The Alibi

by Jamie Raven

  Danny was still worried that if Redwood believed him to be guilty then he wouldn’t pursue other suspects with anything like the degree of commitment and determination that was required. He’d seen that happen often enough. The cops decide who they think is guilty – however tenuous the evidence – and then close their minds to all other possibilities.

  ‘Don’t look so concerned, Danny,’ Chandra said, slapping him on the back. ‘They wouldn’t be letting you leave the building if they thought they could pin it on you. And it’s clear they would love to be able to.’

  The lawyer knew better than to ask Danny if he was guilty or innocent. The man was paid to do his best for the firm whatever the circumstances. But Danny felt compelled to tell him that he didn’t kill Megan.

  ‘That’s nice to know,’ Chandra said. ‘I didn’t actually think you did.’

  Danny was surprised to see a bunch of photographers and reporters on the pavement outside.

  ‘My car’s around the corner,’ Chandra said. ‘I’ll give you a lift. And I suggest you don’t say anything to the press.’

  But just as they were moving away to the left someone shouted out his name and Danny snapped his head towards the voice.

  A sudden jolt of alarm struck him when he saw that a man who had just got out of a black cab was striding purposefully towards him.

  ‘Oh shit,’ he said aloud to himself when it dawned on him that the man was Nigel Fuller, Megan’s father.

  He was wearing an anorak and had a face like thunder.

  ‘Why the hell are they letting you go?’ he yelled out.

  Danny came to a stop and his heart took a leap. As Fuller closed in a camera flash went off nearby and Chandra grabbed his right arm. Danny realised what was about to happen and braced himself. He couldn’t afford to react or lose his temper, not with the press watching.

  Fuller stepped right up to him and shoved him hard in the chest with his outstretched hand.

  ‘You murdered my beautiful girl,’ he screamed into his face. ‘You stabbed her in the throat like she was some animal.’

  Danny stood firm. He was rattled to the core but determined not to show it in front of the reporters and photographers who were desperate to see him react.

  ‘You’re wrong, Mr Fuller,’ he said calmly. ‘I had nothing to do with it. As I just explained to the police I was elsewhere when—’

  ‘That’s a fucking lie,’ Fuller bellowed at the top of his voice. ‘You’re as guilty as sin. You told her you were going to hurt her.’

  A uniformed police officer appeared suddenly and pulled Fuller away. At the same time Chandra yanked Danny in the other direction towards his car.

  By now the press had closed in around them and Danny heard a woman’s voice above all the others.

  ‘Is it true, Mr Shapiro?’ she shouted. ‘Did you murder your ex-wife after making threats against her?’

  Danny glanced back over his shoulder and realised who had fired the question even before he saw her face in the crowd.

  Bethany Chambers.

  The bitch was holding up what looked like a Dictaphone while struggling to keep up with him.

  And that was when he did finally snap. He jerked his arm free of the lawyer’s grip and spun round to face Chambers and the rest of the vultures.

  ‘Let’s get one thing straight,’ he yelled. ‘I had nothing to do with Megan’s murder, despite what you just heard. I’ve told the police and now I’m telling you that I was nowhere near Balham last night. And I’ve been able to prove it.’

  He jabbed a rigid finger at Bethany Chambers, his mouth curling in disgust. She was standing only about six feet away from him and if they had been alone he would have smashed a fist into her face.

  ‘And here’s a warning for you especially, Miss Chambers. If you keep on repeating these provocative statements every chance you get then I’m going to sue you and your paper for defamation. You got that?’

  He didn’t wait for her to respond. Instead, he turned and let his lawyer lead him along the pavement to a black Mercedes that was parked at a meter. As soon as the door was closed behind him he squeezed his eyes shut and took a few deep breaths to try to calm down. But his adrenalin was through the roof and a fierce rage was heating up his blood.

  He wanted desperately to vent his frustration, preferably on at least one of those bastards who were out to get him: Jack Redwood, Nigel Fuller, and Bethany Chambers.

  But since that wasn’t going to happen he decided that the next best thing was to imagine how he’d make them suffer if at some point in the future the opportunity presented itself.

  14

  Beth Chambers

  Danny Shapiro’s outburst took us all by surprise. But what made my heart lurch was the malevolent look in his eyes as he stabbed his finger at me. It made me realise why people were scared of him – and how he managed to command so much respect among the sadists and barbarians who populated the London underworld.

  I wasn’t sure how to react to the fact that he had recognised me. Was that from our brief encounters in the past? Or had he seen me on the television throwing questions at the two detectives outside Megan’s house? I wondered also if Frankie Bishop had told him I’d been to the snooker club today and that was partly why he’d turned on me.

  The guy was obviously feeling the pressure even though the cops had seen fit to let him go. It was no wonder Megan’s dad was fuming. The poor guy had been ushered up the steps and into the station. A woman who had got out of the black cab with him had held back and was now talking to a couple of reporters.

  ‘Nigel is still in a state of shock,’ she was saying as I approached. ‘He really can’t be held responsible for his actions.’

  The woman was fiftyish, slim and smartly dressed in a two-piece grey suit. In answer to a question, she identified herself as Amy Cassidy, Nigel Fuller’s fiancée.

  ‘Nigel was married to Megan’s mother for a number of years,’ she said. ‘He told me that Megan desperately wanted to talk to him this morning and that she feared for her life. It’s inconceivable that her ex-husband has been released. He’s the man who put the fear of God into her and everyone knows he’s a gangster.’

  The woman began to cry as she shouldered her way through the crowd towards the entrance.

  I dug in my jacket pocket for a business card as I pursued her up the steps.

  ‘Please take this, Miss Cassidy,’ I said, thrusting my hand towards her just as she reached the doors. ‘It’s my card. If you or Mr Fuller would like to do an interview at any point then please ring me.’

  She glanced at me briefly and snatched the card. A second later she disappeared inside the station.

  There was a coffee shop across the road and I went there to compose a short update on the story. There were no more print editions today but what I had just witnessed made good copy for the online pages, minus the libellous remarks from Amy Cassidy of course.

  MEGAN MURDER INVESTIGATION

  Detectives investigating the murder of soap star Megan Fuller questioned her ex-husband Danny Shapiro today. But he was released without charge after less than an hour. Outside the police station in Wandsworth he insisted he had nothing to do with his wife’s murder. However, he was confronted by Miss Fuller’s father who was enraged and had to be escorted away by police officers …

  I phoned Grant Scott after filing the story and he told me to call it a day and go home.

  ‘Try to forget what happened earlier,’ he said. ‘And take tomorrow off. We’ll be across any major developments and I’ll make sure the desk keeps you informed.’

  ‘Stop fretting, Grant. You’re beginning to sound like my mother. You should know me better than to think I’d allow the empty threats of some Neanderthal to affect my work.’

  After hanging up, I decided it was time that I had a conversation with my ex. I’d been planning to do it later tonight, but in view of what had happened I felt the need to talk to him sooner rather than later. I called his mobile
and he answered straight away.

  ‘I wondered when I’d hear from you,’ Ethan Cain said.

  ‘Can you get away?’

  ‘Not for at least an hour. Can’t it wait?’

  ‘No, it can’t. Someone attacked and threatened me and I want to tell you about it.’

  ‘Jesus. Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, but it shook me up.’

  I heard him draw a breath. ‘Very well. I can meet you at the usual place in about an hour. But I have to be careful for obvious reasons.’

  The usual place was a pub in Camberwell. It suited me because I was suddenly gagging for a drink, something to take the edge off and help me to relax.

  I still had half an hour to kill by the time I got to Camberwell so I headed for one of the pound shops. There I bought a couple of colouring books and a set of crayons for Rosie. She was really into drawing at the moment and it was something I liked to encourage.

  To get to the Hornet’s Nest pub I had to walk past King’s College Hospital and seeing the place revived a few memories for me, some good, some bad. It was where I gave birth to Rosie and also where my brother Michael died from the terrible injuries inflicted by his attacker’s machete.

  King’s was one of London’s busiest hospitals and the emergency department dealt with victims of crime on a daily basis. Surrounding it were some of the capital’s roughest and most dangerous areas, including Peckham, Brixton, and Walworth.

  The Hornet’s Nest was more upmarket than most of the pubs in Camberwell, and it had tables and chairs on a small terrace at the front. I got myself two large gin and tonics and drank one at the bar before taking the other outside.

  It was a chilly end to the day but the air felt good – as did the gin. It was my favourite tipple, and I always felt the need to down a couple before meetings with my ex.

  It wasn’t that Ethan and I didn’t get on these days. It was more to do with the shit from the past that I was always reminded of. Like finding out that he’d been spending our savings on prostitutes and gambling. And learning that he had a four-month affair with a colleague while I was pregnant.

  It was hard to believe that when we met on a night out in Peckham – where he also lived at the time – I was instantly attracted to him. I was intoxicated by his smile, his sharp wit, the fact that his job meant he had lots of fascinating stories to tell. I thought I’d found the perfect man and was chuffed to bits when he proposed to me after I told him he’d got me pregnant.

  It was good to begin with, but I soon came to realise that monogamy wasn’t for him. He became restless, detached, and the longer it went on the harder it was to ignore my growing suspicions about what he was getting up to when he wasn’t with me.

  So I spied on him and soon found out about his affair and his sessions with prostitutes. There was a pile of evidence, from credit card statements to text messages on a mobile phone I never knew he had. When I confronted him he had no choice but to confess, and his only excuse was that he’d been stupid.

  He promised me he would clean up his act and pleaded with me not to end the marriage. But my love for him was poisoned by his betrayal and I kicked the bastard out.

  I spent months being swept along by a torrent of emotion until I finally came to terms with what had happened and managed to pull myself together. It helped that he stayed away from me and resigned himself to the fact that he’d fucked up and that I wasn’t going to have him back.

  The fact that he moved on so quickly with his life – or at least seemed to – made me realise that he couldn’t have loved me as much as I’d loved him. And that if I hadn’t fallen pregnant he probably wouldn’t have proposed in the first place.

  As usual when he finally turned up at the pub I wondered what I’d actually seen in him in the beginning. He hadn’t changed much, but for me it was like seeing him through a different pair of eyes these days. He looked haggard now rather than handsome, and his face struck me as shifty rather than sensitive.

  He paid the taxi driver and smiled when he saw me waiting for him. As he stepped onto the terrace I held up my glass.

  ‘Mine’s a G and T,’ I said. ‘Lots of ice and a slice of lemon.’

  ‘Coming up,’ he said. ‘But I want to make it clear that I’m here because you sounded really worried on the phone. I’m not having you pumping me for information.’

  ‘So what makes you think I’d do that?’ I said, rolling out my bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.

  ‘Because you’re a devious little madam, Bethany Chambers. And because I’m not so stupid I don’t realise it’s the only reason you ever want to see me.’

  He was right on that score, of course. If Ethan Cain had been anything other than a fairly high-ranking detective in the Met he would have been no use to me.

  And there would have been no need for us to have these clandestine meetings in a south London pub.

  15

  Beth Chambers

  It was widely known in the Met that Cain was my ex-husband. But nobody knew that he was now one of my best contacts. We both encouraged the perception that we no longer had anything to do with each other, and that Ethan had only limited access to his daughter.

  The truth was it suited us both to maintain contact. He got to see Rosie as often as he wanted, and in return I was able to pick his brains about what he and the other detectives working the patch were up to.

  In this context it helped that Ethan was untroubled by conventional standards of morality. He was happy to betray any confidence as long as it didn’t come back on him. And for my part I was happy to exploit what remained of our relationship because I felt he owed me after what he’d put me through.

  Ethan returned to the table with my G and T and a pint for himself.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said, clinking his glass against mine.

  Then he sat back, lit a cigarette and started polluting the atmosphere. I noticed that he looked tired, and I wondered if it was because he’d been working hard or was struggling to keep pace with his latest bit of fluff.

  ‘I was surprised to see you in Balham today,’ he said, blowing jets of smoke out of his nostrils. ‘Rosie told me you were taking her to the park.’

  ‘That was the plan,’ I said. ‘But Megan Fuller’s murder was too big a story to miss.’

  ‘Was the little mite upset?’

  ‘Not really. Mum took her and I’ve bought her some colouring books to make up for it.’

  He grinned and it reminded me that his daughter meant a lot to him even though he’d been a shit husband and father.

  ‘By the way, thanks for putting me on the spot with those questions,’ he said. ‘How the hell did you know where the father was? We didn’t tell anyone.’

  ‘A little birdy told me,’ I said. ‘But to be fair I went there expecting to find a uniform either outside or inside the house.’

  ‘Yeah, it was careless, but we were spread too thin at the time and waiting for reinforcements. You had Redwood spitting blood.’

  ‘Did you see what happened at the station after you let Shapiro walk?’

  He shook his head. ‘I heard about it. A case of bad timing.’

  ‘So why did you release him, and after such a short time?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘I should have known you were bullshitting me about being threatened by someone. You just wanted to meet up so you could find out what’s going on.’

  ‘That’s not true actually. I was threatened and attacked by some hard arse who works for Shapiro. But I’ll come on to that in a sec. First tell me why the bastard isn’t locked up.’

  He sipped at his beer and licked the froth from his top lip.

  ‘He gave us an alibi that checks out. He wasn’t in Balham last night.’

  ‘So where was he?’

  He twisted his lower lip, deciding whether to tell me. ‘This is off the record, right. I don’t want Redwood putting two and two together. He’s already issued a warning to me and the rest of the team about talking to the press.’
>
  ‘You know me better than that, Ethan. If you tell me it’s not for publication then I won’t write it up. I’m the honest one out of the two of us, don’t forget.’

  ‘Ouch,’ he said, pulling a face.

  He took another long drag on his fag and watching him inhale made me glad I gave up smoking as soon as I got pregnant. Before then I used to smoke at least fifteen a day.

  ‘He was at some woman’s house,’ Ethan said. ‘Claimed he spent the night there – but only as a friend apparently. That’s despite the fact that she’s a prossy.’

  ‘And you believe him?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s a soft alibi, but if the woman sticks to her story and we can’t prove she’s lying there’s not much we can do.’

  ‘Is she known to the police?’

  He shrugged. ‘She’s got form for soliciting, but nothing serious.’

  I was about to ask him if she was one of the whores he’d been with but decided it was probably best not to.

  ‘What’s her name?’ I asked. ‘Perhaps I’ve heard of her.’

  I didn’t reckon for a moment that he would tell me, but he blurted it out without thinking.

  ‘Tamara Roth,’ he said. ‘Lives in Vauxhall.’

  When he realised his mistake he grimaced. ‘Keep that to yourself, for Christ’s sake. I’ll be put on the rack if it gets out that I told you.’

  I grinned. ‘That goes without saying. So it’s still possible that Shapiro killed Megan even though he’s put forward an alibi.’

  His voice dropped, became even more conspiratorial. ‘Redwood seems to think so, but Shapiro had an answer for everything. He confirmed that he argued with her over the phone yesterday but denies threatening her. What we do know is that she was trying to squeeze money out of him. She was in a financial shit hole and wanted him to give her half a million quid. She was threatening to say stuff about him in her autobiography if he didn’t pay up.’