Songbird Page 42

  ‘Good. Destroying evidence and perverting the course of justice – that’s another five years. Did you see the whole interview, the two of you?’

  Yes, they said. And what did they think? Waters said again what he’d been saying before she came in – that Oliver’s interview had confirmed a number of things but evidentially they were no further forward. They still had nothing that could tie Graham Fletcher to the scene.

  Freeman nodded agreement and then fell silent for ten seconds before, ‘This place had a canteen when I was here last year. Is it still open?’

  They told her about the vending machines and her response included the phrase “industrial effluent” and some colourful adjectives. She asked whether anyone kept the means of making tea or coffee in their office, and Waters said DCI Reeve had something in a filing cabinet.

  Freeman said, ‘I need a few minutes to get my head around this now, so I’m heading up there. There’s nothing the overnight lot can do with this, chasing banks and phone companies again. Chris, get someone on that traffic camera idea tomorrow morning. But you two might as well go home.’

  Serena asked whether DI Terek would be meeting with her now and received a short and strangely ambiguous response – ‘Just left. Sick child.’

  It was Waters who said that if she needed any help, he had no particular reason to leave straight away, followed by Serena. If she would rather work alone, of course…

  And the answer was, ‘I expect too much from people as it is. Offering to do more just to impress won’t work but I’ll say yes to get the job done.’

  There was no obvious way to reply to such a statement, so they remained silent.

  ‘So, I’ll go up to Alison’s office, make some tea or coffee, which will undoubtedly be stale, and drink it black because there’s no fresh milk in the entire building. I’ll lose track of time and at around half past nine I’ll nip out to see if I can buy some pizza, which I’ll bring back here. I’ll probably fall asleep at the desk around midnight. Unless…’

  She looked up at them both, as if she’d been struck by a brilliant idea.

  ‘…unless one of you has a couch I can crash on for the night. You both live in Lake, don’t you?’

  Serena nodded, failing entirely to conceal a look of consternation at the thought of a DCI asleep on her sofa, and Waters thought, where does Freeman live? What do we know about her? There’s no ring on a finger and no mention ever of a partner. She’s old enough to have young children but somehow the very thought is absurd. Does she really crash for the night in the apartments of junior officers?

  The answer came in a short laugh and a shake of the head.

  ‘Seriously, guys? But I am going to be working in DCI Reeve’s room; if you’ve got nothing better to do, feel free to join me. Give me fifteen minutes, though. I’ve got to make a couple of calls, including one to Alison. I promised I’d update her every day.’

  Serena said, ‘I could fetch the pizza?’

  Freeman looked suddenly touched by their support. She stepped closer, putting one hand on Waters’ left arm and the other on Serena’s right. She said solemnly, ‘OK. But I want you to promise me one thing, both of you.’

  Serena said, ‘Yes, ma’am?’

  ‘Please, never forget this. No pineapple, not ever.’

  Chapter Forty

  At eight thirty the following morning – the Tuesday – Waters counted twenty-four people in the Michelle Simms incident room. There were not enough chairs and many were standing. Twenty-three of them were directly involved in the investigation into the murder; the twenty-fourth was there, it turned out, only so he could be thanked for making all this possible, and after he had taken his bow, Detective Chief Superintendent Allen left them.

  DCI Cara Freeman watched him go, watched the door close behind him, and waited for silence. She was sitting on Simon Terek’s desk, and when she edged herself back a little, her feet didn’t quite reach the floor. Within a few seconds, there was just one voice muttering – O’Leary, naturally – but it tailed away when he realised she was staring at him.

  ‘OK. Thank you all for turning up on time. The management training manual says I should be cascading all this. I tell the DIs, they tell the sergeants, the sergeants tell the infantry. Who then go home and tell their wives and husbands and pet dogs, who then come up with the answers…’

  New senior investigating officers can have a difficult time of it, especially ones who seem to have been parachuted in from somewhere else. A local police force – we should, we are told, now use the word “service” instead, but old habits die hard – a local police force is a tribe and loyalty still matters. But Freeman had done this before, and if she felt any fear, it wasn’t showing. A sense of humour helps, and a few people had smiled at her comment about telling the wives and husbands.

  ‘… But as I still haven’t met most of you, I thought I’d do it this way and save some time as well. As far as I’m concerned, DCI Reeve has done everything right so far. I’m in close touch with her, and I consulted her on a couple of points last night. She sends her best wishes, and says she’s doing alright, by the way. She thanks you for the cards and messages of support…’

  Intelligent, conveying to those who didn’t know her that she was working with Reeve, not trying to replace her or score points. This seemed easy for Freeman, effortless even, but two of the officers in the room – Waters and Serena Butler at his side – now knew more than the rest, after last night’s late session. They had listened to her calling Ashley Merrick, ostensibly to make sure the young woman was safe but also to tell her that the window of opportunity she, Freeman, had mentioned was a little smaller now. Waters had understood immediately what Freeman was doing. She’d said to the girl that if she had given Fletcher a false alibi, a serious offence had been committed. If she retracted it in order to help the police investigation, she might get away with it, but if Fletcher was arrested and charged, it would be too late and she might find herself in the Crown court. It was easy to picture the girl alone in her flat, frightened half to death and wondering what to do because the only person who seemed to be worried about her was the detective who was hoping not to arrest her.

  Minutes later Freeman’s mobile had begun to ring. The three of them exchanged a glance, three heads with but one thought, but it was a personal call. Waters and Serena both made moves to leave the office but Freeman waved them back into their seats. They listened as Freeman asked questions about someone who was ill, and made arrangements for a doctor’s appointment in the morning.

  When the call was over, she said, ‘My mum’s carer. Looks as if we need to change the medication yet again.’

  She would not have said such a thing unless she was inviting a question, and Serena duly asked it. Early onset dementia which began about a year ago, and early onset often develops more rapidly than the age-appropriate sort. Millicent Freeman had been the director of her own commercial design company until she was struck down in her mid-fifties by the new curse of the age. Now she couldn’t be left, and the carer – Romanian and remarkable, said Freeman – was living in.

  ‘What about your dad?’ Serena said.

  ‘Died when I was sixteen. There isn’t a good time to lose your dad, but sixteen? Anyway, my mother got on with it. But you have to wonder. All that stress and heartbreak? Going to come out sooner or later. You two still got your mums and dads?’

  They’d nodded, and Freeman said to hang on to them for as long as possible because they were bloody useful, and then it was back to work.

  ‘… so, we’ve reached the dreaded moment where the SIO says we’re going to go over it all again. We have no choice after the Oliver Salmon interview. You can see on the boards behind me where this is going now – and my thanks to Chris and Serena for setting all this up again last night. The detective sergeants already know what needs to be covered. I’m leaving who exactly does what to them, but I want it done quickly and, above all, thoroughly. To summarise, so you are all in the
picture – phone records, video cameras in the area, registration plates, bank statements, alibis, witness statements all to be checked by at least one new pair of eyes. You’re not checking up on each other, you’re just checking, checking and checking again. Forensics – I’m personally going to call the labs and offer to leave my body to science if they’ll just give us a break. I can see some of you thinking this offer might slow things down but…’

  Laughter now – it was a master-class in how to create and motivate a team. Serena nudged his elbow, and when he glanced down at her she said, ‘Admit it. You can’t say no to her.’

  ‘But one more thing,’ Freeman was saying, on her feet now, the schoolgirl smiles quite gone. ‘Early on there was a leak – I’m referring to the identity of the person we were questioning. I don’t know where it came from, and I’m not going to waste time trying to find out. But I hope it wasn’t from here. If it happens again and someone in this room is responsible, I can promise that person it’ll be the last mistake they make in any team run by me.’

  Silence now, a moment for reflection perhaps. Then, ‘Right, that’s it. Find your sergeants.’

  Waters could see Terek across the room but there had been no mention of detective inspectors. This was the other side to the Cara Freemans of this world. If they decide you’re done, you probably are.

  By ten thirty they had established that on the 17th February a BACS transfer for the sum of £7500 had been made into Michelle Simms’ private account, the one she didn’t share with her husband. Within three days, £5300 had been transferred out in the same way, and in a single payment. Establishing where the money had gone was straightforward – it was named on the electronic record – but where it had come from was less so. They had a sequence of letters and numbers which the bank employee on the end of the telephone line was unwilling or unable to translate into a name.

  At Waters’ suggestion, Serena took the matter straight to Freeman up in Alison’s office. The DCI picked up her landline and called the Financial Investigation Unit in Norwich – someone called Gary answered. Serena could only hear one side of the conversation but it was plain the two people holding it had had a number of such encounters in the past. Freeman’s answer to his first question was, ‘I need advice, Gary. I’ve been offered a massive bribe, like career-changing, but I’m not taking it unless I’m sure I can place it in an offshore account.’

  And then, ‘Alright, twenty-five per cent, just the same as last time…’

  Serena could hear laughter at the other end of the line. Gary asked more questions, and Freeman said, ‘I reckon it’s tax fraud, evasion of VAT. On what?’ She pulled a face at Serena and said into the phone, ‘Copper pipes? And gas boilers, hundreds of them. How much? It could run into millions…’

  Then Freeman passed over the code from the account, put down the phone and said to Serena, ‘He’ll get back to me shortly. He’s usually quick. So, it’s what we thought?’

  Serena said, ‘The five grand went to Milton Hall – it’s a private clinic near Cambridge. They only do fertility treatments. What level do you want to go in at, ma’am?’

  She meant who, as in who do you want to speak to at the clinic – getting medical information can be more difficult than the financial sort. Freeman said, ‘You make the approach. Don’t mess around with admin staff, go straight to a director, that’s my advice, saves a lot of time. You can pretend to be me if you like, as long as you don’t book me in. That’s the last thing I need…’

  Serena laughed but the pretend-to-be-me thing was probably not a joke. Freeman’s murder squad was the high-wire act in criminal investigation, made even more exciting by the fact that you had no idea whether there was a safety net.

  The landline rang and Freeman picked it up. She listened for several seconds and said, ‘I told you it was plumbing – would I ever lie to you, Gary? Email it to me as well. You’re a darling. Give my love to Michael!’

  Freeman put down the handset and wrote on the notepad in front of her.

  Serena said, ‘Who’s Michael?’

  ‘Gary’s red setter.’

  ‘Oh, I thought he might be Gary’s… You know?’

  ‘Partner? Why would you assume someone’s gay just because their name’s Gary?’

  ‘I didn’t, I-’

  ‘Brilliant detective work, though. He is, completely gay.’

  Serena had to think for a moment.

  ‘Gary is?’

  ‘Yes. Who else? Maybe Michael is as well. Are there gay dogs? If there are, Gary would have one. Here.’

  Freeman held out the piece of paper she’d torn from the pad.

  ‘I think I’m handing you a bit of a motive. The money came from the commercial account of Luton Central Heating Services. Do you think Fletcher made a contribution other than a financial one? If he did, I don’t want to think about it. You’re on your own with that.’

  The data from the twenty-four hour traffic monitors was much easier to handle than it had been just eighteen months ago. Once downloaded, it was searchable using the registration plate you were looking for, and within an hour Waters and Ford had been through all of it from the three cameras. And there was no match. They double-checked their method by entering Waters’ own registration, and sure enough one camera showed up the journey he’d made south to Luton with DCI Freeman. Next they used Ford’s portable, plug-in satnav to look for alternative routes, just to see how easy it was to miss the cameras. It was simple enough, particularly if you intended to do so, but in that case you’d have to know where the cameras were; if you did not, it was a matter of luck. Either way, it was possible, still using A class roads, to get from Luton to the Norfolk coast, either by heading first north-west to Peterborough or north-east towards Norwich. Waters wrote down the satnav’s estimated journey times for both routes.

  Serena was taking her time up in Freeman’s office. Waters looked across the incident room to where Terek and Wilson stood talking, controlling the Pinehills side of the operation – there were a dozen detectives back out there, going over every inch of every possibility. Terek had spoken to him politely enough after the morning’s briefing, but that was all; there was no longer any sense of teamwork or even of being engaged in a joint enterprise. In that respect, the investigation had broken down. It’s the job of the SIO to make sure this does not happen but Freeman seemed unconcerned – she was certainly not unaware of it. The idea came to him then that she might even be using it to her advantage. Was she capable of that? Of leaving the fracture un-mended because she wanted him out of this team and into another? That would be positively Machiavellian.

  Serena returned, ignoring Terek, crossing the office with flounce turned up to maximum before placing a piece of paper in front of him. He recognised Freeman’s indecipherable writing and asked her to explain what it meant. When she had done so, Richard Ford said, ‘Well, that’s it, isn’t it? How’s Fletcher going to explain this?’

  Waters could still remember such innocence, and he answered the question in a not unkindly way.

  ‘It was a private, personal loan to his sister-in-law. She was so unhappy because she hadn’t had a child. They kept it from Michaela because she might feel guilty about having two beautiful daughters. They kept if from Barry because he was the one to blame for them being childless. The plan was to keep it a secret so it would be a wonderful surprise for everyone if it happened. Or something like that…’

  ‘Oh, sir!’

  Serena put her hand on his, and her eyes were warm and soft – how could she do that so convincingly? She said, ‘You shouldn’t keep your sensitive side so well hidden. You should be writing an agony aunt’s blog online. Or maybe you’re the next Barbara Cartland, secretly typing away in the long, lonely evenings…’

  Waters removed his hand from the desk before anyone else noticed.

  He said to Ford, ‘It’s interesting, it’s good, but it’s not enough. Whatever they tell you on your next training day, showing motive and opportunity ar
en’t enough. We have a heap of circumstantial evidence but we still need to put him there, somehow. Fletcher is intelligent and he knows that. It’s why he’s been very tidy.’

  A Smith word, “tidy”. And what would Smith do with these latest developments? The temptation to ask him was there, of course, especially now the said retiree was aware of the case in some detail, but it must always be resisted, for sound operational reasons. And maybe pride comes into it, as well.

  Freeman appeared, looked about the room, nodded to Terek and then took exactly the same path as Serena had minutes earlier. This convinced Waters that her disregard for hierarchy and protocol was entirely deliberate.

  She said, ‘Hard at it? Good. Me, too. Forensics have accepted the offer of my body. In return, they’ve just told me the leather seats in the Mercedes were a limited edition. Someone in that lab has tracked this down on our behalf. Only two hundred and fifty Mercs had those seat coverings. It gets better. The two fifty is spread over two models, half each. Fletcher’s car was one of only a hundred and twenty-five with them. His murdered sister-in-law had bits of one of those seat covers under her fingernails.’

  After a moment, Waters said, ‘He met her in town the day before she went down to the coast, and he gave her a lift home. He has no idea what she must have being doing to get the material under her nails. Putting Michelle in his car isn’t enough. We have to put him in Pinehills.’

  Freeman seemed a little non-plussed. She glanced at Ford first and then at Serena, who said, ‘He’s in a funny sort of mood, ma’am.’

  Freeman dragged a chair across from another desk and sat in it. Over her shoulder, Waters saw Terek look away. Wilson was talking on a mobile phone. Then Wilson glanced at Waters before handing the phone to Terek, who began to question the caller in his usual clipped manner. On the surface, there was nothing unusual about any of this.