Thirty-Four
Kay’s mobile phone vibrated as she closed the door to Sharp’s office.
She glanced down and saw it was Barnes’s number, and then opened the text message he’d sent her.
We’re in the cafe up the road. Get here as soon as you can. Coffee ordered.
Kay grabbed her bag and hurried from the incident room before one of the admin team could waylay her. She left the building via the back door and skirted around the side of it before crossing the road in a break in the traffic, and made her way up Gabriel’s Hill.
It took her five minutes to reach the café the team frequented, and as she pushed the door open she spotted Barnes sitting with Gavin and Carys at a table near the back. Gavin turned as she closed the door behind her and pointed at a mug of coffee in front of the empty seat next to him.
‘Thanks,’ said Kay as she put her bag on the floor and sat down. ‘What’s going on?’
‘We were going to ask you the same thing.’ Barnes jerked his chin towards the door. ‘We all know you’re not responsible for the vultures being out there this morning, and I certainly wasn’t.’
Kay managed a small smile. She turned to Carys. ‘I need to apologise to you. I realise it wasn’t you who spread the rumours about my miscarriage. I should have known better.’
Relief flashed across Carys’s features before she frowned. ‘Who on earth is spreading these rumours about you, then? Who broke the story about the Hamiltons to the media?’
‘I don’t know. But whoever it is, he or she seems determined to make life difficult for me, don’t they?’ She took a sip of her coffee while the team digested her words.
‘I’ll bet it’s Larch,’ said Gavin. ‘Ever since I joined this team, he’s had it in for you. Of course, I heard about the Professional Standards investigation involving you, but you’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing. I’ve never seen you acting anything but professional.’ He shook his head. ‘I really don’t understand what his problem is.’
‘I guess the question is, what do we do about it?’ said Carys.
‘We stick together,’ said Barnes. ‘For some reason, someone doesn’t want this team to be working together. Anyone have any ideas why?’
Kay took another sip of her coffee so she didn’t have to answer.
She couldn’t help recall her conversation with Adam a few nights ago, when she told him that she intended to pursue her own enquiries into Demiri once more. Was it possible she had somehow triggered the events that had affected the team since?
And if so, how did her enemies know? How were they getting that information to the incident room and to the media?
‘I have no idea,’ she said eventually.
* * *
Kay glanced up from her desk as the door to the incident room was pushed open, and Harriet Baker strode in.
‘What are you doing here? I thought you were going to email your report over.’
In reply, Harriet held aloft a briefcase in her right hand, and then pointed towards Sharp’s office. ‘I wanted to deliver this personally. You might want to listen in.’
Kay pushed back her chair and followed her across the room.
Sharp was already opening the door to his office when they approached. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’ve got the results of the testing of the blood sample on the golf club,’ said Harriet. ‘It’s not a match to Sophie’s.’
Sharp ushered them both into his office, and closed the door. He gestured to the two seats in front of his desk, and waited while Harriet placed her briefcase on the desk, opened it, and retrieved a folder.
She withdrew three sets of documents from it, and passed one each to Sharp and Kay. ‘You can read the whole report at your leisure. Turn to page three, and I’ll walk you through it.’ She waited while they caught up. ‘We took samples from the head of the golf club, and ran a comparison against a blood sample taken from Sophie’s body. The results came back, and confirmed there’s no DNA match.’
‘So, whose blood is it?’ said Kay.
‘It’s mammalian in nature. I’d suggest a small animal – maybe a rat or a rabbit.’
‘Damn,’ said Sharp. ‘Josh was telling the truth. We’re back to square one.’
‘Not quite,’ said Harriet. She picked up a different report and stabbed her finger on a paragraph towards the end. ‘Those braziers the first responders had the sense to smother? We found the remnants of a rolling pin shoved into the side of one of them. It must’ve been placed there moments before Eva Shepparton stumbled across Sophie’s body because it was only partially destroyed.’
‘The murder weapon?’
‘Yes. There wasn’t much to work with, but we’ve got a trace of Sophie’s blood on the end that wasn’t in the flames – caused by splatter from the impact to her face.’
Kay wrinkled her nose as she flicked through the report. ‘Fingerprints?’
‘No, sorry. We did find some burnt material in the same brazier – it’s tested positive as wool.’
‘Clothing? So, the murderer did get blood on themselves but tried to discard the evidence.’
‘That’s what I’m thinking.’
Sharp pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. ‘One thing at a time. Hunter – arrange the paperwork to release Blake and Josh Hamilton from custody. I’ll go and break the news to Larch that we’re letting them go given the new evidence regarding the golf club. We’ll continue our enquiries regarding what Harriet and her team found in the brazier.’
‘There’s one more thing, Devon,’ said Harriet. ‘We found a partial footprint under one of the rhododendron bushes. It’s too small to put Peter Evans at the scene, and it’s not Eva Shepparton’s.’
‘Could be one of the guests or the parents that rushed down there before uniform arrived.’
‘Larch isn’t going to like that,’ said Kay. ‘Peter was his prime suspect.’
‘But we still have Sophie’s blood and her clothes at his flat,’ said Sharp, ‘so let’s not write him off yet.’
‘There’s something else,’ said Harriet. ‘We’ve run some more tests and simulations using the blood traces found on the rolling pin, and we’re certain that whoever your suspect is, he’s left-handed. It’s the way the weapon was used to strike Sophie.’
Sharp frowned. ‘Both Blake and Josh Hamilton are right-handed. I noticed when they signed in with the custody sergeant yesterday.’
‘Could the killer have masked his identity by using a different hand?’ said Kay.
Harriet shook her head. ‘I did wonder that, but I’m not convinced. Lucas confirms in his post mortem report that it only took one blow to the face to kill Sophie. The killer would’ve had to act fast. I don’t think he would have had time to consider changing hands to mask his identity.’
Sharp scratched his chin. ‘I’ve had Barnes and Carys going through the witness statements from the party this morning. No-one can recall seeing someone walking around with a weapon of any kind.’
‘What if the killer hid the rolling pin in the rhododendron bushes beforehand? And then lured Sophie down there somehow, in order to kill her?’ said Kay.
‘That would make sense.’ Harriet pushed her hair out of her eyes, and blinked. ‘We didn’t find any clothing fibres on the bushes around the area where Sophie was found. It had been raining the night before, so that might’ve made the branches more pliable.’
‘I didn’t notice any scratches on either Blake or Josh Hamilton’s arms, either,’ said Sharp. He wrote in his notebook, and then tossed the pen to one side. ‘I’d best go and break the news to Larch.’
Thirty-Five
Kay chewed the edge of a fingernail and stared at the computer monitor.
In the interview room, Sharp had placed a notepad and pen on the table in front of him.
Opposite, Blake Hamilton sat with his solicitor, a look of pure contempt on his features.
He’d argued, Sharp had reported the day before, at the news he’d b
e kept in the cells overnight and had tried to use the threat of his solicitor’s personal connections to sway the police to put him and his son in a hotel room overnight instead.
The suggestion had been met with scorn, and now the American appeared to be sulking after a night on a cell bunk.
Larch didn’t wait for Sharp to settle into his seat before breaking the news to Hamilton that he was being released.
Blake blinked. ‘Pardon?’
‘You’re free to go, pending further enquiries,’ said Sharp. ‘We will, however, request that you be accompanied back to your house with police officers and hand over both yours and Josh’s passports to them.’
‘What? Do you mean to tell me that I spent a night in the cells for nothing?’ He glared at Larch. ‘Well?’
‘We received new information this morning that has altered the course of our enquiries,’ said the DCI. He turned his attention to Giles Fordingham. ‘I’m sure you understand?’
‘Hey, don’t look at him. He’s not the one that spent the night here,’ said Blake. ‘And why the hell do you need our—’ Realisation crossed his face. ‘Oh, for crying out loud. You really think we’re going to make a run for it? I run a successful business, and as I’ve told you repeatedly, I’m not guilty. Nor is my son.’ He spun in his chair to face Fordingham. ‘This is ridiculous.’
Fordingham gave a slight shake of his head, and then cleared his throat. ‘Detective Chief Inspector, are you sure this is necessary? My client is a pillar of his local church, has never been in trouble with the law before, and as he says, runs a successful business that requires him to travel to the Continent on a regular basis.’
Kay held her breath.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Fordingham,’ said Larch. ‘Mr Hamilton, we will require your passports until such time as this investigation is concluded.’
‘Well, how long is that going to be?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t answer that.’
Blake flung his arms up and snorted. ‘Bloody great. How the hell am I supposed to run my business if I can’t meet with international clients?’
‘There are such things as video conference call facilities in most offices,’ said Sharp. ‘Or Skype.’
In the observation suite, Kay snorted coffee up her nose and, spluttering, reached across the desk to a box of tissues, her eyes watering.
‘Are we done here?’
‘We are.’
Blake slid his chair away from the table and waited until Sharp had opened the door for him. ‘You haven’t heard the end of this, Detective.’
Larch shook hands with Giles Fordingham, each of them dropping their hands to their sides as quickly as possible, and then they followed Blake from the room.
Kay leaned forward and switched off the monitor.
Outside in the corridor, Blake Hamilton’s voice echoed off the walls as he complained loudly to his solicitor about the way he and his son had been treated.
Eventually, the voices faded, and she peered out the door.
Sharp leaned against the opposite wall, his hands in his pockets.
‘We’re not going to hear the end of this, are we?’ she said.
‘I wouldn’t worry about it. I don’t think Blake Hamilton is going to risk his business reputation to phone the Right Honourable Richard Fremchurch and tell him he’s spent the night in police custody. And his solicitor is bound by client confidentiality, so although he’s the brother-in-law of Larch’s esteemed contacts, he won’t say anything.’
Kay relaxed her shoulders and stepped out into the corridor, pulled the door closed behind her and followed him as he began to walk back to the incident room. ‘What’s next?’
‘Harriet and Lucas have confirmed all their tests are concluded; they’re waiting for the results now.’ He paused at the door. ‘I’ll call Lucas and ask him to release Sophie’s body to her family.’
‘Do you want me to arrange to meet them there?’
‘Yes, probably best you go once Debbie’s sorted everything out at this end.’
‘Okay.’
‘You might want to go home and get changed first, though.’
‘Pardon?’
He raised an eyebrow at her, and tapped his finger on a spot on his chest. ‘You have coffee on your blouse.’
‘You told Hamilton to use Skype.’
Thirty-Six
Kay leaned against the wall of the waiting room and swallowed, fighting down the urge to flee.
She’d arrived only five minutes ago, driving a circuitous route that guaranteed she wouldn’t be late, and wouldn’t be too early.
Debbie West had taken a call from a local Maidstone funeral director that morning after the briefing. The man had informed her that the Whittakers had been informed the coroner had completed his reports into Sophie’s death, and her parents wished to arrange to have their only child released from the morgue for burial.
Now, Kay wished she’d delegated the task to someone like Gavin.
She knew only too well how hard it would be for the Whittakers to say goodbye to their daughter.
After parking the car as far away from the hospital buildings as she reasonably could, Kay took her time making her way towards the entrance doors. She had opted to take the stairs rather than the lift to the second floor where the mortuary was situated.
Anything to delay the moment she had to push through the doors and enter the small office where the coroner’s officers worked.
She introduced herself, declined the offer of a seat and cast her eyes around the room as the two women answered phone calls and processed the myriad of paperwork involved in running the administrative side of Her Majesty’s coroner for the county of Kent.
As well as having a caseload from Kent police, the coroner was also required to provide his services to the hospital whenever the cause of death was unknown, or when a death happened suddenly with no apparent reason.
From experience, Kay knew that the mortuary room itself was cramped and limited for space, especially in the winter months. She hoped for the sake of the coroner and his assistants that they were currently experiencing quieter times. There had been occasions when she had attended post mortems at the site when even the temporary refrigerators had been crammed full.
She glanced up at voices from the corridor outside.
The glass door to her left swung open and Matthew Whittaker stood to one side to let his wife pass first.
The woman’s face was bleached of colour, and as Kay straightened her jacket and crossed the reception area towards her, she noticed Matthew’s features were equally pale.
‘Thanks for coming, Detective,’ he said as he shook her hand. ‘We appreciate it.’
They turned as the door opened once more, and a man in a dark grey suit appeared, his bald pate shining under the spotlights set into the ceiling.
‘Lady Griffith, Mr Whittaker,’ he said, shaking hands with them both, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting.’
‘Not at all, Henry – we’ve just arrived,’ said Diane. She gestured to Kay. ‘Detective Hunter, this is Henry Alderley, of Alderley and Sons.’
Kay shook hands with the funeral director and resisted letting out a sigh of relief. Until he appeared, it hadn’t even crossed her mind that it could have been the same undertaker she and Adam had turned to for guidance nearly a year ago.
However, the older man in front of her was a complete stranger, and she let the voices wash over her as he explained to the Whittakers the steps that would be required to release Sophie’s body.
She jerked to attention as the funeral director turned to her.
‘All the paperwork is here,’ he said. ‘We have the authority for removal of the deceased, and the coroner’s burial order has been signed.’ He took a document from the outstretched hand of one of the administrative staff and held it up.
Kay nodded. She knew Debbie had tried to persuade the Whittakers to let the funeral director meet Kay at the hospital, assuring them that there was no n
eed for them to attend.
However, Diane Whittaker had been adamant that she would be there to collect her daughter, something which Kay could understand. She turned to the woman, who held on to her husband’s arm, her eyes wide.
‘I believe there’s some paperwork that needs to be signed, and then Mr Alderley will take care of Sophie from there,’ she said.
Matthew Whittaker stepped forward. ‘What do I need to sign?’ he said, his voice shaking.
‘It’s all been taken care of,’ said Alderley, his hands clasped in front of him. ‘I’ve signed all the documentation to release Sophie’s body into my care. There’s nothing you need to do.’
‘I want to see her.’
Kay’s heart sank. Diane Whittaker’s words were what she feared to hear.
‘Lady Griffith, I realise that you would like to see Sophie one last time,’ said Alderley before Kay could speak. ‘However, if I may respectfully suggest, it would probably be best if you didn’t.’ His face softened. ‘Please understand, it will help you to grieve if you remember how she always was, not like this.’
Diane whimpered.
‘He’s right,’ said Matthew. ‘I want to remember my beautiful girl as she looked that afternoon. I couldn’t bear it. I don’t want to be reminded of what that monster did to her.’
Diane murmured her agreement, and Kay breathed a sigh of relief. Her eyes met Alderley’s, and he gave her a slight nod.
‘Will you make the necessary arrangements?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘If you’d like to escort the Whittakers out, I’ll take care of everything from here.’
As Kay led Sophie’s parents along the corridor away from the mortuary, Diane dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, Matthew’s hand clasped around hers.
They left the building in silence, not speaking until they reached the car park.
‘Detective, your superior phoned us this morning.’
One to Watch Page 14