But first he had placed a pillow over Kirsty’s sleeping face. Was it perhaps an act of mercy? Or had he told her everything and they had then fought, ending in her death? He could have put her lifeless body in bed and employed arson as a way of hiding what he’d done, so that their children would never know. Maybe he hadn’t intended to kill himself as well, but had misjudged how much he’d had to drink and ended up too intoxicated to escape.
Grace would have to be patient and wait for the results of all the tests.
But her brain kept whirring and, as she parked the car and made her way into the building, she ran through another possibility. What if Kirsty had overheard Reece’s phone call to Larry, and that was what had set events in motion? It would explain why, when Larry had called back – too soon yet for Reece to have ignited the fire – he did not pick up. And yet Michael and Anne Nixon had been amazed to learn of their uncle’s rescue attempt. They told her that Reece had never got on with Larry. They couldn’t understand why Reece would have chosen to confide in him. They had spoken so matter-of-factly that Grace wondered if the full horror of their loss had yet to strike home. All the same, it was odd that, at the hospital, Larry had shown concern for two young people who barely remembered ever meeting him.
She entered the MIT office and, remembering Samit’s advice, went straight to Carolyn Bromfield’s desk. The detective constable seemed rather flustered by her approach. ‘Hello, ma’am,’ she said.
‘ “Grace” or “boss” will do fine,’ she said with a smile she hoped was reassuring.
‘Yes, sorry, of course, boss.’
‘I wanted to check something. Larry Nixon’s clothes and shoes from the other night.’
The younger woman’s face revealed the truth immediately.
‘You did take them?’ Grace asked, her heart sinking.
Carolyn swallowed. ‘No, ma’am – boss. I didn’t realise we’d need them.’
‘He was present at an arson attack in which two people lost their lives.’
‘I know, but he’d tried to save them.’
Grace became aware that, two desks down, Blake was watching them. ‘That’s what he told us, and it may be true, but as yet we have nothing to corroborate his story.’
‘I’ll get on to the hospital right away and find out what they did with them,’ said Carolyn, scrabbling among the papers on her desk.
‘Please do. If you can find them, we need them back, washed or otherwise.’
‘Yes, boss.’
Shaking her head in silent fury, Grace made her way across the office to her cubicle. Blake got up from his desk and followed her.
‘What was she thinking?’ she said to him. ‘How could she be so stupid?’
‘She’s inexperienced,’ he said. ‘She’s not stupid. I mentored her when she started. She’ll do all right.’
‘She overlooked vital evidence.’ Grace knew she was being unfair. She had been at the hospital and she was the senior officer, so the buck stopped with her.
‘She looks up to you,’ he said mildly, making her feel worse.
‘Well, let’s hope she can retrieve the situation.’
Blake’s cool look made her wish she’d kept her mouth shut. But then he gave a broad smile. ‘Anyway, it probably doesn’t matter. Want some good news?’
‘Yes.’
‘The fire investigation unit have allowed Wendy and the CSIs to make a start on the undamaged areas of Reece Nixon’s house. Guess what they found in the attic?’
‘Lord Lucan?’
‘A file of old newspaper cuttings, not only about Heather’s murder, but also a couple of short pieces in the local paper about two of the rapes.’
Grace dropped into her chair, the rush of relief robbing her of strength. ‘That’s brilliant. So far, Reece Nixon is the only person to have made that connection.’
‘Except you.’ The warmth was back in Blake’s eyes, making Grace more relieved than she cared to admit – and certainly more than was strictly professional.
She couldn’t resist making a triumphant clenched-fist victory salute. ‘Yes!’
‘It corroborates the confession he made to his brother.’
She let out a long sigh of relief. ‘Have you told Superintendent Pitman?’
He shook his head. ‘I was waiting for you.’
She silently absorbed the significance of the discovery. ‘Did Wendy find anything else of interest?’
‘Nothing yet, but there’s a way to go.’
‘All we need now is his DNA and we can tie it all together. I want everything we can find on him,’ she said. ‘Search his computer, check his credit-card statements for any pornography sites, I want his phone records, and to go back through every statement taken at the time on both the murder and the rapes. If there were any reported witnesses I want to talk to them again. Make sure the team is briefed.’
‘Sounds like the original investigations were botched from the start,’ said Blake.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Remember that there was no CCTV or mobile-phone data available back then. I don’t see very much that I would have done differently, given the more limited tools they had to work with.’
‘Larry Nixon’s account of that final phone call is going to be key. We should go and take a formal statement while it’s still fresh in his mind.’
‘Absolutely. We’ll need it for the inquest, if nothing else. The post-mortem found that Kirsty was already dead before the fire.’
‘She was murdered?’
‘Looks that way,’ she said. ‘We still have to wait for toxicology.’
‘What if Reece told her the truth and she took some kind of overdose?’
‘We might never know for sure how she died.’
‘But if Reece was also a serial rapist,’ said Blake, ‘you can see why he couldn’t bear for his wife to find out. Heather’s death on its own he could’ve spun as some kind of one-off tragic accident, claim that Heather led him on and then went crazy, whatever. He might have just managed to persuade Kirsty to forgive him enough to stand by him, visit him in prison, not turn the kids against him, but I doubt she’d have done that once it came out that he’d raped nearly half a dozen other women at knifepoint.’
‘Imagine celebrating your silver wedding anniversary and then finding out something like that about the man you’d married,’ she said. ‘How would you even begin to live with it?’
‘Which might then also explain the fire,’ said Blake. ‘Although I have to say I’d have found a more straightforward way to commit suicide than burning myself to death.’
Grace agreed. ‘Unless Reece’s choice was the urge of a guilty man desperate to obliterate his sins.’
‘Scorched earth.’
‘Pretty much.’
‘So you’ve got your man?’ said Blake.
‘Looks like it,’ she said. ‘Come on, I’ll let Colin know and then we can tell the team.’
14
The concierge sitting behind the white desk in the lobby of Larry Nixon’s seafront apartment building recognised Grace and Blake as soon as they walked in. He gave them a professional smile. ‘Good morning,’ he said, already tapping at his keyboard. ‘Mr Nixon said to expect you. I’ll let him know you’re on your way up.’ He nodded towards the brushed-metal doors of a pair of lifts. ‘Floor seven, apartment seventy-one.’
Blake stood back to let Grace enter first and then pressed the button for the seventh floor. Grace was almost unaware of the lift moving before the doors parted smoothly to reveal a hushed internal corridor lit by halogen spots.
‘He’s done OK for himself,’ Blake murmured as they moved towards a pale wooden door with the number 71 on it.
‘Well, so far as we know, he’s had no wife or kids to support,’ she said. ‘And his business is luxury cars.’ Background checks had shown that Larry Nixon had no criminal convictions, had never come into contact with the police and seemed to have a spotless financial record. His company was up to date with
the requisite driver checks and other regulations and had garnered plenty of satisfied customer reviews online.
Larry opened the door as soon as they knocked. Although his hair had been neatly cut to hide where it had been singed, the raw burns on his face were livid against his pale skin and he winced with pain as he closed the door behind them.
‘Have you found out any more about what happened to my brother?’ he asked after their initial greetings. ‘Do you have his DNA results?’
‘Not yet,’ said Grace, ‘and we’re still gathering evidence, but what we have so far supports your apprehensions, that what he said to you could be true.’
Larry sank into an armchair and rested his head in his hands. Grace took the opportunity for a quick look around. The room was large, a single light-filled living space with a sleek, white, fitted kitchen, dining table and seating area all opening on to a wide balcony that overlooked the sea. The view of silver water and sky was stunning. His taste was minimalist, with uncovered wood floors, grey upholstery and a high-tech TV and sound system that must have cost a fortune. Music was playing quietly in the background – Grace recognised an early Eurythmics album – its tone crystal-clear.
‘I’m very sorry,’ she said. ‘I imagine all this has come completely out of the blue.’
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to respond, but then he shook his head. ‘Not really.’ He let out a groaning sigh. ‘There was stuff back then that I could never put my finger on, something that was wrong, you know, a bit off, but you tell yourself your suspicions can’t possibly be right. I remember thinking what a sick person I must be even to imagine such things about my own brother.’
‘Did you ever speak to him about your misgivings?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘What about anyone else?’
Larry shook his head. ‘I was too scared of what might happen to him, where it would all end up. I was being selfish, really. I didn’t want to be responsible for getting him into trouble or to live with the consequences if somehow it emerged that I was right.’
‘I can understand that,’ said Grace. ‘Do you think anyone else shared your anxieties? Like Kirsty, for instance?’
Larry shook his head. ‘No, no.’
‘Can you give me any example of the kind of thing that troubled you around the time of Heather Bowyer’s murder?’
‘He just got weird. And that’s when he left Southend, or soon afterwards, anyway. Quit working for my dad. Pretty much cut himself off from all of us for a while. We patched things up, but I never really understood why he got like that.’
She was curious about his repeated concern – a concern that certainly hadn’t been reciprocated by Reece’s children. ‘Were you a close family?’
‘I wouldn’t say that, not recently, but, you know, blood’s still thicker than water when all’s said and done, isn’t it?’
‘Reece had worked as a driver for your father’s taxi company?’
Larry nodded. ‘We both did.’
‘So when he called you on Monday,’ she said, ‘how long had it been since you’d last spoken?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. A while. We lead different lives.’
‘And what did you think about him calling you?’
‘I was surprised, to be honest. But I suppose as soon as he told me about your visit and what you wanted, I realised I already knew he’d be the man you were after.’ He looked up at them with tear-filled eyes. ‘Please, I’m sorry, I haven’t even asked you to sit down. Can I get you anything? Coffee or tea?’
‘No, thanks, we’re fine,’ said Grace, moving to sit on the long low sofa opposite Larry. She crossed her legs, letting one high-heeled shoe dangle in his direct line of sight. He glanced at it once and looked away. ‘We will, however, need a formal statement from you about the fire at Reece’s house,’ she continued, ‘and what passed between you beforehand.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Detective Sergeant Langley will take notes.’
‘Sure.’
‘Can you please tell me everything you remember of the two conversations you had with him on the day he died?’
‘He called the first time around lunchtime to say that the police wanted a DNA sample. I was busy in the office, so didn’t pay much attention. Or maybe, as I say, I wasn’t ready to face the truth. But when he called again that evening, I knew something was up. And then he said he had to tell someone, that he was the man you were looking for. There was a woman he had sex with in a park and he killed her.’
‘Is that all he said about what he’d done?’ asked Grace.
‘It’s all I can remember. I was so shocked.’
‘And how did you respond? What did you say to him?’
‘I couldn’t believe it. I asked if he was sure, which I guess was a stupid question. Anyway, he laughed. I told him prison couldn’t be that bad, at least he’d still be able to see his kids, but he said he couldn’t face them finding out who he really was. Then he hung up on me.’
‘Your brother’s phone records confirm his call to you and give us an exact time, which was eight-fifteen,’ she said. ‘How long after that did you set out to drive to his house?’
‘I’m not sure. It wasn’t straight away. I tried calling him back first, but he didn’t pick up. It took a while for what he’d told me to really sink in.’
‘Did you call anyone else?’
‘My dad, Owen. He said I must have misunderstood what Reece was saying, to sleep on it and we could speak to Reece in the morning. I suppose I didn’t want it to be true.’
‘So what changed your mind?’
‘I don’t know. Finally, it seemed easier just to go over there. I didn’t notice what time I left, but it’s about an hour’s drive.’
‘Do you know what time you arrived at his house?’
‘No, sorry,’ said Larry.
‘Your call to the emergency services was logged at twenty-three minutes past ten.’
‘Well, there you are.’
‘Can you talk us through what happened when you got there?’
‘By the way, I hope it’s OK, but I sent one of my drivers to fetch my car.’ He held up his bandaged arms. ‘Not that I’ll be driving for a while.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Grace. ‘So Reece wasn’t expecting you?’
‘No, I told you, he wouldn’t pick up when I kept calling.’
‘I just need a picture of how events unfolded. So you parked in the yard?’
‘Yes. There were lights on inside the house and I went to the front door. No one answered and I could see a strange flicker through the glass. I went round the side of the house and saw the smoke and flames immediately. I didn’t stop to think, just wanted to get him out of there.’
‘Did you go in through the front door?’
‘Yes. It wasn’t locked, which, I suppose, should have surprised me, but you don’t think normally in that kind of situation, do you? Anyway, the instant it opened there was a whoosh and scorching heat, and I couldn’t see anything, could hardly breathe. I waited to see if it would subside enough to let me in, but it didn’t, so I called 999.’
‘You’ve been in a fire before,’ said Grace.
He frowned. ‘You saw the Courier this morning?’
‘Yes.’ It had been Carolyn who had brought Ivo’s short article to her attention before they left the office. Grace had been alarmed that Ivo might somehow already have picked up on their interest in Reece Nixon, but, going by what he’d written, he appeared oblivious. She hoped it would stay that way.
‘How embarrassing.’ Larry gave a self-deprecating smile that she imagined had become second nature when reminded of his heroism. ‘Their journalist tracked me down yesterday afternoon.’
‘You spoke to him?’ She prayed that Larry hadn’t given Ivo any leads.
‘He wouldn’t get off the phone until I gave him a comment,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry, I knew not to mention the DNA tests or any cold cases. I don’t wan
t the tabloids door-stepping me or my family any more than you do.’
‘Good,’ she said, relieved. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d keep it that way.’
‘Although talking to that reporter did make me realise that it was only because of the Marineland fire that I imagined I could simply barge straight into a burning house like that,’ said Larry. ‘If I’d hesitated long enough to reflect on what the hell I was doing, I’d have called the fire brigade straight away. I guess I just automatically assumed I could do it again. Save them.’
‘You were already too late,’ she told him gently. ‘At least for your sister-in-law. The pathologist says she was already dead.’
His eyes widened in horror. ‘He killed Kirsty first? How do you know?’
‘It’s too soon to say that he killed her, but she wasn’t breathing when the fire reached her.’
He seemed genuinely shocked. ‘Have you told their kids?’
‘We’re waiting for the results of further tests.’
Larry got up and went to stand at the floor-to-ceiling window that fronted the balcony and stared out at the misty October vista of sea and sky. Grace took the opportunity to look over at Blake. He gave a little nod of encouragement, his expression serious. As Ivo’s article had unwittingly highlighted, the contrast – on the very same night – between one brother’s selfless courage and the other’s callousness added to the argument that Reece had indeed intended his act of arson to be significant.
Larry spun round, the brightness behind him throwing his face into shadow. ‘Could the fire have been a trap to kill me too? I mean, do you think he meant for me to go and try to save him?’
‘Why would you think that?’ she asked, taken aback.
‘Forget it. It must be the painkillers talking.’
‘Did you have a difficult relationship?’
‘Reece always kept me at arm’s length. Back when we were young, the Marineland fire got a lot of publicity. I was in the papers, on the telly, only the local news, but strangers would buy me drinks, girls wanted to go out with me. Dad always said Reece was jealous. I don’t know if he was, but it definitely got to him.’
Wrong Way Home: Sunday Times Crime Book of the Month Page 6
