by Tana Collins
‘Have you spoken to the SOCOs yet?’ asked Fletcher.
‘Yes, I have. And I’ve spoken with Mackie. He’s being as tight-lipped as usual. Says he needs to do the PM before giving any information. Ten to one it’s our man, Roberts, though we need a positive ID.’
‘Do you think he was killed by Williams?’ said Fletcher. ‘Perhaps he’d outlived his usefulness. Maybe Williams thought if he got caught, he’d talk. His photofit’s been on national news, after all. They would know it was only a matter of time before he got picked up.’
‘Or maybe they killed him because he screwed up. Didn’t kill Holdaway. Or perhaps he got greedy, or was trying to double cross them,’ said Carruthers. ‘Could be any number of motives.’
‘Why torture him?’ asked Fletcher.
‘Why does anyone get tortured? Mostly it’s because the torturer wants information, or is just plain sadistic. They probably wanted to know if he’d passed on any information to anyone else. They would make it their business to know who his friends were.’
Carruthers was distracted and lapsed into silence. Two of his own sentences kept ringing in his ears.
They probably wanted to know if he’d passed on any information to anyone else. They would make it their business to know who his friends were.
Or who he had slept with. If Siobhan Mathews was innocent, then she might well be in danger. It didn’t excuse her lying, though. They needed to get her in for questioning.
‘The SOCOs are pretty close to finishing,’ said Carruthers. ‘I’m heading back after I have a word with the firefighters. We’ve now got two dead bodies to deal with. Let’s get Siobhan Mathews in and see what she’s got to say for herself.’
FOURTEEN
SUNDAY EVENING, 3RD JUNE
Carruthers took a good look at the woman sitting opposite him in interview room one. He took a deep regret-filled breath as he pressed the record button on the machine. ‘Why did you lie to us, Siobhan?’
‘Lie to you? I don’t know what you mean. Why have you brought me to the station? Am I being arrested?’ She looked at him closer. ‘What happened to your eye?’
‘No. You’re not being arrested.’ He noticed her wide eyes and trembling bottom lip. ‘You’ve been invited here to help us with our enquiries.’ Carruthers then very slowly and deliberately slid the photograph across the table towards her. He searched Siobhan’s face for her reaction. It didn’t disappoint. All colour drained from her.
‘Where did you get that?’ she asked in a low voice, a mixture, Carruthers judged, of embarrassment, shame and fear.
Carruthers ignored the question. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you’d been intimate with Dave Roberts?’
Siobhan said nothing.
‘When was the photograph taken, Siobhan? Must have been pretty recently. After all, you’ve only been at the university since September.’
‘How long have you been in a relationship with Dave Roberts?’ asked DS Fletcher. ‘Why didn’t you tell us about something so important? What are you hiding?’
Siobhan burst into tears. ‘I’m not hiding anything. I didn’t tell you because it’s not important. It was a mistake, OK?’
‘Not important?’ bellowed Carruthers, his jaw practically dropping open. ‘We’re investigating the suspicious death of your supposed boyfriend. Rhys Evans, remember him? You didn’t think to tell us that our prime suspect is your lover?’
‘I can hardly deny I’ve been intimate with Dave, can I, given the evidence is staring right at me?’ said Siobhan pushing the photograph away. ‘But it wasn’t a relationship,’ she said turning away.
Carruthers pushed it back towards her. ‘Take a good look at the photograph, Siobhan. Pick it up. I want to know what the poster is in the background. Do you remember what it said?’
Siobhan reluctantly picked up the photograph. She wiped her nose with her hand. ‘All I remember is the words looked Welsh.’
‘There’s an R and an N and the numbers 402. Could it have said Bryn Glas 1402?’ said Carruthers.
‘I didn’t pay much attention,’ said Siobhan Mathews. ‘I’d forgotten all about him having a poster in his room. It didn’t mean anything to me and we didn’t exactly talk about how he decided to decorate his bedroom.’ She blushed.
‘Bryn Glas 1402 is the name of the terrorist organisation fronted by the man who we think is behind the bomb blast in Castletown,’ said Carruthers.
‘Oh my God,’ said Siobhan, starting to cry again.
‘Start talking, Siobhan,’ said Fletcher. ‘It had better be good. For starters, we can charge you with withholding information in a murder enquiry.’
Carruthers noticed Siobhan’s eyes widen with shock.
‘When did you first meet Dave Roberts,’ asked Fletcher, ‘and when was the photograph taken?’
‘We met the first week of university back in September,’ said Siobhan. ‘In Mothers.’
Carruthers nodded, he knew Mothers Bar, on Cliff Top Wynd. It was popular with students and RAF alike. ‘I was with a group of students from my course. We were getting to know each other. Like I said it was the first week. I was desperate to make friends. I’m not very good socially. I’m shy. Sometimes to compensate I have too much to drink.’
‘Is that what happened that evening?’ asked Fletcher
Siobhan nodded. ‘A group of lads approached us. We got talking. They were from the RAF base. One was Dave.’
‘Who were the others?’ asked Carruthers. Fletcher had her black notebook in her hand, poised.
‘One was Rhys,’ she said, colouring. Fletcher and Carruthers exchanged a look not lost on Siobhan, as she went on to mention two other names.
‘Now can you see why I didn’t tell you? Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not a slut.’
‘No one said you were,’ said Carruthers. ‘What happened next?’
‘It got pretty late. I was drunk by then. Dave asked me back. It’s not something I’m proud of but it happened.’
‘You went back to the RAF base with him?’ said Carruthers.
‘How did you manage to gain entry on to the base?’ interrupted Fletcher. ‘There’re strict rules.’
‘Dave said he knew the guards on duty.’
Carruthers glanced at Fletcher and saw her raising an eyebrow. Either there had been a serious lapse of security or Siobhan was lying. But then they had the photographic evidence to prove she was there.
‘Carry on,’ said Carruthers.
‘As I said I went back to the base with him. In the morning we larked about with the camera. I think I was still drunk to be honest.’
‘Why do you say that?’ said Fletcher.
‘Being that uninhibited in front of the camera is completely out of character,’ said Siobhan blushing. ‘And, as I said, I don’t generally sleep with a man on first meeting.’
‘So you still felt drunk in the morning?’ said Carruthers. ‘Did you sleep with him then as well?’
‘I don’t have to answer that question,’ cried Siobhan.
‘Well, it seems to me you’re blaming it entirely on the drink. You said you still felt drunk in the morning. At what point did you sober up?’
‘The moment I saw his stash of Searchlight. It’s a magazine of the far right.’ She turned to Fletcher. ‘Look, I made a mistake. I’m not into casual sex and when I realised how heavily he was involved in the far right, I knew I didn’t want to have a relationship with him. He even started talking about how the Holocaust had never happened. It turned my stomach. He asked to see me again but I made my excuses and left.’
‘So it was a one-night stand,’ said Carruthers.
‘Yes, like I said. Why don’t you believe me?’
‘Get off your high horse, Siobhan,’ said Carruthers. ‘You’ve lied to us, or at least failed to tell us the whole truth. For all we know you might be lying now. You and Dave might have planned Rhys’s murder together.’
Siobhan stood up abruptly. Her chair scraped the floor. ‘How
can you even suggest I had something to do with Rhys’ death? I loved him. Why would I want to kill him?’
‘Sit down,’ said Carruthers. ‘You loved Rhys, but you never loved Dave. How do you think that made Dave feel knowing you preferred his mate to him? Knowing you were kissing Rhys, doing all the things in bed with Rhys that you had been doing with Dave? How soon after sleeping with Dave did you take Rhys to your bed by the way?’
Siobhan shook her head then sat back down slowly. ‘You’re horrible saying all this to me.’ She bit her lip. ‘Anyway, Dave was never in love with me. He’s had countless women since me, if his bragging is to be believed.’
‘Grow up Siobhan. We’re talking about suspected murder,’ said Carruthers. ‘And if Roberts was never in love with you, why did he still have a photograph of you both in his room?’
‘Maybe he took photos of all his conquests,’ said Siobhan, sniffing.
‘We didn’t find any photographs of any other women, Siobhan, not even of his mother,’ said Fletcher, handing her a tissue she fished out of her pocket. ‘Just you. Maybe he was in love with you.’
‘Was in love with me?’ said Siobhan frowning.
‘Who else would have known about you and Dave?’ asked Carruthers.
Siobhan looked puzzled. ‘Very few people in Castletown. But back at Edenside, knowing Dave, probably half the base or more,’ answered Siobhan. ‘Why do you ask? Look, what’s going on?’
Carruthers and Fletcher exchanged another look. Carruthers nodded.
‘There’s been a development, Siobhan,’ said Fletcher. ‘We think we’ve found him.’
‘Do you mean Dave?’ said Siobhan, looking startled at the unexpected piece of news. ‘Has he confessed? Was he behind the bombing?’
‘I’m afraid we can’t ask him that question,’ said Fletcher.
‘I don’t understand. Why not?’
Carruthers leant across the table before answering. ‘The man we’ve found is dead. His body dumped in Pinetum Park Forest. It’s not very pleasant, I’m afraid.’ Carruthers opened the buff file once more and took out photographs of the mutilated body of Roberts.
Siobhan had been pale before, now she turned white. Put a hand over her mouth. Carruthers wondered if she would be sick.
‘The thing is, Siobhan,’ continued Carruthers, ‘if he was murdered by the bombers, which is looking increasingly likely, they may have tortured him because they were looking for information.’
Siobhan looked from Carruthers to Fletcher. She took her hand away from her mouth. ‘Information? What sort of information?’
‘We don’t know yet,’ admitted Carruthers. ‘If they were looking for information, then anyone who got close to Roberts may also be in danger. You’ve been close to both Rhys Evans and Dave Roberts. Both are now dead. You may be in danger.’ He noticed beads of sweat forming on Siobhan’s upper lip and forehead.
‘Why… I…’
Siobhan’s eyes rolled as she fainted, slumping on top of the table before either Carruthers or Fletcher could stop her.
***
‘What do you think, sir? Do you think she’s legit?’ asked Fletcher. They were standing outside the interview room watching Siobhan Mathews sip her water. Carruthers caught Fletcher looking at her watch. No doubt she was wondering when they would both get home.
‘She’s certainly coming across that way. Either that or she’s a damn good actress.’
‘What do we do now, Jim?’
‘Get Siobhan Mathews back to Edgecliffe. I’ll leave that job to you. We have no reason to hold her.’
‘Do you think she’ll be OK? I mean, do you think the bombers might go after her?’ said Fletcher.
‘Well, if she’s telling the truth, if it was just a one-night stand back in September, I wouldn’t imagine the bombers would think her that important.’
‘What about pillow talk?’
‘Reckon there’d be much time for pillow talk during a one-night stand?’
It was Fletcher’s turn to go crimson.
‘We’ll keep an eye on her though. Just in case. Oh by the way, before I forget, I rang the hospital. The cyclist’s going to be fine. They’re keeping him in overnight for observation, because of his head injury.’
‘Talking of injuries, how’s your eye feel?’ said Fletcher.
Carruthers probed it with his finger. ‘Sore, but I’ll survive.’
‘And the ankle?’
‘Think I was lucky. Definitely not sprained.’
‘Well, I could have told you that. A bad sprain and you wouldn’t be able to walk on it. Any news on the vagrant?’
‘Hasn’t been found yet. We’re hoping he’ll come forward. He may have vital information. Of course, living rough he hasn’t got a TV, so can’t see any of the police requests.’
‘I would suspect if he has witnessed anything, he’s even less likely to come forward. If it was me, I’d be terrified. I’d probably be lying low somewhere. By the way – the fire? Do we know how it started?’
‘Discarded disposable barbeque set, just like the last one. There really are some thoughtless idiots out there.’
Harris approached looking smug and carrying a sheaf of paper, which he was waving around as if he had just won the football pools.
‘I’ve just got the information from the SID, and other sources. Roberts was a paid-up member of the BNP,’ he finished triumphantly.
Carruthers wondered if the lapse in security at the RAF station extended to more than the sentry box. Then again Roberts wouldn’t be the first member of Britain’s armed forces to join a far-right organisation while serving. ‘No surprises there then,’ he said. ‘Nothing on him being a member of Bryn Glas 1402?’
‘’Fraid not.’
Carruthers’ thoughts drifted back to Siobhan. After the business with McGhee he’d vowed he’d never be made a fool of by another woman, but several months later, Siobhan had managed it. Well, that’s what you get for putting your trust in an attractive woman. He knew that he was always hard on himself. Wondered if he’d been too hard on her. Perhaps she had been telling the truth. And how many people have a poorly-judged one-night stand in their past?
***
The first thing Siobhan did when she got home was have a shower. Scrubbing to rid herself of the unpleasant smell of the interview room, the feeling of being dirty, remembering her mistake with Dave Roberts. Afterwards she couldn’t settle, so she picked up her keys, mobile, a bottle of water and rucksack and went for a walk. Leaving the student accommodation, she took the path once again behind Edgecliffe that led her through the gate to East Castle beach. Rather than walk on the beach, she walked on the sandy coastal path by the crazy golf course. She started walking as in a daze, not really caring where her feet took her. Eventually she found herself at the end of the harbour.
She walked past all the lobster pots and took a left turn to the start of the pier. The pier was one of her favourite places. She always found taking a walk here calming. In her first week at the university, she had loved hearing about how visiting preachers to the religious centre of Castletown had arrived in town by boat to give their sermon. Before decent roads, travelling by sea had been common. Every Sunday the students had greeted the preacher by walking to the end of the pier and at the end of the sermon they would escort him back. Although the visiting preacher no longer came by boat, the town upheld the tradition of the pier walk. Every first Sunday of the month, the red-gowned students walked to the end of the pier and back again. Thinking about the town’s history and traditions soothed her soul, helped put the troubles of her own life into perspective.
She turned away from the pier to the little harbour. Watched as a fisherman took his boats out. A small dark blue boat with the words ‘Crusader Castletown’ written on its side, chugged past her. It was flying the blue and white flag of Scotland, which furled with the ever-increasing wind round the flagpole.
Two elderly men wearing suits were sitting on a bench between the lobster pots, ea
ting ice cream and talking about the changes Castletown had seen. The two men finished their ice creams and shuffled off. Siobhan took her rucksack off her shoulder laying it down by her feet. She sat down on the bench they had vacated, being careful not to sit on a dollop of melting ice cream.
She was shocked Dave Roberts had been found dead. Not only dead. Tortured. Was it the same people who had killed Rhys? The terrorists who’d planted the bomb? It must have been. She had known both men. She thought of Inspector Carruthers’ words. Would they now come after her? She suddenly felt very vulnerable. Being outdoors, she was a sitting duck.
Suddenly she felt something hard and cold, pushed into the back of her neck. She started with shock. She hadn’t been aware that anyone else had been even near.
‘Stand up,’ a young male voice hissed in her right ear. ‘Don’t make a sound. You’re coming with us.’
Siobhan let out a squeak of terror. The man had a Welsh accent.
‘I said, don’t make a sound, or it’ll be your last.’
She felt another prod, this time harder.
‘This is a gun and I know how to use it.’
Siobhan tried to stand up, but her legs gave way beneath her. She was shaking. A hand roughly grabbed her elbow in a vice-like grip, and hauled her on to her feet.
‘Start walking,’ said the voice. ‘And don’t look round.’
The man guided her a few yards behind the lobster pots and bobbing fishing boats. The wind had picked up. Her hair was suddenly in her eyes. She tried to brush the stray lock away with her hand. Her eyes were watering.
‘Keep your hands down.’
Siobhan looked round hopelessly for help. The nearest people were a group of students half-way down the pier, but they were too far away and strolling away from her.
A white van came towards them. Perhaps she had a chance after all. It came to a halt a few metres away, and a burly man wearing a black T-shirt and jeans jumped from the driving seat and opened the sliding doors. Siobhan opened her mouth, but before she had a chance to say anything the burly man spoke first.
