The Dentist, page 21
‘Look, I’m pretty sure, and things were all a bit off with that case. Now you’re saying that Macdonald asked for a fifteen-year-old accident report involving a principal who was then murdered three weeks later,’ said Wilson, almost thinking out loud.
‘What was ‘off’?’
‘Like I said, I worked the Carpenter case for a while before I was transferred. In fact I always thought it had something to do with my transfer.’
‘In what way, exactly?’ asked Cross.
‘I found the way MacDonald led the investigation really odd. He constantly closed down lines of enquiry. Have you looked at the files?’
‘Yes, and I’d come to much the same conclusion. Do you have any idea why?’
‘He was all over that case. Talk about micromanagement. But he wasn’t himself right from the get-go.’
‘In what way?’
‘Nervy, he looked kind of shocked the minute we got to the crime scene. Something seemed to bother him. If you didn’t know him, you’d’ve thought it was the first time he’d seen a dead body. The case obviously meant a lot to him because I remember when the Polish guy copped for it, MacDonald’s reaction was completely over the top. Victorious, triumphant almost like he’d cracked his own mother’s case. It was the talk of the station. That’s how I knew,’ said Wilson.
‘Did he know her?’ asked Cross.
‘No, I don’t think so, but I know where you’re going.’
‘Did you keep a notebook at the time?’
‘Of course. I think it’s in the lock-up with all my stuff. I got divorced recently.’
‘I see. Well if you could try and ascertain if it was actually MacDonald, it would be really useful.’
‘DS Cross, I know you’re a stickler for detail. But if I can’t find out that it definitely was him, don’t let that get in your way. I’d stake my wife’s life on it being him. Who else would it have been?’ Wilson asked.
It occurred to Cross that he might well have staked his wife’s life on it now that she was about to be an ‘ex’, but he didn’t say anything.
Chapter 34
While Cross pondered what his next move should be, a uniformed policeman knocked on his door. He was holding a photocopy of the torn-out shopping voucher that had been found in Leonard’s rucksack. The constable was from a Polish family and had volunteered to take it home for his father to translate it for Cross. It turned out to be what they suspected, a shopping discount voucher for a series of ‘skleps’, Polish shops, in north London.
‘So, it’s presumably from a local newspaper in London?’
‘Not so much a local paper as one for the Polish community in London.’
‘Quite so, that’s what I meant, but thanks for pointing it out.’
The constable wasn’t sure whether the detective was being sarcastic or not – which of course he wasn’t, and left. A polish shopping voucher and a photograph of a footprint from the original crime scene. What on earth was that about? Was there a link or were they completely unconnected? He’d come back to this question later. His more immediate concern was how to proceed with MacDonald. The wily old inspector had insisted that the next time Cross wanted to speak with him, it would have to be down at the station. Why was that, he wondered? Did he want an audience? Did he feel more at home in an interview room – well a voluntary assistance suite, strictly speaking, which was deemed to be more comfortable than the interview rooms. How, Cross wasn’t exactly sure; maybe it was the presence of a homely pot plant that made it less intimidating. Was he embarrassed by Cross turning up in front of the neighbours, probably not. Was there something to hide at home? Was it that he didn’t want his wife to know or was it simply more cunning? He was aware someone had been charged over Leonard’s murder, and he knew enough senior figures in the force to have been told that Cross had been told to leave it well alone and move on. So his coming to the station would put the spotlight firmly on Cross, not that he minded, that kind of pressure just washed over him when he was set on a course of action in a case.
He hadn’t discussed it with Ottey because he thought it’d be a waste of time to go through the inevitable warnings that would come from her, and for him to have to justify what he was about to do – which, by the way, he would go ahead and do whatever she said.
‘Really?’ Carson exclaimed as he walked into the office unannounced, with Ottey in his wake. Cross didn’t answer, because although he knew what his senior officer was alluding to, this was a rhetorical question. Until Cross had taught himself to recognise such a question, he always answered them literally, much to the amusement of his colleagues. Now that he could easily spot them, they had become something of an annoyance to him, as he couldn’t see their point or purpose. Carson, fully aware that no answer would be forthcoming from this creature, turned to Ottey.
‘I thought I asked you to keep him on a tight leash,’ he said.
‘I don’t think you did, but what’s going on?’ she asked.
‘He’s asked MacDonald in for some more questioning, about what I simply have no idea.’
‘Oh,’ said Cross innocently, ‘has he agreed to come in? I haven’t heard anything.’
‘Yes, he has.’
‘So what’s the problem?’ asked Ottey, ‘Is he unhappy?’
‘No, not at all. He simply informed the Chief Constable he was coming in, who told the Deputy Chief, who then rang the Super, who very kindly came into my office and chewed my bollocks off,’ said Carson.
‘He made it very clear that I was no longer to go and see him at his home. He’s coming in to the station at his own request,’ Cross pointed out.
‘No, he’s not, he’s coming in at yours,’ said Carson.
‘There’s no need to be literal, you know exactly what I’m saying.’
‘You’re telling me not to be literal? Little bit rich, don’t you think?
‘No. Why?’ he asked.
‘You’d better have a bloody good reason, or twenty, to have asked him in.’
‘I have a couple, I hope that’ll suffice. What time am I to expect him?’ Cross inquired.
‘He’s on his way, apparently.’
‘Excellent, perhaps you could ask Mackenzie to book the VA suite.’ (The Voluntary Assistance suite was where they talked to people who weren’t under caution or suspicion.)
Carson looked at him as if he’d lost his mind – he was giving his superiors orders now?
‘Well, you will be passing her desk once you’ve left here will you not?’ Cross went on by way of explanation. Ottey smiled as Carson barged past her.
‘What are you up to George?’ she asked him.
He told her about the missing accident report and DI Wilson’s feelings about the whole investigation. Then there was still the matter of his failing to mention Leonard’s visits to his house. He asked her if she’d be joining him and MacDonald, and noted her slight hesitation.
‘Not a good look in front of the brass?’ he suggested.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, embarrassed.
‘No need, things are difficult enough for you round here being a black woman, and a single mother to boot, although having said that, one would hope that the tide of diversity is changing all of that as we speak,’ said Cross.
She looked at him, amazed that things still came out of his mouth that could just stop her in her tracks.
When he walked into the MCU reception the Deputy Chief Constable and Chief Superintendent were already in conversation with MacDonald. Carson was standing to one side, grinning inanely, like a Maître D’ waiting to show people to their table. As Cross walked across, MacDonald saw him and made a point of not pausing in his conversation with the two senior officers. If it was meant to put Cross in his place, it did no such thing. He just waited patiently and with a complete lack of interest in what was being said. He made no effort to include himself in the collegiate, familial, gathering. He didn’t even smile politely to give the impression that the continuing of the conversation sat well with him, because social niceties like this just never occurred to him. He was simply well aware of his place in the pecking order of this particular group, and so was content to wait. The Deputy Chief finally saw fit to draw it to a close.
‘Your interrogator is here Stuart,’ he said.
‘So he is,’ said MacDonald.
‘DI MacDonald and I worked many cases together back in the day, Cross,’ the Deputy Chief said.
‘I am well aware of that, sir, as well as the implicit disapproval of my inviting Mr MacDonald into the MCU,’ said Cross.
Again there was no meaningful emphasis on the “Mr”. Cross was just addressing in, as he saw it, the correct manner. He was, after all, no longer a policeman.
‘I have no idea where you get that impression from, Sergeant,’ said the Deputy.
‘From the fact that, when the majority of people come in to help us, they aren’t met with a reception committee of such lofty rank,’ Cross replied.
‘We are friends, as I believe I just pointed out.’
‘You may be sir, but I’m fairly sure neither the Super nor DCI Carson served with Mr MacDonald, and yet here they are,’ Cross continued.
The Deputy Chief didn’t have that many dealings with Cross, but he knew enough about him to know there was no point in continuing with this conversation.
‘Good to see you, Stuart. Love to Sheila. Carson, kindly keep me informed. DS Cross I would remind you that DI MacDonald is here voluntarily, and you will treat him with the respect a retired officer of this force deserves.’
‘I can assure you I will treat him with the respect I give to all members of the public who make time to come in and assist us. You need have no concern on that score,’ said Cross.
As MacDonald and Cross walked towards the VA suite, the retired detective turned to him. ‘Still making a good impression I see. You just can’t help yourself can you?’
Cross didn’t answer. He wasn’t going to engage just yet. He would take on his opponent on his terms, when he was good and ready and not a moment before.
‘Thank you for coming in,’ Cross said.
‘You’re welcome, anything to help,’ MacDonald replied.
‘That’s kind. How would you like to be addressed?’
‘Stuart will be fine. And you?’
‘DS Cross will suffice.’
MacDonald was trying to introduce an air of informality into the exchange, but as in all situations in life, not just in this situation, Cross found formality, distance, more comfortable.
‘So, we’ve established that you may have been a little bit “off colour” as you put it, due to your wife’s ill-health during the investigation into Hilary Carpenter’s death,’ said Cross.
‘Is this an interview, DS Cross?’ asked MacDonald.
‘No.’
‘”We’ve established” makes it sound like I’m under investigation here.’
‘No, you’re not, but thank you for pointing that out. I’ll make an effort to be more precise in my use of language. So, we’ve discussed the red Jaguar.’
‘It was a Jaguar?’
‘Indeed, and that’s about it as far as the full extent of our knowledge goes. It’s led us nowhere.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘Really? Why not?’
‘I’m sure that’s probably why we didn’t follow it up.’
‘Um, not exactly, no.’ Cross consulted his file. ‘You decided it was immaterial, but anyway, there’s no point in speculating about something we can’t, at this moment in time, pin down,’ he looked up.
‘Which is more than likely what I thought at the time,’ said MacDonald.
Cross decided not to press the point. It wouldn’t achieve anything.
‘Hilary’s motor accident some years previously,’ Cross said.
‘Yes.’
‘This was also not really looked into.’
‘Relevance?’ MacDonald inquired.
‘Well, surely looking into it would have determined that. But your investigation didn’t,’
MacDonald didn’t answer.
‘Was that a deliberate choice or just another instance of your “being off the boil”?’ said Cross.
‘I don’t appreciate your tone, Cross.’
‘There is no tone intended, Stuart, I can assure you. I’m just trying to understand why Hilary’s accident wasn’t looked at. Are you not an advocate of victimology?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘A fatal accident,’ Cross pointed out.
‘She wasn’t at fault.’
‘No less traumatic for that though, surely, and therefore worth examining?’ MacDonald had no intention of being led there.
‘But then again, you actually did, didn’t you?’ said Cross.
‘You just told me I didn’t.’
‘You requested the accident file.’
‘I did?’
‘DC Wilson obtained it for you. Do you not remember?’
‘I don’t.’
‘I see,’ said Cross.
‘Did I sign for it?’ MacDonald asked.
‘As I said, it was DC Wilson who asked for the file.’
‘And he says I asked him to obtain it?’
‘In point of fact, he’s not completely sure. But it would obviously make sense as you were his boss.’
‘Well, like I said, I don’t recall asking for it and he’s not entirely sure I did. Not exactly conclusive is it?’ said MacDonald.
This struck Cross as interesting. Why deny it?
‘What is odd, though, is the date. Wilson requested the report three weeks before Hilary’s murder,’ said Cross.
‘Well, that makes no sense. Are you sure?’ MacDonald looked confused.
‘Yes, it’s logged.’
‘Maybe someone made a mistake.’
‘That was DI Wilson’s reaction.’
‘Well then, it can’t have been me. Why would I request a file out of the blue to an RTA from fifteen years before?’ asked MacDonald.
‘That’s a good question. I was rather hoping you might have an answer,’ said Cross.
‘I don’t. It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘It is puzzling. Such a strange coincidence wouldn’t you say? The file is requested and then three weeks later she’s dead. Murdered.’
Silence. The two men weighed each other up. Cross’ expression, as usual, gave nothing away. MacDonald had that open-eyed, inquisitive look an interviewee often had when trying to gauge exactly how much knowledge or evidence the policeman opposite them had and was withholding. But why would MacDonald be doing that? Was it that he was worried that Cross was about to cast a shadow over his otherwise pristine service record? Was he thinking that maybe Cross saw this as an opportunity for payback after his treatment of him years before, having forgotten that Cross didn’t work like that? MacDonald inferred from the long pause that Cross had finished.
‘Was there anything else?’ asked MacDonald.
‘No. No, that’s it,’ said Cross.
‘You asked me in just to ask me about an accident report?’
‘I asked you in because you told me that’s what I should do if I wanted to speak to you again about Leonard Carpenter’s murder.’
‘Fair point,’ MacDonald replied. He stood up and offered his hand out for a handshake. Cross stood up and nodded awkwardly in acknowledgement. MacDonald had never offered to shake his hand before in all the time he’d known him. Was this because he knew Cross didn’t shake hands, avoided any kind of physical social interaction, Cross wondered. No, he quickly concluded. MacDonald wasn’t the sort of person to have noticed anyone’s social foibles, let alone Cross’. Sensitivity wasn’t in his social skill set which meant, in this instance, that he was relieved. That this hadn’t gone as badly as he feared. But why? What was he hiding, frightened of Cross uncovering?
‘Please just call me if you have any further questions. You don’t need to ask me in,’ MacDonald said.
‘That’s very kind,’ replied Cross.
MacDonald was about to leave the room when Cross appeared to remember something which had completely slipped his mind and was embarrassed at bringing up.
‘Oh Stuart, before you go, why didn’t you tell me that you’d seen Leonard recently?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When I came to your home you said you hadn’t seen Leonard recently.’
‘That’s right.’
‘But you had. Your neighbour Mr…’ he got out his notebook despite the fact that he knew the name, ‘…Griffiths said he’d seen you having an altercation with a homeless man matching Leonard’s description on at least two occasions in the last couple of weeks.’ Cross looked surprised at MacDonald having forgotten this.
‘I didn’t see how it was relevant, I suppose.’
‘You didn’t think it was relevant that you had actually seen a murder victim, who we were actually making inquiries about, just weeks before his death. That you were seen arguing with him. How could you conclude that wouldn’t be relevant?’ asked Cross.
‘You hadn’t come to me about his murder. As I recall you were asking about Hilary’s and, what is more, you had a man in custody.’
‘I see. But that information could surely have been useful in any forthcoming trial with the suspect, no? What did he want?’
‘He was just going back over all the same nonsense he came up with after his wife’s death. The poor man never recovered and who can blame him,’ MacDonald explained.
‘That sounds very sympathetic,’ Cross commented.
‘I felt for him. But at the same time his mental health had been stretched to the limit. You should have seen him.’
‘I did. At his murder scene.’
‘Then you’ll know he wasn’t completely right in the head. I was shocked when I first saw him, I didn’t realise it was him. He was unrecognisable.’
‘I see. Perfectly understandable,’ Cross concluded.
There was a pause, which MacDonald took as his cue to leave. Cross then began again.
‘But why wouldn’t you tell us you’d seen him? That’s what I’m having difficulty with. Why not just say, he was here, going over all the old theories, crazed as ever and then of course he didn’t come back.’
