Dead Jealous

by Helen H. Durrant

  “I don’t understand. She’s done nothing wrong. Why would you want her DNA?”

  Ruth smiled at her. “It’s purely for elimination purposes, Mrs Prentice. We eliminate any trace of Flora’s, Isla’s and the lads’ DNA, then what we’re left with is possibly that of the killer.”

  “I see.” She looked doubtfully at her daughter. “What does it involve?”

  “It’s very simple,” Ruth assured her. “A mouth swab, that’s all.”

  “And then we’re done?”

  Calladine leaned towards Isla. “I do have a couple of questions. Not about Flora’s murder, but something else. A while ago you were brought here with Kyle and the others. Do you remember, Isla?”

  Isla looked away. She didn’t look happy with any of this. But he had to ask her about the drugs they’d taken, and where they’d got them from. If her mother hadn’t known, then it was hard luck.

  But she did. Joan Prentice looked straight at him. “I know what you’re referring to. Flora Appleton could be a right little so and so at times. Chasing after the boys, getting my Isla into bother. That stuff they all took was down to her. Flora got it for them.”

  Calladine looked at Isla, who nodded.

  “They were friends, but they had their moments,” her mother continued. “I didn’t say anything before, Inspector, because the poor girl had been killed. I would have preferred to leave well alone. But if you’re going to bring up all that stuff with the drugs, then you need to know.”

  “Know what, Mrs Prentice?”

  “Flora Appleton was a bully. You ask her poor mother. Get her to show you the bruises. Hurt my Isla too, she did, and all over that Hopwood lad, waste of space that he is.”

  Isla nudged her mother. “It was nothing, Mum.”

  What did the girl want to hide? Calladine wondered.

  “It wasn’t nothing. She could have broken your nose,” Joan Prentice said indignantly. “Isla came home in a dreadful state, and all because she didn’t do what Flora wanted. There was blood all down her clothes. Her nose was so swollen I thought I was going to have to take her to A & E.”

  “Want to tell us what happened, Isla?” Ruth asked gently.

  “Nowt. It were all a mistake. My mum doesn’t understand.” Isla was uncomfortable, fidgety. She kept nudging her mother. She obviously wasn’t happy with this conversation.

  The flush that had just come to her cheeks told Calladine just how important this could be.

  Joan Prentice brushed her daughter’s hand from her arm. “I understand violence well enough, and Flora was one violent girl.”

  “When did this happen?” asked Calladine.

  “Just over a week ago,” Joan Prentice said.

  “It were longer than that, Mum, more like a month.”

  The girl’s flush deepened. She was lying. Calladine smiled at her. “Okay, thanks for that.”

  It was enough for now. He needed that DNA test doing. Only then would he be able to voice his suspicions. “Helps to give us a more rounded picture.” He nodded at Ruth.

  “I’ll sort that mouth swab.”

  * * *

  Mother and daughter had left, and Ruth and Calladine were alone. “Fighting, blood, bad feeling between those two girls. You see where this is going, don’t you?” said Ruth.

  “I’d be the first to agree if it wasn’t for one big problem.”

  He saw Ruth’s puzzled look and sighed. “How heavy is Isla Prentice? How strong do you reckon she is?”

  “Why does that matter? Two girls fighting, one lands the other a lucky blow. Loses her temper and stabs her.”

  “Flora was found in the boot of a car. A car parked a good few metres away from where she was killed. How does that happen, given that Isla must be five foot nothing in her stockinged feet, and all of eight stone?”

  “She had help!” Ruth’s eyes widened.

  “Exactly. And that’s why those lads were so cagey. One or more of them helped Isla to hide Flora’s body.”

  Ruth looked dubious. “It’s a leap, and we have no proof.”

  “I’m taking that swab to the Duggan myself and then I’ll go and see Josie Wilkins. Julian will get Isla’s DNA processed quickly. We’ll soon know if it’s her blood. Then we will challenge the others.”

  There was a knock on his office door. It was Nigel Hallam.

  “Result!” he announced proudly. “The Land Registry have finally come through with something useful. For thirty years prior to the disappearance of Jessica Wilkins, Beardsell Terrace belonged to a Nora Morley.”

  Calladine shook his head. “I don’t know that name.”

  “I dug a little deeper. Nora Morley was Sean Hopwood’s grandmother. Apparently, he lived there with her for most of his childhood.”

  “Thanks, Nigel. Good work.”

  “He put her ashes in the house where he’d been safe and happy,” Ruth said.

  “Looks that way. He took care with how they were stored. Packed silk fabric around the jar, and left a crucifix hanging around it.”

  “He cared for the little girl.”

  “He was her father, Ruth. All we have to do now is find out what happened.”

  Chapter 33

  Calladine felt miserable. This wasn’t going to be easy. The case had dogged him for years. He needed to put an end to it, but was that likely to happen? Despite knowing about Sean, there were still gaps. Who cremated the child, for example? How was that even done? And how much did the two sisters know?

  He had decided to visit Josie alone. He knocked on the door. He could hear a dog barking in one of the neighbouring flats. Kids were back playing along the deck. The place was noisy, dirty. Calladine shuddered. Tracy should have got them out of here years ago.

  “What now?” Josie said.

  Same old Josie. Tracksuit bottoms, an old T-shirt and battered trainers. Her hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in days and hung in a limp mass around her pale face.

  “Can I come in?” he said.

  Wordlessly, she moved aside.

  The place was much the same as always. There was a pile of dirty pots festering in the kitchen sink and a load of dirty washing by the machine. Calladine decided to refuse tea if she offered. He didn’t even want to sit down, but this might take a while.

  “Have you found out what happened to my Jess?” Josie asked in a small voice.

  “No, not all of it.”

  What to say now? How did he tell this damaged woman that her child had been shot through the head and her body burned? He would start with something less controversial, and lead up to the awful bit gradually.

  “You knew Sean Hopwood years ago, before he became a moneylender.”

  Josie stood and stared at him, her arms folded around her thin frame. Eventually she said, “So what? He used to be okay before he had money and that big house.”

  “Sean was killed, Josie, you know that. We did tests, and we now know that he was Jessica’s father.”

  The expression on Josie’s face didn’t change. She started to pace the room. The only sound was her loose-fitting slippers scuffing against the carpet. “What difference does it make who Jess’s father was?”

  “You never said anything back then. Why keep it a secret?”

  “Tracy said I had to.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “Tracy always knows what’s best.”

  “Do you remember that afternoon, Josie?” Her face pulled into a frown. “Was Jessica in that pushchair when you went to the park?”

  The question hung in the air and reverberated around Calladine’s head. It was the big one. Josie was weeping now, clutching a towel and holding it to her face.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t even look. I was off my face on smack. But I do know something weird happened,” she said.

  Calladine could see that she was trying to remember. Trying to dredge the hidden memories up from some safe, forgotten place in her head.

  “It was something bad, but Tracy would never te
ll me.”

  “But you went to the park. You sat on a bench. People saw you.”

  “I don’t remember any of it.” She turned to face him. “Despite what I might have said at the time, I never did.”

  * * *

  Calladine stayed with Josie until a family liaison officer arrived to sit with her. She was in no state to be left alone. From what Josie had told him, her sister Tracy was the one he needed to talk to. But it was late in the afternoon. He rang social services, but she’d left for the day, and they refused to give out her mobile number.

  Calladine wanted to tackle Tracy and get to the truth, but he still had the Isla Prentice statement to figure out. If she had killed Flora, then someone must have helped her to move and hide the body. What was the betting that person was Kyle Logan? Hence the urgency to torch the car.

  Calladine asked uniform to find Tracy and bring her down to the station. Over the top? He didn’t think so. For years she’d been withholding vital information about the death of an infant.

  “We need to speak to Kyle Logan again,” he told the team. He looked at Nigel. “Take a uniform and go and fetch him. “I think Isla killed Flora. The DNA from those drops of blood will confirm it, but in the meantime we need to find out who helped her.”

  “And you think that was Kyle?” asked Ruth.

  “Yes, and possibly someone else.”

  “Ricky?”

  “I’m not sure about Ricky Hopwood. He comes across as straight enough, but there is something he’s keeping back.”

  “How did you get on with Josie?”

  “She knows nothing that will help. Tracy is the one we need to speak to now. I’m having her brought in.”

  “Frank Chadwick is in a bad way. He’s been readmitted to hospital. The paramedics who took him in think he’s had a heart attack. Poor man. He’s really been through the mill.”

  Calladine looked at her. “He took a knife and killed Sean Hopwood.”

  “Extreme provocation, I would say. Look what Hopwood did to Annie.” She returned his gaze.

  “Tracy Wilkins is downstairs, guv,” Joyce called out.

  “I’ll go and speak to her.”

  * * *

  Calladine wasn’t looking forward to this. Tracy was very different from her sister, tough and intelligent. She wouldn’t give anything away unless she absolutely had to.

  “Why am I here?”

  She was staring at him, her expression a mixture of mistrust and something else. It wasn’t fear, more like wariness. Tracy would be wondering what he might have found out.

  Calladine sat down facing her. “The day Jessica disappeared. I know she was never at the park, so where was she?”

  “You’re deluded! Of course she was. Josie took her for a walk.”

  “Josie was drugged up to the eyeballs. She never even looked in that pushchair.” Calladine looked straight into her eyes. “Jessica was shot through the head. Shot, Tracy!”

  “How can you know that?”

  The caution had evaporated. There was very real fear in her voice now.

  “Are you saying that wasn’t what happened?”

  Tracy Wilkins closed her eyes and shook her head. “It was an accident, a fluke,” she whispered.

  “Who did the gun belong to?”

  “Sean Hopwood.”

  “We also know that Sean was Jessica’s father. Another little titbit you kept from us back then.”

  “Josie didn’t want anyone to know. Sean was just starting up in the moneylending business and she was well aware of how he operated.”

  “Who killed Jessica?”

  Tracy sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair. “Ricky did.”

  Calladine was staggered. At first he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “Ricky was only a child himself.”

  “Jess was just a couple of months off being two and Ricky was almost four. We were in Josie’s flat. Ricky and Jess were playing hide and seek. Sean had left some stuff of his in a cupboard, and had told Josie not to go near it. But Ricky crawled inside to hide, and he found the gun.” She paused. Calladine could see the tears welling in her eyes. “I had my hands full with Josie. She’d taken something, and she’d been drinking. I was trying to bring her round. Next thing, I heard the shot.”

  At this, Tracy broke down completely. The stress of having to keep this secret for so many years had finally overtaken her.

  “Sorry,” she said finally, dabbing her eyes. “I found little Jess on the bedroom floor, covered in blood. Ricky still had the gun in his hand. He was waving it about, playing some cowboy game or other. He was a kid. He didn’t know what he’d done.” She looked at Calladine. “I don’t think he knows to this day!”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Josie didn’t even wake up. I wrapped Jess in a blanket and hid her. When Sean came back he was completely devastated. He laid into Josie, but she was oblivious. I had to stop him from beating Ricky black and blue. He was a child, he’d no idea what had happened. After a lot of shouting, he decided to take Jess away. I never did know what he did with her, and I never asked.”

  “He burned her,” said Calladine. “Put her ashes in an expensive jar and sealed it up behind his granny’s fireplace in a house on Beardsell Terrace.”

  Tracy nodded. “He was brought up there. It’s where he was happiest. He had crap parents. If his granny hadn’t died when he was in his teens, if she’d been around to guide him, I’m sure Sean would have been a different man.”

  “How come Josie never knew any of this?”

  “She finally woke up sometime in the mid-afternoon. The pushchair was in the hall all ready. It was a hot day, the hood was up and I’d fixed the sun shade on earlier. Josie must have presumed Jess was in there asleep. She took it and went off out without saying a word.” Tracy stopped talking for a moment. “Next thing I knew, they were saying Jess had been stolen from her pushchair in the park. The rest, you know.”

  “You’ve kept this to yourself all these years?”

  “Yes, I have. I had to protect Josie, and Ricky too initially. I never gave a toss about Sean. It was his gun. He hid it in Josie’s cupboard, stupid bastard. He knew there were kids around. I could never see what good telling the truth would do.”

  Chapter 34

  Saturday

  “So now we know.” Ruth set down Tracy Wilkins’s statement on Calladine’s desk. “What are you going to charge her with?”

  “That’s up to the CPS. I wouldn’t know where to start.” Calladine felt weary. He’d been unable to sleep the previous night. The Jessica Wilkins case had finally been solved, but it still bothered him. He’d imagined that once he knew what really happened to that little girl, he’d feel a weight lift. But all he could think was that but for Sean Hopwood, it never would have happened.

  “How did Hopwood burn her body?” Ruth asked. “I know it’s gruesome, but isn’t it a difficult thing to do?”

  “The body was small, the bones still forming. I imagine if you had a fire that burned hot enough and for long enough, it would be possible. That huge house the Hopwoods live in is Victorian. At one time there will have been an industrial-sized boiler in the cellar. I’d ask Julian about it. I’m sure he’ll be only too pleased to explain.” Calladine had had enough. They had crossed off the Sean Hopwood killing, and the disappearance of Jessica Wilkins was sorted. All he wanted now was to find Flora Appleton’s killer, and then they could call it a day.

  “Are you going to tell Josie?”

  “No. Tracy is. I’ll go and see her next week. Let the truth settle first. She won’t be happy, and this is bound to cause a rift between the two sisters.”

  Rocco popped his head around Calladine’s office door. “Kyle Logan is in the interview room.”

  “Want to join me?” Calladine asked Ruth.

  “You think he helped Isla to hide Flora’s body?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why would he, Tom, if he didn’t have anything to do with killing h
er? It’s just stupid.”

  Calladine shrugged. “Let’s see what he has to say first.”

  * * *

  Kyle Logan was as stroppy as ever. He slapped the flat of his hands on the table. “What am I doing here — again! I’ve done nowt. Go and pick on some other bugger.”

  Calladine ignored his angry words. He sat down, facing Kyle. “Tell me about the night Flora was killed.”

  “It wasn’t me. I wasn’t there. Jesus! What does it take to make you see?”

  Calladine smiled. “I don’t think it was you that killed Flora, Kyle, so relax. But I do think you were there.”

  “How d’you reckon that?”

  “Because someone had to help the killer stuff Flora’s body in the boot of Marshal’s car, that’s why.”

  The lad looked puzzled. His eyes moved from Calladine to Ruth and then back to Calladine. “Clever bugger, aren’t you, copper?”

  “Come on then, Kyle. Tell us what happened,” Ruth said.

  “No! I want a solicitor. I don’t have to talk to you. I know my rights.”

  This was getting them nowhere. “Okay, Kyle, we’ll get someone for you.”

  Ruth and Calladine left him tapping his foot impatiently.

  “What makes you so sure it was him?” Ruth asked.

  “He wanted to torch the car.”

  She looked at him. “And that’s it?”

  “He was working only a few metres away that night.”

  Nigel looked up when they entered the incident room. “Guv, Professor Batho says will you ring him.”

  It was Saturday. Nigel’s last day.

  “I’ll ring him in my office.”

  Julian had processed the DNA sample from Isla. As Calladine had suspected, he confirmed that the blood found at the scene belonged to her. It was looking as if they finally had their killer.

  Calladine went out and called to Rocco. “The unknown blood at the scene was Isla’s. Bring her in.”

  Ruth looked at him. “Her mother won’t be pleased. She’ll have to come too. Isla is only sixteen.”

  “And she can have a solicitor, anything it takes. But she did it, Ruth, and she must be charged!”

  * * *