The Truth About Murder

by Chris Collett

  ‘This is Stefan — Stefan, meet some old friends of mine.’

  ‘Hey, less of the “old” if you don’t mind,’ Joss said. She rolled her eyes at me. ‘What is she like? Good to meet you, Stefan.’

  ‘You too,’ I said. What with Cate and me standing next to them, this was a good place to play compare and contrast. Joss was larger than life, tall in stature and with a big personality, while Guy was diminutive in height and seemed the more serious of the two. To their credit, they seemed completely unfazed by me.

  ‘Why don’t you join us?’ Cate said. She shot me a questioning look, as if to check.

  ‘Oh, we’re not staying,’ Guy said, apologetically. ‘We’re on football duty this morning. Just came in for a sideline takeaway.’

  ‘And a blast of warm air,’ smiled Joss, hugging her coat round her. ‘Our twins both play football so this is the Saturday morning endurance test,’ she told me, by way of an explanation. ‘I’m glad to have run into you, though, Cate. I’ve been meaning to call. We’re having a bash for Guy’s fiftieth next weekend, Saturday from eight. Come, both of you.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Nice people,’ I said, after they’d gone.

  ‘They are,’ Cate said. ‘Joss and I were at uni together. Both medics, of course. Sorry, you’ll get sick of us after a while.’

  After a while? It had a ring of permanence that I liked. My mind turned over the coals of the previous night, and warm embers glowed in the depths of my belly.

  I took hold of her hand. ‘Oh, I don’t think so.’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Each time I went back to my locker that day, it felt like that drawstring bag sitting in my hold-all was so incendiary, it must be giving off a radioactive glow. I needed to do something with it, so that evening, short of any better ideas, I took it home. Sonia was going out with a couple of workmates, so I waited until she’d gone and then got it out and emptied the contents onto the coffee table in front of me — phones, wallets and jewellery. The only timepiece here was an old-fashioned pocket watch, which surely wasn’t what Stefan Greaves would have been wearing. Rufus the cat came and sniffed at the pile for a moment but, unimpressed, wandered away again.

  First off, I made a note of all the ownership details. Between them, the wallets, purses and phones gave me a list of four people: Stefan Greaves, Lloyd Jones, Ian Whiteacre and J. Marshall. The expiry dates on the credit cards also suggested a time frame going back as much as three years, though of course it could be less. That was the easy part. The provenance of the jewellery was less clear. It wasn’t expensive stuff from what I could tell, though Sonia might have a better idea. The assumption was, of course, that J. Marshall must be female but there was nothing to verify that. I was picking it over when I heard the front door slam and Sonia came in, much sooner than I’d expected.

  ‘You’re back early.’ I must have looked guilty, though I don’t know why I felt that way.

  ‘Just tired,’ she said, her attention instantly drawn to the treasure trove on the table.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured her. ‘I haven’t swapped sides.’

  Sonia stared. ‘I’m glad to hear it. There had better be a good explanation, though,’ she said, in a good imitation of role reversal.

  ‘It’s not what you think,’ I said, not really knowing what she might be thinking. ‘I found it.’

  ‘Found it?’

  ‘In Denny’s locker.’

  ‘My God. Where’s it come from?’

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping to work out. Crime victims are looking the most likely right now.’

  ‘You think Denny stole it?’

  ‘No, I can’t believe that. But it has made me wonder about how well I really knew him.’

  Sonia took off her coat and came to sit beside me. ‘Can I touch it?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. It’s too old to be of any use to forensics.’

  She picked up one of the half a dozen or so gold and silver necklaces.

  ‘Are they genuine?’ I asked her.

  ‘They look and feel like decent quality,’ she said, ‘and see here . . .’ She indicated the tiny emblems on one of the clasps. ‘They’re hallmarked. These are beautiful.’ She picked up one of the rings that had a row of three sparkling stones and put it in her palm alongside a plain gold band. ‘This is rose gold, and see how thin they’ve worn? I bet these belonged to someone’s parents or grandparents. In fact, most of it looks a bit dated.’

  ‘So it’s probably inherited rather than recently bought.’

  ‘I would say so, unless it belongs to someone who collects vintage stuff. It’s very popular right now.’ She picked up the pocket watch. ‘Though I don’t know anyone who wears one of these any more, do you?’ She looked up at me and asked the million dollar question. ‘What will you do with it?’

  ‘The wallets have named credit cards in them. I’ll try and track down the owners through the PNC.’

  ‘You think they’re definitely related to robberies?’

  ‘I know at least one of them is.’ Sorting through the pile, I came to Stefan Greaves’ wallet and removed one of the credit cards, which I held up for her to see.

  ‘Greaves?’ she said. ‘Wasn’t that the guy who was mugged the other weekend? That’s bizarre. What was Denny up to?’

  What indeed.

  * * *

  I was still preoccupied with the hoard when I stood in the church at Denny’s funeral on Monday morning. Expedited because of his role as a serving officer, it was always going to be a big affair. Despite these austere times, the police service liked to be seen to be looking after its own, though it felt slightly obscene that so soon after we were organising his retirement parties, such a different send-off should be taking place. I didn’t know if Denny had ever gone regularly to church but today the big Anglican nave was packed with uniforms, mine among them, with Sheila sitting at the front, flanked by her two grown-up sons and other members of the family.

  ‘What an ordeal for her,’ I heard someone behind me murmur. ‘She must have thought they were on the home straight, to have got through all those years safely, only for him to be taken from her in his last week. Life is so cruel sometimes . . .’ The voice broke off suddenly. ‘What’s he doing here?’

  At first I thought they were referring to me, and an unwelcome heat flared inside my collar, but when I turned and looked back down the aisle I saw that Ashley Curzon was making an entrance. I didn’t realise that Denny had known him, unless it was something to do with that mysterious VIP visitor, but the service would of course be reported in the media, perhaps even nationally, so it would be in Curzon’s interests to show his face.

  It wasn’t an easy service. This was a man cut down too soon, before he’d had the opportunity to reap the rewards of a long working life. As the superlatives flowed, I couldn’t help thinking about what the various speakers would make of what I’d found in Denny’s locker.

  After the service, Denny’s son Tony approached me. We’d met once before.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said. It was inadequate.

  ‘I know. And bloody awful timing. He so very nearly made it to the end.’ He glanced over to his mother. ‘I think that’s the hardest thing for Mum to bear. He should have quit before. They could have managed.’

  ‘I should have looked out for him,’ I said, voicing what I had wanted to for days.

  Tony grasped my arm. ‘No, mate,’ he insisted. ‘That wasn’t what I meant at all. It’s not your fault and nobody blames you. You must believe that. This kind of crap, it’s part of the job and Dad knew that.’ I could find little comfort in his words. ‘To be honest, he was never the same after Kevin left. I mean, no disrespect to you or anything. Dad tried to stick it out, but he should have jacked it in at the same time Kev did.’

  ‘Booth left under a bit of a cloud, didn’t he?’ I said. I was just making conversation, really.

  ‘You could say that,’ said Tony. ‘It goes with the
territory, of course, but Kevin’s drink problem had got the two of them into trouble a couple of times. I think Dad thought it might be easier after he’d gone, but the job was different, too. He said that it had changed beyond all recognition. He was getting increasingly disillusioned and according to Mum it was starting to keep him awake at night for the first time ever. It had never got to him like that before.’

  While we were talking, Bowers walked past. ‘And as for him . . .’ Tony muttered under his breath.

  ‘But I thought they got on well,’ I said. ‘Your dad had been spending a lot of time with him just recently.’

  Tony flashed a cynical smile. ‘Dad was old school,’ he reminded me. ‘He’d been around long enough to know that he had to play the game and get along with those he had to, but he didn’t have much time for what he called the “over-educated” lot. Yeah, he should have got out when he had the opportunity.’

  ‘Would it help if the man who did it was caught?’ I asked him.

  ‘It might bring closure of a sort, I suppose,’ Tony admitted. ‘But from what they’ve told us about Archer, he was a lost soul anyway. It’s doubtful that he was even aware of what he was doing. And I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.’

  ‘No.’ I couldn’t come up with a better response. ‘Look, if there’s anything I can do,’ I offered, lamely. ‘I took the liberty of clearing your dad’s locker for you — thought it would be easier if I did it. His personal things are all boxed up and ready to collect whenever you feel ready.’

  ‘Thanks, I appreciate that. I’ll come and fetch them myself. It’s not something I’d want to leave for Mum to do. How would tomorrow morning suit?’

  ‘Perfect,’ I said, even though we both knew it was about as far from perfect as it could be. ‘And I really am sorry.’

  ‘I know.’ He nodded, we shook hands and he re-joined his family.

  What Tony had said was interesting. I knew Denny was losing momentum somehow, and had assumed it to be a natural consequence of coming to the end of his working life. But where did the treasure haul I’d found in his locker fit in? It got me wondering again if Denny had been headed for some kind of mental implosion. Scanning the room, my eyes came to rest on the superintendent, who was in a tight huddle with Ashley Curzon. They seemed to have a lot to talk about.

  It was early the next morning when I was summoned to reception, where Tony Sutton was waiting to collect his father’s belongings. Leaving him in an interview room, I went and fetched them.

  I put the box on the table in front of him. ‘Here you go, then.’ Tony took off the lid and peered inside, staring at the contents for a long moment.

  ‘So this is it.’ It was a statement, not a question — but he looked up and held my gaze and for one crazy moment, I wondered if he knew about the drawstring bag. But then he blinked hard and the emotion was clear and obviously unrelated.

  ‘A bit pathetic, isn’t it?’ he went on. ‘Not much to show for a thirty-year career. I’m glad Mum didn’t have to do this.’

  I nodded in agreement.

  ‘Thanks for sorting it out. I know you didn’t work with Dad for long, but he thought a lot of you.’

  That was a surprise. It had so often felt as if Denny barely noticed me. An impulse came over me.

  ‘You wouldn’t happen to have contact details for Kevin Booth, would you? No one here knew where he was to get hold of him for the funeral, but it seems only fair to let him know what’s happened.’

  ‘Yes, Dad would have had his address, or at least a contact number somewhere. I’m sure they kept in touch for a while. I’ll have a look for you and give you a call.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Walking back up to the office, I passed Superintendent Bowers on the stairs. Our eyes locked for a second.

  ‘It was a good service yesterday, I thought, sir,’ I said, short of anything more original to say.

  ‘Yes, son. They did him proud.’

  Of course they did. It was what people said. We each made to continue on our way, but before I moved on, I turned to him again. ‘Did anyone let Denny’s partner know, sir?’

  ‘His partner?’

  ‘Well, ex-partner, Kevin Booth. He and Denny worked together for years. I wasn’t sure if he would be there yesterday.’

  ‘Excellent point, Fraser. I’ll make some enquiries, see if anyone’s been in touch. Though he’s an old soak, from what I understand, went pretty downhill when he left the job and cut himself off. Very sad.’ He paused. ‘I suppose PC Sutton’s locker will need to be cleared at some point.’

  ‘I’ve done it, sir,’ I told him, feeling efficient for once.

  ‘Already?’ Bowers looked a little startled. Perhaps he felt it was too soon to be respectful.

  ‘Yes, sir. His son Tony has just been in to collect his dad’s things. I got the idea he wanted to get it over with.’

  Recovering, Bowers put a hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Ah, yes, well, understandable in the circumstances.’ He seemed to think for a moment. ‘Sutton’s phone found its way back to IT, did it?’

  I could understand the concern. There were always worries about compromising security and confidentiality. Normal procedure was that at some point the SIM would be replaced and the phone recycled.

  ‘As far as I know, sir, but I’ll check.’

  ‘Good, well, er, well done, Fraser. Never a nice thing to have to do.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Before returning to duties, I made a detour via the IT department, where I spoke to Rob Docherty, the technician responsible for phones and personal radios.

  ‘Has Denny’s mobile been processed yet?’

  ‘I haven’t done it,’ he confessed. ‘Been putting it off, if I’m honest, you know?’

  Yes, I did know. Nobody wanted to be reminded that a colleague was dead. But now I was there, he went and got the phone for me and opened it up.

  ‘That’s weird,’ he said. ‘The SIM has gone. Do you know if anyone took it out?’

  I didn’t, and told him so. He checked the work log, but there was no record of anyone else having tended to Denny’s phone. ‘Very strange,’ he reiterated.

  ‘A mystery,’ I agreed, noting at the same time how clean and unused the phone looked.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  ‘You’re disgustingly chipper today,’ said Jake, when I got to the office on Monday morning. ‘Good weekend?’

  ‘Outstanding weekend,’ I said. I was grinning like an idiot.

  He regarded me with suspicion.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Light dawned. ‘Hah! You got laid. Who is she? Got a white stick and a dog?’

  I flashed him the most sarcastic smile I could muster, but really my heart wasn’t in it.

  ‘A friend of Laura’s.’ I gave him what I was prepared to share about Cate’s background.

  ‘Well it’s about time, that’s all I can say.’

  ‘What is?’ Plum slouched in, all ears.

  ‘Stefan got his end away at the weekend.’

  Plum blushed and frowned, and I wished Jake hadn’t been so blunt.

  ‘Well, whoopee doo,’ she said, deadpan, and hurried into the office we shared. By the time I followed her, she had her head down, deep in paperwork.

  * * *

  I heard the hubbub in the outer office first of all — Barbara was trying to calm someone, a woman who sounded very angry. Then my office door was flung open and Andrea Todd marched in, Barbara trailing helplessly behind.

  ‘My mother did not kill herself!’ Andrea exclaimed, without preamble. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot.

  ‘I’m sorry . . .’

  ‘It’s fine, Barbara,’ I said. ‘Could you bring us a couple of coffees, please?’

  Plum made to follow her out, but a signal from me kept her where she was and, taking out her pad and pencil, did what she was good at — pretending not to be there.

  ‘Please sit down, Miss Todd.’ I gestured to the chair opposite mine.r />
  ‘She absolutely wouldn’t have done that.’ She paused momentarily as Barbara came back in with two mugs of coffee.

  ‘I’m so sorry about your mother, Andrea,’ I said, when Barbara had retreated. ‘But this isn’t my job,’ I reminded her. ‘The police will be conducting an investigation on behalf of the coroner.’

  ‘They’re not,’ she retorted. ‘They’ve already made up their minds.’ She sipped at her coffee. ‘They told me it was you who first realised it must be Mum.’

  ‘It was just an extraordinary coincidence, a chance conversation with an officer I’ve got to know. I really wish it hadn’t turned out like this.’

  ‘But they’re wrong,’ she said, her eyes shining. ‘You must know that. You talked to her.’

  ‘For about five minutes,’ I reminded her, not wanting to commit myself. ‘We had a single, brief conversation.’

  ‘And how suicidal did she seem then?’ she demanded.

  ‘You told us yourself — she was having difficulties at work, but she told me very little. As it happens, we’ve since spoken to one of her colleagues, who agreed that your mother was under a lot of pressure. Maybe she . . .’

  Suddenly she saw where this was headed. ‘No! Mum had coped with all kinds of crap her whole life. She wouldn’t have given in to a bit of stress. She was more resilient than that.’

  ‘Did you know she’d been suspended?’

  Her face said it all. ‘What? She can’t have been.’

  ‘It’s what we’ve been told, though we don’t know the precise reason. Having said she’d be straight with me, your mum was anything but. There’s a suggestion that her suspension followed on from the deaths of two babies.’

  That really floored her. ‘No, Mum would never . . . That can’t be right.’

  ‘Maybe it isn’t, but whatever the reason for the suspension, it wouldn’t have been good. Perhaps for your mother, that was the final straw.’

  Andrea was shaking her head, but with less commitment now. ‘No, if she thought she was being treated unfairly she would fight it, she wouldn’t fold. And Mum was Catholic, remember?’