An Unfamiliar Murder (23 page)

As soon as she opened the door she felt the blow to her face. Instinctively,
she raised her hand to her lip in pain as a huge tongue lapped across her face.

“Boomer! No!” Matthew rushed into the room from the Conservatory,
followed quickly by Jane
Lavery
. Helen sat up and
stared at the cream Labrador which had turned
to face her son and was now whacking its her tail against her head, a movement
that seemed to make her whole back end waggle.

She looked up into the face of her mother. “What’s going on?”

*
* *

He licked his
lips as he sharpened his instruments, one by one, slowly does it. He was
working up to his crescendo. Everything had to be just perfect. Last night he
had been prowling around the field behind Anna’s parents’ house, watching the
furor. He paused, closed his eyes and felt the blood still fizzing through his
veins. Three months of meticulous planning, now coming together. And, after
tomorrow, he would re-gain the respect he deserved.
Nobody
would dare cross him again.

It was like a
game of chess and he was making all the vital moves. He had already annihilated
the Pawns, defeated the Bishops, removed the Knights and Rooks. Tomorrow he
would face his Queen. And everybody knows that once the Queen is lost, the game
is inevitably over.

Chapter Nineteen

Anna stared
at the digits on the bedside clock. It was six o’clock. She had barely slept a
wink. It clearly wasn’t bad enough that she had discovered a murdered body in
her flat, her boyfriend had disappeared and she had been forced to move back in
with her parents. Now, with the presence of the police permanently fixed in her
mother’s lounge downstairs, she felt that she was under house arrest.

Someone must hate me very much.

She pondered the extraordinary events of the last week. Bizarrely, in
some ways things were starting to make sense for Anna. She had been cared for
and supported during her upbringing. Her mother had always been controlling,
but maybe, considering what she had learnt about her background, with the best
possible intentions. During her teacher training she had read about children
that experienced such abnormalities in their formative years. They either
repeated them or fought against them. Her mother had fought against them, just
fought a bit too hard.

But Anna never really felt like she had fitted in, she had never been
able to put her finger on it, but something was not quite right. Now that the
paradoxical life she had lived for so many years had been shattered in a matter
of days, that part of her life was starting to make sense, whilst the other
side – her relationship with Ross, her future – was falling apart at the seams.

She felt suffocated. She needed to get out of there. It was just a matter
of how . . .

*
* *

Helen opened
the curtains and stared into the early morning darkness. The weatherman on the
radio was promising a morning frost which would clear the skies to provide brilliant
sunshine, the only kind of winter’s day that could be described as pleasant in
her book. The case drifted into her mind. George Sawford was joining them
today, on a sunny day, when they had no significant leads. The weather was
probably the only good news she was going to get. She grabbed her bath robe and
made her way downstairs. There was that same thick, musty smell, like clothes
that haven’t dried properly. She could hear a noise – thump, thump, thump as
she approached the kitchen and opened the door, gingerly this time.

The lapse in time had done nothing to curb the dog’s enthusiasm. It came
rushing towards her, but this time she was ready. She stood firm and pushed it
gently away. It responded by licking her fingers and she couldn’t help but
smile inwardly at the happiness of the friendly creature.

“
Boomy
, that’s enough now,” warned Jane
Lavery
. She looked up at her daughter. “I think you’ve
found a new friend.”

“How long is she here for?” Helen asked, as she sidestepped the animal,
leaned over and flicked the switch for the kettle.

“Only a week. Susan flies back on Thursday.”

“Good.”

“Oh, don’t be such a spoil sport. She’s lovely really, just a little
exuberant.” She leant down and stroked the animal’s soft head.

“Yes. I discovered that last night. I’m nursing a bruise on my thigh,”
she raised a hand to her head and touched it lightly, “and I’ve got a lovely
one on my forehead too. All in all, I think I did well to escape a black eye.”

“Well, she’s just a puppy really, only 14 months. She’ll calm down.”

“I’m sure,” Helen said.

“Anyway, I think it’ll be good for the boys.”

“So you said last night.”

“Don’t you think so?” Helen shrugged back at her mother in response. “It’ll
give them a bit of a focus,” she continued, “just what
Matty
needs right now.”

“If you say so. How was he yesterday?”

“Oh, the same really.”

Helen sighed and pointed across at the side. “I’ve picked up a couple of
leaflets on the Air Cadets.” The words
Air
Cadets
caught in the back of her throat.

Jane
Lavery’s
face brightened. “I’m sure he’ll
be really pleased.” They stood in silence for a moment. “You are doing the
right thing you know,” her mother added softly.

“Yeah?” Helen’s voice broke as she said it. “Then why does it feel so
wrong?”

Helen pressed her forehead again in an effort to relieve the ache that
was rising in intensity. The dog was now chasing a ball around the kitchen, a
ball which was clattering against the bottom of the cupboards. “Can’t she do
that outside?”

Jane
Lavery
gave her daughter a disapproving
glance. “Come on,
Boomy
. Somebody got out of bed the
wrong side this morning. Come and have a treat in my lounge.”

There were days when Helen loathed her mother’s intrusion into her adult
life. Days when she resented the ridiculous notion that a thirty something
women still lived with mother, and it wasn’t as if she was caring for her in her
old age: she was actually looking after her. Days when she wanted her independence,
to look after her own family, her own way – bring back a partner and have mad,
passionate impromptu sex on the dining room table when the boys were in bed,
drink bottles of wine and stay in bed until lunchtime the following day. This
was one of those days. And the guilt sucked away at her, draining her of
emotion, oxygen, life itself.

*
* *

Helen arrived
at the station just before eight. Pemberton followed her into her office.

“Morning, ma’am.”

“Morning, Sean. What’s up?”

“
Rab
McCafferty
is
downstairs. He’s been here for over half an hour. Says he won’t leave until
he’s spoken to you.”

Helen dropped her bag and briefcase on her desk and turned to face him.
She pushed her tongue against the teeth at the side of her mouth and thought
for a moment.

“OK. Can you get me the CCTV stills and the e-fit of the suspect?”

“Sure.” He disappeared and left her pondering as she unpacked her
briefcase.
What could
Rab
McCafferty
want to see me about so urgently?
She
was just pulling the last file out when Pemberton returned with the pictures
covered in a buff file. He had read her mind.

“Shall I come with you?”

“Not for the moment, Sergeant.” She hesitated and looked over his
shoulder into the incident room. “No news on the Inspector?”

Pemberton followed her gaze. “I saw him first thing.”

Very diplomatic.
Her patience
with Townsend was now running very thin. “What is his problem?” she asked.

“Same as it’s always been. He’s got some inflated opinion of himself.”

This outburst from Pemberton took her back. “Clearly, you’ve worked
together before.”

“Not
together
, as such. I don’t
think he works
with
anyone. We were
on an Auto-theft Operation about two years before he left Hampton. He was just the same then.”

Helen shook her head in disbelief. It was amazing how, in such a large
organization, this sort of behavior still got swept under the carpet. Not this
time . . .

She looked up at Pemberton. “Thank you, Sean. I appreciate your
frankness.”

 
“No problem.”

“If you see the Acting Inspector, could you tell him I would like a word?”

“OK.”

Helen sighed. Right now, she had more important matters to attend to. “In
the meantime, can you do the briefing for me?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. Do interrupt me if anything of interest comes to light, please?”

“Of course.”

 
Helen picked up the stills and
moved out of the office. As she made her way into the back of the main station
to the interview rooms, she thought of her family. A twinge of guilt jabbed at
her. Perhaps she had been a bit hard on her mother this morning? After all, she
was only helping out a friend. And maybe the dog would be good for the boys?
Perhaps she should make an effort and take the dog for a walk with them all
later?
Rab
had lost his father. He couldn’t spend
quality time with him anymore: open a birthday card, share a beer, laugh, have
fun. She could and she resolved to do something with her own family at the earliest
opportunity, even if it had to include the dog.

*
* *

“Good
Morning,
Rab
.” She shook his hand and settled herself
opposite him. “What brings you here so early in the morning?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He scratched his right temple.

“Must be catching.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” she replied, shaking her head. “Is there something I can do for
you?”

“I’m not sure. I keep going over everything again and again in my mind.
Why would anyone want to hurt Anna? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“We’re doing everything we can to try and find out. Are you sure there
isn’t anything else you can tell us? Your dad was killed and Anna’s boyfriend
has disappeared. It seems to me that you two are linked together in this case
somehow.”

He sighed. “I’ve been racking my brains, gone through all Dad’s friends,
acquaintances. I’d say enemies but he didn’t really have any. As long as he had
his beer and his fags he was happy.”

Helen tilted her head to one side. “And if he didn’t?”

“He wouldn’t hurt anyone. Might have stolen a few things, but he would
never have rubbed anyone up the wrong way like this. He didn’t have it in him.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” He looked up at her, surprised by the change in conversation. “Well,
I’m sure you’ll have checked my prison records. I was clean, kept my head down.
I just wanted to get out and get a life. I never wanted to end up like my dad.”

“What about outside of prison?”

“I don’t have those sorts of friends.”

 
“What about the guys you did the
robbery with? Maybe someone has a grudge against you?” She shook her head and
shrugged a single shoulder. “Or your family?”

“They’re all still inside. And they were only friends of a friend. I did
my time. I only got out before them because I wasn’t linked to a gun. I was
just the driver.” He twisted his head to one side. “But I never shopped anyone.
I’m not a snitch.”

“Maybe they don’t know that. Maybe they’ve organized something on the
outside?”

Rab
shook his head determinedly. “Don’t think
that I haven’t considered that. No . . . They might rough you up a bit if you
pissed them off, but murder? No, that’s not their thing. They’re just thieves .
. .”

“Thieves that shot someone . . .”

“It was a mistake. The gun went off. It was never meant to happen.”

Helen slowly opened the file of photo stills and e-fits of their potential
suspect and laid them out on the table one by one. There was a still of the man
with Jim
McCafferty
in the newsagents at Weston on
the day of the murder, a side profile of the same man and another of their
backs as they left. It was surprising how the digital imaging company had
managed to enhance them, sharpen up the blurred edges.

When Helen looked up, the color had completely drained from
Rab’s
face. He stared at them, wide eyed in horror. She was
expecting some distress – he was looking at his dead father and the date and
time was clearly noted on the still, but was that a flicker of recognition in
his eyes? A shot of adrenalin rushed through her.

“
Rab
, these are images taken from the
Newsagents in Weston on the morning your father was killed.” She pointed at
them one by one. He opened his mouth, appeared to be trying to say something,
but closed it again. “And this is an artists impression,” she pointed to the
e-fit, “based on witness descriptions of the man who was seen with Ross on the
night he disappeared.”

Rab
looked like he had seen a ghost. “Have you
seen him before?”

He nodded silently.

“Do you know his name?”

Rab
nodded, then placed his head in his hands. “I
don’t believe this . . .”

*
* *

Pemberton met
Helen on the stairs on her way back up to the incident room. “The Super wants
to see you in his office.”

“He can wait,” she said rushing past him. “Get everyone together, now!”

Helen was buzzing and by the time she had relayed the story to her team
each one had contracted her excitement.

“I want the suspect located as a matter of urgency, but don’t do anything
rash. We are dealing with a potentially deranged, possibly psychopathic, but
certainly very dangerous man. I want everyone on it. This is our priority.
Right, that’s it.”

It was with renewed vigor that she climbed the stairs to the Super’s
office. Finally, they had turned a corner. It was only a matter of time now
before they had a result, she was sure of it, and she couldn’t wait to share
the news.

June, Superintendent’s Jenkins’ secretary, was securing stray strands of
hair back into a loose bun at the back of her head. She looked up as Helen
approached her desk. Her kind face showed remnants of prettiness in younger
years, but sagged with age. “Go straight in. They’re expecting you,” she said
briskly.

They
, thought Helen. When
Pemberton had told her that the Super wanted to see her he hadn’t mentioned
company.
Don’t tell me Sawford has
arrived early, after all?
Her heart suddenly sank. She knocked briefly at
the door and entered before receiving invitation.

“
Ahhh
. . . Helen. Thanks for coming.” Jenkins
was seated behind his desk, a nonchalant look on his face. As she closed the
door, she was surprised to see that it was Townsend standing at the far side of
the office.

Townsend nodded at her briefly before fixing his eyes on the Super. The
knowing look that they appeared to share did not escape her attention.