by Carol Wyer
The kitchen was in disarray: paperwork littered the kitchen tops along with the contents of kitchen drawers. An orange ceramic dish covered in cling film stood on the table, its contents untouched. Lauren slipped onto a stool and lifted a half-empty glass of wine to her lips, downing it in one.
‘Want one?’ she asked.
Robyn shook her head. ‘No thanks. Driving.’
‘Fair enough.’ Lauren picked up the bottle and refilled her glass. ‘I couldn’t face any more today. I’ve been trying to get affairs in order. I have to have all sorts of paperwork to register Henry’s death. I was given loads of leaflets to supposedly help me through this process but all they’ve done is make me feel like crap. Why do you have to go through so much aggro when somebody dies? Isn’t it bad enough losing them without all this as well? I have to get a death certificate before I can do anything. That could be ages, and all the time, I can’t let go of him. He’s here but not here, if you know what I mean.’
Robyn understood exactly what she meant. It had been the same for her when Davies had been killed, except Peter Cross had told her not to concern herself. He’d dealt with all of the paperwork and organised the funeral. At the time Robyn had been glad to leave it to someone else but now she questioned Peter’s motives. Had he really organised a funeral or had it all been a sham?
‘I understand, Lauren. I’ve lost people I love too and this is such a difficult period. You are getting support, aren’t you? Have you got friends or relatives to help you?’
Lauren gulped some wine and nodded.
‘I hope you don’t mind me troubling you again?’ Robyn asked, wondering if Lauren was sober enough to answer her questions.
‘No trouble. Not like I’ve got anything else to do. I didn’t fancy any company. People keep tipping up to say how sorry they are to hear about Henry. Even brought me food in case I can’t manage to cook,’ she said, nodding at the dish on the table. ‘I can’t take any more at the moment. I want to pretend it isn’t happening. Their long faces and quiet voices and looks of pity just remind me it’s all real.’
‘It’s about the clinic at Tamworth.’
Lauren’s face took on a faraway look.
‘Did either you or Henry have any contact with a nurse called Tessa Hall during your visits?’
‘There were a few nurses at the clinic. I was seen by at least three different ones. None of them was called Tessa. I don’t know about Henry. I don’t know which nurse dealt with him. His appointment was with a consultant called Galloway. He didn’t mention the nurses.’
‘You didn’t accompany him?’
‘No. I was at work that day. I’d already taken time off on a few occasions for my own appointments. Besides, he said he’d prefer to go alone.’
Robyn passed across a photograph of Tessa Hall downloaded from the clinic website. ‘Do you recognise her at all?’
Lauren squinted at the picture. ‘I might have seen her there. I can’t be certain. I was so nervous.’
Robyn left the photograph on the table but Lauren had lost interest in it. She took another sip of her wine. Robyn waited for Lauren to ask why she’d been asked about Tessa, but she didn’t.
‘I don’t know what I’ll do,’ said Lauren after a few minutes. ‘Mum and Dad are coming to help me sort out everything. They liked Henry. He was the first boyfriend they really took to. He and Dad would talk for ages about the bloody football. Ignored both Mum and me. Used to drive me crazy. Mum just laughed about it and said I was lucky to have found Henry, especially after Nick. Nick dumped me for no good reason and broke my heart. Henry mended it.’ Her eyes slid across to an unopened parcel on the kitchen top. ‘I don’t think I could go through all that again. I can’t face more heartbreak. I wish I’d had something to remind me of our love – a baby. As it is, I have nothing.’
Robyn tried one last time. ‘You really can’t remember Tessa Hall?’
Lauren shook her head. ‘There are so many nurses and doctors at that place.’
‘Can I ask you about Liam? Did he know the truth about Henry’s mother and sister?’
‘I doubt it. It’s not the sort of thing you shout about. Henry’s sister is a screwed-up junkie, and his mother’s so ill she doesn’t recognise her own son. Henry rarely spoke to me about them, let alone anyone else.’
‘Liam must have talked about family at some stage. He and Henry were good friends.’
Lauren shrugged. ‘Probably made up something, or changed the subject. He was good at that.’
‘What do you mean, Lauren?’
Lauren stared at her wine glass. ‘He’d change the subject if he didn’t want to talk about something. It was his way of getting out of an argument or a sticky situation. I used to get cross with him sometimes about that. It doesn’t seem important now.’
‘You’re friends with Liam’s girlfriend, Ella – did you not mention Henry’s sister or mother in conversation?’
‘Why would I?’ Lauren looked blankly at her wine glass. ‘Ella’s hard work – I mean, she isn’t the sort of person you’d want to share a bottle of wine with and have a girlie night. I like her, but she only ever wants to talk about Astra, which is fine. I love Astra. I’d really love a little girl just like her. But Ella’s intense. She hangs on Liam’s every word and doesn’t get involved in conversations. I find it hard to open up to her. It’ll be harder still now Henry isn’t here.’
Robyn looked at her watch. She ought to get home. Lauren looked up and opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.
‘I’ll be in touch again soon. When are your parents coming?’ Robyn stood to leave.
‘Sometime this evening. I told them I was okay and not to fuss but Mum insisted. I wanted some time to be alone. I wanted to feel his presence here and be with him for a while longer. Mum wouldn’t have that. Said it was too maudlin and I needed company. I don’t think I can face her. She can be so overbearing sometimes. Makes me feel like I’m only fifteen.’
‘She means well. She’ll be worried about you. And she’ll be upset about Henry too. You’re her daughter. Of course she wants to look after you.’
Lauren nodded dumbly. Robyn moved towards the door, glancing at the parcel as she left. The sender’s address was clearly printed. Lauren had received a parcel from Mothercare, a store specialising in baby items. Robyn hastened into the bitter cold, wondering how fixated Lauren was on having a child.
Nineteen
DAY THREE – THURSDAY, 16 FEBRUARY, LATE AFTERNOON
* * *
Anna called Robyn across to her computer screen as soon as she walked through the door.
‘I don’t know if this is significant but I came across it when I was searching through the ANPR points. Mr Akar works there, doesn’t he?’
She handed over a photograph, a still captured from one of the cameras on the route to Cannock Chase, of a white van with blue writing along its side that read ‘Mike’s Motors’. She looked at the time it was taken, twelve thirty, and tapped it.
‘Good work, Anna. We’ll start with Mr Akar and Mike’s Motors. What time do they shut?’
‘It’s late night on a Thursday. Six thirty, guv. I phoned up and checked. We’ve just got time to catch them there.’
Robyn gave Anna a warm smile. The woman would go the extra mile to catch a criminal. She loved that about all her team. ‘Let’s see what Libby and Tarik have to say.’
* * *
It took twenty-eight minutes to reach the industrial estate in Hanley. The garage, a bland, concrete building with a tin roof, looked like all the other buildings lined up beside each other, row after row on the estate. They passed electrical stores, furniture outlets, decorating stores and clothing outlets before they came across it at the end of the fifth row. There was no sign to make it stand out. Only the several cars lined up outside gave it away as a garage.
Robyn and Anna made their way around the building to the side, which turned out to be a large entrance to the workshop. A VW Passat faced them, bonnet open, a figure
leaning over it. Loud, tinny music that Robyn identified as Britney Spears came from somewhere at the back of the garage, where somebody was whistling tunelessly along with the song and bashing metal noisily. She ducked under the metal shutter hanging a third of the way down, and walked into the workshop. The smell of grease was overpowering and she carefully trod around a dark puddle of what looked like oil, towards a man working underneath a Range Rover, jacked up on a ramp. He soon caught sight of her and shouted.
‘Office is round the other side, love.’
She held up her warrant card. ‘We’d like a word with one of the mechanics, please.’
The man approached, wiping his black hands on a filthy rag. ‘I’m Mike of Mike’s Motors. What’s this all about? We run a clean ship here. No dodgy dealings.’ He scowled at her as if to make a point.
‘Just a friendly word with Mr Akar, please. Nothing related to your premises. Just after some information.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Tarik?’
‘Is he here?’
‘At the back. Hang on.’ He bellowed in the direction of the music and the whistling stopped.
Tarik appeared, a well-built man with a solid chest, in blue overalls stained black at the knees, hands as dirty as Mike’s.
‘Yeah?’
‘For you,’ said Mike, indicating Robyn with his head and moving back towards the Range Rover.
‘Sorry to bother you at work but we’re investigating a murder and would like to ask for your help.’
‘Murder?’ Tarik’s dark eyebrows rose in surprise.
‘We understand you know the victim’s sister – Libby Gregson.’ Robyn watched his reaction carefully.
‘Oh yeah. She told me. Her brother. Don’t see how I can help. Never met the bloke.’
He folded his arms, veins bulging on his biceps as he did so. Tarik Akar was obviously keen on bodybuilding.
‘It’s just to clear up a few things. I understand you went to the same school as Mr Gregson.’
‘I did but I wasn’t in the same year. I’d left before him and his sister joined the school. My brother was in Henry’s class but they didn’t hang out together.’
‘And your brother is?’
‘Nadir. Don’t see how that’s important. He never hung about with Henry. He went out with Libby for a few months after they left school.’
‘And you know Miss Gregson through your brother?’
‘Sort of. She brings her car here for servicing.’
‘And you’re friends with Miss Gregson?’
Tarik gave a light shrug and stared hard at Robyn. ‘Yeah. I suppose so. We chat and stuff. She hangs about here waiting for her car when it’s in, or sometimes I give her a lift home and take the car back for her when it’s done. It’s difficult like, what with her mum being sick and all that. She doesn’t get out like she used to.’
‘And did you see her yesterday?’
‘Nah. I was here all day. Why would I see her?’
‘Maybe to give her support. After all, her brother had died.’
He shrugged again. ‘They weren’t that close. He left the area years ago. He was a bit of a prick, to be honest. He used to hang about with a rough gang of lads. They were always into trouble, shoplifting, underage drinking, and fights. One time, he and his fellow thugs took Nadir down an alley and thumped the crap out of him. Nadir didn’t let on who’d done it until I wrung it out of him. He didn’t want no trouble. Said Henry had egged the others on. I wanted to flatten the little shit but Nadir said it would only make things worse. Made me promise to stay out of it. I didn’t want to. I don’t like people messing with my family. Family’s important. That’s water under the bridge now. Libby’s nothing like her brother.’
Robyn gave a nod. ‘You were here at work all day?’
He cocked his head. ‘Yeah. Why?’
Robyn pulled out the still from a folder and held it up. ‘So it wasn’t you driving this van yesterday at twelve thirty?’
‘Oh yeah, that,’ he said, scrubbing at his chin. ‘I forgot I had to fetch some spare parts from outside Cannock. We needed them for the Passat, isn’t that right, Mike?’
Mike stopped working and looked up. ‘What?’
‘I had to fetch spare parts for the Passat?’
Mike nodded. ‘Yes. I sent him. It needed a new carburettor. The guys at Cannock had one.’
‘And what is the name of the garage in Cannock?’
‘It’s just a small workshop. They tinker about with various cars and have parts, but not for sale to the public. JJ Parts. It’s called JJ Parts.’ He ran his tongue over his lips.
‘And what time did you return from JJ Parts?’
‘I don’t know. I had to hang about a while. They couldn’t find it, and when they did, it was the wrong one, so I had to wait for them to get the right one delivered from their other workshop. Probably about four-ish.’ Tarik spoke quickly, his eyes never leaving Mike. ‘Mike?’
Mike shrugged. ‘I wasn’t clock-watching. About four.’ He turned away and lifted a wrench, and then disappeared under the car once more.
‘They’ll confirm it. Ring Brett. He’ll be there until seven. He’ll tell you. So, if that’s everything, I have to get back to work.’
Robyn glanced at his heavy work boots. ‘Can I ask you what size shoes you take, Mr Akar?’
‘What?’
‘Shoes, sir.’
‘Ten. Why?’
Robyn ignored the question.
‘Thank you, sir.’ She watched as he strode to the back of the workshop. The prints found at the crime scene on Cannock Chase were a size ten. There were unidentified fingerprints on the Kia’s passenger door. If they were lucky, the prints might match Akar’s.
‘How soon can we get his fingerprints? They are on file, aren’t they?’ Robyn asked Anna.
‘Yes. I asked for them to be sent directly to Connor, as you requested. Should get them later today or by tomorrow morning at the latest.’
‘Here’s hoping they do. In the meantime, we’ll talk to Libby again.’
* * *
Libby was dressed in black leather trousers and a red silken blouse more suited to an evening out than sitting at home, caring for her mother.
‘Mum isn’t well at all today. I don’t want to upset her by inviting you in.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. We won’t keep you.’
Robyn stood her ground until Libby allowed them entry. Kath was wearing the same outfit as the day before and a coat unbuttoned and hanging open. Her face brightened when she saw Robyn.
‘Have you come to take me out?’ She began to fumble with the large black buttons on her coat.
Robyn shook her head. ‘Sorry, Mrs Gregson. I’m here to talk to Libby.’
‘Libby? Libby’s at school. She won’t be home until tea time.’
Libby walked across to her mother and knelt in front of her, hands resting on her mother’s knees. ‘It’s DI Carter, Mum. She’s here about Henry.’
Kath’s face clouded further. ‘Henry. When’s Henry coming? He promised to take me to the park.’ She stood up. Libby coaxed her back into the chair, where she sat and fiddled once more with the buttons on her coat.
‘She won’t take off the coat,’ said Libby. ‘Sometimes she sits in it all day. I used to take her out to the park but I daren’t now. She gets so stressed and won’t even get out of the car.’ She gave a sad smile.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you yet again. I’ve got a couple of questions. You might want to talk in private.’
Libby sighed and moved into the kitchen, where she rested against the kitchen top, keeping Robyn and Anna standing.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s about the tattoos you have.’
Libby barked a laugh. ‘What of them?’
‘It’s coincidental you have a new tattoo of a gun shooting flowers you posted on your Facebook wall the day before your brother was shot.’
Libby was incredulous, her mouth agape. It was a moment be
fore she spoke.
‘You accessed my Facebook page? Why?’
‘We look into the backgrounds of everyone connected with the victim, Miss Gregson. You weren’t singled out. I’d like to clear up why you posted a photograph of the tattoo. You can see how strange that would look to us.’
Libby reached for the packet of cigarettes near the kettle and lit one before speaking. ‘Let’s get this straight. I like tattoos. I’ve been getting them done since I was a teenager. When Mum became ill, I developed an interest in “darker” tattoos. You’ve seen the one of the skull with angel wings on my back? That represents my mother. She’s alive but dead. Have you any idea what it’s like to watch somebody you love with every bone in your body fade away, to be nothing more than a shell, to know they don’t remember you, or share the memories of your life together? I look at my mother and remember her kissing my knee better when I fell over, being there for me every time I needed her, us shopping together, or sitting on the settee together sharing a box of tissues while we both sobbed at a sad film. She looks at me today and can’t remember any of it. It’s horrible knowing she can’t remember Christmases or birthdays, or even who I am some days. And she’ll get worse. She’ll forget how to eat, to wash herself, or even how to use the toilet, and everything that made her the caring, loving, gentle woman I loved so much will be gone, but she’ll still be there – a frail, helpless shadow.
‘The tattoo was a release. It’s my way of dealing with this. The gun wasn’t for Henry! It represents me shooting my own mother – not in hate, but with love – with flowers.’ She stubbed the cigarette out angrily, grinding it until it split and remnants of tobacco crumbled from the paper into the saucer.
‘I understand,’ said Robyn softly. ‘I’m truly sorry. You see why I had to ask you?’
Libby nodded dumbly then drew herself back up on her chair. ‘Is that it? The podiatrist is coming in a while to cut her nails. Mum won’t let me near them. I’d rather you left so I can get her prepared.’
‘Can I ask you one other thing, about Tarik Akar?’
