Animal Instinct

by James R. Vance

  Roker nodded approvingly. Turner was still not convinced. He stood up. “I need the loo.”

  Visiting the toilet was his opportunity to snoop around the area leading to the residents’ accommodation. There was no sign of Mary's strangers or even the mysterious Jimmy Moran. It seemed that Sean was also absent as there was only one member of staff on duty behind the bar. She ‘s probably scared them off. She certainly scared me, albeit on the telephone.

  He returned to the table, where his colleagues looked a little disheartened despite their previously upbeat conversation. Massey looked up at him. “We've just received a call from D.C. Jones. The gardener passed away this morning following a second heart attack.”

  They drained their glasses and ordered another round of drinks.

  *****

  The following day was critical. Massey needed either a confession or all his expertise to convince C.P.S. that he had sufficient evidence to put Charles Howard on trial for the murder of Lara Crawford. He was still cross-examining the suspect with D.S. Roker in interview room one, when the phone rang in his empty office. D.C. Turner looked up from his desk in the main office. Should he walk across and answer it or would it transfer. Seconds later, Roker's phone rang. Turner sighed and went to answer the call.

  “Front desk sergeant here. I'm trying to locate D.I Massey,” said the voice.

  “Sorry, he's interviewing a suspect…probably be tied up for most of the morning. What's the problem? This is D.C. Turner, part of his team. Can I help?”

  “There's some woman here, reporting a missing sister. She says that she will only speak with the D.I.”

  “Can't someone else deal with it?”

  “She's adamant that it must be D.I. Massey.”

  “Does she know him or something?”

  “Unlikely. She reckons that he's the best…it must be his high profile in the local press.”

  Turner sighed…he had more important issues on his mind. “Okay, I'll come down and sort her out.”

  Initially, the woman was reluctant to talk with D.C. Turner until he explained that he was an integral part of Massey's team. The fact that the inspector may not have been free until the following day had also possibly played a major part in her change of mind. Turner led her through to an adjacent side room.

  “What makes you think that your sister is missing?” asked the detective.

  “She left for work yesterday morning as normal, but failed to return at the end of her shift. I phoned her mobile without success, so I contacted the place where she works but she hasn't been seen since she finished yesterday lunchtime.” The woman shook her head, visibly upset and ran her fingers through her close-cropped blond hair.

  Turner put her age at about mid to late thirties. “How old is your sister?”

  “There are a couple of years between us. She will be thirty five now. She's strong, reliable, not like me. Even though she's my kid sister, she's the one who looks out for me. I rely on her.”

  Turner flipped open a small pad to make notes. “Let's start with her name.”

  “Mary…Mary Cole.”

  The detective's pen hovered over the notebook like a bird of prey about to pounce on its victim below. He withdrew the pen slightly and looked across at the woman. He wanted to add that he had spoken with her sister yesterday lunchtime. He began to share her anxiety. She stared back at him waiting for some reaction. Slowly he wrote down her sister's name.

  “Where does Mary work?” he asked, attempting to conduct a sensible line of questioning, even though he was about to add ‘The Barleycorn’ to his notes.

  “She's a cleaner at the Barleycorn, the pub near the bridge.”

  “Yes, I know the place. When did you last speak with her?”

  “Yesterday, before she left for work. We share a flat together over one of the shops in the town centre. She starts earlier than I do, so she's always the first to be up and about. We have a brew together, she goes off and a little later, I leave for work. I'm a receptionist at the health centre.”

  “How was she when she left?”

  “Just her normal self. She smoked one of her roll-ups with a cuppa, said ‘see you later’ and left. That was the last time we spoke. I'm really worried, especially with what happened last week to that young girl. It doesn't bear thinking about.”

  “I'm sure that there must be a good reason,” said Turner, comfortingly, but as concerned as the sister. He needed to probe further. “Did she have any worries at work that you were aware of?”

  “Not really. She was moaning about some dodgy people who were staying there, but that's normal at the Barleycorn, isn't it?” She leaned forward towards the detective. “You don't think it's one of them, do you…you know, who could have murdered that girl?

  “Not at all,” said Turner, hoping to squash any rumour that might spread from the woman's imagination. “I believe that they only arrived in town this week.” He paused. “Leave it with me. I'll discuss the matter with the inspector. Before you leave, can you give me your name and a contact telephone number where I can reach you?”

  “I'm Barbara, Barbara Davies. I was married but divorced now.” She pushed her mobile phone towards the detective. “You can reach me most times on that number…I can never remember it… or you can always phone the health centre any morning except Saturday or Sunday.”

  Turner noted the details. “Don't worry. I'll look into it personally without delay.” He stood up and held out his hand.

  Mary's sister wiped a few tears from her eyes. “Please find her. She's not just my sister. She's my best friend.”

  Following her departure, Turner reached for the special mobile phone that he had inherited from the two strangers from the security services. He dialled the number from the card and waited.

  “Adam, good to hear from you. Can you talk?”

  In his guise of temporary undercover agent, Turner related the key points from his conversations with Mary Cole and, latterly, her sister, Barbara.

  There was a short pause before he received any response. “That certainly complicates matters. We don't need the local foot-soldiers steaming in there. Can you handle the missing person issue discreetly? I'll come back to you about her concerns over the residents. Keep it low key…we don't want to rock the boat and scare them off…at least, not at this moment. Don't get too close and certainly don't become involved. Just be our eyes and ears. We don't have the funding or the manpower to cover every lead or possible suspect, so we rely on people like you to alert us to any unusual activity. If we move too quickly, a cell and its entire connections can disappear without trace. Understood?”

  Turner nodded involuntarily. A cell, he thought. What's that all about?

  His contact continued. “A word of caution. Jimmy Moran is already on our radar. He's dangerous. Stay away from him, certainly for the time being. Good luck. Speak soon.”

  The line went dead. Turner switched off the mobile, wondering what he was about to undertake. He slipped the phone into his pocket. Shit! How do I handle Mary Cole's disappearance discreetly?

  *****

  “Is that it, then?” asked the official from the Crown Prosecution Service. He looked up from the report that he had been studying over the weekend.

  D.C.I. Wainwright glanced across at D.I. Massey, his expression inviting some comment.

  Massey turned to the prosecutor. “I believe that we have a fairly solid case.”

  “There's too much reliance on circumstantial evidence. Jurors have been known to convict where there are strong probability links despite the lack of proof beyond reasonable doubt. However, such outcomes are few and far between.”

  “You must admit, though, that there's a powerful motive, an abundance of in-situ forensic evidence and witness statements to place her at the mill at the time of her death,” countered Massey.

  The prosecutor stroked his head pensively and thumbed through the report again. He addressed the detectives. “This friend of the victim, Fiona Wilson�
�in her statement, she identified that the bag found at the mill was indeed Lara's, but goes on to say… and I quote… ‘It was most likely the bag which she used on Thursday morning’. That would be inadmissible in court. It is merely conjecture on her part.”

  “She explained that it was more of an overnight bag and because of its size, its capacity, Lara would have chosen it in view of her trip to the clinic,” replied Massey. “She also added that she was almost certain that no other bag was missing from the house. Surely, it is reasonable to accept the logic of that?”

  “It's still an assumption. Phrases like ‘most likely’ and ‘almost certain’ carry no weight. Likewise, the shreds of plastic bin liners found near the fir trees, the various chemicals and the home-brew kit discovered in the garden shed…all are considered as having similar properties to the evidence found at the landfill site and on the victim. Similar is too vague. The whole forensic report is too inconclusive. The probability is strong, but not proven beyond reasonable doubt. The only concrete evidence is the witness who identified the young woman walking towards the mill as being the victim, both in her physical features and her dress. However, even that witness statement is flawed.”

  “How do you mean…flawed?” asked Wainwright.

  “How reliable is this…” the prosecutor flicked through the report, “…this Sean O’Malley?”

  “He described her extremely accurately, even though she was some distance away. The description of her matched perfectly with the girl herself and the clothing from the other bin liner, which, incidentally, was identified by Fiona Wilson as her dress on that morning,” replied Massey.

  “But in his previous statement, when shown the photo of the girl, he failed to recognise her.”

  “He was questioned about that. The photo was simply a head and shoulders mug shot. He had not encountered her face to face. He only saw her rear view as she walked along the road. I would say that his explanation justifies his two opposing reactions.”

  The prosecutor returned to the report. “The bus driver recognised the girl when she caught the bus in Moulton, but was unable to remember what type of bag she carried.”

  “Lara Crawford was a regular commuter on that bus route, using it most mornings to travel to work. The driver said that he tended to see faces and the money that they tendered, but little else. His statement merely confirms timings and where she alighted.”

  The prosecutor leaned back in his chair. “It's still a flimsy case, Inspector. Take me through your overview of the complete scenario. If it's beyond reason, I'll advise against any prosecution. If it stacks up, perhaps there may be other avenues to explore which may swing it in our favour.”

  Massey looked across at Wainwright. The D.C.I. waved his hand over the table. “Go ahead, Raymond. It's your baby. I am quite happy to accept your judgement…you're not normally one for grey areas.”

  Massey nodded in acknowledgement of his superior's confidence in his expertise. He turned to face the prosecutor. “Howard is first and foremost a businessman, an entrepreneur. He made his money in the rag trade, but when the bottom started to fall out of that market, he invested in property. The ensuing boom period allowed him to return to his roots and to plough his gains into the more lucrative aspects of the fashion industry. Lara Crawford was a possible money-spinner for him. He was willing to take a gamble knowing that the returns could be huge.

  I imagine that he made her an offer. In return for his financial support, he would take on the role of agent, manager, someone with vital contacts. In other words, he would be able to justify taking his percentage. There's this beautiful young woman, full of aspirations, whose head was turned by a manipulative man with a promise to fulfil her dreams. He admitted to taking photos of her naked in his home, though we have no evidence of that…only what he said in his statement. I admit that there were no photos on his computers. We do have access to the ones taken at the photo studio, if required. He refuted that he had sex with her, but, given the circumstances of their relationship, it is conceivable that her seduction finally led to a sexual relationship that, in turn, resulted in her pregnancy.

  It is at this point that I believe there could have been a difference of opinion leading to some altercation, which went too far. Maybe she was simply on her way to the mill expecting him to drive her to the clinic. Certainly, a termination was beneficial to both parties. Lara would keep her figure and be in a position to continue modelling without interruption. His investment would not be tarnished, nor would their intimate relationship become public, ensuring that his reputation would remain intact.

  The question is what went wrong when she arrived at the mill. Maybe there was a dispute about money, maybe the abortion was his idea and she wanted to keep the baby. Maybe it wasn't even his baby. He could have demanded sex with her, she refused, he forced himself on her, she kicked off and he panicked, stifling her screams with a pillow or a cushion. His over-zealous actions resulted in her suffocation. Forensics discovered hairs with her D.N.A. on both types of these items.”

  Massey paused. “Perhaps we will never know the truth.”

  The prosecutor sighed. “It's an interesting supposition, but the lack of hard evidence is still a major problem. Bearing in mind his financial interest in her, there is certainly no reason for him to murder the girl, whether it was his baby or not. That's obvious from the start, so we're possibly looking at a tragic accident. Also, how do you explain the traces of chemicals, which appear to figure prominently in the report?”

  “There was no housekeeper or gardener around because of the Easter holiday, so the garden shed could have been an ideal place to conceal the body until he had decided how to dispose of it. If she was dumped on the landfill site during the night, he had all day to formulate a game plan and cover his tracks. The chemicals picked up in the shed and the pieces of bin liner found amongst the fir trees were just bi-products of his subterfuge.”

  “There is no disputing the fact that she was a regular visitor to the mill,” replied the prosecutor. “Howard admits to that and there is a stack of supporting forensic evidence to that effect plus the girl's own diary entries. Unfortunately, there is nothing in the report to suggest that the mill is the crime scene, apart from the rather weak forensic analysis of the stuff in the shed. Even the D.N.A. analysis is inconclusive.”

  The prosecutor smiled. “A shooting or a stabbing would have made our case so much easier!” The smile disappeared. “There is one crucial factor, which could possibly sway a jury in our favour. The timings place her at the mill at the approximate time of death. She certainly wasn't dragged into a hedgerow and raped. The state of her body and clothing testify to that. Where else could she have been down that short lane?”

  “Is that sufficient to charge him?” asked Wainwright. He turned to Massey. “We need a result. You have to put pressure on him.”

  “A confession would help,” replied the prosecutor. “The odds are stacked in his favour, but D.I. Massey's theory, together with the appalling nature of the crime might influence a jury to find him guilty…not of murder, but of manslaughter. Based on all the available evidence, I imagine that the judge could guide them in that direction. With no other suspects in the frame and having listened to your arguments, I believe that, if it is accepted that the crime was accidental and not pre-meditated, a verdict of manslaughter could be achieved. However, if it could be proved that there was malice aforethought, the charge would be murder. “

  “But doesn't malice aforethought imply that it was premeditated?” asked Massey.

  “Not necessarily so. If the killing results from the defendant's conduct which involves a reckless indifference to human life and a conscious disregard of an unreasonable risk of death or of serious bodily injury, it could fall into that category. A lot depends on his ‘mens rea’, his state of mind with regard to his intention or recklessness.”

  The prosecutor gathered up his papers. “Despite my many misgivings, I'm inclined to go for committal.�
��

  *****

  D.C. Turner entered Massey's office. “You asked to see me?”

  “Close the door and sit down,” said the inspector, curtly. “As a colleague, a valued member of my team, even as my brother-in-law, can you tell me what is going on?”

  “In what respect?” asked Turner, puzzled by Massey's unusually abrupt manner.

  “In respect of Mary Cole.”

  “Oh, you know about her,” said the detective, somewhat caught off guard by the mention of the cleaner's name.

  “I can hardly ignore the situation. Since my discussions with C.P.S., her sister has called me twice this morning for updates on our investigation. Why was I not informed about your involvement in this?”

  Turner looked anxious. “It was just a report of a missing person. I considered that there were more pressing issues involving the current murder investigation. I intended to pass it over to uniform to deal with. I'm sorry…I forgot.”

  “For the life of me, I cannot understand why you didn't consider it to be relevant to the Lara Crawford case. Two young women disappear in the same area of the town, one is discovered raped and murdered, the other is missing and you handle it like a lost dog incident. Surely, your natural instinct as a detective ignites some powers of reason in the possibility of a link.”

  “According to the sister, she had been missing for less than twenty four hours. At that point I didn't think it urgent.”

  Massey sighed. “I want you to visit the Barleycorn, interview everyone who works there, who drinks there and anyone living or working within the vicinity. If necessary, revisit all those outlets that we covered with respect to the Crawford case. I want a full report on my desk by the end of the day. D.C. Jones has returned from interviewing Lara's real mother. Take her with you. She was sharp enough to point us in the right direction with regard to Lara Crawford. Maybe she can repeat her intuitive skills.”

  The inspector stood and leaned over his desk towards the young detective. “From now on, keep me in the loop. Wainwright's pushing for a result. I do not want to have to contend with another unsolved murder. I'm under enough pressure already.”