‘From what I understand, you do engage in the use of paid escorts, or whatever you want to call them, Mr Davenport.’
His cheeks were now red with fury; he turned to his lawyer again.
‘This is completely unacceptable,’ Davenport said to her.
‘I agree,’ Johansson said, facing Dani. ‘This line of questioning is of absolutely no relevance to the events that took place at Drifford House on Saturday, and I’m as surprised as I am appalled that it appears you’ve coaxed us here under false pretences today, DI Stephens. You can be sure I’ll be—’
‘False pretences?’ Dani said.
‘My client is here of his own volition to provide the police with his witness statement as to his actions and movements on the night of—’
‘Mrs Johansson, I’m afraid it’s not for you to decide who the police determine to be witness and suspect.’
Another short silence. Davenport looked seriously uncomfortable now.
‘Are you saying you’re treating my client as a suspect now?’ Johansson said, her almost sarcastic tone conveying exactly how preposterous she found that prospect. ‘If you are, then I’m afraid we’ll have to halt this meeting until you have properly put forward under what grounds you consider Mr Davenport to be a suspect in a criminal action. And, more specifically, exactly what criminal action you are suggesting he was party to.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Johansson. But as I already stated, it’s for the police to decide who is witness and suspect, and of course we don’t have to state our case against your client or anybody else at this stage of the investigation. This is not a court.’
‘This is utter nonsense,’ Johansson said. ‘On what grounds could you possibly be suggesting my client is a suspect in your case?’
‘I’ll leave aside the vagaries of what you mean by my case, but the grounds under which we are asking these questions is pertinent in relation to the murder of Oscar Redfearne, and the disappearance and/or murder of Sophie Blackwood. At present, we believe Mr Davenport was one of the last people to see Oscar Redfearne and Sophie Blackwood alive.’
This seemed to be news to Johansson who couldn’t resist a glance to her client to seek his confirmation.
‘Of course, if you have nothing to hide, Mr Davenport, then I really don’t see why we can’t carry on with this line of questioning,’ Dani said. ‘Do you?’
He turned to Johansson again who leaned over to him. He reciprocated and the two of them had a brief whispered exchange. Dani could see from Johansson’s increasing exasperation that she was losing whatever debate they were having. When they were done Davenport faced back to Dani.
‘We can carry on,’ he said to her, ever confident. Perhaps a less arrogant man would have heeded his lawyer’s advice. ‘I told you already I spoke to Oscar, briefly, in the hallway, around about six p.m.’
‘After he interrupted you harassing Sophie Blackwood,’ Dani said.
‘No,’ he said, his tone displaying just a hint of anger. ‘After he interrupted me having a chat with her.’
‘How many of the female waiting staff did you grope this year, Mr Davenport?’
‘Detective, I—’
Davenport cut Johansson off once more with an angry wave of his hand. A pleasing sight for Dani. Regardless of whether Davenport was involved in Oscar’s death and Sophie’s disappearance, Dani knew one thing for sure: Davenport was an entitled creep, and Dani despised him, and was more than happy to haul him over the coals for his unscrupulous behaviour if she could.
‘I did not grope anyone,’ Davenport said.
‘That’s not what we’ve heard,’ Easton butted in, finally joining the conversation for the first time since Dani’s change of course. His decision to speak up seemed to throw the two on the other side of the desk for a second.
‘Then what have you heard?’ Davenport asked.
Easton shuffled the papers on the desk in front of him, though Dani believed it was likely more for effect than anything. He’d know the answer. Dani certainly did.
Easton’s eyes were on the papers in his hands as he spoke. ‘We have three statements from female staff at Drifford House that you groped their… buttocks at various points on Saturday.’ Easton’s cheeks blushed a little at his momentary stumble over trying to find the right word. Dani would forgive him for it. ‘One of those three women also alleges you also put your hand up her skirt and squeezed her inner thigh. Another staff member, male, I might add, so I think he got away with the squeezing by the sounds of it, claims he saw you grab Sophie Blackwood more than once too.’
Easton looked up from the papers now. Dani glared at Davenport who looked as though he was about ready to breathe fire. Johansson was sullen-faced as she glared at her client. Was that because she too was shocked by what she’d just heard, and was happy to see how he’d try to worm his way out of his obnoxious behaviour? Or just because she was perturbed that he’d overridden her advice to call time on this meeting?
‘You do understand, Mr Davenport, that sexual harassment is a crime, as covered in detail in the Protection from Harassment Act 1997?’ Easton said. ‘These young women were simply going about their jobs, and unless you’re going to suggest otherwise, they did nothing to encourage or to warrant your unwanted sexual advances.’
Davenport was now tight-lipped.
‘Mr Davenport, do you accept what these witnesses have said about you?’ Dani asked.
‘You can answer no comment if you prefer,’ Easton said after a short silence. ‘It’d help our notes to show that you did give a response, of sorts.’
Nothing.
‘Mr Davenport, do you accept what these witnesses have said about you?’ Dani asked again.
‘No comment.’
‘Have you ever had sexual intercourse or engaged in a sex act during any of your visits to Drifford House?’ Dani asked.
‘No comment.’
‘Have you ever had sexual intercourse or engaged in a sex act with one of the house staff, current or former, at Drifford House?’
‘No comment.’
‘Detective, I’m presuming you’re now referring to consensual sexual contact?’ Johansson asked.
‘Consensual or otherwise?’ Dani asked. ‘Paid for or otherwise?’
‘No comment,’ Davenport said through clenched teeth.
‘Was your intention to try and have sexual intercourse or engage in a sex act with Sophie Blackwood at the party at Drifford House last Saturday night?’
‘No,’ Davenport said, now baring his teeth like a dog.
Quite a telling answer, Dani thought. Could she take it from that rebuttal that the answer to all the previous questions was actually yes then?
‘She was a pretty young woman,’ Davenport said. ‘I was merely interested and intrigued by her, and my intentions were perfectly respectable, however vulgar you’re trying to portray my actions.’
Dani said nothing to that, even though she really wanted to. Did this man honestly believe he was in anyway respectable?
‘Mr Davenport, how long have you known the Redfearnes?’ Dani asked.
‘More than ten years. I met Henry in a professional capacity, but we’ve socialised together for years.’
‘So you’ve known Oscar Redfearne for years too?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you tell us about him?’
‘I’m sure I could.’
‘Did you like him?’
‘He was savvy.’
‘Did you ever have disagreements with him?’
‘About what?’
‘About anything.’
‘Not that I can recall.’
‘Mr Davenport, did you attack Oscar Redfearne?’ Easton asked.
‘No.’
‘Did you become involved in a quarrel with him that turned physical?’
‘Not at all. The last time I saw him was in the hallway, as we’ve already established.’
‘Do you know who killed him?’ Dani asked.
‘No.’
‘Do you have any knowledge as to why someone would kill him?’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘Did you kill Sophie Blackwood?’
‘I wasn’t aware that she had been killed?’ Johansson said, quite unnecessarily, Dani felt. Perhaps she was determined to show everyone she was still there.
‘The question stands, Mr Davenport,’ Dani said.
Johansson mumbled something under her breath.
‘No,’ Davenport said.
‘Did you kidnap Sophie Blackwood?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know where Sophie Blackwood is now?’
‘No.’
Dani looked to Easton. He shook his head gently.
‘OK. Then I think we’re done here. For now. Though you might want to think some more about what we’ve talked about here today. Thank you both for your time.’
* * *
Ten minutes later Dani was waiting by the lifts for Easton to return. He’d gladly offered to show Davenport and Johansson out of the building, leaving Dani to stew on the meeting they’d just had. Did she believe Davenport was somehow involved in Oscar’s death and Sophie’s disappearance? In all truth, having put him through the wringer over the last two hours, she now felt it highly unlikely, but that didn’t mean he was in the clear. Not yet. Although he’d given a very clear and articulate account of his movements on Saturday, both at Drifford House and thereafter, Dani would make sure they cross-referenced his statement against whatever other evidence they could. If anything looked off…
The lift to Dani’s left pinged, shaking away her thoughts. The doors slid open and Easton strolled out. He smiled and raised his hand as he came up to Dani. She smiled back and high-fived him.
‘Well we sure showed him,’ Easton said, sounding as smug as he looked.
‘Not really,’ Dani said.
The smile on his face dropped a little.
‘Perhaps you’ve never been on the receiving end of men like him—’
‘Hey, don’t get me started. I was a barman on ladies’ night at our local nightclub. I’ve had my arse squeezed without my consent plenty.’
Dani rolled her eyes at that. She wanted to argue that it wasn’t the same thing at all, but then, was she right about that?
‘The point is,’ she said, ‘however despicable we think his behaviour was and is, it’s never going to amount to much, in court.’
‘Don’t be so negative. Just because no prosecutor would likely take a case like that on in criminal court, don’t think he can’t get some comeuppance. If the tabloids got wind of what any of those waitresses have said…’
He left that one dangling. Dani knew fine well what he meant. If anything, the ruin of Davenport’s business career through sexual scandal was probably more of a punishment to a man like him than a few months of jail time. Still, it wasn’t her place to start that process.
She wanted to catch a killer.
Chapter Twelve
It was once again dark by the time Dani made it home, a few minutes after ten p.m. Monday had been as gruelling as the previous day, if for very different reasons. Having lost much of the morning with her visit to Long Lartin prison and the meeting at HQ afterwards, then a good chunk of the afternoon interviewing Davenport, Dani had felt under pressure the rest of the day, and had worked at a hundred miles an hour to try to keep on top of the Redfearne case, which likely explained why she was now so drained, her mind foggy and her body lethargic as she stepped out of the car and shut the door.
She headed off the road and onto the small and narrow tarmac drive of the terraced house she and Jason had bought in the spring in trendy Harborne. So close to the bustling high street, all of the houses on the road, largely Victorian and often head-achingly expensive given their modest sizes, were crammed tightly together on thin plots. Their drive barely fitted Jason’s car alone, which remained parked up safe and sound with him having headed off to Manchester on the train first thing in the morning. She wouldn’t see him again until Friday, and despite usually being glad of the space, she wasn’t so sure she was feeling it tonight.
The security light at the front of the house flicked on as Dani approached the front door, bathing the area in bright white light. Dani stuck the key in the lock and opened the door. She expected the alarm to blip, but it didn’t.
Odd. Because she was sure she’d set it that morning before she left for work. But then she’d pretty much been a zombie all those hours ago, just like she was again now.
She flipped the hall light on, then as she shut the door, she heard a creaking somewhere across the downstairs. The lounge? She paused. Listened again. Nothing.
She hated this. She knew her anxiety levels today weren’t helped by her fatigue, even if she had earlier taken extra pills to get her through the day.
She shook her head, as if trying to shake away the irrational thoughts that were building. After all, the house was built over a hundred years ago, it was always creaking and straining.
She took two steps down the hall when she heard the noise again.
No. That wasn’t a creak.
‘Hello?’
Nothing.
Her body tensed and primed, but her mind trying its best to convince her this was nothing, she moved towards the closed lounge door as quietly as she could. She couldn’t see any light seeping out from underneath, but she was sure she’d heard something, someone, in there.
Her heart, already thudding in her chest, nearly exploded when the lounge door swung open and a dark figure stepped out.
Dani was ready to leap forwards and attack—
‘Jesus fu… Jason? What the bloody hell!’
‘Dani? I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘Jason, what are you doing?’
He looked at her as though she was a crazed idiot. Perhaps she was.
‘You know you can’t scare me like that!’ she said, as exasperated as she was embarrassed. ‘I was about to tear your face off!’
He smirked. Apparently there was a funny side to this. ‘I wanted to surprise you. I ditched the meetings today. I’ll go tomorrow. I wanted to congratulate you… But I fell asleep on the sofa waiting for you. Do you know what time it is?’
He glanced at his watch then rubbed the back of his head, as though he realised the funny side wasn’t quite so funny to Dani.
‘It was definitely a surprise,’ she said.
‘So… congratulations?’ he said, his face unable to hide his awkwardness. He grabbed her and squeezed her, and his touch helped to take away a good chunk of her anxiety in just a few seconds. He released her and stepped back into the lounge. He came back out clutching a bottle of Moet with a red bow attached.
‘For you,’ he said. ‘Now that the Clarkson case is done and dusted.’
‘Thanks.’
She took the bottle from him. His smile faltered.
‘You look shattered,’ he said.
‘Tell me about it.’
‘Ready for bed?’
She put the bottle onto the side table. ‘Ready for sleep, yes.’
* * *
Though an hour later, both were still awake, and Dani had her head on his chest as they lay in bed talking.
‘Ben is just looking for a way to suck you back in,’ Jason said.
‘So you don’t think he knows anything?’
‘I really don’t know. But even if he does, if he’s heard something on the prison rumour merry-go-round, you know he’s only looking out for himself. And he hates that you detached yourself from him again, so he’ll play you as much as he can. Everyone else has disowned him. He probably thought before when you started going to see him during the Grant investigation that he had a pal for life. Then…’
He didn’t finish the sentence. Dani wasn’t sure why. She thought what he’d been trying to say was then you and I were caught up in tracking down two horrible murderers, who attacked us and horribly injured us. But they came off worse and are both now dead, and after
wards you only wanted to get your life with me back on track, and it’s not been easy for either of us, and because of those struggles you’ve tried your hardest to push your worthless brother out of your life for good.
Or something like that.
‘What annoys me more than anything is that I do still feel drawn to him,’ Dani said. ‘Not in a positive way. Not in a sisterly way. I can’t even explain it, but I feel compelled to see him.’
‘Which is exactly what he wants.’
‘I’ll have to wait and see what Baxter and the CPS come back with.’
‘If I were you, I wouldn’t even think about it. Carry on with the Redfearne case.’
On which she’d already explained the salient points of the day to Jason. As ever, he took it all in his stride, and offered sound advice in return. Not only was Jason an ex-copper, but he was a bloody good sounding board, even if her confiding in him was professionally questionable.
‘You know the most likely answer is that it was someone at the party,’ Jason said. ‘One of the guests, or one of the staff.’
‘I know. But even that’s over two hundred people. We’ve not even made contact with them all yet.’
‘But you know who they all are. That’s the main thing.’
‘It still doesn’t make sense. Why Oscar? Why Sophie?’
‘We’re talking about murder, Dani. When does it ever make sense? Go through each of them. Treat them all as suspects until you’re positive they’re not. It’s the only way.’
‘And if the killer is someone else entirely?’
‘It’ll come out. Follow what you’ve got. The bite marks, fibres, whatever. You’re only two days in.’
‘Two days will feel like a lifetime for Sophie Blackwood.’
Jason said nothing to that.
‘I worry sometimes,’ Dani said. ‘No, not sometimes. Every fricking day. Did we make the right choice?’
Jason sighed. He’d clearly understood the vague question.
‘Dani, you were born to be in the police.’
‘I reckon McNair would say the same about you. She’s got a real soft spot for you still.’
Jason huffed. ‘I can talk the talk, but you’re the one that goes the extra mile to get results. You always get results, Dani. Maybe you don’t see it, but McNair is a fan of yours too. And yes, we made the right choice. We made a choice for us. It’s not just about what one or the other wants.’
The Rules of Murder Page 9