Songbird Page 45

  ‘We’ve been at this for forty minutes, which is too long for a no-comment scenario, so I’ll bring this to a close now. Mr Fletcher, on Monday you revealed to us that while your wife and daughters were on holiday in Pinehills, you were seeing Ashley Merrick in Luton. You told us that on the night of the 27th, you spent the evening with Ms Merrick, and that it was after midnight before you left. When we first interviewed her, she confirmed what you had said. Since then she has contacted me and she has, of her own free will, retracted her first statement. You left her flat no later than eight that evening. She hasn’t been into your offices since Monday, but you already know this. It’s why you’ve rung her mobile number twenty-two times. You’ve also called at her flat on three occasions. I won’t ask you to comment – it’s obvious that you’re a very caring employer, concerned about the welfare of your receptionist. Finally-’

  ‘Chief Inspector, I must-’

  ‘Finally, Mr Edgeley, your client needs to know that we have a photograph of his vehicle parked by the turning into the Pinehills holiday camp, taken late in the evening of the 27th of July. We have a witness statement confirming that a woman fitting the description of Michelle Simms arrived from the direction of the caravan park and got into the Mercedes. The car pulled away and immediately turned left onto the road that leads to the beach. To the dunes where Michelle Simms was murdered a short time later. You may inform your client that we do not yet have a smoking gun, but I’m working on it.’

  Waters watched as the solicitor wrote on a pad and then showed this to Fletcher, and he thought, well, she was as good as her word. Anything less like a carefully staged partial disclosure of evidence he could not imagine. Freeman had pointed a sawn-off shotgun at the opposition and fired both barrels.

  Julian Edgeley said, ‘I would like a private consultation with Mr Fletcher.’

  ‘No problem. You might as well know that after it, he’s going down to the custody suite where he will be charged with the murder of Michelle Simms. If you ask for bail at any stage, I’ll oppose it, and you don’t stand a chance because of the nature of the offence and because I have a prosecution witness in fear of her life. In the magistrate’s court tomorrow morning, your client will be remanded in custody, and that’s where he’ll stay for the next few months.’

  She stood up, and Waters followed suit. Fletcher was looking up at her with an expression that he, Waters, didn’t immediately recognise, and then, suddenly, he did. It was hatred. In another place and at another time, the man might have seized her in those large, powerful, plumber’s hands and crushed the life out of her. If she sensed this, the senior investigating officer didn’t show it.

  She said, ‘No comment? OK. The recorders have been switched off. You have ten minutes. I’ll order you a fresh pot of tea.’

  Chapter Forty-Three

  He awoke to the sound of rain. The window that overlooked Dock Lane was six feet from his pillow, and he heard the drops blown in gusts against it. The light beyond the blind was still only half-formed, and Waters could think of no reason to get up early. He turned over and looked at his phone – first at the time, then the news and finally at his messages. The one from Janey was still there, and still reproaching him – I tried calling you last night but I expect you were out. Just wanted to make sure you’re alright.

  Or she wanted to know what he was doing on Saturday nights without her. He could text back Sorry, no signal down in The Blue Note, and didn’t get back until half one… Then he was disappointed at the meanness of the thought, and decided he would ring her later today, but he wasn’t quite sure when or even if he really would do so. Women say they want to remain friends, and most men have no idea what that means.

  He was just a little hung over. It had been intentional, and so there was no point feeling sorry for himself. He had taken Ubers to and from the club, and he’d spent the evening drinking with Katherine and Jason Diver and their circle of interesting acquaintances. These were funny, educated and intelligent people who were going out of their way to make him feel welcome – they said they could allow in one policeman, especially one who didn’t look or behave much like a policeman, and he’d taken this as a compliment. In the colder, greyer light of this morning, he wondered about that for a moment but lacked the willpower to come to a conclusion.

  Outside in the street, three blasts on a car horn and some shouting. Someone must have parked across the entrance to the artisan bakery again. Seven thirty on a Sunday morning and the noise had already started – but, of course, it never stops here in the town centre. On Friday, he had come to a conclusion about this; the flat was too small and the area was too crowded. At twenty-two it had been perfect – one bedroom, one lounge, one small kitchen, one small bathroom – but now, at twenty-five, he wanted more space and somewhere a little more civilised. When Janey was here he’d had the thought that they might do something together but being alone again offered new choices. After Friday’s briefing, he’d told Cara Freeman he was accepting the offer of a position in her new squad, and that meant he was going to be in Kings Lake for the foreseeable future. With his sergeant’s salary, he could do better than this place.

  Half an hour later he got out of bed, showered and made himself a cooked breakfast – the best restorative after a heavy night. He’d bought expensive bacon from the last proper butcher in town, and what Smith had explained to him was true. If it’s the real McCoy, you can cook it in its own juices and there’ll be none of that horrible watery fat to deal with. He stared at it cooking in the pan, and thought, two heavy nights really, better not let this become a habit. On the Friday evening, members of the Michelle Simms team had visited The Chequers because Graham Fletcher was now safely remanded in custody, and a quiet drink was in order. Just a quiet one – the major celebrations are reserved for convictions and long sentences, the longer the better.

  Freeman had been there, and she bought the first round. Waters had noticed how quickly her star had risen even among Wilson’s people, but as an SIO you can’t go wrong if you bring your first case with a new team to a successful end in under a fortnight. Half an hour later, however, and unnoticed by most, she had found Waters and told him that on Monday she would put in the formal request for his transfer. She waited then, giving him the opportunity to say whether he’d changed his mind, but he had not. She said after that, ‘Good. Here’s your first job. I’ve put another fifty quid behind the bar, so make sure it gets spent. I’m off.’

  He’d asked why – it wasn’t yet eight o’clock – and Freeman had said, ‘Home. I’m on duty. It’s Daria’s night off.’

  She spoke briefly to Serena on the way out of the bar, and then Freeman was gone, and no one else had noticed. He sat down with Serena and told her where Freeman was going. She said, ‘I know. It’s a raw deal. You give up tying yourself down with kids and all that to have a career, and then you end up looking after your mother. The only consolation I’ve got is I know my mother would rather put an end to it all than be cared for by me.’

  When Waters went to the bar to fetch them another drink, Wilson was there. He said, ‘Another lucky call, on the Salmon kid.’

  Waters was non-committal, paying more attention to the woman behind the bar than he was to his fellow sergeant. It was Wilson who spoke again.

  ‘But you’ve pissed off the boss good and proper. I don’t know how you’re going to put that right. You could offer to clean his car for a year. You need to learn. You can’t go undermining your line manager like that…’

  The temptation was there, to tell Wilson how things would turn out now, but if he did so, Terek would know within hours, possibly minutes, and then there might be phone calls to Freeman over the weekend. She wouldn’t give way on what she had promised him but why risk altering her view of him, which was, he hoped, as someone who could keep his mouth shut? He picked up the drinks, nodded to Wilson and said, ‘He’ll get over it.’

  At eleven o’clock the sky was clearing and there had been no more rain for a
t least an hour – but had there been enough for this afternoon’s garden party to be cancelled? Still watching from the window, he finished the coffee, which was the most expensive instant on the supermarket shelves, and accepted that it still wasn’t as good as the fresh-ground that some people insisted upon. When he got that new kitchen in the new place, he’d look into the matter properly, conduct a full investigation. Now that the thought was on his mind, he took out his mobile, called the number and asked whether they were still on.

  ‘Why wouldn’t we be? I’m standing on the bank and I can assure you the sun will be breaking through within twenty minutes. The world’s greatest empire wasn’t built by people who stayed at home because there’d been a shower, Chris. We seafaring folk are a hardy lot.’

  Foolishly, Waters had suggested that the small white dinghy he’d seen on the banks of the creek wasn’t a vessel one would actually put to sea in, was it? It was barely twelve feet long and-

  ‘You can insult a sailor until you’re blue in the face, sir, but you do not insult his ship. Rebecca Louise has feelings, and I’m duty bound to defend her honour. What time are you coming over? I’d rather do so in person.’

  ‘You said about three o’clock.’

  ‘That’s it. Lunch will be over, I’ll put the kettle on for three. Alison isn’t coming but I’m driving over to see her tomorrow morning. What about Serena?’

  ‘She has a squash match. She said another time, definitely.’

  Smith had said that he, Waters, should get a hobby – golf was a good idea if you wanted to climb the management ladder. A round or two with Detective Chief Superintendent Allen and Assistant Chief Constable Devine might work wonders.

  The seafarer’s weather wisdom had borne fruit, and by the time Waters arrived at Drift’s End, the sun was high in a blue sky once more. But the heat, the oppressive heat of that long summer was a memory already, and the rain had freshened the air. A handful of people were already there, sitting around the garden table or wandering in and out of the cottage as if it was their own. These were faces he didn’t know, and Smith introduced him to most of them. They seemed to be from the village, including one short, round, bearded man who was, Smith told him afterwards, a famous record producer from London who had retired to the coast and then, bored, built his own studio in the grounds of his rather large house.

  ‘He plays the drums sort of… aggressively, but we have a laugh most Friday nights.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Two or three of us. We get together and have a jam before we go down to The Lobster Pot for a lemonade.’

  ‘Sounds idyllic.’

  Smith paused and looked around before he said, ‘Yes. It is. I’m a lucky so-and-so.’

  Waters had asked whether Shirley Salmon and her sister, Oliver’s mother, were here, and Smith said they were – they’d gone with Jo along the path by the creek. Then Smith had walked around to the front of the cottage and climbed the bank, with Waters following. Far in the distance, a tiny group of four figures was making its way towards them.

  Smith said, ‘So, in this hypothetical case in which those involved still have no names, you have enough to present a motive? Some sort of blackmail?’

  Waters nodded, saying, ‘There’s nothing definite yet but it looks that way. The victim had already been paid a sum early in the year by her brother-in-law. We know his affair with the girl had begun by then. She may have used it to get the money out of him, but she had a history with him herself.’

  Smith shook his head, his gaze still on the approaching figures, and said, ‘She wanted him to pay in more ways than one. But she must have been desperate to do that to her sister. You said they were close.’

  Waters went on, ‘The procedure at the fertility clinic in April failed, but she was booked in for another one at the end of this month. That’s almost certainly what she was after, the money to pay for it. He had the money but he probably concluded that this was never going to end. At least, not of its own accord. Knowing the two of them were in the caravan together and that the story could have been told at any moment probably pushed him over the edge.’

  The little group had become four distinct figures now. Waters could see Oliver a little way in front, the three women walking together behind him.

  Smith said, ‘Being the victim of blackmail is a good if partial defence but the idiot has destroyed the evidence of it himself. I’ll lay odds there was something in the texts he got rid of that would have helped his case if it comes to mitigation. Now it could come down to just his say-so. You can show elements of premeditation – like buying the pay-as-you-go phone – but a decent QC will argue it was a crime of passion, that he went to confront her, not to kill her. She provoked him or taunted him in the car and he went for her. That QC will assassinate your victim’s character, I’m afraid. I feel sorry for the sister.’

  Waters told him then that Cara Freeman had said the same thing before she drove down to see Michaela on the Friday morning after they’d charged Graham Fletcher. Serena had gone too, because she’d met the wife before. Freeman had said she wanted to explain the case in person and answer the questions face-to-face because the sister’s situation was so awful.

  Smith had taken his time before he responded to that.

  ‘So, the terminator has a heart of gold after all?’

  Waters had to smile, knowing the nickname would stick in his memory.

  ‘Maybe…’

  ‘Meaning?’

  Smith had lost none of his edge when it came to the pursuit of the unspoken.

  ‘Serena told me that Freeman was sympathetic. She answered all the questions honestly, as far as she could. She offered support from Luton North, family liaison, and all that…’

  Smith didn’t need to ask again – he just waited with a sharp eye for the rest of it.

  ‘But Serena thought it was still an interrogation. Freeman was looking for anything she could use. Had the sister suspected something? Had words been said which in retrospect…? You know the kind of thing, DC.’

  Smith looked away, back at the approaching group, which had stopped by Rebecca Louise, no doubt admiring that fine, ocean-going vessel, but Waters had seen the fleeting smile. If anyone understood what Freeman had been doing in Luton on Friday morning, it was the former detective sergeant from Kings Lake Central.

  Still looking away, Smith said, ‘She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?’

  ‘Do you think I’m making a mistake?’

  It was the question above all which had brought Waters here this afternoon.

  Smith turned back to him.

  ‘You’ve been head-hunted for the county’s new murder squad by a DCI who’s currently ten points clear at the top of the premier division – that’s a footballing analogy, by the way. At your age and in your position, I’d have snapped her bloody hand off. If you’d said no, and I got to hear of it, I might have had to drag you there, kicking and screaming. Of course, it’ll be a nightmare at times. But so is life.’

  Oliver was ahead of the group again, carrying a stick as he came along. He saw them waiting and waved – Smith put up a hand.

  Waters said, ‘Murray’s back tomorrow. I’ll have to catch him early before the news gets out. I’ve told Freeman he’ll come along as well.’

  ‘Give him a ring tonight. John likes time to think things over. If he plays up, let me know and I’ll straighten him out. But he’ll be fine with it. Whoever your new DI is, they have to be preferable to… Hello, Oliver! What are you listening to?’

  Smith said quietly to Waters before the boy reached them, ‘Like we don’t already know!’

  After a moment, as if to himself more than to Waters, he added, ‘And then she’ll have my whole sodding team. Nice.’

  Waters stood aside at the top of the bank as the women came by. Shirley smiled at him but he didn’t catch what she said to her sister, Oliver’s mother. They had walked on a few more feet before Erica Salmon turned and came back to him. She said, ‘I want to th
ank you. Shirley tells me you made a difference. If it wasn’t for you, we might not be enjoying this afternoon.’

  Waters was very much aware of Smith watching and listening. He said, ‘It was entirely a team effort.’

  She held out her hand, and he took it.

  ‘Then please thank your team from us all.’

  She went down the bank with Jo and Shirley, and Waters thought he’d had a narrow escape – there might have been hugs. Oliver was answering Smith’s question about his music. He’d taken out one of the earphones and was wiping it carefully on a piece of tissue as he walked down the slope to the front gate of the cottage. Then he offered it to Smith so they could listen simultaneously to the music playing on his phone. Smith took the earphone and listened, looking surprised and telling Oliver that it was a beautiful voice singing a beautiful song. Who is it? What is it called? And Oliver told him, adding at the end, sadly, ‘But she’s dead now.’

  Christopher Waters stayed up on the bank for a few moments longer. He had a decision to make – another one. Idyllic? Most certainly this was. Smith had accomplished much more in the past few months than simply surviving; this was a whole new chapter, a whole new life. Jo was happy here, and today she had even welcomed Waters as if she meant it. After all, his last visit had ended with the two of them, herself and Smith, going to see Shirley, taking that walk and guessing what had really happened to Oliver that dreadful evening in July. Jo had perhaps begun to trust Waters not to bring the past with him each time he visited, in which case he could, in a small way, be a part of their future.

  But last night, in one of the intervals in The Blue Note, Katherine Diver had cornered him and said he had been avoiding her and she knew why. Oh, said Waters, she’d have to enlighten him because he had no idea himself.

  She’d said then, ‘Really? It isn’t a good idea to play dumb with someone who’s seen your choice of underwear, Chris… But I said to you a while ago, I had a business proposition I wanted to discuss. There’s something I could use your opinion on.’