by Robert Innes
“Exactly. And Scott seemed to be the only one she really liked and he’s not here anymore. I think we should go to her office and try and find out what she’s been up to.”
“How?” Peter exclaimed. “It’s not like she’s going to tell us anything, even if she is up to anything dodgy.”
“Exactly,” Ashley said, grinning. “Which is why we need to go when she isn’t there and look for ourselves, tonight.”
For the second night in a row, Peter found himself perched on the edge of the wall with a flickering streetlight above his head, staring at the stadium.
“Okay, so what’s your plan?” he asked Ashley. “Aren’t there still coppers crawling around?”
“Probably,” Ashley replied, shrugging. “But it’s our football stadium. Why wouldn’t we be here? Besides, they’re probably going to be investigating the pitch and the changing rooms still, why would they need Hattie’s office?”
Peter was still feeling uneasy but now they were here, he had to admit that he did have questions that he wanted answering.
“Come on,” Ashley said. “It’s now or never.”
Peter jumped down off the wall and they made their way towards the stadium. Inside, the place looked deserted. The lights were off, and they could barely make out anything that was going on inside. As they approached the doors, Ashley grabbed hold of the handle and pulled.
“It’s locked,” he muttered. “Course it would be, it’s past ten. I think even the cleaners are normally done with the place by this point. Mind you, that might mean that there aren’t any police here either.”
“Now what?” Peter asked as Ashley began striding around the side of the building.
“We look for another way in. Come on!”
“Ashley, wait!” called Peter, but it was too late. Ashley had already disappeared in the direction of the fire exit.
By the time Peter had caught him up, Ashley was already at the door and was attempting to pull it open.
“It’s locked, Ash, come on. Let’s just forget about this, maybe try another night?”
“I’m sure there’s a way of getting this open, I’ve seen Hattie do it when she’s locked herself out…Ah!”
He pushed the handle on the door and jammed it up and away from him. In the next moment, the door had clicked loudly and then slowly swung open.
Peter glanced at him nervously. “You do realise this is breaking and entering now, don’t you? We’re breaking the law.”
“Oh, come on,” Ashley said. “If we find what we’re looking for in here then we won’t be in trouble, the police will probably be thanking us.”
As Ashley pulled the door open and stepped inside, Peter followed him closely, shutting the door behind them. “And what are we looking for?”
“Use your imagination,” Ashley whispered. “When we find it, you’ll know.”
The corridors were even more cold and unwelcoming than they were during the day. As they made their way through the building, shadows danced across the wall. At one point, Peter jumped as he saw a large shadow on the wall behind him in the shape of a person, before he realised it was his own and felt incredibly foolish.
“Will you calm down?” Ashley said to him. “You’re making me nervous.”
At last, they reached the corridor where Hattie’s office stood at the end. It was rarely a place Peter ever wanted to visit, but tonight it looked even more foreboding.
“Ash, I’m not sure about this.”
Ashley rolled his eyes and sighed. “Would you feel better if I went in and you stayed to keep watch?”
Neither option particularly appealed to Peter. He did not consider himself to be a cowardly person, but the thought of getting caught rummaging through Hattie’s office made his mouth go dry.
“Yeah,” he said at last. “Alright. If you need anything, give me a shout.”
“I will. I’ll be as quick as I can. If somebody does come, just make up an excuse.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno, you’ll think of something!”
Peter stood at the end of the corridor and watched as Ashley strode confidently towards the office. When he reached the door, Peter found himself hoping that it would be locked, but as Ashley gently pushed the handle down, the click of the door opening echoed slightly around the corridor.
Ashley gave Peter a thumbs up and then disappeared into the office, closing the door behind him.
Immediately, Peter wished he had been braver. He was unsure exactly what was unnerving him so much. The thought of a murderer creeping around the shadowy corridors made him shudder slightly, though he credited himself with a little bit more maturity than to think that there could be a masked stalker walking around the stadium with a knife. Whoever had murdered Scott was unlikely to be trying to emulate Michael Myers.
The minutes ticked by and there was still no sign of Ashley emerging from the office. Peter glanced down the other end of the corridor to make sure that there was still nobody about. Then, he happened to glance up at the ceiling and his blood ran cold.
A security camera was pointing right at him. Peter stared at it open mouthed. How could they have been so stupid? If they did not find anything incriminating in the office, which judging by the amount of time Ashley was taking was feeling more unlikely by the second, then all it would take would be for Hattie to see the footage and then he could only imagine how difficult she could make things for them.
“Ashley!” he called.
There was no response.
Peter glanced up again at the camera. There was nothing else for it. If Ashley had not found anything by now, they would just have to make a run for it and hope that nobody checked the footage.
He was just turning to face the office when he heard a loud thud from behind the door, freezing him to the spot.
“Ashley?”
Another loud thud echoed dully around the corridor.
“Ashley!”
He began running towards the office and threw the door open.
The office looked like it had been completely ransacked. Paperwork was strewn everywhere. Filing cabinets had been opened, drawers were out of the desk and turned upside down on the floor and the large trophy Hattie had won had been thrown on the floor. Then, Peter’s heart felt like it had stopped.
Ashley was lying on the floor, his arms outstretched. A pool of blood was growing around his head and his eyes had the same lifeless stare to them that he had seen in Scott just the day before.
“Ashley!”
Peter knelt down next to him and felt desperately around his neck for a pulse but felt nothing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone, his hands trembling.
He had just pressed the second ‘9’ on the keypad when the office door flew open. Peter stared in horror as Hattie Atkins stood before him.
“What the hell is going on here?” she murmured.
10
Blake stared down at Ashley’s body on the floor and shook his head in disbelief. The officers had spent the entire day going through witness statements, interviewing any member of the crowd that they could locate around the village and had barely scratched the surface on working out what had happened to Scott, and now here they were, back in the stadium faced with another body.
“At least this one is easy to work out what happened,” said Sharon grimly as she examined the wound on Ashley’s head. “Blunt trauma to the cranium, probably one clean blow. And I even have a murder weapon for you.”
She leant over the body and held up the replica trophy lying next to Ashley’s head. “Whoever it was, our victim disturbed them. Or vice versa.”
Blake shook his head again. “He was in here snooping apparently. For what, I’m not entirely sure. Was there anything else you can tell me?”
“I’d actually just finished with Scott Jennings when I got this call,” Sharon replied, standing up. “I’ve sent the file across and it makes for quite an interesting read.”
Blake narrowed h
is eyes wearily. “Why?”
“Well, for one thing, I’m pretty certain that stabbing was not the cause of death.”
Blake’s lips thinned.
“You don’t look surprised,” Sharon said, frowning.
“I’m not. What did kill him?”
“He was absolutely dosed up to the eyeballs with anabolic-androgenic steroids,” Sharon replied as she stood up. “I would say the cause of death was that he overdosed.”
Blake scratched the back of his head, confused. “He overdosed? Wouldn’t that be a fairly quick thing? He was running about fine before the second half started, in fact I had to stop him from fighting one of the opposing team.”
“It’s difficult to say,” Sharon replied. “I could see needle marks in the upper thigh area, I’m presuming he chose to inject there so it wouldn’t be seen, but footballers spend most of their time being covered in scratches and bruises. As for the stab wound, that was even more interesting. I found traces of stiches around the wound.”
Blake stared at her. “Stiches?”
Sharon nodded, looking rather pleased that she had finally said something that had taken Blake by surprise. “Yep. And not an especially hot job either. I’d say it was performed by somebody who had the most basic level of knowledge of how medical stiches are meant to be applied. As well as that, I found fibres of polyethylene located around the centre of the wound.”
“Polyethylene?” repeated Blake. “Isn’t that -”
“What bandages and the centre of plasters are made from, yes.”
“Oh, Sharon, I could kiss you.”
“Maybe later.”
Blake’s mind whirred furiously. “That means that he had already been stabbed. God knows when. Before the match had even started?”
“Possibly,” said Sharon. “If done right, you can sort of delay the wound from causing you any great trauma until you can get yourself some proper medical assistance. What I wouldn’t advise if you’re going to do that is running around playing football for ninety minutes. The stiches will have opened, and the blood will have flowed.”
Blake allowed the realisation of the situation to settle within him and then thanked Sharon. He then stormed out of the office and towards the locker rooms where Hattie was being questioned by Fox, Patil and Gardiner.
“Where’s Matti?” Blake asked as he strolled into the room.
“He’s talking to Peter Simpkins,” Patil replied.
“Do you want me to get him?” Fox asked.
“I’m quite capable of fetching him,” Patil snapped back.
“No,” Blake replied forcefully. “Leave him where he is. Fox, you can stay with me. Can you two go and help Sharon? That office has been ransacked and I want to know why.”
With Patil still grumbling and Gardiner looking vaguely amused by her irritation, the two of them left leaving Blake and Fox alone with Hattie.
She looked up at them, her eyes narrowed. “What do you want with me? Shouldn’t you be out there looking for whoever killed Scott and Ashley?”
Blake sat down opposite her on the bench and stared intently at her. “I think we both know that I’m looking for two different people, don’t we, Hattie?”
Hattie stared at him outraged. “Am I in custody here, because if not -”
“Too bloody right you are,” Blake replied sharply. “Hattie Atkins, I’m arresting you for the murder of Ashley Pharaoh.” He spoke louder as Hattie tried to argue with him. “…you do not have to say anything, anything you do say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
“It wasn’t murder!” Hattie shouted loudly.
Blake stopped speaking and glanced up at Fox.
“What do you mean?” Fox asked her as she sat down next to Blake. “It wasn’t murder?”
Hattie sighed and put her head in her hands. For a few moments, she remained silent. Then, with a fragility that Blake did not think she was capable of displaying, she raised her head and said quietly, “I didn’t mean to kill Ashley.”
Blake bit his lip thoughtfully. “We should probably do this down the station, shouldn’t we?”
Hattie said very little on the way to the station, merely choosing to just stare ahead. When they arrived, she was led into an interview room and remained in silence.
Blake watched her through the one-way mirrored window. She was sitting up straight, with her head held high and her fingers clasped tightly together in what Blake assumed was her attempt to appear dignified.
The door to the side room opened and Inspector Angel walked in and took in the sight before him through the window.
“Well, DS Harte,” he said quietly. “I must congratulate you. It appears you have your killer. One performed a lot more neatly than the other it would appear.”
Blake shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “There’s still something not right. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I believe she killed Ashley Pharaoh, but I still have questions about Scott Jennings. We haven’t got the full story yet.”
“I understood from the forensic report that he had overdosed on performance enhancing drugs?” Angel said.
“He did,” Blake replied, “but I don’t think he did it himself. Is Peter Simpkins still with Mini and Matti?”
“He is.”
“Okay. Excuse me, Sir.”
He left Angel to watch the interview and then beckoned to Fox to join him.
“Let’s see what you can do, Lisa,” he said, with a small smile. “I’m not the sort of officer who takes over the interview. If you have something to ask, please feel free.”
Fox looked surprised but delighted. “Thank you, Sir. I will.”
“Come on then.”
They entered the interview room and sat down at the table opposite Hattie. She remained perfectly still, only her eyes moving to track their movements.
Blake leant across the table and pressed the recorder.
“Interview commencing at 22:24. Present in the room, Detective Sergeant Blake Harte, Constable Lisa Fox and Hattie Atkins.” He watched her for a few moments before continuing.
“Hattie, let’s begin with Ashley Pharaoh. What happened tonight?”
Hattie glanced down at her hands clasped tightly together. She looked as though the words were sticking in her throat. Blake had faced suspects with this demeanour countless times. He knew that they felt if they started answering his questions honestly, then it would set into motion a situation they then had little control over.
“Hattie?”
“I disturbed him ransacking my office.”
“Okay.”
“There is a large walk-in cupboard in my office where I keep all the files for the players, match details, old junk, that sort of thing. The kind of paperwork and artefacts that I have no place for anywhere else.”
“Go on.”
“I was reading through Scott’s file,” Hattie said slowly. “Such a talented player. Such a waste. For him to go the way he did. It’s tragic. The sporting world lost a potential great yesterday.”
“We’ll come back to Scott in a moment,” Blake told her. “Let’s stick with Ashley for now.”
Hattie gave him a small shrug of the shoulders.
“Do you know why he was in your office?”
“I didn’t at first. I walked out of the cupboard and he had his back to me. He had pulled all the paperwork he could find out and had thrown it all over the place. Then, I realised what he was holding and what it meant.”
“And what was that?” asked Fox.
Hattie sighed and clasped her hands together tighter on the table. “The results of a drug test that Harmschapel FC undertook a few months ago.”
Blake nodded. “And you knew that if he saw the results of Scott’s test, then it would make him suspicious to say the least.”
Hattie did not reply.
“Because Scott didn’t take that drugs test, did he?” Blake asked. “The rest of the team did, but Scott couldn’t, because if he did then the FA would discover tha
t Harmschapel’s new rising star was on steroids. And they rather frown upon that, don’t they, Hattie? What was the test? Blood? Urine?”
Hattie cleared her throat and shuffled in her seat uncomfortably. “It was a urine sample.”
“And a sample was sent under Scott’s name. But, and we need to be frank here unfortunately, it wasn’t his urine, was it?”
Hattie paused then shook her head.
“It was yours, wasn’t it?”
She looked up at him and sighed heavily. “I know what happens to sportsmen and women who are caught with drugs in their system, Detective. It ends careers, it ruins lives. Scott was too good and important to the team for that to happen to him, it was as simple as that.”
“And Ashley discovering that would blow the whole thing apart. Steroids aren’t something that you can just take for one match and that’s all you need. How long had Scott been taking them?”
“Since before he joined the team,” Hattie replied quietly. “I walked in on him with a needle in his arm after practice one night. I assume he thought everybody had gone home. I had to make a decision there and then as to what I was going to do. I could chuck him off the team and, in the process, lose Harmschapel their best striker since about 1994, or I could keep his secret and at the same time keep his talent.”
“When you found Ashley Pharaoh, what exactly happened? I mean, it could only have been you who killed Ashley. How tall are you?”
“Six foot four.”
“And Ashley was six foot three,” Blake said. “You’re the only person who even works at that stadium who could have both the upper body strength and the height to be able to beat someone of Ashley’s height over the head with anything, especially that trophy.”
Hattie bit her lip and sighed. “I heard Simpkins shouting Ashley’s name down the corridor. What was I supposed to do? I knew there was no other way out of it than to pretend that I had only just walked into the office. I ran back to the cupboard and waited until Simpkins burst in and discovered Ashley. Then I crept behind him and sort of followed him into the office. I never was the best actor.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Blake replied. “You certainly had us fooled regarding Scott’s stabbing. What happened there?”