Rachel tutted and rolled her eyes skywards, then chucked the keys. Janet caught them.
They went into the property at seven.
Sean was in bed, looking dazed and disorientated, when Janet made the arrest. Shaking his head when she delivered the caution as though she’d got him all wrong. She told him they would be searching the premises too.
‘Stupid bitch,’ he muttered.
Janet had heard it all before, water off a duck’s back.
The other occupant, Benny, who slept in the smaller room, stood on the landing in some leopard-print boxers, scratching his belly, stupefied by proceedings.
The place was a tip. There was a sickly looking kitten in the living room, which had obviously not been house trained; everywhere reeked of cat shit. The sofa had been clawed to shreds. If Sean was dealing in stolen goods, he certainly wasn’t making any money to speak of.
Once Sean and his cousin had been driven to the station, and the kitten removed by the RSPCA, a CSI team began a search of the property. They were after the murder weapon, any bloodstained clothing or footwear and any property of Lisa’s.
It never rains but it pours, Gill thought. They’d be doing back-to-back interviews all day, as well as processing the new forensics from the Broughton house. The cells were busy, Kasim was down there talking to the duty solicitor, and Sean awaiting the arrival of his solicitor while cousin Benny was in the soft interview room.
Was Rachel a loose cannon? Maybe so, but when Gill had rung Sutton to sound him out, he reckoned Bailey had leadership potential and said he’d be sorry to lose her. Perhaps the driving display had been a way to try and prove herself. Showing off for Gill? Or maybe the kid just had a hunter’s instinct. Someone scarpers and you give chase; don’t stop till you’ve felt his collar.
That tenacity – brave or foolish – was an admirable quality, but Rachel needed to temper it with consideration for her fellow officers. Without the ability to communicate, to engender respect and loyalty, leadership was a closed door. Gone were the days when a tinpot dictator could ride roughshod over the views and feelings of those under his command. A leader now had to demonstrate they had people skills, bring out the best in their junior officers, identify and encourage the brightest, support those who struggled, helping them to build on their strengths. Which made her think of Kevin. Which sent her in search of sustenance, a mug of coffee and a Danish, before she met with her detectives.
‘What about Benny?’ Janet asked her, once they were all assembled.
‘Not the brightest bunny in the burrow,’ Gill said. ‘He’s got mild learning disabilities, so we’re waiting for an appropriate adult. I’d like Janet, with Mitch, to chat to him before we start on Sean. That also gives us time to see if we get anything through forensics on the Broughton house and to find out what the cabbie can give us. Save Sean for the main course.’
Janet nodded, amended her notes.
‘Rachel and Pete – with Kasim. I’ll have a word with his brief – maybe he’ll play ball. You can start, Rachel, see how you do. Run through your strategy with Andy.’
Gill took Kasim’s solicitor aside and explained that there was no way they could do anything about the drug charge; the evidence was so overwhelming, CPS would wave it through without drawing breath. ‘We show them a picture of what we found in the cab and it’s a done deal. But the fact that your client was the last person to see our victim alive means we have a very great interest in what he might be able to tell us. I can give you an undertaking that we will not prefer any charges of intent to supply our victim – that won’t be pursued. In return, we’re interested in information he may be able to furnish us with regarding the murder and not the drugs.’
‘I’ll put it to him,’ the solicitor said.
It was a fairly simple matter to test for blood traces – Luminol glows blue when it comes into contact with blood – so Gill soon got word that none of Sean’s clothing at his house gave a positive result. It was a disappointment. But the news wasn’t all bad. Lee came to her, eager to talk about an item recovered from Sean’s house: a small gold-plated chain with a chunky cross on. The chain was broken.
‘Something else he nicked from Lisa?’ Gill ventured. ‘Remember the abrasions on her neck?’
‘Could be.’
‘We’ll ask the mother if she recognizes it. I need to meet her, anyway,’ Gill said. It was expected practice for the SIO in a murder inquiry to meet the next of kin in the early days of an investigation. The family needed to know who was ultimately in charge of their fate and the hunt for the truth, to see that someone with authority was dedicated to their case.
Gill phoned the FLO and asked him to set up a meeting with Denise Finn at a place of her choice. And told him to inform her about the arrest. He came back on and said that Denise wanted to see her at the police station. That was preferable from Gill’s point of view; it meant she could talk to Denise first, then have one of her DCs ask her about the cross and chain.
A sense of anticlimax spread through the room as Gill passed on the news that the team at Sean’s house had not found either bloodstained clothing or the murder weapon. She needed to get them thinking where this took them. ‘Did Sean Broughton go somewhere else before he called us? Dispose of the murder weapon and his clothes?’ she put it to them. ‘Perhaps he had spare clothes at Lisa’s that he could change into. Andy, have we got cameras in the area?’
‘Traffic lights on Oldham Road are nearest; four hundred metres away from the junction with Garrigan Street, heading out of town. Next camera is at the petrol station on Oldham Road, about three hundred metres towards the city centre.’
Gill nodded. ‘Can we do a trawl of those, between one and four p.m. on Monday, specifically for any sign of Sean on foot, or of Kasim’s cab leaving.’
‘If he went back to base after dropping Lisa,’ Mitch said, ‘he’d pass the petrol station.’
‘Good – Kevin, see what you can find.’
‘Can’t Rachel do it?’ he objected. ‘Keep her off the streets – road safety,’ he sniggered.
‘I’m asking you,’ Gill said brusquely.
She reminded them of the progress they had already made, aiming to keep them keen. ‘I’m very pleased,’ she announced. ‘We’ve made substantial headway and Sean Broughton is giving us more each time we talk to him. We’ve still a lot of ground to cover, but we should have help from DNA before very long. So let’s get on with it.’
23
CHRISTOPHER DANES, THE FLO, brought Denise in to the station. Gill greeted her and introduced herself, offered her tea or coffee, which she declined. Denise was dishevelled, looked unwashed, her glasses smeared. She reeked of booze.
‘I’m leading the investigation and I wanted to tell you that we are doing everything we can to find out who did this to your daughter. I know Christopher has been keeping you up to date with developments, but if there’s anything you want to ask me I’ll do my best to answer it.’
‘You’ve arrested him?’
‘I can tell you that we have arrested a twenty-two-year-old man who is helping with our inquiries.’
‘It’s him though, isn’t it?’ she grimaced, a note of bitter triumph in her tone.
Gill paused, deliberately not denying it before saying, ‘I’m not at liberty to say. As soon as we can tell you any more, I give you my assurance you will be the first to hear.’
‘I’ve a right to know,’ Denise said defiantly.
‘Yes,’ Gill agreed, ‘and as soon as any steps are taken, any charges brought, anything like that, you will be told. You have my word.’
‘And the funeral?’ The muscles in her face twitched.
‘We can’t release Lisa yet, the defence have the right to have Lisa examined for themselves.’