Deadly Alibi

by Leigh Russell

  Geraldine took a deep breath. ‘I gave a known drug dealer five thousand quid that I’d just taken out of my own bank account.’

  ‘What? How come you didn’t know who he was? And what were you doing handing over that much money anyway? Don’t tell me it was cash? Bloody hell, Geraldine, didn’t you check…’

  ‘I knew exactly who he was and what I was doing. It was an arranged handover.’

  Ian laughed. ‘This is a wind-up.’

  ‘It’s true, Ian.’

  There was a pause before he said flatly, ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘I’m serious. I’ve been suspended pending an enquiry.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’

  Geraldine felt tears prickling her eyes. She had been sure Ian wouldn’t believe she had strayed on to the wrong side of the law, even if no one else trusted her. His next words reassured her somewhat.

  ‘So what’s the story? What’s behind all this? What on earth could have possessed you to do that?’

  ‘You don’t think I’ve become a user?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. There’s something behind this, I’m quite sure, but I’m damned if I can work out what the hell you thought you were playing at. What’s happened, Geraldine? This is to do with your twin sister, isn’t it? So, what can I do to help?’

  Struggling in earnest not to cry, Geraldine took a deep breath. ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘I’ve got all night.’

  Slowly at first, and with increasing desperation, Geraldine told Ian how she had tried to help her twin sister. She did her best, but she could tell Ian didn’t understand why she had paid off the dealer.

  ‘I did it to help my sister,’ she insisted, aware that her explanation sounded crazy. ‘I thought if I paid him off, she’d be more likely to trust me, and be ready to have a relationship with me.’

  ‘You thought you could buy her affection?’

  ‘No,’ she protested miserably, aware that he was right. ‘It wasn’t like that. Not really.’

  ‘What was it like?’

  She shrugged, glad that he couldn’t see the tears sliding down her cheeks.

  ‘And what happens now?’ he went on, suddenly brisk.

  ‘I’ve been suspended while the DCI considers what to do. So far nothing’s been decided, but I suppose if I don’t resign they’ll boot me out. If I’m lucky they’ll let me go quietly,’ she added sourly.

  Having spent years establishing herself as a successful detective, one moment of insanity had put an end to her long career.

  ‘No,’ Ian interrupted her. ‘You can’t leave. Go and speak to your DCI. Ask him to let you continue, even if it means going back to being a DS. It wasn’t so bad, was it? You’d have to leave the Met, but there are other forces. Listen,’ he went on, his voice warming with enthusiasm, ‘you know they’re in the process of setting up a major crime unit here in York. I told you about it, didn’t I? Well, they’re recruiting right now. We need experienced officers. You could leave London and all that behind you, and come up here. Work in York. It’s not a bad place to live. I think you’d like it. And what else are you going to do if you leave the force altogether? Imagine waking up every morning with absolutely nothing useful to do. It’d drive you nuts, Geraldine. At least think about it. We need good officers up here. We’re really stretched right now. Someone with your experience would really help. You can’t just throw away all your skills, not when they’re needed.’

  After she had hung up, Geraldine resisted opening a bottle of wine. She had a lot to think about. Apart from considering her own future, she was worried about Helena. Having tried to pay Benny off, and seen him arrested, Geraldine had still had no word from her sister and could only hope that she was safe from any repercussions following Benny’s arrest. There had only ever been one way Geraldine had been able to cope with personal troubles, and that was to throw herself into her work. Whenever she had felt her own life was a mess, at least she had been able to strive to achieve justice for the dead. If that sense of purpose was taken away from her, she wasn’t sure how she was going to cope.

  The following morning, she called Adam and begged him to allow her to carry on working. He flatly refused.

  ‘You’re lucky you’re not being thrown out on the spot,’ he fumed. ‘You must see that the desire to protect a long-lost sister doesn’t give you licence to flout the law. It’s no defence. Only your outstanding record, and the fact that you weren’t directly involved in any illegal activity, is keeping you from instant dismissal.’

  Back at home, Geraldine automatically started reviewing the case. Lacking access to the full records gave her an overview that turned out to be very helpful. There was one possible lead she had intended to follow up, before the disaster with Helena had occurred. She called Adam but he was very brusque with her. She had expected he might reject her suggestion, since he had been convinced all along that Chris was guilty.

  ‘You’re no longer working on the case,’ he snapped.

  There was not much Geraldine could say to persuade him to listen to her. As soon as he hung up she phoned Sam, but her colleague didn’t answer the call. Annoyed, she tried again, stabbing at her sergeant’s name on the list on her screen. This time Sam’s phone went straight to her voicemail. After they had developed what had felt like a genuine friendship, Sam was blanking her. Frustrated, Geraldine suspected every officer on the team had been warned not to speak to her. Not only was she accustomed to working with the backup of a team, but without access to the case records it was going to be very difficult for her to pursue her new line of enquiry. She struggled not to give in to despair. There had to be a way to climb back out of this catastrophe, but she couldn’t see how.

  She was still considering her options when her home phone rang. She didn’t recognise the number. With a cautious flicker of hope, she took the call. It was Sam.

  ‘Why didn’t you answer your phone?’ Geraldine blurted out, irritated.

  ‘You know I couldn’t.’

  ‘Why are you calling me?’

  Down the line she could hear the hesitation in Sam’s voice. ‘You called me. I couldn’t just ignore it. I wanted to speak to you, as a friend I mean, just to see you’re OK. You are all right, aren’t you? I just want to know you’re all right, but I couldn’t speak to you at work. You know we’ve been advised not to talk to you while you’re – under investigation.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at Emma’s office, using her phone. I can’t contact you, not officially. I’m calling as a friend, Geraldine. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes… no. Oh, what do you think?’

  ‘Geraldine, what the hell happened?’

  ‘What have you been told?’

  ‘Nothing. Only that you’ve been suspended. No one’s told us why. Not a word. What happened, Geraldine? I won’t tell anyone but please, let me know what happened.’

  Geraldine related the events leading up to her suspension.

  Sam reacted angrily. ‘That’s outrageous,’ she fumed. ‘You were only trying to help your sister. I thought we were supposed to help other people. I thought that’s what the job was all about.’

  ‘Never mind all that right now. I need you to do something for me.’

  ‘Don’t ask me to do anything illegal.’

  ‘No, I won’t. Don’t be daft, Sam. And I haven’t broken the law. Not really. Not yet anyway.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  Quickly Geraldine explained what she needed. ‘Don’t email me,’ she finished. ‘Meet me in the toilets at the McDonalds by Kings Cross station at six o’ clock tomorrow. No one will spot us there.’

  To begin with, Sam was reluctant to co-operate. ‘It’s more than my job’s worth to be discovered passing on information like that.’

  ‘You’d better make sure you’re not di
scovered then,’ Geraldine retorted sharply before she hung up.

  58

  By the time he’d realised his mistake, it had been too late to save the woman. The blanket having slipped off, he had pulled it back over her bruised chest and torso. Her head had been lying at an awkward angle, with dark purple marks on her neck left by the pressure from his fingers. She lay perfectly still, her mouth hanging open, her blank gaze fixed on the ceiling.

  For a long time he had stood beside the bed staring at her through his clown’s eyeholes, wondering what to do. At last he had ripped off his mask and placed it carefully over her face to hide her distorted features. Tufts of fluffy orange hair rested on the pillow, a splash of bright colour above her grey shroud.

  He turned and left the room, locking the door behind him. Things were getting out of hand. He couldn’t keep repeating the same mistake without risking getting caught. It was so unfair. The woman’s death wasn’t his fault, but he was bound to be blamed for it if anyone found her. He had never invited her to come to his house. She had approached him. It was understandable that he’d thought she was his daughter. It was a natural mistake to make, when she’d been so keen to get into his car. How was he supposed to have known that she was a stranger?

  The more he thought about it, the more aggrieved he felt. It was all her fault. He had no reason to reproach himself. If anyone was a victim in this situation, it was him. A complete stranger had targeted him, climbing into his car on the pretext of being his daughter. If it had all ended badly, she had only herself to blame. She ought never to have tried to trick him like that. She would have to be disposed of, but that could wait. His priority now was to find his daughter.

  Time was passing, and Beth was still out there. He had to rescue her. He had a plan, and this time he would make sure it succeeded. When they were reunited, he would be able to take care of her again, like he used to do when she was a child. And she would care for him again. They needed each other. He had tried calling her, but he couldn’t get through. In desperation, he set about searching her room. The drawer of her desk was locked, but it was a child’s desk with a flimsy catch. Forcing the blade of a knife between the top of the drawer and its frame, he pushed and joggled it up and down until there was a click. Holding his breath, he pulled the drawer open. There was nothing inside.

  He printed out a recent photo of her and slipped it in his wallet. That evening he would start showing it to everyone he could find in Camden, returning night after night until he had an answer. It didn’t matter how long it took, he was going to find her.

  With the photo safely stowed, he carried her old box of costumes into the kitchen. Dressing up had been her favourite game. She used to beg him to play with her, insisting he put on ridiculous outfits and spoke in funny voices. The papier-mâché masks she had made were splitting and crumbling, but there were plastic masks in the box too. The clown mask had gone, but there were several animal masks. He laid them carefully on the table. When she came home, she could choose whichever one she wanted. He pulled out several old frocks and colourful ties, and a piece of net curtain she used to wear on her head, pretending it was long hair. He smiled at the memory. Closing his eyes, he pictured her flouncing around the kitchen with a curtain hanging off the top of her head. The image was so real, he could almost believe she was there with him, pirouetting around the kitchen.

  He was going to find her soon, and bring her home.

  59

  Seated with a clear view of the Ladies, Geraldine waited anxiously, a cup of coffee on the table in front of her. It was unnerving to think that she and Sam were no longer colleagues, even stranger to acknowledge they might never be allowed to work together again. At exactly six o’clock, Sam entered McDonalds and joined the queue. Only customers were given the code for the toilet. Geraldine made no move to attract her attention. Without so much as a glance in Sam’s direction she kept her in sight, at the edge of her line of vision.

  Unlike Geraldine, who had only bought a coffee, Sam tucked into a burger and chips. Geraldine waited, increasingly nervous for Sam more than for herself. They weren’t sitting together, but the longer they remained in the same café the greater the risk they would be spotted. It wouldn’t take a genius to work out that it was no coincidence they were there at the same time. Although they had done nothing wrong, if another officer happened to see them it would be impossible for Geraldine to communicate with Sam.

  Miserably she fidgeted with her coffee while Sam finished her meal. There was nothing she could do to force Sam to hurry. Eventually Sam disappeared into the toilet. Geraldine followed at once. With a grim glance around, Sam handed over a manilla folder stuffed with papers.

  ‘It’s all here,’ she muttered.

  Sam had taken a risk in printing out the documents, because it would have been impossible to pass on information electronically without leaving a trace. This way, she could claim she wanted to study the hard copies herself, if anyone challenged her. Geraldine stowed the folder in her bag, and left without another word. It was dangerous to linger. Only when she was back in the privacy of her flat did she take out the folder. Before opening it, she brewed herself a pot of coffee and then settled down on her sofa to leaf through the contents of the file.

  It contained copies of interviews with Chris, reports on what his neighbours and work colleagues had said about him, and other associated information stored on the database. Sam must have spent hours gathering it all together, and she had done so with amazing promptness. Geraldine hoped she hadn’t aroused suspicion. With a sigh, she opened the folder and took out the first sheaf of papers. This was the only thing that could keep her sane.

  Having sat up most of the night studying everything Chris himself had said in his various interviews, she fell asleep. So far she had uncovered nothing new, but her mood of despair had lifted. Ian was right. She needed her work. If she could relocate to York, perhaps even taking a demotion to sergeant would be better than leaving the job altogether. Waking at midday, she turned her attention to what others had said about Chris. Again, there was nothing to suggest he was innocent.

  Only Geraldine had actually spoken to Louise, and heard her give him an alibi before she had disappeared. Adam had suspected Geraldine was mistaken in believing what Louise had told her. Louise had certainly sounded convincing over the phone, but Geraldine had to concede that Adam was right to dismiss that reported brief conversation as insufficient evidence to exonerate Chris. They couldn’t even be sure it had really been Louise speaking to Geraldine on the phone. Chris could have persuaded another woman to call Geraldine, claiming to be Louise. If he had done so, that pointed to his being responsible for Louise’s death to prevent her from coming forward and revealing the truth.

  Having read through all the documents relating to Chris’s arrest, Geraldine turned her attention to his earlier history. He had no form. Until recently, he had never had anything to do with the police at all. But two months earlier, he had been questioned in connection with the disappearance of a young woman. Her distressed father had reported her missing to the police. His daughter, Bethany, had called him from Cockfosters station at midnight to say she had fallen asleep on her train. Having missed her stop, she had phoned her father for a lift home. He had answered the summons, but when he had arrived at the station, his daughter wasn’t there. Noting down the registration number of a van he had noticed driving out of the station as he arrived, he had passed that information on to the police.

  Geraldine read the entire report through several times. The van that had been spotted leaving was registered to Chris Cordwell. He had insisted that the woman Bethany’s father had seen in his van had been his wife. Once again, the only person who could have confirmed his story was now dead. Geraldine felt a rush of adrenaline. Chris had never been involved with the police before. Now in the space of two months, he had been accused of abducting a woman, and of murdering his wife. The allegation
of abduction hadn’t been pursued, due to lack of evidence, but something felt wrong.

  60

  It was early afternoon by the time Geraldine began to suspect the two crimes of which Chris had recently been accused were connected. She brewed herself a pot of coffee and reviewed the earlier report. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that the episodes must be linked in some way. She called Emma’s phone.

  ‘Hello, Emma, it’s Geraldine here. I work – used to work with Sam. This might sound like an odd request, but could you ask Sam to call me as soon as she can? I’d call her myself but…’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Emma interrupted her quickly. ‘Sam told me what happened.’

  There was a pause. ‘It’s OK,’ Emma went on. ‘I’ll get her to call you.’ She hesitated. ‘Sam thinks what happened was terrible. I mean, what happened to you. She knows you don’t deserve it. She’s mad about it. She thinks it’s really shabby, what happened to you.’

  Geraldine gulped. ‘Actually, it’s more complicated than that. But thank you. Please tell her that means a lot to me.’

  ‘It’s probably better if I don’t say anything. She’s already really wound up about it. We’re trying not to talk about you any more.’

  ‘But you will ask her to call me?’

  ‘Of course. Is there any message?’

  ‘No, I just need one more piece of information, if she can get it to me.’

  ‘I’m sure she will.’

  When she rang off, Geraldine surprised herself by bursting into tears. Sniffing fiercely, she wiped her eyes and returned to her files. Unable to settle, she rang the rehabilitation centre, hoping that Helena might have turned up there, but they hadn’t seen her since she had first walked out.

  ‘She was here voluntarily,’ the woman on the line pointed out.

  ‘Yes, I know. I just wondered if she might have come back.’