by Dawn Brookes
‘Now you’re talking sense. Yep, I suspect one of them moved it to protect Meg from the trauma – as you say, she’s been through enough. So, the theory is Harold killed his son, either deliberately or by accident, and hid the body. It would help if the pathologist pulled his finger out; he’s not been in a hurry to sort out the bones, but we should hear today on best guess cause of death. I suspect Caroline was the one who got rid of the bike to protect her mother. Harold was killed by Martin Webb for reasons as yet unknown, and Caroline is either in partnership with him or completely innocent.’
‘That all makes sense and fits neatly along the lines I was thinking. Webb and Sissons argued on the day Harold disappeared. It could have been about Meg,’ suggested Carlos.
‘Or money. The bank’s being cagey about Harold’s finances, but the DCI’s going over there at lunchtime to meet the manager. Once we have that information, one of the team will rake through the transactions and see if there are any coming from or going to Martin Webb. Anyway, I’d better get going. Are you all right to be left alone now? Your sister didn’t get home until 3am; her husband left for work an hour ago.’
He grinned. ‘Thanks for babysitting me. I’ll be fine. Do you want me to follow up with Meg? You said you wanted to quiz her yesterday, but didn’t get around to it.’
‘Oh, I forgot. Yes, I wanted to find out if she could remember anything else about the day her husband was murdered, and to ask if she met with Caroline. All pretty pointless now, but it would be good to tie up any loose ends. They could all be in cahoots.’
‘The trio?’
‘Yeah. Unlikely, but it’s worth checking.’
‘Okay, I’ll speak to her later. Do you think Masters will let Caroline go today?’
‘Hard to say. He’s convinced she’s involved and she still has no alibi. He’s got grounds to charge her, particularly if he can link her to Webb.’
‘His prejudice against a woman who stood up to him has nothing to do with it, of course!’ Carlos spat the words out.
Fiona shrugged. ‘Look, I’ll be there the whole time she’s interviewed. If we can’t get a confession, perhaps I can veer his focus towards the colonel. Don’t worry. If she’s innocent, she’ll be out in time to get home for Christmas Day. Try to get some rest, Carlos. And look on the positive side. You found Harold’s murderer, Webb. You’ve got a nice payday coming just in time for Christmas.’
She laughed loudly, and Carlos was grinning long after she left. She brought the fresh air he needed right now; her sense of humour was therapeutic.
Lady came in from the garden and sat by his side, excitedly wagging her tail.
‘Sorry, girl. It’ll be a short walk this morning. I’m bushed.’
28
The interview with Caroline Winslow wasn’t going well. Masters and the suspect were at loggerheads, with neither prepared to compromise. Fiona’s frustration with the pair was at boiling point; she’d had to get her boss to stop badgering and yelling more than once. The so-called defence lawyer from a local firm was worse than useless. Barely out of school, he spent more time looking at his watch than he did listening and didn’t even attempt to defend his client.
‘Just admit it, Mrs Winslow, and we – those who are innocent, that is – can all go home for Christmas,’ Masters growled and leaned in, invading Caroline’s personal space. The brief checked his watch again.
‘Do you have somewhere else to be?’ Fiona snapped, fixing her gaze on him. All eyes turned to her. Masters, annoyed at the interruption, stared at her, and then at the brief, who blushed.
‘Erm… I do have another appointment. Perhaps we can resume later?’
Masters shook his head. ‘Unbelievable. Well, don’t let us keep you – seems we’re not getting anywhere here anyway.’ He got up and stormed out of the interview room.
‘Interview suspended 11.34 am at the request of defence. DCI Masters leaves the room.’ Fiona spoke into the tape and switched it off.
The embarrassed, flustered young man gathered his papers together and hurriedly pushed them into a brand-new leather briefcase.
‘Excuse me,’ he said to Fiona, not acknowledging his client.
Caroline put her head in her hands. Fiona noticed the trembling and heard the telltale sound of the knee knocking on the underside of the table.
‘Can I get you some coffee?’
Caroline raised her head. Tears filling the hazel eyes, she nodded.
‘Yes, please.’
Fiona popped her head out the door and asked a PC outside to bring two coffees before taking a seat in the interview room opposite Caroline.
‘I’m going to need a decent lawyer, aren’t I?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘Our lawyer’s in Edinburgh. I’m not sure he’d be any good at this sort of thing, I wouldn’t know where to start. Why did they send someone so young? Not that I’d mind if he showed the slightest interest in defending me. I didn’t do this, Sergeant. I just want to go home.’
The coffees arrived and the two women were left alone.
‘Do you know Colonel Webb very well?’ Fiona asked.
‘Not really. He was good to Matthew growing up, used to help him with his bike when he got it and things like that. Come to think of it, it might have been him who bought the bike in the first place, not my grandparents. I asked Mother about it and she said it was brought round on Matthew’s birthday from an anonymous donor – she thought it was from the vicar and his wife. Doreen – the vicar’s wife – has been kind to Mother over the years. When she was allowed to, that is.
‘Harold didn’t like the colonel at all. I now know why. Mother tells me he persistently asked her out when they were teenagers. She says he warned her that Harold was a nasty piece of work.’
‘I see. Do you know if Matthew was involved in a bicycle accident before he disappeared?’
‘You’re referring to the state the bike was in in the garage. No, I don’t. When I saw it, I thought perhaps Harold had wrecked it in a temper to spite Matthew. He was never happy about the gift, but he too thought it had come from the vicar, according to Mother, and wanted to keep in with him.’
‘Why did you get rid of it?’ Might as well ask the question, thought Fiona.
Caroline cupped the mug of coffee in her hands, trying to stop them trembling.
‘I was shocked at the state it was in,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t want Mum seeing what he’d done.’
Bingo!
‘What did you do with the bike?’
‘I took it to the tip in Chesterfield.’ Caroline suddenly looked up at Fiona. ‘Why are you asking about the bike?’
‘It could give us important evidence about your brother’s death. He may have been run over.’
Caroline gasped as her hand flew to her mouth. Tears ran freely down her face. Fiona pushed a box of tissues towards her.
‘You didn’t suspect?’
‘Of course not. Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with my brother’s death as well?’ Caroline stiffened. ‘I need to be alone now, Sergeant.’
Fiona finished her coffee and stood. She pressed a hand on Caroline’s shoulder, but it was shrugged away. Sighing, Fiona left the room.
‘Where’s DCI Masters?’ she asked a young PC.
‘He’s been called to a meeting with the Chief Super. He said for you to wait till he gets back. You’re not in his good books.’
She giggled. Fiona glared at the girl whose subordination now had her attention. Tall, pretty, bright blue eyes, heavy makeup.
Yep, just his type. Another notch in his post of conquests, no doubt. Or soon will be.
‘I need the pathologist’s report on the Matthew Sissons case. Get hold of him, will you?’
The smirk left the officer’s face and she opened her lipsticked mouth to protest, but obviously thought better of it. Instead, she moved to a hot desk and picked up the phone. Moments later, she called over to Fiona.
‘Putting you through to
the pathologist, Sergeant.’
Fiona’s phone rang. She sat at her desk and answered.
‘Just a minute,’ she said, putting her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘PC Blythe?’ she called. The female officer turned her head from a whispered conversation with a colleague.
‘Yes?’
Fiona handed her a £10 note. ‘Get me a ham sandwich and a cappuccino from next door.’
The officer scowled as Fiona turned her attention back to the phone.
Who’s smirking now? she thought.
It was just as Carlos had thought. The multiple fractures and mangled bike pointed to a road traffic accident. All they needed to know now was whether Harold Sissons had run over his son, and was it accidental or deliberate? The latter, she decided, they might never find out.
She called Carlos and told him what the pathologist had discovered.
‘So it was an RTA. Interesting. Have you managed to track down the bike?’
‘Caroline dumped it at the tip. Can you give me a description and I’ll get one of our PCs to retrieve it if it’s still there. I have just the person for the job.’
‘Is someone stoking your fire?’
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
Carlos gave her the description, then she whispered, ‘I don’t think Masters has any intention of letting Caroline go. He’s determined it’s her. Has a meeting with the Chief Super. The local brief is worse than useless. Do you think you can ask Caroline’s husband to track down a decent solicitor?’
‘I’ll go and see him now, but it may be a problem this close to Christmas. Speaking of defence lawyers, I forgot to ask. What did you decide to do about your brother?’
She exhaled sharply. ‘That’s a problem for another day.’
‘I understand. Have you interviewed our psychotic colonel yet?’
Fiona laughed. ‘Is your head hurting?’
‘You could say that,’ he chuckled.
‘Poor Carlos. I’m just pleased the shot missed you. In answer to your question – no. I’m waiting for Masters to get back and we’ll do it together. It seems he had nothing to do with the bike in the garage so is unlikely to have known about the boy’s death. I still have him down for Harold, though. Either that, or he’s obsessive about his privacy. Maybe he’s got something else to hide.’
‘As long as it’s not another body,’ laughed Carlos.
‘Have you spoken to Meg yet?’
‘I was just about to go next door when you phoned. I fell asleep, would you believe? Sophie’s only just up.’
‘Must have been a good night, lucky beggars. You watch that head of yours and stay out of trouble. We’ll talk later.’
Fiona polished off her sandwich and slurped back a gulp of the coffee that had been slapped begrudgingly on her desk. She checked her change. Turning around to see PC Blythe giggling again, she sighed.
Where do we get these people from?
‘PC Blythe.’
The woman rolled her eyes and cocked her head.
‘That’s me.’
Fiona handed her a piece of paper with the description of the bicycle.
‘I need you to pop to the tip this afternoon and find that bike.’
‘But…’
‘But what?’ Fiona snapped.
‘Nothing.’ PC Blythe stood with more attitude than a stroppy teenager and stomped out of the office just as Masters appeared.
‘What’s the matter with PC Blythe?’
‘Who?’ Fiona pretended not to recall and noticed a few chuckles from other officers.
Masters shook his head, marching excitedly towards her. The triumphant entrance suggested she would need the calories she’d just devoured. He pulled a chair up next to her, a smug grin on his face. She couldn’t help but respond in kind.
‘Good news, sir?’ she asked.
‘Excellent news, Sergeant. I’ve been right all along. Jacobi’s an idiot. She did it.’
Feeling a sudden desire to slap him round the head, she squeezed the sandwich wrapper and dropped it in the bin.
‘Who did what, sir?’
‘Caroline Winslow killed her father. Can’t wait to see Jacobi’s face when I tell him.’
‘We have evidence of that now, then?’
A flash of doubt crossed the DCI’s face, but he dismissed it.
‘We have evidence that Webb’s spade has never been near Harold Sissons. No DNA of the dead man whatsoever.’
Fiona’s heart sank, eyes widening. ‘That does surprise me. I was pretty certain from his attack on Mr Jacobi and myself that he was involved.’
‘Even if he was, he wasn’t the killer. Caroline Winslow’s our killer. We need to find the murder weapon or some other evidence that she was in the woods. She denies ever being there. We’ve got her, Cook, I know it. I’ve got permission to conduct a search of the woods. It might turn something up. I need you out there to head it up. Let me know the minute you find anything.’
Fiona was relieved about the search. She’d been suggesting it for days, but Masters had told her it was a waste of money when he was convinced it was a local thug, and then he’d believed he could harangue Caroline into a confession.
‘It’s her, I’m telling you,’ he raised his voice. ‘You still don’t seem convinced, Cook. Do you have another theory? If so, I’m listening.’
‘No, sir, I don’t – I guess I’m just surprised at Webb’s attack on Jacobi yesterday, and his pointing a gun at me. I was convinced he was our man and that Caroline Winslow was where she said she was at the time.’
‘No. He’s a retired colonel, probably going a bit senile. These country types are very precious about intruders. You were lucky. He might have shot you both.’
‘That’s what I was afraid of. It can hardly be classed as reasonable force to bash Jacobi over the head with a spade. Twice.’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me if the idiot didn’t provoke him. Jacobi’s an interfering no-good pretend detective. He was never a good soldier and now he’s showing he’s an incompetent private eye. I don’t want him knowing about this search. Got that?’
Fiona grabbed her mac off the back of the chair. ‘He’ll find out, sir, I’m sure of it. Small village – people talk.’
She darted out the door, texting Carlos as she jumped in her Mini. Concern for Caroline Winslow filled her with dread as she started up the engine. That so-called solicitor was going to be of no use to Caroline; the DCI was determined to pin the murder on her, with or without evidence.
He must really hate you, Carlos.
The fear that Masters might be capable of manufacturing evidence to prove he was right sent shivers down her spine. Then the seed of an idea bubbled through her head.
‘That’s a really bad move,’ she told herself, but still, as she sat in the car, she made the call.
29
Meg was alone when Carlos called round and appeared to be in one of her more compos mentis frames of mind.
‘Carlos. Good to see you, I was just making tea. Would you like to join me?’
After following the tea routine and precise placement of tray, pot, cups and saucers, Carlos waited for Meg to sit down before starting. They were back to tea leaves; no sign of tea bags or mugs this time.
‘I was wondering if you could describe to me again what happened the day your husband disappeared. You said he went to the community centre in the afternoon as usual. That’s been confirmed by the vicar and several people who were at the same meeting. It gets a bit hazy after that. Did Harold come home at all?’
‘Harold was angry. He’d argued with someone.’ Meg pursed her lips. ‘He was often angry, now I think of it.’
‘So he did come home after the meeting that afternoon?’
Meg’s brow creased. ‘He must have, if you say he did.’
Ignoring the confusion, Carlos persisted. ‘Did he tell you who he argued with?’
‘It might have been Martin. Yes, it was Martin. What have you done to your head?’
&
nbsp; ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ Carlos automatically stroked the wound. ‘He argued with Martin. Martin’s your friend, I gather.’
‘I haven’t seen him in years, except at a distance. Harold told him to stay away after Matthew died. Martin liked Matthew, treated him like a son. He never had children of his own, apparently. I didn’t know he also went to the community centre for those meetings until Harold came home ranting one time. He was never kind when in that sort of mood. I made him some tea.’
‘I see. And that one time was the day Harold disappeared?’
‘It could have been.’
‘And when he went out again, did he say where he was going?’
‘I think he said he was going out. Yes. That’s what he said.’
‘He didn’t say where he was going?’
‘I expect he did. I… it’s all a blur. I’m not certain he came home at all. Is Martin all right? He was supposed to call yesterday, but didn’t come.’
Carlos was struggling to keep up with the muddled picture.
‘Meg, Martin Webb’s been arrested.’
‘Will he call today, do you think? He’s an old friend. We knew each other at school, you know. He’s always been soft on me, or so he says. It would be nice to have a friend again.’
Meg started the humming routine and Carlos felt he’d got all he was going to get from her today.
‘I’m not sure if he’ll be round today, Meg.’ His hand went to his head. He glanced at his phone as a text message came through from Fiona.
‘I’d better go now, Meg. Thank you for your time.’
‘Was there something to tell me about Martin?’
‘Yes. He’s been arrested for aggravated assault. He attacked two people, but he may get bail. I’m sure he’ll visit when he comes home. Now, I really had better go.’
Carlos rushed next door, told Sophie where he was going and jumped in the car, more confused than ever. He texted Fiona and asked her to send him a photo of Caroline. There was something he needed to do before it was too late.