Close Ranks

by Valerie Keogh

  It could just means she hasn’t been caught.’ Jarvis said quietly

  ‘A very, very clever woman, then?’ Edwards muttered.

  ‘Or a lucky one?’ Baxter chipped in.

  ‘She’ll know we’re on to her when she hears about Viveka Larsson, will guess we’ll be looking into everyone else. She might make a run for it. So,’ he said looking around, ‘we need to gather as much information on these eight women as we can, as quickly as possible.’ He added, ‘I’m going to keep this from Inspector Morrison for the moment. I think his faith in my intuition has taken a bit of a beating.’

  He waited until the expected laughter died before continuing, ‘Go do your thing. If you’re using methods that would turn my hair grey, don’t tell me. Just remember discreet is the keyword. Ok?’

  Nods all around and they headed back to desks and computers. Baxter, the computer wizard of the team, had a quick word with Edwards who nodded and was still nodding even as his fingers moved almost of their own volition across the keys. He might not have been as good as Baxter but he was only marginally behind. Both West and Andrews were rather in awe of the younger men’s computer skills but were happy to set them loose on their keyboards and await the outcome.

  Two hours later they had the outcome and it didn’t make them happy.

  36

  ‘ Nothing?’ West said trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his dismay.

  Andrews shook his head emphatically. ‘The lads looked everywhere they could, Mike. There was nothing special about any of the eight. One of them spent time in Africa, I don’t know...’

  The phone rang interrupting him. West swore loudly. ‘If this is Mother Morrison looking for results I am going to go up and ring the bloody man’s neck.’ He picked up the handset. ‘Sergeant West,’ he said, his voice not quite a snarl, but close.

  As Andrews watched, West’s face changed from annoyed to resigned to outright puzzled. He couldn’t guess who was calling from the yes’s and no’s he heard. Finally West finished with, ‘We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’ Hanging up, he sat back in his chair and smiled. ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘You will never guess who that was, Peter.’

  ‘Probably not going to even try,’ Andrews replied with a yawn.

  ‘Bernard Beans. Our friend from the vegetable shop.’ West stood and picked up his car keys. ‘Let’s go. He’s expecting us. Tell Edwards to come, and take his group photo of Offer.’ He gripped Andrews’ arm, ‘Someone tried to buy Manioc Esculenta a couple of hours ago. Pat says it was the same woman.’

  They took West’s car and barrelled through the traffic, none of them spoke but all three thought maybe.

  Arriving outside The Vegetable Shop less than fifteen minutes later, West parked immediately outside, half on, half off the pavement. Once more the shop was empty. They didn’t hang about this time, went to the door at the back, knocked loudly and then opened it and shouted for Mr Beans.

  He appeared within seconds, all businesslike hustle and bustle. ‘Here you are again then,’ he said, peevishly, as if he had not rung and volunteered information just fifteen minutes before.

  West cut to the chase, ‘We need to know more about the woman who came in to buy the cassava,’ he demanded. ‘You’re sure it was the same woman?’

  Mr Beans shrugged a bony shoulder looking, as Andrews told his wife later, like a tatty puppet on strings. ‘Pat said it was. I never met the woman, if you remember.’

  West and Andrews exchanged glances. Pat wasn’t the most reliable of witnesses. West thought a moment and then asked, ‘She asked for cassava. Not manioc esculenta?’

  Mr Beans frowned in concentration, his eyes glazing over as he thought back to only two hours previously. ‘Mmmm,’ he murmured, ‘I think...mmnn...no, she definitely asked for cassava.’

  ‘So she knew manioc esculenta and cassava were one and the same,’ West muttered, filing that piece of information away for later. ‘Did she mention buying it here the last time,’ he asked, hoping to link the two visits together with a stronger witness than Pat.

  ‘She didn’t say anything. I told her we didn’t sell it anymore, that we wouldn’t be stocking it in future. She didn’t say another word, or buy anything else,’ he added aggrieved, ‘she just turned and left.’

  ‘You said Pat thought it was the same woman. Is she here?’

  Without turning around, Bernard Beans let out a yell, ‘Pat. Get yourself out here. Now.’

  They weren’t waiting long. A shuffle sounded from the back of the premises, gradually growing louder until the large body of Pat sailed into view.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, the broad smile across her rosy cheeks growing broader when she saw Edwards. ‘You’re back.’

  ‘Hello, Pat,’ West said and her eyes focused on him with a slight dimming of the smile. ‘You remember we were here before, trying to find the woman who bought those funny vegetables. We hear she was in again today, wanting to buy more.’

  Pat nodded. ‘She’s got pretty hair. But she speaks funny.’

  West looked at Beans for clarification. ‘Speaks funny? An accent?’

  Bernard Beans shook his head. ‘I didn’t notice an accent. She did speak in a breathy kind of whisper. Irritating I found it, not in the slightest bit funny.’

  West closed his eyes briefly and gave himself a mental kick. A hard one. They’d made an assumption and it was wrong. He looked across at Edwards who nodded and reached into his jacket pocket for the group photograph he had shown Pat before.

  ‘Pat, you told Garda Edwards that the lady who bought those funny vegetables was in this photograph. Can you look at it again? Just to be sure.’

  Pat took the photograph into her, not very clean, hands and peered at it, holding it so closely West wondered if she usually wore glasses. He was just about to ask when she beamed a smile. ‘Yep. That’s her.’

  Knowing it couldn’t be Viveka Larsson, West looked grimly at Edwards. ‘Did Pat identify Viveka by pointing her out or did she just say she was in the photograph.’

  Paul Edwards swallowed hard. He’d made a rookie mistake. Pat had said the woman she’d seen was in the photograph. Because they were looking at Viveka Larsson, he’d jumped to the convenient and erroneous conclusion she meant her. He met West’s gaze, ‘She said she was in the photo. My fault.’

  More assumptions. No point in blaming Edwards.

  ‘Ok, Pat,’ he said keeping his voice gentle. ‘Will you put your finger on the woman who bought the funny vegetables?’

  They waited.

  Pat, all eagerness to please, placed her index finger firmly on the face of one of the women in the photograph.

  ‘You’re sure,’ West said, and she nodded. ‘And is this the same woman who was here today.’ She nodded again.

  West took the photograph and handed it to Bernard Beans. ‘Mr Beans can you indicate the woman who was here in your shop today. The woman who asked if you had any cassava.’

  Mr Beans took the photograph and studied it for a long time before looking up. ‘There is no doubt in my mind,’ he said, and the three men let out breath they didn’t know they were holding. ‘It’s a very good photograph. Pat was right, it was this woman here.’

  West took the photograph back. He didn’t need to read the names underneath to identify the woman they had picked out. He folded the photograph and put it into his pocket.

  ‘Thank you both. Your assistance has been invaluable.’

  ‘Well, I hope that’s it now,’ said the irascible Mr Beans who promptly turned on his heel without more ado and went through the door.

  Pat still smiled sunnily. ‘I hope you come back again,’ she said, her eyes slanting to Edwards.

  They nodded their thanks and headed to their car in silence. The doors had barely shut before Edwards, sitting in the back, sat forward, his head poking forward, turtle-like between the two men. ‘So,’ he said eagerly, ‘who is it then?’

  ‘Heather Goodbody.’

  ‘No way,’ Edwards said. ‘I�
��ve met her. She’s a mouse, wouldn’t hurt a fly. You mean to tell me she killed Gerard Roberts?’

  Andrews grunted. ‘Remember I was telling you one of the eight women we were looking into had spent time in Africa. It was Heather Goodbody.’

  ‘I suppose she’d have come across cassava there, wouldn’t she?’ Edwards said. ‘Still, Heather Goodbody.’

  West started the car, indicated and pulled out into the traffic that stopped and started on its way through Foxrock village.

  ‘How’re you going to play this?’ Andrews asked. ‘Trying for another warrant might be difficult, you know.

  West knew only too well. They’d have heard about the fiasco of the first and be very reluctant to issue another for the same items.

  ‘We’ll invite her in to assist us in our enquiries,’ he said. ‘If Beans had seen her the first time she went to the shop, I’d go for a warrant but Pat just isn’t a strong enough witness. A solicitor would demolish her in two seconds flat. And all Beans can testify to, is that she went in to buy some cassava. Not a crime. Unfortunately for us, she didn’t mention to him that she’d bought it there before.’

  ‘When we get back, Paul, do some digging. Try and find out what she was doing in Africa. How long she was there? Anything?’

  ‘Will do,’ Edwards said. ‘Still can’t believe it’s her. She was so helpful, Friday morning. The last time I saw her she was walking off, arm in arm with Kelly Johnson.’

  West brought the car to a sudden halt, the car behind stopping with a screech of breaks and a prolonged blast of his horn.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Edwards who, sitting forward to chat, was thrown back against the seat.

  ‘You should have had your seat-belt on. It’s compulsory you know.’ Andrews said, looking back with a grin that faded quickly when he saw the worried look on West’s face.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  West shook his head. ‘I should have known there was something wrong. It wasn’t like her. I knew it.’

  ‘What?’ Edwards asked from the back seat, buckled in now and straining forward to hear what the hell was going on.

  ‘Kelly Johnson?’ Andrews asked.

  West nodded. ‘We were supposed to go out Sunday afternoon. Walk along the pier.’ He sighed, remembering. ‘I called around to her house on Friday evening to warn her we were looking into Offer. She wasn’t happy about it.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘She tore strips off me. Anyway, I left. Tried to ring her on Saturday, several times. Tried to ring her Sunday. Hell, I even went around on Sunday, her car was there but there was no answer. She’d said she had something on Saturday night. I made the assumption it was another man, thought maybe she’d stayed out.

  ‘Then today, Viveka Larsson said Kelly was supposed to be at an Offer meeting on Saturday night, but Heather said she’d rung to say she couldn’t make it. I haven’t heard from her. And it isn’t like her. You know her, Peter, up front, tells it like it is. She wouldn’t ignore the phone ringing, or somebody banging on the door.’

  Andrews gave him a sharp look. ‘You warned her about Offer.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know, very unprofessional of me.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Andrews said grimly. ‘Didn’t you know? It was Heather Goodbody who introduced Kelly to Offer.’

  West’s lips narrowed. If anything happened to her. ‘Viveka Larsson said Kelly’d rung Heather to tell her she wasn’t attending the meeting on Saturday night. So the last person to speak to Kelly was Heather.’

  ‘Maybe Kelly felt she owed it to her to warn her about the investigation?’Andrews said worriedly.

  West nodded and pressed a little harder on the accelerator. ‘Just what she would have done, I can see that, Peter.’ He took the turn into Wilton Road without slowing down, causing both his passengers to draw a sharp breath. West pulled up in the same place he had parked on Sunday and got out.

  Her car was parked in the same place, West looked closely, he’d swear it hadn’t moved since he last saw it. Leaves from a huge walnut tree in her neighbour’s garden had built up around the tires. Hell, this car hadn’t been moved in days.

  The three men moved to the front door, West slightly ahead. It was almost dark but there wasn’t a light to be seen. He pressed the doorbell, keeping his finger on it even as they heard the sound reverberating through the house. ‘Try the windows; see if you can see anything.’ He kept his finger on the bell as the two men nodded and headed off, Andrews directing Edwards to go left while he went to the right. They were back in less than a minute.

  ‘Can’t see a thing. Windows are shuttered on this side.’ Edwards said.

  Andrews shook his head. ‘Only the kitchen window on my side, nothing to be seen.’

  West took his finger off the bell. The sudden silence was uncomfortably heavy, none of the three men willing or able to break it. Edwards because, as he told Jarvis when he recounted his tale over several pints a few days later, he really didn’t know what the fuck was going on and didn’t want to make a fool of himself by saying so. Andrews because, with a good policeman’s intuition, he knew there was something very wrong here. And he knew how West felt about Kelly Johnson, something he wasn’t too sure West himself was aware of.

  West was silent because he was suddenly very afraid. Contrary to what Andrews thought, he knew damn well what he felt for Kelly Johnson.

  ‘Bill,’ he said suddenly, startling both men.

  ‘Who?’ Andrews said, puzzled.

  ‘Nosy neighbour. You remember,’ West said. ‘Come on.’

  Andrews quickly filled Edwards in on his history with Nosy Neighbour as they raced up his drive, seconds later hearing his bell ring as West pressed and then pressed again.

  The man opened the door with a look of alarm on his face. ‘What on earth?’ he said and then looked more alarmed as he recognised two of the men standing on his doorstep. ‘Oh it’s you lot,’ he said, eagerly. ‘I suppose you’re here about my complaints. It’s taken you long enough I must say.’

  Slightly taken aback to be expected, even if for the wrong reason, West was momentarily confused, ‘No, Mr...’

  ‘Hudson. For goodness sake how can you be handling my complaints if you can’t even remember my name?’

  West tried to keep a rein on his mounting impatience and rising temper. ‘Mr Hudson, we are not here about any complaints. We are here,’ he continued, speaking over the man who was bristling and babbling about his rights, ‘because we are concerned about Ms Johnson.’

  Bill Hudson threw his hands up in the air and made a sound of exasperation. ‘Well, isn’t this just typical. Are the Garda Siochana in business just to serve Kelly Johnson’s needs? Is she the only one that has problems, I ask myself, and do you know what I answer myself?’

  ‘Mr Hudson,’ West said, ‘I promise I will assign a garda to look into your complaints tomorrow. In fact,’ he turned and with a wave indicated Edwards and sacrificed him, ‘this officer will be at your disposal, all day tomorrow. Ok?’

  ‘All day?’ he asked, the wind taken out of his sails.

  ‘All day,’ West promised, ignoring the groans coming from Edwards. ‘Now I need you to tell me when you saw Kelly last.’

  ‘I’m not her keeper, you know,’ he started, ‘but it just so happens I saw her going out on Friday evening, not very long after you left, actually. She didn’t take her car so I assume she wasn’t going far. And she was just carrying her keys. No bag.’

  ‘And after that?’

  He shrugged. ‘Haven’t seen her since. Which is very unusual, you know. I normally see her once or twice a day.’

  ‘She may have come back later.’ West said.

  He shook his head. ‘She didn’t come back that night anyway. My living room and bedroom are on this side of the house, you see. If she’d come back later, I’d have noted the security lights coming on and checked.’ He pointed up to his bedroom. ‘Never close my curtains, so I always know what’s happening.’

  West thanked the man and r
eiterated his promise of Edwards’ help the following day. They walked back to the car, each lost once more in their own thoughts.

  Andrews, seeing Edwards’ face, whispered into his ear, ‘Soak it up. It’ll do you no harm.’

  All very well for him to say, Edwards thought crossly, but took the older man’s advice. There was one thing he had learned about working with both West and Andrews; they remembered work well done and actions done for team benefit. This, he decided glumly, was definitely taking one for the team.

  West leaned against his car and looked back at the house. ‘She was mad at me. She’d have walked rather than driven for that reason.’

  Knowing Kelly, Peter Andrews nodded in agreement. ‘So what’s our plan?’

  ‘Heather tried to buy that damned vegetable today. If we’re right and she killed Gerard Roberts, what’d she want to buy more for, if not to use on someone else.’

  ‘But why would she want to kill Kelly Johnson?’ Edwards said.

  ‘If we go with the idea that Kelly went to warn her about the investigation into Offer, maybe Heather gave herself away. Kelly is no fool and if you remember, she has some experience in dealing with nasty customers. Ok,’ West decided, sitting into the car, waiting till the others had followed suit before continuing, ‘we’re going to go around to Heather Goodbody’s. We don’t need a warrant to speak to her. We can tell her we’re making inquiries.’

  Andrews nodded. ‘The houses where she lives are standard three-bedded semi’s. Not many places to keep an adult hidden away. If she’s there, we’ll find her, Mike.’

  ‘We have to. If we’re right, Heather’s plan was to kill her the same way she did Gerard Roberts, and that plan has failed. She’ll be desperate. And desperate people do stupid things. We have to find Kelly before anything happens to her.’