A Little Death

by A. J. Cross

  ‘She?’ asked Nan.

  ‘Yes, if it was the person we’re interested in.’

  Seeing Nan still frowning, Hanson changed tack. ‘Can you tell me about the subcontractors employed by Renfrew when you worked there?’

  ‘That’s something I can help you with. There were always quite a few of those. I didn’t meet them all.’ She leant towards Hanson. ‘Gill was one of them. He’d pop in to bring timesheets, that kind of thing. There were a few others as well. Nice, cheerful men, mostly.’ She smiled. ‘A bit loud.’

  ‘Did you feel uncomfortable with any of them being around?’

  Nan shook her head. ‘No. Not even Gill. Actually, I did mention to Aiden once that I thought one or two of them dropped into the office to scrounge coffee or help themselves to things. Dee, the fulltime secretary, didn’t like it but Aiden, Hugh’s partner, didn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t a big problem anyway.’

  They both heard the sound of a key in the door. Nan got slowly to her feet.

  ‘That’s Hugh. He drops in whenever he can to check that I’m OK.’

  Hanson recognised Hugh Downey’s voice coming from the direction of the hall.

  ‘Nancy Louise Downey, I know your boyfriend’s here and you can get rid of him right now, do you hear?’

  She saw Nan’s face light up as the kitchen door opened and he came in. He stopped when he saw Hanson.

  ‘What’s all this?’ He smiled at Nan and kissed her cheek. ‘You’ve been painting and now you’re socialising. I’ve warned you about holding soirées.’

  The small scene was full of the gentle affection between two people who’d been together a long time. Hanson felt out of place. As if he’d picked up on her thoughts, Hugh Downey turned to her with a wry grin.

  ‘Don’t rush off and don’t mind us. I haven’t seen this woman for a whole three hours. Has she looked after you?’

  Hanson smiled. ‘Yes, she has.’

  He sat next to Nan, his eyes on her face. ‘Memo to social butterfly wife: the doctor told you that a daily nap is a must and you were up very early this morning.’ Now Hanson really did feel like an interloper as he took his wife’s hand and she rested her head against his shoulder.

  He softened his voice. ‘How can I trust you to do as you’re told while I’m away?’

  ‘I will, Hugh. I promise.’

  He stood. ‘Come on.’

  He walked her to the door, looking down at her, his face mock-stern. ‘Half an hour’s rest and then I’ll bring you some tea.’

  She turned to Hanson. ‘Bye, Dr Hanson. Please come again.’ She turned slowly away.

  Hugh Downey grinned. ‘Go on. Skedaddle!’ He watched her go then closed the kitchen door, his face sombre. ‘She tires very quickly but it’s the devil’s own job to get her to take it easy.’

  He took a chair opposite Hanson. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

  ‘I want to thank you for yesterday.’

  He looked surprised. ‘You mean Gill? Forget it. I’m glad I was around. We have something in common where he’s concerned. He’s furious with both of us.’

  ‘You’ve dismissed him for dishonesty?’

  ‘And being an idle sod, if you’ll excuse the expression. Gill is a con man. Aiden told me he’d found that Gill has been raising fake invoices for goods in Renfrew’s name. Aiden was onto it before it had properly got going but it was an ingenious scheme. It might have cost us a lot if it had run on. We didn’t know about his previous conviction although I was aware of a space in his CV. Not that a police record would mean we’d automatically rule anybody out of a job.’ He looked at her. ‘Is that why you’re here or is it about the murder of the student?’

  ‘Your secretary mentioned that Nan used to do secretarial work at Renfrew. I thought she might recall a casual approach by a young woman asking for an internship.’

  He looked doubtful. ‘Did she?’

  ‘No.’

  He sat back, his face serious. ‘I’d have been surprised if she had. If anything like that had happened while Nan worked there, I doubt she’d remember it.’ He hesitated and Hanson guessed he was wondering whether or how to proceed.

  ‘I don’t know if you’ve ever lost anyone who mattered.’ He raised a quick hand. ‘And I’m not asking, but when Nan had her stroke I honestly believed she was going to die.’ He paused. ‘We don’t have children. Everything looked very bleak. But she rallied and I got her back.’ He looked up at Hanson. ‘Nan’s still with me, we’re still together but it’s not the same. Before it happened, I suppose like most people I thought of life and death as two separate states. I’ve learned that that’s not entirely true. There’s such a lot she doesn’t remember. Things we did together. We’re close apart, if that makes any sense. Today is a good day. There are others when she isn’t as mobile as you saw and she gets very frustrated.’ He ran his hand through his short hair. ‘And I’m ashamed to admit I get a bit grumpy because I’m tired.’ He gazed across the table at Hanson.

  ‘Maybe you’ll understand when I say that I think it’s possible to have a little death.’

  Hanson chose her words. ‘I’m sorry. I’m also sorry for intruding.’

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t be. It was nice to see Nan looking so upbeat. Something else I’ve learned over the last year: friends don’t always hang around when illness happens. I don’t mean friends we share. I’m talking about the girlfriends Nan had. There weren’t that many. Three or four at most but it’s sad for her because they don’t call or visit so much now. She’s still as sociable as she ever was but she doesn’t always have the energy for visitors.’ He looked across at her.

  ‘I took our life together for granted. Maybe we could all do with cherishing what we have a bit more.’

  Hanson was thinking of those in her own life whom she cherished. ‘Isn’t that what we all do, though? Take people for granted because we’re so busy with daily living? I don’t think we should blame ourselves for that.’

  He gave her a close look. ‘Is that what you really think?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I also think it’s inevitable to feel some guilt whenever there’s loss. It’s not logical. It’s what happens.’

  They both stood. He walked her to the front door. ‘Getting back to what you were asking Nan about this work experience, I’m sorry neither I nor Aiden were any help.’

  ‘Is it at all possible that due to pressure of work either one of you might have forgotten something like that?’

  He thought about it. ‘I hear what you’re saying. Aiden and I are like ships passing but I know I never had that kind of request. Feel free to speak to him again about it. I’m sure he won’t mind. When Nan has rested I could try asking her for you? See if she recalls anything?’

  Hanson shook her head. ‘I don’t want to cause her unnecessary stress. Actually, I’m hoping to see Mr Malahide this morning.’

  ‘He’s in the office. Drop in and see him.’

  ‘One last thing. What level of access do Renfrew’s subcontractors have to the office?’

  He gave it some thought as they paused by the closed front door. ‘They call there when they need to. To collect plans and other paperwork and to give Dee their timesheets. That’s probably how Gill got hold of blank invoices for his scheme. It’s shown us that we need to make the office less available. Be less trusting.’

  He opened the door for her. ‘Thanks for coming, Dr Hanson. I know it was a professional visit but I haven’t seen Nan so buoyant in a long time.’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Corrigan rang the bell at Renfrew. Hanson was aware that the usual light-heartedness between them was missing.

  ‘Something wrong?’ she asked.

  ‘Sean Gill got bail this morning.’

  She stared up at him, open-mouthed. ‘He what?’

  ‘The magistrates decided against remand on the basis that his 2001 conviction was “old” and they took his subsequent lack of offending into account.’

  Dee, Renfrew’
s secretary, opened the door to them. ‘Come in. Hugh phoned to say you were coming. Aiden’s expecting you.’ She turned quickly to find him standing behind her.

  ‘Here he is.’ She laughed. ‘I never hear him coming.’ Malahide gestured for them to come inside.

  ‘Dr Hanson, Lieutenant Corrigan. Hugh said you wanted to talk to me but he didn’t say why. I’m assuming it’s about Sean Gill and his dishonesty?’

  They followed him into the comfortable sitting room-cum-office. Hanson glanced at the pale, soft-looking rug, thinking that Corrigan was almost certainly doing the same.

  Malahide went to the deep bay behind his desk, opened one of the windows and fussily pulled at one of the curtains. ‘It’s a little warm in here, don’t you think?’

  ‘What can you tell us about Sean Gill, sir?’ asked Corrigan

  Malahide turned to look at him, his plump face annoyed. ‘He’d worked for us for quite a while but he was hardly more than satisfactory. He took occasional days off but we weren’t aware of any dishonesty until now. We’re a small company. Any theft by people who work for us is a threat to our viability, particularly if a scam such as Gill’s had continued.’

  ‘Has your secretary indicated any problems with him?’

  Malahide nodded. ‘She complained about one or two of the contractors going into her desk drawer but she didn’t name him specifically.’ He caught sight of Corrigan’s face. ‘Oh.’ He looked suddenly prim, his face heating up. ‘You mean something more … personal? No, nothing like that as far as I know.’

  ‘How about the other subcontractors. Do they freely access the building?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say “freely”,’ he said. ‘They need to come here to bring timesheets and so on, although Hugh is now talking about providing each team with a laptop or asking them to email that kind of thing from their phones. He tends to be less trusting than I am. I suppose we both need to be more vigilant.’

  ‘I guess that’s important in business: trust and a sharp eye.’

  Malahide sighed. ‘This business with Gill proves that they’re both essential.’

  ‘Does Renfrew network with other businesses to build trust and support?’ asked Corrigan.

  Malahide looked from him to Hanson and smiled. ‘What I think of as the American business model. Yes, we do. Two or three times a year we host meetings here. We invite companies sympathetic to our ecological aims. It helps us build business links. It helps us judge which businesses are ethically and financially sound before we consider possible collaboration in projects. Hugh is the one for the ecology, of course. Business-wise, and he says it himself, he doesn’t get involved. I take care of that side of things.’

  Corrigan was looking thoughtful. ‘You organise those business meetings?’

  ‘The networking? Yes.’

  Corrigan gazed around. ‘This is a great room. Big enough for meetings like that?’

  Malahide nodded. ‘Yes. We open the doors so that people can circulate in the hall.’

  Watching him, Hanson could see that he was uncertain where Corrigan was heading. She wasn’t entirely sure herself although she had an idea.

  ‘You also use this room for interviews,’ he said.

  Malahide looked bemused. ‘We don’t interview that often.’

  ‘We asked you previously if you recalled a young woman coming here either spontaneously or by arrangement with a request for work experience.’

  Malahide stared at him. ‘Yes. I told you, no.’

  Corrigan nodded. ‘Have you considered that a forensic sweep of this room might yield evidence which indicates she was here?’

  Hanson knew that such an action couldn’t happen. There was no justification. She glanced at Malahide. He clearly didn’t know this. The amiability had drained from him, like a plug being pulled. The plump face heated up again.

  ‘I don’t have to consider it. She didn’t … She never came into …’ He stopped, his mouth slack. The words were equivocal but the look on Malahide’s face said it all. He faltered, his hand going to his mouth.

  ‘If there’s something on your mind, sir, you need to tell us,’ said Corrigan quietly. Malahide didn’t speak. ‘Here or headquarters. What’s your choice?’

  Malahide’s face looked pallid, doughy. ‘It’s not what you think,’ he whispered. ‘I didn’t do anything to her.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Corrigan.

  ‘That student you’re asking about. Elizabeth Williams.’

  Corrigan’s eyes were fixed on him. ‘What exactly are you telling us?’

  A sheen of perspiration had appeared on Malahide’s fleshy face. ‘She was here,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t know how it’s come to this. It’s not what you think.’

  Corrigan stood and fixed him with a direct look. ‘Aiden Malahide I’m arresting you on suspicion—’

  Hanson looked down at the soft cream rug as Malahide was informed of his rights, then back to him. He looked as though he was about to pass out.

  ‘Do you want us to inform Mr Downey?’ she asked.

  He looked at her, horrified. ‘No! I don’t want anyone to know about this. It’s all a mistake. A misunderstanding.’ His head dropped forward onto his hands.

  They were inside UCU, Nuttall wearing a jubilant expression.

  ‘Good work.’

  ‘He hasn’t been questioned yet,’ said Corrigan.

  ‘You’ve arrested him so make it stick. Forensics are getting samples from the rug in his office to compare with what was on the girl.’ He looked at Corrigan. ‘Hope you’re well up on UK law because you need to get a move on. You’ve got twenty-four hours to charge him.’

  ‘Thirty-six if it’s a serious case,’ responded Corrigan easily.

  Nuttall looked rattled. ‘Malahide’s been informed of his rights?’

  ‘Yep, and he’s not asked for a lawyer yet but he will. As soon as the shock of arrest wears off.’

  Hanson was inside the observation room, searching Malahide’s face as he waited in the room next door. He looked stunned. She watched her colleagues take seats opposite him, listened as Watts delivered the caution. Malahide stared down at the table.

  ‘Tell us about Elizabeth Williams,’ said Watts.

  Malahide’s voice sounded as though he hadn’t used it in days. ‘She came to the office.’

  ‘When?’

  He cleared his throat, looking fuddled. ‘It was the Wednesday. The secretary had gone and Hugh was taking time off because Nan was ill.’ He looked down at his hands.

  Watts gazed at him. ‘Why didn’t you tell us this when we first saw you?’

  Malahide shrugged his plump shoulders. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Come on, Mr Malahide. If you don’t, who does?’

  Hanson’s eyes were on Malahide’s hands. They were gripped together, shaking.

  ‘That first day you came I wasn’t expecting it. I’d hardly given her a thought since she came to the office that day. She was there five minutes, if that.’

  Hanson’s eyes were fixed on the plump face. Hardly a thought since.

  Watts glanced at Corrigan then back. ‘When you say “hardly”, that suggests to me you did think about her.’

  Malahide looked up at him, unfocused. ‘What? No, but I did just wonder why she hadn’t contacted me.’

  Hanson guessed that her colleagues’ thinking was similar to hers: if what Malahide had said so far was the truth, that he’d first met Elizabeth Williams on a Wednesday, he would have had to see her again if he’d murdered her.

  ‘When did you see her again?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ said Malahide.

  ‘You didn’t see her later that week?’ asked Watts.

  Malahide was getting agitated. ‘I just told you, I didn’t see her again. That was it. As I said, I didn’t give her another thought.’

  Watts’s eyes were fastened on his face. ‘Her disappearance was on the news.’

  Malahide shook his head. ‘I don’t have a television. I listen to music.’

/>   ‘Why were you expecting to hear from her?’

  Malahide’s face was flushed. He looked at the floor, the walls, the glass beyond which Hanson was standing. Anywhere but at the two officers.

  Watts sat forward. ‘Come on, Mr Malahide. You just said you wondered why she never got back in touch.’

  ‘Please. Let me get this straight in my head.’ His voice a monotone, he said, ‘She seemed a nice girl. Keen on what Renfrew is about. Strong, athletic. Ideal for the physical work involved in conservation, but I knew Hugh wouldn’t allow it. I’d told him often enough about the insurance implications. But there are other firms like ours, larger set-ups which I thought might be more flexible. I wanted to help her. I told her I’d contact a couple of them for her. I suggested she give me a couple of days.’ He looked down at his hands.

  ‘Actually, it was a good job she didn’t ring back because I forgot. I was under unbelievable pressure at the time. I was doing Hugh’s job as well as my own. It was very difficult for me with the long hours and being on site in all weathers.’ He looked agitated at the memory.

  Watts frowned. ‘What was causing you all that stress exactly?’

  Malahide looked away, saying nothing.

  Watts slow-nodded. ‘OK, Mr Malahide. Let’s get back to the brass tacks of the day Elizabeth Williams arrived at your office. What time was it?’

  ‘I finished early that day. It was five thirty.’

  ‘You sound very certain.’

  ‘I am. My mother was expecting me.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At her care home.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Solihull.’

  Hanson looked up as the observation room door opened and Nuttall came inside. He nodded to her then looked intently at Malahide through the glass as Watts spoke.

  ‘Why was she expecting you that day?’

  ‘I visit her regularly, two, three times a week.’

  Watts sat back, his eyes riveted on Malahide. ‘That’s commendable. Very dutiful.’

  Hanson saw the first indication of annoyance on Malahide’s face.

  ‘It is not duty. My mother is very important to me.’

  ‘Got anyone else in your life, Mr Malahide? A partner?’