by Carol Wyer
‘Hanging on to my surname then, are you? I thought you’d have dumped it along with everything else.’
Natalie didn’t bite at the barbed comment. She nodded at Murray who set off the recorder and made necessary introductions. Once he’d finished, Natalie began. ‘DS Anderson has explained why we’d like to talk to you. We have reason to believe you know Sasha and Gemma Barnes, and that you had several conversations with both of them at Chancer’s Bar over the last month.’
He nodded wearily. ‘I did.’
‘Why did you start going to Chancer’s? It’s quite a way from where you live.’
‘You want me to be honest?’
‘I need you to be honest.’
He took a lengthy inhalation and released the air slowly, his chest and face deflating like a collapsing balloon. He stared at the table for a few moments then said, ‘I’ve been struggling with coming to terms with Leigh’s murder and the breakdown of my marriage. I began visiting bars in Samford because my estranged wife had left me and moved there. I got it into my head she would be out and about in the town, probably with her new boyfriend, and for some unfathomable reason I had to see that with my own eyes. What started as a thought consumed me and I wanted to see her living a new life, able to move on when I couldn’t, because I convinced myself if I saw that, it would help me to move on too. I needed to see it, because I was imprisoned in some appalling limbo unable to find my way out.
‘Anyway, I visited several bars and pubs but didn’t spot her and gradually realised the idea was utterly stupid – it was the act of a desperate man who had lost his way. I gave up and had a drink at Chancer’s Bar. The bar staff there were friendly and I found myself opening up a little to Sasha, who was kind to me. I appreciated that compassion and I returned on several occasions to drown my sorrows and to feel more human, more normal. Is that honest enough for you, DI Ward?’
In spite of his frosty words, she maintained her professional demeanour – her front. David had surprised her. She hadn’t had him down as a bitter and jealous man who would hunt her down and spy on her. This was a side she hadn’t seen before. Was David capable of turning jealousy into hate? Murray hadn’t flinched at David’s revelation that Natalie had a new man in her life, and she wondered how much he knew about her and Mike.
‘Thank you. I need to discuss an incident that occurred last Wednesday, November the fourteenth, at ten thirty at night, when you accosted Sasha Barnes outside Chancer’s Bar.’
His shoulders sagged and the iciness that had pervaded his earlier words disappeared in an instant. ‘I can explain what happened. I made a fool of myself by asking Sasha out and reacting badly when she refused. I’m not proud of myself. I’d been drinking and I was bang out of order. As soon as she drove away, I felt nothing but shame.’
Natalie recognised the sorrow in his eyes. He was ashamed. She’d seen that very look on his face before: when he’d admitted to gambling and when he’d confessed his addiction a second time. What she couldn’t be sure of was whether he was feeling guilty because of how he’d acted in front of Sasha, or because of what he’d done to Gemma.
‘I expect you felt angry at being rejected,’ she said.
‘Don’t put words into my mouth or try to lead me on this. I was upset at her reaction. I’d misunderstood the situation between us and was surprised and upset rather than angry.’
‘According to Sasha you became angry.’
‘It might have come across like that but I hadn’t intended it that way. My pride was bruised. It’s taken a right beating the last few months and it took a lot of effort to conjure up sufficient confidence to even ask her out for a drink. I was… wounded by her rejection.’
‘So much so that you accused her of leading you on and shouted insults at her?’
‘I’m embarrassed to admit I made some ungentlemanly comments, which I immediately regretted. They spurted out in the heat of the moment. I didn’t mean them.’
‘Sasha said she saw you outside her house on Thursday evening before she left for work. Were you there?’
He lowered his head and said, ‘Yes.’
‘Can I ask why you went to her house?’
‘I wanted to apologise for my behaviour the day before but I chickened out and decided to avoid the bar instead. She clearly wasn’t interested in me.’ Natalie looked for any tells. David would often rub his head if he was anxious or hiding a secret, but he remained fixed to his seat, arms hanging limply by his sides – a defeated man.
‘How did you know where she lived?’
His voice dropped. ‘I followed her home one time.’
‘Why? Why on earth did you do that?’ Natalie couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. She no longer understood what made this man tick. He’d become a stranger to her.
‘I was curious about her. I wondered if there was a man in her life.’
‘Why didn’t you simply ask her?’
His words were flat. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking of at the time. My mind has been all over the place the last few months. I suppose it sounds stupid to you, but I wanted to know a little about her before I asked her out.’
‘You followed her to her home. That isn’t simply finding out about somebody. That’s stalking.’
‘I didn’t stalk her. I only followed her to her house once. In hindsight it wasn’t the wisest thing to have done but you have to understand I’ve been under a lot of pressure. I haven’t been thinking straight.’
Natalie accepted what he was saying although she was staggered by this news. Stalking women, verbally abusing them. Who was this man? Nevertheless, she moved on. ‘David, where were you Friday evening between six and eight?’
He blinked and studied his hands before answering. Natalie wondered why he was taking so long to respond. ‘David?’
A sigh. ‘I was asleep.’
‘You were asleep at six in the evening?’
‘I had nothing else to do. Josh was out at his girlfriend’s house.’
She wanted to shake him and remind him he was still a father to Josh, who didn’t deserve to come home to find his father in such a self-pitying state. He should be holding down a job and moving forward with his life, as difficult as it was, like she was doing. Instead she asked, ‘Can anyone vouch for you?’
‘I was alone.’
‘What time did you wake up?’
‘I don’t know. Late.’ He lowered his head. Natalie couldn’t establish whether he was embarrassed by his confession or hiding something.
‘Let’s move on to Gemma. You spoke to her at the bar?’
‘A couple of times.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘She was studying languages and we got on to German and how difficult the grammar can be. She was interested in my job,’ he said, then gave a bitter laugh. Natalie understood. Losing the job he’d loved as a translator for a law firm had been a terrible blow, one from which he’d never fully recovered. His efforts to try his hand as an online translator hadn’t provided him with a decent enough income or challenge, and slowly but surely, every shred of self-belief had been eroded. He’d have seen Gemma as somebody who had a bright future. Maybe that had riled him.
‘Did she discuss what she wanted to do after she left university?’
‘She did. She had quite a few ideas; one was to work for a foreign embassy abroad in either Russia or Germany.’
‘As a translator?’
‘Yes, as a translator.’ His face seemed to grow longer and leaner, almost melting with misery.
Natalie sensed his unhappiness and moved on. ‘Did you ever see or meet Gemma outside of the bar?’
‘Never.’
‘You didn’t arrange to meet her at all?’
‘No.’
Even though the note from the secret admirer now appeared to bear little relevance to the case, she still had to ask the question. ‘Did you ever write to Gemma?’
‘Absolutely not. I’m not responsible for what happened to
Gemma. Please believe me.’
She wanted to but the David she knew wouldn’t have tailed a woman who was almost fifteen years his junior back to her house, or got drunk every day and neglected his son, or frequented bars or dozed off on an evening. That man wasn’t the sorry specimen who now sat in front of her, and on top of it all, she had to follow procedure. David’s whereabouts couldn’t be confirmed, and although she doubted he’d be callous enough to inflict such harm on a young woman, she couldn’t fully dismiss the idea. He’d been drinking even more than usual, and drunken people weren’t always in control of their actions. She’d borne witness to his moods and to a violent anger that had erupted following the death of their daughter. He’d thrown her out of their home with such venom she’d wondered if he would harm her…
Josh races from the room, unable to share his feelings with his parents. His face is a mixture of shock and sorrow and sobs rack his body.
Natalie can hardly breathe but she makes after him only to be halted by David, whose voice drips poison.
‘Leave him!’
‘But he needs me.’
‘No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t need you and neither do I. We needed you but you chose to leave us. We all needed you but you weren’t around for us.’
She is aghast. ‘I was. You know I was. Admittedly not all the time, but somebody had to—’
He interrupts her with, ‘Work. Somebody had to work. Yes, I know. I’ve had it rammed down my throat ever since I made the mistake of gambling our savings. You never let me forget and you treated me with disdain afterwards. I probably deserved it but the children didn’t and they needed you. The truth is that you really went to work because you loved your job more than being around here, around me and all this reality. You took on extra shifts not so much because we needed extra cash but because you wanted to, so you could be at work – closer to Mike.’
‘That’s not true! I only took them on because we had bills to pay. Mike wasn’t the reason.’
He silences her with a look. ‘We needed you here. Leigh needed you, especially after what happened earlier this year. Running away was her attempt to get us to fix things between us, but you didn’t try.’
Tears tumble as she speaks. ‘I did try.’
‘Not hard enough!’ he bellows. ‘This is on your shoulders, Natalie. This is all your fault.’
She starts to speak but again he stops her, this time by raising his hand in the air. ‘You wanted to leave, so go on. You’ve got the keys to your new life. Get out now before I kick you out of the door myself.’
‘You’re upset…’
‘Too true I’m upset. Our daughter is dead and it’s because some fucking crackpot had it in for you but chose instead to murder our daughter. I can’t look at you. I can’t be with you. Just go.’
‘What about Josh?’
‘I’ll look after him.’
‘David—’
‘We’re done. Get out.’ He turns his back to her and stumbles out of the room.
There was a tap at the door and Murray left to answer it. David took the opportunity to address Natalie quietly. ‘Help me, Natalie!’ he pleaded.
She couldn’t turn her back on him but what if he was guilty? Had she the strength to bring down her own husband?
Murray returned, grim-faced. Natalie read the note he’d been given, folded it in half and said, ‘We will probably want to talk to you again but you can go for now. DS Anderson will arrange transport to take you home.’
With both men gone she read the note again and took a few seconds to digest what was written. A body identified by her student card as matching the description of Fran Ditton had been discovered in an abandoned doorway in Samford, under a pile of blankets. Natalie was probably no longer dealing with a one-off attack. She was hunting for a killer who might well have other victims in their sight.
Chapter Sixteen
Sunday, 18 November – Early Evening
The pathologist, Pinkney Watson, returned the rectal thermometer to his medical bag and rose from the shop doorway where he’d been stooped.
‘I can’t determine exact cause of death,’ he said. ‘There are no ligature marks or defence wounds or any sign she was attacked. I have my suspicions but I need to examine her before I can be more certain.’
Natalie tore her eyes away from Fran Ditton’s pale body and the tattoo of the escaping bird that seemed even darker against her white flesh. In the evening light, the girl’s face had softened and Natalie saw the beauty that Fran had tried hard to disguise with her scowls and aggressive attitude. In death, she appeared much smaller, younger and more fragile than she had in life. She’d been discovered under a pile of frayed blankets, next to a stack of grubby belongings in tatty plastic bags. Their owner, one of the many homeless people in Samford, was sitting inside an ambulance, a blanket over his shoulders, deep in conversation with Murray and Lucy, who’d joined them from Wolseley Bridge where she’d been talking to Ocean. He’d come across Fran’s body when he’d returned to his spot in the wide doorway of the abandoned shop.
‘What are your thoughts, Pinkney?’ Natalie wouldn’t ordinarily press a pathologist because she understood the complexity of their occupation. Cause of death was not always apparent, but if Pinkney said he had suspicions, she knew he would share them with her. Pinkney hesitated before responding.
‘There’s no sign of staining or inflammation around the lips or mouth, or any obvious smell, but there is slight damage to the membranes in the oesophagus, which might have been caused by something she ingested.’
‘Poison?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Do you think she took her own life?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Have you any idea of the time of death?’
‘Rigor has only recently begun to take place in the smaller muscles in the face and neck, and her body temperature has lowered by three degrees. In all likelihood, she probably died only a couple of hours ago. Mike, what do you think?’
Natalie hadn’t been aware of Mike, who was standing behind her. ‘Sorry, I was miles away. I didn’t register you were there.’
‘Not surprising. I was taken aback too when we first arrived. There’s no sign of a struggle or any indication she was dragged to this spot, so she either came here alone and died, or she died and was transported here. Had it not been for Evan returning to his pitch unexpectedly, she’d have remained undiscovered until much later tonight. Normally, he only sleeps here but today he felt unwell and returned. Got the shock of his life.’
‘I can’t imagine why she’d come here to this doorway and kill herself,’ said Natalie.
‘I’m not sure she did. We’ve taken away some empty bottles – vodka, gin and beer. Evan thinks they all belong to him but he isn’t sure. We’ve sent them all for testing,’ said Mike.
‘Pinkney, have you anything else that might help us work out what’s happened here?’
‘I’m afraid not. There are no wounds, bruises or marks on her body. I’m hoping the post-mortem will yield an answer. Mike, have you finished? Can I take her back to the laboratory?’
‘Sure.’
Natalie took a step back as the team was sent in to remove Fran. ‘What the hell has happened here? First Gemma, then another housemate, Hattie, disappears, and now yet another housemate, Fran, is dead. Was there a suicide note on the body, Mike?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Then this might well be connected to Gemma’s death. I can’t see how, unless Fran was responsible for what happened to Gemma, and when Hattie threatened to expose her, she killed herself. That makes some sort of sense although it’s only conjecture on my part.’
Mike agreed with her and added, ‘At the moment, that’s as good a theory as any because we’ve found nothing to suggest somebody killed her here. Let’s see if there’s anything on or in the bottles we sent for examination to support it. The crime scene photos were emailed directly to you and should be in your inbox.’
�
�Will you send someone to her room to check if she left a suicide note there?’
‘Absolutely. I’ll arrange that.’ His eyes fixed on hers for a long moment and she found herself wishing they were somewhere else, somewhere private, where she could tell him that she was almost ready to move forwards. She gave a smile of thanks that was intended to say what she couldn’t at present.
‘Have you had a chance to look at that anonymous note from the secret admirer we found in Gemma’s room?’
‘We finished examining it a few minutes ago. We only found Gemma’s and her mother’s prints on it.’
‘No other prints?’
‘None.’
‘Then whoever wrote it really wanted to keep their identity a secret.’
‘Think it’s relevant?’
‘I really don’t know. Sasha was certain there were no more letters, and in light of what has happened to Fran, it seems even less relevant, but would you please check in case there’s a similar note in Fran’s room?’
‘I’ll get an officer onto it and let you know the second we find anything.’ He gave an imperceptible nod and let his eyes rest a few seconds on her face once more. She held his gaze and thanked him before turning away to observe as officers laid out a body bag on the pavement in front of the doorway ready to receive Fran’s body. It was suddenly too much. Here was yet another young woman who would never see the sunshine again, who would never grow up to love, live and have a family of her own. Cold fingers curled around her heart. The sudden sadness that accompanied the thought drained her, and she fought it by focusing on her surroundings. This whole area was filled with vacant premises, relics of a vibrant high street that had closed down after the supermarkets and retail parks grew in popularity. It was one of the shabbiest streets in Samford, a ten-minute journey by car from where Fran had lived and five minutes from the university. Ripped posters advertising a funfair from 2017 sat cheek by jowl with flyers advertising pop-up carpet and garden furniture sales and lost pets. Lanky weeds grew through the cracked paving slabs, and discarded cigarette packets, squashed drinks cartons and balled takeaway packaging had collected in every doorway. Fran would soon be transported away, and once the police and forensic team moved off, there’d be nothing left to show she’d even been here. Why did she come here to die? She took one last look at the high cheekbones and pallid face and spun on her heel. It wasn’t Fran she saw. It was Leigh.