A Violent Heart, page 23
‘Is your wife visiting?’ Archer asks.
Parry looks away and rubs his neck.
Archer turns and leaves him.
‘Grace . . . wait!’
Archer stops and, without looking back at him, says, ‘I want you on the first train to London tomorrow morning.’
‘Fuck!’ he says.
Stu is waiting outside, the car engine rumbling. She gets into the passenger seat.
‘Where’s Lee?’ he asks.
‘Busy.’ She pulls the seatbelt across.
‘We have some news on Townsend.’
‘He’s been caught?’
‘Not exactly. We have traced his credit card being used in St Abbs, which is spitting distance from here.’
‘I thought he was in Scotland.’
‘He was. He’s possibly coming back or is constantly on the move to stop being caught. We also know he’s been in touch with a mate in Fishwick asking for a bed for the night. Being on the run, he’s out of his comfort zone and is making mistakes. I’m confident we’ll pick him up in the next day or two, latest. Then we can sew this case up.’
‘He’s not the killer,’ says Archer.
‘Have you thought that Townsend could be a copycat? That maybe he read about the other murders and used them as a template?’
‘My gut says no, but I could be proved wrong.’
‘I was thinking . . . what with Lily missing . . . we should spill the beans to her parents on what she was doing with Gemma and Townsend.’
‘It had crossed my mind, too. It could be that Lily has just run away to avoid the inevitable shame. But I’m inclined to leave it for now. See if she shows up by the morning. One other thing. The man who accused Barry Mercer of being responsible for various deaths. Do we know who he is yet?’
‘We’re still working on it.’
They arrive at the Mercers’ within ten minutes. Outside their house is a marked police car, and on the driveway, a Škoda people carrier is parked.
‘That’s Simon Cooper’s car,’ says Stu. ‘He’s Isla’s brother.’
A uniformed policewoman opens the door to them. They hear agitated voices coming from the living room. She recognises Isla’s.
Archer greets her with a nod.
‘This is DI Grace Archer,’ Stu says to the constable.
The policewoman extends her hand. ‘PC Anna Webb.’
‘Good to meet you,’ says Archer.
‘How’re they doing?’ Stu asks the constable.
‘Not great. Barry and Simon want to get out there and look for her.’
Stu sighs. ‘Of course they do. Thanks, Anna. We’ll take over.’
They enter the living room. Isla is sitting on the edge of the sofa, her eyes puffy from weeping, clutching a mobile phone with a garish pink cover. Next to her is a slim man in his sixties wearing a grey polo shirt. Sitting with hands gripping the rests of his armchair, is a second man with a slight build, possibly in his mid to late fifties. If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume they were brothers. Archer detects a faint smell of whisky in the air. They’re all looking at Archer and Stu as if they are the messengers of grave news.
‘Have . . . have you found her?’ Isla asks, her voice trembling.
‘Not yet, Isla,’ Stu answers.
‘What’re you doing here, then?’ the man in the armchair asks. There’s a slight slur in his voice. ‘She isn’t bloody here.’
‘Let me introduce DI Grace Archer, from the Met.’ Stu gestures to the man on the armchair. ‘This is Barry Mercer, Lily’s dad, and this is Simon Cooper, Lily’s uncle.’
‘What’s this got to do with the Met?’ Barry Mercer asks.
‘We believe Gemma McFadden’s murder may be linked to other cases.’ Archer leaves it at that. No need to share any more details at the moment.
‘What murders would those be?’ Cooper asks, a confused expression on his face.
Archer is keen to press on with her own questions ‘One in London last week. And two older cases. Possibly more.’
‘I had no idea.’
‘What about this Chris Townsend?’ Barry interrupts. ‘Have you caught him yet?’
‘We’re working on it,’ Archer replies.
Barry snorts and shakes his head.
‘Barry, you are a former copper. You know how these things work,’ Stu says.
‘You and Isla met working for the force, I understand,’ Archer says.
‘Back in the day, yes.’
A sob from Isla who can’t help herself and starts to cry.
Cooper reaches across and squeezes her hand.
‘If I could just ask you all a few questions . . .’ says Archer.
Isla takes a moment and composes herself. ‘Sorry . . . ask away.’
Archer turns to Isla’s brother. ‘Mr Cooper, if you don’t mind.’
It takes a moment for Archer’s hint to hit home. ‘Yes, of course,’ he replies, smiling politely. ‘I’ve leave you to it, then.’ He places his hand on Isla’s knee. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Actually, if you could wait in the kitchen. We’d like to talk to you also.’
‘Oh . . . Of course. I’ll be in the kitchen,’ he says, standing up and stretching stiff limbs. ‘Isla, I’ll be in the kitchen,’ he repeats.
Isla nods and dabs her eyes with a tissue.
Archer takes his place on the sofa. ‘Isla, did you speak to Lily after we left this morning?’
Her face creases. ‘No, that’s the thing! She disappeared at the same time as you did.’
‘I’d like to know what you said to her!’ Barry Mercer asks, gruffly.
Isla starts crying into her handkerchief.
‘Mr Mercer, where were you today?’ Archer asks.
He turns aways from Archer’s gaze and breathes like a bull through his nose.
‘I was fishing.’
‘Where do you go?’
‘The same spot I always go to . . .’
‘On the River Tweed.’
‘No.’
‘He goes to Coldingham Loch,’ Isla says.
‘Oh . . . Where’s that?’
‘North. About thirty minutes’ drive,’ Mercer says. ‘What has that got to do with anything?’
‘How long were you there?’ she asks.
‘A few hours.’
‘Three, four, more?’
‘About four.’
‘Did you drive?’
He frowns at the question and snorts once more. Silence fills the room.
‘He lost his licence,’ Isla says, breaking the quiet.
Archer suspects she knows the answer but asks anyway, ‘Why was that?’
Mercer’s eyes flare momentarily, his neck reddens. Isla is about to speak but her husband raises his hand, ‘OK, I can answer for meself, thank you.’ He takes a moment to compose himself. ‘I was driving under the influence. Ridiculous, it was. I only had one extra and didn’t even finish that.’
The smell on his breath might tell a different story, Archer thinks.
Isla sighs heavily, a look of vexation darkens her face. ‘Thankfully, we have my brother here who can ferry us around.’
‘How long have you been without a licence?’
‘He had to surrender it last week,’ Isla says.
‘I see. Did Simon drive you to Coldingham Loch?’
Mercer answers with a single nod.
‘And when was the last time you saw your daughter?’
‘This morning, at breakfast.’
‘And you’ve not seen or heard from her since?’
‘No,’ he replies frowning.
Archer turns to Isla. ‘Do you have any idea why Lily left the house without saying?’
Isla shakes her head. ‘Absolutely none. She was here, then she was just gone, like she’d vanished.’
‘I assume she’s not answering her phone?’
‘That’s the thing. She didn’t even take it.’ Isla holds out the pink device in her hand. ‘She left it in her room.’
‘Can I see it?’ Archer asks.
Isla hesitates, frowning.
‘It might contain a clue to where she’s gone.’
‘We’ve tried to access it, but it has a code that none of us know.’
‘I can take it to the station and get one our tech guys to crack it,’ says Stu.
Isla considers this and, after a moment, hands it across.
‘We’ll look after it,’ Stu says.
‘Has she ever been in trouble before?’ Archer asks.
‘What sort of trouble?’
‘Perhaps at school, or at a youth club?’
‘No, of course not. She’s a good girl.’
Archer nods and turns to Stu. ‘Perhaps we can talk to Mr Cooper now.’
‘Excuse us,’ says Archer, making her way into the kitchen. She stops and looks back. ‘Just one more question, Mr Mercer. You were interviewed for a TV show recently at Berwick station.’
‘That’s correct.’
‘There was an altercation.’
Mercer shifts uneasily in his chair. ‘Aye.’
‘A man accused you of being responsible for the death of some people.’
‘A lunatic.’
‘Why would he say that?’
‘I have no idea. I’ve never hurt anyone, directly or indirectly. He’s a madman. Nothing more.’
‘Have you met him before?’
‘No. Never.’
‘Do you understand how this looks?’ she asks.
He swallows. ‘How do you mean?’
‘It’s an odd coincidence that a friend of your daughter is murdered, and then your daughter goes missing within days of a stranger accusing you of murder.’
His face reddens, he shakes his head and shrugs. ‘I don’t know anything about that.’
Archer studies him for a moment, unsure what to make of him. ‘Thank you,’ she replies, although she is utterly unconvinced.
Simon Cooper is sitting at the kitchen table, elbows resting on the surface, fingers entwined. Archer notices what looks like a wedding band on the ring finger of his right hand. He looks up when they enter.
‘Thanks for waiting, Mr Cooper.’
‘Call me Simon,’ he replies. ‘No need for formality.’
‘Simon, it is. If you don’t mind me saying, you and your sister don’t have a Berwick accent.’
‘That’s right. We’re from Liverpool originally.’
‘You’ve lost your Scouse accent.’
‘We both left when we were teenagers. There’s a bit of everywhere in our accents.’
‘Where have you lived over the years?’
He looks away, his mind in thought as he ponders his response. ‘Where haven’t I lived . . . I was in the army for twelve years stationed all over the world. Did some time in Northern Ireland, got posted to Germany, then Somalia. Spent two years in Nevada and then came home.’
‘How long have you been out of the army?’
‘Twenty-three years now.’
‘Do you miss it?’ Stu asks.
‘I miss being younger.’
‘When was the last time you saw your niece?’ Archer asks.
‘This morning when I came to pick up Barry.’
‘Did you talk to her?’
‘No. She was in the hallway. I only saw her briefly. She didn’t notice me. I was sitting in the car, you see.’
‘I understand you drive the family around.’
‘Not always. Isla does some of the driving, too. Barry should get his licence back . . . someday soon, I hope.’
‘Do you live locally?’
‘A little way out of town. In the country. I have a cottage in Springhill Lane.’
‘Nice part of the world,’ says Stu. ‘Quiet. Remote.’
‘Sounds idyllic,’ says Archer. ‘Are you married?’
‘No.’
‘Separated?’
‘Single. At the moment, anyway.’ He laughs.
‘Is that a wedding band?’ Archer asks.
‘My mother’s. It’s all I have of hers.’
‘Must be lonely living out in the countryside by yourself.’
‘Not at all. I’m used to it.’
‘What do you do for a living after the army?’
‘Various jobs, I suppose. I worked in bars, restaurants, retail. I trained to become an accountant in my thirties and that became my career. I moved up here to be close to family. Isla and Lily, they’re my only family.’
‘Not Barry.’
He lets out a short laugh, ‘Of course, Barry, too.’ He leans across. ‘Don’t mention I left his name out. He’ll never forgive me.’
Stu’s phone buzzes, interrupting the interview. He takes it out and looks at the screen. ‘It’s Andy. Better take this.’
‘I’ll carry on,’ Archer replies.
‘Do you know why your niece might have left the house without saying anything to her mother? It’s quite unusual, isn’t it?’
‘It’s not like her. That said, she can be hot-headed.’
Stu’s voice interrupts the questioning. ‘Grace, a moment.’
Archer gets up from the table and joins Stu at the other end of the kitchen. ‘Townsend just walked into the station and gave himself up,’ he says.
Chapter 48
I
N THE CAR ON THE WAY TO THE station, Archer thinks about the Mercers. An accusation of murder against Barry Mercer, the murder of a local woman, and their daughter, Lily, going missing. In her mind she can see the pieces of a vast puzzle floating away from each other, unable to slot together. Something else niggles at her. Something Isla said when they had spoken that morning. What was it?
With all of this churning over in her head she remembers the Parry debacle and decides to call Quinn.
‘Hey,’ he says, his voice sounds tired.
‘Sorry, were you sleeping?’
‘Just dozing. How’s it going?’
‘I’m sending Parry home.’
She notices Stu glance across at her.
‘Has he been a naughty boy?’ Quinn asks.
‘I’ll explain later. Can you come and take over from him?’
‘Sure. What about Fletcher?’
‘I’ll deal with him. I need you here.’
‘No worries. I’ll book a red eye train and see you there.’
‘Great. So, what’s been happening?’
‘Eve Sommers has proved difficult to talk to, as you said. I’ve asked Marian to go down to her neck of the woods, talk to her and explain she doesn’t have much of a choice. While she’s down there I’ve asked her to go to Bridgwater Police Station. They’ve given us the green light to go through their archives. We’ve been busy.’
‘So it seems.’
‘What’s been happening at Berwick?’
Archer brings him up to date as Stu drives into the police station car park.
At the custody desk over one hour later, she waits patiently watching Stu preside over the formalities for processing the captured fugitive and suspect Chris Townsend. He’s a tall man with a lazy posture. His shoulder-length blond hair is unkempt, he looks scruffy and unwashed, which is not surprising as he’s been on the run for the last three nights. Townsend is agitated and not cooperating with the custody officer. When questioned, he responds with questions and demands in a loud posh accent that smacks of privilege.
‘You can’t keep me here! I haven’t done anything,’ he cries.
‘Let’s start with videoing underage girls for porn shoots,’ Stu Vickers says.
Townsend flinches. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘We have some “interesting” pictures from one of your drives. And don’t get me started on the Kitten Club live sex shows. We’ve had a few people calling in about those.’
‘I’m not saying anything until my lawyer is here.’
‘Then we’ll all have to wait until tomorrow morning because that’s when he arrives.’
‘Please can I go home and come back with him in the morning? I did hand myself in, after all.’
Stu laughs. ‘I don’t think so, mate. Something about being a wanted fugitive and murder suspect might just stop that from happening. Don’t despair. You’ll spend the night in one of our finest rooms. We’ll even throw in some breakfast.’
‘You have rooms?’
‘To be more specific, they’re cells. Sparse but cosy.’
‘Oh gosh!’
With Townsend locked up, and the search for Lily underway, Archer returns to her hotel for some much-needed shuteye.
At nine o’clock the following morning, Townsend’s solicitor, Geoffrey Clarkson, arrives. Squeezed into a navy tailored suit, he’s a large, surly man with a neck and head like a bull’s. He doesn’t acknowledge Archer, Stu Vickers or Andy Ball. Instead, he makes his way directly to the meeting room to talk with his client. They talk for thirty minutes, by which time Stu and Andy are granted an audience. Archer watches on a screen in the room next door. As the interview begins, she thinks of the Mercers again and quickly sends an email to Klara asking her to look up whatever she can about their background.
Twenty minutes into the interview, Townsend has become agitated, once again telling the story of how he had found Gemma in the cottage. The pictures of Gemma’s dead body have tipped him over the edge. Clarkson is unimpressed and wants to call the interview off, but Stu tells them that as long as Lily remains missing he’s going nowhere. Clarkson asks for proof and then out come the porn photos of Gemma and Lily and threats of going onto the sex register, which for some reason Clarkson finds amusing. To Archer, it seems the interview has become a pissing contest between Andy Ball and Clarkson, two alpha males, who seem to have forgotten that at the heart of this is the murder of several women. She feels a twist of anger and wants to kick her way in but decides she does not want to jeopardise her position here, especially with Fletcher looking for any excuse to nail her. To her relief, though, Stu brings it back on track and asks Townsend about Gemma.
‘Did you love her?’
Townsend folds his arms and dips his head. He says something that is barely audible.
‘Could you repeat that for the recording, please, Chris?’ Stu says.
‘Yes.’
‘I know it hurts. Tell us about Lily.’
‘What about her?’
‘She’s missing, Chris,’ Stu says.
