As they approached the main entrance to the pub, she buttonholed Wild. “I don’t like this. It smacks of incompetence at best or something far worse. It’s fortunate you located them here.”
“Marnie’s suggestion.”
“Aye, she’s a bright girl. Luckily for us.”
The landlady didn’t take long to respond. Causly and Elleth were seated inside, eating breakfast. They didn’t look perturbed. Marsh read them their rights and led Elleth to the other bar, leaving Olsen and Sergeant Galloway to deal with Causly separately.
Wild managed to grab Marsh before she went on the offensive. “I’d like to talk to the landlady. Causly and Elleth meeting here gives us some leverage.”
“As you wish. You’d better tell Harris to get another vehicle over and then come in.”
Wild took the landlady behind the bar to a back room. He’d clocked her name, Faye Crawford, from the licence above the bar. The room looked homely — a plush green sofa in need of an upholsterer, with matching footstool, and a TV that had come out of the ark. All the room needed was flying ducks on the wall.
“I’d like to ask you some questions, Faye.”
She blanched and sat down, hands tightly pressed against her knees. “I said I don’t know anything.”
He tried smiling. “Yeah, but that was before . . .” He didn’t bother calling her a liar — he’d hold that in reserve. “Before two suspects turned up unexpectedly at your door rather early in the morning.”
She didn’t bite at ‘unexpected’. “Edwin Causly and Gordon Elleth are old friends. They sometimes supply the rabbit for our country pies.”
Wild stayed on his feet, looming over her. “Yeah, not at night though, not with a shotgun.” He reached for the footstool and drew it close, perching beside her, trying to ignore the button pushing into his buttock. “I’d like you to reconsider your previous statement — the one where you saw and heard nothing.”
Her fingers twitched. “I’ve already told you—”
He raised two fingers, without the offer of benediction. “Faye, let me make this easy for you. I need a couple of things confirmed, that’s all: who did Alexander Porter leave with and where did he go?”
Her face seemed implacable, weather-proof. Wild thought about appealing to her better nature but he could see this warranted a different approach. He asked himself, what would a psychology buff like Olsen pull out of the box for leverage? “Mrs Crawford,” he lowered his voice, “I realise you don’t have to help us. And maybe you genuinely know nothing. That’d be unfortunate, though, because I’d have to conclude that my next port of call would be your clientele, who must be holding out.” He sighed for effect and clapped his hands together. “I’d have to come back later, and maybe the next day, to make sure I spoke with everyone. And the day after that as well, in case some of them needed their memories jogging and to build up their trust.” He stood up. “And if I were coming here regularly, I might as well start checking tyres and MOTs and insurance, ask people to produce their documents at the station. It’s a nice pub . . . before you know it this would become a coppers’ pub and you won’t see your regulars for dust.”
She scowled. “This is harassment.”
He looked her in the eyes calmly. “No, Faye, this is murder. Now, which is it to be? Two minutes of cooperation or this pub becomes my local.” He saw the light fade in her eyes. He’d seen that happen many times — in interview rooms and at a heavy hand on the shoulder. Faye Crawford was smart. He never made idle threats, but he kept a lot of promises. “Okay, we’ll start again.”
“And this is off the record?”
He marvelled at the way film and television had encouraged the great British public to try and cover their arses. He tilted his head to one side, rolling a thought around. “Off the record unless it’s used as evidence in court.”
She wavered for an instant and he let her have that uninterrupted moment.
“Describe how Alexander Porter left the pub.”
“Well, he got into an argument with Edwin Causly and Gordon Elleth. Don’t ask me what about, I genuinely don’t know. I heard raised voices and that’s all. As I came through from the back bar, all three of them were leaving together.”
“Very good. And they all went off together?”
“I believe so.” Her face went still. “Come to think of it, Alexander Porter left his car. It was here come closing time, so he must have fetched it afterwards.”
Or someone else did. “Thanks for your time.”
She called after him as he left the room. “Is that it?”
“For now.”
He couldn’t be certain, but he thought she muttered ‘Bastard’. When he rang the police station, he learned that DI Marsh had set up interviews with herself and Sergeant Galloway leading from the front. He left word for her that he was pursuing a loose thread.
* * *
The windows of the late Dr Walsh’s house were shrouded with heavy curtains. Wild didn’t remember them from his previous visit, but what did he know? Maybe it was tradition. He rang the bell and stepped back a couple of paces before the door opened.
Jeb Walsh appeared before him, grey as a lament. Wild knew the drill from his own father’s death — food by necessity and sleep by the grace of God, or alcohol, or pills. Whatever worked best.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Jeb. I need a quick word.”
“Am I in trouble? Only my nan really needs me here.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have to.
“Best to do this inside, don’t you think?”
Jeb closed his eyes for a moment and then invited him in. “We can talk in my room.”
Wild was surprised to see bookshelves stocked with history, philosophy, literature and the sciences. He’d expected a bohemian hideaway. What he saw was an intellectual’s retreat. A collection of medical textbooks drew his attention and his mouth ran away with him.
“You studied medicine?”
A smile flickered across Jeb’s face. “Well, I tried! It was Grandad’s idea — family tradition and all that. Mum and Dad were both med students.” He seemed lost in a memory and then snapped back to reality. “Yeah, I couldn’t hack it. Too much like hard work.”
Wild sat on a Lloyd Loom chair, facing a corner of the room where Jeb’s guitar and top hat rested against a shelf like unwelcome guests. Jeb offered tea, which Wild declined in the hope that Jeb would settle. Instead, Jeb went off to make one for himself and check on his grandmother.
Left alone, Wild resisted the urge to search the room and instead tried to organise his thinking. Was he looking for lazy solutions rather than following the trail of evidence? He glanced at the ornate ceiling rose. “That’s what we’re here to discover,” he said to no one at all. He scribbled a few lines in his notebook and awaited Jeb’s return.
A few minutes later, at the very edge of Wild’s patience, the door creaked inward.
“Sorry, Nan wanted one as well.” Jeb’s mug read: ‘World’s Greatest Grandson’.
From what Wild already knew, he’d have sued Jeb for false advertising. He let him speak first.
“Have you found whoever’s responsible for attacking Grandad . . . ?”
Wild chose his words carefully. “We are questioning someone, but I can’t reveal any details at this point.”
Jeb sipped steaming tea. “I hope the bastard suffers.”
Wild said nothing. He’d seen so often how grief turned to anger or hatred. When he judged that the moment had passed, he stretched back in the chair until he could feel the weave pressing against his spine.
“I came here to talk about the American visitor, Aaron Kravers. He said that you’d directed him to a ‘find your family’ website where you’d already uploaded a DNA sample, and that it proved to be a partial match for his DNA.”
Jeb set his cup down on the carpet. “Did you tell her? Has she made a complaint? I never took advantage, if that’s what she’s saying.” He blushed like a choirboy. “Well, okay, I did
. But not, you know, like that. We got drunk and she passed out. I only needed saliva. They give you swabs.”
“I know how sampling works.” Wild checked his notebook for effect, until something came to mind. It usually did. “If you had the swabs then you must have already planned to get the samples.” Check.
Jeb came over coy. “Please don’t tell Pauline. She gets funny about me and other women.”
“No shit — I wonder why.”
“What has she said then?”
Wild remembered the golden rule: never lie to a suspect. Sadly, that narrowed down his options considerably. “Do you still have any samples here?”
Jeb paused for a moment, eyes looking inward. Then he folded like an end of season deckchair. “Yeah, I do. I kept one back to give to Aaron Kravers when he paid me. I thought he might want to double-check everything. He’s backed right off though, probably because of you. You questioned him after Grandad died, right?”
“I’ll take the sample now.” Wild held out his hand in lieu of explaining himself.
Jeb got up. “It’s in the freezer. I thought that’d be best — like on the telly. Wait here.” He quickly returned with a see-through sandwich bag.
Wild took the bag. Inside, he saw a clear plastic tube containing a swab-stick, or possibly an earbud. “Under what circumstances did you . . . ?”
Jeb threw his hands up, as though he’d touched a live wire. “I told you. We’re drinking buddies, and I might have sold her the odd bit of puff in the past. Fair enough, I did deliberately get her hammered that one time — although she didn’t need much encouragement. I waited till she crashed out and then did some cheek swabs, like it said on the packet. It weren’t difficult. Plus, she’s a bit of a drooler when she’s really pissed.” He winked in that ‘all blokes together’ way that made Wild want to punch his face in.
Wild used every ounce of concentration to keep his brain focused and his face still. “For the record, Jeb,” he lifted his pen, “what’s her full name?”
“I was gonna tell her when the time was right. I thought maybe we could share the fee, sixty-forty.”
Wild stared at him to get on with it. “Name?”
“Sorry, Caitlin Spenser — she kept her married name — used to be Caitlin Causly. Look, if she’s made a complaint, I’d be willing to come to a financial settlement so long as Pauline doesn’t have to hear about it.”
Wild launched to his feet. He had to get out of there pronto. “Thanks for your time, Jeb. I’ll be in touch.” As soon as he got into his car he popped out a pill and glared at it, before hurling it against the windscreen. Then he screamed his rage through clenched teeth until his face hurt. Things started to make sense. The way Caitlin had given him, a stranger, her phone number. That weird date-or-mate no-man’s land between them from the very beginning. And worst of all, the way he’d hinted at an early start for work, only to find Edwin Causly had done a runner when they came to arrest him. He glared at his own reflection. “Stupid, stupid bastard — always double-check the family connections.” It was only later that he remembered Sergeant Galloway had interviewed Edwin Causly first.
Once he’d calmed down, he thought about calling Olsen to get her take on things. She’d be in an interview, though, so that would have to wait. And what insight could she offer anyway — poor you, you daft sod? He almost smiled at that as he drove off.
He talked to himself in the car, wondering what he could charge Caitlin with — nothing — and what advantage he’d gain in identifying her as Edwin Causly’s apparently estranged daughter. He came up with nothing again, and then realised there was something important he had to do — corroborate the evidence.
A detour home and a quick examination of last night’s dinnerware and cutlery gave him a second sample, albeit dried up and wrapped in clingfilm. When he got to his desk, he dug out his address book and rang the forensics team.
“Eloise Palmer?” She didn’t sound sure.
“Hi, it’s Craig Wild — DS Wild. How would you like to do me a massive favour?”
“Depends what you’re after.”
He played along, aware that his internal clock was ticking. “Nothing that would tax your abilities. I need two DNA samples checked . . . no, not against the database, only against one another. Yeah, you’re right — confirmation of identity. Brilliant, I’ll bring them over now.”
Chapter 40
Marnie Olsen watched Edwin Causly studiously from the other side of the table. She’d interviewed suspects and witnesses before, although not in a murder case. DI Marsh did all the talking on their side and she was glad of it, it afforded her the opportunity to observe Causly’s reactions to the DI’s questioning at close quarters.
“Okay, Edwin, let’s go back to the beginning. You rang Gordon Elleth early this morning and subsequently met him in a pub. What prompted your call and that meeting?”
Causly stared sullenly at Marsh. She repeated, for the recording, that Mr Causly had again declined to make a response, and then glanced at her watch.
“Let’s take a comfort break. And when we return, we can talk about the events of the night Alexander Porter was murdered. Interview suspended.” She hit the button and waited for the bleep. “PC Olsen will show you to another room and get you a hot drink and a biscuit if you’d like one.”
Causly rolled his shoulders and waited for his solicitor to get up. Olsen stood by the door, watching the interaction between Causly and his brief. He might have been tight-lipped, but she could see it was a façade. After she’d shown them to a room, pointed out the toilets, and found a wandering PCSO to do guard duty, she went upstairs in search of the DI.
Marsh was in the briefing room, staring at the whiteboards. She nodded as Olsen entered the room. “What do you think?”
Olsen stooped a little. “Honestly, ma’am?”
“Of course.” Marsh looked affronted that she might expect anything less.
“I think we’ve said nothing to surprise him yet.” Olsen glanced down. “No disrespect.”
“None taken. Tell me more.”
“We know from Wild,” she watched Marsh’s face crinkle a little, “that Porter, Elleth and Causly left the George together, and they were arguing.”
Marsh’s mouth twisted cynically. “The three amigos.”
Olsen bowed a little under the weight of expectation. “We know Elleth and Causly were both there when it happened. Maybe we need to apply more pressure on Mr Elleth?”
Marsh’s phone rang. “DI — Where the bloody hell have you been?”
* * *
Wild put down his plastic coffee. “I’m at the lab — they’re running a DNA comparison.”
“A what? Explain to me why this takes precedence over a murder inquiry.”
Wild stuck to the facts, hoping to fend off any criticism with science. Once he’d told Eloise the rationale for comparing the samples, given that they already had a first name match in a local area, she’d suggested scaling back on the DNA markers to reduce processing time. As it was, that still left over an hour.
Marsh listened quietly as he brought Caitlin Spenser into the picture and suggested he’d been played as an information source, although he took pains to point out he hadn’t revealed anything. Except perhaps that he had been called in early, although he couldn’t be sure.
“Craig, you should be smarter than that with your experience.”
She winded him as surely as if she’d punched him in the guts. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll come back right away.” He offered a shy wave to Eloise and reminded her needlessly to send over the details tout suite.
* * *
Olsen wasn’t surprised to follow DI Marsh into a micro-meeting with Sergeant Galloway and DC Harris. It seemed perfectly reasonable that they’d coordinate their breaks to compare progress. Marsh also had another trick up her sleeve.
“We’ll speak with Elleth now and you can try Causly. You might have better luck.”
Olsen wasn’t entirely convinced, but
Sergeant Galloway seemed happy to have a crack at Causly. DC Harris seemed happy to be taking part.
* * *
Wild did the thing he hated most, crashing someone else’s interview. Causly spun round so fast that he nearly fell off his chair. Wild smiled for about half a second, suffered the ignominy of his intrusion being documented on the recording, and went off in search of Marsh.
Elleth seemed about as pleased to see him. Marsh didn’t look thrilled either, but she announced him and pointed towards a spare chair pressed against the wall, having stymied Olsen’s attempt to switch places with him. Before she could get a word out someone else knocked on the door.
“What now?”
Marsh got up to see to it and Olsen spoke up for the recording.
“PCSO Wishaw has entered the room, handed a piece of paper to DI Marsh and has now left the room.”
Marsh looked a lot happier as she sat down. She waited for a couple of seconds, the way Wild liked to when he thought he had some new leverage.
“Mr Elleth, when we visited your home this morning — while you were absent — we recovered a black metal cross from a downstairs wall.”
“You had no business taking that. Elizabeth likes to keep it near when she’s reading her Bible.”
“Here’s the thing. Although you probably thought you’d wiped it clean, our lab found minute traces of blood on it.” She waited again.
Wild couldn’t help smiling. This was the best part of his day since leaving the pub.
Marsh continued. “Would you care to guess what the lab’s analysis of the blood specks revealed?”
Elleth’s solicitor bristled. “My client is not here for idle conjecture.”
Marsh tilted forward. “No, he bloody well isn’t. He is here as a murder suspect.”
Wild brought his chair close and read aloud from the page. “Analysis confirms that the blood matches samples held for Alexander Porter.” He thought Elleth looked confused. Confounded might have been a better word. “You see, when a weapon is discharged at close range, blood spatter is transferred. Your cross, you were there.” He returned the page to Marsh and then folded his arms. Checkmate.
Long Shadows Page 20
