Disappointed that her questioning had done nothing to aid the investigation, Geraldine left. She suspected Leah was lying about owning a gun, but there was nothing she could do to compel the girl to tell her the full truth. While she had been talking to Leah, the canal was being dredged and the towpaths and shrubbery along both banks searched. It was still daylight when she left so, before setting off back to York, she stopped by the path down to the canal. The whole area was still cordoned off. A stout middle-aged couple were talking to a constable on duty as she approached. Bundled up in thick sheepskin coats, they looked angry.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ a constable was saying to the irate villagers, ‘but we’re not letting anyone through.’
‘And how long is this going to go on for?’ the red-faced man demanded. ‘We’ve not been able to get down here for the best part of a week now.’
‘And no one seems to be able to tell us when the path is going to be open again,’ his companion added. ‘This is our village…’
‘And this is our crime scene, for as long as we need to search it,’ Geraldine interrupted. ‘Listen,’ she went on more gently, ‘you must know that a girl was killed down here a week ago. Well, there’s just a faint chance that the murder weapon might still be here somewhere.’
‘If you let us through, we could help you look for it,’ the man suggested.
Geraldine shook her head. ‘We can’t risk children stumbling across a firearm.’
The local couple withdrew, still grumbling. They couldn’t argue with what Geraldine had just said. She made her way past the cordon to the sergeant in charge. With a shrug he told her there was no sign of a gun anywhere. Footprints and disturbance on the ground confirmed the suspicion that there had been a fracas on the canal bank at the point where Bethany had slithered into the water. Apart from that, the search had come up with nothing, and so far the dredging had found only mud and sludge and a haul of detritus. Seeing the mess of used condoms, chewing gum, an old wellington boot, and other random junk that had been retrieved from the canal, Geraldine felt an unexpected stab of pity for the girl who had been killed and tossed into the dirty water like so much discarded rubbish. She hoped Bethany had died from a gunshot wound and not drowned in the filthy canal.
‘I think Leah was telling the truth about not seeing Bethany again after she went out,’ Geraldine said at the meeting with Eileen the following morning.
‘She has no alibi,’ Naomi pointed out, seemingly in agreement with Eileen.
‘Nor do a lot of people,’ Geraldine retorted more sharply than she had intended.
Naomi looked surprised.
Eileen raised her eyebrows slightly. She turned to Ian. ‘You’re very quiet, Ian.’
‘I’ve worked with Geraldine before. I’ve never known her to be wrong about something like this,’ he said quietly.
Geraldine felt an unexpected rush of happiness knowing that at least one person had confidence in her judgement. It wasn’t easy having spent years building up her reputation, as well as her status, only to be demoted and largely dismissed as an unknown sergeant who had yet to prove her worth. The fact that Ian had stood up for her to Eileen made the support all the more welcome. He was the only one of her current colleagues who actually knew her at all.
41
After an uneventful Saturday, on Sunday morning Geraldine caught an early train to London, arriving at the rehabilitation clinic a couple of hours after her sister had left. When she expressed her irritation that Helena hadn’t waited for her, the manager of the clinic immediately became defensive. Her carefully permed curls twitched every time her head moved as she explained that Geraldine’s sister had been free to leave whenever she wanted.
‘I’m aware of that, and I’m not criticising you. It’s just that I asked her to wait for me and she didn’t. That’s all. It’s not your fault. She should have waited for me.’
But the damage had been done. The manager pursed her lips and glanced up at a clock on the wall. Geraldine understood that the clinic must be under frequent attack from disappointed relatives of patients. A guarded stance must be second nature to the staff. She was annoyed with herself for having made it virtually impossible to quiz the manager about how Helena had been feeling when she had left. In her professional life Geraldine was experienced at dealing with members of the public. She had acquired the skills necessary to cope with people in every possible stage of intoxication or emotional distress. Yet where Helena was concerned she descended into complete ineptitude. Miserably she thanked the manager for taking care of her sister, and left.
When she reached Helena’s address, she hesitated on the corner of the street, but she hadn’t come all that way only to turn round and go back to York. The worst that could happen would be that Helena would reject her advances and shut the door in her face. That was, after all, what their mother had done every time Geraldine had tried to approach her. Now that Geraldine had settled the bill at the clinic, and had agreed to pay Helena’s rent in her flat, there was perhaps no reason why Helena would want to see her again. Of course Geraldine could stop paying her sister’s rent once the six months’ agreement came to an end, but Helena knew that Geraldine would be reluctant to do that. Any stress might send Helena straight back to her habit – if she hadn’t reverted already.
‘Who’s there?’ Helena sounded sober.
‘It’s me, Geraldine.’
The door opened. ‘I suppose you’ve come to give me a hard time about leaving the clinic?’
‘What? No. You were due to leave today weren’t you? And anyway, when you left was always your decision.’
‘Like fuck it was,’ Helena grumbled, but she stood back to let Geraldine enter. ‘Come on into my palace. Nice, innit?’
The front door opened straight on to a small square living room furnished with a two seater sofa, and two small matching upright chairs upholstered in a faded green fabric. The walls were painted a grubby yellow, and there was a large grey smudge on the ceiling that looked like smoke damage. Grey nets at the window looked as though they hadn’t been washed for a long time. Beside them hung thick lined curtains of some velvety material that must once have looked smart but were now soiled with mildew. It wouldn’t have taken much effort to improve the place. A quick coat of paint and new curtains would have made a huge difference, and the stains on the carpet could have been covered with a rug, if they wouldn’t come out. Geraldine wondered whether her mother had ever sat on one of the threadbare chairs but she didn’t ask.
‘Nice, innit?’ Helena repeated
Uncertain whether her twin was being sarcastic or not, Geraldine gave a noncommittal grunt.
Helena sat down on one of the chairs and crossed her skinny arms over her flat chest. In a tight black jumper and short denim skirt she looked painfully thin. Geraldine was slim but Helena was little more than half her size. Yet even though Helena’s hair had grown and looked shaggy, and she wasn’t wearing any make-up to mask her blemished complexion, her resemblance to Geraldine remained striking. Staring at her skinny twin was like looking in a joke mirror at a funfair.
‘Sure it’s not as nice as what you’re used to,’ Helena added. ‘But it’s home.’ She gave a lopsided grin.
Once again Geraldine wasn’t sure whether her sister was being serious. Accustomed to spending her time interpreting other people’s words, it seemed strange that she would struggle to understand her own twin.
‘It’s mine,’ Helena added with undisguised glee.
Geraldine tried to imagine what life must have been like for Helena. From the little she had let slip, it was apparent that she and their mother hadn’t got on well. Their mother’s distress about Helena’s habit had caused considerable friction between them. Geraldine sympathised with her mother’s attitude to Helena’s drug addiction. What she couldn’t understand was why her mother had steadfastly refused to meet her until she was dying. Toge
ther they could have organised the help Helena needed a long time ago.
‘How are you?’ she asked.
Helena shrugged. ‘I’m getting a cold.’
Geraldine smiled. Helena knew very well that wasn’t what she meant.
‘It’s OK,’ Geraldine said. ‘You don’t have to talk about anything unless you want to.’
Helena snorted. ‘You paid for it so you want to know you got your money’s worth.’
Geraldine shook her head. That wasn’t the case at all, but there was no point in trying to explain her motivation to Helena. She wasn’t even sure she understood it herself. Helena was a stranger to her. They had only met recently. Until their mother’s death seven months ago, Geraldine hadn’t even known she had a birth sister.
‘How are you settling in?’ she asked.
Helena shrugged. Given that she had been living there, on and off, for a while, it was a stupid question.
‘Without mum, you mean?’
Geraldine nodded, embarrassed by her own crassness. ‘I suppose so,’ she mumbled.
Helena laughed. ‘It’s great, innit? No one to nag me and tell me what to do all the time. I can do what the fuck I like. You didn’t know mum like I did. She was a right cow.’
Helena’s face twisted in an effort to hide her emotion, but Geraldine saw tears in her eyes. As Helena turned her head away, Geraldine felt a pang of jealousy. At least her sister had known their mother.
‘Helena…’
‘Oh fuck off, will you? Who asked you to come poking your nose in my business? This is my life. It ain’t got nothing to do with you so you can just fuck off. What you want to come here for anyway?’
Geraldine waited until her sister’s anger had subsided before she spoke again.
‘I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.’
‘Well, I’m fine, so you can save your questions for your interrogations. I don’t keep asking how you are, do I?’
‘Maybe you should,’ Geraldine retorted with a sudden flash of anger. ‘Or don’t you care about me enough to bother?’
Helena looked startled. To Geraldine’s surprise, her sister reached out and took her hand. Neither of them spoke. A moment later Helena withdrew her hand, but she couldn’t take away the gesture.
42
The following morning Geraldine sat down at her desk in the busy office she shared with several of her colleagues. A phone was ringing, just behind Geraldine two constables were gossiping about something that had happened at the weekend, and there was a general background buzz of tapping on keyboards and muted conversation. Somewhere a door slammed. Outside the open window a car engine revved. With a flicker of nostalgia, Geraldine thought of the office in London which she had shared with one other detective inspector, while she herself had still held that rank. Both she and her colleague used to work quietly side by side, their peace interrupted only when one of them had been on the phone.
Doing her best to block out all the noise, Geraldine tried to focus on reading reports that had been recorded while she was away visiting her twin sister. Fully intending to study at least some of them the previous evening, by the time she had reached home she had been too tired and upset to work. Now she was doing her best to catch up with any new information before the meeting scheduled for later that morning.
What she saw first took her aback. Eileen had arranged for Leah to be brought into the police station in York for questioning. Unable to find Ian, Geraldine went over to Naomi’s desk to ask her about the latest development.
‘Oh, don’t you know what’s going on?’ Naomi sounded genuinely surprised. ‘You know about the shooting? Yes, of course you do. And you know we were given information that the gun was Leah’s?’
Geraldine nodded. She was the one who had reported that.
‘So,’ Naomi went on, ‘it looks as though Leah’s involved somehow.’
Before Geraldine could enquire any further, they had to go to the incident room for the meeting. Eileen was already there, looking more relaxed than Geraldine had yet seen her, and Geraldine soon gathered that the detective chief inspector had arrived at the obvious conclusion that Leah was the murderer. Certainly what had happened pointed to her being guilty.
‘So, it seems that after stabbing Stephanie and Peter, she acquired a gun – sadly all too easy to do.’
There was a murmur of agreement around the room.
‘And then she shot Bethany,’ Eileen went on. ‘So now it’s imperative we find out what she’s done with the gun. Once we’ve got that, any defence she tries to pull off will be useless.’ She smiled. ‘The search team are bound to find the weapon soon, and when they do it’ll be covered in her prints. Officers are all over her flat and the surrounding area, and searching the undergrowth around the canal again, this time focusing specifically on finding the gun. In the meantime, let’s see what Leah has to tell us.’
Seeing Naomi mutter something to Ian, Geraldine suppressed a flicker of jealousy. It was none of her business if Ian chose to be friends with a young constable. She ought to start getting to know her new colleagues herself, but she had been thrown into an investigation before she had a chance to get to speak to most of them. Once the case was over, she would start making an effort to be sociable.
When the briefing finished, Geraldine made her way back to her own desk in the busy office and sat down to plan her day’s tasks. Behind her she could hear a constable talking about her recent marital spat.
‘So I said to him you can just pack your things and go, if that’s your attitude.’
The speaker glanced up and noticed Geraldine seated nearby. Nodding to her colleague, she moved further away and continued her monologue, her voice too low for Geraldine to hear what she was saying. None of her married colleagues appeared to be particularly happy. She had often thought she was probably better off alone. A long time ago she had planned to get married, but she had been very young then, in her early twenties. After that break-up she had never been in a serious long-term relationship. It wasn’t that she wanted to live alone, but she had been preoccupied with her work and somehow the right opportunity had never arisen again. With a sigh, she turned her attention back to her work.
One more murder and the dead locals from that class at school would outnumber the living. While they were waiting for the scene of crime officers to finish going through every blade of grass in the vicinity of the latest crime scene, and the forensic team were examining every possible scrap and trace of evidence, Eileen had decided that Leah was the most likely suspect. With officers drafted in from the surrounding area to conduct door-to-door questioning of everyone who lived in the same street as each of the victims, it was time to start putting pressure on the surviving members of the class. Geraldine’s first task was to go and speak to the diminishing group of people who had been at school with the victims, while Eileen and Ian questioned Leah.
‘It’s time to find out exactly what she was doing with a gun in the first place,’ Eileen said briskly.
Geraldine said she thought Leah had been concerned to defend herself. ‘Even if she did get hold of a gun after Stephanie and Peter were killed, because she was afraid she might be next, that doesn’t mean she used it to shoot Bethany.’
‘If Robin’s wife was telling the truth – and there’s no reason to suspect she wasn’t – then Leah lied to you,’ Eileen said. ‘And if she lied about getting hold of a gun, she could be lying about having used it.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Geraldine said, but Eileen didn’t appear to hear her.
43
Leah stared at the square-jawed woman. Everything about her emitted an aura of uncompromising solidity and power, from her short iron-grey hair, through her hard grey eyes and thin lips, to her broad shoulders and large red hands. Leah wondered if this was an image the woman facing her across the table had deliberately cultivated, or if she was a na
turally cold bitch. It was hard to believe anyone could be so unremittingly severe. Even the dark-haired police sergeant who had been to see Leah at home had shown her more sympathy. Leah wished that sergeant was there now instead of the chief inspector. She was due some support after three of her former classmates had been brutally murdered, including her own flatmate. She dropped her eyes, unable to meet the other woman’s steady gaze, and decided that the detective chief inspector’s ruthlessness must be an act. No one could be that harsh.
A tiny spider had time to crawl all the way up the wall while the grey-haired woman read out a seemingly interminable speech telling Leah her rights. She had been briefly introduced to the flabby man sitting beside her whose ostensible role was to safeguard her interests. But although everyone was busily declaring their concern to protect her, she didn’t feel in the slightest bit safe stuck in a cramped room in a police station with two detectives watching her across the table, and a sweaty stranger fidgeting at her side.
Once the preliminaries were over, the interview itself seemed to drag on interminably. The woman kept asking her where she had been on Wednesday, and where she had been on Sunday, throwing days of the week and dates at Leah, one after another in rapid succession, trying to catch her out. Had anyone seen her? What had she watched on the television?
‘I was at home,’ she kept repeating. ‘I can’t remember what was on the telly. Just what’s always on. I’m generally at home in the evening. I don’t really go out much except on Saturdays. I used to go out with Beth…’
It was vital she stayed in control of herself so she could be careful to avoid saying anything stupid that might incriminate her in the eyes of the police, but in spite of her efforts to maintain her composure, she felt tears trickling down her cheeks. The fair-haired man looked at her with a sympathetic expression, but the woman’s face remained impassive. Good cop, bad cop. Leah wondered if they sometimes swapped roles.
Class Murder Page 19
