‘Nothing yet.’ When Dan looked confused, she said, ‘The canal boat. Don’t you see? I went to the canal yesterday, and it’s a long, easy run from the narrowboat marina I saw him at on Sunday. When we watched the footage of New Year’s Eve before, we were looking out for Sean’s car. We hadn’t thought of a simpler explanation, which is that he wasn’t in a car at all, but on a boat. How could you ever trace where it had been? No traffic cameras. No number-plate recognition cameras. Away from CCTV. Just a boat drifting along a quiet canal.’
Dan grinned. ‘Oh, you’re good.’
‘We should be looking for that, the boat.’
Dan leaned forward. ‘And what have you found?’
‘This is the disk that gives the best view of the canal.’
‘How far have you got into the footage?’
‘Just started it. I was trying all the different disks, and this one has a view of the canal facing towards where Sean keeps his boat.’
She pressed play.
As they watched the familiar scene, the town centre at night, Jayne pointed to a narrow silver ribbon at the top of the screen. ‘That’s the canal.’
The water glinted in the moonlight, different to the dirty orange of the streetlights below.
They both remained silent as they watched. They drank their teas and concentrated on the screen, on the small blurs of people in the distance and the flashes of headlight beams. Fifteen minutes passed before Jayne rose up.
‘There,’ she said, her voice filled with excitement, looking around to Dan.
In the far distance, a small round light moved towards the camera, just a speck, but its progress was unmistakable. Slow and steady. They were transfixed, watching it approach the camera.
Dan stood up and peered at the screen. ‘Lizzie was killed around here.’ He pointed to a spot obscured by the large stone buildings opposite the pub. ‘Look at the time.’ He tapped the digits in the top corner of the screen. ‘That was when Lizzie was being assaulted in the pub car park. The boat is heading right for the place where she died.’
Another few minutes passed and there was no sound in the apartment apart from their breathing.
The boat stopped. The beam of the headlight was just strong enough to pick out the canal banks.
‘He might be getting out,’ Jayne said. ‘Hiding on the bank.’
It stayed for a few minutes longer, before the beam was turned off.
‘It’s mooring,’ Dan said.
‘I can see why the police missed it. We can only see it because we’re looking for it.’
‘But we don’t know whose boat it is.’
‘Does that matter?’
‘It’s too vague to be useful in court.’
‘Has Peter ever mentioned a boat?’
‘He’s hardly mentioned anything. Just some ramblings about the darkness, how it hid so much and made the night special.’
‘He should have noticed a boat coming towards him. You could ask him. It gives us another suspect.’ She smiled. ‘And Sean Martin has a boat.’
‘We’ll go to the canal on the way to court and work out how far along the boat was. You’re right – if I can diminish the DNA evidence, the presence of another suspect might help him. Particularly if it’s someone the public have mixed opinions about. But I know one thing: Peter is going to have to start talking.’
Forty-six
Jayne put a finger to her lips as Dan followed her into her apartment building.
‘They’re not early risers in here,’ she said.
‘Yeah, I can smell the late nights.’
Her smile told him that she knew what he meant. The smell of cannabis was strong, drifting up from the flat below hers, grown in the tenant’s bedroom under bright lights to maintain his own habit and to deal small amounts to people he knew.
‘He knows the police will kick his door in one day, but he’s normally too stoned to care.’
‘Don’t you ever fancy getting a bag from him? Might be a cheaper night in than wine.’
She shook her head. ‘I prefer alcohol, but it keeps him quiet. I’d rather live above a pothead than a drunk.’
They moved quietly upstairs and then into her apartment. Jayne went into her bedroom with a shout that she was having a shower. As the water started to run, Dan went into the living room and sat down.
As he looked around, it struck him how the place still didn’t feel like a home. It was as if she’d never really planned to stick around. No pictures. No personal touches. He guessed that it wasn’t a conscious choice, just a desire not to settle. He knew she was in Highford because she’d run away after her own acquittal. She’d visited her hometown since and he wondered for a moment if she was thinking of going back for good. The fear of what her ex-boyfriend’s family might do had eased now. She’d stuck with her changed name, but she could revert back easily enough and return to her old life.
He didn’t like the thought of that. He enjoyed having her around. He may have just lost Pat. He didn’t want to lose Jayne too. She brought laughs into his life, even a little bit of chaos sometimes. She brightened him.
He thought of Pat and called Eileen. It went to voicemail. He left a message. ‘It’s Dan. Have you heard anything? Please call me.’
The shower stopped as he hung up. He went to the window and stared out. Highford. It was his town, and he was being selfish. It wasn’t her home. He could hardly blame her if she left. All he knew was he didn’t want that.
There were footsteps behind him. Jayne came into the room with wet hair, tucking her shirt into her trousers, looking around for her shoes.
‘Come on, it’ll dry when we’re out.’ She found her shoes behind a chair. ‘Canal first, then breakfast.’
The roads were getting busier as they stepped outside, as the early morning drifted into rush hour. They drove down the hill and stopped in a small car park by a stretch of canal, close to a cinema and a collection of American-style restaurants.
Dan was about to get out of the car when Jayne leaned across and put her hand on his. ‘Thank you for last night.’
‘I was out of order.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I shouldn’t have started what we did. And afterwards? I treated you like a possession, some precious object I had to protect, while you’re one of the toughest people I know.’
‘But you did it for the right reason: because you care. Sometimes, that’s enough, and I didn’t want to go home with those men. I was doing it to spite you, which wasn’t even fair on him, even if he was a complete tool.’ Her smile grew and she blushed. ‘I enjoyed the kiss, if it makes you feel better.’
He wanted to hold her, feel the warmth of her body again, but he checked himself. Not here, not like this.
He reached for the door handle.
They stepped out onto concrete and cut through a gap in a wall to get to the towpath. The water was still, insects flicking at the surface. A duck glided on the water with a line of ducklings trailing behind her, and small birds swooped from nearby bushes.
‘This is where I came yesterday,’ Jayne said, and she pointed along the sweep of the canal. ‘The boat was coming from that way.’
Dan thought back to the footage. ‘The boat stopped just before it got to that footbridge.’
Jayne frowned. ‘That’s what? About fifty metres away? It didn’t come far enough.’
‘Perhaps Lizzie ran away once Sean jumped off the boat, and he chased her?’
Dan thought about that but then realised something else. ‘We can’t prove it was Sean’s boat anyway. It was just a distant speck on the footage.’
‘Can’t we still use it though?’
‘It depends on how far we go with it. We can ask whether the police traced the boat owner, and the answer will be no, because I bet they never looked. It’ll give me something for the closing speech, which is more than I have now.’
Jayne sat down on the low wall. ‘If Peter did it, because the evidence sounds like he d
id, does it matter whether we can’t prove anything against Sean Martin? At least some justice will be done if Peter is put away for it.’
‘Pat is still missing. For as long as it stays like that, it matters.’
‘Don’t let it blind you, Dan. Peter needs you like I needed you once. For his sake, keep your focus.’
‘That’s always my focus, but I swear to you, if Sean Martin had anything to do with Pat’s disappearance, I’ll make it my business to make him pay. Come on, let’s go. I’ve got a court case to defend.’
Forty-seven
As the courthouse loomed ahead, Jayne said, ‘How are we playing this?’
‘One last crack at getting Peter to talk. It’s today or never.’
‘And me?’
‘Stay with me. You’re my investigator, and I need your input.’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Tired, and smelling like an old wine barrel.’
As they got closer to the courthouse, Murdoch was outside, puffing on a cigarette, as always.
‘Any updates on Pat?’ Dan asked, as they got closer.
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m sorry. He’s not on any train CCTV boarding at Greencroft, and the car park isn’t covered by cameras.’ She leaned in closer. ‘And Sean Martin had nothing to do with it. He’s got an alibi. He was at a book signing all evening, and his car was seen on CCTV heading out of Highford and towards home minutes after he left the venue.’
‘I’m not finished with him. His boat is the key.’
‘His boat? Why?’
‘On the footage from when Lizzie was murdered, a boat appears in the distance and then the light goes off.’
‘How do you know it was Sean’s?’
‘I don’t, yet, but if there’s anywhere to search after today, start with his boat.’
He headed into the court building. As he waited at the security barrier, he saw Bill ahead. Once he was through, Bill marched over towards them.
‘Any new information, Mr Grant?’
He shook his head. ‘Sorry, just as it was, but stick with the case, Bill. You’ve been helpful. I just wish I could do more for you.’
‘That’s all right. At least you listened.’ As Dan carried on past him, Bill shouted out, ‘Good luck.’
Dan didn’t respond. Lizzie’s family and friends were ahead. He didn’t want it to seem like a game.
Dan pushed the door that took him down the stairs and towards the court cells, Jayne following.
‘Will they let me in?’ she said.
‘You’re with me. It’ll be fine.’
The stairs to the cells echoed as they walked down, Dan’s stomach rolling, unsure whether it was tension or the effects of the night before. He was shown into the small booth, the guards nonplussed by Jayne’s presence. She sat next to Dan, so squeezed in that their knees touched. Peter’s arrival was heralded by the usual jangle of keys.
When he sat down, he looked to Jayne and then back to Dan, his eyes wide with excitement. ‘I heard about your boss. Has he turned up yet?’
Dan clenched his jaw. Had Pat’s disappearance become just common gossip already?
‘Let’s focus on your case, shall we? I’ve been looking into you, Peter. Do you want to know what I’ve discovered?’
Peter sat back, his eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Any guesses?’
He shook his head but stayed silent.
‘You should have. I’ve already asked you about why you told Pat Molloy you were responsible for Rosie Smith’s murder. You freaked out. We carried on digging though.’
‘We?’
Jayne leaned in to the glass. ‘Me too, Peter.’
Dan reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘Pat Molloy made this note when Sean Martin was waiting for his murder trial.’ He unfolded it. ‘Can you guess what it says?’
‘Why don’t you just tell me?’ His voice was quieter.
Dan read it out. ‘That’s Pat’s note from when you went to see him. You wouldn’t talk to me about why you confessed to Rosie’s murder. Have you had a rethink?’
‘I didn’t confess. I said I was responsible. That’s different.’
‘How is it?’
Peter shook his head. ‘I’m not talking about it.’
‘You are, Peter, because today’s the day. You can’t keep up the silent act. Let me ask you one thing: did you kill Rosie Smith?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know who did?’
Peter didn’t answer. He stared at Jayne and Dan, then began to shake his head. ‘No, no, no, no.’
‘I kept on digging, Peter, so you can imagine how surprised I was to find out that you were friends with Sean.’
Peter’s eyelids flickered.
‘Jayne was asking around your old neighbourhood. Tell him what you found out?’
‘Almost in-laws,’ she said.
Peter sat back and folded his arms. He glared at her, his lips pursed, until he said, ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’
Jayne met his gaze but lowered her voice and gave a sympathetic smile. ‘We just want to help you, but you’ve got to help us too.’
‘I’m not discussing it.’
‘Why not? We’ve found out a lot already. I’ve spoken to Emily.’
His eyes widened and then filled with tears. ‘How is she?’
‘She’s fine, and she wants what’s best for you. She still cares.’
A pause, and then, ‘Does she?’
‘And do you remember Claire Watkins? I spoke to one of her friends too.’
His hand shot to his mouth. He blinked a few times and tears ran down his cheeks.
‘What is it, Peter?’
He didn’t respond. Dan and Jayne let the silence grow. His hand stayed over his mouth as his silent tears turned into steady sobs.
‘Poor Claire,’ he said, eventually.
Dan and Jayne exchanged glances.
Dan was about to speak but Jayne held up her finger to silence him. ‘Tell us, Peter. Now’s the time.’
There was a rattle of keys behind him. The security guard said, ‘The judge is waiting for you, Mr Grant.’
Dan waved him away. ‘Not yet.’
‘What do I tell him?’
‘You tell him not yet.’ His entire focus was on Peter.
Peter dropped his hands and wiped his eyes. He took a few deep breaths and his whole body sagged. ‘It started with Sean.’
‘What did?’ Jayne said.
Peter stared at his hands for a few seconds before answering. ‘It was just daft stuff. He’s older than me, and I’m… I’m quiet. Sean was different. He seemed clever, worldly.’
‘How?’
‘He was talented. He could draw, and would copy out these really great comic covers, huge canvases, and frame them. And he was knowledgeable.’ Peter seemed more animated. ‘About politics. About the world. That’s how we’d spend our weekends, drinking and talking politics. He’d be the one talking, anyhow. I’d listen and learn. You know how it is when you meet someone who is so clever, and you just can’t help being dragged along by it all. People round here thought he was too far up himself, that he thought he was better than everyone else.’
‘Is that why you tried to confess? To help him out?’
Peter snorted a laugh. ‘You can never understand.’
Jayne gestured towards Dan. ‘Help us.’
Peter stayed silent, so Dan said, ‘Remember the questions I asked yesterday, about the women who have gone missing? That’s a line of defence we might have, that there’s a serial killer stalking the canals, but if the jury believe me there’s a risk that they’ll think that person is you.’ Dan leaned forward, drawing Peter in. ‘I don’t think you’ve got it in you, but is that how you want to go down, as someone who murdered lots of people? A sadistic butcher?’
‘That isn’t me.’ Peter’s eyes were wide.
‘Tell me the story then.’
Peter looked down at the des
k. His fingers tapped on the surface, and at first Dan thought Peter was getting angry, and braced himself for an explosion of rage or another sudden retreat, but then he noticed more tears.
‘Peter?’
He gulped and wiped his eyes. ‘People can’t think I’m a monster. I’m no monster. Do you believe that?’
‘How can I believe you when you hold so much back? Now, it’s time for the truth.’
Peter nodded to himself for a few seconds and then it was as if the air was sucked out of the room when he said, ‘I killed Lizzie, and I can’t stand it, but you’ve got to know the full story.’
Forty-eight
Everyone looked round at Dan and Jayne as they emerged into the busy court corridor – Lizzie’s family, her friends, Bill. Dan didn’t pay them any attention. Instead, he stormed into the robing room, Jayne rushing to catch up.
Once they were inside, he kicked a chair. ‘Fuck!’
‘Dan, calm down.’
‘Calm down? You heard him. After all his silence, he was motivated by one thing: too cowardly to admit what he’d done.’
She held her hands out as he paced, his hands in his hair, his cheeks flushed. ‘Dan, you’ve got to hold it together. You’ll be back in court soon, and whatever you’ve just been told will be part of the case. You’ve got to deal with it.’
‘How? Go on, help me out here. You’ve suddenly turned into the genius.’ He kicked the chair again, this time sending it clattering into a bookcase.
‘I’m not your enemy here.’ Her voice was soft, soothing.
Dan leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed, and took some deep breaths. ‘What do I do?’
Jayne took his hands in hers. ‘You do your job. It’s what you’re good at.’
The door opened. It was the usher. ‘Mr Grant, the judge wants to see you.’
‘Aye, I bet he does.’
As the door closed, Jayne said, ‘The reason you kept me sane was because of your strength. That’s what you meant to me. None of this is of your making. Peter has let you down by not being honest with you. So what if the judge bawls you out? Can he really say you were at fault?’
Dan nodded to himself, still breathing hard. ‘Thank you.’
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