Dead End (21 page)

‘In other words you aren't taking this seriously and no one's doing anything to look for my nephew because you think he's run away from home. Are you really telling me you think Vernon's chosen to run off and leave my poor sister in a state of collapse, worrying about him? That's preposterous.’

Geraldine sat back in her chair and let the other woman talk for a while. It was a difficult interview. Carol Middleton insisted the police should be devoting all their resources to finding her nephew, on the grounds that his mother was an invalid. What made it worse was her refusal to listen to anything Geraldine said. By the time she managed to get away, Geraldine felt exhausted.

‘You OK, gov?’ Peterson asked when she returned to the Incident Room.

‘I've just had a hammering from Vernon's aunt.’

Peterson smiled encouragingly. ‘He'll turn up, gov. He's a seventeen-year-old boy. He's probably gone off with some girl. It'll be OK.’ But he looked worried.

Carol Middleton's words niggled at Geraldine all the way home that evening. ‘My sister… my sister…’

When Geraldine had eaten she picked up the phone. Celia sounded surprised to hear from her. ‘Geraldine? What's up?’

‘Nothing.’ Geraldine felt a twinge of guilt that her sister had assumed something must be wrong for Geraldine to call her during the week. ‘I thought I'd call because we haven't spoken for a week. I just rang to see how you are.’

Celia launched into her usual account of her daughter's news. ‘Chloe got a commendation at school for a maths test. She's been seeing a fantastic tutor after school and -’

‘What about you?’ Geraldine interrupted.

‘What?’

‘Of course I want to hear all about Chloe, but I want to hear about you as well. You never talk about what you've been doing.’

There was a pause. ‘I had my hair cut,’ Celia said uncertainly and Geraldine felt like crying. ‘There isn't really much to say. What about you?’

It crossed Geraldine's mind that she ought to tell Celia about her visit to the adoption agency but she felt too tired to tackle the subject and was afraid she might become emotional. ‘I'm fine. So – what were you saying about Chloe's maths? I thought she was struggling with it.’

Celia didn't need any more prompting than that. With a sigh, Geraldine sank back in her chair and listened. As Celia talked about her only child, Geraldine's thoughts drifted to Vernon's invalid mother. She wondered where the boy could be, and hoped he was still alive.

36

RELEASE

M
atthew was checking through his post. ‘Bugger!’

Evie glanced up at her brother, eyebrows raised. ‘What is it?’ She knew better than to comment on his language but her face expressed her disapproval. Ben continued eating his breakfast and Lucy picked at her disgusting scrambled egg, pushing it around her plate. Evie insisted they all sit down together for a cooked breakfast.

‘I've got another bloody speeding fine,’ Matthew mumbled.

‘What?’

‘I've got another speeding fine.’

‘As if you haven't got enough to deal with right now,’ Evie said. ‘Can't they leave you alone? How much is it?’

‘Oh God, don't ask.’

‘Well I think it's outrageous!’

‘Serves you right for speeding.’ Lucy glared at her plate without looking up.

‘Everyone speeds,’ Ben told her.

‘No they don't, not like him. He's always driving over the speed limit. It's totally irresponsible. He could kill someone –’ She broke off, biting her lip, and scowled at her plate. ‘They ought to take your licence away. Then you wouldn't be able to go and see her all the time.’

‘That's enough,’ Matthew warned her.

‘So now I can't even open my mouth in my own home!’ Lucy stood up, knocking her chair over. It fell to the floor with a crash as she dashed from the room.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds.

‘Can't you say you were upset? Claim special consideration or something?’ Evie asked at last. She turned to Ben with a bright smile. ‘That's what I like to see, an empty plate. Can you manage some more?’ He nodded and watched as she dolloped a spoonful of beans onto his plate. ‘And another sausage to go with it?’

He nodded again. ‘Thank you, Aunty Evie.’

She beamed at him before removing Lucy's plate from the table. ‘I'll leave this. She might feel peckish later…’

Peterson stared in consternation. ‘Speeding?’ he repeated. ‘Was it definitely Matthew Kirby?’ The sergeant wasn't the only one to look dismayed. A mumble of irritable voices rose and fell silent again as the DCI resumed.

‘Matthew Kirby's car was picked up on a speed camera at one ten on 24th October on the Maidstone road, just past the Tenterden bypass when, according to his statement, he was on his way to see Charlotte Fox – which means he couldn't have killed Abigail between one and four that afternoon, unless he left Charlotte again during the afternoon.’

‘We don't know where she was killed,’ Peterson pointed out. ‘Could she have been in the car with him then?’

The DCI shook her head. ‘The CCTV image is blurred, but there are no passengers in the car, and the driver looks like Matthew Kirby. There's no doubt it's him all right, driving his own car.’

‘Could he have already killed her and stashed her in the boot of the car?’

Kathryn Gordon stated the obvious. ‘SOCOs would have seen evidence. They've been over his car, inside and out, and found nothing. His tyres don't match any marks found near the recreation ground, and there's no record of his car being in that area on the 24th or 25th. So – could he have left Charlotte during the course of the afternoon, driven back to meet his wife somewhere, killed her and hidden the body, then dumped it by the recreation ground in the night? Is that feasible?’

Geraldine flicked through Charlotte's statement. ‘Charlotte said he was with her all Saturday afternoon and I don't think she was lying, ma'am. She didn't exactly have a story prepared, because she was very vague about the time he arrived. Here it is. She said, “He came round and he stayed here, with me, until late. Neither of us went out. I'm sure of it.” She told us it was after midnight when he finally left.’

‘Well now we know he must have arrived at around one twenty,’ Kathryn Gordon said.

‘Yes, ma'am. And apart from that, her statement's clear. She was adamant he was with her all afternoon and evening.’

‘Damn!’ Peterson burst out. ‘I was sure we had him.’

‘We can never be sure of anything until we have incontrovertible evidence in our hands. And even then we can be wrong…’ Kathryn Gordon rubbed her forehead with the fingers of her left hand as though trying to erase the lines. ‘You'd better go straight round there, Geraldine. Talk to him face to face and put him and his family out of their misery.’

‘I'm sure they'll all be relieved, ma'am.’ Except for Lucy.

Matthew was tempted to slam the door in her face when he saw the familiar features of Inspector Steel on his doorstep again. ‘What is it now?’ he could hear the agitation in his voice as he struggled to remain calm. ‘It's one thing after another with you lot.’

‘Mr Kirby, your car was picked up by a speed camera on the 24th October –’

‘I know, I know, I've got the letter. It's not the first time.’

‘Your car was picked up at ten past one on the Maidstone road, near the Tenterden bypass, indicating you arrived at Miss Fox's flat at around one twenty that Saturday afternoon. We believe your wife was killed between one and four that day. It's impossible to be exact about the time of death, so we will have to ask you not to leave the area without informing us of your whereabouts, but I'm here to inform you that you're no longer officially a suspect.’

‘So you believe me now? That I didn't do it.’

‘For the time being, Mr Kirby, but, as I said, please don't leave the area without telling us. If you do, it might look suspicious, and you don't want –’

‘Oh everything looks bloody suspicious to you,’ he replied, suddenly belligerent. ‘If I hadn't been speeding, you lot would still have me top of your list of suspected murderers, is that it?’

The inspector's face didn't show any regret and he thought what a cold bitch she must be, carelessly ruining lives as though other people were so many pawns in a game she was paid to play. ‘We're only doing our job, sir. I'm sure you're just as keen as we are to find out who killed your wife.’

Matthew shook his head, suddenly too tired to care any more. ‘Frankly, Inspector, I don't give a damn about your investigation right now. All you've done is upset my kids even more, with your unfounded accusations, as if losing their mother hasn't been bad enough. And nothing you can do is going to bring her back, is it? All I want now is to be left alone to bring up my kids and –’ He didn't add that he wanted to be with Charlotte.

‘We wanted you to know as quickly as possible.’ The inspector turned on her heel and walked away. He wasn't going to thank her anyway. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ he muttered under his breath before going inside to tell his family the good news.

‘Lucy! Come down here!’ he yelled up the stairs. ‘I've got some news! Lucy!’

‘Leave me alone!’ she called back. Matthew hesitated then shrugged and hurried along to the kitchen where Ben and Evie were waiting anxiously.

37

TALK

T
he atmosphere in the Incident Room was dejected. At least while they had a suspect, there had been something positive to work on. Now it felt as though the investigation had lost direction, and they were casting about in thin air, desperate for a lead.

‘What about Whittaker?’ the DCI suggested. ‘Is it a bit of a coincidence, his losing his kite in the trees near Abigail Kirby's body, the morning after she was left there?’

‘Almost as though he knew where the body was –’ someone added.

‘And wanted us to find it?’ another voice chipped in.

‘He was more concerned about his son than anything to do with the victim,’ Peterson said. ‘He didn't even seem very curious about Abigail Kirby.’

‘Because he knew all about her already?’ a constable countered. The excitement in his voice was infectious. ‘His preoccupation with his son could have been a deliberate distraction, to put us off the scent –’

The DCI cut in sharply. ‘Let's not allow ourselves to get carried away with speculation. However, I think it's time we had another word with David Whittaker, Geraldine.’

‘Yes, ma'am.’

Geraldine wasn't convinced by this new line of enquiry, but she was prepared to be open-minded about Whittaker, and anything was better than sitting at her desk pointlessly pushing bits of paper around.

‘It's worse than the morgue in there,’ Peterson said as they drove off to the garage where David Whittaker worked. They agreed that Geraldine would question the witness while Peterson checked the garage records in case Abigail Kirby had taken her car there to be serviced.

‘I wouldn't have put the two of them together,’ Geraldine said, ‘Abigail Kirby and David Whittaker –’

‘Forming a liaison –’ Peterson laughed at the idea. Geraldine was pleased to see he had regained his customary good humour. She guessed that things were going well with Bev but didn't ask for fear of setting him off again.

‘You never know.’

‘She might have brought her car here and met him. Fancied a bit of rough. And if he's lying about never seeing her before –’

‘Let's not get ahead of ourselves,’ Geraldine cut in. ‘It's facts we need now.’

David Whittaker looked surprised to see them. ‘Hello officers, have you solved the case then? I still haven't told the wife, you know.’ He grinned sheepishly, wiping his oily hands ineffectively on a filthy rag. Geraldine hoped he wasn't expecting them to shake hands with him. ‘She read about it in the papers. I was bricking it, thinking the boy would blurt it all out, but he held his tongue.’ Geraldine and the sergeant exchanged a glance. ‘You don't think I'm wrong do you, encouraging the boy to lie to his mother like that? It's not as if he had to actually tell a lie, he just had to say nothing. That's not the same as lying, is it?’

Geraldine smiled. ‘You should have been a lawyer, Mr Whittaker.’

‘Or a politician,’ Peterson added under his breath as he went off to check the records.

Geraldine found it hard to believe that David Whittaker's friendly, chatty personality might be a front for a vicious murderer who had killed and mutilated his victim.

‘Where does your son go to school, Mr Whittaker?’ Geraldine asked.

‘St Gregory's. Do you know it? It seems a decent enough place, but at the end of the day you take what's on offer, don't you? He's happy there, anyway, and that's the main thing. He's a happy little chap, takes after me. People go bonkers over all this education lark, but what do they really teach the kids? It wasn't any different in my day. When all's said and done it all comes out in the wash. I can't remember too much of what they tried to teach me in school, and that's a fact.’

‘Mr Whittaker,’ Geraldine interrupted. He didn't strike her as nervous, he was just a man who liked to talk. She could easily imagine him spending hours with his mates, exchanging views and engaging in easy banter. ‘Had you ever seen the victim, Abigail Kirby, before last Sunday morning?’

‘Not as far as I know. She never brought a car in here that I can remember, so there's no way I would have come across her.’

Peterson joined them and nodded grimly at Geraldine. ‘According to the records, Mrs Kirby brought her car here for a service and MOT back in August,’ he announced.

The mechanic looked puzzled. ‘Was she a customer then? Is that what you're saying? Well, if she was, I never met her. But I don't usually see the customers anyway. It's the girls in reception, or the manager if there's a problem. They're the ones who deal face to face with them when they bring their cars in. I just work on the vehicles.’ He held up his greasy palms as if to prove his point.

‘So you're positive you never met her while she was alive?’ Geraldine pressed the point home.

‘If I did, I don't remember. I already told you that. But tell you what, though,’ he added, almost as an afterthought. ‘If it was near the end of August when she brought her car in, I wouldn't have been here.’