by Celina Grace
“Anything, Rav?” Kate explained that they were bringing Nick Riley in for further questioning. “It would be good to have some extra evidence.”
Rav looked up at her and smiled. “Actually, yes. Seems our Nick rather likes his late night walks. I’ve got him on at least three occasions over the past few months.”
Kate fist-bumped him. “Excellent. Keep looking but if you could print me out those stills that show him, that would be good.”
“There’s something else.”
“Oh yes?” Kate felt a clutch of excitement. “Samir?”
“No, no, nothing of him. But that manager, the woman—what’s her name? She’s been using the petrol station a few times, again quite late at night.”
“Rosamund Kite?” Kate pondered that. “How late are we talking?”
“Well, same sort of times as Nick, to be honest. Late evening.”
“Hmm. Well, I suppose she could be working late.” Kate filed the thought away for a more leisurely perusal at another time. She had to concentrate on Nick Riley for now. “Just keep going, Rav, and see if you can find anything else.”
“Will do.”
Chapter Twenty Six
Kate regarded Nick Riley, sitting sulkily across from her on the other side of the interview room table. Her first impressions of the man held: tall, broad shouldered, rather good looking, with fair skin slightly reddened by his outdoor lifestyle. She wondered whether he was actually younger than he looked, and asked him.
“How old are you, Mr Riley?”
He looked surprised. “Twenty eight.”
“Have you been working at Bucklesbury House long?”
She could see him trying to work out why she was asking him, perhaps wondering how she was trying to catch him out. She smiled at him in her most reassuring manner – the last thing she wanted was for him to clam up. He hadn’t asked for a solicitor yet, but then he wasn’t under arrest. Kate hoped this wouldn’t become apparent to him too soon.
Nick scratched his stubbly jaw with a finger. His nails were black edged, commonplace for a gardener. “About two years now.”
“Do you work there full time?”
“Yeah.”
Kate dropped her gaze to her notebook and scribbled a comment. “Mr Riley, do you know why we’ve pulled you in for questioning?”
Nick Riley looked wary. “Well, I’m guessing it’s about the murder, right? I had nothing to do with that, by the way. Literally the only thing I can tell you is that I thought I saw someone who looked like that guy in the lane one day. That’s it.”
“Well, Mr Riley, it’s more that we need you to account for your presence at Bucklesbury House on a number of occasions, most notably late at night, two days before the murder of Samir Minhas.”
Nick Riley frowned. “I told you, I left my phone back at the house and I went to get it.”
“Really?” Kate paused for a moment and then reached for the documents she’d kept on her lap. They were print outs of the CCTV from the petrol station, time stamped and dated for the day two days before the murder. In one of them, Nick Riley could clearly be seen holding his phone to his ear as he walked away from the forecourt.
“It seems to me that you have your phone, Mr Riley.”
Nick Riley was silent for a long moment. Eventually, not taking his eyes off the printouts, he muttered, “I meant my other phone.”
“Your other phone? You have two phones?”
“Yeah. Some people do.”
“I know they do. I’ll be honest, Nick—” Kate couldn’t be bothered to give him the courtesy of a title now, given that she was pretty sure that he was lying through his teeth. “I’ll be honest, there tends to be two types of people who have multiple phones.” He looked at her with a hunted expression on his face. “Cheats and drug dealers.”
His face contracted. Got him. Kate leant forward. “So, what’s your explanation, Nick?”
“I… Well, I—”
Kate pressed on. “Whatever you were up to on that night, Nick, is going to come out sooner or later. So, you may as well tell me the truth now.”
Nick hung his head. “Well…”
The silence stretched out so long that Kate had to prompt him. “Nick?” She thought of what else Rav had said. “What’s your relationship with Rosamund Kite?”
“Rosamund?” Nick’s gaze flickered. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s your relationship with Rosamund Kite?”
“I—I don’t know what you mean. What’s she said?”
Kate’s face remained impassive, but mentally her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Clearly something was going on here; she’d expected him to deny having any sort of relationship with Rosamund apart from working with her.
“I can’t go into that now, Nick. But she’s also been seen on CCTV late at night, sometimes on the same nights that you’re on camera.”
Nick shifted in his seat. “Well, she’s the deputy manager, isn’t she? Maybe she has to work late.” He met her eyes with a defiant stare. “I wouldn’t know why she’s there.”
Kate hesitated before speaking again. She was fairly sure that Nick was hiding something, but what? Was it significant to the case or just something he’d rather she didn’t know? She thought again of his two phones. Cheats and drug dealers. Out loud she enquired, “Are you married, Nick?”
He looked surprised, having clearly not anticipated this question. “No.”
“Do you have a partner?”
He shifted again. “Why do you want to know?”
“I just do. It’s a simple enough question.”
“Well,” Nick’s eyes flickered up to the left for a moment. “Yeah, I’ve got a girlfriend.”
“Do you live with her?”
“Um…no.”
Kate ruffled through her notes. “Where do you live, Nick?”
Nick was staring at her, clearly lost. “In Bucklesbury.”
“No, I mean do you have your own place or share with flatmates or something?”
Nick’s gaze dropped. “Nah, I—I live at home.”
“With your parents?” Kate clarified.
“Yeah.” Above his stubble, Nick’s cheekbones grew pink. Unaccountably, Kate felt sorry for him.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” she said. “I know how difficult it is to get on the property ladder at your age.” She thought for a moment and then added, “At any age, to be honest.”
“Yeah.” Nick seemed to have temporarily forgotten they were on opposing sides. “It’s shit. Really cramps your style, you know?”
Kate took a chance. “Is that why you and Rosamund used to meet at work?”
Nick’s eyes bulged. “What?”
“You’re having an affair with Rosamund Kite, aren’t you, Nick?”
Nick’s mouth hung open. Kate fought the urge to shut it with her finger.
“What—” Nick sat upright. “What’s she said?”
“Again, I can’t go into that, Nick. Is it true?”
Shaking his head, Nick Riley sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. “I’m not saying anything.” The penny finally seemed to drop that he hadn’t been cautioned, let alone charged. “I’m not saying anything more without a lawyer.”
Guilty as sin. But of what? Kate nodded her head in apparent acquiescence and examined her notes, wondering where to go from there.
Chapter Twenty Seven
“So, what do you think?” Olbeck asked the next morning.
“He’s definitely hiding something.” Kate swung her chair back and forth, thinking how much stronger her legs were since she’d been walking into work. “But what?”
“Is it actually likely that he was having an affair with Rosamund Kite? I mean, she’s, what, nearly 30 years older than him.” He caught Kate’s
eye, clearly recollected the age difference between her and Anderton and added, hastily, “Not that it matters.”
Kate thought of Ricky Khan and Umar Minhas. “There does seem to be a bit of penchant for older women amongst the younger generation.”
“Yes. I mean, I wouldn’t know, but quite a few young men are partial to a MILF, apparently, according to my nephews.”
Kate frowned. “A MILF?”
Olbeck laughed. “Come on, you must know that acronym. ‘Mum I’d like to f—’”
“Yes, yes, thank you,” said Kate. “I know what you mean.”
“Anyway,” said Olbeck. “As amusing as this is, what are we going to do now?”
“Interview Rosamund Kite, surely? Not under caution, obviously. She’s done nothing wrong. But to see if she can confirm or deny an affair with Nick Riley.”
“Good luck with that.” Olbeck scratched his jaw. “I also think we should be doing a search of Bucklesbury House. A good one.”
Kate nodded. “I agree. I’ll organise that and interview Rosamund.”
“Great, thanks.”
Kate got up out of her chair. “I guess we’re going to have to release Nick Riley.”
“Yes, unfortunately. But there’s literally no chance of making any charge stick. We’ve got absolutely no evidence of wrongdoing except that bloody CCTV, and that proves nothing other than he lied.”
“Never mind.” Kate gave him a wave as she headed out the door. “Depending on what Rosamund says, we could have him back here pretty shortly.”
The good autumnal weather had returned and Kate drove to Bucklesbury House in glorious sunshine, the trees ablaze with colour. As she swung the police pool car into the visitors’ carpark, Kate noted how busy it was. Well, there was nothing like a violent crime to bring people in… She had the sudden, absurd thought that Bernard Roland, the manager, had committed the murder in order to boost visitor numbers. The thought made her laugh out loud and then she immediately feel guilty. There was nothing funny about a person’s life being cut short by violence. The memory of Roman’s face popped into her mind. Kate sighed, locked up the car, and made her way to the deputy manager’s office.
She’d called ahead to ascertain that Rosamund was actually working, and when she opened the door, Kate could see that Rosamund was dressed rather more smartly than usual in a wrap dress and what looked like a cashmere cardigan. Rosamund’s hair was loose, rather than being scraped back in a messy ponytail, and it suited her. Her hair was lovely, actually, thought Kate, thick, dark and plentiful. From thinking that Nick Riley couldn’t possibly have been attracted to this woman, Kate was now more convinced of the fact that he could have very well been.
Shaking off her thoughts, Kate smiled at Rosamund to put her at her ease. “Thanks for seeing me, Mrs Kite.”
Rosamund smiled nervously, “That’s fine. I’m happy to help.”
Kate explained her reason for being there: that they were curious about the late night footage of both Rosamund and Nick Riley captured on CCTV. Rosamund’s eyes widened and she plaited her fingers together in her lap as Kate asked, “Do you often work late, Mrs Kite?”
Rosamund coughed. “I do, sometimes. There’s an awful lot of paperwork in this job, and I find I can get through it quicker here rather than at home.” She flashed Kate another nervous smile. “It’s so noisy at home with teenage boys, I’m sure you can understand.”
Kate smiled back, trying to put her at her ease. “I absolutely can. I’ve got five brothers and sisters myself. It was chaotic at home.” Memories assailed her; the noise, the mess, never enough clean clothes or even, sometimes, food. Her mother drinking, her siblings running wild. Kate in the centre of the storm, determined to get out as soon as she could, except her teen pregnancy had put paid to that… Aware that she’d been silent for an uncomfortable length of time, Kate mentally shook herself back to reality. “Er, I’m sorry. So how often would you work late, Mrs Kite? ”
“Of course.” Rosamund was silent for a moment, thinking. “Perhaps once a week? Maybe once a fortnight?”
Kate scribbled notes, determined to check against the CCTV footage they had. She hesitated before asking the next question, aware of the delicacy of the situation. “Rosamund, I’m sorry to have to ask you this but…could you tell me your relationship with the one of the gardeners here, Nick Riley?”
Rosamund’s eyes widened. “Nick? What do you mean?”
“I’m just asking you to tell me what kind of relationship you have with him?”
“Relationship?” Rosamund’s dark eyebrows drew down in a frown. “I don’t know what you mean. He works here, that’s how I know him.”
“You don’t have a—” Kate wondered how to phrase the question. “A friendship or anything?”
Rosamund was beginning to look more annoyed than nervous. “What? I don’t know what you mean.”
To hell with it. Kate said, “I’m going to be blunt here, Mrs Kite. Are you having a relationship with Nick Riley?”
Rosamund gaped. Then she asked exactly what Nick Riley had. “What? What do you mean? What’s he said?”
“I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid. Are you having a relationship with him?”
Rosamund sat back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest. “What, do you mean am I having an affair with him? I’m married!”
“It’s not unusual,” Kate said, mildly.
Rosamund’s gaze flickered. “Well, I—I refuse to answer that. It’s absurd. Completely absurd.”
“Well, if it’s not true, why not say so?”
Rosamund spluttered. “Because—because—I shouldn’t have to even answer it. How dare you?”
Kate sighed inwardly, deciding to drop the woman’s title from her following speech. “All you need to do is confirm or deny, Rosamund. If you are, you’re not doing anything illegal. I just need to know so I can progress the investigation. That’s all. No judgement from me, and I certainly won’t be telling your husband.”
“This is ridiculous.” Rosamund got up from her chair and picked up her handbag. “I’m sorry, but if I’m not—what’s the word—under caution? I know I can leave at any time.”
“That’s true,” said Kate.
Angry tears gleamed in Rosamund’s eyes. “I’m sorry but what you’ve said has really upset me. I’d like to go now.”
This time Kate sighed audibly. “I can’t stop you, Rosamund.” She dug in her bag and held out her card with her contact details. “Here. If you want to talk later, if you change your mind, here’s my number and email. I’d like to hear from you. It’s just a process of elimination, that’s all.” She looked into the other woman’s angry face. “That’s all. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Rosamund, for one minute, looked as though she was going to snatch the card and throw it back into Kate’s face. Instead, she reached out and took it with fingers that shook slightly.
Kate got up herself. “I’ll see myself out, there’s no need for you to leave your office. I’m sorry to have upset you.” She hesitated and added, once more, “It’s simply a matter of eliminating you from our inquiries, that’s all. Have a think about it and give me a call.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
Kate got home late that night after a frustrating and tiring afternoon. As well as her not-very-productive interview with Rosamund Kite, Kate had also had to deal with Chloe and Theo having a spat over who had forgotten to organise the crime information boards, with both of them insisting that it should have been the other’s responsibility. Kate’s mood was further soured by the fact that she kept checking her phone to see if Ricky Khan had contacted her—he hadn’t—and then feeling simultaneously annoyed, relieved and guilty. All in all, as she opened the front door to her house, she could feel a tension headache beginning to tighten its grip on her temples.
As she hunted for some painkillers, h
er phone rang. It was Anderton.
“Where are you?” were his opening words.
“I’m at home.” Kate located the ibuprofen and cradled her phone between her ear and her raised shoulder as she popped two pills out of the foil packet.
“I thought you were joining me on this viewing?”
Damn. Kate had completely forgotten. She said as much, with an apology.
Anderton sounded cross. “I’ve been waiting around in the cold for you for half an hour. Me and the estate agent.”
“Well, why didn’t you go on in without me?” Kate snapped, in no mood to be chastised.
“Because we’re supposed to be buying this house together, in case you had forgotten.”
Kate bit back a sharp retort and breathed deeply for a moment. “All right, I’m sorry. Shall I come now?” She couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do less at this moment, dragging her tired arse out into the cold and the dark to see a house she had no recollection of ever noticing before. She felt another flicker of guilt that she hadn’t bothered to look at the last collection of property links that Anderton had emailed over to her.
Anderton sighed. “No, don’t bother. I’ll rearrange the appointment.” He paused for a moment and added, in a softer tone. “You sound tired.”
“I’m knackered. Had an awful day.”
“Oh dear. Shall I come over?”
As it happened, Kate would rather have had the night to herself, but she recognised an olive branch when she heard one. “That would be lovely. We can get a takeaway or something.”
“I’ll see you in about forty minutes then.”
When she had said goodbye, Kate put her mobile on the kitchen counter and stared bleakly around the kitchen. She hadn’t loaded the dishwasher this morning before work and last night’s dirty dishes were stacked in the sink. And how long had that damp washing been in the washing machine? After another moment of feeling guilty—this time at the waste of water and electricity—she put in another washing tab and switched the machine on once more.
She slumped into the living room and laid and lit the fire. Such a comfort to have an open fire… Once it was burning well, Kate secured the fireguard in front of it and went for a long, hot shower, trying to wash away the strain of the day and cheer up a bit before Anderton arrived.