Henley and Ramouter had returned straight to the SCU. Henley’s head was spinning with the latest developments.
‘Is there anything in the CRIS report to show that they even followed up with our juror, Alessandro Naylor, as a possible line of enquiry?’ asked Ramouter, handing Henley a cup of tea.
‘There’s nothing, as far as I can see,’ said Henley. ‘They didn’t make any attempt to get in contact with him. It’s as if DS Lancaster didn’t bother looking at any other possibilities once she’d set her sights on the husband.’
Ramouter rubbed his eyes.
‘It’s ridiculous and incompetent. They should have spoken to him. Carole Lewis made four reports of harassment to the police and they took her seriously enough to issue Naylor with a harassment warning,’ said Henley. She checked her watch. 6 p.m. She had been hoping that she would have been able to leave on time to see Emma, but that wasn’t going to happen now.
‘What about PC Morris?’
‘He’s on a rest day but that doesn’t matter.’
Henley flipped through the report to the harassment allegations. Carole Lewis had visited the police station three times, first on 18 February 2019. She’d reported seeing Naylor standing outside her house on two separate occasions. Almost a month later she’d returned and met PC Morris. According to his entry, Naylor had been seen again outside her house and had sent her text messages. On 4 April 2019, PC Morris called Naylor and left a message that there had been an allegation of harassment made against him. Naylor didn’t return the call. Six days later, PC Morris posted to Naylor, by second-class mail, a harassment warning. As far as Henley could tell, Naylor hadn’t responded, not that he was under an obligation to respond, and there had been no other reports of harassment. A month later, Carole Lewis was dead.
‘Let’s go,’ said Henley, standing up.
‘Where?’ Ramouter was already putting his jacket on.
‘To pay Alessandro Naylor a visit.’
‘Has someone else been killed?’ Alessandro said as he picked up the kettle and poured boiling water into a cup. ‘Sam, the officer who’s keeping an eye on me, didn’t say anything to me this morning.’ There was a sense of panic in his voice and hot coffee spilled from the cup as his hand shook slightly.
‘No. It’s nothing like that,’ said Henley. ‘We wanted to talk to you about Carole Lewis and the harassment warning that you received in April.’
‘A harassment warning. What harassment warning?’ Alessandro sat back with a quizzical look on his face. ‘Me? Harass Carole? Nah, you’ve made a mistake.’
‘Carole made a report to the police that you had been seen outside her house and had been texting her. We asked you if you’d had any contact with any of the jurors and you said no. You knew exactly what was going on, the danger that you were in, and you lied to my face.’
Alessandro’s cheeks reddened. ‘I just didn’t think that it was important. I bumped into her randomly when I was out with a friend for drinks at some pub in Chalk Farm. It was ages ago. She was a bit flirty, but she was like that when I met her on jury service. She flirted with everybody. She insisted on swapping numbers. I only took it to get rid of her.’
‘Were you two in a relationship?’ asked Henley.
‘God, no. Look, If I’m honest—’
‘Oh, now you’re being honest.’
‘I felt a bit sorry for her. She seemed lonely.’
‘I’m not being funny, but you don’t strike me as the sympathetic type.’
‘That’s a bit of a cheek, innit,’ said Alessandro as he sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Fine. I met her in the pub, and we had a drink and that was it.’
‘Were you ever at her house?’ Henley asked.
Alessandro shook his head, determinedly. ‘Never. I knew that she lived in Muswell Hill, but there was no way that I was traipsing up there just to get my leg over.’
Henley didn’t laugh.
‘Sorry, but no. I never went to her house. I met her once and that was it.’
‘What about texting and calling her?’
‘She texted me and I replied a few times but when she told me that she and her husband were into dogging…’ Alessandro turned towards Ramouter. ‘Could you imagine sharing your missus with half of north London? No thanks.’
‘The harassment warning,’ Henley asked. ‘She said that you had been harassing her. Turning up at her house, calling her—’
‘That’s not true. She called me and texted me. I told her that I wasn’t interested in anything more than just friends. I mean she is – or was – a married woman. That’s more trouble than it’s worth. And that letter. The harassment warning. I never got it. The police never spoke to me about it, I was never interviewed or arrested. She never contacted me again and I didn’t bother her.’
‘So, when was the last time that you saw or spoke to her?’
Alessandro huffed and took a sip of coffee. ‘Sometime in March. That was the last time I spoke to her. The next time I heard about her was when you lot turned up at my front door.’
‘During the time you spoke to her, did she ever mention Joseph McGrath? He calls himself Chance Blaine now?’
Alessandro shook his head.
‘Did she express any concern for her safety?’ Henley asked.
‘She went on and on about her husband. Said that she was thinking of leaving him. I do remember asking her if he had ever hurt her, but she didn’t like that question.’
‘Why did you even ask the question?’
Alessandro shrugged. ‘Force of habit. I’ve got sisters and a little cousin who sat in front of me with a black eye and swore blind that her boyfriend didn’t touch her. What can I say? I’m overprotective. I’m sure that you’ve seen it in your job.’
‘I’ve seen a lot in this job,’ said Henley as she picked up her bag and put it on her lap. ‘I’ve had men sit in front of me and swear on their kid’s life that they didn’t strangle their wife to death.’
‘I didn’t kill her,’ Alessandro said.
‘So you say, but I’m going to need your DNA to prove or disprove that.’ Henley pulled out an empty exhibit bag and two plastic tubes each containing a cotton swab. She jumped back as Alessandro knocked over his coffee.
‘Shit,’ Alessandro said as he got up and grabbed a sponge from the sink. ‘OK, OK, it was one time,’ he said as he wiped up the mess.
‘Five minutes ago you said that it was just a drink,’ said Ramouter.
‘I slept with her once,’ Alessandro replied as he threw the sponge into the sink. He had a pained expression on his face as he realised that he’d backed himself into a corner. ‘I’m sorry, but I swear down. We had sex in the back of my van and that was it.’
‘Your van?’ asked Ramouter.
Alessandro nodded. ‘I didn’t see her again.’
‘So you say.’ Henley pulled on a latex glove. ‘But I’m still going to need a sample. We can either do it here or at the station. It’s up to you.’
Alessandro looked defeatedly at Ramouter and Henley and then opened his mouth for the swab.
Ramouter and Henley walked in the drizzling rain towards their car.
‘He’s lying,’ Henley said.
‘What about? Seeing her again, being in a relationship?’
‘Carole’s husband said that she was getting calls and texts from one of the jurors all of the time. He thought they were sleeping together.’
‘OK, let’s say that Alessandro Naylor lied about being in a relationship with Carole Lewis. It doesn’t mean that he’s involved in her murder, and if he was, what about the other victims? Zoe, Daniel and Sean would still be alive if it was just a case of a jealous stalker killing the object of his affection. There’s also the timings. Lewis was murdered four months ago. It’s possible that Lewis’s murder isn’t linked to the others.’
Henley was quiet, mulling over what Ramouter had said.
‘I hate to say it,’ he continued, ‘but all roads are leading to Chance Blaine.’
/> ‘I know,’ Henley said with frustration. ‘But we need something more concrete to pin the murders on him.’
Chapter 67
Olivier leaned back and let the sun warm his face. He was less than half a mile from the SCU and surrounded by tourists taking photographs of anything that moved. Olivier pulled out his mobile phone and took a photograph of himself. There were only three numbers saved in his contact list. He began to walk away from the lunchtime crowds as he sent the photograph to DI Henley and then pressed call. She picked up on the fourth ring.
‘Where are you?’ Henley asked. ‘I couldn’t tell from your photograph.’
Olivier kept silent, listening to the background noise on the phone. He could hear the warning sound of a van reversing.
‘Olivier. Are you still there?’
‘You didn’t even say hello.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I wanted to check in.’
‘You could surrender to a local police station. That would be a nice way for you to check in.’
‘We both know that isn’t going to happen. I was watching you the other day,’ he said. He smiled as he heard Henley’s sharp intake of breath. ‘The press conference.’
‘What do you want?’ she asked again.
‘It was nice to see Pellacia after all this time. I could see how much it thrilled him, sitting so close to you. What was he doing? Touching you up under the table?’
‘I don’t have time for your games, Olivier.’
‘In case you failed to notice, I’m not the one playing games. Your copycat is the one walking around and dropping body parts like he owns the place.’
‘Is that why you’re still hanging around?’ Henley asked. ‘You want to find him yourself, don’t you?’
‘Let’s be honest, Inspector, at the rate you’re going, you’re not going to be winning any prizes for effective police work.’
‘Is that your plan? To find him, chop him up and scatter him outside my front door?’
Olivier smiled. He was enjoying hearing the frustration and the passion in Henley’s voice.
‘I was thinking that we could share information?’ Olivier said. ‘You help me. I help you. A trade.’
Silence. Olivier couldn’t even hear Henley breathing.
‘It must be burning you up, trying to tie up all these loose ends,’ said Olivier. ‘You’ve got me out here and Mr Blaine feeling sorry for himself in Lewisham police station.’
‘Blaine has been talking,’ Henley said slowly. ‘A lot. About you and him working together.’
‘I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to make me bite. You’re trying to put all of those little pieces of circumstantial evidence together like a jigsaw but you and I both know that those pieces just don’t fit.’ Olivier laughed as he heard Henley kiss her teeth. ‘It must be a horrible feeling, knowing that I’m out here and that I’m going to find him before you do.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘It will – that I promise you. It doesn’t matter how hard you try, Inspector, you’re always going to be two steps behind me.’
Chapter 68
Henley told no one about the phone call. All she cared about now was her daughter. She had decided to risk the wrath of her mother-in-law and visit Emma. Henley didn’t have a problem with Rob’s dad, they had always got on like a house on fire, but his mother, Natasha, was sharp, pretentious and thought that her son could have done better.
The house was across the road from Kensal Green Tube station and a stream of people were already making their way out. Not for the first time, Henley wished that Rob’s dad would make good on his promise to cash in on the ridiculous market price of his house and retire to St Lucia with his wife in tow.
As she waited at the front door, Henley wondered if she should have put the tattered Met police sign on her dashboard. Anything that would wind Natasha up would have been a small victory, but Henley was sure that the police car parked two doors down was doing a good enough job.
‘Oh,’ said Natasha, opening the door. She pulled her grey, cashmere cardigan tighter as though she was protecting herself from the cold front that was Henley. ‘I wasn’t expecting you. It’s late.’
‘It was a last-minute thing.’ Henley stepped into the house. Natasha huffed and smoothed back a strand of dyed black hair behind her ear.
‘It’s not right, you know,’ Natasha said as they walked down the hallway. The walls were covered with family photographs. Henley wrinkled her nose at the smell of fresh paint. As long as Henley had known Rob, she had never known his mother to work. Instead she ordered renovation after renovation of the house and booked cruises, while Rob’s dad continued to work as a partner in a corporate law firm.
‘What’s not right?’ Henley asked.
Natasha stopped abruptly. ‘Kiss me neck back. You’ve put Robert’s father and I in danger.’ The Jamaican accent that Natasha kept so hard to keep at bay on a daily basis crept through. ‘I have a police car outside my home, as if I’m the criminal. Do you know how embarrassing it is, Anjelica? Cha! I don’t feel safe in my own home. It’s not right that you put my son and granddaughter through this.’
‘What would you prefer? That I give up my job, become a stay-at-home mum, spend my time pureeing carrots and choosing kitchen cabinets?’
‘Would that be such a bad thing? Or maybe you could just make this’ – Natasha waved a perfectly manicured hand towards the kitchen, where Rob and Emma were presumably behind the closed door – ‘permanent.’
Henley resisted, not for the first time, the urge to slap Rob’s mum. Instead, she pushed past her and opened the door to the kitchen.
Emma jumped up from her chair, spilling her bowl of pasta and chicken onto the floor.
‘Hello, baby girl. What are you doing up so late?’ Henley fell to her knees and pulled her daughter towards her. She smelled her hair and paused. It wasn’t the same. She was used to the smell of coconut and jojoba. Now Emma smelt of vanilla and honey.
‘You changed her shampoo?’ Henley said to Rob, who was on the floor picking up the food.
‘Mum recommended it.’ He reached under the table for a stray piece of chicken.
‘I brought some more of Emma’s things. Including her shampoo.’ Henley covered Emma’s face in kisses. ‘Oh, I’ve missed you, my angel.’
‘I miss you. I love you.’ Emma planted a wet kiss on Henley’s forehead.
Henley felt her heart break and her eyes sting with tears as she kissed Emma back.
‘Where’s Luna?’ Henley asked, looking around.
‘In the conservatory,’ Natasha said. She switched on the kettle and busied herself with the pretence of making tea. ‘Robert knows that I’m allergic. I honestly don’t know why he couldn’t have left the dog with you, but I forgot that you’re never home.’
Just ignore her, Henley said to herself. She could withstand the sarcastic jabs from Natasha if it meant spending precious time with her daughter.
Henley stood up with Emma in her arms. ‘Shall we go and say hello to Luna?’
‘Yes. I want Luna,’ replied Emma.
‘Me too. And then I’ll give you a bath and wash your hair.’
Luna started to bark before Henley had even placed a hand on the double-glazed door to the conservatory. She was getting a better reception from the dog than she did from Rob and his anally retentive mother.
‘You should have told me you were coming.’ Rob stood in the doorway of what used to be his old bedroom.
‘Why? So, you could tell me that you wouldn’t be in?’ Henley replied, stroking Emma’s hair as she slept in her lap.
‘I wouldn’t have done that.’
‘You really can’t use that rubbish that your mum gave you in Emma’s hair. It’s drying it out.’
‘Come on. Mum could have been giving me the most expensive shampoo on the shelf and you still wouldn’t be happy.’
Rob stepped into the room and closed the door. Henley lo
oked at him properly for the first time since she had walked into the house. She knew that it wouldn’t have been easy for him to seek refuge with his parents and be subjected to his mother’s controlling and manipulative antics.
‘Have they caught the person who did it?’ Rob sat down on the other end of the bed. ‘You know. The box.’
‘We’re still making enquiries but there is a suspect,’ Henley replied.
‘A suspect? Have you arrested them yet?’
‘I can’t talk about it, Rob.’
‘What do you mean, you can’t talk about it? It was our house.’
‘OK, OK. There is someone. A suspect, but she’s in hospital. We’ll arrest her as soon as she is fit to be discharged.’
‘A woman? Why would she do something as sick as dumping a—’
‘I have no idea. Did you tell your parents why you came? The exact details.’
‘You’re having a laugh, aren’t you? I doubt Mum would have let you through the front door if she knew, but she’s not an idiot. She watches the news and knows that it’s got something to do with the investigation that you’re on.’
‘I miss my daughter, Rob.’
Rob’s face fell. ‘What about me? Do… do you miss me?’
‘Of course I do,’ Henley lied as she gently lifted Emma off her lap and rested her on the bed. She kissed her and felt a sense of satisfaction, now that Emma smelt like Emma. ‘I miss my family.’
‘But you’re not exactly doing anything to get us back. Anj, I haven’t lived with my parents since I was twenty-one. This isn’t easy for me. Emma cries for you every night.’
‘Rob, you’re the one who gave me an ultimatum. My job or you. You’re the one who nearly had it off with some…’ Henley paused as Emma stirred. She got up and walked out of the bedroom and indicated for Rob to follow her.
‘Come on,’ Rob said. ‘Luna needs a walk.’
‘I don’t want to be like this. This isn’t me. I’m not a nag. We’ve never been that sort of couple,’ Rob said, aware that his mother was watching them from behind the net curtains.
‘No, you’re not. We’re not and I don’t blame you for leaving,’ said Henley. They turned left onto Holland Road, feeling the chill of the evening air. ‘I just didn’t like the position that you put me in. Asking me to choose, Rob, that’s not right. If it was the other way around, I would never have put you in that position.’
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