‘He died yesterday evening, but –’ Geraldine hesitated, unsure how much to reveal at this stage.
‘Well, there you go then. I was here all evening. You can check our security cameras if you don’t want to take my word for it. My mother insisted we had them installed all round the house. My father paid for it all,’ she added with a shrug, as if to say she thought it an unnecessary expense.
Geraldine nodded and thanked her for her help. Her claim to have been at home all evening could be a deliberate deception, as could her apparent ignorance of the way David had been killed. The suggestion that the police check the security camera might be a bluff. In any case, Jessica could have slipped out of the back door of the house and walked crouching down to avoid the camera. All the same, she arranged for the camera to be removed so the film could be examined.
Driving back to the police station, Geraldine thought about how Jessica had spoken, as though being at home alone was something difficult. Although Geraldine had never struggled with her own company, having lived with Ian for only a few months, she no longer wanted to be on her own. But she was too busy to have time to worry about her own circumstances. That afternoon, Eileen had summoned the team together to discuss the toxicology report. The findings at the post mortem had already established that the threat to David’s life had been serious.
‘The victim was drugged before he was suffocated,’ Eileen reminded them.
‘It wouldn’t have been difficult to give him the pills without his knowing. He then drank a couple of glasses of whisky on top of that before going out, intending to drive, if Anne is telling the truth,’ Geraldine said.
‘He could have taken the pills himself,’ Eileen pointed out. ‘He certainly knew he was drinking.’
‘Are you saying you think he was intending to kill himself before he was murdered?’ Ariadne asked.
Eileen shrugged. ‘That’s what we’re going to find out. All we know right now is that he swallowed some chemical combination that caused him to fall unconscious and choke, before someone came along and took the opportunity to finish him off.’
‘Did SOCOs find any evidence of cetirizine in the house?’ Ian asked.
‘The house hasn’t been searched yet. I daresay we’ll find them, but that won’t prove anything. Even if he bought them himself, his wife might have handled the bottle. They are a common treatment for allergy relief, and he could have asked her to buy them, or to fetch the bottle for him,’ Geraldine replied.
‘What about the letter?’ the detective chief inspector asked. ‘Only David and Anne’s prints were found on it so the writer was careful to avoid touching it with his bare hands.’
‘Or her hands,’ Ariadne added. ‘His daughter described him as a bully.’
‘We’re checking her CCTV to try to establish whether she might have left the house on Saturday afternoon or evening,’ Geraldine said. ‘We might not be able to follow her journey very far once she left the house, but we could establish whether she was lying.’
‘I wonder if he bullied his wife?’ Eileen mused aloud.
Geraldine had been wondering the same thing. Anne would have found it relatively easy to drug her husband. She had the opportunity, and could easily have acquired the means. All that was missing was a motive.
‘It can’t have been easy, being married to a bully all those years,’ Geraldine suggested tentatively.
‘They were married for twenty-six years,’ Eileen said. ‘That’s a long time, but she could have snapped.’
‘Or perhaps she met someone else?’ Geraldine asked.
Eileen gave her a sharp look, and Geraldine wondered if the detective chief inspector knew about Ian’s situation. He was, after all, still technically married to Bev, who had a young baby.
‘Anne was twenty-one when Jessica was born,’ Geraldine said, forcing her attention back to Anne Armstrong. ‘So she married quite young.’
‘When she was twenty,’ Eileen replied. ‘Since then by all accounts she’s been reliant on her husband for everything. Both she and her daughter said as much. I suppose if she married at twenty, she’s never really had to look after herself. I wonder how she’s coping?’
Geraldine declined an invitation from Ariadne to go out for a drink after work that evening. She dreaded being questioned about what was going on in her own life. While she was doing her best to continue as though nothing had happened to disturb her equilibrium, she suspected her colleagues knew more about her affair with Ian than they were letting on. Several times she had caught Ariadne giving her quizzical glances and once or twice her friend had appeared to be about to say something but had then looked away in apparent confusion. For the first time in Geraldine’s life, her independence weighed her down, but the only person she could imagine sharing her home with had returned to his wife. With a sigh she forced herself to dismiss Ian from her thoughts and began reading over her notes on Jessica.
22
While Geraldine had been visiting the morgue and questioning David’s family, a team from the Visual Images, Identifications and Detections Office had been studying CCTV near David’s home, in an attempt to identify any vehicles registered to Jason or Jessica, or any other known associates of David, who might have been in the vicinity at the time of David’s death. The following morning a constable contacted Geraldine with information about a person of interest.
‘I’ve been searching for the man Anne alleged threatened her husband in the car park.’
Geraldine nodded to indicate she knew who the constable meant. ‘He said it wasn’t over, and someone was going to stop David –’
‘Look,’ the constable interrupted her.
As she pointed at the screen, a group of people appeared, crossing a car park on foot, led by a tall thin man. Just before they moved off the edge of the screen, they caught up with David and his wife who turned to face them. David looked somehow puffed up and angry, while Anne was clearly frightened, her shoulders hunched and her eyes darting around nervously. She tried to hustle her husband towards the car but he stopped and turned to face the people who were pursuing him. The camera didn’t pick up any of the words that were exchanged, but it was clear they were shouting at one another. The tall man shook his fist at David in a threatening manner before they all moved out of sight of the camera.
‘His image isn’t very clear here, but we managed to pick him up on his way into the hall. It’s definitely the same man. His clothes, his gait, all identical.’
The film froze, showing a gaunt face gazing directly at the camera.
‘It’s a good resolution,’ the constable said. ‘We had to enhance it, but you’ve got to admit it’s pretty clear. You could pick him out of a crowd.’
‘Now all we’ve got to do is find out who he is,’ Geraldine said.
The constable smiled. ‘Our image recognition software has found a match.’
She pulled up another screen. Geraldine leaned closer to read the details: Jonathan Edwards, forty-two-years old, divorced, school librarian.
‘He’s a bit aggressive for a school librarian.’
‘A former school librarian,’ the constable corrected her. ‘He lost his job last year. These details need to be updated.’
Eileen was more interested in the identity of the heckler than Geraldine thought his actions warranted.
‘We know his anger’s personal,’ Eileen said, with something approaching glee. ‘He may blame David for the loss of his job and he’s following him around heckling his speeches. Could he be our killer?’
Geraldine frowned, wondering how a stranger could have introduced cetirizine into the dead man’s diet. It seemed unlikely.
‘All he did was shout out at a few public meetings,’ she said. ‘How was he supposed to have persuaded David to swallow pills?’
Eileen frowned. ‘Let’s speak to him,’ she said shortly.
Jonathan Edwards rente
d a ground-floor bedsit in a converted house off Holgate Road. It was ten in the morning when Geraldine rang the bell and she wasn’t sure she would find him at home, but after she had been waiting on the doorstep for a few moments a man’s voice called out, asking who was there.
‘Is that Jonathan Edwards?’
‘Who wants to know?’ he replied.
When Geraldine introduced herself, her response was met with silence. Too late, she was afraid she might have made a terrible mistake, and Jonathan might actually be guilty. If so, she had just alerted him to police interest in him. The house was terraced but even so there might be another way out. She was summoning backup when she heard the faint scrape of a lock turning, the door opened a fraction, and a pair of dark eyes squinted at her standing with the sun at her back.
‘What do you want?’
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but we need to ask you a few questions. Can you open the door so we can talk?’
‘Wait there while I throw some clothes on.’
The door shut. Geraldine had barely had time to wonder how long she was going to be left waiting on the door step again when the door opened and a long, narrow face peered out at her.
‘Good morning, Detective Sergeant,’ he said, politely enough. ‘My name’s Jonathan Edwards. What’s this about? If my landlord sent you then I can only repeat what I’ve already told him, that I do not watch television at three in the morning, and in any case I fail to see how this is a matter for the police –’
‘This has nothing to do with your landlord,’ Geraldine hastened to reassure him.
Jonathan’s lugubrious features relaxed slightly and his narrow shoulders drooped forwards. ‘What’s the problem then?’
He didn’t invite her in. Conscious that he was a potential suspect in a murder investigation, Geraldine was happy to remain standing outside.
‘I’d like to ask you a few questions,’ Geraldine repeated. ‘It’s about David Armstrong.’
She watched Jonathan’s face closely as she spoke. His cheeks flushed slightly on hearing David Armstrong’s name, but his expression didn’t alter.
‘The Tory councillor?’
Geraldine nodded.
‘Well, I’m glad you lot are finally starting to sit up and take notice,’ Jonathan said with a brisk smile. ‘You are aware that you could be next.’
‘I’m sorry? The next what?’
Although the words could be construed as a threat, Jonathan hadn’t sounded hostile. Unexpectedly, he gave her a disarming smile.
‘Look, Sergeant, Armstrong’s been attacking local libraries, and even agitating to close schools in the area. He sees every public service as nothing more than a drain on funds which he’s keen to keep for his own purposes, whatever they might be. Something to bolster his own position no doubt, and of no material benefit to the community. A sop to local businesses, and a revamp of the council offices. It’s as clear as the nose on your face to anyone who bothers to examine what’s going on. If you ask me, you ought to be watching your backs. Once the schools and libraries have been decimated, you can be sure the police won’t be very much further down the list. I’m telling you, it won’t be long before he reaches you.’
‘The list? What list?’
‘Armstrong’s list,’ he replied impatiently. ‘His list of proposed cutbacks. Don’t tell me you still don’t get it? David bloody Armstrong and his cronies on the council are chipping away at any services that don’t make money. That’s all they’re interested in: profit, profit, profit. Never mind essential services. Never mind protecting basic human rights. They don’t care because they can afford private health cover and they can pay to send their children to fee-paying schools. The schools and libraries are first to go, because they’re soft targets, but you’ll be next. As for what’s happening in the health service, it’s – well, it’s criminal. Literally. David Armstrong and his stooges ought to be locked up.’
‘I’m not here to engage in political debate,’ Geraldine replied, when he appeared to have run out of steam.
‘Why are you here then, if not to help raise public awareness of these savage cutbacks?’
‘I’d like to invite you to accompany me to the police station so we can ask you a few questions,’ she said.
Jonathan took an involuntary step back but he made no move to close the door. Even in his evidently dawning alarm, he was intelligent enough to realise that would be pointless.
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘What do you want with me?’
Geraldine gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘It’s just possible you can help us with an investigation,’ she replied. ‘We’d like to chat to you about your associates.’
‘My associates? Oh, very well,’ he replied, surrendering with a shrug of resignation. ‘If I have to come with you, I might as well come now. It’s not as if I’ve got a job to go to.’
23
Geraldine and Ian sat down facing Jonathan across an interview table.
‘You don’t mind if we record this conversation, do you?’ Ian asked.
He leaned back, affecting a casual pose, while Jonathan fidgeted in his chair, his voice rising in agitation as he fired a series of protests.
‘Do I mind? Yes, I bloody well do mind. What is all this? Am I being arrested? If so, I demand to know on what grounds. You can hardly charge me with disturbing the peace. Heckling at a public meeting isn’t a crime, nor is disagreeing with someone in a position of power. At least, it wasn’t a crime last time I looked. I wasn’t aware we were living in a police state yet. I demand to know what’s going on.’ He glared at Geraldine. ‘You said I was just coming here for a chat. You said nothing about a formal interview. Do I need a lawyer?’ He paused for breath. ‘I refuse to say anything until I have a lawyer. All I will say is that I’m entitled to hold what political views I choose, and I’ve broken no laws. I take it David Armstrong is behind this?’
Geraldine glanced at Ian before replying. ‘In a manner of speaking, yes.’
‘This is outrageous,’ Jonathan cried out. ‘This really is the last straw.’
Geraldine and Ian had allowed him to talk freely, but he let nothing incriminating slip. Finally he sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and was silent. Geraldine had a fleeting impression that he might be enjoying the attention.
‘We’re not interested in your political views which, as you have reminded us, do not break the law,’ she said quietly. ‘We’re investigating the unlawful killing of David Armstrong.’
‘Unlawful killing? You mean he’s dead?’
Geraldine nodded. ‘Yes, David Armstrong was murdered.’
‘Well, well, bloody hell.’ Jonathan shook his head, frowning. ‘I’m not going to pretend I’m sorry to hear it, although I probably shouldn’t say that out loud. Still, it’s not like I ever kept my feelings a secret. No, I can’t say I’m the slightest bit sorry.’
‘A man has been murdered,’ Ian said, emphasising the final word in the sentence.
‘He was asking for it,’ Jonathan muttered.
Geraldine studied him. His face was pale and solemn, and he showed no signs of surprise.
‘Are you saying you think he deserved to be murdered?’ she asked.
A wary expression crossed Jonathan’s face. ‘That’s not what I said,’ he replied cautiously. ‘I mean, no one deserves to be killed, do they? All I’m saying is that he was a nasty man with repugnant ideas who should never have been put in a position of power.’ He paused for a second. ‘You probably know that he was instrumental in cutting back the school library service? And you probably also know that I was a librarian, responsible for a group of schools, and now I’m on the scrap heap, and teachers are expected to do the job now, on top of everything else they do. So these days the job doesn’t get done at all. That’s his doing, David Armstrong. It’s not just my job that’s gone; it’s the opport
unity for children to be introduced to new books, not that the schools can afford new books.’ He scowled. ‘But of course I don’t think he should have been murdered, and I’ll thank you not to put words in my mouth. If you ask me whether I think he ought to have been locked up for what he did, then yes, I do. He deserved whatever punishment the law could throw at him. But no one deserves to be murdered. We’re not savages, although it’s sometimes hard to believe. We do live in a civilised society. We’ve done away with the death penalty. But, what I am saying is that I’m not surprised someone went for him. I’m not the only person whose life he’s ruined. I used to have a worthwhile job and I worked hard; and look at me now, living in a rented room on the bread line. How is that justice? You tell me.’
‘I’d like you to think very carefully, Jonathan. Is there anyone you know who might have hated David Armstrong enough to kill him?’
Jonathan snorted. ‘Only everyone who ever had the misfortune to have any dealings with him,’ he replied.
‘But anyone in particular?’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m telling you, it could have been anyone. And now, I refuse to answer any more of your questions until I have a lawyer present.’ He paused, and then either curiosity overcame his caution, or he was more calculating than he appeared. ‘How did he die?’
‘I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to disclose any details,’ Ian replied.
‘Well, I’m not saying another word without a lawyer.’
Clearly the implications of what they had told Jonathan had finally sunk in, and he began fidgeting nervously with the edge of the table. He must have realised by now that he might be suspected of having committed the murder, or at least of being involved in it in some way. But if it was possible his anxiety was prompted by the prospect of being unjustly accused of murder, it might equally well be due to guilt, and fear that the police would discover the truth.
Ian and Geraldine had no option but to wait for a duty solicitor to arrive.
‘Am I being arrested?’ Jonathan demanded, in a tone that sounded almost triumphant.
Deadly Revenge Page 12