Murder Unearthed

by Anita Waller

  ‘Something wrong, Mouse?’ Doris asked, deliberately winding up her granddaughter and enjoying it. ‘You think seventy-year-olds don’t have sex? I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. I’ll make us that cup of tea.’ She headed towards the kitchen area, struggling to hold in the laughter, keeping her back to Mouse.

  The ensuing conversation between Kat and Mouse caused Doris to struggle even harder to rein in the laughter. It seemed the two girls intended talking to her, and both definitely wanted to know the identity of this philanderer with whom she had seemingly made plans that involved sharing a bed.

  She handed the cup of tea to Mouse, and Mouse said I’ll talk to her again before disconnecting.

  Mouse placed Doris and her paramour on a temporary back burner, while she began the research that she hoped would eventually lead them to Michael Fairfax, if that was his name.

  She inputted Helen Fairfax along with her date of birth, 10 October 1948. She very quickly came up with a hit for her, scribbling down the address in Holmesfield that was on her birth certificate. She ordered a copy of the certificate, then inputted Michael Fairfax, with the birthdate Ewan had given them, passed on to him by Carla Blake. Mouse could find no logical trace; there were two entries with that name, a Michael Ian Fairfax and a Michael Adrian Fairfax. Michael Ian had been born in Scarborough, and Michael Adrian in Inverness.

  She didn’t rule out either of them, accepting that Helen could have travelled to anywhere in the world to have her baby, but the little boy was born in 1968 and travel at that time was more for business than any other reason. She would start with the nearest, geographically, when she felt up to tackling it. Scarborough it was.

  Mouse pushed the laptop away from her with a sigh.

  ‘Beechams?’ Doris asked.

  ‘I think so. I feel rubbish. I’ll have the hot lemon then have a sleep. Don’t think you’ve got away with things, we need to talk, but I need to sleep again right now.’

  Doris made her the drink and handed it over without a word.

  Mouse fell asleep very quickly following the medicated drink, and Doris headed downstairs to check that Kat was managing on her own.

  ‘You’re going out with Ewan, aren’t you?’ Kat said, the second Doris stepped through the door.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘That makes things a bit awkward. He’s a client.’

  ‘He’s not my client. I’m not an employee, a part owner or anything.’

  ‘Shall I shut up?’

  ‘Think so.’

  ‘Okay. You’ll be careful? You don’t know him.’

  ‘Kat, I’m going for a drink with him to the Bowling Green. It’s two minutes at the most from my house. I am not eloping, I don’t want a man in my life, but I simply thought it might be nice to do something normal like going out for a drink.’

  ‘And so it will be. Nice, I mean. Subject closed.’

  ‘Good. Everything okay down here?’

  ‘It is. I’ve almost finished that forensics course you said would be boring but handy. It certainly wasn’t boring, been quite enjoyable really.’

  Doris looked around. ‘We’re going to need bigger offices to hang all these certificates we keep getting.’

  ‘Mouse asleep?’

  ‘She is. She’s a bit better than she was last night, so I’ve sent her back to her

  bed. She’s made a start on Ewan’s son. I imagine she’ll carry on when she wakes up. Heard anything from Tessa?’

  ‘Not yet. It seems really strange two girls from the same village, virtually the same age, yet killed by different people on probably the same night.’

  ‘She’ll talk to us about it when she needs to organise her thoughts.’

  Marsden sat at her desk, her screen on and telling her that the post-mortem for Amanda Williamson was scheduled to start at eleven. She wanted to change the name to Mandy; her brain kept saying she’s Mandy, she’s Mandy.

  It had been hard telling Zoe Williamson they thought they had found her daughter. The meltdown had been instant; the news was what Zoe had expected. It proved to be even more difficult saying where they had found her, thrown into an existing grave and covered with mud.

  The time on Tessa’s screen was telling her she should be heading to the autopsy suite, and she heaved a huge sigh. She hated attending them, and when it was a young person it made it doubly hard. She left her room feeling tired and unhappy.

  Marsden sat in her chair and laid back her head. She closed her eyes for a minute, reflecting on everything she had heard and witnessed.

  There had been evidence of rape, scratches, post mortem bruising reaching the surface of her skin, and detritus under her fingernails that, along with the semen evidence, would hopefully lead them straight to her murderer.

  Tessa felt in her heart that it was Jacob Thorne; it had cut her to the bone when she had heard that Mandy had been a virgin prior to her death on that cold rainswept evening.

  It seemed obvious that Orla French’s murder was unconnected and yet Marsden knew it would be unprofessional of her to make that decision. Two girls missing on the same night from the same village… coincidence? She lit up her screen and scrolled through reports. She needed to tie up loose ends on the Mandy Williamson death; Zoe Williamson had been escorted by Siân Dawson to formally identify her daughter; the FLO’s report showed that Zoe had been quite calm, almost accepting of her daughter’s death until they had got outside into the car park after the identification. She had then fallen apart, and Dawson had opted to remain with Zoe for as long as she needed her. Tessa read through other reports almost mechanically; there was only one report that was missing, the DNA report on the semen traces and the fingernail scrapings.

  She clicked onto the Orla French file and was reading through it when an email arrived, from the pathology lab. She opened it, then leaned back and closed her eyes once more. She remained like that for a couple of minutes, then pulled the physical file of Orla’s case towards her, temporarily closing down her screen. She wanted no distractions while she read through this particular statement.

  DS Hannah Granger was sitting at her own desk repeating Marsden’s actions. Reading through all the reports sometimes flagged up inconsistencies, or even consistencies, and she had taken her time, checking every word carefully. Alibis were of the most importance. Every minute had to be checked and double-checked, and she had spent the morning doing that. Again. For the third time.

  A movement distracted her and she became aware that Tessa was waving an arm in her direction. Hannah pushed back her chair, and headed for the office tucked into the corner of the large room.

  ‘Grab your stuff, Hannah. Let’s go have a chat to somebody who has been less than truthful.’ Tessa slid the DNA report across the desk towards Hannah, and waited while she carefully absorbed it.

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘You surprised? I was.’

  ‘Gobsmacked, more like. How’s he going to talk himself out of this?’

  ‘Let’s go and find out, shall we…’

  Chapter Eleven

  Hannah drove, and they headed towards the Peak District, each deep in their own thoughts. Two dead girls, and DNA results seemed to be the one thing that connected them – their murderers would be convicted mainly on that evidence.

  Perhaps.

  Tessa gave a huge sigh. She turned to look at Hannah. ‘You enjoy your job, Hannah?’

  ‘I enjoy the part where we get doughnuts brought in, and where we go out for a drink sometimes, after we’ve finished for the day. And I enjoy seeing someone go down for a serious crime, but in the main I don’t “enjoy” it.’

  Tessa stared down at her fingers. ‘Neither do I. When I became a DI, I decided I wanted to be an out in the field DI, not a deskbound one, and I’ve stuck to that. I’m not chasing promotion, because that would definitely keep me indoors, but these two cases are testing me, for sure. I’m not overthinking the Mandy Williamson one yet, because in my heart I’m sure it’s the Thorne lad. We can pla
ce her in his car, he had her boot tucked into his jacket, and the mud is a match for the mud around the gravesite. But this one, Orla, is a bit baffling.’

  Hannah gave a slight nod of agreement. ‘Andy Harrison’s alibi is rock solid. He’s always with other people. He works in an open-plan office, so everybody can see everybody else. It’s confirmed he didn’t leave until six, exactly the same as every day. Ten people have confirmed he was in a meeting with them when his wife rang to say Orla was missing and up to that point he was behaving perfectly normally. The doc says she was killed between four and six the previous afternoon, and he was definitely in Manchester.’

  ‘And now we’ve seen the DNA result from him and the foetus…’

  ‘Exactly. He can’t be the one who killed her, but this could have turned out so well for him. If we hadn’t taken his DNA sample, Marnie Harrison need never have known he was screwing her daughter as well as her.’

  Tessa frowned. ‘So why did she die?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why did she die? To me, it looks as though Andy Harrison was the only person who needed to get rid of her. She was carrying his baby; clearly nobody else knew because we haven’t even had a suggestion that she was pregnant from anyone interviewed so far. What’s the motive?’

  There was silence from the DS.

  Tessa was relentless. ‘And why there? She supposedly was going to Hope, to Emily Carr’s house. Peakshole Water where she was found is in the opposite direction. There is no way she would have been there if the intention was to walk to Hope. Could she have arranged to meet someone without mentioning it to anybody? Paul Carr, the potential new boyfriend, was at his mother’s house, along with his mother and Emily, waiting for her arrival, and had travelled home with Emily, having collected her from work. Both their alibis are as solid as Andy Harrison’s. So why, why, why was she at Peakshole Water, and on such a horrible night? Don’t go straight to the Harrison’s, Hannah, let’s go to the pub.’

  Hannah pulled into the pub car park and they got out, Hannah grabbing her umbrella as the rain had intensified over the previous five minutes. They ran, Hannah stopping in the doorway to close the umbrella, and then followed her boss into the pub. They took their orange juices across to a table near to the warmth of the log-burning fire, and studied the menu.

  ‘We’ve about an hour to kill,’ Tessa said, trying to decide between meat and potato pie or a gammon steak, ‘because I reckon if Harrison’s gone to work that’s about the time he’ll be home. If he’s still staying at home with Marnie he’ll be there now and he’ll keep. We need food.’

  ‘Okay, forget what I said about not liking my job,’ Hannah said, making her tone serious. ‘The meat and potato pie has swung it. I love my job.’

  ‘Me too,’ Tessa said. ‘That’s pie for two, then.’ She walked to the bar, placed their order and returned to the table.

  ‘You don’t want to get Marnie on her own then?’ Hannah asked the question, because she knew that given the same set of circumstances she would have driven straight to the Harrison home, and taken whatever the situation was.

  ‘No. We would end up having to tell her, before he arrived. That’s not what I want. I want to see her face when she finds out he fathered her grandchild.’

  Hannah sighed. Every day a school day; she learned so much from this woman.

  The meat and potato pie was truly delicious and filling, so much so that they both declined a dessert.

  ‘I think,’ Hannah said without smiling, ‘that is the first time I have ever refused treacle pudding.’

  ‘Me too,’ Tessa said. ‘But think of the calories we’ve not eaten.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘We’ll give it another ten minutes, then go. You want another orange juice?’

  ‘No thanks. I want to get this over with. We’re probably about to destroy someone’s marriage, and that’s not a good thought because she clearly loves him, but we’re also going to be telling the poor woman that he’s been having sex with her daughter and we don’t know if it was rape, or if she welcomed it. He, of course, is going to say she welcomed it, he’s never going to admit to forcing her, is he? And she’s not here to tell us the truth.’

  Tessa smiled at Hannah and reached across to touch her hand. ‘That could have been me speaking, Hannah. I would have used those same words, and you’re right about every aspect. It is going to be difficult, but I’ll need you to watch Marnie very carefully, I’ll be concentrating on Andy Harrison.’

  ‘No problem, boss.’ Hannah picked up her coat, nicely dried and warmed. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  ‘Have you let David know you’re going to be late?’

  There was a brief moment of hesitation as Hannah paused in putting on her coat. ‘No.’

  ‘Do you need to let him know?’

  ‘Not really. We’re not together anymore.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘But I didn’t tell you. I know I didn’t. It’s still a bit raw. It was our anniversary the day we took out Leon Rowe, and I missed the meal David had organised. To spite me, he rang his PA and took her instead. It was the beginning of the end. They’re together, he moved in with her and I kept our flat on.’

  ‘Oh God, Hannah. This bloody job isn’t good for any marriage. The only ones who stay together are the ones where they’re both in the job. I’m so sorry you’ve gone through this.’

  Hannah smiled. ‘Next time I’ll go for somebody who’s already a copper. Maybe the Chief Constable.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Tessa laughed. ‘I’ll be your bridesmaid. Let’s get this out of the way. Drive around to their house, but make sure you park across the bottom of their driveway.’

  Hannah held up a thumb, and they left the pub, calling good night to a landlord immersed in his crossword.

  Andy Harrison’s black BMW was on the drive, parked almost touching the rear bumper of his wife’s much smaller cream-coloured Aygo.

  Hannah pulled up on the roadside, blocking the escape route should anybody choose to leave the Harrison house in a hurry.

  The two women sat for a moment, and surveyed the scene. A bedroom light was on, the lounge room similarly illuminated. The car in front of Hannah’s was Nadine Bond’s blue Micra, and Tessa felt a slight feeling of relief. Nadine was an excellent officer, fully trained in caring for bereaved families, and to have her there when she confronted Harrison about his fun and games with his stepdaughter was a bonus. Tessa suspected Marnie was going to need extra support any time now.

  ‘You ready?’ Tessa asked.

  ‘Nope,’ was Hannah’s response.

  ‘Me neither. Come on, let’s go confront the bastard.’

  They climbed out of the car and headed up the drive. Tessa noticed the movement of the bedroom curtain, and knew that Andy Harrison had seen them. She also recognised that he must have known that his DNA sample, taken from him almost with the element of surprise behind the action, would show he was the father of his stepdaughter’s baby.

  ‘Hannah.’ There was urgency in her voice. ‘He’s clocked us. Back door.’

  She watched as Hannah sprinted around the corner of the house, then Tessa waited a minute before knocking on the front door.

  Andy Harrison opened it, and Tessa felt relief wash over her. He wasn’t running – yet.

  ‘Mr Harrison,’ she said. ‘I’d like a word with you.’

  He hesitated, then opened the door wide to allow her to enter. Nadine was in the hallway.

  ‘Nadine, can you open the back door and let DS Granger in, please?’

  Harrison’s face showed surprise but he merely led her into the lounge. ‘Marnie’s having a nap,’ he said. Do you need her?’

  ‘Yes, please. I’m sure Nadine can get her.’

  Nadine, escorting Hannah through to the lounge, inclined her head and went upstairs.

  Marnie Harrison looked dreadful. Her hair hung in greasy tendrils around her face, her eyes dead in their sockets. She didn’t acknowledge their presence, merely sat on the sette
e. Her husband settled by her side, and took hold of her hand.

  Nadine remained standing by the door, and Hannah stood by the armchair that Tessa had taken.

  Tessa opened her bag and removed a file.

  Chapter Twelve

  Doris checked her appearance in the long wardrobe mirror, somewhat critically. Still slim as she had been all her life, but with much greyer hair than she would have chosen for herself, she knew she was still of a much younger appearance than her almost seventy years.

  ‘Okay, Doris Lester,’ she murmured, ‘you’ll do.’

  She headed downstairs and poured herself a small glass of wine. She recognised it for what it was – a courage booster.

  She debated whether to wear a jacket or a longer coat, then decided on the longer one. It might only be a two-minute walk to the Bowling Green but it was bitterly cold. She zipped on her boots and left the warmth of her cottage for the short walk around the corner. Ewan was waiting for her in the car park. He stepped towards her and smiled.

  ‘I’m so pleased you could make it,’ he said, and leaned towards her to give her a gentle kiss on her cheek.

  ‘I’ve been looking forward to it,’ she admitted. ‘My usual companions are Kat and Beth. Seeing you tonight is such a welcome change.’

  ‘Then let’s get in the pub before we freeze to death.’ He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her towards the door.

  ‘Mr Harrison,’ Tessa began. ‘It appears you haven’t been totally honest with us.’

  Andy glanced at her but said nothing. His wife acted in a similar manner but didn’t seem to be taking anything in.

  ‘Andy?’ Tessa’s voice was insistent.

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. You’ve spoken to my work colleagues, you know what time I left work. I didn’t stop off and kill my stepdaughter, I didn’t have fucking time.’ His voice grew in volume the longer he continued to speak.