by Celina Grace
Chapter Two
They walked down the stairs in single file, unable to do otherwise due to the narrowness of the staircase. Kate was last but one, with Anderton bringing up the rear. She had to walk down quite awkwardly, as he was talking to her all the way down to the ground floor, telling her to expect some media attention. Kate found she had to twist her neck uncomfortably to be able to hear what he was saying above the clatter of their feet on the stairs.
“—bound to be high profile, given the manner of his death and who he was,” Anderton was saying.
Thankfully, Kate had reached the ground floor. “You knew him, then?”
“I knew of him. I didn’t know him personally. He was quite a high-profile business man around here. Fingers in a few political pies, as well.”
“In what way?” asked Olbeck, who was waiting for them at the front door. Chloe had already gone outside. Kate could hear her snapping, “No comment” to the waiting photographers.
“He was an ex-councillor. Tory, obviously. He stood down at the last election but he threw a lot of money behind the general election campaign.”
Kate nodded. Abbeyford had been a solidly held Liberal Democrat seat for fifteen years, before the forming of the coalition government. The subsequent crushing election defeat of that party had meant Abbeyford now had a Conservative Member of Parliament.
Just as they were preparing for the onslaught of camera flashes outside, the door opened to admit another welcome face, one that Kate wasn’t expecting.
“Hi, Kirsten,” Kate exclaimed. Doctor Kirsten Telling was an old acquaintance of the team and had been on maternity leave for the past year. This was the first time Kate has seen her back at work, hence her rather enthusiastic welcome.
Kirsten Telling, one of the local pathologists, greeted all of the officers in her usual quiet manner. She smiled particularly at Kate; the two women had always got on well. Kate opened her mouth to enquire about Peter, Kirsten’s ten-month old son, and then shut it again. Asking after a baby felt entirely inappropriate, given the setting.
“Morning, Doctor.” Anderton squeezed back against the wall to let Kirsten past. “We’ll let you get on with things.”
“Will one of you be staying?”
Anderton looked doubtful. “It’s a hell of a squeeze up there, particularly with all the SOCOs milling around.”
“I can pop back in an hour,” Kate suggested. “Then we can get the preliminaries but I won’t be in your way.”
“Very well.” Kirsten gave her small, reserved smile once more as she tucked her hair inside a plastic cap. “I’ll look forward to seeing you then, Kate.”
“See you then.”
“Come on then, troops,” said Anderton. “Brace yourselves and get your ‘no comments’ at the ready.”
Olbeck and Kate did as they were told, and Anderton pushed open the front door to a rising crescendo of whirrs and clicks as the waiting cameras outside sprang into action.
*
In the absence of any private space not overlooked by flashing cameras or gawking onlookers, the four of them climbed into the back of one of the police vans parked at the edge of the square. There, the three officers crouched awkwardly on the hard plastic seats and looked expectantly towards their boss.
“Now,” Anderton said. “Let’s make this quick, before our arses die completely. Mark, can you take Chloe and head back to the office, pull up everything you can on Simon Farraday, see how Theo’s getting on with witness reports, CCTV and anything else you can think of?”
“No problem,” Olbeck said, and Chloe nodded her agreement.
“Good,” said Anderton. “Right, Kate, you’re with me.” Kate had time to feel a tiny jab of surprise – she normally worked with Olbeck or with Chloe, now the ex-Salterton officer had joined the Abbeyford team.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Chez Farraday, to see if our prime witness and possible suspect, Mia Farraday, has recovered enough to be questioned yet.” Kate said nothing but raised her eyebrows in a sort of rueful, questioning manner. She wondered silently to herself whether this might actually be one of those cases that looked complicated, on first impressions, but was actually very straightforward. If Simon Farraday’s wife had killed him, it could all be over by teatime.
Chance would be a fine thing. As they clambered awkwardly out of the back of the van, she said goodbye to her team mates and followed Anderton to his car, which was parked two streets away. As a senior officer, he warranted a driver but never used one, always preferring to drive himself. This meant that Kate sat up next to him, rather than being relegated to the back seat. She felt a twinge of uneasiness, and something else, as she climbed into the front seat. It had been a while since she had been alone with her boss.
“Where do the Farradays live, sir?” she asked as Anderton drove off, trying to clip her aura of professionalism back around her.
Anderton gestured towards the satellite navigation system on the windscreen. “Somewhere near Cudston Magna. Got some great big pile right out in the countryside.”
“What kind of business was he in?”
Anderton slowly negotiated his way out of the complicated system of narrow one-way streets that wound through the Old Town and hesitated before answering. “Not entirely sure of that. Some kind of business to business thing. He was an entrepreneur all the way from school, inherited his father’s property business, sold that for millions about twenty years ago and founded this current concern, the details of which escape me for the moment.”
“So, he’s rich, then?” Kate pondered on the other rich men she’d met in the course of her career. Stelios and Yanis Costa, Michael Dekker, Jack Dorsey and Alex Hargreaves...none of them had used their money as an ethical force for good. Had Simon Farraday been like them? What had he been like? A good man, a bad man or, like most men, something in-between?
No doubt his wife could shed some light on his personality. Kate found herself hoping that the woman had recovered enough by now to talk to them.
They drove through picturesque countryside, always looking its best at this time of the year. The hedgerows were beginning to mist over in pale green as fresh leaves unfolded in the spring sunshine. Bluebells, late daffodils and the tiny white stars of daisies dotted the fields and embankments. As they swung around a corner, Kate closed her eyes momentarily against the dazzle of the sunshine.
Anderton glanced over at her. “How’s young Tin doing?”
Kate’s eyes snapped open. For some reason best known to himself, Anderton always referred to Kate’s boyfriend Tin as ‘young Tin’, despite the fact that the journalist currently working abroad in New York was well into his forties. It always irritated Kate, but of course, now as ever, she made no mention of it to her boss.
“He’s fine,” she said.
“When do you go out there for your visit?”
“At the end of April.” That was in just over a week. Kate hoped that the investigation wouldn’t take such a serious turn as to stop her from taking her much anticipated time off. No, surely it wouldn’t? She hadn’t seen her boyfriend for nearly three months, since she kissed him goodbye at the airport.
“Have you been to New York before?”
Kate shook her head. “No, I’ve never even been to America before.” She didn’t mention that her family had never been able to afford overseas holidays – or, indeed, any holidays at all.
“Great place,” Anderton said, glancing at the sat nav screen and then flicking on the indicator. “Was out there myself about five years ago—“
Whatever he had been trying to say died away as he negotiated a narrow bend in the road. The car had turned into a driveway flanked by two massive wooden posts and an equally imposing wooden gate, stained black. The driveway was tarmacked and it was a smooth, sweeping ride through sun-dappled woodland. At one point, Kate spotted a drift of bluebells where the azure of the flowers was so intense, for a moment she thought she was looking at a woodland l
ake reflecting the sky.
When the driveway ended in front of the Farradays’ house, the contrast was jarring. The house was almost aggressively modern, square, boxy and multi-levelled, its frontage a mixture of cedar cladding, black glass, steel and stone. A short walkway led to the front door, a shallow water feature running along either side. Kate wondered briefly if either of the Farradays had ever fallen in, perhaps missing their footing on a dark night or coming home a bit tipsy.
“Nice place” Anderton said briefly, parking the car. Kate gave him a disbelieving glance but said nothing.
A family liaison officer opened the door to them. Kate recognised her face without being able to put a name to it. They exchanged suitably sombre smiles and the officer led them through a stone-flagged, cavernous hallway, through a kitchen more suited in size and fittings to one made for industrial catering, and finally into a massive dining cum living area, big enough to comfortably accommodate three enormous modular sofas, a six-foot-wide coffee table and a dining table that could have easily seated fifteen people. Kate wondered whether the Farradays had a large family. Perhaps they liked entertaining a lot?
A woman who had to be Mia Farraday was hunched forward on one of the giant sofas. She was a thin, dark woman with a pretty, sharp-featured face and very blue eyes. Kate recognised in her the physical type she herself belonged to. Irish forebears, perhaps? The most immediate impression she had was of a woman in the grip of profound and unrelenting shock. Mia was visibly shaking, and if her teeth weren’t chattering, that was probably because her hand was pressed firmly against her mouth.
Kate and Anderton took a seat opposite Mia Farraday. She hadn’t spared them so much as a glance since they came in. Her eyes, wide and aghast, were fixed firmly on the floor. Kate felt her natural suspicion of the murder victim’s wife fading. That kind of distress and upset was very hard to fake.
Anderton began with the usual words of condolence. “Are you feeling up to talking to us, Mrs Farraday? Any information you can give us will be very useful in our investigation.”
For a moment, Kate thought the woman wasn’t going to answer. Then Mia gave a tiny nod and sat up a little, bringing her hand away from her mouth. Kate saw that she’d actually bitten through her lip – blood was smeared across it. The family officer noticed too and brought forward a tissue which she held out to Mia. Mia stared, uncomprehending for a moment and then took it and dabbed it against the wound.
“If you could just talk us through what happened this morning, Mrs Farraday,” Anderton asked. “In your own words and taking your time. Take as much time as you want.”
When Mia spoke, her voice was husky, whether through tears or by nature, it wasn’t apparent. “I – I had to go to the house to get some paperwork. We let it out as a holiday let and we have some guests coming this weekend, so I needed to – to check a few things.”
She stopped talking and they all waited for a minute, before Anderton prompted her gently. “You had no idea of your husband being there?”
Mia shook her head. Kate saw a tear fly out from the corner of her eye and hit the glossy surface of the coffee table. “No. No, I had no idea. He was supposed to be at a conference in Cheltenham. I wasn’t expecting him back until late tonight.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I unlocked the front door and went inside. Nothing was – I didn’t notice anything wrong then. The paperwork’s kept upstairs in the main bedroom, in the desk, so I went up there...”
Again she trailed off, her eyelids fluttering. Then she seemed to pull herself together.
“I – I could smell something odd. Sweetish but not a nice smell. I suppose I opened the door a bit warily and then I – then I saw him—” For a moment Kate thought she was going to break down again, but Mia seemed to draw on some inner core of strength. Her mouth twisted but she said, “I could see there was someone on the bed, all dressed in black, black leather. There was blood on the pillows.”
She lapsed back into silence. Kate saw her clench her shaking hands.
“What happened then, Mrs Farraday?” Anderton asked quietly.
Mia drew her breath in on a shuddering gasp. “I didn’t – I didn’t think it was Simon. Not then. Why would I? I didn’t know who it was. I was in shock – I wasn’t thinking. I – I sort of fell backwards into the hallway and got my phone—“ She put her thin hands up to her eyes, wiping the tears away. “After I’d phoned the ambulance, I – I went back in—“ She looked at the officers with a kind of wincing plea on her face. “I went back and pulled the mask up to see who it was. I shouldn’t have touched him, I know that. I’m sorry.”
Anderton waved a hand. “Don’t worry about that now, Mrs Farraday. Just go on with what happened.”
Mia gulped. “I saw it was Simon. I don’t know – I was so – I was so shocked; I wasn’t really thinking anything. I – I don’t remember much about what happened next. I think I fell down again. What happened then, I can’t really remember.”
Kate glanced down at her notes. The nine-nine-nine call from Mia’s phone had been put through to the emergency services at seventeen minutes past ten o’clock. Kate made a mental note to get hold of the transcript of that call.
She looked up to see that Anderton was looking at her intently. She raised her eyebrows in response.
“Could you give us a minute, Mrs Farraday?” Anderton got up and ushered Kate out of earshot.
“What’s up?”
“Could you ring and find out if we’ve got a time of death yet? We won’t be able to eliminate Mrs Farraday as a suspect until we have that.”
Kate had realised that just as Anderton had. “Leave it with me.”
She managed to get through to Kirsten Telling after only a few minutes. She listened to her answer, pressed for further clarification (a hopeless task – Kate knew from experience that doctors did not like to pin their colours to the mast too early) and then headed back to Anderton. She didn’t say anything but let him read the notes she’d written on her notebook.
“Hmm. Thanks, DS Redman.” Kate sat back down again and Anderton turned back to Mia Farraday. “Now, Mrs Farraday, we’ll be able to leave you in peace in just a moment but there’s just a few other questions we need to ask. Could you tell me what you were doing last night?”
If Mia Farraday recognised this as an attempt to test an alibi, she gave no sign. She wiped her eyes with a white cotton handkerchief – Kate hadn’t seen anyone use a real handkerchief in years – and said in a low, tear-choked voice, “I had dinner with the children and Sarah – she’s our nanny. That was about six-thirty. I don’t normally eat that early but I had to go out, I was due at a friend’s house that evening.”
“You spent the evening with a friend?” checked Anderton.
Mia tucked the handkerchief up the sleeve of her grey cashmere jumper. “Yes, I spent most of the evening there. I got home about – oh, it must have been after midnight. Perhaps half past twelve.”
“Who is this friend, Mrs Farraday?”
“Dorothy Smelton. You might have heard of her, she’s the deputy leader of the council.”
Kate had heard of Dorothy Smelton and so, from the look on his face, had Anderton. “Yes, I know Councillor Smelton quite well. So you were at her place last night from when exactly to midnight?”
Mia brushed her hair back from her face. She looked white with exhaustion. “I think I left here about seven. It’s not far to Dorothy’s house, about a twenty-minute drive, so I must have arrived there about seven thirty.”
Kate was busy scribbling all this down. She didn’t mention it to Anderton but was thinking it would be the work of a moment to confirm these timings with Councillor Smelton. She looked at the time of death that Kirsten Telling had given her. Between ten thirty and eleven thirty pm. If it was the case that Mia Farraday hadn’t left her friend’s house until midnight last night, she was cleared.
She sat back a little, listening to Anderton talk. Her gaze fell on a silver-framed photograph on the mant
elpiece over the massive modern fireplace, a wedding photograph of a much younger Mia and Simon Farraday, posed on the steps of a church. She wondered about Simon Farraday. He had had a relatively young and attractive wife but, from the look of things, had been waiting for someone else, someone with whom to indulge his more exotic sexual fantasies. Or had he? Was the leather and bondage gear a smokescreen? Had the lover he’d been waiting for killed him? Why? Or had it not been like that at all?
This case is not going to be straightforward, Kate thought with an inner sigh, and then she dismissed those thoughts and turned her attention back to the job in hand.
Chapter Three
Kate managed to make it back to the crime scene just as Kirsten Telling was preparing to leave. The doctor was packing the last of her instruments away in her black leather case when Kate came panting through the door of the bedroom, her thighs aching from the steep climb up the staircase. The body of Simon Farraday had been removed, and the Scene of Crime Officers were still hard at work, gathering all the evidence they could.
“Kirsten,” Kate said, when she had breath enough to speak. “Anything I can take back for our first debrief? Thanks for the time of death, by the way.”
Doctor Telling smiled. She’d put on some weight since the birth of her son but it suited her. She no longer looked quite so unearthly, despite the white-blonde of her hair and the corresponding paleness of her skin. “That really is a ball-park figure, Kate, you know that.”
“I know, I know. But you’re pretty sure that he wouldn’t have died after eleven thirty? Not after midnight?”
“That’s right.”
Kate nodded. “Anything else?”
Doctor Telling snapped the locks of her case together. “I’ll be doing the post mortem tomorrow, if you want to attend, but I can confirm that, at first glance, he died of severe head injuries.” She glanced around the room as if looking for something. “And, if I’m not very much mistaken, SOCO have already bagged up the murder weapon.”
