‘Who? Who might be in trouble?’
‘My boss. Colin Daley. It’s probably nothing. But I didn’t want you to think I was covering something up. Especially with this second woman being killed.’
‘Okay, Jamie. You’re doing the right thing. What is it your boss has done?’
‘It was when you came to talk to us in the school. I saw you arriving, so I asked around and found out you wanted to interview everyone. That’s when I told Col.’
Cody can’t contain himself any longer. ‘You called him on the phone?’
‘No. He was in the workshop.’
‘Wait a minute. You told us that Mr Daley was at home, and that he phoned you to say he was ill.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. At the time I thought it was just a little white lie, and it probably still is, but—’
‘Okay, so you tell your boss about the police arriving. What happens then?’
‘Nothing, really. Col just accepts it. He doesn’t seem particularly interested. But just a few minutes later he tells me he’s feeling really sick, and that he thinks he’ll have to go home again.’
‘Did that come as a surprise to you?’
‘Yeah. A big surprise. Col is never off sick. And he seemed right as rain when he first came in to work.’
‘All right. So he tells you he’s feeling sick. What then?’
‘Well, then he asks me a favour. He asks me if I’d mind changing the story just a little bit. He says that if anyone asks, he never actually came in to work that day.’
‘Did he say why he wanted you to do this?’
‘Yeah. He said it would look suspicious if he went home as soon as the police turned up, even though he had nothing to feel guilty about.’
‘Did you believe him?’
‘At the time, yeah. I could understand his point about it looking like he was doing a runner. A slight change like that didn’t seem such a big deal.’
‘But now? What do you think about it now?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, you know? But it’s been bothering me ever since. And when this other woman got killed, it bothered me even more. I’ve been losing sleep over this. Like I say, it’s probably nothing. Col probably was ill, and it was just coincidence that it happened when it did. But I don’t like lying for people, especially when it’s something as serious as this. So I thought I should come in and tell you the truth. That’s right, isn’t it? You want the truth?’
Cody nods. ‘Jamie, if everyone told the truth, our job would be a hell of a lot easier.’
26
The boy again. Ewan. Standing at the door in his school uniform and a triangle of buttered toast in his hand.
‘You’re back,’ he says.
‘We’re back. Is your dad there?’
‘More questions?’
‘More questions. Is he there?’
‘Has my dad done something wrong?’
‘We just need to ask him a few things.’
‘That doesn’t answer my question.’
Cody turns to Webley, inviting her to take over.
‘Hi, Ewan. Would you mind getting your dad for us, please?’
Ewan takes a bite out of his toast. ‘Can’t.’
‘You’re not going to tell us he’s dead again, are you?’
‘No.’
‘So why can’t you fetch him for us?
‘Because he’s not home yet.’
‘Will he be long?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Okay, good. Mind if we come in and wait?’
Ewan chews. Cogitates. Shrugs.
‘Okay.’
He turns and walks away. Cody and Webley follow him in. Back into the living room with its cheap Christmas cheer.
They all sit down simultaneously. Ewan bites his toast and stares.
He says, ‘Is this about the other woman who was killed?’
Cody shakes his head. ‘No, it’s not about that.’ Which is true, as far as he knows. No point filling the kid’s head with scary possibilities.
‘My mate Jez says she was a prozzy, this woman.’
‘Does he now? Your mate Jez sounds like someone we should talk to. He seems to take a strong interest in these cases.’
‘He loves things like that. Murders and stuff. Is it true she had a crucifix through her heart?’
Cody wants to smile, but at the same time he doesn’t want to destroy the boy’s innocent faith in his best mate.
‘We’re not allowed to talk about details of current investigations.’
He sees the disappointment on Ewan’s face. Quickly, he adds, ‘I had a think about that question you asked me, though. The one about the weirdest case I’ve ever worked on. I can tell you about that, if you like.’
The boy’s eyes widen. ‘Go ’ead.’
‘Okay, so there was this bloke. His name was Jack. Bit strange, he was. He wasn’t very good with people, so he was never in a job for very long. He lived alone, tried to keep himself to himself. The problem was, he had a really nosy neighbour. The woman next door. She had a husband and five kids, but she spent most of her time looking out of her window at Jack. Every time he stepped outside, he’d look up, and there she’d be, just staring at him. He couldn’t mow the lawn or take the bins out or go to the shops without seeing this woman’s face at the window, watching his every move. He hated talking to people, but one day he plucked up the courage and confronted her over the garden fence. He demanded to know why she kept watching him all the time.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She just told him it was a free country, and went back inside. A minute later she was at the upstairs window, looking down on him again.’
‘The nosy cow,’ says Ewan. ‘That would drive me mad.’
Cody points a finger at him. ‘Funny you should say that. Apparently this went on for months. Jack had no escape. She was always there. Even when her kids were fighting and screaming, she would ignore them so that she could keep watching what Jack was doing. At night, he would go to draw his curtains in his bay window, and he would look across and see her in her own bay, staring back at him. She was like an evil spirit, wanting to know about his every move.’
‘Why didn’t he call the police?’
‘For one thing, what could we have done? Looking out your window is hardly a crime, is it? Besides, he wasn’t that type of fella. Like I said, he had great trouble talking to people. He would never have come to us. One day, someone did, though.’
Cody pauses for effect. Checks to see that he’s got the boy under his influence.
‘Who?’
‘Another neighbour. We got a call to say that Jack was walking up and down his street, and that he was covered in blood.’
‘No!’
‘Yup. So we went out there, and we found him, and we asked him what had happened. All he could say to us was the same thing, over and over again.’
‘What? What did he say?’
‘He said, “Now she knows what it’s like to be watched all the time.” ’
‘What did he mean by that?’
‘We had no idea. Not until we went into the woman’s house next door. That’s when we found her.’
‘Dead?’
‘No. Actually very much alive. She was tied to a chair in her kitchen. But all around her, pinned to the walls, were the eyeballs of her husband and kids.’
Cody hears the gasps, both from Ewan and Webley. Ewan’s mouth is wide open, bits of masticated toast still visible there. The room dances in the lights of the Christmas tree, but is deathly silent.
The knock on the door causes them all to bounce in their seats, Cody included.
‘That’ll be my dad,’ says Ewan. He moves towards the door, but keeps his eyes fixed on Cody. Cody does his best to keep his face straight, so as not to shatter the illusion of truth.
When the boy has gone, Webley launches her elbow into Cody’s ribs. ‘What did you go and tell him that for?’
Webley shakes her head in disbelief. ‘For someone who’s supposed to know all about the effects of trauma, you’re not setting a brilliant example.’
‘Don’t know about that. I’m quite proud of myself. Reckon I’m a natural raconteur.’
‘Really? Remind me never to ask you to tell me a bedtime story.’
Cody grins. ‘I don’t think that situation is likely to arise again, do you?’
She gives him another dig in the ribs.
From the hallway comes the sound of muted conversation. Then the door opens and Daley enters, his son behind him.
Cody and Webley stand up.
‘Mr Daley,’ says Cody. ‘We’re going to have to ask you a few more questions, I’m afraid. Now if—’
‘Never mind that,’ Daley interrupts. ‘What have you been saying to my son?’
27
They escort Daley back to the police station on Stanley Road, but not before ensuring that he contacts a neighbour to keep an eye on Ewan. This is too serious a matter to conduct in the man’s own house. They need more austere surroundings, more formality. They want to impress upon him that they will not tolerate further attempts to deceive or mislead.
They put him in an interview room. Sit him on the same plastic chair that Daley’s young assistant occupied earlier.
Webley and Cody sit opposite him. Cody starts the recording of the interview. He makes it very clear to Daley that this interview is being conducted under caution. As he does so, he keeps his eyes on Daley, studying his reactions. Daley appears nervous. He keeps wiggling his chin from side to side, and scratching his nose.
Cody picks up a manila folder in front of him. Opens it. Pretends to scan its contents. Says nothing. He wants to let Daley sweat for a little.
Eventually Daley breaks the silence: ‘Do you mind telling me what this is about?’
Cody closes the folder again. Places it back on the table.
‘As I mentioned, we have a few additional questions for you.’
‘Okay. That’s fine, but . . . couldn’t we have done it at the house?’
‘I think we need to do this here, Colin. You don’t mind if I call you Colin, do you?’
‘No, but . . . This all seems a bit . . . official, like.’
‘Well, murder is a serious offence, Colin. And we’re dealing with two murders now.’
‘Yeah. Okay. But I still don’t see . . . I mean, have I done something wrong? You said I’m not under arrest . . .’
‘No, Colin, you’re not under arrest. But we need to clear something up. There’s a slight . . . inconsistency in what you told us.’
Daley narrows his eyes. ‘Inconsistency? What kind of inconsistency?’
‘When we came to the school, we were led to believe that you had taken the day off sick.’
Daley nods. ‘Yeah, that’s right. What’s the problem with that?’
‘The whole day, Colin. The story we were given is that you were never at the school that day, and that you phoned Jamie Morgan to let him know you were ill.’
Cody pauses to allow Daley’s brain to work on that. To give him a chance to acknowledge the error and correct it. But Daley says nothing. He just stares at Cody, his eyelids quivering slightly.
‘The problem is,’ says Webley. ‘You were seen. At the school, on that very morning.’
Not a lie, thinks Cody. He was seen at the school. By Jamie Morgan. But phrasing it in this way doesn’t drop Morgan in the shit.
Daley scratches his nose again. Pushes a hand through his hair. Then he blows out a stream of air.
‘All right, it’s true. I was at the school, but only for a short period of time. I felt crap, so I went home. It’s no big deal.’
‘If it wasn’t such a big deal, why did you lie to us?’ says Webley.
Daley raises a corrective finger. ‘No, that’s not right. I didn’t lie to you.’
‘You told us—’
‘I told you nothing of the sort. I think you’ll find it was Jamie who said that to you, not me.’
Technically he’s right, thinks Cody. But this is not the right time to be getting bloody pedantic.
‘Let’s not start splitting hairs,’ says Cody. ‘You put him up to it. The thing we want to know is why did you do that? Why bother to make up a complete fabrication for what you’ve just been telling us is such a small matter?’
‘Because . . . because it looks fishy, doesn’t it? I mean, I disappear as soon as the law turns up at the school gate. Don’t you think that looks a bit suspicious?’
‘It looks even more suspicious now, Colin.’
Daley’s shoulders slump. ‘I know, I know. It was stupid. I’m sorry. I felt sick, and I panicked. There was no way I could have lasted even a few more minutes at the school. I was hot and I was sweaty and my guts felt like they were about to explode. I had to get out of there. Telling a little white lie was the least of my concerns at the time. I really didn’t think it would matter.’
And perhaps it doesn’t, thinks Cody. If Daley’s story is true, perhaps this is just another cul-de-sac in an investigation that’s leading nowhere.
‘The Saturday before we came into the school, do you mind telling us where you were that day?’
Daley seems thrown by the switch in questioning.
‘Saturday? What time Saturday?’
‘Tell us what you did in the afternoon.’
‘Okay. Well, we had a late lunch, and then I did some work in the kitchen, and then I listened to the match on the radio. After that, it was time to start thinking about tea, so I—’
‘What work were you doing in the kitchen?’
‘What? Oh. Well, I washed the dishes and then I did some odd jobs. I had to change a couple of the bulbs in the ceiling, and then I fixed a leak on the washing machine.’
‘What was wrong with it?’
‘Loose connection on the inlet. It wasn’t hard to fix.’
‘Okay, so then you listened to the match. Who was playing?’
‘Liverpool were at home to Stoke.’
‘What time was kick-off?’
‘Four o’clock.’
‘So the programme would have finished at about . . .’
‘About six. Like I said, it was time to start thinking about the next meal then.’
‘So, basically you were at home all afternoon and evening? Can your son verify that?’
Daley drops his gaze. ‘Well . . . no. Not all of it. He goes out with his mates on Saturdays.’
‘What about the following Saturday?’ says Webley. ‘What did you do on the Saturday just gone?’
‘I went to town. I needed to buy some new clothes.’
‘What time was this?’
‘I left the house at just after two. Maybe two thirty.’
‘How did you get into town?’
‘I took the car. I hate public transport.’
‘Where did you park?’
‘At the multistorey on Mount Pleasant.’
‘And which shops did you go to?’
‘Ooh . . . John Lewis, Top Shop, Hollister. A couple of others.’
‘And then you went home?’
‘Not straight away. I had a pint in the Big House.’
The Big House is a local name for a popular pub in the city centre. Its proper name is the Vines. As its nickname implies, its size makes it possible to hide away in a corner without being remembered by other customers.
‘Did you meet anyone there?’
‘Nope. Just had a beer, did the crossword and left.’
‘What time did you get home?’
‘I guess about six.’
‘What were you wearing?’
Daley furrows his brow. ‘Er, let me think . . . Jeans, trainers, a grey sweater and a coat.’
‘Describe the coat to me.’
‘The c
oat? Well, it’s like an aviator’s jacket. You know – brown leather with a fur collar.’
Cody nods, though it’s not the answer he would have liked to hear.
‘All right, Colin. I’m going to show you a couple of photographs.’ Seeing the concern on Daley’s face, he adds, ‘Nothing gruesome.’
He opens the folder in front of him. Removes the top photograph and slides it across to Daley. It’s the grainy image of the figure at the Anglican cathedral.
‘Do you recognise that person?’
Daley studies it. Takes his time about it, too, raising Cody’s hopes.
But then he shakes his head. ‘Nope. Is that . . . is that the killer?’
Cody doesn’t answer. He passes the next photo across. The one taken at the Metropolitan cathedral.
‘What about this picture?’
Daley gives this one short shrift. ‘Same guy, isn’t it? Hard to tell from these, though. This is the guy you want, isn’t it? The one who killed the two women. Jesus.’
‘And it’s definitely not you?’
Daley looks appalled at the suggestion. ‘Of course it’s not me. I had nothing to do with it. Look, I admit I told a lie about being at home when I was ill. If I’d have known it would lead to this, I wouldn’t have done it. Honest, this is nothing to do with me. I’m totally shocked anyone might even think it was.’
Cody hands him a third image. The web page depicting the coat in more detail.
‘Ever seen this coat, or one like it?’
Daley is becoming more animated now. He looks to Webley, as if seeking help to end his ordeal. ‘It’s just a coat, isn’t it? Lots of people wear coats like that. How would I know if I’ve seen it in the street?’
‘But you don’t own one?’
‘No. Swear to God. I’ve never had a coat like that. Come and search the house if you like. Ask my son, or people at the school, or my neighbours. Nobody has ever seen me in a coat like that.’
And that’s it. At this stage, there’s nothing more they can reasonably ask.
So they let him go.
‘What do you think?’ says Webley when they are alone in the interview room.
Cody rubs his eyes, then draws his fingers down the sides of his nose. ‘I don’t know what to think any more. Part of me says the guy seems legit, and that he just made a mistake that didn’t justify us coming down on him so heavy like that. Then another part of me says he’s a lying git with no real alibi at the time of either homicide. He was parked at the bottom of Mount Pleasant. He could easily have stopped off at the cathedral on the way home. He could have kept the coat in the boot of his car. Switched it to do the murder, then switched back again before going home.’
Hope to Die: A gripping new serial killer thriller (The DS Nathan Cody series) Page 15
