‘I don’t want to embarrass you Helen, but I’ve been told you and Adam had a bit of a thing going when he was at your school.’
There was a few seconds of nothing again before she answered, ‘Yes we had a brief affair. I know Sara’s told you.’
‘She didn’t tell me that to stir things up for you, Helen. She thought it might be relevant to what has happened to her friend and colleague Trish Scarr. You see Trish was also having an affair with Adam at the school where they worked together.’
‘Yes, Sara’s told me.’
‘I want to come and see you about what occurred between you and Adam, and get a statement, if I may, but I’m a bit tied up at the moment so is it all right if I talk over the phone for now?’
‘I’ve only got about ten minutes. Then I’m back in class.’
‘That’s okay I only want to ask you a couple of questions.’ Quickly composing herself Scarlett continued, ‘You and Adam – how did it start?’
‘I guess it was one of those things that just crept up. Adam was a nice guy. We all knew he had issues with his wife. You know, mental health problems...’
‘How did you find out about those issues?’ Scarlett interrupted.
‘From Adam. It was no secret. It sometimes affected his work. Coping with her used to get him down. He used to sometimes mention it in the staff room when things had gone off between them.’
‘You mean when they’d had a row?’
‘Sometimes it was more than that. She attacked him.’
‘Oh!?’
‘Yes, a couple of times he came to work with his face all scratched and he told us she’d gone off on one again.’’
‘What did he say was wrong with his wife?’
‘He told us she was bipolar.’
‘Did you believe him?’
‘Of course. Why? Is that not the case?’
She sounded shocked. ‘To be honest I don’t know,’ said Scarlett. ‘Sara Bailey also mentioned something about his wife’s mental state, which is something we’re following up on.’ After letting that sink in, she added, ‘So how did you and Adam get together?’
‘As I said, it just crept up. We used to chat quite a lot. Then, we’d all go out as a group from school, and then it got to just me and him going out for a drink. My marriage was going through a bad patch at the time and it just happened between us. It wasn’t something we planned.’
Not for you it might not have been, thought Scarlett, thinking about Adam trying it on with Sara Bailey and this recent episode with Trish. And then there were the dating sites Adam’s wife had told them about. She asked, ‘How long were you and he together?’
‘It wasn’t long. A couple of months. Me and Graham, that’s my husband, split up for a short time but we sorted our differences out and I told Adam I wanted to call it a day.’
‘And how did Adam react?’
‘He was upset initially and he begged me to carry things on between us. He said he would leave his wife, but I didn’t really believe him, and things had improved between Graham and I, so I told him no.’
‘I’ve been told your car was damaged. Did that happen after you told Adam it was off between you?’
‘Yes, within a matter of days. I left work one evening and all the tyres had been slashed and paint stripper thrown over the bonnet. It cost me a fortune because I wasn’t covered for malicious damage.’
‘And did you challenge Adam about it?’
‘Yes, the moment I found it like that. I went back into the school and asked him if it was him.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘Just denied it. I told him I was calling the police. He told me not to, that he’d sort it, but I was furious. I called them and also spoke to my union. The union advised me to go off sick and I know the police interviewed him because they came back and told me he’d denied it and he had an alibi. Two nights later the lounge window at our house was smashed. A brick was thrown through it. We called the police again and I told them about Adam. I’d already told Graham about us. They said they’d talk to Adam, but without any witnesses their hands were tied as to what they could do. That’s when I decided to go for the job I’m doing now and hand in my notice. I’d had enough of the hassle and I didn’t want any more. It was a shame because I loved working at that school. I’d started my career there. Colleagues told me Adam had been spoken to by the Governors and he was applying for another post, but it was too late by then for me. And of course, as you know, he’s now got the head’s job at Sara Bailey’s school. Is that any help?’
‘It certainly gives us a clearer picture Helen, thank you. As I said earlier I will need to get a statement from you, but that won’t be for a day or two. I’ve got your number now so I’ll fix something up and come and see you at your school after you finish so your husband, Graham, won’t be around. I don’t want to embarrass you.’
‘As I said, he does know about what happened with me and Adam, but yes I’d feel better if you came to the school.’
‘Well thank you again Helen and I’ll be in touch.’ Ending the call, Scarlett diverted her attention back to the forensics team, who were now by the edge of the canal – the three of them, standing side-by-side – staring into the murky waterway.
Fifty-one
‘Have you got something?’ Scarlett called out, yomping down the incline to the CSI team. There were now three yellow forensic pyramids on the ground by Adam Witton’s BMW, each set beside a stained area of gravel.
One of the forensic officers turned and gave her a silent greeting as she joined them by the canal’s edge. Scarlett studied the ripples. The greyness of the morning reflected in the water. ‘Found something?’ she asked again.
‘Not sure,’ mumbled the man, pulling down his face mask. ‘Both the driver’s seat and back seat of the BMW are covered in blood, and there are small areas of blood leading to here, together with scuff marks along the ground.’
‘Is that what the markers are covering?’
The man nodded and pointed to a tiny stain, no bigger than a two pence piece, in front of them at the edge of the canal. ‘And there’s this small area of blood. We think someone went into the canal at this point here.’
‘Jumped or fallen?’
The three forensic officers shrugged simultaneously. The man said, ‘The amount of blood in the car and the drag marks would suggest that whoever came from that car would be in a pretty bad state.’
‘You know this is linked to the Trish Scarr murder, two days ago? The pathologist who did her PM found skin under her fingernails. Could it mean she fought back more than we think?’
‘Given the amount of blood, it would suggest she put up a hell of a fight. Like I said, the blood loss is significant.’
‘But why blood in the front, as well as the back of the car?’
Another member of the CSI team removed their mask and turned to face Scarlett. She was a slim woman who looked to be in her late thirties. ‘The patterns are completely different. The blood-staining in the driver’s seat looks to be transfer stains – blood, which, more than likely has come from the blood-stained clothes they are wearing. The blood in the back is thicker – some of it congealed. That looks to have come from an area that has bled out. Totally different.’
Scarlett eyebrows narrowed, ‘Meaning?’
The woman gave another shrug, ‘This is merely supposition based on the information we’ve been given. Let’s just say that Adam’s driven here straight after the murder, with some kind of injury from his fight with the victim – let’s just say to his head for now, given the different pattern on the front seat. The blood loss would have made him feel faint and so he got into the back seat to lie down, which is why the blood has pooled there.’
‘And after a while he’s got to thinking what he’s just done, decided the game’s up, dragged himself to the edge of the canal here and thrown himself in?’ Scarlett interjected, looking down at the slate coloured water.
‘That’s one li
ne of thinking. But the only way we’re going to know for certain is by searching this canal,’ answered the woman.’
Scarlett returned to the outer cordon and put in a call to Diane Harris, updating her about the blood-trail evidence and what it could mean, and requesting the attendance of the Marine Police Unit to search the waterway. The DCI told her she would put in the request immediately and to inform her the moment they had anything of significance, before ending the phone-call with a ‘Well done.’ Scarlett stuffed her BlackBerry back into her pocket and went to her car, checking the time. It would be at least an hour before the Marine Police Unit got to her – enough time to make a few notes in her journal while she waited.
Fifty-two
It took a lot less time for the Marine Police Unit to arrive than Scarlett had anticipated – the Sergeant who introduced his team said they had been about to go out on a training exercise when they had got the call, so their dinghy and kit was already loaded in the trailer. However, it was mid-afternoon by the time they were kitted-up and on the water because the Unit’s van and trailer were too large for the cemetery’s main gates and everything had to be manhandled down to the water's edge. It was frustrating.
Making a mental note of the time, Scarlett watched four neoprene-suited men lower themselves, and their diving gear, into their craft and gently push away from the bank. One started the outboard engine, steered the dinghy gently away in a straight line towards the centre of the canal, and then began circling steadily. It took a good ten minutes for two of the squad to equip themselves with air tanks and weight belts before signalling they were ready. They dropped backwards off the side of the dinghy, entering the oily water with a heavy splash that rocked their boat. For a second they bobbed about in a gentle swell, adjusting their masks and second-testing their breathing regulators, and then, giving a thumbs up to the boat crew, they disappeared into the murk. Although the canal was only about three metres deep, such was the poor quality of the water that she couldn’t see anything of them below the surface, though she could follow their progress from the air bubbles breaking the light ebb.
A metre from where Scarlett was standing, the bubbles stopped in their tracks. Her heart picked up a beat.
Two minutes later a diver came to the surface. Easing up his mask and removing his mouth regulator, he said, ‘We’ve found a body.’
***
It was another three-quarters of an hour before they brought the body up. The corpse was hauled up by rope, first to the dinghy’s side and then carefully pulled on board. From where Scarlett was she couldn’t make out if it was Adam Witton or not and she fought back her excitement. Five minutes later the boat was just below her but she still couldn’t see if it was their suspect because the body was face down. Getting the cadaver up onto the towpath took cautious manoeuvring under the watchful instruction of the lead forensic officer. Finally, a quarter of an hour later, following vigilant handling, the Marine Unit had the body laid out on heavy plastic sheeting.
It was Adam Witton.
He was only wearing one shoe. The other must have come off when they dragged him up from the bottom of the canal. She scanned his body. His face was wax-white, the skin water-crinkled, and his dark hair matted with weed, as were his shirt and trousers.
Two of the CSI team nodded before stepping onto the sheeting, which crackled underfoot. While one fastened plastic bags onto Adam’s hands the other took a series of photographs. Then they started their examination. One held and supported Witton’s head as the other delicately parted strands of hair. Only thirty seconds after starting his probing, the lead forensic officer looked up at Scarlett. ‘You need to get your SIO down here pronto. And the pathologist. This is not as we first thought.’
Fifty-three
At the cemetery gates Scarlett was pacing around like a hungry animal at a zoo. It had been well over an hour since she had called it in over the radio and there was still no sign of her DCI. She’d tried ringing Diane Harris but her mobile rang out until diverting to voicemail. She was about to call the incident room again when the DCI’s car came speeding towards her. After screeching to a halt Diane Harris flung open the door.
‘We’ve got a problem,’ she shouted over the roof of her car, going to the boot and popping the lid.
Scarlett quickly joined her. ‘What’s the matter?’
Removing a Tyvek forensic suit from inside, Diane glanced sideways. ‘Just before you radioed in, I’d just got the results back from the lab.’ Slinging the all-in-one over her arm and picking out two over-shoe bootees, she slammed down the lid. ‘Alice Witton’s DNA is all over Trish’s face and arms, and the skin under Trish’s nails – Alice’s.’
Scarlett took a sharp intake of breath. ‘Alice killed Trish?’
Diane Harris nodded.
‘Has she been arrested?’
‘That’s the problem. I sent George and Ella to pick her up once I got the phone call from the lab and they found Lucy unconscious in the kitchen. She’d been hit over the head with an empty wine bottle. We believe Alice heard your message on Lucy’s radio. She’s done a runner. I’ve got everyone out looking for her. Hayden’s coordinating.’
‘Good God! Is Lucy okay?’
‘Nasty cut and concussion. She’s at the hospital. Ella’s with her.’ Slipping off her jacket, the DCI opened the passenger door of her car, slung it onto the seat and started unravelling her forensic suit. ‘Tell me what you’ve got.’
Scarlett said, ‘Adam’s body was found at the bottom of the canal. We thought at first he might have topped himself, but CSI have found a hole in the back of his head that you can get your fist inside. He’s been whacked with something really heavy. The supervisor believes that given the state of the injury and the amount of blood on the back seat he would have been dead before he went in the water. I was going to tell you it’s looking like he was murdered, but that’s no surprise now. Especially given what you’ve just said about Alice. And given what you’ve just said, we know who killed him.’
‘What about the Pathologist?’
‘Still on his way.’
‘Okay, let’s have a look then, shall we?’
They set off at a march down the path.
Fifty-four
The DCI called everyone back shortly before 6 p.m. In the ensuing 30 minutes, the squad filtered in gradually, each asking the other what was happening. Everyone was puzzled.
Scarlett was one of the last back in the office. After the DCI had left she had remained with Adam Witton’s body, waiting for the Pathologist. Niall Lynch had turned out, making her wait worthwhile: Niall was a charming Irishman in his late forties whom she’d met at many crime scenes. His gallows humour and macabre stories always kept her entertained no matter what the tragedy. He’d carried out a short but methodical examination of Adam Witton’s body, confirming what CSI had already told her about cause of death – the head injury. A rectal test revealed Witton had been dead well over 24 hours. It would first thing tomorrow morning before the post-mortem – Niall was on his way to another body – someone hit by a train near South Ruislip underground, and waving his goodbye, he’d left her with the words, ‘No rest for the wicked eh!’ Scarlett had overseen the body being removed by the undertakers. She was alone by the time the black van had turned up – everyone had packed up and left. Once she had seen the two dour-faced undertaker’s assistants off with Adam’s body, she had left, calling into the hospital on her way back to base to check on how her new partner was doing. Lucy had been stitched up and bandaged and was still on a trolley waiting to see the doctor again; she’d been told to stay in overnight for observation because of concussion, but she didn’t want to and was waiting to be re-assessed.
It was while Scarlett was at the hospital she got the DCI’s call to come in. She bade Lucy cheerio, telling her that she would see her later and hurried back to the station. Before going into the office though she decided to put in a call to Tarn. It seemed unfair not to let him know what was going on, g
iven that the DNA results pointed the finger of suspicion at Alice Witton for the murder of his wife: she would never forgive herself if he found it out from the news. He answered within seconds. She said, ‘Tarn, it’s me, I’ve got some news, but I can’t talk long.’
‘You’ve got Adam Witton.’
She gave a wry smile. She should have expected that. ‘Well yes we have, but it’s not happened the way we expected.’ She outlined how they had found Adam’s body in the canal and that an autopsy was being performed on his body tomorrow. Before he could butt in she said, ‘But he didn’t kill Trish.’ Tarn went quiet and Scarlett guessed he was filtering everything, pulling his thoughts together.
After a few seconds he responded, ‘Adam didn’t kill Trish! Then who did?’
‘His wife! Alice! We know because her DNA’s all over Trish. We got the results back from the lab this lunchtime.’ Pausing she continued, ‘Look Tarn, I know there’s a hundred-and-one things you want to ask me, but all I can tell you is there are a few complications, and we’ve got loads of things to follow up, which I can’t go into at the moment. We’ve all just been called back for an emergency briefing so I should be getting an update on the state-of-play very shortly. Once I find out what’s happening I promise I’ll come back to you.’ Before he could ask any further questions she hung up, turned off her mobile and headed for the incident room. She had just got herself a coffee from the machine down the hall and settled into her seat when Diane Harris and Hayden Taylor-Butler strode into the office, both wearing bleak looks.
Everyone stopped what they were doing. Scarlett set down her polystyrene cup of weak looking coffee. She’d already gone off the thought of drinking it.
‘We have news. Good and bad.’ Diane Harris addressed the squad. ‘Following a search of Witton’s home we believe we have the weapon that killed Adam. We’ve found a broken metal ornament in their refuse bin at the back of the house and it’s got bloodstains on it. That’s the good news.’ She scanned the room. ‘The bad news is that Alice Witton is dead. It looks like she’s committed suicide. I got a phone call an hour ago from BTP. A woman jumped in front of a train just outside South Ruislip station at four-forty p.m. this afternoon. They’ve identified her from the photograph we circulated.’ She paused again. ‘Because of the state her body’s in, we’ve got a DNA test to run as a matter of formality, but we’re happy it is Alice Witton. I’ve spoken to Lucy at the hospital and she’s confirmed the clothing she was wearing today and it fits with that on the body. And we’ve also got to do a DNA test on the ornament recovered from Witton’s bin, but on the face of it that looks like the end of our investigation. Alice Witton killed Trish Scarr and then her husband. Sadly we’ll never know exactly why, but we can all guess.’ Placing her hands together she scanned the room, smiled and said, ‘And mentioning Lucy - just to let everyone know, she’s fine. Understandably she’s got a bit of a headache, but I spoke to her a few minutes ago and she says she doesn’t have to stay in tonight – they’re releasing her as we speak.’ She added, ‘And now as is customary on these occasions, the first round is on me.’
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