False Witness

by Michelle Davies

  Grace and Imogen were in the midst of a row when she arrived. Grace was insisting they choose a coffin from a glossy brochure she’d somehow procured and Imogen was understandably distressed. Maggie managed to diffuse the argument by saying they might want to hold off planning the funeral until the digital autopsy was completed. Grace didn’t take kindly to being silenced and stomped upstairs in a huff, brochure wedged under her arm.

  Maggie and Imogen went to sit in the small paved courtyard at the rear of the cottage, the only outdoor space. Benji’s bike was propped up against the fence, helmet dangling off the handlebars. Maggie was grateful Grace had gone upstairs – it was easier to talk to Imogen without her chipping in every other sentence.

  ‘How are you today?’ she asked.

  ‘Like everything’s gone numb,’ said Imogen. ‘I haven’t even cried. I think it’s because of yesterday, seeing Benji. It took it out of me.’

  ‘It can’t have been easy,’ said Maggie, wishing she’d been with her.

  ‘Will the scan thingy prove Benji was pushed?’

  Preparing relatives for every possible outcome was a requisite skill for a FLO and one of the toughest parts of the job. It meant having to dash the hopes of a family praying their relative would return alive when you knew your colleagues were looking for a body, or breaking the news that the conviction they were depending on for closure wasn’t assured. Maggie had to make sure relatives understood the grim odds they faced in the gentlest way possible.

  ‘If Benji was pushed there may be physical signs that show up on the digital autopsy,’ she said carefully. ‘But it won’t tell us whether it was accidental or deliberate, so that’s where other evidence comes in, like witness statements. Only when we’ve gathered enough conclusive evidence can my senior officers present it to the CPS to see if there is a case to answer.’

  Imogen’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Is it because Poppy’s a kid?’

  ‘No. She’s a year above the age of criminality so she can be charged if the evidence is there. But we’re still gathering it, so you’ll need to be patient. It could be weeks before anything is decided.’

  Imogen tucked her feet up on the chair and rested her chin on her knees. She looked almost child-like herself, especially dressed in red shorts and a black vest top. It was the most anyone would want to be wearing on a sweltering day like this but Maggie was sweating again in trousers because she couldn’t stand wearing skirts.

  ‘How is Poppy?’ Imogen asked. ‘How are her parents?’

  Maggie stalled for a moment. Would it help Imogen to know they were managing to hold it together, or would telling her they were falling apart ease her pain? Whichever she said it probably wouldn’t be the right answer, so she decided to fudge it.

  ‘I don’t really know. My priority has been you, not them.’

  ‘I keep thinking I should hate Poppy, but I can’t.’ Imogen sighed and lowered her legs back to the ground. ‘She has the same lovely thick hair that Julia used to have, except Julia’s was dark brown. I used to be so jealous of it – my hair’s as thin as cotton thread. Julia’s mum would put it in a gorgeous French plait every morning.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t remember her that well?’

  Imogen shrugged. ‘I don’t. Her hair stuck in my mind because it was so lovely.’

  ‘I’m surprised you never bumped into each other after Benji started at Rushbrooke.’

  ‘The older the kids are, the less involved parents are. Benji walked there and back alone and I only met Ewan because we helped out on the same school trip.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘London Zoo, just before Easter.’ Imogen picked at the hem of her shorts. ‘He’s a nice man, and a good dad. We have a laugh.’

  ‘I wonder why he never mentioned Julia was his wife.’

  ‘Why would he?’

  ‘Well, because of your history. It looks like he might have known about it.’

  Maggie was careful how she worded it; she didn’t want Imogen to know she had watched Poppy being interviewed with her parents present and had seen Julia’s reaction on discovering Ewan had been setting up the play dates.

  ‘I’d be amazed if she had told him, because, like I said yesterday, it wasn’t that big a deal. I doubt Julia gives it a second thought now. I think you’re making more of this than I am.’ She flashed Maggie a weak smile.

  ‘Maybe I am. So, was it after that trip when the play dates began?’

  Imogen nodded. ‘Poppy and Benji got on well that day so Ewan suggested we swap numbers and arrange for the kids to meet up after school. Poppy came here for tea and they had a great time. She was polite, said her pleases and thank-yous, thanked me for having her as she left. Not in a million years did I worry about her being horrible to Benji. That’s why I invited her back.’

  ‘And you never noticed any change in Benji in the last few weeks? No mood swings, being grumpy, bottling things up?’

  ‘Not at all. Why?’

  ‘When kids have problems at school, like a fall-out with their friends, it often shows up in their behaviour at home.’

  ‘Benji was no different,’ said Imogen. The hem picking became more urgent but her eyes remained dry.

  ‘Was he happy about moving to Mansell?’

  ‘He wasn’t at first, because he thought he’d miss his friends. But we came up a few times when I was house hunting and he started to get used to the idea and he liked Rushbrooke when we had a look around. By the time the move happened he was really excited about going there.’

  ‘Why did you come back?’

  ‘I had to.’

  It occurred to Maggie that Imogen had never mentioned being forced to leave Somerset. She’d made it sound as though it was her choice.

  ‘It was nothing to do with Benji,’ Imogen added hastily. ‘I got made redundant and I was struggling to find another job. Mum thought I’d have better luck up here.’

  Her gaze strayed to the bike in the corner.

  ‘She wants me to start clearing his things away. She thinks it’s worse for me if I have to see them all the time. But if I do that it’ll seem like I’m getting rid of him and it’s only been a couple of days.’

  ‘There’s no rush to do anything,’ said Maggie. ‘Wait until you’re ready . . . Sorry, I think I hear my phone ringing. I’d better get it in case it’s important.’

  Dashing inside, Maggie plucked her phone from her bag, which she’d left on the small dining table. It was Renshaw.

  ‘Have I got an update for you,’ she said excitedly.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Forensics have come back to say they found blood at the spot where Benji died that wasn’t his. Lots of it, in fact.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I said, there’s blood on the building site that wasn’t his.’

  ‘Maybe one of the builders cut themselves, bled out, didn’t bother to clean up?’

  ‘That’s what I said, but Forensics are ruling that out because of the splatter pattern. It looks like someone suffered serious blood loss at the foot of the wall where Benji fell. So –’ Renshaw took a deep breath – ‘I’ve put in a request for EVR dogs to be brought in. If I get the nod it might happen this afternoon.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Maggie exclaimed. ‘You’re asking for dogs that sniff bodies through concrete?’

  ‘I’m acting on what Forensics have said. Based on the amount of blood at the scene and the way it was spilled, they suspect that Benji isn’t the only person who’s died there.’

  33

  When Maggie went back outside Imogen was perched expectantly on the edge of her seat, waiting for her.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘That was DS Renshaw, the SIO. They’re going to be doing another search of the school grounds as something significant has come to light. We’re not sure if it’s linked to Benji’s death though, so I can’t really give you any more details until the search is completed.’

  ‘I heard you mention s
niffer dogs.’

  ‘Yes, they’re being brought in to assist the search.’ Maggie pulled a face. ‘I’m sorry that I’m having to be vague, I find it frustrating too.’

  ‘It’s okay, I understand.’

  ‘I do need to clear up a couple of things that could help move the investigation on,’ said Maggie, opening her notebook and casting an eye over the scrawled entries she’d made during the briefing earlier, when Renshaw had outlined the information she needed from Imogen today. ‘Do you feel up to a few more questions?’

  Imogen immediately crossed her arms protectively in front of her but she also nodded.

  ‘Benji told Poppy he knew a hidden way to get into Rushbrooke because he’d found it while out playing,’ said Maggie. ‘Were you aware he was going up to the school when he went out to play?’

  ‘I wondered if you were going to ask me about that. Yes, I knew,’ said Imogen, visibly abashed. ‘I didn’t realize at first he was actually getting into the grounds, and when I did I told him he mustn’t, because it was trespassing and he could get into trouble. But at the same time I wanted him to go off exploring. I know this is going to sound terrible, but sometimes I hated that he was so bloody sensitive and could be a bit of a wimp. I’d watch other kids racing around all over the place and it would drive me mad that Benji was always on the sidelines, sitting things out. I thought that if he went out on his bike in the evenings he’d become a bit braver and learn to take risks.’ Tears slid down her face. ‘Now I wish I’d kept him wrapped up in cotton wool all the time so he’d be here with me, safe.’

  ‘Was Poppy one of the kids you saw racing around?’

  ‘Yes. That’s why I was happy for them to be friends. I thought she might be a positive influence on him, get him to come out of his shell a bit.’

  ‘Your mum told me that Benji thought Poppy could be bossy and overbearing.’

  ‘I guess she could be at times, but I thought it was good for Benji to have someone be a bit bolshie with him, to push him into trying new things. I saw the kind of parent Ewan was with Poppy and how it toughened her up and I was trying to do the same.’

  ‘What does Ewan do?’

  ‘He’s very no-nonsense, so if Poppy ever got upset and said she didn’t want to do something because she was scared or was being lazy, Ewan wouldn’t let her duck out. He’d make her join in. And, of course, once she did she was fine.’

  Maggie wasn’t sure she agreed. Forcing kids against their will to participate when they were upset seemed cruel.

  ‘I thought I should do the same with Benji,’ Imogen continued. ‘I was never scared of my own shadow as a child and I hated that he was like that.’

  ‘Did it help his confidence, being tougher on him?’

  Imogen wiped her cheeks dry with her fingertips. ‘It did. He started going out on his bike after school and he seemed much happier.’ Her face suddenly clouded for a moment. ‘There was one day he came back upset though. He was crying.’

  Maggie flipped on to a clean page in her notebook.

  ‘Did he tell you why?’

  ‘I didn’t ask. I was really cross because he came home with his school trousers covered in chalky mud and I had to get them washed for the morning. I made him get in the shower and then go straight to bed.’

  ‘Can you remember what day it was?’

  ‘Um, it was the Tuesday before last.’

  Exactly two weeks before his death, Maggie noted.

  ‘What time did he get home?’

  ‘It was late, gone nine,’ Imogen admitted. ‘His curfew was usually seven.’

  ‘He was two hours late?’

  ‘Yes, but we were talking on the phone the whole time, so it wasn’t like I didn’t know where he was. He begged me to let him stay out a bit longer and because I was so happy he was being adventurous I stupidly agreed. I did make him text me every fifteen minutes to let me know he was okay but I feel terrible about it now. What kind of mum lets her eleven-year-old son roam around the streets that late?’

  ‘I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself. When we were kids we played out until it was dark.’

  ‘Those were different times,’ said Imogen. ‘It’s not as safe now.’

  ‘Sometimes I think it’s the perceived threat of danger rather than the actual threat that makes us worry it’s not as safe,’ said Maggie in an attempt to placate her. ‘I mean, increased traffic is definitely an issue – there are way more cars on the roads than when we were kids – but it’s hard to tell if the other dangers exist in greater numbers because comparing statistics from then and now is too simplistic. The numbers aren’t always reliable. I don’t think it was necessarily a bad thing you let Benji stay out and nor should you.’

  ‘But it was bad, because now he’s dead!’

  ‘Do you think him coming home upset the week before might have had something to do with what happened to him?’ Maggie checked her notes. ‘You said you knew where he was because he kept texting you. Where was he?’

  Imogen grew tearful again. ‘He was cycling round that new housing estate at the back of Rushbrooke, the one that’s half built. But I don’t know if it’s related, because I was too angry about the mud to bother listening to what he was trying to tell me. My poor baby came home crying his eyes out and I never asked him why.’

  34

  Byford turned up not long after two, so Maggie took advantage of his presence to return to the station to update her FL log and catch up on emails. She also did some digging on the housing development behind Rushbrooke and discovered that the same construction company putting up the new classrooms was behind it. What had happened to Benji while he was there to make him so upset? She made a note to raise it at the next briefing.

  Maggie was alone in the incident room when Omana, one of the admin assistants, popped her head round the door.

  ‘Is DC Byford around?’

  ‘No, he’s with Benji’s mum. Can I help?’

  ‘Mind if I leave this with you?’ She handed Maggie a sealed foolscap envelope with Byford’s name written on the front. ‘He knows what it is.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll leave it on his desk.’ She dropped it in his in-tray.

  By six she was finished for the day. But rather than drive straight home she took a detour, heading along the main route out of town, then cutting up a side street before swinging left into the road where Lou used to live. Drawing level with her sister’s old house, she pulled into a vacant space opposite.

  Maggie spotted immediately that the front door had been repainted since her last visit and the unexpected change floored her. The paintwork was now fire-engine red, glossily coated on to cover the sky blue of old. She lowered her window and stared at the house. Did the new owners see the irony in choosing a shade that represented the reason why they were able to buy it for such a low price in the first place?

  The fire had begun in the kitchen but was contained before it could cause widespread damage. The few lingering traces had been obliterated by the installation of new double-glazed windows downstairs to replace the ones blown out by the heat, while the sooty exterior brickwork had been power-washed back to clean. The house looked loved again.

  Maggie knew that going there was a habit she should break but she couldn’t help herself. She was welded to the memories the house held within its walls and with her birthday tomorrow they were more acute than ever. Last year Lou had thrown a BBQ for her on the Saturday before – it had been a brilliant afternoon that staggered hazily into the evening and Maggie remembered feeling overcome with happiness to be surrounded by her family and close friends. Lou had raised her glass at one point and said, ‘Next year we’ll have the mother of all parties for your thirtieth!’ But Maggie wasn’t interested. ‘No. Let’s do this again,’ she’d said. ‘This is perfect.’

  She swallowed the tears building in the back of her throat as her fingers clenched the key in the ignition. Turn it, start the engine, drive away. Seconds ticked by but still she didn’t move. Then h
er phone rang, forcing her out of her stupor.

  ‘Hey, I was going to call you when I got home,’ she answered, thankful for the interruption. ‘What time will you get to mine?’

  ‘I know where you are,’ said Umpire, his voice unexpectedly tender.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look in your rear-view mirror.’

  Three spaces behind her, he was leaning against the bonnet of his car dressed in a white T-shirt, navy shorts adorned with more pockets than one person would ever need, his feet sockless in trainers. She smiled through her tears. Seeing Umpire in casual clothes still took some getting used to.

  She climbed out of her car, legs wobbly from sitting still. He didn’t wait for her to come to him, his long stride covering the tarmac between them in seconds. Without a word he wrapped his arms around her and held her as she cried.

  ‘I miss them so much.’

  ‘I know you do.’

  Umpire knew every detail of her row with Lou and the affair that had precipitated it. It was to him Maggie had turned in the early hours after her sister walked out. He hadn’t judged her, he’d simply listened and comforted her and tried to reassure her that she could make things right again.

  He disentangled himself from her and immediately she missed the feel of his body against hers.

  ‘I understand why you keep coming back here but it’s not healthy. It makes you more upset,’ he said. ‘It’s why I’m concerned about you being on this case.’

  ‘I’m doing okay, I promise.’ She gave him a potted version of the day’s events.

  ‘As I was leaving tonight Renshaw got the green light to use the EVR dogs. The search is happening in the morning,’ she said. ‘She’s convinced they’re going to find something.’

  ‘The blood find warrants it. I’d be bringing them in if I was her.’ His eyes searched hers. ‘You ready to go?’

  ‘Sure. What do you fancy doing tonight? Pub? Take-away?’