‘So, if there was something out of the ordinary, or someone out of the ordinary hanging around, that is definitely something you’d notice?’
‘Definitely. Why? Have I missed something?’ Margaret jolted forward and put her hands on the edge of the table.
‘Oh, no, nothing. I’m just trying to get an idea of your average shift at the desk.’
‘I’ve never been spoken to by the police before. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.’
‘There are no wrong things, only what you can remember. Take me through the check-in process.’
Margaret relaxed, about to talk about something familiar. ‘The guest comes in and gives their name. I check it against the reservation and photocopy their ID and debit card for the file and anything they want charged to their room. There’s an information leaflet I give them and I give them the key card for their room. That’s it. Oh, I tell them the times dinner and breakfast are served. That’s it.’
‘Is that what happened when Sheila arrived?’
‘Exactly that. It’s the same every time. Guests are normally so tired, they just want to take their keys and offload their luggage. Sometimes they’ll come back later and ask some questions.’
‘Did Sheila come back at all?
‘After checking her in, I didn’t speak to her again. She came, dropped her key card on the way out, but we didn’t speak.’
‘Did she call downstairs?’
‘No.’
‘Not to book a cab?’
‘No, a car came for her and, although it hadn’t waited long, she seemed in a rush to get into it. In the rooms there is an information leaflet asking the guests to arrange cabs through the hotel for security reasons. They have to buzz through the gate via the intercom and we’re not supposed to buzz through unknown vehicles.’
‘But on this occasion you did?’
‘Yes. A lot of our clients pay little attention to our rules and requests. The management policy on it tends to be, if it’s not an obvious risk, just let it through to avoid complaints.’
‘You mentioned most of your guests fit a certain type. Did Sheila fit that type?’ Sarah knew from the reaction of the couple on the CCTV that Sheila looked out of place at the Oxlaine. She wanted to find out exactly why.
‘No, no she did not. Well, not at first. A first impression is important. Look at this building. From the second you see the gate, you know you’re coming somewhere special, somewhere beautiful and opulent. The marble fountain is an original piece carved in Greece. There isn’t another like it in the world and most people walk past it as if it was nothing more than a fancy urinal.’ Dales coughed on his tea as Margaret spoke with genuine pride about her place of work. ‘The people who stay here are people who appreciate the finer details in life; they work hard and they look a certain way, because they are a certain way.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Sarah was bemused by such a strong opinion based on someone’s dress sense, someone who may well have just finished a long journey or simply didn’t feel the need to dress up. Margaret’s blue eyes narrowed and she retracted her head, as if preparing to spit out her next sentence.
‘She looked common.’
‘Common?’
‘You know what I mean. That’s probably not the right word to use, but it’s that certain look. You can tell when you see them.’
‘Let’s get rid of the label. Never mind your perception of her social class, what was your first impression?’ Margaret thought for a bit and just smiled back. ‘Okay. What did the couple behind her say?’
‘The old couple? They said that she looked like a dyke.’
The night-turn girl was next. She’d started work at eleven that night and worked until seven the next morning. Before Sarah had even asked about what had happened during her shift, she volunteered that, at around 04:40, someone was outside pressing the buzzer incessantly. She’d requested a name and room number via the intercom, but nobody replied. She saw a thin figure on the camera, but due to the angle couldn’t get a clear idea of her height. She didn’t see the person in the flesh, only through the real-time CCTV feed, and she called security when she realised whomever it was wasn’t going to stop buzzing. It was an out of the ordinary event; her shifts were normally trouble free. There had been a spate of break-ins in the car park a couple of months back that lasted around a week. She’d been on night turn then too and saw a couple of hooded figures running in between the vehicles, but that was it. They’d wanted to evade detection; this person wanted to get inside. She’d considered it was someone who may have lost their key card, or just wanted shelter from the rain, but given how persistent they were with the bell, she thought it best to call security. Oxlaine clientele are far too polite to press bells in that manner, she said.
The small swivel chairs were designed with smaller frames in mind. The night-turn security guard adjusted his seating position three times in the time it took Sarah to finish the introductions. She apologised and thanked him for staying on after his shift. His eyes were puffy, and his head drooped and lifted as if a weight hung from his chin that lightened whenever Sarah ended a sentence.
‘What happened when you went outside?’ She got straight to the point, not wanting to keep him up any longer than she had to. Questioning people that hadn’t had enough sleep soon became a roundabout of constant clarification and confusion, leaving both parties frustrated and no further on than when they started. It was illegal to interview suspects without a suitable rest period; witnesses were a different matter. The ability of a witness to provide accurate information was a judgement call for the officer, and each needed to be assessed on an individual basis. An elderly man woken in the night by a prowler or someone reporting a theft getting off a red-eye flight from Miami, those kinds of things may need to wait, but a young, six-foot-four security guard could probably push through the wall.
The door opened and before he had a chance to answer, in walked Valerie Goddard. ‘Stop. What are you doing interviewing my staff without my say-so?’
‘Ms Goddard, we arranged these interviews through Mr Semples,’ said Sarah, hoping to cut off the impending confrontation early.
‘Eric doesn’t own this hotel, I do. What are you asking?’
‘We're asking about their actions on the night Sheila died. We need to establish Sheila's final movements for the coroner's inquest.’
Valerie’s lips curled with disdain. ‘They didn’t do anything to that woman.’
‘They’re not under suspicion of anything.’
Mr Semples followed behind her. ‘Valerie, please.’ He put his hands on her shoulders and walked her out. She turned her head and glared at Sarah and Dales. ‘Sorry, she’s not taken all this too well.’
Sarah looked at Dales and thought it best to just continue. ‘Where were we? What happened when you went outside?’
‘I walked out and said, “Hey, what are you doing?” She started screaming at me, “I need to come in, I need to come in,” like this. I told her she couldn’t come in unless she had a room. She didn’t have one and just kept shouting, “You don’t understand, let me in let me in,” like this. I told her to leave, I said, “You have to leave now, this is private property, I will call the police.”
‘She kept shouting and jumping up and down, pointing to the hotel. I said, “Be quiet, people are sleeping,” like this and she started to cry. I told her to go away; it was raining and she was getting soaked. She was a pain, but I didn’t want her to come to harm, you know. The hotel is safe, but outside of the gates, a woman alone, you don’t know what could happen. I wanted to let her in, get her dry and call a cab, but my bosses, my bosses wouldn’t allow that. The guests here would not like strays coming into the hotel.
‘She sat on the fountain saying she needed to see Roxy. She spoke through her teeth, with real venom, you know, like this, “I need to see Roxy.” I didn’t hear her at first, the rain was heavy and I was on the steps, trying not to get wet. She looked down with her arms fol
ded; telling me she wasn’t going to move. I didn’t recognise the name; none of the staff are called Roxy and I called through to my colleague who checked the guest list. I told her there was no one here by that name and she had to go. She went nuts, shouting, “I need to see Roxy now. She’s up there,” and pointing to the hotel. I managed to calm her down; she was still crying, but wasn’t being aggressive and I offered to call her a cab if she went to the gates. That’s when she left.’
‘Remarkable communication skills,’ said Dales. The security guard swallowed hard.
Sarah continued. ‘Did you get a look at her face?’
‘Her face was covered the whole time, with a grey hood. She was white, I did not see her eyes, no more than her mouth. She kept pulling her hood down, having her head down, so I couldn’t see, like this. I am very tall and she was very short, so it was difficult to see.’
‘Her voice? Any accent?’
‘English. English accent, like you.’
‘What about her clothing? Was she wearing anything distinctive?’
‘A grey Nike hoody. Full grey and trainers. I don’t remember her trainers much. Her build was very slim, but she had large breasts, like this, the top hung off them.’ He put his hands out in front of his chest as if holding a beach ball.
‘Have you seen her before and would you recognise her again?’
‘No and no, I didn’t see her face.’
‘Right. Anything else we’ve not covered that you think may be relevant?’
‘No. I think she was just in the wrong place, or someone had told her the wrong thing, that’s all.’ Sarah wrapped up the interview, thanked him and let him leave to get some sleep.
‘A snobby receptionist and a security guard that can’t describe a face, but would take a good guess at a bra size. The prices aren’t the only thing putting me off this place. And, let’s not forget, likes to lie about his preferred methods of lawful ejection.’ Sarah put her notebook back in her bag.
‘I was wondering how you were going to handle that.’ Dales had stayed quiet throughout the interviews, which Sarah took as a sign she didn't miss any crucial details.
‘I wouldn’t have gained anything by calling them out. They’d have clammed up and the interviews would have become arguments. Ms Goddard’s behaviour was a little concerning.’
‘Must have been one of her episodes Semples referred to.’
‘She’s clearly not a well woman.’
They collected the footage from Gareth on the way out and asked Semples a few further questions. He confirmed no one called Roxy stayed there that night, or had in the past month, nor had anyone with any name that could reasonably be shortened to Roxy. There were a few Richards; in case the guard had misheard her saying ‘Ricky’ or ‘Richy.’ They took their contact details should they need to speak to them as the investigation progressed. The incident book was sparse. The hooded woman’s performance was the only recorded incident in the past three months and after flicking back two years in only a few pages, it was clear she wasn’t a regular visitor. Semples walked them to the door, apologising profusely for Ms Goddard’s interruption.
Nine
The Osbasten train station car park was far smaller than its demand required. It had a direct, albeit slow, line into London, a row of shops opposite and also housed Quick Cabs cars. The Quick Cabs office was a small hut to the side of the station’s main entrance and the waiting room was tiny, with blue frayed carpet and cold plastic seats.
The Hotcup coffee machine spluttered lukewarm brown liquid into a paper cup that Dales opted not to drink.
‘He’ll be about five minutes, just out on a job. Anything I need to know about it?’ The unkempt man behind the counter belched into his fist.
‘It’s about someone he picked up the other night.’ Sarah put her badge away, conscious the two men sitting behind her had started whispering the moment she identified herself. Osbasten wasn’t a police friendly town.
‘I’m the manager here, so if it’s a complaint about one of my drivers, I need to know about it.’ The assumption suggested he’d had a few visits from the police before.
‘No. Nothing like that.’
‘Okay. Well take a seat and he’ll be in in a bit.’
As Sarah sat down, the two men left. That was standard for this part of town. Police officers made people paranoid, especially people who were up to no good.
The cabbie arrived on time. The manager took them to the kitchen and hovered awkwardly for a few seconds before leaving them alone. The boss asked his driver to come and see him once he’d finished and gave him a stern look. There was nowhere to sit and Sarah chose to write with her notebook on her thigh, rather than place it on the unwashed surface next to the piles of plates and mugs.
‘I remember her. Blonde hair, pretty dress, about forty odd.’ The cabbie’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and put it back again.
‘Where did she want to go?’ Sarah shook her pen to free the ink.
‘She said Rhystown. Nowhere specific.’
‘Is that unusual?’
‘No. If customers have an odd address, somewhere difficult to find, down a cul-de-sac or something, they give the general direction and guide us in once we’re nearby.’ He had a clipped accent, South African maybe. ‘This was just Rhystown.’
‘What did she say when she got in?’
‘She said we have to rush because she was late and I asked her again where she was going. Again, she said Rhystown and she’d let me know when we got there.’
‘What did you talk about?’ Sarah was hoping that she'd given something away as part of a casual conversation. Something that would lead her to whoever sold her the drugs.
‘Not a lot. Before we got to the end of the drive, she received a phone call. I was about to turn left from Oxlaine Road, in the direction of Rhystown, but she said turn right. I explained that it wasn’t the right way, but she was adamant that we turned right.
‘She was reading the road names to whoever she was talking to and every so often she’d suggest a detour. All the while the meter was going up and the drive was taking longer. The route she wanted to go cost far more than taking the B roads straight onto the high street.’
‘Did she say anything else? Mention any names? Places?’
‘No, just read out where we were going and that was it. At the end of the call, she said, “See you soon, baby.”’
Sarah drew a basic sketch of the route he’d described. He confirmed it was accurate. The route had taken them in the complete opposite direction to Rhystown, then round in a loop through the country roads.
‘Where did you drop her?’
‘At the far end of the high street. Nowhere near the nightlife.’
‘Did she mention where her final destination was?’
‘No. You can bet she was heading into the town centre dressed like that. Rhystown women are always stepping out in that kind of get-up.’ The cabbie gave a disapproving look. It seemed Sheila couldn't impress no matter how she dressed.
‘Was that the last you saw of her?’
‘No. She asked for my card, for a lift later that night. I gave her my driver name as we don’t give out our real names. She called again in less than an hour. Around eight thirty, I can get the exact time from our records.’
‘Where from?’
‘Same spot. Said she wasn’t feeling well and needed to get back. In a hell of an emotional state, kept saying, “People never fucking change.” Between you and me, she may have taken something too. Her eyes were all over the place, she couldn’t sit still in the back of the cab. I offered to take her to hospital, but she refused. Kept talking about her necklace.’
‘Did she have her necklace on when you picked her up?’
‘No. She said, “I gave her my necklace, but she doesn’t care about anyone but herself.” She kept mumbling after that. Didn’t get another sensible word out of her.’
‘What about the route home? Same diversions as on th
e way there?’
‘No, she wanted the shortest route possible. Good thing too as I didn’t want her chucking up in my car.’
Dales left the kitchen to take a call, whilst Sarah wrapped up their conversation. Sarah took a copy of the job records on the way out and reassured the manager his employee wasn’t in any trouble.
Dales leant on the bonnet of the car and lit a cigarette. ‘Drugs packaging results are in.’
‘Come on, out with it. You’re not a game show host.’ Sarah threw her bag and book on the back seat of the Getz.
‘One unidentified profile.’
‘Chances are that’s Sheila’s.’
‘Wouldn’t be surprised. What do you think of Sheila’s detours?’ Ash fell to the floor from Dales' cigarette and he stamped it out.
‘ANPR cameras? The route he described takes her around our northernmost camera. Whoever was on the other end of that phone knew any car going past it would be snapped. I guess that’s one covert camera that isn’t so covert anymore.’
‘Odd to worry about being photographed in a taxi.’
‘Especially sitting in the back.’
Automatic Number Plate Recognition cameras were placed at various strategic points around the county. The cameras took pictures of vehicle numberplates and searched them via the police database. Should the ANPR camera snap a vehicle that has been flagged for suspicious activity, it would alert officers to its location and a unit would be dispatched. It also allowed officers to search for a number plate to determine whether that vehicle had driven past a camera and at what time.
‘Well, one thing we do know is those fixed ANPR cameras are impossible to differentiate from a normal speed camera. An average member of the public wouldn’t spot it; the average criminal wouldn’t either. Whoever was on the other end of that phone really knows their stuff.’
‘Looks like you’ve got one of your own now.’
Sarah looked up at Joel whilst continuing to type her updates on the Hargreaves case. He held up a brown envelope with Mobile Phone Unit written in black marker across the top. He looked through the bundle of envelopes and green case files in his hand. ‘No other post for you. Hargreaves?’
Death's Privilege Page 6
