by Nathan Sayer
Allison Mcleary pulled up and gave Reed a smile. She was four years his senior and still attractive. She had long blonde hair which came to rest at the small of her back, it was that straight and sleek that he wondered if she ironed it every morning. She was a good six inches shorter than his five foot ten, she was petite but managed to carry herself with a big presence; today she a wore navy blue suit that looked professionally fitted, black shoes. This was all set off with the whitest of white shirts.
“Afternoon.” Reed said.
“Is it? I don't even know what day it is.”
“So this little visit is as welcome for you as it is for me then.”
“You could say that, come on.” Mcleary said, leading the way.
After there was no reply to the doorbell, Mcleary knelt down and spoke through the letterbox, urging Susan to answer. Just as it looked as though Reed would have to break in, the door slowly opened. Behind it, Susan appeared with puffy red eyes and she was blowing her nose.
“Please, you don't have to trouble yourselves with us.”
“Come on, we'll have a cup of tea and a chat.” Mcleary said, putting a comforting arm around Susan's shoulders.
“Oh I am sorry, how rude of me. Sit yourselves down and I'll put the kettle on.” Breaking free, Susan shot off towards the kitchen. Reed felt guilty for thinking she looked her happiest when she had someone to mother. Probably trying to compensate for all the years she had lost out on after Tina was killed. Mcleary obviously thought the same, suggesting the drink in the first place to give Susan something to do.
“She likes to keep busy.” Mcleary confirmed as they sat down.
“What about Alan, what's he like?”
“They're very chalk and cheese. He's on total shutdown.”
Reed knew exactly what that meant. Felt like it himself sometimes to a lesser extent. Didn't much like the world and didn't much want to be a part of it sometimes, so you just shut it all out. The only problem was that whatever you shut out had a nasty habit of coming back with a vengeance.
Susan came in holding a tray with three cups, a teapot, a milk jug, a sugar bowl and a plate of mixed biscuits. The crockery looked like china and wore the same oriental pattern as the shards that could be mysteriously found in all gardens across England.
After Susan had poured the required milk and stirred the sugars, she offered the biscuits to Reed and he happily took a shortcake and digestive biscuit from the plate. He knew it would be the two women doing most of the talking, so he could kick back and enjoy. As expected, Mcleary declined the biscuits altogether. There was nothing worse than accepting an offer of anything edible, taking a bite, only for the room to then fall silent and everybody looking to you to start the conversation. Forcing the mouthful down, you felt obliged to start talking, which you did. For the rest of the interview, you would be left holding a half-eaten item of food that made you feel as comfortable as if you had a boil on the end of your nose. Everybody could see it. Today though, Reed could just munch away.
“What happened today? Do you want to talk about it?” Mcleary started.
Susan lowered her head a little and whispered, “You shouldn't have troubled yourselves; you've more important things to worry about.”
“We thought it best we came rather than a stranger. One of your neighbours called it in, they were worried about you. They saw Alan speed off and you didn't answer the door.”
“She doesn't miss a thing, that Mrs. Campbell.” Susan said, showing signs of anger. “Alan is a good man. I'm to blame as much as anybody.”
“It must be hard, all this happening around you, a new murder on your doorstep, people comparing it to Tina's.”
“Alan's a deep thinker. I pushed him, trying to make him talk about it; I need to talk about it. He's the only one who really knows what it's like. We lost the same person.” Susan's eyes were a constant source of tears now. She mopped them as she continued. “I asked how he was feeling... He never talks anymore.”
“Did he tell you how he felt?”
“No, he just said... It's embarrassing really,” Susan blew her nose once more before carrying on, “He said it was irrelevant what he felt, it wouldn't bring Tina back. He said the police wouldn't catch the killer anyway. I'm sorry, he didn't mean anything personal, he just needs closure and this has opened it all up again.”
“It is perfectly normal for him to blame the police. It's our job to catch criminals and we didn't do that. Totally understandable. We want to catch who killed Tina as much as we want to catch who killed Carmella, the time that's passed doesn't affect that.”
“That's what I told him, I know it's awful, but, I feel so guilty for saying this; Carmella is dead now, if catching her murderer helps to catch our Tina's, some good can come out of this.” Susan looked for some reassurance from Mcleary that she wasn't as bad as the killers themselves for thinking like this. Her eyes were pleading for forgiveness for saying such a thing.
“I completely agree Mrs. Westwood.” Reed was happy to provide it. “We can't say too much and I would appreciate your discretion. I'm not saying we're dealing with the same killer but there are definite similarities between the two murders. All I'm saying at this stage is that one could help the other in terms of how we investigate, new techniques, that sort of thing.”
Susan gave Reed a smile, it was the first time she had really looked at him. “Thank you.”
“So, what made Alan so angry then?” Mcleary picked up again, offering Reed a half smile herself.
“He just snapped after I said that. He thought that Tina's death would stay unsolved, that you would put all your resources into solving the latest murder. At best, you would hope they were committed by the same person.” Susan dropped her head and started sobbing again. Mcleary moved over to her and gently rubbed her back.
“Then he said the most awful things. Things I thought he would never say. He said that Carmella probably deserved it, out all hours, stopping for a bunk up as he called it. He used some terrible language. Then he was saying that Tina was a good girl, which I agree with, but it doesn't make Carmella bad. Nobody deserves what happened to her. You would think he would understand that.”
Susan admitted it was her who lost her temper then. It was her throwing the plates around and her turn to scream. They started arguing about anything then, just trying to score points to win. Reed and Kate had had a few bust ups too, letting lots of little things build up that were only worth mentioning during an argument already in full flow. Point scoring.
“I've never acted like that before. Alan was shocked. He just stared at me, then without saying a word, he left. Tina was his whole world. I don't think he'll ever get over it.”
“Do you know where he's gone?”
“Work I'd imagine. He's due to start at six, so he probably just went in early. He's left his phone here.”
“Where does he work? Reed asked.
“Thetford. He's a supervisor on the night shift at a company called Gleens.”
Reed tried very hard not to show his surprise. Gleens. The company where Lee Gulliver worked. This could be a link between Gulliver and Tina. “How long has he worked there?” Reed thought he was using his best neutral voice. Obviously failing by the look he was now receiving from Mcleary.
“At least 12 years. He was there when the company started.”
“Likes it there then?”
“Yes. Most of his friends work there. Why?” Susan asked, getting suspicious now.
“Nothing important. I was just wondering if there was someone there he could talk to, you know, because he's upset.” Reed hoped it seemed genuine.
“I don't think Alan talks to anyone about that sort of thing.”
“That's fine. I might just pop in there, make sure that's where he is and he's working as usual. I know the owner so I won’t cause a fuss. I'll ring and let you know if you want?”
“Yes. I'd appreciate it.”
“No problem.” No problem at all.
&n
bsp; Chapter 14
Reed pulled into the Gleen’ factory car park where there was a scattering of about twenty cars, but he couldn't see any sign of Alan Westwood's. With so many empty spaces available Reed chose to park right outside the main reception in the only area that didn't have an actual parking space, feeling a little satisfaction that he had broken a rule of some sorts. He got out and banged his hand against the main door. Nothing. Pulling a cigarette from the pack, he decided to hang around for a little while and see if Alan turned up. He left his car where it was but went and sat on a concrete step where he would be hidden.
Turning his thoughts back to the case, Reed was desperate for the DNA results to come back on the earring found at the murder site. If Gulliver's DNA was found on them, Reed was pretty sure Gulliver was the killer. They could have been a gift to Carmella from Gulliver so he would have touched them at some stage, but there was something about his reaction when Reed had mentioned them in the interview that signaled some kind of significance.
The evidence was starting to stack up but most of it was circumstantial: Gulliver was the last known person to see her; he had the opportunity to kill her and dispose of the body. He had lied to the police about his route home and somewhere in amongst it all was a set of earrings. Or earring. If this little piece of jewellery could provide some factual evidence, Gulliver at the very least had some explaining to do.
Just to distort the picture a little, there was now a possible link to an unsolved murder from 10 years ago which happened in similar circumstances. Did Gulliver know Tina Westwood? Did anyone know if Gulliver knew Tina Westwood? Was Gulliver capable of killing twice? Once even? He didn't seem like a serial killer in the making but then Reed hadn't actually come face to face with one before.
It was now 6.20pm; twenty minutes after the beginning of Alan's shift. Reed decided he would take a little look around the place. He had spotted some movement in the building where they had chased down Gulliver, so he started there. The muffled sound of music got clearer as he approached; a few tunes to help pass the hours for the workers, although from the heavy bass that was almost shaking the doors, Reed thought it would probably make his day feel longer. He walked down the side of the building instead of going in and it wasn't long before he saw Alan's car parked with two others. Maybe it was one of the perks of being a supervisor, being able to park your car out the back, lessening the chances of a break in and stereo out.
“Can I help you mate?” Someone shouted.
Reed turned around and spotted a man approaching him from about 30 metres away. He was wearing dark blue overalls, a black cap and bright white trainers. He was about 5' 6” and looked about seven stone. From that distance, the man's features reminded Reed of a rat. Beady eyes, pursed mouth and a sharp nose. “That depends on who you are?” He replied.
“Gandhi. Who the hell are you?”
“Detective Inspector Reed.” A fact that was backed up by his ID card when the man was closer.
“Sorry mate, there are a lot of weirdoes about.”
Reed resisted the urge to say “So I see.” Instead saying, “So Gandhi, what's your real name?”
“Mark Parsons.”
When Gulliver was questioned regarding the earrings found at his flat, Mark Parsons was the person that he said he had bought the earrings from. Tyler had informed Reed of this only a little while ago, having put the question to Gulliver before he was released on bail. Apparently Mark Parsons was somebody who had a knack of finding things that had fallen off the back of lorries. Lucky him.
Lucky Reed.
“I see. Now that's a spot of luck.”
“What? You after me?”
“Yes and no. I have a couple of questions for you but I wouldn't say I was ‘after’ you.”
Parsons seemed to weigh up his options, eyes shifting from one place to another. Reed got the impression this wasn't the first time he had dealt with the law.
“Ten minutes here or a couple of hours at the station? I can't keep things quiet at the station either.” Reed said, hoping to avoid the paperwork.
“Yeah, go on then. Do you mind if we head for the smoking shed though?”
“Be my guest.”
When they got there, Parsons hesitated, wondering if he should offer Reed a duty free cigarette. If they really were duty free cigarettes of course. Nowadays there were cheap imitations of duty frees which could be even more dangerous than the real branded ones. Now that was a scary thought. Reed declined the offer and got one of his own, duty paid and still just as likely to kill you.
When Parsons had called it a smoking shed, he had been over-generous in the description. It was two stacks of wooden pallets, three metres apart. The roof was made from plastic corrugated sheets which were held down with a scattering of bricks; two bricks had been wedged underneath the roofing at the front so the rain could run off. Genius.
“I hear you get your hands on various knock-off gear?” Reed went straight in.
“Not really. I know a bargain when I see one, then I sell it on, that's all.” Parsons replied a well-rehearsed speech.
“Look Mark, I don't care if it's legal or not. I don't care if you go out thieving things yourself and sell it on,” Parsons was going to protest but Reed held up his hand to stop him, “What I do care about is that you are telling me the truth.”
Parsons again weighed up his options, doing a deal in his head, pros and cons, smoking and looking at Reed to see if he could be trusted. He seemed to realise there was no haggling going on here, “What do you need to know?”
“Can you remember selling some earrings to Lee Gulliver?”
“Remember it well, most people just buy a pair for the missus but Lee bought a few.”
Gulliver's story checked out. If anything then, he had given the earrings to Carmella. Maybe he was taking his gift back for some reason. Reed wondered where Tina Chapman's missing earrings came from?
“Is Gulliver a bit of a ladies man then?”
“Talks a good game.” Parsons replied with a neutral shrug.
“Do you know when you sold them to him?”
“You've got to be talking a good ten years ago.”
“Can you remember how many pairs he had off you?”
“I think it was ten. I done them a bit cheaper 'cause he had a few.” Parsons was nodding his head confirming his thoughts. If Parsons was correct about the number of earrings he had sold Gulliver, ten pairs, then Gulliver was only talking a good game. Or he was stingy with his gifts. Six pairs had been recovered from his flat.
“Can you remember who you sold the others to?”
“Can Richard Branson remember who he sold a flight to? You'll have to be more specific.”
“Alan Westwood?”
“I wouldn't sell him a virus. Grumpy old prick. I know he's been through a lot and that, but he wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs before his daughter... You know.” Parsons stamped out his cigarette butt on the floor and left it there in the absence of an ashtray. No one yet able to scrounge the materials to make one. “So no, I didn't sell him any.”
Reed told Parsons that if he kept their little interview quiet, he would do the same regarding his little empire selling dodgy goods. Parsons confirmed Alan was in work, his state of mind: happy as ever. He also confirmed that he had that particular batch of earrings at least ten years ago. He remembered giving his then girlfriend a pair and she was really happy with them until she found all the others. “Said it made her feel cheap.” Parsons laughed at his own story, shaking his head at happier times. Reed felt a pang of sadness in his stomach; soon it would be him remembering happier times about Kate. Which was exactly what he did when he started to walk away.
Reed pulled on to his driveway and noted Kate's car wasn't there. Was she with her new man? Doing what? It wasn't worth thinking about. Where was Evie? Had they both gone? Would there be a note waiting for him inside, putting an end to the way of life he had become accustomed to? Maybe he had taken things for granted
, assumed this was how it was always going to be and stopped working at keeping it. Should you have to work at relationships?
Reluctant to go inside, Reed stayed in the car and lit a cigarette before trying to clear the negative thoughts from his head the best he could. Just as he was managing to swing them back to work matters, a pair of headlights took him by surprise in the rear view mirror. Kate. In a sort of un-needed panic, he somehow dropped his cigarette in his lap. “Shit!” Kate was out of her car, reaching into the back for something. Reed burnt his finger first, then his inner thigh. “Shit!” Checking the side mirror, she was now walking up behind him, with very few options, he spilled out of his car and started to flap his hands in the general direction of the hot ash and the cigarette on the seat, swiping at them, trying not to burn himself.
Kate carried on walking without breaking her stride, ignoring Reed and the smoke cloud that surrounded him. Feeling like a naughty schoolboy who had been caught smoking behind the bike sheds at school, Reed stubbed out the rogue cigarette which was now on the floor and wondered if a form of detention was going to be given when he went inside.
He was grateful that Kate had at least acknowledged his presence by kindly leaving the front door wide open. As he removed his shoes he heard a sort of musical arrangement being played out in the kitchen with crockery as the instruments. It was a slow, disjointed song, much like a classical love song, meaning it was probably safe to enter. If it had been more like a rock song, with loud bangs and crashes inspired by him smoking again, he would have left his shoes on and left the house for an hour or so.
“I've ordered Chinese for tea, should be here in a minute.” Kate said, adding the salt pot and vinegar bottle to the arrangement of two plates, two knives, two forks and two wine glasses already out.
“Lovely.” Was all Reed could manage, surprised by the cheeriness in her voice. He picked up the full glass of wine and gulped at it greedily.
“You should be savouring that, it wasn't cheap.”
