‘Look again,’ she said. ‘Surely you can do something to it?’
‘We’ve been over and over it,’ Max said wearily. ‘There’s nothing to see. There’s too much traffic. We checked all along the route to Nick’s house, but we didn’t see it again until Nick reached home.’
‘And then?’
The van had been visible briefly in Nick’s street, but once again the team failed to establish the registration number.
‘If it is the same van,’ Max added. ‘It could be, but we can’t be sure, even with the image enhanced. There are no obvious distinguishing features.’
‘Nick thought it was the same one.’
‘He could’ve been mistaken.’
Geraldine swore. ‘Look again,’ she repeated and strode out of the room.
It was frustrating to learn that they had sighted the vehicle without being able to identify it. They had no way of following it up to establish whether it was connected to the murder. Nick had allegedly seen it, but that didn’t help, because it could have been an innocent mistake on his part. What was worse, Geraldine was annoyed with herself for not having insisted Reg take her seriously when she had first mentioned Nick’s concerns. He must think her incompetent, as though her judgement was questionable. It was his misjudgement, but she was left feeling responsible.
46
They finished breakfast and Brian cleared the table. He dumped the plates and cutlery in the sink for later. If he messed around stacking the dishwasher now, Ed might become restless. He was already bored with cartoons on television. Since Ed had moved in, mealtimes had taken on an unforeseen significance. However much the youngster ate, he seemed to be permanently hungry. They had stopped for him to throw up on the car journey home from the seaside the previous day, but he had still insisted on having crumpets and chocolate spread when they reached home.
They sat down at the table, and Brian set out draughts. The game wasn’t much fun for Brian, but he enjoyed watching Ed’s face. He was very competitive and grew sullen if beaten, exhilarated out of all proportion whenever he took one of his opponent’s pieces.
‘It’s only a game,’ Brian reminded him.
‘You said that because you’re losing!’ Ed crowed.
While he didn’t appreciate the boy’s gloating, Brian was pleased he was enjoying himself.
‘This is more fun than being at school, isn’t it?’ he asked and immediately regretted his words as Ed’s brow twitched with the flicker of a frown. The less he thought about his past life, the more quickly it would fade from his mind. Ed glanced up and stared past Brian’s shoulder.
‘There’s a man out there. He’s looking at us!’
He stuck his tongue out and laughed, oblivious to the threat. Brian spun round, fists clenched. Whatever happened he was ready to protect his young charge. A draughts counter slipped from his grasp to land on its rim and roll silently across the kitchen floor.
‘You lost a go!’ Ed shrieked gleefully. ‘You dropped a piece so that’s two turns to me!’
Brian didn’t care about the game. All he could think about was that their secret was no longer safe. He sprang to his feet and raced over to the window to see who was there. While there was no sign of an intruder, a ladder was propped up against the wall. Ed hadn’t been making it up. He had said quite categorically that the man was looking at them. Ed had been sitting facing the window. A spy outside would have a clear view of him sitting at the table, and could easily have gathered evidence. It didn’t need any special equipment. Anyone could take a photograph on a mobile phone. Brian turned to Ed.
‘Did he take a picture?’
Ed shrugged, puzzled. The likelihood was that someone had spotted Ed out with Brian on their excursion the previous day and had sent a spy to investigate, under the guise of cleaning the windows. Brian had known he was sitting on a time bomb ever since Ed had come to his house. The clock had started ticking.
‘We can’t stop now,’ Ed whined. ‘I want to keep playing. It’s fun.’
‘It’s time for a break.’
‘Just because you’re losing. That’s not fair. I want to play now!’
‘Be quiet.’
Ed was so surprised when Brian snapped at him that he stopped protesting at once. Brian had never spoken harshly to him before.
‘I need to think,’ Brian went on, more gently. ‘Be good. Go in the living room and put the telly on. I’ve got to speak to the window cleaner. As soon as I’m done, we’ll carry on. We’ll leave the game here, just as it is, and you can have an extra go because I’m the one who’s holding us up.’
‘You’re a cheat. I’ll know if you’ve moved any of the pieces. I know where they all are.’
Grumbling under his breath, he trotted off. Brian waited until he heard the television was on before he opened a door that led to the side passage. He winced as it creaked on its hinges. Peering round the corner of the house into the back garden, he saw the long wooden ladder still in place. It trembled as someone moved on it. Brian squinted upwards. From that angle the man’s feet looked impossibly large. If he had been sent round to the house to spy on them, he was doing a pretty good job of masquerading as a window cleaner. He might really be a window cleaner, paid to gather evidence that Ed was living there. Either way, he wasn’t about to pass on that information. Climbing the ladder to fool them would prove to be his downfall. Literally.
With a burst of adrenaline, Brian dashed forward and seized the ladder. The wood felt rough and warm against his palms as he yanked it backwards. As the top of the ladder swung away from the wall, Brian flung himself sideways. There was a sharp thump as the ladder landed, straddling the patio. Regaining his balance, Brian staggered over to the house and leaned against the wall to recover his breath.
The man lay motionless on the patio. Brian tensed, half expecting him to spring to his feet and attack, after being momentarily stunned by the fall. He could be feigning, watching through half closed eyes until Brian came within reach of his long arms. He waited a moment, but the man still didn’t stir. Trembling, he approached the prone figure and saw that he was thin with long limbs, and rough calloused hands. His head was turned to one side, his face a ghastly pale colour. Beside his cropped brown hair a trickle of blood had formed a small pool on the ground, staining it dark brown. If he had landed on grass, he might have survived the fall, but he had cracked his skull on a stone paving slab. Just to make sure, Brian pulled off his jumper, knelt down and held it firmly over the unresisting face.
The dead man couldn’t stay there. The body was unlikely to be seen, with the garden screened on either side by tall trees. All the same, it was possible someone might look out of an upstairs window in another house and notice him. He had to be dragged out of sight as quickly as possible. Desperately, Brian grabbed the inert figure under his arms and pulled. The body barely budged. Brian tried again, straining with all his strength.
‘What are you doing?’
Intent on his task, he hadn’t heard Ed come out into the garden. Sitting up on his heels, he stared at the boy in a panic, wondering how much he had seen, and how much he had understood.
47
Geraldine did her best to dismiss her suspicions about Nick’s widow. Her own liaison with Nick would probably never have amounted to anything more than a brief fling. Yet without his wife standing in the way, their affair might have developed into a significant relationship. Her personal resentment towards the woman who had stood between them was bound to affect her judgement, however hard she tried to remain objective.
Reg leaned forward across his desk, staring mournfully back at her.
‘I’ve met her before, several times,’ he said. ‘Only briefly, mind, and I never really spoke to her. She seemed a quiet sort, happy to sit back and let others do the talking. On reflection, I suppose she seemed a bit withdrawn, but I never really thought about it before.’ He sighed. ‘What did you make of her?’
Geraldine hesitated. Despite her decision to keep q
uiet, her resolve wavered when Reg asked her outright for her impression of Eve.
‘Well, she does seem very quiet,’ she agreed. ‘It could just be that she’s in shock, after what’s happened. I mean I’ve only just met her. I don’t know what she’s usually like. What she was like before all this?’
It was hard to put into words what had happened to Nick.
Reg scowled. ‘Don’t beat about the bush, Geraldine. What do you think of her? Women’s intuition and all that.’ When Geraldine hesitated, he pressed her. ‘Do you think she could know more than she’s letting on?’
Neither of them mentioned Nick’s reputation for womanising, but they both knew it could be a motive for hatred, and possibly even murder.
Geraldine admitted that she didn’t know what to make of Eve. ‘But she stands to gain a lot financially from his death. I’ll check out her alibi.’
‘Good. Hopefully we can eliminate her straight away. And if we can’t... so, first the alibi.’
‘Right away, sir.’
Eve had claimed she had gone to an old people’s home to visit her aunt on the afternoon of Nick’s murder. It should be relatively straightforward to discover whether she was telling the truth. Admittedly she had been in the company of an aunt who was in her nineties, but the old people’s home would have a record of the time of her visit. This was an important point to establish, so Geraldine decided to drive out to the home herself. She went alone. The home was located in the leafy suburb of Pinner, about half an hour’s drive from Nick and Eve’s house.
The well turned-out manager looked up with a bright smile. She asked whether Geraldine had made an appointment to visit the home, or if she was there to visit one of the residents. She nodded, unworried, when Geraldine explained her enquiry. She didn’t seem at all curious about why Geraldine wanted to see Eve’s aunt.
‘Jane Arkwright, yes she’s here. Her niece did come to visit. Not often, but she came here sometimes. You can ask Jane about her niece. She knows who she is. She’s physically very frail, but she’s still got all her marbles. I’ll take you along to see her. She’s probably in her room. She hardly ever leaves it any more.’
Geraldine followed the manager along a quiet corridor. Nearby she could hear the muffled drone of a television. Apart from that, there was no sound in the building. The manager tapped on one of the doors and opened it without waiting for a response.
‘Mrs Arkwright? I have a visitor for you.’
Geraldine followed the young woman into the room. Its occupant was sitting in an armchair beside the bed, her slippered feet resting on a footstool. She was gazing at the window, seemingly watching clouds scudding across the sky. The manager called her name without eliciting any response. She called out more loudly, whispering to Geraldine that Jane was a little hard of hearing. This time the old lady turned and looked at them with a vague smile.
‘Hello,’ she replied in a voice that quavered softly.
Geraldine introduced herself.
‘Oh dear, the police, you’ve caught up with me at last have you?’ Mrs Arkwright chuckled. ‘How can I help you?’ she added more seriously.
She confirmed that Eve Williams was her niece. ‘Eve Browning she was, my sister’s niece really, not mine, but she’s the only family I have living in London now.’ She sighed. ‘My daughter’s in Leicester. She comes to see me every month. She’s a good girl.’
The manager returned to her office.
‘You know where I am if you need me,’ she said as she left.
The old lady was keen to talk, but she was too confused to be much help. She confirmed that her niece visited her from time to time.
‘She’s a good girl.’
‘Did she come and see you on Monday evening?’
‘Monday?’
‘Yes. Today’s Friday. We think Eve came to see you on Monday, four nights ago, earlier on this week. Is that right?’
Mrs Arkwright leaned forward. Reaching out, she placed one gnarled hand on Geraldine’s arm.
‘Has something happened to Evie?’
Geraldine hastened to reassure her that her niece was fine.
‘Is she in trouble?’ Mrs Arkwright smiled vaguely.
‘No.’ Geraldine refrained from explaining the reason for her visit, and repeated her question.
‘Oh dear,’ the old lady said, ‘I’m not very good with days, dear. In this place, one day’s much the same as another.’ Still smiling, she gave a helpless shrug. ‘My niece Evie visits me.’
Eve’s aunt couldn’t give her any more help so she went back to the entry hall and questioned the receptionist. She too confirmed that Mrs Arkwright’s niece had been to visit her recently.
‘Was she here on Monday?’
‘Just a minute,’ the girl said. ‘I’ll check the book. We ask visitors to sign in. Oh,’ she broke off, flustered. ‘I never asked you to sign in, did I? I thought, with you being a police officer, it would be OK to let you in, and I didn’t think.’ She glanced around and lowered her voice. ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Geraldine reassured her. ‘I won’t tell. Now, about Monday evening. Can you confirm if Mrs Arkwright’s niece was here?’
The girl nodded. Opening a large book that was lying on the desk, she checked it.
‘Monday evening, yes. Here it is. Eve Williams, visiting Jane Arkwright.’
‘Can you tell me the time of her visit?’
‘Yes. She signed in at seven thirty, that’s after the residents have their evening meal, and she left at nine when we lock up for the night.’
‘Thank you.’
It seemed Eve was in the clear. They were no closer to discovering who had killed Nick.
48
Geraldine had thrown out the sheets that had been on her bed when Nick had stayed with her. She couldn’t bear to use them again. Paranoid that samples of both their DNA might be discovered, she had been tempted to burn them, but wasn’t sure where to do it without attracting attention. Instead she had to be satisfied with washing the sheets at a high temperature, stuffing them into a large black bag and disposing of them in an outside waste bin. She felt like a criminal. The following day she had watched the contents of the bin chewed up in a large waste disposal lorry. It was not so easy to get rid of her memories. The only way she could try to stop thinking about Nick was by filling her mind with work, but sitting at her desk she saw his empty chair every time she looked up.
To get out of her office, she went to see Max who was cross referencing villains recently released from prison against those whose cases Nick had investigated, searching for a known killer who might have hated Nick enough to kill him.
Max looked up and gave her a weary smile. ‘Here’s the list.’
He had a team of constables laboriously checking through every villain recently released from prison. Once they finished, they were going to look at those still behind bars who might have friends or family seeking revenge. It was a long shot, but someone had wanted him dead. So far they had drawn a blank. In all but one of Nick’s cases, the killer was either still in prison, or dead. Geraldine herself went to interview the one possible suspect. He was an allegedly reformed murderer Nick had put behind bars.
Cameron Drew was in a hospice, suffering from terminal cancer. A softly spoken nurse took Geraldine to a conservatory which looked out on a well-tended garden at the back of the building. There were several patients sitting in cushioned wicker chairs, dozing, gazing out of the window, or reading. They all glanced up as she walked in with the nurse. Their eyes slid past her. She wasn’t there for them. The nurse led her to a frail bald man seated in a corner near the French window. The nurse touched him gently on the shoulder and he looked up with a slight smile, removing his headphones. There was a wonderful air of serenity in the room. Geraldine wished she didn’t have to break the silence, but she had a job to do.
The nurse hovered protectively as Geraldine sat down. Leaning forward and speaking in a low voice, she
introduced herself. If he was disturbed by her intrusion, he didn’t show it by so much as a flicker of an eye but continued smiling amiably.
‘What do you want with me?’ he asked evenly. ‘I’ve served my time in the nick. And I won’t be leaving here alive, if that’s what you want to know.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Why? What’s it to you?’
He was going through the motions of responding to her, but his dull eyes looked through her as though she didn’t exist.
‘Do you remember DI Nick Williams?’
The name brought a flush of pink to his pale cheeks. Behind her, Geraldine heard the nurse stir.
‘Inspector…’ she said, but her patient waved his skeletal hand feebly.
‘It’s OK,’ he muttered. He turned to Geraldine. There was a flash of animation in his eyes. ‘I should bloody well think I do remember him. He’s the bastard had me put away for twelve years. And then I came out to this.’ He raised his hand as though to wave it again, but let it drop back into his lap.
‘DI Williams is dead.’
‘Good riddance.’
‘He was murdered.’
‘Oh bloody hell. You’re not saying you think I had anything to do with it, are you? For Christ’s sake, woman, look at me.’ He scowled. ‘When did it happen?’
‘On Monday night.’
‘Monday just gone?’
‘Yes.’
‘What day is it today?’
‘It’s Saturday.’
He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Do I look like I could overpower another man? I can’t even hold myself upright.’
‘Can you think of anyone who might have had a grudge against him?’
‘Apart from me, you mean?’ He shrugged. ‘I’m sure there are enough of us, but I wouldn’t give you any names, even if I could.’ He turned away. ‘Fuck off and leave me alone, will you? And next time you want to go pestering a dying man, do your homework first. You could’ve asked anyone here. Ask her, go on.’ He looked up at the nurse. ‘Ask her where I was on Monday. Where I’ve been since I left the hospital. She’ll tell you. Anyone’ll tell you.’
Killer Plan Page 18
