His smile faded when Geraldine introduced herself.
‘I haven’t committed any crimes, nothing that need involve the police, and if this is about that window, I already told the landlord my parents are going to pay –’ he began, but she interrupted him.
‘We haven’t come here to accuse you of any wrongdoing. We think you might be able to help us with some information that could be relevant to a case we’re working on.’
‘OK, go on then, what do you want to know?’
Geraldine gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘We’d like you to come along to the police station and answer a few questions there, if you don’t mind accompanying me.’
Perhaps it was her use of the plural pronoun, but Phil glanced around and caught sight of the uniformed constable standing by the side of the house. He frowned and turned back to Geraldine.
‘Do I have to come with you?’
‘It would be better for you if you did,’ she replied.
‘OK then,’ he answered, cheerfully enough. ‘Let me get my shoes.’
Geraldine signalled to the constable who ran over and followed the student into the house. A moment later they both reappeared, and he walked quietly to the car with them.
‘Can you at least tell me what this is about?’ he asked once they set off.
‘We’re investigating a double murder,’ Geraldine said solemnly. ‘And anyone who might possibly have seen anything that can help us is being called in for questioning.’
There was no need to mention that Phil’s DNA on the bin made him a potential suspect. It would only frighten him if he was innocent, and alert him to their suspicions if he was guilty. Somehow Geraldine did not think he had killed two women with his bare hands, but she was experienced enough to know that people with the most violent tempers often appeared placid and easygoing. The young man declined to have a solicitor present, on the basis that he had not been accused of committing a crime, and once Geraldine had him seated in an interview room, Ian joined them. He did not waste any time in telling Phil that traces of his DNA had been found on the lid of a bin. Phil frowned, apparently baffled.
‘A rubbish bin?’ he repeated with a nervous laugh. ‘Is it illegal to touch a rubbish bin?’
Ian showed him a picture of the large brown bin. ‘Do you recognise this bin?’
‘Recognise this bin?’ Phil repeated, frowning. ‘I don’t know what you mean. It’s a bin. It looks like any other bin.’
‘Do you remember seeing it on the street near where you work, the Saturday before last?’ Geraldine asked patiently.
Phil looked puzzled.
‘Someone might have been pushing it along the pavement,’ she added cautiously.
Phil’s expression cleared as she spoke.
‘Oh wait, yes, I do remember seeing a bin just like this one. That is, I don’t know if it was the same one, but it could have been. I remember it because you’re right, someone was wheeling it along the pavement, and nearly barged right into me as I was coming out of the shop. He nearly knocked me over. Bashed right into me and I’ve still got the bruise to prove it.’
He rubbed his thigh as though to emphasise his point.
‘About what time was that?’
‘I don’t know. I was leaving work so I guess about five thirty or thereabouts.’
‘And did you see who was pushing it?’ Geraldine asked.
She held her breath and was dimly aware of the tension in Ian’s face as they sat, side by side, waiting for an answer. This could be the break they had been waiting for.
Phil shrugged. ‘Not really.’
‘Can you remember anything about him? Anything at all?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, no.’
It was almost unbearable to have found a witness who had actually seen the killer, or his accomplice, and even had a fleeting encounter with him, yet could not help them to trace him.
‘I’m sorry,’ Phil repeated, sensing their disappointment. ‘It was a busy day. I mean there are always a lot of people around on a Friday at that time, and I was more interested in trying not to get mowed down.’ He paused. ‘He was wearing a hood, I think.’ He screwed up his eyes with the effort of trying to remember. ‘He was wearing a hood,’ he repeated lamely. ‘His jacket was – it could have been dark. Although no, I think it might have been one of those bright yellow ones, like the refuse collectors wear. I’m just not sure.’
‘Can you remember if he was taller than you?’
‘Not really, because he was kind of hunched over the bin he was pushing, like it was really heavy or something, and he… no, I just can’t remember. I’m sorry.’
There was nothing more they could do but thank the witness for his help. He had merely confirmed what they already knew, that the bin had indeed been wheeled past the club at around five thirty, and pushed into the alley. It was frustrating to feel they had come so close to finding a witness who could describe and possibly even identify the killer, yet they still had nothing that could lead to an arrest.
55
Walking through the police station the following morning, Eileen spotted a knitted hat lying on a window sill.
‘Whose is this dirty old thing?’ she asked officiously, picking it up by the edge between one finger and a thumb, and holding it up so everyone in the room could see it. ‘I won’t tolerate an untidy office. That’s how things get misplaced. If it’s evidence, let’s bag it and record it properly.’
A constable called Naomi jumped up and explained that it was of no significance, but had been left at the police station by a member of the public who didn’t want it any longer.
‘I’m not surprised no one wants it,’ Eileen remarked as she dropped it in the bin. ‘It smells disgusting.’
With a loud sniff, she strode away. Geraldine watched her thoughtfully.
‘Are you all right, Geraldine?’ Ariadne asked suddenly.
Geraldine nodded without answering.
‘You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’
Geraldine shook her head. ‘There’s something,’ she muttered. ‘There’s something there.’
‘I’m not sure I understand what you mean.’
In the back of her mind, the sight of an old knitted hat had sparked an idea Geraldine thought might be important, but she was struggling to bring it to mind. She closed her eyes, waiting for the memory to surface.
‘There’s something about that hat,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what it is.’
On a sudden impulse she leapt to her feet and retrieved the hat from the bin where the detective chief inspector had dropped it. Eileen was right. The hat smelt unpleasantly of rain and sweat. Geraldine slipped it into an evidence bag and made a note on the plastic before putting it away in her drawer.
‘Collecting presents to give for Christmas?’ Ariadne laughed.
Geraldine took the evidence bag out of the drawer and stared at the hat. It was brown, with wide black stripes. Closing her eyes, she recalled the only person who had recently mentioned a knitted hat, very similar to the one she was now holding. It was hardly an unusual pattern, but it was a strange coincidence that a hat matching the description of Harry’s missing hat should turn up at the police station just a week after he had reported his stolen, and two weeks after the theft. She went over to the constable who had answered Eileen’s question about it.
‘You said a member of the public left this here,’ she said. ‘Who was it?’
Naomi looked surprised to see the hat in a bag.
‘What do you want with that?’
Geraldine shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. Where does it come from? This could be important,’ she added, aware that she was probably overreacting, reading too much into the appearance of an old hat.
But there was a chance this could provide them with a lead.
�
��Who brought it in?’ she asked again.
Naomi frowned. ‘I’m not sure, actually. I mean, Susan put it on the window sill, and she said someone had left it here. She thought she’d hang on to it for a week or so in case they changed their mind and came back for it.’
Susan seemed surprised when Geraldine approached her with the hat.
‘What do you want that for?’ she asked, making the same joke as Ariadne had about collecting presents to give for Christmas. ‘I hope I don’t get your secret Santa.’
But she remembered exactly who had left the hat at the police station.
‘Zoe?’ Geraldine repeated, startled in her turn.
‘Yes, Zoe Watts, the girl who was missing.’
Before she spoke to Zoe, Geraldine decided to go and see Harry again to establish whether the hat left at the police station could possibly be the one that had fallen off his bicycle. She was probably setting off on a wild goose chase, because there seemed little chance that Harry’s hat could have ended up in Zoe’s possession. But a slim chance was still a chance. And if Harry recognised it, and forensic testing confirmed it as Harry’s, then Zoe Watts might know something about the missing hi-vis jacket?
‘It’s probably nothing,’ Geraldine said to Eileen as she outlined her idea.
Eileen nodded. ‘You’re right, it sounds unlikely, but it won’t do any harm to check it out. Maybe Harry will have remembered something else, while you’re there.’
Geraldine drove to Harry’s house. He greeted her cheerfully and thanked her for the crime number which, he said, had kept his line manager off his back.
‘They couldn’t be too hard on him,’ his wife said smiling amiably. ‘Not after he was the victim of a crime.’ She smiled at her husband. ‘Poor lamb.’
Harry was as unlike a lamb as anyone Geraldine had ever met. Suppressing a smile she took the hat out of her pocket. Through the plastic of the evidence bag, the pattern of wide black stripes on brown was clearly visible.
‘My hat!’ Harry burst out, delighted. ‘You’ve got my hat. Look Peggy, it’s my hat.’
‘Are you sure it’s yours, and not just a similar one?’
‘It’s mine, it’s mine,’ he crowed.
More circumspect than her husband, Mrs Mellor came over to examine it. She scrutinised it closely through the plastic.
‘Oh yes,’ she said at last, ‘there’s where I dropped a few stitches.’ She tutted. ‘It’s never the same when you redo it, however careful you are. The tension’s always slightly different. This one’s going to be better,’ she added, nodding complacently at the knitting on her chair.
Harry held out his hand. ‘You don’t need to make another one now, Peg.’
Geraldine moved the hat away. ‘I’m afraid I can’t let you have this just yet.’
‘But it’s my hat. I’m not lying to you. Peg, tell her, you know it’s mine, don’t you?’
‘Yes, dear. It doesn’t matter where it’s been,’ she added, turning to Geraldine. ‘It’s machine washable.’
Geraldine did not explain that where the hat had been might actually matter very much.
‘I’m sorry but we need to hold on to it for a while longer. It could provide us with vital evidence.’
‘Ah, you’re going to find out who else has been wearing my hat and get the fucker who took my jacket,’ Harry grinned. ‘I told you the police would get him,’ he added, to his wife.
Once again, Geraldine did not tell them that she was working on a far more serious crime than the theft of Harry’s hi-vis jacket.
‘Good,’ Harry said. ‘You hold on to my hat for as long as you need. And thank you for letting me know you got it back for me. That’s made my day that has.’
‘And don’t you worry,’ his wife repeated, smiling. ‘It’s machine washable wool. I never use anything else these days.’
Geraldine wondered if they would be quite so complacent if they knew the hat might have been worn by a murderer.
56
Geraldine drove to Zoe’s school, accompanied by Susan, the constable trained in working with teenagers who had previously collected Zoe from her friend’s house. They spoke to the headmaster and to Zoe’s form teacher, who told them Zoe had added nothing to the statement she had given at the police station. They were still unclear why she had run away from home, but she was being monitored by social workers.
‘And we’re keeping a close eye on her,’ the headmaster said earnestly, peering at Geraldine over his glasses.
‘Yes, I don’t doubt it,’ Geraldine smiled.
The headmaster arranged for Geraldine to question Zoe in his own office. He insisted on being present, along with Zoe’s form teacher and her mother, in addition to the two police officers.
‘Hello Zoe,’ Susan said, and was rewarded with a tentative smile.
‘I just have one question for you,’ Geraldine said, holding out the hat, still in its evidence bag. ‘Can you confirm that this is the hat you left at the police station? Do you recognise it?’
Zoe frowned. ‘Yes, that’s it. But I don’t want it back. It stinks and it doesn’t fit me anyway.’
‘Where did you find it? Please think very carefully. It’s important we know the answer to that question.’
Zoe looked surprised. ‘It was in the hall,’ she said.
‘The hall?’
‘Yes, it was raining when I ran away – when I left home,’ she corrected herself, ‘so I just grabbed it as I was leaving the house. It’s not mine.’
‘Just to be absolutely clear, you found it in the hall of your house?’
‘Yes,’ Zoe replied, muttering that she had already said that.
‘I suppose you’ve seen your father wearing it?’
‘No, I haven’t. I never saw him wearing it. I don’t suppose he’s missed it.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘It stinks.’
‘Thank you.’
Zoe’s mother showed no surprise at the line of questioning, but she denied having seen the hat before. There was not much more they could ask Zoe, so they left. As soon as they returned to the police station, Geraldine sent the hat away for forensic testing. They already had a DNA sample from Zoe, from when she had gone missing, and were extremely interested to find out who else had worn the hat. The results of the tests were disappointing, showing that the hat had been worn by Harry, and Zoe, but no one else. There was also a woman’s DNA, which they assumed must belong to Harry’s wife, since she had knitted it.
‘Damn,’ Eileen said.
‘Whoever took the jacket presumably hadn’t intended to take the hat as well,’ Geraldine said. ‘Harry told us it was folded up inside the jacket. But how did it get into the Watts’ hall? If Zoe’s telling us the truth, someone left that hat there, and whoever it was could also have taken Harry’s jacket.’
‘It’s looking that way,’ Eileen agreed. ‘The Watts seem to be more closely involved in this case than we thought. Let’s bring the father in and question him. We haven’t really spoken to him, apart from when his daughter was missing. This hat has introduced a whole new line of questioning. Bring him in, and let’s put some pressure on him.’
‘Shall we search the house?’
‘Let’s bring him in first and see what he has to say. In fact, bring both Zoe’s parents in, and let’s get to the bottom of this hat business. It looks as though Zoe was lying about where she found the hat and, in any case, if the killer never wore it, the lead is unlikely to go anywhere.’
Geraldine agreed. ‘I’m not sure Zoe’s a very reliable source of information.’
‘Still, we need to question them, find out if they know anything about Harry’s jacket. And while we’re about it, I’ll get a search warrant. The jacket could be at the house.’ She smiled grimly at Geraldine. ‘It’s possible we may be getting somewhere.’
Geraldine had the same feeling, but
she did not say anything. In the course of this investigation, they had both had that impression before and been proved wrong. Even though she was not in the slightest bit superstitious, the investigation had been so confusing, she did not want to do anything that might jinx it. In the car on the way to the hotel where John worked, Ian spoke severely. In the periphery of her field of vision, Geraldine was aware that he had turned his head towards her, but she resisted the urge to look at him.
‘We need to talk about this untenable situation,’ he said. ‘It’s been going on for long enough and I need to know where I stand. We can’t go on like this. I can’t go on like this.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Geraldine, please don’t make out you don’t know what I’m talking about. Less than a week ago we were living together perfectly happily. At least, I was perfectly happy… ’
He broke off as though waiting for a response. Geraldine kept her eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead and refused to respond to his unspoken question.
‘Geraldine, please, tell me what’s going on.’
‘Nothing’s going on.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Ian,’ she sighed, ‘this is not the time or the place for a heavy discussion. In a few minutes we’ll be interviewing the Watts, and we need to focus all our attention on them.’
‘Yes, of course work is our immediate priority, but at least agree with me that we do need to talk. You can’t just walk away from our relationship as though it never happened. That’s not fair to either of us.’
‘Yes, we’ll talk, but not now. We’re here.’
Geraldine did her best to hide her emotions, but it was hard. She had an uncomfortable feeling she was being cruel in shutting Ian out, but her anger with him was still raw and she was afraid she might be provoked into saying something she later regretted.
‘I need time to think,’ she muttered as she pulled up and opened her car door.
‘I get that, but how much time do you need?’ he replied irritably.
She strode towards the house without another word. The truth was, she could not answer his question. What made her situation so painful was that she loved Ian, but he had robbed her of the chance to build a relationship with the only living blood relative she knew of. That was a grief she would carry for the rest of her life, and she honestly didn’t know if she would ever be able to forgive him for his meddling, however well intended it had been.
Evil Impulse Page 23