Deadly Alibi

by Leigh Russell

  Geraldine prevaricated, uncertain what Helena had in mind. ‘I’ve got some work to do –’

  ‘On a Sunday?’

  Geraldine shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about her work, and was sorry she had mentioned it.

  ‘It’s great you got a job,’ Helena went on with fake enthusiasm. Her fingers tapped nervously on the table, the nails bitten to the quick. ‘I’m really proud of you.’

  Geraldine was suddenly uneasy. ‘Yes, well, we must do this again soon. Now I need to be off. I’ll get the bill.’

  Helena’s grin slipped, and she reached across the table to clutch Geraldine’s arm. ‘Don’t go.’

  ‘Helena, I’ve got work to do.’

  ‘No, you can’t go. Not yet. Sit down,’ she hissed. ‘I need your help.’

  ‘What kind of help?’

  ‘Don’t look so suspicious,’ Helena replied, letting go of Geraldine’s arm as she sat down again. ‘The thing is, I got a bit of a problem right now. It won’t be for long. But I need you to bail me out for a bit, just till I get what’s mine. Those fucking lawyers are still fannying about.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  At least Helena seemed to be asking for money, and not for help in avoiding a criminal charge.

  ‘It’s not my fault. I was banking on getting what’s mine, only now they’re saying no one’s getting hold of mum’s money until the bleeding lawyer gets his finger out. It’s a fucking joke. He’s there, sitting on my money, so I got to go short. How is that fair? If I had what’s rightly mine, all this would go away.’

  ‘So you’re saying you want to borrow some money?’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll pay you back soon as I get what’s mine. Seeing as you’re so flush, it won’t be a problem. You got a job, ain’t you? And you know I got money coming to me. But you got to tide me over until the estate’s sorted. It’s my money what they got and they refuse to give it to me. Sitting on it with their fat arses. Well screw them. I got a sister can help me.’

  Geraldine wasn’t sure if Helena still remembered who she was talking to. ‘So you want to borrow some money?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s what I’ve been telling you. Jesus, for a cop, you’re a bit on the slow side.’ Helena’s grin returned, slightly uncertain now. ‘Just kidding. So, that’s agreed then?’

  Geraldine couldn’t help smiling at Helena’s transparent cunning. It reminded Geraldine of the way her niece had behaved when she had been a small child. Instead of being annoying, it was curiously endearing. There was something compulsive about watching this woman who was a stranger, and yet so familiar. Born together, they had grown up in different worlds. But they were still sisters.

  ‘How much do you want?’ she asked, ‘and for how long?’

  Helena shrugged. ‘How much you got?’

  Helena was unlikely to repay her debt, for all her assurances to the contrary, but that wasn’t what made Geraldine hesitate. She had an uneasy feeling that once she started lending Helena money, the begging would never stop.

  ‘I can lend you a hundred quid,’ she ventured.

  Helena’s wheedling tone became brisk. ‘I need a lot more than that, sis, and I need it in cash, and soon. You can get it can’t you?’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Five grand.’

  It took a lot to surprise Geraldine, but she was startled. ‘I’m sorry,’ she stammered, ‘but I can’t hand over that kind of money.’

  ‘You don’t understand. I’ll pay you back, I promise, but I got to have it before tomorrow or I’m done for. I’m telling you, sis, if you don’t help me out, I’m dead.’

  ‘What do you mean? What kind of trouble are you in?’

  Helena gave a hollow laugh. ‘Trouble like you don’t want to know about.’

  ‘Who do you owe so much money to?’

  ‘Better you don’t know.’

  ‘But five thousand quid – I’m sorry, I’ll help you any way I can, but you can’t seriously expect me to hand over that kind of money without even knowing what it’s for.’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘I can’t help you then.’

  ‘You got to. If you don’t help me, I’m dead.’

  Geraldine studied her sister. She looked genuinely frightened, but Geraldine was uncertain whether to believe her. ‘Why do you need it? Why so much?’

  ‘I owe it,’ Helena mumbled. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ she added, attempting a grin. ‘It’s not like I’m going to use it for anything dodgy. I’m just a bit short at the moment, but I promise I’ll pay you back. You know I’m going to get my hands on a lot more than that soon, don’t you? I’m going to be sorted. Soon as I get my money, you’ll be first to be repaid. It’s just that some of the people I owe, well, they won’t wait. I been keeping my head down, see, staying out of sight. There’s places I can go when I don’t want to be found. Only they got to hear about mum’s funeral, and that’s how they found me again. And these people, well, they aren’t going to wait, not now they know where I am.’ She glanced around as though someone might be there in the café watching her.

  ‘Here you are,’ Geraldine said, taking over two hundred pounds out of her purse. ‘I’ve just been to the bank. Here’s ten twenties and a couple of tens. That should tide you over for a while.’

  Helena shook her head. ‘I’m going to need more than that. I told you, I need five grand. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to. I got no one else can help me.’

  ‘That’s all I can spare without leaving myself short.’

  ‘You got more in the bank, though, ain’t you?’ Helena said, cajoling again. ‘You can go there in the morning, soon as they open.’

  ‘Take this,’ Geraldine said. ‘That’s all I can give you. There’s no more. It’s this or nothing. Take it or leave it.’

  ‘That’s harsh.’ Helena glared at her.

  Geraldine struggled to conceal the irritation she was feeling. ‘I’m giving you over two hundred quid here. Don’t bother to thank me, just let me know when you’re going to pay me back.’

  She put the notes on the table between them. Helena snatched them up and stuffed them in her bag.

  ‘Oh go on then,’ she said, as though she was doing Geraldine a favour by accepting the money. ‘Two hundred it is then.’ She didn’t add, ‘until the next time,’ but Geraldine could almost hear her thinking it.

  Wondering if she had been ill-advised to give her sister any money, Geraldine paid the bill and stood up.

  ‘We must do this again,’ Helena said.

  ‘That would be nice,’ Geraldine answered stiffly.

  ‘If they don’t get to me first. But don’t worry. I won’t be the kind of stiff your people give a toss about. One more dead junkie. Who cares?’

  Helena stood up so violently her chair fell over backwards. Wracked with indecision, Geraldine watched her sister scurry away.

  45

  After checking in at work on Monday morning, Geraldine took the train to Camden High Street to speak to Louise’s workmates. It was a beautiful day and she walked to the station slowly, making the most of the sunshine before she reached the underground. On the train, she jotted down a few reminders about what she wanted to say, but it was basically very straightforward. Louise must have told someone what time she would be arriving back at Euston. Whoever had been given that information had, perhaps unwittingly, passed it on to the killer. Geraldine needed to trace the messenger.

  This time she went into the salon and announced herself without any preamble. The same heavily made-up girl who had been at the desk on her previous visit was there again. She greeted Geraldine by name. Impressed, Geraldine complimented her on her feat of memory.

  The girl smiled. ‘It’s all part of the job,’ she said. ‘Making our clients feel they’re receiving a very personal service. It makes th
em feel important. Now, what is it you want? I take it you haven’t found Louise yet? I’m sorry, she’s not been back. It’s…’

  ‘Louise won’t be coming back,’ Geraldine interrupted her softly. ‘She met with an accident.’

  The girl’s eyes widened in consternation. ‘What sort of accident?’

  ‘I’m afraid she’s dead.’

  The girl’s hands flew up to her painted mouth. ‘Oh my God! What happened?’

  ‘I can’t give you any details of the case, other than to say we are treating it as murder.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ the girl repeated. ‘What happened? Oh, sorry, you can’t tell me, can you?’

  ‘Listen very carefully. I need to know everything Louise told you, or any of your staff here, about her trip to Birmingham. It’s very important. Can you remember what she said about it?’

  The girl’s forehead creased in a frown with the effort to remember. ‘It focused on colouring,’ she said, ‘mainly highlights and bleaching.’

  The content of the course Louise had attended was of no interest to Geraldine, but she listened patiently as the girl told her what she could recall about what Louise had said.

  ‘She was terribly excited about it,’ she concluded. ‘It was a bit of an adventure for her, going off to Birmingham on her own. Oh my God, poor Louise. I can’t believe it. I feel like she’s just going to walk in through the door, any minute now. I can’t believe she’s gone, I mean, really gone, for good. What happened?’

  ‘I can’t divulge any details yet.’

  ‘Was she raped?’

  ‘No. It was nothing like that.’

  ‘Well, that’s something I suppose. But who would do such a thing? To Louise? She was a hairdresser!’

  ‘Did she tell you how she was getting to Birmingham?’

  ‘No. She must’ve gone by train, I suppose. I don’t know. We never talked about how she was getting there, only about different kinds of bleach. But the course was in Birmingham, so I’m sure she would’ve gone by train.’

  ‘She never mentioned her travel arrangements?’

  ‘No. Why would she?’

  Geraldine asked the same questions of the other girls working there. They all came up with the same answer. Two of the stylists who worked at the salon were not there that day. The girl on the desk obligingly called them so Geraldine could question them briefly on the phone. No one had been told anything about Louise’s travel plans to Birmingham and back.

  ‘What about her clients?’ Geraldine asked, desperate to find someone Louise could have spoken to about her travel arrangements. ‘Did she have any regular customers she might have chatted to about her course? Or anyone who goes to Birmingham regularly?’

  The girl shook her head. ‘None that I can think of.’

  All Geraldine’s questioning led nowhere. None of Louise’s relatives or workmates were able to offer any leads. Wearily she thanked the girl on the desk and left. Her visit to the hair salon had been a waste of time. Her next enquiries would have to be in Birmingham. Back at her desk she contacted the local police force and asked them to question the organisers of the course. But it was a hopeless task. Unless she was going to trace all two hundred hairdressers who had attended the course, any one of whom might have chatted to Louise, there was no way she could do the job thoroughly. A thought struck her, and she contacted the local police to ask the organisers whether anyone else might have returned to London on the same train as Geraldine. It was going to be a long slow process of questioning and elimination, with no guarantee that whoever had known the time of Louise’s train would come forward with that information. The killer had been aware that Louise was arriving at Euston on that particular train. He had been waiting for her. But Geraldine was no closer to finding out how he had learned about her movements.

  ‘And that’s not the only thing puzzling me,’ Geraldine said later on to Sam, when she expressed her frustration over a pint after work.

  ‘At least we’ve got the wife killer,’ Sam replied with a grin, although she didn’t sound sure.

  ‘There’s no need to look so cheerful about it.’

  ‘Cheerful?’ Sam laughed. ‘You’ll be accusing me of being gay next.’

  ‘In any case, Louise’s death raises a query over whether Chris is guilty because it looks as though someone didn’t want him to have an alibi.’

  ‘But we’ve got the murder weapon,’ Sam protested.

  ‘Which doesn’t have his fingerprints on it.’

  ‘He could have been wearing gloves.’

  ‘So could anyone else. Listen, Sam, I’m not saying he’s definitely innocent. All I’m saying is that it’s possible someone else killed Jamie, and framed her husband as the obvious suspect, depositing the murder weapon in his garden shed after the event. Remember, no one spotted it when the shed was originally searched. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?’

  Sam nodded. ‘So when the real killer discovered that Louise had come forward to provide Chris with an alibi, threatening to blow the killer’s carefully constructed set up apart, he made it his business to get rid of Louise in order to keep Chris in the frame for his wife’s murder.’

  ‘I’m not saying that’s what happened, just that it’s possible. There seem to have been a few too many coincidences in this case. Something doesn’t ring true.’

  ‘The bearded man,’ Sam muttered. ‘He could have killed them both. First he killed Jamie, for some unknown motive, and it was easy enough to frame her husband for that. Then he had to kill Louise to stop us from discovering that Chris wasn’t guilty.’ She nodded. ‘It does make sense. So we need to be looking for any enemies Jamie might have had.’

  ‘Yes, someone wanted her dead. We need to go back to the beginning, and re-examine the first murder. Then we might start to get somewhere with the second one. We’ll talk to Chris again tomorrow, as soon as I’ve run this past Adam.’

  Geraldine fell silent, staring at her glass, only half listening to Sam who was talking about searching Chris’s house and shed again.

  ‘Only this time, we’ll be looking for evidence that someone else was there,’ she said.

  Geraldine wasn’t looking forward to the conversation she intended to have with Adam in the morning. She suspected that, in the detective chief inspector’s mind, Jamie’s case remained as good as resolved. Husbands were usually the culprit in a case like that, and there was compelling evidence to suggest Chris was guilty. But Geraldine was not convinced he was. She hoped Adam was thinking along the same lines as her. She understood that he felt pulled in different directions, committed to discovering the truth, yet under pressure to succeed in solving the case. She hoped she would never find herself in a similar position.

  46

  She was standing on a street corner, waiting for him, as he drew into the kerb. He leaned over and opened the door. ‘I thought it would be more difficult to find you,’ he called out.

  She smiled. ‘Well, here I am.’

  ‘Hop in then.’

  He watched her as she climbed on to the passenger seat, her short tight skirt riding up her thighs. He didn’t blame her. She was too young to understand the signals her clothes sent out. It was her mother’s fault for letting her run around dressed like a whore. He would have words with Veronica about it later. For now, he just wanted to get her back home safely.

  ‘I’ll get you some new clothes,’ he said, and was going to leave it at that.

  To his surprise, she burst out laughing. ‘Whatever turns you on.’

  He spoke severely. ‘I’m talking to you about the way you dress.’

  She didn’t answer. At his side, he thought he saw her shrug her shoulders. The car stank of cheap perfume. He wrinkled his nose. That was something else he would have to speak to her about. If she insisted on wearing muck like that, she could at least be subtle about it. She couldn’t have
reeked more if she’d poured a whole bottle of the foul sickly stuff over herself.

  ‘So where are you taking me?’ she asked when they had been driving for about twenty minutes.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured her. ‘We’re going home.’

  ‘OK, but you need to give me the address.’

  Glancing down, he saw that she had taken a mobile phone out of her bag. He reached across. Her reactions were fast, but she wasn’t expecting him to snatch her phone out of her hand.

  ‘Here, give it back! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

  They were in a deserted side street. No one saw him toss the phone out of his window. He drove on.

  ‘You don’t need that any more. And don’t use foul language in front of me,’ he added.

  She began swearing like a whore, rattling her door handle, but the childproof lock was on. He’d made sure of that. He knew what she could be like.

  ‘Let me out at once!’ she shouted. ‘Stop the car and let me out!’

  She started banging on her window.

  ‘Don’t do that!’ he snapped.

  She was beginning to annoy him. He took a deep breath and tried to remain calm, remembering what a temper she had. He didn’t want this to turn into a full-blown argument while they were still in the car.

  She turned and began hitting his arm.

  ‘If you keep doing that, we’re going to have an accident,’ he warned her.

  She carried on hitting him. Muttering a curse under his breath, he spun the wheel, turning into the entrance to a small park. The gates were shut, but he was off the road. He glanced around. The street was deserted in both directions.

  As he whipped off his belt, her eyes widened in fear.

  ‘No!’ she cried out, ‘you can’t do that! I don’t want you to carry on. Open the door, now!’

  She grabbed her bag. While she was scrabbling inside it, he reached over and seized it. She wrestled to keep hold of it, but he was too strong for her. One of her red plastic nails flew off as he tore the bag from her grasp and tossed it on to the back seat.