“Yes, Agnes told DS Tennison about her Samaritan work. DS Tennison visited the Soho branch to see if there was a link.”
“Was there?” Andrew asked, with a concerned look.
Jane answered. “We don’t know yet, Mr. Hastings. They’re still helping us with our enquiries.”
“I once asked her about her work there. She told me it was private and confidential and that she’d never reveal it to anyone. Why would someone she tried to help want to kill her?” Hastings asked, welling up.
Jane felt that Hastings was being genuine and wondered if Gibbs was wrong about him, and was making his suspicions fit a preconceived notion of guilt because he disliked him. Moran then turned the subject to the last time Hastings had seen his mother. Andrew said it was on Tuesday, when they played a round of golf at the Coombe Hill club together. He had also spoken to her on the Thursday about playing that Sunday, but she had told him she was going to be busy.
“Did your mother say anything about what she was doing on the Friday or at the weekend?” Moran asked.
“No, not a thing. When Agnes phoned me on Sunday morning, I thought my mother might have gone to a hotel on her own for the weekend.”
“Has she done that before?” Jane asked.
“Yes, a few times she’s gone to the Grand in Brighton, but usually in the summertime, and she lets us know beforehand.”
Moran told him they’d check with the Grand, just in case his mother had been there. Moran looked at his watch and told Hastings there were just a few more questions he needed to ask.
“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Mr. Hastings, but I need to ask you what you were doing on Friday and Saturday.”
Jane noticed a slight change in Hastings’ demeanor. He licked his lips and sat up, but before he could reply, Blake stepped forward and put his hand on Hastings’ shoulder.
“I’ve explained to Andrew that he might be asked some probing questions about his movements in order to eliminate him from the investigation. He understands that it’s ‘par for the course.’” Blake laughed at his own golf pun.
Hastings forced a smile. “I realize you have a job to do, DCI Moran, but I can assure you I didn’t kill my mother. Even though she was planning to leave everything to me in her will, she had already put what money she had into a trust for her grandchildren. I do inherit the flat, but I helped her buy it with my own funds. After my father died, I took my mother in and paid for everything, even setting up a monthly income from the family business, which is paid directly into her bank account.”
Moran looked at Jane. She wondered if he, like her, thought Hastings was becoming a bit defensive. Moran turned back to Hastings.
“It is obvious that you cared a great deal for your mother, but you haven’t answered my question regarding your movements on the Friday and Saturday.”
Hastings sighed. “On Friday I was playing golf all day at Coombe Hill with Michael, then I attended the club dinner in the evening.” He looked at Blake, who nodded.
“Yes, that’s right. The bar closed at midnight and Andrew went home at around half twelve,” Blake stated.
“I got back home just after one a.m. and went straight to bed.” Hastings sat back in his chair and once again looked at Blake.
Jane felt as if she was watching a rehearsed play, in which Hastings and Blake were the lead characters, trying to convince the audience they were honest, upright citizens. It was clear to her that the two of them were lying. Jane looked at Moran again, who appeared uneasy and hesitant.
Blake noticed Jane’s expression. “Is something wrong, Sergeant Tennison?”
“No, sir, I was just trying to indicate to DCI Moran that I’m ready for him to ask the next question.”
Moran looked at Blake, then back at Hastings. “I believe you won a medal on Friday for coming second in the golf competition?” Moran asked.
Hastings frowned and directed his answer at Blake. “What’s that got to do with my mother’s murder?”
Blake stared at Moran. “I don’t know, Andrew. As it happens, I forgot to tell you that you left your medal on the table at the dinner, so I took it home for safekeeping.”
Moran shook his head and sighed with disbelief at the unashamed way Blake was protecting Hastings.
Blake continued. “Andrew is obviously tired and emotional and should be with his family. It seems to me he’s told us everything he can, so I think we should call it a day for now and I’ll take him home.” Blake grabbed his coat from the stand in the corner of the room.
“I’d be happy to conclude the interview when you and Mr. Hastings tell me the truth about where he really was on the Friday evening,” Moran said calmly.
“I object to your insinuations!” Hastings shouted.
Blake put his hand on Hastings’ shoulder to calm him down, glaring at Moran.
“As I said, Nick, it’s best we terminate this interview.”
“You getting all of this down, Tennison?” Moran asked irately, looking at Blake and Hastings.
“Yes, sir, I am. Every word.” Jane sided with Moran.
Moran flexed his shoulders and took out his notebook. “DI Gibbs attended Coombe Hill golf club yesterday and made enquiries about Sybil Hastings. Major Whitehead, whom I’m sure you both know well, told DI Gibbs that Andrew Hastings didn’t stay for the prize-giving meal as he’d gone home because one of his children was unwell.”
“Well, he’s obviously mistaken me for someone else, hasn’t he, Michael?” Hastings looked at Blake for support, but Blake remained quiet. Hastings continued. “I find it disgraceful that DI Gibbs is able to go around tarnishing my good name at the golf club.”
Moran wanted to make them both sweat. “Actually, it was DCS Blake who told the major you had gone home, and the major told Gibbs that he gave Blake your runners-up medal.” Moran turned and looked at Blake, frowning. “Why are you lying for him?”
Blake licked his lips and asked Jane to leave the room so he could “discuss things in private” with DCI Moran. As Jane stood up, Moran put his hand on her arm to indicate that she should sit down again.
“Tennison stays, and if Mr. Hastings continues to lie, I will arrest him on suspicion of murder.”
“I didn’t kill my mother!” Hastings shouted at Moran.
“He’s telling the truth, and I know that as fact,” Blake said.
“Well, you’re both doing a good job of perverting the course of justice.”
Blake looked at Hastings. “This is getting out of hand, Andrew. For God’s sake, just explain where you were.”
Hastings sighed and lowered his head. “I was with Katie Oliver, the wife of another club member who was at the golf dinner. Knowing Katie would be at home on her own, I skipped the meal and prize-giving to go and see her.”
“You are having a relationship with her, I take it?” Moran asked, and Hastings nodded. “How long were you with her for that night?”
“From about six p.m. until just after midnight, when Michael phoned me to say that Katie’s husband had just left the club. I got home about quarter to one and went to bed.”
“I’ll have to speak with Mrs. Oliver to confirm that what you have told me is true.”
Blake looked subdued. “I can confirm he was there. I called Katie Oliver’s house from the golf club. She answered, then I spoke to Andrew to tell him it was time to leave as her husband was on his way home. If you must speak to her, then I’d be grateful if you did it at the station and off the record, to prevent her husband from finding out the situation.”
Moran agreed. He knew that Blake was more concerned about his own reputation, especially if Mr. Oliver found out Blake was aware Hastings was screwing his wife.
Moran opened his desk drawer, took out a prepared pro forma and slid it across the table to Hastings.
“Sign that, please. And before you ask, it’s an authority for me to have access to all your personal and business bank accounts.”
Hastings looked at the form
and slid it back towards Moran. “No. You know I didn’t kill my mother, so you’ve no right to look into my personal or business affairs.”
Moran looked smug. Jane sensed he wanted to teach Hastings and Blake a lesson and she was right.
“I can’t rule out that you didn’t pay someone to kill your mother while you were with your mistress. If needs be, I will go to court and get a judge’s order on the grounds that you lied in a murder investigation and that you are a suspect—which won’t look too good for you or DCS Blake.”
“Sign the fucking form, Andrew!” Blake bellowed.
Hastings reluctantly signed the form.
“You can go now,” Moran said to a visibly furious Hastings.
Jane was impressed by Moran’s calm restraint. She couldn’t believe how stupid Blake had been to risk his career for someone like Andrew Hastings. Perhaps Hastings did have something on Blake? Jane’s thoughts were interrupted as Moran told her to take Hastings downstairs whilst he continued to speak to DCS Blake.
After everyone else had left the room, Moran looked Blake in the eyes.
“You caused me and my team to waste valuable time with Hastings. All you had to do was speak to me in private about his affair and where he was, then we could have avoided all of this confrontation. Has he got something on—?”
Blake anticipated the question. “I’m not corrupt, and he hasn’t got anything on me. It was a little lie to the major that got out of hand. I was just trying to stop any scandal breaking out in the clubhouse about Andrew and Katie Oliver, that’s all. It was silly of me and I apologize.”
Moran had a good idea why Blake had lied. “This is the Freemasons’ old pals act, isn’t it? He’s lied for you when you’ve been out of line.”
Blake looked annoyed. “My private life has nothing to do with you.”
“When you lie in a murder investigation, it bloody well does. But don’t worry, I’ll do my best to keep a lid on it … for now.”
“And what about DS Tennison?” Blake asked.
Moran said that he would speak to her, but couldn’t guarantee her silence.
Blake picked up his coat. “If there’s anything more you need to assist your investigation then just ask.”
Moran shook his head. “I don’t need anything from you, Blake. It might be best if you take yourself off the investigation. You could always injure yourself playing golf!”
“You know I can’t do that without the top brass asking questions. But I’ll give you free rein to investigate the murders and keep myself in the background.”
“I can live with that. I’ll keep you updated on any developments.”
Blake nodded and left the room.
Moran sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He was exhausted, and realized he was back at square one. He had two victims, one still unidentified, and although he felt the murders were probably linked in some way, he had no evidence to prove it. Did he have one or two killers on the loose? Or worse: two men acting together, who had a lust for attacking and killing women of any age? Whatever the case, he knew he had to find who was responsible before there was another murder.
Taking a deep breath, straightened the papers on his desk. His office phone rang and, picking it up, he heard his baby son wailing in the background.
“Yes, I’ll be home soon, Fiona …”
Chapter Nine
It was quarter past nine on Tuesday morning. Jane was in the CID office with Gibbs, Edwards and the rest of the team, waiting for an update meeting with DCI Moran. The meeting was supposed to have started at nine but Moran still hadn’t arrived. Jane was talking to Gibbs as they looked at a wall covered with photographs of the crime scenes, post-mortem results and Sybil Hastings’ full details. The information regarding the unknown victim was still blank. Missing persons checks and further house-to-house enquiries had turned up nothing to take the investigation forward.
Moran walked in, sipping coffee from a polystyrene cup. He was unshaven, his grey suit was creased and he was wearing the same shirt as the previous day. He was normally meticulously neat and tidy with his appearance, but today he looked exhausted, and had bloodshot eyes and dark circles surrounding them.
Gibbs whispered to Jane: “Looks like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards. He hasn’t even bothered to change his shirt.”
“You’re a fine one to talk,” Jane retorted.
Gibbs looked puzzled.
“You came in yesterday morning in the same gear you wore on Sunday. Moran’s under a lot of pressure with two murders on his hands and no suspects.” She raised her eyebrows at him.
“Yeah, well, we’re all under pressure, Jane,” Gibbs replied.
“We don’t all have babies that keep us up all night, though,” Jane defended Moran.
“Sorry I’m late. Heavy traffic.”
Gibbs whispered again: “He was probably on nappy duty.”
Moran briefed everyone on the events of the previous day.
“Myself and WDS Tennison interviewed Andrew Hastings yesterday. It seems unlikely he was directly involved in either of the murders as his alibi has been corroborated.” He deliberately avoided any mention of DCS Blake’s initial lies.
“He could have paid someone else to kill his mother,” Gibbs said.
Moran gulped some of his coffee and nodded towards Gibbs. “I am aware of that, DI Gibbs. Hastings has begrudgingly given written authority for his bank and business account details to be handed over to us. Edwards, I want you to collect them and go through them.”
“I’ll give Edwards a hand checking the accounts,” Gibbs said, then whispered to Jane, “Even if there’s no large transfer or withdrawal of money, Hastings could have had cash tucked away to pay a hitman.”
Jane shrugged. “I think you’re wrong about Hastings.”
“We’ll see,” Gibbs replied.
“How are the house-to-house enquiries going, Tennison?”
“All of Copeland Road and the flats on the Rye Lane side of Bussey Alley have been done. So far we haven’t found anyone who saw anything suspicious or could identify our unknown victim.”
“I’d like you to widen the house-to-house then. Copeland Road is a horseshoe shape so take in all the streets that run between it.”
“Yes, sir. Could I have some more uniform assistance?” Jane asked.
“I’ll speak with Chief Superintendent Blake. I’m sure he’ll be obliging and arrange for more officers from the surrounding stations.”
Moran then went around the room asking each detective if they had any information that could help. There was a morose silence in the room as no one had anything positive to say.
DS Lawrence entered, carrying a forensic folder and looking a lot happier than anyone else in the room. He stopped in his tracks as he realized everyone was staring at him.
“I hope you’ve got something good for us, Paul?” Moran asked, seeing the smile on Lawrence’s face.
“Yes, sir, very good. The lab’s managed to link your two murders.”
Everyone in the room perked up. One officer shouted out jovially, “Hail the savior who comes bearing good news,” and there was a ripple of laughter. Moran was visibly relieved and smiled for the first time that morning.
“Come on, Paul, don’t keep us on tenterhooks,” he joked.
Lawrence took some paperwork out of a folder. “OK. Blood grouping first. The smears on the unknown victim’s blue coat are not her blood group, but they do match the blood group of Mrs. Hastings.”
“So, the smears on the coat must have come from contact between our two victims, or the killer transferred Hastings’ blood onto the coat,” Jane remarked.
“Possibly, but the killer could also be the same blood group as Mrs. Hastings or the unknown victim, which won’t help if the smears on the coat came from an injury to the suspect.”
Gibbs shook his head. “Then the blood grouping doesn’t take us much further, or positively link the two crimes if the coat smear could be the su
spect’s blood.”
“I thought you said you had something positive for us, Paul?” Moran asked.
“I do, I was just dealing with the blood grouping first and saving the best till last.” Lawrence smiled. “Fibers from the clothing of the unknown victim were found on the rear seat of the Allegro, as well as two hairs that match in color and length.”
Moran looked pleased. “So the Allegro was used to transport the victim before she was dumped in Bussey Alley.”
“Most probably, yes, but she could have been a willing passenger in the car prior to the murder. Fibers from Mrs. Hastings’ fur coat were also found on the unknown victim, but again they could have got there innocently or by the killer carrying both bodies and transferring fibers from one to the other in the process. On the balance of probabilities, I’d say both victims were killed by the same person, probably at or about the same time. It’s also reasonable to assume the killer, or killers, are male.”
“Any idea where they were killed?” Edwards asked.
Lawrence shook his head. “Only the victims know that, and I’m not a psychic. We also found some tweed fibers in the car, similar in color and texture to DI Gibbs’ tweed suit.”
Everyone looked at Gibbs, who wagged his finger and was quick to defend himself. “Hey, I never went near the inside of the car or the victims. And I can assure you I’m no murderer, guv!”
There was more laughter around the room.
Lawrence continued. “The tweed fibers were mostly on the driver’s seat in the car, with a few on both victims. They could have come from something the killer wore or from something Mrs. Hastings had previously worn.”
“I’ll check with Agnes, the housekeeper, to see if Mrs. Hastings has any tweed outfits,” Jane said.
“Strange the killer didn’t dump Mrs. Hastings as well,” Edwards said.
“Maybe he saw something in Copeland Road that made him panic after he’d dumped the first victim, and he ran off before he could dump Hastings,” Jane suggested.
“He probably couldn’t drive the car away because of the flat tire,” Edwards added.
Murder Mile Page 11
