“All I know is that his name’s Tony.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I need to speak to her.”
She opened the dining room door. Susan was huddled with her solicitor, muttering between themselves.
Lesley approached the table. “Can I ask you about a man called Tony?”
Susan pulled away from the solicitor, her cheeks inflamed. “Tony?”
“We’ve heard that you have a friend called Tony, who comes here a lot.”
Susan looked back at her, her gaze steady. “He’s more than a friend.”
“Did Archie know about him?”
“I didn’t owe him an explanation after what he did for all those years.”
Lesley could understand where the other woman was coming from. “Were you and Tony planning on telling Archie about your relationship? Were you planning to leave Archie?”
Susan hesitated. She pulled in a breath, began to speak and then stopped herself.
The solicitor put her hand on her arm. “You don’t have to say anything.”
Susan shook her head. “It’s OK. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
She looked up at Lesley. “Yes, Detective. I was planning on telling my husband about Tony. I was planning on telling him that I wanted to leave him and that I was going to marry Tony.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Lesley’s phone rang as she and Johnny left Susan’s house.
“Hi Gail, any news?”
“We’ve done some analysis on the residue from the weapon used to kill Laila.”
“And?”
“I’m confident the same one was used in both murders.”
Lesley looked over at Johnny. “Same weapon,” she mouthed. He nodded.
“OK,” she said to Gail, “What kind of weapon was it?”
“There were metal deposits found near both victims. Fragments that broke off the weapon after it was used. It wasn’t the most stable of objects. But the metals were a copper alloy, and iron. Consistent with it being an early medieval axe.”
“Not something more recent?”
“If it was, it would be more robust, and it would be made from different alloys. Modern steel would be in there somewhere. The sort of steel we use now wasn’t really made till the late 18th century.”
“So you’re confident it was something found at the dig site.”
“Either that, or something brought in from another site. We’ve got a botanist looking at spores and seed residue on the metal, see if it was local.”
“OK,” said Lesley. “Anything else to report?”
“You remember the second victim had defensive wounds? Cracked fingernails?”
“Uh huh.”
“We found fibres beneath her nails. Skin cells. A couple of hairs.”
“Fantastic,” Lesley said. “And...?”
“We’ll have to wait for the DNA analysis,” Gail replied.
“How long will that take?”
“Probably a couple of days.”
“A couple of days? This is urgent, Gail. Can’t you get them to hurry it up?”
Gail laughed. “This is Dorset, not the West Midlands.”
Lesley shook her head. “I don’t care if it’s bloody Timbuktu. We’ve got two people in that house, one or both of whom could be at risk. I need to know whose DNA was under Laila’s fingernails. And I need to know yesterday.”
“OK.” Gail sounded subdued. “I’ll see if I can get it fast tracked. It’ll cost more though.”
“I don’t care if it costs the Chief Constable’s salary, I just want it done.”
“No problem,” Gail hung up.
Lesley turned to Johnny as they got into the car.
“So now we know we’ve got one killer.”
He nodded. “Makes it more likely it’s going to be one of those two at the house.”
“I don’t want to jump to any conclusions,” she said. “We wait until we get the DNA results.”
“That will give us our man, or woman,” he said.
“Absolutely.”
“What about the storage?” he asked. “Inventory?”
“You’re right, I’ll call Dennis.” She grabbed her phone.
“Boss.” Dennis didn’t sound happy.
“How are you getting on?” Lesley asked him. “Have you spoken to somebody at Bournemouth University?
“They’re stalling,” he said. “It seems they’re not all that happy at having two members of their dig team murdered, in the space of just a few days. And now they’ve found out that Laila wasn’t qualified…”
“Hang on a minute. Two of their staff have died and they don’t want to cooperate with the police?”
“I didn’t say they weren’t cooperating, they’re just taking a while to find somebody who can talk to us.”
“That sounds like not cooperating to me. You want me to make a call?” she asked.
“I’m fine as I am.”
She sighed. “I’ll leave you to it. Just tell me if you need anything from me, alright?”
“Wait,” he said. “Before you go…”
“Mm-hmm?”
“The post-mortem report. Whittaker called me about half an hour ago.”
“That’s speedy, for him.”
Dennis didn’t respond to the sarcasm. “The damage done to her head is very similar to what was inflicted on Archie,” he said. “And apparently, there were remnants of metal in her jawbone.”
Lesley nodded. “I’ve just had Gail on the phone, she’s found the same thing at the crime scene. Looks like we’ve got one weapon, which means one killer.”
“Sleeping pills?” Johnny muttered.
“What about the sleeping pills?” Lesley asked Dennis. “I presume there weren’t any sign of them in Laila’s body?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “No substances, not even alcohol.”
“So maybe Archie wasn’t fed the sleeping pills by his killer after all,” she said. “Perhaps he just took them in large quantities.”
“It was four times the normal dose,” said Dennis.
“Still, that doesn’t prove someone else fed them to him.”
“No.”
Lesley turned to Johnny. “I want to interview the bloke Susan’s been having an affair with.”
He nodded. “I made some calls after I spoke to the neighbour. I’ve got a name, Tony Goodall. And you’re not gonna believe this.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“He’s a copper,” Johnny said. “Works in Fraud in Bristol.”
She gestured to the steering wheel. “Even better. Let’s track him down.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Tony Goodall was a Detective Inspector, working out of Avon Police headquarters in Portishead. He was at his desk when Lesley and Johnny turned up.
He stood up, a wary smile on his lips. “Ma’am, what can I do for you?”
She shook the proffered hand and sat down. “This is about a case we’re investigating in Corfe Castle.”
He sucked in a breath. “I’ve heard about it.”
She smiled at him. “I believe you have a connection to the victim.”
He leaned forwards. His body language was stiff, formal. “How so?”
“The victim’s name was Archie Weatherton.” She watched for his reaction.
Tony met her gaze, his eyes unblinking. “OK.”
“Do you know his wife, Susan Weatherton?”
He stared at her for just a moment too long.
“I do.”
“Good.” She glanced at Johnny. At least he’d decided not to lie to them. “Can you tell me the nature of your relationship with Mrs Weatherton?”
He stood up and rounded the desk, closing the door behind Lesley and Johnny. “I’m sure you’ll understand this is confidential.”
“Of course,” Lesley said.
He sat down. “Susan and I have been conducting a relationship for the last eighteen months.”
“Eighteen months?”
He nodde
d. “Archie didn’t know about it.”
“I’d gathered that,” Lesley said.
Johnny leaned in. “Where were you on Saturday morning?”
Lesley raised a hand to stop him. “DI Goodall, tell me about the state of Susan and Archie’s marriage.”
He looked surprised. “Well, what do you think? He treats her like shit, you know. Another woman on every dig. God knows how many there’s been over the years.”
“That’s what she told you?”
“That’s the truth.”
“So you did some investigating of your own?” Johnny asked.
He looked at the DC. “You could say that.”
Lesley eyed him. They both knew the punishment for using police resources to investigate something personal. But she had a murder to focus on.
“So you’ve been in a relationship with Susan Weatherton for eighteen months. How serious is this relationship?”
“You don’t stick around that long with a married woman, unless you’re confident she’s going to leave her husband.”
“So you were planning on marrying her?”
“I’d already asked her.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“And she’d told Archie?”
“Not yet. She was planning to.”
Lesley tapped her knee. “Are you sure she wasn’t stalling?”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m sure you know that Susan has a daughter. Millie. Lovely kid. I’m fond of her. Susan doesn’t want to rush things, she’s thinking of her little girl.”
Lesley nodded. Susan didn’t strike her as the kind of woman to string a man along.
“In that case,” she said, “were you aware that Susan got a call from a woman called Laila Ford, last Thursday?”
“I did. She rang me immediately afterwards.”
“And what did she tell you Laila had said to her?”
“Nothing new.” He barked out a laugh. “Just that Archie was shagging her. Archie did that all the time. I mean, it wasn’t exactly a surprise.”
“Not even to Susan?” Lesley asked.
“Not that he was doing it. Getting a call from the woman, yes. None of the women in the past have admitted to it. She knew that Archie had had an affair with Crystal when she was pregnant with Millie. But Crystal never said anything.”
“So you know Crystal Spiers as well?” Lesley sensed Johnny tensing beside her.
“I’ve never met any of them,” Tony replied. “Not even Archie. But Susan told me enough about them. Nasty lot.”
Lesley raised an eyebrow. “You think Crystal was nasty?”
He shrugged. “She had an affair with a bloke when his wife was pregnant. Not sure what kind of woman that makes her.”
“Tony,” she said, “I’m going to have to ask you this. Where were you on Saturday morning?”
He steepled his hands on the desk. “I was expecting this.” He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a diary. “I was working. Here, you can see.” He pushed the diary across the desk. He’d written details of meetings and interviews he’d conducted that day.
“Bit old school, isn’t it?” said Lesley.
“I like to keep my own diary as well as the electronic system,” he said. “Just in case.”
“OK.” She pushed the diary back across the desk. “Can your departmental commander confirm this?”
“Of course he can,” he replied. “DCI Malcolm Browning. Call him if you need to.”
“I will,” Lesley said. “Thanks for your time.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Tina Abbott clattered down the stairs in the tiny cottage.
Being a family liaison officer was one thing, but being an FLO in such cramped quarters as this was entirely different. She’d spent much of the morning trying not to get too close to Patrick. Withering under the force of his glare, fully aware that the man didn’t want her there. If he could have physically pushed her out of the building, he would have.
Crystal had gone down to the dig site. Tina had been torn between following Crystal down the hill, or staying here with Patrick. But she knew the FLO normally stayed in the house. So on balance, this was the best place to be. And the DCI seemed suspicious of Patrick. He’d assaulted Laila, after all. He was more likely to behave suspiciously here than his colleague was at work.
She opened the door between the staircase and the living room. The room was empty. When she’d gone upstairs, he’d been sitting in the corner in that threadbare armchair, listening to his tinny little radio set. Something about cricket, although it hadn’t sounded much like cricket to her.
She went into the kitchen: empty.
She returned to the stairway and through to where Crystal’s room was. Again, empty. None of these rooms had locks. She wondered why Crystal and Patrick hadn’t rectified that yet.
She hurried up the stairs. Patrick’s room was immediately on the left, just feet away from Laila’s and Archie’s room. She pushed open the door. Again, empty. Tina felt herself deflate. He’d been waiting till she’d gone up to the loo, and he’d left the cottage.
Should she follow him down the hill to the dig site, or should she take advantage of the opportunity to have a look in his room? Gail and her team had been in yesterday, searching the house as best they could. But Patrick had insisted that as an innocent bystander, he had no obligation to let them search his room. Which meant they’d only covered the communal spaces and Crystal’s room, for which they had permission.
Tina looked around the room, standing on the threshold. If she went in there and searched the room, it would be an illegal search. Not only could she get herself disciplined, but any evidence she did uncover would be inadmissible in court. She closed the door and trudged down the stairs.
She went through the kitchen and out the back door. Behind the cottage was a tiny yard, a folding table and chairs propped against the wall and a shed in the far corner.
Gail and her team had searched the shed yesterday. The door was padlocked, the only locked door in this place. Gail had said there were boxes in there. Piled up in meticulous order, all labelled and numbered. Archaeological finds.
Tina wandered across the yard to the shed. The padlock wasn’t bolted. They’d had permission to search this building, so she was within her rights to go inside. If the padlock had been disturbed, then maybe somebody had put something in there since Gail’s search.
She pulled a pair of gloves out of her pocket and put them on before pulling the padlock open. Then she eased the door open. The hinges were rusty, and it squeaked in protest as she pulled at it. She’d been expecting a musty space, damp maybe. Cobwebs in the corners, dirt on the floor. But no, this was tidy. It looked as if it had been swept to within an inch of its life. This shed contained important materials, and it was clearly looked after.
In front of her were four piles of boxes. Each box had a unique identifier, some with photos of their contents. Tina ran her eyes up and down the stacks, trying to identify any anomalies.
There was one box in the middle of the stack furthest away from her, which wasn’t labelled. It was browning, older than the others. She looked at it, thinking. Could she pull it out without disturbing the others on top of it?
She could damn well have a go.
She prised the box out from between the others. She leaned her shoulder against the boxes on top of it, making sure they didn’t topple, and eased them down to rest on the box below the one she’d just pulled out.
Carefully, she placed it on the floor, straightened the remaining pile, then picked up the box and closed the door to the shed. She put the padlock back in the position she’d found it.
She approached the kitchen window and peered through, checking Patrick hadn’t returned. The house was still empty. She walked into the kitchen, closed the door through to the living room and flicked on the kettle. It wouldn’t do any harm to make a noise.
The box she’d pulled out was like a shoe box, but slightly larg
er. She lifted the lid off carefully and placed it to one side. Inside was an object wrapped in cloth.
Tina felt her breath shorten as she pried the cloth away.
She pulled back the layers, her eyes narrowing. At last the object was uncovered, the layers of linen out of the way.
It was an axe.
At least, what remained of one. The handle was rotting away and the blade was corroded and blunt. Rust covered the tip.
She felt her breath catch in her throat.
Tina stared down at it, heart racing. She pulled her phone out of her inside pocket, not sure who she should call. As she did so, she heard the front door slam. Tina shoved her phone back into her pocket, and stared down at the open box. She threw the linen back around the object, and slammed on the lid.
Footsteps in the living room next door. Her stomach clenching, she grabbed the box, opened a cupboard door and shoved it inside. Gail wouldn’t be happy about this, she was contaminating evidence. But she didn’t know who was on the other side of that door.
The door opened.
Tina turned towards it, her eyes wide.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Susan was sitting in her front room with Millie when she heard a faint tapping at the window.
She looked at Millie, who was staring at the TV, her eyes glazing over. Susan eased herself off the sofa and tiptoed to the window. Had she been imagining it?
She stood with her ear to the curtain, not wanting to pull it aside in case it was Mr Gill from next door.
There it was, again. Tapping.
Low enough not to sound through the house, but just loud enough for her to know somebody was trying to get her attention.
She heard movement beyond the wall in the kitchen. The family liaison officer was rattling around in there, making sure Susan knew she was still here. Susan hated the woman already, even though it wasn’t her fault that her job had put her here.
Susan took a breath. She eased the curtain aside, just a crack.
On the other side was Tony.
She frowned at him. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.
The Corfe Castle Murders (Dorset Crime Book 1) Page 19
