Clear My Name

by Paula Daly

  ‘You didn’t know because you didn’t bother to look. All that manpower at your disposal and he didn’t even crop up? It’s taken me no more than a week to find the connection between Greg Lancashire and Ella Muir and there is only one of me.’ Tess sees Gillian eyeing Avril. ‘She’s a trainee.’

  Tess pushes a picture of Carrie Kamara across the desk. It’s Carrie as she is now. Not the Carrie Gillian would’ve known from the trial and the months preceding the trial. Carrie’s scalp is visible through her stringy hair. Her skin is grey and hangs loosely from the bones of the skull. She’s looking at the camera but her eyes are empty. She has a beaten-down, helpless expression, and if you had to guess her age, you’d put her somewhere around mid-sixties. ‘This woman is dying in there. Do you understand that? She’s dying. She’s losing the will to live in prison and all because you were too lazy to do your job.’

  ‘A jury of twelve people convicted Mrs Kamara.’

  ‘Because you told them what to think!’ yells Tess, and Gillian Frain looks away. ‘You provided a witness who said Carrie was at Ella’s address, a witness who wouldn’t see a waving hand in front of his own face. Your CCTV evidence was sketchy at best. You didn’t submit the fibre analysis. Oh, and guess what? Ella Muir had a real nasty bastard for a boyfriend. A guy who gets violent if his girlfriend tries to have a life of her own. Looking at all that evidence, I can totally see how you had no option but to charge Carrie Kamara.’

  ‘As I said, twelve people convicted Carrie Kamara—’

  ‘Oh, fuck off with your twelve people.’

  They make their way to the breaker’s yard where Greg Lancashire is currently employed. Tess is still fuming. How is it possible that DI Gillian Frain, as senior investigating officer, with all the resources at her disposal, didn’t think to interview Ella Muir’s closest friends? If she’d interviewed Steph, she’d have been aware of Greg Lancashire right from the start, and instead of making all the evidence she collected fit her hackneyed hypothesis of Carrie Kamara being responsible for Ella’s death, just because she thought Carrie had some sort of jealous grudge, she’d have realized that Ella was engaged in an abusive relationship. Which is a massive red flag if ever there was one.

  ‘I don’t think we should go,’ Avril is saying as the satnav tells them to take a right in one hundred metres.

  ‘Of course we should go.’

  ‘Greg Lancashire is dangerous.’

  ‘He’s only dangerous if you’re sleeping with him. We’re not sleeping with him.’

  DI Gillian Frain had argued that Carrie Kamara’s statement – which they believed to be fantastical – along with her behaviour in custody, had added weight to the evidence that they already had against her. She said they’d had no option but to class her as their primary suspect and once the Crown Prosecution Service authorized a murder charge, yes, naturally all other investigative leads were terminated. ‘I don’t know what else you would have expected us to do,’ she said reasonably, and Tess opened her mouth to argue but found, for once in her life, she had no argument.

  What else could DI Frain have done? She had a suspect. She had evidence against that suspect. She had motive. A witness. She had the suspect’s blood at the scene.

  And yet.

  And yet Tess is still furious. If they’d only interviewed Ella’s friends and co-workers fully there would’ve been doubt in their minds. And they would have acted on that doubt and pursued more leads. Which would have taken them to Greg.

  They pull into the breaker’s yard. It’s a pretty big operation: cars stacked on top of each other, the whole place overflowing with scrapped vehicles. Near the entrance is a wrecked police car, its roof torn clean off.

  Tess and Avril approach a decrepit prefab office that displays the sign: ‘RECEPTION’. A light rain is starting to fall and the sky is heavy with cloud. Tess’s heels sink into the earth and she looks up to the sky, trying to establish how much daylight is left. Half an hour? Certainly no more than an hour. Tess mounts the steps to the office and sticks her head around the door. Inside is a man with a large, lumpen body. He’s slouched over some sort of ledger, anachronistic in the computer age, and appears to be adding numbers to a column in pencil. Pencil, the tax avoider’s friend, thinks Tess. He doesn’t look up and so Tess knocks politely on the inside of the door. ‘Greg Lancashire?’ she asks. And the man waves in the general direction of out there somewhere.

  They walk between the stacks of cars. Avril is grumbling, saying that she doesn’t think he’s here, but Tess presses on regardless. She has the bit between her teeth now and she must speak to Greg Lancashire, at least to exclude him from this if nothing else.

  Long shadows are cast from the stacks of cars. As the temperature starts to dip, there is an audible groan from the contracting metal. They continue to walk and Tess knows how vulnerable they must appear in their heeled shoes, their handbags swinging gently at their sides.

  ‘What are we even doing here?’ Avril says and Tess is starting to wonder the same thing herself. They could disappear from here and no one would know. There are no cameras. No people around. This place is kept purposefully shut off to watchful eyes.

  ‘I really think we should call it a day,’ Avril says.

  ‘I think we should too but what about Carrie?’ And when Avril looks sceptical, she adds, ‘We’re her only hope, Avril.’ Reluctantly, Avril nods her head in assent. ‘Come on, we’ll try the next row of cars and if he’s not there, we’ll catch him at home early tomorrow morning.’

  They set off and before the next corner they hear a noise. It’s a sound Tess recognizes. A blowtorch. Tess quickens her step, turns right, and there he is.

  He’s squatting beside the wheel arch of an old RAV4, safety goggles in place, absorbed in his task. He looks to be around mid-thirties and is wearing well-worn jeans, a jacket, Adidas three stripes, and a red leather apron to protect him from stray sparks. He looks to be the kind of guy who can handle himself.

  He is unaware of their presence and so Tess takes the opportunity to survey him for a moment. He has a strong jaw and prominent cheekbones, emphasized by his dark-blond hair which has been cut exceptionally short around his ears. He must have been squatting for a time but it seems effortless. He’s flexible, agile.

  ‘Greg Lancashire?’

  No response.

  She moves closer and shouts above the noise of the blowtorch. ‘Mr Lancashire?’

  Greg cuts the gas and lifts his goggles, smiles. He looks Tess up and down. ‘Who’s asking?’

  He’s still smiling and Tess makes the split-second decision to go with it. She threads some stray strands of hair behind her ear, crosses one foot in front of the other, and adjusts her expression to appear available and girly. ‘You’re a difficult man to track down, Mr Lancashire. I’m Tess Gilroy and this is my colleague Avril Hughes. Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Greg,’ he says, standing, and puts the blowtorch on the bonnet of the car.

  For a second it seems he’s delighted to have company. But there’s something just a little off. Something not quite right about the guy.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ he asks.

  ‘We spoke with your wife yesterday.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘Did she mention it?’ asks Tess.

  ‘She didn’t actually. Must have slipped her mind.’

  ‘Well, we’re investigating a possible wrongful conviction and I wondered if you’d be able to answer a few questions.’

  ‘Don’t see why not.’

  Tess turns to Avril and Avril steps forward, smiles at Greg. ‘You were in a relationship with Ella Muir?’ she says.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What was she like?’ she asks.

  ‘She was beautiful.’

  ‘Can you tell me a little bit about your relationship?’

  ‘Well, I was fucking her,’ he says and he holds Avril’s gaze.

  Tess steps in. ‘You were never questioned by the police, as I understand it.�
��

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Why was that?’ asks Tess.

  He laughs. ‘Er, because I didn’t do it? They caught who did it straight away, didn’t they? Besides, I had an alibi.’

  ‘Where were you on the evening of the murder?’

  ‘That’s none of your business, Tess.’

  Tess tries to smile as though she’s enjoying this game they’re playing, but there’s a steeliness in Greg’s eyes. A rigidity to his jaw. Tess shifts her weight to her other foot. Suddenly she’s uncomfortable. Uneasy. Greg’s expression seems to conceal something, something else: a kind of deep loathing, perhaps? Tess decides to soft-pedal. ‘We’re just trying to find out anything we can that might help our client,’ she tells him. ‘She’s doing fifteen years in prison for a crime she didn’t commit.’

  Greg lets out a long low whistle. ‘Then I’d say you’ve got your work cut out.’

  ‘We have. It’s certainly not an easy case to prove, I’ll agree with you there … Can you tell me a little more about Ella?’

  ‘I loved her.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘She was funny. She liked life. She was a happy girl and you don’t meet many of those around here. That’s why she wasn’t short of male attention.’

  ‘Did that ever make you jealous?’ asks Avril.

  He shrugs. ‘Not really. Like I said, I was the one she was sleeping with.’

  He turns to Tess and she nods in agreement. Makes like she can totally see his point, to keep him on side. She’s not sure whether to push him further; she senses a charge in the air, an electricity around Greg that wasn’t there a moment ago. ‘Did you ever …’ she says, hesitating, wondering if she should continue to press. ‘Did you ever hurt Ella?’

  ‘I loved Ella. I told you that.’

  ‘Yes, but sometimes love can be hard, Greg. Sometimes when you really love someone emotions can take over and things can get—’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘Just that relationships get heated. People – both men and women – can get physical and strike out when they’re not really meaning to, and I’m just interested if this ever happened between—’

  ‘You’re not listening to me,’ he says between his teeth. ‘I loved Ella. I still love Ella.’

  ‘I hear you and I’m sure that’s true … It’s just that we were told Ella was seeing two different men at the same time. And I wondered … Well, I wondered how that affected things? Were you aware Ella was in a relationship with another man at the time?’

  Out of nowhere, Greg grabs Tess. He seizes her by the throat and pushes her up against the RAV4.

  ‘Don’t say that,’ he whispers.

  ‘I’m sorry, I—’

  Tess tries to pull away.

  ‘Don’t say that.’ His face is inches from hers.

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, I was just—’

  ‘Why are you here?’ he demands.

  ‘To help my client,’ Tess manages weakly.

  ‘I don’t think so. I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. I think you think I did it.’

  ‘I’m here to find out what happened.’

  Tess tries to pull away again but he’s got a strength she can’t match.

  ‘I loved Ella.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I would never hurt Ella.’

  ‘I know.’

  Tess’s throat is burning and her lungs are on fire.

  ‘Do you?’ he yells at her. ‘Do you!’

  Tess tries to nod.

  Then, incredibly, Greg picks up the blowtorch with his free hand. He picks it up and holds it close to Tess’s face.

  ‘Christ, no. Don’t,’ she begs, panicked, totally staggered at how things have escalated so quickly.

  Greg flicks on the flame and Tess hears Avril let out a yelp from behind her. ‘What do you want?’ he demands.

  ‘Nothing. Please. I don’t want anything.’ Tess’s legs are weak. The heat from the flame is unbearable.

  ‘You want me to confess?’ he shouts. ‘You came here thinking I’d tell you? That I’d tell you I did it?’

  Tess can’t answer.

  ‘I loved that girl!’ he yells again, and Tess can only hope that someone hears. Can only hope Avril is trying to get her phone out of her bag and is calling the police.

  Tess’s skin is on fire. The pressure on her throat is making her eyes bulge. Her body starts to quake. ‘I loved her,’ Greg says, weaker now.

  But Tess’s skin is starting to cook.

  ‘Please,’ she tries, desperate.

  ‘I really loved her,’ he says. And he is crying.

  Now

  TESS LIES SUPINE, her head unsupported. Even though he wears a mask, she can feel his breath seeping through to her skin. It’s not unpleasant though. It’s comforting. Like a soft breeze.

  Now he’s irrigating the burned skin with saline solution that comes ready prepared in a plastic pouch and this is not pleasant. It feels as if he’s taken a flat blade to her cheek and is slicing away the upper layers of her flesh. She whimpers and he hushes her gently. The saline solution runs down her cheek, on to her neck, and gets lost in her hair. ‘Let me get some tissue for that,’ the medic says absently, and he begins dabbing at the area behind her ear.

  It’s the same doctor who attended to Avril’s broken nose. He works methodically, with care. He is late forties, greying at the temples, and has dark soulful eyes. The rest of his face is obscured by the mask. ‘This might hurt a little,’ he says, and in her peripheral vision she sees the glint of polished steel as it catches the light, and what follows is a piercing white-hot pain, deep within her cheek. There are two metallic fragments lodged inside the burn, the burn which was inflicted by Greg Lancashire, and they have to come out. Tess assumes it was she who transferred the fragments. After Greg released her, she’d steadied herself on the bonnet of the car he was working on, fighting to get some air into her lungs; and then, when Tess and Avril fled, she remembers touching her face as she couldn’t be sure if Greg had wounded her or not.

  She wonders if Pete Kamara knew about Ella’s relationship with Greg Lancashire. It would certainly give him a motive to kill her. She also wonders if she should press charges against Greg Lancashire tonight, or if it will wait until tomorrow. She should do it tonight. She will do it tonight. Just as soon as—

  The medic is using tweezers and more saline solution to try to dislodge the splinters. ‘Almost there,’ Tess can hear him saying, ‘if you can just hold on a bit longer for me.’ She’s not sure she can. Her eyes are brimming with tears and her hands are clasped together so tightly she’s losing feeling in her fingers. She could do with a piece of wood to bite down on. A shot of morphine. Someone to pin her to the bed.

  And then it’s over. He’s telling her it’s over and she’ll need to keep the wound covered. He’s telling her he’ll prescribe a course of antibiotics and she’ll want to visit her local surgery to have it checked within forty-eight hours. ‘Luckily it’s only a surface wound, but if you find yourself feeling feverish or just generally unwell, come straight back to A and E.’ He removes his mask and gathers up the rubbish from around her: the empty saline pouches, the packets containing the sterile dressing, the blue tissue he used to mop up the liquid from around her head, and he bundles it all up before tossing it into the non-hazardous waste bin. Then he raises the top half of the bed, bringing her into a sitting position. ‘OK?’ Tess nods her head weakly. ‘Dizzy?’ he asks.

  ‘No.’

  He looks at Avril sitting beside the bed and Tess thinks he will advise Avril to drive home. But he doesn’t. Instead, he looks back at Tess and hesitates before speaking. Whatever he is about to say can’t be good because gone is the empathetic expression, gone is the smile from his dark, lovely eyes.

  ‘You know if you’re going to keep attacking each other like this,’ he says sternly, ‘I’ll have to file a domestic abuse report.’

  He’s not joking. He thinks
they’re a couple.

  He thinks they’re a couple who are trying to kill each other.

  Tess looks at Avril expecting her to at least crack a small smile, but Avril’s still too annoyed with her to speak.

  ‘You could’ve got yourself killed,’ Avril says later in the car on the way home.

  ‘Yeah, well, I didn’t.’

  ‘You could’ve got me killed.’

  ‘I didn’t do that either.’

  Avril turns her head away in disgust and stares out of the window. Tess stops the car. ‘OK. Say what you need to say.’

  It takes Avril a moment to get her words lined up but when she does she says this: ‘I just don’t see why we had to go and talk to the guy when we knew he was dangerous. What was there to gain? You should’ve told the police what you knew and let them deal with it.’

  ‘The police are not interested in Greg Lancashire. And they will remain not interested in him until Carrie’s conviction is overturned. If her conviction is overturned. Only then will they revisit the case and look into potential suspects.’ Tess takes a breath. ‘Answer me this. Do you think Greg Lancashire is capable of violence against Ella Muir?’

  ‘Yes! Of course yes. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m not refuting your motives. I’m simply trying to be sensible in our approach and I think the way you went about it was … well, it was stupid.’

  ‘I repeat: the police won’t be interested in Greg Lancashire until Carrie is acquitted. But you know this, Avril. At least now we know what he’s capable of. We know he’s volatile, we know he’s capable of extreme violence, and so we can keep digging.’

  Avril is not convinced. Tess puts the car into gear and rejoins the flow of traffic. They’re almost at the turning for the motorway slip road before Avril speaks again. ‘Do you always put yourself at risk like this?’ she asks. And Tess tells her she doesn’t. ‘So why now? Why this case?’

  ‘Because I know in my heart Carrie didn’t do it.’

  ‘How do you know that? I mean, how do you know for sure?’

  ‘I know because she wouldn’t leave her daughter all alone in the world. You’ve seen the bond between the two of them. That mother wouldn’t leave her daughter no matter what.’ Tess accelerates up the slip road and knocks the car into fifth as she joins the motorway. Checking her mirror, she sees she’s clear to pull across both the inside and middle lanes, overtaking a Royal Mail lorry which itself is overtaking a caravan.