The Wrong Man (DS Dave Slater Mystery Novels Book 4)

by P. F. Ford

  "This is sheer fantasy," said Rossiter. "I told you before she was glad to see the back of him."

  "That's right, you did," said Norman. "So how do you explain the letters he has from her, in her handwriting, telling him how much she was missing him, and asking him to come back?"

  Rossiter obviously didn't quite understand what he was hearing.

  "She didn't tell you about that?" asked Norman. "You seem to have forgotten Diana was practised in the art of deception. She was an accomplished liar. Do you really think she would have told you the truth about her and Woody? Come on, get real. She played you like she played everyone else."

  "So now Diana had a problem," said Slater, continuing with his theory. "She needed someone, and her someone had gone. We believe she then decided to make you her new someone. You were happy to have sex with her, so she figured it shouldn't be too hard to convince you to ditch your wife and install her as your new wife."

  Rossiter smiled and shook his head.

  "More fantasy, I'm afraid," he said. "That was never going to happen."

  "Oh, we know that," agreed Slater. "You couldn't afford to give your wife grounds for divorce. She told us she'd take you for every penny you have, and then she'd ruin you, if that happened. But Diana wasn't prepared to accept that as your excuse, was she? She kept insisting, and in the end you decided you had to put a stop to it."

  "Then you got a lucky break and returned from London just after everyone had gone home. You took the company van, and drove out to Diana's house. Of course when she saw you at the door she was happy to let you in. You see, we know she let her attacker in. We also know she knew her attacker well enough to turn her back on him while she filled the kettle to make tea."

  Slater had stopped for breath, so Norman carried on.

  "And that's when you saw your opportunity," said Norman. "You took a knife from her own knife block and stabbed her. Then you made your way back to Rochesters, parked the van back in the garage and went home. And that's why you were late home that day."

  Rochester didn't say a word. He just stared at Norman. It was as if he was in shock. Humphreys looked equally stunned, but he was now staring at Rossiter, with a look of horror at what he appeared to have done.

  The silence was broken by a knock on the door.

  Norman went across to the door and opened it. There was a whispered conversation and then he came back with a sheet of paper. He read it and then handed it to Slater who read it twice.

  "It seems you're keeping our forensics team busy, Mr Rossiter," smiled Slater, looking up from his reading.

  "If you've found my fingerprints, that's hardly cause for celebration, is it," said Rossiter. "I've already told you I've used the van so I would be more surprised if you haven't found them. I expect you've also found another twenty or thirty prints besides mine. Are you going to ask the rest of the staff to provide fingerprint samples so they can be eliminated?"

  He obviously thought he'd caught Slater out with this suggestion, and his natural superior smugness spread across his face once again.

  "Already in hand as we speak," smiled Norman, wiping Rossiter's smug grin from his face. "You really do think we're stupid, don't you?"

  "We actually worked out that there might be hundreds of prints on a van everyone uses," smiled Slater. "But that's not what I'm taking about. Someone's left a packet of condoms in the van, with one missing. And there's a receipt, too. They were bought the day before Diana died. Whoever had sex with her the day she died used a condom."

  "Than perhaps it was another male member of staff," suggested Rossiter, slouching confidently back in his chair.

  "The receipt ties up with a transaction made with your credit card," said Norman. "Exactly the right amount, at exactly the right time, and in exactly the right place."

  "And where am I supposed to have made this transaction?" asked Rossiter sarcastically.

  "Local supermarket," said Norman.

  Now Rossiter sat bolt upright.

  "This is getting ridiculous," he spluttered. "I haven't been to a supermarket in years. My wife does all the shopping. And anyway, what on earth would I want to buy condoms for? I've had a bloody vasectomy!"

  This was something Slater hadn't considered.

  "You have?" he said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

  "Can you prove that?" asked Norman.

  "I'm sure my doctor will confirm it," said Rossiter with a chuckle. "Now that surprised you, didn't it? But the ladies like it, you see. It removes the need for condoms, and so many of them hate the damned things."

  "Not exactly a recipe for safe sex, is it?" observed Norman. "I hope you get yourself checked on a regular basis. Diana liked to share it around, you know."

  "Yes, I did know," said Rossiter. "I do the same thing myself. Never miss an opportunity, that was our shared ethos."

  "Oh, whoa," said Norman, pulling a horrified face. "That's information I really don't want to know."

  "But it might prove to be highly relevant in this case, don't you think?" sneered Rossiter.

  "We don't think the condom was used for protection against pregnancy or disease," continued Slater, ignoring the exchange between Norman and Rossiter. "We believe it was used to avoid leaving any DNA evidence. Having a vasectomy wouldn't have been good enough to stop that."

  "How many bloody times do I have to say it," spluttered Rossiter. "I did not have sex with Diana on that day. I didn't even set eyes on her or speak to her. I was up in London at the time you say I was having sex with her, and I was at home when you say she was killed."

  Slater chose to ignore this latest denial and carry one with the forensic findings.

  "They've also found traces of blood under the driver's seat," he announced.

  Rossiter simply stared down at the table in front of him.

  "Where's the blood from?" Norman asked Rossiter. "Is it Diana's? We'll find out when we analyse it. I suppose you hid the murder weapon under there until you dumped it, right?"

  "I'm not saying another word," said Rossiter. "You seem to have made your minds up I killed Diana, even though it's obvious I'm being set up by someone. I'll save my breath for someone who wants to hear what I'm actually saying."

  Norman looked across at Slater, who nodded back to him.

  "Well," said Norman. "If you're sure you don't want to speak to us anymore I think we're probably done here for now. I'm afraid you haven't cleared up any of the discrepancies we mentioned at the start, and now it appears we're finding more and more evidence pointing your way.

  "I think you probably need a few minutes with your solicitor, and then I'll ask the PC outside to escort you back to your cell. Did the duty sergeant book you into the penthouse suite or the wedding suite?"

  Rossiter didn't bother answering Norman. He just continued to stare at the table.

  Chapter Twenty

  "Have you found anything else yet, Becksy?" asked Slater.

  He'd come down to the workshops where Ian Becks and his team were going through the van. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd come down here and not gone straight back to the incident room, but he guessed it was probably something to do with the growing feeling of uncertainty that was quietly nibbling away inside his head.

  "I've found dozens of fingerprints," said Becks, gloomily. "There's no way we're going to be able to conclusively prove Rossiter drove the van to Diana's that day. We've got soil samples from the wheel arches that I'm pretty sure will prove the van has been driven down Bishops Common, but it's not going to prove when it was there, or who was driving it."

  "He admits he's taken it there in the past," said Slater. "But swears blind he didn't use it the day she was murdered."

  "And I don't think we can prove he did," said Becks, gloomily.

  "What about the packet of condoms?" asked Slater. "Are there any prints on that?"

  "Not even a partial," said Becks. "I've even tried the receipt and there's nothing there either. This guy was very careful where he pu
t his fingers. He must have been wearing gloves all the damned time."

  "There has to be something," said Slater desperately. "At this rate we're not going to be able to prove anything."

  "We do have the blood under the seat," said Becks. "At least if it's Diana's blood it proves there's a link between her death and this van."

  Becks' phone bleeped quietly as he spoke. He snatched it from his pocket and listened intently to the caller.

  "You're quite sure?" he asked.

  He looked at Slater as he ended the call.

  "Apparently there's a partial print on the ignition keys that doesn't match any of the prints we've taken from the staff at Rochesters," he told Slater. "It also doesn't match any of the prints we've taken from the inside of the van."

  "So what does that prove, and what does it mean?" asked Slater in exasperation. "And how does it help? We need to prove Rossiter was in that van, not that someone, at some time, has been playing with the keys."

  "D'you want a theory?" asked Becks, with a glint in his eye.

  "Will I like it?" asked Slater.

  "I can't guarantee it," said Becks. "Because I can't promise it's going to fit in with what you're trying to prove."

  "Oh, don't say that," sighed Slater.

  "You've got doubts, though, haven't you?" asked Becks. "You wouldn't be down here nagging me if you were sure, or if the guy had confessed."

  "Let's just say we've got two and two," said Slater, unhappily. "But I'm not convinced they actually add up to four."

  "I could make it worse," said Becks.

  "Well, it wouldn't be the first time, would it?" said Slater. "Go on, then."

  "When we did the crime scene, we didn't find any fingerprints," said Becks. "So we assumed the killer wore gloves. Now, we're pretty sure this wasn't a spur of the moment murder, right? We know the killer was quite careful, so it's not unreasonable to assume they wore gloves when they were driving the van. But what if they were just a tiny bit careless when they took the keys, and didn't put the gloves on until they were walking to the van?"

  "Are you suggesting the killer could be someone we don't even have as a suspect," asked Slater. "That's a bit of a long shot, isn't it?"

  "It's just a theory," said Becks. "And I did say you probably wouldn't like it."

  "But how are we going to prove it?" asked Slater.

  "We're assuming it's only staff who drive this van," said Becks. "But what if they allow someone else to drive it?"

  "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask," agreed Slater.

  "I thought you'd got lost," said Norman, when Slater joined him in the canteen. "One minute you were following me, and then suddenly you were gone."

  "Yeah, sorry about that," said Slater. "I thought I'd go and see if Becksy had any real evidence yet."

  "And?" asked Norman.

  "Zilch," sighed Slater. "He's got hundreds of fingerprints all over the van, but there's nothing to suggest Rossiter was driving it the day she died. All they've got is one partial print on the ignition key, and that doesn't match Rossiter, or anyone else at Rochesters."

  "Oh, great," said Norman. "Someone we haven't even considered yet. That's all we need."

  "It could just be from the guy who services the van," said Slater. "So don't hold your breath. Anyway, what's the verdict? Is he guilty? We seem to have plenty of circumstantial evidence but nothing concrete. And he's still denying it."

  "I'm a bit more convinced than you are," said Norman. "And I'd love for an arsehole like him to be guilty of something, but, if I'm honest, I'd like to be a whole lot more convinced."

  "It's not beyond reasonable doubt, is it?" sighed Slater.

  "We'd have to be pretty lucky, I think," agreed Norman.

  They both stared gloomily into space, contemplating their next move.

  "Okay. So let's start by taking a look at why we think it's not him," suggested Slater.

  "The pathologist suggested she was killed with an upward thrust," said Norman. "That suggests the killer is small. Rossiter is over six feet tall."

  "He couldn't have had sex with her at lunchtime on the day she died," said Slater. "He was up in London. There's just no way it could have been him. And, anyway, John Hollis has admitted it was him, and he has no reason to lie that I can see."

  "And why would Rossiter buy condoms, and then leave them in the van for us to find?" asked Norman. "Our theory said he bought them to avoid leaving any DNA, but that theory doesn't work now, does it?"

  "We know he bought the condoms," said Slater. "But why? I can't figure out where they come into it. Or, are they just a red herring?"

  "Maybe some women insist on it," suggested Norman. "They can't all be happy to risk an infection."

  "Okay," said Slater. "But why leave them in the van? I mean, anyone could have found them. You'd have to be pretty stupid, right?"

  "Yeah," agreed Norman. "He's an arrogant bugger, and he's got some questionable morals, but he ain't stupid."

  "And then there's the thing with the mobile phones," said Slater. "He would know they would link him to Diana and make him a suspect."

  "You're right," agreed Norman. "He woulda got rid of both of them, especially Diana's. I mean, hiding it in the sock drawer? Nah. I don't buy it. He would have dumped it. It's all a bit too convenient, isn't it?"

  "Alright," said Slater. "So we're agreed it's all way too obvious. So the next question is, who would want to set him up?"

  "This could be a long list," said Norman. "He's not exactly Mr Popularity, is he? You could probably start with everyone at Rochester and Dorset."

  "Good point," conceded Slater, with a smile. "But let's try to focus on those we know would have an axe to grind."

  "Well, Ian Woods, for one," said Norman. "The guy wrecked his marriage."

  "True," agreed Slater. "But he has an alibi for the time of the murder. And how could he plant stuff in Rossiter's sock drawer, or in his office desk?"

  "Maybe he had an accomplice," suggested Norman.

  "Rossiter's wife?" asked Slater. "I think she's a more likely candidate to be the killer than an accomplice. First she denied Rossiter had affairs, then she changed her story and claimed they had an agreement as long as he kept it away from home. And we know Rossiter and Diana weren't just doing it close to home, they were actually doing it in her home."

  "But she also said she didn't believe Diana was like that," argued Norman.

  "Yeah, right," said Slater. "D'you think she was telling the truth about that?"

  "She's been way too cool about the whole situation," said Norman. "I'm not sure she's told us the truth about anything so far. She's also small enough to have caused the stab wound that killed Diana, and she would have access to Rossiter's credit cards."

  "The more we talk about her, the more I see her as a suspect," agreed Slater. "But we should also consider Frosty Knickers, shouldn't we? I get the impression she spends a lot of time clearing up behind Rossiter, and she's definitely pissed off with having to do it. Perhaps she's had enough and decided to get rid of the problem once and for all."

  "She'd certainly have the opportunity to get at his desk, and the van," agreed Norman. "She's also small enough to be the killer."

  "Yes, but how would she get into his sock drawer?" asked Slater.

  "What if she was working with Angela Rossiter?" suggested Norman.

  "That's another possibility," agreed Slater, wearily. "Or are we looking for a conspiracy where there isn't one?"

  "I'm gonna be tearing my hair out soon," said Norman. "Maybe they're all in it together."

  "A three way conspiracy," laughed Slater. "Now that would be something, wouldn't it?"

  "Okay, okay," said Norman with a smile. "Woody has an alibi, so maybe not a three way conspiracy. Whatever it is, I think we need to look a whole lot closer at Angela Rossiter and Celia Rowntree, don't you?"

  "Definitely," agreed Slater. "But I think we should keep Rossiter where he is for now. If someone has set him up, it's better the
y think he's still our main suspect."

  "You still think we're missing something, don't you?" asked Norman. "Something was bothering you when we were at Diana's house the other day and you never did work out what it was. How about we go back there again? Maybe it'll come to you."

  "It can't do any harm, I suppose," agreed Slater. "But first we need to see if Jane's found anything on the CCTV disks."

  "I haven't found any CCTV cameras that can help us find out who used his credit card," said Jolly. "I've tried just about everywhere."

  "Damn," said Slater. "How about the CCTV disks from Rochesters? Did you find the one we want?"

  "It's not there," she said. "I've been through them all twice. The dates and letters all tally with the book, but you take a look at this."

  She handed Slater a CD. He looked at it, turned it over and looked at the other side, then handed it to Norman.

  "Right," he said, doubtfully, not quite sure what he was supposed to see.

  "Now look at this one," she said, handing him another disk.

  He looked at both sides of this disk, and then passed it on to Norman. It was as he handed it to Norman, and saw the two disks side by side, that he noticed what she meant.

  "Wait a minute," he said. "That's a brand new disk, isn't it? The first one's covered in scratches."

  "Oh yeah," agreed Norman. "You can't miss it when they're next to each other. Let me guess which one's been replaced. Would it be the one we're looking for, by any chance?"

  Jolly nodded her head.

  "Rossiter?" she asked.

  "Not necessarily," said Slater. "He doesn't have ready access to the disks and would have to risk being seen going into that room. It could just as easily be Celia Rowntree. She has access to these disks at all times."

  "So does the receptionist," said Norman.

  "I don't really see her as a killer, do you?" said Slater. "And what would her motive be?"

  "She does despise Rossiter," Norman pointed out.

  "I think that's a pretty universal feeling, don't you?" asked Slater. "Especially among the women who work there."