by Carol Wyer
Natalie watched with him, but there was nothing to indicate who had driven the car out of the accountants’ car park. ‘Okay, show me the other thing.’
The other thing was the reason she’d come to Eastview Avenue. Ian rewound the footage to Saturday afternoon at twenty past four. ‘There he is.’ Natalie watched as Lennox’s Saab appeared in sight and parked opposite Hattie’s car.
‘What time does he leave?’
‘A couple of minutes after five.’
‘Why didn’t he mention seeing her car parked there when we asked him if he knew her whereabouts? That young man has definitely been lying to us. I’ll see what Forensics have found. Any news from Lucy?’
‘She’s still talking to people whose properties overlook this car park to see if anyone saw anything unusual over the weekend. Some of the houses have been converted into flats and there are more people to question than we first thought.’
‘Wind up here then and head back, and take that footage back with you. We’ll need it for evidence.’
Natalie left the building. It was only a quick saunter up the road to the house where Gemma, Fran and Hattie had lived. The search had intensified and more white vans had appeared, parked close to number 53. Natalie also caught sight of a bent figure in a pink woollen hat, arranging a large bunch of red flowers beside the front wall. She headed across the road to Rhiannon.
‘Oh, hi. I was leaving these for Fran. That’s okay, isn’t it?’ Rhiannon’s face was ghostly pale. Several angry red pimples were scattered like freckles over and around her nose. Without make-up, Rhiannon was a very plain-faced girl with sparse eyelashes and even sparser eyebrows. She propped the bunch of deep-red carnations against the wall. Natalie saw there was a card, a simple card with Fran’s name on it and a heart underneath. There was nothing for either Gemma or Hattie. The girl stood up, eyes trained on the flowers. ‘I want to tell you something.’
‘About Fran?’
‘No, it’s about Hattie. It might not be important but I still think you should know about it.’ She heaved a long sigh and faced Natalie.
‘What do you want to tell me?’
‘Saturday evening, I was driving through campus and saw her outside the science department block with Lennox.’
‘What time would this have been?’
‘It was about half past five.’
‘When I asked you if you knew where Hattie was, you didn’t tell me about this.’
‘It didn’t seem important, and you asked if I knew where she was, and I didn’t.’
‘What were they doing? Talking? Arguing?’
Her face scrunched up as she thought. ‘I can’t be sure but it looked intense… They were facing each other… and Hattie looked like she might have been shouting at him…’ She let out a rush of air. ‘I’m sorry. I really don’t know.’
It was something. They now knew where Hattie had been instead of at her arranged meeting with Natalie. Had Lennox found out about it and prevented her from divulging the scam? ‘Did Fran talk to you about a dating website – Special Ones?’
‘No.’ A cloud flittered across the girl’s face.
‘I need you to be completely honest with me. I understand she was your friend but you can’t keep any secrets. Did Fran tell you anything about a catfishing scam?’
Rhiannon looked left and right before she spoke. ‘You mean the thing Lennox was up to?’
‘What do you know about it?’
‘He and Fran got drunk one night and he told her he’d come up with a stupid scheme to make some money. That was to do with a dating website. Is that what you meant? He thought Fran would find it funny that he’d used Gemma’s photo on the fake profile. Fran didn’t find it funny at all. She told him what he was doing was illegal and he should drop it before he got into trouble.’
Natalie hoped there’d be more but there wasn’t. ‘Did Fran ever mention sleeping with Lennox?’
Rhiannon made a gagging sound. ‘No way! She wouldn’t ever have slept with him.’
‘But she got drunk with him.’
‘That’s different. I drink with my housemates but I wouldn’t sleep with any of them. Fran didn’t fancy Lennox at all.’
The girl’s version of events conflicted with what Natalie had been told in the interview room. ‘Rhiannon, did Fran discuss her past with you?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘What did she tell you?’
‘About how much she hated growing up in a rough area and how she wanted to get away.’
‘She ever mention being part of a street gang?’
‘Like a drug-dealing violent gang?’
‘Something along those lines.’
‘No. She was a member of a local gang of girls when she was younger but left before she got into too much trouble. That was one of the reasons she didn’t want to go back home. A lot of her old friends had become tied up with proper street gangs and she didn’t want to find herself dragged into anything.’
‘Did she discuss her time in a remand centre?’
Rhiannon waved hands in front of her face like Natalie was an annoying fly. ‘She never went to any remand centre. That’s crazy talk. You’re not telling me she was sent to a remand centre, are you?’
‘No, but she told others she had been, and I wondered why she’d do that.’
‘No-oh! That doesn’t sound like Fran at all. She didn’t discuss her old life with anyone apart from me. She had that bird tattoo done to remind her of what she’d escaped. She wouldn’t brag about a thing like that, even if it had happened. She really hated her old life and her mum. That’s why she wanted to stay around here and not go back in the holidays. Maybe she told somebody that as a joke.’
‘Yes. Maybe she did.’ A forensic van drew up and Mike disembarked.
‘I’d like to talk to you some more, maybe later at your house. Would that be possible?’
The girl agreed and trundled down the street, head bowed, reluctant to leave the place where her best friend had lived. Mike was already in protective clothing. He reached into the van to retrieve a metal case containing equipment.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked.
‘Progress. We were sifting through evidence brought in from Eastview Avenue, among which was an empty gin bottle found in the recycling box outside the back door. We’ve found Hattie’s DNA on the bottle label and a trace of her blood, but the bottle’s been wiped clean of prints. I think we might have found the murder weapon.’
‘We always suspected she’d been killed elsewhere and transported to the drama studio.’
‘We’re checking the house. We’ve done a thorough examination of her bedroom and Lennox’s room but there’s nothing to suggest she was killed in either room so we’re moving through the house. I’m going to try the kitchen and sitting room.’
‘Can I join you?’
‘Suit up and come in.’
She took a paper outfit from one of his colleagues and, once dressed, entered the house again. She edged past officers in the hallway and headed for the kitchen. Mike and another officer were examining the area with trained eyes, scouring surfaces and knocks and dents in worn cupboards for traces of blood. Mike’s speciality had been blood spatter analysis before he’d become head of Forensics, and he would often help out in an investigation if there was no other bloodstain pattern expert available.
He crouched in front of a narrow gap between the units and a free-standing cupboard and ran a torch beam between them, picking up every knock and dent. ‘Here!’ A female officer shot forward to examine the minuscule red dots caught in a notch on the side of the pine cupboard. She placed a marker by them.
‘There’s more, down by the side of the cupboard on the floor.’ Natalie came forward and squinted at tiny reddish-brown stains that had sprayed down the side of the cupboard and onto the floor. Mike hunted for more, and when he found none, he asked for the curtains to be closed. Natalie pulled down the kitchen blinds and the room was plunged into gloom. Once her
eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, she moved against the wall.
‘Okay, everyone, stand back,’ he said. She heard rather than saw the efficient puffs of luminol reagent. The luminescence revealed what they’d suspected: a large patch highlighted on the floor near the door that spilt towards the cupboard and units. The attempt to clean up was apparent.
‘Let the light back in.’
Natalie opened the blinds. Without the luminol, it would have been impossible to have guessed what had happened. Somebody had lost a lot of blood in here. Mike was staring at the cupboard and the gap. He took a step backwards and another then came to a halt. He raised and lowered his arm, as if wielding an object, then moved slightly to his left and repeated the action. ‘How tall was Hattie?’ he asked.
‘About five foot seven.’
‘Can you stand there for me?’ he asked Natalie.
She obliged.
‘Face the door.’
‘She was struck on the right-hand side of her head, wasn’t she?’
‘That’s correct.’
Natalie did as she’d been asked. Mike practised his imaginary assault on her.
‘It’s not an exact science, and much depends on whether or not that blood is Hattie’s, but given the extent of damage to Hattie’s head and the size and position of those droplets, I’d say it’s possible she was attacked around about here. The blood would have sprayed out in an arc, largest spots here and tiniest spots further away. The far walls weren’t washed down, so the killer must have concentrated on cleaning up only where they thought all the blood was. I’ll need to perform some detailed measurements to determine blood spatter, run checks on the blood and do a follow-up presumptive test to make sure luminescence was due to the presence of haemoglobin and not down to other oxidising agents.’
‘Hattie could have been killed in this room,’ said Natalie.
Mike looked over at his fellow forensic officer. ‘Run an urgent check on that blood to confirm it belongs to Hattie.’
As the woman collected a sample to test, Mike faced Natalie. ‘If the blood is Hattie’s, your killer either gained entry to this house or lives here.’
‘Excuse me, ma’am. Mike, we found fingerprints in Lennox’s car that match Hattie Caldwell’s and strands of hair. We’ve sent them for analysis.’
‘What colour is the hair?’ asked Natalie.
‘Auburn, ma’am.’
She thought of auburn-haired Hattie in her long skirt and green boots.
‘How soon before you can match the blood and hair to her?’
‘An hour, or maybe less if we rush it,’ said Mike.
‘Rush it, please. I’m going to get Lennox back into the station and I want every scrap of evidence you’ve got to help me nail him.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Wednesday, 21 November – Early Afternoon
Carolyn sat with lips pressed together and her arms folded. Lennox’s mouth was agape. Natalie asked him again.
‘Can you explain why we found DNA and hair belonging to Hattie Caldwell in your Saab?’
His response was a spluttering, ‘Yes… yes, I can. I gave Hattie a lift to the students’ union, last week sometime…Wednesday, I think.’
‘She had her own car. Why would she need a lift from you?’
‘We were both going to the same place. Sometimes we shared lifts. It saves petrol.’
‘You’re telling me that her hair and DNA were found in your car because you gave her a lift to the students’ union?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’ He turned his head sharply to his left and snapped at Carolyn. ‘Can you do anything about this? My mother’s paying you to clear my name and all you’re doing is sitting there.’
Carolyn took a sharp breath and replied quietly, ‘Answer their questions, Lennox, and tell the truth, and I’ll do my job.’
His face turned red. ‘I am telling the truth. I didn’t hurt or kill Hattie.’
Carolyn ignored his outburst and glanced at her wristwatch. ‘DI Ward, please continue.’
Natalie didn’t need asking twice. ‘Do you recognise this bottle?’ The empty gin bottle was in a plastic evidence bag, and Natalie held it with the label facing him.
‘For the recorder, DI Ward is showing Lennox Walsh an empty bottle of gin, item LC127.’
‘It’s a gin bottle.’
‘Have you seen it before?’
‘I don’t think I have.’
‘It was found in the recycling box at your house.’
He glanced at his lawyer again. ‘Everyone in the house chucks stuff in that box. That bottle doesn’t belong to me. Besides, I don’t drink gin. It makes me throw up. I can’t even stand the smell of it. Ask my mother.’
‘Then tell me, who out of your housemates drinks gin?’
‘All of them, I guess, apart from me.’
‘Is there any evidence to prove the bottle was handled by my client?’ asked Carolyn smoothly.
‘No. The prints have been wiped.’
Carolyn unfolded her arms and picked up a silver fountain pen. ‘My client’s fingerprints are not on the bottle?’ She removed the top of her pen slowly and wrote something on her spiral notepad.
‘No, they aren’t.’
‘I see, and have you asked the other member of the house if they recognise the bottle?’
‘We’ll be doing that.’
Carolyn gave a half-smile and wrote something else then said, ‘Okay. You can carry on.’
Natalie turned her attention back to Lennox. ‘I’d like to ask you about Saturday afternoon. Where were you around five thirty?’
‘In the science department.’
‘You can prove that?’
‘I was alone in one of the laboratories, working on my experiment. I used my pass to get in. You can probably find out the exact time from the departmental record.’
‘What time did you finish?’
‘I don’t know exactly. Possibly around seven or eight.’
‘You didn’t check to see what time it was?’
‘I didn’t. I went to the students’ union bar for a while and had a drink with some friends but I hadn’t eaten, so I headed into town for a meal and a pint at Wetherspoons.’
‘What did you do afterwards?’
‘I… I went for a couple of drinks.’
‘Alone?’
‘I wasn’t feeling very sociable.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘Random pubs in Samford.’
‘You expect me to believe you headed alone into town, to pubs you can’t name, and that you didn’t know what time it was?’
‘I didn’t much care what time it was and I didn’t want to talk to anyone.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why do you think? Gemma was dead. I was… I don’t know… really low. I needed some space. I needed time out.’
Natalie’s voice dropped to a hiss. ‘Do not – I repeat, do not – mess me about here!’
Lennox dropped his head immediately.
Murray’s voice broke the silence that ensued. ‘I don’t buy any of this. I don’t think you went to any pubs. Where were you? What were the names of these pubs? You’ve been living in Samford long enough to know the names of all of the pubs so stop being a prick.’
‘DS Anderson, I don’t want to have to remind you to watch your language again,’ said Carolyn.
Murray returned her a grimace.
Lennox was rattled. ‘I did go to a couple of pubs and I don’t know their names. The one opposite the chip shop on Windrush Street and another, further along.’
Natalie jumped in with, ‘Okay, let’s say you were in those pubs, and we can try and determine that, what time did you leave them?’
‘Late.’
Natalie wanted to shake the young man to get answers. She’d unconsciously clenched her fists and had to concentrate to relax her fingers and unball them. ‘Let’s go back to the chemistry lab, where you were working on your experiment at or
around five thirty. Did you step outside at all?’
‘Not that I remember.’
‘Did you speak to Hattie outside the science block?’
‘No.’
‘That’s strange because we have a witness who saw you with Hattie around that time. They think you might have been having some sort of disagreement.’
Lennox held up his hands, palms facing her. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t see or speak to Hattie. I swear.’
Carolyn finished making notes and replaced the top of her pen. It made a sharp click as it slotted into position. ‘As you’ve heard, my client has given you answers to your questions. He does not recognise the gin bottle. He denies speaking to, or seeing, Hattie Caldwell, and undoubtedly you will be able to place him inside the chemistry laboratory at the time he was supposedly talking to Hattie Caldwell. His pass will prove he was in the laboratory at the time he said he was. Now, I’d like to make myself quite clear on this matter: I don’t expect you to recall my client unless you have concrete proof he was involved in these crimes. You are wasting our time and yours.’ She picked up her notebook and tucked it and her pen into a large leather bag, then, stooping to lift up her briefcase, she rose from her chair, summoning Lennox as she left.
Natalie let them go. She’d not got a shred of concrete evidence and had been pinning all her hopes on a confession. Lennox was giving them the runaround and had slipped away because she had no admissible evidence to prove he was responsible for killing Hattie in the kitchen on Saturday evening. She resisted the urge to swear loudly.
Murray walloped the desk – a solid, satisfying thump. ‘I’m convinced he’s lying. That’s a load of crap about going to the pubs alone.’
‘I’m with you on this, but it means we have to prove the contrary.’
‘I’ll check out the pubs on that street. We could try asking the mobile provider to track his phone’s movement for that night.’
‘Thanks. I hate all this dicking about but what choice do we have?’
There was a knock at the door and Ian came into the interview room. ‘I was told I’d find you here. I’ve brought Ryan in for interview.’