The Frame - from the author of the Sanford Third Age Club (STAC) series (A Feyer and Drake Mystery Book 2)

by David W Robinson

“It wasn’t Rachel.”

  Sam shook her head tiredly. “I don’t want to hear it, Wes. Gregory saw her. She was in the vicinity.”

  “An hour before Shawforth was killed.”

  “So she was waiting. Hiding. She probably knew of his habit of going for a walk round the garden before turning in. She was a police officer back in the day, remember. Anyway, we have more to worry about.”

  Drake was puzzled. “We?”

  “Yes. We. And I’m not talking about last night at my place.” She paused a moment. “Iris Mullins rang at half past seven. She and the chief constable are on their way here. He’s certain this time, Wes. You’re out, and I may very well be suspended, if not fired.”

  He was too incredulous to worry about the threat to his livelihood. “Fired? Why?”

  “I interviewed her God knows how many times, and I let her go every time.”

  “You had no evidence.”

  Sam shook her head. “Irrelevant. I could have held her at any time as a threat to public safety. All I had to do was go to the magistrates. Face it, Wes, she’s guilty. You were wrong, and I was wrong to place so much faith in your analysis. I don’t blame you. I’m not looking to start an argument.” She managed a weak smile. “After last night, the last thing I want is an argument. But you were wrong about Rachel. She was guilty all along.”

  “Stop worrying about me. I’m going nowhere. Instead, think about one question. She came harassing Shawforth about a text message she’d received. Where did he get her phone number?”

  Sam shrugged. “Not difficult. Not for a man with his connections.”

  Drake tutted. “Get your brain in gear. The phone wasn’t hers. Hayley Killeen set it up for her. It’s a pay-as-you-go. Do you think Killeen would release that number to anyone? Never in a thousand years. And if Rachel really did receive a text, it wasn’t from him, so she had no reason to go out there, no reason to kill him.”

  Sam sighed. “You know something, Wes. I really don’t care. Farrington will at the very least suspend me when he gets here. When that happens, do me a favour. Take me home, and give me another good seeing to.”

  Drake could not help laughing. “Maybe we should grow old together. A couple of unemployed tramps, with nothing to do but shag each other senseless every day.”

  And Sam chuckled. “Sounds good to me.”

  Half an hour later, she was proven half right when the chief constable and his deputy arrived, and they were immediately called to Trentham’s fifth-floor office.

  Perhaps it was the presence of Iris Mullins, but Farrington was not as abrasive as he had been a couple of days earlier. When he posed questions, it was in a calm, collected manner, consistent with a man in complete control of everything.

  Sam explained her actions, trying her best to keep Drake’s influence out of the argument, and Farrington made notes as she went along. When she had finished, the chief constable put down his pen, and unconsciously echoed Sam’s earlier explanation to Drake.

  “At any time, Chief Inspector, you could have approached the magistrates and asked to remand Rachel Jenner in custody on the grounds of public safety. You did not, and as far as I’m concerned that constitutes a dereliction of duty. As of now, you are suspended, pending an internal inquiry. I’ll require your warrant card.”

  While Sam reached into her bag to retrieve the card, Farrington passed the discussion over to Iris Mullins who concentrated on Drake and was equally candid.

  “When I sent you here, Wesley, I hoped it might bring some clarity to what has been a difficult situation for this station. In the event, it’s been counter-productive. I am now revoking your authorisation to look into this matter. I’ll require all your reports emailed to me as soon as you humanly can, and obviously, send the bill for the work you’ve done. I doubt very much that we’ll need your services in future.”

  Drake retained his equanimity. “Fine. I’ll get on with that the moment we’re finished here. But I’ll tell you both now, you’re wrong. I don’t know what’s going on but it isn’t Rachel Jenner, and I made it clear to the chief constable a couple of days ago that I will not leave Landshaven until I have successfully demonstrated who really is at the heart of this matter.”

  Iris sighed. “We have an eye witness, Wesley.”

  “No. You have a witness who saw Rachel Jenner in the vicinity an hour or so before Shawforth was killed. When you find her – and I’ve no doubt that she will turn up – you’ll probably find that she was gone before he was killed.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  Drake reiterated his opinion concerning Rachel’s telephone, and concluded, “You – all of you – are being led by the nose. You’re like sheep being herded into the abattoir. The real sadness about this is that the only person to find her job threatened is the best of you. At least Sam isn’t trying to cover her arse, and if anyone is capable of getting to the root of this business, it’s her. I’ll bid you…”

  He trailed off at a knock on the door. A split second later, Trentham entered the room.

  He initially addressed himself to Farrington and Iris Mullins. “Forgive me, sir, ma’am, but this is urgent.” He turned his attention to Sam. “Rachel Jenner has just walked into reception with her solicitor. She wants to make a statement, and she’s willing to speak only to Chief Inspector Feyer and Mr Drake.”

  The announcement was greeted with complete silence, and Drake was the first to speak. “I can’t sit in on a police interview.”

  The chief constable appeared to be floundering, while Iris Mullins was anything but. “Yes you can, if I authorise it, and I’m present. Samantha, your suspension is rescinded for the time being. Hold on to your warrant card until we’re finished.” She got to her feet. “Shall we?”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Sam sat alongside the recording machine, Iris beside her, Drake off to one side, and immediately, Hayley Killeen protested.

  “Mr Drake has no business sitting in on this interview.”

  Sam, concentrating on filling in the headings of a statement form, glanced up as Iris Mullins took control

  “You’re wrong, Mrs Killeen. Mr Drake is here at my request, and his interpretation is for my benefit. He will take no active part in proceedings.” Iris switched her attention to Rachel. “Despite all your trials and tribulations, we’ve never actually met, and it’s good to see you.”

  Hayley’s words were filled with ice. “I wonder if you’ll be saying that in a few minutes time.”

  Her work on the statement form complete, Sam took over. “After last night, I’m in a lot of trouble, and DCC Mullins and Mr Drake are here to ensure that I behave myself.” She tossed her pen down on the form, and focused on Rachel. “Marc Shawforth is dead, you disappeared, we have an all ports warning out on you, and yet here you are, still in Landshaven. What are you playing at?”

  Rachel cleared her throat, but there was nothing about her to suggest any hint of nervousness. “I heard about Shawforth’s murder on the radio this morning. It’s absolutely nothing to do with me, and this time, I can prove where I was when he was killed, but I thought I’d better get here before the lynch mob turn up.”

  Sam shook her head wryly. “How can you know where you were at the time of his death, when we didn’t give it out on the radio?”

  She was not surprised that she had an answer.

  “The report said he was murdered last night, and I can prove where I was all night.”

  Sam accepted her words without argument. “All right. Let me spell out the situation. We received a call just before eleven o’clock last night telling us that Shawforth’s manservant, Stanley Gregory, had found his employer shot dead in the garden of his home in Stanhead village. Gregory confirmed that Shawforth was alive at ten fifteen, and he found the body at about ten forty-five. So for once, we have a fairly accurate time of death. I got there soon after eleven, and one of my first actions was to send a uniformed constable to pick you up at Ruth Russell’s. Your landlad
y said you walked out sometime around six o’clock last night. We jumped to the obvious conclusion, hence the all ports warning.”

  At this point, Hayley jumped in. “An immediate presumption of guilt.”

  Sam denied it. “Nothing of the kind, Mrs Killeen. We have a witness – Mr Gregory – who places your client at Mr Shawforth’s front door at about half past nine, an hour or so before Mr Shawforth was murdered. Not only that, but Mr Gregory insists that your client assaulted Mr Shawforth.” She stared at Rachel. “What do you say to that?”

  The three police representatives expected Hayley to advise her client to say nothing. To their surprise, she refrained, and Rachel readily answered.

  “I received an abusive text from Shawforth. I went to see him. There was an argument. He slapped me.” She turned her head to the right, and showed the red marks still visible on her left cheek. “I reacted and punched him. He went down, I warned him to keep his distance, and came away. I caught the last bus back to Landshaven at quarter to ten. I know it was stupid, I know I shouldn’t have done it. Hayley advised me to ignore the text and bring it to you instead, but frankly, I was a bit worse for wear with drink, and all I could see was red.”

  Sam was obviously feeling the pressure of the morning. She aimed her pen at Rachel, and her hand shook as she spoke. “Tell the truth. You hung about, waiting for Shawforth to take his nightly walk around the garden, and when he came close to the gate, you came in and shot him at point-blank range.”

  Rachel’s calm and relaxed approach piqued Drake’s attention, and he waited with interest for her response.

  “I did nothing of the kind. I told you, I caught the last bus back to Landshaven. Check with the bus driver. I was the only passenger. And get this: you say he was murdered at about half past ten, eleven o’clock, well I can prove exactly where I was at that time.”

  “Not at Ruth Russell’s.”

  Once again, Rachel had a ready answer. “No. And for the record, Ruth Russell didn’t tell the truth about my leaving her lodgings.” She leaned forward to stress her point. “She threw me out, and it’s largely thanks to you people. The number of times you’ve hauled me in, the times you’ve searched her place looking for evidence against me. She’d had enough, and she kicked me out.” Rachel affected a casual, throwaway air. “She’s fine with prostitutes, shoplifters, drunks and druggies, and general down and outs, but she doesn’t want a murderer living under her roof, someone who brings the police round there every five minutes. By the time your people arrived to pick me up last night, I was already in my new lodgings.”

  Sam took up her pen again. “And that address is?”

  “Twenty-three Mount Street, Landshaven. It’s off Fraisby Road, just outside the town centre, within walking distance of the bus station.”

  As Sam made a note of it, Hayley chipped in. “And for your information, Chief Inspector Feyer, that is my address. Rachel rang me after Ruth Russell evicted her, asking if I knew anywhere else. I had a brief word with my husband, and we agreed to offer her a bed until she could find somewhere more permanent.”

  The announcement stunned the two police officers, and Sam floundered, obviously unsure which way to go next. Iris Mullins was also dumbfounded, so Drake stepped in to fill the void.

  “Mrs Killeen—”

  The solicitor cut him off immediately. “I was told you’re to take no part in this interview, Mr Drake.”

  “I’m speaking to you, not your client.” He went on before she could protest further. “I’m not a lawyer, but I come from a legal family, and I feel I should point out that you are Rachel’s legal advisor, and if you choose to corroborate her alibi – whatever it is – you’re creating serious problems for yourself.”

  Hayley was ahead of him. “I’m aware of that, and I won’t be corroborating her alibi… My husband, James, will.”

  Sam found her voice again. “Interesting. Hardly conclusive though. Three people, well-known to each other, living under the same roof; any competent prosecution brief would make much of the possibility for collusion.”

  Hayley was still equal to him. “I’m aware of that, too. However, matters won’t progress any further until you produce evidence of Rachel’s involvement in last night’s incident, and I know for a fact that you cannot possibly have any such evidence.”

  Sam smiled, mock-obsequiously. “Where is your husband now?”

  “At work. Landshaven Technical College. He’s a tutor; business studies.”

  “Would you excuse me for a moment?” Sam picked up the telephone, and rang the CID room. To her surprise, Trentham answered. “Neville, what are you doing with the CID mob?”

  “Between you and me, I’m escaping the chief constable’s irritation.”

  “Oh. Okay. I need someone to go to Landshaven Technical College and take a statement from James Killeen. Is there anyone kicking his or her heels who could do the job?”

  “Well… Dominic Larne is here.”

  “Put him on, will you?”

  There was a brief pause before Larne picked up the phone. “Ma’am?”

  “Listen carefully, Sergeant.” With her eyes zigzagging between Hayley Killeen and Rachel Jenner, Sam gave her instructions. “I want you to go to Landshaven Tech, and speak to Mr James Killeen, Hayley Killeen’s husband. I want an account of his whereabouts for the whole of yesterday evening from, say, eight o’clock onwards. I also want to know if he can account for the whereabouts of Rachel Jenner for the same period. Take a statement form with you, write it out correctly and in full, and ask Mr Killeen to sign it. Have you got all that?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “When you get back to the station, you do not discuss the statement with anyone. Instead, you bring it to me or DCC Mullins. No one else. Understand?”

  “Absolutely, ma’am.”

  “How long will this take?”

  Larne was vague. “It’ll take me ten, fifteen minutes to get there, say half or three quarters of an hour to get the statement, another fifteen minutes back, I reckon an hour and a bit, ma’am.”

  “All right. Get on with it.” Sam killed the connection, and met with a cold stare from Hayley Killeen.

  “You don’t take anything on trust, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. Vernon Oxley made that mistake four years ago, as a result of which, your client went to prison. It may offend your dignity, Mrs Killeen, but I believe in being thorough.” She dropped her pen again. “Right. Let’s get to the nitty-gritty. We know that Marc Shawforth was murdered sometime between quarter past ten and quarter to eleven last night. You admit you were there, Rachel, but insist you came back to Mrs Killeen’s place. So tell me what happened between the time you got back to Landshaven, and say, midnight.”

  As she replied, Sam once more took up her pen and began to write.

  “I was in the Killeens’ living room watching TV. We had dinner earlier. I helped Hayley wash and put away the dishes, then I went out to Stanhead village. I was back in Landshaven for a couple of minutes after ten, and back at Hayley’s by quarter past, and after admitting what I’d done, Hayley tore a strip off me, and we agreed that I would come here this morning, and after that, we settled down for a little television.”

  “And what were you watching?”

  Drake decided that as pointed questions went, it was one of the weakest. If the Killeens and Rachel were conspiring, the police would need much tighter, less trivial questions than that, but it served to underscore that Sam was not willing to take their word on trust.

  “An episode of… I think, Frost, or maybe Vera. It was on one of the digital channels, and you know how bland these things are. They’re homogenous, and unless you’re a dedicated follower, they’re all of a muchness.”

  “I also know that they’re usually over by midnight,” Sam said. “What about after the programme finished?”

  “James switched to another digital channel, and we sat through the last hour or so of Silent Witness. A much better prospect in my op
inion. Pathology, forensics. That ended at about twenty past one. I was tired, and I went to bed, where I stayed all night. I woke just after eight this morning, and while Hayley and James were getting ready to go to work, I heard about Shawforth’s murder on the local news bulletin at nine o’clock this morning.”

  She had the advantage over Sam that she had not heard the news, but she was not about to divert attention again.

  “So you were in front of the television getting on for three hours. During that period, did you leave the room alone for any length of time?”

  “That would depend on how you define ‘length of time’. I actually left the room a couple of times to visit the bathroom. Calls of nature.”

  “And how long were you gone?”

  Rachel smiled. “As long as I needed for a wee. A matter of a few minutes.”

  “And James Killeen will confirm all this to my sergeant, will he?”

  “He will,” Rachel asserted.

  Sam was left with nowhere to go, and Hayley took advantage of the impasse.

  “At this juncture, Chief Inspector, I must insist that you produce evidence implicating my client. If you can’t do that, then as far as I’m concerned, she should be free to leave.”

  “You’re right, Mrs Killeen. I don’t have any evidence… Yet. And your client can go. However, I’m waiting for the conclusions of the pathologist and our forensic team, and I should warn you that if they turn up anything that points me towards your client, I will bring her back, and next time it will be under caution. In such circumstances, I will also bring you and your husband in under the same caution, because it will be obvious that you have indeed colluded on this statement.” She turned to Iris. “I don’t know if you have any questions.”

  “No,” the DCC replied. “I’m quite happy with everything I’ve heard so far. You’re free to go, Rachel, however, until you’re cleared of suspicion, I must insist that if you change addresses again, you let us know where to find you.”

  Rachel and Hayley stood. “Guaranteed,” Rachel said.

  “Just a minute.”