The first, and the one that she really didn’t want to have to return to, was that Jenny Smith was killed by one of the three online contacts who had yet to be identified, or perhaps by someone as yet entirely unknown. The second was that Phil Smith had discovered his wife’s multiple affairs, if that was the right word, and had killed her. He had motive, and a weak alibi, but it seemed unlikely, if only because of the locus that the killer had selected. After all, it was clear that al fresco sexual encounters were something that Jenny Smith had enjoyed, and since the body hadn’t been moved post mortem it seemed probable that she had been involved in an assignation at the time of her death. And if she’d wanted sex with her husband she could have just gone home and switched off the bedroom lights, the same as everyone else. Plus there was Mrs. Atkins, their only really useful eye witness. She was sure that Phil Smith was not the man who’d been with Jenny.
The third hypothesis was that one of her known sexual contacts had killed her. The location was right, but what would the motive had been? It didn’t sound to Jane as if sexual jealousy was likely, assuming that all three of the men were indeed getting what they wanted from the encounters. That certainly seemed to be true of two of them, but not, perhaps, of Lee. One of the techs had read her a couple of texts from Jenny to Jack Lee, knocking him back. They were polite, friendly even, but there were no instances of him being invited to a tryst by Jenny, and him turning her down. But maybe that meant nothing.
And then, finally, there was Adam Burke himself. He had lived nearby in the past, knew the victim, and the killing for which he had been convicted in a court of law was a strangling. There was no getting away from any of that, no matter what Andy said.
Hall didn’t ask her about her case, or talk about his own, while they were having supper, bathing Grace and then getting her down for the night. And Jane was grateful for that hour of normality. She reckoned she’d earned it. Afterwards they sat outside with their drinks, and heard the thunder rolling around the fells far to the west. When the first fat raindrops fell they went inside, and within five minutes the rain was rattling off the patio doors.
Hall listened as Jane summarised the events of the day, and her conclusions, tentative as they were.
‘What do you reckon, Andy?’
‘Who were these unknown contacts trying to hide from, I wonder? Us, or their significant others?’
‘We can’t know that, can we? Tech team says that short of calling in GCHQ we’ll never find them.’
‘And you can’t afford that, I suppose?’
‘Not at this stage. But if we eliminate the other suspects, well, I suppose we might have to.’
‘OK, so what’s your batting order for them; your suspects, I mean?’
‘Do I have to, love? I’m tired.’
‘Come on. Just ten minutes, I promise.’
‘I can’t separate them; the husband, Lee and Burke.’
‘Really? Did you see my text? Ray found a former milkman who saw Burke the morning after he’s supposed to have killed Sharon. It really does seem likely that he was drugged by the wife. It also looks like she and Jenny Smith had more in common than death by manual strangulation, doesn’t it?’
‘I know exactly what you mean, Andy. Birds of a feather, it seems. Both looking for a bit of extra-marital excitement. I’m almost sure that’s significant, but I can’t see how.’
Hall nodded, took a sip of his drink, and glanced out of the window. The rain was bouncing off the patio now, and the thunder was getting close.
‘Well, look at it this way. Burke only knew one victim properly, and Lee knew both. And you know that it was Lee’s wife who gave him an alibi for the Friday night, that first time around. And you know she’s dead too, don’t you?’
‘Come on, Andy. Natural causes it was, surely.’
‘I spoke to Sandy. She had a quick look at the file for me. She said it could have been poison. And you do know she was buried, don’t you? He was mad keen on a cremation, apparently, but her family were dead-set against it, if you’ll excuse the pun.’
Jane looked at him sharply.
‘And how do you know this?’
‘I got Ray to drop in to see the undertaker on his way home.’
‘Did you now?’
There was a silence that neither of them were eager to fill.
‘You’re not suggesting what I think you are, Andy?’
‘It’s a cost-effective solution’, said Hall. ‘I hate exhumations, you know I do, but…’
‘Hang on, love’, she cut him off. ‘All right, let’s assume that Jack Lee is some kind of master poisoner, just for the sake of argument. But why kill his wife now? Or rather, why a few weeks ago?’
‘Exactly’, said Hall, getting up. ‘I couldn’t work that out. So I phoned Sarah Hardcastle. She told me that someone she used to update the files before she got in touch with me phoned Jack Lee, asking for him to confirm his contact details. Two months ago, that was.’
‘Shit, no. How stupid was that?’
‘I know, I know. Anyway, she checked the exact date for me, Jane. It was two weeks before the wife’s death.’
Hall was pacing quickly now, just like he used to. Jane smiled at the memory, but still told him to sit down.
‘So you’re thinking Lee killed the wife because he reckoned that she wouldn’t support his alibi any more? The relationship had cooled over all those years, maybe?’
‘Has to be a possibility, doesn’t it? After all, we know the bloke was playing away. Probably has been for years.’
Jane held up her hand, index finger prominent.
‘Just a minute there, tiger. Let’s assume that he did murder Sharon Burke, just for a second, mind. Well, if he did that why would he kill Jenny too? It would just draw attention to him, he must have known that.’
‘I know, I know. I’ve been thinking about that too. And what I reckon is this. He strangled two women, and they were both unplanned crimes of passion. Maybe they’d both spurned him, I don’t know. His own wife though, that was different. Premeditated, planned, clever. So yes, I think he could have done all three.’
‘Shit, Andy. This is turning into a total fucking circus now. And I suppose you’re willing to put us in touch with your undertaker, and get Sarah to give a statement? First thing tomorrow, I mean.’
‘Of course. I just want this bloke caught, love, the same as you.’
‘No, Andy, that’s not what you want. You just want Jack Lee caught. And don’t give me all that let the facts decide bollocks. I probably still believed all that when I was a green DC, and maybe even a bit when I was a DS, but I most certainly do not believe it now. You’re a conviction copper, Andy. Always have been, and always bloody will be.’
Friday, 17th August
Cumbria Police HQ, Penrith
DI Jane Francis was in the ACC’s office, drinking his coffee and admiring the extensive collection of his certificates on the wall, when he came in. If his entrance had been more energetic he would have needed to skip, or possibly bound, over the threshold.
‘Apologies for the early start, Jane’, he said.
‘Not at all, sir. I’d have been in Whitehaven by now, anyway.’
‘Oh, yes, I see. Of course. Keen young DI like you.’
Jane reckoned that, at best, she was a year or two younger than the ACC, though she’d rather not have to compare birth certificates. Looking at the bastard he might easily be under 40, and was just dyeing his hair that salt and pepper tone for the sake of gravitas, or greyvitas, anyway.
He clapped his hands together, quite vigorously, and sat down.
‘So, where are we at, Jane? Looking at the budget we’re already at 80% of projected spend for this one. So an arrest is imminent, I take it?’
‘I wouldn’t say that, sir.’
‘Really? I’ve looked at the file and I’d say the husband is your man. Nick him, keep the pressure on, though nothing excessive, mind. He’ll crumble, I’m sure. They usually do
, don’t they?’
Jane nodded heavily qualified agreement, although word had it that the ACC Crime’s closest ever encounter with a crime scene was with the paperwork. Neatest spreadsheets in the whole job, from Cornwall to Caithness, that was his rep.
‘We have other active lines, sir. For example Jack Lee…’
The ACC held up a pink, sinewy hand.
‘Stop right there, DI Francis. You’re not going to tell me that Jack Lee is a credible suspect, are you? As far as I can tell he’s just one of several men who had sex with your victim.’
‘Yes, sir, but only once. After that, he wanted more, but it seems that she didn’t.’
‘That’s so thin it could be air-dried, Jane. Now I like you, Jane, you’re a bright officer. And you follow procedure, without fear or favour. So I ask again, what’s your next move?’
‘Exhume Mr. Lee’s late wife, sir.’
‘What? Where the hell is this coming from, Jane? Your better half, or should I say your former police officer better half? I warned you about this, Jane. I warned you. It’s the road to ruin: your ruin.’
‘Yes, sir, but Andy does have a point.’
But she was talking to the hand once again. ‘I don’t want to hear it, any of it, Jane. Hall was a decent enough detective in his day, I don’t doubt that, but this is getting totally out of hand. He knows that he’ll never get enough new evidence together to get Burke a retrial, so his only real chance is getting Lee convicted of your murder, and implicated in his. You’re just being played. Well, I’m not having any of it, Jane.’
‘So that’s a no then is it, sir?’
‘Of course it’s a no. Now go and make an arrest, before the money runs out. I mean it, Jane. If we end up with this one sitting on the books, because you’ve faffed around looking at every Tom, Dick and Harry who the victim slept with, then it will be on your record, not mine. And if the husband kills again, God forbid, then it will be your neck on the block. Yours, and yours alone. So leave your husband to his parlour games, and get on with the real police work. I know that the husband having done it doesn’t make for much of a whodunnit, but the world is a boring, predictable place sometimes, Jane.’
‘Jesus. Who’d have thought that a prick like you’d ever get a job in charge of real coppers?’ said Jane loudly, but only to herself.
Ray Dixon had his list, and he was doing what Andy had asked, and getting through it fast. They’d all been nice women, and in the old days he’d have been happy to hang around and chat, but today he’d said no to tea every time. There were six names on the list, they’d all been friends of Mrs. Burke back in the day, and none of them had a single thing of interest to say. Each of them had been interviewed in the original investigation, as part of the victim background process, but the interviews had been short, and the notes were cursory in the extreme. Ray Dixon knew box-ticking when he saw it, because he’d done it enough times himself.
But not on this case. So he almost trotted from his car to Phyllis White’s house, ignored the bell, and rapped nice and hard on the door. He’d phoned the previous evening, so she should be expecting him. Once again he said no to tea, coffee, or a soft drink, and even turned down a nice bit of Parkin, although he havered briefly when she told him it was home made. But today Ray Dixon was absolutely all business, and he didn’t care who knew it.
He ran through his questions quickly, and received the same replies that he’d had before. Couldn’t remember, didn’t know, nothing to add. And it was all a very long time ago, he did know that? Dixon said that he did, and got up to go.
And afterwards, he had no idea why he said what he did next. It wasn’t a question that he’d asked any of the other women, and it certainly wasn’t on the list that he’d agreed with Hall.
‘Did you ever see Sharon out socially at all?’
‘No. Adam was never much of a one for a night on the tiles, but of course Sharon, she was different. She liked the high-life, did our Sharon.’
‘I bet she did. Well, thanks again for your time, Mrs. White.’
‘Wait. I’ve just had a what do you call it?’
Dixon was tempted to try ‘hot flush’, but was soon glad that he didn’t.
‘A flashback. That’s it aye, a flashback. I saw Sharon at the Old Manor, just a week or two before she passed it was. Do you know the Old Manor? Lovely, it is.’
‘I’m sure. So she was with Mr. Burke, was she?’
‘Oh no, love, that’s just it. She was with that Jack Lee. And they didn’t look too pleased to see us, I can tell you.’
‘You’re sure? It was Jack Lee?’
‘Quite sure, love.’
‘And were they staying at the hotel? What kind of time was this?’
‘Early evening, tea time. So I couldn’t tell you if they were residents, not for certain. But, like I say, they weren’t too happy to see me and my Jimmy, and that’s the truth. We looked for them later on, to have a drink, like, but they were nowhere to be seen.’
Dixon reached into his bag, pulled out his phone, and put it down on the coffee table. He might treat himself to a brew now, if she was offering.
DS Mann smiled at Jane, as they stood on Phil Smith’s doorstep. She knew what he meant, this was why they did the job, for big moments like this, and she smiled back. The curtains were still closed, but Smith would have been up for hours.
‘We need you to come with us to the station,’ said Mann, unsmiling now, when the door opened.
‘Why? I’ve done nowt.’
‘We’ve got questions, that’s all. Now, did you do like I suggested and sort out a solicitor?’
‘Aye, aye. It seemed best.’
‘Good. Tell me who it is and we’ll get them fetched down to the station, OK?’
When they were in the interview room Mann led, and he went over every detail in Smith’s original account of the day and night of his wife’s death.
‘We’ve checked all of the places that you say you visited, and only two out of ten remember seeing you. Don’t you think that’s odd?’
‘Come on, Sergeant,’ said the solicitor, a mousy looking woman who Mann now suspected he’d underestimated. ‘You can do better than that. So a proper question, one that my client might actually be in a position to answer, if you please.’
‘All right. What time did you get home?’
‘Like I said, it was at about half ten, eleven.’
‘And you didn’t see your wife while you were out?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Why were you looking for her? Why not text, or call?’
‘I’d done all that. Hundreds of times. I told you before. I just wanted to talk, that’s all.’
‘What about?’
‘About what was going on. About what I needed to do, how I needed to change, so that she’d come back.’
Mann tried to look surprised. Jane made a mental note to tell him to stop the amateur-hour theatricals. He was just so totally crap at them.
‘How you needed to change? What you needed to do? Really? That’s what you were wanting to say to your wife?’
‘Aye. What of it?’
‘Well, if my wife was seeing as many men as yours was, well, I don’t think it would be my behaviour I’d be wanting to talk about.’
Smith’s face melted from confusion, through suppressed anger and straight on to pain. Lots and lots of pain. Jane found it hard to keep looking at him.
‘No, no. That’s not right. We had our problems, I admit it, and maybe she had been experimenting a bit, but that’s all it was. She’d have come back, I know it.’
Ian Mann looked down at his notes, and was about to ask another question. But he felt Jane’s touch, light on his arm, and he looked round at her. She shook her head slowly. And when he looked back at Phil Smith he understood why. He’d seen far too many grief-stricken faces in his lifetime, and some of them were guilty too, but he’d never seen one like Smith’s. He looked as if he was howling at them, but there was a
bsolutely no sound.
Afterwards Mann and Jane sat in the observation room.
‘The bloody ACC can get stuffed if he thinks we’re going to charge the husband’, she was saying when her phone starting ringing, ‘and we’ve got sod all on him, anyway. Yes, love’, she said, when she saw the number on the display and replied. ‘Andy’, she mouthed at Mann, who pointed towards the door. Jane shook her head, and listened. Mann watched her face, and saw the surprise, and then the delight.
‘I do not bloody believe it. You’re sure? Shit, Andy, what were those idiots doing the first time around? At the very least Adam Burke could never have been convicted on the say-so of Jack Lee, even if he claimed that the hotel sighting was entirely innocent.’
There was a long silence at Jane’s end, but then Hall didn’t like to be rushed when he was making a case.
‘Yes, love I agree. Yes, what you’re saying makes perfect sense. Lee was knocked back by Sharon Burke, and so he killed her, and when the same happened again with Jenny Smith he just couldn’t help himself. I’ll get someone round to get a statement from Ray’s new best friend right now, and then we’ll pick Lee up.’
Mann thought that Jane was trying to get off the line, but it was obvious that Hall hadn’t finished. Eventually Jane managed to get a word in.
‘All right, love, I get you. Let me talk it over with Ian, and I’ll get back to you. It’s a big step, love.’
Mann listened carefully as Jane recounted the content of her conversation.
‘Exhumation? That’s a bloody big decision, Jane. And I thought the computer said ‘no’, anyhow?’
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