Dead Nasty

by Helen H. Durrant

  “Elsa used the hairdresser on the corner of the High Street and Byron’s Lane,” Ruth told them. “She had her hair cut two days before she disappeared. The hairdresser doesn’t recall anyone showing any particular interest. When she’s finished with a client, she sweeps up the hair and puts it all in the bin outside.”

  “So anyone could help themselves?” “That’s about the size of it. The hairdressers shares a backyard with at least four other properties. There is a general bin area and the yard is open to the public.”

  “How do you access the yard?” Rocco asked.

  “The hairdressers is on the High Street. The yard is at the back.”

  “Is there access from Byron’s Lane?”

  “No.”

  “Do we know if forensics has finished there yet?”

  Imogen shook her head. “No, guv. But they were there last night. The report isn’t through yet.”

  “That hair bobble, anything on the blood?”

  “Not yet. I’ll get on to Julian about it.”

  Calladine nodded. “We still haven’t had that chat with Gaby Donnelly. Not that I think it’ll add anything useful. But we should be thorough, so would you and Rocco sort that? Ruth and I will go have a look at Byron’s Lane. See if we can work out what’s happening. Back here at lunchtime, see what we’ve got.”

  As they took the stairs, Ruth asked, “Anything on Kate Reynolds?”

  “I haven’t spoken to Thorpe this morning, but Shez says not. She’s worried sick. She’s afraid the bastard might have got scared and done Kate in. But he’s asked for money, so I think that’s unlikely. He’ll expect to have to prove that Kate is still alive. It’s a waiting game, I’m afraid. I went to see Alan Reynolds last night. He has no idea. He’d had a voice message from Kate to say she was going away for a few days and not to worry.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “Yes, I had no choice.”

  “And did you speak to Reynolds about our case?”

  Calladine looked grim. “Yes, and I wish I hadn’t, to be honest. He more or less said that the evidence we had, the bloodied shoe, was planted. Alan reckons the ACC — the then DCI Kennet — was desperate to get Donnelly banged to rights.”

  “All these years and he’s never said anything?”

  “Kennet was a bully. Alan would have got nowhere even if he had spoken up. He convinced himself that it was simply a shortcut to getting the conviction. He never doubted that Donnelly was guilty.”

  “It’s not right though, is it?”

  “Apparently the ACC is now worried that Donnelly will try to get the conviction quashed. That’ll be why he’s making a friend of Livings. He wants to be on top of the game. Kennet wants the whole thing burying, and Donnelly leaving be.”

  “Livings is shrewd, Tom. It wouldn’t surprise me if he wasn’t using Kennet. All that chat over golf, I bet a lot of it is about the Annabelle Roper case. Kennet had better watch his tongue. A word too many and Livings will cash in.”

  The High Street was only a few hundred yards away so they hadn’t taken the car. Within minutes they were walking along Byron’s Lane.

  Ruth cast her eyes up and down the short, narrow street. “There’s nothing here.”

  Calladine turned around and scanned the area. Byron’s Lane was short and narrow, ending in a narrow ‘ginnel’ or alleyway that ran between Park Road and the High Street.

  Ruth pointed. “No windows or doors along here. The entrance to the properties are either on the High Street or Park Road.”

  Calladine corrected her. “There will be doors out the back into the yards, and gates into the ginnel.”

  “Even so, if the girls were taken from here they must have surfaced on either of the main roads. There is nowhere here.”

  “So why aren’t they on CCTV? Megan was seen entering the lane there.” Calladine pointed to it. “Presumably she was walking towards the High Street. The café where she should have met Rachel is a few yards to the right once you reach the end.” Calladine paced the distance.

  “He must have taken them down one of these narrow ginnels then,” Ruth said.

  Calladine nodded. “Shall we?” They set off down the left hand one. There was nothing to see but walls and the back yards of the shops. “A bit claustrophobic down here, and it’s muddy.”

  “It’s worth checking the properties again, Tom. See if any of the shopkeepers noticed anything.”

  “Apart from the newsagents and the café, they wouldn’t be open at that time of the morning. The back gates would be locked.” Calladine rattled one of them. “Get uniform to check that with the shopkeepers. Get them to ask if anyone has been broken into this week.”

  “They didn’t disappear into thin air. He took them somewhere.”

  “Let’s have a look down the other one.” Calladine led the way back the way they’d come, across Byron’s Lane and into the other alley.

  Two properties down, the lane opened up into an unfenced stone-flagged yard. “This is shared by those two properties. The butchers here, and whatever that is.” Calladine nodded to the two storey brick wall to the right.

  “It’s the back of what used to be Adams’s bakery. The business closed years ago. It’s empty as far as I know. There is a flat above, though. Every so often I see it advertised to let in the newsagent’s window.”

  “Is this the only way in?”

  “The shop entrance used to be on the High Street, but it’s been boarded up for ages,” Ruth told him. Calladine had a good look around the yard. The windows on the ground floor were boarded up. “If there’s a flat, how does the tenant get in?”

  “You can’t get in off the High Street anymore, so it’s got to be one of these two doors.” There was one main back door and another at the far end of the building. “That one probably leads to a staircase for the upstairs flat.” Ruth rattled the doors. Both were locked. “The place doesn’t look lived in. The windows are so mucky I can’t even tell if there are curtains or not.”

  “Who owns this?”

  “I’ve no idea. We could ask the estate agents who sold it last time around. I remember seeing the sign. It was up for sale for months.”

  “Jo’s?”

  “Yes, it will be.”

  That was a bit of luck. Jo Brandon was the partner of Calladine’s daughter, Zoe. Jo was Leesdon’s estate agent and Zoe was a solicitor. Calladine was still looking around. “It strikes me that this path is a very good hiding place. You could stand in here and watch folk pass by all day long. Duck down behind those bins and you wouldn’t be seen.”

  “You think he snatched the girls from here?”

  “If he did, and he had a vehicle parked in Byron’s Lane, then they could be anywhere. But in the meantime we’ll deal with what we’ve got. This area needs another going over by uniform and forensics. I want this path, those bins but more importantly those two properties, searching. That is if they haven’t already done them. I’ll give Julian a ring from Jo’s. We’ll get a cuppa while we’re there.”

  * * *

  Jo Brandon’s estate agents was on the High Street. Zoe Calladine had her office on the first floor. The detectives found the two young women sitting together.

  Jo winked. “Looking good, Mr C. The regime’s going well I see.”

  “Trying my best, Jo. How about some tea for your overworked dad?” He smiled at Zoe.

  “Where were you last night? You were supposed to come over for something to eat and a catch-up, remember?”

  He’d completely forgotten. “Sorry, Zo, I’ll come another time.”

  “Not this month you won’t. In a couple of days’ time me and Jo are off to the States to visit her folks.”

  “When did you arrange that?”

  Zoe shook her head. “I have told you. But you’ll have forgotten that too. Jo’s parents are celebrating their ruby wedding anniversary next week. They’re having a do, and we’re invited. We’re going to make a holiday of it, travel around a bit.”


  Calladine followed her into the kitchen. “When are you back?”

  Jo shouted through. “A couple of weeks. I’ve not seen my folks in a while. I’m looking forward to them meeting Zoe. You’ll get the opportunity to meet them at Christmas, Tom. They’re coming over. So book the time off, and promise not to let us down.”

  “Christmas! Please, no. I’m still in summertime mode.”

  Zoe wagged a finger. “It’s only three months, so get planning.”

  “I’ve organised uniform and the Duggan. Jo and I have gone through the records but they didn’t sell the bakery,” Ruth called out.

  “Well, we did, briefly, then it fell through. The property needs too much doing to it, so our buyer couldn’t get a mortgage. Jack Adams took it off the market. As far as I know, he still owns it,” Jo explained.

  “Do you know if Adams has let the flat upstairs?”

  “Not through us, he hasn’t. It’s a slum, a death trap. But who knows? You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Thanks, Jo, we’ll do that.”

  Zoe addressed her father with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “If you get lonely while I’m away, there’s always Eve. She is your mother after all. I’m sure she’d be delighted to see you.”

  That might be so, but Calladine found interaction with Eve Buckley hard going. He’d only known her for a few months. Calladine was the result of an affair between Eve and his father, fifty-one years ago. Eve hadn’t been able to cope and had handed the infant over to Frank Calladine. Frank’s wife, Freda, had raised him, and Calladine had always believed she was his birth mother. The truth about his origins had been kept from him, and Calladine hadn’t found out until after Freda’s death.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll see how it goes. Thanks for the help, but we’d better get on.”

  As soon as they were on the footpath outside, Ruth tackled him. “It still doesn’t sit well, does it? The Eve thing.”

  “And it probably never will. I just can’t think of her as my mother.”

  “That’s because she’s not. Freda was. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a half-decent relationship with her.”

  She was right, of course.

  “Back to the nick?” Ruth asked.

  “I thought we’d look in on Peachy while we’re this way,” Calladine said.

  “Why? We’ve already spoken to him. He doesn’t have anything to say that’s relevant to this case. You keep dredging up old stuff and it’s wasting time. We’ve still got Megan out there — remember her?”

  “It might give us a lead. There’s bad blood between Donnelly and Peachy. I’m convinced that what happened to Annabelle is linked to the current case.”

  Ruth was annoyed now. “Craig Donnelly — again! You really have to drop this. We’re going round in circles. Every time we drag him in, we have to let him go. My advice? Leave the man alone.”

  Calladine didn’t reply. He didn’t want to argue with Ruth.

  “A far better use of our time would be to get those shops and that old bakery searched. Neither Megan nor Kate was seen again once they’d entered that lane.”

  “There could have been a vehicle parked up waiting for them.”

  “Yes, there could, but before we spend hours on CCTV we should look a little closer to home. Megan’s hair bobble was found along one of the alleyways.”

  “Okay — take your point. But we’re here now. A quick word with Peachy and I’ll get it organised.”

  They stood outside the bookies window while Calladine rang Julian and arranged for forensics to take another look at the path and back yard.

  “We did give it a once-over, but the yard was flooded as I recall. The water people suspected the drains were blocked. The place smelled to high heaven. It is on our list to return once the problem is resolved,” Julian said.

  “It’s alright today, Julian. We’ve just come from there.”

  “Leave it with me.”

  “You hear that, Ruth?”

  She shrugged. “If there is anything to find, let’s hope the flood hasn’t washed it away. But what we really need to do is take a look inside that building.”

  * * *

  When Imogen and Rocco arrived at the school, Leanne Donnelly was waiting with her daughter in the headmaster’s office.

  Rocco began. “Thanks for coming. We’d like to speak to Gaby about Elsa and Megan.” Gaby rolled her eyes. “We know you’ve spoken to DI Calladine already, but we’d like to go over a few things. We understand that there was no love lost between you, but you might be able to help us.”

  Gaby’s mother answered. “Nasty pair. I’ve no time for either of them, or that other one, Rachel. They run wild. Do what they want. No one bothers. Certainly not the teachers here. It’s disgraceful what those girls have got away with.”

  Imogen reminded her, “One of the girls is now dead, Mrs Donnelly. Gaby, did you tell your father about the photo the girls took of you?”

  Leanne Donnelly was indignant. “No, she did not! Gaby doesn’t have anything to do with the man.”

  Imogen ignored this. “Gaby? He met you off the bus, didn’t he? He spoke to you.”

  Gaby gave a furtive glance at her mother. “That’s right. I told him to get lost, that I wasn’t interested. I certainly didn’t tell him about the photo. What would be the point?”

  “You’re barking up the wrong tree. You think he did something to those girls out of revenge, don’t you?” Leanne Donnelly laughed. “Most unlikely. My ex-husband is a lot of things — an adulterer, a liar, and on occasions a drug dealer. But he is not a killer, Detective Constable.”

  Imogen stared at her in disbelief. “He’s just done time for exactly that, Mrs Donnelly. He was found guilty of killing a young girl.”

  “He did the time, but I doubt he did the crime,” Mrs Donnelly said.

  Imogen was curious. “Why do you say that? I mean, there’s no love lost between the two of you.”

  “Don’t misunderstand me. I have no time for the man. He did all those years behind bars, and given his history he probably deserved it. But he didn’t kill anybody. That’s not why I divorced him.”

  Imogen shook her head. “You said nothing at the time. What evidence did you have?”

  “I told the police what I knew. It wasn’t much. Not enough to prove him innocent.”

  “There was evidence that Craig had done it, plenty of it, and that’s why the jury found him guilty.”

  Leanne Donnelly was an accountant with a large Manchester firm, obviously she wasn’t stupid or naïve. Imogen wondered why she was so sure her husband was innocent of the murder.

  Mrs Donnelly snorted. “The police make mistakes too. And they become obsessed. That inspector was on a mission where Craig was concerned, and so was his boss, that DCI Kennet. Between them they were determined that Craig was going down for the girl’s murder, guilty or not. Take the debacle with the shoes for example. The entire case hinged on those, but it was rubbish. I knew he hadn’t worn them in years! But no one could prove it.”

  “The evidence was there. It spoke for itself,” Rocco interjected.

  “I was in court, Detective Constable. I heard all the so-called evidence. Sure, it sounded compelling. I was called. I told them what I thought. When I was questioned about the shoes that prosecution barrister tore everything I said to shreds. Apart from anything else, Craig had another woman. It had been going on for months. He didn’t care about me, or the fact that I was pregnant. I told this Kennet person all about his philandering. I spelt it out for him. Gave him the woman’s name, address, everything. She was questioned and she gave Craig an alibi. He even told me himself that he’d been with her at the time of the murder. ”

  Imogen was incredulous. “So, what are you saying? That he was with this woman at the time when the girl was killed?”

  “She wasn’t believed. The woman was seen on CCTV shopping in the local supermarket the day Annabelle was murdered. She’d told the police that she and Craig had spent the
day on the coast.”

  “So she lied? The fact is you don’t know where Craig was?”

  Leanne Donnelly looked at Imogen and shrugged. “She wanted to make the alibi sound better, stupid woman. But Craig could have been with her. For years he protested his innocence, but nobody listened. Then he met Livings and for reasons I have never understood, admitted the crime and expressed remorse.” She stared at them. “Stinks, doesn’t it?”

  Imogen looked at Rocco. Did Calladine know anything of this? “Who was this woman, Mrs Donnelly?

  “Her name is Natalie. She’s married to a low-life called Liam Peach.”

  Chapter 18

  Calladine had just pocketed his phone when Imogen rang to give him the information from Gaby’s mother.

  “Are you sure Leanne Donnelly wasn’t telling you a load of rubbish? That’s not the name in the file.” If Donnelly was seeing anyone, Calladine had expected it to be Dawn Heywood.

  “Why would she, sir? There isn’t anything between Donnelly and his ex-wife these days. She wants nothing to do with him. I thought you should know right away, which is why I rang you.”

  “DCI Kennet, you say?” said Calladine.

  “Yes.”

  “Ruth and I are about to talk to Peach now. After that we’ll come back to the station. See if you can find out where Natalie Peach lives these days.”

  Calladine put the phone back in his pocket and turned to Ruth. “Even Donnelly’s wife reckons he didn’t kill Annabelle Roper. She told Imogen and Rocco that she wasn’t even called to give evidence in court. And that Donnelly was having an affair with Peach’s wife, Natalie. Apparently that’s where he was when Annabelle was killed. That’s a new one on me.”

  Ruth shook her head. “Reason for all the trouble between them? If it’s true. But it is a bit far-fetched. Deliberately keeping witness evidence under wraps! But if there is anything in it, then it strikes me more than ever that someone was determined to put Donnelly away.”

  “Pat Kennet is the best bet. I was stationed at Oldston in those days. I worked that case with him and DI Reynolds. They were obsessed, the pair of them. And I don’t recall Natalie Peach being interviewed, or seeing any statements from her.”