by M A Comley
“I’ve already stated that I would put in a good word with the prosecution service. Maybe we could look at sending you to an open prison once you’ve been convicted. That’s the best I can do.”
“Why? Why do I have to go to prison? All I’ve done, all that I’m going to ever admit to, is that I hit your partner. That, I swear to God, is the only crime I’ve committed, ever.”
“If that’s the case, then why did you overreact when I mentioned Lomax’s name?”
She heaved a heavy sigh. “How would you react if someone asked you about the murder of someone? I’ve already said how some people I know have been fixed up by you lot. Now the same bloody thing is happening to me, ain’t it? How the hell would you react to such a question? Tell me that?” Her eyes bored into Hero’s in a defiant challenge.
“My client does appear to have a good point there, Inspector, doesn’t she? Considering what stress she’s been under in the past few days due to the loss of her husband, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to forgive her for such an outburst, would it?” Mr. Boulten said, sporting what appeared to be a triumphant grin.
“I’m willing to admit that her reaction would be justifiable had I hounded her on the point, but that wasn’t the case, Mr. Boulten. Was it, Mrs. Daws?”
“No. I just heard the word murder and flipped. I’m sorry for that. Sorry that you’re willing to hold it against me.”
Hero watched the woman’s eyes mist up. Not moved in the slightest, he put her pretence at being upset down to her playing a part again. “Providing you haven’t done anything wrong, there was no need for you to react that way. Now, tell the truth. Did you know Mark Lomax?”
“This is the truth, no!” Daws said adamantly.
“So your husband has never uttered his name?”
“No. Not that I can remember. Not that our relationship is what you would call chatty. I went to work, and he spent most of his time down the pub, a different pub to where I work. If we were that close, he’d want to drink where I worked, wouldn’t he?”
Hero thought over her point and nodded. “Well, let me tell you what we know then.” He looked down at his notes then back up at the suspect. “Mark Lomax’s body was found in a tunnel at the end of last week. The estimated time of death is approximately two to three weeks ago.”
The corners of Cathy’s mouth turned down, and she shrugged. “So?”
Hero picked up his pen and pointed at her with it. “Here’s the interesting part, Cathy. We’ve run extensive DNA tests on the victim’s corpse, which by the way, was in a pretty gruesome state after stray dogs had munched on it, and the tests came back positive for your husband’s DNA. How do you suppose that happened, Cathy?”
She sat upright in her chair and looked at her solicitor then back at Hero. “How the fuck should I know?”
“Just a minute. There’s more to add to this little conundrum.”
“More?” Her fringe moved as her forehead creased into a frown.
“Yes, we have reason to believe that Mark Lomax was an accomplice of your husband’s on the jewellery burglary he carried out. And you still maintain you don’t know the man?”
“Yes, I mean, no, I don’t know him.” She buried her head in her hands. “You have to believe me. Why did Stu have to get involved in all of this shit? Why?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out, Mrs. Daws, either with your help or without it.”
“I would tell you if I knew anything, if only to get you off my back and me out of here. You have to believe me,” she pleaded yet again.
Boulten placed his notebook on the desk. “I think we’ll leave it there now, Inspector. All we seem to be doing is chasing round and round like a demented dog after his tail. It’s obvious to me that my client knows nothing about either of the crimes you’ve mentioned. Therefore, I’m insisting that you let her go, without charge.”
“Without charge? I’m not sure we can agree to that, Mr. Boulten. We have the assault of a police officer to throw at your client before the day is out. One last chance, Mrs. Daws. What do you know about either crime?”
The woman squared her shoulders. “My final word is that I know nothing. And I’m sorry about your partner’s black eye.”
Defeated, although reluctant to show it, Hero faced his partner. “Would you like to go ahead with your complaint, DS Shaw?”
“I think due to the stress Mrs. Daws was under, I’m willing to withdraw the complaint, sir.”
Hero only just managed to prevent his mouth from falling open in shock. Julie’s willingness to drop the charges had come out of the blue and floored him. Mrs. Daws let out a relieved breath, and Hero sharply turned to look at her. “That’s very magnanimous of DS Shaw, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Daws?”
“Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“I pronounce this interview terminated. If you think of anything at all in the coming days that will help us piece the puzzle together, Mrs. Daws, will you contact us right away?” Hero handed her a business card.
“I will.”
Julie turned off the tape while Hero saw Mrs. Daws and Mr. Boulten out. They stopped at the front desk to gather the woman’s personal effects before exiting the main door of the building.
Walking up the stairs to the incident room, Julie caught up with Hero. “What do you think?”
“About Daws? I’m not sure. I hate to admit it, but I think she’s telling the truth, at least with some of it. Don’t ask me which parts. It’s just an instinct.”
Hero nodded, although he held back his reservations. “Let’s put her to one side for now and see where the rest of the evidence trail leads us. Jason and Lance should be back by now from questioning the old man. Maybe they’ll have something of relevance to share.”
CHAPTER NINE
As it turned out, Jason was looking mighty pleased with himself when Hero and Julie joined the rest of the team in the incident room.
“Looks promising. What did the old gent have to say, Jason?” Hero perched on the desk closest to Jason’s.
“I took him photos of both Cathy and Stuart Daws—”
“Hold back on the enthusiasm just a second, Jason. How did you get a picture of the wife, Cathy Daws? She doesn’t have a record, does she?”
“Nope.” Jason smiled awkwardly. “I kind of used my initiative, sir.”
“How exactly?”
“When Daws came in earlier, her arrival was on the station’s security camera. I asked the desk sergeant if I could take a still photo from the footage.”
“Clever. Some might call you a smartarse, but not I. Carry on?” Hero nodded approvingly at the youngster.
Jason beamed with appreciation. “Anyway, I’m not sure what Mrs. Daws said during her interview, sir—”
“She told Julie and me that she didn’t know Lomax. Go on. You’re going to tell me that she’s taken us for fools, aren’t you?” Hero said.
“Well…I personally wouldn’t put it that way myself, sir. However, according to Mr. Wilson—that’s the man’s name—she has visited Lomax’s house on several occasions, with the other deceased victim, Stuart Daws.”
Hero stood up and paced the area, running an angry hand through his short hair. “What the…? How in God’s name did I let her trick me like that? Right, from now on, we hit that woman with everything we’ve got. I couldn’t give a toss if she’s grieving or not. Perhaps she killed her husband, too.”
“But, she has a trusted alibi, sir,” Julie pointed out from where she was seated at her desk.
“So she says. Maybe she took a break around the time her husband was killed,” Hero said, walking over to the noticeboard to look at the clues and suspects he’d written down.
Jason joined him at the board. “Are you thinking that Foster picked her up, and they carried out the crime together?”
“I am. Let’s see how far the locations are. Work out the timings, the probabilities of her involvement, despite her saying she was on duty that night?”
&nbs
p; Jason rushed back to his desk. “On it, sir.”
Hero was still running through the main players and clues when Jason returned a few minutes later. “I’d say we have an approximate time of thirty minutes for Cathy to get from one location to another. That’s not taking into consideration how long the actual crime took to commit.”
Hero tutted and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “It’s not long enough, is it? Her boss would have noticed her missing during that time, surely?”
“I think so, sir. Frustrating though that is.”
“But the person getting out of that vehicle did appear to be female, yes? Let’s have another look at the footage just to make sure. It could have been a short man, I suppose, thinking about it.”
They evaluated the footage again and came to the same conclusion that the movements likely belonged to a woman rather than a man. The question was how could he tie Cathy Daws to her husband’s murder? Hero clicked his fingers. “Apart from getting a warrant to search Cathy’s house, which we can’t obtain without just cause, the only thing left open to us is to do a thorough search of the area. Yes, I know SOCO will be doing that close to the scene.” Hero tapped the image on the monitor. “But we need to be searching in this area here. It’s a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, the murderer dropped something as they got out of the vehicle. Jason? Do you fancy going to the scene for a couple of hours? Take Lance with you, eh?”
Lance groaned when Hero mentioned his name. Without turning around to face him, Hero called out, “Something wrong, Powell?”
After clearing his throat Lance shouted back, “No, sir. Everything is tickety boo with me.”
“Good, glad to hear it.” Hero clapped his hands, urging his team to get a move on. “Julie, fancy a ride out to Foster’s flat?”
“But he’s on the missing list, sir. I doubt that he’s likely to turn up there, knowing we’re after him.”
“Well, let’s go round there anyway. I want to see what the neighbours have to say about things. Jason’s already come up trumps with Lomax’s neighbour. Perhaps we can slot another piece into the puzzle with Foster’s neighbours. Come on. While I’m explaining it to you, we could be out there. We’re wasting time around here.”
Julie followed him downstairs and out to the car, dragging her feet a little. Hero chose to ignore her obvious sulking and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel until she jumped in the passenger seat. Their journey to Foster’s flat was silent.
When they reached their destination, Hero turned to Julie. “Let’s have it. What’s your problem with the task, Julie?”
“I just think it’ll turn out to be a waste of time, and we could be doing something useful instead.” Julie stared straight ahead at the row of shops below the flat they had come to visit.
“Such as? You tell me where and what else we could be doing right now, and I’ll happily change direction on this case. I suspect Foster called me, remember? That reeks of a guilty conscience when suspects do that. You know how these things go, right?”
Julie fidgeted in her seat and thought over what he’d said. Eventually, she looked his way, a frown wrinkling her forehead. “All right, maybe there isn’t anything else to go on right at this minute…”
“Precisely, Sergeant. Since when am I in the habit of wasting my time? If there were any other leads to go with right now, I’d be following them up in a shot, agreed?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry to doubt your decisions. Can we get in there now?” Julie opened the door and got out of the car before Hero could respond.
He was willing to accept she had other, more important things on her plate and was prepared to give her some slack because of the personal burden she was lugging around with her, but not for much longer. Granted, his partner rarely did cartwheels of joy when she worked alongside him, but depending on how the next few hours panned out and if Julie’s attitude didn’t improve, he would be forced to consider her position, at least until her personal life changed.
Hero locked the car and looked up at the flat. “I should have checked before. Have you got copies of the photos of the Daws?”
Julie searched her large handbag, pulled out a file, and nodded as she handed it to him. “Of course.”
“Great stuff. Let’s split up when we get up there, okay? We’ll try Foster’s flat first, though.”
The stairwell was full of the usual graffiti, attacking the police and the government, found in rundown estates. Hero was thankful there weren’t any signs of the typical smells and other disgusting traces of human bodily functions that they normally stumbled across.
Hero knocked on the door to the flat. After receiving no reply, he crouched and looked through the letterbox to determine if there was movement inside. “Mr. Foster, it’s the police,” he shouted. “If you’re in there, open up.”
The security chain on the next-door neighbour’s front door banged against the wood. The door creaked open, and a little old lady’s voice called out, “He’s not there.”
Hero straightened up and walked over to the woman’s door. He flashed his warrant card and smiled. “When was the last time you saw him, Mrs…?”
“Taylor.” Seeming more secure with the knowledge that she was dealing with the police, the woman opened the door a bit wider.
“Do you mind if we come in for a quick chat, Mrs. Taylor?”
“Well, the place is in a mess. The home help woman hasn’t turned up again. That’s the second time in as many weeks. They all need to be given the boot. Most of them are bloody foreigners who speak crappy English when they’re here. I used to love it when Maud was my appointed home help. We’d have a natter for hours, while she carried out her duties, of course. Sorry, I’m rambling. Come in.”
Hero and Julie followed the woman through to a small lounge cluttered with old furniture. Lying on one of the old tapestry-covered chairs was a cat curled up into a tight ball. “Shoo, Charlie. Let the nice man sit down.”
“Don’t bother on my count. I spend most of my time sitting behind a desk anyway. It’ll do me good to stand for a while.”
The cat woke, gave Hero a sleepy, cursory glance, and promptly fell asleep again. Julie stood beside Hero, also turning down the seat the old woman offered. Mrs. Taylor eased her heavy frame into the sofa beside the gas fire, which was throwing out just enough heat to take the chill off the room.
“Getting back to Mr. Foster, when was the last time you saw him?” Hero asked, nodding at Julie and gesturing for her to take notes.
“It’s hard to say. Maybe a week ago. I’ve heard him in the flat since then, of course, but haven’t laid eyes on him as such.”
“In that case, can you tell us when was the last time you heard him in the flat?”
“It has to be a few days now, maybe the weekend. I haven’t really thought about it, not until now. What’s the problem? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“Maybe. At this point, his name has cropped up in connection with a few crimes we’re investigating. We’re keen to talk to him, if only to eliminate him from our enquiries.”
“Ah, I see.” The woman took a sip from the mug sitting on the side table next to her. “It’s a bit cold now. Would you like a drink of something while you’re here?”
Hero raised a hand. “No thanks, Mrs. Taylor. I wondered if you could tell me if you’ve heard Foster receive any visitors lately? Perhaps in the last couple of weeks?”
“I hear all sorts coming from there all the time, what with the blasted walls being paper thin. These old flats could do with being pulled down, but there’s little chance of that happening. Not enough housing for folks like me around these parts anyway, is there?”
“I’m sorry you have to live with such an inconvenience. Perhaps the council will sort you out a new place soon.”
“They might consider it, if the likes of you put in a good word for me?” The woman’s chubby cheeks flushed a little when she smiled and aimed a cheeky wink at Hero.
Not again! “If only I had
such clout. Sadly, I don’t. I’m a mere DI who rarely gets listened to by authority on such important life-changing matters. So, can you tell us if Foster has had any visitors lately?”
“A woman was here last week. Don’t go asking me what day it was, because when you get to my age, one day goes into the next. I tend to live for the day my pension comes round. All the other days simply pass me by.”
“I take it pension day is on a Thursday?”
“That’s right, dear. I see what you did there, very clever. Yes, I remember I heard raised voices coming from next door on Friday night, I believe it was. Does that help any?” She smiled at him again, pleased with the spark of memory she’d just shaken free.
“Excellent. If I showed you a photo of a woman we think might have visited Foster in the past, would that help?”
“Only if I was outside when she arrived at his place. As you can see, I haven’t got any windows at the front of the flat, only at the back, and that ain’t a pretty sight, either. The only reason I knew you were out there today was because I heard you knock on his door and call out his name. Oh, and the fact that you announced you were the police. I wouldn’t have opened the door if I hadn’t heard that. You never know who’s likely to bump you on the head nowadays, do you?”
“It’s better to be safe, that’s for sure, Mrs. Taylor. Now, what do you think of this?” Hero held out the ten-by-eight photograph of Cathy Daws.
The woman looked at the picture from all angles. “I wouldn’t like to say, really. I suppose she looks like a woman I saw knocking on his door about a month ago. Not sure, though. That day, I had just come back from the shop down below, probably been out for a pint of milk. That’s the only thing I tend to buy downstairs. Run by Indians, it is, and they take advantage of us old folks. Every month, my daughter pops by to take me shopping at that big Tesco on the edge of town. Oops…sorry. I’m off again, ain’t I? Don’t be afraid to tell me to shut up. I get very few visitors, you see. It’s nice to have a bit of company now and again. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea?”
“I understand, and no, thank you. You’re very kind. Well, that’s promising that you think you’ve seen this person here. It contradicts what the woman has already intimated. So you’ve done well there. What about men? Does he get many male visitors? Do you know?”