certain what happened to your wife, and we’re concerned for the safety of your son.”
“’Not absolutely certain what happened’? What does that mean? She slipped in the shower didn’t she?” Warwick’s eyes burned once more, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“We’re not one hundred percent certain of the circumstances, that’s all I’m saying. Let’s not get wound up again.”
“Are we finished, officer? I think I need to go in and sit down for a bit.”
“I’d like to call on you again, if we have need for further questions.”
“Very well.” Warwick turned and walked away from Smithy.
Smithy sneered. “Lovely. Nice talking to you too, you dick.”
Chapter 22
By the time Smithy arrived back at HQ, Jack was there. His eyes told a story of their own, but in his defence his demeanour was considerably better than when they had parted the day before.
“Ah, Mr Smith, how are you?”
“Probably not as good as you seem right now.” Smithy arched a quizzical eyebrow at his partner.
“Yes, thank you. I did manage to get some sleep, and slept in too. And I do feel much better. How about you? How did you get on with Edward Warwick?”
“Well now, that was decidedly interesting. He started as a nasty little shit, then finished up quite meek. Oh, and he also used a word I’ve never heard before.”
“I would have thought that most people have used words that you’ve never heard before.” Jack looked at his friend, his eyes wide as he gave a shrug of his shoulders.
“It’s nice to have my partner here, backing me up as ever. No, really, it would seem he wasn’t close to his wife for quite some time now. And if he wasn’t close to her, then that’s as nothing compared to what he feels, or rather doesn’t feel, for his son.”
“Really, how so?”
“He doesn’t care where he is, who he’s with, or even if he’s alive. It seems the coming out bit was bad enough, but then hooking up with a black gangster was just too much.”
“So he doesn’t know and doesn’t care where Paul is. What next then?”
“We do have a contact within the church. Actually it’s the woman who recruited Susan Warwick in the first place. And they’ve been friends for around ten years or so.”
“Great, should we get in touch with her? Go to see her right now?”
“Not right now. We have the results back from the lab regarding any fibres found on Mrs Warwick’s face.”
“Ah, quite a morning then. Shall we pop across and see the guys?” The ‘guys’ referred to the team that had been looking into the accidental death of Susan Warwick.
They got up and headed to the other end of the floor. Luckily, the nucleus of the team was there, including the lead. The greeting, however, was far from rapturous.
“You heard the results are back then?” Steven Vaughan was the team leader. Shaven headed, big and of stocky build, he was an arrogant bully who liked to impose himself on weaker individuals. Both inter- and intra-departmentally.
“We did. Would you mind sharing them with us?” Smithy asked politely.
“Not at all. Just as soon as you tell us why you’re so interested.”
“At the moment,” Jack cut in, “we don’t really know what to think. As we discussed before, Susan Warwick’s son left a message that she’d been murdered. That raised the alarm bells for us because we had been looking for him in connection with the death of Alphonse Ngwenye. He called me yesterday, and in the brief conversation we had, he re-affirmed this belief.”
“So, you figured we hadn’t done our job diligently enough?”
“Nobody said anything of the sort. There were no obvious signs of foul play, so why would you think that somebody had killed her? We simply had some information that you didn’t, which made us approach it differently.” Jack tried his best to be diplomatic.
Vaughan was struggling to maintain his superiority in the face of such a deferential approach. Smithy decided to press home the advantage.
“We really don’t want to step on anybody’s toes, and we don’t want to try to make anybody look bad. We’re not interested in the collar, we just want to follow up on our own case. If it turns out that your team asked for the fibre test to be carried out, then we don’t care, as long as we get to the truth of the matter.”
“Fibres were found on the lower half of Mrs Warwick’s face, animal in origin, bovine to be specific. So, either Mrs Warwick wore a leather gag during her liaison...or at some point something leather was placed over her mouth.” Vaughan finished with a humourless grin. The group went quiet, and all wore expressions of mild surprise. The silence continued for the next few seconds, broken only by the tinkling of desk phones and the ever-present muted chatter of police officers going about their day to day tasks.
“It appears, detectives,” he said, “as though you may be right about this.” All of his previous arrogance was gone, and now he simply looked like a man in need of direction.
“So we’re going to need to re-assess the case, and it means we will also need to go back over the house and the rear garden again,” Smithy offered, diplomatic to the end.
For the following few minutes, the two detectives from the murder squad outlined a plan that would allow them to perform another sweep of Susan and Edward Warwick’s house, whilst trying not to alienate the team of detectives present. Jack wasn’t sure what the boundaries were in a case such as this, and decided they would need to speak to Whittaker for some guidance. Provisionally, they asked Vaughan and his team if they would mind re-tracing their steps, going over the ground again, while they, Smithy and Jack, would track down Mary Parker and attempt to make sense of the new leg of the investigation.
Remarkably, considering his reputation and the earlier part of the conversation, Vaughan agreed. He seemed to have shaken off his reticence, and appeared keen to uncover the truth. It was a bonus to the two boys from across the way, so, before anything could threaten the peace, they left and went back to their side of the building. Luckily, Superintendant Whittaker was in his office, so they dropped in to clear up the lines of demarcation. Initially Whittaker was keen for his two officers to assist in the case.
After a little persuasive reasoning, they convinced him it would do no harm to keep the current team in situ. Whittaker would make the call to their section head and clarify procedure. Essentially, they were already working the case, so what difference would it make if they continued, albeit with a different driver? They left Whittaker’s office and decided to call Mary Parker immediately.
Smithy dialled from his desk phone; it was his lead after all.
“Hello?”
; “Mary Parker?”
“Yes, who’s speaking please?”
“Mrs Parker, this is Detective Smith from Greater Manchester CID. I wonder if my partner and I might call round to ask you a few questions?”
“What is this concerning?” She had immediately become guarded, suspicious.
“I’d rather talk about that in person if I may.”
“Yes, but what is it regarding?” she asked again.
“It’s regarding the death of a friend of yours I’m afraid.” He wasn’t sure if she even knew Susan Warwick had died.
“Death? Whose death?” She sounded nervous now.
“I’m afraid Susan Warwick died last Thursday afternoon.”
“Oh dear, oh no. How?”
“I really would much rather come and see you to discuss this, Mrs Parker.”
“Yes, very well. When?”
“Are you at home this morning?”
“Yes, I don’t work, but I’ve got an appointment at three this afternoon.” They agreed to be there in thirty minutes.
“What do you think?” Jack asked Smithy.
“Don’t know. She didn’t know her friend was dead though. Or at least she didn’t crack on she knew.”
“Why would she lie? And I guess you would have to ask how she would know. Edward doesn’t seem the type to have called round all Susan’s friends to tell them.”
“Hmm, you’re probably right. I guess we’ll find out in a little while.”
***
Mary Parker lived on Stamford Road in the Bowden area of Greater Manchester. It was one of the most expensive and exclusive areas in the North of England. The roads were lined with trees and vast Victorian and Georgian properties, interspersed here and there with modern architectural statements. They pulled up outside a four storey terraced house, with a driveway at ground level which then led down to a subterranean garage. Around twenty seconds after ringing the doorbell, the front door was opened by a gentle looking woman in her late forties, early fifties. She pulled her light brown hair back from well tended features and revealed light blue eyes.
“Detective Smith?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s me,” Smithy answered. “This is Detective Sumner, my partner. May we come in?”
“Yes, please do.” She moved aside and waved them into the hallway. The Parkers had clearly spent a lot of money on their home; it was immaculately finished. She took them into a rear reception room, and gestured for them to take a seat.
“Tea? Coffee?”
“No, thank you. Mrs Parker, for how long had you known Susan Warwick?”
“I see there will be no pleasantries, Detective?” She pursed her lips in annoyance.
“I’m sorry. Is there anything you’d like to ask before we begin?”
“How did she die?”
Smithy stuck with the original story to begin with, the accident. There was no need to tell her about their current theory until they had to. Mary Parker looked genuinely upset by the circumstances, and shed a silent tear or two before continuing.
“Was it immediate? Did she suffer?”
“We don’t think so, no. Mrs Parker, how long had you known her for?”
“I’ve known Susan for ten years, eleven next month. We met in Hale Village at a coffee morning for the mothers of children at the school that both our children attended. She was very shy, and hardly knew anybody in the area. I liked her immediately.”
“Did you introduce her to the church, or was it the other way around?” She looked up sharply, and something in her eyes withdrew.
“What do you know about the church? Oh, of course, he told you didn’t he? Nasty little man.”
“Who would that be, Mrs Parker?”
“You know very well who I am talking about. Edward Warwick.” She almost spat out his name.
“I take it you aren’t a fan?” Jack asked.
“No, Detective, I am not a fan. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had something to do with it!” Both detectives sat slightly more upright, at both her words and the vehemence with which she spoke them.
“Why would you say that?”
“He has no love within him, for anybody. Not his wife, not his son, nobody. She talked about leaving him, but I don’t think she could have ever done it. She wasn’t mean enough.”
Suddenly, they were both thinking the same thing. Edward Warwick clearly didn’t like Alphonse, and he and his wife hadn’t been getting on. It looked like she’d been seeing somebody else, and now she was dead. He loathed his son, who had disappeared. And somebody claiming to be his father had walked into the Lowry Hotel and asked about him.
“Mrs Parker, do you seriously think Mr Warwick is capable of murdering his wife?”
“Why? I thought you said it was accidental.” Again, she was alert and suspicious.
“It’s possible that somebody may have had a hand in it. We don’t know for certain, so at the moment our enquiries are tentative.”
“Well, if somebody had a hand in it, look no further!” she said.
“Okay, let’s just get through the rest of this without jumping to conclusions. Are you aware of any extra-marital activities that either party may have been involved in?”
Mary Parker shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked past the two policemen.
“What makes you ask that?”
“I’m asking the question, Mrs Parker,” Smithy reasserted. “Are you aware of anything?”
“No, nothing really.”
“No, or not really?”
“No. No.” She was hiding something.
“Okay, the church then. Which church is it, and what was Susan’s level of involvement?”
“That has nothing to do with any of this. It’s a small church, and it has no bearing on our discussion.”
“Mrs Parker, clearly there has been some sort of breakdown in communication here. I’m a police officer, I ask questions, and I decide what has a bearing on our conversation. What is the church, and what was Susan Warwick’s level of involvement?”
“I don’t believe it is any of your business, but I will tell you. It is the Church of the Everlasting Covenant. Susan was a disciple, an acolyte.”
An ugly sensation descended on both police officers. It sounded very much like this was indeed a small church, and it did indeed sound like the type of church that some people referred to in less than flattering terms.
“Is this church part of any of the big religions, Mrs Parker?”
“You can wipe that smugness from your face right now, Detective. It is not part of one of the bigger religions, no, but that does not in any way denigrate what we are about.” The pleasant, warm Mrs Parker was gone. She had been replaced with a frostier counterpart.
“I wasn’t aware of any smugness in my partner, Mrs Parker,” said Jack. “He asked a simple question. Now, before we go any further, I would like to get some names and contact details of other members of the church.” Jack looked hard at her, but she didn’t flinch.
“I will not disclose the names or details of any members of the church.” She folded one hand over the other atop her knees and looked past them.
“Yes, you will. Or I will call my superior and fabricate some reason for us to conduct a full search of your property. By that time we should have created enough of a fuss for your neighbours to have wandered outside to watch the show. Then, and this bit I won’t have to fabricate, we’ll march you out of here in handcuffs to a waiting police van. Which will whisk you off to a police station, where we will obtain the details that we need.” Jack paused, giving Mrs Parker time to consider her options. “Or you can tell us now?”
After a moment’s silence, and a fair amount of eyeballing, Mrs Parker provided the names of four people who knew Susan Warwick and had links to her through the church.
“Now, since we are having a frank and open discussion, let’s go back to the extra-marital activity question,” Jack continued.
“It’s nothing more than rumour and gossip mo
ngering, and that’s the truth.”
“I’m quite happy to listen to rumour. Some of the very best information we get comes from gossip.”
“That, I don’t doubt.” She rubbed her eyes, clearly uncomfortable to pass on the information. Eventually she spoke. “It was rumoured that Susan was seeing somebody, a man.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. As I said, it was rumour. I tried my best to quash it, but, well, you know the nature of people. I never asked her about it.”
“You’re sure about that? You don’t know who it was?”
“No, I don’t know. And now, unless you are going to march me out in handcuffs, I would like you to leave.”
They looked at each other, then shrugged.
“Okay, Mrs Parker, we’ll leave. For now.”
There were no pleasantries to exchange, so the goodbye was short and sweet. When they got to the car, they picked up the thread.
“What do you think?” Jack asked Smithy.
“You were brutal dude. That was bad ass!”
“Grow up. What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think, but it was pretty incendiary.”
“Good word for you.”
“Thanks, I’m working on my linguistic skills. I can’t think why we didn’t consider Edward Warwick before now – he fits pretty well. It’d certainly explain why Alphonse was an obvious murder, and his wife was made to look like an accident wouldn’t it? And Paul. Do you think it was because he was raising a ruckus about it?”
“My mind is pretty blown right about now. Mrs Parker’s opened a can of worms. If we find out who Susan Warwick was sleeping with, we might be able to protect him. If our murderer is Edward, he’s bound to want to finish the job.”
“Yup. Let’s head back and grab something to eat. I feel like my head’s going to explode.” They pulled away from the kerb and headed for HQ.
Chapter 23
“We have four names to be going on with.” Smithy counted them off on his fingers. “Fred Thomas, acolyte. Sebastian Lawes, acolyte. Emmett Jones, acolyte. And Siobhan Mullins, who’s kind of a lieutenant, which is weird.”
