by Ford, P. F.
‘It doesn’t work like that,’ said Slater. ‘Our job is as much about proving who didn’t kill her as it is about proving who did kill her. It would be great if we knew who it was from the start and we just had to prove it, but it’s usually the case we have no idea who it is, but we do have a list of suspects. Then it’s a process of elimination.’
‘But I didn’t kill her.’
‘With respect,’ said Darling, ‘that’s what they all say. What we need is proof. Until we have that proof we can’t afford to cross you off our list.’
‘Trust me,’ added Slater. ‘We will find out where you were sooner or later. But we could waste a lot of time in the process. You could save us all a lot of trouble.’
Morrison looked thoughtful, but he said nothing. Slater gave him a full minute.
‘Right.’ He pushed back his chair and started gathering up his things. ‘This interview is over. Darling, arrange for Mr Morrison to be returned to his cell.’
‘Whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute,’ said Morrison. ‘You can’t put me back in that cell.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I haven’t done anything.’
‘Withholding information,’ said Darling. ‘Obstructing an inquiry, wasting police time. Shall I go on?’
‘Jesus,’ said Morrison, holding his head in his hands. ‘This is bloody crazy. How did it come to this?’
‘It’s come to this,’ said Slater, ‘because you won’t tell us where you were. Reversing the situation seems pretty simple to me.’
‘Alright, alright. I’ll tell you where I was, but you can’t tell anyone else.’
‘Where?’
‘I was with Mike Lawrence’s wife, Fiona.’
‘Your boss’s wife?’ said Darling. ‘What, you were-’
‘Of course he was,’ said Slater. ‘It’s what he does.’
‘My God.’ Darling shook her head. ‘His daughter and his wife?’
‘I can’t help it if they like me,’ said Morrison. ‘It’s not my fault.’
‘So let me get this straight,’ said Slater. ‘You’re telling us you spent the early afternoon with Lucy Morgan, and then you went from her bed to Fiona Lawrence’s bed?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’d better give us her address,’ said Slater. ‘We need to speak to her.’
‘Write it down on here,’ said Darling, sliding a notepad and pen across to Morrison.
‘You won’t let Mike find out, will you?’ said Morrison, as he wrote down the address.
‘I can’t make any promises,’ said Slater. ‘That’s not how it works.’
Morrison looked up.
‘But you said-’
‘No, I didn’t. You said, but you don’t get to make the conditions.’
Morrison looked as if he might cry.
‘Well, at least let me call her and warn her you’re coming.’
‘Oh yeah, right,’ said Darling. ‘How stupid do you think we are?’
Realisation began to dawn on Morrison’s face.
‘At least I can get out of here now,’ he said, gloomily.
Slater gave him a small smile.
‘I’m afraid you’ll be going back to your cell, until we’ve spoken to Mrs Lawrence,’ he said, ‘Come on, Darling, let’s go and see if Mr Morrison’s alibi checks out.’
‘I don’t get it,’ said Darling. She had been quietly thoughtful ever since Clive Morrison had made his revelation about he and Fiona Lawrence. Now they were on the way to see her.
‘What don’t you get?’ asked Slater.
‘This Morrison guy. Am I missing something? I mean, he’s not even good looking, is he?’
Slater couldn’t help but smile at her apparent naivety.
‘I don’t think I’m in a position to judge,’ he said. ‘He certainly doesn’t appeal to me, but then I tend to prefer women.’
‘And he’s got the morals of a sewer rat,’ she continued.
‘You’re probably not being fair on the poor old rat there.’
‘You know what I mean. How could he screw both mother and daughter?’
‘Don’t forget Lucy Morgan. And who knows how many others.’
‘I’d like to know how he sleeps at night.’
‘I’d like to know where he gets his stamina from,’ said Slater.
‘You almost sound as if you’re jealous,’ Darling said, accusingly.
‘I’m bloody envious of his stamina, but I wouldn’t want to share his morals.’
‘I thought all you blokes dreamt of being able to flit from woman to woman.’
‘That’s an urban myth perpetuated by a few shagnasties,’ said Slater. ‘I’d be quite happy with just one. I’m way past being able to cope with more.’
‘So you admit you were like that once, then?’
‘I had my fair share of girlfriends when I was younger,’ he admitted, ‘but I’ve never been like Morrison. I never had more than one at a time, and I never cheated on anyone.’
‘Ooooh. So you’re Mr Perfect, are you?’
‘I’m far from perfect, but my conscience is clear when it comes to matters of the heart.’
‘That’s the difference,’ Darling said. ‘When you’re like Morrison, there’s no such thing as matters of the heart, it’s all matters of the nob for a bloke like him.’
‘So that’s a tick in my plus column, is it?’ he asked.
‘It certainly won’t do your score any harm.’
‘Talking about that,’ he said, ‘you were going to explain this scoring system.’
‘Was I?’ she said. ‘I don’t remember saying that.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It was around the time you told me I’d kept it quiet about liking fun.’
She swung the car off the road, up the short drive and pulled up at the front of the Lawrence’s house.
‘Oh look,’ she said, swinging her door open. ‘We’re here.’
Slater guessed Fiona Lawrence was probably in her late forties, and it was easy to see where her daughter had got her beauty queen looks from. Tall and slim, she oozed glamour and confidence as she stood in the doorway, and he struggled to see what a woman like this would see in a man as rough and ready as Clive Morrison, then he realised that was probably exactly what the attraction was. Quite how she could justify betraying her own daughter was beyond him.
‘Fiona Lawrence?’ he asked, waving his warrant card in front of her.
‘Yes.’ She pulled the door up close behind her, as if she were trying to protect the interior from them.
‘My name’s DS Slater, and this is my colleague DC Darling. We’d like to ask you a few questions.’
‘What about?’
‘Last Monday afternoon.’
‘What about last Monday afternoon?’
‘Can we come in?’ he asked. ‘It may be a little more private.’
‘No, you may not,’ she said, defiantly.
‘Oh, right,’ he said, surprised by her reaction. ‘Okay, we can ask our questions here, if you prefer.’
‘Yes, I do prefer.’
‘Do you know Clive Morrison?’ asked Darling.
Fiona Lawrence looked at Darling as if she had crawled out from under a stone.
‘Of course I know him. He works for my husband.’
‘He says he was with you last Monday afternoon,’ said Slater.
‘Don’t be absurd. I was here all afternoon.’
‘And he joined you at about three-thirty.’
‘Ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘How dare you come around here-’
‘It was the afternoon his daughter was abducted,’ said Darling. ‘Perhaps if he hadn’t been here he might have met her from school. She might still be alive.’
Fiona Lawrence seemed to draw herself up even taller.
‘You can’t hold me responsible for that,’ she said.
‘So he was here,’ said Slater.
‘Yes, alright. He was here.’
‘What time did he leave?’
&nbs
p; ‘Some time between five-fifteen and five-thirty.’
‘Does your husband know?’ he asked.
‘No, of course he doesn’t,’ she said, ‘and I don’t want him to find out.’
‘I bet you don’t,’ said Slater. ‘But I can’t make any promises on that score.’
‘Can you believe these people?’ asked Darling, as they drove away. ‘I mean, come on, what on earth does a woman like that see in a bloke like him? And betraying her own daughter?’
‘She’s surrounded by all the good things in life,’ said Slater. ‘Maybe she just fancies a bit of rough, and maybe she’s trying to convince herself she can keep up with her daughter.’
‘He’s rough alright, but the idea of her fancying him smacks of desperation, and I can’t see a woman with her looks ever being that desperate, can you?’
‘I agree it seems unlikely, but then she did admit it, and why would anyone admit to something like that if they didn’t have to?’
‘You sound suspicious,’ said Darling.
Slater smiled.
‘It’s probably just my cynical self coming through, but I don’t think it would do any harm to ask Norm to put her on his background search list when we get back.’
‘Talking of Norm, I’m sorry if I interrupted something earlier.’
‘It was no big deal, just a difference of opinion,’ Slater said. ‘We’ve had our fair share of disagreements, but me and Norm know each other well enough to be able to agree to disagree about something without falling out.’
Darling looked unconvinced.
‘That must be a good thing,’ she said, uncertainly. ‘It’s a pity more people aren’t like that.’
‘Fiona Lawrence has got you off the hook. You’re free to go,’ said Darling, standing outside Morrison’s cell and leaning through the door.
‘About bloody time. I told you right from the start I didn’t kill my daughter.’
‘So you did. The thing is, even the guilty people tell us they didn’t do it, so it makes it hard to know who to believe. Of course, if you hadn’t started lying...’
‘I don’t need the lecture,’ said Morrison. ‘Just let me out of here. I’ve got a job to go to.’
‘Ah, yes. I wonder what would happen if your boss knew you were into his wife as well as his daughter.’
‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean? I told you to be careful,’ he roared.
‘And I think DS Slater made it quite clear we don’t make promises about things like that. It’s funny how both you and Mrs Lawrence feel the fault lies with everyone else, but not with you. It’s common amongst cheats.’
‘You bitch,’ he hissed.
Darling smiled.
‘That’s not going to hurt. I’ve been called a lot worse than that.’
‘Let me out of here. Now. I need to get home before Tuffy-’
Darling put a hand to her mouth.
‘Oh yes, about Tuffy,’ she said. ‘You might find she’s not exactly going to be welcoming you with open arms. I’ve got a feeling she might know about Lucy Morgan-’
‘You bloody cow!’ Morrison’s face was contorted with rage.
‘Oi!’ roared a voice from behind Darling, and a large custody sergeant stepped forward. ‘Watch your language or you’ll find yourself charged with threatening a police officer.’
Morrison’s face turned a nice shade of red.
‘Oh, one more thing,’ said Darling. ‘Tuffy doesn’t know you’ve been shagging her mum yet. How do you think she’s going to feel about that?’
‘I’m going to make a complaint about you,’ said Morrison. ‘And about this conversation.’
‘What conversation’s that?’ asked the sergeant. ‘All I’ve heard is DC Darling telling you you’re being released.’
Morrison looked hopelessly at the sergeant and then at Darling.
‘You’re all the same you lot,’ he said, miserably.
‘Come on,’ said the sergeant. ‘Let’s get you signed out.’
‘We can’t speak to Crump until his solicitor turns up,’ Slater said to Darling when she arrived back upstairs. ‘How d’you feel about calling his wife?’
‘What do you hope to gain by that?’ she asked, sliding onto the chair behind her desk.
‘Probably nothing, but she is his wife, and her husband has been missing, and now he’s been arrested. I feel we ought to let her know.’
‘What do you want me to tell her?’
‘Tell her the truth,’ he said. ‘Tell her he was found creeping around our murder scene. Perhaps she can shed some light on why he was up there.’
‘D’you think she knows something?’ asked Darling. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘I don’t know if she knows anything for sure, but she’s been married to him for a long time, and if he does have some funny habits, I can’t believe she doesn’t know about them. The thing is, if she does know something, I don’t think there’s a snowball in hell’s chance she’ll tell me. But she likes you, so she might feel more inclined to talk to you. Sometimes you just have to give the tree a little shake and see if anything falls out.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Darling, reaching for the nearest phone. ‘Let’s give it a go.’
‘Melanie Crump wants to meet,’ Darling told Slater five minutes later.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Tell her to come on down.’
‘She won’t do that.’
Slater sighed and pulled a face.
‘Okay, I suppose we’ll have to go up there then.’
‘That’s off the agenda too, I’m afraid,’ said Darling, nervously. ‘She says she’ll only talk to me, and only on neutral territory.’
Slater grinned at her.
‘Well, there you go,’ he said. ‘I told you if we shake the tree something might fall out.’
‘Oh,’ said Darling, ‘So, you’re okay with that?’
‘I told you she wouldn’t tell me anything worthwhile,’ he said. ‘But if she wants to speak to you, on your own, that probably means she has got something worthwhile.’
‘Yeah, but what about a proper statement?’ A chat over a coffee is hardly going to stand up in court is it?’
‘Don’t forget – we can’t make her testify against her own husband,’ he said. ‘Go and have that chat, we can worry about the formalities when we’ve heard what she has to say. Don’t worry, I’ll be busy. I’ve got these old case files to look through.’
The Old Speckled Hen was a large pub situated on the bypass a mile or so out of town. Many years ago it had been an old coach house on the road between London and Southampton, now it was a family-friendly hostelry with a reputation for good food and a great selection of real ales. Darling was a real ale fan, and as she made her way through the main bar to the dining room, she made a mental note to visit one evening.
It was a quiet lunchtime and the dining room was sparsely populated, so Melanie Crump was easy to spot at a corner table well away from everyone else. Darling asked for coffee to be brought over to the table and then walked over to join her. Melanie Crump looked up as she approached.
‘Are you on your own?’
‘As promised,’ said Darling. ‘My boss is catching up on his reading.’
‘And you’re not recording this, are you?’
‘I’m with the police, Mrs Crump, not MI5,’ said Darling. Melanie Crump looked doubtful. ‘If you don’t believe me you can search me, but you’ll be wasting your time.’
Melanie Crump watched in silence as a waitress came over, placed Darling’s coffee on the table, and walked away.
‘Why has Michael been arrested again?’ she asked, when the waitress was out of earshot.
‘We have a crime scene out at Wild Boar Woods. He was creeping around up there. The officer who arrested him says he looked as if he was searching for something. Do you have any idea what that might be?’
‘He’s not a well man, you know. He won’t cope being locked up.’
‘Well, that’s unfo
rtunate, but we’re investigating a murder. His behaviour has aroused our suspicions, and until we get some sensible answers he’s likely to stay locked up.’
‘His mind’s going. I’m sure he’s got Alzheimer’s.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying, you didn’t show much concern for him when we spoke before,’ said Darling. ‘In fact, I got the impression you despised him.’
‘Do you think I would have stayed with him all this time if I despised him? I could have left any time I wanted, but how could I abandon him when he most needs someone to look out for him?’ Melanie Crump let out a sigh, as if maybe she was having second thoughts about being here.
‘I’m confused,’ said Darling. ‘Perhaps if you could start at the beginning. How did you first meet?’
‘That was such a long time ago I can’t even recall exactly how we did meet. I was lonely and Michael came along and filled that gap. He made me feel safe and secure, and I hadn’t felt like that for a long time, you know?’
‘He’s quite a bit older than you, isn’t he?’
‘I suppose that sort of added to the attraction. To me, he was a real live father figure.’
‘So where were you living back then?’ asked Darling.
‘Manchester area,’ said Melanie. ‘I’d just realised I was good at my job and that I could get all the way to the top if I wanted. In the beginning Michael encouraged me, he was my rock, so when he asked me to marry him I thought I’d be a fool to say no.’ She stopped talking and sipped at her drink.
‘And then what?’
Melanie sighed.
‘It was fine for the first few years. I was making a name for myself at work, climbing that ladder, you know. But then Michael decided he wanted me to have children. I’d never wanted babies, I had chosen a career.’
‘Didn’t you discuss this before you got married?’ asked Darling.
‘I think we both assumed. I assumed he wouldn’t want any because he was so much older, and he assumed I would want to have them because I was a woman, and that’s what women do.’
‘So how come you got pregnant? Did you decide to put your career on hold?’
‘In the end I told him I was happy to have a baby, just to stop him keeping on about it,’ she said. ‘The thing is, I was still taking the pill. He had no idea. I thought he would accept my excuse I just wasn’t falling, but that was the worst decision of my life. The longer I went without falling, the more he tried. We went from having sex once a week to doing it all the time. He was like a machine. I hated it.’