Songbird Page 39

  It was a glossy A4 brochure for Luton Central Heating Services.

  He said, ‘I picked it up from the counter on the way out – thought it might come in useful.’

  Freeman still hadn’t understood. Waters stepped closer because the girl was watching and might be able to hear some of this. He opened the cover and held it front of Freeman, and she nodded and said, ‘OK, nice. Make sure we’ve got that tonight. I’m assuming you don’t have a hot date? Nothing personal, just that it’s Monday…’

  Waters said he’d be there, and thought to himself that after what he’d heard her saying to Terek, there was nowhere else he wanted to be more than in or observing the interview suite in Kings Lake Central.

  Freeman said, ‘I’ve also spoken to Luton. They can find us a room with a recorder. I’ve got a name that will get us in – DI Glover. He sounds like a good sort. He’s gone down to their workshop to see what’s happening with the Merc. How’s Serena?’

  ‘Smug.’

  ‘I told you she was lucky. You owe her a pint or a Babycham, whatever she drinks.’

  ‘The last time we went out after a case, it was a white wine spritzer, I think. DC almost had a heart attack. I-’ He stopped himself, realising what he’d said. He didn’t blush these days but he could still manage sheepish.

  ‘I take it he’d have been in his element today.’

  ‘Completely.’

  Freeman checked her phone for the time, and said, ‘We need to get going. But I’ll say this much. He wasn’t just a bloody good detective. He could teach a bit as well.’

  After the usual preliminaries about whether his wife needed to be told any of this, Graham Fletcher had cut to the chase. He’d been at Ashley’s flat in Challney until after midnight; when they pushed him for a time, he’d said he thought it might have been nearer to one in the morning. The relationship had begun before she left the salon, and that, he said pointedly, was why he used to drop in there sometimes. When his previous receptionist left, it was an obvious thing for him to do, to give Ashley the job, and she was a good receptionist anyway.

  Freeman had said, in his office, ‘You went home between midnight and one in the morning. Why didn’t you stay the night?’

  Fletcher’s answers were coming quickly, as they do when someone is telling the truth or when they’ve spent time preparing them.

  ‘As I’ve said before, I knew that Michaela and Michelle had been having words. Either of them could have turned up early the next morning. I wanted to be home, just in case.’

  Waters had intervened.

  ‘Mr Fletcher – your wife has never mentioned any arguments with her sister. She gave us the impression they were having an enjoyable stay in the caravan.’

  There had been a shrug, and a look that said not my problem, you’ll need to ask her about that. Freeman had gone over it all again, checking the details. Yes, he’d been driving the Mercedes that night; yes, he’d driven straight home from Challney to his own house; yes, Ashley would confirm his story though, understandably, she’d be embarrassed, and he hoped they, the police, wouldn’t make it any more difficult than it already was. He’d take responsibility for this. He knew she was young, but these things happen, don’t they?

  Outside in the main office, the two detectives had watched as Fletcher had a quiet word with the girl, one hand touching her shoulder. No one was under arrest, and they couldn’t prevent him from doing so. Freeman had murmured to Waters that Fletcher had played his ace early, and he understood. Such an alibi might carry more weight with them if it had been more difficult to obtain from him, but nonetheless, if the girl confirmed what he had told them, the prosecutors would need more than circumstantial evidence to proceed any further.

  ‘So, Ashley, you understand that we’re recording this interview. You can see the camera, and it will all be on tape as well. From that we’ll prepare a written copy, and we’ll be asking you sign it. You’ll be signing to confirm that everything you’ve told us is the truth, and that you’ve told us the whole truth. Is that all clear?’

  Cara Freeman had taken the lead and an entirely new tone with the girl once they were in the interview suite at Luton North – if Ashley Merrick had been the victim of a vicious assault, she would not have been spoken to any more sympathetically. She nodded and said that she understood, but she was still pale and fearful. Afraid of Mrs Fletcher? Afraid of losing her job sooner or later?

  Freeman went on, ‘And you know what it is we’re looking into, Ashley, because we told you, or rather you guessed, when we first came to your office this morning. This is an investigation into the murder of Michelle Simms, someone you knew. You don’t need me to explain to you how serious a matter this is, I’m sure…’

  The story she told them was a good match to Fletcher’s. Freeman asked how Michelle had reacted when Ashley resigned to go and work for Graham Fletcher, and the answer had been that they had had words about it. Michelle had told her to go immediately and not to bother working her notice. She had driven to Luton Central Heating that same morning in tears, and started work for Graham within the hour. Freeman had paused and then asked how much Michelle Simms had known. Had she realised her brother-in-law was having an affair with her receptionist? Ashley wasn’t sure when Michelle found out but she’d probably guessed what might be going on from her reactions that morning…

  Waters had the notepad in front of him. He wrote down a question and pushed it in front of Freeman – she read it and nodded, letting him know the idea had already occurred to her. She thought something over, and then said, ‘Ashley, has Graham ever suggested to you that Mrs Fletcher knows what’s going on between you and her husband?’

  The reaction was immediate.

  ‘No! Oh, my God. He’s careful to make sure she doesn’t find out. Look, I’m not a kid. He hasn’t made me any promises or nothing. He hasn’t told me he’s going to leave her. He’s got young kids.’

  A timely silence then, allowing the girl to reflect on her own words.

  Freeman said, ‘So, don’t you think it’s a bit strange, Ashley, if Michelle suspected what was going on, she didn’t tell her sister? If she did, you’d have heard about it, wouldn’t you?’

  Ashley nodded.

  ‘I did say that to Graham, I was worried about it.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘He’d deal with it. It wouldn’t come back on me.’

  Freeman managed to look simultaneously sympathetic and disappointed. Then she asked the girl to tell them again what had happened that evening, Thursday the twenty-seventh of July, being as precise as she could be with the times. The transcript would show almost no changes in the language she used nor in the order in which she recounted the details. And then, from Freeman, something that Waters had not anticipated.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Waters, would you give us a moment, please?’

  But her eyes went towards the camera, and he understood.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The recording suite was three doors away and he found it easily enough. Detective Inspector Glover was there, and a lady at the desk, civilian support probably, in charge of all the wizardry. Glover nodded and then they both listened to the rest of the interview and watched it on screen.

  Freeman said, ‘So, the interview is over. I’m not going to ask you any more questions.’

  Ashley nodded but she looked as puzzled as Waters was feeling about where this was going.

  ‘Ashley, I can see you’re in a difficult position, and I don’t think you’re to blame. I’m not blaming you, OK? As a police officer, I’m well aware that people can suddenly find themselves in frightening situations through no fault of their own. But I’m not talking to you as a police officer now…’

  Waters and Glover exchanged a look.

  ‘I’m talking to you just as another woman, Ashley, that’s all. I know you’ll go away this afternoon and you won’t be able to stop thinking about this. I’m not naming any names but if anybody threatens you or t
ries to hurt you because of this, you mustn’t accept it. If that happens, get yourself into a safe space and get help. Do you understand? We’re investigating the most serious crime. You must not put yourself at risk.’

  Glover was in his late forties or early fifties, red-faced, a little over weight, a little grey about the temples – he looked as if he’d been around the block a few times. Now there was a sardonic smile when Waters met his gaze again, and Glover said quietly, ‘And here’s my number, just in case…’

  ‘I’m giving you my card, Ashley. Put it somewhere safe. It has my mobile on it, my personal mobile number. You can call me any time if you feel in danger or if you just want to talk. And I’d like you to give me your number, so I can call and make sure you’re OK.’

  Ashley took the card, looked at it and put it into her bag. Freeman went around the table then, put a hand on her arm and said something that wasn’t audible through the microphone.

  Detective Inspector Glover said, ‘She’s even got our uniform to give the girl a lift back to work. Says you’re too busy!’

  Waters nodded, wondering whether what Freeman had really wanted was the marked car turning up in front of Luton Central Heating.

  Glover said, ‘When you first arrived, I was looking around for the DCI – I thought you’d brought your kid sister along for work experience. Have you been teamed up with her for long?’

  Waters looked at his watch before he said, ‘About five hours.’

  ‘Jesus! Baptism of fire, then! She told me the bare bones of it when she rang in. I take it this innocent is the only alibi?’

  Waters said that she was, and Glover added, ‘Well, I checked him over locally, if that’s any use. The business is legitimate, been going a few years. He’s of no interest to us. See – she’s even got me doing voluntary work!’

  Freeman disappeared from the camera, followed by Ashley. Glover said, ‘I’ll take you down to the Merc when she’s back. They’ve already found something interesting. Or rather, they haven’t. You’ll see what I mean when we get there. And in the meantime, before your boss gets back’ – Glover put out his right hand – ‘I’d like to wish you the best of luck, mate!’

  There were two technicians working on the Mercedes, both wearing white plastic coveralls. When Glover arrived with his two guests, the woman stopped whatever it was she was doing in the driver’s side foot-well and stood up to greet them. Glover introduced her as Sergeant Janet Brady. She was business-like and brisk.

  ‘As we weren’t told what we were looking for, we’ve done all the basics. It’s superficially very clean, been valeted by the place it was brought in from, I expect. That wouldn’t remove the good stuff, of course, so we’ve checked it over with UV. No blood, no semen, no bodily fluids at all. Was that what you were hoping for?’

  Freeman thanked her first of all, for fitting this work in, and then said any of those would have been nice but they were interested in the upholstery. Was it damaged or disfigured, on the front passenger side in particular? Brady got the young man’s attention and Freeman repeated the question. He said he’d take another look, and Waters went with him. They got down on all fours and examined the seat. Nothing on the left side, just the pale cream leather and fabric, but on the right side, low down where a hand might have clutched the edge of the seat, a couple of faint scrape marks that you’d never notice in the warm glow of buying such a nice car. Waters put up a hand, and Freeman came to see.

  She said, ‘Could be… Are those deep enough to leave traces under fingernails?’

  The technician said he thought so, but not so much that you could match a piece back to the exact spot on the seat. No, Freeman agreed, and the bits they’d got had been through a lab anyway. But if a couple more scrapings happened to be made on another part of the seat, and then happened to find their way into a plastic evidence bag, that would be very handy… The young SOCO officer looked at Sergeant Brady, who said that sort of thing had been known to occur in Luton North.

  While he got busy, Brady took them round to the open driver’s door and pointed to the dashboard.

  ‘As I said, we’ve given everything the once-over. We plugged it into the Crash Cube, which was negative; no signs of it being involved in any sort of collision. The on-board diagnostics were the same, not showing anything unusual. It was last serviced in February, so if the dealer claims it’s had a full service before sale, he’s lying. But the real disappointment is the EDR.’

  Freeman asked without hesitation.

  Brady replied, ‘Electronic Data Recorder. They have limited memory but it can last up to a month, and it tells you exactly where the car’s been and how it’s been driven. Or it does if it hasn’t been wiped. This one was, less than a week ago. Before that, it’s a complete blank.’

  Freeman said, ‘Is that easy to do?’

  ‘Someone competent with IT can do it, or work it out. We should all have it done when we sell a vehicle nowadays but we don’t. It’s possible the dealer’s technician did it but I wouldn’t think all dealers go to that much trouble. Might be worth asking them if they did. If not, it was the previous owner.’

  Waters said, ‘What about the GPS unit. Is there a route history?’

  Janet Brady smiled and shook her head.

  ‘No. I was coming to that next. It’s the same – wiped clean. Someone did a thorough job. Before you ask, there’s no spare capacity on the drive, all written over. No chance of retrieving old data.’

  The three detectives stood and looked at the car. Freeman’s phone buzzed. She read the message and said to Waters, ‘Looks as if we’re on for tonight. As soon as we’re done here, I need to ring Shirley Salmon and Oliver’s mother – don’t let me forget. So, you say someone did a thorough job on this – someone who understands switches, electronics and digital hardware. Sod it! I hoped we’d get something from this.’

  Waters waited a respectful four seconds before he said, ‘I think we have, ma’am. Fletcher has the technical know-how. If he wiped the EDR and the GPS data, that tells us something, doesn’t it?’

  Glover said, ‘It does. Absence of evidence on this scale suggests he had something he wanted to hide. That’s how I’d be looking at it.’

  Freeman said, ‘Fair point. I wonder how many twenty-four-hour traffic cams there are between Luton and Pinehills.’

  ‘I think it’s three, ma’am.’

  Glover, Brady and Freeman all turned to Waters, and the latter said, ‘How can you possibly know that?’

  Waters replied, ‘From the Sokoloff murder. It’s how we proved some of Frankie Jacobs’ men were up on the coast looking for Bernie Sokoloff. We went through the cameras between Kings Lake and London. If they’re still operational, I think there are three north of Luton.’

  Freeman glanced at the others before she said, ‘Chris, has anyone ever told you that you have a tragic side to your character?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  Glover spoke again, giving the impression that despite his condolences to Waters earlier, he’d rather be working on this case than whatever was waiting for him upstairs.

  ‘Nice point, but only if he took the main routes. Not many twenty-four-hour jobs anywhere else. And it’s painful stuff, working through hundreds of hours of footage, unless you get one with the data logger attached.’

  Freeman said cheerfully, ‘Not a problem. I always have at least one masochist on my team. Is there anything else you can give me from this car?’

  Brady stepped away, squatted down and looked under the wheel arches. Then she put a hand inside and felt around. ‘They didn’t do a great job with the steam cleaner. There’s plenty here. It’s caked with dried mud and…’ She was examining material in the palm of her hand, then holding it up to the light. ‘What looks like sand.’

  Waters was moving forward to see before Freeman’s eyes could find his. Greyish rather than the silver or gold of postcards and holiday advertisements, but it was unmistakably sand. Waters went to the other front arch and found
some more of the same.

  Freeman said, ‘Yes, please. We’ll have lots of that. Bags of it. Stuart, where do your forensics go?’

  Waters realised she was talking to Glover as if she’d known him for two decades rather than two hours. The answer was Cambridge, unless it was specialist. And what’s your turn-around at the moment? Not bad, he said, a couple of weeks for the basic stuff.

  Freeman frowned, and then said, ‘Expedited?’

  ‘They can do a couple of days if we really push. But that can be expensive. Ma’am – have to charge Norfolk for all this. Sorry, but-’

  ‘Of course you are. Use my name as SIO. Any problems, Detective Chief Superintendent Allen will sign off on it. We’ll have expedited processing of the sand, please. Full geological characteristics or whatever they call it. Chris, who was the SOCO at Pinehills? Remind me.’

  Was this Freeman in top gear? If she went any faster than this, he wasn’t sure he could keep up. Things start disappearing near the speed of light, don’t they? Glover had his mouth open, still thinking about the cost, but he’d never finish that sentence.

  ‘Sally Lonsdale, ma’am.’

  ‘I’ve heard of her. I think she’s good. You need to warn her about the sand and soil samples thing coming her way in two days. If any of that seat cover did accidentally get scraped into a plastic bag, we’ll take that with it and send it through to the same lab as the last lot for comparison. Detective Inspector Glover, Sergeant Brady – it’s been a pleasure. Thank you.’

  After three years on his team, Smith could still surprise you, but in the day-to-day business of investigation, Waters had learned to predict the next move nine times out of ten. As he climbed into the Audi in Luton North’s staff car park, however, he realised he had no idea what Freeman had planned now. The time was a little after three pm and he’d heard her say to Terek she would be back in Kings Lake between four and five; if so, he needed to be making for the ring road.