The Accused, page 8
Wendy leaned back in her seat, adjusting her V-necked blue sweater so it showed slightly less of her ample cleavage.
‘Well, honesty is usually the best policy, Cora. Maybe we just tell him we believe Sam is innocent and are trying to help clear her name by talking to everyone she’s been involved with over the past year, and in particular trying to find out who’s been sending her mystery gifts. Then just see how he reacts. If he starts behaving suspiciously, we pull out and just call the police.’
That sounded like a good idea to Cora. ‘OK. Let’s do it.’ She pulled down the driver’s mirror, wiped a stray fleck of mascara away from under her left eye, ran her fingers through her dark bob and flicked the mirror back into place.
‘And let’s hope he’s not a killer. I’d quite like to be alive to greet Harry when he arrives this evening. I’ve missed that little bundle of trouble.’
Harry was Adam’s six-year-old son. He lived with Adam’s ex-wife Laura in Swindon, but spent regular weekends with his dad, police work permitting. Although Cora had no desire for her own children, she had grown extremely fond of the cheeky little boy, who shared his father’s sharp intelligence and stunning green eyes.
‘We’ll be fine. There’s two of us and only one of him.’ Wendy opened her door and clambered out, and Cora followed suit. As they approached the red-painted door, she wondered again what on earth they were doing, her nerves suddenly mixed with a little anger now. Why was it she and Wendy who were having to do this? Yes, the police had compelling evidence that Sam was guilty. But Adam knew her, had known her for over a year, knew that Cora thought the world of her. Surely he could see that she couldn’t possibly be a murderer? Couldn’t he look past the evidence, just for a little while, and investigate the case further?
Well, if he can’t, or won’t, I suppose it’s up to us, she thought, and pushing all nerves aside, she pressed firmly on the traditional cast iron door bell.
Wendy looked at her. ‘No going back now. Hope he’s in,’ she hissed. He was. Moments later they heard footsteps approaching from inside the hallway and the door opened. Standing there was a tall, lightly tanned man in a stripy cobalt and white shirt. He had a neatly trimmed beard and looked to be in his mid-thirties. From the pictures Cora had seen, this was definitely their man, although he was decidedly better looking in the flesh.
‘Er – David Cash?’ she asked.
‘That’s me. Can I help you?’ He looked puzzled, but smiled.
‘It’s a bit complicated. We’re friends of Sam Tindall – remember, you dated her briefly last year? I don’t know if you’ve seen the news ...’
A look of surprise flashed across David’s face, and he looked from Cora to Wendy and then back again. Then he nodded.
‘Yes! I was absolutely horrified. I couldn’t believe she was capable ... but what has this got to do with me?’ He frowned and ran his fingers through his short brown hair, the temples flecked with grey. ‘I mean, I only dated her very briefly, as you said. Then she met that guy, Marcus, poor bugger, and told me she didn’t want to see me any more. We exchanged a few texts and emails, but I never saw her again after that. That was months ago now.’
‘Look – is there any way we could come in, explain properly? It’s just that we don’t think she’s guilty either, and we’re trying to prove that. If you could spare us just five minutes, we’d really appreciate it.’
He looked unsure, then took a step back and waved a hand down the hallway behind him.
‘I suppose so. Come in.’
He let them walk past him and then shut the door. ‘Second on the right,’ he said. ‘Can I get you some tea or anything?’
‘No, no, we’re fine, thank you,’ Wendy said, as they entered a cosy sitting room at the back of the house. French doors led out on to a long, sweeping garden, its beds bursting with purple alliums, splashes of colourful begonias and tall delphiniums. A small dog was scrabbling under a bush, soil flying out behind him, some sort of terrier, Cora thought, and she instantly remembered the third dog walker on the CCTV footage, the one who hadn’t come forward after the press appeals. Could this be the dog in the pictures?
‘Wow, what a gorgeous garden!’ She turned to David and smiled.
He smiled back. ‘It is lovely mostly, except when the damn dog decides to start digging.’ He tapped loudly on the glass of the French window, and the dog turned abruptly and slunk away. It stretched out on the grass a few feet from its digging spot, keeping a wary eye on the window.
‘He’ll be back at it in a minute, when he thinks I’m not looking. His name is Doug, and for a very good reason – he’s a Cairn terrier, digging seems to be their life.’ David smiled again, and Wendy and Cora both laughed. ‘Anyway – the garden. It’s my way of relaxing. I work in IT and it can all get a bit stuffy. I love getting out there, getting my hands dirty. It’s a work in progress, but yes, it’s not looking too bad at the moment.’
His face grew serious again. ‘But you’re not here to talk about gardening. Please, take a seat.’
He gestured towards a small, cream sofa, and Cora and Wendy sat down, while he perched on an antique-looking leather wing armchair opposite them, looking uncomfortable again.
‘So? How can I help?’
Cora looked at Wendy, then back at David. She took a deep breath and began. ‘OK, so this is a long shot, but we’re desperate. As you’ve probably seen in the papers, Sam has been charged with murdering her boyfriend and is currently on remand in prison. It’s a nightmare, David. We’ve known her for years, and we know she could never do anything like that. But the police have evidence, and have stopped looking for anyone else in the case.’
She wondered if she should mention that it was her own boyfriend who had led the investigation, then decided against it.
‘There’s been something a bit weird happening recently. In the weeks before the murder, Sam had been getting presents from a secret admirer – chocolates, flowers, a giant cuddly toy, things like that. She had no idea who they were coming from –’
‘And you think it might have been me?’ David laughed, disbelievingly. ‘Why on earth? I told you, I haven’t seen or heard from her in months!’
Wendy cleared her throat. ‘It’s just that – well, when Sam told you that she’d met someone else, she said that you seemed, well, quite upset? And kept emailing and texting her for a couple of weeks. We just thought that, maybe ...’
David stood up, his face flushing. ‘That maybe I was still obsessed with her, all these months later? And suddenly decided anonymous presents were the way forward? Seriously? And then what – I murder her boyfriend? Are you crazy?’
‘No, no, of course not.’ Cora tried to keep her voice calm despite her rising anxiety. ‘We’re just trying to understand what happened, and the mystery gifts may or may not be related. Of course we’re not accusing you of anything. I’m sorry if it came across like that.’
‘Yes, I’m sorry too,’ said Wendy. ‘It’s just that we are so worried, about Sam ...’
David sat down in his armchair again. ‘OK, OK. I’m sorry too. It’s just such a strange thing to come here and ask me, but I understand it must be a difficult time.’
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. ‘OK, so yes, I was upset when Sam told me she didn’t want to see me again, had met someone else. We’d only had a few dates, admittedly, but I really liked her. And yes, to my shame, I did pester her a bit for a couple of weeks. But when she made it clear she wasn’t interested, I stopped. And that’s that. I’ve never made contact with her again and I certainly haven’t been sending her presents. My girlfriend would kill me, for a start.’
He pointed at a framed photograph on a side table, and Cora and Wendy both shifted in their seats to get a better look. It was a picture of David, smiling in sunglasses and a white T-shirt, arm draped over the shoulders of a petite brunette in a red floral dress, also grinning at the camera.
‘That’s Sue. We met about six months ago – at Richmond garden centre, coincidentally. We literally bumped into each at the bulb display and got talking, and the rest is history. She’s wonderful, and I haven’t given Sam a second thought since I met her. Well, not until I saw the story about the murder on the news. I was gobsmacked. Told Sue I used to date her, and she was gobsmacked too.’
He walked over to the table and picked up the photograph, wiping a small smear from the glass. ‘This was taken in Rhodes a couple of weeks ago. I have a very busy summer ahead, workwise, so we thought we’d get some early sunshine. We’d just flown back actually, when I saw the story about Sam. Might even have been the same day, now I come to think about it.’
He turned back to Cora and Wendy. ‘What date was it, the murder?’
‘The sixth of May, Bank Holiday Monday, late at night. The body wasn’t found ’til the early hours of Tuesday morning, the seventh. Sam was arrested a few days later, on the ninth, and her first court appearance was on Saturday the eleventh.’ Cora reeled the dates off effortlessly.
David nodded. ‘Yes, that makes sense. We were away all that week of the Bank Holiday and flew home on the Saturday, so I would have seen it on the news that night, after her court appearance.’
Wendy nudged Cora, and they gave each other a sidelong glance, knowing they were both thinking the same thing. If David had been abroad on the night of the murder, he couldn’t possibly have been involved. Coming here had been a complete waste of time. Sighing inwardly, Cora stood up.
‘We’re so sorry to have come here like this. It’s obvious you didn’t have anything to do with what happened, David. We’ll leave you in peace.’
He nodded solemnly, then beamed. ‘It’s really not a problem. Sam is a lovely girl, and I’d probably be doing exactly the same if I were in your shoes. And it was nice to meet a fellow gardening fan.’
Cora grinned back. ‘One day, I’d love to have a garden like yours. For now, it’s just a few pots on my balcony, but hey ...’
David reached out and shook her hand, then did the same to Wendy, before showing them out.
‘Good luck. I hope it all works out the way you want it to,’ he said, as he closed the door. Cora and Wendy walked in silence back to the car. Once inside, Wendy groaned.
‘What a total dead end. Now what?’
Cora shook her head. ‘No idea. I had high hopes for a few minutes when I saw that he had a small dog – remember that CCTV footage the police released to the media? But that’s clearly just a coincidence, damn it. Look, I’m going to arrange a visit with Sam as soon as I can. If we put our heads together, I’m sure we can come up with something. You should come too.’
‘Of course, I’d like that. Right – quick drink somewhere before we go home? There are some great little bars in Richmond.’
‘Can’t – driving,’ said Cora morosely. ‘Quick coffee instead?’
Wendy sighed. ‘Oh, all right. Come on, let’s get out of here.’
In the hallway of number sixteen, David Cash was still standing by the front door, forehead resting on the cool wood, trying to steady his breathing. Things were so good in his life right now. He’d met Sue, they were in love, everything was perfect. Why did those two have to come along, suggesting he might still be infatuated with Sam? If Sue had been here ...
He shook his head violently to dispel the thought. It was fine. The two women had seemed content with the thought that he was abroad, had gone away happy that he had had nothing to do with the murder. He wouldn’t see them again. Buoyed by the thought, he straightened up and headed upstairs to change. He was taking Sue out for dinner later. Wouldn’t do to be late.
14
Saturday 18th May
41 days until the deadline
‘Harrison Bradberry! I’ve called you three times. If you don’t put that game down RIGHT NOW, I’m eating your toast as well as my own – you have been warned!’
Cora smiled as Harry quickly dumped his iPad on the sofa and scampered over to the breakfast bar where she was sitting, mug of tea in hand and a plateful of only slightly burned wholemeal toast in front of her. The little boy who at the age of four had informed his amused father that he wanted to be the tooth fairy when he grew up, now suddenly seemed well on his way to being a teenager, with the appetite to match.
‘Don’t you dare!’ he said, clambering onto a stool and grabbing three slices of toast, one of which he took an immediate large bite out of before starting to smother the rest with butter and honey.
‘OK, you saved it. But only just.’ Cora ruffled his already messy, slightly too long hair and he squirmed, but he was grinning. They had liked each other from the moment Adam had first introduced them, and her fondness for Harry had led to Cora finally breaking her long-held rule of never dating men who had children. The fact that she only saw him on random weekends, depending on Adam’s work schedule, plus the odd weeknight and special occasion visit, meant that she could play her role as honorary stepmother with pleasure, getting all the nice, fun bits of having a child without too much of what Cora considered to be the tricky stuff. She had met Harry’s mum Laura a couple of times too, during visit handovers, and she had always been perfectly pleasant. It was, Cora thought now, as she sipped her tea with a happy Harry munching contentedly beside her, about as perfect as it could be, considering.
It was something many people in her life had taken a long time to understand – why Cora, who clearly liked children and got on so well with them, had no desire whatsoever to procreate. She had known, for as long as she could remember, that she didn’t want children of her own, and that had never changed. Friends had fallen pregnant and given birth, and tried to persuade her that it was the most wonderful experience in the world, one that she would one day regret missing out on. People less close to her had even, over the years, accused her of being strange, self-centred, career-obsessed or a child-hater because of her decision. Now, thankfully, most of her friends and family had come to terms with it, and the gentle, well-meaning nagging had subsided. Cora herself was utterly content with her lifestyle choice, knowing that she simply wasn’t cut out to be a mother with just as much certainty as her “mummy friends” knew that motherhood was their destiny. She didn’t even get irritated by the occasional jibe nowadays, apart from when she was referred to as “childless”.
‘Childfree, not childless,’ she would point out. ‘Childless implies a lack of something that I want – I’m lacking nothing. I’m childfree, and very happy.’
Now, she hopped off her stool and wandered to the window. She’d opened it earlier, partly to let the smell of burning toast escape and partly so she could enjoy the gentle rustling of the leaves on the sturdy plane trees which lined the street outside. The trees were a common sight on London streets, with their dappled bark which seemed to change colour with the seasons, and their striking branch pattern which meant they looked beautiful even in winter. Today, a gentle breeze nudged the foliage, and the sky above was clear and blue.
‘A perfect May day,’ Cora announced. ‘Daddy said he’s only going to be a couple of hours at work and then we’ll head out with your skateboard, and maybe grab some lunch – sound OK to you?’
‘Wicked! Can I go back to my game for a bit now then? I’ve cleared my plate, look.’ Harry waved the plate at her, scattering crumbs across the breakfast bar.
‘Go on then, messy pup.’
‘Thank yooooooo.’
He jumped off his seat and returned to his spot on the sofa, within moments becoming absorbed in his game of Minecraft again. Cora gave the counter top a wipe, stacked the crockery and cutlery in the dishwasher and picked up her phone. She desperately wanted to see Sam, tomorrow if possible. Unlike convicted prisoners, who could only have a visit every fortnight or so, prisoners on remand were usually allowed up to three visits a week, and a visiting order wasn’t necessary. Sam was being held in Henworthy, which in the past had housed some notorious female prisoners. The thought chilled Cora as she dialled the number to book her visit. How could it be real, that her lovely friend Sam was in a place like that?
‘We have to get her out, we have to,’ she murmured, as she waited in a queue to speak to the relevant person. It took nearly fifteen minutes, but finally she ended the call, a visit for herself and Wendy booked for three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Between them, they’d come up with something, some other avenue to pursue, Cora promised herself as she checked on Harry and then headed into the bedroom to put on some make-up.
She’d decided to come clean to Adam last night about the meeting with David Cash, and he’d listened with a resigned look on his face, warned her that while this time she’d been lucky, acting like a police officer could get her in trouble, then confessed that he’d managed to get himself in quite a lot of trouble earlier that day on Sam’s behalf too.
Back from his trip to Cambridge unexpectedly early yesterday lunchtime, he’d made what in retrospect was a rather unwise decision, and taken a detour to visit the forensic lab which had analysed the evidence from Marcus’s murder scene. The force had used the lab for years, and there had never, ever been an issue with a mix-up, but Cora’s insistence that Sam was innocent, and indeed his own knowledge of the accused’s personality, had been enough to plant a seed of doubt in his mind. He had, therefore, asked for a meeting with the most senior forensic scientist available; this turned out to be a severe-looking woman in her fifties, who immediately took great offence to his suggestion that the DNA sample Sam gave in her flat might have somehow ended up contaminating the murder weapon, and entered into a prolonged and irate explanation about lab protocol and how this could never, ever occur, and never would, not while she was working there.
A suitably chastened Adam had returned to his car, only to have his drive home interrupted fifteen minutes later by a furious call from his superior, Chief Superintendent Brian McKay, who had just received an official complaint about him from the lab. Adam’s drive home became a drive to the station and a deeply unpleasant dressing-down in McKay’s office.
