Cavendish & Walker Box Set

by Sally Rigby

  ‘Geraldine Walters from the criminology department. As for my movements over the weekend, I was at home working on my latest research project.’

  ‘Can anyone vouch for you?’

  ‘My partner, Stephen Grant, was there for some of the time. Other than that, no. Unless you check my laptop. My saved documents will have the time and date on them.’

  ‘Thank you. That won’t be necessary. I’m just doing my job, as I’m sure you appreciate,’ Walker replied.

  ‘Of course. Now, if we’ve finished, I have to get to class.’

  ‘Yes, that’s all for now. Don’t forget the list of names.’

  ‘I won’t. You’ll have it within the hour.’

  George walked away, her head a mass of conflicting thoughts. She got DCI Walker had a job to do, but didn’t she realise George had found a dead body? A body of someone she knew. And—

  She came to an abrupt halt and turned to look back at the crime scene. There had to be something she could do. There just had to be. She couldn’t sit back and watch. Even if Walker did dismiss her view on the body and its posing. But to be of any help, she needed more information. She’d speak to the other students in Millie’s tutorial group once she’d broken the news to them, which she was dreading. Then she’d visit Claire Dexter to see what other information she could glean.

  Chapter Five

  Whitney pinned up a photo of the victim on the board and wrote “Millie Carter” beneath it.

  ‘Attention, everyone,’ she called out over the chatter in the incident room. The team were huddled in small clusters, many of them standing, leaning against the desks. She waited a few seconds for the noise to die down. ‘Our victim. Twenty-one-year-old Millie Carter. Third-year psychology student at Lenchester University. Suspicious death.’

  ‘Do we know how she died, guv?’ DC Ellie Naylor called out from the centre of the room, where she was sitting behind a computer screen. Ellie’s research skills were extraordinary, and Whitney had pushed to get her permanently on the team. Ellie had also been trained to use the self-service kiosk for extracting data from mobile phones, which meant they could access data immediately, instead of waiting for the digital forensic unit to do it for them. It was brand new technology. Whitney kept well away from it; it was way too modern for her.

  ‘Early indications are strangulation,’ Whitney replied. ‘We’re waiting on the pathologist’s findings.’

  ‘Any sexual interference?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘Again, waiting for the pathologist. I wouldn’t be surprised, as her clothes had been removed and replaced, as we can see from the photo on her phone. Matt, do we have a copy of the photo?’

  ‘Here, guv.’ He passed it to her.

  Whitney placed it on the board. ‘This is the victim. The murderer took it with her phone and saved it as wallpaper. At the moment, we have no idea where it was taken.’

  ‘Dr Cavendish has emailed in the list of students you asked for. She’s meeting with them all this morning. Shall we send someone along?’ Matt asked.

  They would, but it wouldn’t be Whitney. She’d had enough of the stuck-up doctor to last a lifetime.

  ‘Yes. You can go. You need the forensic psychology department. Interview the students individually and see what you can come up with. In particular, if she had a boyfriend.’

  ‘Ellie, I want you to check out any CCTV at the university and any on roads leading there. Also, check the victim’s phone and social media accounts. Find out what you can about her friends.’

  ‘Yes, guv.’

  ‘Do you think we should ask Dr Cavendish in to help?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Has she been talking to you?’

  ‘No. It was just a thought,’ he replied.

  ‘She’s already offered her opinion, and we don’t need it. She’s not a detective. As we all know, the majority of murders are committed by someone close to the victim. So, we can do without any complicated theories she’ll have. Let’s find out all we can about the boyfriend, if there is one.’

  ‘Okay,’ Matt said.

  ‘I’m going to see the family. They live about half an hour away. We have to let them know before it gets back to them through other channels. Frank, you’re with me. Sue and Doug, I want background checks on the uni staff, particularly those who taught the victim. Also, check if any sex offenders have been recently released into the area.’

  She picked up her bag from under the table and was about to leave, when she glanced up and saw Jamieson open the door and walk in. Crap. What the fuck did he want?

  ‘Good morning, team,’ Jamieson said, striding up to her desk.

  ‘Sir,’ Whitney replied.

  ‘Where are we so far?’

  Whitney tensed. Was this how the investigation was going to go? He usually didn’t interfere, so now because of her last fuck up he thought he would.

  ‘Everything’s under control, sir. I’m going to see the family. As yet, they don’t know about their daughter’s death.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Out the corner of her eye Whitney noticed Matt and Frank exchange glances, smirks crossing their faces.

  ‘Won’t be necessary, sir. I’m taking Taylor.’

  ‘I’m sure he could be better used elsewhere,’ Jamieson insisted, his lips in a thin smile which didn’t reach up to his eyes. ‘We’ll go in my car.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she replied through gritted teeth. ‘Frank, you go with Matt and collect statements.’

  Whitney left with Jamieson, following him to the car park and his brand-new Volvo. She didn’t resent him the car. Actually, she did. She was fed up of driving around in an old Ford Focus. She’d have loved a new car, but she needed her money for Tiffany and to help out her mum, who had her hands full looking after Rob and wasn’t able to work.

  Whitney hated having to be the one to break the news about Millie’s death to the family, but she couldn’t leave it to Jamieson. If he spoke to the family the way he spoke to her, then it would be a total cock up.

  Jamieson talked non-stop during the journey. Whitney learnt all about the work he’d done before joining the force. How good he was, and how he’d managed to save his previous company millions of pounds by implementing a reporting system, capturing everything. She had to stifle a yawn on several occasions. Not helped by the fact she’d missed out on her second cup of coffee. She timed her caffeine fixes. Every three hours was optimum.

  ‘I think it’s best if I explain to the family about their daughter,’ Whitney said as they drew up outside the Carter home, a detached house on a small estate.

  ‘No. Leave it to me.’

  ‘Have you done it before?’ Whitney asked, knowing full well he hadn’t. At least, not in his role as a police officer.

  ‘No. But there’s always a first time.’

  ‘Why don’t you let me do it and you observe? It’s often better coming from a female officer, in my experience.’ Anything to stop him from going in and making the situation even worse, because after she’d delivered the news, she needed to talk to them about Millie.

  She glanced at her watch before ringing the bell. It was nearly eleven. She hoped someone was in and they weren’t all out at work. After a few seconds, the door was opened by a well-dressed woman with short grey hair, who looked to be around fifty.

  ‘Mrs Carter?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Whitney Walker, from Lenchester CID, and this is Detective Superintendent Tom Jamieson.’ She held out her warrant card, and Jamieson did the same. ‘May we come in?’

  ‘What is it?’ Mrs Carter frowned.

  ‘It’s best if we talk inside,’ Whitney replied gently.

  Mrs Carter held open the door, which led into a long hallway. ‘The lounge is on the left. We can talk there.’

  ‘Is there someone else at home with you?’ Whitney asked, following Mrs Carter into the room.

  ‘My husband, Rex, is off work today with a bad back. He’s in the kitchen.
’

  She hated all this small talk, but it was better to have both of them there, so they could support each other.

  ‘Can you call him for us, please?’

  ‘What is it?’ Mrs Carter asked, her voice raising in tone and sounding anxious.

  ‘Call your husband and we’ll explain,’ she replied.

  While Mrs Carter went into the kitchen, Whitney took a moment to scan the room. Above the fire place were lots of photos. All of them Millie. Was she an only child? She shuddered, knowing in a few moments these people’s lives would never be the same again. How would they cope? If anything happened to Tiffany—she couldn’t even go there.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ Mr Carter stood in front of them, his arm placed protectively around Mrs Carter’s shoulders.

  ‘Take a seat.’ Whitney gestured to the sofa, and she sat on one of the easy chairs next to it. Jamieson sat on the other.

  Mr and Mrs Carter both sat down, and she took hold of his hand.

  ‘Is it Millie?’ Mrs Carter asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Whitney drew in a breath. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you, but a body has been found on the university campus, and we have reason to believe it’s Millie.’

  The room fell silent. Then Mrs Carter let out an agonising scream. She sobbed uncontrollably, her whole body shaking. Mr Carter held her tightly in his arms, not uttering a sound. He just stared blankly at Whitney over the top of his wife’s head, the colour drained from his face.

  ‘Is there anyone we can call?’ Whitney asked.

  Mr Carter jolted back into alertness. ‘No. Thank you. When can we see Millie?’

  ‘We’d like one of you to come down and formally identify the body. It doesn’t have to be straight away. Later today or tomorrow will be fine.’

  ‘What happened to her?’ Mr Carter asked.

  ‘We’re treating the death as suspicious. That’s all we can say at the moment,’ Whitney replied.

  ‘Murder?’ Mrs Carter said, lifting her head from her husband’s chest. ‘Who would murder my Millie?’ Her voice cracked.

  Whitney glanced at Jamieson, who was sitting back in the chair looking on.

  ‘I know this isn’t easy, but if we’re to catch the person who did this, we need as much help from you as you can give.’

  She hated this part of her job. She’d just given them the worst possible news ever, and now she needed them to give her some information. It just wasn’t fair.

  ‘Of course,’ Mr Carter said, his back ramrod straight, as though he might totally collapse if he relaxed his body.

  ‘When was the last time you saw Millie?’ she asked.

  ‘Two weeks ago,’ Mr Carter said. ‘She comes home for the weekend once a fortnight. And she phones two or three times a week, to speak to her mum. I’m not very good at chatting.’

  ‘Did she have a boyfriend?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘N—’ Mr Carter started to reply.

  ‘Yes, she did,’ Mrs Carter interrupted, giving her husband an apologetic look. ‘She told me last week she’d just started seeing someone. I don’t know his name. All I know is he’s a student.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Mr Carter asked his wife, frowning.

  ‘Because it wasn’t anything serious. And I know how protective you are of her. Oh my God. Was it him? Do you think he killed Millie?’ Mrs Carter’s hand slammed over her mouth.

  ‘We can’t jump to that conclusion. We’ll find out who he is from her friends. May I take a look at Millie’s bedroom?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Yes. It’s upstairs the first door on the right,’ Mr Carter replied.

  ‘Thank you. Sir, why don’t you make everyone a cup of tea,’ she suggested to Jamieson before she left the room.

  Whitney walked back into the hall and headed up the stairs. When she reached the top, she noted there were four doors. She quickly peeped into all the rooms and then went into the one belonging to Millie. There were stuffed animals placed along the windowsill. It reminded her of Tiffany. She kept all the teddies she’d had from when she was a child. When Whitney had suggested getting rid of some of them, Tiffany had refused point blank.

  They were still so young.

  Whitney peered at some of the photos stuck onto the mirror of the dressing table. Most from picture booths. Millie appeared like a normal young woman having fun with her friends. There was a pile of magazines on the floor. She took a look. Some of them went back years. She opened the wardrobe. It was half full of clothes; nothing out of the ordinary in there either.

  The double bed was covered with a blue and white striped duvet, and beside it stood a white cabinet. Whitney opened the drawer and found last year’s diary. She flicked through it. Millie clearly wasn’t one to pour out her feelings. The only entries were dates of birthdays, deadlines for assignments, and appointments with the dentist and doctor. Nothing useful.

  Not wanting to be away from the Carters and Jamieson for too long, she went back downstairs. As she approached, she could hear Jamieson talking sympathetically.

  ‘I’m happy to come back later and pick you up and take you to identify Millie’s body. You let me know when.’

  She walked down the stairs, just in time to see him giving Mr Carter his card. Maybe she’d misjudged him.

  ‘Thank you for letting me go up to Millie’s room,’ she said to Mr and Mrs Carter. ‘Are you sure there isn’t someone we can call?’

  ‘No,’ Mr Carter said. ‘We don’t have any other children, and my sister is in New Zealand. Pat has a sister, but she’s in Scotland.’

  ‘Friends?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘We don’t have many. We keep ourselves to ourselves. I’ll come down to the station later to identify the body. No need for a lift.’

  They left the house, and Whitney let out a long sigh. Delivering news of an accident or death never got any easier however many times she did it. If she was with anyone else, she’d have suggested they stopped at the pub for a drink to settle the nerves. She didn’t think Jamieson would appreciate that. Plus, she didn’t want to spend more time in his company than necessary.

  ‘You did well,’ Jamieson said once they were in the car.

  ‘It’s a horrible job. We go in and destroy their lives for ever. I don’t know how they’re going to cope.’

  ‘The same as we all cope in these situations. They’ll get on with the rest of their lives. The pain will always be there, but it will subside in time,’ he replied.

  Whitney glanced across at him, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead of them. She hadn’t expected to hear compassion in his voice. Was he speaking from personal experience?

  ‘You’ve had something like that happen to you?’ she asked before she was able to stop herself.

  ‘No. But I read a psychological paper on the delivery of bad news in my preparation for this job. I knew I’d come across situations like this, so I wanted to know what to expect.’

  Just when she thought she’d seen a more human side of him, he showed his true colours. It was all academic theory to him. She didn’t fault him wanting to be informed, but it didn’t beat actually experiencing situations.

  ‘Great,’ she said, with little enthusiasm.

  ‘What’s your issue, Walker?’

  ‘Nothing, sir.’ She looked to the front, avoiding any eye contact with him.

  ‘You really need to deal with that chip on your shoulder. Because if you don’t, it will get in the way of your career. This is twenty-first century policing. You need to get your head out of the seventies and realise it’s all about metrics and social media.’

  Whitney tensed. How dare he imply she was stuck in the seventies? For a start, she hadn’t even been born then, and she certainly didn’t operate like the police did in those days. Convictions at all costs. She’d show him who the better police officer was, and it wouldn’t be him.

  Chapter Six

  George stared out of her window onto the quad. She’d just come from the Head of
Department’s office. He’d decided to let classes continue, as there had been no official announcement of Millie’s death. It would give him time to put in place some extra counsellors and to speak to the divisional head regarding how she wanted the whole affair to be managed.

  She’d agreed with his response; however, she had her tutorial group in five minutes, and she’d decided to tell them. She wanted them to hear about it personally.

  Picking up her briefcase, she went to the small lecture room where they were meeting. She’d deliberately arrived a few minutes late to make sure they were all there.

  ‘You’re late, Dr Cavendish,’ one of them quipped as she entered the room.

  ‘Sorry. Are you all here?’ She quickly checked out the group.

  ‘Except Millie,’ Lisa, one of the more vocal students, said.

  George pulled up a chair and joined the circle they always sat in during a tutorial. It was more intimate than sitting behind desks and ensured everyone would contribute more to the subject under discussion.

  Eager faces stared at her. They were totally unaware their day was about to be ruined.

  Their lives changed forever.

  Her fists clenched by her side. ‘I’ve got some bad news for you about Millie. There’s been an incident.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry to tell you Millie’s dead.’

  After a couple of seconds of stunned silence, several of the students started to cry.

  ‘What happened?’ Seb asked.

  How much was she allowed to say? DCI Walker hadn’t said not to say anything. Which in George’s view was remiss of her. But the murder would be in the media soon enough. Millie’s fellow students deserved to know the truth.

  ‘Her body was found near the river this morning. The circumstances of her death are suspicious.’ She wasn’t going to tell them she’d been the one to find the body, even though they’d probably find out.

  She dug her nails into her leg and forced herself to breathe. It helped steady her, and she returned their gaze. ‘The university counsellors are available if you’d like to speak to one of them. We won’t have the tutorial today. I’m here if you want to stay and talk, or if you’d like to take the rest of the day off, I’ll make sure your other lecturers know.’