by L M Krier
‘Ted, that’s so sweet, but I can easily go and get the bike.’
‘Humour me. Please. I’ve missed you.’
Ted had to end the call at that point before Trev’s response made him blush. He’d heard Mike and Virgil’s voices in the outer office so he went out to talk to them both. He hadn’t yet caught up with Mike about his latest interview with the Sandstone Street suspect. Mike had spoken to the man late on Friday, when Ted was in The Grapes with Gina Shaw.
‘Are we there yet, Mike? I’m not confident of a result for Damson Drive so I’d really like to tie up Sandstone Street if we can.’
‘Charged and bailed him, boss. He’s visibly shaken, especially with the update I was able to give him. Jezza and Maurice came back from their meeting to report that Children’s Services are happy that, in the right conditions, not only would it be acceptable for the boy to testify, they now think it would be therapeutic for him to do so. They say that since he’s started to talk, and to understand that he will be listened to and believed, he’s really beginning to come out of his shell.
‘Ms Castle was tight-lipped, as ever, but I can’t see her advising her client to risk a not guilty plea now, with the amount of evidence that’s building up against him. His best chance is to plead guilty but to say in mitigation that he had no intention of killing her. I doubt a jury would believe him, especially with what people have said about him and his character. But we both know that if he tries to deny it, shows no remorse and takes up a lot of the court’s time, at great expense, he’s likely to cop for a much heftier sentence if he is convicted, which seems likely.
‘How’s it going with Damson Drive, boss? I’ve been a bit out of the loop on that one.’
‘Steve was in this morning, working on it.’
Mike frowned.
‘He’s not on the rota for today.’
‘I know. I had to chase him out. With some difficulty. He’s getting too bogged down in it. He almost refused to go.’
‘The thought of Steve refusing to do anything you told him to is hard to imagine. Why is he so convinced the father is guilty?’
‘To be honest, I don’t know, but it’s becoming worryingly close to an obsession. We need to keep a close eye on him because if the blood results come back negative, I’m not sure how he’ll react. You know how stubborn he can be.’
It wasn’t until late Monday morning that Ted received the lab results on samples taken from the bodies at Damson Drive. It was the news he had been both anticipating and dreading. There was nothing at all recordable to show the presence of any medication or drug in either body. The person doing the report had added a scribbled note on a Post-it to say they had tested for GHB as requested but that it was known for disappearing from the bloodstream rapidly. The note ended, ‘Shame it happened on a Sunday. Made our job impossible’.
Ted decided to speak to CPS before he told the team. He was fairly sure what their advice would be, but he wanted chapter and verse to present to Steve if, as he suspected, he didn’t want to let it drop. He’d never known him as fixated on a case before.
‘He was determined to find the time to sit down quietly with him, somewhere away from work, and try to find out why this particular case had clearly affected him so badly. He must also buy Bill the first of the promised pints and see if he could shed any light on the current situation with Steve. He might simply be missing Océane but Ted had a feeling there was much more to it than that.
He sat for a moment, deep in thought, staring at the innocent enough little yellow sticker. He noticed he was tapping his pen against the desk, a repetitive sound which was starting to annoy him. He took hold of his phone to make a call.
‘Jim, have you got five minutes for me to run something past you?’
‘Ted! Good to hear from you.’ Then, as an aside, ‘It’s Ted, dear. I’ll go out into the garden to take it because it’s shop talk.’
Ted heard the sound of a door opening then closing again, followed by Jim’s voice once more.
‘I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear your voice, Ted. Bella has just this minute got all the maps and guide books out again to plan our next trip to a stately home or garden or something. I’d be even more pleased if you were phoning me to say you needed me to come in to consult on something. Even if I don’t get paid for it.’
Ted had to laugh at that.
‘You’re painting a blissful picture of retirement. Glad I’m not heading towards my pension yet. I can’t run to a visit, I’m afraid, I need to phone CPS next, but I wanted to run something past you, in case I’m missing anything obvious.
‘Remember when I tell you all this that you know I don’t drink, and I promise you I haven’t fallen off the wagon.’
Jim listened without interruption while Ted set out succinctly what Steve was thinking about the Damson Drive case.
Then he said, ‘Bloody hell, Ted, I’ve never heard anything as far-fetched in all my life! You don’t drink, but what about Steve? Is he hitting the bottle? Or taking prohibited substances? I thought he was fairly level-headed.’
‘He is, usually. I’m sure he’s wrong – well, almost a hundred percent sure – but I keep thinking what if he’s right? The thing about problems with blood tests on a weekend, and about GHB disappearing so quickly. A paramedic would possibly know that sort of information, after all.’
‘And so might anyone with access to a computer,’ Big Jim scoffed. ‘Come on, Ted, this isn’t like you. Section 2 of the Suicide Act 1961, encouraging or assisting suicide. I’ve come across it once before, in another division, so I know how hard it can be to prove. How the hell could you show that the man did either of those things, if he was outside the house at the time and apparently desperately trying to force his way back inside to prevent a second suicide attempt? And your two witnesses for that are coppers.
‘Seriously, you need to have a long talk with CPS to be sure, but I don’t see how you could remotely prove intent to assist. Nor prove any encouragement which may or may not have taken place. Not on what you’ve told me so far.
‘I wish I could keep you talking for longer, to get me out of looking at more brochures. But it’s CPS you need to be talking to, not me. I’ve never come across a case like this before and I’m glad I don’t have to get involved in anything as complex as this any more. Even Jacobean architecture suddenly sounds appealing in contrast.
‘Good luck with it all, and keep me posted. You’re my get out of jail free card, after all.’
Ted decided he needed green tea before calling to speak to one of the Crown Prosecutors, to get their advice on how to proceed on the Damson Drive case. He spent the time it took him to drink it looking at the relevant Policy for Prosecutors in Respect of Cases of Encouraging or Assisting Suicide, so he’d at least have some idea of what they would be talking about.
All the information they had to date on the case had already been sent through via intranet, but that hadn’t included anything about Steve’s theory. That wasn’t something Ted wanted to go outside the office in writing. At least not yet.
He phoned and asked to be put through to the prosecutor working on the file. He was pleased it was someone he got on well with. There were some he would hesitate about mentioning such an idea to.
‘Hello, Pushpa, I don’t know if you’ve had time to look at our file yet?’
‘A very quick glance so far, that’s all. Is there something new?’
‘Nothing evidential, no. One of my officers has a theory, but we have nothing at all to back it up. I’ve had a quick look at the relevant legislation on the site but if you have a few minutes, I’d welcome your opinion on whether or not we could make a case.’
She listened in silence while Ted outlined Steve’s theory. Occasionally she interrupted politely to ask a question for clarification. When he’d finished speaking, she was quiet for so long that for a moment, he wondered if she was either trying not to laugh or choosing her words carefully. Knowing her as he did, it was almo
st certainly the latter.
‘The boring thing about us prosecutors is that we set a lot of store by the evidential stage. We have to consider that above all else, including the public interest. For background, as you probably know, the law has been tested and clarified specifically in assisted suicide, or voluntary euthanasia, which is often where we find such cases. It’s also arisen because of some of these terrible websites which incite people, often young people, to kill themselves.
‘What you’ve mentioned here is something completely different, on the face of it. To clarify, your officer thinks the man first stabbed his son then somehow encouraged his wife to kill herself, but to do it whilst he was outside creating an alibi for himself. And there’s nothing at all from the blood test results to indicate that either of the victims was drugged?’
‘Nothing. A case like that, on a Sunday afternoon, inevitably led to delays. We were lucky to get a pathologist there at all. Ordinarily there wouldn’t have been one available.’
‘What about fingerprints on the knife? What do they show?’
‘I’m still waiting on those results.’
‘You’ve probably already studied the Act yourself, but if not, to get a successful prosecution we would need to show that the suspect performed an act capable of encouraging or assisting the suicide or attempted suicide of another person, and that the suspect's act was intended to encourage or assist suicide or an attempt at suicide.
‘So in summary, Ted, as you have nothing showing up on the bloods, no witness, no fingerprints yet, and your potential suspect outside with the police at the time of death, you can see the difficulties, I’m sure. Are you absolutely certain about the timing of the death? Could the lady have killed herself, if indeed she did, earlier, when the husband was in the house? Before the police came to break in?’
‘Both the first responders, who are experienced officers, say it looked as if she had died moments before they gained access. The body was still warm to the touch and the blood from the wound hadn’t yet started to congeal.’
‘And there’s no way, for example – excuse me if I sound as if I’m telling you how to do your job, but I’m merely covering all bases on which to offer my advice – but could he possibly have stayed inside with the wife, making sure she did the deed, and only hurrying outside at the very last minute when he heard the police arrive?’
‘He would have been taking one hell of a risk, cutting it fine like that. Timing would have been critical, if that really is what happened. I doubt the area car would have arrived on twos for something like this, although they might have had the lights on. I doubt they’d have used the siren on a Sunday afternoon in a quiet residential area. But that’s something we can at least look into, and it gives us one more thing to check before we come back to you for a definite decision.’
‘From all you’ve told me so far, and going on my initial scan read of the file, I’d be inclined to say this sounds like something which needs an inquest to determine. I certainly don’t see you having the shadow of a case against the husband at present.
‘Let’s talk again tomorrow, see if either of us has anything further to add. If I had to second guess it, which I don’t normally like to do, I would see this having a murder-suicide verdict returned by an inquest jury with no further action required from your side.’
Ted agreed with her. She was thinking along exactly the same lines as he was. Now all he had to do was to persuade Steve that there really was nothing more they could do with the case and he needed to let it go.
Chapter Twenty-six
Ted was about to go and see who was in, to report on his discussion with the prosecutor, when his computer pinged and he found the results of the fingerprint analysis on the knife recovered from the scene, where it had been found still in the woman’s chest.
No surprises there. The last prints on the handle were those of the wife herself. The husband had willingly provided his for elimination purposes. There was a smudged one, most probably one of his, close to the hilt. Blurred, and not enough of a match to be of any evidential use. Unless he was never involved in any cooking or washing up in the house, it would be unusual not to find some indication that he had handled the knife at some point.
Without anything else to back it up, Ted knew that they stood no chance of making any kind of a case based on one partial smudged print.
He went to find Jo first. Steve was at his desk working but studiously ignoring Ted, although he had returned his greeting first thing. There were clearly some bridges to be built there, and the news Ted was going to have to give him wasn’t going to help with that.
‘NFA pending the inquest then? Do you want me to let the husband know that he can go back to the house whenever he wants to?’ Jo asked him. ‘Although I can’t imagine him wanting to go back there to live. Perhaps he’ll put it on the market and get somewhere else. Shall I tell Steve or will you do it?’
‘Let’s get everyone together at the end of the day and tell them all then. He’s not going to be happy so we need to find him something else to start work on straight away to keep his mind off it.’
‘Oh, I think we can rely on the local scallies not to leave us short of work.’
Steve listened to the news without comment, before they all finished for the day, his expression impossible to read. Ted had found time earlier to talk to Bill about him.
‘There’s not enough beer in any Stockport pub to compensate me for the horrors of a Sunday in a garden centre,’ Bill had complained. ‘I even put up with us having our dinner there because I thought Steve might talk to me a bit more over a meal. I should have known better. I’ve interviewed some hard cases, Ted, but Steve can be like a Trappist monk in comparison. I did try, though, I really did, so you still owe me that pint or three. And don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him, as best I can.’
* * *
‘For god’s sake, woman, it doesn’t matter what you wear. It’s not you he wants there. It’s me. I’m the one he looks up to. The one he aspires to be like. What have you ever done for him, eh? He wouldn’t even notice if you didn’t turn up. Again. You’ve been letting him down all his life. You’re nothing but one big disappointment to him. And to me.’
She kept her eyes averted from him. Not simply to save herself from looking at the scorn and contempt in his face, but so as not to give him any reason to kick off. If she wasn’t looking at him, he couldn’t accuse her of defying him.
Could he?
‘I just want to be there. To see him in his uniform. I won’t embarrass him. Or you. I promise. I won’t even say anything. I’ll sit quietly. I won’t show either of you up, honestly I won’t.
‘Which of these do you think I should wear?’
She was fiddling with two outfits she’d laid out on the bed. One he’d bought for her for a rare occasion he’d wanted to take her out to show her off to work colleagues, when it suited his agenda. The other was one her son liked. He always said it brought out the colour in her eyes, which surprised her. She’d always thought of her eyes as a dull, lifeless, grey colour. Like everything else about her. Dull and drab.
Perhaps he was right. Maybe her son wouldn’t want her there, now he had new friends, and a promising new career beckoning.
The man was shouting now. Mimicking the whine of her voice, like he did.
‘Which one should I wear? You don’t need either of them. Are you deaf as well as stupid? He doesn’t want you there. Neither of us does. Why can’t you get that through your thick head?’
‘I just want to see him ...’ she began, repeating herself. Remembering, too late, how much it annoyed him when she did that.
This time he gripped her, painfully, by the upper arms, his fingernails digging into her soft flesh. He shook her so hard that she felt her teeth clacking together. Then he flung her backwards onto the bed, on top of the clothes lying in readiness. Her head whipped back and connected with the wooden headboard.
He jumped onto the bed on top of her,
straddling her with powerful thighs. Grabbed her by the hair and shook her some more.
‘I’ll show you the fucking photographs if it will stop you whingeing. But what have you ever done to earn the right to be there? You tried to take him away from me, don’t forget. I’ll never forget that. God knows where you thought you were going, or how either of you was going to survive without me.’
He was poking a finger into her breast as he spoke, each jabbing movement sending pain lancing through her body.
‘Where d’you think he’d be now if I’d let you get away with that? Eh? Do you think he’d have got to go to university, living with a single parent in some sordid refuge somewhere? Got through selection? Got into training school? Of course he wouldn’t. It’s me who put him where he is today. It’s me who’s earned the right to see the results of all that hard work I’ve done with him. Not you. He doesn’t want you.
‘All you did was push him out into the world. You’ve never done a thing for him since, except embarrass him and stand in his way. And give him your pathetically weak genes, making him a target for the bullies.
‘But at last he’s getting somewhere, learning to stand up for himself. The only way you’ll ever be any use to him is dead. At least that way I could give him the insurance money to start out in his new life.’
The hand which had been stabbing at her now moved to grip her round the throat. She started to panic, thrashing about, her legs kicking the carefully prepared clothes on the bed, crumpling them up.
She saw the familiar gleam in his eyes as he noticed her fear. Tried desperately to pull herself back from the brink. Not to show him the terror which was building inside her. His lips twisted in a sick smile.
His voice was much quieter now. Hoarse.
‘You whore. You never could resist a bit of rough, could you? It turns you on, doesn’t it? The pain. You pretend you don’t like it. But I can see it in your eyes. Every time. You love it. You’re gagging for it.’