Leigh Russell, page 11
It had been exciting as well as disturbing, because a policeman in uniform had stood on their front doorstep for ages, questioning Jimmy and his parents about their neighbour. They had nothing to say. As his mother had told the police officer, they were quiet people who kept themselves to themselves. Jimmy had known who Martin Reed was, because he had lived next door. Even though they had hardly exchanged two words with one another, Jimmy had quite liked Martin, because he was always smiling. So Jimmy was sad he had died, even though his parents told him not to worry about it. He told the policeman that Martin was a nice man.
Hurrying home with his chocolate in his pocket, Jimmy saw that the neighbour’s front door was still wide open. That worried him. He paused. He and his parents had been told that Martin’s daughter had moved into the house after the murder. She was called Daisy and Jimmy didn’t like her. She always looked cross and she had told Jimmy off for walking on the low wall outside Martin’s front garden.
‘My mother says I can walk on here,’ he had explained. ‘I always walk on here and I don’t fall off.’
In response, Daisy had waved her fist in the air and shouted at him that he was trespassing, and he would be in trouble if she ever saw him walking on the wall again.
‘If you damage my wall, you’ll pay for it,’ she had yelled, her ugly face turning red. ‘Get down right now! You’re too old to be walking on walls. You might be an idiot but you understand when I say you’re not allowed to walk on my wall.’
She had shouted at him and called him an idiot, which was bullying, and that was very bad. When Jimmy had threatened to tell his father, Daisy had laughed at him. He could tell her laughter wasn’t friendly. Jimmy hadn’t seen Daisy for a few weeks and his mother had told him she had gone away. The nice lady had come back but he couldn’t see her, so he was bothered about the door. Cautiously, he pushed the gate open, and stepped on to the path. His mother would be pleased with him for checking that everything was in order. She liked everything to be in order. But before he reached the front door he turned back, suddenly reticent. He didn’t want to invade her privacy, especially since Martin had been killed, and he was afraid Daisy would suddenly leap out and shout at him to get off her property.
He almost screamed when he saw a pair of feet in sparkly pink flip flops lying on the frosty ground next to the bins. Bare toes meant someone was still wearing the shoes. Jimmy shivered, thinking how cold they must be. At the same time, he was almost relieved because he didn’t think they could be Daisy’s feet. The toenails peeping out of the flip flops were painted bright pink. He didn’t think Daisy would paint her toenails bright pink. He wondered if it was the nice lady.
‘Hello?’ he called out. ‘Hello? Are you all right? What are you doing down there by the bin?’
There was no answer. He tried to think what his mother would do in such circumstances. But his mother wasn’t there. He decided to run home and report what he had seen. His mother and father had taught him to tell one of them whenever anything was bothering him, like the bullies at school, or the problems he encountered in trying to find a job. No one wanted someone like him working for them, not even to do a bit of gardening.
‘You’re a good boy,’ his father reassured him when he felt sad. ‘You’re just a bit slower than most people. There’s nothing wrong with that. You go through life at your own pace, my boy, and don’t let the bullies bother you. Rise above it.’
He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he appreciated that his father was being kind. He tried to imagine what his father would do about the pink flip flops, and the person who was wearing them.
‘Hello,’ he called out again. ‘You need to get up. It’s dirty down there by the bins. You can’t stay there.’
The woman didn’t stir.
‘Get up, get up!’ Jimmy shouted, going closer to make sure the woman could hear him.
He drew level with the nearest bin and leaned forward cautiously to peer behind it, wrinkling his nose at the smell. A woman was lying on the ground. Her eyes were wide open, staring up at him with a shocked expression. Terrified that she had seen him, Jimmy backed away and ran all the way home.
25
Geraldine and Ariadne drove to Martin’s house. As usual, Geraldine was in a hurry to arrive before the body was moved to the mortuary. While Ariadne was happy to read the reports written by the officers who were first on the scene, Geraldine preferred to see the details for herself. Ian wasn’t the only one who accused her of being obsessional, but she never let that put her off. There might be something about the expression on the victim’s face or the position in which they were discovered that offered a faint hint about what had happened. Often there was nothing she could put into words, but she suspected her hunches were occasionally inspired by a tiny detail she hadn’t consciously registered at the time. It was a question of seeing the body, absorbing what was in front of her, and waiting until it all came together, like the myriad pieces of a jigsaw that joined up to produce a picture where everything finally fell into place. She was always afraid that missing one tiny detail might delay her understanding of the whole.
This time, the street looked very different to when Geraldine had first gone there to see Serena. A white forensic tent had been erected outside the house she still thought of as Martin’s property, even though he was dead and it no longer belonged to him. Several white-coated scene of crime officers were busy searching the area as Geraldine pulled on her protective clothing and followed the common approach path into the tent. The body was visible from the path, lying at the side of the area beside a large rubbish bin. As she watched, a couple of scene of crime officers concluded their scrutiny of it. One of them nodded at a third colleague in similar protective clothing who stepped forward and carefully wheeled the bin away. If Geraldine had arrived a few minutes later, she would have known the body was discovered by a bin only from her colleagues’ reports. It was a detail that probably wasn’t significant, but it might explain what Serena had been doing outside at night. She made a mental note to check when the bins were emptied.
She went as close as she could, careful not to let her feet land anywhere they might contaminate the scene. Reaching the body, she stared down at the dead woman who lay on her back, her arms by her sides, one of her legs stretched out while the other was bent in an awkward position beneath her. Her face was turned slightly to one side, away from Geraldine. She recognised Serena instantly, although the dead woman’s expression was rigid with shock and her complexion grey, as though all the blood had drained from her face into a black puddle beside her head.
‘Has the medical officer been?’ Geraldine asked one of the scene of crime officers. He paused in his careful study of the ground, and nodded at her. ‘So what was the cause of death?’ she asked. ‘There’s a lot of blood.’
The officer pointed silently at the woman’s head. Crouching down to take a closer look, Geraldine saw a deep gash on the far side of Serena’s throat that had initially been hidden from view. There was no longer any question that she had been murdered. Geraldine straightened up, frowning.
‘When did it happen?’ she asked tersely.
‘Some time last night,’ the scene of crime officer told her. ‘She was examined by the medical officer just after nine this morning. She confirmed the cause of death as probable blood loss, but couldn’t rule out the possibility that the wound itself had obstructed the airway and been instantly fatal. Anyway, it looks as though the stab wound was what killed her, one way or another. We’ll have to wait for the post mortem to be sure exactly how she died. She appeared to have been stabbed no less than eight hours before she was examined, but it could have been as much as twelve hours earlier. The doctor couldn’t be more specific than that because the body was outside on a freezing cold night.’
‘So she was most likely attacked at some time between nine o’clock yesterday evening and one o’clock in the morning?’
Her colleague grunted assent. ‘That sounds about right,’ he said, and turned away to continue his examination of the ground inside the tent.
Geraldine rejoined Ariadne, who had been talking to a scene of crime officer in the street. Before returning to the police station, they went to question the boy who had found the body. He lived next door. The woman who opened the door had black hair streaked with white. There were grey rings under her eyes, and she blinked nervously at them.
‘Mrs Wilson?’ Geraldine asked.
‘This is about next door, isn’t it?’ she asked with an air of resignation. ‘We liked Martin. He was a respectable man, and his wife always seemed very pleasant. We were all sorry to hear about her death. And his was even more of a shock. I spoke to your colleague after it happened, but there’s nothing to tell you, not really. We hardly knew them. And now this. It’s hard to believe there’s been another murder next door. But I’m afraid we can’t tell you anything about her. She seemed very nice and they were always very civil, but we like to keep ourselves to ourselves.’
A man joined them, peering out warily from beneath a mop of ginger curls.
‘What my wife’s trying to say is that we would like to help but we have nothing to add to what we’ve already told your colleague.’
‘We’d like to have a word with Jimmy, if we may.’
Mrs Wilson nodded reluctantly and led them inside. Jimmy was sitting in an armchair in a comfortably furnished living room. Geraldine asked him to tell her what happened when he found Serena’s body, and he launched into an account of how he had gone out to buy chocolate and had noticed the neighbouring front door was open.
‘What did you do when you saw her?’
‘I told her to wake up because it was cold. She wasn’t wearing a coat.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I think it was the cold that killed her. She should have worn a coat.’
26
At first Daisy resisted when two police officers went to fetch her. They reported that she had physically struggled when they attempted to subdue her. She had sworn at them and run upstairs, as though she thought she could hide inside the house. She had locked herself in her bathroom, which was stupid, because of course they weren’t going to go away and she had basically trapped herself. The attending female sergeant was concerned Daisy might harm herself, so young constable Sam Cullen had broken in after warning her to stand back. The sergeant reported there wasn’t much else they could do, and it wasn’t difficult to break open a fairly flimsy internal door. They found Daisy huddled on the floor, clutching her knees to her chest and muttering to herself. She looked up and glared at them but didn’t move. In view of her obstinate refusal to accompany them, she was cautioned. Eventually she appeared to run out of energy and went with them quietly. According to the reports, she didn’t react when they told her she could be a suspect in a murder investigation and it would be in her interest to cooperate fully.
At the police station, the custody sergeant offered to summon the duty brief, but Daisy preferred to call her brother and ask him to arrange a lawyer for her. After further delay, she was finally brought to an interview room and Geraldine and Ariadne prepared to conduct the interview. The lawyer Nigel had sent was a spindly old man. His hair was grey and he had thin features that seemed carved in stone.
Geraldine noticed that Daisy didn’t appear surprised when she was questioned about the murder of Serena Baxter.
‘So she’s dead, is she?’ Daisy said. ‘Do you expect me to be sorry?’
She stared sullenly across the table. As usual, her hair looked greasy and there were grey pouches under her eyes. Behind her defiance there was an air of sadness, and Geraldine supposed she was still grieving for her father. When challenged about why she had resisted arrest, she merely shrugged.
‘What difference does it make?’ she enquired listlessly.
She seemed so feeble, it was difficult to believe she had earlier resisted being brought to the police station.
‘You don’t have to say anything,’ the lawyer murmured.
‘I know you understand what we’re saying,’ Geraldine said quietly. ‘You are a suspect in a murder enquiry.’
Daisy shrugged. ‘I never touched her,’ she replied. ‘But I can tell you I’d like to pat whoever did it on the back,’ she added with a sudden burst of vivacity. Her cheeks flushed darkly. ‘She was toxic. She was probably driven to suicide by guilt at what she did.’
‘And that was what, exactly?’ Ariadne asked.
Daisy’s head whipped round to stare at her as though she was surprised by what Ariadne had said.
‘She killed my father.’
The lawyer interrupted before Daisy could say anything else. ‘My client is still very upset about her father’s death,’ he said, adding very quietly to Daisy that she should let him answer the police questions. ‘Remember what I told you,’ he told her firmly. ‘Say nothing. You are not obliged to answer their questions.’
Geraldine directed the conversation back to Serena’s death.
‘What were you doing last night?’ she asked.
Daisy shrugged and muttered that she had no comment.
‘You must know what you were doing last night,’ Geraldine said. ‘There’s no reason for you to refuse to reply to a simple question.’ She turned to the lawyer. ‘Doesn’t that reticence suggest your client has something to hide?’
The lawyer nodded at Daisy.
‘Last night?’ Daisy repeated. ‘I was at home. And before you ask, yes, I was alone so you’ll just have to take my word for it.’
They were getting nowhere so Geraldine decided it was time to pursue a different line of enquiry.
‘What makes you think Serena killed your father?’ she asked.
Daisy raised her head and pulled her shoulders back with a jerk. She stared sullenly at Geraldine and insisted that it was obvious.
‘Not to us,’ Geraldine replied. ‘Please help us understand.’
Daisy repeated her claim that Serena had manipulated Martin into naming her his sole heir, after which she killed him. ‘Surely you can see what happened? She was only ever after him for his money. It’s as plain as the nose on your face. She was young and attractive and she seduced him. You saw what she looked like, the way she dressed herself up. She tricked her way into his bed when he was a lonely and vulnerable old man. She waited until he changed his will and then she killed him. Ask my brother. He’ll tell you she never loved him. We both saw through her straight away.’
Daisy stuck to her story despite the fact that she had no evidence to support her accusation. Eventually she refused to say anything more or to answer any more questions and the lawyer insisted on terminating the interview for the day, insisting that his client was exhausted after being forcibly dragged from her home.
‘This would all have been over more quickly if your client had cooperated with us,’ Geraldine pointed out sourly.
‘Don’t you think Daisy would have tried to set something up as an alibi if she really did kill Serena, her rival for her father’s affections?’ Ariadne asked after they had terminated the interview.
‘Her rival for her father’s money,’ Naomi said.
‘Unless this was a spur-of-the-moment attack,’ Ariadne pointed out. ‘She certainly seemed to react angrily when she was arrested, so we know she has a temper.’
They had to admit that it was possible Daisy had killed Serena in a rage, but they could no more prove it than Daisy could prove that Serena had murdered Martin. Their interview with Daisy hadn’t really answered any questions.
A constable confirmed that the bins were emptied along Friars Terrace around ten o’clock on Wednesday mornings, which seemed to confirm the theory that Serena might have gone out on Tuesday night to throw her rubbish away before the collection the following morning. No one could have predicted she would do that, so someone must have been watching the house or turned up that night by a horrible coincidence, just as Serena stepped outside. It was unlikely, but nevertheless possible that Jimmy might have been responsible, although his school reports described him as docile and gentle, and he had no criminal record. But even the most unlikely suspects could be guilty, and Geraldine decided to speak to Jimmy again.
Mrs Wilson looked slightly put out to see Geraldine back on her doorstep. When Geraldine said she wanted to have another word with Jimmy, Mrs Wilson made no attempt to conceal her irritation.
‘He has nothing more to say to you. Listen, Inspector, you’ve met my son. You can see he’s simple and completely honest. He’s never told a lie in his life. He wouldn’t know how to. And I assure you he never keeps any secrets from me and my husband. Apart from the fact that he’s very gentle and kind, if he had done anything wrong, he would have told me.’
‘And you would have told the police?’
Mrs Wilson sighed. ‘If I thought my son could be at risk of proving a danger to himself or anyone else, I would make sure he was taken somewhere he could be looked after and protected from himself and others. How would it help him to be allowed to wander around freely if he was capable of doing anything like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘The woman was dead, wasn’t she? Listen, you can question Jimmy again if you have to, but I’m going to have to insist that you do so with me and his social worker present.’
Geraldine sighed. There seemed little point in speaking to Jimmy again.
‘Where was your son at around ١ a.m. last night?’ she asked in a final attempt to discover something that would help the investigation.
