‘Which he did,’ Alfie told him. ‘There seems to be no record of him bringing you in that first morning and the records after that are patchy. But I remembered and so did others. Joe couldn’t erase us from the record.’
Hemingsby grimaced as though he wished that was otherwise.
‘So, you were sitting in this pub …’
‘Yeah. But before that. The morning I was brought to the station the sergeant that had brought me in, he left me in an interview room and a few minutes later there was Joe, bringing a cup of tea and grinning all over his bloody face. He said he’d phoned my parents and cleared things up with them and I said what things and he said he’d told them that I wasn’t really a suspect for murder. That he needed a favour.’
‘A favour.’
‘He had a suspect in mind for Rebecca Arnold, but he couldn’t pin anything on him even though Joe “knew” he’d done it and knew he’d killed at least once before. He wanted to put it around that he had a suspect, hope that this other person of interest as he called him, would relax, give something away or something.’
‘And you went along with it?’
‘Not at first. I didn’t want to. The thing was, I worked with the guy Joe was talking about. I mean, not closely, but I was starting my specialty in paediatric medicine and the bloke Joe was after worked on the mental health side. Kids who are long term in hospital and their families and siblings, well they often need a lot of support on the emotional side of things. It can be really tough on brothers and sisters as well as the child involved. So—’
‘So Joe thought you could confide in this man. Act as though you were scared, see if a reaction could be provoked?’
Hemingsby nodded. ‘That was Joe Jackson’s grand plan.’
‘Seems sketchy?’ Nat observed.
‘Oh, it was. I think he was clutching at straws, hoping if he grabbed enough straws he’d be able to build a bloody raft.’
‘But you agreed to go along with it.’
‘No,’ Hemingsby said flatly. ‘I didn’t agree. I wasn’t given a choice. Jackson said that if I didn’t help him out he’d make sure my arrest was made public. Leaked to the local press. He would have destroyed my life, sergeant and the fact that I didn’t have any real alibi for the night of the killing pleased him even more.’
‘Where were you that night?’
‘On my own, at my parents, catching up with my reading and listening to music. I saw no one, my parents were away, I called no one, I ate what I could find in the fridge so there wasn’t even a takeaway order to verify I’d been home. I had nothing and Joe Jackson. He relished that.’
‘You must have been angry.’
‘Angry doesn’t cover it. I was also scared. Scared of what this might do to my life, my career, everything. I was also scared that Joe might be right and this suspect of his might actually turn out to be a killer. Talk about hanging me out to dry.’
‘And this meeting in the Red Lion,’ Nat Cooper prompted him.
‘Was between me and Joe and this Fincher. Joe had a problem that his suspect had an alibi. Fincher had a problem that he’d convinced himself that Tom Reece, Joe’s suspect was incapable. But the trouble was, Joe, could tell that Fincher wasn’t as sure as he said he was. That he had doubts. He was playing devil’s advocate, I suppose, this Fincher, talking about conferences that Tom Reece had been to, all the people who’d be prepared to alibi him for some other dates and times they were poring over.’
‘Do you remember details?’
‘No. I was just thinking how I could get out of this one. I’d got Joe on the one side blackmailing me into finding out that this bloke I worked with was a serial killer and Fincher on the other trying to find ways of convincing himself and Joe Jackson that he was pure as the driven and I got the feeling neither of them really had a clue as to how they could prove their argument.’
‘What hard evidence did DI Jackson have?’
‘I don’t know. I think something had made him suspicious and he’d followed up on it. He talked about Tom Reece appearing at one of the scenes and something about three of the killings being in university towns, but what does that mean? Since all the polytechnics got university status it’s hard to find a sizeable town that doesn’t have at least one university associated with it. Like I said, he was clutching at straws.’
He paused and rubbed his face with his palms as though trying to clear the memory.
‘And now it’s all come back,’ he said. ‘Joe Jackson’s dead and buried and discredited and he still manages to reach out and try and drag me down.’
‘You said he and Reg Fincher talked about other deaths. Do you remember any details?’
Hemingsby thought about it. ‘There was an old woman,’ he said. ‘With a foreign … maybe a German name? Jackson kept saying something like “you had your doubts. You keep having your doubts.” But I was thinking more about how I could get out of the situation than I was paying attention, though I think the idea of taking me out there and having me involved in their debate was supposed to persuade me this was the right course of action. It didn’t, I ended up thinking that Joe Jackson had finally lost it.’
‘And did you tell Tom Reece what had happened to you?’
Hemingsby nodded. ‘I saw him in work the day after that. We were both at the same meeting. He could see something was wrong. I’m better at hiding my emotions now, I suppose. You learn to when you’re dealing with frightened parents, but back then … anyway, he asked if I was OK and I did exactly what Joe must have wanted me to do, must have known I would, I told him what had happened and then … and then I told him what Joe thought Tom might have done.’
‘Why did you do that?’ Nat asked him.
‘Because I was angry, I suppose, because Tom Reece is bloody persuasive. Because I was more swayed by Fincher’s arguments than I was by Joe’s, I don’t know. Maybe because I was scared and scared people do some strange things.’
‘And what happened after that?’
Hemingsby had paled. He rubbed his face again, his stress evident.
‘He laughed. He actually laughed. He told me that DI Jackson must be delusional and that if I needed an alibi for the night in question he would happily give me one.’
‘And what did you make of that?’ Nat Cooper asked him.
Hemingsby took a deep breath. ‘I can’t exactly tell you why but I began to wonder if Joe Jackson might be right,’ he said.
THIRTY-SIX
The late afternoon brought Naomi and Alec back to what had been their place of work. Alfie Briggs met them in reception and escorted them both past the front desk.
‘Sorry your appointment got changed,’ he said. ‘It got a bit exciting here earlier on.’
‘Oh? Developments. But you can’t say what? Right?’
Alec sounded tetchy. Naomi had grown used to being excluded from what had once been her world, but Alec had less practice at it and although he had left the job voluntarily it still stung.
‘Come on through,’ Alfie said. ‘I’ve borrowed an office so we don’t get stuck in an interview room. Trinder will be along shortly.’
He organized coffee and Naomi sat in one of the low visitors’ chairs that Alfie had fetched into the room. She tried to figure out whose room it was but the building was no longer familiar territory. DI Trinder’s voice was oddly familiar though, especially considering the fact that she’d met him only a couple of times. She decided it was because he reminded her of the morning DJ she heard on local radio most mornings. The Scottish accent modified by a long time living among Sassenachs. She shook his hand, feeling odd calluses on the palm. She wondered if he played golf. The door closed, she heard Trinder take a seat behind the desk and Alfie pull up a chair beside hers.
‘So,’ Alec said and the tetchiness was still apparent. ‘Alfie said you wanted to talk to us. I think we’ve already covered everything we know—’
‘And I’m sure you have,’ Trinder said. ‘But we didn’t know what questio
ns to ask you before. Now we do. As Alfie may have intimated already, there have been developments today and to be honest we don’t know what to make of them yet. The three of you knew Joe Jackson. Two of you were around during the Rebecca Arnold investigation and now—’
‘What developments,’ Alec sounded impatient now.
Naomi reached out to take his hand, but he didn’t take hers and she realized she wasn’t certain how far away his chair was from hers. She let it fall. ‘Alec, calm down. What developments. What’s changed?’
‘Sergeant Briggs brought Doctor Hemingsby in for interview.’
‘Doctor? What kind of doctor?’
‘A well-regarded paediatric surgeon. With an alibi. And a very interesting story to tell.’
Alec and Naomi listened while Trinder brought them up to speed though, Naomi noted, he was careful not to name the new suspect.
‘The question I have,’ Trinder said, ‘is: is that the kind of behaviour DI Jackson might have indulged in? Would he have set up something like this, below the radar?’
I want to say no, Naomi thought. But he would, wouldn’t he.
Alec had no such qualms. ‘It sounds exactly like a Joe Jackson scheme. Jackson told no one anything he didn’t consider they needed to know. Even if that lack of knowledge put them in the line of fire. He was an egomaniac. A—’
‘Mr Friedman, I can understand why you might be inclined to feel that way,’ Trinder said cutting him off. ‘Sergeant Briggs thinks it’s entirely likely that Jackson played his cards so close to his chest that even close colleagues might have been kept in the dark.’
‘It sounds like Joe,’ Naomi said quietly. ‘He liked the game. He liked to feel he knew things that others didn’t. He liked to be the one in control and he trusted very few people. Not really trusted them. I think a lot of people in Joe’s life had let him down and he didn’t like to be in that position. Of being the underdog, the one who hadn’t seen it coming, you know. If Joe really believed that this man was a murderer then he’d move heaven and earth, he’d lie and cheat and hide evidence in order to make his plan work. To catch the killer. Joe didn’t play by the usual rules; Joe made his own rules and most of us went along because they worked. He got results. And he made those of us who followed him feel like we were privileged. Like we were on the inside track.’
‘Doctor Hemingsby spoke about him as persuasive,’ Trinder said. ‘He said that Jackson promised he wouldn’t risk Hemingsby’s reputation or career. So he kept it quiet, made it look as though he was a suspect but only a handful of people were privy to his identity. But he made sure the suspect knew. Had Hemingsby tell his colleague that the police had taken him in for questioning. That he thought we were trying to fit him up.’
‘And what evidence did Jackson have against this other man,’ Alec asked. ‘Is he another doctor?’
‘A medical doctor, no. He was, at that time, part of the child psychiatric team.’
‘Part of CAMHS,’ Naomi asked. ‘Working with kids?’ She was horrified.
‘And there’s no evidence to suggest any impropriety in the workplace.’
‘No evidence! If Joe suspected—’
‘Suspected. Could not prove. He hoped Hemingsby might be able to lure him out into the open. Might be able to give Jackson an edge, but nothing came of it. The case went cold, then Jackson retired, died and, well you know the rest.’
‘He left a confession to murder,’ Naomi said quietly. ‘He became what he tried to prevent.’
‘So what happens now?’ Alec said. ‘Is this suspect still working for CAMHS?’
‘No,’ Trinder told them. ‘He moved into a teaching role. Now, he lectures, writes authoritative texts on child mental health and is a well-respected member of the community with a wife and the obligatory dog and two kids.’
‘And he’s local,’ Naomi guessed.
‘Moved back this way two years ago. Lectures at the university, consults at two of the local hospitals. Plays golf with the chief constable for all I know. And we have only Hemingsby’s word and Joe Jackson’s suspicions to say he’s done anything.’
THIRTY-SEVEN
Daniel’s Uncle Ephraim had picked them up and driven Sam to the new flat. Patrick had been to Daniel’s place a few times. His parents were dead and he lived with his uncle and aunt and grandfather in a Gothic-looking building on the edge of town and Patrick had been fascinated and delighted by the fact that it had two waterspout gargoyles projecting from the roof.
Sam didn’t have a lot of stuff to move but the police had packed his clothes, kettle and cooking stuff and other belongings into a clutch of black dustbin bags and the thought of moving a half dozen well-stuffed bin bags and a suitcase a half mile from the university, had seemed pretty daunting.
Sam’s new flat was on the third floor of a converted hosiery factory overlooking the canal. It was one of the latest blocks taken over by the university and Sam would be among the first occupants. Unlike the old flat, this wasn’t shared accommodation but a simple bedsit-style apartment with a tiny kitchen area and a separate bedroom with en-suite shower.
‘It’s nice,’ Patrick said. ‘Think you’ll be lonely on your own?’
‘I know people in the block. It’ll be OK,’ Sam told him. He dumped the final bags next to the window and looked around. Daniel came in with another bag, followed by his uncle carrying a box Sam didn’t recognize.
‘Aunt Vi figured you’d need basic supplies,’ Daniel said. ‘So she sent some groceries over.’
Sam, taken aback, tried to say thank you and that he’d pay for them.
‘No, it’s a housewarming gift,’ Daniel said. ‘Fresh start and all that.’
‘It’s a bit crowded in here,’ his uncle said. ‘I’ll wait in the van.’
Sam thanked him again and the three of them stood in Sam’s flat suddenly at a loss as to what to do next.
‘Have you heard from Ginny?’ Patrick, the most domesticated of the three switched on the fridge and began to unpack the grocery box.
‘Yeah, sort of. I’d sent her about a dozen texts and she finally said she was all right. I don’t think her mum and dad want her upset any more so they’re getting at her about talking to me on the phone.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Daniel said.
Sam just shrugged and it was clear to Patrick that a part of him thought that it was.
Tom Reece watched Sam and his friends unloading the van. He recognized Ephraim Goldman, of course and his nephew, Daniel. Daniel was such … was so untouchable. He’d not paid much attention to the dark-haired one before, the one they called Patrick. Though he’d noticed the boy in the hotel that day and then at the university, and felt that there was something about him. Something … older, wiser. Interesting.
Ephraim Goldman came back out of the block and got into his van, glancing around as he did so. He saw him, of course. The dog, spotting a friend, had pulled at the lead and yipped happily.
‘Doctor Reece. Tom.’ Ephraim closed the van door and crossed the road, hand extended ready to shake. ‘How are you?’
They shook hands and Ephraim bent down to pet the spaniel. ‘It’s a nice walk along the canal.’
‘It is. I can cut back through towards home without having to deal with the main roads. She’s still not brilliant with the traffic.’
‘Well, she’s still a pup. She’ll learn. How are you all anyway? Sheila? The girls?’
‘Oh good, all good. Growing like weeds. Hester is in sixth form now.’
Ephraim jerked his head towards the van. ‘Just doing my good deed for the day,’ he said. ‘A friend of Daniel got caught up on that dreadful business. He was a flatmate to the girl that was killed.’
‘I’ve heard about it. The campus has been buzzing.’
‘They’ve moved him in here. Needed transport, so.’
‘That’s good of you.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing. He’s a nice kid and his family are miles away. And I don’t think they get on all that
well. His mum and dad came up for a day, Daniel said, then they had to get back to work or whatever. Sam didn’t want to go back with them so … had it been my son caught up in something like that I’d have been out on the streets looking for the bastard.’
Tom Reece nodded. ‘I know you would,’ he said. ‘And I don’t think they’d benefit from the experience.’
‘Damn right they wouldn’t! Anyway, shouldn’t keep you, you’ll be wanting to spend your Sunday with the family. Give them my best.’
Tom Reece said he would and walked slowly on. Ephraim wouldn’t just be out on the streets, Tom thought, he had contacts, connections. Men not afraid to get their hands dirty. He thought about how that made him feel and decided that it excited him. Not enough to risk harming Daniel but …
He helped the puppy down the steps and on to the canal path. She was still all paws and ears and uncoordinated limbs and steps baffled her.
Not yet, he told himself. Now was not the time. He stayed ahead by being careful, being in control and he wasn’t about to ruin all that now.
Not yet.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Field looked grim at the morning briefing. ‘We have two more names to add to our list of victims,’ he said.
‘Two? Where from?’
Tess looked to see who had spoken, figured it was Trinder.
‘Arrived on my desk this morning. The Met did another run through the computer analysis and these came up. It’s possible they won’t be the last. Trey Baxter, fifteen years old. April 1992 and Sadie Rahman, age nineteen. Jan 1996. I’ll get the reports copied and circulated.’
Which means my team will, Tess thought, and she needed to start on the Fincher box files. Apparently they had arrived that morning as well. She’d spotted them taking up most of her desk. And now, two more murders to appraise, collate against previous known cases and a set of notes to prepare for the evening briefing. She shouldn’t feel resentful of the dead, Tess thought, but sometimes it was hard not to feel at least overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of paperwork and information.
A Murderous Mind Page 17
