Talisman (The Wakefield Series Book 3)

by David Evans

  Once he’d disappeared, Strong addressed Ormerod. “You’re not convinced either, Luke?”

  “I wasn’t at first, guv. She spoke about the iron on the clothes and … well, thanks to our newspaper friends, everyone knows that. But she could tell us that he’d been manacled to the frame and that the door was locked.”

  Strong scratched his temple. “But she didn’t know about the sponge,” he said quietly, as if in thought. “I’ve got to talk to her Luke. Where is she now?”

  “In the cells, guv. Do you want me to come with you?”

  “I suppose you better had but just let me do the talking.”

  The custody sergeant unlocked the cell door and walked away a few yards. Strong entered, hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall. Ormerod remained by the door.

  Belinda Chamberlain looked to have shrunk from the woman he’d spoken to only a few weeks before. She glanced quickly up at Strong then away again. Her eyes were moist, swollen and bloodshot.

  “Belinda,” he said gently, “what have you done?”

  “I’ve told the other one. I put the iron on the clothes, switched it on and left.”

  “But why?”

  “I wanted to destroy the place. If he hadn’t bought it … if I hadn’t found out about it.” She let out a deep sigh. “That’s not true. Whether I’d discovered his nasty little secret or not, he’d still have had it, wouldn’t he?” She rubbed her nose with the sleeve of her cardigan. “I was going to wreck his car too but, in the end, I couldn’t be bothered.”

  “And you knew he was upstairs.”

  “Of course.”

  He pushed himself away from the wall and looked down on the woman. “You know what?” he said, “I don’t believe a word of it.”

  She looked directly at him and held his gaze for a second, before turning away.

  “I think I know you better,” he said. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Just leave me alone.” She lay down on the hard bunk, faced the wall and pulled herself into the foetal position.

  * * *

  “I just don’t get it, though ...” Strong was dishing up some chilli-con-carne onto beds of rice in bowls on the kitchen work surface. “Why would she do that?”

  Laura poured some red wine into two glasses on the small dining table in the kitchen. “What makes you think she didn’t?”

  Strong brought their evening meal over to the table.

  “Nearly forgot,” Laura said, “there’s bread in the oven.”

  Once settled at the table, Strong resumed the conversation. “I’ve spoken to her several times now. When she was brought into A & E, when Bob was there and next morning I bumped into her coming out. I like to think I’m a good judge of character and I just don’t think she’s capable of murder.”

  “I didn’t think she was charged with murder?”

  “Well, that’s the charge. If she hadn’t said she’d shackled him to the frame and just said she’d let herself into the house, placed the iron on a pile of clothes and switched it on, she would probably have been charged with manslaughter.”

  “But you said that she’d received a letter that morning from her husband’s solicitor saying he was starting divorce proceedings. That might be enough to make her do something she wouldn’t normally do.”

  “From Luke’s reaction, I think Hemingford has been applying the pressure and she’s finally cracked.” He took a sip of wine.

  “But, who knew how he was found?”

  “I’m still trying to work that one out. But there was one final detail she never mentioned.”

  “Oh?”

  “Sorry, Laura, I can’t even tell you that.” He paused for a mouthful of food. “But I think there’s more to it. Why would she put her hands up to something like this?”

  Laura put down her fork. “Okay, let’s say this was me. She’s been married for, what, twenty-odd years, two children, a boy and a girl?” Strong nodded. “Daughter off the scene, at least as far as this is concerned, and the boy at home.” She cut herself a piece of bread. “Well, there’s only one answer. If you think she wasn’t involved and has made a false confession, then she’s covering, taking the rap, however you want to describe it, for someone else. And if it was me, the only people I’d do that for would be family. And the only one on the scene is the lad. He’s your focus.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. I’ll ask Luke what reaction they got from Anthony when they questioned him.”

  Laura had picked up her fork again and taken another mouthful. “But what’s really getting to you, Colin …” She pointed her fork to reinforce the point. “… Is the new guy. You don’t like him, do you?”

  He pulled a face. “It’s not that exactly.”

  “So what is it, exactly?”

  “I think he’s swallowed this confession too easily. Either that or it’s an easy win for his first major case.”

  “So keep digging around. It’s not like you to give up so easily.”

  45

  Friday 24th August 2001

  Alison sat on the toilet in a cubicle on the 4th floor of her office building and stared in disbelief. But that wasn’t strictly true. Her body had been telling her for some time that this may be the case; she’d felt tired more recently, her breasts were tingly and she’d felt nauseous first thing in the mornings. But here it was in blue and white. The tell-tale colours of a positive test. She didn’t need to see a doctor to confirm it, she knew already. Twice she’d missed which would make her, what, about ten weeks?

  She’d nipped out at lunch-time to Boots, avoiding Sammy. She didn’t want her to see what she was buying. And now, here it was, all her concerns realised. God, thirty-seven and pregnant. What will Bob say? He’ll be over the moon, won’t he? But will he? Of course he will. No, wait, she can’t tell him, not yet. He won’t want her going to the States; and that’s been a long time coming. It’s such a great opportunity, six weeks over there; big swish offices in the World Trade Center; great views over Manhattan, not to mention the work experience. She’d been looking forward to it already. Promotion options should open up for her when she gets back too.

  But then … she looked back down at the stick. Ten weeks … that would mean about sixteen weeks when she was due to fly back. That would be okay wouldn’t it? Her head was in turmoil. Bob should know. She’d tell him tonight. But there again …

  The noise of the toilet door opening made her hold her breath. Then footsteps entered and walked up the line of cubicles.

  “Is that you in there, Alison?”

  She recognised the voice and let out her breath. “I’ll be out in a minute, Sammy.”

  “Mr Bates has just come down. He wants to run through a few things before you head off next weekend.”

  She stood, wrapped the stick in paper tissue and flushed the toilet. “Be there in five,” she said.

  * * *

  That evening Souter opened the door for Alison and they finally stepped into L’Italia. The waiter showed them to a table for two in a quiet corner towards the rear.

  “At least we made it through the door this time,” Alison said, a cheerful expression on her face.

  The waiter handed them each a menu and asked for their drinks order.

  “A pint of Peroni, please and …” Souter looked questioningly to Alison.

  “Just an orange for me.” She looked up at the waiter. “Have you got a J2O?”

  “Certainly, madam,” the waiter nodded and left.

  Souter was surprised. “I’d have thought you’d have gone for some nice Italian red?”

  “It’s just what I fancy,” she said and buried her head in the menu.

  A few minutes later, the waiter returned with their drinks and they were ready to order. Souter plumped for minestrone soup to start and a pizza for the main – large. “Well I’m hungry,” he said in justification. Alison declined a starter and chose a steak for her main.

  “I hope Sammy and Susan are having a good time,” Al
ison commented, once they were on their own again. “Over half way through their holiday now.”

  “I’ll bet they are.”

  He didn’t fool Alison. She could tell there was something on his mind. “What’s wrong?”

  “You saw the paper today? The Outwood fire?”

  “Oh, yes. That was terrible. That poor man. And it’s his wife who did it.” Alison looked shocked.

  He leaned in close and spoke quietly. “The thing is,” he said, “remember when I was in A & E …”

  “Difficult to forget.”

  “I know. But did you remember, they brought some woman in to the next bay …?”

  “Yes and when her husband appeared Colin had to step in to stop things getting ugly.”

  “That’s right. Well … she’s the accused and he’s the victim.” He leaned back.

  Alison put her hands to her face. “No!”

  “Yes. And it gets worse.” He swallowed some lager. “Susan will be disappointed; Sammy too.”

  “How so?”

  “She’s Belinda, that nice nurse who worked on the Orthopaedic Ward when Susan was in. Sammy liked her as well.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I know.” The conversation paused as the waiter brought his soup.

  “The thing is, I can’t help thinking that I’ve had something to do with it?”

  “What? You mean you were at the fire?”

  “No, not like that. It’s just … I don’t know, maybe something was said out of turn.”

  “You’ve got me,” Alison said, a perplexed expression on her face.

  Souter sampled a spoonful of his minestrone but didn’t expand.

  Alison studied him for a second then, head down, she began to say, “Actually, I’ve got something …”

  Simultaneously, Souter began, “Anyway, I wanted to … sorry, what was it?”

  “It’s okay,” she said, looking up nervously. “You go first.”

  “I was only going to say I booked my tickets today.”

  “New York?” Alison looked surprised.

  “Yep. I fly out on 30th September and back on your flight on 14th October.”

  “So you’re okay with me going?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “No … well that’s great,” Alison said, hoping her expression didn’t give anything away. “I hope you’ll not be too bored because I’ll still be working that first week, I’ve got the last week free.”

  “In New York? Bored? You kidding?” He finished the last of his soup. “So what were you going to tell me?”

  “Oh, nothing much, only that Mr Bates the office manager gave me all the details of what I’ll be doing for them while I’m over there.” She smiled nervously. “And, of course, all the security arrangements for getting in and out of the building. They’re pretty hot apparently, since that nutter tried to bomb it about eight years ago.”

  Further conversation was interrupted by the waiter collecting Souter’s empty plate.

  46

  Sunday 26th August 2001

  Alison opened the door to the boisterous girls just after eight on the Sunday evening. Both bounded into the living room, Susan holding a carrier bag that appeared to be full of gifts. “Hey,” Sammy said excitedly, “have you missed us?”

  Alison’s smile was strained. “Of course we have.” She hugged Sammy then did the same to Susan.

  “We brought you something back.” Susan held up the bag.

  “Aw, you shouldn’t have, not for us.”

  “But we wanted to. Without you two, we wouldn’t have … well, you know how we feel,” Sammy added.

  Alison lifted out the two bottles of wine and some other gift bags. “I’ll put the kettle on,” she said and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Souter walked towards them. “Had a good time?” He gave both girls a hug.

  “Oh yeah, brilliant,” Susan replied then gabbled on about some lads who’d fancied them all week and they’d had fun trying to avoid.

  Souter sat back down on the settee, looking subdued.

  Eventually, Sammy nudged Susan and their good humour subsided.

  “What’s wrong?” Sammy asked.

  “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” Susan joined in.

  Souter rubbed his face with both hands. “You’d both better sit down.”

  Over the course of the next five minutes, whilst Alison returned with hot drinks, he summarised the events leading up to Belinda Chamberlain’s arrest for arson and murder, as Strong had advised him the charges would be.

  The girls looked at one another, shocked expressions on their faces.

  “But that can’t be right,” Susan protested. “When was the fire?”

  “The Thursday evening before you went on holiday.”

  Again another exchange of glances. “But we were with her at that time, having a drink in a pub near the hospital,” Sammy said.

  “Are you positive?”

  “Of course. We’d been shopping, for the holiday, you know, and we spotted her in her car, parked up outside the hospital. She was upset.”

  “So why would she admit to doing it? Doesn’t make sense.”

  Alison put her mug down on the coffee table. “You’ve got to speak to Colin,” she said. “They can’t proceed if you two can give her an alibi.”

  “I’ll speak to him in the morning.” Souter leaned back on the sofa and took a deep breath. “I can’t help feeling I’ve contributed to this in some way,” he muttered.

  Susan looked at him strangely. “What do you mean by that, Bob?”

  “I’m not sure but …” He bent forward. “Were you there in the newsroom on the Friday morning when Janey was talking about the fire?”

  “No, not me, why?”

  “No, you’re right; it was only the two of us. She was telling me details about the fire. Apparently, she’s going out with one of the firemen that attended.”

  “And?”

  “She mentioned how it started and I did query whether she should put that information in the report she was writing. But then I persuaded her to tell me some of the other details that she didn’t include in the article.”

  47

  Monday 27th August 2001

  “Come through,” Strong beckoned, holding the door into the station open for Souter, Susan and Sammy to pass.

  “You’re looking fit and well again, Susan,” he said as they made their way down the corridor.

  “Thanks. Now totally discharged from treatment,” she replied. “Had my last appointment at Orthopaedics three weeks ago.”

  Settled into Interview Room One, drinks declined, Strong faced the three of them.

  “You said you had something important to tell me?” Strong began by way of introduction. “I mean, it must be if you’re all in here on a Bank Holiday, especially with the weather outside.”

  “It is,” Souter affirmed.

  “About Belinda Chamberlain, you said? But you do realise I’m not involved in that case now. DCI Hemingford is leading the investigation.”

  “Then he needs to know that she didn’t do it … couldn’t have done it.” Susan blurted out. She and Sammy did an impression of a double act routine as first one, then the other, interrupting themselves, told him how they had been away for a week on holiday, returning only last night and were shocked at what Bob had told them. They went on to tell the story of their encounter with Belinda on the evening of the fire, relating that they had taken her for a drink and a chat to cheer her up because she was upset at receiving a letter from her husband’s solicitor about divorce proceedings.

  “What time was all this?” Strong asked when they’d finished.

  “We spotted her about seven o’clock and she left us around a quarter past ten. We seemed to have a lot to talk about and the time just flew,” Susan said, looking at Sammy for confirmation.

  “That’s right,” the other said.

  Strong leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “I was ne
ver convinced by her confession,” he said after several seconds’ deliberation. “What I can’t work out is why.”

  “But Susan and Sammy’s statements will be enough to get her released, surely?” Souter said.

  “They’ll need to make formal written ones. I can organise someone to take them now. I’ll take this to the new man.” He grinned. “That’ll piss him off. Thought he was on an easy win on his first big case.”

  “But, as you say, Col, why would she put herself in that position?”

  Strong resumed a normal seated position. “Got to be covering for someone.”

  “Who? Her boy?” Souter surmised. “He was a bit pumped up at the hospital that night, if you remember?”

  “I do,” Strong agreed, “but his alibi for the evening checks out. Apparently he was with his schoolmate.”

  Souter looked from Susan to Sammy. “Lover then? Was she involved with someone?”

  “No, I can’t believe that,” Susan responded.

  Sammy shook her head.

  “You can’t always tell,” Strong said. “That’s why they get away with it. People keep them secret. It’s only when they make a mistake and get caught out … Anyway,” he got to his feet. “I’ll get someone to take those statements, if that’s okay?”

  “While they’re doing that, can I have a quiet word, Col?”

  “Sure.”

  They both made their way out into the corridor.

  48

  Tuesday 28th August 2001

  “Oh, by the way, have you heard?” Janey Clarke slipped on her coat as she loaded her bag behind the low partition. “They’ve just announced that Thistle Developments are the preferred developer for the Lofthouse Project. Work probably due to start in the new year.”

  Souter and Susan exchanged quizzical looks. Susan had arrived a few minutes earlier. She was about to enquire if he’d heard any more following their visit to see Strong the previous day when Janey had stood up, ready to leave. They were lounging by Souter’s workstation in the Post newsroom.

  “Has that just been announced?” he asked.