The patient, p.22
The Patient, page 22
‘No, the truth is he was furious, and, in saying that, I’m well aware that it could look like I’m giving you motive, but I do so in the confidence that he didn’t kill Flick.’
‘Confidence is one thing. Proof is another,’ Cross commented.
‘He doesn’t have it in him, Sergeant,’ Gerry said.
‘Maybe he doesn’t. Do you?’ Cross asked.
‘I didn’t kill her. She liked me and I liked her. I’d go as far as to say she was fond of me, in an avuncular sort of way. I think she also felt a little sorry for me. The way Danny behaved – she knew it was difficult for me.’
‘Why do you let him get away with it?’ Ottey asked.
‘Danny has been through quite a lot. He’s adopted and has a lot of emotional issues tied up with all of that. In his case rejection, an inability to form long-lasting relationships. I’m not excusing him. I don’t think he helps himself at all. It’s why we got involved in Hopewell, Betty and I. Danny’s birth mother was a drug addict and put him up for adoption. Betty had more control of him but even she struggled.’
Cross noticed that lots of the workers had stopped and were listening to Gerry. This was news to them, obviously.
‘So maybe I do make excuses for him because I know it hasn’t been easy for him. But we reached the point with Flick and the others where it had to stop,’ Gerry said.
‘The issue here, Mr Stokes, is that we have a witness placing you at Flick’s flat the night of her death,’ said Cross.
‘Ah, okay. Well, I didn’t kill her and I have someone who can actually prove that.’
‘Who?’ asked Ottey.
‘Flick,’ he replied.
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Ottey.
‘She was smart, worldly-wise, that girl. She was pleased to see me. After all, she asked me into the flat. But she insisted on recording the entire meeting on her phone. Do you have her phone?’ he asked.
‘We do,’ Ottey answered. ‘It’s being examined at the moment.’
‘Well, it’s in there somewhere. The entire meeting, and I don’t believe she switched it off before I left.’
On her way out Ottey saw Karen who waved half-heartedly, almost embarrassed. But it was enough for Ottey to go over. She handed Karen a card.
‘This has my mobile number on it. Call me if you want.’
‘Do you think he did it? Killed Flick?’ She sounded frightened.
‘I don’t know as yet. But, Karen, I think you have something you want to tell us. So when you’re ready, give me a call. Okay?’
Chapter 46
Going through someone’s smartphone when you don’t know what you’re looking for could take weeks, Cross had discovered. There was so much data, so many photos, emails, texts, call records, browser records. But if you knew what you were looking for, it could be found in minutes, so by the time they were back at the MCU the voice memo recording of the meeting on Flick’s phone had been tracked down. They sat in the office and listened. It was always odd hearing a deceased victim’s voice for the first time. Disconcerting but also incentivising at the same time.
‘I’m recording this, do you mind, Gerry?’ Flick asked. Her voice was lighter than Ottey had expected.
‘No, of course I don’t. Is that a bruise? On your forehead?’
‘Yes. I tripped over one of Daisy’s toys. I fell awkwardly because I had her in my arms,’ Flick replied.
‘It looks painful. Have you had it looked at?’
‘No. Haven’t had time. I think it looks worse than it is. Would you like a coffee?’
‘That would be lovely, thank you.’ She could then be heard filling the kettle and getting out a couple of cups.
‘If you’re here to persuade me to drop my claim you’re wasting your time,’ she said nervously.
‘I am, of course, and you knew that when you let me in. I just hope maybe you’ll listen to me for a little and if I don’t change your mind, know that you will have my full support at the tribunal.’
‘Okay, but I’m not promising anything,’ she replied as an invitation for him to continue.
‘Well, I am, dear. I intend making full restitution to all the girls affected and where possible offer them employment.’
‘They won’t come back and work for Danny. No way.’
‘He won’t be there anymore. I’m going to move him to our head office, well out of the way. He won’t be allowed back at the laundry. I’ll be running that now. He will also make a full public apology and acknowledgement of his behaviour and undertake some form of therapy.’
‘That could lead to the police making charges, though, couldn’t it?’
‘Quite possibly.’
‘Then why would Danny agree to it?’
‘Because he won’t have a job nor a place to live if he doesn’t.’
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely. On my honour.’
She thought about this for a moment then something discomfited her.
‘I still find it hard to believe you didn’t know, Gerry,’ Flick said. There was a pause.
‘He’s my son, Flick. Maybe I didn’t want to accept it.’
‘And look where that’s got us. I’m sorry. I’m very grateful for what you’re trying to do,’ Flick went on.
‘You shouldn’t be grateful. None of this should have happened and of course I have to take some responsibility.’
‘You looked the other way,’ Flick said. He didn’t answer. ‘You have no idea what it’s like going to work feeling sick to the stomach. Not knowing what he might do that day. And the worst part was that we didn’t have a choice, with our history. We were trapped.’
‘I know.’
‘I don’t think you do, Mr Stokes. We were terrified of that man. Your son. Absolutely terrified. Some of the things he did and said. It wasn’t right.’ There was the sound of a young child stirring over a baby monitor.
‘That’s Daisy.’
‘Oh, I’m glad she’s woken up. I’ve brought something for her.’
The meeting continued pretty much exactly as Gerry had described it. Flick became more warm and friendly, having made her feelings clear. They drank their coffee. He could be heard playing with Daisy. During the meeting everything he’d laid out to them that afternoon was, indeed, said. At the end of the meeting, Flick thanked him and said that he’d given her a lot to think about and could she call him the next day? He was delighted.
To Cross it all sounded genuine. It didn’t sound like she was making an excuse for it or making up a story. What it did mean, though, was that the bruise had occurred before the overdose and could be ruled out. Whoever killed her hadn’t struck her in order to administer the morphine, which made things a little more complicated. It also confirmed that Gerry Stokes had told them the complete truth.
It was strange for Ottey to hear Flick’s voice. Evidence of the deceased always affected her in this way. It touched her emotionally to hear the victim alive. Cross had no such feelings. He just listened to it factually, impersonally, trying to glean as much information as possible from it.
*
They went back into the interview room. Danny Stokes now had the look of someone who was tired and worried. Cross felt that this wasn’t a sign of guilt, by any means. In circumstances like these, suspects realised that the situation wasn’t just going to go away, guilty or not, and it had a grounding effect on them that could almost be heard. Cross organised his files carefully on the interview desk, as Ottey set up her laptop. They then played the entirety of his father’s meeting with Flick, all twenty-five minutes of it, without interruption or comment. When it got to the end the two detectives said nothing. Danny looked up expectantly, waiting for a question. None was forthcoming. Danny caved first.
‘What?’ he said.
‘Your father was going to sack you from the laundry business,’ Cross said. There was no response. ‘Compel you to make a full, public admission.’
‘And put you behind a desk at head office where you could hopefully do no more damage,’ Ottey added.
There was a slight scoff from Danny which seemed to imply ‘as if’.
‘Well, it was either that or no job at all and no penthouse flat. Or did I misunderstand?’ Ottey asked. ‘Not to mention the possibility of the police taking an interest.’
Danny made no reply but the shifting in his seat acknowledged the uncomfortable truth of it all.
Ottey then replayed the part of the conversation where Flick specifically said how frightened she was of Danny and what he might do. Danny said nothing. Then Cross spoke up.
‘This tape provides us with motive and evidence that Flick perceived you as a threat.’
‘At the risk of repeating myself, you cannot place him at the scene,’ said the lawyer.
‘Not as yet, no,’ said Cross. ‘But that isn’t always necessary. Murderers have become much more adept at leaving no tracks forensically these days. So judges often take a view on whether they have to be placed at the scene for a guilty verdict. Other evidence comes into play, and the evidence we have seems to be becoming more and more compelling as we go on.’
‘You can’t prove I was there, because I wasn’t, and that’s not going to change,’ said Danny.
‘As my colleague says, it’s possible we have enough as it is,’ said Ottey. ‘Perhaps now is the time to come clean and hope the judge may look favourably on that when it comes to sentencing.’
For the first time Cross thought that Danny looked genuinely concerned.
‘I’d like to speak to my lawyer,’ he said.
Chapter 47
‘The CPS think we have enough to charge him, and now he wants to speak to his lawyer, which is always a good sign,’ said Carson.
‘He just needed a break. It doesn’t mean a thing,’ said Cross.
Carson sighed. Why did Cross always take the opposite view?
‘Charge him,’ he instructed them.
‘We have a few more hours,’ said Cross. ‘What’s the rush?’
‘Why wait?’ Carson responded.
‘There’s a huge difference between thinking that someone’s guilty and conclusively being able to prove it,’ Cross retorted.
‘Well, I’m willing to take my chances with a jury on this one,’ said Carson, but immediately regretted it. ‘I know, George. There’s no need for another lecture on the pitfalls of relying on a jury reaching the correct verdict. Although that is their very purpose.’
‘And our job is to give them as much help as possible to come to that – correct – verdict,’ said Cross, by way of a parting shot, as he left the office.
Carson looked at Ottey for some support.
‘What is it you told me when you partnered me with him?’ she asked mischievously.
‘“Best conviction rate in the force”, I know. It doesn’t make him any less irritating, though.’
*
Cross was studying a recording of his interview with Stokes when Ottey walked straight into his office; something he truly hated. It invariably startled him, interrupted him in what he was doing and annoyed him. He’d made it abundantly clear that admission to his office was contingent on a firm, but polite, knock.
‘You should hear this,’ she said, putting her laptop on his desk. For a second his irritation was assuaged, as he thought she must have had some sort of breakthrough in the case. But it was an interview on local radio with someone who sounded unmistakably like Alice Mackenzie. She was talking about the late DCI Esther Moffatt, who had died with no known relatives and few friends. She was appealing for relations to come to the funeral in a week’s time, having persuaded the funeral home to delay to give her time. It appeared that Mackenzie’s Facebook posting, liberally shared by her friends, had gained traction and media attention. Local radio had been in touch. But sadly no relatives had made contact, as yet.
‘Isn’t it great? Fab little local news story,’ Ottey said.
‘Ask her to come and see me when she’s back,’ was all he said, inexplicably annoyed that he was sure he’d heard the name of Stephen’s church being the venue for the funeral. After Ottey left he stopped to think for a moment. Why was he annoyed by Stephen’s church being used? But he couldn’t come up with an answer.
*
Half an hour later there was a knock at the door and Mackenzie appeared, having enjoyed a fair amount of ribbing and praise as she walked through the department.
‘You wanted to see me?’ she said to Cross.
‘I still do,’ he said instinctively correcting her errant tense. But he was prevented going any further by Ottey.
‘It’s the chief constable’s office on the phone,’ she announced.
‘Okay, put him through,’ replied Cross.
‘It’s for Alice,’ said Ottey.
‘Really? Oh shit,’ muttered Mackenzie, as she quickly left the office to take the call.
Chapter 48
Cross was coming into work early every day now. He often did this when a case gathered pace. He liked the peace and quiet of the empty office. So he was surprised to find Mackenzie and Catherine waiting for him, the next morning, looking miserably businesslike.
‘I’ve now managed to follow Danny the night of the murder,’ Catherine said. ‘He left the dry cleaner’s just after seven in his car. Drove straight home. Drove into the underground car park of his flats and didn’t emerge till the next morning just before eight. I got the CCTV footage from the building opposite.’
According to Mackenzie, once home he’d ordered in a pizza. She found it on his credit card and then got the exact time from the delivery company. It was delivered to his flat shortly after nine thirty that night. The tech guy charged with tracking his phone had drawn a blank, but they had enough.
Danny was not their man.
Carson was as disappointed as anyone else, but Ottey noticed that in these situations he always seemed to imply that Cross was to blame, although all Cross had done was find the truth. It was a paradox. She found herself wondering at times whether Carson was interested in the truth at all. His attitude, of course, went straight over Cross’s head.
Danny’s behaviour as he was released interested Ottey. He wasn’t at all celebratory or crowing, which she thought was a little out of character. Maybe the seriousness of the situation had finally got to him. She often thought that people, when innocent of the crime they’d been charged with, had sufficient time in their cell to dwell on whether the British justice system was as good as it was cracked up to be. Whether they thought they could, on the purported evidence of the police, be convicted of a crime they hadn’t committed. She was sure that lots of people, when released from the custody suite like this, might have second thoughts about the efficiency of the justice system, because it had suddenly felt like it could be a fifty-fifty situation if it went to court – despite their innocence.
Mackenzie was sitting at her desk like a sulky adolescent when Ottey came back into the open area. ‘I can’t believe we had to let him go.’
‘It’s what we do when people haven’t done anything wrong,’ Ottey replied.
‘That man has done plenty wrong and now that Flick is dead he gets away with it.’
Ottey looked over at Cross’s office. It was empty. ‘Where’s George?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Mackenzie.
Ottey checked her watch. When she saw how long it had been since Danny’s release she knew exactly where Cross would be. Where he always went after someone had been released, if he still thought them of interest in a case – on the back staircase to watch them leave the building and observe their behaviour.
‘We don’t have to give up on nailing Stokes, Alice. In fact we shouldn’t,’ said Ottey.
‘But we’ve given him an alibi.’
‘Which is our job, because he didn’t kill Flick. But he’s done enough to those girls to be put behind bars for a good stretch. We just need to get the evidence.’
*
Four days later the sight that presented itself to Ottey and Cross, when they arrived at the church for Esther Moffatt’s funeral, silenced them both. There were dozens and dozens of police officers, male and female, of all ranks, all in uniform and wearing white gloves. Groups stood around chatting quietly. Cross secretly loved the opportunities to wear uniform when they presented themselves. He missed wearing it as a detective.
There were also hundreds of members of the public gathered, attracted by the local news story. A local TV camera crew stood at a respectful distance, picking up shots when they could. Hundreds of feet crushing wet, fallen leaves created that sweet, decaying smell of autumnal rot, which somehow seemed appropriate for such an occasion.
‘This is incredible,’ remarked Ottey.
‘It certainly is impressive,’ said Cross.
The reason for the huge police presence, with senior detectives from all parts of the Avon and Somerset police force getting out their old uniforms and dusting them off, was that the chief constable’s office had become involved in Esther Moffatt’s funeral. That was why he’d called the previous week. He had been alerted to the radio interview with Mackenzie and knew immediately who they were referring to. It turned out that Moffatt had been one of his training officers when he was a young constable and he remembered her with affectionate admiration. He was keen that the police recognised her service, and of course as soon as he became involved it became a bit of a three-line whip. Everyone who was available was going to attend.
Cross had been reluctantly conscripted to give an address at the service, something that had kept him awake at night. This was a man who couldn’t bring himself to address a staff meeting of twenty during an investigation. The idea of addressing a congregation – however small – from a lectern, terrified him. He spent hours researching Moffatt’s life and career with Mackenzie.
He then came up with an inspired plan. He called the Chief – it irritated the hell out of other officers that he had a direct line to the Chief, who had taken quite a shine to his star, if a little bizarre, detective. Cross suggested that the Chief make the address at the funeral, as he’d worked alongside DCI Moffatt, so it would not only be more personal but would give the whole occasion more authority. The public would be impressed that the police looked after their own in this way, and respect for the service Esther had given would be acknowledged right at the top of the force. What was more, Cross had added, he’d already written a eulogy which the Chief could use. The Chief thought it was a great idea, so Cross sent him his address to use as a basis. The Chief, together with his staff presumably, rewrote it and, much to Cross’s surprise, sent it back to him for his comments. Cross thought it had become a little sentimental, but realised that it wasn’t for him to judge. He did, however, make several syntactical and grammatical corrections which he sent back.
