Doors Without Numbers (11 page)

Kathleen took off her coat and scarf, flicking her hair loose. It was still long and auburn, darker than he remembered but glossy and soft. She wore a black v-neck sweater and dark trousers with heeled ankle boots. She sat down on the sofa in an expectant manner. Since there was no-where else to sit, Hammond sat beside her, perched on the edge so he could turn his face toward her. They politely exchanged information on how they were and agreed how pleasant it was to see each other again.

“I confess I had no idea your surname was DiMarco, I didn’t know it was you.”

Kathleen smoothed a crease in her trousers. “It was my married name.” It was obvious she wanted to concentrate on the reason why she was there.

“Wallace, I understand that my father saw you recently?”

Hammond answered this was correct. She had spoken as if asking a question rather than confirming fact. He wondered how much Harris had told her.

“He asked for your help?” She continued without waiting for a response, and then turned her body slightly so that she was facing him directly.

“I realise what I will say will appear disloyal to my father but I need to say it.” She paused and lowered her eyes to her lap where she had cupped one hand in the other.

After taking a deep breath, she looked back at Hammond until their eyes met.

“I don’t know what my Father has told you, but I am asking you, as a friend to us both, to ignore anything he told you when you met the other day. To not do what he may have asked you to do.”

Kathleen was speaking in code but Hammond understood that she could know more than she was letting on. Either she was pretending to know more as a way of getting him to speak freely and divulge information or she was trying to determine how much he knew already.

“What is this about Kathleen? It is true your Father asked me to help by looking into something, but he understood it may not be possible or even necessary.”

Kathleen listened. “Wallace, I know what my Father asked you to do. He wants you to investigate a suicide that happened recently. Am I right?”

Hammond smiled a reply.

“My father is not well. He gets confused easily, sometimes sees problems where they don’t exist. Ever since his retirement, he has felt the need to investigate. He cannot give up the habit of detecting crime, even when there is no crime to detect. I am sorry to say that helping Dad would be a waste of your time.”

“What do you mean your Dad’s unwell? Is there something I don’t know? Forgive me Kathleen but I get the impression you are not telling me everything. If there is something that I should know, please tell me.”

Hammond resisted the urge to look at his watch, he didn’t want to be late a second time for the team meeting.

“Dad has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. It’s still the early stages, but he has good days and some days when he gets so confused, he doesn’t make sense. It could be something subtle, like forgetting your name when he talks to you or stopping mid sentence with no idea that you were having a conversation, but there have been occasions when he has gone shopping for groceries and then forgotten the way home.”

It was as if Kathleen had punched Hammond in the stomach, the shock of her confession made him feel sick. He felt ashamed that he had had no idea Harris was unwell. Harris had behaved oddly during their recent meeting, but he had no idea of how severe the situation had been. Harris had always been so sure about life, about his work. He found himself swallowing repeatedly. His throat hurt. He looked around the room for the water dispenser. Spying it by the window, he hastily filled a cup with water, throwing the cool liquid down his throat in large gulps. He remembered his manners too late and offered a drink to Kathleen who declined. The silence that hang in the air between them was interrupted by the sound of his mobile phone vibrating in his pocket. He wanted to ignore it, but instead excused himself to Kathleen and answered the call. Lois Dunn spoke efficiently on the other end, telling him the team had assembled in the briefing room. He told her he was on his way and ended the call.

Kathleen understood Hammond’s predicament. She stood up and picked up her coat and scarf from the sofa, hanging it loosely over her arm. She approached him as he leaned against the water dispenser, pretending not to notice the moisture in Hammond’s eyes.

“I can see this wasn’t the best time. How about we make an arrangement to meet another time? Shall I call you?

“No, I will call you.”

Hammond straightened up and called to her as she started to leave the room.

“Kathleen, thank you for telling me. I am sorry about your Dad.”

She held his gaze for a prolonged moment and then closed the door behind her.

The man had been standing in the cold for over an hour. He had watched her smoking a cigarette outside the police station before a tall grey haired man wearing shabby attire came outside and embraced her. The man hadn’t looked like a policeman, he looked more like a vet but the chances of a vet meeting her at a police station were pretty slim he reasoned. He remained at his post across the road, watching with interest as she was ushered into the building. He waited for several moments, then he crossed the road and entered reception. Using the pretext of having recognised the grey haired man but couldn’t remember his name was all he needed to get the information he wanted. He thanked the officer at reception before exiting the building and pressed re-dial on his mobile. The voice on the other end of the phone was well spoken and gave the impression of good breeding. Each word delivered with articulation, without inflection. The same way the orders were given, no matter how demanding they were; there was never any doubt what was expected. Standing in the cold and wet was something he had to do often, but it was part of the job and he did it with the hope that it would be followed by a more active role. Watching someone was just the start. Eventually he would know his subject so well that he would be able to think like them, to recognise their habits, their preferences, he would be able to predict their next move. This was an invaluable skill he possessed, in some ways it made him invincible.

“
Man lives by imagination.”
Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life. 1923

“I understand we have a name”.

Hammond brushed past Michael Galvin who was seated with his back facing the door. He had not noticed Hammond’s approach and got up hastily as Hammond passed him. The tone of Hammond’s voice was detected as being unusual, but the team were unsure whether it was a positive change in attitude or the opposite. Silent communication between the team members proceeded with stares and facial expressions. With jerks of the head, Galvin and Edwards elected Dunn to speak first.

“Yes we do, Graham Roberts aged 59 years. We have an address in Dymchurch Road. He lived alone, he was a widower, his wife having died from breast cancer in 1998. They had no children. In 2002, he was arrested and charged with driving under the influence of excessive alcohol consumption.”

Hammond sipped his tea. His throat still hurt.

“Apparently we have his fingerprints on our database.” This was spoken directly to Galvin.

“Yes, from the drink driving charge but also there was a disturbance a few years back in Hythe High Street. Roberts was accused of indecently approaching a six year old boy outside the public toilets. The mother of the child caught Roberts exposing himself to the boy and created a scene.”

“When was this?”

“2001. No charges were brought against Roberts. He claimed it had been a misunderstanding; that he had used the urinal and hadn’t fastened his clothing properly. However, his details were kept on record as a precaution.”

It was worth checking with the Public Protection Unit at Canterbury, just to check that Roberts hadn’t caught their attention since the incident in 2001.

“What about the mother and child that made the accusation, are they still local?”

Hammond considered interviewing the mother again. Even if the incident had happened nine years ago, there was a strong possibility the mother would remember her child having been in a possibly dangerous situation. His direct manner was making Galvin nervous.

“I don’t know, I will check.” Galvin stopped short, unsure how to continue. Hammond took another sip of tea and rubbed the back of his neck wearily.

“This is what we have so far. As our Mr Galvin is aware.” He ignored the looks passed between Dunn and Edwards. They probably were not aware of Galvin’s attempt to earn extra house points by talking to Henderson.

“...we now have an identity for our victim, which means we can ask around, get some background information on him, and question the neighbours. He may be a regular at the local pub, check for any family members. Galvin, that will be your job starting first thing in the morning. We know he was spending time with the kids in the woods, what we don’t know is why. Was he there as an invited spectator, as a coach, or simply an interested bystander with nothing else to do on a Saturday or weekday evening? What was Roberts doing the day he died? Look at phone records; check to see if he had arranged to meet anyone in the woods. Dunn, did you have any luck at the school?”

Dunn shook her head.

“We showed an artist sketch of Roberts rather than the post mortem photo, some older children thought they recognised him, but they were very vague. Edwards asked around about the play tracks.” Dunn looked at Edwards, willing him to debrief his own findings which Edwards did with a casual manner, he remained seated on his chair, slouched back with one leg resting on the other knee.

“Fourteen year old Robert Freeman is a regular rider at the track. He reckoned there were two or three others that used the track on a regular basis but he didn’t know their names or recognise them as students from his school. I checked at the local primary school, but no one could help. I guess they’re too young to be allowed to build tracks on their own. I’m going to go to the Grammar School in Folkestone to check there.”

“Good. I would like to get information from as many kids as possible. Galvin, you went to Saltwood today, did you have any luck or were you too busy pestering the pathology department?”

Galvin smirked a little.” I’ve got a list of the regulars who compete in the Boxing Day Run. The audio test proved negative. The trees are too dense for sound to carry far. The door to door enquiries were less productive, although one Saltwood resident remembers Graham Roberts. Her name is Sally Whittaker, she walks her dog through the woods during mid-day. On several occasions she had seen Roberts with a group of boys. The most recent was during the summer holidays, he was laying flexi coil on the tracks. She didn’t know the boys who were with him but said they were about fifteen or older.”

Ok, so let’s look at what we do have. We know that Graham Roberts liked to hang around the play park, the canal and the woods. This could simply be the wanderings of a lonely man, or it could be a deliberate ploy to be near children. Until we can talk to the children he used to hang around with and get more background information on him, we cannot assume he had paedophile tendencies. Therefore it is extremely important that we handle this very sensitively, any indication that this was related to a sex crime, and we will have an uproar.” Hammond made sure this comment was understood. He trusted his team to be discreet but it was important he cautioned them, if only to justify his actions to Beech later on. Hammond repeated the information that Dr Henderson had gathered from the autopsy. “From the injuries Roberts sustained, it appears that he was facing this assailant, possibly with his trousers down, maybe exposing himself when he was first struck. There is evidence that a bike was either thrown at him, or he fell over a bike. But for the sake of argument, let’s say a bike was thrown at him, Roberts turns away as if to run, his trousers still undone and he is struck by a blow to the side or to the chest.”

“That suggests more than one attacker.” Edwards interrupted.

“Yes, it is a possibility, although the scene did not show much evidence of a scuffle. If there had been more than one person beating the crap out of him, the ground would have been disturbed much more.” Dunn surmised.

“Not necessarily, it had rained a lot, maybe the soil was washed over the disturbed ground.” Galvin interjected.

“Either way, it looks as if one of the kids are guilty of something.” This hypothesis was offered by Edwards.

“Or it could be a parent, someone who witnesses Graham Robert’s expose himself to the BMX boys and took objection, reacting violently. There are multiple fractures and lacerations. Our victim was battered by a weapon immediately to hand, therefore, it is unlikely it was a premeditated attack, more of a frenzied rage.”

Hammond realised that they were all presuming Roberts was in some way responsible for his own death, he reminded himself to be objective and consider that Roberts was the victim of a brutal attack. There was still a chance that he was not a sexual deviant but rather a man whom simply enjoyed children’s company. He focused on the identity of the assailant. “There is the suggestion that we are looking for someone shorter than Roberts, as the force of the blows were aimed at the chest and lower body. Roberts was six foot two inches. We can concentrate our search for someone around five foot five inches tall who has good upper body strength.” Lumps of wood are heavy, if the wood was repeatedly swung, it would have been exhausting Hammond deduced.

Edwards spoke up “What if the attacker was originally on his knees? There were traces of semen, what if Roberts was getting a blowjob before he was struck?”

Hammond replied that it was unlikely any DNA would have survived the weather conditions but, presuming that the attacker had reacted after witnessing Roberts getting sexual gratification from another person, there may still be trace evidence. By now Hammond was tired, he needed a hot meal and a good sleep. The day had been an emotional rollercoaster, one minute he had been playing practical jokes with Jenny, the next he was reminded of how vulnerable even the strongest man could be. He swallowed hard, thinking of Harris.