Prime Suspect (Prime Suspect (Harper))

by Lynda La Plante

  “He’s ready to go home now. I’m sorry, ma’am, if I was rude, but I could see the old boy was …”

  “You were quite right, Frank. Don’t worry about it.”

  He started back into the room, then paused and turned. “Oh, Sergeant Otley wants you at HQ.”

  “Did he just call you?”

  Burkin evaded her gaze. “Came in while we were in Brighton. Karen’s boyfriend and flatmates have been brought in for questioning. Sorry …”

  “I see! In future, pass on any information immediately, no matter the circumstances. I’ll go there now, you see to the major. Was there anything else?”

  Burkin shook his head. She watched him closely as she said, “Otley stirring it up, is he? Next thing, he’ll be going for a vote of no confidence.”

  His sudden flush was enough to tell her she’d hit the nail on the head.

  Burkin had been greatly moved when the major, with a tremendous effort, had pulled himself together and said he was ready to go home, ready to tell his wife, and that he would be available the next morning to answer any questions. He had even asked Burkin to apologize to Inspector Tennison on his behalf for his rudeness.

  As Burkin helped him out to the car the major’s back was ramrod straight. He shook the younger man’s hand and was gone to break the news to his wife.

  4

  Otley was furious to discover that Tennison had beaten him to it; her report on the identification of the murdered girl was already on Superintendent Kernan’s desk. He couldn’t think for the life of him how she had managed it.

  It was out of order for Otley to come direct to the Chief Super but, knowing how the Sergeant felt, Kernan said nothing. He waited; Otley was still hovering.

  “Something else, Bill?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Otley blurted out that the men felt that Tennison wasn’t sufficiently experienced. “It’s out of control, guv! The big interview room’s full of toms bein’ questioned for the third time, and not one’s seen hide nor hair of Della Mornay. The Incident Room’s full of blokes sitting around waiting for her …”

  “Is this a consensus?”

  “We all feel it, guv. She’s just not right, she’s not handling the men at all well. She’s smug, she doesn’t fit in, we all feel it. We’ve only got a few hours left, and the way she’s going we’ll have to let him go!”

  Kernan pursed his lips and nodded a fraction. “It’s not entirely up to her, the situation’s under constant review. Leave it with me, Bill, OK?”

  Arnold Upcher sorted through some documents, then pushed them across the desk to Chief Superintendent Kernan.

  “I thought these might interest you. They’re cases from the last three years where the evidence depended solely on DNA tests. You can see for yourself, in every instance the judge threw the case out. I think my client and I have been most patient; if you have any further incriminating evidence then we’ll discuss it, but I am not prepared to let him stay here another night if you cannot substantiate your suspicion of murder. And that’s all you’re holding him on—suspicion. It’s not on; he has a solid alibi, he has been cooperative and totally honest with you. Come on, Superintendent! You’ve got the wrong man.”

  Convinced that the Super was going to take Tennison off the case, Otley watched with a gleam of triumph in his eye as she entered the Incident Room, obviously harassed and sweating, with Burkin at her heels.

  “Anything on Marlow’s car yet?” she demanded.

  Ken Muddyman answered her from the far side of the room. “Not yet, ma’am, but we’ve got you a slot on the Shaw Taylor program!”

  “That’s a good idea!” She heard Lillie sniggering behind her but ignored him.

  “I was joking, ma’am!”

  “I’m not! Laugh away, DI Muddyman, but time’s almost up and Marlow’s lawyer’s with the Super now. Get on to the Press Office …”

  Muddyman couldn’t work out if she was kidding or not. Lillie interrupted them.

  “Ma’am, Records sent this in, about Moyra Henson. She was picked up for soliciting fifteen years ago. I dunno if it’s of any interest, but she’s been on the dole for four years.”

  “You never know. Stick it on the file.”

  Otley chipped in, “We’ve got twenty-two statements from the toms, and there’s more of ’em upstairs. Nothing worthwhile yet. Plus her boyfriend and flatmates are waiting to be interviewed. What’s goin’ on, are we gonna charge him?”

  It was coming at her too fast; Tennison floundered for a moment.

  “I’d better see the girls first. Keep the Super off my back for a while. And I want to see everyone in here when I’m finished.” She looked around the room to see who was there. “Ken, you’d better organize a WPC for the girls …”

  Otley perched on the edge of his desk, watching with delight while she tried to cope, and failed.

  “There was something else …” Tennison continued. “Oh, the identification. Her name’s Karen Julia Howard.”

  “We know,” said Otley.

  “Oh … yes, of course you do. Right, I’m off.”

  Following her, Ken Muddyman minced from the room, camping it up and blowing Otley a kiss as he went. The hoot of laughter could be heard all the way down the corridor.

  The three girls’ vagueness about Karen was infuriating; Tennison terminated the session after half an hour. By that time she knew that Karen had often spent days, even weeks, at her boyfriend’s flat, but the couple had recently had a disagreement and had not seen much of each other since. When Karen had not returned for a couple of nights they presumed she had made it up with him.

  On the other hand, Miffy conjectured, Michael obviously didn’t make contact because he thought Karen didn’t want to see him, but eventually he had called round. Discovering that no one had seen Karen, and she wasn’t with her parents or any other friends, Antonia had reported her missing.

  The last time the girls had seen Karen she had driven off in her white Mini to Ladbroke Grove for a modeling job. It was a knitwear advert, she had told them. She had taken her large portfolio and her Filofax. Perhaps Karen’s agent would know the name of the firm.

  The girls constantly looked at each other as if to confirm every detail. A couple of times they broke into tears; Tennison was patient with them but she kept pushing for the information she needed.

  “Was there any mention of a new man in her life?”

  They could think of no one. Miffy, her eyes red from crying, believed that Karen had loved Michael more than she pretended, but got fed up because he was a bit possessive.

  “So they used to argue about it, did they?”

  “Just sometimes. You know, she wanted to let her hair down a bit, but they had been going out together for years …”

  “Did she drink a lot?”

  “Oh, no! She didn’t drink at all, or smoke. She was a fitness freak, always dieting, and her room at the flat was a no-smoking zone.”

  Tennison stubbed out her fifth cigarette of the session, not that she was counting. “What about drugs?”

  They shook their heads in unison, Tennison thought a little too eagerly.

  “You mean never? Not just a little grass or speed?”

  Lady Antonia twisted her hands in her lap. “Karen didn’t like drugs, hated any of us having stuff in the flat. She wouldn’t touch anything like that.”

  “Not even coke? Did she use cocaine?”

  “No, honestly. We’ve known each other for years, since school, and she got quite uptight about that sort of thing.”

  Tennison sighed. “OK, so what about Michael, she was a virgin as well, I suppose?”

  Lady Antonia crossed her long legs and fiddled with the top of her boot. “That was her business, I have no idea what she did in private.”

  “Now it’s my business, love. Karen was found in a prostitute’s room, and I have to find out how she got there. Come on, what do you take me for? Are you trying to tell me that four girls, living in the same flat, ne
ver even mentioned sex?”

  Lady Antonia pursed her lips. “I don’t think you have any right to ask us that sort of question.”

  Tennison was getting more irritated by the second. “I have every right, as I said before. Anyway, that’s it for now, but I might need to talk to you all again before you leave. This officer will show you the way back to the canteen, go and have some coffee.”

  Lady Antonia faced Tennison. “I am going to complain about the way we have been treated, as if we were criminals. And we don’t want to go back to that awful canteen. Please would you call my father, if you need to speak to us we are perfectly willing, but we have been here for … we really … I would like to go home.”

  Tennison never took her eyes off the girl’s face. The bravado disappeared fast, and Antonia blinked back the tears. “Please, let us go home. We’ve been here for hours.”

  Tennison pursed her lips. “Antonia, isn’t it? Yes? Well, all I can do is apologize for keeping you here for so long. You are free to go at any time, but I need to question Michael Hardy. As you all came together, perhaps you’d like to leave together. I’ll order you a car. Your girlfriend has been brutally murdered, we are just trying to find out how she came to be in that efficiency … OK? And any assistance you can give us, give me, is really appreciated. So have a cup of tea or coffee, anything, just for a while longer …”

  She watched the round cheeks flush, and the girl blinked rapidly. Her whole face seemed to be moving, trying to say something, but unable to form the words. Then she burst out, “She was always happy …”

  Antonia left the room, and Tennison could hear her sobbing outside in the corridor. She felt dirty, her hands were grubby, and she sniffed her armpits then made a quick exit for the locker room. Next was Karen’s boyfriend, Michael Hardy, and though she was sure he was innocent he had to be checked out, eliminated completely. To do that she was going to have to be tough.

  The cold water felt good as she splashed it on her face. She washed her hands, scrubbed them, then stared into the soapy water. The killer had used a wire brush on the victim’s hands, scratched them raw …

  Michael, obviously distraught, was sitting with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. His voice was muffled.

  “I can’t believe she’s dead, I can’t believe it …”

  “You said the reason you hadn’t seen Karen was because you’d had a row, is that right?” Tennison asked him.

  “I agreed not to see so much of her—” He stopped, too choked to continue.

  “She was murdered, Michael, and we found her in a prostitute’s efficiency apartment. Now, take a look at this photograph and tell me if you’ve ever seen this man, ever seen Karen with him. Come on, Michael, look at the photograph.”

  He raised his head and stared at the mug shot of George Marlow. “No, I’ve never seen him.”

  “OK, now what I need to know is when you last saw or spoke to Karen.”

  He coughed and ran his hands over his ponytail. “I, er, I phoned her, the day before I went to Switzerland. The fifth of January.”

  “Did you call her from there? While you were away?”

  “No …”

  “And you came back when?”

  “I came home on the thirteenth, a week early. There wasn’t much snow about.”

  Tennison sat slightly straighter in her chair. “Did you see her when you got back?”

  “No. I went round to her flat yesterday. Miffy said Karen wasn’t at home, they’d presumed she was with me. Then I called her parents’ house. The housekeeper told me Karen hadn’t been home since Christmas, so I rang round a few other friends. When I ran out of places to look for her, I went to the local police station and told them.”

  “When was that?”

  “Er, first thing this morning. I just said no one had seen her lately.”

  “Ah, so we got two separate reports … Now, Michael, her car, the Mini. Have you any idea where it might be?”

  “No …” He thought for a moment. “It wasn’t outside the flat.”

  All through the interview, Tennison was aware of a lot of coming and going outside. Faces popped up in the small window, but no one knocked. One of them was the Super, but he waved at her not to bother. She found it all distracting, so it was almost a relief when Michael burst into tears and she was able to pace around the room for a few moments.

  Eventually Michael blew his nose in his handkerchief. Tennison sat down again.

  “So let’s get back to this argument you had with Karen.”

  “It wasn’t really an argument, it was just … just that she decided we were getting too involved, she wanted more time to herself. I agreed, but we didn’t argue.”

  “But you didn’t like it?”

  “No, I wanted to marry her. But she was only … she …” His eyes filled up and he turned away, shrugging his shoulders helplessly as his voice cracked, “She was only twenty-two years old …”

  “So, you agreed not to see so much of her. Did you find out if there was someone else?”

  “No, she didn’t have anyone else.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I know … She would have told me if there was something … someone else. I’m sorry …”

  “So you don’t think she had other boyfriends?”

  “She had a lot of acquaintances, men friends, but most of them I knew. She didn’t have anyone else, wasn’t seeing anyone else.”

  “But you were in Switzerland, maybe she met someone else while you were away?”

  He shook his head and looked at the table. Tears trickled down his face and Lillie felt even more sorry for him. The boy kept looking at Lillie as if he could stop Tennison’s stream of questions.

  “Did you and Karen have a good sexual relationship?”

  Michael’s voice was a whisper. “Yes.”

  “Did she like anything … unusual? Was she a bit kinky?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know if she took drugs?”

  “She didn’t drink and she didn’t take drugs.”

  “Do you?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I asked you if you take drugs, do you use hash or cocaine?”

  “I have … but not recently.”

  “Did you score it?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Did you buy it for yourself? Go out and score from people?”

  “No … when I say I’ve used … I was offered some cocaine once, and grass quite a few times, but I’ve never bought any. Do you mean do I go out to a dealer?”

  “Yes?” He shook his head.

  “Michael, are you sure? We found Karen in an area where a lot of drug dealers hang out. You sure she wasn’t using anything, or maybe going to get some for you?”

  “No!”

  “Did she pick up men?”

  “No! No … Karen would never … Karen …”

  He started to sob, hunching his shoulders, and Tennison leaned closer.

  “Tell me, Michael, come on. If she was scoring for you it would make sense of where we found her, why we found her!”

  Michael stood up, shaking with anger and grief, his face red with frustration. “No! She was a sweet, innocent girl, and you’re making her out to be something dirty, something sick! You disgust me …”

  “Sit down, Michael, sit down! Come on, now. You said that on the night of the thirteenth of January you …”

  He gritted his teeth. “I was at my parents’ house, I went straight from the airport. We had dinner and I stayed the night. I’ve told you this, I’ve told you this three times!”

  Tennison closed her notebook. “Yes, you have, and thank you for being so cooperative. If you’d like to have a wash there’s a gents’ just along the corridor, and then DC Lillie will take you up to the canteen.”

  He was slumped in his chair, silent. He didn’t look up. She walked to the door.

  “You can go, Michael, and the girls are free to go with you. Thank yo
u …”

  Tennison leaned back and lit another cigarette as Michael followed Lillie along the corridor, standing aside to allow Superintendent Kernan to pass. The Super stopped at the door of the interview room.

  “Anything?”

  Tennison shook her head. “No,” she replied wearily, “her car might give us a clue, if we can find it. None of them know where it is.”

  “Sergeant Otley reckons you’ve got enough to charge him.”

  She stood up and faced him. “Detective Sergeant Otley is wrong.”

  Kernan shut the door. “What do you want to do?”

  She pushed her fingers through her hair. “We have to release him, we can’t hold him any longer. In my opinion we don’t have enough to make it stick … Let him go!”

  At six-fifteen, Chief Superintendent Kernan left the Commander’s office and spoke briefly to Tennison. He had agreed to the release of George Marlow.

  Reluctantly, Tennison went to the interview room and told the men the bad news.

  “We will keep at it until we have the evidence to arrest him and keep hold of him.”

  Otley, as tired as everyone else, shouted that it was lunacy, Marlow was guilty. Tennison didn’t even attempt to argue, but when Otley stood up in front of everyone, jabbed an aggressive forefinger at her and told her that if Marlow killed again it would be down to her, she snapped. “That’s enough, Sergeant! I’ve taken a lot of flak from you, but I’ve had you right up to here! You start acting like bloody cowboys and this is what happens. This investigation has been a cock-up from the word go. If anyone should be yelling and pointing the finger, it should be me! You all fucked up, so now we take it, we eat it, and start again from scratch. I want us on that bastard night and day. We’ll get him back and we’ll keep him. Now, I don’t know about anyone else, but I need some sleep, so let’s take a break. Tomorrow we’ll reassess everything we’ve got.”

  She packed her briefcase and left. Only a few murmured “goodnights” marked her departure, but she was too tired to care.

  Burkin and Jones remained at their desks, but the atmosphere in the room was thick with fatigue. Everyone was knackered, but above all, they felt defeated. Marlow had beaten them.

  Otley sat for a few moments, devastated. He had been so certain that they had Marlow.