Road Closed (13 page)

‘There’s a man making a bit of a scene, ma’am.’ Geraldine looked up. ‘He wants to see someone about Evelyn Green’s case.’

‘Evelyn Green? The woman who died during the break-in on Thursday night? Shouldn’t you be speaking to DI Bennett?’

‘He’s off duty, ma’am. Gone home.’

‘Thank you, constable,’ Geraldine wriggled out from behind her desk and made her way along the corridor to the entrance.

The desk sergeant nodded towards the interview rooms. ‘He was kicking up a bit of a fuss, ma’am, so I put him in there to cool off.’ Geraldine read the sergeant’s book upside down: Elliot Green.

‘Evelyn Green’s son,’ she sighed. ‘That’s all I need.’ She squared her shoulders and went in.

Elliot Green was thickset. His grey hair and tired eyes made him look older than his sixty-five years but he leapt to his feet with the vigour of youth.

‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘Where is he? I want to see him now. I’ve been waiting here for –’

‘Please take a seat, Mr Green. Who do you want to speak to?’

‘The inspector. I want, I demand to speak to whoever’s in charge of this enquiry. My mother’s dead, her house broken into, I’ve been told nothing, all her valuables have been confiscated –’

‘Please take a seat,’ Geraldine repeated quietly. The man glared but sat down as Geraldine introduced herself.

‘I’m sorry, Inspector,’ he said. ‘It’s just… my mother…’ He held out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘This should never have happened. I should have insisted but she kept refusing.’ Geraldine waited. Elliot Green explained that he had tried to persuade his mother to move into a retirement block. ‘Somewhere with a warden, you know, and those emergency cords to pull for help. She kept saying she wasn’t ready, but she was ninety. When will you be ready, mum? I asked her. She was a wonderful woman, Inspector, but stubborn. She wouldn’t listen. She was like a two-year-old. I should have insisted.’ His shoulders stirred with a deep sigh.

‘You can’t hold yourself responsible for what happened, Mr Green. But we hope you can help us find out who broke into her house on Thursday night.’

‘Yes. I’d like to help.’ He was subdued now. ‘It was horrible. I found her, you know.’

Geraldine nodded. She had read the notes on Evelyn Green’s case. ‘The police are taking this very seriously, Mr Green. We’re doing everything we can to track down whoever’s responsible.’ She thought of Bennett, under pressure to find the culprits, and fought against a feeling of hopelessness.

‘You can’t let them get away with it,’ Elliot said, his voice rising again.

‘We’re doing everything we can, Sir.’

‘I know she was old –’ he began.

‘She was the victim of a serious crime,’ Geraldine said firmly. ‘We’re going to find out who broke into her house that night, and see to it that they’re prosecuted.’ She didn’t add, ‘if we can.’

‘Thank you, Inspector. I’m sure you’re doing everything possible. It’s just so frustrating, when all you can do is wait.
She was a wonderful woman, my mother.’ Studying his face closely, Geraldine realised she envied his grief.

The Incident Room was quiet as Geraldine returned to her office to study Evelyn Green’s case. The full post mortem report confirmed the victim had died as a result of brain injuries sustained during a fall down the stairs. Bruising of her upper arms indicated she had been gripped tightly before her fall. The force of the impact, and the depressed fracture on the back of her skull, supported the theory that she had not died as a result of a simple face down fall. Evelyn Green had been thrown violently down the stairs. Geraldine stared at the report which confirmed they were dealing with a gang of burglars prepared to kill at will.

After a while there was another tap at her door. Geraldine glanced at her watch. It was twenty past seven. With a horrible lurch in her guts, she realised she had forgotten her dinner arrangement with Craig. She would never make it home in time. She hadn’t even done the shopping. At the best of times her tiny kitchen was hardly well stocked. She dialled his number but there was no reply. As she was hanging on to leave a message, another voice interrupted.

‘Is something wrong?’ She was startled to see Peterson put his head round the door of her office.

‘Nothing. I just remembered I’d invited someone over for dinner.’ She hung up. ‘Just a friend,’ she added unnecessarily. ‘I forgot to phone and cancel, that’s all.’

‘Call now,’ Peterson suggested. Geraldine shook her head. Craig was probably waiting impatiently on her doorstep. He wasn’t answering his phone so she had no way of contacting him. He would realise she had been held up at work, but that didn’t explain why she hadn’t let him know.

‘It’s not important,’ she lied. As if the sergeant was interested.

‘I’m off across the road for a drink,’ he told her. She shook her head. She wasn’t in the mood for socialising. With the briefest of nods, he vanished.

Geraldine cleared up her outstanding paperwork and went home. As soon as she reached her flat she called Craig. It was half past eight. He still wasn’t answering his phone. She left an apologetic message and called Hannah.

‘And now he’s not answering my calls,’ she finished. ‘What shall I do?’

Hannah was uncharacteristically dismissive of Geraldine’s problem. ‘What’s so special about Craig? It’s not as if you were even sure you wanted to go on holiday with him, so you can’t turn round now and tell me he’s Mr Right. As though anyone could be.’

‘Hannah, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. Why should anything be wrong with me? You’re the one with the problem, not me.’

‘Why are you being like this?’

‘Like what?’

‘So –’ Geraldine hesitated, ‘so hostile.’

‘I’m not being hostile. I’m just saying, Craig can’t be anything special or you wouldn’t have forgotten he was coming over.’

‘I was tied up at work.’

‘You always are.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Just that you’re always so wrapped up in your work, you never have time for anyone else.’ Geraldine was taken aback. That was the accusation her ex-boyfriend, Mark, had thrown at her before he had packed his bags and walked out.

‘Just tell me what you think I should do, Hannah. I really like him.’

‘Forget about him.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Then if you really want to see him, go round there and apologise in person. He might relent if he sees you looking all contrite. He must like you. You did go away for a week together.’

‘It was three nights,’ Geraldine corrected her.

‘Don’t be so bloody pedantic.’

‘Can’t have a slapdash DI.’

‘You’re not my inspector, you’re my friend. You are a person as well as a police officer, or had you forgotten?’

‘You really think I should just go round there?’

‘Why not?’

It was getting late by the time Geraldine decided to follow Hannah’s advice and apologise to Craig in person. If she turned up on his doorstep, he would have to listen to her. It was even later by the time she had showered and changed. She chose her outfit with care. She wanted to look attractive without making it obvious she had made a special effort. She settled for jeans and a cashmere jumper.

‘What the hell am I doing?’ she asked herself as she drove her car out of the garage, but it was better than spending another evening sitting alone.

She was irritated but relieved when Craig didn’t come to the door. He still wasn’t answering his phone. She wondered if he might be ill, but she couldn’t stand on his doorstep indefinitely, listening to the wind rattling around the trees. It was beginning to rain, a fine rain that fell so lightly she barely noticed it until the damp began to seep through her jumper. She shivered.

In the car she fished in her bag and tore a page out of her note book. She scribbled a message, tore it up, started the engine, switched it off, wrote another note, hesitated for a moment, ran up the path, and dropped the scrap of paper through Craig’s letter box. She regretted her impulse at once, but it was too late to retrieve the note. She drove home
determined to put Craig out of her mind. It was a humiliating waste of time to chase him like that. He clearly wasn’t interested. The time they had spent in Dubrovnik had been an enjoyable end to their affair, and it was best to leave it at that. She was probably better off on her own. She had an interesting job and a flat of her own, and wasn’t sure that she wanted to share her life with anyone. At least she knew where she was from day to day.

Back at her flat, Geraldine ignored the half bottle of wine in the fridge and brewed a pot of coffee. It was past eleven o’clock when the phone rang. She let it ring three times before she picked up. She didn’t want Craig to think she had been sitting by the phone waiting for him to call.

But it wasn’t Craig.

‘I need to talk,’ Celia said.

‘Not now. I’m waiting for a call.’

‘You can answer when they call. I can talk to you while you’re waiting. This isn’t your work line.’

‘No,’ Geraldine explained impatiently, ‘it’s not work –’

‘That’s a first.’

Geraldine ignored the jibe. ‘Go on then, what’s up?’ She drank her way through a large glass of wine as she listened.

‘I miss her so much,’ Celia kept repeating.

Geraldine offered what comfort she could, but she felt awkward. She had the impression there was something else Celia wanted to talk about. ‘I’ll speak to you tomorrow,’ she promised at last, ‘but I’ve got to go now.’ Her sister’s grief was a painful reminder of Geraldine’s own guilty indifference.

‘You know we really need to talk,’ Celia insisted. ‘I know it’s different for you, but we need to talk.’

‘Tomorrow.’

Midnight came and went. Geraldine poured herself one last glass of wine. Craig hadn’t called. Miserably, she went to bed.

Unable to sleep, she found her thoughts drifting to Evelyn Green. The old lady had been disturbed by a noise in the night and gone to investigate. If she had slept through the burglary, she might still be alive. Elliot Green suspected the police wouldn’t care about his ninety-year-old mother’s death, but her age was irrelevant. The law was there to protect everyone. It was a terrible way for anyone to die, hurled down the stairs in her own home, in the dark. Whatever else happened, the gang of burglars had to be stopped before any more innocent victims died.

23

Glass Cutter

The next day started badly. Geraldine had intended to arrive at her desk early to reread some reports, but she overslept. She could feel a headache threatening on the top of her head as she walked into the station. Instead of his usual cheery nod, the desk sergeant glared wanly at her approach.

‘What’s up, sarge?’

‘Haven’t you heard?’

‘I’ve only just come back on. What’s happened?’ Bracing herself to hear that another victim had been found she was surprised when the sergeant replied.

‘It’s the DCI.’

‘What about her?’

The sergeant hesitated, his plump features drawn. ‘She’s just been rushed to hospital. Suspected heart attack.’

Geraldine stared at him for a second, shocked into incomprehension, before she hurried inside. The Incident Room was buzzing with subdued panic. Geraldine made her way over to Peterson. He was perched on the edge of a desk piled high with files, chatting to Polly. Peterson sprang to his feet as Geraldine approached. He towered over her and the constable. Before any of them could speak, the duty sergeant announced that the briefing would be delayed.

‘Back here in half an hour,’ she said. ‘The new senior investigating officer’s on his way over.’

‘How’s the DCI?’ Bennett asked. Everyone turned to stare at the duty sergeant who shrugged. There was no news.

‘She’s probably only just reached the hospital,’ Peterson said.

‘Suspected heart attack,’ Polly added.

Geraldine went to the canteen but she had no appetite. As she waited, she thought about Kathryn Gordon. Dour and demanding, the DCI got the job done. For all their differences, Geraldine respected her and was beginning to enjoy working with her. You knew where you were with Kathryn Gordon. Now they were going to be starting all over again. She sat gloomily over a mug of coffee and was startled when Peterson called her name.

‘What do you want?’

‘It’s half past, gov. Briefing’s due to begin.’

‘Oh shit.’ Geraldine leapt to her feet and upset her coffee. It wasn’t very hot, but the front of her skirt was drenched. ‘Great, now I’m bound to make a good impression.’ She glanced up. Peterson was already hurrying out of the room. ‘First impressions,’ Geraldine muttered to herself as she hurried after him. She made a mental note to thank him. If Peterson hadn’t come looking for her she would still have been sitting in the canteen when the new DCI met the team.

Geraldine reached the Incident Room seconds before the new detective chief inspector arrived. Tall and slim he approached the Incident Board, turned and threw a bright smile around the room, exhibiting the confidence of a successful man in his prime. Geraldine wondered how old he was. She wished her skirt wasn’t soaked in coffee. Their eyes met for an instant and she felt herself blushing, like a teenager.

‘Good morning, everyone,’ he said. He smiled easily round the room like a host welcoming guests to a party. ‘I’m James Ryder, your new Senior Investigating Officer. I’m deeply sorry to be taking on this investigation under such circumstances but I understand DCI Gordon is expected to make a full recovery. Despite this change of SIO it’s vital the investigation proceeds uninterrupted which means more
pressure on everyone, I’m afraid. I’m as up to speed as I can be, but I’ll be spending the rest of the day catching up with the background to what’s been going on. In the meantime, we need to press on.’ He spun lightly on his heel and moved his arm across the board. His sleeve inched back to reveal an expensive watch. Geraldine noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

‘The square of glass found by SOCOs at the back of the Cliffs’ house has been examined by forensics. They’ve confirmed it was removed by the glass cutter used at the other recent burglaries. So there’s no doubt the same gang were at the Cliff house. They were presumably there on Friday night, as no break-in was reported before then.’ He looked around, like a popular lecturer in front of a class of students, and caught Geraldine’s eye. She gave a weak smile. ‘Why would the burglars have turned the gas on?’ the DCI went on without acknowledging her. ‘Could one of them have knocked it accidentally?’