Night Watcher (27 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Claire’s hands cradled the cup of tea which had long since grown cold. It was very early in the morning – she had been up all night – and the kitchen was quiet except for the occasional hum of the fridge-freezer motor.

The supper dishes lay piled on the draining board. She had not had the energy to load them into the dishwasher last night and no longer cared. Life had suddenly become too complicated and what had happened was, in many ways, beyond her comprehension.

She had gone over and over things until her mind was reeling. But despite trying to rationalize the situation and find excuses, the one factor that remained unchanged was her conviction that Ken had murdered Nicole.

She had been surprised the police had not come yesterday to question him, although if they had that would have been a disaster, but she supposed they were gathering their evidence. That meant they might come today or tomorrow, and when they did, what was she going to tell them?

It was all bloody Nicole’s fault of course. If she had not been such a bitch, grabbing other people’s husbands because she was not satisfied with her own, this would never have happened. Even in death she would not let go. But he belonged to Claire. She was Ken’s wife and the mother of his children.

With a start, she realized she had not given the kids any thought since last night. Maybe she should check on them. The tea slopped over the sides of the cup as she pushed it away, while the effort of standing sent the blood rushing to her head. She had to grab the edge of the table to stop from falling. She teetered and swayed as the giddiness hit her, and held on to the table with desperate fingers until the room stopped revolving. Tiredness swamped her. Her teeth chattered, her legs and arms quivered, even her bones ached. She pushed herself away from the table, forcing her legs to support her weight. However, it took all her energy to place one foot in front of the other, and she needed her hands to grip the banister to pull herself up the stairs.

The furthest away bedroom was Catriona’s, but Claire always checked on her first because she was the baby of the family. Catriona was fast asleep, looking more angelic than she did when she was awake. Claire tiptoed over to the bed and pulled the quilt over her shoulders and under her chin. Catriona doted on her father and any doubts Claire had about supporting Ken vanished at that point. She would lie for him if necessary, if only for the sake of the children.

After checking on Jake and Charlie, Claire opened her own bedroom door. Ken was snoring softly, smiling in his sleep and looking more than ever like a little boy. Claire lay down on the bed beside him, fully clothed, and slung her arm round the hump in the duvet where his middle should be. She slept very quickly, at peace with herself now her decision to support him was made.

***

Several miles away on a local authority housing estate, Babs also sat in her kitchen, restless and sleepless and worried about Harry. The heating was off because they could not afford to keep it on all the time and she had pulled her heavy winter coat on over her dressing gown.

She knew she should not worry and that Harry could never have had anything to do with Mrs Ralston’s murder, but Harry was so scared and worried. He was convinced that because of the trouble with his boss, her firing him and all, he would be the prime suspect.

‘Don’t you see, Babs,’ he had said. ‘They’ll say I’ve got a motive.’

She had never seen Harry crying until last night. He had always said men should be strong and men should not cry, no matter what. But Harry was not strong, she knew that. He needed her and he needed his Rosie. Without them he always said life would not be worth living.

‘They can’t do anything to you without proof,’ Babs had said. But she was afraid to ask him where he had been the night Nicole was murdered.

‘Proof,’ he had said bitterly. ‘Unless they find out who did it they won’t look very far. Nicole’s already told them she thought I was the one stalking and playing tricks on her. And I can’t prove it wasn’t me. After all I hated her enough.’

‘Oh, Harry. Don’t say that. Hating someone isn’t proof of murder.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Harry’s voice had been bitter. ‘I can’t even give them an alibi for last night because I don’t know where I was.’

‘What d’you mean?’

She had never seen Harry look so shamefaced before. ‘Just what I say, I went out and got blootered, didn’t I. I got so drunk I don’t know where I went or when I got back here. All I know is that I woke up in my own bed in the morning.’

‘But you must have come straight home after the pubs shut, Harry, because you were here just after midnight.’ Babs fingers had been crossed firmly behind her back. It had been well after four o’clock before Harry had staggered into the house.

Babs shivered and, pulling her coat round her body until it gripped her like a straitjacket, wondered what the penalty was for perjury.

***

Ken woke with a headache pounding his temples. His mouth was full of cotton wool and his eyes ached. ‘Ooh,’ he moaned through lips that were thick and rubbery, and clasped one hand to his head.

‘You look like death warmed up,’ Claire mumbled as she hoisted herself onto her elbows.

‘I feel like death, never mind the warmed up bit,’ he complained. ‘I feel as if a road roller just rolled over me.’

‘Patrick called last night,’ she said, swinging her legs out of the bed.

Ken buried his head in the pillow and moaned.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, ‘I told him the doctor had sedated you and you were in no condition to speak to him. He’ll understand.’

‘Patrick never understands anything.’ Ken’s voice was barely audible, muffled by the pillow. ‘It’ll be a black mark against me.’

‘You should worry,’ Claire said. ‘Your opposition is gone and you’re the only one left able to do the job. He’s going to need you.’

‘For a time maybe,’ Ken muttered, ‘but as far as he’s concerned I’ll have fallen down on the job.’ He raised his head from the pillow and looked at her with an agonized expression on his face. ‘He never forgets.’

Claire stood over him, looking down as he sat on the edge of the bed. She had an odd expression on her face that Ken could not interpret, and a sudden feeling of dread, that she might be thinking of leaving, rushed through him. He grasped her hand. ‘As long as we’re together we’ll be all right. Won’t we?’

Claire nodded and looked away from him. ‘Won’t we?’ he repeated. He needed her, now more than ever before. Oh, God, he prayed, don’t let me lose Claire now. Not now after everything that’s happened.

‘Of course, Ken. We’ll be all right,’ Claire said, but still she did not look at him.

He let go of her hand and she walked over to open the bedroom curtains, letting in the watery daylight. She turned to him. ‘You’d better get dressed and go in to work. We don’t want people to be curious.’

The weak light pierced Ken’s eyes with all the brilliance of a floodlight. He clasped his hands to his head again hoping to soothe the beating pain. ‘I suppose,’ he said.

‘I’ll go down and prepare breakfast for you.’ She stopped with her hand on the door. ‘Will tea and two paracetamol be okay?’

***

Babs was not beside him when Harry woke. He slid a hand over to her side of the bed, but there was not even the slightest bit of warmth there and he wondered how long she had been up. It was cold outside the bed, but he rose quickly. It was the only way to do it otherwise he would be tempted to remain there forever, hibernating like the animals. But he was not an animal; he was a man, a man with responsibilities, a man on whom others relied.

The pipes in the bathroom shuddered and thumped as he filled the bath. He had often thought about installing a shower, but could not afford it. The water barely covered the bottom of the tub when he turned the taps off and got in. Babs would not appreciate it if he used all the hot water. Once his quick scrub was over he jumped out and hurriedly dressed. Only then did he open the curtains, although as yet, there was very little daylight.

‘I heard you moving around,’ Babs said, when he entered the kitchen. ‘So I put the kettle on.’ She laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘You don’t look very great.’

‘I’m okay, Babs. It’s just that everything that’s going on is starting to get to me.’ Her hand felt warm and comforting on his shoulder and he turned his head to nuzzle it with his chin.

‘I know, but you mustn’t forget that no matter what happens I’m here for you and so is Rosie. As far as both of us are concerned you’re the greatest man that ever lived.’

‘Thanks, Babs,’ he said, ‘you’re the best.’

Babs turned to the cooker and lifting a pot she ladled porridge into a bowl. ‘Eat that,’ she said. ‘You’re going to need all your strength.’

Harry’s stomach turned when he looked at the plate. He was not hungry, but he knew Babs would worry if he didn’t. ‘Thanks,’ he said, forcing a smile. He poured milk on the porridge, lifted his spoon and ate.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Andy nobbled Bill as soon as he arrived. ‘In here a minute,’ he said, ushering Bill into his office and closing the door.

‘What’s up?’ Bill fidgeted. He had been hoping to get a cup of coffee inside him before the meeting, and the bacon roll he had brought was cooling off.

‘Grant, bleeding, Donaldson. That’s what’s up.’ Andy glowered, ‘Of all the sods they’ve chosen to attach to us, it had to be him.’

Bill forgot about his bacon roll. He did not like the Crime Management Unit at the best of times. They always wanted things done by the book and he preferred the old-fashioned way of just getting on with the job. There were too many bleeding meetings nowadays. They got in the way of the work.

‘It can’t be that bad,’ Bill said. He did not know Grant Donaldson very well, but he had always seemed like a straightforward kind of man. Not like some of the younger high-flyers.

‘I’ve worked with him before,’ Andy’s voice held something ominous in its tone. ‘We don’t gel, and I’m the one who’ll have most contact with him.’

Bill tried to sidle out of the office. ‘If that’s all then . . .’

‘Stay where you are,’ Andy snapped. ‘We need to get our act straight before the briefing so that we’re the ones doing all the talking. It’s the only way to stay ahead or he’ll take over the whole damned thing.’

Bill nodded. So that was it, Andy did not want anyone encroaching on his case. It made sense.

‘Come on, we’ll get a head start in the conference room before anyone arrives.’

Bill tossed his bacon roll into the waste bin. It would not be worth eating now anyway.

By the time the briefing meeting started, Bill and Andy had the tables rearranged to suit themselves, photographs pinned to the display board, and names and diagrams scrawled on the whiteboard. Two chairs were positioned at one side of the boards and another solitary chair sat at the other side.

Sue Rogers was the first to arrive, closely followed by Blair Armstrong and Sid Low. Several other officers wandered in and positioned themselves around the room. Last of all was Colin Wilson in deep conversation with a tall, heavily built man who looked as if he was some kind of an executive rather than a police officer.

Andy smiled a greeting. ‘I’ve kept a seat for you here,’ he said to the tall man, pointing him to the single chair off to the side. He waited until the newcomer was seated before he said, ‘I’d like to introduce Grant Donaldson who has kindly agreed to join us. Some of you may know him already, but for those who don’t he’s from the Crime Management Unit. I think everyone else knows each other, so let’s get started. Bill, maybe you want to kick off since you’ve been working this case from the start.’

Bill stood up. ‘Nicole Ralston,’ he said pointing to the photograph on the display board. ‘Found, by her maid, yesterday at her home, apparently strangled. Time of death thought to be about midnight – this was indicated by the medical examiner, but is still to be confirmed following the post-mortem. Mrs Ralston had been in touch with us prior to this with complaints she was being stalked. An investigation of her complaints was carried out and interviews held, but these were inconclusive.’ He turned to the whiteboard. ‘Suspects – not a lot at the moment because we’ve been looking for a stalker rather than a murderer. But the options we’ve got are; number one, the stalker who may or may not be known to her; number two, the husband who, we are told, is in Paris on business; number three, a lover or lovers, there has been some suggestion that Mrs Ralston had a certain weakness for men; number four, the unknown factor that always has to be taken into account in every investigation.’ Bill looked at Colin Wilson. ‘Anything from forensics yet?’

‘Not a lot,’ Colin said. ‘The forensic team are still examining things like fibres. We also took some samples from the grounds that might give us information about the stalker. Plenty of fingerprints throughout the house, but we’ll need to match them with those who have a right to be there. I thought we might get something from her neck, it’s a bit dicey but sometimes you can get a fingerprint from skin, but no joy. It’s possible he wore gloves of some sort.’

Grant Donaldson opened his mouth to speak.

‘What about witness interviews?’ Andy snapped out. ‘Who have we spoken to?’

Sue stood up. ‘I’ve spoken to the maid, Marika. Apart from discovering the body she wasn’t much help. She did give us information about Mr Ralston’s whereabouts, although it was very general. She also volunteered the information that Mrs Ralston had a temper and that she thought the marriage wasn’t particularly happy.’

‘Have we contacted the husband yet?’

‘I’ve been in touch with his firm,’ Bill said, ‘but apparently he moves around a lot on these trips and seldom leaves an address, so that was no go. I’ve also left a message on his mobile, although his staff told me he rarely uses it. They did say that he usually phones in every second or third day, so if he hasn’t contacted us by that time they’ll be able to get word to him that we wish to interview him.’

‘Anyone else got anything to contribute?’ Andy looked around the room. ‘Okay, things seem to be going to plan so let’s get the next part of the operation underway. I want to know everything about Mrs Ralston, her background and her secrets. Find out if there’s anything in her past that might have a bearing on the case and if so, check it out. I also want to know about her movements yesterday, what time she left work and whether she went straight home. I want to know who saw her, which means house to house enquiries in her neighbourhood and on her route home. I realize there are no near neighbours, but you never know what might turn up. I want a thorough house search as well as a search of her office. We’ll also need officers to interview her friends and work colleagues. Find out when her husband will be back and check out his movements. Oh, and find out if anyone else has been stalked.’ He turned to Bill, ‘I’ll leave the arrangements to you, Bill. Allocate the tasks whatever way you want.’

‘Sure,’ Bill said.

‘Is there anything you’d like to contribute, Grant?’ Andy smiled at him in a pseudo-friendly way.

‘No, I think you’ve covered it very well.’ It was impossible to tell from Grant’s voice whether he was pleased or not.

***

Julie’s mood fluctuated between euphoria and despair as she readied herself for work and travelled to the town centre. Despair was winning when she alighted from the bus in front of Primark. Directly across the wide street Patrick Drake’s store brooded over the Nethergate in one direction and the High Street in the other. It was an old fashioned edifice whose facade was gothic and age-darkened, in direct contrast to the sparkling glass frontage of the new mall. No wonder the store management were worried.

She turned into the side street leading to the back alley, that dismal, narrow close that had to be negotiated before she reached the rear entrance. The large display window, just before the alley, was still boarded up. Julie stopped. This was unusual because Drake’s liked window glass to be replaced immediately. She would mention it to Harry when she went in. He would not want anyone to think he was falling down on the job, particularly considering recent events.

The alley seemed longer, darker and narrower than she remembered; the buildings flanking each side, higher; the tramp, sitting close to the rear entrance, more menacing. Julie dug her hands into her pockets to feel for her key, but it was not there. Her heels clacked loudly on the stone as she hurried towards the back door. The feeling of being watched had returned and she swivelled her head to look at the tramp, but his head as well as his body was totally enclosed in the old blanket he had wrapped round himself. Time seemed to stand still and she thought Harry was never going to open the back door. She jiggled nervously from foot to foot. If he did not hurry up she would have to return up the alley.

When the door finally opened Julie slipped inside glad to be within the safety of the store even if it was only this eerie back corridor with its fizzing electrics and dancing shadows. ‘I was beginning to think you weren’t there,’ she said.

‘Sorry Julie. My foot has been giving me gyp. It kind of slows me down.’ There was a slump to Harry’s shoulders that was more pronounced than previously.

Julie looked at him with sympathy in her eyes. ‘This has taken a lot out of you,’ she murmured. ‘But don’t worry, it’ll pass over.’

‘I hope so. I’m not sure how much longer I can go on with this hanging over me. After Mrs Ralston’s accusations I feel everyone’s looking at me and whispering. I wouldn’t care, but I haven’t done anything.’

‘I know, Harry.’ Julie continued up the corridor and was almost at the connecting door before she remembered the window. She half turned, ‘While I’m remembering, Harry, the side window’s still boarded up. Can you check it out?’

‘I’m going to be doing that as soon as everyone’s in and the store’s opened.’

***

Ken drove into the car park under the bridge. As usual, it was almost full. Often he had met Nicole here and they had sauntered up the road together, but he would not be doing that anymore. A quick pang of grief struck him unexpectedly, making him draw in his breath and fight back the tears that threatened to come. It made no difference that he had intended to end the affair, he still felt something for Nicole. He climbed back into his car and, resting his hands on the steering wheel, he lowered his head onto them and gave way to the tears.

It was almost an hour before he managed to compose himself enough to leave the car, and he was still in a daze as he walked to the store.