Devil in the Detail

by A. J. Cross

  More than an hour later, Watts was looking at her. She hadn’t spoken since Jones brought her in.

  ‘What happened?’

  She didn’t look at him. ‘That’s my business.’

  ‘It’s mine because when I couldn’t reach you, I had to send Jones to fetch you, plus, I want to know how you’ve ended up with no phone, no keys and no car.’ He watched her put her fingers to her lips to steady them. ‘I’ve sent officers I can’t spare to your place to organize a change of lock, and I’ve got Jones and Reynolds out looking around your area for your car. Come on!’

  ‘Did I ask you to involve them in my private life?’ She turned her face from him.

  Her last few words caused Watts a rush of impatience. ‘Idiot celebs rant on about “private lives”. What you are is a cop who looks to me like she’s been conned.’

  She still wasn’t meeting his eyes, looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. When asked, Jones had given him a brief account of the previous evening, including Judd sitting at the bar talking to an unknown male.

  ‘I know you left that club with a—’

  ‘I’m not talking about it!’

  ‘Jones has.’

  She stared at him, flared, ‘He had no right!’

  ‘He had every right as a responsible colleague.’ His phone rang. He snatched it up. ‘Where?’ He nodded, his eyes on Judd. ‘Bring it here. Careful how you handle it.’ He ended the call.

  ‘They’ve found your car three streets from your place, keys inside.’

  She covered her face with her hands.

  ‘What were you thinking, to get yourself in a fix like this?’

  Not expecting a response, he headed for the kettle and busied himself. This was way beyond his job description and his personal experience. Things had changed since his daughter was Judd’s age and what he knew of his daughter’s escapades had probably been sanitized for his benefit by her mother. He poured boiling water on to coffee, added three spoons of sugar and brought it back to the table. Placing it next to her, he saw the smallness of her. He reached out and let his hand drop. ‘Drink.’

  ‘My head’s splitting.’

  He went to his side of the table, moved files around, found what he was looking for. ‘Here.’ She reached for the paracetamols. ‘As soon as they get back with your car, I’ll ask Adam to give it a good going over for prints.’

  She looked away. ‘Another person who’s going to know all about it.’

  ‘No. You’re the only one who knows all the details. I’m not asking and neither should they. You’re sure you don’t want to report it?’

  ‘I told you already, no.’

  ‘Stay there. Drink your coffee. When your car’s been fully processed and you’ve got your new key, take the rest of the day off.’

  Not seeing a scrap of colour in her face, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of chocolate biscuits. ‘You don’t feel sick?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Eat these. You look as though you could do with something quick.’

  She took them. ‘Everybody’s going to know about it,’ she whispered.

  ‘They’ll know about your stuff being stolen. That’s all.’

  He watched her open the packet and bite off a small piece of the biscuit. ‘In case it’s slipped your mind, we’ve got a job to do. I want you back here tomorrow morning at ten.’

  He still had questions but he knew he wouldn’t get any answers from Judd. No matter. He knew of another possible source of information which might provide them.

  NINETEEN

  Monday 17 December. 9.50 a.m.

  Watts looked up as his office door opened. It was Adam. Like everybody else here, he looked tired. ‘All right?’

  ‘I’ve done a thorough check of Chloe’s car for prints. No hits.’ He sat on the edge of the table. ‘On the Lawrence investigation, remember I said I’d test the gun for prints?’

  ‘Yes, and?’

  ‘Not good news. Only one that’s incomplete and unclear, which doesn’t give us much to work with. I’ll ask Dr Chong if she thinks Supergluing it might help. I’ll also test the gun for DNA. Keep you posted.’

  He walked to the door, passing Judd on the way inside.

  Watts tracked her, thinking she looked better than she had the previous day. Not bad at all, in fact. He still felt the need for some testing of the waters.

  ‘How’s things?’

  She tugged smartly at the bottom edge of her jacket. ‘Fine. A new day, and all that crap.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Traffic’s bad. We need to get going.’

  They were waiting in silence inside Molly Lawrence’s sitting room. They stood as she came in and closed the door, Judd’s silent appraisal echoing what Traynor had told them: she had lost weight. She sat opposite them, violet shadows beneath her eyes.

  ‘My mother is in the kitchen,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t want her hearing what’s said. I don’t know what I’d do without her here, but we’re so busy looking after each other it’s exhausting both of us.’

  Watts said, ‘You’ve already met PC Chloe Judd.’

  Molly gave a faint smile. ‘Yes. I remember.’

  ‘I’m Detective Inspector Bernard Watts and I’m in charge of the investigation.’ She gazed at him in silence. ‘How are you feeling, generally?’

  ‘I’m getting there. You have some news?’

  ‘Yes. We’ve recovered the gun.’

  She half-stood, her eyes starting to roll. On his feet, he took her by her upper arms and lowered her to the sofa, thinking how light she was. She took a couple of breaths.

  ‘I’m OK … really, I’m all right.’

  ‘Shall I get your mother?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Where was it? The gun?’

  ‘That’s something I can’t divulge, just now.’

  She hung her head, the heavy curtain of hair falling around her face. ‘I just can’t … it’s so senseless. I, Mike … we never hurt anybody.’

  Watts waited, seeing anxiety on Judd’s face. He took a card from his jacket pocket, held it out. ‘Mrs Lawrence, I understand this is a difficult time but I want you to know that we really appreciate you talking to Dr Traynor, but if anything at all occurs to you in the meantime, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem, call me on one of those numbers.’

  She looked at the card then up at Watts. ‘You’re hoping I’ll suddenly come up with something which explains the inexplicable?’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll never make sense of what’s happened.’ She took a breath. ‘And, if I did, what would change for me? I’d still be here, alone, frightened. The whole thing is just … senseless.’

  Watts glanced at Judd. She sat forward. ‘Molly, everyone on this investigation is committed to finding whoever did this, but we need information to do it.’

  ‘I know, and I trust Dr Traynor. I want to see him again, although he seemed very disappointed after his last visit.’

  Watts was surprised. In his experience, the Mona Lisa and the sphynx were an easier read than Traynor. ‘I’ll let him know you want to see him. If you’d prefer, you can meet at headquarters.’

  She looked away. ‘I’m … Sorry, but I’m not up to going out.’

  ‘We’ll provide transportation if it makes it easier for you?’

  He watched tears start to flow.

  ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

  Judd reached out, put her hand on her arm. ‘Can I get you something?’

  She looked at Judd, as if remembering that she was there. ‘There’s some medication the hospital gave me … It’s upstairs in the bathroom. Second door on the right.’

  Leaving the room, Judd went quickly upstairs, past the open door of the first room on the right. A quick glance inside the otherwise bare room halted her. A single item was standing in one corner covered by a delicately crocheted pink-and-blue blanket.

  Continuing on to the bathroom, she located the medication, came downstairs and headed t
o the kitchen. It was warm. Smelled of baking. Molly Lawrence’s mother was at the sink. She turned as Judd came inside.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but Molly needs a glass of water.’

  The woman quickly filled a glass, brought it to Judd. ‘Is she all right? Is she feeling unwell again?’

  Judd held up the pack of pills. ‘She asked me to get these for her. We’re almost finished.’ Judd took the glass and returned to the sitting room, hearing Molly’s low voice.

  ‘The hospital has been wonderful. They’ve offered to hold a little service.’ She took the water and medication from Judd. ‘Mike and I hadn’t discussed names.’ She looked up, eyes huge in her pale face. ‘I don’t know what to do. If I agree to a service, I think I might have to provide a name but I can’t do that. I don’t even know if I could be part of any of it.’ She looked close to exhaustion.

  Watts stood. ‘Molly, it’s not my place to advise you on that, except that maybe your mother has a view on it.’

  She got to her feet. ‘Tell Dr Traynor that I know I have to talk. That you need help to … sort this out.’

  They came out of the room, Judd quietly closing the door. Molly’s mother was waiting in the hallway, her voice low.

  ‘Did she mention the baby at all?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Watts.

  ‘She did? That’s the first time. I can’t get her to talk to me. I think she’s trying to protect me and I’m doing the same with her so it’s a bit hopeless between us at the moment.’

  ‘What about Mr Lawrence’s family?’ Judd asked. ‘Might they help?’

  ‘They’ve invited us to their house. They’re nice people. There’s a lot of them so it feels a bit full on for us, if you know what I mean, but we’ve said we’ll go. I think it’s better we go there. That way, if Molly finds it too upsetting, we can leave.’

  She opened the door and they stepped outside into frigid December air. ‘I asked Molly if she’d like me to phone one or two of her work colleagues and invite them to come here, but she said no. There’s another worry. She’s very reluctant to leave the house.’

  Watts drove, picking up muted sounds from the passenger seat. He opened the glove compartment and handed Judd a pack of tissues. ‘You can’t do this, you know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Let a case get to you.’

  ‘I was fine till I saw it.’

  He gave her a quick glance. ‘Saw what?’

  ‘A baby buggy. In one of the upstairs rooms. Brand new. Labels still on it. Molly Lawrence is right. It’s senseless.’

  Watts understood what she was saying. He understood the emotion. After years in the job, some cases you didn’t forget. The families. The victims. Some well-off. Others poor. Old. Young. Judd had had a rough couple of days, but he wasn’t about to reinforce her feelings.

  ‘What we provide in situations like this is sympathetic, calm efficiency. It’s what victims and families need and expect. They need to see us as strong, determined. It’s a big ask but it’s not me doing the asking. It’s what the job’s about. Keep focused on your responsibilities as an officer.’

  He pulled into headquarters’ car park. ‘Take an hour. Get yourself a coffee.’

  He watched her go, the word ‘senseless’ echoing inside his head. He had hoped that by talking to Molly Lawrence he might get a sense of whatever it was that Traynor had said she might be holding back. He hadn’t. Heading for the building, he recalled her asking where the gun had been found. ‘If I had a pound for every unanticipated question asked by traumatized victim-witnesses …’ He shook his head. It was Traynor’s job to establish whether Molly Lawrence really was holding on to information. Right now, with Judd elsewhere, there was something Watts had to do.

  He came inside, went directly to reception, eyeing the front counter staff. ‘Candace Jackson.’

  She stopped chatting, looked up at him, her smile fading.

  ‘My office.’

  She followed him as he headed to it and opened the door. Her face told him she had at least an idea what this was about. ‘Sit.’

  He took a seat on the other side of the table. ‘What happened at the staff Christmas do?’

  Her eyes drifted away from his. ‘I don’t know what you mean by what happened—?’

  He pointed at her. ‘You know what I’m talking about. You let your mouth rule your head and decided to tell somebody all about one of the officers here. One of mine!’ He took a breath, reminded himself to watch his tone. ‘A complete stranger by the name of “Sean”. Unless he’s somebody you know—’

  ‘I don’t!’

  He stared at her. ‘I can’t decide whether that makes what you did worse, but right now I want to know what he said to you to set the ball rolling.’ He waited. ‘Come on!’

  She bowed her head, shrugged. ‘He just came up to me. Offered to buy me a drink. He told me he worked in a BMW showroom and we talked about that.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He asked what I did, and I told him and … he seemed really interested.’ Her head dipped further.

  ‘So, you filled him in on your colleagues, including Chloe Judd. You know that’s something we don’t do.’

  ‘Sarge.’

  ‘So why did you do it?’

  She gave him a look. He was taken aback by the sudden anger in it ‘I’ll tell you why. I’m thirty-three, feel like I’m forty, and I can’t go swanning about like I’m on some professional fast-track!’

  ‘You lost me when you said you’re thirty-three.’

  ‘I’m talking about Judd! She’s, what, nineteen, twenty? She’s got no ties, she’s trappy, full of herself, been here no time and now she’s part of your investigative team and earning more than I am!’

  He absorbed her words. ‘And that’s why you gave a stranger confidential information about her?’

  She gave him a defiant look. ‘I work hard at my job here—’

  ‘Which is what you’re paid to do.’

  ‘But all I hear is how well she’s doing.’ She pointed at herself. ‘I’d like a career but I’ve got two kids. I’m a single parent on less than half of what she’s earning and that night out was the first I’ve had in eight months! Plus, she’s after Dr Devenish because she knows his family is well off—’

  ‘It sounds like Judd isn’t the only one who knows that. It’s still none of your business.’ He waited for her to say something. She didn’t. ‘You resent Chloe Judd because she hasn’t got your problems.’

  She looked away, tears coursing down her cheeks. ‘It wasn’t something I set out to do. It just … happened.’ She looked up at him. ‘I heard she got robbed. I’m sorry.’

  He sighed. ‘You know this is a disciplinary—’

  ‘No, please.’ She stared at him and whispered, ‘I need this job.’

  He stood. ‘I don’t want to hear another word about bad feelings between you and Judd. Now, get back to work.’ She got up, brushing her face with her hands and headed for the door. ‘If anybody asks you what this discussion was about, have a quick and realistic response ready.’

  He watched the door close on her. If he made this a disciplinary issue, Brophy would be all over it. Everyone here would know the full story or, more likely, stitch it together. He recalled something Judd had said a while ago about Jackson. Something critical, unflattering. They both seemed to have negative views of each other, but Judd was young. He might have expected more insight from Jackson. He shook his head. As an officer, he knew what was expected of him, but officially reprimanding Jackson was similar to pursuing and identifying ‘Sean’, the posh car salesman, or whatever else he was. How would that benefit either Judd or Jackson?

  3.30 p.m.

  Watts came inside the incident room and headed for Miller. ‘Anything I should know?’

  She rolled down her screen and pointed. ‘Jones and Kumar have met with community leaders to discuss and reassure re the current number of feet on the street. For the last two hours they and the other officers yo
u sent have been talking to residents but so far nothing of interest to report, Sarge.’

  Traynor was searching the Smartboard screens. ‘How did Mrs Lawrence respond to news of the gun?’

  ‘Knocked sideways, but she more or less managed to hold it together.’

  ‘Did she say anything about that?’

  ‘Only to ask where it was found. She says she wants to talk to you again. Do you still think she’s withholding?’

  ‘It’s a strong possibility.’

  Watts studied him. ‘Are you disappointed at the way it’s going with her?’

  Traynor looked up. ‘Disappointment doesn’t enter into it. This is Molly Lawrence’s tragedy. My role is to assist her to move from a fragmented account to one which is sufficiently coherent to assist this investigation. It could also help her to move on with her life. Why do you ask about my disappointment?’

  ‘Just saying,’ he said, thinking that Judd’s way of talking was infectious.

  ‘How was she?’ asked Traynor.

  ‘Probably much the same as when you saw her.’

  Traynor reached for his phone and scrolled through it. ‘I’ll see her at her home again. Unless she suggests otherwise.’

  ‘Home still seems to be her preference. Make it pronto. Brophy’s leash is at breaking point. He wants action.’

  ‘You’re planning to talk to people who know her and knew Michael?’

  ‘Yes.’ Watts waited. ‘Something on your mind?’

  Traynor looked at him. ‘There is. I’m a hundred per cent sure that whoever shot the Lawrences has zero connection to the November carjackings.’

  Watts dropped his coat on the back of his chair, sensing something unsaid. ‘Come on, Will. Drop the other shoe.’

  ‘You need to send officers to question everybody they find within a one-mile radius of the Lawrence crime scene.’

  Watts stared up at him. ‘That would take them to the inner city and the Bristol Road. More feet on the street and Brophy’s demanding a softly-softly approach so as not to rile the locals. Give me a reason to do that.’

  Silence built between them, broken by Traynor. ‘Motive is key for any investigation. I can’t recall a case in which there’s been such confusion, such delay in identifying it.’ He sat, his eyes intent on Watts. ‘This was no carjacking gone wrong. My analysis of the gunman’s behaviour says not. I’ve re-evaluated the “execution” theory. Yes, it has one or two associated features: Mike Lawrence killed at close range, shot in the head, which suggests that he was the planned target, but execution-style killings usually occur when the victim is alone. And why Mike Lawrence? I’ve heard nothing about him which indicates that he caused big problems for anybody. Not sufficiently big to have him killed.’