Secret of the Dead (8 page)

“I’d love a tea.” Hunter said.

“Coffee, thanks,” added Grace.

One of the detectives stepped over to the filing cabinets, shuffled together a load of cups amassed on the top and left the room carrying a laden tea tray.

“How long have you been here?” asked Hunter.

“It’ll be two years in January. We were set up not long after the Major Investigation Units started.”

The DS’s comments jogged Hunter’s memory. His own unit had been one of many set up by the Force in 2006 to investigate major crimes as a result of a Government review. One of the remits had been to pick up old rape and murder cases which still lie undetected in station vaults and would benefit from modern policing and scientific techniques, particularly using the advancement of DNA. Originally his team had cherry-picked a few cold cases but then along had come current major crime and those investigations had taken a back seat. He guessed this was why the Cold Case Review Team had been formed. He recollected that several months ago,  this team had earned a great deal of publicity from local TV and newspapers. A serial rapist who had kept trophies from his victims after carrying out a series of brutal attacks on lone females during the late 1970s and early 1980s was captured twenty years after his last reported rape because a family member had committed a drink-drive offence and had their DNA taken. It was the first familial DNA case in the country.

“How many cases are you working on at the moment?”

“We usually pick up two or three each at a time and juggle around with them. Some of them are really fascinating and it’s especially gratifying when we can go back to a complainant or a parent after all those years and tell them we have enough evidence to take their attacker to court.”

“How many cases are there still outstanding?”

“Too many to mention. This Force has records stretching back to nineteen-seventy-four when it was formed and there are also records from when it was the West Riding. The oldest file I have seen is an undetected murder from nineteen-sixty-two.”

Hunter pursed his lips in a silent whistle.

“The case you’re after is the murder of Lucy Blake-Hall from nineteen-eighty-three is that right?”

“Yeah. Well before my time. I didn’t join the job until nineteen-ninety-one.”

“Well it’s all there.” Jamie Parker pointed to an array of cardboard file boxes stacked next to a metal cabinet.

Hunter guessed there must be at least a dozen stacked boxes. He hadn’t expected that amount.

“You’re in luck. We’ve had a quick scan through and it looks as though everything is there.” Parker pushed himself up from his seat and moved to the pile. Giving a cursory glance at its label he prised open the lid of one box and lifted out a thick file with both hands. “This is the summary, main witnesses evidence, and suspect interview file which was presented at the trial. In the other boxes are the house to house forms, original witness statements, scene of crime photographs and the Home Office forensic forms for the science labs. Oh, and in your case quite a few of the boxes contain the original index cards for the job.”

“You got this quick. We only rang about this case a couple of hours ago.”

“There was a message left on my voice-mail this morning from a Detective Superintendent Dawn Leggate. I got in at half-seven, so I was able to arrange a driver to pick up the case box-files first thing.” The DS handed Hunter the thick bound file.

Hunter weighed it in his hands, turned it and fanned apart some of the pages with a thumb and glanced at the top typewritten sheet. It had the patina of ageing but was easily readable. He glanced at the strap-line, reading it off inside his head; Regina v Daniel Weaver.

“You’re very lucky. Many of the really old case files have been destroyed. Forces have had to be ruthless because of the lack of space, and I know from experience that huge swathes of paperwork have been binned. I’ve had a cursory look inside the boxes of your case. There’s an inventory at the top of each one. And although all the paperwork appears to be there, I’m afraid there’re no exhibits. I don’t know yet if those have been destroyed or not.”

Hunter pursed his lips and shot a quick glance at Grace.

“No need to look downhearted. I do have some good news. Since I’ve been doing this job we’ve discovered that the forensic science labs, unlike the police, have kept files and samples from every job ever submitted to them. So somewhere in their system will be samples taken during the Lucy Blake-Hall investigation. Once you sort through the paperwork, if you let me know, I can set things in motion with an e-mail and go up to forensics with you, if you’d like?”

Hunter mouthed “cheers” and returned the file. He cast his eyes along the pile of cardboard archive boxes.

There’s certainly a lot of paperwork to go through
, he thought. He set the lid back on the carton and heaved it up.

“We’ll give you a hand to load it,” offered Jamie. He picked up a box from the pile and hoisted it mid-chest. “Listen, we have loads of experience now of dealing with cold cases, especially tracking down witnesses. We have found it can be tricky tracking down female witnesses. Many women get married, change their surname and also move away, but we have tried and trusted ways of finding them. Once you’ve gone through the boxes and sorted everything out, if you get stuck with anything just give us a bell.”

Hunter cast him an appreciative smile.

“Just a bit of advice as well. When the time comes for you to speak with the detectives who previously worked on the case, I know from experience that some of them get very nervous when you start going back over things, because methods that were used during their time were not always the right ones. Just remember that was then this is now! Your focus shouldn’t be about how the case was detected.”

Suddenly, Hunter got an image of Barry Newstead. He knew exactly what Jamie Parker was talking about. He’d been introduced to many unorthodox methods in his pursuit of villains during his early CID days; all of them instigated by Barry. He couldn’t help but crack a grin as he turned towards the door.

* * * * *

Dressed in a black and grey D&G logo T-shirt and faded denim jeans, Katherine Edwards answered the front door with her mobile pressed to her ear. She pointed to it and mouthed the words ‘My mum’ back at DCs Tony Bullars and Carol Ragen, standing shoulder-to-shoulder inside her porch.

She waved for them to come in with her free hand, spun on her heels and sauntered off along the hallway towards the back of the house, still speaking on her phone as she went. She was finishing her conversation as the two detectives caught up with her in the kitchen.

“Yeah the police are just here now. I’ll give you a ring later when I find out what’s what, okay? Yeah love you too bye.” She ended the call and placed the mobile onto the marble surface of the kitchen’s central work island. It was a bright and airy L-shaped kitchen diner in a contemporary black and white theme. Italian design high gloss units lined soft cream walls. Most of the light came from a large set of French doors, which gave a view out to her well tended garden. Today, everything was in the grip of the first signs of winter. The clipped bushes and mature trees could just be made out in the morning’s cold damp haze .

The expensive, well designed look of the kitchen reminded Tony that she had told him the previous day that as well as holding down a full time job as a sports injury therapist, she boosted her income with private consultations working from home.

“Sorry about that. That was my mum I’ve only just managed to get hold of her and break the news. She didn’t get back from Gran Canaria until the early hours of this morning.” She picked up the electric kettle and filled it from the tap. “Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?”

Both agreed on tea.

“Sorry to burden you at a time like this, Katherine,” opened Tony with a sympathetic look. “But as you can probably appreciate we need to move on this quite quickly in order to find your father’s killer. I know I bombarded you with quite a number of questions yesterday, but I need to go back over things with you. We have a number of gaps that need filling, both in terms of his past history, as well as recent events in his life. We’re hoping you will be able to fill those in?”

“I couldn’t sleep last night. I can’t believe what’s happened. It’s something you dream about isn’t it, someone in your family being murdered I mean. And Dad as well. All those murders he’s investigated in the past and now he himself has been murdered.” She set the filled kettle back onto its electric base and switched it on. Then she plucked out three cups from a wall cupboard and arranged them around the kettle. Turning back to face Tony, she swept a hand through one side of her dark bob of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “You can’t imagine it, can you?”

She fixed him with her grey/blue eyes. “This is such a shock. Thing is, I thought I’d done most of my grieving for him several months ago when I found out he had terminal cancer. I’ve been to hospital so many times with him these past few months that I’d thought I’d become hardened to the fact that he was going to die.” Her voice trailed off on a brittle note. Dabbing a forefinger into the corner of one eye, she turned quickly back to face the boiling kettle. “But this...I mean Dad murdered. It’s just so hard to imagine.”

Tony got a whiff of her perfume. It reminded him of roses. He couldn’t help but think that at 42 she was in really good shape. She was tall and slim, with a well toned physique, though today he noted how drained she looked. Dark rings circled her eyes, a clear sign she had endured a restless night. He wasn’t surprised, given the previous day’s shock.

Tony had spent several hours with her the day before, prising out of her as much background information as he needed for the present stage of the investigation. But she had repeatedly burst into tears. Today, he was here with the added support of the Family Liaison Officer Carol Ragen to squeeze out that bit more.

“Katherine, I want to introduce you to DC Carol Ragen.” He swapped his gaze from Katherine to his colleague. “After today, Carol will be spending quite a lot of time with you and your Mother throughout the duration of this enquiry. She will be here to support you both, and give you everything you need. If there is anything you don’t understand, just ask her. She will keep you up to date with the enquiry. Is that okay?”

Katherine Edwards nodded as she took the female detective’s extended hand.

DC Ragen met her gaze. “As Tony says, if you want to know what is going on or anything you don’t understand, I’m there for you and your Mother. The only thing I ask is that what I tell you is kept to yourself.” Carol had a noticeable Lancashire accent which accentuated the ‘o’s’ in her words. She removed her hand from Katherine’s grip, then smoothed it through the soft curls of her shoulder length fair hair. At 45 years old, Carol Ragen had been appointed FLO because of her similar age to Katherine. She had been a cop for 22 years, the last ten of which she had served in Headquarter Public Protection Unit dealing with victims of domestic violence.

Tony continued. “It’s a bit of a cliché Katherine, but do you know if your father had any enemies? Or if he’d fallen out, or he’d had an argument with anyone recently?”

“He was a detective for thirty-odd years, I guess he made loads of enemies over that time. If you mean did I know of anyone who hated him that much to do this to him, then the answer is no. However I do know something was troubling him of late.”

Tony’s eyebrows raised.

“What do you mean, troubling him?”

“Well, as you will have gathered, I’ve been spending quite a lot of time with him, especially over the past month. He’d deteriorated quite a lot in that time. He’d lost a lot of weight and he was in a lot of pain and had trouble sleeping. The nurses had increased his morphine dosage to help him and I found he was chatty more than normal when I went round to sort it out, you know, tidy round a little and get him some of his meals although his appetite had dropped off. I guess that was to do with the morphine.” She handed them their hot drinks. “Sorry, I’m going off at a tangent. What I’m getting round to is that I switched off most of the time. I thought he was just rambling on because of the drugs, but some of his words stuck with me. I thought that some of what he said was a bit strange.”

“Strange?” said Tony.

“Yes. He’d say things like I’ve done some bad things in my time Katherine. I’ve done things when I was detective that I shouldn’t have done. He’d say other stuff like he’d not been a good husband or a good dad but he’d keep going back over the fact that he’d done something bad when he had been a detective.”

“Did he mention exactly what that was?” Tony was asking the questions as Carol took notes.

“To be honest, I don’t exactly know. The last month he was so high on the morphine they were giving him. Some of the time he didn’t always make sense. He’d start with one thing and then start rambling on about something completely different, so I only half-listened to what he was saying. I do recall him saying that he was going to put things right.” She paused for a second, deep in thought. Then she shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t think he expanded on that.” She pulled a face. “I feel awful now that I didn’t listen properly or push him to tell me more.”

“When you say he said he was going to put things right, did he say how he was going to do that?”

Katherine tightened her mouth and shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry. I feel terrible. I wish I’d have listened better to what he was saying.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s one of those things. You weren’t to know this was going to happen. Would there be anyone else he might have talked to about this? Any other visitors? Close friends?”

For a couple of seconds she stared at the ceiling, as if searching for the answer. Then she returned. “I’m not quite sure. I know he kept in contact with a couple of his ex-colleagues. I’ve turned up a couple of times with bits of shopping for him and he’s been on the phone. I picked up on him reminiscing about jobs he’d been involved in and just guessed it was people he’d worked with. I know he was particularly close to someone from the old days. It’s a good eighteen months ago now, but there were a couple of times when he’d mentioned he’d had a run out in his mate’s car and they’d stopped off at a pub and had a couple of beers and lunch. I think he said his name was Alan, I’ve never met him. Other than that, he seemed to keep himself very much to himself. I’ve only really got to know him since I moved back here five years ago.” She looked up, swallowed hard and returned her gaze. “He’s been living alone since he and mum got divorced back in nineteen-eighty-four. I don’t think there was anyone else in his life, but to be honest that’s not something I would discuss with him. It’s taken quite a lot of time getting to know him again. It’s not been easy for him or me. I went with mum when she left him. We moved to Skegness. We had a caravan there and lived in it for a while. Mum wouldn’t talk about why they’d split up and so I just shut myself off from it all. I was seventeen at the time. I swapped schools for a year, got my A levels, and then I went to uni, where I made a new life. While I was away mum met Derek, my stepfather, and moved in with him and they married. I went back to Mum’s for a short while but it just didn’t feel right. Not that I didn’t get on with Derek or anything, but being away for three years you know I’d moved on. Then I got a job as a sports injury physio at Skegness hospital and moved out. I met Sean, he was a colleague in the same department. It was a bit of a whirlwind romance. We were married within eighteen months. Amy, our daughter, came along a few years later and that was it, I had my own family to focus on. Dad never seemed to feature. He never came to the wedding and never saw his granddaughter until five years ago. Quite sad really. It’s taken a lot to get to know each other again. I only came back this way because Sean and I separated and I saw a job advertised at Barnwell General. It just seemed right to return to my roots.” She stirred her tea, licked the spoon before setting it down and took a long sip of the hot drink. “We’ve never really picked up on the lost years. I had my new job and new house. Don’t get me wrong, I did nip round a couple of times every week and he would have Amy quite a lot when I did my private work in the evenings. And he did my garden regularly. I returned the favour with some home cooking. But whenever I’d raise anything to do with mum or the divorce, he’d just say he’d rather leave that alone. After a while, I just stopped asking him questions.” She switched her gaze between the two detectives. “Don’t we all lead such complicated lives?” It was a rhetorical question. “If only we could go back eh? The sad thing is I was always going to ask why he never came to my wedding and why he never acknowledged the birth of Amy his granddaughter but it never seemed to be the right moment. Even when I knew he was going to die with cancer.”