by M A Comley
Sara raised her hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll give her the time she needs to recover.”
The nurse smiled. “She’s going to need it.”
“Is she aware of anything?” Katherine asked.
“Not really. She’s a little bewildered, but I’m sure she’ll be fine soon.”
Katherine tutted. “I doubt she’ll ever be the same again if she saw her parents slaughtered.”
“Let’s hope she didn’t see that, Katherine. The truth is, we don’t know if she’s even aware of their deaths,” Sara stated.
He led them the short distance to the cubicles and swept the curtain back a little to allow them access to one on the right. Geraldine was sitting up in bed, cuddling a bright-pink teddy bear.
“Geraldine, my darling. How are you?” Katherine rushed forward to hug her niece.
Geraldine seemed panicked by the gesture, her eyes wide as saucers. She turned her head to the side and receded back into the pillow propping her up when Katherine tried to kiss her cheek.
Glancing over at Sara, Katherine looked hurt. Sara gave her a reassuring smile, pleading for her to be patient with her niece after going through such a traumatic ordeal.
Sara gestured for Katherine to sit beside Geraldine. Once seated, Katherine reached out a hand for her niece to hold, but Geraldine clung to the teddy bear and ignored her aunt’s affections.
“Hello, Geraldine. My name is Sara Ramsey. How are you feeling?”
Geraldine stared at her, her eyes increasing and decreasing in size at regular intervals as if wondering if she could trust Sara. Then she buried her head in the teddy bear.
“Give her time,” the nurse said. “I’ll be back in a while.”
He slipped through the curtain. Geraldine’s chest inflated and deflated rapidly in an instant. Sara smiled, trying to reassure the young woman that she was now safe and out of imminent danger.
“Did he hurt you?” Katherine whispered.
Geraldine hugged the bear tighter. Small tears dripped onto her cheeks. Finally, Geraldine found her voice. “He hurt Mummy and Daddy.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Katherine said, her voice catching in her throat.
“But did he hurt you, Geraldine?” Sara asked quietly.
“No. He was nice to me. That was until he gave me that awful stuff that exploded in my mouth.” Geraldine shuddered and groaned a little.
Katherine and Sara exchanged puzzled glances. What could that have been? Exploded in her mouth? Sara was at a loss to know what she meant. Did he try to force her to take the wrong type of medication perhaps? Or do drugs?
Her aunt squeezed her hand. “Never mind, love. He did the right thing and brought you to hospital.”
Sara smiled. “Did he tell you his name, Geraldine?”
She vehemently shook her head, dashing any hopes that Sara had of possibly identifying the man during her visit. She decided not to push it further.
Sara remained at the hospital for another hour while Geraldine struggled to keep her eyes open and spoke to her aunt. She then rushed back to the station, delighted that Geraldine was safe, frustrated, however, that she wasn’t able to pass on any useful clues that would help apprehend the killer swiftly. It would be down to old-fashioned police work in that case, unless Laurence Haldon regained consciousness soon.
Chapter 18
“She’s fine,” Sara announced to the team the second she entered the incident room.
Everyone seemed relieved to hear the news.
“That’s a relief,” Carla said, jumping out of her seat to buy Sara a coffee.
“Geraldine’s shaken up a little. She was able to tell us that the man hurt her parents but he was nice to her. She also said that he gave her something that exploded in her mouth. Anyone know what that likely was? Are there any drugs on the market that will do that?”
The team all appeared perplexed by the question.
“Nothing is coming to mind,” Carla admitted. “Want me to get on to the drug squad, see if they can think of anything?”
Sara nodded. “Excellent idea. I think he saw the appeal, heard that she needed medication and tried to possibly supplement her normal drugs. Maybe if we can find out what he gave her, we’ll be able to trace it back to a supplier. Or is that just me being optimistic?”
Carla shrugged. “It’s sure worth a shot.” She picked up her phone and dialled a number.
Sara drifted into her office, pausing at the window to take a sip from her coffee. She needed to gather her thoughts and decide in which direction the case should go next. She had hoped the phones would be ringing off the hook by now—clearly that wasn’t the case. After the initial flurry of calls, things had died down considerably. Unfortunately for them.
Carla knocked on the door and joined her a few minutes later. “Sorry, they didn’t have a clue, boss. In fact, they said that was a new one on them and something they’d need to be aware of going forward. They thanked us for the heads-up, cheeky buggers.”
“Oh well, it was worth a shot. What are we missing on this case, Carla? I have a feeling deep in my gut that it’s something obvious, and yet I can’t put my finger on it.”
“I haven’t got a clue, if I’m honest. What do you want to do now?”
“Let me finish my coffee, and we’ll go over what has been learnt this morning with the team. Everyone is back now, yes?”
“They are. I’ll leave you in peace for a moment then. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yep, I’m fine. Just frustrated, that’s all. I’m not sure what lies ahead for Geraldine now.”
“Won’t Katherine give her a home?”
“I’m not sure. I’d like to think so; however, if I put myself in Katherine’s shoes, would I be willing to give up my freedom to become Geraldine’s constant carer?”
“It’s a tough dilemma to be confronted with. I suppose blood is thicker than water in this instance, right?”
“You’d like to think so. Katherine seems a genuinely nice person, but who can tell what lies ahead of them? I’ll be out shortly.”
Carla left the room. Sara sat behind her desk to finish her drink while she dealt with another batch of post that had magically appeared on her desk, adding to her frustration. Opening the first letter, she let out a long sigh. Yet another change in procedure she needed to instruct her team about.
Why don’t they leave well alone and let us get on with policing the damn county, or is that too much to ask?
Her mobile tinkled, indicating that someone had left her a voicemail.
“Hi, it’s me, Donald. Long time no hear…sorry, I appreciate how busy you are working the case. Felt proud when I saw you on TV yesterday. No pressure from me, just wanted to warn you that Mum mentioned she was going to be getting in touch with you soon. Forewarned and all that. Speak soon. Thinking of you always. Bye.”
Sara leaned her head back against the headrest and groaned. “Jesus, that’s all I need to have, Charlotte bending my ear about why I haven’t been over to see them in months.”
“Sorry, did you say something?” Carla asked, appearing in the doorway.
“Nope. Only sitting here having a conversation with myself. That’s normal, right?”
Carla shook her head. “Not really. I’m willing to make an exception in your case. I have some news that might be of interest to you.”
Tossing her mobile on the desk, Sara sat upright in her chair. “Go on.”
“A call has come in regarding the appeal.”
“A call? Has the killer rung back?”
“Nope, try again.”
“Has someone offered up a name possibly?” Sara’s heart rate increased in tempo.
“You’ve got it in one—well, at the second attempt.”
“And? Don’t keep a girl waiting.”
“Why don’t I tell you on the way? The caller said the person of interest is at his establishment now.”
“Crap! What are we waiting for?”
They rushed out of
the office and down the stairs, almost bumping into the DCI at the bottom. “Hey, what’s the hurry?” she asked.
“Sorry, boss. Need to fly. Can I touch base with you when I return?”
“I’ll be expecting you. You and I have a lot to discuss, Inspector.”
“Be back soon, ma’am,” Sara shouted, bolting out the front door. “Damn, that sounds bloody worrying. She’s probably annoyed that I haven’t been in touch to keep her up to date. How can I when we have nothing to go on?”
“Hopefully, that will all change in half an hour or so.”
“You said it. Where are we going?”
“The Red Lion, out near Rotherwas. I’ll give you the directions.”
“You’ll need to, I’ve never heard of it.” Once they were en route, Sara said, “Spill the beans.”
“The landlord said that one of his customers has been coming into the bar most of the week with what appears to be blood on his trainers. It wasn’t until he saw the appeal go out that he thought it best to ring us. The guy just walked in.”
“Interesting. Well, we do have a bloody footprint that we need a match for. Let’s hope this turns out to be the break we need—we could sure do with one.”
“Fingers crossed.”
The pub was situated fifteen minutes away from the station. When they arrived, there were six or seven vehicles in the car park.
“Good, it doesn’t look too busy. I hope he doesn’t cause a scene,” Sara said.
“I hope so, too. Maybe one of the boys should have come with us just in case.”
“Too late now. We’ll handle him.”
They entered the public bar and approached the barman serving behind the counter. “Are you the manager?”
The man leaned in. “Yes. Are you the police?”
“We are. I won’t bother showing my ID in case it causes a disturbance. Where is he?”
“At the pool table in the next room. I’ve been keeping an eye on him. He’s the one with longish black hair. Andy Somers is his name.”
“Thanks. Leave it with us. We appreciate you getting in touch.”
“I’ve got a cricket bat if you need it.”
Sara smiled. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Most offenders don’t like to make a scene in public.”
“It’s here if you change your mind.”
Sara and Carla left the lounge bar and walked through the door on the right to the public bar. The pool table was the central attraction in the room. Two men were playing a game while another three watched.
“Are you ready for this?” Sara asked out the corner of her mouth.
“Yep. I’ve got my fingers ready to jab in his eyes if the need arises.”
Sara chuckled and strode towards the table with Carla a few feet behind her. “Hi, gents, I’m looking for Andy Somers.”
Four of the men turned to face Somers, but he was bent over the table about to take a shot. He stood upright and placed his cue in front of him, gripping it with one hand above the other. “That’s me. What are two pretty ladies like yourselves after me for?”
“We’d like a quick chat, if you don’t mind?” Sara extracted her ID and flipped it open for the man to study.
“Police. Have I done something wrong?”
Sara was used to offenders proclaiming their innocence in front of their friends. “Like I said, we’d like a brief chat. Over here okay?”
Somers shrugged and placed his cue lengthwise on the table. “Excuse me, guys, looks like I’m in demand. Carry on without me, I shouldn’t be too long.”
Sara smiled and motioned for him to join them at the table in the corner. Once they were all seated, he leaned forward and asked, “What’s this all about? I’ve had a few fines in the past, but I paid them up a while ago. I can’t think of anything else I’ve done wrong.”
“We’re conducting enquiries into a few crimes that have taken place in the area this week. Would you be willing to come down the station to assist us?”
His brow pulled into a deep frown. “Me? Do I have to?”
“It would be completely voluntary at this stage. However, if you object, then we would be forced to question why.”
He held his hands upwards above the table. “Hey, I’ve got nothing to hide. Not sure what sort of crimes you’re talking about, but I’m willing to set aside my day off to help you, if that’s what you need.”
“We appreciate it. We’ll even give you a ride in our police car, how about that?”
“Suits me. How will I get back?”
“We’ll drop you back here afterwards if that’s what you want. Shall we go?”
The three of them stood and made their way to the door.
“Hey, are you wimping out on us, Somers, or have the pretty ladies made you a better offer?” one of his mates shouted.
“Nah. Assisting with their enquiries, chaps. As you were. I’ll be back later.”
They drove to the station with Somers whistling a merry tune or three in the back seat. He wasn’t giving Sara the impression of being a killer, but she knew that it took a certain type of person to end another person’s life. Some people collapsed under the pressure when confronted by the police, while others put on a front that concealed their fear. She was putting Somers in the latter category.
Walking into the station, she asked the desk sergeant, “Do we have an interview room free, Sergeant?”
“Of course, ma’am. Room One is available.”
“Thanks. Would you arrange for a member of your team to join us, please? Perhaps they could bring us three cups of coffee as well?” She turned to face Somers. “Do you take sugar?”
Somers grinned. “Three heaped for me.”
“Two with one sugar, and one with three for our sweet-toothed interviewee.”
“Leave it with me, ma’am.”
“If you’d like to come this way, Mr. Somers?” Sara led the way down the narrow hallway and into the interview room. “We’re going to tape this conversation, if that’s all right with you?”
“Whatever. Hey, every time I’ve seen folks questioned on TV, they’ve got a solicitor with them. Why haven’t I been given the option?”
“If that’s what you want, it’s fine by me. Do you have a solicitor in mind?”
“Nah, I was just messing with ya. Like I’ve said already, I’ve got nothing to hide.”
The three of them pulled out the chairs and sat around the small square table. A male uniformed officer joined them a few minutes later, distributed the drinks and then took up his position along the back wall.
Sara nodded, giving Carla the go-ahead to begin taping the conversation. She gave the usual verbiage of who was present in the room and the date and time the interview was taking place, then handed the reins over to Sara to continue.
“Mr. Somers, first of all, I’d like to say how appreciative we are that you volunteered to come into the station today to be interviewed.”
Somers smiled a toothy grin, showing off a few rotten teeth. “You’re welcome.”
Sara noticed a mischievous glint in his eye when their gazes met. “I’m going to give you a few names. I’d like you to tell me if you recognise those names and in what capacity.”
“Fire away.”
“Ted and Maureen Flowers.”
“Nope, never heard of them,” Somers replied without hesitation.
“Linda and Samuel Meredith or their daughter, Geraldine.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Ditto, never heard of them.”
“Okay, what about Laurence and Tina Haldon?”
His mouth turned down at the sides. “Again, not heard of them. Should I have?”
“Unfortunately, in the past few days, five of those people have lost their lives.”
“Really? What was it, a pile-up on the motorway or something?”
“No. They were murdered in their own homes.”
He bounced back in his chair, and his jaw dropped open. “What? I don’t understand why you’re asking if I knew th
em?”
“We have reason to believe that you know at least one of the couples, Mr Somers.”
“That’s insane. I’ve already told you that I don’t recognise the names. Maybe I’d know their faces if I saw them, but to be honest with you, unless people are mates who I see frequently down the pub et cetera, then I’m sorry, I’m not very clever about remembering folks’ names.”
“I have a family picture of the Merediths here. Do you recognise any of them?” Sara slid the photo across the desk.
He furiously shook his head after viewing the photo for a few seconds. “Nope, sorry.”
Sara pushed away from the table, screeched her chair on the floor and looked down at his trainers. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind telling me where you picked up the blood that is now covering your shoes.”
He peered under the table and angled his foot. The blood was clearly visible on the white edge of the sole of his right shoe. “No idea.”
“Is that so? It seems fresh to me,” Sara insisted.
He clicked his fingers. “Wait. I remember now. I went hunting at the weekend with a mate. We caught a few rabbits and skinned them right away.”
Sara tilted her head and smiled. “Does this friend have a name?”
“Of course he does. Jack Smith.”
“We’ll need his phone number and address so he can corroborate your story.”
“Fine. It ain’t a story, lady, it’s the truth. Get a pen and paper, I’ll need to check my phone for the details.”
Carla spun her notebook around and flipped it to a clean page then slid it across the table at him. Somers checked his phone, finding his friend’s details within a few seconds. He scribbled them down then pushed the notebook back to Carla. “There you go. He’ll tell you the truth. We go every Sunday.”
“Where?”
“Out on the Roman Road.”
“What time do you meet Jack?”
“We always meet up around midday, gives us a chance to get over our Saturday night hangovers.”
“Until when?”
“It depends,” he replied, shrugging. “Until either of us has had enough or we’ve caught four rabbits, two each.”
“How long has this hunting expedition been going on?”
