In Cold Blood

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In Cold Blood Page 8

by Adam Croft


  One of the things she’d noticed creeping in recently was a distinct lack of patience and a growing irritability with almost everything. It wasn’t her usual style, but it wasn’t entirely new, either. She’d first noticed it a few months earlier, and it had continued to grow since. She supposed it was a result of a few things: uprooting the family and moving to Rutland, living with cancer, dealing with the fallout of her recovery. There’d been more than enough stressors to give her concern for her own mental state, and sometimes she felt as if she was unable to cope with it.

  The boys had been great that afternoon. They seemed to know when she was at her worst and gave her the space she needed. Mark, on the other hand, had continued to misjudge.

  He meant well — she knew that — but it was infuriating how often she needed to tell him she was fine, no she didn’t want another cup of tea, no she didn’t need a hot water bottle and yes, the volume on the TV was absolutely fine, just as it was thirty seconds earlier. She knew he was only trying to help, but she found his constant check-ups and questions were draining far more energy from her than anything else, and she wondered if it might have been more conducive to her recovery to have simply stayed at work.

  Still, with the boys now tucked up in bed, she’d be able to head up herself before long and get some sleep. Mark was watching a documentary about the Second World War, mistakenly thinking she was interested. In reality, she didn’t have the energy to think of anything else to watch and was content enough just staring at the screen.

  ‘I might head up,’ she said as the documentary cut to yet another commercial break. There were only so many adverts for stairlifts and commemorative gold coins she could handle in one evening.

  ‘Oh,’ Mark replied, a simple sound that conveyed more disappointment than an entire Jeffrey Archer novel.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. I just thought it might be nice to spend some time together, that’s all.’

  ‘We have been spending time together. I came home early.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’ve barely seen you, have I? You’ve been in here, I’ve been sorting the boys out.’

  Caroline couldn’t help but laugh, although she feared it might have sounded a little condescending. ‘Come off it, Mark. You’ve barely left me alone for ten seconds without badgering me.’

  ‘Badgering you? What, by checking you’re alright and seeing if you needed anything?’

  ‘I’m not being funny, but I’ve spent the day at work, running a murder investigation team. I can handle getting myself a cup of tea.’

  ‘Alright, fine. Suit yourself.’

  ‘What now?’

  Mark was resolute in his refusal to answer. ‘Nothing,’ he said.

  ‘No, come on. What have I done?’

  ‘It’s more what you haven’t done,’ Mark replied. ‘You’ve got people around you who care for you and want to help you, and all you do is throw it back in our faces. Jesus, I’ve never known anyone get so angry about not having to do any household chores, and who’s told all they have to do is sit and watch TV. But no, even that needs an argument.’

  Caroline sighed. ‘I didn’t start an argument, Mark. All I said was I was going to go up to bed. I’m tired. I’m recovering from surgery. I’ve not been back at work long and it’s taking it out of me. If you want to show concern, forget the tea and biscuits and just give me the mental space I need to get back on my feet, alright?’

  ‘Fine. Whatever,’ Mark said, standing up and leaving the room.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Caroline called, before the ringing of her phone disturbed her. She looked at the screen. It was Sara Henshaw.

  22

  It never ceased to amaze Caroline how interlinked mental and physical energy were. Even though she’d felt ready to sleep for weeks, the call from Sara Henshaw had provided a boost of energy like no other.

  Her car hit the speed bumps along Ashwell Road a little harder than usual as she headed back to work, keen to see for herself what Sara had uncovered.

  Sara could go on to big things — if she wanted to. Caroline was sure of that. But there was a clear lack of confidence in her, a sense that she didn’t appreciate her talents and value to the team anywhere near as much as others did. That was often the case in policing. The culture, stress and sheer lack of time meant positive reinforcement often fell by the wayside. Despite this, Sara always seemed to come up with the goods.

  Caroline parked her car in the small car park at the front of the police station and headed inside.

  ‘You should have been home hours ago,’ she said when she found Sara in the office.

  Sara simply shrugged. ‘Plenty to be doing. Anyway. Not much point going back to an empty flat, is there?’

  Caroline thought she detected a hint of sadness in her eyes. She wasn’t one to pry into her colleagues’ private lives, but she’d got the distinct impression Sara had been single for some time, and that it wasn’t a situation she was entirely happy with. She made a mental note to have a chat with her when the time was right. ‘Well, I appreciate the dedication,’ she replied. ‘What have you found?’

  Sara sat down at her desk as Caroline stood behind her. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’ve been doing some digging into Amie Tanner, like you asked. It seems she’s got a pretty colourful past.’

  ‘I see. Go on.’

  ‘It’s looking like she’s a bit of a bad luck charm, to say the least. We already know she lost her dad ten years ago. But five years before that, Amie — Amie Murray as she was then — was seeing a bloke called Russell Speakman. Until he died.’

  ‘Died? What were the circumstances?’

  ‘Suspicious. He fell down the stairs at home. The cause of death was given as cranio-cerebral trauma and intra-thoracic visceral injuries.’

  ‘In English?’

  ‘From what I can make out, he cracked his skull open and broke a rib, which pierced his lung.’

  ‘Christ. I’ll be walking down the stairs more carefully in future.’

  ‘It’s a weird one. The stairs were uncarpeted and there were hard floors upstairs and down, which won’t have helped. Pretty steep stairs, too, according to the report. But it also shows that he tumbled as he fell and hit his head at least twice. I don’t know about you, but I’ve slipped down the stairs a few times before and I always end up a few steps further down on my arse. I don’t go bouncing around like a tumble dryer ball. Even if he fell awkwardly, how likely is it that a grown adult male will manage to do that much damage to himself?’

  ‘Was he under the influence of anything?’ Caroline asked.

  Sara shook her head. ‘Toxicology all clear.’

  ‘And what are the odds of him falling like that? Do you know?’

  Sara shrugged. ‘No idea, but I wouldn’t put money on them. The report says as much itself, but the coroner’s verdict was accidental death. There were no other suspicious circumstances.’

  ‘And what about Amie? Where was she?’

  ‘Out for a walk with a friend, apparently. Want to guess who the friend was?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘One Gavin Tanner. Her now-husband.’

  Caroline realised she’d been holding her breath — for how long, she didn’t know — and she exhaled heavily. ‘Christ. So that’s twice he’s been her alibi when people around her have died?’

  ‘So it seems.’

  Caroline clenched her jaw. ‘I really hate to ask this, Sara, but have you looked into the circumstances surrounding her dad’s death?’

  ‘I’m starting to now. He’d been ill for some time, I know that. There’s nothing to indicate foul play, but I’ll definitely be following that up in more detail after this little discovery.’

  Caroline sat down and rubbed her face. ‘What does your gut say, Sara? Are we looking at some sort of black widow here?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. But you’re right. Something doesn’t quite sit properly, does it? It seems like too much of a coincidence.’

  ‘I know.
There goes any chance I had of sleeping tonight. Brilliant work, though, Sara. Seriously. Well done. It’s probably best you go home and get some kip, though. Won’t do you any good to be tired tomorrow. I’ve a feeling it’s going to be a big day.’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t need much sleep, to be honest. If I’m going to be sitting on my own back at the flat, I might as well sit on my own here and be of some use to someone.’

  Caroline looked at her and gave a sympathetic smile. ‘Is there no-one special in your life? Sorry, I know I shouldn’t ask. In fact, I should probably already know. I don’t think it makes me a great boss either way.’

  Sara smiled back, but it was a smile tinged with sadness. ‘You’re fine. And no, no-one special. Not anyone that knows it, anyway.’

  Caroline cocked her head slightly. She’d had her suspicions in the past, but it wasn’t anything that had ever been spoken. ‘Are we talking about who I think we’re talking about?’

  ‘That depends on who you think we’re talking about,’ Sara answered with a coy smile.

  ‘Is the secret beau one Detective Constable Chilcott, by any chance?’

  Sara’s unspoken response told Caroline she was absolutely correct. She’d long suspected Aidan had been keen on Sara, but it had come as a surprise to discover it was the other way round.

  ‘You won’t say anything, will you?’ Sara asked.

  ‘To Aidan? No, of course not. It’s not my place to do so. Anyway, what would I say? I’m not exactly going to go running up to him tomorrow morning, singing “Sara and Aidan, sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G.” am I?’

  Sara laughed. ‘No, what I mean is I don’t think he’s interested. I don’t think I’m his type.’

  Caroline gave a disapproving look. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. It probably hasn’t even crossed his mind. That’s no bad thing, though.’

  ‘Mmm. Maybe.’

  ‘Listen, you get yourself off home and get some sleep,’ Caroline replied, standing up, her mind drifting back to the investigation. ‘Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.’

  23

  The next morning, Caroline arrived at work having had very little sleep. Despite her exhaustion, she just couldn’t slow her brain down enough to drift off properly. In any case, the excitement of new leads and a potential breakthrough on Operation Cruickshank had provided her with enough energy to carry on.

  Sara had already been in the office a couple of hours by the time Caroline got there. Caroline would’ve assumed she’d never left, were it not for the fact she was wearing different clothes.

  ‘What else have we got?’ Caroline asked her, eager to hear the latest.

  ‘Not much. Just detail. Police records show there was suspicion in the case of Russell Speakman’s death and that Amie Tanner was spoken to in connection with it, but that no further action was taken. She had an alibi, no apparent motive and there wasn’t anything that linked her strongly enough to what’d happened. Amie and Russell didn’t live together, but she was a frequent visitor. There were reports that neighbours heard them arguing earlier on the day he died, but then there’s nothing until his body was discovered the following day.’

  ‘Who found him?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘His mum. She’d popped round with a Sunday roast. Something she did each week, apparently. When he didn’t answer the door, she looked through the letterbox and found him in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs.’

  ‘Wow. Happy Sunday. Are there any notes on how Amie behaved? Was she as awkward and obstinate back then too?’

  ‘Not at first, although it seems the officers who spoke to her at the time rubbed her up the wrong way, because there are mentions later on that she started to become uncooperative. By then it was apparent they had no real evidence anyway, so it was irrelevant.’

  Caroline nodded. ‘Right. Good stuff, Sara. Let’s get our ducks in a row, then we’ll get her brought in for questioning. And this time we’ll do it properly.’

  It was clear that Amie Tanner was less than pleased at having been arrested and brought in for an official interview under caution. There were two types of people: those who started talking at this point because they knew things were getting serious, and those who seemed to take it as a personal affront and doubled down on their obstinacy. It looked very much like Amie Tanner was going to be in the latter camp.

  She’d chosen to be accompanied by a solicitor, presumably because she was at least wise enough to realise that an interview under caution was a far more serious matter than a casual chat in one’s own kitchen.

  ‘Okay, Amie,’ Caroline said as the interview began, Dexter sat beside her. ‘We’ve been doing a bit of research and investigation at our end, as you might imagine. Does the name Russell Speakman mean anything to you?’

  Amie stayed silent for a moment, briefly glancing at her solicitor, who made a non-committal gesture. ‘Yes. I used to know him. Fifteen or so years ago, it will’ve been.’

  Caroline nodded. Amie had very little choice but to answer that question. There was no way she was going to get away with claiming she didn’t know Russell, and the predictable “no comment” wouldn’t have held much sway in keeping the police off her back. It wouldn’t look great in court, either. ‘What was your relationship with Russell?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘We went out for a bit.’

  ‘Was it serious?’

  ‘Not especially. It only lasted two or three months.’

  ‘I see. And what caused the relationship to end?’

  Amie sighed. ‘You know the answer to that, or you wouldn’t have called me in here. Russell died. It was a tragic accident, but your lot were hell bent on sending someone down for it. You failed. You failed, because there wasn’t anyone at fault. It was an accident. The coroner confirmed it. I was brought in by the police and interviewed, as you’ll know from your records. And you’ll be able to see from your records that I was released without charge because I didn’t do anything wrong. And now — fifteen bloody years later — someone else I know happens to have died, and apparently I’m Dr Death or something because I suddenly become number one suspect every time someone within ten miles pops their clogs.’

  ‘Okay. Well I think we need to calm down a little bit, Amie. We just want to get to the bottom of things. We need to determine the facts. And the facts, as I understand them, are that you were released without charge fifteen years ago because you had an alibi, is that correct?’

  Amie looked at her. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And can you tell me who that alibi was?’

  Amie sighed and shook her head, knowing this would all be on record already. ‘Yes, it was Gavin. My husband.’

  ‘Or your friend, as he was then.’

  ‘Yes. We got together a little while after Russell died. He was very supportive and helpful. These things happen.’

  ‘The same Gavin Tanner who was your alibi on the night Martin Forbes died.’

  ‘Yes. He’s my husband. We live together. Who else do you think is going to be able to say where I was? The Sultan of sodding Brunei?’

  ‘Amie, let’s calm it down. These are simple, straightforward questions. All we’re trying to do is establish the facts. There’s really no need to get worked up. If everything is as you say it is, nothing’s going to be a problem.’

  ‘Well it is a problem, isn’t it? Three times you’ve spoken to me now. And why? Because I had one poxy argument with Martin and someone I knew fifteen years ago fell down the stairs. There’s literally nothing else, is there?’ Amie looked at Caroline, who didn’t say a word. ‘Exactly what I thought. I thought you people were meant to rely on forensics and DNA and things like that, not bloody hunches.’

  ‘All of that is being looked at as well,’ Caroline said, shuffling uncomfortably in her seat, ‘but these things take time, and if we get some intelligence or information early on in the investigation which we think needs following up, we’re absolutely entitled to do so.’

  Amie snorted. ‘Intelligence. Don’t
make me laugh.’

  Caroline cocked her head slightly. ‘Amie, you’re being very aggressive. All we’re trying to do is ask you some simple questions and establish the facts.’

  ‘With respect,’ the solicitor said, having stayed silent until then, ‘you’ve placed Mrs Tanner under formal caution, even though she’s spoken to you quite willingly and voluntarily twice this week already. I don’t believe she’s refused to speak to you at any point, has she?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of, no,’ Caroline replied.

  ‘Then I’m glad we agree the formal caution was unnecessarily heavy handed. There was no evidence of any wrongdoing or involvement the first two times you spoke to Mrs Tanner, and as I see it the only thing that’s changed is the discovery that a friend of hers died fifteen years ago. A death which the coroner declared was accidental and in which no crime was involved, I might add.’

  Caroline felt her jaw tensing as she gritted her teeth. The decision to bring Amie in under caution had been potentially risky, and it hadn’t paid off. Her hope had been that it might scare her into talking or revealing more than she otherwise would have, but as Caroline looked at her across the interview room table, all she saw was a far more determined steel in Amie’s eyes. In that moment, she knew she’d made a big mistake.

  24

  Fifteen years earlier

  The air always felt different when she was around. Lighter, somehow. Although today it was anything but. She was usually so much fun, so friendly and bubbly. He’d never seen this side of her before, and he wasn’t sure he liked it much.

  Russell knew he was no angel, but he always tried to do the right thing — even if it meant failing more often than not. Of course, everyone had their weaknesses…

 

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