Dead To Me (6 page)

‘Perhaps, I’ll check with our telecoms people. Sometimes they can copy the information. In case it’s needed in court.’

He signalled his agreement.

‘When did you last see Lisa, before half past three?’ Janet said.

‘In the morning, before I went to sign on.’

‘You had stayed at the flat together?’

He nodded, miserable. His eyes moist.

Janet kept going. ‘Do you know what Lisa was planning to do?’

‘She was heading into town.’

‘For anything particular?’

‘Just shopping,’ he said. His voice rose on the last syllable and Janet wondered if that was to do with his sorrow or if the question itself unnerved him in some way.

‘Does she go shopping a lot?’ Janet asked.

‘Not really.’

‘What was she going to buy?’

‘Dunno.’ He was avoiding eye contact and Janet sensed that there was something about the shopping that Sean didn’t want to discuss. Had they rowed about her going? Had she wanted him to go with her?

‘Was she going on her own?’ Janet said.

‘Yeah.’ He still wouldn’t look at her. Janet didn’t want to lose him now, digging down a diversion about the shopping, so judged it was time to return to the discovery of the body.

‘You said in your initial statement that you went straight into the living room and saw Lisa there.’ She softened her voice, kept it even.

‘That’s right.’ He bit at his thumb again.

‘I understand this will be hard for you, Sean, but please describe to me everything you saw.’

He swung his head down, bowing under the weight of her request. ‘She was by the sofa,’ he said, ‘on the floor, on her back.’ He shook his head, blinking rapidly, put a hand over his eyes. See no evil.

‘By the sofa?’ Janet echoed; she could hear Rachel writing. ‘What else did you see?’

‘Blood. I thought maybe she’d been shooting up – the blood all over her,’ he added, by way of explanation. ‘There was that much blood, I thought she’d messed up.’

‘Where was the blood?’ Janet asked him, hiding her puzzlement. She had in her mind the crime-scene photos from the book, the lumpy duvet covering the girl, part of Lisa’s face visible at the top of it, half-covered with her hair. There was blood on the carpet, some on the duvet, but Sean had said it was
all over her
. How had Sean seen the blood?

He swallowed.

‘Please can you tell me where you saw the blood?’ Janet said.

‘On her front and her dressing gown and the floor. All over.’ He shuffled in his seat, wanting to move away from the pictures in his head.

Janet was still trying to work out how this fitted. ‘Please can you describe the dressing gown?’

‘A Chinese thing.’

‘Was she wearing anything else?’

‘No,’ Sean said. He frowned hard, bit at his lip. ‘That’s why I covered her up. Made her decent.’

Oh, you dickhead, Janet’s first thought. Sean had completely compromised their crime scene. Behind her she heard Rachel shift about, prayed she’d keep her lip buttoned. His misguided attempt to show Lisa some respect would make it that much harder to obtain solid forensic evidence for the case. Janet could have broken the interview there, to alert Gill to the new information, but judged it wise to keep going a few more minutes.

‘Did Lisa usually shoot up?’ Janet asked.

‘No, she smoked. She didn’t like needles.’

‘OK. Where did you get the duvet from, Sean?’

‘The bedroom.’

‘When you covered Lisa up, did you touch her?’

‘No,’ he said, quickly, his face drawn, eyes troubled, frightened by the thought.

‘Did you notice anything out of place?’

‘The table was broke,’ he said.

‘Which table?’

‘Coffee table,’ he said.

‘Where was the coffee table?’

‘Next to Lisa.’

‘Lisa was between the table and the sofa?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘Did you touch anything else in the room?’

‘No.’ He looked away, staring at his hands.

Janet paused a moment to see if he’d renew eye contact, but he didn’t. ‘Did you take anything from the flat?’

‘No,’ he answered, almost before she’d finished asking the question. Defensive. Something that made him uneasy.

‘I’m going to have to ask you some very personal questions, Sean. I’m only asking them because they are crucial for our investigation, you understand?’

He dipped his head once.

‘When did you and Lisa last have sex?’

‘Last night,’ he said. ‘I mean, the night before,’ correcting himself.

‘Sunday night,’ Janet clarified.

‘Yeah.’

‘OK, and did you use a condom on that occasion?’

He shook his head. ‘She’s got an implant.’

Janet smiled. Safe-sex messages had obviously gone right over this lad’s head. ‘After you covered Lisa with the duvet, what did you do?’

‘I went outside and rang the police. I couldn’t stay in there.’ He pressed a fist to his mouth, scowling, eyes downcast.

‘Sean, do you know how long you spent in the flat before you called the police?’ He’d got there at half three, the call for help was five past four. What was he doing in that time?

‘No.’ Suddenly he was swiping his fingers at his eyes, no longer able to keep from weeping.

Janet waited a moment, then spoke: ‘Sean, we’ll have a break now,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry this is so distressing for you, but it helps us to do our job, it helps us find out who did this to Lisa. Is there anything else you want to tell me before we break?’

He shook his head.

‘Would you like anything to eat or drink, or a cigarette break?’

‘Yeah, a Coke,’ he said, ‘and a smoke.’ He sniffed loudly and clenched his mouth tight. Janet pulled a face in sympathy. Poor bastard.

7

GILL WAS RILED
, summing up for the team: ‘So, we’ve Mr Shit-for-brains to thank for coming over all prudish and ruining our crime scene.’ She turned to Janet, ‘Did he touch anything else?’

‘Says not.’

‘You believe him?’

‘No,’ Janet said.

‘Mitch?’ Gill invited him to chip in. The big lad was ex-army, a gentle giant. He was a good detective – they all were, bar Kevin, but Gill was determined to turn him round. His old boss had claimed Kevin was irredeemable, but Gill loved a challenge. Though she was beginning to wonder if Kevin was a lost cause. He didn’t seem to learn from his mistakes, just repeated them bigger and better. Self-criticism of a woodlouse.

Mitch spoke: ‘Sean Broughton in the system, fine for possession of Class B, cannabis. Oldham magistrates, five months ago.’

‘Not a caution?’ Gill asked, the usual policy for that offence.

‘Already had two.’

‘Naughty step not working for him,’ Gill said. ‘There were signs of Class As at the scene.’

‘Paraphernalia,’ Lee said. ‘No drugs recovered, though.’

‘Word is, both Sean and Lisa were using,’ Mitch added.

‘Supplying?’ Gill said.

‘No, not that I’ve heard.’

‘Did have a couple of call-outs, domestics,’ said Andy, ‘knocking lumps out of each other.’

‘Doncha just love ’em!’ Gill shook her head. ‘And where are we with—’

Rachel spoke up, interrupting her: ‘The brother, Nathan Finn, he died in January, suicide – but he was a junkie too.’

‘A family affair,’ Gill said. ‘Helps us how?’ She stared, unsmiling, put Rachel on the spot. The girl was bright, did she think this contributed to the case?

‘Dunno, background?’ Rachel slumped in her seat, smarting perhaps. Gill didn’t have time for it. ‘Do we fancy Sean?’ she asked the room.

‘Kevin does,’ Pete quipped. Laughter. Kevin gave him the finger.

‘We need more,’ Janet said. ‘I think he’s keeping something back but …’ She shrugged. Lukewarm about Sean being a credible suspect.

Things could change, Gill knew; people cycle through the roles from victim to witness to suspect and back.
‘There’s
another reason he delays calling us. Changes his clothes. Ranjeet reckons there would be some blood on the killer’s clothes.’ It was virtually impossible to knife someone and not come away with traces of blood. Especially when you retained the weapon. All they needed was a drop, a smear. Though with Sean, a defence lawyer would argue that he picked up blood traces in the process of covering Lisa up. It made the whole forensics side of it that much messier.

After talking it through with Phil Sweet, earlier in the day, Gill had put together her list for Gerry, the forensics submissions officer. She had wanted them to examine trace evidence from the body, from the duvet and from the sheet in the bedroom, but Gerry wasn’t playing.

‘I can’t authorize all this premium rate, Gill,’ he said. ‘What are your priorities?’

‘The body obviously, but given her state of dress and the indications that she had sex, I’d like to include the material from the bedroom.’ She could try, couldn’t she?

‘Yeah, and I’d like a Lotus and early retirement on a six-figure pension. However … straitened times.’

‘C’mon, Gerry.’

‘The best I can do is put the body samples through premium rate as a first tranche and let you have the second lot as standard.’

At least he wasn’t telling her to sit on part of her trace evidence, which might have happened. It would all get looked at, even if she had to wait longer for some of it. ‘You’re a hard man, Gerry.’

‘I am God’s gift, that’s what I am. You’re getting everything you want tested.’

‘Not when I want.’

‘Patience,’ he had said.

‘Go on,’ she told him, ‘bugger off and play with your budgets.’

‘For now, Sean Broughton is our witness, but talk to him again. Lisa’ – Gill moved the discussion on to focus on the victim – ‘left care, Ryelands House, eight months ago. They no longer have a duty of care but we should still pay ’em a visit. Lisa’s personal advisor is James Raleigh. Rachel, you talk to him: what was he dealing with, any recent trouble?’ Gill glanced at her papers. ‘Where’s Mr Finn?’ she said.

‘Mickey?’ Janet got there first.

‘Droll,’ said Gill. She saw a flicker of panic in Kevin’s eyes as he joined in the laughter. Poor sod didn’t know the term: Mickey Finn, a drink laced with drugs. Roofies the modern equivalent, rohypnol.

‘Bernard Finn,’ Pete said, ‘Irish citizen. Whereabouts unknown. Left the area in ninety-three. HGV driver.’

‘Right, now, we’ve only one FLO in place as yet and we are taking next-of-kin to do a formal ID.’ She looked at Janet: ‘OK, cock?’

‘Fine,’ Janet said.

‘If she’s fit, have a chat too.’ Gill saw Rachel glance at Janet, body language between the two of them like a pair of alley cats bristling for a scrap. ‘Take Rachel,’ she added to Janet. Throw them together, force them to work it out.

‘Thought I was doing the personal advisor?’ said Rachel.

‘Use your initiative,’ Gill said briskly, ‘time management. Kevin.’ Gill fixed on him, watched his face: untroubled, a kid, eager.

‘Boss?’

Gill waited.

Andy nudged him, gestured to Kevin’s notes. Though whether he had anything there apart from the schoolboy doodles he specialized in, Gill had no idea.

‘Yes, right.’ Kevin scratched at his head. ‘Erm.’ Kevin was a tier one interviewer, talk and write at the same time; how he’d progressed to Major Incidents was a mystery to all who had the pleasure of commanding him.

‘House-to-house,’ Kevin finally got going, ‘no sighting of Sean, though some more still to canvass. But old biddy at the end saw Lisa come home in a taxi.’

‘Time?’

‘
Heartbeat
was on, the first ad break.’

‘Which is …?’ Gill saw Andy roll his eyes in despair. He’d probably already told Kevin to pinpoint the time.

‘The one about the bobbies in the Dales.’

‘Time!’ yelled Gill.

‘I’ll check,’ Kevin said, affronted.

‘You do that,’ she said, making a mental note to discuss this with Kevin, how one piece of information needed developing, verifying. Coming home with half the story was not good enough. He had to join the dots.

‘Have we got the firm?’ she said to him.

‘I asked her that.’ Kevin was obviously pleased with himself about this stunning piece of detective work. ‘But she couldn’t remember.’

‘Get dialling, Kevin.’

His face fell.

‘Are we done?’ Gill surveyed them. Nods of assent. People made to move, gathering up papers, drinks, pens.

‘Janet – a word.’

Gill went to her office. Once Janet was inside, Gill closed the door to give them some privacy as the lads filtered back to their desks. ‘You’ve got your face on,’ Gill said.

‘I don’t have a face,’ Janet objected, baby blue eyes wide.