‘Not even this man Cleland? He had a motive.’
‘Possibly. But that’s all. There is absolutely nothing else linking him to the crime. No witnesses, no forensics, no proof he went anywhere near there.’ She glances across again. ‘I’m sorry. I want it to be Cleland as much as you do, but it’s a non-starter. Everything we have points to Adam, and you’ve given me nothing I can use to refute it. And as for this obsession of his about Gavin Parrie – it’s – it’s insane.’
McHugh’s about to answer, but Gallagher’s still talking. ‘I have to confess I’ve become increasingly concerned about him – the way he’s been reacting, it’s so out of character. My whole team has noticed.’
Is she asking me if Fawley’s losing it? thinks McHugh. Is that really where they’re going with this?
Gallagher sighs now. ‘And what with the baby, and coming so soon after losing Jake – even the strongest people can break under stress like that –’
She doesn’t finish the sentence but the inference is up there now in neon lights: Are you sure your client is of entirely sound mind? Could he, in fact, be so unstable, under such intolerable pressure, that he actually did this?
* * *
‘Giles? It’s me. Look, I’m really sorry but I can’t come down tomorrow after all. Something – something’s come up.’
He doesn’t reply straight away, but this is Giles: unlike most men, he thinks before he speaks.
‘Is everything OK?’ By which he really means ‘Are you OK?’ But he’s trying not to crowd her, not to intrude.
‘Yes, it’s just,’ she takes a breath, ‘work stuff, you know. This sexual assault case is a nightmare, and appraisals are coming up, and then there’s Fawley being arrested –’
She stops herself, but not quickly enough. She’s heard Fawley say it a hundred times – you can always tell a liar from the overkill. Three answers when one is plenty.
‘OK,’ he says, after a moment. She can hear the hurt in his voice. ‘I’m really sorry I won’t see you, but I understand.’
She nods, knowing it’s pointless because he can’t see her, but she can’t trust herself to speak.
‘Look – I’m not going to push it, but I think there’s something worrying you, and if there is, and I can help, you only have to ask. I hope you know that. I just want you to be happy, OK? That’s all.’
She puts the phone down and sits there in her empty flat. She’s never felt so utterly alone.
* * *
Sent:Fri 13/07/2018, 20.35 Importance: High From:Colin.Boddie@ouh.nhs.uk To:DIRuthGallagher@ThamesValley.police.uk
Subject: Case no 75983/02 Smith, E
In re the request from Penelope McHugh for information relating to the post-mortem, I can confirm that only one earring was retrieved from the body (a silver hoop), but as this was merely hooked in, with no rear fixing, the second one probably came off either during a struggle with her assailant or when the body was dumped. Likewise a very small amount of the victim’s hair does indeed seem to be missing at the rear of the scalp (see photo attached). But as you will see, the quantum is so small it is very unlikely to be significant and was, again, probably the result of a struggle.
For the avoidance of doubt, I am sceptical that either the earring or the missing hair form any deliberate part of the killer’s MO. That, combined with the absence of ligature marks on either the wrists or ankles, leads me to caution against any comparison with the Gavin Parrie case.
Should further evidence emerge which leads me to reconsider this view, I will, of course, inform you.
CRB
* * *
Telephone interview with Sgt Vince Hall, Warwickshire Police, Leamington Spa
14 July 2018, 8.15 a.m.
On the call, DI Ruth Gallagher
VH: Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you, but I’ve checked the records you were asking about, and I’ve spoken to the probation officer as well.
RG: Excellent – thank you.
VH: The tag logs show Gavin Parrie never breached his licence conditions at any time on the night you’re interested in. He was either at the hostel or at most a mile away from it, the entire night. There’s no way he could have been anywhere near Oxford.
RG: And we’re sure the tag is fully functional?
VH: Yup. Only got checked last month. Nothing wrong with it.
RG: Good. I’m glad we’ve been able to clear that up. And I take it he has no access to any sort of car?
VH: Sorry?
RG: No, I’m sorry I even had to ask. I’m just covering all the bases. Our suspect’s lawyer has a bee in her bonnet about it.
VH: Well, for the record, he doesn’t. And for what it’s worth, the PO says Parrie’s been a right little goody-two-shoes since he got out. Spends half his time with youth offender programmes, giving them dire warnings about the error of their ways.
RG: And she thinks it’s genuine – this transformation of his?
VH: She’s not some rookie straight out of training – she’s been on the job fifteen years. And he was a model prisoner too, Parrie. So yes, it’s always possible he could be faking it, but he’s kept it up a bloody long time if he is.
* * *
Everett’s Friday evening wasn’t exactly restful. Most of it was eaten up by a week’s worth of undone chores, and she ended up so ragged with exhaustion she slept through this morning’s alarm. She drives down the Banbury Road under a sultry grey-yellow sky, which does nothing for her headache, and the low-level throb of guilt about her father and that call she still hasn’t made to Elaine Baylis isn’t helping much either. She keeps telling herself she’s doing as much as anyone could expect; that her dad’s being well looked after, he’s eating and people are trying to involve him in group activities like whist and bingo, all of which he despises at the top of his voice whenever any of the staff are near enough to hear. His contempt ought to reassure her, it’s so completely in character, but there’s a vehemence to it now which leaves her uneasy.
The rest of the team are already at their desks when she gets in. Somer looks up briefly but doesn’t meet her eye, and is then so intent on looking busy she might as well hang up a sign saying ‘Leave me alone’. Ev unloads her phone and notebook from her bag, wondering how she should play it. She’s pretty sure Somer had an appointment last night with her doctor, but she never actually said so, and Ev’s attempts to WhatsApp her later got nothing more than one-word answers.
* * *
For an expert in body language, Bryan Gow isn’t very good at masking his own. When he rounds the corner and sees Gislingham in the corridor outside CID his reaction is such a perfect picture of acute embarrassment he could use it as an example in his next PowerPoint presentation.
Gis frowns. ‘I thought your assistant said we couldn’t meet up because you were busy today?’
Gow flushes a little. ‘We can’t – that is, I am.’ He hesitates. ‘If you must know, Ruth Gallagher asked me to come in.’ He makes a face. ‘Hashtag awkward.’
Because he’s helping her on the Emma Smith case. Because he’s helping to convict Fawley.
Gis forces away the thought, and the resentment that comes with it. All this shit – none of it’s Gow’s fault.
‘I was going to ask you to look at some footage for us. The Fisher case again.’
Gow nods slowly. ‘OK, I can do that. I’ll drop by later.’ He looks round. ‘And in the meantime, perhaps you could tell me what Gallagher has done with her team, because that office of theirs is doing a pretty good impersonation of the Mary Celeste.’