“What did Blake have to say?” Gibbs asked.
“He offered his condolences about Sybil’s death, told us he would be overseeing a thorough investigation and said if there was anything he could do to help, just ask. So I did.”
Gibbs noticed the sly smile on Jo’s face. “What did you ask?”
“I was still convinced Andrew was lying to me, so I asked Blake if he was with Andrew on Friday night. Andrew didn’t look best pleased, but I didn’t care.”
“It must have come as a shock when Blake told you that Andrew wasn’t at the golf club dinner,” Gibbs said empathetically.
Jo looked confused. She tilted her head to one side and looked Gibbs in the eye. “No … ? Blake looked at Andrew, then at me, then said they were on the same table together at the golf club dinner on Friday night and that they both left the clubhouse shortly after twelve thirty p.m. Andrew had a smug look on his face, as if to say ‘I told you so.’ But I’m not stupid. There was something about the way they looked at each other.”
Gibbs took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry, Jo, but Andrew is lying. And for some reason so is Blake.” He filled Jo in about his enquiries at the golf club and recounted how the club secretary, Major Whitehead, had relayed what Blake had told him about Andrew leaving early because one of the kids was unwell.
Jo looked pale and shocked as she took in what Gibbs had said. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? If I’d known, I could have gone in there and confronted Andrew. Instead I’ve been made to look a fool by his and Blake’s lies. I’m going to go out and talk to Andrew.”
Jo went to open the car door but Gibbs took hold of her hand. She tried to pull away but he held firmly onto it.
“Wait a minute, just wait a minute. I only found out when I went to the golf club, which was after I spoke to you. I wasn’t even intending on coming here, but when I discovered Andrew was not at the club dinner, my suspicions about him increased and I wanted to speak to him.”
Jo leant against him. “I don’t understand—why is Blake is lying for him?”
Gibbs knew he was on dangerous ground. “Maybe he knows Andrew is having an affair, so he deliberately lied to the major about Andrew’s whereabouts.”
Jo was close to tears. “It wouldn’t be the first time I suspected him of having an affair.”
“The fact is, Blake lied to you as well, which means he’s hiding something. God forbid it should be anything about the murders, but whichever way you look at it, we’ve got nobody who can truthfully corroborate your husband’s movements from six p.m. on Friday night until you saw him in bed at around four a.m. the next morning.”
Jo nodded.
“So, for the time being, Jo, I really need you to keep quiet about what we’ve spoken about. I could get in serious trouble for revealing too much information.”
Jo turned away to stare through the driver’s window. “I can’t stand the thought of being near him. I don’t want him in the house. You have to help me. If he killed his mother and that other woman, then who knows what he could do to me and the kids?”
“We don’t know for certain your husband killed anyone, Jo. Granted, he’s a liar, but as I’ve just said, it could be because he was being unfaithful to you.”
She began to cry and Gibbs put his hand on her arm. “I think you and the children should go and stay with your parents for a while.”
“Their flat only has two bedrooms, one of which is a storage room.”
“What about a hotel then?” Gibbs suggested.
“No, I don’t want to distress the kids by taking them away from home and school. I’ll pack Andrew’s bags, then when he returns home from the hospital I’ll tell him to go and live at his mother’s,” Jo said firmly.
“What will you do if he refuses?”
“He won’t. I’ll make sure of that. If necessary, I’ll get my father to call some of his old Bermondsey mates. Believe me, Andrew won’t argue with them.”
“Well, if he ends up being charged with anything then he won’t be going anywhere, other than on remand to a prison.”
Jo shook her head. “I just can’t make sense of it all … Although Sybil and I didn’t get on, she mollycoddled Andrew and he provided for her every need.”
“Have you told the children that their grandmother is dead and that their father is in hospital?”
Jo shook her head again. Even though she had despised her mother-in-law, she never stopped Andrew taking the children to see her. Jo was dreading telling them, and was afraid that kicking Andrew out the house would only make matters worse.
Gibbs knew he had said too much. “You have to do what you feel is best for you and the children. I’m not going in to speak with Andrew, especially if Blake is still there. I can ring you at home later and let you know what’s happening.”
Jo nodded. “I’ll be on my own. They’re keeping Andrew in hospital overnight and the children will be in bed by eight.”
“I’ll call you later then.”
Gibbs drove back to Peckham and went to Moran’s office to update him on what he’d found out at the golf club, and about Jo Hastings’ visit to her husband in hospital, as well as Blake’s involvement. He had no intention of mentioning any of the more personal conversation he had had with Jo, or the fact that he would be calling her later. He also decided to tell Moran that he had only spoken with Jo Hastings on the phone, as opposed to meeting with her face to face at the hospital.
As he approached Moran’s office, Jane came out, looking red-faced and distraught. Gibbs was about to ask if she was OK but she pushed past him without saying anything and headed towards the stairwell.
“What’s up with Tennison?” he asked, as he entered Moran’s office.
“I had to give her a dressing-down. She tends to open her mouth too often without thinking of the consequences first.”
Gibbs nodded in agreement. “Her heart’s in the right place, though, and she’s diligent. Maybe she’s a bit over keen to prove herself as a new DS?”
Moran detected the smell of alcohol on Gibbs and asked if he’d been drinking on duty. Gibbs held his hands up and admitted that he’d had “a pint” of lager at the golf club, purely to be social as the club secretary had offered him a drink.
Moran listened patiently as Gibbs went over the salient bits of his afternoon’s work, making it clear that Andrew Hastings was lying about his whereabouts on Friday evening and early Saturday morning. However, there was no evidence to prove this as yet.
“Do you trust Jo Hastings?” Moran asked.
Gibbs nodded. “Yes.”
Moran wasn’t convinced. “By her own admission, she didn’t like, or get on with, Sybil Hastings, and if she thinks her husband’s having an affair then maybe she’s embellished what was said in the hospital room to implicate Andrew as some form of payback.”
“If you’re asking whether I think she’s lying, then my answer is no. I got the impression things aren’t good between her and her husband. Admittedly I don’t know them, but it’s glaringly obvious they’re like chalk and cheese—he’s an arrogant, self-opinionated, prick and she’s not,” Gibbs replied.
“That doesn’t make him a murderer.”
“His mother’s death means that he inherits a shedload of money. Although he already appears to live life in the fast lane, who’s to say his business isn’t going under and he needs more money?”
“What does Jo Hastings make of Blake?”
“Same as every woman: a perv with wandering hands. Blake lied to Jo Hastings at the hospital and to the major at the golf club.”
“I’d think twice about making wild accusations against a senior officer, Gibbs. For all you know, Andrew Hastings could have been with another woman and Blake was covering for him. I know you’re not married, Spence, but you know full well blokes protect each other when it comes to affairs.”
Gibbs shook his head. “OK, so Blake may know who Hastings’ bit on the side is. He also knows that those close to a murder
victim are considered suspects until the investigation proves otherwise. If everything’s as innocent as you’re suggesting, then why hasn’t he even told you in confidence that Hastings is out of line?”
“If Blake doesn’t suspect Hastings of anything criminal, what’s there to bloody well tell me, Gibbs?”
“My gut feeling tells me that Hastings could be our murderer and Blake is hiding something from us. They’re both Freemasons in the same bloody lodge—”
“That doesn’t mean anything!” Moran shouted, getting increasingly frustrated with Gibbs.
Gibbs wouldn’t let it go. “You know from personal experience that Freemasons protect each other. Hastings might even have something on Blake and is bribing him to lie. It’s also possible the unidentified victim could be Hastings’ mistress—”
“For Christ’s sake, Spencer, you’re letting your imagination run wild! Or perhaps you had more than one pint at the golf club and can’t think straight. I can understand your suspicions about Andrew Hastings, but you are way out of line suggesting DCS Blake would lie for a murderer.”
Moran had never been a Freemason, nor did he want to be. However, he had been a prosecution witness in 1977 at the Old Bailey where many Met detectives stood trial for serious corruption. During the investigation it emerged that most of the accused officers were Freemasons, and it became referred to by the press as “A Firm within a Firm.” Thirteen detectives were jailed, including two commanders, one chief superintendent and five inspectors. Moran also knew that some officers, who were Masons like Blake, were honest, hardworking and diligent detectives, but Blake’s lies about Andrew Hastings worried him.
Moran’s phone rang and he picked it up. “Yes!” he barked. After listening for a moment, he started to look concerned. “I’m sorry, darling, I can’t just drop everything … But if you’re worried, call your mother … I’m going to be at work for some time, but I’ll get home as soon as possible … I promise …” Moran replaced the receiver, paused, then lifted it off the hook and placed it on the table.
“The wife giving you earache?” Gibbs asked.
“Yes. Apparently little Arthur, whom we’ve now started calling Art, has got croup. At first she thought it was wind, but apparently it’s a cough. You should be thankful you’re single. And don’t you dare suggest I take some time off and you take over the investigation!”
Gibbs was baffled by Moran’s remark. “Why would I do that?”
“Go and type up your report and liaise with Tennison so she can update you about her investigations.” Moran waved his hand for Gibbs to leave.
“By the way, did Blake tell you he was going to visit Hastings at the hospital?”
Moran looked annoyed. “Blake is our senior officer. He tells us what to do, not what he’s doing!”
“He’s perverting the course of justice in a murder investigation.”
Moran shook his head in despair. “Do you always change the law to suit you, Gibbs? Blake hasn’t even been spoken to, or interviewed by us, so he’s done nothing that interferes with the investigation or perverts the course of fucking justice.”
“Then you need to ask Blake why he’s lying about Andrew Hastings’ whereabouts on the night in question.”
Moran banged his hand on the desk. “Don’t tell me how to run a murder investigation, Gibbs! We don’t even know if both murders are connected. If you think Andrew Hastings is involved, then bring me some hard evidence, not hot air conjecture. I could argue that Jo Hastings has pulled the wool over your eyes. She clearly hated her mother-in-law and would gain from her death. Not to mention that she may well feel inclined to strangle any woman she discovered was having an affair with her husband.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Gibbs retorted.
Moran laughed and shook his head with disdain. “You’ve only just met her, you know nothing about her, and haven’t even bothered to confirm her movements for that Friday night. Blake has had an unblemished career and though he might be considered by many to be a perv, not one woman has ever made an official complaint against him.”
“We both know that’s because he’s a senior officer and they’re frightened of losing their jobs.”
“For Christ’s sake! Why have you and Tennison got it in for Blake? Let it go, or you’ll both be off this investigation. Do I make myself clear?”
Gibbs glowered, but said nothing.
“I’ll take that as a yes, shall I? Go and write up your notes for the case file and concentrate on identifying the woman in the alleyway. And I don’t want you casting any aspersions about Blake to the team. Just keep what we discussed between us for now.”
In the CID office Gibbs found Jane sitting at her desk, checking the house-to-house folders. From the subdued look on her face he could see she was still upset and asked if she had a minute to have a chat. She followed Gibbs into his office and he shut the door behind her, sitting down at his desk.
“Don’t let Moran get to you, Jane.”
“What do you mean?”
“He told me he gave you a dressing-down about opening your mouth without thinking. If it’s any consolation, he’s just had a pop at me as well. He also noticed that I’d had a pint at the golf club—just to be social, of course.”
Jane raised her eyes at Gibbs. “You know Moran doesn’t like drinking on duty. And you smell like you’ve had more than one pint, Spence.”
“Christ, don’t you start on me as well. Hang on, you’re wondering if I’m back on the bottle, aren’t you?” Gibbs asked, looking directly into Jane’s eyes.
“I’m just concerned, Spence. To be honest, you looked a bit hungover this morning at the Hastings flat.”
“My drinking problem was three years ago, Jane, and you haven’t worked with me since. I spent time in the police nursing home drying out. I do still drink, but just to be social. And I don’t touch spirits anymore. I had a glass of wine with my girlfriend last night and she got a bit frisky, hence me looking a bit tired this morning.”
Jane felt that Gibbs was being honest with her. Since she had worked with him previously, he certainly seemed more confident and at ease with himself, so she decided not to press him about the drinking.
Gibbs continued. “Moran had a go at me because I bad-mouthed DCS Blake, even though I felt I had every reason to.”
Jane nodded. “Moran had a go at me because I said Blake might not be completely impartial, due to his friendship with Andrew Hastings—”
Gibbs interrupted. “There’s a lot more to distrust about Blake than that, Jane. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s telling Hastings everything about the investigation as we speak. Pull up a chair—I’ll tell you about my enlightening day. But first, fill me in on what you’ve been up to.”
“There’s not much to tell, really.” Jane recounted her return visit to Sybil Hastings’ flat with Lawrence, but that they didn’t find anything suspicious. She told Gibbs about her chat with Agnes and her visit to the Samaritans, asking if he thought they should get a court order for the call logs at the Samaritans, in case one of the people Sybil had spoken to or seen may be responsible for her death.
“I’d put that on hold for now. My guess is that Andrew Hastings is responsible for his mother’s and the unknown victim’s murder. In fact, I suspect the girl in the alley might be his mistress.”
Jane wasn’t convinced. “From her calloused hands and the way she was dressed, she doesn’t seem the type Andrew Hastings would mix with.”
“She could have been on the game. Hastings may have paid her for sex and she threatened to tell his wife,” Gibbs said with conviction, then proceeded to tell Jane everything he had told Moran about Andrew Hastings and DCS Blake.
Jane was shocked that Blake would lie for a murder suspect, but could see why Gibbs suspected Andrew Hastings may be involved in his mother’s death.
“I don’t know where Hastings killed them, or why, but my gut tells me he did and I’ll find the evidence to prove it. I just hope Moran has the balls t
o challenge Blake about what he said to the golf club secretary, and why he lied to Jo Hastings about his ‘mate’ Andrew being with him at the dinner.”
“What if Moran doesn’t have the balls?”
“Then I bloody well will. I’m not scared of that tosser Blake. If he lies to us about Hastings, then he’s really up shit creek.”
Jane nodded. “Paul Lawrence found Sybil Hastings’ will in a filing cabinet at her flat. She’s left everything to Andrew.”
Gibbs shook his head. “I suspected as much. According to his wife, Andrew was his mother’s blue-eyed boy.”
Moran was in his office, mulling over what Gibbs had said and how best to confront Blake, when the phone rang.
“Nick … Mike Blake here. Just to let you know, I’ve spoken with the hospital and they’ll be releasing Andrew Hastings tomorrow, at about midday. I’ll take him for a spot of lunch and bring him to the station for about half one. We can speak to him together before one of your officers takes his statement. It can’t be Gibbs or Tennison, as I don’t want Andrew being unnecessarily upset. He’s suffered enough as it is.”
“Have you had a chance to chat to Mr. Hastings about his mother’s death?”
“No. I saw him at the hospital briefly, but he was still a bit groggy from the sedatives he’d been given. I just offered my condolences and said I’d see him tomorrow, then left.”
Moran knew that if Jo Hastings had told Gibbs the truth about Blake’s visit to the hospital, he was lying yet again. He wanted to ask Blake if he knew what Andrew Hastings was doing on the Friday evening, but Blake ended the call. Moran sat back in his chair, annoyed at his indecision. He knew he’d have to tread delicately where Blake was concerned, as there could be a valid explanation behind his actions. He also knew any unfounded accusation against Blake could be the end of his career as a detective and would scupper any future chance of achieving further promotion. What concerned Moran most was how close Blake was to Andrew Hastings. He wondered if Hastings had some sort of control over Blake, and if he did, that suggested Blake might be a corrupt officer.
Moran felt tired and confused. He desperately needed to work out a strategy about how to deal with Andrew Hastings and ultimately confront DCS Blake about his lies. But he needed to get home to help Fiona. She didn’t seem to be getting over the baby blues and he was worried about her behavior. He wondered whether he should call Fiona’s mother in Norfolk and ask if she would come and stay for a bit. He didn’t particularly relish the idea of his mother-in-law staying, but he really didn’t know what else to do.
Murder Mile Page 9
