Chrissie looked bleak. ‘So this will run and run?’
‘Afraid so. Having a fling was one thing. Allowing her to have an influence over his operational decisions was something entirely different. That was a catastrophic mistake on his part. And we don’t know the extent of it. I’ve got to pin him down this time, and get him to come clean on everything.’
‘It may be easier than you think. He’s just a lump of jelly at the moment.’ Chrissie paused. ‘That’s all he ever was, really. Underneath. People saw the surface, the image he projected. He even came to believe it himself, and that’s when things went wrong.’
Chapter 18: Still Playing Games
Thursday Afternoon
Bruce Pitman looked like a broken and haunted man. His shoulders were slumped, his face haggard, and he had dark rings under his eyes. He was standing facing the door, and eyed the two detectives warily when they entered the lounge. Chrissie was back in the garden.
‘Do you want to put the kettle on, Bruce?’ Sophie said. ‘We can chat while you’re making a pot of tea, then come back in here.’
‘You’ve found her then,’ he said. It was a statement.
How to put it? ‘Yes. It’s bad. Her body was found washed up on Portland Bill this morning. We think she’d been there for some time, possibly since the early hours of Tuesday morning, soon after she went missing. It looks as though she was assaulted before she went into the water. I’m really sorry, Bruce. I feel bad enough, but I can only guess how you feel. Anything else I could say would sound trite, so I won’t bother. You know how I work. Now, let’s get that drink made.’
The hard news, bad as it was, seemed to have a slight galvanising effect on Pitman. He straightened up, and for the first time looked directly at Sophie. ‘I’ll tell you everything you need to know. I’m partly to blame for this mess, and I want to clear the air. Most of all, I want the people who did this to her caught. If this is going to be the end of my career as a Dorset cop, I want it to be done right.’
‘I don’t think it’ll come to that, Bruce. We’re not automatons. Anyway, it won’t be up to us, so let’s just deal with the here and now.’ She picked a biscuit tin off a shelf and tipped some of the contents out onto a plate. Barry took three mugs from another shelf while Pitman made a pot of tea, and carried it through to the lounge, where they settled around a low table.
Sophie started the interview, while Barry prepared to take notes. ‘You said on Tuesday that Andrea blackmailed you into giving her pretty much of a free rein. That part I can believe. What I can’t believe is that you just let it all happen. You must have wondered what she was up to and, knowing your inability to cope with women you perceive as powerful, you must have kept an eye on what she was doing — or not doing. So what was she doing, Bruce?’
‘I didn’t think it was anything criminal. Do you really think I would have let her get away with it if that had been the case? I may have been stupid, but I’m not bent and I don’t believe she was either. It never crossed my mind. I just thought she wanted a bit more control over her work. The thing is, she kept getting good results. You just have to look at the leads she provided for us. We’ve got a good clear-up rate down in this corner of the county, and a good proportion of it came from her contacts. I’d have taken a tougher line if it had become obvious that she was slacking and not pulling her weight, but she was a good operative, right up until now.’
‘Did you notice any patterns in the way she worked, and when? Were there regular times when you noticed that she’d made herself unavailable?’
‘I didn’t look at first. I was scared stiff that she was going to carry out her threat and spill the beans to Chrissie, so I left her well alone, as long as she gave me no cause for complaint. That was the deal we made.’
‘So, when you met up during your affair, what did you talk about?’
‘Not work, you can trust me on that. When we were, you know, lying in bed afterwards, she’d sometimes ask about my family — the kids and Chrissie. She didn’t have a family, you see. I think she regretted it.’
‘You said that you didn’t look at first. Does that mean that you did spot some patterns emerging?’
‘Just recently I couldn’t depend on her being around on Wednesdays. I asked her about it and she snapped that I’d agreed to cut her some slack. That was the price I had to pay, not to ask her any awkward questions.’ He hesitated. ‘Look, I had to trust her. And she gave me no reason not to. As I said just now, she was still doing the job for us. The whole thing was working okay, so I didn’t want to upset it. I just left her alone. With hindsight, I can see that she needed help but it wasn’t obvious at the time.’
‘You never wondered where she was, or what she was up to? You never tried to find out why she was out of the station so much on Wednesdays?’
Pitman shook his head. He poured the tea in silence, and pushed the mugs across the table. Was he to be trusted? Was it really the case that he hadn’t bothered to find out what Andrea had been doing? Sophie was still unconvinced that a man like him would have been happy to let a woman in Andrea’s position hold a trump card over him and use it in the way she did. Surely, he’d have tried to restore the natural balance of power as he saw it? Yet Chrissie had clearly said he’d always been a softie underneath. Was her opinion to be believed? Or had she been aiming to gain sympathy for her husband? Niggling at the back of Sophie’s mind was the possibility that Pitman was still playing some kind of game, and was being less than honest despite his protestations. What if the reality was entirely different and he knew, even approved of whatever Andrea’d been up to? She looked across the table at him. He’d never been a person she could warm to.
She decided not to let him know of her suspicions about Andrea’s activities, the tentative ideas that had formed as a result of Rae’s discoveries. Why let the cat out of the bag before it was absolutely necessary? Bruce might well have guessed that Andrea’s frequent Wednesday absences would be spotted at some point, so he could afford to give them that item of information.
‘When did you meet when you had your liaisons with Andrea, Bruce?’ she asked. ‘Was it a regular day and time?’
‘Not really. If it had been regular, it would have been noticed by someone on the team, so we were careful to vary it. We’d choose a possible date and time for the next date when we parted. Then we’d confirm by a brief word close to the time. Look, I made sure it didn’t influence the work of the unit.’
‘Emails? Text messages?’
Pitman shook his head. ‘I didn’t want to leave a trail.’
‘Where did you go? You’re a pretty well-known figure around these parts, so how did you manage it?’
‘Andrea’s flat. I’d park somewhere nearby, then walk there. It’s fairly secluded, and her neighbours were never about during the daytime. Even in the evenings I rarely saw anyone else around.’
‘Did you go out together?’
‘Not really. It was too dangerous for us to be seen out in public. I think we visited one restaurant on her birthday and a bar on some other occasion.’
Sophie nodded. It didn’t square with the impression she’d picked up during her previous interview, when Pitman had spoken of several visits to bars and restaurants. He was being economical.
‘Anything else you want to tell us, Bruce? Any ideas about who might have done this?’
He shook his head.
‘Was it hard telling Chrissie about Andrea? How did she take it?’
‘Is this relevant?’ he said, showing a spark of anger.
Sophie didn’t answer.
‘Yes, it was bloody hard. And she’s taken it bloody hard, too. I’m banished to the spare room when I need her with me more than at any other time in our marriage.’ He stared across at Sophie. ‘I deserve it, I suppose. Who can blame her?’
Sophie finished her drink and stood up. ‘No sympathy from me, Bruce, not for you. You wouldn’t expect any, and I won’t disappoint you. Chrissie deserves some, but I
won’t offer it just now. It’s the wrong time. Well, that will do for now. We need to get on with tracking down her killers.’
Sophie stalked out of the house. ‘Bastard. He’s still trying to play games.’
Chapter 19: Justice
Thursday Afternoon
When young Danny Fenners arrived home from school he knew as soon as he opened the front door that his father was at home. It was a kind of sixth sense that he had. The atmosphere somehow felt different when his dad’s souring presence was around.
He tiptoed straight up the stairs, and made it to his room without anyone noticing. Thank goodness. He took his mobile phone out of his pocket and sent Kerry a text message. Be careful. Dad’s home. That should do the trick. Maybe Kerry would stay away until later, hoping that Dad would go out somewhere. She’d avoided her parents completely since the fight on Tuesday morning, slipping in and out of the house like a ghost. The downside, from Danny’s point of view, was that he’d only managed a few snatched words with her. He hated to see her like this, moody and sullen. If it wasn’t for his regular visits to his grandad, he didn’t know what he’d do. He wondered about paying him a visit now. His grandad usually came home from the Thursday afternoon club at the local social centre at five. That gave Danny about enough time to do his maths homework before sneaking out of the house.
Half an hour later, he opened his bedroom door and listened. He could hear the TV and the occasional rumble of his father’s voice, probably complaining about something to his mum. Danny crept down the stairs. He was just unhooking his coat from the wall rack when his father appeared in the hallway.
‘Oh, it’s you. What are you sneaking about for? I didn’t hear the door.’
Danny just shrugged. ‘I’m going to see Grandad. It’s Thursday and he usually gives us our tea.’
‘Well, if you see Kerry, tell her there’s stuff needs washing. Mum’s feeling sick again, so she needs to do it.’
No change there then, Danny thought. He nodded and slipped out of the door as fast as he could, away from his father’s intimidating presence. He prayed that he didn’t turn out like that when he grew up. He’d have a quiet, tidy home with books, stuff on the walls and other interesting things. If he ever had children, he’d make sure they felt safe and happy.
He was surprised to find Kerry already at their grandad’s house. She was sitting on the floor in front of the gas fire, stroking the cat. She’d hidden the bruise on her cheek with some make-up and she’d brushed her fair hair. Danny thought she looked really pretty. He gave her a hug, Grandad too. It had taken him years to get used to hugging people, but now he liked doing it with Kerry and Grandad. Like a lot of people with Asperger’s, he usually avoided close physical contact.
‘You’re soppy, Danny,’ Kerry said. ‘I only stay around ’cause of you.’
She’d pulled up the sleeves on her school jumper and the plasters that Danny had put on her cuts earlier in the week were visible. They looked a bit neater though.
‘Are your cuts okay?’ Danny asked.
‘Yeah, fine. I went to see nurse at lunchtime today, and she had a look. She said the cuts are healing well and that whoever put the plasters on did a good job. That’s you, Danny.’
Danny was pleased. That’s two things he’d done to help Kerry this week, even though his intervention in the row between her and Dad hadn’t helped much. He smiled, and his sister smiled back. Maybe she’d stay at home after all.
‘Tea’s ready,’ their grandad called. ‘It’s chicken casserole, and I want it all eaten. You two eat too much pizza and chips.’
Kerry rolled her eyes but kept smiling. Danny grinned back.
* * *
‘Grandad, what does the word “justice” mean? I know what the law is. You can break the law, can’t you? But you can’t break justice.’
They were eating their pudding, tinned pears and ice cream, sitting around the kitchen table. Danny’s grandad’s house had a dining room, but it was rarely used. He preferred to use the table in the spacious kitchen, and Danny and Kerry were happier there. The dining room was too formal.
‘Well, that’s a hard one, young Danny. You come up with some tricky questions, don’t you?’ Grandad set down his spoon. ‘The law is a sort of set of rules passed by parliament that forbids people from doing things that might cause others harm. Justice is the way those rules are enforced and must be fair to everyone. Theft is against the law. Justice is the way that the courts deal with it and decide on a punishment that fits the crime. How does that sound?’
Danny nodded. ‘Yeah, okay.’
Kerry giggled. ‘You’re funny, Danny. No one else would ask a question like that. Anyway, justice doesn’t work the way it should, that’s what one of my teachers said. If a rich person and a poor person stole a loaf of bread from a shop, the poor person should get a smaller punishment ’cause they might be starving and really need it. But in olden days the poor person might get his hand chopped off, but the rich person would escape because he was pally with the judge. So it never worked properly, did it?’
‘It’s not like that now, Kerry. Judges take someone’s background into account. Or they should anyway.’ He looked at his granddaughter with interest. ‘Is this a bit of a turnaround for you? I’ve never heard you talk about something you’ve learned at school before.’
‘I’m not stupid, Grandad. I listen some of the time, when it’s not boring. I quite like history when it’s about ordinary people in olden days. It’s the rich men that piss me off. Always having battles and wars and stuff. Ruining things for the ordinary people. I ’spect they just wanted to get on with their lives.’
Danny and Kerry were back home by mid-evening, with Kerry in a good enough mood to sort through the laundry and load up the washing machine without too many complaints. She didn’t hear the doorbell ring so Danny, who was in the hallway at the time, went to answer. Two uniformed police officers were standing on the doorstep. They asked for Kerry Fenners. Danny stood open-mouthed, not knowing what to do. Should he try to keep his father away and somehow sneak Kerry out without him knowing? He turned around. Too late. His father stood behind him, already looking angry.
* * *
George Warrander walked towards the untidy front garden of the Fenner house, looking around. Some of the properties were neat and tidy, others looked to be a shambles. The Fenners’ home was messy, though it wasn’t the worst. ‘What are we here for, boss?’
‘A teenage girl, Kerry Fenners. CCTV down in the town centre caught her being pushed through a shop window a couple of nights ago, and someone needs to check that she’s okay. It’s taken this long to identify her from the footage. She hasn’t been into casualty, apparently. It looked as though she was drunk or high at the time.’
She rang the doorbell, answered by a boy who stood in the open doorway and gaped at them. He didn’t seem to know how to respond to her question. He was small and thin with dark hair and a gap in his front teeth. A man came up behind him and pushed the lad aside. His face was very red.
‘What the fuck do you want?’ he demanded. ‘This is harassment. I’ll get someone on to you.’
Rose smiled at him sweetly. ‘Mr Fenners? We’re here to check on Kerry. Your daughter? She might have been in an accident in the town centre a couple of nights ago. We just want to see that she’s alright.’
Looking puzzled, Fenners turned and shouted, ‘Kerry? Get out here, right now. What have you been up to?’
A pale teenage girl appeared, looking bemused.
‘Look, Mr Fenners. Can we come in for a few moments? Maybe speak to Kerry to find out what happened? It won’t take long.’
He looked the two police officers up and down. ‘Yeah, alright. But it’d better not take long.’ He turned to his daughter before stalking back into the living room. ‘I want to see you afterwards.’
‘Is there somewhere we can go, Kerry? Rather than standing here in the hall?’
The girl shrugged. ‘The kitchen? That’s
where I was.’
They followed Kerry through to a small kitchen. She’d obviously been sorting through the laundry and loading the washing machine. She perched on a stool, so Rose did the same. George stood back by the door, pushing it almost closed. The boy who’d answered the doorbell stood just outside, looking as if he didn’t quite know what to do.
‘How old are you, Kerry?’ Rose asked.
‘Sixteen. It was my birthday last week.’
‘That’s fine. We’re her to check that you’re okay. You were caught on CCTV on Tuesday night, and we’re concerned that you might have been seriously hurt.’
‘Oh, that. Yeah, well, me and my mates was fooling around down in the town. I fell into a window and it broke.’
‘It looked as though you were pushed, Kerry.’
The teenager shook her head. ‘Nah. It was an accident. We were a bit pissed.’
‘There was some blood at the scene. Did you get cut?’
Kerry pulled a face. ‘A bit, but it’s okay.’ She touched her forearm.
‘Can I see?’ Rose leaned across and gently pulled the girl’s sleeve up. The dressings looked neat and clean.
‘The school nurse did them today,’ Kerry said. ‘But they were okay before then. Danny put antiseptic and plasters on when I came home after. He’s a good kid.’
‘Where did you get the alcohol from, Kerry? You know it’s against the law to be out drinking at your age.’
The girl remained tight-lipped.
‘Did you get that bruise on the side of your face at the same time?’
Kerry looked away. ‘Yeah, prob’ly.’
Rose held out a card. ‘This is me, and it’s got my contacts on it. Will you promise to phone me if you need to? For any reason? I’m here to help. And, Kerry, try not to get drunk again. It’s not clever and you could get really hurt next time.’
‘You’re a sergeant,’ Kerry said, looking at the card.
SHADOW CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of twists Page 11