by Carla Kovach
‘We’ll need to speak to you before you leave.’
His brown eyes were a little crinkly around the edges and his greying beard splayed out in an unruly manner. ‘But I can’t stay. My company will get hit with a huge penalty if I don’t get this load delivered before two and I have to get it to Oxford.’
Gina checked her watch. ‘A young girl was murdered last night. I’m happy for an officer to call your depot and explain what has happened.’
His shoulders dropped. ‘But I was asleep. I don’t know anything.’
‘We need to speak to you regardless. If you could come down and talk that would be great.’ Gina’s neck was aching from looking up.
The lorry driver muttered a few expletives and stepped down. He pulled his loose jeans up a little.
Gina glanced at his articulated vehicle and knew immediately that there would be nowhere for him to park near the station. ‘One of the PCs will take you to the station and drop you back to your lorry after you’ve given us a statement.’
‘Bloody hell! I could do without this.’
‘So could we but, as I said, a girl was murdered and we really need your cooperation. Could you please go and wait over there with the PC?’ The lorry driver slammed his cab door shut and locked it up. Gina nodded to the PC that was standing in the corner of the car park, who then radioed for assistance and came to stand with the driver while his lift was on the way. Glancing back, she spotted a used condom under the front of his cab and pointed at it. ‘Jacob, call forensics now and tell them to bag this up. He too had opportunity.’
Jacob made the call and they waited a few moments until one of the CSIs hurried across to take over. Gina braced herself as she checked her phone again, then she sighed. No more messages yet. The word murderer filled her head. Murderer, murderer, murderer.
She shook those thoughts away as they continued towards the truck stop café and there was John Tallis talking on the phone, red-faced with a clenched fist like he was having an argument. As he saw them approach, he ended the call and dropped his phone into his pocket before wiping his brow.
‘Ah, come in.’ His overcompensating smile had an air of unease.
Gina and Jacob followed him into the Waterside Café where she took a sip of the cold coffee in her hand. It was time to find out what John Tallis knew.
Seven
Red plastic chairs surrounded several cheap-looking metal fold-up tables and a television was pinned to the back wall, directly opposite to the kitchen and serving area. Fans blasted cool air around the large open room. Truckers were dotted around tables, some reading newspapers and some watching morning television. ‘Shall we sit here, out of the way?’ John Tallis pointed to the table at the far end next to the door marked ‘Private’.
Gina and Jacob followed him over. She placed her coffee down and pulled out the plastic chair before sitting. Jacob took his notebook out and placed it on the table, just missing the stream of dried-up ketchup.
‘Tell me a bit about your business.’ Gina wondered if his circumstances might tell her a bit more about him, ease him in gently.
‘As I said before, I own and run this café pretty-much single-handedly. I do the usual, meals with chips, breakfasts and hot drinks. We have a shower and wash block outside that the drivers who pay to stay overnight can use. I also live here in the studio flat above this café.’
‘How many drivers stayed over last night and do you keep a record of their details?’
‘Only the one last night and, yes, I take their name and registration number for the receipt.’ He stood and reached over by the till where he pulled out a receipt book. ‘Last night only a driver named Rodney Hackett stayed. He’s the one in the biggest lorry out there now, the red cab. The others that are in here now have arrived since I’ve been open.’
Jacob scribbled a few notes.
‘When you closed up at…’
‘Ten o’clock.’
‘Ten last night. What could you hear?’
‘As I said, there was a party with music coming from the woods. I couldn’t see it, only hear it.’
‘Did you hear anyone saying anything or maybe shouting?’
‘No. I’m too far away to hear them talking. I caught wind of the occasional scream, playful scream, I mean. It didn’t sound like anyone was in pain or danger. As far as I was concerned, it was a few teens getting plastered in the woods. Happens all the time around here so I don’t think anything of it. Like I said before, they don’t bother me and sometimes they come here to buy snacks so it’s a win for me really.’
‘Did anyone come to buy snacks last night?’ Jacob paused. ‘Mr Tallis.’
‘Oh sorry. Yes. A girl with brown hair and a pierced lip. She bought some chocolate, maybe crisps too and left. I didn’t talk to her at all as I was talking to Rod, the lorry driver.’
‘Is Mr Hackett a regular user of your facilities?’
‘Not really. I guess I’ve seen him here two or three times before. Anyway, we got into some heavy talk about how Brexit is affecting the haulage industry, that’s when the girl came in. She’s the one who got killed, isn’t she? I saw on Twitter.’
So the news really had broken out on Twitter. Gina felt her hands tense up. She knew that an officer would have been dispatched immediately to speak to Leah’s parents but still, it would be awful for them seeing all the gossip surrounding their daughter’s murder before they may have even been told themselves. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it was her.’ There was no point denying his question if the answer had already been announced for the world to read.
‘Poor girl. I mean she seemed polite enough when she came in. I try not to judge the kids too harshly. We were all kids once and I know I got hammered at a few parties. It’s part of growing up.’
‘Did the noise from the kids affect your business though? I mean truckers would come here for a peaceful night’s sleep. They pay to stay here. These kids come along and disrupt the peace.’ Gina wondered if that would be enough to push a business owner over the edge.
‘No, it’s a part of growing up and no they don’t affect my business. I’ve already told you, they give me business.’
‘You looked a little tense as we walked up, when you were on the phone.’ Another angle was needed and she saw Tallis was slightly shaken.
His eyes widened and he clenched his jaw. ‘I was on the phone to a supplier who was late delivering my bacon. Do I need a solicitor for that?’
‘No, Mr Tallis, but what I will need is for you to come down to the station today and make a formal statement. I will also need the name of that supplier?’
‘So that you can check that I was discussing bacon?’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not saying any more to you lot. Right, please leave, I have work to do.’
Gina stood, scraping the plastic chair across the hard floor. A couple of the truckers looked across, noticing their host’s change in mood. Another stood up and walked to the counter.
‘I have customers to tend to so if you would kindly leave.’
Gina smiled. ‘Of course. We’ll see you at the station this afternoon, after your lunch rush. A PC will be in touch shortly.’ As Gina stepped out she noticed that the tarmac was shimmering with the soaring temperature. ‘That got a little tense.’
‘Yeah, as soon as you asked him about his phone call it was like a switch had been flicked.’ Jacob closed his notebook and squinted as he gazed across the car park.
‘Yes, both he and Rodney Hackett saw Leah Fenmore come in. Did one of them decide to head to the party later that night for their own personal reasons? Did one of them kill her?’ She glanced back and saw John Tallis step back as she caught him watching out of the window, nervously biting his bottom lip. ‘Tallis definitely knows more than he’s letting on and I don’t believe him about the bacon conversation. He looked too… I don’t know, overstressed. There’s something off about both of them and I want to know what that is.’
Eight
‘Sandy, for heaven’s sake. Hurr
y up in there!’ Frank calls.
After a half an hour struggle, I’m finally washed. I stare at myself in the mirror, sitting in my clunky mechanical wheelchair. I’d love an electric one but we don’t have the money, not yet, but Frank keeps promising that we will have enough soon. I hate relying on him for everything but he says he doesn’t mind every time I get upset. But I know he does and his mood changes like the wind. One minute he loves me and everything will be okay, the next, I’ve taken his freedom and he’s seething and throwing things. Then, he might take a swipe at me, which always catches me off guard. I have no idea what today will bring. He rushes in, looking flustered as he lifts up his top and begins to rub cream on the scratches on his abdomen. ‘How did you do that?’
‘Gardening. You know I was out there yesterday morning chopping the shrubs back.’
I know that much but I don’t remember him mentioning having those scratches across his gut yesterday and I didn’t see any blood seeping through his T-shirt.
‘Stop looking at me like that.’
‘Sorry.’ I look away.
He says ouch a couple of times and then covers the scratches back up. ‘Right, Sandy. Let’s get you to the lounge and I can start making lunch.’
‘Thanks.’ I do as he says and smile sweetly, not wanting to annoy him. My smile normally reassures him that I won’t be troubling him today. He can quickly lose his patience with me and I don’t want that to happen. I already feel rotten enough that he does everything for me. I grab my phone just as he’s about to wheel me through the hall and into the lounge where, as always, he’ll leave me positioned in front of the television with a stack of books for most of the day. I can get around on my own but it’s awkward. We have too much stuff but Frank won’t get rid of anything. The place looks like a bit of a junkyard but if I mention it, he gets angry.
Here I am, TV on. He drops the remote control into my lap and then he’s gone. Moments later, I hear the clattering of pans as he rummages through the cupboards. He swears as they all fall out. A crash follows. He has a terrible temper. He’s taking it out on the pans now and I’m just glad it’s not me. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned his scratches. With Frank occupied in the kitchen, I know it’s safe to get my phone out. I need to delete that comment I made on Twitter.
TheMeeganMrs
I mean, those kids were out partying and only 16. What kind of parent allows this? They’re a bloody nuisance too. #OakTreeWalk antisocial behaviour.
I, Sandra Meegan, should have been more sensitive but instead I made a bitchy comment and I was wrong. That’s what I tell myself. The girl who answered me back on Twitter was right. That was a totally nasty thing to say given the circumstances but I let my bad mood get the better of me. After spending hours lying in bed listening to their racket all night, I hated them and I should have stepped away from Twitter and thought things through properly.
Last night’s party wasn’t the first time. Since the run of good weather and the start of the summer school break, they were coming all the time. I’ve called the council, the police, and no one does a thing. I let my anger win and I’ve let myself down with this post. I hit delete, hoping that I can just forget what I’ve done and move on but then I think of the parents. I cast judgement on them and one of them has woken up to find that their child is dead. Frank and I never did have children, we decided not to. I suppose I didn’t feel like I wanted children with him given his short temper but I do like children and I’m sure that if I’d personally spoken to the teens or met them, I’d like them too.
‘You frigging idiot.’
I feel a hard slap across the back of my head as he strikes me, the sting bringing tears to my eyes. I’d hoped that today was going to be okay but now I’m sure it’s going to be yet another challenge, just like all the others. Another day of me trying to placate Frank and being overly nice. I can change his mood if I work at it. I will make him happy. I have to because I need him.
‘Whatever it is, I’m sorry.’ The side of my head feels hot from his slap but I’m used to it. He slaps me a lot. He’s even kicked me when he’s really angry but I try not to think about that. Deep down, I know that he wishes I was dead so that he could be free of me.
‘You should stay off Twitter. How could you say that and bring attention to our door?’
Tears begin to fall down my cheeks. I want to stop them but I can’t. He doesn’t care about the dead girl, he cares that the police will come knocking here, and with good reason. I won’t bring that up again or I’ll get another slap.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Stop with the crying, woman.’
Easy to say but I can’t. I don’t want to be here and be Frank’s burden but I am. The family I had deserted me a long time ago when I chose Frank over them and now, I’m lying in that bed I made, just like they said I had to. ‘I deleted it.’
‘Too late. Every man and his dog has replied and it makes us look bad.’
‘It makes me look bad, not you and I’ll tweet again and apologise.’
‘No, you won’t. It’s deleted now and you’ll just make it worse. Just stay off Twitter. I tell you what, I’ll make sure you stay off Twitter.’ He snatches my phone. That’s my punishment for doing something he doesn’t approve of and he’s right. I tweeted that comment and I was wrong. He’s taking it away from me for my own good.
‘You’re right and I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?’ Sucking up to him normally works and I hope it will this time. He remains silent and I scrunch up my eyes, bracing myself for another blow but it doesn’t come.
‘I’m deleting Twitter from your phone, and Facebook. You’re going to bring trouble to this house one day and I don’t want it.’
We both know that Frank is the only one to have brought trouble to our door but I don’t want to think about that now or ever again. I have to ask him a question and I know it’ll upset him but my stomach is skipping like a broken record. ‘Frank?’
‘What now?’
‘I heard our back patio door sliding open in the night.’
‘What are you saying?’ He walks in front of me, kneeling so that his eyes are level with mine. I see the sleep crud in the corners and his chapped lips look sore. They’re always chapped. His greying hair sticks up on his head. He still has plenty of it and he’s quite a distinguished looking fifty-year-old, a little George Clooney like. At least if he looked after himself, that’s who he’d look like.
‘I just wondered where you went, that’s all.’
‘Frank. Went. Nowhere. Last. Night. You will never speak of it. Repeat that back to me.’
I feel a tremble running through my body as I repeat what he said. I know he’s capable of violence, but murder? He can say what he likes but I know what I heard. I tried to dismiss it as he sometimes goes into the garden to smoke, but it was late, really late and he doesn’t normally need to smoke in the early hours. He’d been gone ages too. I’d been in bed since ten and he normally falls asleep in front of the television, which is why I’m usually alone. ‘I just thought I heard something.’
He slams his hand on the arm of my wheelchair. ‘Say it again.’ His stare is stark and he’s seething so harshly that spittle hits my arm.
‘Frank went nowhere last night,’ I blurt out through my sobs.
‘Good, at least we got that sorted. You say anything to the contrary, I’ll do more than take your phone away. And stop blarting. It’s bloody annoying and boy it makes you look ugly.’
I hold my breath and close my eyes. Whatever he said, I must hold on to the fact that I know what I heard. I am not losing my mind, my mind has never been in question.
‘That’s better.’ He swipes his thumb across my face a few times, wiping away my tears, then he kisses me on the nose before heading back to the kitchen. My body immediately relaxes now that he’s left the room. Only now can I rub the sore on my head. I flinch, knowing that there will be a bruise underneath my straggly hair. I wonder if it can be seen along the edges of my hairline but I�
��m nowhere near a mirror to check.
The rummaging continues, then I hear him slamming something down on the worktop. It sounds like he’s removing the lid from a tin, a sound I’ve heard a few times and I always wonder what he’s up to. Then the radio goes on and a blast of seventies music fills the cottage.
Where did you go last night, Frank? And why are you telling lies?
Nine
Gina smiled at Naomi Carpenter in an attempt to put her at ease but the sixteen-year-old continued to suck the ends of her dust-filled hair. The blotchiness on her face had died down a little. Jacob shifted in his seat and pulled his chair under the table. They’d introduced everyone in the room for the tape; that was herself, Jacob, Naomi and Naomi’s mother, Dina Carpenter; the appropriate adult. Both mother and daughter looked alike, both pale, possibly having Nordic ancestry. The standard issue track bottoms and T-shirt that Naomi was wearing was shapeless but she’d willingly given her clothes over and had swabs taken on arrival.
‘I know this is hard for you, Naomi, so thank you for coming here to give a full statement. We want to find out who did this to your friend as much as you do. You’re being very brave.’ Gina tilted her head. ‘I know you already gave a brief statement to DC O’Connor and PC Kapoor at the scene, but I’d like you to tell me in as much detail what happened last night. If you could start with your arrival, we can take it from there.’
The girl glanced at her mother just as a ray of sunlight pointed directly into her eyes through the tiny window, causing her to squint a little.
‘Come on, sweetheart, just say what happened.’ Dina rubbed her daughter’s back.
‘You’re going to be angry with me, Mum.’ Naomi’s bottom lip began to tremble. The sun’s rays had dipped a little.
‘Look at me.’
The girl turned to her mother, her blue eyes damp and red at the corners.
