by Anita Waller
Marnie and Andy Harrison were taken in, and kept overnight in separate cells until they could be questioned the following day.
Tessa felt wide-awake, her energy levels at a high peak. At eleven o’clock, as she was thinking about trying to get some sleep, Phil Anderton, the man in charge of the SOCO team tearing apart the Harrison house, rang her. They had found a Nike backpack concealed in an empty plastic carrier bag and covered with other carrier bags, hanging in the pantry. It contained a mobile phone, a scan picture of a foetus, and various cards inside a purse confirming the bag belonged to Orla French. Her name was also written inside the front flap.
He added that the wooden rolling pin found in the cupboard appeared to have dark stains on it, and that if it was blood it would be confirmed as early as possible the next morning.
She thanked him, and walked through to her own kitchen. She considered ringing Hannah, but decided against it – why should both of them have a sleepless night.
Tessa felt sick that they had missed everything for so long.
Marnie Harrison had acted her socks off from the word go. The distraught mother, fooling everybody. Nadine Bond would be livid. She had given every care and consideration to the family, looking after Marnie when she appeared to be at her lowest ebb… Why would this woman, this mother, kill her only daughter?
And then Tessa knew. It was all about Andy. Marnie’s love and need for the man had showed from the beginning, and even when she had told him to leave, he had only been away a couple of days before she told him to go back home. She couldn’t live without him, and Orla had threatened that. If Orla lived, and had the baby, Marnie would have had to make Andy go. For good.
The fact that the bag was in the house proved that Orla had gone home first, before intending to set off on the walk into Hope. To fill in the picture properly, Tessa knew she had to get Marnie talking, confessing. That meant having as many facts at her fingertips as possible, before going into that interview room. She needed confirmation that it was blood on that rolling pin, and even more imperative that it was Orla’s.
Tessa sat down at the kitchen table, and pulled a notepad towards her. Time to put her brain into the right gear, and plan out the next day’s interviews. She would start with Andy Harrison.
She paused for a moment and wondered what he must be thinking. He was probably expecting to be arrested for his stepdaughter’s murder, and heading for a major meltdown knowing he hadn’t done it. Had he ever considered Marnie might be a prime candidate for a charge of filicide? Was he thinking it now?
Tessa knew that they would probably be releasing Andy Harrison after his interview; they had known from the beginning that his alibi was unbreakable, but he wouldn’t be allowed to go home. The house was a crime scene, and would remain so for a few days.
She focussed on the list again, and wrote down questions that required answers. And Castleton could get ready for an invasion of journalists and television crews once this bit of news broke.
Tessa managed two hours of sleep, then showered, grabbed a couple of slices of toast and a travel mug of coffee, and headed into Chesterfield. It was going to be a long day.
40
By ten o’clock, Tessa had the information she needed. Inside the Aygo, they had lifted Orla’s fingerprints, very much to be expected as it was her mother’s car. They had also found minute traces of her blood on the passenger seat’s back, presumably where her head had rested during transport to the dump site. The wound caused by the rolling pin had smeared the seat’s back.
The rolling pin bore traces of the same blood; it had been scrubbed, but the stain remained. Tessa gathered up everything she needed and headed to the interview room, where Andy Harrison was sitting quietly.
His stomach was churning; he felt sick. What on earth could Marsden have that could possibly point to him killing Orla? Absolutely nothing – he hadn’t done it. And yet he’d been in a cell overnight, and he was seriously worrying that it was the first night of many to come.
And Marnie – they had brought her in at the same time. He hoped she was back home, her fragility was evident, and he didn’t want to see a complete breakdown. He shuffled on the chair, not the most comfortable of seating he had ever used. The door opened.
Tessa walked across to the table, placed a couple of files on it, and switched on the recorder.
‘Andrew Harrison, DI Tessa Marsden, DS Hannah Granger and duty solicitor Ursula Pentland. Interview room three, 10.05.’ Tessa checked her phone and added the date.
Tessa looked through her file, then lifted her eyes to meet Harrison’s white face. ‘Andy, I want to go back to the night of Orla’s murder. I want you to talk to me about Marnie. Tell me what she was like.’
‘Marnie?’ He frowned. ‘She was busy with our evening meal. Just putting in the apple pie, and flapping because she hadn’t had time to go out and get the rosé wine we both enjoy. She said she had a headache, and she closed her eyes for half an hour, which extended into an hour, making her late. I left her to her pie-making and went straight back out to get the wine.’
‘Where did the wine come from?’
‘The pub. I went in Marnie’s car, because I intended nipping to the wine shop in Hope, but the weather was so bad I only went as far as the pub, then straight back home. I had a brief chat with the barmaid, so I must have been gone ten minutes at the most.’
‘You used the Aygo?’
‘I did.’
‘Why?’
‘My car is too big for running around the little villages. It’s fine for my daily trips to Manchester, but if we need to go around Castleton, we tend to use the Aygo.’
‘Did you notice anything about the car’s interior?’
‘Only that both front seats were damp, but I figured Marnie had been doing her good Samaritan deeds and had given someone a lift because of the heavy rain. It wouldn’t have been the first time.’
Hannah was making notes, and she glanced up at her boss, waiting for the next question.
‘It didn’t occur to you that it could have been Orla in that passenger seat?’
‘Of course not, she had said she was walking…’ his voice trailed away as he realised the implication in Tessa’s question.
‘So, Andy,’ Tessa moved on, giving him no time to process his thoughts, ‘what did Orla ring you about earlier that afternoon?’
‘She didn’t…’
‘She did. We have your phone records and we have confirmation from witnesses. Orla told them she was ringing you. So…?’
There was a long silence and he looked at Ursula Pentland, almost begging her to step in to stop him having to answer. He received no support, other than an encouraging smile.
‘She told me she was going to talk to her mother before setting off for Hope, unless the weather got any worse. If it did, she would put it off until the day after, when Marnie and Orla had planned a day at the shops. I asked her what she was going to talk about, and she said there had been developments in her life. That was exactly how she phrased it. We now know she meant the pregnancy, but then I thought she meant this person at the church, the one she’d used as a reason for seducing me. The weather did get worse, so I just assumed from Marnie’s lack of conversation, that Orla had put off the great reveal until the following day.’
‘Thank you, Andy. Now let me give you a different scenario. We believe that Orla wasn’t talking about the man at church, we believe she was talking about the pregnancy, and because of the detailed scan she had that morning, she already knew who the father was. It could only have been you. I think she realised what this would do to your marriage, and she needed to try to explain to her mum how it had happened.’
Harrison’s eyes were locked onto DI Marsden’s face. ‘But Marnie was as shocked as I was when she found out how everything had played out. She didn’t know in advance.’
‘Exactly. She didn’t. I don’t think Orla managed to tell her everything. I suspect she told her she was pregnant, and how sorry s
he was, but that you were the father. Marnie was baking that afternoon, and I think in her grief and distress, she picked up the first heavy implement she could lay her hands on, and hit Orla on the head with the rolling pin. Orla’s blood’s been found on it.’
‘No,’ Andy Harrison moaned. ‘No, not Marnie…’
‘Marnie knew she was about to lose you. With that baby on the scene, there was no way your marriage could survive, and I think she put you before her daughter and grandchild.’ Tessa was relentless. She could see how close Andy was to collapse. She saw Ursula begin to open her mouth, and she said, ‘No!’
‘Marnie killed her daughter. She strangled her, then manoeuvred her to that little Aygo. By this time they were both wet through, and although Orla was very petite, it would have been a struggle getting her in that small car. Marnie drove through the village, and up into the hills, a place she knew because she visited with Eileen McIver, a dead end road where there would be nobody to see what she was doing. Unfortunately she was seen driving by the McIver house, and the car was identified. You hadn’t even left Manchester at this point, Andy.’
Andy dropped his head onto his arms, now resting on the table, and the room went quiet. He was stifling sobs; his shoulders were shaking, and finally he lifted his head. ‘Marnie’s confirmed this?’
‘No, I’m about to go and interview her. We have proof that Orla was in the Aygo, Andy. Her blood was on the back of the seat where Marnie put her body to make it look as though she was a passenger. We believe she drove past the McIver home until she couldn’t go any further, and then tipped Orla’s body into the water. We also found Orla’s Nike backpack hidden beneath empty carrier bags in your pantry, proving Orla was there that afternoon, and didn’t set off for Hope straight after finishing work. Your home is a crime scene, and we have teams in there gathering evidence. I’m going to release you, Andy, and thank you for your cooperation. You won’t be able to go home for a few days, but I will need to know where you’re going in case we need to speak with you again.’
‘Can I see Marnie?’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘Please.’
‘I’m sorry, Andy, you can’t. DS Granger will take you to the custody sergeant and see to your release.’ Tessa stood, signed the interview out as finished, and left the room.
Marnie jumped when the cell door opened. At last – maybe she could see Andy now. She was escorted down a long corridor to the interview room, and asked to sit at the table. A young police constable was left with her, and Marnie stared around, taking in the bleakness of the room, the thick small-squared glass in the windows, the sound the key had made when she was locked in.
DI Marsden entered, her face showing no emotion.
‘Where’s Andy?’
‘He’s been released, Marnie.’
Hannah entered the room carrying a holdall which she placed between the two chairs the police officers would be using, and Tessa recorded the people present.
‘I understand you don’t want a duty solicitor.’
‘That’s right,’ Marnie confirmed. ‘I haven’t done anything, so I don’t need one.’
Tessa gave her a long stare, then looked down at the file she had carried in with her.
‘Marnie, we are looking into the events of the night in November when your daughter, Orla, met her death.’
‘It’s about time,’ Marnie responded. ‘You’ve done very little so far.’
‘What time did Orla arrive at your home that day?’
‘She didn’t. You know she said she was going straight to Hope.’
‘Let’s take a step back, Marnie. You left Orla’s café about one, then went home. What did you do after arriving at your house?’
‘I did some baking. I made a lemon drizzle cake, and I made an apple pie for dessert that night.’
‘Were you still baking when Orla arrived home?’
‘Orla didn’t come home.’
Tessa gave a sigh. ‘Okay. Although we have this in your statement, I’d like you to repeat for the recording what Orla was wearing when she left for work in the morning.’
There was the first sign of hesitation in Marnie. ‘Erm… she had on a red padded full-length coat, my black knee-high boots and her waitress uniform underneath.’
‘And her bag? Presumably she took a change of clothing for her sleepover at Emily’s.’
‘She took her Nike backpack.’ Marnie interlaced her fingers.
‘So, if she didn’t come home, presumably the bag was with her when she was attacked.’
‘That’s right.’ Now she was defiant.
Tessa and Hannah exchanged a brief glance, and Hannah reached down into the holdall and produced an evidence bag. She lifted it onto the table.
‘Can you look at this bag, Marnie, and tell me if it is Orla’s.’
She shuffled uncomfortably. ‘How should I know? There must be thousands of these bags.’
Tessa leaned forward, removed the backpack from the evidence bag and placed it on the table. She opened the front flap and written inside was the name Orla French. ‘Can we now agree this is Orla’s bag? For the tape, I am showing Harrison the name inside the front flap of the bag. Marnie, is this Orla’s?’
Marnie nodded.
‘For the tape, please, Marnie.’
‘Yes, it is.’ It was almost a growl.
Hannah then pulled another evidence bag from the holdall and placed it on the table. It contained a mobile phone, a purse and a photograph.
‘This is Orla’s phone and purse, and this is a scan photograph of your grandchild. We have another evidence bag with a nightie, a pair of pants and a fresh jumper in, presumably clothes she would have needed for the next day.’
Marnie stared. ‘How… where…?’ She seemed to recover for a moment. ‘Did you find these in the river with her?’
Tessa gave a small laugh. ‘They would hardly be in such good condition if we had, Marnie. No, we found them in your pantry, inside a carrier bag that held other scrunched-up carrier bags. We also found this.’
Hannah delved down by her side and produced yet another evidence bag, this one containing a rolling pin.
Tessa placed it on the table, and Marnie reached forward to touch the bag.
‘Do you recognise this rolling pin, Marnie?’
‘Yes, it was my grandmother’s.’
‘There is blood evidence on this rolling pin that has been identified as belonging to Orla. We removed this from your kitchen, Marnie. We believe your kitchen was the place that Orla died as a result of you hitting her on the head to immobilise her, then strangling her. She was then transferred in your car to the hillside above Castleton and tipped into the Peakshole Water. We have concrete evidence of that as well.’
Marnie remained silent.
‘Do you have anything to say, Marnie?’
‘Can I see Andy?’
‘Marnie, I would heartily recommend that you now avail yourself of a duty solicitor, or get one of your own. It will be some time before you see Andy again.’
Even with Oliver Waring by her side, Marnie continued to deny having any knowledge of her daughter’s death. She made several requests to see Andy, all of which were ignored. Eventually Waring asked to confer with his client.
When Marnie’s confession to the murder of her daughter was read back to her, she cried constantly throughout. She cried through the charges part of the process and she cried even harder when she was told there was no chance of her seeing Andy.
When Tessa and Hannah walked into the briefing room, there were cheers and claps from everyone, but Tessa quietened them.
‘I can’t celebrate this one, it’s just been one bloody tragedy morphing into another. Yes we have results on two dead girls, but we leave grieving families, a mother who will probably have to spend the biggest part of her life in prison, and Andy Harrison… who knows what will happen to him.’ Tessa placed some money on the table. ‘Go for a drink tonight, boys and girls, but if you don’t mind, I won’t be joining you.’
Epilogue
Orla French’s funeral was over, and Andy Harrison had left the village, unable to cope with the consequences of his wife’s actions. The house would sell very quickly, and Castleton would settle back down to how it had been before two girls were murdered.
Kat stood at the front of the church and inspected the tree. With Christmas only three weeks away, the excitement was starting to build. She walked to the candle stall and lit candles for Mandy Williamson and Orla French, then she knelt at the altar rail and prayed individual prayers for everyone who had passed through her life during the past few weeks. It took a long time.
Eventually she stood and rubbed her knees. ‘Old age,’ she grumbled to herself, then went outside to her car. In the boot were five Christmas wreaths, all with names and messages attached to them: Craig Adams, Danny McLoughlin, Mandy Williamson, Orla French and one that simply said Rest in Peace. She hooked them over her left arm, squealed ouch every time a holly leaf stabbed her, and set off for her walk to all the graves that mattered the most to her. She dropped the garden twine and scissors into her pocket.
At each one, she tied the Christmas wreath to the headstone, said a small prayer and stood for a moment in remembrance of the person they had been. Her final stopping place was the grave desecrated by Jacob Thorne as he buried Mandy Williamson. The mud had been removed, the ground levelled, although it would be spring before the surrounding grass began to recover.
Kat repeated her earlier actions, and then walked back to her car.
Doris was holding Martha up to the office window, both of them looking for Kat returning from her church business.
‘Look, Martha, is that Mummy’s car coming down the hill? Yeah! It is.’ Martha punched her in the nose. ‘Ouch, little monkey. Don’t you know I’m a black belt?’
They watched as Kat pulled up outside, and Martha let out a little squeal as she spotted Kat. Doris released the door, and Martha lunged to get to her mummy.