‘Who’s Felicity?’ Lily demanded.
‘Oh bloody hell,’ Tom burst out, exasperated. ‘Now look what you’ve done. I’ll get hell from her now. Oh shit. Can’t you people mind your own business?’ He turned to his new girlfriend. ‘Felicity’s history. She’s just someone I was seeing for a while, that’s all, but if you think you’re going to be in any way threatened by her, you couldn’t be more wrong. Honestly, Lily, I wouldn’t cross the road to speak to her. In fact, I’d make a point of crossing the road to avoid her because she’d only be on at me for money. She won’t come between us, I promise.’
‘That’s true, at least,’ Geraldine said.
Tom and Lily both turned to look at her.
‘She might say that now –’ Lily began.
‘Oh, I can guarantee she won’t be bothering you again.’ Geraldine looked directly at Tom above Lily’s head. ‘Felicity’s dead.’
His eyes widened. ‘Felicity’s dead? But –’
‘Where were you on Tuesday night?’
His shocked expression altered as he registered the implications of the question.
‘I was –I was –’ he stammered.
‘He was here with me,’ Lily said quickly.
As Geraldine had suspected, the girl was sharp. Lowering her gaze to look at Lily, she was met by a cold stare.
‘Lily,’ she said gently, reminding herself that the girl was very young. ‘It’s never a good idea to lie to the police. We have all sorts of ways of finding out the truth – witnesses you’re not aware of, DNA, and CCTV. So there’s really no point in lying about where you were. You don’t even remember what you were doing on Monday night, do you?’
The girl bristled. ‘Don’t tell me what I can and can’t remember. Are you calling me a liar? I told you Tom was with me on Tuesday night, and that’s where he was.’
Geraldine sighed. ‘Tom,’ she said, ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to answer a few more questions. Would you like to accompany me now?’
Tom was about to speak when his attention was caught by something over Geraldine’s shoulder. The constable had arrived at the gate. Tom’s jaw tensed.
‘I can’t go out like this,’ he muttered.
He pushed Lily aside and Geraldine saw that beneath a long sleeved sweatshirt he was wearing only underpants. Without taking her eyes off Tom, she gestured for the constable to join her.
‘Mr Parker needs to put some clothes on,’ she said. ‘Would you accompany him please?’
Her colleague went into the house and disappeared upstairs behind Tom, leaving Geraldine alone with Lily.
‘You won’t get away with this, you know,’ the girl said.
Geraldine looked at her in silence.
‘I know you’re trying to pin something on Tom, but just because he knew that girl doesn’t mean he had anything to do with her death.’
Geraldine inclined her head. ‘Of course it doesn’t, and that’s why he hasn’t been arrested. But he knew the dead girl and we need to find out if there’s anything he can tell us that we don’t already know about her, like who she associated with, and where she liked to go. And of course we want to eliminate him from our enquiries.’
The girl glared at her. While they waited for the two men to come back downstairs, Geraldine found out Lily’s full name and her work place. She grinned as she admitted that her parents had been extremely unhappy when she had moved in with a man nearly twenty years older than her. A moment later, Tom came trotting downstairs with the constable at his heels, ready to lunge if he tried to barge past Geraldine who was standing in the doorway. They drove Tom to the police station without any further conversation, and by eleven o’clock, Geraldine and Ian were facing him across an interview table.
‘My client has not been charged,’ the duty lawyer said in an unpleasant nasal voice, shaking her blond head as though she disapproved of the situation.
Ian took no notice of her. ‘Where were you on Tuesday evening?’
Tom shrugged, in a transparent attempt to appear nonchalant. ‘I was at home, and Lily can corroborate that.’
The steely-eyed blond lawyer gave an almost imperceptible nod. Her client had clearly remembered the instructions he had been given.
‘Where were you a week last Friday?’ Geraldine asked.
Tom looked surprised. ‘What? How should I know?’
He turned to the lawyer with a panicked expression, and she held up one hand to silence him. Geraldine suspected the lawyer knew perfectly well what had happened on that Friday night.
‘My client is not prepared to answer that question.’
‘If your client refuses to answer our questions, we’ll have him arrested for obstruction,’ Ian replied.
‘I’m not refusing to answer, but, really? Two Fridays ago?’ Tom repeated, sounding baffled. ‘I can’t remember. I mean, Lily and I usually go out for a few drinks on a Friday night, and sometimes we meet up with friends, but –’ He shrugged. ‘It’s not like we have a regular arrangement or anything.’
‘Please, think carefully, two Fridays ago, where were you that night?’
‘What did Lily say?’
‘I’m asking you.’
He shrugged. ‘We would have gone out drinking, or stayed at home. I can’t remember.’
‘Are you sure you were together?’
He nodded uneasily, unaware that he was talking himself into being regarded as a suspect. It hadn’t taken a constable long to establish that Lily had been visiting her parents in Hertfordshire on the weekend of Grant’s murder. She had left York straight after work on Friday, returning on the Sunday evening. So Tom’s alibi for the Friday evening when Grant had been murdered was discredited. Either Tom had a very bad memory, or else he was lying. And if he was prepared to lie about one evening, he might also be lying when he claimed to have been with Lily on the night Felicity had been killed. Eileen decided to keep Tom locked up overnight, despite his lawyer’s objections.
That evening the atmosphere at the police station was cautiously optimistic. Lacking only incontrovertible proof, they seemed to have caught the killer. All it needed was for Tom’s DNA to match that found on the two dead bodies.
‘Why did you do it, Tom?’ Ian asked when Tom’s DNA had been sent off for processing.
The suspect just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, insisting he had never killed anyone.
‘Felicity and I broke up,’ he repeated, in a trembling voice. ‘But I never hurt her. I never hurt anyone. I couldn’t. Ask Lily. She’ll tell you. Ask anyone. This is all a mistake.’
Geraldine found it hard to believe Tom could be guilty.
‘What on earth’s your problem?’ Ariadne asked her.
‘I don’t know, he just doesn’t seem the type to go around killing people. He seems so –’ She paused, struggling to find the right word for what she meant. ‘So gentle,’ she concluded.
Ariadne raised her eyebrows. ‘You can’t tell whether someone’s a murderer or not just by questioning them. You know that. And this man you’re defending is living with a teenager half his age.’
Geraldine nodded unhappily.
‘That’s true,’ she replied. ‘It was just the impression I had, but I’m probably wrong.’
Ian was walking past as she spoke. He raised his eyebrows at her when he heard what she said.
‘It’s not like you to be wrong,’ he said.
‘Are you saying I won’t admit when I’m wrong?’ she began indignantly.
‘I think he meant you’re not often wrong,’ Ariadne interrupted her. ‘Surely it was meant as a compliment?’
Geraldine began to stammer an apology, but Ian had already moved out of earshot. Usually so shrewd in her understanding of other people, somehow she was flustered by Ian. Her confusion over her feelings towards him seemed to be spilling over int
o her professional life too, so that where formerly she would have trusted her instincts, she now seemed to be floundering.
‘I suppose Tom could be the killer,’ she conceded. ‘I just had this impression… I probably had him all wrong.’
Her bewilderment must have been apparent, because Ariadne gave her a curious look.
‘For goodness sake, Geraldine,’ she said, ‘why are you so down about it? This is it! He’s stabbed two people to death and in a few hours we’ll have the proof we’ve been waiting for!’
18
As soon as she arrived at the police station the following morning, Geraldine went along to the custody suite to have a word with the suspect, hoping to satisfy herself of his guilt.
‘Looking for a room for tonight?’ the custody sergeant called out when he saw her approaching. ‘We have guest accommodation available. It may not be the most comfortable hotel you’ll ever stay in, but you won’t be disturbed by loud music late at night, and privacy is guaranteed. And it’s absolutely free, all in, breakfast, lunch and dinner.’
She laughed. ‘What’s on the menu today?’
‘You’ve missed breakfast, but there’s some sort of meat pie and mash for lunch.’
‘You certainly make it sound attractive. Can I see the wine list?’
‘Champagne for you, Madame? Oh, drat, we seem to have run out.’
Even though there was still a lot to do, the atmosphere at the police station felt more relaxed now that Tom was securely locked in a cell. Seated on his hard bunk, staring at the floor, he started up when the door opened to admit Geraldine.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Can I go now?’
His face looked paler than when she had last seen him, and his eyes were bloodshot.
‘Tom,’ she said, ‘you know we’re going to keep talking to you until you tell us the truth.’
He sat down, and stared dully at her. ‘I’ve told you the truth,’ he said. ‘I can’t remember what I was doing that night. You can ask me and ask me, but if I can’t remember then I can’t tell you, can I?’
There was no point in continuing the conversation so she left, resolving to keep her reservations to herself. If it turned out that Tom was guilty, as seemed likely, she would only damage her reputation with her colleagues by insisting she believed he was innocent. And if he really was innocent, the truth would emerge soon enough. Frustrated by the way her gut feelings had let her down, she decided to take advantage of her day off and visit her twin sister in London.
Geraldine had cancelled their last meeting, which always annoyed her twin, so it was with some trepidation that she set off. She decided to take the train to London as it was faster than driving and she could reread the witness statements on the way. The results of Tom’s DNA test would be back soon to hopefully put an end to all her speculation. In the meantime the gang of muggers remained at large and she wanted to read through all the witness reports again. It was possible there might be a detail that had so far been overlooked. She devoted the entire journey to reading the different accounts, and reached London without having given much thought to her sister. It was probably better that way. She would only have become stressed if she had spent the time worrying about how she was going to be received. Geraldine understood it was difficult for Helena to control her cravings, but her erratic behaviour was challenging.
‘You’re doing your best for her,’ Ariadne had said when Geraldine had complained about Helena in very general terms. ‘If she’s going to get angry with you for not giving her everything she wants from you, then you need to set firm boundaries for yourself. Decide how much is reasonable for you to do for her, and do just that. But you shouldn’t feel guilty for not doing more than is reasonable, or even possible. Don’t let her manipulate you with her disappointment and anger. It’s not your fault she’s had such a hard time of it.’
Geraldine knew Ariadne was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. Her underlying fear was that Helena might revert to her drug abuse if she didn’t feel she was receiving enough support. Trying to feel strong and confident, she strode along the street where Helena was living in a flat Geraldine rented for her. Helena opened the door straightaway. Stepping over a pair of boots lying in the doorway, Geraldine followed her sister into a dingy living room. Helena had not yet cleaned the carpet or upholstery, nor had she washed the grimy windows or replaced the once smart curtains that were now mottled with mildew. The room could easily have been smartened up with a coat of paint, clean curtains and a new rug on the stained carpet. Living in careless squalor didn’t seem to bother Helena, but Geraldine found the place depressing. She was relieved when they left to go out for lunch.
Geraldine took her sister to a restaurant around the back of Kings Cross station that she knew from her years spent living not far from there in Islington. It was a fairly smart place, but Geraldine was fed up of the tacky cafés Helena frequented and wanted to take her somewhere more comfortable. Helena didn’t comment as they went in the restaurant and were shown to their seats. She seemed as at home in a slightly upmarket restaurant as she was in a cheap café, and Geraldine realised that her twin didn’t actually pay much attention to her surroundings. Someone as unobservant as her would make a poor detective. It was strange how similar they were in appearance, yet how different in inclinations and temperament. She wondered if they would ever reach enough of an understanding to become really close.
Helena seemed relatively cheerful, and for once they didn’t argue. Although Helena was skinny, Geraldine was pleased to see that she still had her appetite, eating twice as much as Geraldine.
‘I don’t know where you put it all,’ she laughed, as the pile of food on Helena’s plate rapidly vanished.
For a second Geraldine was afraid she had said the wrong thing when Helena didn’t respond, but she was only finishing a mouthful. Swallowing, she grinned, displaying chipped teeth, before she carried on eating.
‘That was good,’ she said at last, wiping the last crumbs from her plate with the side of her knife. ‘You didn’t eat much.’ It sounded like a criticism.
Geraldine hesitated. ‘I had enough,’ she said at last. ‘I ate breakfast on the train.’
Still, the lunch passed without incident and Helena thanked her with genuine appreciation in her voice.
‘I know I’m not what you might call the best of sisters,’ she added. ‘I know I’m not perfect.’
‘Who is?’
‘You are.’
Helena’s retort sounded like an accusation.
Geraldine laughed it off. ‘I wish,’ she said. ‘Honestly, Helena, I’m just like everyone else, struggling to make sense of my life and keep on top of things.’
‘But you do stay on top. That’s just the point, innit? Me, I hit rock bottom. If it weren’t for you, what the hell would’ve happened to me?’
Helena paused, perhaps remembering the vicious drug pusher who had been threatening to shoot her until Geraldine had stepped in to save her, at the cost of her own career prospects.
‘Oh, I know it’s not just me,’ she went on. ‘Everyone’s got their shit to deal with. And don’t think I’m not grateful to you for bailing me out like you done. But it’s hard sometimes, trying to move on. Because the past is always there, innit? “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” I been doing some reading. One of my new friends put me onto that. It’s a good book. The Great Gatsby. You heard of it?’
Geraldine nodded, hiding her surprise. ‘I’ve read it, but I wouldn’t be able to quote from it.’
Helena shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose many people could, but I seem to remember useless shit like that.’ She shrugged. ‘Not that it’s going to do me any good.’
Encouraged by their conversation, after lunch Geraldine invited Helena to accompany her to the British Museum. When she had lived in London she used to enjoy wandering around
the exhibits on her days off.
Helena laughed at the suggestion. ‘A museum? Me? What the fuck for? I’ve never been inside a museum in my life and I’m not about to start now. Bloody hell. What do you think I am?’
Geraldine smiled her regret. ‘Another time then.’
‘Not bloody likely.’
‘You will be careful, won’t you?’ Helena asked as they said goodbye. ‘I mean, with all those killers you’re chasing after. Don’t let them get you, will you?’
Geraldine was more touched by Helena’s unexpected concern than she admitted. After reassuring Helena that as a police officer she was well protected, she left. Glancing round, she saw Helena still standing outside the restaurant, watching her walk away. All in all, it had been a satisfactory meeting. They had actually got on quite well, and there had been none of Helena’s usual recriminations. Geraldine hoped this might mark an improvement in their relationship which, so far, had been strained. She felt a burst of optimism and even allowed herself to hope the case would be resolved soon.
But by the time she arrived back in York early that evening, the report had come back on Tom’s DNA. There was no evidence he had been present at either of the murder scenes, and the identity of the man who had left his DNA at both remained a mystery. Geraldine called in at the police station to see what was happening in the aftermath of the report. Eileen was prowling around with a long face, snapping at anyone who spoke to her. Tom had been released, and even the most cheery of officers were subdued because they were back to casting around for leads in a case that seemed to be going nowhere.
‘We have to be patient,’ Ian said when she saw him.
‘If it wasn’t for the DNA evidence, we might have convicted him,’ Geraldine replied. ‘I wonder how many false convictions there were in the days before DNA evidence.’
Rogue Killer Page 9
