by Deborah Lucy
Temple needed to put some space between him and Sloper. He didn’t want him to hear his conversation so he went outside and contacted Harker from his car.
‘The way I see it, Temple, and the way Simon sees it, is that James Ashton-Jones murdered his stepmother, hence his overdose,’ said Harker, in no mood to listen to Temple.
He’d given Temple a straightforward domestic to investigate and he was trying to string it out.
As far as Harker was concerned, the last few days had proved to him that he had been right to intervene in Temple’s recent application to join the Major Crime Investigation team. He was incompetent, thought Harker, congratulating himself at his foresight in the face of pressure to have deployed Sloper to watch Temple.
‘James lied about his whereabouts, he was at the scene at the material time and his attempt at suicide has succeeded. It was him,’ said Harker, impatient to end the call.
‘I don’t think it was him,’ countered Temple. ‘He had no motive I can think of …’
‘She was pregnant, Temple,’ said Harker, his voice starting to rise. ‘His own stepmother was carrying his child. That’s good enough a motive for me. He was seventeen years old. They were at it, having a bit of kinky sex and she decided to tell him she was pregnant and he lost it. Tell me that couldn’t have happened?’
‘It wasn’t him,’ Temple persisted. ‘I saw him, sat with him, talked to him, and yes, he was distressed but it wasn’t him. I don’t think he even knew she was pregnant and it was finding that out, I think, once she was dead, that sent him over the edge. Apparently he loved her. It was the burden of hiding his illicit affair with her and finding out that she was pregnant that pushed him over the edge, but he’s no killer. I’ve got an outstanding DNA profile at the moment—’
Harker cut in. He had had enough.
‘The outstanding profile merely tells you that she had sex with someone else that day. She had form for it. There was no sign of forced entry into the house, the boy would have been the last person to see her alive and he had access to the house. He lied, Temple. People do that. Murderers do that when they’re trying to cover their tracks. Men who say they love women, murder them. I want you to write up your policy book to this effect and close the inquiry. Go and see the husband and her father, tell them all we’ve found out and close it down. I’ll cancel the scene guard. I’ll give you a day to finalize things and then come and see me with your policy book and I’ll sign it off,’ instructed Harker.
Temple managed a curt, ‘Sir,’ in acknowledgement. Staring back at his phone in his hand, he had no intention of following his orders. He couldn’t. Harker wasn’t right.
Temple threw the phone onto the seat beside him in frustration. He needed to think.
He returned to the incident room at Marlborough and informed Kelly about Harker’s instruction to close down the inquiry. He told her of Maxwell’s disclosure of employing a private investigator.
‘Sloper starts in Swindon tomorrow. I don’t want to get you into any trouble so you’d better go back to your normal duties. I’m going to pursue the private investigator before I write anything further in the policy book. Above all, I don’t believe James Ashton-Jones was Greta’s killer. I can’t walk away until I’ve found out who the outstanding DNA profile belongs to,’ said Temple. As he spoke, his eyes looked at the photo of Greta on the whiteboard.
From all that Temple heard, Greta had been badly used by most of the men in her life. She was heavily insured with a husband who wanted a divorce. James Ashton-Jones being Greta’s murderer was a hypothesis, of course, but it just didn’t feel right. And if it wasn’t James, a murderer remained at large and he seemed to be the only one who cared about that. The least she was owed was to find out exactly who killed her.
Kelly’s inexperience left her undecided as to who was right, Temple or Harker. The statement she had taken from Felix Harmond-Fford and from the taxi driver saying that he had taken James home on the evening in question had made her feel as though her skills as an investigator had uncovered lies told by James to cover up the crime. But she could see that Temple was unconvinced and that the outstanding DNA profile was something he wasn’t going to leave. She was in no hurry to move off the inquiry; statement taking for burglaries and ABHs were waiting for her back at the office where she worked. There was no way she would rush back to that from a murder inquiry. Besides, she liked working with Temple, she was learning from him and gaining confidence in her own abilities. He didn’t seem to differentiate between her and detective colleagues, unlike those she normally worked alongside. And she’d heard that Sloper was off up to Swindon.
‘I’ll give you another couple of days, boss. It’ll take me all that time to tidy up here and start putting the file together for the CPS. If anyone asks, that’s what I’ll tell them I’m doing. Besides which, I’m still trying to work out Maxwell’s journey times. I’ve also booked another appointment with Caroline Black for tomorrow and Antonia Peronelli the day after.’
She showed Temple a list of dates and times.
‘Sloper told me that he spoke to BA and asked them if it was possible for a pilot to land at Singapore and take a flight back to the UK without showing on a manifest. According to them, it’s not possible for anyone to come into the country with them without it being known.’
‘I asked Special Branch to check other flights from Singapore for me, have they given that information back yet?’ asked Temple.
‘No, I’ll chase them for you.’ Kelly picked up the phone.
Deflated by his conversation with Harker, Temple left.
Driving through Harnham, Temple pulled up outside Dianna Forrester’s house. Kelly had been updating her on progress by phone but Temple knew it was time for him to pay a personal visit to inform her of developments. When she opened the door to him, the strain she was under was clearly etched in her face. She had obviously been doing much soul searching since they last spoke so Temple knew he would have to tread carefully in what he chose to disclose. However, although she looked fragile, she was steely in her questioning of him. Temple knew he couldn’t withhold information from her, so he sensitively outlined the facts so far, including what the psychiatrist had told him, Greta’s infidelities and the pregnancy.
‘It all just makes me feel so very sad,’ she said, tearfully. ‘But I should have done more, Inspector. At the time, I should have done more, listened more and done something about things.’
‘Teenagers can be very difficult, Mrs Forrester. In hindsight, we could all perhaps do things differently,’ said Temple, knowing that Greta’s death and the circumstances around it would stay with Dianna Forrester forever. He knew that she would spend the rest of her life replaying the events of Greta’s life in her mind, wondering if she had done this or said that, Greta’s life would have taken a different course. Finding that one thing that could have been done or said, at the right time, that would have made all the difference, something that would have caused a different outcome than the one she had. He looked back at her from across the table where they sat.
‘What I would like, Inspector, is to see some action taken against my former husband. I know there are things that I am to blame for, but I also know what I saw that day in his flat and, to my great regret now, I should have taken things further. I shouldn’t have been content to be rid of Greta as a teenage problem, I should have done more. I should have taken her away from that situation. I didn’t. If I had, who knows – she might not be dead now. No, I know she wouldn’t be dead now. She certainly wouldn’t have been so promiscuous. She was wilful and impressionable. Brett and I were like chalk and cheese and so were Greta and I. Why did I ever marry him in the first place?’ she asked of herself.
‘Do you know the answer to that, Mrs Forrester?’ asked Temple. He’d asked the question himself as he and Leigh were obviously so different.
‘I was in a similar situation to Greta, very strict parents and then when this handsome and, to my mind, sophisticated ma
n came along, he being a little older, I fell for him. Even back then he was charismatic and I was very easily seduced. To my shame, we had to get married,’ she whispered.
‘When you say you want action taken against him, what do you mean exactly?’ asked Temple.
‘What I want, Inspector, is to see him pay for what he did to Greta. I want him arrested. I want him imprisoned,’ she replied.
CHAPTER 33
IN THE MORNING, Temple contacted Adrian Coleman’s office. He was in a meeting but would ring back. After an hour passed, Temple’s impatience got the better of him. He rang again.
‘Mr Coleman is still in his meeting,’ said the receptionist.
‘I want you to interrupt him,’ said Temple. ‘This is an urgent matter and I need to speak to him. I’ll hold on while you get him to the phone.’
After a minute’s wait, Temple heard Adrian Coleman’s voice.
‘Mr Coleman, I’ve spoken again to Maxwell Ashton-Jones and he has disclosed to me that he engaged the services of a private investigator through your company. As a matter of some urgency, I need to know who the investigator was.’
‘I don’t actually know who it was. We outsource that sort of work,’ Coleman replied.
‘Well, I’ll need you to tell me who your contacts are, who you outsourced that out to,’ Temple told him.
‘I’ll look on the file and get back to you,’ offered Coleman, determined not to give any information to Temple on demand.
‘I can’t stress enough how urgent this is,’ said Temple, getting the feeling that Adrian Coleman was fucking him about, but he could do nothing else but wait for Coleman to return the call.
As he contemplated the action he would take if Coleman didn’t call him back within the next two hours, the phone rang. It was Coleman.
‘Looks like we engaged a firm called Dobson and Byrne.’
‘When you say “we”, what do you mean? Was it you personally?’ asked Temple.
‘Well, no, a member of our team. Maxwell would have given me the brief and I would have passed that on to a member of our team. We have a number of PI firms to choose from that we use on a fairly ad hoc basis. It saves us employing someone direct and keeping them on our books. The brief is then passed onto them and they get on with the job.’
‘And where are Dobson and Byrne?’ asked Temple.
‘In London,’ said Coleman brightly. He passed him back to the receptionist who gave him the contact details.
Temple rang the number provided.
‘Hello?’ a female voice answered.
‘Is that Dobson and Byrne?’ Temple asked.
‘We’re not in business anymore. Sorry,’ came the reply.
‘Wait,’ said Temple, sensing the phone was just about to be put down. ‘I need some information and you’re the only one who can give it to me.’
‘We’ve stopped trading, mate. The firm’s gone tits up,’ said the girl.
‘But you’re still answering the phone,’ said Temple.
‘I’m just here clearing out the office. There’s a lot of paperwork to get rid of,’ she said.
‘I just need to ask a couple of questions, do you think you could help me, please? It’s really important. Did you take on work from a company called Curtis Coleman?’ Temple asked.
‘Yeah,’ came the reply.
‘I understand that you provided them with the services of a private investigator.’
‘Yeah. Who are you, anyway?’
Temple had to think fast.
‘I work for the accounts department at Curtis Coleman and you may have some outstanding payments due.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ the woman said. Temple sensed that he now had her interest.
‘I’m particularly interested in a job started in November last year. It ran for six months but we’ll need the name of the investigator if we’re to release the payment. Can you tell me who it was, please?’
‘Um, I dunno.’ Temple could hear the rustle of papers. ‘I might have just shredded the papers I’d need in order to tell you that.’ Temple heard more rustling of papers. ‘I can’t find it. Can I ring you back?’
Temple gave the girl his mobile number and then slumped forward on the desk in frustration.
He looked at his watch – it was 12.30. He’d had a text from Daisy earlier, using her mother’s mobile. More often than not he ignored them, not wanting to encourage her, knowing he’d be bombarded if he replied but this time he texted back and agreed to take her out for an hour. He needed a break, needed some normality. Perhaps it would help her to be with him, too, he thought.
Half an hour later, Temple drew up outside the home he once shared with his family at Beckhampton. They’d chosen it because of its quiet location and setting, being largely hidden from view from the main road. It offered the peace and privacy Temple craved after a day at work. Looking at the house now, Temple knew he had to return there. Leigh was angry with him and he deserved it. But she also knew him. Knew him better than he knew himself. All that he wanted was in that house, he thought.
Seeing his car draw up from the window, Daisy ran out to meet him. Waving at Leigh in the doorway, she got into the car and strapped herself into the front seat. As Temple drove down the road, it was obvious she relished his company; as they chatted, he looked at her animation and it felt like old times. Temple felt instantly relaxed. As he experienced their closeness and realized how much he missed her, a sudden wall of tiredness hit him. At the temporary absence of having to constantly make decisions, the adrenalin of the last week faded away. It was replaced by happy elation as he looked at her by his side.
‘Daddy, no!’ Daisy shrieked suddenly.
Temple saw the rabbit in front of him and because Daisy was with him, he swerved the car to miss it, rather than drive straight on and hit it. The rabbit moved in the same direction, causing a rumble, as it fought the crush under the wheels. Daisy knew exactly what had happened and in a reflex action, she spun round in the front seat to see the vivid red carnage the wheels had left splattered across the road behind. She screamed hysterically.
‘Dais, he just ran out,’ shouted Temple, startled by the pitch of her cry, as he drove on. ‘It’s a wild rabbit, not like the one you’ve got, there’s thousands out here,’ he said, trying to reason.
‘It might not be dead! Stop, stop!’ she started to scream.
As he continued to try to placate her, to stop the high pitch of her screaming going through his head, he heard his mobile go off in his pocket.
‘I can’t stop. We’re not stopping, Dais, it just ran out,’ he shouted above her screams and the sound of his mobile.
Tears fell down Daisy’s cheeks as she cried loudly. Temple pulled over, his brief moment of tranquillity shattered. He put his arms around her; she was strangely inconsolable as she clung to him, her little body wracked with great tearful sobs. This was a Daisy he didn’t recognize and it shook him. He’d never seen her like this before. No matter what he said to try to console her, he failed. He knew this wasn’t about a dead rabbit, it was about the last eight months. He should be able to take her home now, go inside and be with her but he couldn’t. He’d broken that happiness and she’d been damaged in the process. He U-turned and stopped back outside the house.
‘You’ll have to go back in, Dais, go and see Mummy. We can’t go out with you being so upset,’ he said.
Daisy clung to him again, her arms locked round his neck. Refusing to let go, he had to prise her arms away. Tears streamed down her face.
‘Why can’t you live with us?’ Daisy sobbed.
‘Look, I’d love to live with you and Mummy again. You know that. But Mummy’s got someone else now,’ said Temple, trying to calm her down.
‘I don’t like Roger,’ she said, simply, her mouth now wet with her own tears.
Temple hated him. He hated everything about him. Couldn’t even bring himself to say his name. Hated the smug grin Roger Hunt gave to him when he turned up to see Daisy, as if he was s
uperior, the way he started to possessively put his arm around Leigh and his hand on Daisy, which she shrugged off. He hated the way Roger turned away from him when he was talking, deliberately, as if Temple bored him. His haircut, his shoes, his fucking black Chrysler 300 car parked on his drive. In Temple’s eyes, he was so fucking square. He knew Leigh and knew that he’d hurt her badly and that Roger was her revenge. She was using him to hurt him – and it worked. Living in his house, lying in his bed with Leigh – the house he still paid the mortgage on. Every time he saw him, he wanted to punch him.
Through gritted teeth, Temple asked Daisy, ‘He’s all right, isn’t he?’
‘I don’t like him, Daddy,’ she replied, quietly.
‘But why don’t you? He’s nice to you, isn’t he? Dais?’ Her red, wet eyes were cast down, glued to the foot well. She refused to look at him. He pressed her further. ‘Daisy?’
Temple’s mobile ringing again broke the silence between them. As he looked at it to determine the caller, Daisy took the opportunity to get out of the car. She ran to the front door which was opened for her by Leigh. On looking at her tearstained face as she pushed past her, Leigh looked out at Temple in the car, her face hard and angry. She went back inside.
As there was nothing more he could do, Temple drove back to the incident room.
Back in the office, Temple interrogated his phone; the only missed call had been from London, the woman at Dobson & Byrne had left a message saying she would call back. While he waited for the call Temple and Kelly went over the timings for James Ashton-Jones arriving at Bedwyn station and getting a taxi to Ramsbury again.
‘Thing is, boss,’ said Kelly, ‘if James did get to Wedwellow House that night, where did he go afterwards?’
Temple looked at the mobile data. There had been a call from James’s mobile to Jonathan at 23.58.
Temple’s mobile rang. It was Leigh. It had been two hours since he’d left Daisy.
