‘Do you know the conditions of her will?’ Bronski continued.
‘I know the conditions of the joint will, which should still be in place. I’ve asked my lawyer to have it revoked, but Angela has to agree to it. I don’t know whether she has done that or not. I haven’t heard back from my lawyer about that. If she hasn’t, I guess the will is as it was.’ Goodman had still not chosen to face them and this disdain was now getting on Annie’s nerves. She didn’t like people sitting side on; it was distracting.
‘Which was?’
‘The standard: everything left to each other, like most married couples. I wanted it changed. The house is part of the divorce settlement and I only want what I’m entitled to, nothing else. So if you’re trying to imply that I would have a motive to harm her before the will is changed, you’re way off base.’ This time the straightening extended to his lapels and then the cuffs again.
‘So what can you tell us about the assault on your wife?’
For the first time in the whole interview George Goodman paused, then shifted in his seat to face Bronski full on, placing his palms flat out on the table. It was clear that Bronski had hit a raw nerve.
‘Nothing for God’s sake! What do you take me for? I know absolutely nothing about it. Nothing, zilch, less than nothing, if you want the truth. Is that clear enough for you? You should be out there finding whoever did this. Not for my sake, but for hers. As much as I am pleased to be divorcing the woman, that is as far as it goes. I wouldn’t wish her any harm.’
It was obvious Goodman was riled and the goodwill of the interview process was slipping away. Annie wasn’t sure if her own approach would have been different, but instinctively she felt that Goodman, for all his flaws, had nothing to do with the assault on his wife. Then again, she’d felt that Jim Moorcroft was an upright citizen.
The interview ended ten minutes later. Goodman reported that he had been in Boston the night of the attack, but was staying alone in a motel. His alibi was weak, but they would check it out. Maybe if they hadn’t seen Genevieve Montgomery first, Goodman and Montgomery might have concocted a better alibi together.
There was nothing more to be gained at this stage by keeping Goodman at the station. Bronski did ascertain before the interview finished that Goodman was going to telephone the hospital and ask for his name to be taken off the next of kin information. He’d made it clear that he wouldn’t be making any decision about his wife’s life support, if indeed that decision had to be taken. He also implied that he wouldn’t give the police any cause to think he would be happy to gain from his wife’s death.
No pleasantries were exchanged as Annie escorted Goodman out of the station, noticing that it was Genevieve Montgomery who was waiting for him in the parking lot.
17
Before he got dressed in the clothes he had laid out on the bed, he finished washing the cycling shorts and jersey and hung them up in the shower. It would only be a matter of hours before they were dry and ready. After dressing, he looked around the room one last time and then walked to the local diner. The menu wasn’t inspiring but typical, and a burger and black coffee met his needs.
Walking back was pleasant. The summer air was warm and he felt himself starting to sweat again after the air-conditioned diner. But it didn’t matter too much. In minutes he was back in his room and the first thing he did was to turn up the air-conditioning.
Turning on the TV, he switched over to the local station, waiting for the news to come on. Going over to the other side of the room, he took the three cellphones out of the safe where he had left them just over an hour ago. Turning on the first one, he smiled. There were missed calls after missed calls. He decided to listen to the messages. It had been just over a week, and before now he had resisted the temptation, but he thought that by now, she would have given up and taken the hint. There was nothing she could do about it. He was out of her life and that was the end of it. He smiled as he listened to the pleading, begging him to telephone her.
Then he took the sim card out and smashed the phone on the floor grinding the plastic with his foot. Carefully, ensuring that he picked up every last bit, he placed the remains in a bag in the backpack to throw in a dumpster tomorrow, a long way from there.
The second cellphone had only one message, which he listened to and smiled. The voice always made him feel better. He wanted to talk but it was too risky to return the call: they both knew that. Besides, they had talked last night. He deleted the voicemail. Soon though, it should all be over. He checked the balance on the third phone and the battery. No telling when he would need that one. Both phones went into the backpack.
Before he stretched out on the bed to relax, he put out the ‘do not disturb’ sign. Tonight would be an early night. Tomorrow, he had arrangements to make and more travelling to do. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, the local newsreader’s voice intruded:
‘Police are investigating a two car crash on the mountain road leading into …’ Get on with it, he thought. ‘They have not yet released details of the identification plates as both vehicles were so badly damaged in the fire. So far all the police spokesman has been able to tell us is that one body has been found. Police will continue the search for the second body tomorrow. We will bring you an update when we have more. In other news …’
Rolling over on the bed, he smiled again. You’ll be hard pressed to find that second body, he thought, as he used the remote control to switch over channels.
18
Dave Ellison could see from the look on their faces that the interview hadn’t gone particularly well. Annie only glanced at him briefly, not wanting to say anything unless Bronski decided to discuss the interview with him. But Bronski chose not to. Instead he just summed up the next steps.
‘Well, I’ll do a file note on that one and I’ll check out his alibi. The motel should confirm if he was where he said he was. Still, he could have left the motel in Boston, driven to Westford, committed the assault and then driven back to the motel. I’ll make some calls, but first some lunch. It might be best if we grab a bite and then stop by and pay Mr Moorcroft a visit at work. Let’s see what he has to say about what we found in his record.’
Annie wanted a break, but not necessarily to join Bronski for lunch, but she felt she’d no choice since it would mean that he would have to come back to the station for her in order to go and see Jim Moorcroft. It was a pain not having a car and she knew she would have to see about renting one soon. She wanted a quiet word with Dave Ellison too, about last night, but that would have to wait.
‘Sure, let’s go,’ she replied, hoping that she sounded more enthusiastic than she felt.
Bronski finally turned round to Dave Ellison, just as they were going out: ‘We’d invite you along Dave, but we’re going on from lunch to pay Mr Moorcroft a visit.’
‘That’s OK, I know two’s …’ Ellison started to quip back, but the door shut before he could finish.
In the packed diner, the waitress nodded to Bronski, indicating a booth by the back window. Annie suddenly realised that she was starving and the burger with fries proved irresistible. Bronski ordered the clam chowder and half pastrami on rye with coffee. Annie noticed for the first time that Bronski was ill at ease in a social situation. At the station he was more confident but he looked awkward sitting across from her in the booth.
He wasn’t at all like Franconi, who commandeered every situation and was equally at home in a restaurant as he was in the station. Annie thought back to that meal with Franconi, Christine James and Michael Turner. She’d taken an instant liking to Christine and knew she would enjoy seeing her again. Although Christine had given her their phone number, without a car, Annie felt awkward suggesting they meet up. Still, she would get around to that in good time.
‘So, Detective, how are we going to handle Mr Moorcroft?’ Annie felt she had to
get Bronski on to safe territory.
‘What would you suggest? How would you play it?’
‘I’ve been known for my direct approach,’ Annie laughed.
‘I’ve noticed that.’ For the first time that day, Bronski smiled.
Annie felt slightly embarrassed but continued. ‘I would start by going over his alibi again, and then mention the glass to see if he has a reasonable explanation. Depending how he responds, I’d then venture on to the previous.’
‘Sounds like a plan. You can lead this one.’
That was just what Annie wanted to hear. The coffee arrived, giving her some time to think up other topics of conversation. She was still curious about Michael and Christine, wondering whether to bring them up or not. Bronski might feel affronted that Franconi had invited her out for a meal with them and not him but she decided to chance it.
‘I met some people the other night, from one of yours and Franconi’s cases.’
‘Who was that?’ He obviously hadn’t heard about the meal out.
‘Michael Turner and Christine James.’
‘Hmm, interesting case. Turner used to be one of us: did you know that?’ Bronski paused for a minute while his clam chowder was set down in front of him and the waitress topped up Annie’s water.
‘I think it was mentioned.’
‘I never worked with him. He left on medical grounds just as I came on board. By all accounts he was a good detective. Shame about getting shot and not being able to return to active duty. But who knows, if he stuck out the office work, he might have been fit enough one day. But some guys can’t wait. He and Christine James gave us the breakthrough we needed on the case. You know they identified Ruby?’ Bronski broke the crackers into his soup.
Annie looked puzzled. ‘I thought she was called Mary or Marie or something.’
Bronski laughed. ‘You were paying attention. You nearly got it right. Her name was Maria Moretto Marshall. Ruby was the name we gave her before we got the identification. We always name dead women, who are unidentified, by the names of jewels. We don’t like to have them being nameless while we try to find out their identities.’
‘I approve of that.’ Annie picked up her glass. She loved the American habit of getting ice water with the meal.
Bronski paused for a moment while he finished the last spoonful of the clam chowder. No sooner had he put his spoon down, the waitress reappeared to take it away, but not before asking if he wanted a refill. He just waved a ‘no’ at her.
‘Where was I? Christine James. Now she’s an interesting character. Did you know when she identified Maria, she was only back in Westford because she was recovering from her husband’s death. She’d been living in England with him.’
Annie was surprised. ‘No, that hadn’t come out in the conversation.’ Annie realised now that this must have been the missing link she’d been wondering about and it cleared up the UK connection in her mind.
Over the next few minutes Bronski gave her a brief overview of the whole case. Then over the last refill of their coffee, he refocused on the afternoon’s task. ‘So, as far as we can ascertain, Jim Moorcroft is in work today. It will be interesting to see how he reacts to seeing us again, won’t it?’
A half hour later, they had their initial answer. Jim Moorcroft rose immediately from his chair on seeing the two of them enter the open plan office. His was the third desk in the row nearest the window with a clear view of the whole room. It only took seconds for him to reach them. His colleagues, although curious, seemed too absorbed in their tasks to take that much notice.
‘What’s happened? Angela? She’s not …’ Only one woman looked up, anticipating an answer.
‘As far as we know, Mrs Goodman is still in Intensive Care. We just want to ask you some more questions. Is there anywhere quiet we can go?’ Annie nodded to the woman as she said it, wondering why there wasn’t more interest being shown about their presence.
Jim Moorcroft’s immediate concern turned to finding a quiet place to talk, away from all the cubicles. Eventually finding an empty interview room, he appeared ill at ease, fussing about the seating arrangements and wanting to break the silence.
‘Jackie and I saw Angela again last night. God, she looked awful. That’s why I thought the worst when I saw you. I don’t cope very well with being there at the hospital. It’s the sound of those machines, you know what I mean? You get so you start to count the bleeps, start to imagine that some are too long, that the frequency is changing. They say to talk to her, but I’m not convinced it helps. Her face is so swollen: how would you even know if it moved slightly? Jackie is better at sitting with her then I am. She can really focus her attention on Angela. I’m sure she’s willing her to pull through, that she’s trying to get on to her wavelength somehow.’ Jim Moorcroft paused, realising that the two detectives weren’t really listening to what he was saying.
It was Annie who spoke when he stopped. ‘Mr Moorcroft, have you any objection to answering some questions for us? You are not under arrest but you could have a lawyer present if you wished to do so. Or we could do this down at the station, if you prefer.’
The statement stopped Moorcroft in his tracks but his indignation was palpable. ‘I don’t understand. I want to help in any way I can. Angela is a very close friend. I will tell you anything you want to know. I have nothing to hide.’ He shifted in his seat trying to get comfortable.
‘Mr Moorcroft, you told us before that you dropped Angela Goodman off at her house around midnight.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And you didn’t go into the house with her?’
‘No, I waited for a minute or two until she opened the front door and switched on the hall light. She turned and waved to me and then I pulled away. I told you all of this before.’
‘Tell us again about when you picked her up. Did you go into the house at that point?’
‘No, I pulled up in front of the house and she came out.’ A look of indecision passing across his face, he continued before Annie could respond. ‘At least I think she did. Actually, I can’t be definite now that I think about it again. I might have gone into the house to wait for her.’
‘Would you be likely to forget that you went into the house, if you did?’
Jim Moorcroft had picked the skin on one of his nails until Annie could see blood on his finger. It was obvious that his self-assurance was fading rapidly. ‘I don’t know. I pick her up a lot. I mean I did pick her up a lot. She was always coming over to our place.’
Annie wondered if she’d perceived something in that last comment. ‘Was that a problem for you?’
Jim Moorcroft was clearly taken aback. ‘No, and I don’t know what you think you are implying. Of course not, it’s just that I might have mixed up the last time I picked her up with the time before. I can’t remember now that you’re asking me again.’ Jim Moorcroft got up and started to pace around the room. ‘What’s this about anyway? What does it matter if I went in or not?’
Annie and Bronski looked at one another and left a gap of a few seconds, before Annie faced Mr Moorcroft squarely. ‘Your fingerprints were on a glass by the sink, which puts you in the house at some time near to when the assault took place, unless Angela Goodman was in the habit of leaving glasses out for days at a time. And we matched your prints to the glass because your prints are on file for a previous arrest for aggravated assault.’
Jim Moorcroft looked as if he was going to be sick. He stopped dead in his tracks and glanced through the glass door at his co-workers in their cubicles, just on the other side of the interview room. The bloodied finger was now in his mouth and he was biting down at it, until he winced. His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. ‘I could lose this job if that becomes common knowledge. You have no idea how long it took me to get this job. No one here knows except the perso
nnel officer.’ Again he glanced through the glass, checking that no one was walking past. ‘My arrest was unfair. I found my wife in bed with another man. I just lost it and I nearly lost everything. She dropped the charges, but to some people, I’m still guilty.’ He was grabbing the back of the chair he had been sitting on, his knuckles starting to go white.
‘But you didn’t think of telling us or that it might be important that the last person to see Angela Goodman and the person who found her had a record of arrest for criminal assault?’ Annie was getting angry now, but trying to stay calm.
‘I didn’t think it was relevant. It’s nobody’s business.’ The pacing started again.
‘I’m afraid you’re wrong on that one, Mr Moorcroft. It is very much our business.’ Bronski had butted in for the first time, but Annie didn’t lose any momentum.
‘Were you and Mrs Goodman more than just good friends?’
‘This is too much! I’m not prepared to answer any more of your insulting questions. A close friend of mine, who you didn’t even know existed until a few days ago, is critically ill, and someone, not me, is responsible. I suggest you go looking for that person. If you want to ask me any more questions, you can arrange it through my lawyer. I’m done here.’
Annie watched as Jim Moorcroft stormed out of the office, past the cubicles and to the exit. Now his colleagues took notice. When the two detectives went through the door a couple of minutes later, all eyes were on them. They didn’t leave immediately, however. Their next stop was at personnel, where the senior personnel officer was a lot more helpful. They also learned more about Angela Goodman’s work record and periods of leave for depression. Annie wondered just what she’d been like to live with.
Det Annie Macpherson 01 - Primed By The Past Page 8
