‘Gareth Sullivan just got back to me about Roxanne Carson’s notebooks. They’re having almost as much trouble as us trying to decipher her shorthand –’
‘Can’t we send them to a code-breaker?’ Lance interrupted. ‘GCHQ or something?’
‘I tried suggesting that,’ Keith replied tersely. ‘He told me to get a court order.’
‘So could he decipher anything at all?’ asked Grace, still jittery over whether her friend’s notes would reveal her phone call and their clandestine meeting at the coaching inn.
‘Sullivan was pretty sparing with the detail, but because Matt Beeston is under arrest, he was good enough to share with me that Roxanne was aware that Polly Sinclair took Matt Beeston home with her the night before she disappeared. Something that was never actually spelled out to the media.’
‘So does Sullivan know who told her?’ Lance asked eagerly.
‘He knows,’ said Keith disgustedly. ‘But, in the name of journalistic ethics, he wants to seek permission from the person concerned before he gives us a name.’
‘Zawodny saw Polly in bed with someone,’ said Lance robustly. ‘And Matt’s arrest has been more than public knowledge. He could’ve put two and two together and told Roxanne.’
‘Why?’ asked Keith.
‘Take the heat off himself,’ Lance replied.
‘It could also have been Polly’s housemate,’ suggested Grace.
‘If Roxanne had been tipped off and arranged to meet Matt at the vigil,’ said Keith, ‘then how did she make contact? When did they speak?’
‘Easy enough to make an anonymous call,’ said Lance. ‘From the train station, for example.’
Grace avoided Keith’s eye and swallowed hard before speaking. ‘There’s someone else who could have told Roxanne about Matt and Polly.’ She turned to Lance, enlisting his support. ‘Danny Tooley.’
‘Of course,’ said Keith. ‘I remember you said that Polly asked Danny for a lift home when she was with Matt in Colchester.’
‘Yes,’ said Grace. ‘Danny told us he refused because he knew Matt had a bad reputation amongst the female students.’
‘And we know Roxanne was keeping tabs on Danny,’ added Lance.
Grace shot him a grateful look, then took a deep breath. ‘I think Danny told her about Zawodny’s boat, too. It’s my fault. I asked him about it, if he’d ever seen Polly with Zawodny in Wivenhoe.’
‘Why the hell haven’t you told me this before?’
‘I was about to. But things got busy. I’m sorry, sir. It’s not an excuse.’
‘No, it’s not.’ Keith frowned in irritation. ‘Should we be looking at him as a suspect? Was he was in town the night Polly disappeared?’
‘We don’t know,’ said Lance. ‘But he doesn’t drive. Where would he have taken her?’
‘What about Rachel Moston?’ asked Keith. ‘Did he know her? Would he have any reason to kill her?’
Lance looked to Grace to answer. ‘He knew who she was. But we’re not aware of any connection. I don’t think he’s a suspect. It’s more whether he was telling Roxanne more than he ever told us.’
‘You think?’ asked Keith with heavy sarcasm.
‘In which case he might also have known who Roxanne was planning to meet up with at the vigil,’ said Lance, giving Grace a look of encouragement.
‘We should bring him in,’ she said. ‘Take a statement under caution.’
‘Get on with it, then,’ said Keith. ‘And I’m sick of pandering to Gareth Sullivan’s journalistic ethics. Tell Duncan to organise a court order to seize all Roxanne’s notebooks.’
FORTY-TWO
Danny was reluctant to leave the bookshop, explaining discreetly that there were supposed to be at least two people on the floor at all times. Lance responded cheerfully that a word with his manager or, failing that, a call to his head office, would clear the way, leaving Danny little choice but to accompany them.
He was quiet in the back of the car, despite Grace’s attempts to chat and resume their earlier rapport, and baulked at the brick facade of police headquarters, shrinking into himself and waiting to be led through the lobby and on into the secure areas of the building. As Lance set up the tape in one of the more pleasant interview rooms, Grace watched Danny take a careful look around at his surroundings. Finding himself under observation, he gave her a wary smile.
‘So, Danny,’ she began, ‘you know that Roxanne Carson has been murdered?’
He nodded.
‘Almost certainly by the same person who murdered Rachel Moston. We’re looking at the possibility that Roxanne was killed because she was a journalist, because she knew something as a result of her work that the killer felt threatened by.’
Danny looked alarmed, but nodded to show he understood.
‘Roxanne herself might not necessarily have realised the significance of what she’d heard or been told,’ Grace continued, ‘and therefore we need to piece together precisely what she knew and who she’d been talking to. You’re aware that we already know that she’d spoken to you.’
‘You think I killed her?’ he blurted out.
Grace was about to reassure him, but Lance got in first. ‘Did you?’ he asked.
‘Maybe you’re going to say I did.’
‘Is there a reason we should say that?’ Lance pursued.
‘I talked to her quite a lot,’ said Danny. ‘She’d text me if she had questions, about stuff on campus and things.’
‘It would be really helpful if you could tell us absolutely everything that you told Roxanne,’ Grace said in her most soothing voice: making Danny panic wasn’t going to assist his accurate recollection. ‘And everything that she asked you.’
‘OK,’ he told Grace, flicking a worried look at Lance, who, perhaps realising he’d gone in too hard, smiled encouragingly and sat back, leaving the stage to Grace.
‘I don’t like these places,’ Danny said unexpectedly. ‘They remind me of when I was a kid, when my mum was ill.’
‘You’re here as a witness,’ said Grace. ‘We’re grateful for your help.’
He nodded and settled himself in his chair, reminding Grace of how a fretful dog might tread out his bed.
‘What kind of questions did Roxanne ask you?’
‘She wanted background. What the students are like, whether they do much partying, who they go out with, that kind of thing.’
‘And did you see her or speak to her at the vigil on Tuesday night?’
Danny nodded. ‘Early on, before you and I spoke.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She was busy, said she needed to keep moving.’
‘Did you see who she talked to?’
‘Some of Polly’s friends, and I think some friends of the other one.’
‘Friends of Rachel Moston?’
Danny shrugged. ‘I hardly knew her.’
‘OK. Did Roxanne ever ask you specific questions, then or earlier? About what she thought we – the police – were doing or wanting to know about?’
‘I told her you’d asked about the Polish guy, their landlord. That he had a boat. She was interested in that. Wanted to know what else you’d said.’
‘And what did you tell her?’
‘I didn’t know anything else.’
‘You saw the newspaper article, speculating that a vodka bottle played a part in Rachel Moston’s murder?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you remember if Roxanne asked you about a bottle, either before or after that article?’
Danny hung his head. When he raised it again, his eyes were wet. ‘I’d been telling her about Polly. About how upset she was, how Dr Beeston hadn’t been very nice to her. I feel really bad about that now. Polly trusted me.’
Grace fought the urge to lean forward, tried her best not to betray her eagerness. ‘What did Polly mean when she said he hadn’t been very nice?’
Danny met her gaze with a fierceness she hadn’t seen before. ‘It wasn’t her. She wasn’t
like that. He got her really drunk. It was his fault.’
‘What was his fault?’
‘That she did those things. It wasn’t her.’
‘What things, Danny? I know you cared about Polly and don’t want to say anything bad about her. But we need to know exactly what she said.’
‘It was something about a bottle. I didn’t really understand what she meant.’
‘What were her precise words? Can you remember?’
‘She wasn’t like the others! She wouldn’t have done that sort of thing!’
Not wanting to push Danny too hard when it was clear how upset he was at betraying the girl of his dreams, Grace decided she could always come back to this later. ‘And you told Roxanne?’ she asked instead.
‘I shouldn’t have said anything,’ he cried. ‘Polly trusted me!’
‘But you said enough for Roxanne to go away thinking that Dr Beeston had done something to Polly with a bottle? Something sexual perhaps?’
Danny shrugged, the fierceness fading away. ‘I didn’t say that. Roxanne did. He got Polly drunk. She didn’t know what she was doing. She was sweet and lovely and kind.’
‘And can you remember when you told Roxanne what Polly had said? Was it before or after the newspaper article last Monday?’ she asked. ‘Please think hard, Danny. It’s important.’
‘Before.’
Grace looked at Lance. His eyes were dancing with excitement but, taking up the reins, he changed the tone, making his voice light and chatty.
‘And did Roxanne say if she was going to speak to Matt, to get a response from him? Or maybe had already?’
‘I don’t remember. I don’t think it came up.’
Danny looked exhausted.
‘OK, thanks. I think we’ve pretty much covered the ground now, Danny. We really appreciate you helping us like this. I know you need to get back to work, so we’ll organise a car for you in a moment.’ Lance flicked through his notebook as if double-checking that he hadn’t forgotten any unimportant details. ‘Oh yes, the landlord, Pawel Zawodny. He came to the vigil.’
‘I don’t know him,’ said Danny.
‘You might have noticed him. He brought a massive bouquet of flowers, caused quite a stir.’
Danny shook his head, clearly not interested in the subject.
‘Roxanne didn’t mention wanting to talk to Pawel Zawodny?’ Lance pressed. ‘Even though he’d recently been in custody?’
‘Not that I remember.’
‘Not to worry.’ Lance wound things up and switched off the tape.
‘So you think Roxanne knew who killed Rachel?’ Danny asked, as they all got to their feet.
‘It’s possible,’ said Grace.
‘Is it Dr Beeston?’
‘We’re working on it.’
‘When will you know?’
Grace caught something in Danny’s eyes, just a flash and then it was gone, but enough to convince her that he was still holding something back. A crazy idea jumped into her mind, but she wanted to voice it, just to see if she was right, if she could catch him unawares.
‘If you know where Polly is, you would tell us, wouldn’t you, Danny?’
He gave an awkward laugh. ‘Me? Why would I know?’
‘Because she came to you. She trusted you.’
Lance jerked his head up in surprise, but then nodded. ‘Was Polly afraid of Dr Beeston?’ he asked eagerly. ‘Is she hiding from him? Because if she is, you can assure her that it’s safe to come out now.’
For a moment Grace almost thought Danny was going to crumble and tell them whatever secret he was keeping, but then his eyes filled with tears. ‘I only want her to be cared for,’ he said.
‘We all do,’ Grace assured him. ‘Especially her family.’
‘But if you know where she is, Danny, you can tell her she doesn’t have to hide away any longer,’ said Lance. ‘I promise we’d make absolutely sure she’ll be safe.’
Danny kept his head down and walked to the door without answering.
‘Even if she could just let her parents know she’s alive.’ Lance spoke to the back of Danny’s head, which hunched more deeply into his shoulders.
He turned back to face them, brushing his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘I can’t help them. I’m sorry. But I don’t think she’d ever deliberately do anything to hurt them. She’s not like that.’
They left Danny in the lobby to wait for a car to take him back to the bookshop. As soon as they’d returned through the inner door to the station, Lance turned to her. ‘Do you think he knows where she is?’
Grace shook her head. ‘For a moment there I did. But do you remember how upset he was when we saw him at the vigil? He was crying. Why would he weep like that for her if he knew, or even had good reason to hope, that she was safe?’
‘Yeah, I guess so,’ Lance conceded.
All the same, as they made their way upstairs, something about that flash in Danny’s eyes stuck at the back of Grace’s mind like a forgotten word or name on the tip of her tongue that would only come back once it was too late to matter.
FORTY-THREE
‘How did you get on?’ Duncan asked as Grace and Lance appeared in the doorway to the MIT office.
Lance looked to Grace to respond, but she indicated for him to go ahead. ‘Polly Sinclair confided something to Danny about Matt Beeston and a bottle.’
‘And he told Roxanne?’
‘Who told Ivo Sweatman, whose private investigators blagged the rest, about a vodka bottle being retrieved from the scene of Rachel Moston’s murder.’
‘Result!’ said Duncan, as Keith emerged from his office and made them repeat it all again.
‘OK,’ said Keith with a nod of satisfaction. ‘Let’s run through what we’ve got on Matt Beeston.’
‘We can place him in the Blue Bar on the nights Polly Sinclair went missing and Rachel Moston was killed,’ Duncan began. ‘He lives within walking distance. We have him on CCTV on the route between the Blue Bar and his flat at one a.m. on the night of Rachel’s murder, which would have given him sufficient time after the last sighting of the victim to have carried out the crime and be heading home. He was also on campus when Roxanne Carson was murdered.’
‘Hilary’s set up a Facebook page for people to post where they were and who they saw at the vigil,’ said Joan. ‘And our nifty simulation programme lets us use that information to track individuals across a given timeline. Not much so far on this suspect, but we have got him heading down towards the lake.’
Keith nodded in approval as Grace took up the reins. ‘Matt Beeston had sex with Polly and taught Rachel. As yet we don’t know if he was in direct contact with Roxanne, but she had information harmful to him, and he’s made his resentment against her and the other victims abundantly clear in his grossly abusive and violent messages.’
‘There’s also the post-mortem display of the bodies,’ said Lance. ‘Roxanne’s knickers were stuffed into her mouth, which suggests a desire to symbolically shut her up. Plus, at the time of her death, only the killer would have known where to place a bottle.’
‘And now we have hearsay evidence that Matt may have used a bottle as a sex toy with Polly,’ added Grace.
‘He has a known history of sexual predation against women he teaches and of using alcohol to disempower them,’ said Lance.
‘We must go back to the students who’ve given statements and press them further on the precise details of his sexual assaults,’ said Keith. ‘See if one of them mentions a bottle.’
Keith looked at Grace as he spoke, and she knew that this job would inevitably fall to her. She nodded reluctantly, reflecting that by the time this was over, Matt’s victims would have paid a heavy price for falling for his charm and the offer of just one more drink.
Duncan pointed to the photograph on the board of the wine bottle retrieved from Roxanne’s body. ‘We’ve put out an appeal for anyone who bought this brand of white wine,’ he said. ‘It was on sale at the campus shop,
so we’ve asked the university to email every student. We want to know who discarded an empty bottle and, if possible, where and when, which might also help us plot the killer’s movements leading up to time of the murder.’
‘Good,’ said Keith curtly. ‘It’s enough to keep up the pressure on Matt in the next interview.’
‘So where is Polly Sinclair?’ No one had noticed Colin Pitman slip into the room. He stood beside the door, watching and listening. ‘Matt Beeston doesn’t drive,’ he said. ‘If she’s dead, how come no one’s found her body?’
An hour later Colin caught up with Grace as she set off to walk home through the car park that spread around one side of the police station. No one was using the front entrance any more, not if they could help it, for fear of being besieged by cameramen and journalists sticking microphones in their faces.
‘You were pretty quiet back there,’ Colin said. ‘Anything you want you share? Off the record?’
Earlier, in the MIT office, he had stressed that while it was feasible for Matt Beeston to have murdered Rachel and walked home afterwards, and killed Roxanne before slipping unnoticed into the crowd at the vigil, they had never satisfactorily explained how Matt could have transported Polly Sinclair away from the town centre. By the time she disappeared the last train had gone, and exhaustive enquiries left them confident that neither Polly nor Matt had taken either a cab or a night bus. ‘If Matt Beeston is responsible for her fate,’ Colin had said, ‘then where is she?’
With an air of quiet triumph, he had then left it to his colleagues to announce not only that an additional budget had been provided for a renewed search for Polly, but also that it had already been announced to the media. There was to be a full sweep of every building in a radius around the Blue Bar, taking into account any points at which victim and perpetrator could no longer have evaded capture on CCTV.
But if Superintendent Millington had expected an enthusiastic response, she had been disappointed: a suppressed groan had rippled around the room; Duncan had stared at the floor while Keith remained expressionless. Extra resources were of course welcome: it was nearly two weeks since Polly had vanished and they were no nearer finding her now than when Phil and Beverley Sinclair had first reported her missing. But everyone knew this new search strategy was a logistical nightmare that would require them to track down innumerable key-holders of commercial premises, some of them unoccupied, and secure their attendance. Dozens of specially trained officers and dog-handlers would not only search but also have to ensure that they didn’t trample all over any evidence that was found. With no new lead to suggest that Polly’s body might be hidden in Colchester town centre, it was little more than an expensive and distracting PR stunt. Grace was not the only one willing to bet that the chief con would find time to be on hand tomorrow to make a statement against the impressive backdrop of TV news footage of the sweeping new search.
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