by Sarah Ward
‘He drove for a bit. Then pulled into a lay-by. Just outside Bampton, I think, but I was a bit disorientated. I couldn’t really work out where I was. Then, well, he raped me.’
Palmer pulled back his coffee and took a gulp of the cold foul brew.
‘I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. It seemed completely unreal. I remember lying there, thinking, He’s raping me. I’m being raped. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it.’
‘You survived.’ Connie was leaning forward towards the woman. ‘There was something you could do about it. You survived, reported the attack and got on with your life. That’s a lot of things that you did.’
‘It never went to court though, did it? And that was my fault. I withdrew the allegation.’
‘Why? It must have taken a lot of courage to report the assault to begin with. What happened?’
‘After the attack, I was on autopilot. He drove me to the top of my street. Didn’t even look at me. I got out and went home. I was still living with Mum and Dad at the time. Then the next morning I was in shock but really angry. I walked out of the house without telling anyone what had happened and went to Bampton police station. I reported the attack.’
‘How was it?’
The woman’s face took on a closed expression. ‘It was okay.’
‘Okay?’ asked Palmer.
She didn’t look at him. ‘I mean, it was obvious that I’d had sex. He hadn’t used a condom or anything and afterwards I got thinking, how could I prove it wasn’t consensual? I mean, it was his word against mine.’
‘It’s not like that with rape cases,’ said Connie.
Rebecca was shaking her head. ‘I basically got cold feet. I rang the station and said I was withdrawing my allegation. And that was that.’
Connie risked a glance at Palmer. Victims’ withdrawals of accusations of sexual assault were a huge problem in sexual assault cases.
‘It’s so long ago. I was really shocked when you rang and said you wanted to speak to me. I’d almost forgotten about it. I know it sounds improbable, but it’s the truth. I really had nearly erased that whole period from my memory.’
‘Did you ever see him again? In Bampton? It’s a small place,’ asked Palmer.
Rebecca shook her head. ‘No. Although I never went back to the club. I stopped going out completely for a while. When I would go out, I’d drive everywhere. Then I met my husband and had a family. I’ve no time for the pub now. Why are you asking? Has he done it again?’
Connie looked again at Palmer. He shook his head. ‘His name has come up in an ongoing investigation. There was a record of your allegation on file. That’s all.’
Had he done it again? Well, that was a very good question. If it was Philip Staley who had ended up in Lena’s bed, then perhaps the sex hadn’t been voluntary.
‘There’s something else that I need to tell you. It will be on the file. I told the original policewoman. He took a picture.’
Connie’s head shot up. ‘You mean a photo?’
‘Yes. With a camera. It was awful. At the end, he just reached into his pocket and pulled out a camera. Then he took a photo.’ The unasked question hovered in the air. ‘Just of my face but that was bad enough. Worse even, perhaps. Because I’m recognisable. From my face. Bastard.’
‘Yes,’ said Connie. ‘Bastard.’
Palmer sighed. Connie, he thought. Time to bring the interview to a conclusion.
51
Llewellyn’s phone rang, making him jump. He ignored it, and the call went through to his secretary. He could hear her murmured voice, and a second later she put her head through the door. ‘It’s the Assistant Chief Constable.’
He picked up the receiver and listened to the voice. At the end, he said, ‘I’ll sort it. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.’ More anxious words. ‘It’s not a problem. I’ll speak to those concerned.’ He put the receiver gently back down to rest and resisted the temptation to pick up the phone and fling it out of the window.
How did we get to this? he wondered. He’d joined the force in the late seventies, straight from school. He’d never wanted to do another job because he’d seen how much his dad enjoyed being a copper, and he had lapped up the stories about policing in rural Derbyshire. It had been a different world then, although it had felt like an exciting new world was on their doorstep. The training courses to discover new forensic advances. Widening the recruitment pool to make the force more representative of society. But he had forgotten how many of these changes had been in response to crises. Complaints about the quality of policing. Miscarriages of justice that had led to scrutiny of investigative practices. And now ignominy was on his patch, and the question was, how much was he to blame?
He made another call.
‘Sadler here.’
‘It’s me. Just thought I’ve been swamped with paperwork this past week or so. I’ve been neglecting you. It’d be a good idea if I got a quick update on the case.’
There was a moment’s hesitation. ‘Do you want me to come down and see you?’ asked Sadler.
It was his turn to hesitate. ‘Are Palmer and Connie with you?’
‘They’re both out, I believe. I can give you an update myself though.’
‘It’s fine. Tell you what, Sadler, wait for those two to come back and then bring yourselves down here. I’m in all afternoon.’ His voice had a note of forced jollity to it. He wondered if Sadler had noticed. But he merely said, ‘Of course, sir.’
Llewellyn got up and parted the slats of his window blinds. In the two minutes he stood staring unseeingly out of the window, he had concocted a suitable narrative in his head.
52
‘So Lena’s a killer.’
They were sitting in Mark’s car. After James Plower and Brian had left, he’d offered to drive her home to sort out more clothes. The engine was running, but he made no move to drive off. Although the heaters were turned on full blast, Kat still couldn’t stop shivering. She pulled the hood of her coat up over her head and immediately thought of the boy who had given her the gun.
Mark sighed. ‘You know, for a therapist, you’re incredibly judgemental. Just because we know your family had a Luger, it doesn’t mean Lena pulled the trigger. There’s a long way to go yet until we discover what really happened.’
‘Only the other day you were telling me that she was implicated in this and now you’re defending her.’
‘I’m not defending her. Believe me. Based on what James told us, your father definitely had a Luger in his possession. So she’s a strong suspect but you’re the one who’s made the full leap into believing that she’s a killer.’
She turned fully towards him in her seat. ‘Well, she went to prison for it once, didn’t she? And how come I don’t know about the gun? Lena appears to have known, and even a complete stranger, James, knows that Dad had acquired a Luger. Why the hell don’t I know this?’
‘For God’s sake, Kat, don’t ask me about how families work. I’m the last person you should be asking.’
James Plower’s story was innocuous enough. Once, during a home visit, in the days when doctors did home visits, Kat’s father had asked what he did for a living. At the time, James was finishing his PhD into the facial disfigurements that afflicted soldiers returning from the Great War. Her father remembered a patient who came to the practice, an elderly man with a portion of his face missing. When this patient had died, he had passed on to his doctor a Luger he’d picked up during a battle. A simple story, and yet the ramifications were huge.
The question was, what next? ‘Do you think I should tell the police?’
Mark was silent for a moment. ‘Have they asked you again about the gun?’
‘Not since my initial statement. I told them I’d never seen the gun before, which is the truth. Do you think I should tell them about this connection?’
‘I don’t know, Kat. It’s your decision, and she’s your sister.’
Hurt, Kat turned away. ‘Don�
�t you care?’
‘Of course I care!’ He was shouting. ‘Have you any idea how hard this is for me? I’m trying to help find out what happened.’
Kat opened the door. ‘It’s not just practical help that I want.’
‘Kat.’ He reached over to her. ‘Don’t go. I’m worried about you.’
She couldn’t tell him now. About how she was feeling. The tumult of her emotions towards him mixed with the concern for her sister. So she did what she always advised her clients against doing. She retreated. Left him sitting in the car and stalked off towards the centre of Bampton.
There was plenty of time to think as she walked. It was a good three miles to her house and it would take her at least an hour to reach it. She didn’t expect Mark to follow her, and she was right. At least, amid all this, she hadn’t completely lost the ability to read people correctly. She walked quickly, facing the oncoming rush-hour traffic, which was still streaming into the town centre. It gave her a sense of going in the opposite direction to where everyone else was heading. There was an allegory there somewhere.
Each step brought her closer to Providence Villa, and a sense of longing began to wash over her. Because all she really wanted was to be there. Her and Lena’s house. Something was connected to that building and the years they had spent there. Lena might have absented herself voluntarily, but she was reaching out to Kat with the gifts. It was the time to start making connections.
Soon Kat was sick of walking and regretted leaving Mark so hastily. She could feel large blisters forming on the soles of her feet and wondered how strange she would look if she took off her shoes. But as she neared the house, the familiar roads she was tramping down brought a renewed sense of purpose. Finally arriving at Providence Villa, she swung open the old iron gate and halted.
She could see the ceiling lights in the living room were on. The dirty glass pendant was missing a few bulbs, but the yellow glow was unmistakable. Right, she thought. She had no time to feel fear. In a fury she pulled her keys out of her pocket, put the right one in the lock and charged into the living room.
A tall man turned around. Kat saw who it was and paled. ‘What the hell are you doing in my house?’
53
Sadler was waiting for them when they returned. He was flicking through a file Connie had left on her desk. She had to hide the surge of irritation she felt when she saw him leaning over her work.
It was just as well they hadn’t gone for the drink that Palmer had suggested on the way back. He’d seemed subdued by Rebecca Hardy’s testimony. Well, that was hardly a surprise. No matter how much training you had in dealing with victims of sexual violence, there was always the element of subjectivity when it came to listening to individual testimonies. And Rebecca Hardy’s story didn’t exactly show men in a good light.
‘What have you two been up to?’
Connie looked to Palmer. ‘We’ve been interviewing a potential victim of Philip Staley.’
‘You didn’t think about telling me where you were going?’
Connie looked at Palmer again. Two red patches had appeared in his cheeks. ‘We were about to come and update you. We didn’t know what we had until we’d interviewed the witness.’
Sadler relaxed a fraction. ‘You have two minutes to update me. Then we’re going straight to Superintendent Llewellyn to repeat that update.’
Connie frowned. Sadler seemed riled. ‘Is everything okay?’
Sadler’s expression didn’t change. ‘We’ll soon find out.’
*
They sat in Llewellyn’s office like schoolchildren seeing the headmaster. It was only the second time that Connie had been inside the room. The first had been an earlier case, the previous year. A child who’d gone missing in the seventies. During that time she had seen Llewellyn’s emotions exposed in a way she hadn’t thought possible. This time he looked serious.
He started without preamble. ‘I’ve called the three of you here because I want to talk to you about what Rebecca Hardy told you. Yes, I know who you’ve been to see. When you requested the full file off the computer system, DS Palmer, it raised a flag that was referred to me.’
There hadn’t been much time to update Sadler on the meeting with Rebecca, and he kept his face deadpan. Connie wondered what he was thinking.
‘I thought I’d call you in to give you a bit of background information on the Rebecca Hardy case. This is mainly for you,’ he nodded at Connie and Palmer. ‘Only you, Sadler, were a copper in 1998, so I’m not principally talking to you. But you two: don’t underestimate the changes that have taken place since then.’
Connie frowned. What the hell was this all about? There had been various initiatives to improve the treatment of women who reported rapes. Part of it was the result of keeping up with the times, some of it was in response to some truly awful instances of victims being treated badly following their allegations. She knew that, and so would Palmer. She glanced at him. His face was still red.
‘So the thing is,’ continued Llewellyn, ‘this case has got “sensitive” written all over it. You’re being shielded from all the flak I’m getting about the misidentification of Andrew Fisher. That’s deliberate. I want you concentrating on the current investigation, not on any mistakes that may have been made in the past.’
‘Which is what we are doing.’ Sadler’s voice was neutral, but, in contrast, his complexion had paled to marble.
‘But now the fact that the first victim, if that’s what you’ve concluded,’ continued Llewellyn, ‘the original victim, also had a rape charge made against him that was subsequently dropped, adds to the mire in which we find ourselves. We can call it’, he grimaced, ‘the fourth cock-up.’
Connie risked a glance at Sadler. His eyes flickered, but he said nothing.
‘We’re certain it was Philip Staley?’ asked Llewellyn.
Palmer was on firm ground, and it was he who spoke. ‘From Bill’s, I mean Dr Shields’, original report, it seems that the body found in Lena Gray’s bed had a scar on his forearm about the size of a ten-pence piece. The uniform shape suggested a medical excision rather than an accident. Philip Staley had a suspicious mole removed when he was thirty. Medical records stated that Staley was a habitual user of tanning machines. The medical notes about the mole removal match the location of the excision as far as we’re able to ascertain. I mean, given that we have no body.’
Llewellyn looked to Sadler, who nodded. ‘Philip Staley was last heard of in August 2004, when he telephoned his mother asking for a loan of five hundred pounds to enable him to buy a ticket to Australia as he wanted to emigrate there. It appears that his mother was more annoyed than worried about the fact that he never called from his destination. She hasn’t heard from him since.’
‘So we’re pretty sure he’s our man, are we? I mean, even the excision isn’t conclusive.’
‘In the absence of the original body, there’s no way we’re going to be one hundred per cent sure,’ said Sadler. ‘We’re going to have to talk in terms of probables. Given the physical evidence, plus the timing of his disappearance, I think we’ve got a good basis to suspect that he’s our man.’
‘We’ve looked into his bank accounts.’ Palmer leant forward in his chair, keen to impress. ‘There have been no deposits or withdrawals since September 2004. The last was from a cash machine, in Bampton, on the fourth of September of that year. It puts him in Bampton around the time that the man was found in Lena Gray’s bed.’
‘Philip Staley.’ Llewellyn drummed his pen on his desk. ‘What’s his background? Was he originally from Bampton?’
‘He grew up in Macclesfield. Left school at sixteen. Then had a series of jobs, mainly the office type. He was clearly clever but also couldn’t settle at anything. His last known job was working as a clerk in a bank.’
‘What about outside work? Hobbies and so forth,’ asked Llewellyn.
‘He enjoyed playing sport,’ continued Connie. ‘I called his mother for more details about his life
. She naturally wanted to skirt over his employment history but she told me he liked sports and rugby in particular.’
Sadler looked at her. ‘You didn’t mention that before. I told you Andrew Fisher was a rugby player. Did Staley play for a team?’
‘Yes.’ Palmer didn’t need to look through his notes. ‘One of the local ones.’
‘He and Andrew Fisher could easily have known each other through rugby games. The local clubs are always playing each other. We need to check it out. Palmer, can you do that?’
Thank God for that, thought Connie. The idea of interviewing a bunch of rugger buggers didn’t appeal at all. Mind you, Palmer wasn’t looking best pleased either. That was a point in his favour.
‘That’s it then,’ said Llewellyn, shutting a notebook on his desk. ‘Keep me updated, will you? I don’t like the sound of this Philip Staley. Nasty business, a rape allegation, whatever eventually happened to the man.’
Connie looked at the other members of the team in surprise. Was that it? What was this all about? Even Sadler was looking surprised. A twenty-minute meeting with the Superintendent just to chat about the personality of Philip Staley? That wasn’t normal.
Sadler stood up without catching anyone’s eye. ‘We’ll keep you fully informed, sir. Of course.’
Llewellyn nodded and turned to his computer screen. They were dismissed.
They walked down the corridor towards the main CID offices. Still not looking at them, Sadler said, ‘Go in and grab your coats. I’m taking you for a drink. The first one’s on me.’
54
‘You’re a long way from Whitby.’ After the initial fright, Kat’s heartbeat had settled into a more regular rhythm.
The man didn’t move but lifted his hands in a gesture of resignation. She had last seen him outside his own home next to Lena’s bolt-hole in that windy seaside town. There, his clipped beard and bare feet had given him a hippyish look. Now, in his thick jacket and hiking boots, he looked more threatening but his manner seemed more anxious to appease than intimidate.