An arrangement of nodding heads answered her question.
It was mid-morning before DCs Mike Sampson and Carol Ragen – the appointed Family Liaison Officer – got to Gemma’s parents’ place. Stuart and Margaret Cooke lived in a three-bedroom, detached, Edwardian house, next to the church rectory, in the older part of Barnwell. A picturesque section of the Dearne navigation canal flowed past the bottom of their garden.
Mike had already phoned ahead, and spoken with Mr Cooke, to check if it was okay for them to come and chat some more about Gemma. He’d already had two interview sessions with Stuart and gained much about Gemma’s early life. What was missing were the more recent events in her personal circumstances, especially with regards her activities in the days prior to her murder, and, as he got out of the car, he double-checked his folder of documents, ensuring everything was in the right order and that his checklist of questions was to hand. He wanted to make this visit as short and as painless as possible: Mrs Cooke had taken the news of her daughter’s death very badly; upon the communiqué being delivered Margaret had collapsed and had been rushed to hospital with a suspected heart attack. She’d only been released two days ago after being given the all clear following tests.
The detectives had only just closed the entrance gate behind them and started their walk up the path when the front door opened sharply.
Stuart Cooke stepped out through the wide doorway and in an excited voice said, ‘The local news has just been on. It says that you’ve arrested a man.’
Mike inwardly cursed. How on earth had they got hold of that? He had promised right from the outset of the investigation that he would be the first to inform them should there be a significant occurrence in the enquiry. He sighed inwardly in exasperation. Throwing up his hand in a halt signal he said, ‘Can we just go inside, Mr Cooke?’
The detectives were let in and guided through a wooden panelled hallway into a high-ceilinged lounge. The room they entered was warm and bright. Huge bay windows let in an abundance of natural light.
Margaret Cooke was sat on the sofa wringing a handkerchief around in her hands. She looked weary. ‘Have you caught Gemma’s killer? Is it Adam?’ Her voice begged. She started to rise and Carol Ragen indicated with her hand that she needn’t do so. Margaret sank back into the cushions.
Mike responded, ‘Is it alright if we just sit down a minute?’
‘Yes of course, sorry.’ Mr Cooke pointed out two easy chairs positioned either side of a dark wood surround fireplace and then dropped down beside his wife. ‘She’s feeling a lot better now. The doctor gave her something to sleep last night,’ he said and clasped a hand around one of hers. She met her husband’s gaze with a sideways glance and gave him a wan smile.
Mike made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs and then leaned forward, see-sawing his gaze between Mr and Mrs Cooke. ‘Firstly, I’d like to apologise. I said I’d be the one to break any news to you, but it seems as though the media has somehow got hold of the information. I can confirm that we’ve arrested a man. The news is absolutely right, but we don’t know yet if it’s Gemma’s killer. He’s not admitted to her murder.’
‘And is it Adam?’ asked Stuart Cooke.
‘Yes, it is Adam who we’ve locked up, and he is going to court this afternoon. We’re requesting he be remanded in custody. But as I’ve said, he’s not admitted to killing Gemma. We’ve got him for other things as well, which I’m afraid I can’t discuss at this moment in time.’
‘I always knew he was a wrong ’un. Soon as I clamped eyes on him. We told Gemma – didn’t we love?’ Stuart connected with his wife’s grief-ridden look. ‘More than once. Our Gemma could never pick a gud ’un. Ever since a teenager. I mean look at that last one, before Adam, who died, falling off that balcony abroad when he was pissed up. He used her like a punchbag. I know she could be a bit mouthy at times, but no man should hit a woman, should they?’
‘No they shouldn’t, Mr Cooke. And yes, we do know that the previous boyfriend used to beat her. We’ve learned such a lot since your daughter’s death,’ interjected Carol.
Mike nodded sympathetically. ‘What I will say to you both is that as soon as we have something positive to tell you about Gemma’s murder, you will be the first to know.’ Pushing himself back he rested his folder on his knee and opened it. ‘Now if I can just ask you a few more questions so I can bring everything up to date.’ Mike glanced at the notes he had made from his previous conversations with Mr Cooke. The team now knew that she had been an only child and that she’d had a good, untroubled childhood. At school she had shown great promise, but between the ages of fifteen and nineteen she had ‘gone off the rails,’ as Stuart Cooke had put it, and been a great disappointment. During one of the very first interviews, tears had welled in Mr Cooke’s eyes as, with great consternation, he had detailed how he and his wife had regularly had to deal with Gemma coming home drunk, sometimes having to physically restrain her because she’d threatened to assault them both. It had also troubled him when he found she was associating with lads a lot older than herself. He had tried to stop her going out of the house by locking her in her room, but she had climbed out of the window and shinned down the drainpipe. But in the next breath Mike had watched Mr Cooke’s face light up as spoke fondly of how at the age of twenty she had transformed her life. He’d said that she had come home one day, not long after her twentieth birthday, and ‘out of the blue’ announced she had got herself a job in a hairdressers’ and was enrolling in college. Since then she had qualified as a beauty therapist, and five years ago had decided to go it alone and set herself up in business as a mobile beauty therapist. And was making a very good living for herself, he had proudly announced. He had finished his tale by telling Mike that ‘Gemma had a good head and good common-sense when it came to business but rotten sense when it came to picking men.’
Dipping a hand inside his jacket Mike withdrew his pen and tested it on the top line of a sheet of foolscap. ‘If I tell you that we’ve now tracked down all of Gemma’s friends that she regularly associated with and built up a pretty good picture of her life to date, what I need from you is just to fill in the gaps regarding what you know about Adam Fields and of your daughter’s movements in the week leading up to her death.’
Stuart and Margaret Cooke exchanged looks.
‘When did your daughter and Adam Fields first get together?’
Margaret Cooke released her hand from her husband’s and began wringing her handkerchief. She said, ‘It was roughly a couple of months after she split up with Jamie – James Blaney. He’s the one who fell off the balcony on holiday last summer. They’d already been split up a good while when that happened. She was already in a steady relationship with Adam when he died. In fact Adam had moved in with her.’
‘Do you know how they met?’
‘Gemma told me she knew Adam from before. I think they used to bump into one another when she went round town with her mates. She brought him round here before he moved in, but I couldn’t take to him. There was something about him I didn’t like. You’ve seen him haven’t you? All brawn. He was too fond of himself for my liking. Used to act like he was God’s gift. I tried to warn Gemma but she wouldn’t listen and now look where it’s got us.’ She released a sound which was the start of a sob and then caught herself.
‘Well as I say, Mrs Cooke, we don’t know for sure yet whether Adam is involved in Gemma’s death, we’ve still got a lot of enquiries to do.’ Mike scribbled down a few key words of what Margaret had just said. He would expand on them later when he formulated her statement. He asked, ‘Did Gemma ever mention to you if Adam had hit her or not?’
Mrs Cooke exchanged looks with her husband for a few seconds and then returned her gaze. ‘Gemma wouldn’t tell us anything like that. We didn’t find out that Jamie had beat her until well after they’d split up.’ She paused and looked up towards the ceiling momentarily. Returning her look with glassed-over eyes she continued, ‘I could tell though that
something wasn’t right between her and Adam.’
‘What makes you say that, Margaret?’
‘Oh, I could read our Gemma like a book. She was such a bubbly outgoing person normally, but these last couple of months she’s not been herself. I asked her more than once if things were all right between them and she just kept telling me “not to fret” and then changed the subject.’
‘Do you happen to know if she was seeing anyone else?’
‘Our Gemma?’
Mike nodded.
‘Not that I know of. Why has somebody said she was?’
He made a note. ‘It’s just a line we’re following up.’
She looked to her husband again. He shook his head. Margaret responded, ‘Our Gemma kept things close to her chest, but I don’t think she’d have been so down as she was if she’d been seeing someone. I know what our Gemma’s like when she starts a new relationship.’
‘Okay, Mrs Cooke, just one more question and then we’ll leave you in peace. You’ve already said Gemma was a bit down, but had you noticed anything out of the ordinary about her recently. Something she might have said, or reacted to, while you had been chatting with her? It might just be her manner, or the way she’s done something that was different to her day-to-day routine.’
Margaret shook her head. ‘No, nothing like that at all. Just a bit down that’s all.’
Suddenly her demeanour changed, Mike spotted it. ‘Is there something, Margaret?’
‘Well there is something unusual, but it’s not about anything Gemma has said or done, it’s relating to what she was wearing.’
‘Wearing?’
‘Yeah, you know when she was found. When we went to identify Gemma, the officer there handed over Gemma’s personal effects. One of the things he handed over was a silver locket which I knew wasn’t hers. I quizzed him about it. He said it must be hers because it was around her neck when they found her. But I definitely know it didn’t belong to Gemma. And the initials inside prove it.’
Mike’s eyebrows knitted together, ‘Initials?’
‘Yeah, when I got the locket home I had a closer look at it, just in case I’d got it wrong. It’s quite an old one you see and I was trying to remember if anyone in the family had bought it her when she was younger. I knew in my own mind that nobody had, but I wanted to make sure, for myself. When I opened it I knew it wasn’t Gemma’s. They weren’t Gemma’s initials inside.’
Mike threw his colleague a puzzled look before returning his gaze to Mrs Cooke. ‘Margaret, can you show us the locket?’
She pushed herself out of the sofa and padded towards a set of drawers, in the alcove to the right of the fireplace. She opened the top drawer, dipped a hand inside and after a few seconds withdrew a clenched fist. She reached out to Mike and sprung open her hand.
‘Have a look inside it.’
With thumb and forefinger Mike delicately lifted a silver coloured chain and heart shaped locket from Margaret Cooke’s palm. The face of the locket had a leafed flower engraved upon it. It looked like a daisy. It took him thirty seconds of messing with the clasp before he prised it open. He surveyed the inside.
‘See what I mean.’
Mike was about to shake his head. At first he hadn’t clicked on to what Margaret Cooke was alluding to. Then the light bulb lit up in his head. He said ‘JC.’
‘Yes, JC. Our Gemma’s name begins with a G, not a J.’
‘Then who does this locket belong to?’
Mrs Cooke shook her shoulders. ‘Search me.’
- ooOoo -
CHAPTER SIX
Day Five: 22nd March.
In the gloom of the MIT room silence reigned. A sea of detectives’ faces were glued to the 42 inch plasma TV screen at the front of the room. They were watching the dying seconds of two minutes worth of CCTV footage, which had already played out. Many looked on with horror. Some shook their heads.
Detective Superintendent Leggate freeze-framed the last section. The picture was clear and sharp. It depicted a man holding open the rear door of a black taxi cab. Gemma Cooke was about to climb into the back. She tapped a finger over the man’s image.
‘You all see the same as me. Conclusive evidence I think you’ll agree. And unless he has a twin brother there’s no doubt who this is getting into the taxi with Gemma, at Barker’s Pool, just after midnight on the eighteenth. Added to that, is the statement we have from the man who lives opposite Gemma, providing the description of the man who was seen going into the house with Gemma, at roughly quarter to one that morning. Finally, we have the forensics’ evidence. That came back late yesterday. The prints on the pizza box in the kitchen, on one of the wine glasses in the lounge and on the handle of the knife used to kill Gemma all belong to DC Tom Hagan.’ She deliberated over her words as she released the officer’s name. ‘I have no doubt once we get his DNA that it’ll match up with the semen stains on the bedding.’ She clicked the DVD remote’s stop button and the image cleared. The screen turned blue. ‘Lights on, please.’
Someone at the back switched on the fluorescents. Within a couple of seconds the room was awash with a bright white light.
Everyone blinked to adjust their sight.
Tightening her eyes, SIO Dawn Leggate continued, ‘This has cast a very dark shadow over this enquiry. DC Hagan is now the prime suspect in the murder of Gemma Cooke. I have already informed the Chief Constable and Professional Standards. I’ve also spoken with his DI this morning. She informs me that DC Hagan is day off today, but he’s not at his home, is not answering his mobile and she doesn’t know where he is. But, he is due in at nine tomorrow and so she’s bringing him across here the minute he gets in.’ Dawn Leggate still held the remote in her hand. She sought out Hunter with it. ‘As you and Grace have already spoken with DC Hagan I’m handing you two the task of interviewing him.’
SIO Dawn Leggate ended briefing by determining that everyone should clear up what current work they had on and finish the day early. She told the team that she wanted them fresh for the new week ahead, and so, the remains of the day fell away with detectives spending their time reviewing and consolidating the priorities and actions they had already been allocated.
Individually Hunter and Grace worked on their evidence journals, formulating their notes on their interview with Adam Fields. He had been put before court and had been remanded to Armley jail, where he would remain pending a trial date. After lunch they went back over Gemma Cooke’s case file, to prepare themselves for their interview with DC Tom Hagan. By late afternoon they had pulled together crime scene photographs and the key witness statements and were in a state of readiness for the following day.
On his way home, Hunter stopped off at the supermarket and bought a decent bottle of red wine. The past few days had been manic and he wanted nothing more than to spend that evening with Beth winding down after they had put Jonathan and Daniel to bed. Times like this were precious and he wanted to make the most of it, he said to himself as he climbed back into his car.
- ooOoo -
CHAPTER SEVEN
Day Six: 23rd March.
Hunter and Grace stood in the Custody Suite waiting area. An uncomfortable silence prevailed and was only broken by the odd discordant sound erupting from one of the cells down the corridor. It sounded like one of the overnight drunks was still in high spirits.
Opposite the reception desk, one leg hooked across the other, Hunter leaned back against the wall, bracing himself with his shoulders. Waiting.
Glancing at the clock on the wall opposite it dawned on him that he and Grace had been here for almost half an hour. During that wait, he had attempted to exchange looks with the three members of staff working behind the desk, but they had snatched away their eyes the moment they had met his gaze.
He felt isolated.
Feeling the need for support he glanced down to where his partner was sitting on one of the secured metal seats that were there for the use of prisoners who were waiting to be booked in. She was
hunched forward, elbows resting on her knees, eyes fixed forwards. She reminded him of someone who was waiting to see the dentist.
What they were in fact waiting for was the consultation to finish between DC Tom Hagan and the Federation appointed solicitor so that they could begin their interview; since the booking in procedure the pair had been locked in conference.
Tut-tutting to himself he lifted his eyes to the ceiling. Given that the suspect they were about to interview was a fellow detective he tried to focus on his line of questioning but his thinking was a shambles. He couldn’t even remember the first question he had written in his pre-interview notes only three quarters of an hour ago. He dragged back his gaze and flipped open his case notes. As he started to read his script the interview room door swung inwards, startling Hunter. Tom Hagan’s solicitor appeared in the doorway.
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