by Jay Nadal
Scott noticed that Ashman was missing the upper part of the third digit on his left hand. “Go on, Mr Ashman.”
“He said if we tried anything, he would kill us. I just thought it was one of those house burglaries that you see on a Crimewatch reconstruction. The family are tied up before the house is ransacked and all the valuables are stolen. But…”
“You’re doing well, Mr Ashman. Take your time.”
“After he tied us both up, I tried to wriggle free. But the harder I pulled, the more it hurt. Janet had tears streaming down her face and that…that look of helplessness. The one man who should have been able to protect…I let her down.”
“You were both put in a very difficult situation, Mr Ashman. I know you tried your hardest. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you blame yourself and I should know.”
He nodded, an unspoken connection travelling between them. “Janet cried and pleaded with him to let us go. But that pissed him off further. He stuffed a rag in her mouth and then taped it up. Her muted screams…”
Ashman pulled the sheet over his face to wipe the tears.
Scott knew time was his enemy. Ashman teetered on the verge of breaking down again. Only a few precious seconds remained before McAllister put an end to their questioning.
Ashman’s white knuckles gripped the sheet tightly as he spoke through gritted teeth. “It’s just the fucking unknown. The way he circled around us. He kept tapping his blade on our shoulders. It didn’t matter what we said, he remained silent. I pleaded with him to let us go, said we wouldn’t contact the police. I even said I would give him the PIN number to my bank account and he could have everything in there.” He shook his head in resignation. “But he didn’t want anything material, Inspector. He wanted our pain, our fear and our hopelessness. He thrived on it. He crouched down in front of me, and said I was going to enjoy this as much as he was. I pleaded with him to not hurt her.”
“Enough, Inspector!” McAllister barked.
Scott ignored him and pushed on.
“I couldn’t do anything. I’ll never forget the tragic look in her eyes. There was fear, pain, dread and sheer bloody terror. She had sweat beading from her head and the more she struggled the more he hit. Every time he hit her, I felt her pain. Deep inside.” Ashman thumped his chest. “We’ve never hurt a fucking person in our lives. I couldn’t understand what was happening. Why?”
Abby tugged at Scott’s jacket to remind him to back off.
McAllister intervened. “This has gone far enough. Please leave now.”
“If Mr Ashman wants me to leave, then I will leave.”
Ashman stared at Scott. “It’s okay. He beat her. He beat her real bad. The more he hit her, the more he seemed to enjoy it. Watching her face cave in. Every part of my soul wanted to look away, because the guilt ate away at my insides. I wanted it to be me on the receiving end of those punches, not Janet. And then…”
An uncomfortable pause crackled between the two men. The tension only added to the claustrophobic feeling as the walls of the tiny hospital room closed in on Scott.
Through watery eyes, Ashman blurted out, “Then he yanked her back by her hair, pulled back her eyelids and gouged out her eyes with his knife. The noises coming from Janet…I’ve never heard someone in so much pain. He tore my wife’s face apart.” Ashman sobbed, breaking down into shaking torrents of pain. “He was relentless. No sooner had he done that, he ran his blade across her stomach. I looked down towards the floor and closed my eyes. He then crouched down by my side and held my head tight between his hands. He levelled my face with Janet’s and told me to open my eyes or he would tear out my eyes too. I’ll never forget his last words.”
“What did he say?”
“That felt good.”
Ashman hyperventilated as his body shook. McAllister pressed the orange help button above the bed.
They were manhandled out of the room by two nurses. Scott’s last image was of an oxygen mask being placed over the mouth of a broken man and the words Andrea Edwards being muttered.
6
Meadows thundered in to Scott’s office. On most occasions he only raced in like that when on the warpath. It took Scott by surprise when Meadows pulled up a chair and leant both elbows on the desk.
“How did it go at the hospital? Ashman cooperative? Is he a suspect?”
Scott puffed his cheeks at the barrage of questions. Meadows’s tone leant itself towards curiosity rather than the abrasive manner that often tinged his style of communication.
“I think we can assume that Ashman isn’t a suspect. He was in pieces whilst he recalled the attack. Unless he’s an expert blagger, then I can’t see how he could have engineered the whole setup.”
“Everything okay with their relationship prior to yesterday?”
“That’s what we need to find out. If he wanted to do her away, there are easier and quicker ways than torture.”
Meadows locked his hands behind his head and nodded as he weighed up Scott’s assessment.
“We need him to open up. There’s more, I’m certain. We pushed our luck as far as we could today.”
“Motive?” Meadows asked as he rose and looked down at his pristine shoes and polished black brogues. Assuming they weren’t clean enough, he took a moment to rub the tip of each shoe on the back of his trousers.
“Who knows, Sir? We can’t rule anything out at the moment.”
“Well, someone knows something. We need to get after it instead of fannying around. Keep me updated. The CC needs to be informed and we need to keep this tight or we’re in deep shit.”
Scott could read between Meadows’s words. “Why the high-level interest, Sir?”
“Why do you think?” Meadows highlighted each point as he tapped his fingers. “Ashman works for the local rag. I’m sure they’ll be quick to criticise if the investigation is slow or inconclusive. They could blame a lack of progress on the reduction in policing numbers and budgets…plus anything else they can pull out of a bloody Christmas cracker.”
“Understood, Sir.”
“Just inform the team and the uniforms guarding Ashman, will you? They’ll be badgering our press department for daily comments, and I wouldn’t put it past them to be lurking around trying to befriend an unsuspecting officer.”
Scott gathered the team around the incident board. He relayed the key points from the visit to Ashman’s hospital room.
“What do we know so far?”
Helen piped up. “I’m still looking into all the usual stuff. They’ve got no family. Janet’s mum, Celia, brought her up alone, her dad buggered off when she was a toddler. Celia passed away a few years ago. Mr Ashman’s parents are both deceased, too. No siblings, no kids. Not even a pet cat. Both appear to have put their careers first.”
Scott jotted down the pertinent points on the whiteboard.
“Oh, and from talking to residents, the couple seemed to be happy. They chatted to neighbours. Janet always had a smile for everyone. Nothing sticks out as a flashpoint.”
“No police reports filed?”
“Nope.”
“Guv, I’ve organised for you and Abby to visit Ashman’s editor at The Argus. Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thanks, Helen. That will give us the opportunity to find out if he was working on anything juicy.”
“Mike, what else do we know about Janet Ashman?”
Mike shifted his considerable frame in his chair. It moaned and creaked in protest. He’d not been back at work for long since being attacked and hospitalised by Xabi in a previous case. The compound he’d inhaled had not only rendered him unconscious, but had a debilitating effect on his central nervous system. Movement, speech and balance had all been affected temporarily.
“Janet Ashman worked as a research assistant at the university, and as a librarian in Hove.”
“Great, I’ll check that out later. Do me a favour. Before I left Ashman’s bedside, he mentioned the name Andrea Edwards. Look her up since we need to find her
.”
“None of this makes sense,” Mike added. “We’ve got a killer, a sadist who’s taken his time murdering Janet Ashman. He made her husband watch. And to top it off, he was in no hurry to leave the scene.”
“He’s either brave, or bloody stupid, Guv,” Abby thought out aloud.
“Could be how he gets his kicks, Abby. The sense of power and control? Check the database and NCA for a similar MO. It was a slow, painful and torturous murder. That would suggest that the killer knew and prepared his game plan from the outset. He’d worked out his method of entry, waited, pounced and then toyed with his victims.”
“So where do we go from here?” Helen asked.
“We identify as much as we can about the Ashmans. There’s a reason they were targeted. There’s also a reason why the killer left Mr Ashman alive. This was about inflicting maximum physical and emotional pain. Whether that’s about Janet or Samuel has yet to be determined. We start with them first. We need the motive, and we need it fast.”
A collective murmur of conversations rippled around the room as the team debated their own hypotheses.
“We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, so go home, get some rest and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. Raj, you’re on late turn, so call me if there are any developments.”
“What are your plans tonight?” Scott asked as he walked alongside Abby towards the cars in the station car park.
Abby walked at a brisk pace, the cold of the night penetrating the several layers she always seemed to wear. Regardless of the season, she always struggled with the cold. The tips of her toes, and her hands were always cold. She had circulation problems. The combination of a blood disorder and poor dietary habits didn’t help her cause. Even during summer, when everyone would swelter in the heat, you could bet that Abby’s hands would still be ice-cold.
She fumbled with the keys in her bag, desperate to jump into a car as she replied.
“I was hoping to get to a gym class. I’ve not been to spin all week. But I need to get back to the kids. Adam’s not well. You know what it’s like. The kids all go back to school in the autumn term and pick up all manner of illnesses. He’s come down with a bellyache and a sore throat.”
Scott nodded in sympathy. Sadly, he didn’t know what it was like. His mind drifted to memories of his daughter and for one brief moment, he indulged. “It’s been a long day today. I need food and my bed.”
Abby turned and stomped her feet on the spot to remain warm. She wrapped her arms tight around herself, pulling her coat closed and tucking her chin downward into the collar. The cold onshore breeze blew right through her. Her hair fell loose about her face, tousled, and tangled. “What’s your take on the case? Random? Crime of passion?”
Scott pursed his lips before blowing out a warm trail of air. “My gut feeling tells me that this wasn’t random. If it was, it’s unlikely that the husband would have been spared. He’s a witness. There’s a lot more to this. This was a targeted attack to send a message.”
Abby nodded in agreement.
He watched her tail lights disappear from the far end of the car park. He whipped off his suit jacket and hung it on the rear coat hook in his car. Other than the darkness and himself, all that seemed to exist was the chilly wind and its harsh bite. He could feel the hairs on his arm raised in protest. The wind left its mark in the form of small bumps that tingled and itched.
Scott’s thoughts turn towards Cara. For a moment he thought about calling her. Nothing would have pleased him more than to spend a few hours cuddled up on the sofa. To feel her warm embrace, her heartbeat against his chest and the smell of her favourite body spray. Having risen before dawn’s first light, his heavy eyes stung from lack of rest. As he dragged his weary body into the vehicle, he yearned for his bed and the blessed relief of sleep.
7
Scott arrived in his office before the rest of the team. Already on his second cup of coffee for the morning, he had been researching Samuel Ashman’s background.
“One of these days, I might get in before you,” Abby commented, as she breezed into Scott’s office and flopped into the seat opposite.
“One day,” Scott remarked. “You look as if you need more sleep. How is Adam?”
Abby placed her hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle a yawn. “He kept me up half of the night with his constant coughing. Bless him. He’s got a right hacking cough. I tried Benylin, Halls Soothers and even warm water with a splash of honey, but nothing worked.”
“You sure you don’t need to be at home with him?”
Abby waved off his suggestion. “I’ve dropped him off his grandparents. He can give them his lurgy,” she said with a laugh. “Besides, Mike stuck around last night and got us an address for Andrea Edwards.”
“Right, let’s see her. I would imagine that she doesn’t know about Janet Ashman’s death. Cara’s conducting the post-mortem later this morning, so we can attend that if time allows.”
Abby nodded. “Unless she tried to contact them yesterday. So it will be interesting to see her initial reaction.”
Andrea Edwards lived in a small terraced house to the north of Hove. Scott parked up a few houses down from the address. It was a quiet residential area. The house was well maintained, with dwarf walls and two small patches of grass split by a herringbone brick path that led to the front door.
Scott rang the doorbell several times before the door opened. Abby shot him a quick glance and raised a brow to suggest “here we go”.
A woman in her mid-fifties opened the door and smiled at the two visitors on her doorstep. In a fitted red dress that stopped just above her knees, with above the shoulder dark brown hair and blonde tints with wispy ends, she had a classic look about her. Small diamond effect studs finished her look.
“Andrea Edwards?”
“Yes,” replied the woman, as her eyes flicked between the two officers. Her voice was calm, light-hearted and soft.
Both officers held up their warrant cards. “I’m Detective Inspector Baker, and this is Detective Sergeant Trent from Brighton CID. May we come in?”
The light-heartedness and welcoming smile melted, as the woman’s appearance turned to a look of surprise, panic and concern.
“Oh my God, is it Clive?” Andrea’s eyes widened in fear. “Is it Lucy? Please…what’s happened?” Her words tumbled out, her tone tense, with a high-pitched whine that bordered on being a scream.
Abby stepped forward saying, “We are not here about your family.” She led the woman by her arm away from the doorstep. “I think it’s better if we go inside, Mrs Edwards. We need to talk to you about Janet Ashman.”
Andrea’s face turned from a look of panic to one contorted in confusion and surprise. She led them through the hallway, a soft carpeted floor softening their footsteps as they made their way into the living room.
Abby sat beside Andrea on a dark brown leather sofa. Scott sat opposite in a matching armchair. The room was bright and airy. Contemporary cream walls contrasted with the beech effect wooden floor. Tall ornate flowerpots sat either side of the fireplace, above which hung the television.
Andrea Edwards wrung her hands in her lap as she perched on the edge. She looked between Scott and Abby, apprehension stiffening her features.
“There isn’t an easy way to say this, but Janet Ashman died last night in suspicious circumstances at her home.”
Andrea’s jaw dropped at Scott’s announcement. Her eyes widened, her mouth formed words which didn’t materialise. Scott watched the woman’s chest rise and fall as she digested the announcement.
“Died? Janet? Janet Ashman?”
Scott nodded.
Andrea’s eyes searched the room, as her mind processed the startling revelation. “Oh my God! How?”
“I know this must come as a shock. And I’m sorry we had to be the ones to tell you. I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to go into the full details of her death. All I can say is that we are treating her death as suspicious.”
Scott cleared his throat. “Mr Ashman is alive, having sustained minor injuries. He’s being treated at the hospital.”
Andrea placed her hand over her mouth, the shock still hitting her square between the eyes. “You said suspicious. Does that mean she was murdered?”
“As I said, Mrs Edwards, it’s an ongoing investigation into her death. I know you have many questions, but I’m unable to give you any further details.”
Abby took out her notepad and pen. “We’re trying to build a better picture of Janet’s life. We need to ask you a few questions. Mr Ashman mentioned your name. He didn’t say much more than that because he’s been heavily sedated. Could you tell us more about your relationship with Janet?”
Andrea stared at the floor for a few moments. Her hands hadn’t left her lap. Now clenched tight, her knuckles had turned white. “We were like best friends. Perhaps even more than that. She was like the sister I never had.” Andrea smiled. “She used to say the same about me. We were on the phone to each other most days. In fact I was thinking I hadn’t heard from her yesterday, and so I thought I’d call her later on this afternoon.”
“Could you tell us more about the Ashmans?”
The woman shrugged. “They were childhood sweethearts. Then they lost contact with each other and met by chance at an art exhibition when they were in their twenties.”
“And how would you describe the couple?”
Andrea paused as she reflected. “They were a hard-working couple. Their work came first. Especially for Samuel. Janet wanted children, but Samuel didn’t. He saw them as a burden. He had grand plans to travel the world with Janet one day.”
“And how did Janet take that?”
“I think Janet was hurt to begin with. I don’t think it helped their relationship. In fact, it caused a rift between them. When she knew she wouldn’t be having children, the romance fell on to the back burner. We had talked about children. And when I had Lucy, I think that upset her quite a lot. That’s why we made her a godparent to Lucy.”