His face coloured slightly at the rebuke, but she didn’t care. She would remain respectful, but she would not tolerate blatant sexism to her face. Prejudice in the force was not yet completely behind them, but the era of resigned silence and acceptance was.
‘One of my officers is requesting the case files as we speak but we’d also appreciate your insight,’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘I can still see her now,’ he said, placing his golf club back into the bag. ‘Such a tiny thing lying at the bottom of that bloody pool.’
‘It was ruled an accident,’ Kim said, falling into step as he began to walk behind the others. ‘Did you agree?’
‘Not at first,’ he said.
‘Why not?’
‘You’ll see in my reports,’ he said, bristling.
‘Could you tell us now?’ she pressed.
‘It’s nothing,’ he said.
Kim stopped walking. ‘Sir, there’s clearly something about this case that still bothers you,’ she observed.
‘It’s my Midnight Express, Inspector,’ he said.
‘Sorry?’ she asked. It wasn’t a term she’d heard.
‘Haven’t you seen the film?’
Kim shook her head.
‘It’s about a guy imprisoned in Turkey for drug smuggling. To cut a long story short he’s eventually placed with the crazies who walk endlessly around a pole in the middle of the room. Our guy joins them but he’s walking the opposite way.’
Kim got the analogy. ‘You thought there was more to it and other people did not?’
‘I did indeed, and my boss agreed with me, initially, and allowed me to run with an investigation, but eventually I got shut down. Costing too much money with no clear motive never mind a suspect.’
‘The baby?’ Kim asked.
He smiled ruefully, realising they weren’t quite as different as he thought.
‘Yeah, that was my logic too. I wanted to find the father but the funds…’ he shrugged as his words trailed away.
‘How far did you get?’
‘DNA samples from the kids, well, the ones that were old enough, anyway.’
‘Teachers?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘Not before the money ran out.’
‘Then what?’ she asked.
‘That was it. Couldn’t go any further. I was assigned new cases, and by the time the inquest was done I almost agreed that I’d been mistaken in the first place.’
‘About what?’ she asked, wondering what had caused his doubts.
‘The placement of the body,’ he admitted, reaching for another club.
Kim recalled her own feeling on the placement of Sadie’s body and realised that this man would be far more disturbed than he realised if he understood just how similar they were.
There was an instinct that he possessed that was similar to her own. It was something that could not be taught. Except there was one small difference. She believed in her gut and had learned to argue on its behalf. He had not.
‘What about the placement?’ she pushed.
‘It didn’t look right. Too far away from the diving board.’
‘You’re saying she didn’t dive from the board like the accident the inquest ruled?’ Kim asked.
He shook his head. ‘Not even close and there was nothing accidental about it.’
Eighty-Five
‘Are you kidding me?’ Stacey asked as Dawson entered the office with one box. ‘That’s the total investigation into the death of Lorraine Peters?’
Dawson nodded as he slid the box onto the spare desk.
‘Looks like DCI Burrows wasn’t all that keen on paperwork,’ he said, taking the lid off the box.
He removed three brown Manila folders and an inch-thick computer printout.
Stacey came to stand beside him.
‘Hardly a major investigation,’ she observed, opening one of the files.
‘The boss said he was cut short, but I’ve had shoplifting cases that have generated more paperwork than this.’
‘Reckon it’s all here?’ Stacey asked.
Dawson shrugged. ‘We’ll never know. Paper trail and arse covering wasn’t like it is now.’
Stacey closed the folder and touched the computer printout.
‘What is it?’ Dawson asked.
‘I’m guessing DNA results,’ she answered.
‘All I can see is a whole lot of numbers. That’s not gonna help us.’
He opened another folder and slid it towards her.
She could see that the first few documents were witness statements. She opened the last folder which contained the photographs. Stacey spaced out the photos, and they both viewed them silently for a minute. Lorraine Peters’s body captured in time from every angle. Her long, athletic limbs splayed around her; once so efficient and powerful at moving her through the water, now limp and lifeless, smashed against the tiled floor.
She looked back at the witness statements. They would be no use to her. Any witness to the events that had led to the body in the pool was not going to be telling the truth.
‘So, which folder do you want to—’
‘Neither,’ Stacey said, reaching for the computer printout. ‘I’ll take this one.’
Dawson pulled a face at her. ‘But that’s just a bunch of numbers. You’re not gonna get anything from that.’
Stacey shrugged. ‘Maybe, Kev. Yes they’m just numbers but, unlike your witness statements there, numbers don’t lie.’
Eighty-Six
‘That’s the one,’ Kim said, pointing to a small bungalow at the end of a row of identical properties that had housed Lorraine Peters’s mum for almost six years. The small front garden was overgrown with weeds that came up to her knee. Kim saw recycling bags shoved into the corner by the front door, which opened as they approached.
Kim guessed the woman to be early-to mid-fifties, reed thin, with bobbed purple hair. She wore a blue overall and held the keys to the property in her hand.
‘Maggie Peters?’ Bryant asked.
‘Inside,’ the woman said, blocking the door. ‘She don’t need no windows, a new drive or boiler and she’s got a bible.’
‘Good to know,’ Kim said. ‘But we’re not selling anything. We’re police officers.’
‘Oh, okay then,’ she said, but still didn’t move.
‘Is Mrs Peters at home?’ Bryant asked.
‘ID,’ the woman demanded.
They both obliged as Kim noticed the stickers on the front window about cold callers and unsolicited visitors.
‘Can’t be too careful,’ the woman said. ‘Only last week she had two nice ladies come to tell her she needed to go to the bank and transfer her money cos staff at the bank were stealing it from her.’
Kim ground her teeth. Yet another scam that played on the fears of the elderly.
‘Luckily, she phoned me before agreeing to anything,’ she said. ‘And by the time I got here they were gone.’
‘And you are?’
‘Maggie’s home help, carer, whatever they call us these days, and I live just over the field.’
Kim followed her through a small hallway into a lounge that looked out onto the road.
A thin frail woman smiled at them from the single armchair that faced both the window and the small television in the corner. A small-two seater sofa lined the back wall. Part of the sofa was occupied by a few books and a knitting bag.
‘Mrs Peters?’ Kim asked, offering her hand.
The woman took it and nodded as she looked around them.
‘Shelly?’
‘It’s okay, Mags, they’re the police.’
Maggie looked less than convinced it was all in order.
Kim took a seat in the vacant spot as Bryant began to move the woman’s possessions to the side.
Shelly stood in the doorway.
‘We’re fine now, thanks,’ Kim said, aware that the woman had been on her way out.
‘Yeah, so am I,’ Shelly said, folding her arms. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Maggie smiled fondly. ‘She’s a Godsend. Takes care of me every day. I don’t move so well any more,’ she said.
Kim calculated that she was only mid seventies but appeared around ten years older.
‘Arthritis,’ she said. ‘Rheumatoid arthritis in the joints, probably from the swimming.’
‘You were a swimmer too?’ Bryant asked.
‘She was indeed,’ Shelly said, reaching for a photograph from the windowsill. ‘Competed in the Commonwealth Games, you know. Came fourth,’ she said, proudly.
But Maggie Peters wasn’t listening. Her eyes were on Bryant. Her body might be failing her, but her mind was wide awake.
‘You said “too”, officer,’ she breathed. ‘Are you here about Lorraine?’