by M A Comley
Jack’s eyes widened. “Shit. Is that recent? Or was it around the time of the murder?”
“He went to prison after the murder.” She tapped the paper with her finger. “Now that’s interesting, right?”
“Very. Where is he now? In or out?”
“Looks like he’s out at present. I think we should pay him a visit, don’t you?”
Jack nodded, shrugged and swigged the rest of his coffee. “Here we go again.”
“I like to keep you on your toes, big man. It’s the highlight of my day.”
“You do that all right. I wouldn’t mind having a day at my desk now and again. You know, to recharge the batteries, instead of gallivanting all over the county.”
Sally finished her drink and left her desk. “Stop your whinging. If you need a rest, I’ll drive. I can’t be any fairer than that.”
“Big deal. Okay, you’re on. I might have forty winks on the way.”
Sally raised an eyebrow. “Over my dead body, Sergeant Blackman.”
He pulled a face. “I’ve worked for more appreciative bosses in the past.”
Sally placed a hand near her mouth and whispered, “Bullshit.”
“I heard that,” he grumbled, following her out of the office.
“We’re off out, gang. Keep digging. Well done on finding this out, Joanna.” Sally waved the sheet at her.
“Damn. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I knew there was something important on there I should have pointed out to you. Sorry, boss.”
Sally approached her desk. “It’s unlike you, Jo. Anything wrong?”
“Family problems on my mind. I’ll try and not let them interfere in the future.”
Sally lowered her voice and asked, “Anything you want to discuss?”
“It’ll work itself out, boss. Thanks for asking, though. Sorry to have let you down.”
“Let’s get one thing straight, Constable, you have never let me down, nor are you likely to in the future.” Sally smiled and held up her crossed fingers.
“I’ll make sure I don’t.” Joanna gave her a glimmer of a smile that did nothing to shift the worrying frown from the constable’s face.
“We can have a chat later, if you need one.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Sally nodded and joined Jack at the door.
“Don’t forget your promise, you’re driving.” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes and patted the keys in her jacket pocket. “As if I don’t do enough bloody work around here as it is.”
She walked down the stairs ahead of him and heard him chuckling behind her. She turned quickly to glare at him.
“Where’s your sense of humour gone?”
“On strike.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he grumbled.
It took them twenty-five minutes to drive out to the estate where the murder had taken place nineteen years earlier.
“This is it. It’s derelict by the look of things.” Jack pointed to a small terraced house that had fallen into disrepair.
“Hardly surprising given that a child died there. Who’d choose to live there?” Sally swallowed down the saliva filling her mouth.
“That’s the house we need, next door.”
Sally switched off the engine, and they both got out of the car and made their way up the short concrete path to the front door. The garden was covered in slate with the odd shrub placed here and there. A low-maintenance garden if ever she saw one. To her, it had a woman’s touch about it. Was Stanton married? Joanna hadn’t provided her with that information. She would need to tread carefully if he was. Sod it! No, I don’t. If he hasn’t told his wife about his past, that’s his problem, not mine.
Jack did the honours of ringing the doorbell. They both withdrew their warrant cards ready to show the occupants.
A brunette woman in her forties or fifties opened the door a mere six inches and peered around it. “Can I help you?”
Sally thrust her card towards the woman, and the woman gasped.
“I’m DI Sally Parker, and this is my partner, DS Jack Blackman. Are you Mrs Stanton?”
“No. There is no Mrs Stanton.”
“I see. Who are you then?”
“A friend of Roger’s. What do you want?”
“To speak with Roger. Is he at home?”
“Umm…yes. Er…it’s not convenient right now.”
Oh crap! Don’t tell me they were in the middle of an afternoon frigging romp! “Sorry if we’ve interrupted anything, but our visit is extremely important. We’ll give you five minutes to get dressed, if that’s what you want.”
The woman’s pale face reddened with a blush. “Very well.”
She shut the door and left them shuffling their feet on the doorstep.
“Don’t tell me they were bloody at it at this time of the day.” Jack groaned under his breath.
“I know. I feel physically sick and I haven’t even met the man yet.”
“Me, too. I suppose we have to be thankful the sun is shining and it’s not raining.”
“True enough.”
It was another few minutes before the man they’d come to see opened the door to greet them. Well, perhaps greet was a bit of a stretch. “The filth? What brings you to my bloody door? Don’t you lot know what an appointment is? People have a damn life to lead, you know,” he shouted without taking a breath.
“Want to calm down there, mate?” Jack tried to placate the irate man.
Stanton ran a hand through his short grey hair once he realised Jack meant business. “Sorry. What’s this about? I’ve had my share of you lot over the years.”
“We’re making general enquiries, sir, that’s all. Would it be okay if we came in for a while?”
“Get inside quick, I don’t want the neighbours knowing you lot are here.” He opened the door wide to allow them access.
The woman who had spoken to them a few moments earlier was coming down the stairs, tucking a T-shirt into her trousers. “Do you want a drink? I’m making one anyway.”
Stanton shot her a warning glance. She lowered her gaze, embarrassed.
“We’re fine. We don’t want to outstay our welcome. Are you free to speak with us, Mr Stanton?”
“In here. I can spare you five minutes, that’s all.”
He showed them into a medium-sized tidy lounge that contained two leather sofas and an enormous TV screen.
“Take a seat, if you must. Don’t get too comfortable, though.”
“We get your drift that you’re not keen on seeing us, Mr Stanton. You haven’t done anything wrong, or have you?”
He held his arms out to the sides. “If I knew what this was about, maybe I’d be able to answer you.”
“We’re investigating a case that happened nineteen years ago.”
He turned to look out of the front window, shook his head and said, “Jesus!”
“Ah, you’re aware of the case then?”
He faced Sally again. “Of course I’m bloody aware of it. If you’ve come here to pin that murder on me, then I’m telling you now, you’ll be ruddy wasting your time.”
“You were living here at the time of the murder, yes?”
“You know damn well I was.”
“Why the animosity?” Sally asked, peering into his eyes.
His gaze dropped from hers, and his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap. “How would you feel? Yes, I’ve done wrong in the past. I was punished for that. I didn’t do nothing to that kid, though. Not sure how many times I have to tell you lot that.”
“You were questioned at the time?”
“Of course I was. We all were. I can’t believe you’ve reopened the case. Why now?”
“We have our reasons that I’m not prepared to disclose at the moment.”
“You have your reasons? That’s right, it doesn’t take much for you bastards to come chasing innocent folks down, does it?” He punched the arm of the sofa.
“You’d be advi
sed to tone down that temper of yours, mate,” Jack warned, leaping to Sally’s defence.
“As I’ve already stated, we’re not singling you out in this, sir. We’re here to question again everyone who was living in the area at the time. The family deserve to know what happened to Millie, surely you can understand that?”
He sighed heavily, his chest expanding. “All right, I suppose I get that. But you have to believe me when I tell you I had nothing to do with that kiddie’s death. None of us did around here. We were as shocked as you guys were. Most of us joined in the search for the suspect once we saw that E-FIT.”
“You saw the E-FIT? Did you recognise the man?”
“I did, and if I’d recognised him then, I’m sure I would have told your lot at the time and an arrest would have been made.”
His tone had turned sarcastic. Jack cleared his throat, encouraging the man to look his way. He wagged a warning finger at him.
“Sorry,” Stanton muttered. “You lot make me feel uncomfortable in my own home.”
“It’s not our fault you feel that way. Maybe if you hadn’t broken the law in the past you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable,” Jack replied.
“All right, there’s no need to keep shoving it down my neck. What I did was a one-off. In case you’re not aware of the full facts, the girl I had sex with—yes, it was consensual sex, I don’t care what she said in court—she lied. Just like when she told me she was sixteen when we fell into bed after a drunken night out. She was bloody thirteen, the lying bitch. You know she turned round and tried to blackmail me, don’t you?”
“No, I wasn’t aware of the full facts of your case, sir.”
“And that’s where the frigging problem lies. No one cares about the facts, it’s someone’s record that defines their future, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps that’s true. Okay, going back to the crime of the murder. Did you know the family?”
“Sort of. Only to wave at now and again. I tended to keep myself to myself back then.”
“May I ask why?”
He shrugged. “It’s a free country as far as I know, I could do what I like.”
Jack shook his head. “Don’t start, mate. Play nicely.”
“It’s okay, Jack, it’s obvious Mr Stanton has a problem with authority.”
“Do I fuck? It’s you lot I’ve got the problem with. Do you realise how many innocent blokes there are sitting in our prisons? I met a fair few in my time there. It’s sickening. Most of them have been stitched up by coppers, and surprise, surprise, here you are sitting in my lounge talking to me.”
“We’re interviewing you, not interrogating you as a suspect, sir, there’s a difference,” Sally explained.
“Do us all a favour and get off your high horse, mate,” Jack added.
“I’m not on my bleeding high horse. If I was, you’d be the first to recognise it, mate,” Stanton shot back as soon as Jack had finished.
Sally raised a hand between the two men. “Stop with the testosterone-filled anger, boys, it’s not getting us anywhere. As I said, going back to when the murder of Millie Pickrel took place, can you recall anyone hanging around outside the home, their home, say a week or so before?”
He scratched the side of his head and then wiped his running nose on the back of his hand. Sally cringed. “Nope, I can’t recall, but hey, that was almost twenty years ago. Are you telling me you remember in detail something that happened in your life nearly two decades ago?”
Sally sighed, feeling helpless. He had a point, as much as she hated to admit it. “Okay, that’s a fair comment. Please, I’m begging you, try and think back, see if anything out of the ordinary happened which might have caused any likely suspicion around that time?”
Silence filled the room while he thought for a moment or two. Sally’s hopes were dashed a few seconds later when he shook his head. “Nope. I wish I could help, but too much time has elapsed. None of us are getting any younger, are we? Sometimes I can’t even frigging remember what I had for dinner the previous day. Sorry.”
Sally heaved out a sigh. “It was worth a try. I’ll leave you a card, just in case anything comes to mind.” She rose from her seat and passed him one of her business cards.
He took it, stood and walked over to the mantelpiece and placed it on top. “I’ll put it here for safekeeping.”
He then showed them back to the front door.
Sally nodded at him. “Thanks for trying to help us, Mr Stanton.”
“Try is the word. I didn’t do anything to that child, I swear on my mother’s grave, I didn’t.”
Sally issued the man a weak smile; she believed him. “Ring us if you either think of anything or hear anything over the next few days.”
“I will.”
They turned up the path and stopped outside their car.
“What now?” Jack asked, eyeing the other properties around them.
“You’ve guessed it. I know we said we’d pass over the house-to-house to one of the others; however, it seems daft not to throw ourselves into it while we’re out here.”
He growled. “I hate doing it, you know, when your gut is screaming at you that it’s likely going to be a waste of time.”
“Let’s face it, Jack, you’ve just described ninety percent of our normal working day.”
“That’s bloody true enough. Which side do you want to take?”
Sally opened the car door and extracted the file she’d brought with her with all the relevant neighbours’ details. “I’ve got the people we need to speak to noted down here. There are only four still here. That’ll make it easier for us, two each.”
“If you insist. Ask the same questions we asked of that twerp in there, right?”
“Similar. He has a record, so I admit we went in there heavy-handed. Take it easier on the other neighbours.”
“Whatever. And what if this proves to be a waste of time?”
“Ever the optimist, eh, Bullet?”
He shrugged his huge shoulders. “You know me.”
“Only too well. Let me know if you hit on anything.”
“What, like finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? Not sure that’s likely, not after nineteen bloody years.”
“Negativity isn’t part of my vocabulary, Jack, you should know that by now. Put a smile on your face. That’ll transfer to your insides and make the world seem a whole lot brighter, I promise you.”
He turned and walked away. “What a crock of poppycock you talk at times,” he grumbled.
“I heard that,” she called after him.
He peered over his shoulder and grinned. “You were supposed to.”
“Get on with it and don’t return to the car until you have something worth listening to.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “Are you kidding me?”
“It was worth a shot,” she replied, smiling.
He groaned and mumbled something else and then crossed the road.
Sally knocked on the first house on her list. It happened to be two doors down from Stanton’s.
An elderly lady with a curved spine opened the door and tilted her head to look at her. “Yes, can I help?”
Sally produced her warrant card. “DI Sally Parker. Are you Mrs Wootton?”
Her hand left the door and clutched the front of her chest. “Oh my, the police! What on earth are the police doing on my doorstep? I haven’t done anything wrong. At least, I don’t think I have. Oh God, don’t tell me my daughter has been in an accident?”
“No, I assure you, it’s nothing like that. Please, don’t be alarmed, we’re here conducting general enquiries. I’m led to believe that you’ve lived in the same property for nearly thirty years, is that correct?”
“I can’t stand for long, dear, would you mind coming in? I need to sit in my special chair in the lounge, and quickly, otherwise my back will play me up for days. It’s a damn nuisance, that’s what it is. I’ll be glad when the good Lord comes to claim me.” She strolled back into the
house, clearly expecting Sally to follow her.
Sally closed the front door and patiently walked behind the poor woman who appeared to be very unstable on her feet. Sally wondered if she should be living alone if her health had deteriorated so much.
Once the old lady was tucked up in her comfy-looking recliner, she gestured for Sally to sit opposite her in the two-seater, fabric-covered couch on the other side of the gas fire which was on a low heat. “General enquiries, you say. About what, may I ask?”
“A crime that took place almost twenty years ago.”
Mrs Wootton shook her head slowly. “I know the one you’re talking about. That poor little girl. Buggered if I can remember her name after all this time. Well, she was murdered in her own bed, wasn’t she?”
“That’s the one. Millie Pickrel.”
She snapped her finger and thumb together. “That’s it. Poor child.” She stared at the floral-patterned carpet beneath her feet and shook her head again. “Poor innocent child.”
“Can you remember much about what happened around that time?”
“Nothing wrong with my memory, it’s my body that’s giving out on me, not my brain. What did you want to know? The family moved away after…well, the child’s death.”
“I know. I’m in touch with the mother. Something has come to light about the case which has made us reopen it.”
“Never? Well, I’ll be buggered. After all these years you’ve finally discovered something to go on. What is it? Can you tell me?”
“Not in that sense, sorry to mislead you. I’m in charge of a cold case team which has been specifically formed to deal with a number of crimes that were investigated by a certain officer. This is one of those crimes.”
“Corrupt bastard, was he? I never liked the look of the man. Spoke to me like I was something he’d stepped in, you know, dog’s mess.”
“Not corrupt, just guilty of neglecting to fulfil his duties correctly.”
“That’s a polite way of saying he screwed up cases, right?”
“You’re very astute, Mrs Wootton. Have you worked for the police?”
“Nope, my brother did, though. Never made it past a constable walking the beat. He used to tell me how difficult it was to rise up the ranks back in the day, intimated that a lot of backhanders went on, if you get my drift.”
