Deadly Alibi

by Leigh Russell

  ‘Not much of a love affair,’ Geraldine muttered crossly when Adam quizzed her about her telephone conversation with Louise. ‘She seemed so keen to give him his alibi, and now this. She’s just buggered off and left him in the lurch.’

  ‘Which means she was probably lying in the first place,’ Adam replied, ‘if it really was Louise Marshall you were talking to, and if she really was his mistress. We only have his word for that.’

  ‘And hers.’

  ‘Based on one short phone call with a woman who could have been anyone.’

  Determined to get to the bottom of it, Geraldine checked the address of Louise’s workplace. The hair salon where she worked was in Camden High Street. Leaving her car at the police station, she took the train to Camden. The salon was not far away. A heavily made up girl greeted her, casting an eye over Geraldine’s hair as she spoke.

  ‘Have you been here before?’

  Without introducing herself, Geraldine explained that she wanted to see Louise.

  ‘Are you a regular of hers? Or has she been recommended to you? She’s not in today, but I’ve got another girl who’s free.’ She looked at Geraldine’s hair again with a faint frown. ‘Is it colour you’re after?’

  It could hardly be a haircut. Geraldine’s short dark hair had recently been trimmed.

  ‘Is she out all day?’ Geraldine asked. ‘Is she in tomorrow? Can I make an appointment to see her tomorrow morning?’

  The girl checked her appointment book. ‘Ten o’clock tomorrow?’

  Geraldine made the booking and left. She had found out what she needed to know. Louise was due back at work the next day. If Geraldine couldn’t contact her at home before the next morning, she would return to the salon and speak to her there.

  Adam was as annoyed as Geraldine. ‘So she’s giving us the run around? Oh well, I don’t suppose it’ll do Chris any harm to stay locked up for another day. His lawyer’s been hounding me about letting him go, but he’ll just have to wait.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he track down his client’s witness himself and bring her in to make her statement, if he’s so desperate to get him released?’

  It was a pity. The case against Chris would be virtually watertight were it not for the one fly in the ointment, Louise Marshall. Geraldine wished she would turn up and sign a statement to confirm his alibi, or else refute it. Either way, they needed to know.

  ‘If we’re going to have to start all over again, I just want to get on with it,’ she grumbled to Sam.

  ‘It’s like a Sherlock Holmes mystery. The Case of the Disappearing Witness!’

  ‘It’s nothing like Sherlock Holmes,’ Geraldine snapped. ‘This isn’t a story. This is serious. Now get back to work.’

  With a grin, Sam left. Geraldine turned back to her monitor but it was difficult to start all over again, reviewing the evidence to look for a culprit, with Chris still in custody as their number one suspect. Looking elsewhere was likely to prove a complete waste of time. Geraldine went to see how the Visual Images, Identification and Detections Officers were progressing and found two officers gossiping about one of their colleagues.

  ‘Well, Nancy said he was seen out with her again and this time…’

  Catching sight of Geraldine, they fell silent and turned back to their screens. There was no point in Geraldine chastising them for procrastinating when that was what she was doing herself. The atmosphere was the same when she went to see whether the borough intelligence unit had found anything useful.

  ‘We need to find Louise Marshall,’ she said firmly, but unnecessarily.

  They all knew the situation.

  ‘Where the hell is she?’ Geraldine demanded. ‘She’s not answering her phone, she’s not answering her door, she’s not at work. Where is she?’

  She rarely let her feelings get the better of her at work, but she was struggling to hide her frustration.

  ‘We’ve got patrols keeping an eye out, and security teams at all the shopping centres have got her description. We’ll find her. Sooner or later she’s got to surface. She must be somewhere,’ one of the borough intelligence officers said.

  ‘But where?’ Geraldine turned on her heel and left them to it.

  She remembered Celia envying her exciting life, but police work was not generally drama and danger. Mostly it was thankless hard graft.

  On her way back to her office, she was stopped by a young sergeant.

  ‘I was just coming to see you,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I’ve saved you the bother. What’s up?’

  He reached into his pocket and took something out. ‘I was in the car you were using yesterday, and when I moved the seat back I noticed this on the floor under the driver’s seat. You must have dropped it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I don’t know. It looks like some sort of baby listening device.’

  Geraldine’s own laughter sounded hollow to her. ‘Then it’s definitely not mine. Someone else must have dropped it before I used the car. You’ll have to find out who was driving it before me.’

  Feeling unaccountably rattled, she continued along the corridor. Celia had confessed to feeling nervous about expecting her second child past the age of forty. Even if Geraldine were to meet a partner that night, she would be past forty if she ever tried to conceive. Time had all but run out for her. Not that she wanted a child, but knowing that it would soon no longer be possible was a sobering thought. Reminding herself crossly that she had never hankered after having a family, she dismissed the thought. Reaching her office, she wasn’t sure whether she was pleased to see that her colleague, Neil Roberts, was back. Young and attractive, he looked up from his work with an easy smile as she walked in.

  ‘Fancy a spot of lunch?’

  She liked Neil but somehow his relaxed welcome irritated her.

  ‘Sorry, Neil, but I just don’t have time.’

  ‘No worries,’ he replied, still smiling. ‘Let’s take a rain check on lunch. Congratulations on your success anyway.’ He turned back to his desk.

  ‘What? Sorry, Neil, but I’m up against a brick wall with this investigation.’

  He turned to her, his blue eyes troubled. ‘I thought you’d made an arrest.’

  Geraldine sat down and told him about Chris’s alibi.

  ‘So if the alibi checks out, he’s out of the frame?’

  She shrugged. It was all so complicated. That evening she went back to Louise’s home and rang the bell. Once again no one opened the door. The investigation seemed to have reached a temporary impasse. She felt slightly hypocritical. She had often warned Sam against wanting to rush, and now she was being impatient herself. She decided to try again in the morning and if there was still no answer, she would check out Tom Marshall’s number and call him, before returning to the hair salon. Frustrated, she went home. There was nothing else she could do that evening. She was nearly home when her phone rang. Excited, she answered, but it was not Louise.

  ‘I wondered if you’re free this evening?’ Sam offered to drive over to Islington, where Geraldine lived. ‘Why don’t I park outside your flat, and we can walk down to the main road and get something to eat?’

  There were plenty of restaurants along Upper Street. About to reply that she was tired, Geraldine answered that she was on her way home and had nothing planned.

  When they had ordered their food, Sam asked Geraldine what was wrong.

  ‘It’s your mother isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, she’s dead and buried now.’

  ‘I thought she was being cremated?’

  ‘Yes, well, same difference. She’s gone.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘There’s nothing to say. She’s dead. In any case, it’s not as if I even knew her.’

  ‘I don’t suppose that makes it any easier.’

  ‘An
yway, it’s not that.’ Geraldine hesitated.

  ‘What is it then? If something’s bothering you, you really need to speak to someone. It doesn’t have to be me.’

  ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘Only to me. I’m your friend, Geraldine. You know that, don’t you? And all I’m saying is, as your friend, that if you’re disturbed about something, it’s best to talk it over with someone.’

  Geraldine frowned. ‘You think I ought to speak to a counsellor? Is that what you’re trying to say?’

  Sam shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. You won’t tell me what’s bothering you, so I’ve no idea what it is. Maybe it’s nothing. If you’re fed up with me pestering you about it, just say.’

  Seeing how worried Sam was, Geraldine gave in and told her about Helena. ‘This goes no further,’ she added, regretting having shared her secret as soon as she had disclosed it.

  ‘A twin? Oh my God! And you met her for the first time at your mother’s funeral? That must be so unsettling. No wonder you’ve been distracted.’ She paused. ‘Are you identical?’

  Geraldine thought about the sallow-skinned skeletal figure she had seen at the crematorium. Puffing on a cigarette, her eyes bloodshot, her fingernails bitten to the quick, her features were nevertheless familiar.

  ‘Probably,’ she replied.

  ‘Probably? I thought you met her.’ Sam frowned. ‘But wasn’t it amazing? I mean, I know the circumstances could’ve been better, but a twin! I’d love to have a twin.’

  ‘I think one like you is quite enough! The trouble is,’ Geraldine went on more seriously, ‘I don’t know if I want to risk a relationship with her, which makes it awkward.’

  ‘But don’t you even want to find out about her? Meet her properly? It must have been weird, meeting at the funeral.’

  When Geraldine described her twin, Sam gave her a curious look.

  ‘Wouldn’t your eyes be red if the mother you’d grown up with had just died?’

  The waitress brought their food and the conversation faltered.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,’ Sam said at last, ‘it’s only that you’ve seemed so fed up lately.’

  ‘It’s just the case.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  They both knew that wasn’t true, but Sam understood that Geraldine didn’t want to talk about her sister any more. Neither of them mentioned Helena again, and they left soon after. Geraldine wondered if Sam was right. Perhaps she was being unfair, hesitating to have anything to do with her sister. But having met her, Geraldine could see why her mother had been worried. Helena was clearly in need of support. If nothing else, Geraldine could at least try to persuade social services to step in. But before she could seek help for her sister, she had work to do.

  23

  Early the following day, Geraldine went to Louise’s house again. Even at that time in the morning, the traffic was heavy along the Holloway Road. It was a quarter past seven when she rang the bell. The man who came to the door looked dishevelled and tired.

  ‘Where the hell have you been…’ he began and broke off in surprise, catching sight of Geraldine on his doorstep.

  ‘Are you Tom Marshall?’

  ‘Yes. Who are you?’

  When Geraldine introduced herself, he grew anxious. ‘What’s this about? What’s happened?’

  ‘I’d like a word with your wife.’

  He looked more surprised than ever. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Is your wife at home?’

  ‘No. I thought… when you showed me your warrant card…’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘That’s what I’d like to know.’ Good-looking in a rugged kind of way, he had an overhanging brow and square chin that jutted out further as he spoke. ‘She told me she was going to Birmingham on Monday, for a training course for her hair dressing. She was supposed to be home on Wednesday but she never showed up, and now I can’t get hold of her. I don’t know what’s happened to her. I was thinking of contacting you lot today. If she’d been taken ill and is in hospital in Birmingham, someone would have contacted me, wouldn’t they? What’s happened to her? Do you think she’s run off with some bloke?’ He frowned. ‘And what are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve no idea where your wife is, Mr Marshall. I came here looking for her.’

  Adam shrugged when Geraldine told him that Louise had disappeared. ‘That’s that then,’ he said. ‘She’s done a runner. So much for Cordwell’s alibi. Let’s see what he has to say for himself now.’

  With Chris back in a police cell, and a team working on enhancing every frame of film they had of Louise’s car on the night of the murder, Geraldine began to search for the missing woman in earnest. If they could definitely rule out Chris’s alibi, they were virtually assured of a conviction. Until they had a statement from Louise, there was always a risk of her turning up and upsetting their case against him all over again.

  After alerting the police in Birmingham, and the British Transport Police, Geraldine returned to the hair salon in Camden where Louise worked. The same girl was on the desk.

  ‘Hello, it’s Geraldine, isn’t it? You were here yesterday asking for Louise, weren’t you?’

  Geraldine held her breath.

  ‘I’m afraid she’s not here again today. But if you want to be seen before the weekend, Shelley’s here, and she’s fabulous. I’m sure you’ll be very pleased with her…’

  ‘No, that’s fine thank you.’ Throwing caution to the wind, she handed the girl one of her cards. ‘Please let me know as soon as Louise turns up. I need to find her. It’s extremely important.’

  ‘Detective Inspector,’ the girl read aloud. ‘The police are after Louise? I don’t believe it.’

  ‘No, no, not at all. We just need to ask her about something she might have witnessed. She’s not a suspect. But I do need to speak to her as soon as possible.’

  The girl nodded dumbly, but her eyes were alight with excitement. There was no point in asking her to be discreet.

  With nothing further to go on, Geraldine made her way back to the police station. Shortly after she reached her desk, Sam knocked on her door. The British Transport Police had confirmed that Louise Marshall had boarded her train to London on Wednesday evening and arrived at Euston station at seven fifteen as planned.

  ‘Are they sure it was her?’

  ‘Yes, pretty sure. Her picture was picked out by the train guard, although he only saw her briefly and could have been mistaken, but she was also apparently picked up on CCTV at Euston.’

  ‘I want to see that film.’

  ‘The VIIDO team are working on it right now.’

  Without another word, the two of them hurried along the corridor. Sitting down on either side of a VIIDO officer, they watched the film through several times, piecing together what was happening. By enhancing the image, and using facial recognition software, it was possible to identify Louise Marshall among figures virtually indistinguishable with the naked eye. As she passed through the barrier, she stopped to talk to a man whose face was almost entirely concealed beneath a peaked cap. All that showed clearly beneath it was a dark beard.

  ‘Is it just me, or has he disguised his face?’ Sam said.

  ‘Do you think he’s wearing a false beard?’ the VIIDO officer replied.

  ‘Where did she go next?’ Geraldine asked.

  They carried on watching. The man took Louise’s case and she followed him out of the station.

  ‘This was a prearranged meeting,’ Geraldine said.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ the VIIDO officer told her. ‘Look at this.’

  She rewound the tape a short way and enlarged a few frames. The man could be seen putting a piece of paper in his pocket.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Wait.’

  The officer picked one of the fr
ames and enlarged it until they could read what was written on the paper.

  ‘Oh my God, he was waiting for her,’ Sam said. ‘He was holding a sign with her name on it. So she didn’t know him.’

  Geraldine and Sam exchanged puzzled glances.

  ‘A stranger who went to pick her up. Who the hell was he? How did he know she was going to be there? Where did they go?’ Geraldine asked, leaning forward impatiently.

  The film shifted from the station footage to a street camera that showed them crossing the road. If it hadn’t been for the case the man was dragging along, it would have been impossible to track their progress along the crowded street. As it was, following them was tricky. There were several pedestrians pulling luggage, and more than once Geraldine realised she was watching the wrong blurry figure. After a few minutes, their two subjects entered a car park. Once again the film altered but the VIIDO officer had done a brilliant job of picking them up again. Climbing into an old car, they drove out of the car park. Leaving the city centre, the driver headed for the suburbs.

  ‘He drove west along the North Circular Road but we lost him in the back streets in Edgware,’ the VIIDO officer said. ‘We’re looking for him. He can’t stay out of sight forever.’

  ‘So we got the car registration number?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Geraldine and her colleagues exchanged a smile. Sam went to follow it up and Geraldine watched the film again. Before long Sam returned, looking dejected. The registration number belonged to a car that had been written off and sent to a scrapyard a couple of weeks ago. They checked the information Sam had been given against the car in the film. The registration numbers matched. Someone had removed the number plates before crushing the car to which they belonged. Whoever had picked Louise up at Euston couldn’t be traced through the vehicle he was driving.