by Linda Regan
Besides, what right had she to tell Isabelle and Crowther to keep their personal life out of the incident room? That was the pot calling the kettle!
“Max is sure she was dead when she hit the water,” she told Isabelle. “If he commits himself it has to be right.”
“We’ve made a good start,” Banham said. “We’ve identified the victim – her address was in the handbag we found, and PCSO Millie Payne has confirmed it.”
“After we’ve taken Payne’s statement,” Alison said to Crowther, “I want you and Isabelle to go to the victim’s flat. If no one is there, we have keys. See if you can find a next of kin, then bring in the ex-husband.” Eric was still by the door. “You’ll be on family liaison duty,” she told him.
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a mock salute.
“Alison and I will pay Eddie Chang a visit at Doubles,” Banham said.
“I’d like a chance to go in the club,” Crowther chipped in. “I’ve been working with CO19, and it will give me a chance to look round. I’m also curious about the hand-gun found in the victim’s handbag. Penny says it’s an Astra Cadix. That’s a Spanish gun. Chang may be dealing in Mac 10s, but we know he’s got a villa in Spain. There may be something coming out of there.”
“I understand,” Banham told him. “But we have to concentrate on finding who murdered this woman, and right now it’s the golden hours; every second is vital.”
Alison felt control slipping away again. “And unlikely though it sounds,” she said firmly, “it might not have anything to do with Eddie Chang. I think the ex-husband is our first suspect.”
Chapter Four
Millie Payne was now dressed in tight denim jeans and a figure-hugging t-shirt horizontally striped in different shades of blue. Her large, wide-set blue eyes, slight ruddy complexion and round full lips reminded Alison of Christmas card pictures of young cherub angels; but Alison suspected there was more to this woman than she was letting them see.
They had agreed Crowther would lead the interview; he was good at winning young women’s confidence. Alison knew she’d have little patience. She was edgy, and she wanted a result. This woman seemed to be treating the whole thing like an acting role, and both Crowther and Banham were sympathetic towards her. Banham had even suggested Alison was being too hard on her.
Millie clearly liked Crowther. Her eyes lit up when he walked in the room.
As Alison slipped a disc into the recording machine the smile on Millie’s face faded. “Just routine,” she assured her, switching the machine to Play and waiting for Crowther to start the interview.
At first he made small talk, asking Millie if she wanted more tea, or even a proper cup of coffee from the newly installed machine in the murder investigation room. Alison had to make a conscious effort not to tap her fingertips on the table. When Crowther added that it would be no trouble for Alison to go and get her some coffee she decided that was a step too far. Alison had a famous temper. Banham always said the black flecks in her green-grey eyes literally expanded when she was about to explode, and right now they felt as if they were about to break into flames.
Crowther got the message. “OK, Millie. Tell us everything that happened last night, from the time you came on duty until we arrived on the scene.”
“I should have been on duty at ten,” she said. “I was late, remember? So you drove me in?”
Alison slowly turned her head. So that’s who Crowther was with last night. The wet t-shirt competitor was Millie Payne. And Crowther grew restless waiting for her to come back, and decided to do an early morning workout. He hadn’t expected to meet Alison in the gym – and he certainly hadn’t expected Millie to find a dead body. But Crowther hadn’t bothered to tell Alison.
“We walked through into the open parkland at about four-thirty a m,” Millie continued.
“Do you often go into the parkland at that time, on your shift?” His voice was gentle, coaxing even. Alison wanted to slap him hard.
“Yes, when I’m on nights. It’s the route we cover.”
“Do you see many people around?”
“The odd drunk, or a couple having it off, or drug users. It’s a bit of a drugs haven – I think that’s why it’s on the route. But we didn’t expect...” Millie looked from Crowther to Alison, then put her hand to her mouth.
“Go on,” Alison encouraged her, managing a minimal smile. “In your own time.”
Millie fiddled nervously with the tissue in her hand. “We saw the arm first, in the duck pond, all stiff and pointing.” She looked up at Crowther. “I said I thought it was a body.”
“Then why didn’t you call for back-up?” Alison asked her. “Isn’t that what they taught you in training?”
Millie squeezed her cherub lips together and curled a finger in her hair. “We didn’t want to look silly.” Her brow furrowed. “It might have been a joke or something, so we decided to investigate first.” She paused, and her forehead wrinkled again. “It was hard to see. Only the arm was above the water. I got a bit spooked, so Andrew went into the water to make sure.”
She looked appealingly at Crowther. “Neither of us wanted to appear stupid,” she said.
“You’ve contaminated a crime scene,” Alison said quietly. “That’s hardly very intelligent.”
“I’m sorry,” said Millie. It was addressed to Crowther.
Alison sighed; time to move on. “Tell us about the victim, Sadie Morgan.”
“I didn’t know her very well.”
“How long had you known her?”
“Only a couple of weeks, since I started rehearsing at Doubles.”
“Why did you take a job there?” Alison asked her.
“My actress friend Lily Palmer.” The blue eyes appealed to Crowther again. “The one I told you about?”
Crowther nodded.
“She worked there. She’s going on tour in a play about Marilyn’s life.” She smiled proudly. “She’s actually playing Marilyn. She introduced me to Mr Chang, and suggested I worked there while she was away.” The eyes opened wide. “I didn’t know it was such a bad place.”
Crowther gave her another encouraging nod.
“We’ll need your friend’s address and phone number,” Alison said.
“Of course.” Millie looked Alison in the eye and added, “I am allowed to do other work. I checked the rules. I’m an actress as well as a PCSO.”
Alison opened her mouth to deliver a short lecture on loyalty, but closed it again without saying a word. Someone else could sort this woman out; she had a murder to solve.
“Tell us what you know about Sadie,” she said.
“Sadie was a brilliant Marilyn impersonator, the top one at the club.” She suddenly blushed. “I only met her in passing in the fitting room, with Terry King.”
“Who’s Terry King?” Crowther asked.
“Terry works at Doubles as the wardrobe mistress and wig-dresser. He’s a bit strange. He’s a cross-dresser.”
Crowther scribbled something in his notebook. “How did Terry King and Sadie get on?” he asked.
“I think Terry is jealous of all the Marilyn girls.” Her eyes flicked to Alison. “That’s what Lily told me, anyway. She thinks he wants to be a Marilyn impersonator. He is always telling us off about petty things like hanging our dresses up, and generally being picky with us.”
“Do you like him?” Alison asked.
“Dunno, I haven’t really formed an opinion. He seems OK. A bit odd, that’s all.”
“How did you get on with Sadie?”
“I liked what I knew.” Her voice became quieter and she blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “She gave me a couple of helpful notes about being Marilyn Monroe.” She stared at the table and became quiet again. Crowther and Alison waited.
After a few seconds she looked up. “You should talk to the ex-husband. He turned up at the club shouting and threatening her. He got thrown out.”
“When was this?”
She reddened again. “A fe
w nights ago. He has a horrible temper. You should talk to him.”
“We will,” Crowther told her.
“Do you happen to know where he lives?” Alison asked.
Millie shook her head. “No, I don’t, but I know where Sadie lives.”
“We have her address,” Alison said, failing to hide her irritation.
“Someone at the club might know where he works,” Millie suggested. “His name is Bruno and he’s a chef.”
“Did Sadie have any close friends at the club, or enemies beside the ex-husband?”
“She was friendly with Johnny Gladman, the doorman. He’s the black guy with the long dreadlocks.”
“How friendly?” Alison asked.
“He always watched her perform. He liked her a lot, that much was obvious.”
“Were they a couple?”
“I’m not sure. Lily might know. She’s worked there on and off for about six months.”
“There was a key in Sadie’s bag,” Alison said. “It has H14 painted on it in red nail varnish. It looks like a garage key – do you know if she had a car, and where she kept it?”
Millie shook her head. “She didn’t have a car, I’m pretty sure of that. She talked about being late for work and how it’s quicker to walk because the buses aren’t reliable.”
“When did she say that?”
Millie reddened again. “Oh, one night last week, I think, in the dressing room. She was talking to one of the other girls and I overheard her.”
She looked away, still blushing.
“What is it Millie? What are you hiding?”
Millie looked up, her complexion even redder.
Alison pushed on. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that this is golden time in a murder enquiry. If you lie to me or withhold something that could prove vital in this enquiry, I’ll charge you with obstruction.”
Millie’s chin trembled, and Crowther blew out a breath. “Millie, you have to tell us if there’s something else,” he coaxed gently.
Millie’s forehead furrowed again, but she swallowed her tears. “Tonight. No, last night.” She shook her head. “Sorry, my mind is a bit scrambled.”
Alison thought that was the most honest thing she’d said all night.
“I’m so sorry,” Millie said, sounding like a guilty child.
“What for, Millie?” Crowther pushed.
“I went into the club while I was on my shift.” She turned the blue eyes on Crowther again, but this time there was no reassuring smile.
“Just briefly, for a dress fitting,” she pleaded.
Alison was astounded. “In your uniform?”
“I know I shouldn’t have, but I was only a few minutes. I had to have a fitting. I am so sorry.”
Alison and Crowther exchanged looks. Alison was suddenly furious, with Crowther because he was sleeping with this woman, and with herself because she could hardly haul him over the coals when she had done the same with Banham.
She glared at Millie instead. “In your police uniform?” she repeated.
“No. I changed in the street to civvy clothes before I went in, and I changed back again when I came out.”
“Where? Where did you change?”
“In a doorway. A group of guys on their stag night passed by. They thought I was a singing telegram girl.”
Alison took a sharp breath. Why had time and money been spent to train this woman as a PCSO? It was plain she was totally wrong for the job.
“What time was this?”
“Around three am.”
Alison lifted her eyebrows. “A bit late for a dress fitting.”
Millie shrugged.
“Where was Andrew Fisher?” Crowther asked.
“He waited for me, outside. It’s in our patrol area, so he wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Yes, he was,” Alison corrected. “Community support officers, especially new community support officers, are told to stay in pairs. Do you remember any of your training?”
“It’s not his fault,” Millie pleaded. “I asked him,”
Alison didn’t trust herself to pursue the subject. It was the critical twenty-four hours after a murder, and here she was sitting opposite a part-time police community support officer who knew no better than to waste her time. “Let’s go back to Sadie,” she said curtly. “Did you talk to her tonight?”
Millie nodded. “She was about to go on for her final spot when I came into the changing room for my dress fitting.”
“With...” Crowther looked at his notes. “Terry King?”
“Yes.”
“Go on,” Alison snapped.
“She seemed quite distant. I put it down to performance nerves. I get nervous too when I’m working. As an actress, I mean.”
“In what way distant?” Alison said sharply.
“She seemed wrapped up in her own thoughts. She was rambling about the buses. Terry gave her a glass of water.”
“Are you sure it was water? Did you see him pour it?” Alison questioned.
“Yes, I think so.” She looked to Crowther. “No, I’m not sure. My mind has gone all vague.” She looked down and suddenly started to sob.
Alison sighed and pushed her chair back. This was going nowhere.
“Let’s get someone to drive you home,” Crowther said. “But we’ll need to talk again later.”
“I’ll need to talk to you again.” Alison said tightly, handing her a card.
Millie nodded and pocketed it. “You said you wanted Lily’s details.” She dug in her pocket for her mobile phone. As she scribbled the number on a slip of paper from Crowther’s notebook, Alison studied her. She was very pretty but not very bright; very much his type.
Andrew Fisher smelt of stale drains.
Isabelle had pulled a face as she and Banham entered the interview room, but Banham ignored the stench. He sympathised with the young PCSO officer, who was weak at the knees after finding a murdered woman, and hadn’t noticed the stale water and pond slime in his hair. Andrew was in his late twenties, stocky with a square face. He was broad across the shoulders, Isabelle thought he probably worked out. There was a flourish of acne across his cheeks, and a tattoo on each of his fingers that spelled out LOVE.
“You should have radioed for back-up,” Isabelle told him as soon as the recording machine was running. “If anything seems suspicious, you call for back-up. It’s not your job to get involved.”
“We weren’t sure what it was at first,” Andrew said apologetically. “If it was a prank we would have looked stupid.”
Banham changed the subject. “What time was it exactly when you found her?”
“Almost the end of the shift, so about four forty-five a m.”
“You always cover that area?” Banham asked.
His fingers intertwined on the table in front of him. He untangled them and pulled them into fists. “Yes. We caught a flasher in there last week. We radioed that in, and he was arrested.”
Isabelle stifled a giggle. It was highly likely that the flasher wasn’t flashing at all, but had been caught short and had gone to the open wasteland to relieve himself. There wouldn’t be many people to flash at at four-thirty in the morning.
“How long does it take you to walk down the hill and around the parkland?” Banham asked.
“About thirty minutes. Actually, we probably got to the park nearer five o’clock.”
“Then what happened?” Banham asked gently.
“We walked toward the pond and...” He swallowed hard. “There was something floating on the water, a bundle of some kind, then as we got nearer we saw what looked like an arm sticking out. We thought it might be a body, but we weren’t sure.”
Banham and Isabelle looked at each other.
Andrew looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, I just thought it was a prank. Like a guy on bonfire night or something.”
“It’s early spring,” Isabelle said.
“Yes, but you know what I mean.”
“No, we don’t,
” Isabelle said.
Banham helped him out. “You didn’t expect to find a dead body? You’ll probably come across a lot more if you stay in this job.”
There was a knock on the interview room door and Alison’s head appeared. “Sorry, guv,” she said.
Banham stopped the disc.
“Has he mentioned that Millie Payne went into Doubles last night and saw the victim?” Alison asked outside the door.
“What?”
“She works there. She went to have a dress fitting during her shift.” Alison shook her head, still unable to believe the girl’s stupidity. “She spoke to the victim. She said Andrew Fisher waited outside for her. That was around three a m. Ask him about that, will you?”
Banham was hardly inside the interview room door when he shouted at Andrew, “Why didn’t you tell us PCSO Payne was in that club tonight?”
Isabelle quickly pressed the Play button on the CD machine.
Andrew went scarlet, and his pimples stood out. He said nothing.
“Detective Chief Inspector Banham asked you a question,” Isabelle snapped.
“I didn’t want to get her into trouble,” Andrew said, hanging his head.
Banham was furious. “This is a murder enquiry, not a game of Cluedo. Withholding vital evidence is a serious offence, and you are an officer of the law.”
“Everything else I have told you is correct.” Andrew’s voice had gone up an octave. “I didn’t want to get Millie into trouble.” He scratched his forehead with his tattooed fingers. “I stayed on duty. I’m really sorry.”
Banham calmed down. He realised the lad was being loyal. Loyalty was a good trait, and he was inexperienced, and in a quandary.
“OK,” Banham said quietly. “Go home and get some rest. We know where you are, and we will want to talk to you again.”
“She changed out of uniform in a doorway. And she should have known she wouldn’t get permission to work at that club. Was her duty sergeant asleep or what!”
They were walking along the corridor to the back stairs which led to the car park, and Alison was ready to explode.