by Elena Forbes
‘I know all that,’ Fagan cut in. ‘What I don’t get is, what’s your angle?’
‘I’m just helping out on an ad hoc basis, while I wait for my disciplinary hearing. It’s better than sitting at home doing nothing.’ It sounded weak, but it was the only explanation Fagan might buy.
There was silence for a moment, then Fagan sighed. ‘Look, I’m really sorry about what’s happened to you, Eve. It sounds like they’ve made a right cock-up. I just wanted you to know that you have my full support, whatever it’s worth. Hopefully, they can sort it all out and you can get back to work, but if there’s anything at all I can do to help, or you just fancy a drink and a chinwag at any point, you just let me know. OK?’
The warmth in his voice touched her. He wasn’t the first of her work colleagues to offer support and express his condemnation for the way things had been handled. It was the main thing that had kept her going since Jason’s shooting. Not that it would make any difference at the hearing.
‘Thank you. I hope so too. Meantime, I need to know if you think there’s any link between Mickey’s death and the Sean Farrell case.’
There was another pause and she heard the shriek of a car horn over the phone, then Fagan said, ‘You really think Sean Farrell’s innocent and there’s a murderer walking free?’
‘I’ve no idea. The best I can say for the moment is that, from what I’ve read, the trial process looks flawed. The scientific evidence was also inconclusive and, in my view, there are good grounds, ten years on, for retesting the exhibits. Unfortunately, the local police aren’t being cooperative.’
‘OK. Knowing you, I’m sure you’re right. But I’ve spoken to someone at Wiltshire Police and they put me in touch with the Senior Investigating Officer who was running the investigation at the time. He’s retired now. It probably doesn’t mean that much, but he still seems to be well regarded. The bottom line is, he’s absolutely one hundred per cent sure they got the right man.’
‘Of course he is,’ Eve said flatly. Every cop she’d ever known would declare he was a hundred per cent sure he’d put the right man in jail, at least in public, or to his fellow officers. There was too much professional pride at stake in a successful conviction, especially a high-profile one. Even in the face of blinding evidence to the contrary, some SIOs still refused to admit that they had got it wrong.
Fagan laughed. ‘Fair enough. I don’t know the man and I’m not ruling anything out at this stage. I’m happy to tell you where we are, if you keep it to yourself. You know Mickey Fraser used to be with the Met?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve checked him out and, personal problems aside, he was apparently a good detective. He had a handful of cases on the go apart from the 4Justice investigation, although most are pretty run-of-the-mill stuff. We’re chasing down all the leads, but so far there’s nothing out of the ordinary, apart from the Sean Farrell case. However, Fraser’s personal life was pretty colourful. He was gay, into BDSM, and happy to pay for it. There was quite a lot of traffic in and out of his flat, from what the neighbours say, and it seems he preferred them young. It’s possible somebody got a bit over-keen, or maybe tried to extract some extra cash.’
‘What about forensics?’
‘Poor old Mickey wasn’t great at housework. The place is awash with all manner of human DNA. Nothing useful’s turned up so far.’
Fagan’s tone was matter-of-fact and she couldn’t read anything into it. ‘So what do you think happened?’
‘Difficult to say at the moment. According to the post-mortem report, he was beaten about quite a bit while he was still alive, but cause of death’s a broken neck. They used plastic ties to bind him and a strip of the bed sheet as a ligature. There’s no sign of sexual activity, although we found traces of cocaine all over the flat. My first impression, for what it’s worth, is that it all has an improvised feel, rather than something pre-meditated.’
‘I heard the flat had been ransacked.’
‘Could be someone trying to make it look like a burglary, or searching for cash, or valuables. His phone and wallet and laptop were all gone. As far as we can tell, there wasn’t much else of any value in the flat.’
She picked up a vagueness in his tone, as though he was trying to play things down, for some reason. ‘Any idea when he was killed?’
‘Monday, around teatime, we think. The neighbour on the ground floor heard some funny noises coming from below, when her kids got home from school. A witness has come forward, who lives further down the street, who saw someone come out of the basement around seven p.m., when she was on her way home. Unfortunately, it was dark and she didn’t get a good look at the face, but the general description is of a youngish male, thin, not particularly tall, dressed in jeans, white trainers and a baggy, dark-coloured hoodie. She said he shot out of there like he was on fire, with his head right down, and ran off towards the Tube. He had some sort of a rucksack, she thought. We’re checking all the cameras in the area and at the Tube station, as well as Fraser’s call log, but nothing so far. We don’t know who the boy is, as yet, but at least we have a better idea of the timeline.’
‘Sounds like you think the killer was someone he knew, and nothing to do with the Sean Farrell case?’
Fagan sighed. ‘Look, I’m keeping an open mind, but a ten-year-old case, with a guy in jail? What are the odds?’
Again she had the feeling that he was playing things down. ‘So this puts Dan Cooper in the clear?’
‘So it appears. His alibi checks out for the time in question, anyway, and there’s no obvious motive. But he was the last person Fraser called from his phone, according to the O2 phone log. Fraser tried three times, in fact, between around two p.m. and four p.m. on the Monday, but Cooper didn’t pick up. Do you have any idea why Fraser would be wanting to talk to Cooper so urgently?’
‘Sorry, I don’t,’ she said, thinking back to her various conversations with Dan, wondering why he hadn’t mentioned it.
‘Cooper says his phone was out of juice and Fraser didn’t leave a voicemail. Cooper also says he has no idea what the calls were about, but that Mickey probably wanted some more money. Is Cooper a friend of yours?’
‘No. I’ve only met him twice, both times to do with the Sean Farrell case.’
Fagan gave a loud sniff. ‘Do you think he’s reliable?’
She hesitated. It was an odd question and she wondered what lay behind it. Apart from the recent brief episode of evasiveness, Dan had come across as relatively straight, at least in his dealings with her. But whether he had been totally honest with Fagan’s team was another matter. ‘I’d say he’s pretty switched on, but he’s a bit of an idealist. He’s also under a lot of pressure. The charity’s short of money and from the little I’ve gathered, his personal life’s a mess and he has a drink problem. Whether he’s telling you everything about what Mickey was up to, I can’t say. I’m not sure if he’s been totally honest with me either, but I have no concrete evidence to the contrary.’
‘So you wouldn’t know if he found anything in Mickey Fraser’s flat when he was there, something he might be keeping to himself, perhaps?’
‘What sort of thing?’ she asked, curious that Fagan had reached the same conclusion.
Fagan sighed even more heavily this time. ‘OK, Eve. There’s something perhaps you should know. We’ve gone through all the papers strewn around the flat and put the files back together, but we found absolutely nothing to do with the Sean Farrell case, no file, no documents, no papers, not even an expense receipt, nada, which is very odd. He may have been shit as a housekeeper, but Fraser kept files on all of his cases, both current and old, and like the good cop he was, he was meticulous about his paperwork. So there ought to be a file for the Sean Farrell case, right? It was the biggest thing he was working on at the time. But we can’t find one. We’ve been through Fraser’s car, the rubbish, which luckily hadn’t been collected yet, plus every other place we could think of, but sweet F.A. so far. Do you think C
ooper took the file, for some reason? Is there something to do with the investigation he’s trying to hide?’
Eve thought back again to her conversation with Dan two nights before. At the time, she could have sworn he was keeping something from her, but why would he take the file? Surely he must know what was in it.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, after a moment. ‘I honestly can’t think what it might be. But then again, if Mickey’s death was to do with his personal life, or someone trying to rob him, why would the killer bother to go through his files, and why take that one? Dan said they’d been thrown all over the floor.’
‘Maybe Cooper made the mess in the flat and took the file to muddy the tracks.’
‘I just can’t see why he’d do that. At least, as far as I’m aware, there’s nothing that 4Justice would want to conceal. They’re a charity. What they do is above board.’
‘I suppose so,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘But one thing I’m more or less sure of, there must have been a file. So either Cooper took it, or the killer did. If it’s the latter, it means the Sean Farrell case isn’t as dead as we think. Either way, I think you should be careful, Eve.’
TWENTY
As Eve drove back along the drive to the cottage, she noticed a pale blue Mini parked in the middle of the lane outside. An elderly woman stood at the top of the steps in the front garden, shielding her eyes and peering in through one of the front windows. She was smartly dressed in a long, cherry-red coat and a silk scarf at her neck. Eve’s first thought was that she was collecting for charity.
Eve parked in the side cut and as she walked back towards the cottage with her small bag of food shopping, the woman turned to face her.
‘Are you Eve?’ she called out in a shrill voice.
‘Yes,’ Eve replied, climbing the steps towards her.
‘I’m Sally Michaels, Melissa and Harry’s mother.’
Eve stopped on the step just below where she was standing and held out her hand. It wasn’t taken. Sally was small and slim, with short, reddish-blonde hair, her face an older, harder, more heavily made-up version of Melissa’s, with the same pale skin and large blue eyes, her expression equally unwelcoming.
‘I’ve just got back from London. Melissa tells me you’re staying here, something to do with Jane McNeil’s murder. Is that right?’ She was peering at Eve curiously, and Eve wondered what Melissa had said about her.
‘Just for a couple of days, that’s all.’
‘I understand you’re an old friend of Gavin’s.’
‘Yes.’ Eve felt a few drops of icy rain on her face. ‘Look, do you want to come in?’
‘No, I do not. I came to tell you you’re wasting your time. Sean Farrell’s as guilty as they come.’
She was taken aback by the ferocity of Sally’s tone and wondered what lay behind it. ‘It’s quite possible he is guilty.’
Sally’s eyes opened wide as though she had been expecting a different response and her mouth sagged open. ‘Why are you here then?’ She waved a leather-gloved hand in the air. ‘What’s the point in dredging it all up again?’
‘Just checking up on a few things, that’s all.’
‘But you think he’s innocent, don’t you?’
‘No. I haven’t come to any view, as yet.’
Sally stared hard at her. ‘But you’re looking for evidence to prove that he’s innocent, aren’t you? If so, you certainly won’t find that here.’
‘Maybe not. And I’m not looking for anything specifically. I’m trying to keep an open mind.’
Again Sally looked as though she had been prepared for more of an argument. It was the truth, after all, not that she owed Sally Michaels anything or had any intention of discussing things with her on the doorstep, let alone having an argument. Why it mattered so much to her, was another question.
Eve heard the sound of another car in the lane and, as she turned, saw a black Audi estate pull up behind Sally’s car.
‘Well, don’t go causing any trouble,’ Sally said sharply. ‘We had enough of that last time.’
Not waiting for a reply, she pushed past Eve and marched down the stairs, just as Gavin got out of the Audi. With little more than a nod in his direction, Sally climbed into the Mini and drove away at speed.
‘I see you’ve met my mother-in-law,’ he said grinning as he came up the steps to where Eve was standing. ‘Did I catch her being rude to you?’
‘She basically warned me off, told me to mind my own business. She’s convinced Sean Farrell’s guilty and I’m just here to stir things up.’
‘In more ways than one,’ he said, still smiling broadly. ‘Nicely so, I mean. Pay no attention to her. She has her head in the clouds most of the time.’
‘She seemed very emotional about it.’
He nodded slowly. ‘She means well, but she never really got over the shock of Tim’s death and everything that followed. The discovery of Jane’s body came almost immediately afterwards and she bitterly resented being questioned, and all of the police stuff and people trampling over the estate, when she was trying to grieve. I guess she can’t face going through it again.’
If that was all, Eve had some sympathy for Sally, although it still wasn’t good enough. Maybe she was being hard-hearted, but it was ten years on. Why was it still such a live issue? How many people would rather an innocent man be left to rot in jail – if that’s what Sean was – than have the past raked up? It wasn’t as though Jane had been Sally’s daughter.
‘Are you ready to go?’ Gavin asked.
‘I’ve just got a few things to put away in the fridge. Do you want to come in?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll wait for you in the car.’
Five minutes later, she climbed in beside him. The car was warm, Classic FM playing on the radio.
‘Where do you want to go?’ he asked. ‘I’ve done everything I needed to do today, so I’m at your disposal.’
‘Could you give me a quick guided tour of the estate? I want to get a feel for the geography. I’d also like to see where Jane’s car was left. It was in a pub car park south of Marlborough. I’d also like to go to the West Woods, where her body was found.’
‘The West Woods are pretty big.’
‘I’ve maps of the specific locations.’
He stared at her for a moment, as though he found it all a bit peculiar. ‘Of course. If you think it will help. I imagine such things are normal to you, with what you do.’
‘Yes.’
He put the car into gear and they drove away down the hill towards the stable yard. ‘Did Harry show you around this morning?’
‘He did. He was a bit pushed for time, but I get the general picture. He seemed very proud of the facilities.’
‘The Michaels have been here for four generations. It’s amazing, really, that it’s survived this long. I wonder if either of my boys will want to get involved when they grow up.’
‘Maybe they’ll take after you.’
He smiled, but made no reply. She picked up a wistfulness in his manner and wondered what lay behind it and what ambitions he had for his children and if any of it concerned Westerby Racing. Perhaps he and Melissa didn’t see eye to eye, or was she imagining things?
They drove up a steep hill and through fields on either side, with woods in the distance. Apart from a couple of cottages and a few barns, there was little sign of human habitation.
‘Do you remember Jane?’
‘Vaguely, more because of what happened than anything else. I was working in London during the week. I rarely ever went over to the office, unless it was to find Tim or Melissa.’
‘What was Jane like?’
‘Quiet and serious, from the little I remember, but I don’t think I ever really spoke to her much. As you know, she was living in the cottage you’re in now, with a couple of other girls. My only real memory of her was when they had a barbeque one evening in the summer, with some of the lads from the yard, and made too much noise. Tim got very cross and was
threatening to sack them all on the spot. I had to go over and calm things down and tell everyone to go home. She seemed quite sober and together, compared to the rest of them and I got the impression she wasn’t enjoying herself very much.’
They came to a small junction where he pulled up momentarily. The gates were in the middle of a small clump of trees, with neat post-and-rail fencing marking the perimeter. She could just make out the road beyond, with more bare, rolling hills sweeping upwards to the empty horizon.
‘That’s the back entrance over there, so you get your bearings, but the West Woods are in the other direction. It’ll be easier to go out the front.’
‘I understand people used to cut through here ten years ago,’ she said, as a car zoomed past on the main road.
‘Yes, there was nothing to stop them then. Tim didn’t mind, but Harry put up barriers everywhere. I don’t blame him for wanting more privacy, although there are bridleways and public footpaths all over the farm, which he can’t control. But he’s forever changing the gate security codes without telling anyone, which is a bit of a pain for those of us who sometimes have to catch an early train to London from Swindon.’
‘Is he worried about security?’
‘Some farm machinery and bits and pieces went missing from one of the barns a few times, but I think he’s just territorial.’
The estate was larger than she had imagined and the road wound up and down over the hills, with wooden-railed gallops just visible in the distance near the top. The sky was heavy with cloud and it all had a windblown, desolate feel. It was also that time of year when everything looked grey and muddy and at its worst. The shortest day of the year was just over two weeks away and she felt the weight of so much unrelenting darkness for a moment.
Eventually they passed the turning to the farmhouse and came to the main entrance on the Marlborough side, where Gavin stopped the car again.
‘Show me exactly where you want to go.’
She pulled the maps Dan had given her out of her bag and passed them to him. He studied them for a moment, then said, ‘OK. The pub’s about ten minutes away, off the Pewsey road. But it’ll be getting dark soon, so we should go to the West Woods first.’