"Who are they?" the girl asked, looking past her mother, as she reached the foot of the stairs. Charlotte shooed her off, only glancing back over her shoulder with an anxious expression once and then, with the sound of a latch dropping into place behind them, they were gone. Cannell turned on Tom, his face reddening. Any embarrassment or awkwardness was gone to be replaced by a flash of anger.
"Just what the hell are you playing at walking in here announcing all manner of—"
"This is a murder investigation, Professor Cannell," Tom said flatly. "And we're not playing at anything." He cast an eye up and down the man. "You seem to have recovered from whatever ailment stopped you from going to work today."
Cannell reddened further, only this time with embarrassment. He shrugged. "I needed some time at home."
"To rethink your story?"
He glared at Tom, his expression darkening. "What are you talking about?"
"Tina Farrow," Tom said, producing the same picture he'd shown him the day before yesterday and holding it aloft in Cannell's face.
"I told you, I barely knew her—"
"No. You told us you didn't know her at all." Cannell's face dropped, he turned away averting his eyes from Tom's gaze. "So, which is it today, barely or not at all?"
He didn't respond.
"Or is there another option you've not yet used that's still on your short list?" Eric asked. Cannell looked up, eyeing both of them in turn.
"I didn't know her very well, that's the truth."
Tom raised his eyebrows. "But you did know her." Cannell nodded silently. "And what are the odds of us finding your DNA among her remains do you think?"
"Don't be absurd," Cannell retorted, "it will have degraded by now—"
"Will it?" Tom asked. Cannell, realising his mistake, sighed and chewed on his lower lip. "There's no need to deny it further, we have witnesses who put you and Tina together on the night she disappeared and – how can I put this politely – you were all over her!"
"That doesn't mean I bloody killed her, though, does it?" he said with a flash of accompanying anger.
"Leaves us with plenty to discuss at the station though."
Tom stepped to one side, leaving Cannell standing in between the two of them, gesturing for him to follow Eric. Cannell closed his eyes, took a deep breath and followed Eric out of the room.
Seated in an interview room, William Cannell cut a dejected figure. Sarah Webber had described him as being the one who really fancied himself. Tom thought he held himself in high regard, certainly, but whether that extended to his perception of his appeal to women was another matter altogether. He'd lied several times and seemed comfortable doing so but as he rightly stated – that didn't make him a murderer. Tom entered, Eric was already sitting there and Tamara was watching via a video link from another room. Tom put a cup of coffee down in front of Cannell who smiled appreciatively, reaching for it. Tom reread the caution and Cannell waved away the offer of representation. He stared at Tom, ensuring he had his attention as he sat down.
"I don't need a solicitor because I have nothing to hide," Cannell said firmly but keeping his tone measured. "I'd like it on record that I am willing to participate in this interview in order to set things straight but I emphatically deny having any involvement in the disappearance of that young woman."
"Duly noted," Tom said, opening the folder in front of him and taking out the picture of Tina. He laid it gently on the table, turned it to face Cannell and slid it across in front of him. "Tina Farrow. Tell us about that Friday night."
Cannell's eyes shifted to the picture and away again. He sniffed, brushing the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. "Fun girl. We liked her."
"We?"
"The team. All of us who were staying there during the dig." He shrugged. "She wasn't around much … but made her presence known when she was." Tom offered him an enquiring look, encouraging him to continue. "Flirtatious. Very flirtatious. Like I say, a fun girl."
"And that Friday night?" Tom put his hands together, interlocking his fingers. Eric maintained a focussed gaze on the interviewee.
"Erm … what's to say really?" Cannell raised his eyebrows and then he cast his eyes around the room. "The dig was wrapping up." He opened his hands, palms wide. "It had been an abject failure and we were drowning our sorrows in the bar and trying to make the most of what was a piss-poor experience."
"Again."
"Excuse me?" Cannell met Tom's eye, his gaze lingering as if he was trying to ascertain what he knew.
"You were drinking again. Apparently your team partied pretty hard during that dig, contributing massively to the Tennants' takings that summer."
Cannell rolled his eyes. "Tennant. Yes, that was him." He half smiled. "Paul Tennant, now there's a guy you should look at. He was always squeezing past the young women behind the bar, little touches here and there. They didn't like it. You could see it in their faces when he wasn't looking. Slimy man."
"A witness states you had your hands all over Tina—"
"I'd had a skin full, Inspector!"
"Which makes it okay?"
Cannell waved away the remark, picking up his cup and sipping at the contents. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he sat forward resting his elbows on the table. "I … may have got a little overly friendly, I'll admit." He held an apologetic hand up before him as he spoke. "But she'd been flirting with me … and not just that night but also several others. And she didn't exactly push me away, you know? I thought she was up for it."
"Up for what?"
He shrugged. "You know … a bit of fun."
"Would your wife see it that way?" Eric asked.
"None of her business," Cannell shot back. "Then or now." Eric turned the corners of his mouth down, glancing at his notes, but made no further comment. Cannell appeared to have a need to explain himself, or at least to offer mitigation. "Look, it was a stressful dig and I was away from home a lot. I was missing my wife and our daughter, our first daughter – you saw Harriet, our second, earlier – and things can happen, can't they?" He held up both hands, indicating the two of them. "You're both men. You know how it is, right?"
Both Tom and Eric ignored the question.
"Describe the sexual contact you had with Tina?"
"Now look, there was no sexual contact!" He glared at Tom. "I'll admit there was an encounter … of sorts, but it wasn't sexual contact."
"But you did leave your DNA on her person, you as good as said so—"
"Yes, yes, yes," Cannell said. "I know what I said earlier. We had a brief moment in the rear lobby if I remember right. We'd been flirting with each other for much of the evening and I followed her out," he coughed nervously, "when she went to the ladies. I met her in the lobby and she dragged me into a small office in the rear that she had a key to and—" He shifted awkwardly in his seat, taking a deep breath. "And that's where it happened. But it was brief, like I said, over in minutes."
"What was?" Cannell cleared his throat, although Tom doubted there was any obstruction. His neckline and cheeks were reddening. "We're waiting, Professor."
He took a deep breath. "We kissed. It was consensual, no doubt about that." He raised a pointed finger as if to emphasise it. "And she … um … she undid my trousers … and um … took my trousers and pants down." He was speaking barely above a whisper now. Tom glanced at Eric who raised a single eyebrow in response but Cannell didn't notice, he was staring at the table in front of him, gripping his polystyrene coffee cup with both hands as if it was the only thing anchoring him to this world.
"And?"
"She walked out."
Tom exchanged a glance with Eric who appeared to be on the verge of grinning but managed to stifle it under Tom's scrutiny.
"She walked out?"
Cannell nodded, his face flushing. "Walked out and left me standing in the middle of the office with my trousers around my ankles."
"Where did she go?"
He shrugged. "How would I
know? The cheeky cow had it all planned, I bet. I've been embarrassed before but that," he shook his head, "was a humiliation like no other."
Tom rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "That must have made you angry, furious even?"
"Quite the opposite! It sobered me up. I realised I was making an idiot of myself and I went back to my room – alone – to sleep it off."
"Anyone see you go?"
He shook his head. "Not as far as I know. I didn't really want to see anyone. I figured she'd gone back into the bar and had a good old laugh about me with everyone. I couldn't face it. As it happens, no one mentioned it the next day, so I guess she didn't."
"And what time did you go to your room?"
He thought about it, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. "Ten-ish, maybe. Hard to say. All in all, I was pleased to put Branodunum behind me and move on."
"What else can you tell us about that night, seeing as your memory has miraculously returned?"
"Look, I'm telling you the truth! You can understand why I didn't mention it, surely? But I had nothing to do with that girl's death. You should be speaking to …" His head dropped and he began chewing on his lower lip.
"We should speak to who?"
Cannell looked up and met his eye. "Oh, it doesn't matter now, I'm sure. I doubt it'll make a difference. She – Tina – was making eyes at Alex. It was really annoying Julia and Tim was stoking it up that evening, pointing it out to Jules."
"Tim Hendry?" Tom asked, curious. Cannell bobbed his head. "Why would he do that?"
Cannell shrugged in response. "For fun, maybe. The drink was flowing and everyone had the hump with the dig. Maybe he was doing it for a laugh."
"I thought you were all friends?"
"We are. Well, we were back then. Even so, there was a bit of jealousy between those three." Tom sat forward, fixing him with a stare. "Between the three of them, Alex, Jules and Tim; a proper three-way relationship."
"They were all in a relation—"
"No, no, no," Cannell said, grinning. "I don't mean it that way. Alex and Jules were an item but I reckon Tim held a torch for Jules. I mean, Tim would never admit it but I'm telling you it was obvious, if you knew them. As plain as the nose on your face. I know they were friends and all, but should they have ever split then I'm certain Tim would've made a move on her. Absolutely certain of it."
"Are you suggesting one of those three may have killed—"
"I'm not suggesting anything of the sort," Cannell said, splaying his arms wide. "But if you're looking at me because I kept things secret, then I'm just saying you can find secrets elsewhere just as easily! Now, I think you will agree that I have been more than forthcoming with you today." He fixed Tom with a direct stare. "And as I understand it, I am not under arrest."
"No, you're not."
"In which case I would like to leave now, unless there is something else you wish to ask me?"
Tom picked up the photograph of Tina, replacing it in the folder under Cannell's watchful eye. He closed the flap and took a breath. "You're free to go." Cannell slapped his palms gently on the table, smiled, and pushed his chair back as he stood. Tom caught his attention. "For now." The smile faded. "DC Collet will show you out."
Chapter Eighteen
Emerging from the interview room, Tom watched the retreating forms of William Cannell and Eric as the latter escorted him along the corridor away from the custody suite and towards the front office. Cannell shot a nervous glance towards him, over his shoulder, as Eric indicated for him to turn left at the end. Tamara emerged from the third door along, coming to stand next to Tom.
"What do you make of that?"
Tom inhaled through gritted teeth, wrinkling his nose.
"I take it you are not entirely convinced by his explanation," she said.
"It's not that," he said, frowning.
"Then what?"
"Cannell just offered up another motive, unwittingly I should add."
"One for himself and another for Alex Hart—"
"And Dr Julia Rose, too, while he was at it." Tamara glanced at him, inclining her head to one side. "If what he described actually happened – embarrassed, humiliated even, and full of drink, there's no reason not to think someone in that scenario might react very badly. We need to find someone who saw Tina alive after the time he stipulated, ten-ish, to try and back up his timeline."
"If he was telling the truth about that?" She touched his forearm, gesturing for them to head back to ops. "He doesn't strike me as a man who can tell the truth under any circumstances. How can we trust anything that he says?"
"Do you think he's smart enough to keep one step ahead of the investigation, especially after all this time? He would need to remember an incredible amount of detail in order not to trip himself up."
They entered ops, Tamara deep in thought. He went straight to the coffee machine, picking up a cup and angling it towards her. She nodded and he set about making both of them a cup. The machine was a fine decision on his part and all of them chipped in with the pods. There was only so much vending machine or recycled brewing in the canteen that a person could handle.
"If he is drip feeding us information," Tamara said, coming alongside him and leaning against the desk, folding her arms across her chest, "as and when he thinks it necessary to direct us away from him as a suspect, he's certainly intelligent enough to do so, don't you think?"
Tom had to agree but there was something troubling him and it was focussed on the location of the burial. The machine hissed and gurgled as Tamara's espresso pumped through. He handed it to her and walked over to the white board detailing where they found Tina Farrow's remains. Tamara glanced at him and then the machine. She crossed the room to join him, both palms encircling the cup in her hand.
"What are you thinking about?"
He was so focussed he almost didn't hear her. He looked sideways at her and she raised her eyebrows. "Tom?"
He shook his head. "Sorry. I was just thinking – the dump site, burial place, whatever you want to call it – it's an odd choice … for a killer, I mean."
"Remote, not overlooked, easy access from the highway. What's not to like?"
He looked at her, assuming she was playing devil's advocate because he could see in her eyes that she was thinking similarly. As a dump site, it was good for the reasons she stated but it was also an extremely poor choice for a host of others and it didn't make a lot of sense. He pointed to the trench where Tina was found.
"It is reasonable to assume that they are telling the truth when it comes to Tina not being laid there prior to the trench being backfilled, unless we are going down the road of arguing Cannell, Hart, Julia Rose and the digger driver were all participants in either the murder or the cover-up."
"Agreed," Tamara said, sipping at her coffee. "That would be absurd but look at where we found the remains, in the trench at the outer edge of the field. Do we have any pictures showing how the field boundary was delineated back then? If there was a hedgerow then there's every possibility her body could have been stashed behind it and slid into place on the Saturday."
"Too risky, surely?" Tom said, picking up a marker pen and tapping the board with the lid. "Even if the killer was able to operate the digger themselves, enough to shovel a couple of scoops onto the body to conceal it, they would still be taking a massive risk of being seen." He shook his head. "There were still a number of bodies on site, I just don't see it. It would have taken a boldness that these guys just wouldn't have."
"Probably right." Tamara’s gaze narrowed. "Then we have to conclude that Tina was either held somewhere from, potentially, late on the Friday night until she was killed and deposited in the ground sometime late Saturday after everyone left or perhaps even Sunday."
"That's a lot of time to keep someone captive, particularly if the killer is one of the dig team—"
"Maybe she wasn't captive," Tamara said. "Maybe she didn't go home but got an offer she liked, only it ended up killing her s
oon after? Perhaps it was a day or two later?"
"In which case we might be well wide of the mark in looking at the archaeologists," Tom said. "It's a damn shame we have no idea of Tina's movements after nine-thirty, unless we trust Cannell's description of events."
"I'm loathe to do that."
"Me too. It sounds like Tina gave him what he deserved."
Tamara smiled. "I think I would have liked her; you know?"
"Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you," Tom said. Tamara smiled as she drank her coffee. "Still, though …" Tom looked back at the board. "That dump site is bugging me. There must be a significance."
"Does there have to be? Could it not just be a place that was convenient?" Tamara said.
"Yes, of course but if convenience is what you're looking for then surely you'd just dump her in the marshes … or behind a hedgerow. There are any number of winding lanes and farm tracks around these parts where you could dispose of a body without being seen—"
"But," Tamara wagged a finger at him pointedly, "she would be found sooner or later, probably within a couple of days."
"And that's another thing about the choice of location; she would be found eventually. It was a known archaeological site. It was excavated again in 2012, so there was every possibility that the body would be uncovered, so why choose it?"
Tamara's expression took on a look of consternation. "That's true. Not thinking ahead?"
"Which would go against our assumption of intelligence and planning."
She shrugged. "Maybe it is our assumption that's wrong? If Tina was killed soon after leaving the Crown Inn, then her body could have been stashed somewhere and presumably the killer returned the following day and buried her on the Saturday. Otherwise, in the heat of summer, she would have started to make her presence known." She pinched the end of her nose with thumb and forefinger for dramatic effect. Tom nodded. "Which brings the archaeologists back into it because they were set to leave on the Saturday."
Kill Them Cold Page 13
