‘Denied killing her of course. Said it was nothing to do with him. Once he thought we were going to charge him with killing Jane Jones he began to talk.’
‘Did he cough?’
‘He denied having anything to do with Jane’s death.’
Winder stretched an elastic band and then aimed it at Llywelyn’s photograph on the board. It flew across the room once he’d released it and fell onto the floor. ‘The boss was right about Somerset de Northway,’ Winder said. ‘His fingerprints are all over the twenty-pound notes you recovered from Sandham.’
Caren stood up and began to walk for the door.
‘So, did Somerset de Northway kill Jane Jones?’ Howick said.
Caren stopped, then turned around. ‘That’s what we have to work out.’
*
Drake returned to his office and slumped into the chair behind his desk. He wanted to switch off from the inquiry; he wanted to feel satisfied that Dafydd Higham was locked up. He didn’t envy the officers in the SOCP having to deal with these kinds of offence every day. They were always painful for the victims involved, reliving the mistreatment, and with the passage of time memories faded. It would probably take the Crown Prosecution Service days, maybe weeks, to decide if Somerset de Northway would be prosecuted. And he couldn’t think how he’d explain to Tracy, Becky and Sue if the decision was not to prosecute. But it wasn’t his decision to make or to influence.
He got up and stood by his window, looking out over the parkland surrounding headquarters. It was dusk; the occasional car drove on sidelights. A jogger weaved between two men walking their dogs. How would he feel if either Helen or Megan had been abused? There would be rage, anger – he decided that he had to talk to Andy Thorsen and tell him that they owed these girls a duty. They would have to do the right thing.
He strolled out into the Incident Room and stood before the board, looking at the image of Jane Jones. She should have been protected, safe from abusers. From the moment he’d known that Higham had killed Mostyn and Fairburn, the identity of Jane’s killer had been foremost in his mind. Perhaps it had been Llywelyn all along. For now he could focus clearly on who had killed her.
He returned to his desk and read the notes and statements again, forcing his mind to picture her killer by the cottages late at night. There had to be a motive, simple or complex. He sat back, recalling everything about Tyddyn Du and Jane’s family. Then he read his notes of Julian Sandham’s interview and pictured the face of Tracy as she spoke about her friend.
He read the forensics report and when he read the section with the results, sadness filled his mind, as well as clarity. It was another hour before he had finished all his notes and constructed the basis for an arrest.
Chapter 43
Drake woke after another uncomfortable night in unfamiliar surroundings with no dreams that he could recall. Checking the time, and knowing that Helen and Megan would be having breakfast, he rang and spoke to them.
‘Do you want to speak to Mam?’ Megan said as their conversation faltered.
‘No. I wanted to speak to you. We’ll go out this weekend.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’ll ring again tomorrow.’
Drake rang off. He finished his breakfast, dumped the crockery in the sink and left the flat. He went straight to headquarters, ignoring his usual routine of collecting the newspaper and doing a couple of squares of the Sudoku. Speaking to his daughters was a much better ritual than being enslaved by numbers.
The late summer sunshine was gradually giving way to autumn coolness. He buttoned his jacket as he left the car and strode into headquarters. He was the first to arrive and he draped his jacket carefully over the wooden hanger – some rituals were still worth keeping. He called Mike Foulds.
‘I need a CSI team this morning.’
‘We are really shorthanded. I’ve had a couple of CSIs on holiday, another on maternity.’
‘It’s a simple job. Won’t take more than a few hours.’
‘Is it urgent?’
‘It’s linked to the death of Jane Jones. It’ll complete the inquiry.’
‘What time and where?’
Drake gave the details and rang off just as Caren entered the Incident Room. He called her name. She appeared at the door and waved her in.
‘Jane Jones,’ he said simply.
There was a tinge of sadness in his voice as he explained his conclusions to Caren and once he’d finished she nodded her head slowly. They left headquarters. Drake drove at a pace that was certain not to attract the attention of any sharp-eyed traffic officers. The person he was going to see wasn’t going anywhere so he didn’t need to rush.
Another forty minutes passed before Drake drove up the lane for Tyddyn Du, the Scientific Support Vehicle following behind them. He parked and Caren left the car without a word and walked over to the house.
‘This way,’ Drake said to the two CSIs, before striding towards the barn.
Inside, Drake headed over to the cupboard and pulled open a door, taking in the overalls and heavy-duty gloves that would fit the hands of both Huw Jones and his father. Hands that would have been large enough to squeeze the life out of a young girl.
‘I want everything in here catalogued and photographed. You know the drill.’
He left to walk over to the house, just as Caren emerged from the back door and came to meet him.
‘They’re in one of the fields by the sea,’ Caren said, pointing towards the cottages where they’d found Jane’s body.
Drake saw the outline of Mildred standing just inside the door.
‘She knows,’ Caren said simply.
Drake glanced over towards the house, but Mildred had gone back inside.
‘You stay with Mildred,’ Drake said, setting off down the lane with the morning sun warm on his back. The lane led down towards a grassy track surrounded by blackberry and sloe bushes. After a few minutes Drake found himself in front of a gate. In the field beyond he heard voices and the occasional thumping.
He undid the catch on the gate and at the bottom of the field he saw Huw and Ray Jones working by a ditch, a pile of fence posts perched on the back of a quad bike. The ground was hard beneath Drake’s shoes as he walked down towards them.
Huw turned as he approached and tightened his grip on a long-handled lump hammer. He picked it up off the ground and Drake hesitated. Huw motioned to his father and said something Drake couldn’t make out, before he squared up to Drake.
‘Put it down, Huw.’
Huw made another move towards Drake, but stopped after a couple of steps. He straightened, pushed out his chest and gave Drake a defiant look.
‘Huw, put the hammer down.’
The young man sagged, loosening his grip. Drake moved the short distance towards him and put his hand on the wooden handle before stepping away. He turned towards Ray Jones, who’d thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his overall. Over his shoulder Drake heard distant conversation and, turning, saw Caren and a uniform officer standing by the gate behind him.
He moved away from Huw and over to Ray. ‘Ray Jones. You know why I’m here.’
Chapter 44
It was another early meeting organised to accommodate the diary of Andy Thorsen. Drake sat in Price’s room opposite the superintendent and the crown prosecutor. It had been over a week since Ray Jones had been remanded to the vulnerable prisoners’ unit of the local prison.
He cupped his fingers around a mug of coffee. It smelt fresh and strong. Drake pursed his lips and stared over at the prosecutor. The interview with Ray Jones had been the oddest that he’d ever encountered in his career and had left him uncertain what really went on in Ray’s mind. His insistence that the local minister be present with his solicitor had been unusual, putting Drake on edge.
‘Do you think he’s fit to plead?’ Andy Thorsen’s voice was devoid of any emotion.
‘I really don’t know.’
‘We’ll need a psychiatric report, of course.’<
br />
‘It was as though he couldn’t bring himself to admit he’d killed her. I’ll never forget his stare. There was a deep hatred right through every part of him. When I put the forensic results to him he just sat back and grinned, sort of smirked really, as though I was talking rubbish.’
‘But the evidence of Jane’s DNA from his clothes and from the gloves makes it an open-and-shut case.’ Thorsen flicked through the papers in his hand. ‘Defence might try and argue that her DNA could have got there some other way. Contamination because she was family.’ Thorsen leant forward, tilted his head and looked at Drake. ‘How are you certain it wasn’t Huw Jones?’
‘He was out in Rhosneigr the night Jane was killed.’
‘But he could have got back.’
‘I know, but Ray Jones has a hell of a temper. And he knew Jane wasn’t his daughter. It was the sort of thing that would have eaten at him, until the hatred would have been too much. And the minister described him as Calvinistic. Once he knew Jane was pregnant, that would have been enough to tip him into madness. And Mildred said something that struck me as odd from the start – implying that she should have stayed at home. She must have known from the beginning.’
Drake continued. ‘There’s sadness at the heart of that family. As though they couldn’t function in the modern world.’
‘He’s a killer. End of.’
Drake wished it were that simple. Ray had killed his step-daughter and he’d have to live with that for the rest of his life. The courts would decide if Ray was mentally fit enough to plead to a murder charge or whether it would be manslaughter.
‘We’ve been reviewing the evidence about Somerset de Northway.’ Thorsen interrupted Drake’s thoughts. ‘We’ve decided to prosecute for the historic sexual abuse charges. Forensics found some old furniture in one of his barns that the victims have identified. But it was Jane’s diary and his fingerprints on the money that were the clincher.’
‘Good. Very good.’ Drake sounded more enthusiastic than he intended. Price and Thorsen gave him a wary look.
Thorsen continued. ‘Judge Hawkins will have to excuse himself from dealing with that case.’
Price interrupted. ‘And he rang me the other day, wanted me to pass on his thanks for sending armed officers to the court.’
Drake wasn’t certain how he should respond. Thorsen collected his papers together and stood up. ‘Good work. Ian.’
Price nodded his agreement.
*
When Drake returned to the Incident Room two civilians were dismantling the boards. The photographs and paperwork that had dominated the inquiry had been piled on an adjacent table ready to be filed away in the flat-packed storage boxes lying on one of the desks.
The door opened and Mandy Finch strode in. She gave the activity in the room a cursory glance. ‘Thanks for that voice recording– you know, the one from Headley.’
‘Of course. He was an unprincipled journalist.’
‘Not any longer. That’s why I called in – I thought you might like to know personally. The editor sacked him yesterday.’
‘Not before time.’
‘He did name his source, which is helpful.’
‘You had better notify professional standards.’
‘Been done.’
The room had the feeling of the morning after the night of a heavy party. It was odd seeing Howick’s desk empty, knowing that he wouldn’t be back. He wasn’t just on leave or away sick: he was now a custody sergeant in Wrexham. Neither Caren nor Winder were at their desks and he stood for a moment, realising that they didn’t need to be there. The civilians stopped and gave him a curious look.
Back in his office someone had left the local newspaper on his desk. It was open on a page that had an image of Llywelyn smiling at the camera. Drake winced at the headline – Campaigner Sues for False Arrest. It would mean more meetings with lawyers and more time away from policing. He read the long article that gave Llywelyn an opportunity to tell the readers about his crusade. He pondered for a moment whether they’d actually had an alternative at the time. There had been a credible motive – but his train of thought was interrupted when the telephone rang.
‘Drake.’
‘Ian.’ Drake recognised the sound of the special adviser’s soothing tone. She probably rehearsed every morning before a mirror. ‘I wanted to thank you for all your efforts with the inquiry.’
‘I don’t think Llywelyn would agree.’
‘Minor problem. The lawyers will sort him out. A small payment no doubt that will help with his overdraft and a confidentiality clause so tight he’ll be afraid to fart.’
Drake thought he heard a brief giggle.
‘And Aiden Hawkins was most impressed and he’s not the most affable of men.’
She made it sound as though she was on first-name terms with Judge Hawkins. He would never know how much of her special advising had been needed, because someone somewhere suspected the judge might be involved. Above my pay grade, Drake thought.
‘Good,’ Drake said.
‘I suppose you’ve heard about the sale of the land?’
‘No?’
‘The charity that should have inherited the land has agreed a generous settlement with Mrs Higham and the power company.’
‘So the development proceeds smoothly.’
‘Yes. Of course.’ French sounded contented. ‘Thank you again, Inspector,’ she said, before finishing the call.
Drake saw Caren walk past his door quickly, followed by Winder. The civilians had finished when Drake walked back into the Incident Room. Winder was chewing hard on some gum and looking very bored. Caren sat by her desk sorting papers. They looked over at Drake.
There was still a file to prepare for the crown court. Every statement had to be cross-referenced, every exhibit numbered and every photograph logged. But for now it could wait.
‘Take the rest of the day off, both of you.’
*
Back in his office Drake sent a couple of texts before taking his suit jacket and heading for the car.
Later that afternoon he sat in his car waiting for Helen and Megan. He left the car when he saw them walking out of the school gate. They ran over to him.
‘Where’s Nain?’ Helen asked.
‘I told her I was collecting you today.’
Drake had received a simple ‘Okay’ from his mother-in-law to his text telling her that he’d collect the girls from school that afternoon. The local mountain zoo was quiet as Drake parked and then paid for three tickets. He had forgotten how much the girls enjoyed visiting the various enclosures, but he hadn’t forgotten how much he enjoyed being with them.
It was late in the afternoon when Sian called his mobile.
‘Where are you?’
‘In the zoo with the girls.’
‘Oh…’
‘Do you want to have a meal with us later?’
There was silence for a moment.
‘Yes, I suppose…’
An hour later they were sitting reading menus in a pub with a sprawling garden area and a large conservatory.
‘I want to work in the zoo when I leave school,’ Helen announced.
Sian smiled. ‘You’ve got lots of time before you have to decide anything like that.’
‘Really, Mam, I am going to do it.’
Helen had the determination Drake had seen in Sian and the stubbornness of his own mother.
‘What sort of exams are there?’ Helen asked.
Sian was fiddling with the menu card; a waitress hovered around their table. ‘We need to order,’ Sian said.
Helen decided upon pizza and Megan soon followed suit.
Sian turned the conversation away from animals and the zoo, wanting to hear about their day in school. One of the other girls had been taken ill and Megan wanted to go and see how she was, only to be told by Sian that her friend would probably be back in school the following day.
Two large pizzas arrived with glasses of soft drinks for
the girls and lasagnes and salad for Drake and Sian.
‘How was your day?’ Drake asked Sian.
‘I saw thirty-five patients today. That’s a record.’
The bags under her eyes evidenced that Sian was working long hours. After two large ice creams for the girls and coffees for Drake and Sian, he paid. They left the pub, Helen and Megan running out to the car as Sian touched Drake’s arm, before kissing him lightly on the cheek.
Epilogue
It had been two months since Drake had last visited Cemaes Bay. A new sign in the main street pointed potential customers towards Llywelyn’s bakery. A van less than three years old, with Becws Cemaes Bakery in a bold red logo, emerged from the side street, Llywelyn at the wheel, and drove away.
Drake fastened the zip of his Barbour against the autumn chill and walked past the shops. The interview he had that morning at the home of an officer badly beaten in an assault late one night had ended sooner than he’d anticipated, with the man experiencing a coughing fit that meant his wife had ushered Drake out of the house as she called an ambulance.
He found a small café and sat drinking watery coffee.
‘Did you hear about Dafydd Higham?’ The voice came from the adjacent table. He jerked his head around and looked over at two women, each with a blue rinse and full, round faces.
‘He’ll be out in twenty years.’
‘They should lock him up and throw away the keys for what he did.’
‘And poor old Joan.’
‘I heard she’s going to live in Spain.’
Drake finished his drink, got up and went over to the counter to pay.
‘And that Ray Jones is completely off his head apparently. He’s in a prison for mad people.’
Ray’s plea to manslaughter on grounds of diminished responsibility had been accepted and he was starting a twelve-year sentence in a specialist prison unit, but Drake wasn’t going to explain the intricacies of the legal profession to the women. He heard them talk about the cakes that Llywelyn’s bakery had just started selling as he left.
*
The WPS had still not appointed a successor to Howick and the previous week Caren had announced with a broad smile that she was pregnant. There’d be a temporary appointment while she was on maternity leave; it would be odd having to work with new members of his team.
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