A Journal of Sin (21 page)

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Authors: Darryl Donaghue

Tags: #Mystery, #Suspense, #Women Sleuth, #Thriller, #Murder, #Crime

BOOK: A Journal of Sin
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‘….by ten square feet. I don’t think there’s much else to this.’ He took some photographs on a small digital camera. ‘The forensics team will want a look at it along with the body.’

They walked back to the car. Dales lit another cigarette and tossed his spent lighter on the ground. ‘I’ll tell him you did your best.’

‘Touching,’ she said, not sure it would do anything. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just that, I’m not sure I’m really cut out for this job.’

‘There is a way of telling, you know.’ He took long drags. ‘After everything I just said and the pretty high chance the gov’nor will want John nicked, is your gut still saying Tom’s the killer?’

‘One hundred percent.’

‘Then get in the car, Constable.’

FOURTEEN

‘It could be worse, Gov. SOCO will need to be here as soon as possible so we can recover what we can from whatever’s left.’ Dales held the phone between them in the front seat of the car, so she could hear the conversation.

‘They’ll be there this afternoon. Rendezvous at the same place you landed. I’ll brief them here, but if you could find a suitable place for them to work out of, that would be helpful. Somewhere private of course, we’ll need to maintain the continuity of any evidence they gather. I agree on the John point, I’ll send an arrest team in the chopper to pick up him. It’s worth throwing some questions into him and an arrest will keep the press quiet. What’s his house like? How many will you need to help with the search?’ asked DI Emmit, of the MCT.

Sarah heard the stress in his voice and could only imagine the reaction back at the office when she’d announced the murder on the news. Police officers at every level were used to reacting to the unpredictable on a daily basis, from shift changes, court dates and unexpected events happening at the worst possible times. She was certain, however, that a murder being announced on live television was a first. DI Emmit wasn’t running the investigation of course, a superintendent would be overseeing everything, but he’d been charged with organising the actions on the ground.

‘It’s a two-floor cottage, Sir. It’s not really the size, it’s the state. The place is an absolute mess, and there’s a shed as well,’ said Sarah.

‘Ok. I’ll send an exhibits officer and one other. Four of you ought to be enough to secure it for now. We can’t keep ferrying people over in the helicopters; you’ll just have to ensure the essentials are covered until the roads open. It shouldn’t be too long now. Steve, make sure the arrest goes smoothly. We don’t want him panicking and tampering with the body, if he hasn’t done so already. I’ll coordinate a search strategy here and send it along with the team.’

‘Not coming out, Gov?’ asked Dales.

‘I will be, but as I’m sure you can imagine, the world and his wife want everything done yesterday. It’s crawling with brass here. The usual bunch you never see until something like this happens. The press are wanting more information, not to mention the legal and policy ramifications of Sarah’s announcement. I’ve been juggling dynamite. The super’s happy you’re experienced enough to handle things out there for now and I’ll come and rubber-stamp everything when I can.’

‘Sir, there was little I could do. I didn’t ask for the interview, the mic was pushed in my face.’ She needed to defend herself somehow. Her name had no doubt been soiled over the past twenty-four hours. She had gone from obscurity to being a name that every officer in the force, maybe the country, now knew. They’d have laughed about it, probably passed the link around Facebook. Anybody would, and in a few years chances were she would too. Before then, she’d be having some very serious conversations with the Professional Standards Department, the prospect of which would crush anyone’s sense of humour.

‘You’ll have a chance to explain in due course. For now, let’s focus on damage control and getting things back on track.’ Emmit’s response wasn’t damning, giving away no clues about what she was going to walk back into after all this was over. ‘Just try and stay away from the press from here on in. The bosses are deciding whether to pull you out or not.’

‘I’d much rather stay, Sir.’ They were the first words that came to mind. He’d offered exactly what she’d wanted all week. Instead, her first thought was to stay and see the job through.

‘I’ve suggested just that. You’re a familiar face in the town now and you have a relationship with the suspect and the other residents. Once the arrest is made, we may face some resistance from the public, so having you would be an asset in keeping things as calm as possible.’

She expected him to say her local knowledge would be an asset to the investigation, but who was she kidding. She’d been reduced to just a friendly face. She had the guts for this, she’d worked hard in tough circumstances and if she could just have a crack at Tom in the interview room, she knew she’d nail him. She wanted to shout down the phone until his ears popped. She wanted to convince him they were following the wrong path, that John was a little unhinged, but not a killer. She wanted to tell him how difficult it had been and let that vulnerability invoke a more compassionate, understanding response to her situation. They’d only seen a few minutes of a forced and unprepared-for news interview, not the days of poor sleep and high pressure that came before it. She refused to be written off for mistakes that were impossible to avoid.

‘And the other guy?’ asked Dales.

‘Let’s get this one in first and I’ll brief the command team about a possible second suspect. I can’t imagine they’ll be interested based on what you’ve said. Ok, I think that’s everything. I’ll let you know if intel come back with anything on Horscroft. There’s some good news in amongst all this. The power should be back on by the end of the day along with limited mobile signal. We put some pressure on the engineers in light of the murder and they prioritised Sunbury to help make our work a little easier. I’ll be touch.’ Emmit ended the call.

‘Well, after working solidly all week, I’ve been reduced to babysitting the public.’

‘That’s not strictly true. You’re still on the search and there will be plenty of work to do after that.’

‘Do you on honestly think the DI, or anyone else, wants me involved in any more than I absolutely have to be? Were we part of the same conversation?’

‘He’s in a tough position. We’ve worked together for years. I know when he’s feeling the pressure and can hear it in his voice. He’s got us below him to direct plus the bosses expectations from above. Emmit’s pretty corporate and inspectors are more politician than cop. More writing policies and less getting their hands dirty. If he genuinely wanted you away from the place, you’d be boarding the chopper on the return trip. We’ve just got to focus on our job. You’re reacting a little too emotionally to all this.’

‘A little too emotionally? What do you expect?’

‘I get it, I get it, I do. If it means anything, listening to you, I’ve thought a lot about what I’d have done in your situation, and there really are no easy answers. Let’s just get this job done and face the next challenge as it comes.’

‘Thanks. That means a lot. Sorry to harp on about it all.’

‘It’s understandable. Looking at this lot, I imagine you’ve been starved of decent conversation. Less of the gushing though. I can’t afford to blush at my age. My vital organs need all the blood they can get.’

‘I just wanted to share some much needed appreciation. You’re not a machine either, you know.’

‘Just put the keys in will you? You’ll have me baking cupcakes for the office by the end of the week at this rate.’ She started the car. ‘We need to find a base for the forensics team, any chance of using your mum’s?’

‘I’d really rather not. The less she knows about any of this the better. She’s having a hard time coping. There are a few shops in town, a couple of cafes. Some have opened up again, but if we find the owners of the ones that are still closed, they may let us use the space.’

‘See? You’re already being useful.’

 

Will wanted to cover the murder investigation, not have dull conversations with locals about backed-up drains and flooded living rooms. Viewing figures were up, but he knew behind closed doors people were asking for his head. Long-term success required more than ratings, more than trending topics and publicity. Those things only lasted so long and once the initial buzz died down, so did the benefits. Being on the wrong side of the big institutions, the police, the politicians, the Fortune 500 meant courting powerful enemies. Even the most dynamic news, the most hard-hitting interviews, were conducted in a particular way with unwritten rules of engagement. Will believed breaking those rules was the way to really stand out, but people were starting to take notice, important people with influence far beyond his producer.

‘Well, dear, it’s been very hard on my knees. They’ve not been right for a while, you see, so going up and down the stairs has been awful. Normally, I’d have my soup at six-thirty and as long as I have my soup, everything is okay. My knees seem to work better after my soup. The doctor thinks it’s poppycock of course, but there’s definitely something in mushroom soup that really helps the joints. He normally prescribes me these pills you see, but I haven’t been able to get them because of all the roadblocks.’

Alan was a few metres away talking to an elderly man pointing to and rotating his shoulder. They exchanged similar looks.

‘Ok, thank you. I can’t say we’ll be using you, my love, but thanks for your time.’ Will put on a well-practiced professional smile.

‘Oh, okay dear. Nice to have met you.’ The lady tottered away.

‘Are they all going to be like this?’ he said, as Alan finished interviewing his candidate.

‘Probably. They have been for the past few days.’

‘I can’t believe they’ve got us doing this when someone’s been murdered just around the corner.’

‘Oh, we’ll be covering the murder. They’re just buying time, waiting for the formal press release, before they let us go near that story again. Or before he lets someone go near the story. We’re likely to be pulled out and replaced with another team.’

‘He wouldn’t do that.’

‘Don’t be so sure. You’re coming up to bat on your third strike, Sunshine. He’s less likely to risk you cocking around again if he can free up another, more experienced, and more disciplined, reporter. He’s probably having his ears chewed off by some governing body as we speak.’

‘Nah, he wouldn’t do that. He knows I’ll deliver the goods.’

‘The only thing you’ll be delivering is your CV to other news agencies and no one wants a loose cannon these days. Times are tough, people are playing it safe and you’ll be out on your arse.’

‘I’m going to get my story, Alan. We’re not going to find anything unique amongst these folks. I say we run the flood story with the next two people we speak to and then get back onto the murder.’

‘We’ve been told not to talk to anyone about the murder until he tells us otherwise. Not one word. We’re to talk to residents, find some unique experiences, and run the broadcast as another heart-wrenching tragic story following the storm. That’s it. Done.’

‘We’re done with the flood. You said it yourself; we could be replaced. We could wrap this up and have to fly back whilst someone else covers our story. This is what we’ve been looking for.’ Will was a natural persuader. His flair for a convincing argument would be at home in a sales meeting, a political debate or even a courtroom, but Alan wasn’t buying it.

‘The story you’ve been looking for to further your career, no one else’s. Do you think it helps us to be dragged into the firing line on your whims? You can bounce back, but who’d employ me and Matt?’

‘We’ve been through this.’

‘I’m not doing it. If you want to play silly buggers again, you’ll do it on your own.’ Alan didn’t like conflict, but it was time to put his foot down.

‘Then Matt can handle the camerawork. It really doesn’t matter.’

‘I’ll play ball if we get the green light, but until then, I’m out. Here comes another one of your fans.’

Will prepared his smile as another old lady hobbled over towards him.

‘Hello there, I have some information I think you may want to hear, my dear.’

‘First of all, let’s get your name,’ he said, pen and clipboard poised for another dry rendition of every ache and pain she’d suffered in the past month.

‘It’s Grace, dear. Grace Stapleton.’

FIFTEEN

For all the faults of this town, at least the landlord of the Duck prepared his cellar for the storm. Sitting here feels a little strange. A pub is a place to relax; people come here to shake off the day at work, get away from their spouses and off-load their problems. Not for me, not anymore.

‘Another pint?’ The landlord’s hand was on the Doom Bar pump.

‘No one appreciates a decent ale? I’m surprised you haven’t started issuing ration cards.’

‘The fastest selling ale in the UK, they said. People give the tap a curious glance, but few ever buy it. The whiskey’s all gone and the vodka’s on the way out too, that ought to tell you something about the mentality of the people around here.’

‘Well, in that case.’ I handed him my glass for a top-up, glad I could benefit from the poor taste of the dregs in this town.

‘You can hardly blame them,’ he said. I knew from his expression where this conversation was going. For fuck’s sake.

‘People like whiskey whatever the mood. It may be more noticeable as you’ve not been able to replenish it.’ Was that enough of a hint? All week, every conversation’s been Father Michael, Father Michael, Father Michael, and I’ve nodded and smiled through them all.

‘It’s such a loss for us all.’

My pint hit the bar; the sound of glass on wood louder than expected. ‘Is it?’ He looked at me as if I’d spoken out against the law of gravity, the pleasures of true love or some other universal truth.

‘Well, he was well loved in the community.’

The same phrase, spoken in the same way by every one of Sunbury’s hypocrites. ‘You a religious man?’

‘I went as a kid. Not so much now.’

‘So, you knew him outside of the church? Come here much, did he?’

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