SB01 Dead to Me

by Cath Staincliffe

  Sammy was angry, furious for weeks, refusing to speak to his father. Gill wasn’t sure she could ever forgive Dave for that. Screw forgiveness.

  ‘I know you’ve arrested him,’ Denise said to Rachel, mouth pinched tight.

  ‘We’ve arrested a twenty-two-year-old male, that’s all I can tell you at the moment,’ Rachel said. The standard response. But Denise knew, course she did. Rachel could tell. They always did. How many other twenty-two-year-old men had been potential suspects in the murder?

  Rachel watched Denise nod emphatically. ‘I told you it was him. First time I set eyes on him, I knew he was the worst thing that could happen to her.’

  Weren’t so hot yourself, Rachel thought. James Raleigh’s words came back: a wreck unable to cope … depression and alcohol dependency. Though Denise had at least tried a bit, she supposed, unlike Rosie’s mother, who had closed her eyes, stuck two fingers in her ears and sung la-la-la at the top of her voice every time her new fella or any of his mates abused her daughter. Rosie had been removed to local authority care for her own safety. And then the rape on top of all that. No wonder the girl was struggling. What a life. Rachel wondered where Rosie’s social worker was. She’d be someone’s responsibility, surely, given the state of her. In 2008 the woman looking after her was run off her feet, struggling to keep up with her caseload. Assuming someone was still seeing her now, how much could they realistically do? They had offered rape crisis counselling for Rosie, back then, at St Mary’s, the specialist unit, one of the best services in the country. She’d refused. It seemed she no longer had the resources to hope, to contemplate change, to consider herself worth saving.

  ‘We’ve recovered something from a property today that we would like you to look at and tell us if you recognize it,’ Rachel said.

  Denise leaned forward. Up close, the smell of booze was sickening, sweet and chemical. The woman was probably sweating pure alcohol.

  Rachel put the exhibits bag containing the cross and chain on the table.

  Denise’s hands went to her mouth; her hands were wrinkled and liver-spotted, though she was only in her thirties. Tears glimmered behind her glasses. ‘It’s Lisa’s,’ she said. ‘Where was it?’

  ‘You’re sure it’s Lisa’s?’

  ‘I gave her it her, for her seventeenth.’ April. ‘She never took it off.’

  ‘You last saw Lisa in October, you said?’

  ‘Yes, my birthday. She came round for a bit. She’d got me a present,’ her voice faded to a whisper: ‘a scarf.’

  ‘Was Lisa wearing the cross and chain then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you didn’t see her after that?’ Rachel tried not to imply anything untoward, but given that they only lived a bus ride apart, you’d have thought she’d have made more of an effort.

  ‘It was his fault,’ Denise said. ‘He turned her against me.’

  Not far to turn, maybe a couple of degrees, judging by what James Raleigh had said about the family set-up.

  ‘But I kept trying. I rang her every week. Sometimes we’d have a chat, depending what mood she was in. Sometimes – when he was there, I reckon – she’d just hang up on me.’

  She couldn’t even bring herself to use Sean’s name, Rachel noted. ‘When you rang her on Monday, what happened?’ she asked.

  Denise slowly closed her eyes, defeat plain in her expression. ‘She said she was busy.’

  ‘Did you ring for any particular reason?’

  ‘I wanted to ask her about the rehab, if she’d talked to Mr Raleigh about it, but I never got the chance.’

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t return Lisa’s possessions to you yet,’ Rachel said.

  ‘Where did you find it?’ Denise said.

  ‘I can’t tell you that at the moment. It may be of significance to the inquiry.’

  ‘What’s happening with him – Sean?’ she said.

  ‘Your FLO will have explained to you—’ Rachel began.

  ‘Don’t you think I’ve a right to know?’ She was getting angry.

  ‘You will be the first to be informed if any charges are brought.’

  Denise shook her head, chewing at her lip, deep grooves etched in her forehead. As though Rachel’s answer really wasn’t good enough.

  What would she have left to remember her daughter? A broken necklace. The handful of pictures on the living-room shelves. The scarf Lisa gave her for her birthday. The few memories from all the years they had been apart or those together in an uneasy truce.

  Christmas coming. And both her kids dead since this time last year. Had Lisa been round last Christmas? Had the three of them sat down as a family at Denise’s, or had Lisa spent the day at Ryelands? Christmas had always been a minefield in the Bailey household. The kids desperate to enjoy it, Dad in danger of getting drunk and sentimental or drunk and short-tempered. Alison playing Mother, determined that they would have a good time. Paying into the Christmas Club some years, getting enough to buy selection boxes and a turkey and a silver plastic tree with lights from Woolies. Rachel going along with it, more for Dom’s sake than her own. But under the surface, acutely aware that each winter marked another year without so much as a card. Christmas, the time of the nativity, seemed to mock the hole at the heart of their family. The quality of presents veered wildly. Usually they got sweets and pocket-money toys: catapult, skipping rope, yo-yos, knock-off Tamagotchi. But some years there were more extravagant offerings, if he’d won on the horses or succumbed to stuff off the back of a lorry doing the rounds dirt cheap. One year’s windfall netted them a table football set. Rachel and Dom spent most of Christmas morning fixing it together. It’d been a great toy. They had tournaments – all four of them, sometimes. One of the few Christmases that she could look back on with affection.

  Until the end of March, when the final demand for the gas bill arrived and he flogged it to the next-door neighbours, shamefaced and sorry as he told the kids that he had no choice.

  24

  THE MOTHER HAD identified the cross and chain as belonging to her daughter. Gill asked Lee for the exhibit, she wanted to talk to Phil Sweet and Ranjeet Lateesh about it and the mark on Lisa’s neck.

  ‘It could have come off in the struggle,’ Ranjeet agreed. ‘Someone yanked it hard enough to snap the chain.’

  ‘Test for DNA traces,’ Gill said.

  Phil picked up the exhibits bag. ‘There’s a reasonable chance of material being trapped within the links, or on the cross. In fact, if we dust we might get partial prints off the cross, too – it’s quite broad here, and that’s the part you’d pull at.’ He made the gesture with his hand. ‘It’s a shame it was removed from the crime scene; that could have contaminated any traces.’

  ‘Well, have a go,’ Gill said. ‘We’ve still nothing forensically on Sean Broughton. I don’t want a case that’s based on circumstance.’

  ‘Will Gerry approve it?’ Phil asked.

  ‘He’d bloody better,’ Gill said.

  * * *

  Benny Broughton’s appropriate adult arrived. Her role was to ensure that Benny understood the questions being put to him and to be there to support him during the interview process.

  ‘We want to talk to you about this phone, Benny.’ Janet put Lisa’s phone, in its exhibits bag, on the table. ‘Have you seen it before?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘When did you see it?’

  ‘On Tuesday. Sean said he wanted to sell it. And sometimes I do that.’

  ‘What do you do?’

  ‘Sell phones. To Desmond,’ he said.

  ‘Right. This phone – Sean showed it to you?’

  ‘Yes, and I said, “Desmond”, and Sean wanted me to take it but it was freezing and I didn’t want to go.’

  ‘So what happened then?’

  ‘He thumped me, said I was a mong, and I said, “Well, I’m not going now.” And that’s the truth. And I didn’t.’ He pursed his lips, still wounded by the treatment.

  ‘And what did Sean do
after that?’

  ‘He went. I give him the address.’

  ‘What can you tell me about Monday?’

  He looked stumped.

  ‘In the morning, did you go to the job centre?’ Janet said.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he agreed. ‘We signed on. And then we came back to the house.’

  ‘And what did you do next?’

  He pulled a face. ‘Just hung out.’

  ‘Did you do anything else, apart from hanging out?’

  ‘I had to go to Dusty’s to do the carpet.’

  ‘Who’s Dusty?’

  ‘My cousin.’

  ‘What time did you go?’ Janet said.

  ‘I had to be there for quarter past three and not be late, so I went at three o’clock and I wasn’t late. I was early,’ he said cheerily.

  ‘Thank you, Benny. When you left to go to Dusty’s, where was Sean?’

  ‘In the living room.’

  ‘At your house?’

  ‘Yes,’ he sniffed. ‘He was in a bad mood. Because she was late and she should’ve been back and she wasn’t.’

  ‘Do you mean Lisa?’ Janet said.

  ‘Yes, she was late.’

  ‘And he was in a bad mood, just because she was late?’

  ‘He was, you know …’ For the first time he became coy, hesitant.

  ‘What?’ Janet said.

  Benny twitched his shoulders, sniffed again. ‘He needed his stuff.’

  ‘You mean drugs, Benny?’

  ‘Yeah. She was bringing it.’

  ‘What time did you get back from Dusty’s?’

  ‘Not till late, about half nine.’

  ‘Did you know Lisa?’ Janet said.

  ‘Not really. She never came to ours much. Met her, you know.’

  ‘Did Sean say anything to you about Lisa, on Monday night?’

  ‘He said she was dead, someone had stabbed her.’ He looked crestfallen.

  ‘Anything else?’ Janet said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was he upset?’

  ‘Yeah, really upset, but then he had some stuff and nodded off.’

  ‘He had some drugs?’ From Lisa? Taken from her, from the flat?

  ‘Yeah,’ he yawned.

  ‘Do you know if he got them from Lisa?’

  ‘Dunno. Probably.’

  ‘Since then,’ Janet said, ‘has Sean said anything else to you about Lisa?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did Sean do any washing?’

  Benny looked blank, probably wasn’t familiar with the concept. ‘Did he wash any clothes that day?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘When you came home, did you see any wet clothes anywhere, or any laundry bags?’

  He thought. ‘No,’ he said finally.

  ‘Did Sean make a fire? Burn anything?’

  ‘No,’ he laughed, the idea tickled him.

  ‘Did you see any clothes in the rubbish bin?’

  He shook his head.

  Nothing there to suggest Sean had changed his clothes at the house, though he might have been wise enough to hide them well. If so, the team would find them. They’d not found anything yet, but they’d take the place apart. Still, there was increasing uncertainty about the clothes. From a call to the jobcentre, Andy had obtained CCTV of Sean and Benny attending their Jobseeker’s appointments. That footage told them that Sean was wearing a dark Puffa jacket with a hood, jeans and black-and-white trainers. They couldn’t tell what top he wore under the coat, but the rest of his outfit matched the clothes retained as exhibits when Sean had reported finding the body. That made it less likely that he had changed clothes that afternoon.

  ‘Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?’

  ‘Is there a reward?’ Benny said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You know, like a reward for saying stuff.’

  Christ! Had he been trying to tell her the things he thought she wanted to hear, get brownie points and land a reward? ‘There isn’t, no. But everything you’ve told me today, that’s exactly what happened?’ Janet checked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You didn’t make anything up?’

  ‘No.’ He smiled. ‘It’s all true.’ Like taking candy from a babe.

  Kevin had revisited the neighbour, Mrs Kenny, who had seen the taxi drop Lisa off and who confirmed her account. It’s down there in black and white with my signature on it. I know what I saw. But although she had seen the taxi arrive and Lisa climb out without any shopping, Mrs Kenny had returned to her television, Heartbeat recommencing, and did not see the taxi leave. If it did leave then. Kevin passed all this on to Rachel in a bored monotone, adding, ‘The old bag’ll probably kick the bucket before we ever get to court anyway.’

  ‘You found him on the cameras?’

  ‘Not yet, no.’

  ‘What you waiting for, then? Jog on.’

  Rachel wondered if Kasim would go no comment. From the interviews she’d conducted in Sex Crimes, she knew that hardened criminals could keep this up till hell froze over. But Kasim wasn’t known to them and was not involved in the gangs, according to their colleagues who specialized in gang-related crime. He was facing up to life and an unlimited fine for possession with intent to supply. He’d likely get something in the region of eight years. There was no way he’d get off. But they needed to establish whether his involvement with Lisa extended beyond driving her home and selling her drugs.

  Then Gill gave her the news that they’d made a deal. No further drug charges would be preferred as a result of anything he said to them; in return, he would answer their questions.

  He rolled his eyes when Rachel came in and went through the interview spiel. Not his favourite person, perhaps, the girl who’d outrun him, but she resisted the temptation to lord it over him. Gill had drummed into her how important it was to get every last bit of detail from the guy.

  ‘On Monday, you picked Lisa up from Shudehill and drove her to Fairland Avenue. Did you accompany Lisa into the flat?’

  ‘No, she got out and I left,’ he said.

  ‘How well did you know Lisa?’

  ‘She was a customer, that’s all.’

  ‘How often did you pick her up?’

  ‘Once a week, but it wasn’t regular. Not the same day or anything.’

  ‘Had a relationship developed between you?’

  ‘No.’ He didn’t like that suggestion.

  ‘We believe she swapped the shopping in exchange for drugs. Did she also pay you in kind, with sex?’

  ‘No way.’ He scowled.

  ‘We are comparing your DNA to traces found at the scene of her murder. Is there anything you can tell me about that?’

  ‘I never left the cab,’ he said.

  ‘You’ve already told us Lisa took two phone calls. In one of those, she allegedly told someone she wouldn’t be home until half past three. Yet you say you dropped her at quarter past one. And we know you did arrive at that time as we have an eyewitness who verifies it. Perhaps Lisa wanted some time alone with you?’

  ‘I just drive the cab,’ he protested.

  And push heroin. ‘You were the last person to see her alive,’ Rachel said.

  ‘Yeah, she was alive, she got out, I drove away.’ He was irate, showing his teeth.

  ‘Can you remember anything else that afternoon? People in the area? Anything outside the flat?’

  He shook his head.

  The interview was interrupted with a request for Rachel to come to the office. It was Kevin. If he was wasting her time, she’d deck him. He said he’d captured Kasim’s taxi, driving away down Oldham Road at one twenty, which fitted his story like a glove. And meant he’d had no time to screw Lisa or undress her or anything else. He was alibied. When Rachel went back in she focused on anything he might have noticed on the avenue. Precisely fuck all. And then carried on asking about the journey. ‘We appreciate your help, is there anything else you can tell us about the ride?’

  ‘I told you everything
,’ he said.

  ‘The phone calls – tell us about them. There were two?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘What can you tell us about the content of those calls?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Were they practical, businesslike? Did Lisa talk or just listen?’

  ‘They were short, that’s all.’ He closed his eyes. ‘One of them, she was upset, like.’

  Now you tell us, numbnuts. ‘You didn’t think this was significant?’

  He gave a quick shrug.

  ‘Upset about what?’

  ‘Just saying stuff like, “I’m sick of you interfering, my life’s none of your business, I don’t want to see you any more” – that sort of thing.’

  ‘Thank you. Anything else?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘And did Lisa talk to you about the call afterwards?’

  ‘No.’

  It wasn’t much, but it was all she could get from him. Rachel couldn’t tell whether it was her fault, something lacking in her technique, maybe his resentment at her running him to ground, or whether Kasim was simply the unobservant prat he claimed to be.

  25

  JANET FOUND RACHEL in the canteen while she was waiting for Sean to finish instructing his solicitor. ‘I should tell him we’ve been talking to Benny,’ Janet said, ‘and he might as well put his hands up and confess to everything. The guy leaks like a sieve.’

  Sean Broughton had been badly shaken by the raid. For the first time he seemed to grasp that the police were seriously considering him as a suspect. He was agitated before they started. Janet wondered if there was any withdrawal going on, though she knew that Sean, once arrested and detained at the police station, would have been taken through the medical questionnaire and any drug dependency discussed. The custody sergeant would have determined that he was competent to answer questions.

  ‘Sean, the last time we spoke, you told me that you had removed Lisa’s phone from the flat and disposed of it, along with clothing she had brought from town, behind the shops on the parade on Garrigan Street. We now know that was not the case. How do you account for that?’

  ‘Dunno,’ he said uneasily.

  ‘What did you do with the phone?’