by Sarah Flint
‘Murder?’ Hookham eyed her with barely concealed malice. ‘Tina is scraping the barrel if she’s told you that.’ He looked pointedly at a photo on top of the nearby sideboard showing Bobby and Emily on a beach, standing hand in hand, their smiling faces grubby with dirt. ‘Someone’s done me a right good favour though. God knows I’d like to have killed the snivelling bastard myself… but do you think I would do anything that would prevent me seeing those two?’
*
Charlie picked up the phone and dialled Tina Ashton’s number. She answered the phone almost immediately but her voice sounded weary.
‘Hi, Tina, it’s DC Charlie Stafford from Lambeth police. How are you?’
Tina Ashton sighed heavily. ‘Tired. I keep going over and over what Brian must have gone through, the pain he must have been in, and all alone.’
Charlie knew exactly what she meant.
‘It will get better,’ she lied. ‘You might not think so now, but in time you will be able to concentrate on the good times and the pain will gradually fade.’ She bit down hard on her lip to stop herself from saying what she wanted to say. How sometimes, late at night, when it’s dark and you’re on your own, it will hit you straight in the heart and the pain will be a thousand times worse.
‘Anyway.’ Tina brightened slightly. ‘At least I have the kids to keep me busy.’
‘And Casper. How is he recovering?’
‘He’s on the mend apparently. He lost a lot of blood and had a couple of broken ribs, but none of his vital organs were affected. I can’t visit him though.’ She stopped talking for what seemed like an age and when she started her voice was quiet. ‘He was always Bri’s dog. They were inseparable… but I can’t help thinking that if it hadn’t been for Casper, Brian wouldn’t have been out walking on the common. He would still be here with me and his new baby. I know it’s not the dog’s fault, but every time I think about seeing him and the scar he’ll be left with, I know it’ll bring everything back.’
Charlie was shocked at the words. ‘He might also bring you comfort… and good memories. See how it goes, Tina.’
‘We’ll see,’ she sounded suddenly lost. ‘Anyway, what can I do for you?’
‘We’ve located Carl but I wanted to know if you’d heard anything from him this week.’
‘Ah, that’s good, but no, nothing, which is strange. He had been phoning me daily, sometimes several times a day before Brian… died.’ Her voice faltered as she said the word. ‘Hassling me about the name change and saying that he would never give consent, that sort of thing; but I haven’t heard a word since. No calls, no texts, nothing. It’s as if he thinks he doesn’t have to, now that Brian’s not here.’ She paused. ‘You know, it was my idea to change Bobby and Emily’s name to Ashton, not Brian’s. It was me that wanted us to be one big happy family.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I’d kept my mouth shut. Right from the start, Carl was always jealous of what Brian and I had.’
Charlie waited for a few seconds before speaking. ‘Tina, Carl has been arrested for Brian’s murder.’
There was a sharp intake of breath, before Tina Ashton started to sob. ‘Oh my God, Oh my God. Do you think he really did it? What’s he saying?’
‘Nothing so far. We’ve only just brought him in, but I just need to check something out with you first.’ She waited for Tina to stop crying before she spoke again. ‘We’ll be carrying out a full search of Carl’s flat for any forensic evidence, but when we were there just now we took possession of several photos and an old rucksack.’ She didn’t mention the fact that, just like the car, the bag had what appeared to be specks of blood on it. ‘The rucksack had Bobby and Emily’s original birth certificates in it. Is there any reason that you know of, why he would be carrying these around with him?’
Tina exhaled noisily, before taking another deep breath. ‘Oh my God!’ she said again. ‘Brian and I thought that we’d have to send the kids’ birth certificates off, if we wanted their names changed… so Brian had been carrying them around in his wallet to get advice. During the custody battle, Brian and Carl argued. Brian stupidly pulled them out and pretended to score out Carl’s surname and insert his own. I know it got to Carl. It turns out that the birth certificates don’t get altered anyway, even in the unlikely event that we’d gone to court and got permission to apply to change their names. We’d pretty much given up on the idea anyway, but Carl didn’t know that. He probably thought if he had them we wouldn’t be able to go ahead.’
*
The atmosphere in the interview room was tense. Charlie had been hoping to get a few answers from Carl Hookham but with Justin Latchmere acting as his solicitor he was having none of it. It was frustrating, though not unexpected. She decided to drop the bomb.
‘So, tell me Carl. How come you have Bobby and Emily’s birth certificates in your bag?’
‘No comment.’
‘Did you steal them out of Brian’s wallet when you attacked him? You knew they were there didn’t you, because you saw Brian with them after court.’
Carl Hookham sat up straight, looking panicked. ‘No comment.’
‘Did you take them so that he couldn’t get your kids’ surname changed?’
‘No comment.’
‘Because you were incensed that Brian was rubbing your nose in it. Because he wanted to take over from you as father to Bobby and Emily? He wanted to replace you and you didn’t like it, did you?’
‘No comment.’
‘You wanted him out of the picture, didn’t you?’
‘No comment.’
‘He’d stolen your kids off you, hadn’t he? And you wanted to punish him?’
Hookham swallowed hard. ‘No comment.’
‘So that he could never see your kids, or touch them again?’
‘No comment.’
‘So you planned what to do. You waited until he was on his own in the area where you knew he walked his dog. You watched for him to come and you picked on the dog first, the one thing you knew would be guaranteed to take his mind off what was going on around him.’
‘No comment.’
‘And then you threw acid in his face, didn’t you? So he couldn’t fight back?’
‘No comment.’
‘Because he’s bigger and stronger than you, isn’t he? He’s a big, strong cop and you wanted to take him out. Make him crawl on his hands and knees, maybe even beg for mercy?’
Hookham squared his shoulders. ‘No comment.’
‘Before you finished him off?’
‘No comment.’
‘That’s why there’s blood on your bag, Carl, and in your car, isn’t it?’
‘No comment.’
‘So, tell me whose blood is it, Carl?’
Carl Hookham shot a look towards his legal rep who shook his head.
‘No comment.’
Charlie leant back in her chair and sighed heavily. Hunter kept his gaze fixed on Hookham who was now squirming in his seat, every few seconds shifting position, his eyes darting from one to the other and then to his legal rep.
Justin Latchmere nodded towards him, a slight shake of his head indicating for Hookham to remain silent. She concentrated on Hookham, studiously ignoring his solicitor.
‘So where were you in the early hours of Tuesday 20th June and the evening before? At work, at home, at a friend’s house?’
‘No comment.’
‘OK, to be more specific then. What were you doing near to where Brian Ashton’s body was found?’
‘No comment.’
‘You were in the area, weren’t you?’
‘No comment.’
‘Your phone was used around 02.30 from the locality and your car was seen on CCTV nearby. So what were you doing?’
‘No comment.’
‘I don’t understand why you won’t answer my questions. It’s quite simple. If you’ve done nothing wrong then tell me what you were doing so I can eliminate you from our enquiries.’
/> ‘Officer, you know as well as I do that it is my client’s right in law to say nothing if he does not wish to. It is up to you, as agents for the prosecution, to prove my client has transgressed. It is not up to him to prove his innocence. His innocence is a given.’ Justin Latchmere slapped his clipboard down on the table in front of him and fixed Charlie with a stare.
Charlie stared straight back at him. ‘Mr Latchmere, it is also my job to extend the opportunity to provide a defence at this stage, which can later be used at court if your client so wishes. Indeed, I have already cautioned him that failing to answer my questions now may actually harm his defence should the case get that far. I am sure you wouldn’t want to give your client advice that may harm his prospects now, would you sir?’
Carl Hookham looked from one to the other, clearly confused.
Charlie smiled towards him. ‘I think there’s something that you want to tell me, that for some reason you’re not explaining. You have been arrested for murder, Carl. That is the most serious offence on the statute book and if there’s something you know that could assist you, or us, I’m giving you the opportunity to say now.’
Carl swung round wildly towards Justin Latchmere, his eyes wide. The solicitor frowned towards him and again shook his head.
‘No comment,’ Hookham repeated obediently before turning towards Charlie and Hunter. ‘I can’t say anything more because I don’t want to lose my kids.’
*
The front doors to the veterinary surgery were closed by the time Charlie entered the car park but there was a light on towards the rear. On Hunter’s instructions, she had bailed Hookham out to a suitable address to let him sweat, while his house was searched. He was clearly rattled but had held firm, refusing to explain just how he had got his hands on the birth certificates. So now it was their turn to sweat. They needed the results of the blood analysis from Hookham’s car and rucksack and they needed answers. Suspicion was not enough; it was cold, hard evidence that was lacking.
But for now another issue was pressing on her mind.
She knocked initially, but when there was no reply, she rang the emergency out-of-hours number, watching as a young nurse came to the phone in the reception. A few minutes later Charlie was ushered inside.
She was escorted through an examination room, to the rear of the surgery, where a row of metal cages held half a dozen animals. The smell of disinfectant filled her nostrils, along with the assorted scents of dog, cat and rabbit, all blended headily together in a haze of dust and hair. Casper lay on a blanket in a metal cage at the end of the line, his tail waving automatically at the sight of the newest guest.
The fur had been shaved across the whole of his belly and a row of stitches zig-zagged across the pale skin on his underside. The fur on his head, body and tail was lank and dull, although its usual glossiness looked to be returning in places. A plastic cone around his neck hampered his easy movement, as well as preventing him chewing at the stitches. Various charts placed above the cage plotted his recovery from near death, to life, as well as prescribing the required medication, fluids and food.
He laboured to a stand at her entrance, pressing his nose against the metal bars of the cage, his tail continuing to move rhythmically from side to side.
Charlie bent down towards him, staring into his doleful eyes. His pleasure at the attention was not in doubt, but a sadness in his expression gave away his knowledge that something was wrong. Charlie was not his master… and his master had not visited.
She held out her fingers as Casper pressed his muzzle to the cage, stroking the dog’s nose gently through the bars. It was cool and wet and alive, a living, breathing example of an animal’s innate survival instinct. It wouldn’t be long before he was fit enough to be released, and as Charlie whispered her farewell, she knew that whatever final decision Tina arrived at about the dog’s future, Casper would not be forgotten.
*
The call came in at exactly 22.00 hours from Ice. The voice was, as always, calm and authoritative. The voice was, as always, persuasive and compelling. The voice, as always, asked to be obeyed. Be prepared for your next assignment in the morning it instructed, with no room for questioning or defiance.
He listened, smiling at his partner’s barely concealed glee. Did Ice really think he would do as instructed unless he himself wanted to? But he did want to; in fact he couldn’t wait… so he listened, feeling the adrenalin coursing through his body at the final instructions.
When I say the word, be ready to collect your equipment.
When I say the word, be ready to do exactly what is instructed.
When I say the word, be ready to kill.
Chapter 19
Monday 26th June 2017
Monday morning was not going well. Pressure was mounting and DCI O’Connor was keen to pass it downwards. The murders were making headlines and they needed to start making their own. Within the first half an hour of their arrival, he had summoned both Hunter and Charlie to his office for an update on the case. Hunter had tried to exaggerate their progress but, after scrutiny, had to admit that apart from their two suspects, they were barely keeping their head above water.
Forensics were still pending on almost everything and without that they were left with the non-existent chance of Carl Hookham miraculously admitting to his part in Ashton’s murder, or a search of Dennis Walters’ flat turning up incriminating property.
At best, they were hoping for the blood samples on Hookham’s bag and car to belong to Brian Ashton. At worst, the body count would continue to rise and they would be helpless to stop it.
Declan O’Connor was clearly tense. His hair was even more unkempt than usual and the creases in his trademark cream linen suit covered every inch of fabric, suggesting that he’d spent the weekend lying sleeplessly in it, worrying over the case. More resources were to be thrown into the investigation, which, on the face of it, was good news, but on the flip side only served to emphasise to all of them their failures so far.
The DCI agreed to press the lab for the results of the analysis of the blood spots to be prioritised, along with any other speck of evidence that might assist. What would the public and politicians think if further cops were killed and a speedier turnaround of the forensic examinations could have prevented further carnage?
In return, however, he expected them both to make themselves available for a quick interview with DS Hayley Boyle from DPS at 2 p.m. in the office adjacent to his, at the insistence of Ms Leach from the IPCC. There was to be no argument; DCI O’Connor wanted this done and dusted. It was becoming a thorn in his side.
‘We’ll see what happens when he makes the phone call to the lab,’ Hunter muttered to Charlie on their way out, with a defiant glint in his eye. ‘Or, if that’s a negative, I’m sure we’ll find ourselves far too tied up executing the warrant at Dennis Walters’.’
‘I heard that Hunter,’ the DCI spoke sharply. ‘I have just granted you additional officers who can attend to the warrant and leave you free for your interviews. I need to do my job too, and that means getting this IPCC investigation concluded. So… unless you can bring me the name, address and inside leg measurement of our murderer, I shall expect to see you both outside my office at two. Consider it a lawful order. Is that clear, Inspector?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Hunter said the words slowly; he didn’t often capitulate, but this time there was no point arguing further. As the door shut behind them, however, Charlie had to smile. It made a pleasant change for someone else to get the bollocking.
*
By mid-morning the office was buzzing. The warrant for Dennis Walters had now been granted by the magistrate’s court and was in their hands, awaiting execution. Charlie had organised a briefing and the extra officers had arrived, injecting a fresh urgency into the investigation. Even Nick was pulling his weight. The atmosphere was electric. They all wanted a result.
Hunter was busy in his office, so she knocked on the door to update him, entering just as h
is phone sounded. He picked up the receiver and mouthed over to her that it was the lab, and indicated the chair opposite.
It was easy to follow the gist of the conversation just by watching Hunter’s expressions and listening to his tone, at first gracious, then frowning in disappointment, his mouth pinched, his head shaking from side to side. He covered the mouthpiece and mouthed across to her. ‘They’ve done the DNA on the blood spots. They’re Carl Hookham’s. It’s his own blood.’
Charlie pursed her lips in dismay, although not overly surprised. He seemed too emotional and chaotic to have the ability to clinically carry out the murders, although they all knew from experience how easy it was to be fooled.
The conversation continued for a few moments longer before Hunter became animated and started to scrabble for a piece of paper and pen, gesturing for Charlie to help. She turned the page on her briefing notes and held her pen poised ready.
‘Take this down, Charlie.’ He repeated the details out loud slowly, his eyes checking she had written the details correctly. ‘Samson Louis Powell. Date of birth 16/01/1974, PNCID 85/24968CM. Last known address, 23 Ribblesden Road, SW16.’
She read over the name in her head. Somehow it sounded familiar.
‘Thank you so much for your help,’ she heard Hunter saying down the phone before he banged the receiver down and stood up with a shout. ‘At last!’ He raised his eyebrows and exhaled, before repeating the name on the page. ‘Samson Powell, you murdering bastard. He very kindly left one of his hairs on the bedding of Philippa McGovern. The SOCO found it at the scene and asked for it to be checked as a matter of urgency… and DCI O’Connor’s call obviously brought it into sharp focus. There’s no reason it should be there.’
‘Bloody hell! And if he’s murdered McGovern, then he’s in the frame for both the others.’ A twinge of uncertainty caught Charlie off guard as she said the words, but she swept it to one side. She was not going to let the merest of hunches ruin their moment of glory. She ripped out the piece of paper with Powell’s details and snapped her notebook shut. ‘We’ll get straight back to court for another warrant.’
