She held the two photographs of Vincent that she now possessed, one in each hand; her eyes darted between them. A young Vincent in Italy and a more mature Vincent, marrying for money. She asked him, ‘Where did you hide all the money? And, more importantly, where are you now?’ If only she was still a copper!
41
Hannah – 2018
Hannah had received a message – Inspector McAlpine had asked to see her. What did he want? She hoped he was as uneasy about Bev’s confession as she was. The more Hannah saw of Bev, the more convinced she was that the young woman was merely trying to protect her girlfriend.
But what if McAlpine wanted to discuss something else?
Knocking on her guv’nor’s door, Hannah took a deep breath as she heard him reply, ‘Come in.’
‘You wanted to see me. Is now a good time?’
‘Yeah, course.’ He smiled and gestured for her to sit down. ‘Thanks for coming. I just wanted to check in with you. See how you’re doing.’
Hannah swallowed. ‘I’m all right.’
‘You’re sure?’ McAlpine tilted his head.
‘Uh huh.’ She took the seat he’d offered.
‘Did the change of partner help take your mind off Dawn a bit?’
‘Yeah. It’s easier now I’m not with Chippy.’ That part was certainly true.
McAlpine ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Still hard to get your head around it all, isn’t it?’
‘Almost impossible. Umm …?’ Hannah knew the answer, but decided to ask the question anyway. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any news on Bev’s girlfriend yet?’
‘No. Sorry.’ McAlpine shook his head. ‘As soon as we pick her up, I’ll question her like a shot. There are a few things we’d all like to ask Sandy.’
Hannah decided to brave it. ‘Sir, do you think it was really Sandy who stabbed Dawn?’
McAlpine gave it some thought for a second, before replying, ‘As it stands, right this minute, our best case is against Bev.’
‘Really? You think the case meets the criteria?’
‘Sure. We’ve got a confession, as well as about a dozen coppers placing her at the scene. I think the CPS would go for it.’
‘I suppose so. But …’ Hannah stalled.
‘What’s on your mind?’
‘I just don’t think Bev’s capable of doing that to Dawn.’
‘In all honesty, we don’t know what she’s capable of. Our case against her passes the threshold: we went by the letter of the law, she had a duty solicitor, she was offered a responsible adult, and I didn’t force her hand.’
Quick to reassure him, Hannah said, ‘I’m not suggesting you did.’
‘I’ll admit the forensic evidence is a little shaky; it turns out there are both women’s prints on that bottle, which is very disappointing. A defence lawyer would say Bev’s prints could’ve got there when she placed the bottle in the fridge, or when she handed her girlfriend a drink.’
‘Exactly!’ He was echoing Hannah’s thoughts.
‘But they equally could’ve got there when she picked the bottle up in the street, smashed it in half and shoved it into Dawn’s guts.’ McAlpine’s face reddened. ‘I tell you, Hannah, I wish to God we knew for definite. If only that bottle had just one, clear set of prints on it.’
‘What does your instinct tell you though?’
‘If you’re asking me if I can honestly see Bev stabbing Dawn? I’d have to say no; like so many others, my gut is leaning towards Sandy.’
Inside, Hannah breathed a sigh of relief.
McAlpine carried on speaking. ‘I’ve met them both, on several occasions, and the truth is, they’ve been in and out of trouble for years. They’ve been nicked for domestics that got out of hand, for being drunk and disorderly, for petty theft. But I don’t reckon any of that was Bev’s idea.’
‘That’s how I see it too. Just the way she was sitting on the wall, smoking, ought to tell us she didn’t do it. The other one ran. That makes her guilty.’ Hannah felt a little reassured. If an innocent person took the blame for this, she’d have to add that guilt to her already impossibly large remorse about Dawn. ‘So, what are you going to do about Bev?’
‘Listen, there are a hell of a lot of coppers out there,’ McAlpine pointed to the closed office door, ‘who want to see someone go down for this. The general feeling is, Sandy or Bev, one of ’em did this to Dawn. Maybe it was simply joint venture. People are baying for blood, and I have to be seen to be dealing with it. So, until Sandy crawls out of whatever hole she’s currently hiding in, I’m sticking with Bev and her confession, shaky or not.’
‘But, Guv …’ Hannah knew if she continued, she risked getting a name for being confrontational, but she had to try to get Bev out of there. She couldn’t see an innocent person punished. Wasn’t it enough that Dawn had died so needlessly? She owed it to her colleague to get the right person charged for this. ‘Bev isn’t coping well in custody. She thinks her Sandy is coming to rescue her.’
‘That just shows you who we’re dealing with.’
Hannah ploughed on, determined to try to get Bev released. ‘Her body language in that interview said it all for me. She had no idea of the consequences of her confession. I think she’s just unlucky enough to be in love with a woman who clearly has a hold over her. She thinks she’s helping Sandy.’
‘We’ll wait and see what Sandy has to say for herself. When we pick her up, we’ll get to the truth. If we can make a decent case against Sandy, Bev can walk. Until then, like I say, I’m going with the case I’ve got.’
‘What if Sandy twists the truth? She’s got to be smarter than Bev.’
‘They’re both idiots in their own way, to be honest.’
‘She’s probably a bully. I reckon Bev doesn’t stand a chance.’ Desperation crept into Hannah’s voice. He knows as well as I do that Bev didn’t do this. Why can’t he show some compassion?
‘Don’t be so sure. We never really know what goes on in a relationship. For all we know, Bev could be knocking the shite out of Sandy every night of the week and twice on Sundays. She’s a big old unit!’
‘No. It’s not like that.’ God, this was so frustrating. She must get him to understand. Bev needed to be released. ‘Sandy started all this. I’m positive.’
‘I just told you, we never really know what goes on in a relationship. Bev’s strong; even the most passive can turn. I remember a case once—’
‘Guv, Sandy was waving that bottle around like she meant to do damage with it. I’m telling you. This is her doing.’
‘Sandlin …?’ McAlpine’s chair creaked as he leant forward.
‘Yes.’
‘How do you know that?’
Hannah realised her mistake. ‘Know what?’
‘How do you know Sandy was waving the bottle around?’
‘I …’ For a second the silence was deafening.
‘Did you see them before the call?’
‘I thought Bev said something …’
‘You and Chippy arrived at the nick just as Dawn called for help. I’ve always thought it must’ve been bloody close. Tell me honestly, did you see something when you drove past?’
Hannah’s blood ran cold. Why the hell had she gone along with Chippy’s plan? Unable to meet her guv’nor’s gaze, she answered the question. ‘We saw what we thought was a couple of drunk blokes. I wanted to stop. I swear to you. I told Chippy to stop. But he said it was nothing. I was just about to call it in when control announced it.’
‘So you were right there! At the fucking scene.’
‘Yeah. But … it was Chippy – he said we should let Dawn deal with it. He reckoned it would probably have blown over in a minute anyway.’ As she confessed the embarrassing truth, Hannah could hear how pathetic it sounded, and asked herself again why she hadn’t been more forceful at the time.
All traces of kindness had disappeared from McAlpine’s face. His jaw was now clenched, his breathing deep. His left eye twitched. ‘Why the
hell didn’t you two stop as soon as you saw what you thought were drunks fighting?’
‘Chippy said he had to get home, and that they were just scrotes who argued all the time.’
McAlpine shook his head. ‘I don’t give a rat’s arse what he thinks of them. You should’ve stopped immediately. You would’ve been there before Barton. I can’t believe Chipperton would just drive on if you told him to stop.’
‘I promise you; I told him to stop. Why would I lie?’
‘How can you ask me that? You’ve been lying all along. You two saw something that day that you failed to report, and I intend to speak to him and find out exactly what went on. Wait here.’
Hannah rose. ‘If I can just come with you, I know I can—’
‘I said wait here!’ McAlpine pointed at the chair she’d just vacated. ‘And don’t move a muscle until I get back.’
42
Vincent – 2019
‘Good morning, Grosvenor Yachts. How may I help you?’
‘It’s Mr Russell. I’ve just received your email.’
‘Hello there, Mr Russell.’
‘Don’t you “hello there” me.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You will be.’
‘Shall we start again? What seems to be the problem?’
Vincent cleared his throat. ‘I purchased a sailing cruiser from you last week. I asked for the name of the vessel to be changed. I’ve just received an email confirming that they have changed the name and detailing how I go about reregistering it.’
‘Right …’ The salesman seemed genuinely perplexed by Vincent’s obnoxious tone.
‘But the name has not been spelt correctly. I specifically asked for Cristina. It doesn’t have an h in it. It’s an Italian name.’
‘I see. And our email has the h?’
‘Yes!’ Vincent shouted. ‘It’s not good enough. I spent a great deal of my money on that yacht. I’ve researched my choice and waited some time to make this purchase. It’s your job to make sure the name is spelt correctly.’
The sound of shuffling papers was followed by the Grosvenor Yachts’ employee returning to the phone. ‘I can see from my copy of the delivery note that, as you say, you did ask for the name to be spelt without an h. I can only apologise and assure you I’ll get onto the company and ask them to redo it.’
‘My girlfriend and I were hoping to sail it this weekend; we will have to rearrange that, I suppose. I shall expect a discount for the delay.’
‘Sure. I’ll speak to my manager as soon as I’m able.’
‘Call me when it’s ready.’
‘We will do, sir. But …’ He hesitated.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m sure this will have been mentioned to you previously, Mr Russell, but, umm … it is considered bad luck to rename a boat.’
Vincent tutted. ‘Not this again.’
‘I just thought I ought to tell you.’
‘Your colleague told me the exact same thing. She gave me the full spiel. Sailors throughout the ages have believed that renaming a boat will cause it to become unlucky. That my sailing experience in it will be ruined. It’s total bollocks.’
‘Right, well, as long as you’ve been made aware. I mean, it’s up to you. Paint it green, launch it on a Friday – it’s all the same to me. But it did have quite a pretty name already.’ He double-checked his notes. ‘Leonora is nice, don’t you think? It’s not too late to keep the name, if you haven’t reregistered it.’
‘I want a yacht named Cristina without an h. I’ve paid for a yacht named Cristina without an h. I would be most grateful if you could deliver to me a yacht named Cristina without an h.’
Admitting defeat, the salesman said, ‘I’ll sort it immediately.’
‘Good!’ Vincent hung up. These days he was far too important for ‘goodbye’.
‘What did they say, Vinnie?’
‘For God’s sake, woman, don’t call me that.’
‘Sorry.’
‘They said they’ll sort it.’
‘Can we still go out in it this weekend?’
‘Go out in it? It’s not a car, you stupid cow. You mean can we still sail it. And the answer is no, they need to do the name first.’
‘Oh…’ A pout appeared on Abbie’s otherwise perfect face. ‘I was looking forward to sunbathing. It’s going to be sunny; my phone says so. I bought a new bikini. I think you’ll like it.’
‘I dare say I will. Perhaps you could show me now?’
‘No.’ More pouting. ‘I wanted to show it to you on the boat. I wanted to get some sun.’
‘I want, I want. Stop moaning. You sound like an irritating teenager.’
‘Well,’ Abbie placed her hands firmly on her hips, ‘maybe that’s ’cause I’m only twenty-one!’
Vincent shook his head. He needed to stop shagging these vacuous bitches. Every time he had got rid of one of them, another had come along, like bloody buses. He’d needed a little release after shagging his wife for three years. But now it was just getting ridiculous. He couldn’t even be sure how he had become saddled with Abbie. They’d met at a Christmas launch party in a nightclub. His intention had been that they partake in a short, sharp one-night stand. She had the kind of body that could keep a man warm on a cold night. But, bringing her back to his new apartment in the early hours of the morning, he had discovered that she could suck cock like she was siphoning petrol, and he had stupidly allowed her to stay for a few days.
Before he’d known it, she’d almost become a fixture in his home. Only returning to her parents’ house for the odd night or two. Winter had turned to spring, and now it was almost summer. He should never have allowed her to stay the first night, never mind this long. But whenever he thought about moving her on, she would lure him into the bedroom. Annoyingly, just recently, she had stopped sucking his cock, preferring instead to lie like a wet fish in the missionary position, talking nonsense, whilst he did all the work. Fucking modern girls! Her time in his home was most definitely coming to an end. Vowing to stop permitting his dick to choose the women in his life, he replied, ‘At twenty-one you should know better than to pout and whine. We are not sailing in that yacht with the incorrect name blazoned on the side.’
‘But who really cares? I mean, Cristina without an h or Christina with one. It’s just a made-up name. What difference does it make?’
It took all of Vincent’s restraint not to slap her around the face. He replied, ‘It matters to me. And it’s my yacht. Just do as I say and shut up about it.’
Abbie clearly thought it best to change the subject. ‘Would you like to see my bikini now?’
‘Yes. I would.’ With no need for further discussion, Vincent walked towards the bedroom. Abbie followed along behind, filling the silence with unnecessary statements. ‘You’re going to like it, Vinnie. The bottoms are so cute. I can’t wait to show you. They’re cut high and they make my legs look so long.’
Vincent decided this would definitely be their last shag. Ever since he’d met her, she’d reminded him of Catherine’s spoilt daughter. And he didn’t need any reminders of that chapter of his life. It was time to hunt for a woman who was far more worthy of his affection. From now on he must try to stick to his own rule: his dick must go nowhere near a crazy woman. He would find himself a beautiful, classy lady, and he’d take her sailing in the Cristina.
43
Lottie – 2019
Knowing Vincent’s real surname gave Lottie an odd feeling. On the one hand, she felt sure that it would help Hannah to track him down, but on the other, it also made him become even more real to her. She now knew that all the time he’d been pretending to be Mr Robinson, he’d really been Vincent Rocchino, the bastard who was so ruthless that he thought nothing of robbing from his own family. My God, we didn’t stand a chance!
She found herself searching for him on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, any site where large numbers of people gathered. She searched for anyone with the surname Rocchino
, hoping to somehow find a relative. It crossed her mind that he might have gone back to his old name now. Hannah had told her that Mr Robinson had disappeared in a puff of smoke. So, why not use his old name again? It made her sick to think he was out there somewhere, spending her parents’ money. Sometimes she would fantasise about what she would do to him once Hannah found him. It frightened her how intense her feelings were. She knew she hated him enough to kill him, and could only hope that her fear of prison would be enough to stop her from going through with it when the time came.
Popping a couple of pound coins into the jar marked ‘Memorial plaque’, Lottie put the rest of her change back into her purse. It was time to go budget shopping. She had enough for a piece of salmon, if she forgot the fact that the gas company was still desperate to speak to her. Maybe she would forgo the salmon and buy a cheap bottle of wine. She needed a pick me up. All these endless discussions with Hannah about Vincent were doing her anxiety no good whatsoever. Thinking about him merely caused all the other thoughts to resurface. Her mum’s guilt for one. What was there for her to feel guilty about? Was it because she married so soon after Douglas had died? Lottie was convinced that Vincent knew more than he’d let on, but he’d maintained that he had no idea why Catherine had killed herself. He’d managed to appear mournful just long enough to see her cremated and have her memorial plaque placed as far away from her first husband’s as was possible, before returning to his usual self. What did you know, Vincent? And where are you now? So many questions. She needed answers. Crossing her fingers, she hoped that Hannah was going to provide them.
44
Hannah – 2018
By the time Inspector McAlpine returned, Hannah was in bits. Telling her that there was going to be a formal investigation, her boss left her in no doubt that this was serious.
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