by Carol Wyer
‘Sure.’ Connor removed it to examine it and dust it for prints.
‘I’d say she’s been struck across the temple by a blunt weapon,’ said Harry McKenzie. ‘It’s a particularly fragile part of the skull. It’s almost certainly what killed her.’
Robyn examined the front door, checking for damage. ‘There’s no sign of forced entry so we can assume she opened her door to somebody. She might or might not have known her assailant. If she was about to leave, she probably wasn’t expecting a visitor, unless it was a running buddy.’
Her gaze was drawn to a black leather purse next to a handbag. She moved quickly towards it. ‘Connor, can you look at this, please?’
Connor’s eyebrows rose high as he leafed through the notes filling the purse. ‘You might rule out a burglary or robbery. There’s about £500 in it,’ he said.
‘That’s a fair amount of cash,’ said Robyn as she examined the kitchen top, looking for anything untoward. ‘Most people use cards these days to pay for stuff. I can’t think why she’d have that amount, unless somebody had given it to her – or paid her for something in cash.’ She moved towards the kitchen table and the window that looked out onto a six-foot hedge providing the house with privacy. It would be impossible for anybody to gain entry from that direction. She turned a full circle.
‘I can’t see any obvious damage or anything out of place in here.’
Mitz agreed. ‘It appears robbery can’t be the motive, not if the killer left all that money behind.’
Robyn glanced across at Tessa’s body. Harry was checking her core temperature to work out time of death.
‘Harry, what are your initial thoughts?’
‘I’d say death occurred about four, five hours ago. There’s little evidence of rigor, although there’s some recent stiffening of the neck muscles commensurate with the approximate time of death. Her core temperature hasn’t dropped a huge amount and indicates death was sometime this morning. Around six or seven.’
The kitten let out a plaintive yowl.
‘What’s happening to the cat?’ asked Robyn.
One of the forensic team spoke. ‘We’ve contacted the local cats’ home but they haven’t got anyone free to come and collect it yet.’
The kitten meowed again and pawed at the cage. Davies’ daughter, Amélie, who lived with her mother, Brigitte, was cat-crazy. Her grandmother, who was in France, owned a Siamese, and Amélie always talked at length about the animal after her visits there.
‘Schrödinger’s a weird name,’ said David, who’d been upstairs and was now standing by the door, quietly observing the proceedings.
A puff of air escaped Robyn’s nose in a light snort. ‘I’m assuming it’s after the Schrödinger cat experiment. Don’t ask. I don’t understand the concept. Look, if no one’s coming to collect that poor animal, I’m taking it with me. David, anything upstairs?’
‘No, guv. No sign of any tussle or attack.’
A lengthy sigh escaped Robyn’s lips. ‘Okay, it’s time to find a witness, collect some statements and leave this crime scene to the forensic chaps. Harry?’
‘There’s blunt force trauma to the temple and fractures to the right cheekbone. There’s a skull fracture to the back of the head that might have occurred when she fell, or from a direct blow to the head. I’m sure my examination will show the skull casing has been fractured here,’ he said, pointing to an area above her hairline. ‘It’s possible fragments might have made their way into the brain and caused haemorrhaging. I’ll confirm my findings later today.’
Robyn took another look about the home. Access to the French windows was impossible from the other side of the wall unless the killer had used a ladder, and there was no obvious damage to them. Whoever had attacked Tessa must have come through the front door. A wind-up toy mouse lay in Robyn’s path. She stepped over it and strode back into the kitchen. The space seemed impossibly small, filled, as it now was, with investigators in white suits.
‘David, I’d like you to remain behind to gather as many statements as possible from neighbours and begin questioning other locals in the area who might have seen or heard something unusual. Mitz, let’s see if we can find out more about Tessa Hall.’
Connor handed over an evidence bag containing the phone. ‘Nothing but her fingerprints on it. There’s an iPad in the other room. I’ll get it to you later today. Have to debrief the team on the other incident on Cannock Chase first.’
‘Of course. I’d almost forgotten about that.’
‘Somehow, I doubt that,’ said Connor.
‘Harry, can you get onto this immediately, please?’
‘Most definitely. You’ll get my full report as soon as possible.’
Robyn stood by the doorstep to remove her protective clothing, placed it in the bin and picked up the cage containing Schrödinger.
‘What are you going to do with the lucky black cat?’ asked Mitz as they climbed back into the squad car.
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ said Robyn, wondering why she’d acted on a whim. It was most unlike her. The vision of Amélie’s face drifted into her head. Maybe part of her did know.
Seventeen
DAY THREE – THURSDAY, 16 FEBRUARY, AFTERNOON
* * *
Back at the station, Robyn and Mitz relocated to an interview room to pool their findings. The office was far too busy for them to collate information with Shearer barking instructions to his men.
Robyn was perplexed. ‘There’s nothing on her phone – nothing at all except some downloaded music: no photographs, only a few game apps, and not one phone number in her contact list. She must have deleted all the information. I’ve contacted her provider to get details of her phone activity.’
Mitz gave a shrug. ‘That could be a genuine blip. It happened to me. I downloaded updates onto my iPhone, and when it rebooted, I’d lost all the information on it. It was a right pain. I had to input it all manually.’
‘That would explain why her contact list is empty. What have you found out?’
Mitz ran through his information quickly. ‘No convictions or anything we ought to be concerned about. Parents live near Solihull – her father’s a watch repairer working on high-value items. Has his own workshop and shop in Solihull. Mother’s a doctor – paediatrician. Tessa worked at the fertility clinic in Tamworth.’
Robyn pursed her lips and huffed. ‘Tamworth clinic? Isn’t that where the Gregsons went for tests?’
Mitz nodded. ‘It’s the main fertility clinic in the area.’
‘Might be a coincidence but I’ll talk to Lauren and see if she knew this woman.’
‘The house in Barton is in her name. She bought it last June.’
‘I don’t know many young people, especially nurses, who can afford to buy their own property. She must have had some help with a deposit at least. Best to check that out. There were flowers on the table in the kitchen and a Valentine’s card, so I’m guessing there’s someone in her life. I’d like to find out who that someone is.’
‘Not had too much time to contact colleagues or friends but she has an online presence, so once I have a moment, and her iPad, I’ll look into that in more detail. Might need Anna’s help.’
Robyn nodded in agreement. ‘Definitely. The sooner the better. Okay, what are we dealing with here? Tessa’s assailant attacked her and left her for dead, but apparently stole nothing of worth. Are we looking at a random attack without any motive? Or could she have upset or angered somebody?’
The interview room was devoid of all furniture bar the table in front of them and three plastic chairs. Robyn wriggled forwards on her chair, unrolled a large sheet of paper onto the table, anchored it down with her elbow and began writing the key words that would be their starting points.
‘Can you talk to her parents? They might know about Tessa’s love life and be the ones who helped her out with a deposit for the house. If not, I’m curious as to how she could afford it. After that, we’ll need to speak to her work c
olleagues. With that and David collecting statements, and Anna looking into Tessa’s online activities, we might be able to build up a picture of what’s happened here. The fact she worked at the same clinic Henry and Lauren attended is bugging me. I’ll call on Lauren Gregson and ask her a few more questions. Okay, let’s get back to the madhouse.’
Mitz stepped forwards. ‘You want me to handle this with David? You can’t be racing between the two cases.’
Robyn’s cheeks lifted. ‘You’re not trying to fast-track to DI are you, Sergeant Patel?’
He laughed. ‘Well, if there was a way…’
‘If anyone can, you can,’ she said, shuffling her notes into a neat pile. ‘Thanks, but I want to oversee both cases. It keeps me on my toes and my mind from wandering.’
‘Talking of wandering… You might have to keep an eye on your new pet. I think Anna’s got her eye on it. She was making cooing noises at it earlier.’
* * *
Robyn returned to the chaos in her office and a bad-tempered Shearer.
‘It’s like a bloody pet shop in here,’ grumbled Shearer. ‘First it was a florist, now it’s a pet shop. Lord knows how you ever get any work done.’
‘We’d all get more done if we didn’t keep falling over all your clobber,’ retorted Robyn, kicking at the box file on which she’d just stubbed her toe. ‘It’s no good complaining. We’re all in the same boat.’
‘More like Noah’s ark,’ said Shearer, returning his attention to his laptop and typing methodically with two fingers. ‘Get a wriggle on, Gareth. I want to get this completed before the bastard’s brief comes in again and he starts shouting about his client’s diminished responsibility.’
Gareth pulled a face. ‘Almost done, sir. It’s a bit hard to concentrate, what with all the comings and goings.’
Matt piped up. ‘Mostly from you lot. It’d help us if you didn’t keep leaping about the place. You’re like jack-in-the-boxes. Up and down every five minutes with paperwork and dashing about.’
Gareth mumbled, ‘It’s called police work.’
‘What’s that you said?’ said Matt, bristling. He scraped back his chair, ready to have a go at the young policeman.
Robyn’s voice rose. ‘Whoa! That’s enough.’ The tension was palpable. She hadn’t time for tantrums and distractions. She threw Shearer a look but he was otherwise occupied.
‘Where are we with the Gregsons? Anna?’
‘I’ve identified more websites Lauren Gregson visited. She told us she wasn’t online frequently, but she was – more often than she led us to believe. I get the impression she was completely obsessed with having children and didn’t want her husband to be aware of her fixation, hence all the deleted browsing history.’
‘That correlates with what Liam Carrington told me, that Henry was less keen than Lauren to have children. I’m going over to visit her after this meeting and will try to find out more about that. Have you found out where Gregson disappeared to the morning he was killed?’
‘No. I’ve been through all the automatic number plate recognition camera footage from Gregson’s house to Cannock Chase. His Kia passed a point on the A51 shortly after leaving his house in Brocton, headed in the direction of Lichfield, which is exactly the route we’d expect him to take to go to work. However, it doesn’t pass through a second point on the route that leads to MiniMarkt, so he definitely didn’t go into work that way. The Kia doesn’t appear on any other number plate recognition cameras in Lichfield and doesn’t show again until it passes the one situated a mile from Cannock Chase. It’s hugely frustrating but I can’t pinpoint his movements for that morning.’
‘Matt?’
‘Same here. Been hitting a brick wall. Interviewed his friends and connections at the cricket and football village clubs. Nothing.’ He waved at a pile of papers on his desk. ‘And no fix on that pay-as-you-go mobile.’
Robyn bounced the tips of her fingers together lightly. It was all too frustrating for words. She had two cases and couldn’t get leverage on either. Was it because her mind was elsewhere? Was she letting her concerns about Davies dominate her thoughts? She certainly wasn’t getting anywhere at the moment. And to cap it all, sharing the office with Shearer was hindering her ability to work. She blinked into the distance, wishing Shearer would vanish and free up her office.
The door flew open, barely avoiding hitting Matt, who threw the culprit a harsh stare.
‘Sir, DCI Flint requested we follow this up immediately.’
‘I’ve got twenty-twenty vision but even I can’t read what’s on that scrap of paper from over here, and I’m not a bloody mind reader. What are we to follow up?’
‘Suspected arson attack.’
Shearer pulled down his rolled-up sleeves and lifted his jacket from the back of his chair. ‘Gareth, drop that. It can wait until we get back.’ He sauntered off, whistling Rag’n’Bone Man’s ‘Human’, leaving Robyn torn between shouting something after him or sighing with relief that he’d vacated the office.
Matt headed for the coffee machine and cleared away the sloppy mess left by Shearer’s men, and then set a cup under the spout. He folded his arms as he waited for the bubbling to begin.
‘What next?’ he asked.
‘I think we’re going to have to call forward witnesses. I’ll speak to DCI Flint and ask if we can put out a television appeal and ask the press for help.’
Matt groaned. ‘Not Amy Walters. That woman is horrendous. She’s like an irritating wasp. You swipe at her and she buzzes off only to return later, and you’re never sure when she’ll sting you.’
Robyn felt that was an apt description of her. ‘I don’t like her any more than you do, but she’ll probably help out. She owes me a favour.’
Amy Walters was in her late twenties, single and driven solely by work. It was her ambition to be picked up by one of the national papers and even move into television reporting. She was currently writing a book about serial killers, based on real cases, and it was to be her one shot at grabbing the headlines herself. Robyn had given the young woman two lengthy interviews for chapters in the book in exchange for information. Amy was only a nuisance in that she never let go of anything. In fact, it was surprising she hadn’t already attempted to contact Robyn. Maybe she was too busy with her book. Robyn shook herself free of those thoughts and turned back to the whiteboard.
‘Have we identified the mysterious jogger, seen running along the Gruffalo Trail?’
‘Checked all the homes in the area – no one was out running on Cannock Chase on Tuesday,’ said Matt. ‘I’ve got a list of running clubs and gyms in the immediate vicinity. I’ve phoned Chase Warriors, a running group a mile away, but none of their members were out either. I’ve still got to check out the other clubs and gyms.’
Robyn’s frustration mounted. Trying to find somebody spotted running in such a wide public place was almost impossible. They could have come from anywhere nearby, and the Chase had many entrances accessible to joggers. The individual might even have driven to a spot nearby, parked up and then gone running.
‘I think we’ll waste valuable time trying to track them down this way. An appeal is probably the only way to go. I hope I don’t have to ask for another one in the Tessa Hall case.’
‘DCI Flint will love that – talk about spooking the public.’ Matt grinned.
‘I know.’ Robyn scratched her head. ‘As for Henry Gregson, I’ve been putting off interviewing his sister Libby again, but I think it’s time to talk to her and Tarik Akar.’
Anna spoke: ‘I’ve been looking into their backgrounds. I can’t find anything on Libby, certainly nothing that would indicate she was on drugs as her brother suggested, or any attempts at suicide. Tarik Akar is another matter. He’s got previous, for assault. He and a friend were accused of attacking a twenty-year-old man they believed to be vandalising Akar’s vehicle. They chased after him and set about him with fists. Case went to magistrates’ court but was dropped due to insufficient evidence. T
he victim claimed he’d been drinking heavily and stumbled from the pavement into the car, and wasn’t vandalising it. He’d been too drunk to identify either of his assailants with any accuracy.’
‘So, Henry was probably lying about his sister, much like he lied about his mother. I wonder why he was so keen to keep Lauren and Libby apart. And Tarik might be a man with a short fuse. I’m keeping an open mind about him. He could be involved, although I’ve yet to work out a genuine motive, or prove he was on Cannock Chase that day. Matt, do you want to talk to DCI Flint about the appeal and do it?’
‘You know how much I love cameras, guv. I ought to have been a movie star with my looks, not a policeman.’ He pretended to lick his hand and wet down his absent hair. ‘My pleasure.’
The kitten unfurled and stretched, then curled up again with a small sigh, a soft bundle of black fur. Robyn knew Amélie would adore it. Was that really why she’d brought it away with her? She rubbed her forehead. The pain above her right eye had begun to travel down her neck. She had to make some progress. She might be going out on a limb chasing after Tarik, but what choice did she have?
Eighteen
DAY THREE – THURSDAY, 16 FEBRUARY, LATE AFTERNOON
* * *
Lauren Gregson wore the look of a lost soul. Robyn had seen it before – the thousand-yard stare usually associated with soldiers but applicable to any victim of trauma. Lauren didn’t appear to recognise Robyn when she opened the door, and beckoned her in without a word.
The kitchen was in disarray: paperwork littered the kitchen tops along with the contents of kitchen drawers. An orange ceramic dish covered in cling film stood on the table, its contents untouched. Lauren slipped onto a stool and lifted a half-empty glass of wine to her lips, downing it in one.