by James Andrew
‘He’s someone Emma saw from time to time,’ Duggan said.
‘Did she?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, tell me about him.’
‘I warned her against him. But that doesn’t mean she would listen. He lives in Birtleby. He’s single, and he lives with his parents. Age? I don’t know. About mid-twenties?’
Blades was intrigued. ‘So, what’s wrong with him?’
‘Nothing on the surface. But he hates me, and Emma had been seeing me, so she had to watch out for him.’
‘Why does he hate you?’
‘He thinks I got him turfed out of his job.’
Blades found that interesting. ‘And did you?’
‘He works for the Prudential now. I knew him when he was working at Leighton Insurance. He was short with his takings one week and I helped him out.’
‘How could he be short like that?’
‘He’d been dipping into the pot.’
‘So, you helped him out? How?’
‘We know each other. Salesmen often do. He was talking about it and I lent him money to get him out of the jam – which he didn’t pay me back. But his bosses still caught up with him about his accountancy habits. He must have dipped into the till before. He was convinced I must have tipped them a wink. Not that I did. But he’s had it in for me ever since.’
‘And you think he might have taken this out on Emma?’
‘How would I know?’
‘So, why are you telling us this?’
‘You’re making inquiries. If any witnesses come forward saying they’ve seen Emma with him–’
‘We now know something about him. We do. Thank you for that.’
Blades drummed his fingers as he gave this some thought. None of the reports had mentioned anyone called Russell Parkes.
‘What does he look like?’ he asked Duggan.
‘About the same height as me. But he’s got black hair. Thin in build. A bit weedy, to be honest. Oh, and he has a gold tooth. Top right.’
‘That sounds a useful thing to know.’
Blades thought of the variety of witness sightings of Emma that had come in. He was hoping some of them were true, because it would mean she was still alive – and there was one that fitted in with the description Duggan had just given.
‘Thank you for your help, Mr Duggan. It’s appreciated, and, as you’ve changed your statement, that does mean you’ll have to make a new one.’
‘I suppose,’ Duggan replied.
‘If you go with Sergeant Peacock now,’ Blades said, ‘he’ll take it from you.’
Then Peacock led Duggan through to an interview room.
Blades considered Duggan. He had turned up at the station because he wanted to know where the police were with their investigations, and Blades wondered why. He also wondered if Duggan was trying to lead them in a different direction, one away from himself. Why would he do that?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When the results of the test came through, Blades was pleased. Not only was it definitely blood, and mammalian, it was human, which justified the necessary court order.
He, Peacock and numerous constables stripped the Root premises bare. Every floor covering was raised; every floorboard was searched under; walls were tapped for potential hollows; the backs of cupboards were stripped out. The Roots would no doubt be devastated but a woman had gone missing and had probably been murdered. Nothing was gained from most of the destruction they unleashed, but they did strike gold in the bathroom. Peacock’s instincts about the marks on the bath looked to be justified. When the lino on the floor round the bath was raised, more signs of blood were found; there were signs there had been a big blood spillage there, and samples were taken of that blood too. After that, the bath was dismantled, and taken away for further examination. The exact nature of those odd scratch marks would be verified. Piping was uncovered and taken out too.
When the bath drainage was examined, pieces of flesh were found there – and blood in the U-bend. Blood had flowed out of this bath, and, most likely, a lot of it. This was more to be sent for analysis. But it was already obvious, things were much as Blades and Peacock had dreaded. A body had been sawn up in that bath. Disposal of a body was a problem, as Blades knew well. Murder wasn’t difficult to commit, or a person could be killed accidentally, but if someone wanted to cover up afterwards, there was the massive problem of what was to be done with the corpse. This one had been cut up and disposed of in pieces. It was a gruesome and distasteful find, but this was progress. Blades moaned. Peacock tutted. Neither took pleasure in the ground they’d just gained in their investigation, but it did simplify things. They could stop trying to find out where Emma might have travelled to because she hadn’t gone anywhere. Those reports of sightings were so much fiction or wishful thinking, attention-seeking, self-glorifying fantasy, avenues that had to be considered at the time, but which could now be dismissed.
Blades shook his head with the thought of the police time wasted over misleading witness reports. It had felt like wading through mud at the time. At least one avenue of investigation had led somewhere, if exactly where he had not wanted. Blades thought of what he had discovered about Emma so far, her resilience and her independence, and he thought what a dreadful waste it was that she had been reduced to a few scraps of flesh in the drainage of a bath, and a few drops of blood. But this would give direction to the investigations. Circumstances supposed these were the remains of Emma Simpson, and Blades and Peacock were convinced, though Blades realised this might not be held as conclusive proof in a court. If they could find the rest of this body, that might be. But Blades knew that, in attempting to be deceptive, murderers could succeed. If the police did find the rest of Emma, could it be definitely proved, even then, that it was her? Nevertheless, the search would be made. It would involve a lot more man-hours but now they would be easier to justify to Chief Constable Moffat.
Had it been the Roots who had killed her, or Alfred Duggan – or this mysterious Russell Parkes that Alfred Duggan had suggested? If the Roots had been involved, that gave a wide search area. The body could have been disposed of en route to Amelia Root’s sister at Ramshead. That was fifty miles away. They could not possibly cover every inch of that. They would have to look at maps and work out possibilities. Local police knowledge would help. Closer to home, Birtleby would have to be subject to a thorough search. Every back yard and garden, every shed, would have to be looked through. Left luggage lockers too. Beaches would have to be patrolled in case the body had been disposed of at sea and was washed in. And there was always the possibility the body had been packaged and sent somewhere else. That had been done before. Railway transport police would have to be involved. And there was something new to ask the public for help with. Had anyone seen anyone carrying anything suspicious? Or disposing of anything odd?
And who had done this and why? If the body was found, they had to hope that would provide a trail that would help. Blades thought of Duggan. The man looked slippery, but why kill Emma? Emma could do him no damage. Or could she? Had she found out about Duggan’s wife and threatened to tell her? Who knew what dynamic that might result in? The Roots still had to be considered. Every effort had been put into hiding the fact a crime had been committed on their property, which might suggest they were involved. If it was Duggan, why would he take such care over that? To disguise the fact a murder had been committed at all? Perhaps he thought if a body wasn’t found, there was no proof of murder and no one could be convicted. Perhaps he might even be right. Blades was pretty sure it was likely to be either the Roots or Duggan, but he supposed he should find out something about this Russell Parkes. Blades knew that in most murder cases the most obvious suspect turned out to be the murderer. But there was no guarantee this one would follow the pattern.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Blades did not remember Musgrave being as pushy as this during previous cases. He and Peacock had only just stepped outside the Root premises when they met
up with him. It did make Blades rack his brains. Was there something he wanted to tell Musgrave at this stage or not?
‘Is there a body?’ was the question Musgrave asked. Straight to the nub of the matter. Still, it was simple enough to answer that one.
‘No,’ Blades replied.
‘You’re really ripping that place apart now,’ Musgrave said. ‘What’s the lead you’re following?’
‘No lead. Due process,’ Blades said.
‘You wouldn’t get the warrant for all that without something. What’s up?’
‘When we’re ready to release a statement, you’ll be the first to know,’ Blades said, though he did wonder if he should just make one now. The sooner the public was aware there was a body to be found, the sooner someone might come forward with useful information.
‘Is it true Emma Simpson was seeing another man, Russell Parkes?’
That surprised Blades. Where was Musgrave getting his information from? Blades had not known Musgrave to be this sharp before.
‘And he’s another shady character, isn’t he? Wasn’t he dismissed from his job with Leighton Insurance for embezzling?’
‘Where did you get that information from?’ Blades asked.
‘It’s public knowledge,’ Musgrave replied.
‘Maybe,’ Blades said, ‘but how did you come across it?’
‘Asking around,’ Musgrave said.
He had been a busy beaver, Blades thought. And he was doing well. Had he ever considered joining the police force?
‘Are you saying that there’s a reason to suspect Russell Parkes of being responsible for Emma’s disappearance?’ Blades asked.
‘He was seeing her.’
Corroboration of that apparently, Blades thought. ‘Who told you this?’ Blades said.
‘I’ve been interviewing neighbours,’ Musgrave said.
The same neighbours who didn’t tell us a thing about Russell Parkes, Blades thought. What kind of silver tongue did Musgrave have to persuade people to talk to him? Perhaps they were just wary of talking to the police.
‘When was he seeing her?’ Blades asked.
‘The week before she disappeared,’ Musgrave answered. ‘They were seen walking about the seafront together, and he called at the house.’
‘Nobody told you about his calling on the day of Emma’s disappearance, did they?’
‘Saturday the fifteenth? Unfortunately not. That might have been telling.’
‘Can you give me the names of your witnesses?’ This had to be followed up.
‘You know I can’t reveal the names of my sources. Nobody would talk to me otherwise.’
‘This is a murder inquiry. Do you want to be charged with impeding the investigation?’
‘No, but I still can’t divulge sources.’
Drat, Blades thought. That whole street would have to be interviewed again. Well, he wasn’t giving the responsibility to constables this time. Perhaps he could do some of this himself, or use sergeants, even one of the other inspectors.
‘What can you tell me about Russell Parkes?’
‘Apart from the fact he works for the Prudential?’
Something else Musgrave was up to scratch with, Blades noticed. ‘Yes.’
‘I can tell you where he lives. I don’t want to be totally unhelpful.’
‘That would be useful,’ Blades said with a due note of gratitude, though he was still smouldering inside. Musgrave gave the address.
‘You say he was dismissed for embezzlement?’ Blades said. ‘Was he charged?’
Blades did not remember such a case going through Birtleby Court or Birtleby Police Station.
‘It was swept under the carpet,’ Musgrave replied. ‘Apparently, he agreed to leave. I don’t suppose they wanted to dilute public confidence in the company.’
Blades tried Musgrave again. ‘You wouldn’t tell me who told you that?’
Musgrave grinned, but did not reply. Blades did his best to make his expression as inscrutable as he could. It was good to have a lead confirmed, but it would have to be followed up, and there already was so much that needed to be done. He needed to interview Amelia Root’s sister and husband and find out if there was anything dubious about the Roots’ week away; and there was the search for the body to be organized. It had been a trying day. He did not often come across such conclusive evidence of foul play; and having to give up hope on finding Emma alive had hurt. But perhaps this meeting with Musgrave could be turned to good purpose. He did now have ideas for a press statement.
‘It would be helpful to release information to the public,’ he said to Musgrave.
‘Yes?’ he replied, and Musgrave’s face had lit up.
‘A further search of the Root premises has led us to the unavoidable conclusion that there has been foul play in that house. We now do not expect to find Emma Simpson alive. The co-operation of the public is requested in the search for Emma’s body. Has anyone come across signs of a newly dug grave in nearby woodland, or is there a bag lying somewhere which is attracting flies, or which smells horribly? Has anyone seen someone carrying anything from the Root premises? Has anyone been seen anywhere carrying a suspicious package, one possibly bloodstained, but which would be too large to contain meat from the butcher’s? The police will be conducting a thorough search of all nearby areas where a body might be expected to be discarded or hidden. We may not have found Emma but, if we can find her body, then that may lead us to her killer.’ Blades stopped. He had probably said as much as would be helpful now.
Musgrave was still writing it all down as Blades turned away. There was a lot to be done, and he must make sure Musgrave did not take charge of the investigation.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was Sergeant Ryan who came across the vital witness. Door-to-door inquiries had begun in Main Street again and Ryan was interviewing a nervous-looking young woman who lived several doors down from the Roots’ and on the same side of the road. Someone in that position might not be expected to have spotted very much so Ryan had not been hopeful, but he knew as well as anybody it was often the last person you might expect who had seen something.
Agnes Braithwaite was a war widow with one child, which probably explained her anxious look. In all likelihood, it never disappeared. Ryan noticed that she had a pinched sort of face as if she did not get enough to eat.
‘I don’t want to get into any trouble,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think it was important. I would have mentioned it to that constable who came around, but I didn’t want to waste his time. People must tell you all sorts of things, busybodies that they are. That Alice Roberts down the street, I bet she had a tale to tell. Talks non-stop that one, and about nothing usually. If she hadn’t seen anything, she would make something up to look important. I wouldn’t do anything like that.’
‘So, you did see something?’ Sergeant Ryan said.
‘That’s what I’m telling you, isn’t it?’
‘Only you didn’t think you had at the time.’
Agnes’ face brightened.
‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘You’ve hit the nail on the head. The minute that constable left, I thought – now should I have told him about that? And I worried myself sick about it, but I was sure he would say it was nothing. And he looked so busy. And you must have a lot to do when you’re doing this sort of investigation–’
Sergeant Ryan could wait patiently no longer.
‘What did you see?’
‘It’s like this…’ Agnes paused while she collected her thoughts. ‘I mean, it’s nothing. People go walking about with suitcases all the time, don’t they?’ Then she stopped again and looked at her feet, and Sergeant Ryan could sense she was starting to feel foolish.
‘You’re right. They do. So, something must have caught your attention about this person.’
‘He had this furtive look. He’d just come out of a door further up the street. I could swear it was the door to the Roots’ house only I didn’t actually see him coming out, d
id I?’
‘And what was odd about this man?’
‘He had such difficulty lugging his case about. He had to put it down and give his arm a rest, then pick it up with the other arm. And he looked strange. Sort of white as if he was scared. When he looked up and saw me, he gave me ever such a glare.’
‘You had a good look at him then?’
‘He was scaring me. I daren’t look at him when he stared at me like that. I just looked anywhere but at him.’
‘Can you tell me more about the suitcase?’
‘It was a big one. Brown leather. Sort of worn and old-looking with travel stickers on it.’
‘Did you see what the stickers were?’
Agnes thought carefully. ‘No,’ she said.
‘Would you recognize him again?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘Tall, I suppose.’
‘Colour of hair?’
‘He had a hat on. I couldn’t tell whether he was blonde, dark-haired or what. He had a thin sort of face and glaring eyes like I said.’
‘Looked a bit like a murderer, you mean?’ Ryan could not prevent the remark. A man with glaring eyes sounded fanciful.
‘What do you mean? Here, all right. You ask someone else then. I know what I’m trying to tell you. If it isn’t any good, it isn’t. Fair enough.’
‘All right,’ Ryan said. ‘All right.’
‘Well, he would have glaring eyes if he was glaring at me, wouldn’t he?’
‘I suppose,’ Ryan said, now beginning to feel a bit foolish himself.
‘He gave me a right evil look. That was what made me feel I might have caught him doing something he shouldn’t have. Which was why I thought I maybe should have mentioned it. But you’re right. It doesn’t seem that much. And now I feel I shouldn’t have said anything at all. I don’t know. Did I do the right thing bringing this up? I’m sorry if I didn’t.’
‘Oh, you did the right thing,’ Sergeant Ryan said. ‘Believe me, you did. And when was it you saw him?’
‘Must have been the Monday.’