by James Carol
‘So I guess you just happened to pick this address out of thin air,’ Freeman said. ‘Out of all the homes in the city you somehow ended up in this one.’
‘Something like that,’ Anderton replied.
‘Don’t be cute, Laura. Right now, I’m searching hard for a good reason not to arrest you.’
‘Then let me help you out, Peter. How will it look if it gets out that we discovered where Gifford lived before you did? There’s only two of us. How many people have you got working on this? That’s not going to play out well in the media, is it? You want to talk about incompetence, there’s your definition right there.’
Freeman’s face was turning red. He was managing to hold on to his temper, but only just. ‘You must have had an idea of what you were walking into.’
‘Not at first.’
‘But at some point it became evident that William Gifford was the killer.’
‘It did. And that was the point when I called your cell phone. If you don’t believe me check your voicemail.’
‘And that’s when you should have got the hell out of the house.’
‘Since we were already inside it made sense to get as much information as possible. I figured that you’d want to be fully apprised of the situation. Both myself and Winter are experienced investigators, so I couldn’t see how this would cause a problem.’
‘I’m sure you couldn’t.’
Anderton glanced at her watch. ‘I’m not busy for the next five minutes. Maybe I can apprise you now. Does that work for you?’
‘That would be the least you could do.’
‘Before you get into that,’ said Winter. ‘I’ve got a quick question.’
Freeman turned and glared. Winter took this as his cue to ask away.
‘Have you got a copy of Gifford’s passport photograph yet? Or his driver’s licence picture?’
‘You’re joking, right?’
‘No.’
Freeman shook his head. ‘Unbelievable,’ he muttered to himself.
‘If you do get hold of it, we’d like to see it.’
Winter turned and started walking down the street in the direction of the old woman’s house. He’d only taken four steps when he heard footsteps behind him on the sidewalk. Two steps later Jefferies was alongside him.
‘I’m assuming that you’ve been tasked with keeping an eye on me,’ Winter said. He was talking in a low voice and staring straight ahead.
‘My orders are to watch you like a hawk.’ Jefferies was staring straight ahead too, and talking in a tone of voice that was every bit as low.
‘I know that you’re working with Anderton,’ Winter whispered.
Jefferies hesitated for a moment. There were a whole load of trust issues at play here. The question at the forefront of his mind was clearly, ‘Friend or foe?’
‘It’s a reciprocal arrangement,’ he said eventually. ‘Anderton is one of the best detectives I know, and this case is one of the most challenging I’ve ever seen. We need her on this. If you ask me, she should never have been cut loose. And for such a bullshit reason, too. It was like everyone lost their senses for a moment. By the time they got them back it was too late.’
‘We need a copy of Gifford’s picture.’
‘No, what you need to do is get Anderton to check her cell phone more regularly. I’ve already sent his passport photo through.’
They stopped in front of the old woman’s house. She was still in her lawn chair. Her focus had changed, though. Instead of watching what was happening further along the street, her attention was now fixed on Winter and Jefferies.
‘Are you coming, or waiting here?’ Winter asked.
Jefferies looked over his shoulder. Anderton and Freeman were talking. At a casual glance it appeared that they were being civilised enough, but look a little closer and it was a different story. Freeman was just about keeping his rage in check, while Anderton looked like she might actually be enjoying herself.
‘Like I said, my orders are to watch you like a hawk, so I guess I’m tagging along.’
‘I’m handling the questions.’
‘Fine by me.’
52
Winter walked along the path then cut across the lawn to where the old woman had set up camp. She had her hand on her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun and was tracking their progress. They stopped in front of her. There were ridges and wrinkles etched into her ancient face. The backs of her bony hands were covered with liver spots. She had to be at least ninety. Her dress was faded from too many turns through the washing machine, but her sunhat looked new. It was made from straw and had a bright yellow ribbon tied around it. Her wedding ring was so dirty and scratched it appeared black rather than gold. She tilted her head and looked up at Winter. Her eyes were bright. Eyes that didn’t miss a trick. There was a small table next to her chair. A jug of iced tea was set on top of it. Her glass was half full and there was a yellow straw sticking out of it.
‘So, did he kill his wife?’ she asked.
‘What makes you say that?’ Winter asked back.
She let out a burst of laughter that sounded more like a witch’s cackle. ‘Because it’s the quiet ones you have to watch, ain’t that right? At least, that’s the way it seems on TV. Do you watch CSI? I love CSI. I never miss an episode.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Mary-Kate Franklin. And what’s up with the white hair? Did you see a ghost or something?’
‘If by “something”, you mean a faulty bit of DNA, then I’d have to go with the something.’
She gave him the look. At least she tried to. The sun was behind him and making her squint.
‘What was your impression of Mr Gifford?’ he asked.
‘Well, he was always polite enough, but they say that as well, don’t they? It’s always the quiet, polite ones. Am I wrong?’
‘No, Mrs Franklin, you’re not wrong.’
‘You know something, I like you, young man. You’re very polite.’
‘I’m quiet, too.’
She let loose with another burst of witchy laughter, then said, ‘You think he killed her, don’t you?’
‘Nobody’s saying that anyone is dead, Mrs Franklin.’
‘Oh, she’s dead all right. You know, I always wondered what happened. One day she was there, the next she wasn’t. It was suspicious, that’s for sure. Mr Gifford said that they’d split up and she’d moved out, but I always had my doubts.’
Winter took out the photograph that he’d stolen from the attic and unfolded it. He held it in front of Mrs Franklin. She squinted, then started making impatient grabbing motions with her fingers. Winter handed it over.
‘Do you recognise this woman?’
‘Of course I do. That’s Mrs Gifford.’
There was no hesitation. No doubt whatsoever. She handed back the photograph and Winter folded it into his jeans pocket.
‘What was her first name?’
‘Cathy.’
‘And what was she like?’
‘Quiet as a church mouse.’
‘Scared quiet?’ he suggested.
‘No, more shy quiet. I always had to ask her to speak up. My hearing’s not as good as it once was.’
‘Did you see her much?’
‘Most days. She always asked about my garden. I got the impression she was lonely.’
‘How come?’
‘Because I never saw any of her friends or family visit. She didn’t work, either.’
‘You know for a fact that she didn’t have a job?’
‘Of course I know that for a fact. I wouldn’t be telling you otherwise. I once asked her what she did for a living. This was back when she first moved in. She told me that she did the accounts and bookings for her husband. He’s a photographer, you know. He does weddings.’
‘You mentioned that Mr Gifford was quiet too. What sort of quiet was he?’
Mrs Franklin leant forward and picked up her glass. She wedged the straw between her lips and to
ok a long, slurping sip. ‘Heavens, where are my manners? Can I get you gentleman a drink?’
‘We’re good, thanks.’
‘Are you sure? It wouldn’t be any trouble. And I make a pretty mean ice tea, even if I do say so myself.’
‘I’m sure, but thanks for the offer.’
Mrs Franklin took another sip and put the glass back down. ‘You were asking about Mr Gifford.’
Winter nodded. ‘I wanted to know what sort of quiet he was.’
‘Actually, he wasn’t that quiet. I’m not saying that he was the life and soul of the party, but he was no shrinking violet, either. Not like Mrs Gifford. He was really quite charming, and not in a sleazy way. He could be funny, too. He was good at putting you at ease. Which makes sense, given his job. He’d need to put people at ease there.’
Mrs Franklin went quiet. A troubled expression flitted briefly across her face and then she was smiling again.
‘You just thought of something,’ Winter said gently. ‘What was it?’
‘I was just thinking about this one time when I was talking to Mrs Gifford, and Mr Gifford was there, too. This must have been about four years ago. I was upset because one of my friends had died. What I remember is the way that Mr Gifford was looking at me. He was just staring like he’d never seen a woman cry before. It was only for a second or two, but it made me feel uncomfortable. And then he was back to normal, trying to cheer me up. You know, I haven’t thought about that in ages.’
‘Did anything like that ever happen again?’
‘No, it was just that once.’
‘How long did the Giffords live here?’
‘It’s got to be six or seven years. Maybe a bit longer. They moved in after they got married.’
‘And when did Mrs Gifford move out?’
Mrs Franklin sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Now there’s a question. It wasn’t the year before last. I know that for a fact because that was when my Bertie passed.’ She stopped talking and smiled at a secret memory. A good one by the looks of things. ‘It was the year before that. Definitely the year before. I remember because 2012 was the year we went on a cruise. It was our diamond anniversary. Sixty years, can you believe that? Anyway, that was the last vacation we took together.’
‘When was your anniversary?’
‘June 16.’
‘Did Mrs Gifford move out before or after your cruise?’
‘It was the week before. I remember because I was busy packing when the moving truck arrived.’
‘And you didn’t see Mrs Gifford while the movers were there?’
‘Or Mr Gifford. The movers did everything. We thought that they must have sold their house, which was strange because we hadn’t seen any For Sale signs. Of course, the reason we didn’t see any signs was because the house hadn’t been sold. But we only realised that when we saw that Mr Gifford was still living there.’
‘If you thought that he’d murdered his wife, why didn’t you go to the police?’
‘I wanted to, but Bertie talked me out of it. He was always telling me to mind my own business. He used to say that I had too much imagination for my own good, and he was probably right. Anyway, a couple of months pass and the police haven’t turned up to arrest Mr Gifford, so I start to think that maybe Mrs Gifford has just moved out. And then Bertie’s cancer came back and I was too busy dealing with that to worry about what was happening further along the street.’
‘When did you last see Mr Gifford?’
She sucked another sharp breath through her teeth. ‘Some time yesterday, but I’m not sure when. Maybe the evening.’
‘You haven’t seen him today?’
Mrs Franklin answered with a definite shake of the head. ‘No, I haven’t. His car was gone when I woke up. I figured he must have had an early appointment somewhere. Of course, I’m thinking different now.’
‘What sort of car does he drive?’
‘A Ford. I’m not sure of the model but it’s an SUV.’
Winter smiled. ‘Thanks for your help, Mrs Franklin.’
‘My pleasure. Are you sure I can’t tempt you to a glass of iced tea? It’s another hot one today.’
‘Much as I’m tempted, I’m going to have to pass. But thanks for the offer.’
Winter walked back across the lawn to the path. Jefferies was beside him, matching his pace stride for stride. Neither spoke until they reached the sidewalk. A little further on up the street, Anderton was still talking to Freeman. Judging by the body language, things were winding up.
‘I’ve got to ask,’ Jefferies said. ‘Where did you get that photograph from?’
‘Which photograph?’
Jefferies smiled. ‘You know what I’m talking about. The one that’s in the back pocket of your jeans.’
‘Oh, that one. I found it.’
‘Just like you found Kirchner’s laptop.’
‘Like I already told you, I don’t know anything about that.’
‘Of course you don’t. And I don’t suppose you know how it managed to turn up at headquarters this morning. It was sent special delivery, by the way. And it was wrapped in bubble wrap. Whoever sent it wanted to make sure that it got to us in one piece.’
Winter smiled. ‘I’ve got no idea how that might have happened.’
‘According to our computer people, whoever looked at it didn’t do any lasting damage.’
‘That’s good to hear.’
‘You know, maybe it would be best if you gave me the photograph.’
Winter took it out and handed it over. ‘On the bright side, we now know that Gifford was married. And we know what his wife looks like. That sounds like two for two, if you ask me.’
‘Maybe so.’ He paused. ‘Look, I don’t mind bending the rules for Anderton, but there are limits. Stealing evidence is a step too far.’
‘I’m hearing you, Jefferies. I promise to be good in future.’
‘See that you are.’
‘If Gifford murdered his wife, then her stuff needed to go somewhere,’ Winter said. ‘A storage unit is one possibility. I’d offer to look into it, but that would take me and Anderton all day. You guys have the resources to do it in a fraction of that time.’
‘No problem.’
‘You also need to be on the lookout for his car.’
Jefferies smiled. ‘We’re way ahead of you. The BOLO has already been issued. So what do you think? Did he kill her?’
Winter shrugged. ‘He’s definitely capable of killing her. As for whether he did or not, that would depend on whether there was a good enough reason to. He’s not going to kill her for kicks. He’s not wired that way.’
‘So, what would constitute a good reason?’
‘Maybe she’d become surplus to requirements, or maybe she was somehow getting in his way. If either one had happened, then he wouldn’t have thought twice about doing it.’
‘Jesus, that’s cold. You make it sound like he’s swatting a fly.’
Winter thought this over, then said, ‘Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s like.’
53
Winter lit a cigarette, then settled down on the kerb beside Anderton’s Mercedes to wait. Ten yards further on was the police cordon. The two police cruisers that had been used to create it were parked nose to nose at an obtuse angle. The cars blocked his view of Gifford’s house. Not that it mattered. He’d seen everything he needed to see for now.
Global BC’s news truck turned into the street and parked behind the Mercedes. The timing was interesting. To get here so quickly, either they’d been listening in on a police scanner or they’d been tipped off. A Pontiac Firebird came screeching into the street. Charlotte Delaney was behind the wheel. It skidded to a stop behind the truck. By the sound of it, she’d left ten feet of tyre marks on the tarmac.
Winter did a slow count from twenty and had just got to five when he heard footsteps. He couldn’t see who it was because the truck was in the way, but it had to be Delaney. The two technicians that had come with the truck
were both male, and these footsteps were definitely female. ‘Three, two, one,’ he whispered to himself, and then she was standing right in front of him. Her shoes had a two-inch heel and were the exact same shade of red as the Firebird. Coincidence or a conscious decision? Winter was veering toward the latter. Her pant suit was black and tight fitting. She smiled down at him.
‘Mr Winter, it is so good to see you again.’
‘And you, Ms Delaney. Always a pleasure. Nice car, by the way.’
‘Yes, it is. So, what happened to that exclusive you promised?’
Winter took a long drag on his cigarette and shook his head. ‘It didn’t pan out. You know how it is. Some stories fizzle and die before they have a chance to really get going.’
She held his gaze for a second longer than was comfortable. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘We arrived twenty minutes before Freeman’s people.’
Her perfectly plucked eyebrows went up in surprise. ‘You got here before the police?’
‘We did. Anderton is filling in Freeman as we speak. Incidentally, she was instrumental in identifying the killer. You might want to mention that in your next report.’
‘Have any arrests been made?’
Winter smiled. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment on something like that, Ms Delaney. This is an ongoing police investigation that’s now moving into its most sensitive phase.’
‘Sensitive how?’
Winter’s smile widened. ‘Like I said, I couldn’t possibly comment. Ah, here’s Anderton now.’
Delaney turned around in time to see Anderton squeezing between the police cruisers. She didn’t look any worse for wear as a result of her confrontation with Freeman. In fact, there was a bounce in her step, as though the whole experience had somehow energised her. The bounce faded a little when she spotted Delaney. She came over and stopped in front of the reporter. They stared at each other for a moment. Delaney broke the silence.
