‘Don’t worry, I won’t leave the room,’ Naomi added, as though Zoe might somehow be at risk on her own with Ian.
With a worried scowl, Mrs Drayton left. Turning to Ian with large hazel eyes, her skinny hands clasped in her lap, Zoe looked like a trapped rabbit.
‘I’d like you to tell me about your evening on Sunday, with Angela,’ he said.
‘What’s happened to Angela? Something’s happened to her, hasn’t it? That’s why she wasn’t at school today.’ She looked close to tears. ‘Something’s happened to her, hasn’t it?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘It has, hasn’t it? Why else would you be here?’
Gently Ian explained that Angela had been attacked on her way home on Sunday. He asked if she had left the pub alone.
‘Oh my God, is she all right? Where is she? I want to see her. I want to see her right now!’
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible, Zoe,’ Naomi said, leaning forward before Ian could respond, her voice soothing. ‘You’re going to have to be very brave now. I’m sorry to say Angela died as a result of the attack. She didn’t suffer any pain because she died straight away. She wouldn’t have known anything about it. But it’s very important we find out what happened that night, and who did this terrible thing. So it would really help us if you answered a few questions. Please, Zoe, we need your help. For Angela’s sake.’
Zoe nodded dumbly, tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘Tell us about your evening on Sunday, everything you can remember.’
Zoe’s account tallied with what they already knew. With a little pressure she admitted that Gary had gone up to the bar for them, but he had refused to buy them more than one drink each. He had been afraid of getting into trouble. She was certain the girls had each paid for their own drinks. Hazy about the time they arrived, she confirmed that she and Angela had been together the whole time at the bar, until about half past ten.
‘What happened at half past ten?’
‘I went home. My mum goes mental if I get in late. If I’m not home by eleven all hell breaks loose.’
‘Were you alone?’
‘No. I left with Suzy. We always walk home together.’
‘Who’s Suzy?’
‘Suzy’s my friend. She lives next door so we always walk home together, unless one of our parents comes to pick us up.’
‘What about Angela?’
‘We said we’d see her the next morning, at school, and we left. She said she was going home too, but she lives in the other direction, so we left together, me and Suzy, like we always do. It wasn’t like it was two in the morning or something. It was only half past ten.’
‘Who else was still there when you left?’
‘Oh God, everyone I suppose.’
‘Who is everyone?’
‘I don’t know. It was Sunday night. There were loads of people there.’
‘Was Gary still there when you left?’
‘I think so. But he would never have done anything to hurt Ange.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘He was nuts about Angela. He’d never have done anything to hurt her. It wasn’t just that he fancied her. You know what I mean, he was mad about her. He thought she was the one.’
Unlike Zoe, Ian thought that made Gary a more likely suspect, a killer who had attacked Angela in a fit of frustrated passion. Before he could probe any further, Zoe’s mother opened the door on the pretext of offering them all tea. Ian declined, although he was tempted to accept, in order to send her to the kitchen. Instead, she came in and sat down.
‘You mentioned that Gary was keen on Angela,’ Ian said.
Zoe burst into tears. When she calmed down enough to speak, she sobbed that she didn’t want to get Gary into trouble.
‘He’s really sweet,’ she said, ‘he wouldn’t hurt anyone, I know he wouldn’t. And he was nuts about Angela.’
‘Can you be more specific? How do you know he liked her, in particular?’
Zoe gave him a contemptuous glare. ‘How do you think I knew? He was always asking her out.’ She glanced at her mother. ‘He wanted her to be his girlfriend. He said so. He was always on at her.’ She glanced over at her mother again.
‘Would you prefer it if your mother left the room?’
‘Yes, no, oh, it doesn’t matter. It’s just that Gary comes out with us – that is, he used to come out with us – any time Angela called him and asked him. She’d just tell him where we were, and he’d always come straight away. It was a bit sad. It was like he was always just sitting at home, waiting for her to call. I mean, he never, never said no. Not once in all the time we knew him. But if I ever called him, or one of the other girls did, he either didn’t answer, or else he just asked if Angela was with us. If she wasn’t he would never join us. He was only interested in her. And that suited the rest of us just fine because no one fancied him. I mean, you’ve seen him.’ She gave a mock shudder. ‘Angela couldn’t stand him, but…’
‘But she used to phone him to join you. She took advantage of his feelings for her…’
‘He didn’t mind. He knew he didn’t stand a chance with her. I mean, he wasn’t angry about it, or anything. He was always saying she was out of his league. But he still tagged along. I think he just liked to see her.’
‘Was Angela seeing anyone else?’ Naomi asked.
‘No.’
‘Were you aware of anything happening between her and Gary recently? Anything unusual? Did she say anything about him?’ Naomi persisted.
‘No.’
Ian sat back for a moment and allowed Naomi to take over the questioning. She seemed very confident, and he wasn’t sure what to ask. Teenage girls and their boyfriends weren’t exactly his territory. From what he could hear, the questioning seemed to be going round in circles, and he was becoming bored. At last Naomi fell silent. With an encouraging smile, Ian leaned forward.
‘Is there anything else you want to tell us, Zoe? Now’s the time. Anything that might help us find out who killed Angela after she left you in the pub? We know Gary was buying drinks for you both and…’
‘Pub?’ Mrs Drayton interrupted. ‘Zoe wouldn’t have been in a pub. She’s only sixteen. You’ve got that all wrong.’
‘Yes,’ Zoe burst out suddenly, glaring wildly round the room. ‘I want to tell you! I want to tell you everything!’ She dropped her head in her hands, and burst into loud sobbing.
Her mother put her arms around the distraught girl.
‘Come on, Zoe, it’s all over. It’s all over.’ She glared at Ian. ‘I think you’d better leave, now. Zoe and I have some talking to do.’
‘No,’ Zoe interrupted her mother. ‘Don’t tell him to go. I want to tell him what happened. The police need to know about this.’
Ian waited while Zoe blew her nose and wiped her eyes, her complexion pale and blotchy. Staring at the floor, she said in a rapid monotone, ‘He raped her.’
‘Zoe!’ her mother gasped. Her hands flew up to her mouth.
Even Naomi looked startled.
‘It’s true, mum.’
‘Are you telling us someone raped Angela?’ Ian asked.
Zoe nodded.
Ian tried to hide his disbelief. ‘Did she report it to the police?’
‘The police? No. She didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t tell anyone apart from me, and she made me swear on my life to keep it a secret. Only now she’s dead, I don’t suppose it matters, does it? I mean, it’s not her secret any more, is it?’
‘You’re doing the right thing telling us,’ Naomi assured her. ‘We need to investigate this.’
‘Where did this alleged assault take place?’ Ian asked.
Something in his tone provoked Mrs Drayton to round on him as though he had told an inappropriate joke at a funeral.
‘Take your time, Zoe,’ Ian said, in as kind a tone as he could muster. ‘Tell us exactly what Angela said.’
‘She said he tried to rape her.’
‘Tried to rape her, or raped her? Think carefully. What were her exact words?’
‘Raped her, tried to rape her, what’s the difference?’ Zoe’s mother barked. ‘You’re being very brave,’ she added, stroking Zoe’s hair.
‘What happened?’ Ian persisted. ‘This is a very serious allegation. You need to tell us why you are making this claim.’
‘I’m not making it up!’ Zoe protested.
‘No one’s suggesting you are. But you need to tell us what happened.’
‘We were all at a party and he tried to rape her. She was sitting on the stairs. He was going up the stairs and he tried to make her have sex but she pushed him off her and he said he’d tripped and fallen on top of her.’
The two women were gazing at Zoe as though she was some kind of wounded animal. As the only man present, Ian felt constrained from expressing any doubts. He was wary of laying himself open to an accusation of being insensitive or, worse, misogynistic, but he wasn’t convinced Zoe’s story was based on a real incident. It sounded like the kind of story a sixteen-year-old girl might tell to divert her mother’s attention from the fact that she had been drinking alcohol at the pub with eighteen-year-old boys. Warily Ian stepped into the minefield.
‘Was Angela all right?’ he asked, in preparation for his question.
‘Of course not!’ Zoe was indignant.
Her mother and Naomi both turned to Ian. Mrs Drayton looked outraged. Naomi wore an expression which clearly stated that only a man could ask so obtuse a question.
‘She was terrified of him,’ Zoe added, sniffing into a tissue.
‘It’s all over now,’ her mother said soothingly.
But of course it wasn’t.
‘Did you see what happened?’
Zoe shook her head. ‘I was in the kitchen. But Angela told me all about it at school next day,’ she added earnestly. ‘She made me promise not to tell anyone, but I don’t have to keep that promise now, do I?’
‘You’re being very brave,’ her mother assured her again, patting her on the shoulder.
Ian took the plunge. ‘Why did Angela phone Gary to insist he join her at the pub on Sunday, if he’d previously tried to assault her? She texted him three times in ten minutes. She was quite insistent he join her. She wasn’t really frightened of him, was she?’
‘She felt sorry for him,’ Zoe replied promptly. ‘We all did. And he apologised. He said he couldn’t help himself,’ she added, turning her head to direct her wide-eyed stare at her mother. ‘Some boys can’t.’
‘The boy’s an animal,’ her mother hissed. ‘You should lock him up. He must have been drunk and tried again, and when she rejected him, he lost his temper. Only this time…’
Zoe began to sob loudly.
‘We’ll investigate this thoroughly, don’t you worry,’ Naomi said. ‘And thank you, Zoe, you’ve been very brave.’
Or very disingenuous, Ian thought, but he kept that to himself. Zoe was only sixteen. She could have no idea of the problems she was causing in seeking to protect herself from getting in trouble with her mother.
11
Naomi was petite and blonde with a sparkle in her eyes that made her look younger than her twenty-five years, while her ready smile seemed to suggest that life was fun. She wore heavy eye make-up and Ian had overheard Eileen commenting on her skirt being too short for a detective constable on duty. Always careful to look smart and professional himself, he had been embarrassed for Naomi, yet somehow the young constable had succeeded in placating Eileen without conceding the point. The two women seemed to get on well, despite Eileen’s didactic comments. With her quietly assertive manner Naomi looked set to do well, a capable young woman who would probably climb through the ranks in any sizeable organisation. She just happened to have joined the police force. She could equally well have forged a career in the civil service, or any large corporation. There seemed to be increasing numbers of young officers who regarded detective work as a career, rather than a vocation. Ian was concerned that they didn’t share his passion for their work.
For years he had thrown himself into his job with little purpose other than a dedicated pursuit of justice. Now that his promotion had given him a taste for some measure of independence, he was beginning to resent taking orders from officers who were his superiors only in rank. He could foresee a time when his detective chief inspector would be an officer younger than he was, and the prospect made him restless. He was a skilled detective but he was beginning to wonder if that was enough, both for himself and for his future. He had nothing against Naomi as an individual, but she seemed to epitomise everything he begrudged in such slick youngsters.
‘It all points to Gary,’ Naomi said, with a confidence Ian resented. ‘If he assaulted Angela once he might quite well have done so again, only this time with fatal consequences.’
‘That certainly appears to be the case,’ Eileen agreed.
‘We only have Zoe’s word for it that any previous attempted assault actually took place.’ Ignoring Naomi’s surprised expression, Ian continued. ‘I’m not sure we can treat her as a reliable witness. Don’t forget, she’s only sixteen. She told us Gary’s really sweet, and that he wouldn’t hurt anyone, and at first she said nothing had happened between Angela and Gary. It was only when her mother came in the room that she came up with this allegation of attempted rape.’
Eileen glanced at Naomi, as though expecting a sharp retort. Ian waited, unsure why he felt the need to defend his position. With a sickening feeling that he might be losing his grip on the situation, he added, ‘The pathologist found no evidence of any sexual activity.’
‘Now the girl he allegedly assaulted is dead, don’t you think it matters any more if he tried to rape her or not?’ Naomi asked. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’
Ian merely shrugged. The question was stupid.
‘Well, we may never know if he attempted to rape her, or fell over on the stairs, or if the whole story’s a fabrication. Only now he’s suspected of murdering her so let’s focus on that,’ Eileen said.
‘We can’t just ignore Zoe’s statement,’ Naomi objected. ‘The guy could be a potential rapist.’
‘Of course we’ll investigate the allegation of rape as best we can, but we may have to accept that there’s nothing we can do about it anyway,’ Ian pointed out.
‘Just because we can’t prove anything, it doesn’t mean we should just ignore it,’ Naomi insisted. She was beginning to sound petulant. ‘You seem to think it doesn’t matter.’
‘It does matter,’ Ian replied. ‘It matters for several reasons, not least of which is that, even if we can’t prove anything, an allegation of rape is bound to influence the jury once they’ve heard it. And of course it will come out. The prosecution will have that girl up as a witness, crying and accusing the suspect of trying to rape her friend, knowing full well the judge will instruct the jury to disregard the allegation, but it’s bound to influence their opinion of the suspect. No smoke without fire and all that. They won’t necessarily be swayed by the fact that a teenage girl might be an unreliable witness...’
‘That’s a very sweeping statement!’ Naomi objected.
‘I’m not saying all teenage girls are unreliable, but I happen to believe this one is.’
‘So now you’re setting yourself up as jury, are you?’
Ian deliberated. It seemed that challenging a young girl’s allegation of rape was too sensitive a topic to be considered dispassionately by other young women.
‘I’m not going to argue with you,’ he said. ‘But if the suspect is innocent, I don’t fancy his chances in court, that’s all I’m saying.’ He turned to Eileen who had been listening to their exchange in silence. ‘It’s not clear cut that Gary’s responsible. We have another suspect, ma’am. There’s Frank.’
Eileen gave him a searching look. ‘What’s your gut feeling, Ian? You’ve spoken to all the key witnesses so far. Could either Gary or Frank be guilty, do you think?’
Having worried that Eileen was unimpressed by his spat with Naomi, Ian wasn’t prepared for her direct question. On the point of naming Gary, he dropped his eyes from the detective chief inspector’s intense gaze. She was shrewd enough to know when he was feeling uncertain. Gauche young Gary was a strong possibility, but two calls to Angela’s phone from her home on the night she died raised a worrying question over her stepfather.
‘Well,’ he replied cautiously, ‘I’m kind of guessing here.’
‘There’s a killer out there somewhere, so I suggest we stop guessing and find enough evidence to make an arrest before the papers go to town about an axe-wielding maniac.’
Eileen asked Ian to stay behind when Naomi left the room. Anticipating a roasting for his brusque dismissal of the constable’s concerns, he was relieved when Eileen’s face relaxed into a smile.
‘Naomi’s a capable officer but she’s young, and needs firm guidance. You were right to consider both sides of the situation. Hang on to that sense of balance. In our anxiety to get a result, we must never lose sight of the principle that a man is innocent until proven guilty. Our job is as much about protecting the innocent as it is about nailing the guilty.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
Not everyone seemed to share Ian’s high regard for the detective chief inspector.
‘We shouldn’t be worrying so much about the papers,’ Ted grumbled when he met Ian in the incident room later. ‘We all know they print unhelpful garbage. The way Eileen bangs on about them, you’d think we were just looking into this murder as a PR exercise when the only thing we should be doing is finding this demented killer and making sure he’s put away for good.’
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