by Carla Kovach
‘Are you accusing me of something, Inspector?’
‘Of course not, Mr Sanderson. You are a witness. I’m just trying to establish what happened, that’s all.’
The man stopped sobbing and wiped his eyes. The veins in his neck began to protrude. ‘I was out all evening, I didn’t do this. The truth is I can’t remember, it all happened so fast. I think I grabbed her from the floor by her cot. It’s all such a blur. Mia climbs over her bed guard quite often. Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t. I ran down the stairs and burst through the front door while holding her in my arms, after just seeing my wife like that in the kitchen. I was running for my life and hers. I would never hurt my daughter. Now, do your job and find my wife’s murderer.’
Gina watched as Jacob made copious notes. Had he been lying or had his answer reflected that of a confused mind that had been through a horrific night? Had he wanted his cheating wife dead?
‘When you left earlier that night, how did your wife seem?’
He took a deep breath and continued. ‘She was tired. She was lying in bed and Mia was asleep. She said she was going to have a bath and watch TV in bed. That’s what she normally did when I went to the pub.’ The man paused. ‘I want to go now. I need to be with my daughter. I have to tell the rest of the family what’s happened. As you can appreciate, I have a long night ahead of me. There’s nothing more I can tell you.’ He zipped his jacket up and stood.
‘Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your wife, Mr Sanderson?’
‘No, not at all, but as I said, I think she was seeing someone. You should try him.’
‘When did she see him?’
‘Look. I need to be with my daughter.’
‘Please sit down and answer the question, Mr Sanderson.’ He stared at her as he slumped back into the chair. There was something about his reddened face, his stare and his demeanour that wasn’t sitting well with Gina. He didn’t like being told what to do.
‘She quite often drops Mia off at her friend Su’s house and who knows where she went then. I only started suspecting when I found the condoms. This could’ve been going on for ages. Her full name is Suzanne Barker. Try contacting her, she might know who killed my wife. Ask her,’ he said as he slammed his fist onto the table. ‘That’s all I’m saying. Unless I’m under arrest, I want to be with my daughter.’
Jacob noted Suzanne Barker’s name down and placed lines through the empty space at the bottom of the interview notes and pushed the statement across the table towards Mr Sanderson. ‘Can you please read and sign the statement.’ The man scanned the three pages before him and signed at the bottom of the page.
‘If there’s anything else you can think of, please let me know. Any little thing that will help us to catch your wife’s killer is important, anything.’ Gina passed him one of her cards and smiled. ‘Jacob will reunite you with your brother and daughter now. We’ll be in touch. Will you be staying with your brother, Alan Sanderson?’ The man nodded as he stood. ‘We’ll need to take his address before you go, to keep you informed of any updates, and we’ll need Suzanne Barker’s too.’
Jacob led him out and Darrel slammed the door as he left. Gina grabbed the notes and headed back to her office, ready to enter them onto the system. She remembered Bernard saying that the body was still warm. They needed to confirm when Darrel had arrived at the pub. Had it been just after seven? Or was it a little later? Could he have had the opportunity to kill Melissa before he went out?
She needed O’Connor and Wyre back with information on his whereabouts. She needed the Angel Arms landlord, Samuel Avery’s statement and that of Darrel’s friend, Robert Dixon. And was his daughter in her bed when he went up those stairs or was she out of her bed and banging on the door?
Seven
Friday, 13 April 2018
‘As you know, I’m Senior Investigating Officer on this case and I need everyone focused. Mrs Sanderson was murdered in her own home and I want whoever did this caught quickly.’ Gina grabbed a biscuit from DC Harry O’Connor’s cluttered desk and swigged her coffee.
He ran his hands over his shiny head and sat up. ‘Congratulations, guv. Hear, hear.’
Gina smiled and continued. ‘Thank you. Right, I know it’s the middle of the night but there’s no time to waste. As we know these hours are crucial. The victim is a Mrs Melissa Elizabeth Sanderson, thirty-five years old. Full-time mum to two-year-old Mia. I’ve just come off the phone to Bernard, who is the Crime Scene Manager, and who’s still managing the scene. Their preliminary findings show there is a small pool of blood on the stairs – starting on the tenth step to be precise. A thin blood trail leads down the stairs, along the hallway and into the kitchen. It is highly likely that this is Mrs Sanderson’s blood but we don’t have the results to confirm this as yet. Bernard called me to confirm that she had been hit on the right side of her head with a blunt object. This object has not been found at the scene yet, but Bernard’s team are still searching.’
Wyre looked up. ‘How was she found?’
‘Coming onto the body. She was positioned upright in a chair, in the kitchen. Her wrists and ankles were bound by cord to the chair legs and arms. She had the same cord around her waist and around her neck. At first glance it appears to be washing line cord. We can confirm that there are ligature marks around her neck too. All I have is in this report to date, including the interview with Darrel Sanderson. I have entered this information into the system so you can all access it. Here’s a printout too.’ She handed each of the detectives a bound file. ‘Wyre, O’Connor, did you manage to verify the whereabouts of Darrel Sanderson this evening?’
‘Yes, guv. We’ve just got back. We went to the Angel Arms and spoke to Jill Keller and Charlene Lynch – the bar staff – and Samuel Avery – the landlord,’ Wyre answered for her and her colleague.
‘That lecherous slimeball still makes my skin crawl. I wouldn’t trust anything he says after the last case. He enjoys playing the police,’ Gina said.
‘You’re right about him being lecherous,’ Paula Wyre replied. ‘I caught him looking me up and down at one point. Anyway, both Charlene and Samuel state without any doubt that Darrel Sanderson and Robert Dixon met in the pub about twenty past seven. Sanderson stayed until a few minutes past ten and Dixon left about twenty minutes later. I also checked the CCTV and can confirm that they never left the building during those times. Neither smoke so they stayed inside all evening until they left to go home.’
Gina looked down. It was a long shot thinking he could’ve sneaked out to commit such a crime and got back without being noticed. He’d been in the pub all evening.
‘Did you speak to Dixon?’
‘Yes.’ Wyre smoothed down her black trousers. ‘We called at his house after we’d been to the Angel and he was in with his wife, Selina Dixon. He was just finishing a meal when we arrived, which was a bit odd as we were so late. I’ll update the system in a moment but, in a nutshell, he confirmed that he too was in the Angel Arms all evening with Mr Sanderson. They had a couple of drinks, did a lot of talking and apparently talked business too. Mr Sanderson runs a business called, Cleevesford Insurance Company, and has a shop just off the High Street, employing the best part of thirty people. Dixon was looking to get his insurance renewed for his electrical parts company, and they were talking shop for a while too.’
‘Did he mention any of their personal conversation?’ She wanted to know more about Sanderson, drill a little deeper into his life.
‘Not really. He said they normally just talked about work and sometimes they had a game of darts when they met at the pub – but not that evening. They talked about football as they were both fans of Aston Villa.’ Wyre looked up as she finished relaying her notes.
As Smith entered the room he rubbed his tired eyes.
‘You’re back,’ Gina said. ‘Any news from the door to door?’
‘Apart from everyone being scared witless, no. It wasn’t so much door to door, but street to stree
t. How the other half live. Anyway, no one saw a thing. Most people were in with their curtains closed, watching TV. Not a thing came out of our investigations.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll grab a coffee and then I’ll be with you.’ Smith removed his hat and headed towards the kitchenette.
‘So we have no witnesses then. On the suspect front, we need to find out if Mrs Sanderson was seeing someone and who this person is. We need to speak to her friend Suzanne Barker.’ Gina looked up. ‘Could Mr Sanderson have got someone else to do his dirty work? Have a look at the interview notes and let’s look into everyone he knows, his friends, acquaintances, neighbours, everyone.’ She finished the last of the biscuit and walked over to the window. ‘I’ll get started on prepping the incident room. There will be no sleep for a while. Grab some coffee and get started.’
O’Connor and Wyre turned their chairs and faced their computers.
Jacob followed Gina to the incident room. She inhaled the damp musty air. A streaky brown patch led from ceiling to floor, a reminder of a small leak that developed in January and had never been painted over since the roof had been fixed. ‘It stinks in here, guv.’
She grabbed a can of old air freshener and passed it over. ‘This should mask the problem for now.’
She’d give it an hour and chase Bernard for more of his findings. She wrote Melissa Sanderson’s name in the centre of the board and jotted down the rest of the information they had so far.
Her stomach turned. Briggs would be in soon to see how things were going. She’d have to face him sooner or later. She just wished she could have had a few more hours to prepare herself.
Eight
The early morning sun’s rays splayed across the far wall of the incident room. Bernard had emailed her some of the crime scene photos and they’d also sent a photo they’d found of Mrs Sanderson before her attack. She stuck the photo to the incident board just above the case notes.
The dawn chorus filled the room through the open window. Briggs entered and dropped the blind, shutting out most of the fresh air and light. It wouldn’t be long before the stale smell returned.
Her grumbling stomach flipped. She was still fully aware she had hurt him and there was nothing she could say to make things better.
‘Any more news?’
‘Only what we’ve reported so far, sir. I’m awaiting further information from Bernard. It’s been a long night for them and us. O’Connor, could you give him a call, see if there’s any further updates?’
O’Connor nodded as he picked up the phone.
Gina turned away and yawned. A couple of times in the night, she’d fallen asleep at her desk. She watched as Briggs walked past her and began looking at the photos pinned up on the incident board. His hair looked more unkempt than usual, almost like it needed a trim or just a good comb. He rubbed his stubbly chin as his gaze fell onto the photo of Mrs Sanderson. His creased suit jacket showed her all she needed to know about how he was coping with their breakup.
‘I’m back.’ Wyre entered, having popped home for a shower and freshen up. Her crisp white shirt with starched collar and cuffs made everyone else look like they’d been on a heavy night out.
Gina stared down at her dark jeans and the crumpled pale blue T-shirt that she’d been wearing on the plane under her comfy zip-up sweater. The grey suit jacket she always kept at work now replaced the zip-up sweater, making her feel a little more professional. She lifted her arm up and the smell of sweat hit her. She needed to pop home for a shower soon.
O’Connor placed the receiver down. ‘Bernard’s calling me back in a moment. He’s just in the middle of something.’ His phone beeped and he left the room.
Gina looked up, trying to catch Briggs’s attention. She needed to know that he didn’t hate her after she’d ignored his message. As he turned, her heart sank. Did she care for him? Did she ever love him? She swallowed and looked away. Images of Terry flashed through her mind. He’d never let her go. Moving on would mean creating more lies to live with. One big lie was enough.
Briggs looked back, catching her stare. Her heart pounded as she cleared her throat and turned away. Things weren’t going to be easy. Wyre looked up. Had she noticed? Gina felt a stickiness developing in her armpits. She wanted to scratch them and wipe them clean. Her body was giving away all her secrets. She undid the button of her jacket and took a deep breath. Wyre was looking back at her screen. They hadn’t been rumbled.
She turned back to face him. ‘Sir, would you send some basic information to the press? They are used to dealing with you. We need to warn the general public to remain vigilant, keep their doors locked, come forward if they’ve seen—’
‘I know what to say, I’ve been doing this for many years now.’
‘Sorry, sir, I know you have.’
Briggs nodded as he left the room and headed towards his office.
Wyre swivelled around in her chair, swinging her neatly clipped up ponytail as she did. ‘He seems a bit tetchy. Everything okay?’
‘Yes. I think we’re all a bit tetchy. A killer on the loose, no sleep. He’s also relinquished responsibility of the case to me, which is a first.’ Gina stared in the direction in which he’d left.
‘Are you okay, guv?’
‘I really need to go home and change. I stink. I’m still wearing the same clothes I wore on the plane and I’m starving.’
A sympathetic look washed over Wyre’s face. ‘I feel a bit better after a shower. You should go home and do the same. I’m sure Jacob will be back any minute too.’
‘Breakfast is in the building!’ O’Connor announced as he walked across the incident room with a tray. The buttery aroma of a fresh bake followed him to the table, masking the damp air. ‘Mrs O just delivered a batch of her croissants. Said she’s been working on the recipe and wanted us to taste test them, so if you eat one, feedback is a must. She also knows something big has happened and she thought we could do with breakfast.’
‘Tell Mrs O she is our saviour once again. Coffee and a croissant – yes, please.’ Gina took a pastry from the tray and bit into it. PC Smith followed the scent and sat at a spare desk. ‘Tell her from me, they are delicious – and thank her too. She really is a key member of our team. Just to update you, Briggs is heading up the official press release. A woman found strangled in her home, this is going to send the good people of Warwickshire into panic mode. Best thing people can do is make sure their doors are locked and their security systems are functioning.’
O’Connor moved the mouse until the computer screen lit up. The case notes appeared before him. Wyre began to pin a map onto the corkboard in the corner of the room. The overpowering smell of damp almost put Gina off taking another bite of the croissant. She reopened the blind, letting the sun and fresh air back in.
Wyre squirted a blast of lily-of-the-valley air freshener into the damp corner. ‘I suppose we need to get used to this stench,’ she said as she placed the can back onto the window ledge.
Gina took another bite of the croissant and washed it down with a swig of cold coffee. She walked over to the map and placed pins into the Sanderson residence, Robert Dixon’s residence and the Angel Arms. After the last major case she’d worked on, she’d hoped not to have to deal with Samuel Avery at the Angel any time soon, but circumstances had put the pub on the map again.
O’Connor grabbed his phone as it rang. ‘Bernard?’
Gina turned to face him as O’Connor nodded, made the odd sound and listened. ‘What is it?’ she mouthed.
He held up his hand as he continued to process what Bernard was telling him. ‘Thanks, Bernard,’ he said as he placed the receiver down. ‘He just wanted to update us with what he has so far. The blood sample taken from the stairs and the trail in the hallway matches that of Mrs Sanderson. He also found two traces of material at the scene. The one was denim, the other was white, highly dense polyethylene. That’s the same material forensic suits are made of. Whoever did this to Mrs Sanderson knew
exactly what they were doing.’
Nine
As soon as Gina entered her house, the wall of heat hit her. She’d left her fire on all night. The cat lazily slid off the sofa and headed towards her. She ignored the cat and turned the gas fire off. It was nine in the morning and it had been a long night. She had a couple of hours before she needed to be back at the station. A nap in the bath was calling.
As she walked up the stairs she thought of the last message Briggs had sent to her. He was missing her but he wouldn’t message her again. She ran the bath and swallowed the lump in her throat. The past few months had been some of the best she’d experienced. Briggs had been an excellent companion, a passionate lover, exciting, slightly dangerous in that they might get caught, but she’d allowed her past to warn her off. He’d wanted to get too close to her, asked too many questions about her past. Their relationship was unprofessional, she’d told him. Damn it, she hated Terry and all the Terry baggage she still carried around. She swiped the toiletries off the window ledge in the bathroom and stared at the dripping condensation on the frosted glass.
Steam filled the room. She kicked all the toiletries under the washbasin. The clock was ticking and before she knew it, the steaming hot bath would be as frosty as her love life. She turned on the radio, threw her sweaty clothes onto the landing and dipped her toe into the hot water before getting fully in and letting the soothing properties of her orange-scented bath bomb kick in.
She opened Facebook on her phone and smiled at the photo that Hannah had posted of Gracie wearing a new dress. Maybe thing weren’t quite so bad. She smiled even more when she saw the dog in the background. Rosie the black spaniel had been rescued from her last case. She’d returned to the rescue centre a few days later and picked the dog up. Hannah had fallen in love with it and offered the little dog a home.