Death Rope

by Leigh Russell

  ‘We’ll keep searching,’ the VIIDO officer assured Geraldine.

  They both knew it was likely to be pointless. They were hardly likely to catch a chance glimpse of Eddy on CCTV again, with his hooded companion’s face visible.

  ‘We’ll just have to put pressure on him to talk,’ Eileen said when she was brought up to speed. ‘His alibi is suspect, to say the least, and we know Amanda was killed by someone she knew. A woman of her age wouldn’t go out in her dressing gown and slippers with a stranger. Only someone she knew could have persuaded her to go out like that.’

  ‘I wonder why anyone would want to do that,’ Geraldine muttered.

  She glanced at Ian but he didn’t respond to her helpless shrug.

  ‘We need someone else, a witness, to corroborate what you’re telling us,’ Geraldine repeated to Eddy.

  He scowled at her. ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’

  ‘It’s not a question of whether or not we believe you,’ Geraldine said wearily. ‘A jury won’t take your word for it. If you don’t have a witness…’ she broke off with an exaggerated sigh. ‘Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.’

  ‘But this is ridiculous!’ Eddy burst out. ‘I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t kill my stepmother. I didn’t go anywhere near her on Friday. Why would I want to kill her, anyway?’

  ‘Money,’ Ian said curtly, speaking for the first time.

  As though Ian’s contribution was his cue, the lawyer joined in. His narrow features were pinched with exasperation, while his voice seemed devoid of energy.

  ‘You have to tell the police what they want to hear. If you don’t, they’re going to think the worst.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ Eddy objected, casting a glance of supplication at Geraldine. ‘You can’t assume they’re all bad, just because they’re cops.’

  ‘They want a conviction, Eddy. That’s their job. And mine is to protect you, so I have to warn you, if you don’t tell the police everything they want to know, you’ll risk being convicted for murder. Three murders in fact. It doesn’t matter whether or not you killed anyone. All that counts is what a jury are going to believe. And refusing to cooperate with the police isn’t going to help your case. You have to tell the police the name of your witness.’

  Eddy’s dark eyes glared helplessly around the room. He was sweating.

  ‘Abe’s the only name I know. That’s what I called him. Abe.’

  The lawyer called for a break and they left the room.

  As they walked along the corridor back to the offices, Geraldine approached Ian quietly.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t want to pry, but you haven’t seemed like yourself for the last few days.’

  He frowned. ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘Only to someone who knows you really well.’

  He looked surprised by her answer and she felt her face grow hot.

  ‘I mean, we’ve known each other for a long time,’ she added. ‘Tell me to get lost and it’s none of my business if you like, I won’t mind, but if there is something wrong, I thought you might like to talk about it with a friend.’

  They were nearly back at his office when he paused in his stride and turned to face her. In a low voice he told her that his ex-wife had asked to see him. Momentarily nonplussed, Geraldine hesitated. She didn’t think it would be right for Ian to be reconciled with his wife after the way she had cheated on him and deserted him, but she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to give a sensible response. In wanting him to reject his wife, she was afraid she might be motivated by self-interest.

  ‘Do you want to see her?’ she asked before the silence could become awkward.

  ‘She left me because she was having another man’s baby,’ he replied sourly. ‘Why would I ever want to see her again?’

  He turned and disappeared into his office, but not before Geraldine had seen the hurt in his eyes. She wanted to follow him and say something comforting to him but she continued walking steadily back to the office, maintaining an appropriately calm expression.

  57

  It was all over apart from finishing the paperwork and tying up a few loose ends to make the case against the suspect as watertight as possible. Eileen was satisfied the Crown Prosecution Service would go ahead with a prosecution and was walking around the police station with a complacent smile on her face. Keeping her reservations to herself, Geraldine tidied up her reports and tried to look cheerful. Ian was the only one of her colleagues who knew her well enough to see through her façade of good humour, but he was too preoccupied with his own affairs to notice her.

  Before setting off on the long drive to Kent to see her sister, Geraldine went along to the canteen for a late breakfast. Spotting Ian sitting on his own, she joined him.

  ‘How’s your sister?’ he asked, nodding a greeting without looking up.

  Convinced that he was avoiding meeting her eye, Geraldine smiled uneasily.

  ‘She’s fine, and the baby’s doing well –’ she paused, seeing Ian’s puzzled expression. ‘Oh, you meant Helena, didn’t you?’ He was one of the few people Geraldine had confided in about her twin, the recovering heroin addict. ‘Sorry, I thought you were asking about my adopted sister, Celia. She’s been on my mind a lot lately because she’s just had a baby –’ she broke off in confusion, remembering that Ian’s estranged wife was also expecting.

  Lowering her voice sympathetically, she asked him whether he had decided what to do about Bev. He looked up from his coffee, still without looking directly at her, and shook his head. She waited, uncertain whether to change the subject.

  ‘I suppose I ought to see her and find out what she has to say for herself,’ he replied at last. ‘Although I think it may be better to leave it to the solicitors.’

  ‘You think she wants a divorce?’

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘What else could it be? We haven’t had any contact for months, and suddenly she wants to see me. It’s the only thing that makes sense, isn’t it?’

  Geraldine hesitated to suggest that his estranged wife might want to explore the possibility of a reconciliation. It would be cruel to raise his hopes if that wasn’t the case.

  ‘Who knows what she wants?’ she replied vaguely. ‘Has she given birth yet?’

  ‘I’ve not heard anything, not a word, but why would she tell me? Her bastard baby’s got nothing to do with me.’ He took a gulp of coffee and grimaced. ‘So, how is your sister?’

  ‘Which one?’

  Before Ian could answer, Naomi came over to their table and asked if she could join them.

  Ian stood up abruptly. ‘I was just leaving. Time to get back to work.’

  He turned and hurried away without so much as a backward glance at them.

  ‘Was it something I said?’ Naomi asked, with a bark of laughter that was obviously fake.

  Geraldine laughed too, relieved that her awkward conversation with Ian had been interrupted. ‘Ian just wanted to get back to work.’

  Naomi glanced down at Ian’s mug, as though checking whether he had finished his drink. Geraldine pretended not to notice.

  ‘He’s been a bit off with me lately,’ Naomi blurted out.

  ‘Off?’

  ‘Oh, you know. I mean, there’s nothing going on between us, but – well, I thought he liked me…’

  ‘Why wouldn’t he like you?’ Geraldine responded more sharply than she had intended.

  Her young colleague shook her head miserably. ‘He used to be so friendly, but just the last few days he’s – oh, I don’t know. He’s changed.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Geraldine asked, deliberately obtuse.

  Naomi hesitated. ‘It’s nothing. He just doesn’t seem so friendly any more, that’s all. I wondered if I’d done something to annoy him. I don’t suppose he’s said anything to you about me?’

  ‘No. He hasn’t mentioned you at all.’
r />   Geraldine left soon after that. When she arrived at her sister’s house, her brother-in-law opened the door. With old-fashioned good looks, he was at his most handsome when lost in his own thoughts and looking faintly worried. Now his face creased in a lively smile as he saw Geraldine. They pecked one another on the cheek and she went in. The house was very quiet, until Geraldine’s niece came bounding down the stairs.

  ‘Shh, they’re both asleep,’ Sebastian said.

  As he was speaking, they heard a faint mewling sound.

  Sebastian laughed. ‘Not any more. Come on, they’re in the lounge.’

  Having given her niece a quick hug, Geraldine followed him. Her sister was sitting on an armchair, with her feet up on a footstool, a bundle of white lacy fabric in her arms. The baby was no longer crying and as she drew near, Geraldine heard a sniffly squeaking sound.

  ‘He’s feeding,’ Celia whispered.

  ‘He’s always feeding,’ Chloe explained. ‘All he does is feed and sleep. I should know.’

  ‘That’s what babies do,’ Celia said.

  ‘And poo,’ Chloe added. ‘He does these tiny little yellow poos and the most massive wees! You have to be quick changing his nappy.’

  They all laughed.

  ‘Sounds pretty healthy to me,’ Geraldine said.

  Sebastian and Chloe disappeared into the kitchen to prepare lunch, leaving Geraldine alone with her sister and her new nephew.

  ‘Would you like to hold him?’

  It was a strange experience, holding such a tiny creature in her arms. Her training had prepared her for all kinds of situations, but knowing this was Celia’s son made the experience both daunting and exciting. She would watch this small bundle of humanity as he grew and developed into an adult.

  ‘He’ll be taller than us one day,’ she said, and Celia smiled.

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ Celia said. ‘Do you think that’s why pregnancy lasts so long, to give us time to get used to the idea of having a new life to nurture?’

  ‘I think it’s to give the baby time to develop physically enough to survive independently.’

  ‘He’s hardly independent.’

  ‘Well, no, but he can breathe and function on his own.’

  ‘He can’t.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  Chloe came in to summon them for lunch, and Celia held out her arms to receive the baby.

  ‘Thank you,’ Geraldine said, and Celia smiled.

  The time seemed to pass very quickly, until it was time for Geraldine to leave.

  ‘I’ll come out to the car with you,’ Celia said. ‘He’s fast asleep and I could do with a breath of fresh air.’

  Opening the front door, she stooped down and placed a shoe inside the door frame to stop the door slamming behind her. But while they were on the front path, a sudden gust of wind blew it shut, nudging the shoe on to the front step.

  Geraldine started forward. ‘Oh my God!’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Celia laughed, ‘they’ll let me in again.’

  Geraldine grunted, but she wasn’t listening to her sister. She was thinking about another solitary shoe that had been discovered outside another house.

  58

  ‘You never thought Eddy was responsible,’ Ian said curtly. ‘I can’t see what difference this makes anyway. I’m not even sure what you’re talking about.’

  This was so unlike the Ian Geraldine knew that if she hadn’t known about his marital difficulties, she might have been quite put out. As it was, she tried to explain, as patiently as she could.

  ‘It just means that Amanda might never have intended to leave the house in her slippers. We’ve taken that as indicating she knew her killer, because unless she was with someone she knew well and trusted, why would she have gone out with him without getting dressed? But the point is, she might not have known her killer. She could have put one shoe in the door -’

  ‘Put a shoe in the door?’

  ‘Yes, exactly, put a shoe inside the door frame to stop the door from closing when she went out.’ She paused. ‘To save her having to go and find her key.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I understand what you mean, but this is mere supposition. The DCI’s not going to listen to it, and even if she does, she certainly isn’t going to take it seriously.’

  ‘Which is why I’m here in your office, talking to you and not her.’

  ‘Because you know you’re talking nonsense?’

  ‘No. Because Eddy had no reason to kill Amanda –’

  ‘She might have known something about the other murders.’

  ‘And she could equally well have been killed by a stranger,’ Geraldine continued, ignoring Ian’s interruption, ‘so the other two victims could have been killed by someone else as well. I know Eddy had a motive for killing his father and stepmother, but if a stranger could have killed Amanda, why not them as well?’

  Ian shook his head. ‘Geraldine, I don’t understand what you’re talking about, really I don’t.’

  ‘Do I at least have your permission to pursue this?’

  ‘Pursue what? I have no idea what exactly you’re proposing to do with this hare-brained theory you’ve just come up with for no reason other than that you decided Eddy wasn’t guilty, and now you’re clutching at straws trying to prove you were right and everyone else was wrong.’

  He sounded so irate that Geraldine made her excuses and left the room. There was no point in talking to him if he wasn’t even prepared to listen to her. But she was determined to find out more about the circumstances of Amanda’s death, and her house seemed the best place to start her enquiries. After a fruitless hour searching around Amanda’s house and talking to her neighbours, Geraldine went to the hospital hoping to fare better there. This time she was in luck. Learning the victim of the attack had just woken up, Geraldine hurried to her bedside. If anything, the woman looked worse than previously, with her two eyes blackened, and her nose red and swollen above her bandaged jaw. But she was conscious. Glancing at her notes, Geraldine read the name: Angie. She was forty-two. The list of her injuries was extensive. She only glanced briefly at the notes before turning her attention to the supine woman.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked gently. ‘Can you tell me your name?’

  ‘Angie,’ the woman muttered. ‘I already told you, it’s Angie.’ Her inflamed eyelids fluttered. ‘Are you the doctor?’ she lisped.

  ‘Angie what?’ Geraldine asked. ‘I’m here to help you,’ she added, ‘but I need to know your name.’

  ‘Angie. Just Angie.’

  ‘OK Angie, that’s OK. Where do you live?’

  ‘Why?’ The woman’s eyes opened wider. ‘Are you going to get rid of it? I can’t go back, not while it’s there.’

  ‘Are you talking about the dog?’ Geraldine guessed, and was rewarded with another flicker of recognition in the woman’s eyes. ‘Yes, we can arrange to get rid of it so you can go home.’

  ‘Thank you.’ The woman closed her eyes. ‘It’s a vicious brute, and it stinks the place out.’

  ‘But I can’t sort that out for you unless you tell me where you live,’ Geraldine added quickly, afraid that Angie would drift off to sleep again before telling her what she wanted to know.

  Angie mumbled an address as her eyes closed. With a quick nod at the nurse behind the desk, Geraldine left. She called the police station to log her movements, summoned immediate back-up, and on impulse also phoned Ian to let him know what she was doing. He advised her not to enter the property where Angie lived until back-up arrived, including a trained dog handler.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she assured him. ‘I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’ve no intention of risking being mauled by a savage dog.’

  ‘Just be careful.’

  His insistence irritated her. She was hardly a fresh-faced young officer with something to prove. She had helped to train him when they had both been less experienced. Without answering, she hung up and set off. There was no real urgency, but she
put her foot down, speeding unnecessarily along Gillygate. Leaving the hospital, she forked off to drive parallel with the River Foss to her right. The address Angie had given her was in a side street off Haxby Road. She pulled up outside the end of terrace house and glanced around. The patrol car hadn’t arrived yet but a quick check showed that it was on its way and would arrive within a few minutes. There was no need to wait for it. On the contrary, a discreet approach might reveal more, before anyone was alerted to police interest in the residents.

  She hurried to the front door and rang the bell. There was no response. She tried again. This time, the door swung open slowly, with a chain across. An aged face peered suspiciously up at her. She introduced herself and held up her warrant card for inspection. The old man nodded his head, mumbling to himself, but didn’t remove the chain from the door.

  ‘And what is it you’ll be wanting with me?’ he demanded in a marked Irish accent.

  ‘Do you keep a dog on the premises?’

  ‘That I do not.’

  Geraldine considered. The old man looked extremely frail. She doubted he would be able to control a sizeable dog.

  ‘Does anyone else live here with you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about Angie?’

  ‘Who?’

  Patiently Geraldine described the woman in hospital.

  ‘Oh, that’ll be her next door,’ the old man said, jerking his head to indicate the side of the property. ‘This is number 7. You’ll be wanting 7a. They live downstairs.’

  With that, he slammed the door. Walking along the side of the house, Geraldine wondered fleetingly how the old man managed the stairs to the first floor, and whether she ought perhaps to report his conditions to social services.

  Number 7a had no bell so she knocked on the door, gently at first, then hammering loudly when no one answered. A few seconds later she heard footsteps and the door was flung open. She recognised the cadaverous face staring at her with a curious intensity, as though he too was trying to work out where he had seen her before.