Deep Fear

  Her team had yet to formally put a profile together – apart from the narcissistic angle – and so she was relying on instinct. Warren Downs seemed disinterested in his mother, as if he’d given up years ago, and he didn’t seem to have a burning hatred that consumed him and everything he did. When Kelly looked at his shoes, she estimated that he wore a size ten, at least.

  ‘When did you fall out with your mother, Warren?’ She was analysing him, and he knew it.

  ‘Probably shortly after birth, officer.’ He was no longer intimidated by her enquiries. Kelly thought the joke funny, but didn’t laugh.

  ‘When was the last time?’ she ploughed on.

  He sighed. ‘About two years ago. She was ashamed of me, after finding a husband who believed she was of better stock than she actually is,’ he paused and smiled. ‘He still has no idea that she was raised on a council estate. Gran called her Mrs Bouquet,’ he laughed and his eyes wandered off.

  ‘You were close to your Gran?’ she asked softly.

  He nodded. ‘I didn’t expect it this quick, the nurse said at least a week or two.’ He stopped and put his head in his hands.

  ‘Do you know that your Gran’s will names you as sole beneficiary to her estate, Warren?’

  Warren looked at her and his mouth opened, but nothing came out for a moment.

  ‘She said that’s what she’d do, but I never believed her. I told her not to,’ he said.

  ‘Well, she went ahead and did it, Warren. Do you know how much her estate is worth? Did you ever discuss it?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I’m not interested,’ he said, and Kelly believed him. She had what she needed for now, but she’d like to visit his home.

  ‘Where do you live? Could you write it down for me? In case I need to get hold of you, you could add your phone number too, please.’

  He did so. Kelly looked at the erratic effeminate handwriting. It was another sample to add to the others she’d gathered so far. He was right handed.

  ‘I’ll be in touch. I might need your help again. And of course, I’ll keep you updated on our investigation,’ she said.

  Warren looked confused; he’d expected to be dragged into the back of a black police van, there and then.

  ‘Officer?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course. Anything.’

  ‘Was it… bad? I mean, I don’t want to sound weird, but, after everything, it’s a bad way to go. Was it really bad?’

  ‘You mean, did she suffer?’

  The young man nodded. He displayed compassion, and Kelly admired it. His grandmother obviously thought the world of him, and from what she’d gathered so far, not many thought the same about Moira Tate.

  ‘I think it was quick. She won’t have known a lot,’ she lied. He seemed relieved. She left him to his thoughts and left the room, looking at her notepad.

  James Tate’s ex-wife, Emily, lived in Windermere. Preliminary visits had turned up nothing. It was another line of enquiry. The traffic would be horrendous, but she’d still have time to cook for Mum and perhaps a quick pint afterwards to unwind. She’d got into the habit of playing pool in the Goose and Gun with two old school pals who hadn’t grown up either. One was divorced and the other had never married, preferring instead to impregnate ladies and pay maintenance.

  Before she got back into her car, she spoke to an officer whom she’d tasked with running the name of Terrance Johnson through the PNC. He’d been caught in a lewd act in public toilets in Bowness three years ago and let off with a caution.

  Chapter 18

  Kelly collected Rob from Eden House. He was the one the least tied down when she’d strode in to look for a colleague to accompany her to Windermere for the last job of the day. DS Kate Umshaw watched with interest as the rookie fumbled with note books and pens, and she found it amusing. It wasn’t so long ago that she’d been all keenness and enthusiasm, until she’d had three babies and begun to spend more time thinking about chicken nuggets than work. She’d learned that, no matter how many hours one put in to this job, bastards kept doing awful things.

  The drive to Windermere wasn’t as bad as Kelly had anticipated, and they drove with the windows down; the air was still warm as it rushed into the vehicle. Rob was buoyant.

  ‘So, tell me what you’ve learned about Moira.’ She was ascending Kirkstone Pass, and she looked in her rear view mirror to catch a sight of Brotherswater. Past the inn, she began to descend, and that was when they hit traffic. Caravans, estates with trailers, motorbikes and minibuses choked the route south, and Kelly began to worry about her plans for the evening.

  Rob distracted her.

  ‘I’ve spent pretty much three hours on the phone to people in her diary, and it’s weird,’ he said.

  ‘What’s weird? she asked.

  ‘I just get the impression that she was either a really shallow person with no friends, or she was leading a double life. There’s nothing there to suggest a closeness to anyone. She had shopping partners, tennis partners, bridge partners, and golf partners, but none of them were distraught at the news. Shocked, yes, but none of them broke down or cried. They didn’t speak about her in a way you would expect from friends. I think she was incredibly private.’

  Kelly processed the information. ‘I spoke to the son.’

  ‘What was he like?’

  ‘Well, he confirmed that he pretty much hated his mother, but he was very close to his gran. There was real emotion there. He’s probably nine stone wet through. Not someone who will give us a headache I’m sure. He called Moira a – and I quote – a money grabbing bitch.’

  ‘Motive?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, but I wasn’t convinced. There was something gentle about him,’ she said, as she peered around traffic, willing it to move. Finally, they picked up speed and Windermere was only five minutes away.

  ‘Gentle?’

  ‘I don’t know. There was something about him,’ she said, distracted with the traffic.

  ‘Can’t all killers be charming when they want to be?’ he asked.

  He was challenging her judgement and it irritated her. She fell silent, and Rob was embarrassed.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  This irritated her further.

  ‘Don’t be. It’s early days. It’s too easy to see guilt in everyone at this stage, I like to watch people and discount them, rather than try and make them fit. So what else did you find out about Moira, apart from that she had superficial friends? How many people are you close to? Apart from your mother and father, and your girlfriend? Moira was fifty-nine years old, Rob, similar to my mother, and after raising two kids and sacrificing her life to her family, she doesn’t have many friends either. Rather than thinking why she has no friends, look elsewhere. What about friends she made through her current husband, maybe she cut herself off from friends in the past as she moved up the social ladder, she was quite a climber according to her son.’ Kelly concentrated on the traffic, and wished she’d come alone. She was tired and felt she’d spent the day in her car. At least it wasn’t the M25 though.

  She glanced sideways and saw Rob’s cheeks burning.

  ‘I’ll ask Mr Tate about that then,’ he said.

  Kelly felt a pang of guilt, but it was fleeting. A junior officer had to learn to think big, and not get bogged down in details. Cases were processes of elimination, not blank pieces of paper, ripe for any old theory that can be made to fit.

  ‘What else?’ She decided to distract him, surprised by his fragile ego. Rob looked at his notes.

  ‘On Monday evening, about nine o’clock, Moira tried the same mobile number over and over again, and that was the last number she called,’ he said. ‘It was pinging off the mast near the hospital in Penrith.’

  ‘And, do we know who the number belongs to?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve searched her diary, and it’s under a man’s name called Tim Cole. I looked him up and he’s a surgeon at the hospital in Penr
ith. At first, I thought he was something to do with her mother’s care, but he’s not an oncology consultant, he’s an orthopaedic surgeon. He specialises in ankle injuries. I called him, and he got all cagey, playing down the phone calls, and the extent of his relationship with Moira. So I went to see him. He’s married, and he begged me to be discreet. It turns out that he and Moira were having an affair.’

  ‘Really? Well, well, well. Good work! What was he like?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s tall, looks as though he takes care of himself. In his late forties. He was pretty embarrassed; he kept asking me not to involve his wife,’ Rob said.

  ‘I don’t suppose you got hold of his handwriting?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, he did have to nip out for five minutes, to assess an emergency, and I might have taken a quick photo of his notepad.’

  ‘Unconventional but resourceful. What was his character like? Did you trust him?’ she asked.

  ‘He came across as someone who rarely found himself in a situation over which he had no control,’ said Rob.

  ‘How long had he been seeing her?’

  ‘Four months,’ Rob said.

  ‘Did you ask how they met?’

  ‘Yes, in the chapel, apparently. That’s what he said,’ said Rob.

  ‘But, Moira wasn’t religious. What was she doing in the chapel?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Rob said.

  Chapter 19

  Emily Tate was a rotund woman in her sixties, and she gave Kelly the impression that she carried a weighty resentment on her shoulders. The neglected appearance and the lines curving from her mouth made the woman look dreadfully unhappy, as if she was delivered life changing, awful news on a daily basis. She looked immediately suspicious, and the glasses perched on the top of her nose were shoved back with a single finger, at the same time as flicking hair back from her face. She wore jeans and a baggy t-shirt covered with a cardigan more suited to a man.

  It was none of Kelly’s business, but stood before her was a woman who either cared not for what anyone thought of her; or had no inkling of how unattractive she was. However, in the three seconds they’d been standing in the doorway, Kelly had noticed a flicker of a past happiness in the woman’s eyes. Kelly got the distinct impression that rot had set in when James Tate dumped her for a younger model.

  Kelly introduced herself and Rob, and the woman invited them in. She didn’t look surprised by the visit. They were invited in to the small reception room off the hallway, and Kelly took everything in. The house matched the character of its owner: it was drab, unloved, worn and had seen better days. There was a malaise that pervaded the small space, and an untidiness that evoked sadness. Still, Kelly kept her mind open. From the moment she’d opened the door, to showing them into her home, Emily Tate hadn’t smiled once.

  ‘Come through,’ she said.

  The house was large for one person, and Kelly guessed that James Tate paid a sizeable sum to keep it going. Their children were grown up, but Mr Tate had confirmed that he still paid maintenance to his ex-wife, because it was the decent thing to do. But, despite the size, and obvious value of the place, it was unloved. The décor was functional. The walls were painted magnolia, and the furnishings were dated. Kelly wondered how long the woman had been on her own. There was no noise – not even a radio, or a spinning washing machine. There were no cooking smells or evidence of anything familiar or comforting that would make the place a home.

  ‘Do you work, Ms Tate?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘No, I gave up two careers for the children, and it left with me with no marketable skills,’ Emily said. She was like a succubus. Any life in the room had deserted it years ago, and Kelly was beginning to feel the same way. Kelly wondered if Emily sat in her lounge all day feeling sorry for herself. It must be exhausting, she thought.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ Emily finally offered. The question was primarily directed at Rob, to whom Emily had begun to pay attention. Kelly watched as Emily smiled for the first time at him, and he smiled back. It was a little pained, and Rob looked awkward.

  ‘I’ll have water, please,’ Kelly said.

  ‘Could I have a coffee?’ asked Rob.

  ‘Of course, sit down in there and I’ll bring it,’ Emily said, and left the room. Kelly turned to Rob and he spread his hands in mock helplessness.

  ‘You’ve got a new fan. Keep it up! I’ll watch, you’re distracting her,’ Kelly said.

  ‘You want to use me as a human shield!’ Rob feigned indignity.

  ‘Yup.’

  Emily came back in to the room, followed by the waft of coffee. A tray was laid with sugar and milk. Kelly’s water was lukewarm, and the glass dirty. She placed it on the table, untouched. Rob accepted his coffee gratefully, and Kelly decided it was time to start. Emily sat heavily on an armchair opposite them. Now and again she’d steal a glance at Rob, and Kelly couldn’t work out if it was on purpose, to buy time to think, or the woman was genuinely taken with him. He was an attractive guy – that was for sure. He was tall, smart, athletic, and in possession of a disarming smile. He could be a valuable asset to Kelly. He wasn’t her type: he was too young, too perfect, and too clean-looking. Her mind briefly wandered back to Johnny and she pushed him out of it.

  ‘Mr Tate told me that you’ve been made aware of the death of Moira,’ Kelly said. She waited. Emily nodded, but looked at Rob. She gave no impression that she was in the slightest bit interested in Moira Tate’s death.

  ‘Did you know anyone who might want to harm Moira?’ Kelly asked.

  Emily looked at her as if Kelly had blasphemed in a holy place. ‘Well, I don’t know anyone who liked her, let’s put it that way.’

  Kelly was saddened that the victimology that was rapidly coming together in her investigation was of Moira as a woman who few people actually liked, let alone loved.

  ‘Does that include your children?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘That woman took their home,’ Emily said. Her chin jutted out, and her hate made her ugly.

  ‘Are you telling me she deserved to die?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘No. I’m telling you I’m not surprised.’ The answer was measured. Emily Tate made no apology for her feelings.

  ‘What’s your relationship with your son like?’ Kelly continued. The question seemed to catch Emily Tate off guard. She looked at Rob. Kelly could tell that she was thinking. Rob smiled and sipped his coffee.

  ‘Lovely coffee,’ he said. Kelly carried on.

  ‘The reason I ask is because he is ignoring my calls and not answering his door. I’ve sent officers to his address on two separate occasions. Is he away?’ Kelly asked.

  Emily switched her gaze to the female detective who was obviously in charge. Her voice was clipped. Kelly knew that she was rattled. Her son was a touchy subject.

  ‘No, he’s about. He works long hours. He wouldn’t be rude on purpose,’ Emily added. ‘What are you accusing him of?’

  ‘Nothing. I need to speak to him, that’s all. Do you have a recent photo of your son?’

  Emily stuttered. ‘No,’ she lied.

  ‘Who might that be in the hallway, on the occasional table, the one with the lamp on it?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘Oh, that one,’ Emily said. ‘Of course, I’d forgotten about that,’ she said. Kelly went back to the hall and retrieved the item. She held it up to Emily. Rob remained where he was.

  ‘Yes, that’s Colin, with his sister, Sarah,’ said Emily.

  ‘I believe that Colin spent some time in a juvenile home for boys? Can you tell me about that?’ Statistics were sadly against Colin Tate: children from care homes rarely broke the mould, and delinquents were rarely cured.

  Emily swallowed. It was harsh, Kelly knew it, but she had to explore all angles, and Colin Tate was avoiding the police for a reason.

  ‘He did nothing wrong. He had a tough start in life. When he came to us, he was an angry young man, but that all changed. He’s got nothing to do with this, if that’s what you’re implying.’
<
br />   ‘When was the last time you saw him?’ Kelly ignored the statement. No-one knew who had anything to do with Moira’s death, apart from the killer. Kelly was aware that both Colin and Sarah were adopted. It shouldn’t matter.

  ‘You just don’t care do you? You’re all the same. You lot have preyed on him all his life because of his problems. He’s vulnerable. He responds well to care, not being hounded. If he knows you’re always at the door, then I’m not surprised he’s worried. He’s probably thinking the same as me.’

  ‘His file said he suffered anger management issues. Are you telling me that this has changed?’

  ‘If you treat him right, he has no so-called “issues”.’

  ‘And what if someone doesn’t treat him right?’

  Emily Tate was showing signs of distress. ‘He was a confused boy. He struggled with pretty much everything. I don’t think it’s fair to judge someone by their past. He’s better now.’ She was unconvincing.

  ‘Can you have him call me as soon as you speak to him, please? It’s essential that we talk to him. He’s not in any trouble, but I have to interview every person who knew Moira, surely you understand that? My officers have spoken to dozens of people connected with the inquiry, and he’s on my list, that’s all.’ Kelly was making little headway. ‘Does he live alone?’ Kelly pushed on. It was safer territory and she’d pushed Emily Tate about as far as she could.

  ‘Yes, he does.’

  ‘Does he read poetry?’

  ‘I don’t know. He has a lot of books, but I’ve never been interested in them,’ Emily said. ‘Is that important?’ She was puzzled.

  ‘It might be, we don’t know yet. Well, thank you for your hospitality. That’s all for now. I’m getting the impression that Moira caused your family quite a lot of upset. I know you think she caused pain wherever she went, but I’m assuming that’s a sweeping statement? Unless you know of anyone specific who had a grudge?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Right, well if you do, here’s my card. I’ll expect a call from Colin by the end of the day. It’s vital that he doesn’t avoid us; it will only make it worse for him.’