by Mari Hannah
‘No, she upped sticks and moved north to work for the Parkers.’
A hand went up on Frankie’s left. ‘The briefing sheet mentions Daniel’s former nanny, Maria Friedman. Are you going to be talking to her?’
Before Frankie could answer, Stone did it for her. ‘Not at this stage,’ he said. ‘If something has equal importance then I’d put a team on each. If something is absolutely in your face, you drop everything else, take the baton and run with it. Justine’s personal life appears to be key, so I’m interested in that, her digs, her car, the crime scene.’
‘Frankie . . .’ The SIO cut in. ‘I want a quick result from the crime scene investigators. Can you chase that up?’
‘Yes, guv.’
‘Anything you’d like to add, David?’
‘Only that, having had her hands burned once, we have no evidence to suggest that Justine tried it on a second time. The names on the list you are about to see were found in her address book. They correspond to entries in her diary. It’s crammed with telephone numbers, mostly men. Frankie has worked her socks off in preparation for this meeting. She’s had illuminating chats with one or two of them. This needs further investigation. Justine was a bit of a ladette on the sly. She liked to sleep around, got her kicks wherever she could find them. Any one of these men could potentially be the person we’re looking for.’ He uploaded the list on screen so everyone could see Frankie’s diligence in black and white . . .
Gary Hamilton (building contractor)
James Curtis (employer’s business partner)
Jan Eriksen (literary translator)
Marcus Shelby (restaurateur)
Robson Wise (solicitor)
Informant (subject to blackmail threats – eliminated)
Timothy Parker (current employer)
The list went on.
‘Sir,’ Frankie faced the SIO. ‘Of those listed, two are extremely significant: Timothy Parker, Justine’s current employer, and James Curtis, Parker’s business partner. Either one could’ve received a blackmail threat, though neither has made a complaint. Curtis worked out of the office on Wednesday and has no alibi as such. Parker was off work too – which gives them both means and opportunity – though in his case, his wife has given him an out. She claims they were both in the house at the time. How reliable that alibi is, we’re not sure.’
‘And the others?’
‘All have alibis apart from Wise and Hamilton. Wise met Justine in a pub in Stamfordham. He can’t account for his whereabouts at the time of her death. Hamilton had done remedial work on her annex shortly after she moved in. He’s the only manual worker among those on the list. Chronologically, he was her first northern conquest and she was still seeing him.’
A comment from the back. ‘She must’ve liked a bit of rough.’
Frankie gave the officer a disparaging look and carried on. ‘Justine rated her boyfriends in her diary. Gary scored a perfect ten, Parker eight, Curtis nine. Wise had a line crossed through him. She hasn’t seen him since March.’
‘Good work,’ Sharpe said. ‘Frankie, what do you propose to do next?’
‘That’s up to you and DI Stone, sir.’
‘Put some pressure on the four you’ve identified. Start with the locals first, but bear in mind that anyone on that list may have more to tell us. We make no move until we’re certain we have enough evidence to make an arrest and ultimately to charge.’ Sharpe extended his thanks to Andrea, Frankie and Stone for such a comprehensive update. ‘Final comments, DI Stone?’
Stone stood. ‘There seems little doubt that the IP’s death is in some way connected to a colourful private life.’ He jerked a thumb at the list on screen. ‘As you can all see, we have an informant who has since been eliminated from this enquiry. She is the wife of our blackmail victim. I intend to raise actions for everyone on that list. These men are now an absolute priority. Please bear in mind that those affected may not be willing to talk to us. It’s up to you and your interview technique as to how much information we obtain from them. I don’t care how long it takes. We need to know how many of her admirers experienced the nasty side of Justine Segal.’ The meeting disbanded.
38
Detectives had worked solidly for two days, the SIO requesting an extension of his budget to take account of the wide line of enquiry Stone and Frankie had uncovered and agreed to undertake on behalf of Northumbria’s Murder Investigation Team. Progress was painstakingly slow, but a picture was emerging of Justine’s private life. She was a woman who simply enjoyed sex with no strings. Between consenting adults, there was no law against it.
No evidence had come to light to suggest that she was doing anything other than having fun and Frankie began to wonder if threats to her former employer were true or merely a figment of Lady Knight’s overactive imagination. There was no doubt that her husband was in the air when Justine was struck down but Sir Geoffrey had point-blank refused to answer any questions. He declined to talk to Frankie and was rude when she got in touch, threatening to get his lawyer involved if she didn’t stop harassing him. His attitude created a dilemma for the police, who needed to corroborate his wife’s account, even though her evidence would be given under the radar. Although Lady Knight had agreed to have a word with her husband, Frankie had little faith that he would budge. Now his blackmailer was in the morgue, why would he?
Frankie took herself out for lunch, a short drive to the seaside town of Tynemouth. A brisk walk along the Longsands always did the trick; an opportunity to stretch her legs, important thinking time. This time Stone tagged along. They parked on the steep incline beside Crusoe’s Café and walked north towards Cullercoats, the spire of St George’s beautiful nineteenth-century church in the distance. They strolled along the shoreline in silence for a time, the sun warm on their backs, the thorny issue of Sir Geoffrey’s refusal to cooperate sticking with Frankie despite her surroundings. It wouldn’t surprise her if Lady Knight’s motivation to tell all was driven by an ulterior motive. Maybe divorce papers were pending, in which case her disclosure was bound to increase any financial settlement; if Sir Geoffrey shared his misdeeds with the police, his wife could prove adultery.
Stone patted a dog whose owner was trying to get him to come to heel. Frankie looked on as it bounded away, then turned her attention to her boss. ‘Can we compel Sir Geoffrey to tell us what he knows?’
‘No point, is there? Besides, you’re treating his wife as an informant—’
‘And if she withdraws her statement?’
‘We’ll worry about that when the time comes. You didn’t expect transparency, surely? Sir Geoffrey is no different from any of the other men we talked to. The married ones are bound to want to protect their relationships—’
‘Then they should keep it in their pants.’
The DI didn’t argue. ‘Anyway, what Lady Knight said is no more than a hint to Justine’s lifestyle. It points to a possible motive. When push comes to shove, we might not even use it. It would look bad for us if we blackened a victim’s name unnecessarily. Justine didn’t deserve a violent death, no matter how she got her kicks.’
Frankie wondered if David had ever been involved in a full-blown relationship, if a woman was his reason for moving south to join the Met. She’d had her moments with men. Never anything she could call serious, on the scale of Rae and Andrea for example, a relationship she’d watched develop from a deep and meaningful friendship. They were so well suited. Theirs was real commitment, the type Frankie was after, not some brief encounter she’d end up regretting a few months down the line.
Stone stopped walking when his mobile rang. As he went for his pocket, Frankie parked herself on a nearby rock, her face turned towards the blinding sun, the North Sea crashing to land behind her, a white foaming curl of power dissipating before vanishing into glistening sand. Stone was facing her, eyes on the horizon as he pressed to receive the call.
‘Stone.’
‘Detective Inspector David Stone?’ A female voice.
‘Who is this?’ He’d not answer to his name and rank without knowing who was on the line.
‘My name is Kathryn Tailford Irwin – Kat. I’d like to talk to you about my sister, Alex Parker.’
‘In that case, give me a few moments and I’ll call you.’
The DI hung up, telling Frankie who’d been in touch. He called the incident room. It was important to check this woman out, to establish that she was who she said she was. A crafty journalist might be playing games. As the English philosopher, Sir Francis Bacon, once said: knowledge is power.
The ringing tone stopped.
Stone identified himself. ‘I need the mobile number you have on file for Kathryn Tailford Irwin . . . no, I’ll hang on . . .’ The office clerk was back in seconds. As she reeled off the number, he checked it against the one recorded as the last to call his mobile. Satisfied that it was the same, he thanked the clerk and dialled Irwin’s number. As it rang out, he checked that no one was within hearing distance, beckoning Frankie closer. She shot to her feet, joining him as he tapped the loudspeaker so she could listen in.
‘This is DI Stone, Ms Irwin. Please go ahead.’
‘Thanks for returning my call, Detective Inspector.’
‘No problem. How can I help?’
‘I wouldn’t have troubled you if it hadn’t been important. I realise you must be extremely busy. The thing is . . .’ She paused. ‘This is delicate . . . Ali hasn’t been altogether honest with you.’
‘Ali is a pet name for your sister, I assume.’
‘Yes, sorry. I had a terrible lisp as a child. Ali slipped off the tongue and it stuck.’
‘In what way is she not being honest?’
Stone’s eyes met Frankie’s, a flicker of interest igniting into a full-blown fire. Secrets were gold to any detective. Informants prepared to break a confidence, even more so.
‘You may be aware that we were recently on holiday together in Majorca,’ Kat said. Stone confirmed that he was. He was beginning to lose the will to live and wished she’d get to the point. Finally, she did. ‘One night we’d had a bit to drink. Ali made a confession that, I must say, didn’t surprise me. She told me that when she was pregnant with her second child, she had her suspicions that Tim was cheating on her.’ She paused. ‘They lost the baby . . . I’m not sure if you knew.’
‘Yes, I did.’
Kat Irwin hadn’t taken a breath. ‘Ali blames Tim for it. She said the stress was too much. She was terribly upset when I suggested that he and Justine might be taking advantage, carrying on behind her back. As drunk as she was, she refused to believe it, never mind accept it, even though I could see her wavering.
‘And what was her response?’
‘She said I shouldn’t go making allegations without foundation.’
‘That’s good advice.’
‘Yes, well, can we speak off the record?’
Frankie was nodding frantically, keen for the next instalment.
‘Yes, of course,’ Stone said.
Again, the woman hesitated. ‘I have a friend who knows Parker intimately. He’s a serial philanderer, Inspector. I warned Ali not to marry him, but would she listen? I suppose she told you about the other gold-digger she fell for. Tim may be more suited to her class-wise. Believe me when I say he’s no different from Rob Scott, not really. I think Tim was at it with the housekeeper and I suspect he’s lying about the DMs he sent to Justine and the family who kept Daniel overnight. Not to put too fine a point on it, I believe that my brother-in-law is playing games. I think he made my nephew disappear to punish Ali for the death of their child. He clearly resents Daniel.’
‘Have you any proof of this?’
‘None.’
‘Then I’m afraid I can’t help. These are very serious allegations—’
‘I know . . . I also know how well-connected he is up there.’
‘I hope you’re not suggesting that he’ll receive preferential treatment, Ms Irwin, because I can assure you that his status is immaterial. We are running a murder enquiry. In case you are in any doubt, that means no holds barred, no turning a blind eye and no mercy if it turns out that Parker is responsible for Justine Segal’s death. Am I making myself clear?’
It seemed bizarre to have this damning a conversation in such surroundings. Frankie watched a couple of giggling kids race down the beach, their father chasing them into the water. One fell over and began to cry. The sea looked inviting but it was bloody cold.
Kat Irwin was back. ‘We have different priorities, Detective Inspector. Ali is mine. She may appear as if she’s coping but believe me when I say that she’s falling apart at the seams. She needs your help. I’d come up, but she won’t let me. Tim and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, I’ll admit that, but only because I know he’s not right for her. She’s afraid that my presence will make matters worse and neither of us wants that. To be honest, she’s been avoiding my calls.’
‘I’ll talk to her, Ms Irwin.’
‘Look, I know it sounds crazy – and I wouldn’t blame you for writing me off as a crank. I’m extremely worried. Tim is microdosing LSD. Who knows what it’s doing to him? I have a horrible feeling that he may be responsible for Justine’s death. Ali won’t thank me for dropping him in it but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t speak up and anything happened to her. And, in case you’re wondering, I’m mindful of the fact that what I said also gives her motive for Justine’s death. That’s a chance I’m prepared to take, Detective Inspector. I love my sister. I know her better than anyone. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m not so sure about Tim. I think Ali and Daniel need your protection.’
She hung up, her final words echoing in the detectives’ ears.
That meal Stone had offered Frankie was almost on the table.
39
‘David, hang on a minute!’ Frankie followed Stone off the beach and up the hill to their vehicle. ‘We should take Kat Irwin’s wild allegations with a pinch of salt. Far be it from me to defend her brother-in-law, but Justine didn’t stop working for the Knights until the week before Christmas, days before Alex was due to give birth. If Parker was having an affair, it must’ve been with someone else.’
‘Unless they were carrying on in London,’ Stone peered at her through his Oakley sunglasses. ‘Tim and Alex both have business in the south. They’re regular commuters to the capital. Justine told me she’d met neither before she came here. She could have been lying. Maybe it wasn’t the party city that drew her north, maybe it was Tim. I want you to study that diary forensically and find out exactly when she first mentioned him.’
‘I’m on it. But don’t you find it odd that Kat Irwin fingered her brother-in-law for Justine’s murder – and her own sister, for that matter? The woman sounds poisonous.’ Frankie raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘She has “a friend who knows him intimately” – well, we’ve all used that one. I don’t buy it, do you? OK, we know Parker was having an affair with Justine, but what if she’s not the only one he’s been taking to his bed?’ She let the implication hang a moment. ‘You said, he has business in the south. What if Kat Irwin was that business, or part of it? He certainly had the opportunity to be carrying on behind his wife’s back. If Kat was messing with him too and was dumped for the au pair, it also gives her motive.’
‘Make some enquiries, Frankie. We need to know her movements.’
Satisfied, Frankie climbed into the car.
Stone did likewise. Clicking his seat belt into place, he found reverse gear and pulled out of his spot to let a waiting beachcomber in. The female driver waved her thanks and threw him a beaming smile that gave Frankie the impression that she’d like to know him better. There were so many kids in the rear seat, the detective lost count.
As Stone’s car reach
ed the T-junction, Frankie’s mobile rang.
She swore. ‘Why is it always lunchtime when people want to talk?’ She struggled to get the device from her pocket and didn’t recognise the number. Curious to know the identity of the caller, she said, ‘Mind if I take this?’
‘No, you go ahead.’ Stone turned right, heading for Northern Command HQ.
‘DS Oliver?’ A male voice.
‘Who is this?’ Like Stone, Frankie never confirmed her identity to strangers.
‘It’s Gary Hamilton. We spoke the day before yesterday, about Justine Segal.’ He was the workman one of the guys back at base had called ‘a bit of rough.’
‘Aah,’ she said. ‘Your call is fortuitous. As it happens, I was about to give you a bell. I think it’s time we had another chat about where exactly you were on the afternoon of Wednesday, June twenty-second.’
She mimed the name Hamilton to Stone.
‘That’s why I’m ringing,’ Hamilton said. ‘Remember I told you I was grafting in Gretna that day?’ He sounded upbeat, excited almost.
Frankie readied herself for the alibi he’d had plenty of time to rehearse and hated herself for being so cynical. On the other hand, she didn’t want the suspect too relaxed. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my memory, Mr Hamilton. In fact, I have total recall. You told me it was an empty property and that you were working alone with not one witness to verify your whereabouts.’
‘I forgot, didn’t I?’
‘Forgot that you had someone working with you?’
‘No. I’d filled up at the Gulf petrol station. I found the receipt in my van this morning. That’s the God’s honest, I swear. Do you know the garage?’ He was too desperate to wait for her answer. ‘If you’re coming from the M6, take the first turning to Gretna, follow the signs to the Gateway Retail Outlet. You can’t miss it. It’s on the roundabout, Glasgow Road junction with the B721. I’m well-known in there. Ask anyone.’
‘With respect, Mr Hamilton, I need more than a till receipt. You could’ve asked a friend for a favour, picked it up off the roadside or many a thing. On its own, it doesn’t prove that you were miles away when someone was mowing down a defenceless woman on a lonely country road, does it?’
