by Jay Nadal
Her body crumpled to the ground below in a soft thud. Dinner had arrived early for the rodents as more rats squeezed through crevices and joined in the feast.
28
The mornings were a lot colder and dark since the tentacles of winter were taking grip. Scott loved his early morning runs along the seafront during the early part of the year. With the onset of winter, and the cold, biting wind that whipped in off the sea, his runs were bracing, hard and tiring.
He’d left Cara in bed. Rather than be tempted by her promises and pleas to remain, he had crept out of the house before six a.m.
Scott stopped halfway between Palace Pier and the marina to catch his breath. Not that he was unfit, but he liked to stop and just stare out to sea. He found it therapeutic and mesmerising. He would allow his mind to drift, and his eyes to scan the horizon. It was one of those rare occasions where he could switch off and think of nothing. An opportunity to declutter his mind.
As he narrowed his eyes, he spotted the faint outline of a cargo ship far on the horizon; from this distance it appeared static. He wondered where it had set sail from, and its destination. He imagined it to be a solitary life, floating in the middle of hundreds if not thousands of square miles of ocean.
The waves rolled in beneath him, each of them as strong and bold as the last. They came like a coiffured fifties hairdo, over-pronounced in the arch and mesmerising, making it impossible to avert his gaze. They rolled in, bringing the music of the beach, the percussion section roaring from the stony bed below, yet softened by the water. Magical, relaxing and pleasurable. It was like listening to his own relaxation CD of ocean sounds.
Life was good, better than it had been in a long time, and for that he was truly grateful. The darkness that had been his constant companion for many years drifted into the distance, much in the same way as the cargo ship. His relationship with Cara had blossomed into something he hadn’t imagined or expected. His friendship with Abby had strengthened. If he was honest, he would be lost without both women in his life.
He inhaled a large lungful of salty air and allowed it to permeate every cell of his being before finishing his run. He needed to get back and tell Cara how much he loved her.
Whilst most people enjoyed lazy Sunday mornings, where a family breakfast, or Sunday morning walk provided the order of the day, followed by the preparation and indulgence of a Sunday afternoon roast, Scott and the team were hard at work.
The team gathered around the incident board. Scott sensed a general feeling of laziness, and boredom amongst the team. Whether it was because it was Sunday, or the case getting to them, he was unsure.
It was a common problem that most officers faced. Crime never stood still. Robbery, rape, assaults, and murder were committed daily. And the saying, ‘today’s news is tomorrow’s fish and chip paper’, held true. The longer an investigation continued, the less the chance of success and this challenge played on Scott’s mind.
Scott focused on the small successes they had had rather than the many questions still unanswered. The results of the DNA analysis helped, but the suspect remained unclear, and therefore remained the primary driver for their investigations.
They had sent the swab taken from Shah off to forensics, along with samples from Richards and Dalca, both of whom had been reluctant to submit samples to begin with. A minor delay at the forensics lab meant that Dalca’s buccal swab hadn’t been frozen immediately. The sample had degraded in quality which deemed the result inconclusive. Scott had issued a new request from Dalca, and Raj and Helen had visited Dalca to get a fresh sample, much to his amusement.
Richards, on the other hand had refused to provide any DNA sample from a mouth swab or head hair root, as well as a swab from the skin surface of his hands and arms. Ignoring the man’s non-compliance and knowing that they didn’t need his permission to do this, Raj headed from the bathroom to retrieve Richards’s toothbrush, whilst Helen made a beeline for the bedroom to retrieve a hair sample from the pillows.
Helen had commented that they had almost called for backup when Richards became abusive. His alcohol fuelled bravado causing a tense stand-off.
“Helen, I want you to have a chat with Jackie Cartwright, and then Claire Allen. Both have had time to consider the situation, and I’m convinced that either one of them, if not both, have more to tell us.”
“Do you think they’re hiding something?”
“I think her mother is. There is something about her I can’t quite put my finger on. Both Shannon and Leo are her grandchildren, but she only talked about Shannon, and looking after her. She hardly mentioned Leo, and her whole persona changed when his name came up.”
“And Jackie?”
Scott shrugged a shoulder. “I want you to go through her statement again. See if any fresh insights popup.”
Helen nodded.
Scott turned towards the incident board where pictures of Linda Allen and Daisy Callaghan stared across the CID floor. “We know he’s killed before. My concern is whether Councillor Levy’s daughter may have been another victim. Ordinarily, we could treat her as another missing person. Lexi Freeman knew her, and now Lexi is Dalca’s girlfriend. That makes me think Rebecca Levy may have come to harm. Without a body I can’t prove it, but it’s something we need to remember.”
“I think we should pay her a visit today, Guv?” Abby suggested. “Nothing better than being disturbed by the police on a Sunday morning.”
The comment met with a ripple of laughter.
“Whoever Linda met at the pub, has to be our suspect. He was the last person to see her alive. Dalca said he was with Lexi on that night, and we’ve seen the phone footage to confirm that they were having sex. Richards hasn’t given us a decent alibi, other than watching TV. Linda and Richards weren’t the best of friends, so I can’t imagine she was meeting him in the pub. But I think it’s worth leaning on him.”
“We’re back with a mystery man, or married mystery man, or both?” Mike muttered.
The team fell silent as they weighed up their options.
“Mike, bring Richards in for a chat. He’s shown violence towards Linda, and the pair didn’t see eye to eye. Don’t forget he found in her in bed with someone, and she was seeing other guys, so the motives of jealousy and revenge are worth exploring with him. He’ll moan about police harassment, but don’t take any of his shit. He likes us as much as we like him. Rattle his cage and keep a close eye on him to see what he does.”
29
Richards looked anything but pleased as he sat in the interview room. His arms crossed tightly across his chest as he slouched back in the chair. Anger boiled deep in his system as hot as lava. It churned within, hungry for destruction, and he knew it would spew forth in a massive eruption before he could stop it. The pressure of this raging sea of anger would force him to say things he did not mean, or to express thoughts he’d suppressed for weeks.
The room was every shade of grey, from washed-out concrete to steel blue. Every line was straight, every corner sharp, and the chairs felt as comfortable as a train station bench. He hated the place. They had left him sitting here for twenty minutes, whilst the uniformed officer by the door stood and observed him. Richards shot the officer menacing stares; he hated them as much as he hated this place.
It was never good news when the police came knocking at his door. The neighbours expressed their disgust as they peered through the cracks in their front doors. It pissed him off to be woken on a Sunday. A late-night of watching shit on TV, made bearable with three quarters of a bottle of rum, had left him groggy, with a parched throat and malaise.
Mike sauntered in and nodded at the uniformed officer before giving Richards the biggest grin he could muster. Raj followed behind doing likewise. They had both agreed to wind Richards up from the outset.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr Richards. My colleague and I were just finishing a late Sunday breakfast.” Mike announced as he flopped in the chair opposite and rubbed his full stomach. He ma
de a point of looking over at Raj.
Richards sneered in disdain at Mike.
“I understand you’ve declined the offer of a duty solicitor?”
“I’ve got nothing to fucking hide. The sooner you clowns get on with this, the sooner I can leave this shithole.”
“Don’t be so keen, Mr Richards. With the way things are going, you might end up spending more of your time here,” Raj goaded. “We’re very hospitable, with luxurious accommodations, don’t you think?”
Mike loaded up the tape recorder. “I’m stuffed,” he said, turning towards Raj. “I knew I shouldn’t have had that third sausage, and those extra bits of bacon. Two sausages, four rashers of bacon, two fried eggs, beans and mushrooms, with lashings of hot tea, was more than enough. Eyes bigger than my belly,” he laughed.
Raj turned towards Richards. “Have you had breakfast?”
“No. I wouldn’t mind what you’ve just had.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Richards. The station canteen is only for officers, and prisoners. And you’re neither.”
Richards’s frustration grew. “What did you drag me in here for, anyway?”
“As you know, Mr Richards, we’re investigating the rape and murder of your ex-wife Linda Allen. We would like to ask you a few more questions.”
“’I’ve said everything already. You’re wasting my time.”
Mike leant into the table, his face took on a serious edge. “This is the mother of your child. Someone set out to rape, strangle, and murder Linda Allen. We are trying to find out who committed this atrocious act. Someone who left her body half-naked and partially buried. Their heinous crime has left two children without a mother. I don’t see that as wasting any time. Do you?”
Richards smirked. “Ten out of ten for effect.”
“You mentioned that Linda had been seeing other men. In fact, you had come home to discover her in bed with someone.”
“So?”
“It’s rather convenient that you returned home on a night when she brought someone home. Do you not think?”
“No.”
“From your interview with my colleagues, you stayed out a lot. You see, I find it too much of a coincidence that Linda had never brought someone back before as far as you are aware. But on that night when she did finally bring someone to your marital home, you decided to return? How damn convenient for you.”
“It’s was my home. I was free to come and go as I wanted.”
“How did you feel towards Linda after witnessing her blatant betrayal?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I felt nothing. Not for her anyway. She was a whore. Yeah, it pissed me off. But more about the fact that a man, another man, was in my house. I couldn’t give a toss if she was in someone else’s bed. But to do that under my roof. She crossed the line.”
Mike gave Raj a sideways glance.
“Had she crossed the line enough to be raped, strangled and murdered?”
“Like I told the others, and I’m telling you, you ain’t going to fucking pin anything on me. You know, and I know that she got slapped from me on more than one occasion. Yeah, she crossed the line. But I wouldn’t cross the line and go as far as kill someone.”
Mike pushed harder. “But she pissed you off. She fucked another man in your bed. She took a big risk knowing you could come home at any moment. But it appears that the thrill and prospect of sharing a night of passion with someone else far outweighed any fear she had about being discovered by you?”
Every time Mike opened his mouth Richards got angrier. All that rage spewed forth faster than magma and just as destructive as he tried to launch across the table and grab Mike by his tie. Mike’s meaty hand swept in an arc and came bearing down on Richards’s arm, slamming it into the table. The uniformed officer raced from his post by the door and pulled Richards back into his chair.
Unfazed by the outburst, Mike continued, “That temper of yours, it’s a bit twitchy. It doesn’t take much for you to lose it, does it? Is that how you felt when you had time to think about what Linda had done to you?”
Richards barked at the officers, spittle flying from his mouth in all directions. “I didn’t fucking kill her, but good fucking riddance to the bitch!”
He claimed he would press charges for police harassment. His idle threats faded fast when Mike suggested that a counterclaim of an attempted assault on a police officer would have him dragged back in quicker than his feet would touch the floor.
“Listen, I want you off my back. Unless you’ve got any evidence to link me to your case, stay the fuck away from me. As I said, you’ve got the wrong man. Speak to your boss. Like I told him when he came to see me. You are barking up the wrong tree.”
Mike gritted his teeth, his jaw flexing. “I don’t care what tree we are barking up. If you are implicated in this, I will find that evidence, and you’ll spend a lot more time inside a small room with grey walls.”
The inference wasn’t lost on Richards. He stared at the table for a few moments, rolling his thumbs together in a circle, knowing what he knew would get them off his back. “The married fella she was having an affair with. He’s Leo’s dad.”
Mike looked up from his notes. “Go on. But if you’re doing this to pull my chain, you’ll have to try harder.”
“As God is my witness,” Richards replied, looking up towards the ceiling. “Hobday. That’s who she was banging.”
Dalca lived in a small property towards the back of town in a less than desirable location. His apartment was one of four in a converted Victorian house with cream crumbling paint on the outside, and a red wooden door, faded through years of sunlight. Scott pushed through when he noticed the door was on the latch. It led into a small hallway with an apartment to his left and right, and a further two upstairs. Dalca lived upstairs.
Abby didn’t hold the handrail. Her OCD kicked in as she curled her nose at the thought of the hundreds of grimy hands that had gripped the banister. Judging from the environment, she doubted if many of those hands were clean.
Scott hammered on the door and heard footsteps behind it. With a small spy-hole in the door, he imagined whoever stood behind it peering through it right now, deciding whether to open the door.
“Who is it?” came a male voice. Dalca’s thick European accent.
Scott raised a brow. They had questioned Dalca only a few days ago. “It’s the police, so stop pissing about. If you want me to shout louder so your neighbours hear, then keep hiding behind that door.”
Scott heard the key turning the lock, and the door opening. Dalca’s face peered around the corner. “What you want?”
“It’s not you we want. We need a word with your girlfriend, Lexi Freeman.”
“She’s…she’s in bed.”
“I don’t care if she’s fast asleep, we need to talk to her, now,” Abby replied, passing around Scott and pushing Dalca to one side, as he remonstrated.
Abby led the way, peering in each doorway off the main corridor, before she found the main bedroom at the back of the apartment. Lexi Freeman was sat up in bed. Her fiery red hair tumbled down her shoulders. Her slim, taut, elegant jawline framed an elegant chin and dark brown eyes that nestled under her fringe. She glanced up at them as she blew out a plume of smoke in circles and tapped her cigarette in the ashtray.
“Lexi Freeman?”
“Might be,” she replied.
Abby and Scott held up their warrant cards. “I’m Detective Sergeant Trent, and this is Detective Inspector Baker. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
The woman shrugged nonchalantly and averted her gaze from the window.
Dalca stood behind the officers, tight-lipped, dressed in nothing more than a T-shirt and boxer shorts.
“We are investigating the rape and murder of Linda Allen.”
“Well, then you need to speak to Andrei, not me.”
“It’s not Andrei that we need to know about. We’re trying to build a better picture of Linda’s background. You know her ex-h
usband John Richards, right?”
“Who doesn’t?” The reply was abrupt, and uninterested.
“What can you tell me about him?”
She turned to face Abby. “I know as much as you. In fact, you probably know more. He’s an aggressive bastard, especially when he’s had a few drinks. He doesn’t care for anyone else but himself. Give him a four-pack, or a bottle of rum, and he’s as happy as Larry.”
“And did you hear anything else about him?”
Lexi looked puzzled.
“Anything about how he was towards women? We know about his temper. Do you think he would go further than that?”
Lexi’s eyes widened. “Murder? Are you asking me whether he was capable of murder? Linda?” Her mind spun with theories.
“You tell me?” Abby replied.
Lexi paused for a moment, thinking things through, deciding what to say. “Andrei once mentioned that Linda feared Richards and his violence. Linda said it worried her that one day he was going to do her permanent damage. He laid into her on the night he found her in bed with someone else. He tried to force himself on her.”
“He tried to rape her?” Scott interrupted.
Lexi twisted her mouth. “Sounded like it. But that’s all I’m going to say. I don’t want to get involved, right?”
Scott turned to leave, before stopping. “By the way, how’s Rebecca Levy these days?” he asked in a matter-of-fact way, as if in passing conversation, to gauge her reaction.
The question shocked Lexi as her mouth dropped and her eyes widened. “Rebecca? But she’s been missing for years. How would I know?”
“No reason, but I wondered if you’d heard from her? Her parents still hope that one day she’ll be found. I can’t imagine the pain they must go through every day.”
Lexi grimaced. “Why do you expect me to know anything about it? She could be dead…” her voice trailed off.
