by Sally Rigby
‘It’s a good career.’
‘It would be if I could learn to play by the rules but, you know, sometimes rules are there to be broken.’
‘And sometimes they’re there for a reason.’
‘Yes, Dad.’
‘How old do you think I am?’
‘No idea. A lot older than me from the way you talk.’
‘I’m thirty-eight.’
‘Old then.’ She shrugged. ‘Your turn to tell me why you joined up. It’s gotta be more interesting than my story.’
‘I went to a police recruitment event at uni and liked the sound of it.’
‘I bet that went down well with the family.’
He gave a dry laugh. ‘You could say.’
‘What did they think about the scandal you were part of?’ She paused. ‘I googled you.’
‘The whole team was disbanded. We weren’t all guilty.’
‘That must have been tough. Were you fired?’
‘No. But the only job they offered was one I didn’t want to take.’
They were interrupted by the waiter bringing their food and he breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t fancy rehashing everything when they had more important matters to discuss.
After they’d eaten, Birdie took out the folder from the carrier bag. ‘Shall we go through this now?’
‘Yes, let’s. Is there a copy of the suicide note?’
She opened the folder and pulled it out, handing it to him. ‘Here.’
He cast an eye over it and then read it aloud:
Sara,
Please forgive me. I can no longer live a lie. You’ll find out soon enough what I’ve done. Take care of the twins. I love you.
Donald
‘Short and to the point,’ he said.
‘Why is his wife concerned? Does she think it was written by someone else?’
‘No, it’s definitely his handwriting. But she believed he was forced to write it and was leaving her clues. First of all, he misspelt her name, the ‘h’ at the end is missing. Second, he referred to the children as the twins.’
‘They are twins.’ She frowned.
‘That was exactly my reaction. But it transpires he had a thing about wanting them to have their own identity. If he referred to them collectively, it would be the children, or the boys, but never the twins.’
‘Is that it?’
‘He left the family with nothing. Something he wouldn’t have done to them.’
‘He had no money, so there was no choice.’
‘Not entirely, there was an insurance policy but Sarah’s unable to claim because of the suicide verdict. There was a two-year exclusion period and he only took out the policy eighteen months ago. Surely if he took his own life he would’ve waited until the time he knew she’d definitely be paid out.’
‘Hmmm. Could he have thought it was one year and not two?’ she suggested.
‘That had crossed my mind, especially if he was depressed and not thinking straight.’
‘Did Mrs Witherspoon mention her thoughts to the police?’
‘She did, but they were brushed aside. Let’s take a look at the police report.’
Birdie took it out of the bag and passed it over to him. ‘It’s thin because there was nothing to report, other than where the body was located and the circumstances. Also, copies of interviews with the family who found him, and his wife.’
He flicked through it, his insides churning when he read about the two young boys who had found Donald with his head blown off.
He glanced up at her. ‘What about the coroner’s findings?’
‘They confirmed it was suicide. Witherspoon died between seven and nine on the Saturday night, the day before his body was discovered. The gun was found close to his right hand. He was right-handed. The note was influential in the final verdict, as were his financial problems, which came to light immediately after his death.’
‘Were there any witnesses?’
‘None noted in the file. Although, you’d think there might be someone there. Foxton Locks is a busy place. Unless …’
‘The officers didn’t look for any,’ he said, completing her sentence.
She shrugged. ‘Or the weather was bad …’
‘I’ll go through the reports in detail later when I’m home. I like to be armed with all the facts and while I’m not saying I think the death isn’t suicide, there are definitely some questions that need answering.’
‘I wasn’t part of the investigation, otherwise my instinct might have told me otherwise and we’d have looked a bit closer. What have you done so far?’
‘I’ve gone through Donald’s laptop and identified how he operated the Ponzi scheme. He used money from new investors to pay dividends to the existing ones. He was very organised, and all transactions were methodically recorded, both electronically and as hard copies. He would leave twenty thousand pounds in his current bank account and regularly topped it up with new investments. At the beginning of the year there was a substantial investment made, by an existing investor who happens to be Donald’s brother. Interviewing him is a good starting point, and from there I’m going to contact the FCA to find out who alerted them to the fraud.’
‘Surely a visit to Foxton Locks, the crime scene, is a better place to start.’
She was right.
‘Good point. I’ll go in the morning.’
‘Wait until my shift ends and I’ll come with you. Pick me up at five-fifteen tomorrow afternoon, outside the station. I’m on the eight-five shift.’
Chapter 9
7 May
Birdie stared at her birth certificate which she’d taken out of the drawer where the family’s important documents were kept. She’d been born in Leicester on 7 November. A Scorpio baby. That made sense. Nonconformist. Passionate. Determined. How many times had those traits been levelled at her?
Father: Unnamed
Mother: Kim Bakirtzis
She called up the Adoption Contact Register website on her screen and read through all the details. It wasn’t a tracing system as such, but a register for people affected by adoption to record they wished to be in contact with their birth relatives. She opened the application form. Her heart raced as she keyed in the information regarding her birth and adoption details and, after paying a fee of fifteen pounds, she submitted her request to be added.
That was it. She’d done it. There was no turning back. She just had to wait to see if her mother was also on the register and then, potentially, they could be in contact with one another. She’d no idea how long it would take to get a response, but hopefully … she caught sight of the time on her phone.
Crap. She was meant to have met Clifford fifteen minutes ago.
She grabbed her jacket and raced out of the station, shoving her arms into it on the way. She came to an immediate halt. What car did he drive? By the time they’d left the pub last night, it was dark, and they’d headed in opposite directions, so she didn’t see.
She scanned the small car park. Close to the entrance was a large, black BMW four-wheel drive that she didn’t recognise. Was that him? She jogged over and saw him sitting in the front seat. She waved, and he responded.
‘You’re late,’ Clifford said as she opened the passenger door and hitched herself up into the seat.
‘Sorry, things got away with me. You know what it’s like, having been in the job. Um … One thing you better know about me is my timekeeping’s not brilliant.’
She might as well tell him now rather than have him discover it down the track. That way he couldn’t moan at her. She hoped he wasn’t one of those obsessive, gotta to be punctual or the world will come to an end, freaks.
‘It’s good to be forewarned,’ he said, giving a warm smile. ‘Put on your seat belt and we’ll go.’
‘Have you been to Foxton Locks before? she asked, pulling the belt over her and clicking it in place.
‘No. Have you?’
‘Oh, yeah, loads of times. We used to g
o when I was a kid. Everyone goes. It’s a great place. Obviously not because we’re going to see where the victim was found. But it’s lovely and it doesn’t get dark until nine, so we’ve got plenty of time.’
She’d thrown in that last comment so he realised that being a little bit late didn’t matter. It wasn’t like she didn’t try to be on time, but more often than not she failed. She didn’t want to tell him the real reason for her tardiness that evening. That she’d been engrossed in adding herself to the Adoption Contact Register to try to find her birth mother. That was her secret.
‘I’ve put it in the satnav,’ he said as they drove off.
She sat back and enjoyed the smoothness of the ride. His car was far nicer than hers, which is why she’d asked him to pick her up. The old Mini she owned had belonged to an old woman who’d lived down their street. When she’d died, Birdie had bought the car off the estate for three hundred pounds. It was reliable and got her from A to B. But it was what it was, and nothing like the luxury she was experiencing now. She’d love to buy a new car, but she was saving up for a deposit to put down on a place of her own. She’d also got her student loan to pay off, which was a hefty amount even though she had dropped out after two years.
She glanced across at Clifford, whose eyes were focused on the road. For an older guy he looked good, although maybe a bit too perfect, with his chiselled jaw, dark eyes, and that quality that made a person want to keep looking at him. His height and build added to that. He wasn’t her type. She didn’t do perfect. She imagined he wouldn’t be short of offers, though.
He turned his head, catching her staring at him.
‘How was your day?’ she quickly asked, acting like that was her whole purpose in looking in his direction.
‘Quiet. Apart from when I went out for a walk with Elsa, I spent most of the time going through Donald’s records. What about yours? Any interesting cases come in?’
‘Yeah, but not for me,’ she said, letting out a long sigh.
‘Why not?’
Crap. She’d forgotten she hadn’t mentioned it last night. Would he still want her working with him if he found out?
‘If you must know, I got into a bit of trouble and have been put on desk duty for the foreseeable future.’
He glanced at her and frowned. ‘Isn’t that part of your job anyway?’
‘Yes, but usually we take it in turns. At the moment it’s only me.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Let’s just say I had an argument with a skip and the police car I was driving came off worse.’
‘Were you hurt?’
‘Thanks for asking, because not many people did. My boss was more concerned about the car. I was fine. A couple of bruises, that’s all. The problem was, it was all my fault. My mind was on other things and before I knew it, the skip and the side of the car had collided. The car was a write-off.’
‘Why are you being disciplined if it was an accident?’
‘It’s unofficial. My sarge is doing it to teach me a lesson. It doesn’t help that I keep being late for work.’
‘You said you were a poor timekeeper, but I thought you meant outside of work. Why don’t you set your alarm clock?’
‘I already have a mother, I don’t need another, thanks.’
Really? Was that a Freudian slip?
‘And I’m not ready to be one,’ he said, tossing a glance in her direction and grinning.
‘Sometimes … well, often … I sleep through my alarm,’ she said, totally disarmed by his response. ‘Sorry, you’ll get used to me and my big mouth. Lucky for you we’re not going to be working together for long.’
‘Why do you want to be part of this investigation, if you believe my cousin’s mistaken in her view of her husband’s suicide?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? There’s no end in sight to my desk duty and I hoped helping you would be a chance for me to get out and do something worthwhile. The whole point in me joining the force was to make a difference. I don’t want to be a glorified receptionist for my entire life.’ She clenched her fists and banged them on her legs.
‘I thought you’d only been on desk duty for a short while.’
‘Well, whatever,’ she said, waving her hand dismissively. ‘Turn right here, it’s a shortcut.’ He drove them down a windy country road. ‘Now take a left into Gumley Road. The body was found in the top car park. We’ll go there first and then call in at the pub beside the lock to have a word with the landlord to find out what he knows. According to the file, he wasn’t questioned before and you know what these places are like. You can get to know a lot through informal gossip in these close-knit locations. I don’t suppose you hung out with locals when you were at the Met and in a big city.’ She paused. ‘Here’s the car park.’
He drove in. ‘Where exactly was Donald’s body discovered?’
‘On the wasteland over there.’ She pointed to the far side of the gravelled area.
He parked beside it and she walked on ahead, with him following.
‘You wouldn’t even know a body had been found here,’ Clifford muttered as they got further in.
‘It’s been a month already, which is long enough for everything to get back to normal. Follow me,’ she said, heading deeper into the grassed area. ‘According to the report, the boys who found Witherspoon’s body were playing within eyesight of their parents’ car. They disappeared over there.’ She led them towards a clump of trees.
‘I thought you hadn’t been to the scene.’
‘I spoke to Twiggy about it earlier today. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him about you and me working together on the case. It’s not going to get out.’
‘Didn’t he wonder why you were asking?’
‘I told him I’d come across the case when I was filing and wanted to know more. I ask a lot of questions anyway so it didn’t alert him to anything being odd.’
‘In the report you gave me, it mentioned that Donald’s car was found in Foxton village, near the pub. Why not leave it here?’
‘It’s pay and display and no overnight parking. Perhaps he didn’t want to be found immediately. Or …’
‘If it wasn’t suicide, the killer didn’t want him found,’ Seb said, finishing off her sentence. ‘So someone else could have driven his car there.’
‘Or he left it there himself and then walked here to commit suicide,’ Birdie said.
‘Did Twiggy give you any other useful information?’
‘Nothing that wasn’t already in the report. He did mention the young boys who found the body, and how traumatising it must have been for them.’
‘Do you know whether they were offered counselling?’
‘There’s nothing about it in the file, but I’d have thought social services would have arranged it for them. Do you want to interview them?’ She hoped not. Surely there wouldn’t be anything to gain from it.
‘No, we don’t need to. I don’t expect they’ll be able to tell us anything other than what we’ve already got from their original interviews. It would have been hard enough for them to deal with without us dredging it up again.’
Not to mention, it would be difficult to set up an interview without alerting any of the services.
They came to a clearing where the grass was flattened.
‘This must be where he was found,’ Birdie said, scanning the area. ‘There are still some blood splatters around the place.’ She pointed to a tree dotted with specks of blood. ‘You’d have thought the rain would have washed them away.’
‘The leaves are acting as shelter.’ Seb picked up a long stick and pushed away at the surrounding grass. ‘If the gun went off between seven and nine in the evening, what are the chances of someone hearing it?’
‘This car park gets busy during the summer, which this wasn’t, or when the weather’s good. If there was anyone around up here they’d have heard. They wouldn’t in the lower car park or by the lock, as they’re too far away.’
‘So, if no one repo
rted hearing a gunshot, then most likely the weather wasn’t good.’
‘I’ll check to make sure but, yes, that’s right.’
She continued scanning the area, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that captured her attention.
‘Do you have an evidence bag with you?’ Clifford asked.
‘Always,’ she said, pulling one out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him. ‘What have you found?’
‘An old cigarette butt. It was buried under the leaves. It may or may not be important, but worth taking anyway. I’m fairly certain Donald didn’t smoke.’
‘You know I can’t send it to forensics for testing?’
‘I know’ he said dropping it into the bag. ‘Are there any CCTV cameras around?’
She glanced around. ‘It doesn’t look like it but I’ll find out. The land is owned by the council, so if there are any we can take a look at the footage.’
‘Assuming it’s kept for this long.’
‘I expect there isn’t any or Twiggy would have requisitioned it to see the time Witherspoon arrived and what his movements were.’
‘Are you sure he’d have done that when it was assumed to be suicide?’
Would he? She’d like to think so, but she couldn’t be sure. If it had been a busy weekend he might not have.
‘I think so. There doesn’t appear to be anything else here, so let’s go to the pub,’ she said, anxious to move the conversation on.
Chapter 10
7 May
‘Is the pub within walking distance?’ Seb asked, as they left the scene of Donald’s death and headed back to the car.
‘It depends on how fit you’re feeling. We should drive, it’s beside the Foxton Locks staircase. FYI, it’s one of the largest in England and has ten locks.’
‘Impressive.’
‘Never let it be said that my education was wasted.’ She grinned in his direction.
‘I was referring to the locks, not your knowledge of them.’ He paused a moment. ‘I didn’t mean that—’
‘I know,’ she said interrupting. ‘I was joking.’ She pointed to the left. ‘If we drive back down Gumley Road that will take us to the pub and the lower car park.’