by Bill Rogers
‘You think whoever attacked me may have been following me?’
‘I have no idea, but it is something we have to check out.’
‘Of course. Well, I left home at seven this morning.’
‘Where is home?’
‘On Fog Lane in West Didsbury, about half a mile away from the park.’
‘Were you in the car, or on foot?’
‘On foot.’ Heather paused. ‘We did our usual tour of the park. Got back about ten to eight. I had some cereal, then drove to Northenden to pick up my granddaughter, Poppy. I dropped her off at her school on Beaver Road and then, as I was driving back home, my daughter texted to say she’d forgotten a poster display she needed urgently, so I had to go back to Northenden to pick up the poster and take it to the university.’
‘Which university,’ asked Jo, ‘and which building?’
‘Manchester University, the Department of Chemistry. Rose was waiting for me outside the entrance on Brunswick Street.’
‘Chemistry?’ said Nick.
‘That’s right. She’s a senior lecturer in biochemistry.’
‘After you’d dropped off the poster?’ said Jo. ‘What then?’
‘I drove to the Tesco Superstore on Parrs Wood Lane – realised I’d left my list on the fridge door. Drove back home, collected the list, then back to Tesco’s. I did a major shop. Went home. Unpacked everything. Had a bowl of soup and a coffee. Prepared a casserole for Poppy and Rose. And then set off to pick up Poppy from school. I took her back to her house. Popped the casserole in the oven, and kept her occupied until her mum came home. I got back home at about 6 p.m. Jack was desperate for a pee, so I took him straight to the park.’ She smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I had my pooper scoop bags with me. Then we wandered down through the rock gardens, round the pool, through the rose garden, and across the fields to the Mersey. Then we followed it round and headed into the woods – that’s when I was shot.’
‘Did you get a sense that anyone may have been following you at any time during today?’
‘No.’
‘Did you see anyone behaving suspiciously in the park?’
She shook her head. ‘Not unless you include the young man with a Staffordshire terrier who allowed his dog to defecate against the rose arbour, pretended to pick up the resultant mess, and then scurried off ?’
‘Did you observe anyone carrying a large bag?’ said Nick. ‘A kitbag, for example, or something that might hold golf clubs or fishing tackle?’
‘Long, rather than wide,’ Jo added.
Heather thought about it, then shook her head. ‘Sorry. Nothing like that. It was mainly dog walkers, a few couples, people walking alone, and a small group of joggers.’
‘Joggers?’
‘Male and female, mixed ages. They were all wearing the same tops – yellow and blue, like they were members of a club.’ She was beginning to look tired. Every now and then she grimaced at the pain in her shoulder as she tried to make herself more comfortable.
‘Would you like me to call a nurse?’ said Jo.
‘No,’ Heather replied. ‘It’s okay. Let’s just get it over with, shall we?’
‘Very well,’ said Jo. ‘Now I need you to think about anyone who might harbour a grudge against you, however remote you think it may be.’
‘I’ve been lying here trying to do exactly that,’ she replied. ‘It’s surprising when you put your mind to it how many people in your life you realise that you’ve pissed off one way and another. Take my sister and me. We always had a pretty robust sibling rivalry right from the outset, and when our parents died it got worse rather than better, but she lives in California now with her third husband. Not that she’d have the imagination to try to kill me like this – a knife in the back’s more her style.’
She registered the expression on their faces and smiled. ‘Only joking,’ she said. ‘Well, half joking. There are one or two colleagues I’ve rubbed up the wrong way over the years, including one who was eventually fired for sexually harassing me. Don’t get excited though. He committed suicide a few years back. Nothing to do with me. Well, not directly. His wife walked out on him when his peccadilloes brought him to the attention of the police. He took the coward’s way out. Jumped off Barton Bridge with a couple of dumb-bells tied around his neck.’
Nick Carter shuddered. ‘I couldn’t do that,’ he said. ‘Too much time to regret it on the way down.’
Jo nudged him with her elbow. ‘What about inquests that you’ve been involved in, Heather?’ she said. ‘There must have been some where relatives or people who were subsequently charged with homicide were deeply unhappy with the outcome of the inquest? I can remember several where people displayed almost uncontrollable anger.’
‘Me too,’ said Nick.
‘There were,’ said Heather Rand. ‘Of course there were. When you’ve lost a loved one, especially in tragic and avoidable circumstances, and it turns out that nobody was really responsible – at least not in law – or that there is simply insufficient evidence to reach a verdict, that must be unbearably painful. So yes, I’ve had threats made against me in court. Malicious and threatening emails and letters. The occasional disgusting package sent in the mail. Several resulted in injunctions having to be taken out against the perpetrator by the Office of the Chief Coroner. I’m afraid I can’t give you chapter and verse on them all, but they were all logged and stored, so you shouldn’t have any trouble accessing them.’
‘Do any of them, say within the past six years, stand out as particularly bitter and unresolved?’ Jo asked. ‘Especially ones that happened six or seven years ago?’
The former coroner sighed. ‘There is one that would fit those parameters,’ she said, ‘but I hope I’m wrong.’
‘Go on.’
‘It was the spring of 2011. A woman was killed outside her children’s primary school by a hit-and-run pensioner. The distraught driver handed himself into the police the same afternoon. Following evidence from other mothers, the lollipop lady, and the police, the verdict the jury arrived at was accidental death. The husband was serving in Helmand at the time and was flown back on compassionate leave. He took it really badly and had to be restrained in court. He yelled threats at me and at some of the witnesses outside. He made an official complaint that came to nothing. I heard that he subsequently had a breakdown. He was discharged from the army on medical grounds. I think his children were being looked after by his wife’s parents.’
‘When was the last time you heard from him?’ said Jo.
‘I haven’t, not directly. The injunction put paid to that. But I was shown a newspaper piece a couple of years back. One of those bleeding hearts articles in which he was interviewed about this terrible miscarriage of justice and how it had affected him. Teesdale, I think his name was – Aaron Teesdale.’
‘A couple of years back,’ said Nick. ‘So why do you still think it might be him?’
Heather Rand’s expression softened, and her voice was tinged with remorse. ‘Because I think he was right. At the very least the finding should have been causing death by careless driving.’
‘How so?’ said Jo.
‘It hinged around whether or not the pensioner was driving when knowingly suffering from a physical condition that significantly and dangerously impaired his driving.’ She slid her left hand up her arm and began to massage her shoulder. ‘It all came down to that word, knowingly.’ She slowly shook her head. ‘I made the fateful decision to call a jury. Not out of cowardice, you understand, but because this had a high profile in the press and had developed into a public interest case. I’m afraid that despite my attempt to direct the jury, they found in the driver’s favour.’
‘Why do you think that was?’ asked Nick.
‘I can’t be sure,’ she said. ‘But there is a tendency for juries, not just in the Coroner’s Court but in Crown Court too, to be less willing to convict in cases of manslaughter by negligence if they believe that the likely sentence arising from a guilty fin
ding would be disproportionate.’
‘But this wasn’t a criminal court?’ said Jo.
‘No, but they probably feared that a verdict of causing death by careless driving would lead to the police and the CPS reviewing their position and taking him through the criminal courts.’ Heather sighed. ‘In my experience, in those cases where the family is left feeling an immense sense of injustice, the pain and the bitterness never go away – if anything, they deepen.’ All of her earlier positivity had faded. She looked pale and exhausted. ‘Now, if you don’t mind,’ she said, ‘I’d like to rest.’
‘Aaron Teesdale. He has to be favourite?’ said Nick Carter. ‘I wonder what he did in Helmand. Perhaps he was a sniper?’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ said Jo. ‘There’s no connection between his grievance and any of the other victims.’
Nick shrugged. ‘Perhaps he’s turned into a vigilante? Avenging injustices right, left, and centre?’
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ she said. ‘We’re all going to head off back to Nexus House. Once we know where Heather Rand was standing when she was shot, Jack Benson’s team can have a look at Stenner Woods. But if the last three crime scenes are anything to go by, we’re not going to learn anything new from Forensics. Best we concentrate on witness sightings and vehicle licence plates around the time of the shooting. Can you progress that, Nick?’
‘What are you going to do, Ma’am?’ he asked.
‘A quick background check and a risk assessment on Teesdale. See if I can get a magistrate to issue a search warrant, and then pay him a visit.’
‘What about me, Ma’am?’ asked Carly Whittle.
‘I’d like you to print off your notes and get them into the system. Then I want you to contact the Coroner’s office and arrange to go through that harassment list she mentioned, and any complaints made against her. You can contact them tonight, but I doubt you’ll be able to get them started before the morning.’ She unlocked her car. ‘The other thing you can both do is warn me if you see ACC Gates entering the building. You’ll know it’s her by the steam coming out of her ears.’
Chapter 45
‘Do we have to do this here?’ Aaron Teesdale held the door to the office open in the vain hope that she would say no.
‘Yes, I’m afraid we do,’ Jo replied. ‘For the time being.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘That it depends on the answers you give to my questions. If I’m not satisfied with them, then I’ll have to arrest you and ask you to accompany me to a police station for a formal interview.’
He closed the door, walked over to the desk, and sat down. ‘You’d better get on with it then,’ he said.
Jo had brought DC Hulme with her to take notes, having first warned him not to say anything unless it was through her. The last thing she needed was his brand of irony. While Hulme prepared himself, she scrutinised the ex-soldier, now assistant manager of a food store. He was shorter than her, much more so than she’d expected for a former Royal Marines Commando sergeant. But he still had the buzz-cut hair, upright posture, and cool wariness in his pale-blue eyes. If his taut, muscular figure was anything to go by, he still kept himself fit.
‘So,’ he said. ‘What’s this all about?’
Best to hit him with it straight away, Jo decided, and see what she could gauge from his reaction.
‘Do you recall the name of the coroner at the inquest into the death of your wife?’
Teesdale’s face clouded over, and he folded his arms across his chest. ‘So that’s it,’ he said. ‘I’ve spent seven years of my life grieving, then trying to move on. And now, just when I thought I’d put it behind me as much as I’ll ever be able to, you two come crawling out of the woodwork.’
‘I’m truly sorry for your loss, Mr Teesdale,’ said Jo, ‘but I do need you to answer the question.’
His left leg began to pump up and down. ‘You tell me why you need me to answer, and I’ll decide if I’m going to.’
‘Very well,’ said Jo. ‘The person to whom I refer has been the victim of an assault.’
He looked incredulous. ‘And you think I was responsible?’
‘I’m sure you understand that I have no choice other than to investigate that possibility? So please, answer the question?’
‘Of course I remember her name – Rand, Heather Rand.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘She was about as much use as a chocolate teapot.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that she knew full well that it wasn’t simply an accident. That stupid, selfish old git got behind the wheel knowing he wasn’t fit to drive. He lied on the self-disclosure form he had to fill in for the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency, he lied to his insurance company, he lied to the police, and he lied in the Coroner’s Court. Rand as good as admitted that when she summed up for the jury.’
‘Then you can hardly blame her for their decision?’
‘Why not? She should have made it plainer. She should have directed the jury to deliver a verdict of manslaughter.’ He thumped the desk with his hand, causing the monitor to sway perilously. ‘Slaughter’s the right word. My wife wasn’t the victim of an accident – she was mown down in cold blood. She was murdered. Simple as.’
If he’s like this now, what must he have been like seven years ago? Jo wondered.
‘I understand you were in Helmand province at the time,’ she said. ‘In Afghanistan?’
He nodded. ‘Sangin.’
‘That must have been hard?’
‘Hell on earth.’
Jo had meant his receiving the news about his wife’s death while he was away on active service. But he had misunderstood and was already replaying the nightmare in his head.
‘Operation Herrick. Our last tour. We were supposed to be handing over to the Yanks. Should have been a simple holding operation but the Taliban had other ideas. They sent their best men to take us on. They blended in with the locals, so you could never be sure who you were dealing with till it was too late. Never mind the Charge of the Light Brigade, every single time we went on patrol it was like walking into the valley of death. Bombs to the right of you, semi-automatics to the left of you, snipers all around.’
DC Hulme had stopped making notes and was listening intently. The veteran caught his eye and spoke directly at him.
‘I suppose you think IEDs were just something they put by the side of the roads to blow up our vehicles? Well, they weren’t. They were everywhere. There were tripwires. IEDs at the base of walls that they triggered with a radio command or a simple phone call. It got so the only way we could patrol an area was down the drainage ditches. When we did, the cunning bastards set up ambushes.’
Teesdale switched his attention to Jo. ‘Do you know how many men we lost on that tour?’
Jo shook her head.
‘Fourteen. Out of six hundred and seventy men. Plus another forty-nine wounded. Not to mention the ones whose wounds didn’t count.’
‘Post-traumatic stress disorder?’ said Jo.
The fingers of his right hand drummed a tattoo on the top of the desk. ‘The thing about PTSD,’ he said, ‘is that you never know when it’s going to hit you or what’s going to trigger it. With me it was Mel’s death that brought it on. After the funeral, the slightest sound of a car braking, a door slamming, I’d break out in a cold sweat, my heart would start pounding, I’d be in a blind panic, looking for escape routes. I couldn’t go within a mile of my kids’ school – had to get one of the other mums who lives nearby to drop them off and pick them up. I couldn’t fall asleep at night. When I did, I’d be back in Sangin trying to put a field dressing on a bloody stump while bullets flew all around.’
He looked up, his eyes appealing for understanding. ‘I couldn’t even hold a conversation with the kids. They took them off me.’
‘They?’ said Jo.
‘Social Services. Handed them over to Mel’s mum and dad. Had to. I had a complete breakdown. I was in hospital
for over three months.’
‘Where are they now?’
‘Still with their grandparents. I have regular access – see them three or four times a week – but they’re better off with them.’
‘And how are you now, Aaron?’ she asked. She could tell from his expression that he wasn’t fooled by the use of his given name.
He scowled. ‘Managing, till you came along. I’m on a daily dose of Paroxetine. Plus talking therapy when I feel I need it. Which after today is likely to be tomorrow.’
‘Just a few more questions then we’ll leave you in peace.’
He laughed, as though he thought that highly unlikely. ‘Go on then.’
‘Where were you, Aaron, between 6 p.m. and 7 p.m. yesterday evening?’
His brow furrowed. ‘That’s easy. I was right here. Didn’t get away till gone ten.’
‘You won’t mind if I check with your boss?’
‘Be my guest. You can check with the time and motion guy too.’
‘Time and motion?’
He pointed to the small glass dome on the ceiling. ‘The CCTV. It’s everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s one hidden in the loos.’
‘If I were to give you a series of dates and times,’ she said, ‘do you think you could tell me where you were on those dates too?’
He smiled thinly. ‘No problem.’
Jo nodded to Jimmy Hulme, who handed Teesdale a sheet of paper. He studied it. ‘I can tell you now, I was working on every one of these dates,’ he said. ‘It’s all I do these days.’
‘If you could just double-check, complete the form, sign it, and let me have it back before we leave,’ she said.
‘Will do.’
‘Do you own or rent a garage or a lock-up?’ she asked.
‘Only the one attached to the house.’
‘And would you have any objection if we were to search your house, Aaron?’
He sat up. ‘You don’t have probable cause,’ he said. ‘And I’m guessing you don’t have a search warrant?’
‘What are you all of a sudden?’ said Jimmy Hulme. ‘A barrack-room lawyer?’
