Killer Plan (17 page)

44

On the way back
to her office, Geraldine speculated about why Eve hadn’t told them Nick had spent the night away from home the night before his murder. She might have been asleep and not realised he had been absent all night, especially if they slept in different rooms. It was also possible she might be aware that her husband hadn’t come home that night, and be concealing his infidelity out of a sense of loyalty. There was certainly no reason for her to suspect that he had spent the night with a fellow officer, one who was involved in investigating his murder. It was only chance that Geraldine knew Eve was lying at all. But there could be another reason for her wanting to conceal the truth. Nick’s adultery gave Eve a motive for hating him. His death could have been a crime of passion.

Geraldine hesitated to mention her suspicions to anyone for fear of revealing her own part in the drama. On impulse she stopped and turned to Reg who looked at her in surprise.

‘Reg, there’s something I’ve not told you. Nick came to my flat the night before he died.’

‘What exactly are you telling me?’

‘He came round for supper.’

‘Did he? So did he say anything while he was there that might have a bearing on the investigation?’

‘Yes.’

‘Go on.’

Geraldine told him once again about Nick’s concern that he was being followed. This time Reg listened without interrupting, a serious expression on his square face. She repeated Nick’s account, word for word, as accurately as she could. When she had finished, Reg shook his head, his brows lowered in a frown.

‘I can’t believe he confided in you not me,’ was his predictable response.

‘I was just there,’ she replied lamely. ‘But it gives us a lead, if we can trace the van he saw.’

Reg nodded with renewed energy. ‘Set a team to work checking CCTV following Nick when he left here the night before he spoke to you. You said it was the previous night he was followed, didn’t you?’

‘I’m not absolutely sure, but I think so. We can start there anyway, and then go back further if we don’t find anything when he left work that evening.’

They walked on in silence for a few seconds.

‘I still can’t believe it,’ Reg repeated at last. ‘I had no idea you two were seeing one another out of work.’

‘We were friends.’

‘Just friends? Or is there more you haven’t told me?’

‘We were just friends. We went out a few times for a drink. He came round to my flat once for supper. We talked about work. That was all.’

Like Eve, she lied readily. There was no need for Reg to know more than that. No one need ever find out in detail what had happened between her and Nick. It had no bearing on the case. She should have thought of this before, but she had been too worried and upset to think clearly.

‘After all, we did share an office.’

‘Well, I know that, but for some reason I had the impression the two of you didn’t get on that well.’

‘I suppose we didn’t to begin with.’

‘It seems unbelievable that you became friends so quickly.’

‘There’s a lot about Nick that seems unbelievable.’

‘And about you, Geraldine. It’s important to be discreet, but being secretive is hardly helpful.’

She didn’t remonstrate that she had tried to tell him about Nick’s visit to her flat on several occasions, but he hadn’t wanted to listen. As they arrived at his door, Reg detained her in the corridor.

‘Hang on a minute. You told me you were friends with Nick. If you’d rather leave the investigation to colleagues who weren’t so close to him, I’d understand.’ He paused, uncertain of his ground. ‘Like you said, you shared an office…’

‘And that’s all it was.’ She didn’t look at him, couldn’t trust herself to stare levelly at the suspicion in his eyes. He must have known Nick’s reputation with women. ‘I’m fine, really I am. I want to work on this investigation. I owe it to Nick.’

‘We all do,’ he answered heavily.

‘Don’t take me off the case, please.’

‘Very well. If you’re sure. Let’s not waste any more time.’

It sounded like a reprimand, which was hardly fair. Geraldine had attempted to tell Reg about Nick’s visit to her flat before. On the point of making a stinging retort, she pulled herself up short. Reg was upset about Nick’s death too. The two men had worked together for a long time, developing a close camaraderie. In his own way, Reg must be missing Nick as much as anyone. Now was not the time to lose her temper with him. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and agreed they must crack on.

They were able to establish an approximate time frame for Nick’s last journey. He was killed outside his house between eight and nine on Monday evening. Before that, Reg had been with him in the pub until about six thirty. The detective chief inspector had only stayed for one pint. He had to get away to see his sister and brother-in-law, so he was able to be quite specific about the time he had left.

‘There would have been hell to pay if I’d been home late,’ he added ruefully.

Under any other circumstances, Geraldine would have smiled at the thought of the detective chief inspector as a henpecked husband. But today no one was smiling. Reg had left Nick still finishing a pint. No one else had noticed Nick leave the pub after Reg had gone. None of the bar staff could recall how long Nick had hung around after Reg left, or whether he had stayed for another drink or left straight away. It wasn’t precise, but at least they could narrow down the time Nick had left to between six thirty and eight thirty, at the latest.

Geraldine sent Max to organise a team to watch CCTV of the roads leading away from the police station. She gave him specific instructions that they were to watch for the van Nick had mentioned. Then she set off to speak to Nick’s neighbours. However long it took, she wouldn’t stop searching until she found out who had killed Nick.

45

Geraldine drove back to
West Hampstead slowly, struggling against her reluctance to revisit the scene of Nick’s murder. It would be hard to look at the front yard where he had been battered to death, impossible not to be reminded of his warm body in her bed. Although she had resolved not to spend the night with him again, there was no way of knowing what might have developed between them if he hadn’t been murdered. She was tormented by the memory of the touch of his lips on hers, his hands on her body. In a way it was almost worse than losing someone she had been seriously involved with. He would remain a fantasy partner who could never disappoint.

Reaching her destination, she parked and sat for a moment in the car, feeling thoroughly wretched. She wasn’t sure she wanted to question his neighbours, but she could hardly have refused the task. At the same time, a masochistic urge to discover more about his relations with his wife drove her on. She told herself she would be pleased if she learned that they had been living together as a couple right to the end. Confirming he had lied to her might lessen the anguish she was feeling at his loss. But it wouldn’t bring him back.

With a shiver, she clambered out of the car and set to work. Whatever her feelings, she had to remain alert and professional. She couldn’t afford to miss any information, however insignificant it seemed. With a nod to a scene of crime officer who was still working outside Nick’s house, she rang the bell of the house attached to Nick’s. A grey-haired man came to the door. With an irritable scowl he asked her what she wanted. He was apologetic when he discovered who she was.

‘It’s a terrible business, a terrible business, struck down like that in broad daylight. But I’ve already spoken to a young woman in uniform. There’s not really anything else I can tell you. I was here with the wife on Saturday evening.’

His wife came to the door and confirmed his account of their Saturday evening. Although they had been at home neither of them had heard anything unusual from the street. Geraldine took a deep breath and plunged in.

‘We’re trying to build up a picture of their life next door. It’s routine, standard background information in a murder enquiry.’

It wasn’t a complete lie. Any information could be helpful. But the neighbours were unable, or unwilling, to comment.

‘We didn’t know them that well,’ the man said. ‘I know we lived next door, but we didn’t socialise with them. Not even drinks at Christmas. They weren’t very friendly really, which suited us. We like to keep to ourselves.’

Geraldine spent several hours doing her best to build a picture of the lifestyle Nick and his wife had shared. It was heavy going. By the end of the afternoon she was convinced that they had been living as a couple. Seen returning from the supermarket together, and occasionally going out together in the evening, the neighbours who backed onto their property had even spotted them sunbathing hand in hand in the garden in the summer. Whatever else Nick might have been, he had been a liar. Sam had warned Geraldine that Nick had slept his way around half the female officers at the station, before Geraldine had invited him to spend the night with her. Feeling like a complete fool, she was determined that no one else would ever find out what had happened between them. It wasn’t so very terrible, two adults choosing to spend a night together, but it would remain her secret. She told herself she was protecting his widow’s feelings, although she knew it had more to do with her own reputation.

Back at her desk, Geraldine tried to write up her notes on her discussions with Nick’s neighbours. Too distressed to concentrate, she struggled to summon up anger at Nick’s deceit. He had lied, to her, to his wife, to everyone. But whenever she looked up and saw his vacant chair, the desk where he had done his work, the keyboard his fingers had touched, she felt only a deep sadness. He had entered her life for such a brief time, and now she would never see him again, never hear his teasing voice or feel the lingering touch of his lips on hers. It was agony remembering how his eyes had met hers whenever she had looked up, as though he had been waiting constantly for her attention. To begin with she had resented having to share an office with him. Now she would give anything to have him back. His lies, his confused relationship with his wife, none of that mattered to her any more. She just wanted to feel his arms around her, and know that she mattered in his life.

Too restless to settle to anything, she went to see whether Max was making any progress searching for the vehicle that Nick had claimed followed him home from work the night before he was killed. The team watching the CCTV had spotted a small white van that drew away from the kerb shortly after Nick drove out of the police station car park. Geraldine started forward in excitement. She was disappointed when Max told her they hadn’t been able to get a clear shot of the registration number.

‘Look again,’ she said. ‘Surely you can do something to it?’

‘We’ve been over and over it,’ Max said wearily. ‘There’s nothing to see. There’s too much traffic. We checked all along the route to Nick’s house, but we didn’t see it again until Nick reached home.’

‘And then?’

The van had been visible briefly in Nick’s street, but once again the team failed to establish the registration number.

‘If it
is
the same van,’ Max added. ‘It could be, but we can’t be sure, even with the image enhanced. There are no obvious distinguishing features.’

‘Nick thought it was the same one.’

‘He could’ve been mistaken.’

Geraldine swore. ‘Look again,’ she repeated and strode out of the room.

It was frustrating to learn that they had sighted the vehicle without being able to identify it. They had no way of following it up to establish whether it was connected to the murder. Nick had allegedly seen it, but that didn’t help, because it could have been an innocent mistake on his part. What was worse, Geraldine was annoyed with herself for not having insisted Reg take her seriously when she had first mentioned Nick’s concerns. He must think her incompetent, as though her judgement was questionable. It was his misjudgement, but she was left feeling responsible.

46

They finished breakfast
and Brian cleared the table. He dumped the plates and cutlery in the sink for later. If he messed around stacking the dishwasher now, Ed might become restless. He was already bored with cartoons on television. Since Ed had moved in, mealtimes had taken on an unforeseen significance. However much the youngster ate, he seemed to be permanently hungry. They had stopped for him to throw up on the car journey home from the seaside the previous day, but he had still insisted on having crumpets and chocolate spread when they reached home.

They sat down at the table, and Brian set out draughts. The game wasn’t much fun for Brian, but he enjoyed watching Ed’s face. He was very competitive and grew sullen if beaten, exhilarated out of all proportion whenever he took one of his opponent’s pieces.

‘It’s only a game,’ Brian reminded him.

‘You said that because you’re losing!’ Ed crowed.

While he didn’t appreciate the boy’s gloating, Brian was pleased he was enjoying himself.

‘This is more fun than being at school, isn’t it?’ he asked and immediately regretted his words as Ed’s brow twitched with the flicker of a frown. The less he thought about his past life, the more quickly it would fade from his mind. Ed glanced up and stared past Brian’s shoulder.

‘There’s a man out there. He’s looking at us!’

He stuck his tongue out and laughed, oblivious to the threat. Brian spun round, fists clenched. Whatever happened he was ready to protect his young charge. A draughts counter slipped from his grasp to land on its rim and roll silently across the kitchen floor.

‘You lost a go!’ Ed shrieked gleefully. ‘You dropped a piece so that’s two turns to me!’

Brian didn’t care about the game. All he could think about was that their secret was no longer safe. He sprang to his feet and raced over to the window to see who was there. While there was no sign of an intruder, a ladder was propped up against the wall. Ed hadn’t been making it up. He had said quite categorically that the man was looking at them. Ed had been sitting facing the window. A spy outside would have a clear view of him sitting at the table, and could easily have gathered evidence. It didn’t need any special equipment. Anyone could take a photograph on a mobile phone. Brian turned to Ed.

‘Did he take a picture?’

Ed shrugged, puzzled. The likelihood was that someone had spotted Ed out with Brian on their excursion the previous day and had sent a spy to investigate, under the guise of cleaning the windows. Brian had known he was sitting on a time bomb ever since Ed had come to his house. The clock had started ticking.

‘We can’t stop now,’ Ed whined. ‘I want to keep playing. It’s fun.’

‘It’s time for a break.’

‘Just because you’re losing. That’s not fair. I want to play now!’

‘Be quiet.’

Ed was so surprised when Brian snapped at him that he stopped protesting at once. Brian had never spoken harshly to him before.

‘I need to think,’ Brian went on, more gently. ‘Be good. Go in the living room and put the telly on. I’ve got to speak to the window cleaner. As soon as I’m done, we’ll carry on. We’ll leave the game here, just as it is, and you can have an extra go because I’m the one who’s holding us up.’

‘You’re a cheat. I’ll know if you’ve moved any of the pieces. I know where they all are.’

Grumbling under his breath, he trotted off. Brian waited until he heard the television was on before he opened a door that led to the side passage. He winced as it creaked on its hinges. Peering round the corner of the house into the back garden, he saw the long wooden ladder still in place. It trembled as someone moved on it. Brian squinted upwards. From that angle the man’s feet looked impossibly large. If he had been sent round to the house to spy on them, he was doing a pretty good job of masquerading as a window cleaner. He might really be a window cleaner, paid to gather evidence that Ed was living there. Either way, he wasn’t about to pass on that information. Climbing the ladder to fool them would prove to be his downfall. Literally.

With a burst of adrenaline, Brian dashed forward and seized the ladder. The wood felt rough and warm against his palms as he yanked it backwards. As the top of the ladder swung away from the wall, Brian flung himself sideways. There was a sharp thump as the ladder landed, straddling the patio. Regaining his balance, Brian staggered over to the house and leaned against the wall to recover his breath.

The man lay motionless on the patio. Brian tensed, half expecting him to spring to his feet and attack, after being momentarily stunned by the fall. He could be feigning, watching through half closed eyes until Brian came within reach of his long arms. He waited a moment, but the man still didn’t stir. Trembling, he approached the prone figure and saw that he was thin with long limbs, and rough calloused hands. His head was turned to one side, his face a ghastly pale colour. Beside his cropped brown hair a trickle of blood had formed a small pool on the ground, staining it dark brown. If he had landed on grass, he might have survived the fall, but he had cracked his skull on a stone paving slab. Just to make sure, Brian pulled off his jumper, knelt down and held it firmly over the unresisting face.

The dead man couldn’t stay there. The body was unlikely to be seen, with the garden screened on either side by tall trees. All the same, it was possible someone might look out of an upstairs window in another house and notice him. He had to be dragged out of sight as quickly as possible. Desperately, Brian grabbed the inert figure under his arms and pulled. The body barely budged. Brian tried again, straining with all his strength.

‘What are you doing?’

Intent on his task, he hadn’t heard Ed come out into the garden. Sitting up on his heels, he stared at the boy in a panic, wondering how much he had seen, and how much he had understood.