Don’t jump to conclusions just because you don’t like someone.
Just then he spied Tom Barnes walking past, what was he still doing here? He was supposed to be down at the club showing Jackson’s picture.
“Barnes!” he yelled, at the dark haired young rookie.
“Sarge?”
“What the bloody hell are you still doing here? You’re supposed to be down at the strip club, it’s important we see if Swan can ID Jackson.”
“Yeah sorry, Beeton was on me like a dog. I had to send Hobbs down instead.”
“Fuck’s sake. Fucking Beeton, doesn’t he know we’re trying to run an investigation here? Make sure you go through that CCTV with a fine toothed comb when Hobbs gets back with it. Get him to help you.”
Barnes nodded slowly.
“Hobbs has to go off after but I’ll look through it Sarge.”
“Fucking hell. What is this a bloody leisure centre? Tell him to get straight on it in the morning then if you aren’t finished looking through it by then. Oh and pull up every bit of information you can on the Randall girl. Medical records, confidential stuff, I want it all. Apply for an emergency subpoena if you have to, Beeton or Doyle will sign it off.”
He turned back to his computer monitor, signifying the conversation was over. Meanwhile he should get on with the arduous task of rooting out Sally Brook’s former school classmates. Perhaps one of them would remember some crucial detail that had been overlooked at the time of her murder.
Pulling up the list of on the monitor, he looked over it cursorily, taking in the names of Sally’s school friends, acquaintances, and perhaps even enemies. He himself had been tasked with compiling it seventeen years ago.
Perhaps one of them would know something that might help? The list numbered almost thirty and then there would be those in the other classes in Sally’s school year. All of them should be re-interviewed, someone must have seen something. A detail overlooked perhaps, something missed that had allowed the murderer to evade justice and hide unnoticed.
Eyes half on the screen, half on the notebook open on his desk, he jotted down the first ten names and NI numbers listed, then opened up the Met’s data search application. The application was a rather handy tool in the armoury of any officer who had been authorized to use it. You could look up a suspect by their birthdate, national insurance number, or almost any other piece of information you had on them. Even handier, you could search the corresponding files of the local council offices, as well as the files of the Department Of Work and Pensions, and the Inland Revenue, in order to pinpoint the last registered location of almost anyone legally residing in the UK. He entered the first name on the list, Carl Stowe, and sat back to wait.
Though usually efficient, sometimes the search could take quite a while, since there was rather a lot of data to sort through. This time though, the machine performed its task speedily, for as soon as his back touched the soft leather of the chair, it beeped to indicate the search had finished. Sitting forward he clicked through the results displayed upon the small monitor. Carl was employed as a veterinarian and still lived in Surrey, though not in the family home he’d grown up in.
He worked steadily until he’d got telephone numbers, places of work, and addresses for all five of the names, then returned to the original list, shaking his head. Out of the ten, only Carl was listed as still living in the area.
Eventually, after going through the entire list he managed to find five who still lived in the town. All five were listed as being in employment and they would all probably be at work since it was only 11 AM on a weekday. Standing up, he tucked his notebook into his pocket and reached for his jacket. He’d call first but either way he wanted to interview Sally’s former classmates in person rather than at the end of a telephone line. Shrugging his arms into the jacket he spied Barnes approaching.
“Barnes,” he yelled. The young cop came over, looking at him questioningly.
“Hobbs back yet?”
“Nah Sarge. not yet.”
“Right well I’m going to Chertsey this afternoon. Need to make some enquiries.”
“Got a break in the case then? Bit out of your jurisdiction for casual enquiries isn’t it?” Barnes grinned as he spoke.
“Not a solid break no. I just like to do these things properly. If anyone asks after me, tell em I’m working on Birthstone and to leave anything relevant on my desk. I’ll pick it up in the morning. And if it’s urgent tell them to call me.”
Barnes nodded, “alright Sarge. Want me to do anything particular this afternoon?”
“Yeah actually,” he said, pulling open the top drawer in his desk.
“See this?” Barnes peered over the desk.
“You want me to tidy your drawer?” he said, looking unsure.
“No I don’t want you to tidy my bloody drawer. See that business card on top of everything?” The younger man nodded.
“Right well I want you to get an evidence bag and then take it to forensics. Get ‘em to see if they can get a match on it. Even a partial.”
“Adam Jackson,” Barnes said, tilting his head as he read the name out.
“Yeah. He keeps niggling at me, it’s probably nothing. But see if he’s in the system for anything. Oh and Barnes…” He paused, looking around to check that Beeton wasn’t looming in the shadow’s somewhere.
“Look it’s not strictly on the record so try not to mention any specifics to Beeton or anyone else unless it’s absolutely necessary alright? I’d rather word doesn’t get out about this in case nothing comes of it.”
Barnes nodded, he knew all too well how Beeton would react if he found out, a disapproving scowl would be etched into his large, reddened face, as he prepared to thunder about wasting police time and money on business that could easily be conducted by telephone.
“Yeah Sarge, I’ll cover for you if anyone asks. Ring me later, let me know how you get on or if you find anything.”
Smiling he patted the younger man’s arm.
“Thanks mate it’s appreciated. I’ll call you later to let you know how I get on.”
He walked away, stopping as he passed Doyle’s desk. She was on the phone, the handset clamped firmly to her ear. Just then she looked up at him, their eyes meeting for the briefest of seconds. Pausing, he stood there just looking, making up his mind whether to hang around to speak to her when she got off the phone. Deciding against it, he turned away, striding across the busy station office towards the small lift that would take him down to the officer’s car park.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT - DEACON
Deacon walked up the drive of the large veterinary practice that Carl Stowe was a partner at, and pushed open the glass double fronted door. The plump, kindly faced redhead seated behind the reception desk looked up at him as he entered.
“Can I help you?” she asked him, as he approached the desk.
“I’m here to speak with Mr Stowe. He should be expecting me, we spoke on the telephone earlier, tell him it’s Chief Inspector Deacon Gaine.”
She nodded, turning to the phone atop the circular pine coloured desk in front of her, as she dialled the extension number and spoke into the handset briefly.
“He’ll be out in just a moment” she said, looking at him and smiling.
Carl Stowe was a pleasant looking man, with an abundance of bright curly bronze hair and a cosy, somewhat homespun look about him, despite the clinical starkness of the white coat he was wearing. He sat positioned opposite him in front of a small desk in his office, two cups of tea set before them that had been brought in by the receptionist, whose name he learned, was Karen.
“So Inspector what can I do for you exactly? I know you told me on the telephone you were investigating something that you thought I might be able to help you with?” The man’s hazel eyes were enquiring as he looked at him. He noted Carl was extremely well spoken; he had obviously had a fairly privileged upbringing.
“Mr Stowe, I’m here today to talk to you about the
murder of Sally Brookes. She was killed 17 years ago while she was a pupil at Oakland’s Grammar School as you were yourself Mr Stowe. In fact she was in your form. You do remember Sally I take it?” Carl nodded looking a little surprised.
“Yes I do recall but it was all rather a long time ago Inspector. I’m not sure what I can tell you, I was questioned at the time I seem to remember. It was a terrible shame of course.”
“Mr Stowe, can you remember if Sally was associating with anyone outside of school at the time, an older man perhaps, someone that her mother wouldn’t have approved of?” He shifted in his seat as he looked earnestly at the younger man. Carl shook his head, his bright bronze curls bobbing vigorously.
“Look I can’t say for sure Inspector, but I never heard about anything like that. Of course there were some rumours at the time about builders that were working on the school though the police investigated all that and there was nothing in it apparently.”
He nodded recalling, the builders alibi’s had been rock solid, every single one of them had been thoroughly interrogated at the time and they hadn’t been able to find a single scrap of evidence linking any of them to Sally’s murder.
“And what about Sally’s school friends Mr Stowe? Was there anyone she was particularly close to at school in a romantic sense?”
“The thing about Sally Inspector, is that she was enormously popular…” he paused, chewing his lip as though he were trying to find the right words to say.
“Look I don’t mean this to come across the wrong way at all, but she was a rather attractive girl, and extremely likeable as well, so as you can imagine she stirred up quite a fair bit of that kind of attention.”
“Attention of the romantic sense you mean?”
“Yes, Sally liked a bit of fun and she didn’t take things too seriously.”
“Did you flirt with her Mr Stowe?”
“Actually we did have a sort of semi-flirtation thing going on. I asked her out actually, but then…” He stopped, his voice trailing off.
“Then what Mr Stowe?”
Carl raised his eyes to meet his.
“She was murdered.” The man’s voice was flat but his expression looked pained.
“It must have been hard to cope with that, especially after she had turned you down,” he said, trying to probe.
“Oh no she didn’t turn me down, quite the contrary, she accepted.”
“Oh? So you two were serious?” He raised his eyebrows, this was new.
“Oh no, like I said, I asked her out and she accepted. But it never got the chance to go anywhere and, well she seemed to have rather a lot of flirtations. But then most teenagers probably would, wouldn’t they, if they had the opportunity?”
He nodded as he took in the information. He wondered how to phrase the next question, hoping it wouldn’t offend. Still it had to be asked.
“Was there anyone vying with you for Ms Brook’s affection that you were aware of, anyone at all?”
Carl shook his head.
“No Inspector no that I can think of. Like I said Sally liked to flirt, sometimes a lot. But she wasn’t interested in things getting all intense.”
“But she agreed to date you? Be your girlfriend? Isn’t that a little intense?”
“Well yes but no. Like I said it never really got a chance to get off the ground. Who knows what it might have grown in to?” A thoughtful expression crossed the man’s face.
“And what about Sally’s other friends Mr Stowe? Was there anyone she was particularly close to at the time she was killed? Did she have a best friend? Louise Randall perhaps?” He noted that a strange expression passed over the man’s face at the mention of the Randall girl.
“Sally had a lot of friends so it was rather difficult to keep up, but she seemed to spend a bit of time with Louise around that time if I remember, yes.”
“So they were close when she was murdered?” He sat forward. Carl shook his head.
“No I wouldn’t say that exactly but I do remember they seemed to be together a fair amount in the weeks leading up to Sally’s death.”
“Did they get on well?”
“They seemed too. It was a little odd though, I thought.”
“Why was it odd?”
“Well, Louise….she…was well a bit strange Inspector, not like most of the other girls at school.”
He sat forward in his seat, his elbows on the desk, he was interested now.
“What do you mean by strange Mr Stowe?”
Carl blushed, his fair cheeks flushing crimson.
“Look it wasn’t the fact she liked girls if that’s what you’re implying Inspector. Most of us knew that anyway though admittedly she took a bit of a ribbing for it sometimes.”
“Did she get bullied at school?”
“Gentle stuff mostly, teasing, you know how kids can be. I don’t think she was particularly bothered about it. She certainly never showed it. Louise always acted just like she was one of the guys really,”
“So is that what made her different from the other girls then? The fact she was a bit of a tomboy and liked girls?”
The man sighed.
“No, well, yes, I suppose so in a way but it wasn’t that. Louise was just, well a bit odd somehow. We didn’t notice it at first but then we did and then it really seemed to mark her out. Everyone seemed to just avoid her in the end, except Sally of course but then Sally was always kind to everyone,” Carl said shrugging his shoulders.
“Did she like Sally in that way do you think?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Probably, it’s possible, she never said anything about it. But there were rumours.”
“Rumours?” He looked at the younger man enquiringly.
“There were rumours she had a crush on Sally yes. But then there were always rumours about Louise. She didn’t exactly fit in.”
“What exactly made her so strange Mr Stowe?”
Carl raised his eyes to meet his as he spoke.
“She just seemed to…to repel people somehow.”
***
On the way back to London after his interviews with Stowe and Sally Brook’s other three ex classmates were over, he thought through things as he drove. All of the interviewees had said pretty much the same thing about the Brook’s girl; that she’d had been popular, kind, and well liked, and all of them had supported the information Carl had given him about Louise Randall too.
Repression was a funny old thing ,it could make people act in all sorts of strange ways. The things we make people do to themselves. He shook his head, as he kept his eyes on the road. What was it Gateway had said?
Apparently, according to the good professors theory the killer was likely to be repressed in some way just like the Randall girl had been. But how though? Kemp was married with a penchant for strippers, did that count as repression? But plenty of married men had affairs, most of them didn’t kill. He had to find some kind of answer, if he could just find it, it would lead him straight to the killer, but he seemed to be getting frustrated at every turn. Nothing seemed to be moving forward at all, every avenue, every angle he tried to investigate appeared to be circumvented, and all he felt was a nagging sense of inertia.
Yet the killer wasn’t showing any sign of slowing down at all was he? And there was bloody Adam Jackson ever present in his thoughts, niggling away at him, mocking him somehow, why wouldn’t’ he go away? He couldn’t help thinking that somehow he had something to do with all of this. The man smacked of guilt. Maybe he’d drop in on Jackson again, pay him a little visit, look into his eyes and ask him a few hard questions.
He pulled off the road into a little layby that nestled in the side of the motorway and wrestled his mobile phone out of his trouser pocket. Shit, he left the card with Jackson’s number on it in the top drawer of his desk. He’d have to call Doyle back at the station and ask her to retrieve it.
His fingers flew to speed dial; Doyle knew he that he was technologically inept and had thankfully had the
presence of mind to put her number into his phone. He should have written Jackson’s bloody number into his notebook that was sloppy work.
“Gaine?”
“Doyle, I need you to get something for me. You still at the station?” He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping she would say yes.
“Yep, still here.”
“Ah good. I’ve left something, in the top drawer of my desk, it’s a small white business card with Adam Andrew’s number printed on it,” he said, speaking quickly.
“Let me just take a look,” she said, and he heard the click as she put the phone on hold.
Waiting, he wound down the window of the car, it was a warm June day, probably the warmest they had had all year yet. He heard her pick up at the other end and his ears pricked up.
“Gaine it’s not here sorry.”
“Ahh fuck yeah, I told Barnes to take it,” he said, sighing in disappointment as he remembered.
“I’ll call Barnes for you and get him to text it through to you as soon as if you like?” she offered.
“Yeah, actually can you see him now?”
She paused, obviously looking about her.
“Nope, can’t see him, he must have clocked off. Going home in a minute myself.”
“Ahh ok no worries. Just called on the off chance he might still be at the station. Well get him to call it through to me if you can. Talk to you later Jen,” he said, going to hang up. She spoke again, interrupting him.
“How did your enquiries go this afternoon? Turn up anything?” He sighed.
“Nothing, we’re still completely stumped. Partly why I need to speak to Jackson again. We have to exhaust every line of enquiry we have.”
“Barnes said you wanted access to t for Louise Randall’s medical records, I’ll try and push Beeton to sign off the subpoena before I clock off,” she said..
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