by Lou Peters
‘Come.’ Walters called out almost immediately, impatient to get things moving. Arnold entered the room. ‘Sit down detective sergeant,’ the DI commanded, motioning to one of a pair of hard backed wooden chairs in front of his large desk. Walters’ face inscrutable, but making a point of looking at his watch.
‘Sorry I’m late sir.’ Cooper apologised. Taking the nearest chair he crossed one long leg over the other. Feeling further elaboration would’ve been counterproductive, he said nothing more.
‘How did you get on?’ Walters asked without preamble.
Cooper was in no doubt as to what the DI was referring and commenced, ‘alibis appear to check out for both of the Harrisons. The landlord of the Frog, Ronnie Munroe, confirms Malcolm Harrison was a member of the darts team that night. He said he arrived about six thirty and didn’t leave the pub until the end of the evening. Even went as far as to admit there was an afterhours drinking session, in celebration of the darts win. However, he was quick to point out it was a private party, behind closed doors with no money exchanging hands. Believe that if you will. I suppose it was all he could say if he didn’t want to put his license in jeopardy. It appears Munroe has got a soft spot for our Malcolm. As have most of the regulars of the pub from what I could gather.
‘Soft enough, sergeant, for them to lie for him?’
‘No. I don’t think their sentiments extend that far, sir. They’re probably of the opinion he has a rough time with the missus. Which was more or less, what we gleamed at the couple’s interview. Munroe said he’d never known Malcolm to tell a lie. Said he was totally without guile. Quote…’ Arnold raised his hands in the air and bent his fingers in replication of imaginary quotation marks, ‘…so don’t ask his opinion if you haven’t got a thick skin and don’t want a truthful answer, unquote.’ His hands fell back to his lap.
‘In other words Harrison is tactless or not quite all there.’
‘I think that’s rather an unkind way of putting it, sir,’ Cooper said with good humour. Apparently, Malcolm Harrison had an accident some years back. It involved a lorry carrying a load of timber to the local saw mill. One of the huge stacked pieces of wood became displaced, went through the windscreen of the car in which Harrison was travelling directly behind. The rogue log didn’t actually strike Harrison. I doubt he’d still be here to tell the tale, if it had. However, as a result of the accident, the resulting head trauma appears to have left the man without the capacity for deceit.’
‘Whatever.’ Walters said, unimpressed. His opinion of Malcolm Harrison remained unchanged. He considered the man to be of a weak character, with a self indulgent nature. No matter how much he was liked down at the local boozer.
‘Harrison was put in the taxi rather the worse for wear about one o’clock. I’ve still got to check out his journey with the taxi driver. In confirmation if he was taken straight home or not. But the cabbie doesn’t start his shift until after six.’
Walters sat attentive on the edge of his leather upholstered chair. His fingers formed a steeple in front of him, elbows resting on the desk. ‘And how about the lovely Mrs. Harrison, I suppose her movements were confirmed as well?’
Rowena Harrison had advised she’d picked up a couple of friends on the way to a WI meeting, which had gone on for longer than usual. Afterward the meeting had concluded she’d agreed to go to one of the women’s homes for coffee.
‘I’m afraid so, both Brenda Benson and Margaret Evans description of the night’s sequence of events, tallies to what Mrs. Harrison has told us.’
‘It bloody would do.’ Walters sat back in the chair, disappointed. He hadn’t really expected anything else. But one could always live in hope.
‘I gather you don’t think much of Rowena Harrison, sir?’
‘Too damn right, I don’t.’ Having to raise his head in order for him to make eye contact with the detective sergeant, Walters looked sharply at the affable giant sitting opposite him. ‘I hope you’re not going to tell me Cooper, that you do?’
‘No sir. I’m of the same opinion as you. I got the impression she’s one of life’s users, an uncaring and self centred individual.’
‘Add sanctimonious bitch to that list, while you’re at it Cooper. Nothing would’ve given me more pleasure than for the old harridan to have committed the crime and to be able to throw her in the cells and forget about her.’
‘Mrs. Benson gave me a contact number for one...’ Cooper referred to his note book, flipping it open to the correct page, ‘Caroline Whittaker, who’s in charge of the WI meetings and holds the keys to the hall where the gatherings take place. Although I haven’t had chance to call on her, I’ve spoken to her on the phone and again she confirms the place was locked at around about ten thirty.’
Cooper and the DI had worked together for a number of years and this was the first time Arnold had seen a case rankle his senior colleague so much from the outset. Walters had looked uncomfortable when first viewing the body of Mrs. Montgomery and Cooper had sensed the nerves below the surface. However, the DI had pulled himself together by the time the SOCO team had arrived and Arnold thought maybe things would be okay. Granted, this was the first murder case they’d encountered, but he began to wonder if Walters was up to the job. Only time would tell. Arnie knew the unexpected death of Sophia Walters had hit the man hard. Especially the manner in which she’d died. ‘How did it go with Mr. Headley?’
‘As expected. Not a lot the old bloke could tell me. Didn’t see, or hear anything out of the ordinary. Nice enough chap, if a bit hard of hearing. I think he probably has the volume turned up on his TV. Which Headley admits, is on pretty well constantly from breakfast time until he retires in the evening. For a bit of company was how he phrased it. So even if there had been some noise coming from next door I doubt if he would have heard it. Poor old sod, he’s been on his own for the past twenty odd years. Since his wife passed away in the eighties.’
Walters wondered if that was to be his lot. He couldn’t imagine being intimate with anyone else after his Sophia, or even wanting to be. ‘Donald Headley had thought a lot of Mrs. Montgomery.’ With effort, Walters forced the image of Sophia to the back of his mind. ‘She’d only lived next door to him for a couple of years. However, in that short time she’d become a real good friend to him. The man had shown more genuine feelings over her demise, Cooper, than that old bitch of a niece, that’s for sure. Mrs. Montgomery had given him a key in case the woman ever locked herself out, or was taken ill. Mr. Headley advised he’d never had the necessity to use it.’ Walters’ fingers absentmindedly shifted a transparent poly-bag on his desk; drawing the watching sergeant’s attention to the lone Yale nestled inside of it. Which on the inspector’s request Hadley had handed over.
‘I wonder if Rowena Harrison knew her aunt had bestowed a key on Donald Headley. I bet she didn’t, or she’d have had it back pronto.’
The thought crossed Walters’ mind if the old lady had given a key to Mr. Headley, had she given one to any of her other neighbours? ‘I asked old Donald if there was ever any trouble from gangs of youths hanging about at the end of the road. He told me there was a mixed group, ages and sex which used to loiter by the allotment gates. As far as he knew, there’d never been any trouble. There’s nowhere else for them to go, he’d said. The old man had appeared sympathetic.’ Walters had had to agree with that statement. Youth clubs, a popular venue when he’d entered his early teens encouraging the kids off the streets, seemed to have become a thing of the past. ‘Still Cooper, wouldn’t harm to check it out. I’ll leave that to you. While you’re at it, ascertain if Mrs. Montgomery gave a key to any of her other neighbours.’
‘Will do,’ Cooper noted it in his little, black book. ‘Did Mr. Headley know if Mrs. M had made any friends after she’d moved here? Whether she’d had any visitors recently?’
Walters wondered why the young had the annoying habit of replacing surnames with the first letter of that name. He found it difficult to correlate the image o
f the little old lady with the broken head, to a mere initial. Her life had been shortened, wasn’t that enough? ‘No on both counts Cooper and I’d prefer it if we could refer to the deceased appropriately and not as though she was some character in a spy novel.’
‘Sorry sir, I wasn’t being disrespectful.’
Walters nodded, accepting the sergeant’s apology. He couldn’t get out of his head, the similarity between the victim and his mother. ‘It was apparent from what Headley had said, Ruth Montgomery used to reminisce about her life in the North West quite a bit. How she wished she’d still lived in her old house and had retained the use of her car. She’d told him she felt isolated after the move, even though her family were closer.’ Walters, after firsthand experience of the dead woman’s nearest and dearest, could understand that perfectly well. ‘Mrs. Montgomery had talked about her friends and neighbours with great fondness. The old man had said a couple of her friends had kept in touch at the start, but it’d been frowned upon by the niece. Ruth had had a feeling that letters she’d written and given to Rowena to post, had never actually been sent. Now why doesn’t that piece of information surprise me?’ He felt stirrings of indignation on the old woman’s behalf. ‘According to Mr. Headley, Ruth wasn’t one to make a fuss. She thought deep down, her niece had her best interests at heart and so was mistakenly guided by her. Elderly people are so vulnerable Cooper.’ Walters again thought of his mother. He must go and see her soon. It had already been too long. ‘I’d asked Donald, if Mrs. Montgomery had told him about the incident at Boynton market on Tuesday. But he hadn’t seen her since she’d popped in early that same morning. She’d asked him if he’d wanted her to get him anything before she’d had to rush off to catch the bus. He hadn’t, and that was the last time the old man had seen her. He hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye.’ Walters knew that feeling, only too well.
‘Perhaps if he’d needed something, Mrs. Montgomery may have confided in him when she’d dropped the items off, exactly what had happened. Who she’d seen that day and then we might know who to be looking for,’ Cooper commented.
‘Maybe Arnold, we’re reading too much into the incident at the market altogether. It may have no connection to her murder, whatsoever. But if it did and Ruth Montgomery had told Mr. Headley who that person was, there’s a possibility we could have had two dead bodies on our hands instead of one. Still get somebody down there, see if we can jog some memories. Send Travis. People might open up more to a woman constable.’
‘Will do,’ Cooper uttered his standard reply of acquiescence.
‘Did you contact the solicitor?’
‘Yes, it’s as we expected. The only beneficiaries are the Harrisons. And no insurance policy, except for a small one to cover the funeral costs.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Walters was not impressed. ‘That means the Harrisons have even got away without having to put their hands in their pockets to pay for the old girl’s send off.’
The shrill ringing of the phone on his desk pushed the annoying thought to the back of his mind. Walters snatched up the receiver. ‘Walters,’ he announced brusquely. ‘Oh, hello sir,’ immediately recognising the superintendant’s voice, Walters’ tone became more amenable. It was a reaction he wished he could dispose of. He detested the pretence, but it was a necessary charade. Unable to stand the old bastard, he was sure the feeling was mutual. Walters cupped his hand over the mouthpiece, signalled to Cooper who was on the other end of the line. Arnold stood up, with the intention of leaving the room. However the DI waved him back down.
‘Early days yet sir… No looks like they both have pretty watertight alibis. Yes sir it would’ve been easier if one of them had done it. I know. Yes sir. Yes. That’s right. I hope so sir, very soon. Yes. Alright, I’ll let you know.’ Walters none too gently replaced the receiver. ‘Sh...it,’ he elongated the word for emphasis.
‘Anything wrong, sir?’
‘That Cooper, was Superintendant Bowden bloody Smythe.’
‘I thought it might be sir.’ Cooper refrained from adding, Walters had already mouthed the name to him at the start of his conversation with the “super.”
‘Only wants a full damn report, already. Typed up and on his desk before I leave today. What a moron. As if we haven’t got enough to do trying to solve the bloody case, without the flaming extra paperwork.’ At that moment there was an unexpected knock on the inspector’s door. ‘This case Cooper is going to finish me off. Do you know that? Come,’ Walters bellowed.
Cooper already had his own suspicions this case may prove too much for the inspector to handle. He was concerned Bowden-Smythe might put extra pressure on Walters. It looked like it had started already. Perhaps if the “super” was looking for an excuse to get rid of the DI, now would be the time to strike. Arnie remembered the good natured man Walters used to be. Always laughing and joking. Ready to listen and help where he could. Nobody had had a bad word to say about him then... but now. Now there were rumblings in certain quarters, waiting, holding their breath, wanting a good man to fall. Cooper made up his mind at that moment. He would give the DI one hundred percent in commitment and loyalty with the case. They were a team and if it meant they would both fall by the wayside because of it, then so be it. He could always revert to his second career choice... and become a lumberjack in Canada.
‘What is it Mellors?’ Walters growled at the fifty year old, hovering just inside of the opened doorway. The constable had been in the police force all his working life and without ambition to become anything else, had remained in the lower echelons of the constabulary.
‘Just thought you’d like to know sir, door to door have come up with a guy who says he saw a man on the doorstep of the deceased’s house yesterday morning.’
Walters was on his feet in an instant. Leaning over his desk he snatched the paper out of the waiting constable’s hand. Reading quickly through the details, a slow smile spread across his face. ‘This could be the break we’re looking for Cooper. Thanks Mellors,’ he called towards the retreating back of the uniformed officer, exiting the room.
Cooper took the information from Walters’ extended hand. ‘Number twenty three Brook Crescent. If the numbers run concurrently, that’ll be directly opposite Mrs. Montgomery’s. Mr. and Mrs. Bradley and Beverley Purvis,’ Cooper read aloud.
‘Come on Cooper, grab your coat.’
Arnie knew he’d been right to have that sandwich, even if it was giving him hell right now.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Thursday Late Afternoon 10 December 2009
The street had taken on a completely different appearance from their earlier, morning visit. The sun was lost behind the houses, waiting to vanish from the skyline in a matter of minutes. Half an hour and it would be total darkness. Except for the street lights, which as they stood on the pavement outside of number twenty three, were flickering into life pink into gold. Birds rustled in the undergrowth of nearby bushes for fallen berries, or if they were lucky, the odd insect, preparing for another bitterly cold night. There was no breeze that early evening and the blue and white police tape cordoning off the crime scene across the other side of the narrow road remained static. Like a stage set. Walters turned the collar of his coat up against the cold; thrust his hands deeper inside his pockets.
The door was opened before the officers had had a chance to knock. An attractive young woman with short brown hair stood framed in the doorway. For a moment she seemed surprised to see the men standing on her doorstep, before realisation dawned. ‘Oh you must be from the police.’ Opening the door wider she allowed them access into the hallway. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just on my way out to work,’ she explained. Walters noticed the green uniform she wore underneath her open coat. ‘I’m an auxiliary nurse at “The Brambles Care Home”. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it?’
‘I have,’ Walters’ answered. ‘My mother’s a resident.’
‘Oh... What’s her name?’ The woman seemed surprised.
‘Alice Walter
s.’
‘Yes, I know Alice. She’s a sweet old lady.’
There followed an awkward silence, each one not knowing what else to say. Walters had wanted to enquire about his mother, but that would’ve been admitting, especially to himself, he hadn’t been to see her for a while and he didn’t want to do that. Although, he was sure the woman working at the home would certainly already know.
Cooper broke the deadlock by asking, ‘is Mr. Purvis at home?’
‘Yes of course, please go through. He’s in the kitchen trying to give the kids their tea.’ For an instant she looked almost apologetic. ‘I know it’s early, but when they come in from school they’re absolutely starving and if we don’t feed them straightaway they’re prone to snack. You know what kids are like?’
The policemen hadn’t really got a clue, as neither had had firsthand experience in that quarter. However, both men nodded, as if they were well aware of the idiosyncrasies of children.
‘Before you go Mrs. Purvis,’ Walters waylaid the woman. ‘Did you know Mrs. Montgomery well?’
‘The woman who’s been killed? Only to wave to occasionally, I’m afraid. We’ve only lived here about six months and with working shifts and having the kids to look after... I don’t get a lot of time to socialise with the neighbours.’ A look of concern crossed her pretty face. ‘I’m just wondering now if we did the right thing in coming here. We’d thought it was a quiet neighbourhood and with it being a cul de sac wouldn’t have cars racing up and down the street, safer for the children... But with that happening, just across the road, now I’m not so sure. It could have so easily been us. I presume it was a burglary that got out of hand?’
Walters respond neither in the positive or the negative and left her to continue. ‘Luckily the kids are too young to take it in. I’m just glad I’m the one to work nights and not Brad.’
‘You weren’t in the house when your husband saw Mrs. Montgomery had a visitor yesterday?’