Duplicity Page 9

  THE DETECTIVE

  Chapter 14

  I put off sleeping again. I knew it would catch up with me eventually, dragging me to somewhere I didn’t want to go, tormenting me with vile images of Denise. Most of the time I’d sit in a chair in the lounge, watching the TV but not really seeing it, feeling the loneliness crushing me as I tried to put off the moment when it would suck me under. No wonder my back hurt when I woke up, wedged into the chair at an awkward angle. I was exhausted. I couldn’t go on like this, but what was the alternative?

  Tonight I had something better than the TV to stop me sleeping, and spent hours going through the texts from Max and Alissa’s phones and the documents and emails from their laptops that the forensic technical department had recovered. The only documents on Alissa’s laptop were her romance novel, a plot synopsis, some PDF files on creative writing lessons, and the same list of party guests that Wilmott had given us. Max’s were more complex: there were company accounts spreadsheets, copies of planning files and applications, templates for land option agreements, various legal files, and scans of the environmental report Burbeck Developments had commissioned prior to building The Goldings site. It had been carried out by a company called DBT Engineers and did indeed say there was no contamination on that land. I checked out the company and they’d gone bankrupt several years ago. Barring that site, I found nothing that would give a motive for Max’s murder. All the homeowners’ alibis had checked out now, so I was pretty sure that was a dead end.

  The emails for Alissa were few and far between – PayPal receipts for things she’d bought, a couple of exchanges between her and her tutor on the creative writing course asking for advice, and some junk mail. According to her phone records, she preferred to text her friends, but they were all benign: Hi, how are things? . . . Do you fancy shopping on Saturday? . . . Shall we meet up for a coffee? The ones between Alissa and Max were just as you’d expect for a newly married couple: What time will you be home? I’m missing you already! Xx . . . If you’re going into town can you pick up some squirty cream, LOL! . . . Can’t wait to see you! and the random Love you! <3 xx.

  Apart from the texts sent by Russell to Alissa, nothing of interest had turned up.

  The next morning, I was the first one in the office at 7 a.m. Wilmott was bringing Alissa to the nick for a more thorough, videoed statement while he managed the press conference and strutted around the place trying to look useful and impressive.

  At ten to eight, Becky walked in, deposited her jacket on the back of her desk chair, and said, ‘Have you been here all night?’

  ‘I might as well have been.’

  ‘You look awful,’ she said with concern.

  ‘Thanks. Now I know who to turn to when I need a confidence boost.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.’

  I sighed. ‘Having trouble sleeping.’

  ‘Still? Why don’t you take some sleeping tablets?’

  I shook my head. As if that could fix things.

  A short while later, Ronnie bounced in, energetic and raring to go. ‘Tea, anyone?’

  ‘I’ll have one.’ DI Wilmott loomed in the doorway. His hair contained so much gel even a nuclear explosion wouldn’t mess it up.

  ‘Did you get any further information from Alissa yesterday?’ I asked.

  ‘Not much,’ Wilmott said. ‘She was far too upset. My primary role was to ensure her safety.’

  And not be a detective? But that was Wilmott all over. He wasn’t concerned with the nitty-gritty of detective work. He just wanted to look good for the camera, kiss arse, push pieces of paper around, and gloss over all the day-to-day shit that actually solved crimes.

  ‘How is she today, sir?’ Ronnie asked.

  ‘Still very fragile, but she realises we need to get as much information from her as we can.’

  ‘Any word about uniform taking over from you at the hotel?’ I asked, which was code for, In case you haven’t noticed, we could do with an extra pair of hands.

  ‘They’re too short-staffed,’ he snapped.

  ‘What about a family liaison officer?’ I suggested.

  ‘All of them are tied up on other jobs. Now, where are we? I want to tell Detective Superintendent Greene we’re making progress.’

  I gave him an update.

  He put his two index fingers together and rested them on the tip of his nose. ‘So, the Burbeck Developments angle doesn’t look promising?’

  ‘Doesn’t look like it, no. Russell Stiles still looks like our main person of interest. I spent last night going through the information recovered from the phones and laptops. There’s nothing of particular note apart from Russell’s texts to Alissa. He didn’t make any specific threats to her or Max, but they show a pattern of him having too much interest in her.’

  ‘Did Alissa reply to Russell’s texts?’ Ronnie asked me.

  ‘Yeah. Her replies were always friendly and polite. According to her friend, Vicky, Alissa wanted to stay friends with Russell and not upset things further. But her replies weren’t encouraging, no can-you-kill-my-husband-for-me type messages.’

  ‘As I said yesterday, Alissa Burbeck is not considered a suspect. She is a victim.’ Wilmott glared at me. He seemed to be getting a bit too personal about Alissa for my liking.

  ‘Sasha struck me as a bit strange, though, which is how Vicky Saunders described her, too,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure if she was pissed or on something, but I think she’s possibly jealous of Alissa. It seemed like there was some gloating going on under the surface.’

  ‘Most girls would be jealous of Alissa in some way,’ Becky said. ‘Looking the way she does, and marrying someone rich. Why should one woman get to have it all when they don’t? Some people like seeing their so-called friends fail. Makes them feel better about their own lives.’

  ‘True,’ I said.

  ‘What else do we know about Stiles’ background?’ Wilmott asked.

  ‘He worked for a few landscape gardening companies before starting his own,’ I said. ‘He’s rented a cottage in Waverly, not far from the Burbecks, for the last eighteen months following his return to the UK from backpacking round Australia.’

  ‘All the better for keeping an eye on her,’ Wilmott said, then looked at us all expectantly. ‘Anything else I should know?’

  Noes all round.

  He glanced at me. ‘You’ll do Alissa’s interview while I handle the press.’

  I nodded. God forbid he should have to do some real work.

  ‘She’s waiting in interview room two at the moment, and I want to wrap this up as quickly as possible. I’d like to spare her the unnecessary trauma of a long investigation. Emma Bolton, the senior SOCO, should be here in a minute to tell us what evidence they’ve found so far. She’s on her way back out to the scene to finish up afterwards. Now, where’s that tea?’ Wilmott raised one eyebrow at Ronnie, who shot up to oblige.

  Wilmott moved to the whiteboard, staring at Alissa’s photo, sipping tea, and generally doing nothing helpful until Emma appeared.

  ‘Morning, sir.’ She nodded at Wilmott.

  He turned to face her and beamed a smile, running a hand through his hair. ‘Thanks for coming in. Please tell me you’ve got something useful.’

  Ronnie sat up straight in his chair, all ears.

  I picked up a pen, ready to take notes.

  ‘OK, the scene is consistent with what Alissa Burbeck described. There are a lot of fingerprints downstairs, most likely from the wedding reception, and we’re still taking more. It will take some time to eliminate Max’s. And obviously Alissa’s prints and DNA will be all over the house. Upstairs in the office, we found four sets of prints. A fingerprint officer has confirmed one set belongs to Max. Another set matches Alissa’s prints we took from her yesterday at the hospital. Two are unaccounted for and aren’t a match to anyone on record. We’re still taking prints from everyone who attended the wedding reception, including catering staff and those who set up the marquee
, to see if they tie in with one of them.’

  ‘So they didn’t match Russell Stiles?’ Ronnie asked her.

  ‘No. But the offender was wearing gloves. We also recovered a couple of short black hairs on Max’s body that don’t appear to be consistent with either Max or Alissa. The follicles suggest they were shed recently.’

  ‘What colour hair has Russell Stiles got?’ Wilmott asked me.

  ‘Black.’

  He turned a charming smile on Emma and asked her to continue.

  ‘I’ve asked for a rush on DNA testing, but . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Short-staffed and underpaid, like all of us, so I’m not sure how long it will take. We’ve found no helpful footprints in the house or the grounds. Alissa said the offender also wore plastic shoe coverings, so that’s not surprising, plus the weather didn’t work in our favour. The only ones of note we did find were the wet prints which are consistent with Alissa’s from when she came out of the bathroom. We also found white hairs around the house which don’t appear to be human. Possibly dog or cat.’

  ‘I asked Alissa about a cat after Mrs Downes said she fed it when they were away,’ Wilmott said. ‘Alissa told me it went missing after they had the wedding reception at the house. Must’ve got spooked by all the people around and ran away.’

  Typical. He asked her about a cat but not any more pertinent questions? What planet is he on?

  ‘Well, when we extended the search to the wooded area behind the rear garden, we found a dead white cat. Looks like its neck was broken. Nearby we found an empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s and some cigarette butts.’

  ‘Maybe from the day of the wedding reception,’ I suggested. ‘Stiles was seen entering the garden from that wooded area, and apparently he was pretty drunk.’

  ‘He would’ve had a good view of the house and garden from the spot where we found them, so he could’ve been sitting watching from that point.’

  Ronnie raised his hand.

  Wilmott rolled his eyes at him. ‘You don’t have to put your hand up. We’re not five.’

  Ronnie’s cheeks flushed and he lowered his hand. ‘If the murderer was wearing a balaclava, how would some of his hairs get on Max’s body?’

  ‘Balaclavas are generally reversible,’ Emma said. ‘If he’d worn it before, a hair could’ve snagged on the inside, then when it was used again it was worn inside out. Or it could’ve collected a hair on the outside of it as he was pulling it on and then it transferred to the body.’

  Ronnie put his hand up again.

  ‘What?’ Wilmott asked him in a bored voice.

  ‘Killers often start by abusing animals. So . . . um . . . maybe Stiles killed the cat first.’

  Wilmott glared at Ronnie. ‘I was just about to get to that. It’s highly likely that killing the cat was a precursor to Stiles’ escalating violence.’ Wilmott gave Emma his full attention again. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Nothing of note at this stage. We’re still looking. It’s a big house.’

  Wilmott slapped his hands together. ‘Right. Let’s get to it, people!’

  THE DETECTIVE

  Chapter 15

  I gave Alissa my condolences again as I sat down in the interview room across the desk from her, taking in her blotchy cheeks and swollen, red-rimmed eyes.

  She glanced down at her hands balled in her lap and bit her lip, shaking her head. ‘I still can’t believe all this.’

  ‘I know it’s very difficult going over things again, but we need to get a more detailed statement from you so we can try to piece together what happened.’

  She lifted her chin and looked me in the eye. ‘I know. I know you have to ask things. I want to help you catch him.’

  ‘Do you need anything before we start? Tea? Coffee? Water?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  I switched on the tape recorder and video and gave the preliminaries – date, time, who was present.

  ‘I want to get some more background information first, Alissa. It may give us more insight into the case. Some of my questions might seem strange, but every little thing helps in a case like this.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Can you give audible replies for the benefit of the tape, please?’

  ‘Sorry. Yes.’

  ‘How long have you lived at The Orchard?’

  ‘Just over a year. It was Max’s parents’ house. He moved back there when they died several years ago, and then . . . yes, I moved in with him.’

  ‘Who has access to the office?’

  ‘Um . . . M . . . Max does.’ She paused. ‘Did.’ She blinked back tears. ‘And me, of course. And the cleaner.’

  ‘Who is the cleaner?’

  ‘Brenda Johnson.’

  ‘How long has she been cleaning for you?’

  ‘She worked for Max before I moved in, and for his parents before. Years, really.’

  ‘Does anyone else have access to the office?’

  She clenched her hands together, wringing them. ‘No. No one else has access to the upstairs. No one else has a need to.’

  ‘So no one else has been in that office apart from you and Max and Brenda Johnson?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘Are there any other staff who work for you?’

  ‘Yes, there’s Malcolm Briggs, the gardener. He’s also worked for Max’s family for years.’

  ‘Do you have a white cat?’

  ‘I’ve had her for five years. I thought it might be good for Mum when she was ill, you know, after her first stroke. They say animals are therapeutic. She was a really friendly cat and would go to anyone for affection. I love her to bits. When I moved into The Orchard, she really liked it there, exploring the woods at the back. But she went missing a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘So around the time of the wedding reception?’

  ‘Yes. Why? Did she come back to the house?’

  ‘I’m afraid the cat was found in the woods at the rear of the property. Her neck appears to have been broken.’

  Her hands flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, no! What happened to her?’

  ‘It’s impossible to tell. Did she ever climb trees?’

  ‘I never saw her do that, but she might’ve. Or . . .’ Her eyes widened. ‘Do you think this has something to do with Max? Was she killed by the same person?’

  ‘We’re not sure at this stage. The cat was found in an area that we believe Russell Stiles was watching the wedding reception from. We also found a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and some cigarette butts in the same place.’

  She gasped. ‘You think Russell killed Buttons?’

  ‘It’s possible. He’s no stranger to killing animals. Did you know about his arrest for poaching?’

  ‘Poaching?! Oh, God, no. He never told me about that. I knew he liked to eat game, but I didn’t know he did that.’ She stared off into space, her face pale. ‘Max loved Buttons, too. And now they’re both gone.’ Fresh tears snaked down her cheeks.

  I pushed a box of tissues towards her. She took one and dabbed them away daintily.

  I glanced down at my notes. ‘OK. You’d been in a relationship with Max for three years, is that right?’

  She didn’t answer, just stared at a spot on the floor, her lower lip trembling.

  ‘Are you OK to carry on?’

  She fanned her face. ‘I’m feeling a bit hot. There’s no air in here.’ She fanned herself a little more, then covered her face with her hands. ‘Sorry,’ she squeaked. ‘I just need a minute.’

  ‘It’s alright. I know how difficult this is.’

  When she’d sat upright and composed herself again, she said, ‘Sorry.’

  ‘When did you decide to get married?’

  Her cheeks lifted in the ghost of a smile, as if remembering her husband. ‘He kept asking me. I think the first time he asked was about six months after we’d started seeing each other. But my mum was ill, she’d had the stroke and I was looking after her, and . . . it was a difficult time, so I said no. Then he just carried on asking, ever
y six months or so. My mum wasn’t getting better. She had another stroke and went into a nursing home where they could care for her properly. And then . . . well, I still wasn’t ready. I was only twenty-two at the time, I’d spent time looking after Mum and I was still finishing off my creative writing course that had been put on hold when Mum was still at home. I wanted to be sure about him.’

  ‘You weren’t sure?’

  ‘No, I was, but I was still young and he was older and . . . he was only the second guy I’d been out with. I knew I loved him, but . . . I thought we should live together first, so I moved in with him. Like I said, I lived there for a year. Then, the last time he asked, I said yes.’

  ‘Where did you get married?’

  ‘In Sydney. On Bondi Beach.’ She blinked rapidly and looked at the floor.

  ‘Were you specifically going to Australia to get married or was it a holiday?’

  ‘Max was thinking of starting some developments out there, so it was an existing business trip for him, and we just decided to combine it with a holiday and then . . . a wedding. Leo, Max’s friend, used to live out there, you see, and there was an old family friend of Leo’s dad in Australia who’s a developer. He put them in touch with each other and they had a lot of business meetings while we were there.’

  ‘Did anything strange happen in Australia?’

  ‘Strange?’

  ‘Anything that might’ve attracted attention. Did anyone seem upset with Max? Did you notice anyone suspicious? Did you receive any threats?’

  ‘No. I didn’t go to his business meetings, but he told me everything was going to plan. The rest of the time was our honeymoon. We travelled up the east coast, going to various different places, but we didn’t run into anyone strange.’

  ‘OK. So, when you got back, you had the reception?’

  ‘I’m sorry, can I have some water? I feel a bit . . . faint.’ Her voice hitched.

  ‘Of course.’

  The interview was suspended while I fetched some water. Alissa’s complexion beneath her recent tan had turned pale.

  ‘You’re doing really well, Alissa.’

  She brought the glass to her lips with a shaky hand, spilling some water on the desk, although she didn’t seem to notice. ‘I want to do everything I can to help.’