by David Carter
‘Thanks, you have been very helpful, we’ll be in touch.’
A minute later, and they were walking down the narrow and twisting staircase, and Karen said, ‘Amazing, isn’t it? Even a solicitor thinks it’s okay to deceive his wife and have an affair, and write it off as a midlife crisis, as if it means nothing.’
‘The way of the world, Karen, and I don’t suppose that will ever change.’
‘Doesn’t make it right.’
‘It doesn’t.’
They crossed the road and went into the travel agency. Lena looked up and tried a smile.
‘Have you got a minute? A few more quick questions.’
Lena glanced nervously down the office and caught eye contact with the boss. He pulled a face and turned away as if he had far more important business to deal with.
‘Crack on,’ she said.
‘It may seem a strange question,’ said Walter.
‘Now you’ve intrigued me.’
‘Did Belinda ever mention anything about....’ Walter paused and scratched his chin, thinking of his words.
‘About what?’
Walter tried again.
‘To your knowledge did she ever go with men for money?’
‘What, Bel? You must be joking! You’re way off beam if you think that. She was very particular and most selective about which men she would go with, no pipsqueaks, remember, and as for doing it for money, absolutely no chance! Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘Just another inquiry that’s overlapped into this one,’ said Karen. ‘We just needed to be sure.’
‘You can be.’
‘Have you ever heard of a man called Marcus something?’ asked Walter.
‘Oh yeah, the gay one! I’d forgotten all about him. She was so embarrassed about that, when she found out she’d been sleeping with, well you know,’ and she lowered her voice, and mouthed rather than said the word, ‘a homo, God, she was so upset with him about that, went the very next day and had a blood test, just in case, came back negative, thank the Lord, but she felt so.... so.... betrayed.’
‘Do you know where this Marcus lives?’ asked Karen.
Lena shook her head and then said, ‘I think he moved away, yeah, I think Bel told me he was so upset and annoyed, with himself, as much as anything, that he upped sticks and moved away, she thought Brighton or Blackpool or Bournemouth, one of them B’s anyway, I think that’s what she said, though I could be wrong on that. It’s a while ago now.’
‘Do you have a surname for him?’
‘Not that I recall.’
‘Thanks for your assistance,’ said Walter. ‘You’ve been most helpful.’
‘Anytime. Has she been officially ID’d yet?’
‘Ah yes, that’s another thing I meant to mention.’
‘Oh?’
Karen took up the thread.
‘She has no relatives, none at all, and it would appear that you would be her very best friend, so we were wondering if you might agree to identify her.’
‘What? Look at her dead body, you mean? Oh, I don’t know about that, I’ve never seen a dead body, I’m not sure that I could.’
Walter frowned and said, ‘I know it’s difficult, but someone has to do it, and it has to be a friend, a real good friend, there’s nothing to it, and it will only take a minute or two. You’d be really helping us.’
‘Oh, go on then, the things I get talked into. Maybe it’s not even her, have you even thought about that?’
‘That’s why it must be someone who knows her well,’ said Karen. ‘So we can be sure.’
‘Where do I go?’
‘The morgue, you can go anytime, right up to midnight, but it needs to be done as soon as....’
‘Yeah, I get you; I’ll go after work.’
Karen grabbed a pen from the desk and wrote the address on a piece of scrap paper.
‘Thank you,’ said Walter, and they said their goodbyes and the officers left.
In the car on the way to the ASN Bank Karen said, ‘Can we rule out this Marcus guy, if he’s left the area?’
‘We don’t know he has, so no is the answer to that, though I agree, he is looking a rank outsider.’
‘Unlike the Mirror man who, in my humble opinion, is in it up to his neck.’
‘Let’s see,’ said Walter, as she pulled the car into the car park outside the bank.
Inside, the same bright young thing was on display behind the shiny reception desk. Walter and Karen headed for the door on the left to the corridor, and he grinned across at the girl and said, ‘Just another few questions for Mr Rekatic,’ and they disappeared through the door, but not before Karen glimpsed the girl jumping on the phone.
Miro’s office door was open; Walter and Karen hurried in to find the man on the phone, looking disappointed that his day was being ruined again.
‘Just a few more questions, Mr Rekatic,’ said Walter. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘What now?’ he said, as Walter and Karen sat down.
‘Your charming piece of equipment,’ said Karen.
‘What about it?’
‘It has blood all over it, Ellie Wright’s blood, to be precise, care to explain how it got there?’
Miro grimaced.
‘How would I know?’
‘Not a good answer, Mr Rekatic. I think you need to give that a little more thought,’ said Walter. ‘You are close to being arrested for the murder of Eleanor Wright. I’d come up with a better answer than that, if I were you.’
Miro coughed and said, ‘Ah yes, I remember now, she had a nose bleed.’
‘A nose bleed?’ said Walter. ‘How convenient.’
‘Wonder how that was brought on,’ muttered Karen.
‘Yeah, you know, blood coming from the nose.’
‘I know what a bloody nose bleed is!’ said Walter.
‘What brought it on?’ said Karen. ‘Did you hit her?’
‘No! Course not. Well, maybe a few small playful taps.’
‘A few small playful taps,’ said Karen, making an issue of writing the comment in her notebook.
‘Yes, look, she liked the submissive role, she got off on that.’
‘Yeah, sure. Isn’t the truth of it that you like to play the dominant one, and you got off on that, as you beat the hell out of the poor girl, as she was trussed up like some Christmas turkey,’ said Karen. ‘And that maybe you even lost your cool and assaulted her so badly you spilt blood all over the place, and eventually killed her? Isn’t that nearer the mark?’
‘And seeing what you had done,’ continued Walter, ‘you cooked up a plan to dispose of the scene by setting fire to that little old caravan? Though “cooked up” might not be the best phrase in the circumstances. Perhaps you imagined that no one would miss or care about some lonely little tart of a girl who’d taken some wrong turns in life.’
‘No! That’s not what happened at all. If you are going to persist with this I think my solicitor should be present.’
‘He wants a solicitor present now, Guv.’
‘Yes, interesting that, he needs someone else to speak for him, in case he says the wrong thing, the incriminating thing. But no matter, let’s continue, and regardless of that, we’d appreciate your cooperation for a little while longer.’
Miro pulled a face and slowly nodded.
Karen asked, ‘Where were you between midnight and 2am on the night of,’ and she added the day and night of Belinda Cooper’s death.
‘At home, in bed,’ he said confidently. ‘Why?’
‘Could anyone confirm that?’ asked Walter.
‘Yes, of course, my wife, Grizzy.’
‘That’s good,’ said Karen. ‘Is she at home now?’
‘Yes, she should be, why?’
‘What’s your address, Mr Rekatic,’ said Walter, pen poised.
‘I live in Rossett.’
‘Address?’ said Karen.
‘But I don’t want Grizzy dragged into this.’
‘I’ll bet,�
�� whispered Karen.
‘Why are you asking me about that time?’
‘Because, Mr Rekatic, a woman in Chester was murdered in her own home at that particular time. It’s just to eliminate you from our inquiry. It’s in your best interests to do that, isn’t it?’
‘What woman?’
‘Her name is, or was, Belinda Cooper. Did you know Belinda?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ said Walter. ‘Because we have a description of the kind of men Belinda Cooper was attracted to, and guess what, that description fits you to a T.’
Miro shook his head violently.
‘This has gone far enough.’
‘What’s your address, Mr Rekatic?’ asked Karen.
‘You can fuck off!’
‘Charming,’ said Karen.
Walter made a note in his notebook; spoke it aloud as he wrote. ‘Suspect now being most uncooperative.’
‘Just a minute,’ said Karen, and she jumped up and left the office. She hurried down the corridor and out into the reception area. No new customers at the counter. Went to the shiny desk and smiled at the girl. Flashed her ID again for gravitas and said, ‘I need Mr Rekatic’s home address, can you give me that now please?’
‘I’m really not sure....’
‘You have two choices, you can either help the police in a murder inquiry, or I will arrest right now for wasting police time, and obstructing the police in their duty. I really don’t mind which.’
The girl gazed into Karen’s steady blue eyes and saw she meant every word. She took a small piece of paper from her pad and scribbled an address.
‘You’ll get me sacked.’
‘Doubt that, but if I were you, and just between you and I, I wouldn’t work for a piece of dirt like that.’
‘Eh?’
Karen leant over the counter and whispered, ‘Have you ever been alone with him?’
‘What, outside of work?’
Karen remembered the incapacitator that formerly slept in the cupboard just along the corridor. ‘Inside work or outside work, you know what I mean, have you ever been alone with him?’
‘No, course not. I’m engaged to Jason. But....’
‘But what?’
‘I’ve heard rumours.’
‘What kind of rumours?’
‘The girl who worked here before me....’
‘What about her?’
‘She left, said she’d been approached.’
‘By Miro?’
The girl nodded.
‘To do what?’
‘Don’t know, but it wasn’t good. Not good at all.’
‘What was her name?’
‘Marilyn Webb.’
‘Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.’
‘I’ll get into big trouble now.’
‘No you won’t. I’ll see to that,’ and Karen turned tail and returned to the office.
Not much seemed to have changed in there, almost as if they had been waiting for her return.
‘12 Sunflowers Close, Rossett,’ she said, grinning. ‘That wasn’t so difficult, was it?’
‘Look, I really don’t want you bothering Grizzy.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ said Walter. ‘But we need to check on your alibi. If we can do that, you are in the clear, at least so far as Belinda Cooper is concerned. You must see that.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t mention anything about Ellie.’
‘Can’t make any promises,’ said Walter. ‘Of course if you could help us some more....’
‘How can I help you? I’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘Tell me about Marilyn Webb?’ said Karen.
Walter sat up and paid attention.
‘Who’s been talking?’
‘Never mind that. Marilyn Webb left here under a cloud in a bit of a hurry. Why was that?’
‘She said she’d been suffering from sexual harassment.’
‘By you?’ asked Walter.
‘No, course not!’
‘Did you ever use the incapacitator on her?’ asked Karen.
‘No! Definitely not.’
‘Would we find her blood on it too?’
‘No, I told you.’
‘We could ask her,’ said Walter.
‘Please do!’
‘I think that’s all for today,’ said Walter. ‘Thank you for your assistance.’
Miro didn’t reply, as Karen said, ‘And don’t you dare put any pressure on the young woman on reception, or I will have your guts for garters.’
Miro pulled a face and said, ‘Are you going to see Grizzy?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Walter, ‘and no doubt you will ring her first to prime her with answers.’
‘I won’t.’
‘That’s the most sensible thing you have said all day,’ said Walter. ‘Good morning.’
Twenty-Five
During the short journey south to Rossett Karen said, ‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’
‘What is?’
‘We are investigating murder, and looking into another suspicious death, and we end up uncovering all kinds of creepy nonsense.’
‘Like sexual harassment at work, you mean?’
‘Yeah, among other things. Adultery, deceit, lies, you name it. It all comes tumbling out.’
‘The human condition, Karen.’
‘Yeah, but it doesn’t always look great does it, Guv?’
‘Too true.’
Three and a half thousand souls live in Rossett, a small border town, or large village if you prefer, just over the Welsh border, 7.5 miles south of Chester, 6.5 miles north of Wrexham. It’s a smart little place standing on the banks of the river Alyn, a tributary of the big river Dee a couple of miles away. It’s a pretty place too with a cute watermill, and a couple of quaint country pubs that are always packed out at the weekends, with city people paying a visit to the country, and country people eager and willing to meet the city folks. Pretty girls in short skirts, and handsome hunky farm guys looking for company, and maybe more.
Karen knew the pubs well; she’d frequented them many times herself, but then so had Walter, though not for a little while. It was a pleasant place to be, and a pleasant place to live.
Sunflowers Close consisted of not more than twenty executive style detached houses, precisely the kind of place one would expect a locally based banker to live. Number 12 looked like most of the others, large gable to the right side, red brick, white windows, red tiles, white people, three large windows to the left, and a double garage with white up-and-over doors to the left of that. Reasonable sized gardens that still housed a few flowering roses, chrysanths, and dahlias, despite it being November, the very last ones hanging on for dear life, courtesy of global warming.
‘Nice place,’ said Walter.
‘Very nice,’ said Karen, as they ambled up the path and Walter rang the doorbell.
A young blonde woman, presumably Grizelda Rekatic, came to the door straight away. Opened up, looked out, saw a big bear-like black man, and a slim blonde. Grizzy hadn’t put on any makeup, though she didn’t need it, she must have looked dreadful, she imagined, though Walter thought she looked incredibly beautiful, in tight jeans and white blouse, not unlike Karen herself.
‘Grizelda Rekatic?’ said Walter.
‘Yes. And you are?’
Karen flashed ID and did the intros.
‘Police?’ she said, alarmed, as people always are. ‘There’s nothing wrong is there? With Miro? Or the children, there’s nothing wrong with children is there? God forbid!’
‘Nothing like that,’ reassured Karen.
‘We just need to ask you a few questions, routine enquiries, nothing for you to worry about.’
‘You’d better come in.’
Walter smiled and entered the smart house. Grizzy showed them into a luxurious front sitting room, where everything was new and neat and just so.
‘Take a seat,’ she said. ‘Would you like a cup of tea. The k
ettle’s just boiled.’
Normally they’d always say no, but Walter’s throat was dry, and the chair was particularly comfy, and he found himself saying, ‘That would be very nice, thanks, milk no sugar.’
Karen said, ‘No thanks,’ and Grizzy left the room.
There was the same silver framed photo on the glass coffee table featuring the two beautiful girls, and smart pictures on the walls, but nothing else of interest.
Grizzy came back and set a mug of tea before Walter, and, clutching her own cup, she sat down, and said, ‘So what can I do for you? It isn’t every day the police come calling.’
Walter sipped the tea. It was good.
Karen said, ‘Can you tell us where Miro was between midnight and 2am on the night of,’ and she repeated the date of Bel’s murder.
‘Miro?’ said Grizzy. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Was he here?’ asked Walter.
‘Of course he was here, we were in bed, sleeping, he is very busy at present, with all the expansion, he’s often very tired when he gets home, he needs his rest.’
I’ll bet he does, thought Karen.
‘Are you certain he was here?’ said Walter. ‘You wouldn’t lie to us, would you?’
‘Of course I would not lie. My mutter always taught me not to lie. I never lie. Not ever. What is this all about?’
Walter took a deep breath.
‘There was a woman murdered in Chester that night.’
‘Murdered? What has this got to do with my Miro? I not understand.’
‘We are just eliminating people from our enquiries, that’s all.’
‘You don’t think Miro had anything to do with it, do you?’
‘As I said, we are just ruling people out,’ said Walter.
‘I think you not tell me everything.’
You’re right there, thought Karen, biting her lip. Did the woman have a right to know that Miro visited prostitutes, that he restrained them and beat them till they bled, and harassed the beautiful young women at work, and heaven knows what else.
Walter drank tea and took a card from his top jacket pocket and set it on the glass table.
‘If you think of anything else, you can ring me anytime.’
‘Is that it?’ she said, glancing at the card.
‘Yes,’ said Walter. ‘That’s it.’
The phone in the hallway rang.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, getting up and going through and answering it.