An Unfamiliar Murder (22 page)

Jenkins had agreed that an alarm should be provided to the Cottrell
family, with a direct link to the control room so that they could contact them
should anyone or anything suspicious occur. He also approved her request to
have the Armed Response Vehicle to be stationed outside the Cottrell’s property
for the next 24 hours (when its presence would be reviewed and continued if
necessary), unless they were deployed elsewhere, when a marked police car would
take over.

As they neared the end of the phone call, just when Helen thought she had
made a breakthrough with Jenkins, he delivered the sting in his tale. DCI
Sawford would be arriving on Friday to assist with the investigation. He was
giving evidence on a case in Court first thing, and would join them after
lunch.
I hope they keep him all day,
Helen
had thought to herself. But realistically she knew that wouldn’t happen. The
Courts never finished late on a Friday.

Later, she had delivered the news to the
Cottrells
.
What had followed was a diplomatic discussion with Anna and her parents where
Helen had painstakingly explained that, in view of recent events, their safety
needed to be a priority. They were to stay at the property, if at all possible.
They had readily agreed to the alarm, but Kathleen was wary of the police
presence. It had taken some deliberating, but she had finally agreed.

Arrangements, completion of all the relevant paperwork, making other
agencies aware, had taken hours. It had been almost two o’clock in the morning
by the time she got home, peeled her clothes off and jumped straight into bed
but, in spite of this, she still couldn’t sleep.

Helen shifted
again and closed her eyes firmly. The pressure was increasing. There was not
only the expense to consider. A large, visible police presence would almost
certainly increase public interest again. Jenkins was expecting an arrest – and
fast.

Chapter Eighteen

Aaron
Gravell
cocked his head as he watched the detectives unwrap
the new tapes and place them in the recorders. Having waved his right to legal
representation, he sat alone, wide eyes watching their every movement as they
prepared him for interview. When it came to the point where he had to identify
himself for the tape, Helen leant closer into the computer screen, from where
she was watching the interview remotely. Was that a glint of excitement in his
eye?

She was also surprised to see how little resemblance he bore to his
sister. The fastidiously smart Kathleen would have been disgusted at how her
brother’s blue and white striped shirt sat loosely over a rotund stomach, his
grey trousers stretched across his large thighs. Aaron was stocky with wide
shoulders and a round face, littered with broken veins. His hair still showed
signs of blond, although what was left was
razored
to
a number one making him appear almost bald, but he did not look severe like
Kathleen – quite the opposite. His blue eyes shone and he had one of those
faces that almost always looked cheerful, in spite of his mood. His appearance
disappointed Helen. Although Aaron shared the fair hair and pale eyes, the
witness descriptions had indicated a slimmer, taller suspect.

He had no previous police record, but had been easy enough to find. A
quick trace at the General Records Office confirmed his birth in the Ripley
area, along with the names of his parents. DWP had then assisted with the rest,
tracing through child benefit, then national insurance records they tracked him
down to an address in the Birmingham
area.

Pemberton and Dark had both been surprised when they had picked him up
that morning. He hadn’t seemed phased at all, just inquisitive. Pemberton said
that he had never witnessed an interviewee who had come along to the station so
amiably - particularly when he had been told that he was to be interviewed in
connection with a murder enquiry.

In Helen’s experience, novices usually fell into two groups – those
nervous at what was going to happen and those angry about the intrusion into
their time. But he displayed neither of these emotions. Either it was her
imagination or he was actually amused and interested by the whole event, as if
he couldn’t wait to get home and relay the experience as anecdotes to friends
over dinner. Plus his wife, Jenny, of 26 years, had come along for the ride and
was sitting in reception waiting for him. Did they think this was a family outing?

Once introductions were over, DC Dark started the questioning. “Could you
tell us where you were on the afternoon and evening of Friday 20th November?”

“Last Friday?” Aaron looked across at the bare wall, deep in thought. He
scratched the back of his neck, “I was down the road at number 33. I’m building
a conservatory for my neighbor. Was there most of the day.”

“Number 33?”

“Yes, 33 Winchester
Road.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

“Sheila York is the owner. She was there most of the day, only popped out
for a bit in the afternoon to walk the dog.”

“What time would this be?”

“Around 3 o’clock. But she wasn’t gone for long. Bubbles, her Great Dane,
caught her dew claw in a wire fence. They came back about quarter of an hour
later and she took her to the vets.” Aaron screwed up his face. “Poor girl –
covered in blood she was.”

“And did you stay at the property?”

“I packed up around half three, just after she left, and went home. Like
to leave early on a Friday.”

“And where did you go then?”

“Home. Jenny and I are re-decorating, so I helped her peel off the
wallpaper in the back bedroom.”

“Did you go out again that evening?”

He stared at the desk as he thought for a moment. “No. We stayed in and
watched
Goodfellas
on DVD with a few beers. It’s one of my favorite films.”

Helen nodded across to DC Spencer at this point, who went into the
incident room to detail officers to get the alibi checked urgently.

“Thank you,” continued Dark. “Do you know a man called Jim or James
McCafferty
?”

“Never heard of him.” Aaron shrugged. “Is that who was murdered?” He
looked from one detective to another. Neither responded, just looked at him,
watching his reaction. “It is, isn’t it?”

Helen watched as they sat in silence for a moment, a tactic often used in
interview to induce the interviewee to talk. Most people hated silence. “Well
I’m sorry I can’t help you,” he said eventually. “I never knew the man.”

“Thank you. Would you like to tell us about your family, Aaron?” He
looked surprised at the change of tact. “Yes, I have a wife named Jenny, whom
you’ve met, and a daughter named Ellie. Is this something to do with them?
Because I’m sure they don’t know him either.”

Dark ignored the question. “How old is your daughter?”

“21 years old.” He sat tall, every inch the proud father. “She is at Northampton University reading criminology.”
Is that it?
thought Helen. Is he using
this as research on police procedures for his daughter’s course? Ready to
report back on a real life police interview.

 
“Anyone else?”

“Not on my side,” Aaron replied succinctly. “My parents are dead and I
have no siblings or aunts and uncles still alive.”

“When did your parents pass on?”

He cocked his head again, then straightened it before he rubbed his chin.
“Lets see. Dad died . . . It must be three years ago now. Mum died last year.”

“Were you close?”

He arched his forehead, blinked and nodded slowly. “Suppose so. I was an
only one and they lived in the same village. Jenny and I nursed Mum through her
cancer, until she was too ill and went into
Cranfield
Hospice.”

“You had no siblings?”

Again, that head cocked but this time it was joined by narrowing of the
eyes – as if he’d figured out where the questioning was going. “Not that I see,
no.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, I have a sister named Kathleen but we are . . . What’s the word?
Estranged. Don’t tell me this is something to do with her?”

“How did you find out that you had a sister?”

He exhaled loudly through an open mouth. “It’s rather odd actually. I
grew up believing I was an only child and it wasn’t until last year that I
heard.”

“Can you explain to us how you found out?”

“Mum told me. She called me to the hospice one day, about a week before
she died, said she had something important to tell me.” He paused, stared into
space, as if he were recalling those moments.

“Go on.”

“She said that she had been ‘
expecting
’
when she had met Dad, with someone else’s baby. They got married quickly and he
took the child on as his own by all accounts. Mum said she was beautiful -
people used to remark on her blue eyes and blond, curly hair. But he couldn’t
warm to her, every time he looked at her, every time people remarked how lovely
she was, all he could see was my mother with another man. They almost broke up
over it.”

“What happened?”

“I came along and she was sent to live with Aunt Kate, mother’s sister.
We never saw her, never even visited. Mum said it broke her heart, but it would
have made it all the more difficult to see her, watch her grow up from afar. So
she cut ties with her and Aunt Kate for good.”

“Why do you think she told you?”

He stared at the table for a moment, lost in thought. “I think she was
thinking of Ellie,” he said finally.

“Your daughter?”

“Yes. You see she’s an only child too. We couldn’t have any more. My
wife’s parents passed away many years ago and she only has one brother who
lives in Scotland.
Mum used to worry about Ellie being lonely in her old age. I genuinely think
that she meant us to look her up and try to establish a relationship, for
Ellie’s sake.”

“What did you do?”

“At the time? Nothing.” He shook his head. “I told Jenny, of course, but
Mum’s condition was deteriorating and we were back and forth to the hospice
twice a day. We decided not to think about it again until after she’d gone.”

“How did it make you feel?”

He pushed his lips together, an expression which turned down the corners
of his mouth, in thought. “Not sure really. I was a bit shocked I suppose.”

“Were you angry?”

He thought for a moment. “No, not angry. I just felt a bit . . .numb, and
disappointed maybe. She’s not dead as well is she?”

Dark shook her head. “You were disappointed?” she said trying to steer
him back round.

“Yeah. I mean it would have been great to have had a big sister to play
with at home.”

“Would you say you felt agitated?”

“To be honest, I didn’t give it a lot of thought. Mum was really poorly,
and I was working on a barn conversion that we had a penalty clause on if we
didn’t finish it by the deadline. So, I didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on
it. I must admit, when I found the photos in the loft I felt a bit . . . Well
sad. Of what might have been . . .” He stared at the table again, mesmerized in
thought. “I say,” he said looking up, “I’m sure her family wouldn’t be involved
with anything like murder. They just don’t seem the type.”

“What happened after your mother died?” Dark said, determined to continue
on track.

“Nothing at first. We were busy tying everything up, arranging the
funeral, wake and all that. It wasn’t until afterwards when I was clearing the
house that I found some old papers in the loft. There was a birth certificate,
a picture – you know, those colorful,
splodge
ones
that young children do that don’t look like anything in particular, and some
baby photos. It wasn’t until then that I found out her name, Kathleen.”

“What did you do then?”

“We decided to try to trace her. Spoke to the Salvation Army at first.
Someone at Jen’s work told her that they can help to trace long, lost
relatives. But after a couple of months, when we didn’t hear anything, we
decided to give it a shot ourselves.”

“How did you find her?”

“My wife has a friend who’s into genealogy. We used the internet mostly,
then sent off for certificates and things. It was quite exciting actually. We
felt a bit like detectives.”

“And what did you find?”

“That she is alive and married to an Edward Cottrell. They even live in
Hamptonshire
. Worthington
to be specific. I can give you the address if you are interested? I think I
still have it at home.”

“That would be helpful. Have you made contact with her?”

“I wrote to her but she didn’t reply. I was going to leave it at that,
but Jenny insisted we try again, so we called around to her home one Sunday
afternoon, a couple of months ago.”

“What happened?”

He exhaled a short, sharp breath through his nose, dismissively. “Once I
introduced myself I was made to feel very unwelcome. Her husband was polite,
but she was quite rude. Asked us to leave and never contact her again. Jenny
was quite upset.”

“And did you?”

“What?”

“Leave?”

“Absolutely. There wasn’t any point hanging around.” They sat in silence.
“Shame though,” he added.

“Why?”

“Well she has a daughter only slightly older than Ellie. They could have
been great friends.”

*
* *

Helen was in
a stinking mood by the time she arrived home that evening. Aaron
Gravell’s
alibi was confirmed and, in the absence of any
relevant evidence, they had been forced to release him. Just when she thought
they were at the brink of a breakthrough, just when she thought they were
getting somewhere, they were nowhere. And all the time the clock was ticking .
. .

Finding Ross was a priority now and she had taken the unusual step of
arranging an urgent press conference early that morning, with his family
present, seeking out witnesses to record his last movements. But, as the public
face of Operation Marlon she hadn’t been able to chair it. Helen decided not to
release the removal of the tattoo, not to include Anna, not to give the public
any indication that Ross’ disappearance and the murder inquiry were linked. The
last thing that Helen wanted was to increase any press attention directed at
Anna, or encourage speculation that she is involved in two potential murders.
Such attention may frighten the killer away and do irreparable damage to Anna.

Instead, Superintendent Jenkins had stepped up and taken over. She had
watched it remotely and he had done a good job. The parents had been tearful,
Ross’ father appealing for witnesses, sightings, anything. But so far, apart
from the odd crank call which often occurred when they set up public appeals,
they had received nothing new to go on.

Helen had been so sure that the killer was someone close to the family.
But what if they weren’t? What if she had been wrong all along? It was almost
as if someone, somewhere was playing a game, but she wasn’t party to the rules.
A week down the line and the investigation was going nowhere and, with Sawford
looming on the horizon, it felt like the lowest point in her career.

As she unlocked the front door she was taken aback by the sound of a soft
bark. She walked into the hallway and wrinkled her forehead. Was that was
coming from her lounge? She stood still for a moment and listened quietly.
Nothing. “Hello!” she called out. And there it was again, the unmistakable
sound of a deep, gruff, bark, and scampering footsteps getting closer by the
minute.

She placed her briefcase on the floor, removed her coat. There was a
strange smell in the air that she couldn’t identify. Helen rubbed the back of
her neck as she crossed the hallway to the kitchen.