SB01 Dead to Me

by Cath Staincliffe

  ‘You released Sean,’ he said. ‘How come?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t discuss that with you,’ she said as she took him through to the interview room. He looked puzzled when he saw the set-up, the tape recorder, the video camera in the corner, Janet with her notepad.

  ‘Sorry if it looks a bit official,’ Rachel said, ‘but we record all witness interviews like this now. And there are a number of things I need to make you aware of – protocol.’

  He shrugged, gave a smile. ‘OK.’

  She went through them with him: the fact he was not a suspect (you so are, mate!) was free to leave and so on, free to consult with a solicitor.

  Her instinct was to lean forward, arms braced on her knees to question him, but she remembered what Janet had told her about posture and settled back. Act as if you’re a market researcher (Rachel had grinned at that, though she hid it quickly) really interested in getting the answers, but not at all bothered what they are. Neutral.

  Consciously Rachel relaxed her hands, balled like fists, and her feet. ‘Thanks very much for coming in, we do appreciate it. Please can you tell me first how you know Lisa Finn.’

  ‘I was her personal advisor, since she left Ryelands.’

  ‘What did that involve?’

  He exhaled. ‘Whatever she needed, really – help with claiming benefits, managing her finances, career guidance, liaison with medical services. The aim is to make sure the young person makes a smooth transition from being looked after to being fully independent.’

  Rachel nodded a couple of times as he spoke, to show she was paying attention. ‘How often did you meet with Lisa?’

  ‘Weekly at first, then just once a month.’

  ‘The last time we spoke you told me you hadn’t seen Lisa since November the twenty-fifth?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘How was she then?’

  ‘Not too bad. I was a bit worried about her boyfriend, Sean – he was an obstacle to her addressing her drug dependency. That wasn’t anything new, though. We were aiming to get Lisa into rehab, but we weren’t making much progress. The family – her mother, Denise – wanted that to happen, but Sean was a complicating factor.’ He smiled ruefully. His teeth were even, startlingly white; bleached, Rachel imagined. Vain git.

  ‘And on November twenty-fifth,’ Rachel repeated the date, ‘did she mention any trouble, any threats of violence, harassment, arguments, anything of that nature?’

  ‘No, nothing. She had divulged in the past that she and Sean had a somewhat chaotic relationship, arguments would lead to violence, domestic abuse,’ he added, ‘but in November she didn’t mention anything about that.’

  ‘And you didn’t see Lisa after November twenty-fifth?’

  ‘No.’ He shuffled slightly, crossed his ankles.

  ‘Did you hear from her after that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Rachel surprised herself with how genuine she sounded. Now she had to be careful. She and Janet had discussed the wording for this next question; it was vital that it didn’t make him defensive, set off any alarm bells. ‘We are building up a picture of Lisa’s movements last Monday and collating details on any callers to Fairland Avenue and even people passing through the estate. Were you in the neighbourhood at any time on Monday?’ She tried to keep her expression bland, as though she expected him to answer in the negative.

  ‘No, no.’ He waved away the suggestion. ‘Office all morning, then case conference at the town hall in the afternoon.’

  Got you! Rachel’s pulse accelerated. ‘The office is in Newton Heath and then you were at Manchester Town Hall?’

  ‘Yes.’ He looked at his watch, uncrossed his ankles and put his hands on his knees, signalling he thought they were nearly through and he was ready to leave.

  ‘I think that’s everything.’ Rachel gave him a smile. ‘Is there anything you’d like to add your statement?’

  ‘No, that’s fine.’

  ‘Can I just ask you to wait here a moment?’

  ‘Yes.’ The slightest touch of uncertainty in his reply.

  ‘Thank you. Interview concluded at twelve twenty p.m.’

  Rachel forced herself to move slowly until she got outside, Janet behind her. ‘Yes!’ Rachel said under her breath, fists raised in victory. ‘We’ve got him!’

  ‘It’s a beginning,’ Janet agreed.

  ‘It’s an arrest, that’s what it is.’ Rachel could feel the excitement thrumming in her veins. She was going to get the bastard, oh, yes!

  Rachel went to see Gill, breathless when she got there, dying for a fag, too.

  Gill turned away from the screen showing the video feed to the interview room and surveyed Rachel. Her face remained impassive for a moment and Rachel felt a wobble of doubt, then Gill grinned. ‘Nick him!’ she ordered.

  Rachel couldn’t get there soon enough. Raleigh got to his feet as she came into the interview room. She dove straight in: ‘James Raleigh, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Lisa Finn. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence …’

  The smile died on his lips. A glare of outrage replacing it, disbelief glittering in his eyes.

  ‘… if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence against you.’

  ‘This is some sort of joke,’ he blurted out.

  ‘Can you put your hands out.’ Rachel got out her cuffs, not yielding to the impulse to slam the cuffs on, pinching his wrists as she clamped them shut. ‘You will accompany me to the custody sergeant, who will explain your rights, then ask you to surrender your possessions. You will have the right to a solicitor and we can provide one for you if required. We will be making a search of your premises, so if you have the keys that will save the risk of any damage on entry.’

  ‘You can’t do this,’ he insisted.

  ‘Watch me,’ Rachel told him.

  ‘I didn’t kill Lisa,’ he said. ‘There must be some mistake. I want to speak to your superior officer,’ he stumbled over the words.

  ‘Senior,’ Rachel corrected him. ‘I’ll pass that request on. Don’t hold your breath.’

  He huffed and puffed all the way to the custody suite. Rachel booked him in and waited, savouring the sight as the custody sergeant went through all the rigmarole, asking Raleigh to empty his pockets, phone, car keys, house keys, wallet and then getting him to sign a property slip for them. He had two phones, Rachel felt a nudge of excitement at that – she knew one would likely be kept for his dirty little assignations.

  He was fingerprinted and the sergeant said they would now take a DNA swab.

  ‘No way,’ Raleigh said. ‘I don’t give my permission.’

  ‘We don’t need your permission,’ Rachel said. ‘You don’t cooperate, we can hold you down and rip hairs off your head. Need the say-so from a superintendent. Your call, pal. I’d rather we did it the hard way.’

  ‘This is not fair,’ he argued, but submitted to the swab being taken. He’d gone ashen by the time they took him to get changed. His clothes would be kept as potential evidence and he’d be given a disposable jumpsuit to wear. He still kept muttering denials and protesting that it was a farce, a mistake, crazy.

  Now, Rachel thought, wired with energy, I really do need a fag.

  41

  THINGS MOVED QUICKLY after that. His phones were given to the telecoms officer for an analysis of all the data stored on them. Gill dispatched a team to search his house for the murder weapon, bloodstained clothing, any property belonging to the victim. And for seizure of his computer. A search was made of his car. Fingerprint analysis revealed Raleigh’s prints on the door jamb to Lisa’s bedroom and bathroom, though the partial print on Lisa’s gold cross did not match Raleigh.

  The prepaid phone immediately yielded useful intelligence. Raleigh had the numbers of both Angela and Lisa Finn in his contacts list. His stored text messages showed several sent to both girls, among th
em one that made the hairs on the back of Janet’s neck prickle: Raleigh had sent a text to Lisa at half past twelve on the morning of her death. C u @ 2 babe x Babe! Oh, the bastard.

  ‘Janet,’ Gill said, ‘take someone and talk to Angela, will you? See what she can tell us.’

  Janet scanned the office. They were all out, bar Andy. Who looked over and smiled.

  Her heart sank. ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘Ade – what did he …’ Andy asked as they drove to Cheetham Hill, the shops along the main drag awash with Christmas decorations, sledges and inflatable Santas.

  ‘Nothing. It’s fine. Kids’ stuff.’

  ‘Right.’ Then he turned to work: ‘What’s she like – Angela?’ He obviously wasn’t any more keen than she was to dwell on recent events.

  ‘Gobby,’ Janet said, ‘prickly, but she did talk to us, even if half of it was lies. And she’s holding down a job, so she has got something going on upstairs.’

  ‘We appeal to her intelligence?’ Andy said.

  ‘I’m not sure I’d go that far,’ Janet said drily.

  She appreciated the fact that he was keeping things on a professional footing. But found it hard to act naturally in his presence, especially when they were alone like this. Her own voice sounded brittle in her ears, her smile false. God, did she regret what had happened. Too much drink coming on top of another miserable spell with Ade, which left her feeling unloved, middle-aged and in a rut. Not at work, but every other way. Andy seemed as anxious as she was to minimize the opportunity for any more lapses of judgement. That was good, wasn’t it? So why was there a part of her still fantasizing about the guy? Why did part of her wonder if she’d made the wrong choice way back, sticking with Ade, dependable Ade the boy next door, instead of upsetting the applecart when she’d met Andy at training. Taking the leap, choosing the unknown. But then she’d never have had Joshua, Elise, Taisie. Everything would have been different. Oh, God, why couldn’t she just get over it? Put it behind her, like she was pretending to do on the surface?

  The rain had stopped, Janet thought, or maybe it was only suspended as grey mist. The dog-end of the year. Grim. All well and good if you were huddled round the fire toasting marshmallows, but there wasn’t much of that in the Scott household these days. Oh God. She’d have to pull herself together, make more of an effort, for the girls at least. It was a difficult age. Both of them yearning to be grown up, not wanting to do anything, have anything that smacked of being a little kid, though they were still kids all the same.

  Finding them on her doorstep, Angela gave a groan and rolled her eyes at them. ‘This is harassment, innit.’ One hand on her hip. She flounced back into the house and they followed her into her room.

  ‘Sergeant Andy Roper’ – he showed his warrant card – ‘you already know DC Scott.’

  ‘We’ve arrested James Raleigh,’ Janet said.

  The girl’s jaw dropped. ‘What? What the fuck are you talking about? What for?’

  ‘On suspicion of the murder of Lisa Finn.’

  ‘No,’ Angela said, her eyes filling, her hand going to her mouth.

  ‘Hey, come and sit down,’ Janet said. Before you fall.

  For once Angela didn’t have a comeback, too shocked for that. She lowered herself on to the settee. Janet sat beside her, Andy fetched one of the kitchen chairs for himself. He flipped open his daybook, noted the time and looked over at Janet.

  ‘No way,’ Angela said quietly, her chin jutted out, but Janet could see the quiver around her mouth. She was struggling.

  ‘We know you’re having a relationship with James,’ Janet said.

  Angela moved as if to deny it, but Janet’s expression stopped her. She saw they knew. ‘He can’t have done it,’ she said. ‘He was with me, innit.’

  Oh God. ‘When?’ Janet said.

  ‘Monday.’

  ‘What time?’

  Angela hesitated. ‘All day.’ Tears in her voice.

  Janet said, ‘We have proof that isn’t the case, Angela. And it would be extremely foolish of you to perjure yourself out of some sense of loyalty.’

  Silent tears rolled from Angela’s eyes, she wiped them away.

  ‘Let’s start again,’ Janet said. ‘You and James have a sexual relationship.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘Year and a half.’

  ‘How did you meet?’

  ‘At Ryelands.’

  ‘And Rosie Vaughan. Did James go out with her?’

  ‘He broke it off,’ she said, ‘when we got together.’

  ‘You told me earlier that you’d only seen Rosie twice after leaving Ryelands. Is that why? Because of James?’

  ‘He liked me and she could never have coped with it, him being my boyfriend instead of hers. She was bothering him, anyway. Obsessive, innit. Wouldn’t leave him alone, threatening to get him into trouble if he left her. Best to have a clean break all round.’

  The threats were of interest. Was that what had led to the beating and the rape? Rosie, cut off from Angela, suspecting he was shagging around and trying to pull weight? ‘And Lisa Finn – was she another of his girlfriends?’

  ‘No way,’ Angela insisted. ‘Never. There was just me.’ Janet absorbed that. ‘He wouldn’t do that to me. Go with some dirty junkie. He was a social worker, he had to see Lisa for his job, that’s all.’ Trying to convince herself. ‘He loves me. He wouldn’t do that.’

  Janet felt a wash of guilt, she loved Ade and look at what she’d done.

  ‘When did you last see James?’

  Angela wavered. Still wanting to protect him, to protect some shred of the fantasy she’d been living. But, Janet guessed, not knowing what answer might best help him. ‘Thursday,’ she finally said.

  ‘This last Thursday? What time?’

  ‘About six.’

  ‘When did he leave?’

  ‘Seven-ish,’ she said, defensively.

  ‘That evening?’

  Angela gave a nod. Wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. Janet bet he never stayed the night, never took her anywhere. Using her like a prostitute, not even having to pay. ‘Did James say anything about Lisa’s murder?’

  ‘Said they’d got Sean for it. It had been on the news.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Janet said.

  ‘No. Only that it was an awful thing, one of his clients, innit.’

  ‘Did you know before – that Lisa was one of his clients?’

  ‘No. Confidential all that,’ she reeled off.

  ‘And how did James seem when he told you her boyfriend had been arrested?’

  ‘I don’t know … pleased, like they’d got someone for it. Just normal.’

  ‘Did he ever speak to you at all about the assault on Rosie Vaughan?’

  ‘No, I was the one told him, ’cos the police had been round. He didn’t even know it had happened.’ Her voice shook. ‘He hadn’t seen her for ages, see, ’cos he was going with me.’ Another tear tracked down her face.

  She wasn’t stupid, Janet thought. The sheer effort, the energy it must have taken to build and sustain the wall of ignorance she’d built. To keep him unsullied in her mind. To shout down the whispers of suspicion about Rosie, about Lisa, about all the other girls that he popped in to see when the whim took him. To believe she was the only one, special, different.

  ‘I’d like to take your phone,’ Janet said. ‘We are having to examine all communications made to and from James as part of our investigation.’

  ‘He’s innocent, he didn’t do nothing,’ Angela said again.

  Janet got out an evidence bag and held it open. ‘Can you please place your phone in the bag?’ She wrote out a receipt and passed it back to Angela. ‘Has James ever been violent to you?’

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘Has he ever raped you?’

  ‘No, fuck off, he’d never do anything like that!’ She was angry, her face darkening.

  ‘Has he ever threatened you with a knife?’
>
  ‘No. He’s not like that,’ she said. ‘You’ll see. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  42

  THE MEETING ROOM was buzzing, people chipping in, speculating about the arrest. Gill could see Rachel thriving on the attention, the closest she had come yet to acting like a team player. Sing when you’re winning.

  Denise Finn had been dumbfounded on hearing of the arrest of another suspect. ‘What twenty-eight-year-old? Who is it?’ she asked. And, ‘Not Sean?’ she said more than once, as though she might have got the wrong end of the stick.

  ‘Good news and bad news,’ Gill began. ‘Good news: we have a text from Raleigh to our victim arranging to visit her at two p.m. on the thirteenth. We have his car in the right place at the right time. We know he has lied to us on several counts. Bad news: we found nothing at his place of residence apart from the right make of condoms, no knife, no bloody togs. High-tech crime unit – still have to get back to us. Andy and Janet – Angela?’

  Andy and Janet looked at each other, some weird, polite dance going on as to who should talk. ‘Somebody,’ Gill prompted impatiently.

  ‘Grooming,’ Janet said, ‘apparently for his sole use. Met the three girls at Ryelands, started shagging Rosie, then Angela. Tells Angela he’s broken off with Rosie and she must do the same. Divide and rule. Told Angela she was the one and only. Probable he was still visiting Rosie. At some point he starts seeing Lisa, too. The texts say it all. Same style for both Angela and Lisa. His MO seems to be: send them a text, turn up, get his end away and leave. Angela swore blind he never laid into her. One thing she did say might be of interest: Rosie had threatened to report Raleigh, get him into trouble if he didn’t treat her right. Perhaps she tried that once too often?’

  Rachel tightened her mouth. Gill saw she was disturbed by the likely truth of what Janet suggested.

  ‘I’ve told forensic submissions that we want to run Raleigh’s DNA against our profiles immediately, if not sooner. Other thoughts?’ Gill said.