by Lisa Cutts
George nodded and went off to the kitchen.
‘How do you know he won’t do a bunk out of the back door?’ said Sophia.
‘All that rubbish piled up against it, he’ll never get out. There must have been eight black sacks between him and the door handle.’
‘I thought for a minute we were going to arrest him,’ said Sophia.
‘I considered it, then thought it was better to have his version now, so we can check out what he tells us. If need be, we can arrest him at the end if we’re not happy. You OK with that?’
‘When he comes back, do you want me duck out and call Hazel Hamilton? Let her know what he’s said about Travis? She can check what he’s saying.’
He kept his answer to himself as George came back in with three mugs. He placed them on a pile of old newspapers and magazines strewn across the table.
‘Can’t find the coasters,’ he said as if it made any difference to his furniture having three scald rings on its surface. He did have the decency to pull an empty carrier bag from his jeans pocket and begin stuffing the empty takeaway cartons into it.
‘And it’s black coffee,’ he said when he’d sat back down in the armchair following his brief clear-up. ‘I didn’t expect guests and I’m out of milk. Let’s get on with this then.’
Doug sat in the other armchair, having given the room the once-over while their host was making the drinks. It seemed clean enough to him. All of the mess appeared to be either rubbish that hadn’t been taken out, or general untidiness over the last week or two. It didn’t seem like he’d chosen to live in a state.
‘When were you arrested and suspended, George?’ he asked.
‘Sixteen days ago. I haven’t done much since. It was all well and good all the time I was at work, bringing prisoners in, getting TICs to make the figures look good, but as soon as there’s a problem, no one wants to know me.’
There was a pause whilst the three of them considered the last comment, two of them thanking their lucky stars they weren’t in George’s position.
‘Also,’ continued the disgraced police officer, ‘that’s how I know it was about three weeks ago that I went to see Milton Bowman. Even I’m not stupid enough to go to a DI’s house and kick off when I’ve just been nicked for assaulting a prisoner. I went around there a few days before I was arrested.’
He glanced down at his own hands and started to examine his remarkably clean fingernails.
‘I know that I’m not supposed to talk about what I did to the prisoner, and I’m not making excuses, but I was so angry when I’d finished speaking to Linda and Travis. I stewed on what they’d told me for days. I was like a pressure cooker waiting to go off.’
‘What did they tell you?’ said Doug, aware from the sound of her pen against the page that Sophia was busy writing away.
‘His wife said that over the last few years twice Milton had given her a sexually transmitted disease from different affairs he’d had. Twice she’d threatened to leave him until he begged her to stay. Sasha was simply someone else he was shagging. He used her. That’s what made it even worse.
‘I really loved Sash, and he took her from me, and now it looks as though I’m losing my job. I’ve hit rock bottom but I’m not a murderer. You’re looking in the wrong place here.’
He paused, looked from Doug to Sophia and back again before he added, ‘You haven’t told me how they died. My money’s on Milton done her in, and then topped himself. You thought of that?’
‘Any idea why Milton would kill his wife?’ said Doug. ‘From what you just said, he begged her to stay, so why kill her?’
George sat in silence for a couple of seconds, ran his tongue over his front teeth and seemed to give what he was about to say serious consideration.
‘I’ll level with you,’ he began, staring intently at Doug Philbert. ‘I didn’t like the bloke, thought he was a twat, and whatever you think of me for assaulting a prisoner, Milton was in a whole other league of dodgy copper.
‘There was something not right about him. He was always operating under the radar. That stabbing in Wolfram Street, the drugs one when he met Sasha, there was something not right about that. I heard a whisper those dealing on the periphery got away with it. They were given the nod by someone.’
He sat back in his chair.
‘No one would ever take my word for it, especially not now. For what my opinion’s worth, I’d say Milton was behind it and his wife found out.’
Chapter 28
‘Why has my son been arrested?’ said Jenny Bloomfield, fists clenching and unclenching on the tabletop where she’d been pounding them. ‘And why am I here in the police station?’
‘I’ve told you, Mrs Bloomfield,’ said DC Tom Delayhoyde, ‘your son’s been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Linda Bowman. You can’t stay at home because we have a warrant to search it and it’ll take some time. We’ve had to bring you here to allow the CSIs and search team to do their jobs without interruption.’
‘So can I leave?’
He’d known this was coming.
‘You’re not under arrest at the—’
‘Then you can’t stop me from going.’ She stood up, her fitted red dress a stark contrast to the grey and beige of the witness-interview room that Hazel Hamilton and Travis Bowman had occupied only a couple of hours beforehand.
‘This afternoon at your home, you came very close to being arrested for obstructing a police officer in the execution of their duty. It’s going to do Aiden no favours if you walk out of here without telling me what you know.’
She flashed him a winning smile, smoothed down her dress and said, ‘Forgive me, Tom, was it? The last couple of days have been very trying for all of us.’
‘I’ve also got a DNA kit here,’ he said, picking up a plastic-wrapped pack and holding it out briefly. He didn’t take his eyes off her and thought he saw a flash of panic streak across her face.
‘You have Aiden in custody, so I don’t see why you want mine too, but of course I’ll let you have it.’
‘It’s for elimination purposes,’ he said. ‘The officers haven’t taken yours yet. Before we do that, tell me about Aiden and where he was yesterday morning.’
Jenny opened her mouth to say something but Tom put his hand up and continued. ‘Whatever you tell me must be the truth. Don’t try to help Aiden by leaving anything out or, even worse, making anything up. OK?’
She nodded slowly and wiggled back in her chair, crossing her legs.
‘You’re probably too young to have children,’ she said, ‘but when you do have them, you worry about them night and day. Where they are, what they’re up to. We have a daughter too, but she married an Australian and she never comes home. I didn’t like him, he wasn’t good enough as far as I was concerned, although that’s probably a natural thing for a parent to think. It’s mostly me and Aiden, as his father’s away most of the time. I know where Aiden is almost every minute of the day.’
Tom gave a tight smile and was pleased to break eye contact with her when his phone bleeped at him. The text message read Aiden wants a solicitor. No interview yet.
‘So where was he yesterday morning?’ Tom asked again.
‘He was at home in bed. He wanted to go out Sunday evening with Travis. They were going to see a band at the Three Blackbirds. An old schoolfriend of theirs is the lead singer and they wanted to go along and support her. Neither Aiden nor Travis drink very often. They’re both very much into their fitness, they’re always at the gym together if they’re not at one another’s houses. It’s been that way for years.
‘Anyway, it was decided that Travis would stay over so they could walk to the pub from our house and both have a couple of beers. I was in bed when they came in about midnight, you know what people are like after they’ve had a couple of drinks, crashing and banging. It’s especially true of young men like them. I could hear them talking and then they both went to bed. When I woke up about six o’clock, they were still in their own
rooms. I know because Aiden left his door open and I could hear Travis snoring away.’
She gave a happy little nod at this.
‘And what time did they get up?’ Tom asked.
‘Neither of them came downstairs until after nine. I know it was after nine because the news had finished on the radio and I was thinking about going out. The main reason I didn’t was the local news said that the dual carriageway was blocked because of an accident and something about the air ambulance. I didn’t know the significance of it at the time.’
She cast her eyes down at her hands, now folded in her lap. ‘Of course, it was Milton. Poor Travis had no idea of what the rest of the day was going to bring. And now you’ve got my son in here, arrested for the murder of his best friend’s mum. It’s clear to me that you’ve got the wrong person. I know my son and he’s not capable of killing someone. You should be looking for someone else. Why would he kill her?’
‘That’s one thing we’d like to find out, although first we have to establish whether he did or he didn’t kill her. Shall we start with how well you knew Linda?’
‘I had no time for her lately, no time at all. The last time I had a proper conversation with her ended in quite a row. It was about a month ago when I went to pick Aiden up for lunch with his grandmother.’
‘What was the row about?’
She paused and picked invisible thread from her dress.
For the first time, Jenny seemed reluctant to answer. Up until that point, even when she was trying to stop the arresting officers from taking her son away, she’d argued and shouted, even tried to be pleasant when that wasn’t working. There hadn’t been a time when she had nothing to say.
Until now.
Jenny hadn’t so far said anything to alert Tom to the fact that she might be lying, but now it was the parts she was leaving out that rang alarm bells.
‘It wasn’t about anything in particular. I think I was late getting to her. Travis had already gone out and she wanted to go out. It was merely one of those silly things that old friends sometimes fall out over. Aiden isn’t a child; she could have left him in her house to shut the door behind him. She seemed to overreact at being on her own with him.’
Tom had one of those rare chill-down-the-spine moments in policing when he knew he was on to something. There was definitely more to the argument than she was letting on, and it just might take him much closer to finding Linda Bowman’s killer.
Chapter 29
Hazel left Travis with a DC from Major Crime and gave him instructions to go to the canteen for a cup of tea, having made sure the television was switched off, and wait for her. She didn’t want her witness wandering off and she needed to speak to Barbara Venice.
‘Just got the preliminary post-mortem results back for Linda Bowman,’ said the DCI. ‘You won’t be surprised to hear that, subject to toxicology results and so on, the cause of death was extensive skull fracturing.’
‘I’m about ready to set off with Travis so he can see her and formally identify the body. I’ve checked that he didn’t want anyone else to do it. We all know that this is going to break his heart but he wants to see her anyway.’
‘Hazel, I don’t want to teach you to suck eggs but—’
‘Don’t let him touch the body, I know. Well, she’s got head injuries so I’ll have that uncomfortable conversation with him when we get nearer. He’s been through so much that surely, if he gets the chance, he can at least hold her hand?’
‘At least keep an eye on him; just don’t go soft on us.’
‘Never, ma’am. Far too tough for that.’
She backed towards the door, itching to get back to Travis and at the same time wanting to ask more about the McCalls.
‘And, Hazel, thanks for going to the hospital today. I know you’ve got enough to do. I’ll let you know more about Linda’s family as soon as I can, and to be honest, I haven’t got the complete picture myself just yet.’
Hazel looked at the detective chief inspector, decided to smile at her, and said, ‘I’ll catch up with you later. I only dropped in to let you know that I’m taking Travis to see his mum. Did you need me to ask him anything in particular?’
‘No. Make sure you look after yourself and limit your hours. I’ll see you tomorrow and call if you need anything.’
‘I could do with a life,’ she called as she made her way towards the security door leading from the Major Crime Department.
‘Then make sure you get one,’ the DCI called back.
Thoughts of all the things she should be doing over the next few days vied for space in Hazel’s mind as she walked towards the lift to take her to the canteen on the fifth floor. She jabbed at the buttons, willing one of the lifts to arrive so she could put her personal life aside and get on with something that she was much better at, more at home with – her job.
She pulled her phone from her trouser pocket as it started to ring. As she answered it, the doors opened and she caught her reflection from the mirror at the back of the lift. She stood where she was and watched her own face break into a smile as she said to the caller, ‘Hello, Harry.’
‘Hello, Hazel.’
She heard a pause before he said, ‘You’re probably too frantic with work to talk to the likes of me.’
‘No, I’ve got time,’ was all she said, automatic doors closing again, taking the lift off somewhere without her.
‘I was wondering how it was going.’
‘I can’t really—’
‘No, no, of course you can’t. Let’s be honest, although I’m desperate to know how it’s going and how far you’ve got, the real reason I’m ringing you is to see if you fancy that drink some time.’
‘I’d love to,’ she said.
‘How about this evening?’ said Harry.
Hazel hesitated. She was trying to estimate how long it would take to get to the hospital, see Linda’s body, speak to Travis and get him dropped off at a relative’s house, fill in all the necessary paperwork, update all those who needed updating and then fit in shaving her legs and washing her hair.
‘If you can’t do tonight, we can make it another day,’ said Harry. ‘Only if you’ve got time.’
‘Today might be a little awkward. I’ve got to contact the charity and postpone picking up a dog, and most importantly, I’ve got to take Travis somewhere.’
‘Ah,’ said Harry.
‘Precisely,’ she said. ‘That’s why I can’t commit to how long I’m going to be. Saying goodbye to your mum can take time.’
‘OK. Well call me when you’re off duty. It doesn’t matter what time of day or night. I could do with someone to talk to. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have ring me.’
As she put her phone away and made her way up the five flights of stairs, all thoughts of taking the lift banished from her mind, she wondered how much this was affecting Harry. He’d been friends with Linda for years, and hadn’t merely lost her to a murderer, but had found her bloodied, damaged body. She wasn’t even sure if he knew her real name.
Hazel liked Harry a lot. She’d always had a bit of a soft spot for him, although strictly in a professional working capacity. She could see through the bravado and bluster to the thing that really made him tick: he was decent and couldn’t abide anything or anyone who wasn’t.
The only thing that bothered her about going out with him was whether he was thinking clearly; perhaps when the dust settled, he’d come to his senses and realize that he’d made a terrible mistake. She didn’t want to be someone else’s burden. Hazel wasn’t comfortable dating someone who was on the rebound, and this seemed to be taking being on the rebound to a new level: finding the murdered body of someone you’d adored for decades was bad enough. Add a wife who had walked out, and Hazel couldn’t fathom what was going on in Harry’s mind.
One thing was for sure, Harry rarely uttered a single sentence without a liberal sprinkling of profanity. Their conversation had lasted for one minute and four seconds according
to her mobile, and he hadn’t sworn once.
There was definitely something wrong with Harry Powell.
Chapter 30
As Hazel was driving Travis to the viewing room at the mortuary, Aiden Bloomfield was being given his legal rights and being booked into custody.
He’d been searched, his clothing seized, his photograph and fingerprints taken, another DNA sample taken, not to mention so many other forensic samples, cuttings and scrapings, he’d lost track of what was happening. When asked if he would like to speak to a solicitor, he’d not known what to do.
The custody sergeant’s attitude hadn’t been what he was expecting either. He was slow and patient with Aiden. He’d explained what was happening and told him it was a very serious matter and that he should think very carefully about having a solicitor. He’d gone with the custody sergeant’s offer of calling him one from ‘the scheme’. Aiden had no idea what the scheme was, but it was billed as a good thing. He took it to be some sort of call-out rota which might have been explained to him too. He couldn’t fully grasp what was going on in this previously unknown world.
Eventually, he was walked down corridors smelling of body odour, past large blue metal doors leading to cells, some of the doors open and some closed. Angry voices and banging came from behind two of the closed ones as Aiden made his way to number 14.
His was the only cell with a chair outside it.
‘I’m going to leave the door open and sit out here,’ said the officer in uniform who had escorted Aiden to his designated cell. ‘You need a drink?’
Aiden didn’t know at that moment what he needed, except to be out of the police station and at home, wishing that the last forty-eight hours hadn’t happened. How he had come to end up here, he couldn’t begin to work out. He wanted to scream at them that it was all a terrible mistake, they had the wrong person, but wasn’t that what everyone said?
Instead, he simply shook his head at the young man in front of him.
‘You may as well get your head down,’ said the officer. ‘Your brief will be here soon. And that’s about all I know.’