`There was definitely no phone?' asks Quinn.
`Sorry. No notebook either.'
`What about a bus ticket?'
`Not that I could find.'
`So do you think we'll get any forensics?'
Nina nods. `There may still be some prints on the outside, and there are at least two here,' she says, opening the bag out to reveal the inside. `This area under the flap was protected from the rain. We got lucky.'
`But they're most likely Sasha's, though, surely?'
She shakes her head. `Actually, I don't think so. Not these, anyway. I think there are traces of blood here as well. And if that's the case, the prints are almost certainly not hers.'
Quinn frowns. `Because `“?'
`Because the person who made these prints had Sasha's blood on their hands.'
* * *
ES: Of course, there is another explanation. For why all your phones were off that night.PW: No comment.
[turning to Mr Beck]
You said I could say that, right?ES: You knew we'd be able to use them to track where you were. You knew the only way to be sure you couldn't be traced would be to turn them all off.DW: Where are you getting all this from? My daughter is not a criminal `“ES: And as far as I can see, there's no good reason why you'd want to do that, Patsie. Only a very, very bad one.* * *
Adam Fawley
9 April 2018
19.15
The news has got round before we get to the incident room. One look at their faces tells me that. Quinn is at the front, an unusual flush to his face; and believe me, Quinn doesn't get that excited very often.
`So the bag was definitely Sasha's?' asks Gallagher.
He nods. `No question. And there's at least two fingerprints on the underside of the flap.' He pauses; he knows how to work an audience. `The prints were in blood. And we all know what that means.' He looks round the room. `Forensics are running them against Patsie Webb's right now. Mukerjee said she'd call me within the hour.'
Gallagher turns to me. The blood, the bag, the prints. Her face says it all.
We've got her.
* * *
VE: Interview resumed at 19.25.ES: Why were you so keen to make us suspect Mr Scott, Patsie? You went to a lot of trouble to direct our attention his way.PW: Because he's a pervert `“ because he was following her `“ES: But he didn't kill her, did he? You knew that, and yet you went out of your way to make us think so. Why was that?PW: What are you talking about? How the fuck would I know what he did? I wasn't there `“VE: I think you were, Patsie. I think you know exactly what happened. So why don't you tell us. Tell us the truth about how Sasha died `“PW: What are you talking about `“ Mum `“ they can't accuse me of stuff like this, can they?JB: What actual evidence do you have to support this outrageous theory, Officer?
[DS Gislingham enters the room, confers with DC Somer]PW: [breaking down in tears]
I didn't do it, Mum, I didn't do it `“ Sasha was my best friend `“DW: I know you didn't, darling, I know you didn't. You couldn't do something like that, not in a million years.* * *
Adam Fawley
9 April 2018
20.25
No one's quite opening champagne but the incident room feels like a surprise party awaiting the arrival of the guest of honour. There's some laughter, a sense of release; some of the blokes have loosened their ties.
When Mukerjee rings through Quinn puts her on speaker: we all want to hear this.
`So, do we have a match?'
The line is crackling a little, but her voice is clear. `Yes, we do.'
There's some air-punching, some muted cheers; Gallagher is smiling. Someone claps Quinn on the back as if he waded into the ditch and found that sodding handbag himself.
`That's the good news,' continues Mukerjee. `But I'm afraid it's not as straightforward as you were hoping.'
The room falls quiet.
Gallagher moves closer to the phone. `Nina `“ it's DI Gallagher. Could you explain what you mean?'
`I did find some fingerprints from Patsie Webb on the handbag. The trouble is, there was no blood anywhere near those prints. They could have been made at any time.'
And the girls were friends `“ Patsie could easily have handled that bag, even borrowed it. It's not enough. Nothing like enough.
`The prints with the traces of blood were only partials,' continues Mukerjee. `It won't be good enough to stand up in court.'
Gallagher moves a little closer. `But if they're partials for Patsie `“'
The line crackles again. `Sorry, I wasn't making myself clear. They are a partial match, just not for Patsie Webb.'
`So who `“ for Isabel?'
`No `“ we checked hers against ones on the bus ticket. It's not Isabel either.'
Gallagher frowns `“ this isn't making any sense. `Then who `“'
`Nadine,' says Mukerjee, her voice clearer now. `The prints are a partial match for Nadine Appleford.'
* * *
`You should be fucking ashamed of yourselves. And if you think you're getting away with this you've got another think coming.'
Denise Webb is so angry she can barely speak without spitting. Everett's had her fair share of self-righteous abuse over the years, but this is up there with the most unpleasant. Patsie is a few yards away, her head down, hair falling about her face. It's impossible to see her expression. She hasn't spoken since they left the interview room.
`Keeping us here for hours on end,' says Denise, `accusing a fifteen-year-old girl of something so `“ so `“ it's disgusting, that's what it is.'
The desk sergeant hands Everett the bail paperwork for Denise Webb to sign. It's clear from his face that he's keeping well out of it. Ev's on her own on this one.
`I'm taking my daughter home now, Constable, or whatever your damn title is. But this isn't the end of it. Not by a long way.'
No, thinks Everett, as she watches the woman put her arm round her daughter and guide her to the door. I think you're dead right about that.
* * *
Adam Fawley
9 April 2018
21.35
Gallagher pushes open the incident-room door and sits down heavily on the nearest chair. She's just been briefing Harrison. I don't need to ask how it went: I've seen the look on her face too many times before `“ in my own mirror.
`Someone please explain to me how Nadine Appleford's prints got on that handbag,' she says wearily, `because I am all out of viable explanations.'
Gislingham shakes his head. `I don't care what forensics said, Nadine couldn't have killed Sasha `“ not on her own, anyway. She'd have struggled getting that body into the river on her own for a start, apart from anything else. Patsie could've, yes, but Nadine's a good three or four inches shorter.'
`Oh, I dunno,' says Quinn, `she may be small but she looks pretty sturdy to me `“ and what with the slope of the bank, I reckon she could have just rolled it down.'
`That it was a fifteen-year-old girl,' says Somer curtly.
`And Nadine is fifteen too,' replies Gislingham. `And why would she attack Sasha anyway? They didn't even know each other.'