Death and Other Obsessions, page 20
“What do you mean?” she said.
“Well, has she ever tried to kiss you, or suggested you might like to sleep with her?” said Drake.
“No, of course not,” said Gemma. “Why would you think such a thing?”
“We have reason to believe that Helena is a sexually active lesbian but she denies it,” said Drake. “Personally, I think she’s lying. You’re a reasonably attractive girl so I thought you might be her type.”
Gemma looked as if she was going to burst into tears but she controlled herself.
“I don’t know why you think that,” she said. “Helena’s a perfectly normal young woman.”
“Oh and lesbians aren’t normal, is that right?” said Drake.
Gemma looked at Drake’s rotund figure, close-cropped hair and make-up-free face and swallowed hard.
“No of course not,” she said. “I only meant that she isn’t interested in women, not in that way.”
This exchange had clearly unnerved the witness but Patel decided that a change of tack was needed.
“Were you out with Helena and the others last Saturday?” he asked.
Gemma nodded.
“There were five of us,” she said.
“Who were they?”
“Helena and I, Lou, Amy and Damian.”
“Where did you go?”
“We met up at college and went to a pub.”
“Which one?”
“The Wellington.”
“Do you remember what time Helena left that evening?” said Patel.
“About ten I think,” said Gemma. “The rest of us stayed on and had another round of drinks.”
“You’re sure she was with you that night?” said Drake.
Gemma frowned.
“Yes, positive,” she said. “I don’t know why you’re trying to catch me out.”
“Well, it’s like this,” said Drake, “if she wasn’t with you she might’ve been in Wimbledon killing Pearl Bailey.”
Tears were streaming down Gemma’s face. She shook her head.
“She was with us, like I told you,” she said.
Drake sat back in her chair.
“Lying to the police is a serious matter,” she said.
“I’m telling the truth.”
Patel decided that it was time to call a halt.
“All right, Gemma,” he said. “That will be all for now.”
When she had left the room Drake said: “You see, nice cop, nasty cop, always works.”
Patel was on the point of losing his temper but managed to avoid raising his voice.
“I’m not convinced we got as much information out of her as we might have done,” he said. “Still, we can always talk to her again if necessary.” He took a deep breath. “OK, let’s see what Damian Fisher has to say for himself.”
Drake ushered a tall young man with a shock of curly hair into the room and invited him to take a seat. He stared at the two policemen like a rabbit caught in headlights.
“OK, Damian,” said Patel. “Are you doing European studies as well?”
“No, I’m reading Spanish,” he said.
“So how do you come to be friends with Helena then?”
Damian shrugged.
“I mix with a lot of students on different courses,” he said. “It’s part of the fun of university life.”
“It is, isn’t it?” said Patel, nodding and smiling. “Were you at the Wellington with the others last Saturday?”
“Yes, I was there.”
“Was Helena with you?”
“Yes.”
“What time did she go home?” said Drake.
“Early,” said Damian. “About ten I think.”
“Why was that?” said Patel.
“She said she was tired,” said Damian. “Actually I think she was pissed off that Amy was the centre of attention.”
“Was she flirting with you? Amy, I mean,” said Drake.
Damian gave a little laugh.
“No, of course not,” he said.
“Why do you say of course not?”
“Amy doesn’t fancy me, she’s got a boyfriend,” said Damian. “He’s not a student, he’s at work.”
“When you said ‘Amy was the centre of attention’, what did you mean exactly?” asked Patel.
“Amy’s a total extrovert,” said Damian. “She talks non-stop and sometimes it gets on Helena’s nerves.”
“I see,” said Patel. “Why didn’t you leave with Helena?”
Damian shrugged.
“She said she was going straight to bed when she got home,” he said. “I wanted to stay on with the others.”
“Is Helena your girlfriend?” said Drake.
“Yes, well sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
Damian’s face turned bright red.
“We go out together sometimes, you know for drinks or the cinema,” he said.
Drake fixed him with her most penetrating stare.
“Are you sleeping together?” she said.
“No.”
“Why’s that?” said Drake. “Don’t you fancy her in that way?”
“Oh God, this is so embarrassing,” said Damian. “I’d like to but she won’t let me.”
“What about kissing?” said Drake. “Is she up for a good snog?”
Damian didn’t answer at first and his face was contorted, Patel presumed, by inner conflict.
“I’ve kissed her,” he said at last. “She’s, well, she’s not very responsive, not like other girls I’ve known.”
“Maybe she prefers girls,” said Drake.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Damian. “She’s not that type.”
“What do you mean, ‘that type’?”
“Well you know, the butch, mannish type.”
“Well, I’ve got news for you,” said Drake. “That’s a stereotype bandied about by homophobic ignoramuses. Girly girls like Helena are just as likely to be gay.”
Patel coughed loudly.
“Did Helena ever invite you to visit her in Wimbledon?” he said.
“No, she didn’t,” said Damian.
“Why do you think that was?”
Damian frowned.
“I don’t know,” he said. “She just didn’t.”
“Are you sure she was with you at the pub that night?” said Drake.
“Yes,” said Damian. “She was definitely there.”
“If we find out you’ve lied to us about that you’ll be in serious trouble.”
Damien looked Drake straight in the eye.
“She was there,” he said.
“All right,” said Patel, “that’s all for now.”
When he was gone, Patel considered what they had been told. If the two students were telling the truth then it was clear that Helena did not have dinner with Pearl Bailey on the night she died. However, the dinner guest might have left before she returned from the pub and Helena could have seen the chance to kill her landlady and throw suspicion on whoever had been at the house earlier in the evening. Having done the deed, she had phoned the police to reinforce that perception. The only odd thing that didn’t fit was the obvious care that had been taken to remove any fingerprints left by the dinner guest. It would have been in Helena’s best interests to ensure that there was plenty of evidence to allow the identification of that person. That was unless she was keen to keep their identity secret for some reason. It was hard to imagine why that might be.
They interviewed two other students who were friendly with Helena, both of whom confirmed what they had already been told. They were unable to extract any useful additional information from either of them. When DCI Taylor and DC Owen came through to their room after the last witness had left they reported that Lou and Amy had confirmed that Helena stayed at the Wellington until around 10pm on the night of the murder and then announced she was going home to bed.
“It all seems to fit,” said Taylor. “It would have taken her about an hour, give or take, to get back to Wimbledon.” She turned to Patel. “What did the boyfriend have to say?”
“He says they were going out but not having sex,” he said. “That was sort of confirmed by the first girl we interviewed, Gemma Harvey.”
“Maybe Helena put them up to saying she was with them that night,” said Drake.
“That’s pure speculation,” said Patel. “The evidence suggests she didn’t get back to Wimbledon until after eleven. In any case why would they agree to lie for Helena in these circumstances?”
“Even if she didn’t get home until then she could still have done it,” said Taylor. “We have some reason to believe that Helena lied to us about her relationship with Pearl Bailey and she certainly had motive and opportunity. We’ll get her in and interview her under caution.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tracy Taylor sat down in front of the Cheeseburger’s desk. She noted that the superintendent was wearing a different suit from the usual one. That was a first. Still, he’d somehow managed to make it look as if he’d been sleeping in it. Tracy wondered whether Cheeseman’s wife worried about his lack of sartorial savoir faire and came to the conclusion that she didn’t, or that more likely she had decided he was a lost cause long ago.
“I’ll come straight to the point,” said Cheeseman, picking up a letter that was lying on his desk. “I’ve had a complaint from a solicitor acting for your suspect Alan Musgrove. It’s concerning the behaviour of Inspector Brewer, but I thought I should speak to you first as you’re the senior investigating officer in this case. The lawyer says that Mr Musgrove and his wife have been quote: ‘harassed by DI Brewer’. He says that we have been investigating him for the possible murder of his aunt, despite the fact that we have quote: ‘not the slightest shred of evidence against him’.”
“I don’t think that’s entirely fair, sir,” said Taylor.
“Maybe not,” said Cheeseman. “I’ve spent the morning going through all the evidence you’ve collected again and I have to say that I’m not impressed. Granted, the brakes on the lady’s car were tampered with but you haven’t come up with anything that confirms that Musgrove did it.”
“I’d like to point out that the Musgroves haven’t been entirely honest with us,” said Taylor. She realised, somewhat to her surprise, that she was effectively defending Inspector Brewer’s conduct, not a situation she had imagined she would find herself in.
“OK, they were less than open about the will,” said Cheeseman. “You’ve attempted to establish that they lied about when Alan Musgrove got home, but I have to say, what you’ve come up with doesn’t convince me.”
“I accept what you say,” said Taylor. She thought for a moment then added, “Surely though it’s for a jury to decide if Musgrove’s guilty?”
The Cheeseburger scoffed.
“I can’t see the CPS agreeing to go to court with the evidence you’ve got at the moment,” he said. “You’ve had a team of detectives on overtime interviewing bus drivers and you’ve come up with nothing.”
“The fact remains that we still don’t know how Miss Templeton’s brakes were disabled,” said Taylor. “And we haven’t got the forensics on the hacksaw from Musgrove’s flat.”
Cheeseman got up and walked round to the front of his desk. Perching on its corner he said: “Look, Tracy, I know there are loose ends but we can’t be expected to get to the bottom of everything that goes on in this borough. We’ve expended a lot of police time on this and got nowhere. In this age of PR and PC and P-bloody everything else I have to try to look at things objectively. I think this complaint is total bollocks and I’ll write a response to all the points they raise. However, I’m suspending the investigation into Musgrove unless and until some new evidence comes to light. The Templeton case remains open of course and you’ll continue to explore other lines of enquiry but there will be no further action with regard to Mr and Mrs Musgrove. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” said Taylor, shifting in her seat. “Who’s going to tell DI Brewer?”
Cheeseman frowned.
“You are, of course,” he said.
“Wouldn’t it be better coming from you?” she said, realising as she spoke that this question made her appear weak.
Cheeseman’s face turned a nasty shade of purple.
“You’re in overall charge of this investigation and it’s your job to deal with the officers under your command,” he said. “I know Brewer can be an awkward sod, but he has to take orders from his superiors like the rest of us. I supported your assignment to the Major Investigation Team because I thought you had the leadership skills required for the job. Please don’t prove me wrong, all right?”
“Of course, sir, I’ll speak to him as soon as possible.”
“Right then,” said Cheeseman. “What about this other murder? Do you think the two are linked?”
“We are pursuing several lines of enquiry,” said Taylor. “At present we don’t have concrete evidence of a link.”
“All right then, keep me posted.”
Cheeseman’s assertion that he had supported her appointment as head of the Major Investigation Team came as a surprise to Taylor. Her impression had always been that he had fought it tooth and nail and had only reluctantly acquiesced to her being given the job when pressured to do so by those above him. But was it true? She found it hard to imagine Cheeseman being on her side, especially as there had been a well-qualified local candidate on the shortlist. But, if it wasn’t true, why had he said it?
*
Taylor went through to the incident room. Its only inhabitant was Brian Todd who was working at his computer.
“Is Colin about?” she said.
“He’s gone to take another look at the victim’s car,” said Todd. “He reckons we’ve got to go back to square one and start again.”
“What are you doing this morning?”
Todd put down his pen and swivelled round in his chair.
“I’m making a list of taxi firms that operate in the area around the victim’s house,” he said. “This afternoon we’re going to go round them and show them Musgrove’s picture in case any of the drivers remember picking him up. Colin reckons Musgrove got a taxi to Kingston Station and then walked home to make it look like he’d used the train.”
Taylor sighed.
“You might as well pack it in because Superintendent Cheeseman has suspended the enquiry into Musgrove,” she said. “He reckons it’s going nowhere.”
“You’re kidding? DI Brewer will be gutted.”
“I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”
*
Brian Todd and Colin Brewer were sitting in a booth in the Prince of Wales with two half-empty glasses of beer in front of them. Todd could see that the inspector was seething with anger.
“We were so fucking close to nailing that bastard,” said Brewer. “I only needed another few days.”
“They shouldn’t have closed us down but quite frankly we didn’t have enough to charge Musgrove,” said Todd.
“I know that,” said Brewer. “The thing is, my gut feeling was he’s our man. It drives me mad when the guilty get away with murder, literally in this case.”
“Yeah, well, it’s out of our hands now.”
Brewer emptied his glass and said, “Same again?”
“Yeah, all right.”
When Brewer returned with the drinks he said, “I blame that fucking bitch Taylor. She should have stood up to Cheeseman and insisted we carry on.”
“Maybe he’ll knock the whole thing on the head,” said Todd. “Not bothering to investigate crime seems to be all the rage now.”
“Maybe,” said Brewer. “I’ll tell you one thing, this wouldn’t be happening if I was in charge of this investigation rather than her.”
It was not the first time that Brewer had spoken to Todd about his unsuccessful appearance in front of the promotion board for chief inspector and he was well aware of his friend’s ambition to be head of the Major Investigation Team. He also knew it was a job for an experienced chief inspector and the obvious local candidate when Taylor was appointed was DCI Alan Cook, who was liked and respected around the station. Most people had thought he was a dead cert to take over the Major Investigation Team but it seemed that the powers that be had wanted new blood. In any case if Brewer had become a DCI he would have ceased to be a member of the team. He knew from experience that the best thing to do in these circumstances was to humour Colin.
“Quite frankly I was gobsmacked when you didn’t get promoted,” he said, “and I thought Alan Cook would take over from Jack Richards.”
“Yeah, well, it’s fucking typical of the way things are going,” said Brewer. “They’re shit-scared not to appoint a woman when there’s one on the shortlist.”
“Yeah,” said Todd. “Mind you, she is good at the job.”
Brewer grunted. Todd wondered if he’d spoken out of turn but Brewer looked thoughtful. They drank in silence for several minutes then Brewer put down his glass.
“I heard something about our precious DCI the other day,” he said. “I was at a home game up at Craven Cottage and I met a geezer who used to work with her in Newham. Apparently they called her ‘Tracy the Tramp’ up there.”
Todd was relieved that the subject had been changed. On top of that this sounded interesting.
“Why did they call her that?” he said.
“It seems she had a bit of a reputation for having it off with fellow officers,” said Brewer. “This bloke reckoned a lot of what people said about her was probably bollocks but, as he put it, there’s no smoke without fire. Apparently she got divorced around the time she moved to Newham. The husband was another serving officer. I don’t know what happened to him; presumably he stayed put and she moved so they wouldn’t have to meet during the course of their work. She’d been working somewhere outside London apparently. This bloke didn’t know where exactly. Anyway she put it about a bit, by all accounts.”
