Cold Winter's Morning

by Alan Bexley

  Frank turned into Helen’s road and slowed to a stop outside her home - a small semi-detached two-bedroom house. Her white Clio with no wheel trims and a little rust around the seams was parked on the half of the front lawn that had been concreted over. She appeared at the front door with an umbrella, yanked the door shut behind her and dashed down the path where weeds grew through cracks.

  She closed the umbrella as she clambered in. ‘What a day,’ she said.

  Frank looked out at the house. ‘Could do with a lick of paint. And the garden’s a bit of a mess.’

  ‘Who are you, my father?’ she said. ‘When do I get the time?’

  He grinned and lowered the handbrake to move off.

  ‘Another glorious day in Westchapel,’ Frank said.

  Slate grey clouds filled the sky and the rain was hitting the windscreen in waves driven by the wind. Helen played Mr Blue Sky by ELO. She adjusted the heater. ‘Can we stay in the office for once?’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  She brushed the worst of the damp off her raincoat. Frank realised she was staring at him. He glanced at her while he waited at a junction. ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘It’s just I was talking to a friend last night and something came to mind.’

  ‘Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like hearing this?’

  ‘I’ve heard a lot about how, shall we say “vivacious”, Vicky was. And you had several meetings with her.’

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

  ‘Didn’t she ever try her moves on you?’ she said, with a broad grin on her face.

  Frank stared out at the traffic and said. ‘Of course not.’

  The grin dissolved, and she turned her head to look at the passing shops out the side window. Frank glanced at her but said nothing more.

  Patricia sat in the interview room with her mother. Her mother’s face registered both anger and embarrassment. They were sitting in silence, and Frank guessed they had had words on the way to the station.

  After going through the formalities, Frank addressed himself more to mother than daughter. Helen wrote in her notebook. ‘This shouldn’t take long.’

  The mother nudged Patricia. She stopped slouching and paid Frank attention.

  ‘I’m investigating the murder of Victoria Crosby and we need to eliminate Neil Morgan from our list of suspects. Can you tell me about Wednesday morning?’

  Patricia looked puzzled and said nothing.

  ‘Starting from, say, seven o’clock?’

  ‘We were in bed together,’ Patricia said.

  It amused Frank to see the disgust on mother’s face, but he hid it.

  ‘What time did you get up?’

  ‘Around eight.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  Helen picked up the line of questioning. ‘You had to be at college when?’

  ‘Quarter to nine.’

  ‘Neil was with you all the time? He didn’t go out?’ Helen asked.

  ‘No, we had breakfast together and Neil read the paper.’

  ‘What did breakfast consist of?’

  ‘What does that matter?’ Patricia asked.

  ‘Just answer the detective,’ her mother said.

  ‘I had cornflakes, and he had toast, and I had orange juice, and he had coffee.’

  ‘We ask these questions to help you recollect exactly what happened on the day,’ Helen said. ‘Because this is very important. We are investigating a vicious murder. The person who did this needs to be put in prison for the public’s safety. You agree, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, it was a horrible crime.’ She grimaced at the thought of it.

  ‘The thing is if someone provides an alibi for a boyfriend who committed murder, and they are found out, they would also spend time in prison,’ Helen said.

  ‘We are trying to impress on you the seriousness of your situation,’ Frank added.

  ‘I’m not stupid. Neil didn’t murder her. We were still in bed at 7:30. I’m not lying and I’m not mistaken about the day. Even if I were, it wouldn’t matter because we have a daily routine.’

  ‘You must tell the officers anything you know about this woman’s murder,’ the mother said. ‘Has Neil said anything about it?’

  ‘He was just as grossed out as me. I mean the man reversed over her and drove forwards over her again. He crushed her.’

  ‘You got the details right,’ Frank said.

  ‘I read about it on the paper’s website. They had a long article on it.’

  ‘Is there anything you know about the murder that wasn’t in the papers?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Why won’t you believe me?’

  Her mother noticed the tears forming in her eyes. ‘I think that’s enough.’

  ‘Yes, thank you for answering our questions,’ Helen said. ‘We didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘You’re free to go,’ Frank said. ‘I’ll show you the way.’

  Helen waited for Frank to return. She stood up as he walked back into the room. ‘I’m convinced,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ Frank said. ‘That’s another name that needs a line scratched through it.’

  Back in the office, Frank stopped in front of Jade’s desk. ‘I’ve got a name from the past for you. Remember Gabriel Lansky?’

  ‘I do. Used to be a dealer a few years back. He had a run in with Ed Morgan and left town.’

  ‘An informant tells me that he’s back in Westchapel and was spotted on Tuesday night,’ he said.

  ‘Who’s this Gabriel Lansky?’ Helen asked.

  ‘A nasty piece of work,’ Jade said. ‘Handy with his fists and not averse to using them on his girlfriends. This was a few years back now. A real charmer.’

  ‘That’s the way my informant described him. Suggested that Lansky might have killed Crosby because she was dealing.’

  ‘A turf war?’ Jade said. ‘Doesn’t seem likely. We don’t have any evidence Vicky was dealing on any scale, do we?’

  Helen said, ‘No. She sometimes bought to share with friends but no hard evidence she was dealing, apart from some odd notations in her diary which I never figured out.’

  ‘I don’t think so either,’ he said. ‘But let the uniforms know to keep an eye out for him. I’d like to chat to him about old times.’

  The officer on the front desk rang through to Frank’s extension. Frank called over to Helen, ‘Simon Haywood’s arrived.’

  It was time for the formality of a statement from Vicky’s partner and they plodded downstairs.

  Simon did not want a solicitor and the three of them chatted in the interview room. It was a more composed Simon that sat facing them. He was coping with his loss.

  ‘I’m guessing she liked the occasional drink like the rest of us?’ Frank asked.

  Simon paused before answering.

  ‘She wasn’t a heavy drinker if that’s what you’re thinking. That stupid car accident, a one off, it troubled her. She had the odd drink when out with work colleagues but she never came home drunk. She was under the limit when your lads tested her.’

  Frank waited before he broached the next item on his mental list. ‘I believe you each used a little cocaine occasionally. Can you tell me about that?’

  Simon looked him in the face. ‘We’ve experimented in the past - who hasn’t - but we’d had none in the flat for months. I didn’t like the effect it had on me and I was scared of becoming addicted. Vicky felt the same. I suppose you’ve looked up her convictions?’

  ‘It’s part of the procedure. Is there any chance she owed money to whoever supplied you?’

  ‘That’s unlikely. She only bought tiny amounts, and it was a while ago.’

  ‘Did she buy any for friends?’

  ‘Dealing? No way.’

  ‘You’re quite sure?’ Frank said.

  ‘Whoever is telling you that is wrong,’ Simon said.

  ‘Have you heard of Gabriel Lansky?’

  Simon looked t
o one side.

  Frank and Helen sat waiting for Simon to answer.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘The name seems to ring a vague bell but I can’t recall why.’

  ‘Who did Vicky get the coke from?’

  Simon looked from Helen to Frank, ‘Will I be incriminating myself if answer?’

  ‘We’re not interested in any minor offence you may have committed. All we want to do is investigate the people in Vicky’s circle of friends and acquaintances. We’re working to identify her killer.’

  Simon nodded. ‘She used to buy at the Elektra. While she worked there, she started an arrangement with a bouncer called “Loki”. I think he works for the Morgans.’

  Helen made a note.

  ‘There’s one last question,’ Frank said. ‘I hate to ask this, but is there any chance she was being unfaithful?’

  His answers had been confident, now he hesitated. ‘I don’t think so. I would’ve known. No, not Vicky. We used to go out separately. We each had our own friends.’

  Yalina was standing beside Jade’s desk and they both looked in Frank and Helen’s direction as they came into the CID office.

  ‘We didn’t learn much more from Simon,’ he said. ‘Next we need to turn our attention to Gabriel Lansky. Perhaps we should consider the theory that Vicky might have got caught up in a turf war between him and the Morgans.’

  Helen stood staring at him. ‘I disagree.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We should be looking at other suspects. We’ve spent too much time chasing down the Morgans’ alibis.’

  ‘Vicky had been stealing from them,’ he said.

  She raised a palm before he could say more. ‘Suppose she was their banker. Suppose the money she transferred to her account was petty cash to oil wheels.’

  ‘That’s—’

  ‘Let me finish. She’d been dipping into the trust fund for months and we know Ed was checking monthly statements. It’s more likely that he knew about the payments than that he hadn’t noticed them.’

  ‘I suppose you have a point,’ Frank said.

  ‘Forgive me but your attitude to the Morgans is blinkering you.’

  ‘Don’t hold back.’

  She glanced at Jade and then Yalina. Jade weighed in, ‘I think that we need to reassess our leads.’

  Frank looked at Jade. She stared at him, unblinking. ‘I do,’ she said. ‘We should look again at Laura Quinnan.’

  He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it.

  ‘We should do deep background on her and her husband. Losing a baby is one of the worst things that can happen to a woman. It makes for a strong motive,’ Jade said.

  ‘I have her phone records,’ Yalina said. ‘It wouldn’t take me long to check the calls.’

  Frank took a breath then nodded to Yalina, ‘See what you can find.’

  Frank walked to his desk and sat down. Helen had followed him and stood in front of the desk. ‘I’d like to investigate her alibi. We didn’t get far with that.’

  ‘OK,’ he said. As she walked away, he called over to Jade. ‘Is there any CCTV in the area where she lives?’

  ‘None in Langton Road but it joins Queens Road. She might walk to the parade of shops there.’ Jade referred to her screen. ‘The dental practice where she works is there too. They open at nine so I only need look at a few minutes of the recording.’

  Frank was mentally winding back to the interview at the Quinnans’ home. ‘She said she was at home when her husband left for work. We should spot her on the street without much trouble.’

  Chapter 22

  The office was buzzing when Frank got back from briefing Altman and the Borough Commander. He hung his jacket on the back of his chair and stood by the central table.

  Helen stopped typing and was first to look up. Jade was on the phone and Yalina was working from highlighted sheets on her desk. Phone bills, he guessed.

  Helen asked, ‘Good meeting?’

  ‘The inspector’s under pressure and none too happy.’

  ‘Yalina has something of interest.’

  He turned his head to Yalina. She snapped shut the cap on her green highlighter. ‘I’ve been checking the Quinnan’s phone bills. His mobile didn’t produce anything much just a lot of business calls. The landline at the house is hardly used. Then I got on to her mobile. There are two calls to an unidentified handset. A burner, I think, bought in town for cash with a false name and address given. A female customer. No CCTV of the purchaser as it was too long ago and the recording has been deleted. I’ve got the phone company to triangulate the phone’s location when it answered the two calls. The calls were made on Monday and Tuesday.’

  Frank glanced back at Helen who was smiling, then returned his attention to Yalina. ‘Where are the locations?’

  ‘The first is in the vicinity of the High Street which is not much help. The second takes in St Georges Road and Chaucer Street.’ With a broad smile, she said, ‘St Georges Road is where Mrs Ingermann lives.’

  ‘Mrs Ingermann?’

  ‘There’s a further connection. Both of the ladies have also phoned the same number. A hypnotherapist on Shoreham Street.’

  ‘Good work,’ he said. He put his hands on the back of his head. ‘Laura Quinnan said she’d just quit smoking.’

  Frank took a pace towards Helen’s desk, ‘And Joyce Ingermann smokes like a chimney.’

  Helen nodded.

  Jade put her phone down. ‘I’ve just spoken to the hypnotherapists. After some argy-bargy, they’ve confirmed that both women are clients. More importantly they had following appointments a few days ago. They could have met in the waiting room.’

  Frank stroked his neck. ‘Which takes us back to the Ingermann’s and the stolen car.’

  ‘What if he was telling the truth when he said it wasn’t Loki that beat him?’ Helen asked.

  ‘You think she stole the car?’ he said. ‘Or they worked together? However, you look at it, it doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Let’s stick with the facts,’ Helen said.

  Frank sat behind his desk. ‘The whole vindictive ex-wife thing could have been a con. But where do we go from here?’

  Frank knocked on the door of number 4 Northcroft Street. The hospital had told Frank that George Ingermann had discharged himself against their advice. The rain had stopped for the moment. There was no sign from inside.

  Helen rang George Ingermann’s mobile. ‘It rang out.’

  ‘Come on, George, answer the door,’ Frank shouted through the letterbox.

  ‘Perhaps he can’t get to it,’ Helen said. ‘He’s only just out of hospital.’

  ‘He’s not that badly hurt,’ he told her.

  ‘If I have to break down the door, I will,’ Frank yelled through the letterbox again.

  There was an indistinct voice from inside. The door opened a few inches and Ingermann shuffled back and opened it fully. Frank barged in.

  ‘What do you want now?’ Ingermann asked.

  Helen closed the door.

  ‘Let’s get comfortable,’ Frank said. ‘We need to talk.’

  Ingermann muttered and dumped himself in an easy chair. His chest was bandaged and his head scarred. His hands were bruised and he moved stiffly. He pushed his glasses back into place with his palm. ‘Well?’

  ‘We want to talk some more about your car,’ Frank said.

  ‘For God’s sake, how many times,’ Ingermann said, his voice rising. ‘It was stolen!’

  ‘But that’s not true,’ Frank said.

  Ingermann glared at Frank who was sitting forward on the sofa with Helen standing behind him.

  ‘I didn’t know it was gone until you arrived. You know that.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  Ingermann snorted. ‘That car was my pride and joy. The one decent thing I had. Do you really think I sold it to be used to run someone down and then set on fire? Do you?’

  He glared at Frank.

 
Helen sat on the sofa arm. ‘Should you be out of hospital, George?’

  He looked up at her. ‘What’s this good cop, bad cop? Do you think I am stupid?’

  ‘Who attacked you, George?’ she asked. ‘Help us believe you.’

  He moved and grimaced at the pain.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  ‘I discharged myself. To get away from those bloody fussing women. To get back home.’

  ‘You want us to believe you are honest. Just tell us, in confidence, who attacked you?’

  ‘It was Loki, wasn’t it?’ Frank said.

  Ingermann shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Who then?’ Helen asked.

  ‘We have a description of the man who attacked you,’ Frank said. ‘It fits Loki.’

  ‘It was nothing to do with the Morgans.’

  ‘Come on, George, who did this to you?’

  Ingermann took several breaths. They waited.

  ‘You’re wrong about Loki. I don’t know the man’s name but he works for a loan shark that I owe.’

  ‘Wears a black zip jacket and jeans?’ Helen asked.

  Ingermann nodded.

  ‘But if you were short of money, why wouldn’t you sell the car?’ Frank said.

  ‘You don’t listen. It was the one thing I valued.’ He looked around the untidy room. ‘Joyce took half of everything. We had to sell our house and I ended up here but I still had the car.’

  Helen nodded. ‘Was your divorce amicable?’

  Ingermann sighed. ‘No.’

  ‘Do you still see your ex-wife?’ she asked.

  ‘That old bag. Why would I want to see her?’

  Helen watched closely. Ingermann’s eyes had shifted to the left. He wasn’t looking at either of them. Then he struggled up. He made his way over to an old-fashioned sideboard and picked up a bunch of keys from a glass fruit bowl. The keys had a Volkswagen fob. He put them back and made for the door.

  Frank was about to get up but Helen held out a hand to stay him.