Silent Graves

by Sally Rigby

  Whitney figured they wouldn’t get suspicious if they were being offered something to eat and drink. It didn’t stop her from feeling guilty about deceiving them, though.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ Mrs Robertson said, relief in her voice.

  ‘Thank you,’ her husband said.

  After leaving Mrs Robertson on the pretext of arranging for some technical help, Whitney went to the incident room to see if George had arrived.

  She had.

  ‘Great, you’re here. Who do you suggest we interview first?’

  ‘I’d go with Mrs Robertson as, from memory, she was more open than her husband. She’s more likely to give you the information you need, as I suspect she may speak before she thinks which will go in your favour.’

  ‘Good point, although she’s definitely wary about being here. We’ll try to keep this as short as we can because we have to interview him as well and I don’t want to leave him alone for too long. I told them they were going to be looking at photos, so I’ll show them the drug dealers first and then the victims. I doubt they’ll recognise the dealers, but that doesn’t matter.’

  After George had gone into the observation room, Whitney waited for Brian. He arrived with a coffee and piece of cake for Mrs Robertson. Whitney got a whiff of coffee as he got closer. She should have asked for one for herself.

  ‘I’ve taken the same into Mr Robertson,’ he said.

  ‘Good, that should keep him busy for a while. I’m going to need you to put the photos up on the screen when required as you’re better with the equipment than I am. Also, remember, we’re taking it steady and there’s to be no aggressive questioning.’

  ‘I know, guv. We’ve already discussed this.’

  She opened the door and they walked in.

  ‘Thanks for waiting, Mrs Robertson.’

  Brian placed the plate and mug on the table in front of her. ‘You’ll love this cake,’ he said. ‘I make a point of having a slice every day.’ He glanced at Whitney and gave a tiny nod.

  She got the message.

  ‘Thank you,’ Mrs Robertson said.

  ‘I’m going to record our interview as it saves me having to take notes,’ Whitney said. She leant over and pressed the recording equipment. ‘Interview on December twenty-second. Those present: Detective Chief Inspector Walker, Detective Sergeant Chapman. And please state your name for the recording.’

  ‘Peggy Robertson,’ the woman said as she leant right over towards the equipment.

  ‘No need to do that, Mrs Robertson, as the recorder will pick up all of our voices from where we are,’ Whitney reassured her.

  ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise.’

  ‘We have some photos to show you which we’re going to put up on the screen over there.’ She pointed at the wall and nodded to Brian to load the first one which was of Reg Shaw the drug dealer. ‘Do you recognise this man?’

  Mrs Robertson opened her handbag, which was resting on her lap, and took out a pair of glasses. After putting them on, she stared at the screen for a few seconds, finally shaking her head. ‘No, I’m sorry. I’ve never seen him before.’

  ‘He’s the drug dealer Anita Bailey and Jayne Kennedy worked for. It was one of his drugs they sold to Justin and caused him to die. Please could you take another look, just to make doubly sure that you don’t recognise him.’

  Mrs Robertson stared at it again, for even longer this time. ‘No. I definitely haven’t seen him before.’

  ‘Do you recognise these girls?’ Brian put up photos of the victims. ‘Do you remember seeing them before?’

  ‘Yes, she does,’ George said in her ear. ‘Her shoulders went rigid and her eyes flickered with recognition. Although she could have seen their faces on the news, as the media has been showing them.’

  ‘No, I’ve never seen them before.’ Mrs Robertson’s tone was adamant.

  ‘She’s lying. She didn’t blink once while she was talking to you, and now she’s blinking furiously. When she displayed recognition previously it can’t have been from seeing them in the media, or she wouldn’t be behaving like this.’

  And that’s why George was so invaluable to them. It was a shame Brian couldn’t hear what Whitney could.

  ‘Mrs Robertson, I believe you do know these girls and that you have seen them before.’ Whitney’s tone was firm.

  She glanced quickly at Brian, who was frowning. Probably because she’d done exactly what she’d said they wouldn’t do and been aggressive.

  ‘No, I haven’t … I don’t know them … I don’t remember.’ Her body tensed and her eyes reflected panic.

  ‘Your body language is telling us otherwise. Think very carefully. Have you seen these girls before?’

  ‘I might have. They were friends with Justin. Yes, that’s it. They were friends. He must have brought them round to the house sometime, or we might have seen them when we were out. Or at school. Definitely. That’s it.’

  ‘She’s making this up,’ George said. ‘You can see by the way she’s glancing up and to the right.’

  ‘Mrs Robertson,’ Whitney said softly, deciding now to take a gentler approach as she didn’t want to scare the woman into clamming up completely. ‘I know this is painful for you, but I believe there is something that you want to tell us about this.’

  The elderly woman slumped in her chair, her breathing raspy and laboured.

  ‘Are you okay, Mrs Robertson?’ Brian said. ‘Would you like some water?’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ She sat more upright and sucked in a breath. ‘I’ll tell you. I’ve thought of nothing else over the years and it will be good to get it off my chest.’

  Whitney tensed in anticipation. Was she going to admit to killing the girls and tell them how Payne was involved?

  ‘Okay, go ahead. There’s no rush. We can stop for a breather any time you want to,’ Whitney said hoping her words would help the woman open up to them.

  ‘I have seen those girls before, you were right. I blamed them for what happened to Justin and wanted them to pay. He was our only child. My pride and joy. I loved him more than anything in the whole world and they took him away from us, with their stupid, horrible drugs.’ Her eyes brimmed with tears and she opened her bag and pulled out a tissue, wiping them away.

  ‘Take your time,’ Whitney said gently.

  ‘But it all went wrong. Badly wrong. You have to believe me that we didn’t intend for them to die. I promise we didn’t.’

  Was she admitting to killing Jayne and Anita?

  ‘What did you do to them exactly?’ Whitney asked, scrutinising the woman’s facial movements to see if she could spot whether she was telling the truth, even though she knew George would be able to tell her.

  ‘We kidnapped them.’

  ‘Why? What was your intention?’ Brian asked.

  He couldn’t help himself. He had to be a part of it. Whitney was beginning to realise that now. Then again, she couldn’t really blame him, when she was younger, she’d been exactly the same.

  ‘We had a static caravan which we kept at a site on the Brampton Road. We tied the girls up and left them there overnight to teach them a lesson for what they’d done. It was to scare them into stopping selling drugs. We knew they could survive that long without food and water. We left the heater on, so they didn’t get cold.’

  ‘How did they die?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘We don’t know. It was such a shock when we went to let them go the next morning and they were both dead. There were no marks on them it was like they died in their sleep.’

  ‘Possibly carbon monoxide poisoning?’ George said.

  Whitney gave a nod.

  ‘Was it a gas fire that you left on for them?’ she asked, remembering the fires they’d had in caravans they’d used in the past.

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘It could very likely be carbon monoxide poisoning from the fire if it was faulty.’

  Mrs Robertson covered her mouth with her hand, she aged ten years in fron
t of Whitney’s eyes. ‘Oh my goodness, that’s awful. You don’t know how much I’ve regretted what we did. I hated the girls for stealing Justin from us, but not enough for them to die because I know he was partially to blame.’

  ‘What happened to the caravan?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘We advertised it in the local paper and sold it because I couldn’t bear to use it again.’

  Right. Now where did the inspector fit in to all of this?

  ‘Why did you bury the bodies on Oak Tree Farm?’ Whitney asked.

  The woman looked at Whitney and then Brian. ‘It was out of the way.’

  ‘That’s nonsense,’ George said in her ear. ‘Ask her about the inspector.’

  ‘I understand Malcolm Payne, a retired inspector, is your cousin.’

  She glanced up, fear in her eyes. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘It came up during our enquiries.’

  ‘He had nothing to do with it. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’

  ‘So you didn’t choose that location because he went shooting there every week and knew it would be a good, secluded spot?’ Whitney asked, locking eyes with her.

  ‘I don’t know anything about that. I think maybe I should have a solicitor,’ Mrs Robertson said as she slumped into the chair looking exhausted.

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ Whitney said. ‘Peggy Robertson, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murders of Anita Bailey and Jayne Kennedy. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mrs Robertson said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  ‘Interview suspended.’ Whitney halted the recording and stood. ‘We’ll leave you here while we speak to Mr Robertson and then you will be processed.’

  ‘It was an accident,’ Mrs Robertson said, hanging her head.

  Whitney and Brian left the interview room and met George in the corridor.

  ‘Good job, guv,’ Brian said.

  ‘Thanks. Did you believe her story, George?’

  ‘Yes, about it being an accident. No, in respect of the inspector not being involved.’

  ‘My view, too. Brian go back into the interview room and wait while I arrange for an officer to sit with her. I don’t want her calling Payne. Then meet me in Mr Robertson’s room.’

  ‘Yes, guv.’

  ‘He did well,’ George said, as they went on their way.

  ‘Yes, I’m definitely warming to him and can see he’s going to be an asset to the team. He does want to do well, as you said. And don’t say I told you so,’ she added before George had time to speak.

  ‘The thought hadn’t entered my head.’

  Chapter 31

  They waited outside the interview room until Brian arrived and then George left them to observe.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr Robertson,’ Whitney said as they walked in and sat down.

  ‘Where have you been? It’s been ages,’ he growled.

  They needed to handle him differently from how they managed his wife.

  ‘We’ve been talking to Mrs Robertson, and it took longer than expected,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t see why you couldn’t have spoken to us both together.’ He gave an exasperated sigh.

  ‘It’s police procedure.’

  ‘Where’s my wife now? How is she?’

  ‘She’s fine. We’ve left her in the other room and someone’s with her. I’m going to record the interview to save taking notes. Brian, could you do the honours.’

  She’d never done this with Matt before, but she wanted to show her appreciation to Brian. George would be proud of her.

  ‘Yes, guv.’ Brian turned on the recording equipment. ‘Interview on December the twenty-second. Those present: Detective Chief Inspector Walker, Detective Sergeant Chapman. Please state your name,’ Brian said to Mr Robertson.

  ‘Kenneth Robertson. But I fail to see why this is all relevant, we’re just here to look at some photos.’

  ‘Mr Robertson, now we’ve spoken to your wife we’d like your side of things,’ Whitney said,

  ‘My side of things?’ He paled but remained rigid.

  ‘Yes. Do you recognise this man?’ She motioned for Brian to put up on the screen the photo of Reg Shaw, again wanting to begin the interview gently.

  ‘No. I’ve never seen him before in my life,’ he said, folding his hands tightly across his chest and giving a sharp nod.

  ‘That’s true,’ George said.

  ‘What about these two girls?’

  Brian put up photos of the victims.

  ‘No. No. Definitely not.’

  ‘Untrue,’ George said. ‘The way he repeated the words for emphasis, is an indicator.’

  ‘Perhaps you could think again, as according to Mrs Robertson, you did know these two. They are Anita Bailey and Jayne Kennedy, the girls who sold drugs to Justin.’

  He leant forward with his arms on the table and rested his head in his hands. ‘What else did she say?’ he muttered, all the fight gone out of his voice.

  ‘She’s admitted that you kidnapped the girls, took them to your caravan and left them tied up. When you went back the next day, they’d both died.’

  He sat up straight and stared directly at Whitney, a pained expression in his eyes.

  ‘Why did she have to say anything?’ He shook his head. ‘We could have got through this.’

  ‘Because she’s been plagued with guilt since it happened and was glad it finally came out in the open.’

  He frowned. ‘I didn’t know. We made the decision to never speak of it again.’

  ‘Please could you tell me exactly what happened.’ She wanted his version to see if it matched his wife’s.

  ‘It was an accident. A tragic accident. We intended to teach them a lesson. They shouldn’t have been selling drugs to school kids. They should have been held accountable and that’s what we wanted to do.’

  ‘Whose idea was it?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Mine.’

  ‘I suspect he’s covering for his wife, but don’t pursue it just yet. Wait until you’ve got the facts you require, in case he breaks down,’ George said.

  ‘How did you manage to persuade the girls to go with you to the caravan?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘We parked near their street and when they came home we asked them to get into the car to talk about Justin. They agreed. Once we had them, we took them to the caravan and tied them up.’

  ‘Something’s not right,’ George said. ‘They couldn’t have tied them up without a fight. Even though the couple would have been a lot younger they would have needed help. Mrs Robertson is tiny. The other option is that they took the girls separately.’

  George was echoing Whitney’s thoughts exactly.

  ‘Did you take them to the caravan together or one at a time?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Together. We planned to leave them overnight. We didn’t mean for them to die.’

  ‘But they did. What happened to them, do you think?’

  ‘I’m not sure. We went back and found them dead, but there was no apparent cause.’

  ‘Didn’t you have any idea of what had happened?’

  ‘It crossed my mind that the gas heater could have been faulty, but I didn’t mention it to Peggy because she’d have felt even more guilty as she was the one who turned on the heating for them.’

  Was Justin’s girlfriend involved? She hadn’t thought to ask Mrs Robertson as they hadn’t got into the specifics.

  ‘Did Elizabeth, your son’s girlfriend, know anything about what you’d done?’

  ‘No. No.’ He shook his head vigorously.

  ‘I don’t believe him,’ George said.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Whitney pushed.

  ‘A hundred per cent.’

  She’d leave that for now, as it was more important to discuss Payne and how he was involved.

  ‘I�
��d like to turn to the burying of the bodies. What was your reason for choosing Oak Tree Farm?’

  He looked up to the side, his eyes slightly glazed.

  ‘Classic indicator of him making up the story. Watch,’ George said.

  Whitney noted what the psychologist was referring to and nodded. She waited for him to speak.

  ‘It was an easy place to get to from the caravan and the farm was large, so we didn’t think they’d be found.’ He exhaled an audible breath.

  ‘What a coincidence that Mrs Robertson’s cousin, Inspector Malcolm Payne, went shooting there.’

  Panic crossed his face. ‘You know about him?’

  ‘That he’s related to Mrs Robertson? Yes, we do. I want you to tell me about his involvement. Did he tell you where to bury the bodies?’

  ‘Is that what my wife told you?’ His hands were clenched so tightly on the table that his knuckles were white.

  ‘We were hoping you could give us more details,’ Whitney said, not answering him. ‘After you’d found the girls dead, did you contact Malcolm Payne and ask him what to do?’

  His shoulders slumped and he rubbed his brow. ‘Peggy did. We didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘What did he suggest?’

  ‘I-I can’t tell you. It was our fault. You can’t blame him.’

  ‘Mr Robertson, it’s all going to come out now and it’s far better for you if you explain what happened now, rather than in a courtroom.’

  ‘Court … Peggy would never cope. Please, don’t make us go to court.’

  Whitney winced. This wasn’t going to end well, whichever way she looked at it.

  ‘I can’t promise what’s going to happen, but I do know that we need you to tell us everything you can.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, nodding. ‘Malcolm said he knew of a place where we could bury the bodies and they wouldn’t be found. But you can’t charge him for this, I know what they do to police officers in prison. We can’t let that happen. He’s old like us.’