by Mari Hannah
‘So you weren’t bitter then?’ she said.
Gardner dropped his voice. ‘Quite the opposite.’
‘Sounds like you were proud of him.’
‘Yeah, really proud.’
‘If I’m “really proud” of someone, I might celebrate in style. How about you and Elliott? I don’t know either of you, do I? Were you more than good friends?’
‘I didn’t say we were good friends.’
‘You didn’t kiss him then?’
‘You think I’m bent?’ He turned to face his lawyer. ‘Is she allowed to call me a faggot?’
‘I don’t think I did.’ Kate knew she’d be in trouble for this line of questioning. Needs must. With a murder to solve she thought she could justify it to Naylor if push came to shove. ‘You seem, how can I put it, offended by my suggestion—’
‘Damn right! I never kicked him, punched him. And for the record I never fucked him either.’
‘You fucked him over though, didn’t you, Liam?’
Gardner checked himself, took a long, deep breath.
‘We have corroborative evidence that puts you at the scene of a fight. We have witnesses who claim that at six thirty or thereabouts on Saturday you, along with a number of others, male and female, were in the area of St Andrew’s Church in Elsdon fighting with Elliott Foster who, as I already said, was subsequently found dead. You are still under caution. Why don’t you tell us what happened?’
‘You can shove the caution up your arse.’ Gardner glared at Moffatt. ‘They’ve got the wrong guy. Chris Collins is the one they need to speak to. I’m not saying another word.’
‘As you wish.’ Kate pulled up her sleeve to check her watch. ‘I take it there’s no love lost between you and Collins.’
Gardner shrugged. ‘I can take him or leave him.’
‘Really? That’s interesting. He claims you’re a bit of a fantasist. Any idea what he meant by that?’
Gardner blushed but didn’t speak.
‘Very well.’ Kate left him to cogitate that one. There was a story there somewhere. If his reaction was anything to go by, she might even use it against him if she could discover what it was. ‘You’ll remain in custody for the time being. Interview terminated at ten fourteen.’ Exchanging a look with Hank, she nodded towards the door. ‘Please show our guest back to his cell.’
‘It’s like a madhouse in the custody suite,’ Hank grumbled when they met in her office afterwards. Hethrew himself down in a chair, loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. ‘I could hardly hear myself think in there. What a bloody waste of space Gardner is. Told you we should’ve left him to Maxwell. They could have bored each other to death.’
Kate laughed. ‘It wasn’t all garbage.’
‘You think so? He didn’t give us anything useful, did he?’
Kate tugged her earlobe. ‘Depends if you were listening or not.’
Hank grinned. ‘You saw me dropping off?’
It was nice to see him smile. ‘He’s adamant he didn’t screw the victim, kick him or punch him. I have every faith in Su Morrissey to prove beyond any doubt that he did two of those things. By the way, talking of pathologists, have you heard how Maddie Stanton is doing? Last I heard she was still in hospital, milking it for all it’s worth and running rings around her dad.’
‘Girls and their fathers, eh?’
Kate went quiet.
Hank misread her and apologized.
She didn’t correct him. Even from his sickbed her father was able to piss her off. She thought about telling Hank about her old man’s heart attack but decided against. He’d only fuss over it and end up telling Naylor, who, in turn, would insist that she stand down. She didn’t want that. In her absence, Jo could handle her dad with both hands tied behind her back. No need to go all Swiss Family Robinson because he’d taken a wobbler he’d most likely brought on himself. Besides, their missed vacation would be all for nothing if she didn’t stick with the Elliott Foster case.
She changed the subject. ‘Tell me, Hank. When I was winding Gardner up about bodily contact with Elliott, was his a natural blokey reaction, do you think? It seemed over the top to me.’
He shrugged. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Did you notice he called Elliott “Elli”? He only said it the once, but I got the impression he wished he hadn’t.’
‘A nickname, surely?’
‘Or a piss-take he’s so familiar with he let his guard down.’
‘You think Elliott might be gay?’
The thought unnerved Kate. She didn’t even want to consider how she might feel if his death had anything whatsoever to do with his sexuality. Hank was staring at her, expecting an answer. He knew her well enough to know that she was churning inside. Seething would be a more apt description. All her cases mattered but, suddenly, this one felt very personal.
Poor Elliot.
Hank was done waiting. ‘That’s why you were baiting him?’
Kate nodded. ‘I’m not proud of it.’
‘You might even get a complaint out of it.’
‘C’est la vie. I wanted a reaction—’
‘And you got one.’
‘I have a horrible feeling I can hardly bear to acknowledge,’ Kate said. ‘You think this could be a hate crime?’
‘Because Elliott was homosexual? Aren’t you jumping the gun? Your theory makes no sense if he fathered Beth’s baby.’
‘You think gay men can’t father children?’
‘Did I say that?’
‘No. But I didn’t say he was the baby’s father. Beth didn’t either. Atkins did.’
‘Collins?’
She nodded.
‘Blimey! When the Angry Man gets wind of this, he’ll blow a gasket. If I had a crystal ball, I’d see a paternity test coming right up.’
‘Not a word to the team until we’re sure,’ Kate said.
41
Kate gave her condolences but felt little warmth for the victim’s mother. At Gayle Foster’s request, they met at her place of work, a swish solicitor’s office off Oldgate in Morpeth where she worked as an administration manager. Understandably nervous of being questioned about her son’s death – especially as she hadn’t told the truth about the last time she’d seen him alive – she’d asked the DCI to take a walk.
Grabbing a coffee to go, they walked past the clock tower, turning right into Newmarket, headed for the towpath that ran alongside the river Wansbeck.
Gayle cleared her throat. ‘You must think me callous for being at work when my son is lying in a hospital mortuary,’ she said.
Kate glanced at her. ‘I don’t judge people.’
I’m here talking to you with my father on his deathbed.
‘Don’t worry, Inspector. You’re not the only one to think so. My secretary has been in tears all morning. She can’t look me in the eye. She went to school with Elliott and can’t understand why I turned up this morning. She’s substituted practicality for lack of feeling. She’s heartbroken and I obviously don’t fit the stereotype of a grieving mother. Whatever you might think of me, I loved my son.’
They crossed Elliott footbridge into Carlisle Park. The coincidence of the name wasn’t lost on the DCI. She wondered if there was a connection there somewhere, but didn’t voice it. There wasn’t a breath of wind. The river flowing beneath the bridge was dead calm. Seagulls were ducking and diving over the surface of the water. It was peaceful, unlike the simmering atmosphere between the two women.
As they walked on, Gayle’s eyes strayed to the children’s play area. Kate wondered if she was remembering happier times. Guilt-ridden for not attending her own family trauma, Kate’s thoughts turned again to her father lying in hospital, hooked up to a myriad of heart monitors and breathing apparatus, her ex-lover offering to babysit until it was convenient for her to make an appearance.
‘One thing I’ve learned in the years I’ve been doing this job is that people are individuals,’ she said. ‘We all cope with thing
s differently, grief included. For what it’s worth, I’d probably have kept on working too under the same circumstances.’
‘You’re either very nice or trying to make me feel better.’
‘I’m a pragmatist too,’ Kate said. ‘I find it helps to focus on something specific.’
‘Forgive me, Inspector. You don’t seem the type to play social worker. Many have tried and failed where I’m concerned. With me you get what you see. Like it or lump it. However, I appreciate your efforts.’
Their eyes met.
‘I meant it,’ Kate said.
‘That’s very kind of you.’ Gayle paused. ‘So, now we’ve established that I’m not too fragile to answer your questions, can we get to the point? I have a meeting soon and I’m pushed for time.’
‘Suits me.’ Aware of her own abrupt manner on occasions, Kate wondering if Gayle was the unfriendly woman she’d been painted or, like her, a busy professional with an important job to do. She checked her watch. It was ten forty-two. ‘I have a briefing to conduct myself in less than twenty minutes. I’ve been straight with you. Now it’s your turn. Why didn’t you tell DS Grant that you’d seen your son early on Saturday evening?’
‘He didn’t ask.’
‘Mrs Foster—’
‘OK, he did.’ The woman sighed. ‘Please, call me Gayle. I’ve not been a Mrs, Foster or any other kind, for a very long time.’ She seemed to float away to some place else for a while. Kate sensed regret but didn’t pry or draw attention to it. Then Gayle was back on the towpath weaving her way around a pool of muddy water from last night’s rain.
‘I apologize,’ she said. ‘It was stupid to mislead. I didn’t think it through. I kept quiet for egotistical reasons. I didn’t want Graeme knowing that I was in Elsdon that evening. I was meeting one of his mates.’
Kate stopped walking. ‘Gayle, I’m investigating your son’s death!’
The woman turned, a shameful expression on her face. ‘It’s complicated. I don’t expect your understanding. I couldn’t see what difference telling you would make, after the event, when it would cause me a lot of hassle I could well do without.’
They both knew how weak that sounded.
Grant was a good judge of character: this woman was cold. Kate, on the other hand was, if not boiling, then ready to explode. ‘How could you not?’ she asked. ‘You work in a law firm.’
‘As an administrator, not a lawyer.’
‘You’re a material witness to your son’s murder and you’re bothered about what your ex-husband thinks of your current squeeze?’
She didn’t answer.
Kate held her temper. There was no point showing her frustration or making an issue of it. She’d sought clarification and Gayle had delivered. Job done. Still, it niggled at her. It wasn’t the resources she was bothered about. It was the time wasted piecing together a sequence of events that had more holes than a championship golf course. Had she known then what she knew now, MIT might have been closer to the person or persons responsible for Elliott’s death than they presently were.
Sensing the end of her patience, Gayle apologized again for not being honest. Binning her empty coffee beaker in a nearby rubbish can, she gestured to a bench facing the river. They both sat down, staring at the reflections of the overhanging trees. Ducks and swans made a beeline for them, hoping for crumbs.
‘We know that Elliott left your mother’s house on his bike because she saw him leave,’ Kate said. ‘We have a witness who saw you drop him off in Elsdon not long afterwards. I need to fill in the detail.’
‘I can help there,’ Gayle said, her face finally showing some emotion. ‘The daft sod was walking on the wrong side of the road heading for the village. I stopped to pick him up so he wouldn’t get run over.’ When she glanced at Kate there were tears in her eyes. ‘You know what that road is like. There’s room for two cars, no more. He had dark clothing on. I nearly ran him down myself.’
‘What explanation did he give for being there?’
‘He’d had a puncture.’
‘We know about that. What I meant was, did say who he was meeting?’
‘No.’
‘You didn’t ask?’
‘He didn’t even tell me he’d won a prize at the show. Though it pains me to say it, not all offspring are on speaking terms with their parents, Inspector.’
Wasn’t that the truth.
Kate regretted all the wasted years. Not having a father around was difficult at first, but she’d got used to it. So used to it, she hardly gave him a second thought these days. The shock of seeing him in the Coronary Care Unit following resuscitation brought her to her senses. On the way home she’d formed a plan to put aside their differences. To try, however hard a task it might be, to accommodate his point of view. As soon as this case was solved, she’d be on it, something she knew the woman walking by her side could never do.
For her it was too late.
‘Elliott and I . . .’ Gayle turned to look at Kate, tormented by past mistakes. ‘Well, let’s just say things were difficult between us. He was a little boy when he went to live with my mother. We saw each other occasionally, of course. It would be hard not to, living in such close proximity. There wasn’t the mother–son bond you might expect. If I’d known that he’d be in more danger in the village than on that road I’d have left him to take his chances with the heavy traffic. Maybe if I’d kept on driving he’d still be alive.’
42
Back at the incident room, Kate was met with laughter she couldn’t share. Gayle Foster was still very much on her mind. She might not be Mother Teresa – she’d lied to police – but she’d torture herself for the rest of her life for delivering her son to his killers. That’s the way she saw it. Nothing Kate had been able to say on the walk back to her office had changed her mind.
The DCI couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
Across the room, Hank was sharing a joke with Carmichael, one or two detectives looking on. ‘So the barman pours a cocktail, shakes it up and puts it on the counter. The ACC looks at it and says . . .’ He forced a Glaswegian accent: ‘“What the hell’s that?” The barman is thrown. “It’s what you asked for,” he says. “A piña colada.” The ACC looks at him and yells: “I said a pint o’ lager!”’
A roar of laughter went up.
‘Haven’t you got work to do, Hank?’ Naylor said as he wandered in, catching Kate’s glum expression before she could hide it. The group dispersed. ‘Kate, can we have a word?’
‘Sure. In your office?’
‘No, I’m on my way out. Here’s fine.’ He led her to the window away from the others. ‘Take a seat.’
She sat down, crossing one long leg over the other. ‘How can I help you, guv?’
Naylor did a rapid head check of the room. Team members were taking their places for the briefing. ‘Can you give me a quick update on the state of play? I’m due at HQ and Bright is bound to ask.’
Nothing was more certain.
The head of CID had left messages for Kate too. He wanted the case wrapped up, was expecting progress now she’d taken over. But Kate wasn’t fooled. Naylor was stalling. He had something else to say and this was the preamble.
She played along. ‘There’s not a lot to tell. Gayle Foster has put her hands up to deceiving us. It would appear that Gardner is the ringleader of those involved in the fight. His mates are scum. There’s no way his crew are going to betray him. Without exception, they say it was Collins did the kicking. We can talk to them until Christmas but we’d be wasting our time.’
Naylor considered this for a moment. ‘If Collins did the kicking, wouldn’t Beth have said so? She wouldn’t cover for someone who killed the father of her child—’
‘Elliott may not be the father,’ Kate said. ‘I had the same discussion with Hank earlier. I think Atkins may have got hold of the wrong end of the stick. There’s only one way to be absolutely sure and that’s to ask her.’
‘Question is, will she answ
er?’
‘I think so. She trusts me.’
‘You think Collins is the father?’
‘They’re close. I tried telling Atkins . . .’ She let the sentence float away.
‘He’ll be furious.’
‘When is he anything else?’ Kate stopped herself saying what was really on her mind. ‘If Collins is the father it puts an entirely different complexion on things. Beth might lie for him.’
‘Are you bringing him in for further questioning?’ Naylor took in her nod. ‘OK, check it out and keep me posted.’ He was studying her closely. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re not looking your best. Is there something upsetting you, other than yesterday’s nonsense? If there is, I’d like to help.’
‘No,’ she lied. ‘But thanks. I’ve been up half the night, that’s all.’
‘I heard. How’s Beth?’
‘Comfortable. It’s the baby the medics are concerned about. I don’t know what possessed her.’
‘Me either,’ he said. ‘At her age I was having the time of my life. How’s Atkins taking it?’
‘Who cares?’ Her response was callous and out of her mouth before she knew it. Her adversary deserved little consideration and even less sympathy. Kate wondered if he’d informed Diane of their daughter’s suicide attempt, or kept her in the dark.
‘Kate, you need to relax. He’s not worth it.’
‘Move on, is that what you’re saying?’ She gave him a disparaging look.
Naylor took off his jacket and sat down, studying her closely. ‘I’m not his greatest fan either—’
‘Could’ve fooled me,’ she snapped.
‘You doubt my loyalty?’
‘No, of course not.’ She apologized. Like his predecessor, Naylor was a great guv’nor to work for, an even better friend. ‘I just can’t understand your concern for Atkins. He brought about his own family crisis. No one else is to blame.’
‘How so?’
Kate said nothing.
‘I’m aware that his current predicament might be viewed as just deserts,’ Naylor said cautiously. ‘Payback for outing you to the team – but you wouldn’t wish his situation on your worst enemy, would you?’