A Little Death

by A. J. Cross

  ‘But she seemed happy and I thought, Maybe he’s different with her. Maybe it was me that made him act the way he did.’

  Hanson had lost count of the times she’d heard this sentiment. ‘Did you see Chris Turner again?’

  Simmonds’ face darkened. ‘You’re joking. As soon as he cut me dead I realised that I’d got my life back, that I’d had a lucky escape. He’s not the person he seems. He’s got a really low opinion of women. He used to say things like, “All your girlfriends are slags.” Stuff like that. I started to hate that college because he was part of it, which is why I came here in the first place.’ She covered her face with both hands then let them drop, looking exhausted.

  ‘I should have warned her. I should have told her what he was like and to stay clear of him.’

  Hanson shook her head. ‘You’re not responsible for the choices Elizabeth made.’

  She knew her next question wouldn’t improve how Simmonds was feeling but she had to ask it. ‘Did you ever suspect that Chris Turner might have had something to do with her disappearance?’

  Her head shot up. ‘Is that what the police think?’

  ‘They’re exploring all the possibilities.’

  Simmonds shook her head, looking uneasy. ‘He’s a pig but … He’s got a vile temper. Maybe they had a row.’ She looked at Hanson. ‘But I never saw Elizabeth upset. Not once. Ever.’

  ‘So what did you think had happened to Elizabeth at the time she disappeared?’

  Simmonds bit her lip. ‘I just assumed somebody weird had abducted her or something, like it said in the newspapers.’

  Hanson glanced at the questions she’d brought with her. ‘What was Elizabeth like? What kind of person was she?’

  ‘She was nice. Friendly. Happy. Always willing to help if you needed something. I used to think sometimes that she was a bit too nice.’

  Hanson kept her tone easy. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She was too quick to do whatever people asked. You know, lend them her stuff or money. I don’t mean a lot. She didn’t have it. Just small amounts and when I realised what she was doing I told her not to because I knew she wasn’t getting some of it back, that one or two people “forgot” to repay her. She just laughed, said it wasn’t a problem.’

  ‘But you thought it was?’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked up at Hanson. ‘Do you know about her childhood?’

  ‘Yes. Some.’

  ‘Then you probably know she was her mother’s carer from when she was really young. I think she missed out on having somebody caring for her as she was growing up.’ Jess’s face registered quick concern. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean that her mother didn’t love her but she was in a lot of pain at times and most of the care went one way: from Elizabeth to her mum. After her mum died, her aunt was really good to her but I don’t think it was enough to make up for those years. I think Elizabeth had a big need to feel cared for. Her parents split up when she was young so maybe she needed that from a man. Like a boyfriend.’

  Hanson absorbed this, hoping that knowledge and experience would be enough to show Simmonds that she needed to be smart on her own behalf and not allow people to take advantage of her in the future.

  Simmonds wrapped her arms around herself, looking drained. ‘Your questions have got me wondering if Chris Turner did do something to her, perhaps when he was angry.’ A single tear slid down one cheek.

  Hanson carefully drew the ESDA result from an envelope and placed it on the desk between them but gave no explanation. ‘Do you see these marks, here and here?’ Simmonds pressed a tissue to her face and looked to where Hanson was pointing.

  ‘Do you have any idea who Bill and Ren might be?’

  She looked at the two small words then up at Hanson. ‘I think that’s Elizabeth’s handwriting but I don’t have a clue what “Ren” means. Never heard of it. I know Bill.’

  Hanon’s breathing turned shallow. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘It’s not a person,’ said Simmonds. She raised her hands. ‘It’s this place. Billesley Fitness Centre. Elizabeth was under pressure to choose an internship. I tried to persuade her to apply here. I’d checked it out with Clyde and he said he could use another intern. She wasn’t interested. She said she wanted something that was a change from sport. I kept saying to her, “Come, on. Come to Bill with me!”.’

  Seeing Hanson’s frown she said, ‘It was a joke between us. In my case it was also a bit of a snipe at Chris Turner because I knew how jealous he was of Elizabeth knowing other men. She still said no. She wanted to do something different for a few weeks.’

  ‘And did she?’ asked Hanson.

  Simmonds shrugged. ‘I don’t know. She never mentioned anything to me and then … she was gone.’

  NINE

  Hanson came into UCU early next morning to find Corrigan at the board, Watts sitting facing it.

  ‘Good timing, doc. Corrigan’s telling me what Turner had to say.’

  Corrigan pointed to a list. ‘Chris Turner. One of those guys who talks like every word is costing him ten bucks. I wanted to get him in here and apply some pressure but I kept it light and he could see I wasn’t about to leave without some answers. When I asked if there was some kind of situation between him and Jess Simmonds he reluctantly admitted to a relationship with her prior to the one he had with Elizabeth. He was very derogatory about Simmonds. Described her as neurotic and demanding and that he got increasingly worn out by her. According to him, he finished the relationship.’ His hand moved down the written information.

  ‘I asked Turner to verify his whereabouts on the weekend Elizabeth Williams went missing. He repeated what he already told us. He saw her on the Saturday morning. She was in a rush because she had a tutorial. She didn’t say who that tutorial was with but now he says he thinks it might have been Vickers. As she left, she promised to ring Turner. She didn’t. He didn’t ring her. I told him we understood that Elizabeth left her aunt’s house on the Sunday saying she was going to see him. He stuck by his story: he didn’t see Elizabeth again that Saturday or any other day.’

  Corrigan pointed to the last item which was underlined. ‘He told me that on both the Saturday and the Sunday he didn’t go anywhere. He stayed in alone, watched box sets and slept a lot.’ He turned to them. ‘Which means he’s got no alibi for the time we believe she disappeared.’

  ‘I like it,’ said Watts, rubbing his big hands together.

  Hanson looked from the listed items to Corrigan. ‘Jess Simmonds’ description of Turner suggests he’s an archetypal abusive personality: jealous, possessive, somebody who exerts control in a relationship through criticism, manipulation and constant demands. Remember when we saw him? I’ve gone through my notes of that meeting. He referred to Elizabeth not ringing him and that he didn’t ring her. There’s a self-centred pettiness and a punishing element in that. It seemed not to have occurred to him that she might have had some kind of problem. He was dismissive about Elizabeth’s interest in “saving the planet”. It fits with what Jess Simmonds said about him.’

  ‘You rate her as trustworthy?’ asked Watts.

  Hanson nodded. ‘I do. What she said sounded sincere. It also made psychological sense. She’s not exactly naïve but neither is she worldly. I don’t think she could have described the kind of behaviour she attributed to Turner without experiencing it first-hand.’ She took a breath, pointed at his name. ‘Hardly into his twenties and he’s already a well-developed misogynist.’

  She looked at Corrigan. ‘What do you think of him?’

  Corrigan moved his finger over the board, leaving three large letters glowing red on its surface: POI.

  ‘Right now, he’s my main person of interest.’

  She nodded. ‘I agree.’

  Watts eyed the names they had so far. ‘He’s got to be considered along with Myers and Vickers. I’m undecided about Myers and there’s a question mark over Vickers because we’ve got no confirmation who that Saturday tutorial was with.’ He pointe
d at Corrigan’s notes. ‘Consider who it is who’s dropped Vickers into this. Is he trying to throw us off? All we’ve got on Vickers is that he last saw Elizabeth on the Friday. I’m still trying to get hold of him to fix up another visit. A longer one this time.’

  ‘Jess Simmonds clarified the word “Bill” imprinted on the back of the internship form,’ said Hanson. ‘According to her it isn’t a person, it’s the Billesley Fitness Centre where she works.’

  ‘What about the other one, this “Ren”? asked Watts.

  ‘She didn’t recognise it.’

  The door opened and Nuttall came inside. His eyes drifted over the information on the board. ‘What about the sex offender with the alias who was hanging around the field where the body was buried?’

  ‘We’ve talked to him,’ said Watts. ‘He’s still one of our POIs but he’s got mental health problems and there’s nothing else to tie him to the Williams murder.’

  ‘Has he been formally interviewed yet?’

  ‘There’re insufficient grounds for us to do that yet,’ said Corrigan.

  ‘He’s a fantasist,’ added Hanson. ‘He finds it difficult at times to give a clear account of himself.’

  He gazed at her. ‘A sex offender-fantasist? Sounds like the markers of somebody capable of killing that girl. What more do you need to get him in?’

  Hanson got the point he was making but there was something else about Myers which raised queries for her. ‘His involvement in this case so far is tied specifically to the field where she was found. We don’t know where she was killed. Until we do, I doubt we can make any constructive link between him and Elizabeth Williams.’

  Nuttall frowned. ‘That field is enough for me. Get him in here and you might find that link. Let me know what you get.’ The door swung closed after him.

  She looked at her colleagues. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘What he says,’ answered Watts with a shrug. ‘But not for the reason he’s got in mind. I want to put a few more questions to Myers and see if there’s anything else he remembers about that night last year when he was in that field.’

  They turned as the door opened again. It was Adam, the forensics specialist. Seeing their faces, he stopped.

  ‘Not a good time?’

  ‘Come on in,’ said Watts. ‘Got something for us?’

  They gathered round as Adam placed several items on the table. He pointed to a glass slide with what looked like fine, pale hairs suspended within it.

  ‘The fibres recovered from under the victim’s fingernails. Pure wool. The kind used in domestic carpeting and rugs. Expensive. I checked the dye charts. Probably pale yellow or a heavy cream colour.’

  He moved on to several small items in clear plastic boxes. They peered at them and Hanson saw fragments of tree bark and small pieces of old-looking wood. She looked at the contents of another clear plastic box: the stag beetle Chong had referred to.

  Adam pointed. ‘The bark is from a range of different trees: silver birch, oak, willow plus two or three others. Quite a mix. These bits of wood are from much larger pieces, long dead.’ He pointed again. ‘Hence, the fine example of the stag. They like rotting wood. The other insects found within the remains are more varied than those contained in the sample I took from the field, although my sampling wasn’t exactly scientific.’

  Hanson caught Watts’s heavy frown. Whatever he’d been anticipating, he wasn’t getting it. ‘What’s all this mean for us?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve sent pictures to your new toy.’ Adam walked to the board, tapped an icon and several full-colour photographs of the field appeared, taken from different points in daylight. Adam pointed at each of them.

  ‘See? Hawthorne hedging. Oak trees over here. More oaks and a sycamore this side.’ He faced them. ‘The trace evidence suggests that she was killed inside a domestic environment. The fingernails were in bad shape but the number of wool fibres retrieved suggests that she gripped them, rather than caught a fibre incidentally. She was then moved to another environment where the wood and insect samples I’ve shown you were deposited on her remains.’

  ‘You’re saying she wasn’t exposed to these items in that field?’ asked Hanson.

  ‘That’s right. After being murdered at an indoor location she was kept elsewhere then taken to the field.’

  He indicated the stag beetle in its plastic box. ‘It’ll probably take a while but I’ll send it to an entomology expert I know at Cambridge. See what he makes of it.’

  ‘I could take it to our biology school at the university,’ Hanson suggested. ‘It might be quicker.’

  ‘One less job for us.’ He went to the door.

  ‘We’re going through the Williams’ clothing and effects starting tomorrow. I’ll let you have them and details of anything we find.’

  She looked up at him. ‘You’re examining it all?’

  ‘Yes. They’ve merely been stored here since we took initial custody. There’s no mobile phone listed. We’ve got her laptop but there’s no paperwork confirming a search of it at the time of the original investigation. Give us a few days and you’ll have all of her effects and anything we get from the laptop.’

  Adam left, taking the samples but leaving the stag beetle in Hanson’s charge.

  Watts lifted the phone. Hanson listened to his half of the conversation. He was talking to The Sanctuary. He hung up.

  ‘Myers is coming in here later this afternoon.’

  Hands in pockets he stared at the board, then at the trace evidence details they’d been given. ‘According to Forensics, once Williams was dead she was moved twice. I do not like the sound of that.’

  ‘It does increase the potential deviance factor,’ said Hanson.

  He glanced at her. ‘Spare me the psychological whys and wherefores of killers keeping bodies and moving them around.’

  She gave a faint smile. ‘You already know the whys and wherefores.’

  Corrigan nodded. ‘When you first told him about them, he skipped lunch.’

  Watts shook his head. ‘And I can do without hearing them again, thanks.’

  Hanson headed for the door. ‘I’ll be back for the Myers’ interview.’

  TEN

  Watts put down the phone.

  ‘Myers has arrived. He’s brought an appropriate adult because of his vulnerable witness status. The duty solicitor’s waiting as well. Let’s get this done and have Nuttall off our backs.’

  On headquarters’ first floor he and Corrigan disappeared into Interview Room 1. Hanson pushed open the door of the observation room next to it. Nuttall was already inside.

  She looked through one-way glass at Myers, his thick lips pressed together, hands restless, his eyes fastened on a woman seated near him. Hanson recognised Ellen, the worker from The Sanctuary. She watched Ellen lean towards Myers, her face expressive, her hand on his arm. She was trying to soothe him. Still keyed-up, he subsided onto his chair next to a sparely built duty solicitor who was fussily arranging his pens and notebook just so on the table. Hanson flicked a wall switch and sounds from the next-door room became audible.

  Her two colleagues were sitting opposite Myers whose mouth was now clamped shut. She listened as Watts went through the required preamble, including introductions.

  ‘Thank you for coming in today, Mr Myers.’

  Myers nodded, looking guarded. ‘Thanks for the sandwich and the tea.’

  ‘You were a witness to something which happened in a field close to Bartley Green reservoir twelve months ago. We want to take you through that and record what you say. This is a voluntary interview, Mr Myers, and you’re not in trouble. Do you understand?’ Myers nodded energetically.

  Watts indicated the duty solicitor. ‘This is Mr Dabney. He’s here to listen to what everybody says and give advice if needed.’ Dabney gave a prim nod.

  Hanson’s attention was on Myers. Effort had been made with his appearance. His hair was centre-parted and lying flat on either side of his head and he was wearin
g a clean, white shirt, open at the neck, tight around his middle. She suspected The Sanctuary had provided it. Below it were jogging bottoms which looked freshly laundered. Ellen had been busy on Myers’ behalf.

  Watts looked at his notes then across the table at him. ‘Mr Myers, you were watching police activity during the recovery of the body of Elizabeth Williams on the—’

  ‘I wasn’t watching.’

  Watts ploughed on. ‘When I spoke to you at that time, you weren’t able to give us a satisfactory explanation as to why you were there. This is your chance to do that.’

  Myers looked at him, then at Corrigan. ‘I was on manoeuvres.’

  Ellen leant forward, her voice firm. ‘Listen to what the police officer is saying, Michael. He’s asking for the real reason you were there.’

  Hanson saw a frown settle on Nuttall’s face.

  Myers folded his arms above his paunch. ‘I’d like to help you but I’m bound by the Official Secrets Act, Section Five, Paragraph One. If I give you that information I’m placing you at risk.’

  Watts gave him a long stare then glanced at Corrigan with a brief nod. ‘Sir, we need your help,’ said Corrigan. ‘We’re investigating the murder of a young woman.’

  With a sage nod, Myers straightened on his chair but said nothing.

  ‘We need you to tell us everything you remember.’

  Again Myers nodded but still said nothing.

  ‘Why were you in the field watching the police that night?’

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘You were seen, sir.’

  ‘I know I was.’

  In the silence Hanson watched Ellen lean towards Myers again. ‘You have to be straight with the officers. Tell them exactly what you were doing.’

  Nuttall’s voice startled Hanson. ‘She the appropriate adult?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where’s she from?’

  ‘She’s one of the workers from the mental health drop-in centre Myers attends.’

  Nuttall’s eyes were back on Ellen. ‘Not having much success with him, is she?’