by Celina Grace
Kate waited for a moment and then asked, “Did you resent Mr Fullman marrying so soon after your relationship broke up?”
Rebecca blinked again. “Of course not.” She gave a rather stagy laugh. “I mean – well, I wouldn’t want to be uncharitable, but it did seem rather too sudden. And then of course, the baby was born so perhaps they had to get married, although in this day and age it doesn’t seem very likely, does it? That she trapped him into it, I mean.” Her gaze fell to her clasped hands. “No doubt he knew what he was doing.”
“Are you still in regular contact with Mr Fullman?”
Rebecca laughed again. She seemed to use laughter as punctuation rather than as a method of expressing joy or excitement.
“I’m afraid I haven’t seen Nick since we split up. Not since he moved out and that was, oh, nearly two years ago now.”
Kate cleared her throat. “I understand that Mr Fullman is something of a, shall we say, a workaholic? He works incredibly hard?”
Rebecca nodded. “He works very hard. Such long hours…that was always a bit of a sore point between us. I mean, I have my business – I’m a property investor – and that takes up a fair bit of time but I have a life as well, you know. Nick doesn’t ever stop. That’s why he’s so successful, of course. He’s driven.” Her voice faltered for a moment. “He works out what he wants and then he goes and gets it. That’s admirable, in a way. It’s something I learnt from him, that if you really want something, you have to put your all into it. You have to go out and get it. No matter what it takes.”
The door to the sitting room opened with a creak, making them all look over towards it. An elderly man paused with his hand on the door handle, peering at them.
“Rebecca?” he said, in a gentle voice, quavering a little. Rebecca jumped up.
“It’s fine, Dad. These are the people I was telling you about.”
The man, clearly Brigadier D’Arcy-Warner, stood for a moment, his head swinging a little from side to side. Although in his eighties, or perhaps even older, he still had a head of copious black hair, scarcely greyed at the temples. Rebecca turned to the police officers.
“Well, if that was all, perhaps we could call it a day?”
Her voice was anxious. Kate and Olbeck exchanged glances and got up.
“Who are these people?” said Brigadier D’Arcy-Warner. He didn’t say it in a rude fashion, but Rebecca blushed, the pink of her cheeks clashing with the red of her hair.
“It doesn’t matter, Daddy, they’re leaving now. Go back to the sitting room and I’ll bring you through a cup of tea. Go on now.” He hesitated, one faintly shaking hand resting on the door handle. “I’ll bring you through a cup of tea.”
The Brigadier nodded vaguely and turned away, out of sight. They all heard his hesitant footsteps fade from hearing.
Rebecca remained standing.
“He has dementia,” she said, to their unspoken question. “Not too severe as yet, but he gets very confused...very confused. I try and keep him in a routine, calm and ordered, you know. It helps.”
“Does he live here alone?” asked Olbeck.
“No, he has a home help and carers that come in every day. And of course, I’m here most of the time. I can set my own hours, so I’m here pretty much every day.”
“You don’t live here?”
“No, I have my own place just outside of Tornford.” She half-smiled. “Nick and I bought it together, actually. But he moved out, obviously, when we split up and he bought that modern monstrosity.”
Kate pricked up her ears.
“You’ve been to Mr Fullman’s house, then?”
Rebecca shrugged. “Just the once. I had to drop off some of his things.” She grimaced. “Once was enough.”
Olbeck nodded. “It’s routine,” he said. “But I have to ask you where you were on the night of the crime. Saturday, the fourteenth of January.”
Kate expected another outburst of incredulity but Rebecca just sighed. “Yes, I thought you might ask me that,” she said. “I can see that you have to – what’s the phrase? Eliminate people from your enquiries.” Olbeck nodded encouragingly. Rebecca sighed again. “I’m afraid that, as usual, I was here, with my father. I stayed the night. I usually do if I get here late.”
“Is there anyone who can verify your presence here?”
“I’m afraid not.” She sounded regretful.
“What about your father?”
Rebecca looked shocked.
“Well, yes. He could confirm it – for what it’s worth. But as I’ve said, he has dementia. And, if it’s not essential, I’d really prefer that you didn’t ask him. It would confuse him and if he knew anything about the – well, the murder – it would upset him terribly.”
What isn’t essential in a murder case? Kate thought. She and Olbeck left it at that, shaking hands and handing over their cards as a matter of routine. Rebecca watched them drive away from the front door, holding her arms across her body, one elbow in each hand.
“What did you think?” asked Kate, as they drove onto the main road.
Olbeck shrugged. “Hard-nosed career type, if you ask me.” He looked over at her and grinned. “Like you.”
Kate half laughed to cover her sudden intake of breath. Was that the image she gave out? Why not, Kate, she asked herself. Isn’t that what it’s all about? Isn’t that what you wanted?
“She’s got no alibi,” was all she said.
“We could ask the Major.”
“Brigadier. But I agree with her that it’s probably not worth our while.”
Olbeck flicked on the indicator. “I got the impression that it was a pretty lukewarm sort of relationship. Her and Fullman, I mean. What motive would she have for kidnapping his kid and killing his nanny?”
It was Kate’s turn to shrug. “You’re right. Still, that’s one more off the list.”
“Onwards and upwards.”
They drove in silence for a moment.
“I get the impression you don’t really care for ambitious women,” said Kate, after a long moment of thought. Was it too soon to be having this kind of conversation? The last thing she wanted to be was antagonistic.
Olbeck looked astonished. “Where did you get that impression?” he said.
Kate spread her hands. “I don’t know. Just what you said back there – and you having what sounds like a nice little domestic goddess at home.” She glanced at him sideways. “Am I wrong?”
Olbeck spluttered. “You could not be more wrong. God, you make me sound like a complete sexist.”
“Sorry.”
They drove in silence for another minute.
“God,” said Olbeck, shaking his head. “I am so not like that. Kate, you really couldn’t be more wrong. I’m all for the emancipated woman, believe me.”
Kate laughed, relieved at his tone. “Sorry. I misread you.”
“S’alright.”
The car turned, slowing. Kate drummed her fingers on her knees.
“So, what does Jo do?” she asked just for something to say.
Olbeck looked over at her. “Acting,” he said, briefly.
“Really? God, that’s interesting. Would she have been in anything I’ve seen?” Kate reflected for a moment. “Actually, probably not. I don’t watch much TV, and I can’t remember when I last went to the cinema. Or theatre.”
They’d arrived at the station and Olbeck swung the car into a parking space.
“Come on,” he said, clearly ready to move on from the subject. “Paperwork time.”
“Oh, joy.”
Chapter Ten
Kate was halfway through her reports when her phone rang. She placed the voice on the end of the line immediately.
“What can I do for you, Ms Darcy-Warner?”
“Call me Rebecca, please. I’m sorry to bother you but I–” She hesitated for a moment. Kate sat up a little, reaching for her pen.
Rebecca continued. “I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely truthful earlier. No, tha
t’s not correct, I didn’t lie. I’m afraid I didn’t tell you a few things. That’s probably lying by omission, isn’t it?”
“Never mind about that now, Rebecca. Can you tell me now?”
“It’s probably not even relevant...”
“Let me be the judge of that. Please tell me and then you’ll have done your duty.” Kate said that last with a smile in her voice, trying to break down the other woman’s reserve.
“Yes,” said Rebecca, hesitating again. Then she plunged on. “It’s just that – Nick – well, there was another reason we split up. There always is, isn’t there?”
“Yes, indeed. And that other reason was?”
“Well– basically, he was keeping some very odd company. Some very reprehensible company. I didn’t approve.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“He said they were business associates but – I just didn’t like them. I work in the property business too and you hear things...these men were notorious.” Rebecca lowered her voice so that Kate had to strain to hear her. “They were gangsters.”
“Gangsters?”
“Oh it sounds so melodramatic, doesn’t it? But they were definitely not the people to get on the wrong side of.”
“And Mr Fullman was working with them?”
“Well, I don’t know about working with them – but he was definitely meeting them. He met them several times. They even came to our house once before I put my foot down.”
“Can you give me their names?”
“I’m afraid not, not definitely. You see, I refused to listen when Nick tried to talk about them. I really didn’t approve. I think they were called Costa, or Costa. Something like that.”
Kate tried to push for a few more details but Rebecca insisted she didn’t know any more. Eventually Kate gave up and thanked her for calling.
“You’re welcome,” said Rebecca. There was a slight pause and Kate was just about to say goodbye before Rebecca said suddenly, “It’s funny, about Nick. He looks so, so adult and successful and together. You wouldn’t have thought anyone could put anything over on him. But underneath it all, he’s just a scared little boy.”
Kate’s eyebrows went up. “Is that–” she began, but Rebecca was speaking again.
“Just a scared, uncertain little boy. Perhaps that’s why he needed so much mothering.” For a moment, bitterness pervaded her voice. “Anyway, I hope I’ve been of help.”
Kate assured her that she had, and they said goodbye. Kate stared at the replaced handset for a moment, tapping her pen on the edge of the desk and thinking. Then she lifted the telephone again and asked to speak to Anderton.
*
“Costa?”
“That’s right, sir. She said ‘Costa’ or ‘Costa.’”
Anderton and Olbeck exchanged glances. Kate interpreted it.
“You know the name then?”
“Yes,” said Anderton. “You’re new here, DS Redman, so I’ll forgive you for not picking this up. “ He smiled briefly. “The Costa brothers are known to us.”
“What have they done?”
Anderton looked at Olbeck, who took up the conversation.
“Fraud, arson, extortion – or at least, that’s what we’ve tried to charge them with at various times. Sometimes successfully and sometimes not. They’re extremely wealthy and have a crack team of lawyers on their side.”
“They’ve both spent time in prison,” said Anderton. “Both are currently free, though. And they were free on the night of January 14th.”
“Hmm,” said Kate.
“Hmm, is right,” said Anderton. “A lead worth following up, I think. Talk to Nick Fullman about his association with the Costa. Ask him why he didn’t think this little nugget of information was worth mentioning when we questioned him before.”
“Would you suspect them of something like this, sir?”
Anderton shrugged. “I don’t believe they’ve ever stooped to murder or kidnapping before. That’s not to say it’s out of the question. It’s a lead.”
Kate and Olbeck nodded and went to get up.
“Wait,” said Anderton. “While you’re with Mr Fullman, you can ask him about this little matter as well.” He reached into a desk drawer and withdrew a small sheet of white paper, enclosed in an evidence bag. He handed it to Olbeck, who smoothed it out on the desk top and read it aloud.
“‘Ask Fullman about Councillor Jones’. What’s this? When did you receive this, sir?”
“This morning, in an anonymous envelope, in the post. Addressed to me.”
“Councillor Jones?” said Kate. “That’s the–” She groped for a moment. “That’s the guy he was having a drink with on the night of Charlie’s disappearance, right?”
Anderton nodded.
“Councillor Gary Jones is a District Councillor for Abbeyford. He’s on the planning committee and the brownfield regeneration committee. Nick Fullman works in property. Now, there may be nothing more natural than the two of them being buddies, but I want it looked into. If someone wants to cause trouble, enough to go to the effort of writing, or typing, an anonymous note, there may be something in it.”
He tweaked the note from under Olbeck’s fingers and waved a hand at them both. “Off you go, then.”
Outside Anderton’s office, Kate turned to Olbeck.
“Phew,” she said. “Where to start?”
Olbeck began to count on his fingers.
“We’ve got Casey to question about Ali Saheed, Fullman to question about the Costa brothers and Councillor Jones, Mrs Bright to question full-stop, Councillor Jones to question about Nick Fullman and the Costa brothers to question if only for a reason for their revolting existence.”
Kate rubbed her forehead.
“Where do you want to start?”
Olbeck started to walk down the corridor. Kate hurried after him.
“I’ll take the Costa brothers.” He shuddered. “God, for my sins. Theo or Jerry can do Councillor Jones. Why don’t you do Casey and Mrs Bright and we’ll track down Nick Fullman together?”
“Fine,” said Kate. “Let’s check back later.”
She said goodbye and hurried off to find her car keys.
Chapter Eleven
The paparazzi at the gates of the Fullmans’ house had thinned in numbers slightly, and their replacement was, at first sight, more picturesque. A heap of blooms, a mountain of flowers: bouquets, baskets, single-stemmed white roses. Blue ribbons everywhere, tied to the trees and the fence and the gateposts.
As Kate drove through, she caught sight of a tiny blue teddy bear with white, fluffy paws. A middle-aged couple stood by the makeshift shrine, reading the inscriptions on the bouquets. Who were they mourning, these people who’d brought the flowers? Dita or Charlie? He’s not dead, said Kate to herself, fiercely, because at the thought of Charlie dead, something seemed to collapse inside of her. She knew, logically, that he probably was. But logic didn’t seem to have anything to do with it. I can’t think of him dead, she thought, fingers clenched on the steering wheel. I can’t.
She thought of all the blue ribbons fluttering in the cold January wind and felt something else, a surge of anger. What good were ribbons? What possible difference would tying a ribbon around a tree make? Would it get them one step closer to Charlie? Stupid, stupid, she hissed through gritted teeth, parking the car a little too abruptly by the front door.
The sight of Casey shocked her out of her anger. Zombie was the word that first came to mind when the door opened. Hollowed eyes, blonde hair darkened and flattened by grease, Casey swayed a little on her feet. She turned, saying nothing, and walked back through the house like a somnambulist, the dirty ends of her tracksuit trousers trailing on the floor.
Mrs Bright was there in the kitchen, perched on a stool by the breakfast bar, the local paper spread out before her and a half empty glass of orange juice in front of her. Kate greeted her and asked where Mr Fullman was.
Mrs Bright rolled her eyes. “At work? Where
else is he ever?”
Kate nodded. She hesitated again, wondering whether to question Mrs Bright or to follow Casey. She decided on the latter. Casey worried her, seriously worried her.
She knocked on the door of the bedroom, although it was half open and she could see the dirty soles of Casey’s feet dangling off the edge of the enormous bed. There was no answer so she pushed open the door.
Casey was lying face down, her head buried in the pillows. Kate said her name, gently at first and then with more urgency. At last, Casey turned her head to look at her.
“What?”
“Casey, please sit up. I need to speak to you.”
In the end, she had to help her up, almost prop her against the headboard. Casey’s pupils were huge and she stared blearily ahead, saying nothing. Kate was uncomfortably reminded of a doll from her childhood, a rare toy she’d been given by a neighbour, which had had the same blank stare, the same empty eyes.
“Casey,” she said once more. “I told you we’d find Charlie for you and we will. But you have to help us. I need to talk to you about Ali Saheed.”
That broke Casey’s stupor. She flicked a frightened sideways glance at Kate.
“Why?”
“It’s important.”
“I told you, he couldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t.”
“Why would you say that?”
Casey paused for a second.
“He always said family was important, even though he didn’t have any kids of his own. He likes children. He was really happy for me when I got pregnant. He said so.”
Kate sighed inwardly.
“People don’t always mean what they say, Casey. Believe me, as a police officer I know that.”
Casey started to cry.
“This is a nightmare, it’s a nightmare. I can’t believe it’s happening. I think I’m going mad.”
