“Don’t beat yourself up Paul. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. We’ve all done things we regret. Anyway the murder enquiry I’m involved in might now draw a line under who caused your sister’s and her boyfriend’s accident. That’s why I called you. I’ve mentioned the cardigan because yesterday I found out that our murder victim Carol Siddons was actually wearing the cardigan. Apparently her mother gave it to her to wear on the night she went missing.”
Hunter paused, as he saw Paul draw in his breath. He studied his features and saw a look of real perplexity. He was thinking how he could break the next couple of sentences, but there was no other way round it.
“You know what that means don’t you Paul,” he started. “The cardigan belonged to a victim and not to the person who had nicked the CID car. That’s why you didn’t get anywhere with your enquiries all those years back. You also know that we’re also investigating the murder of a Rebecca Morris don’t you?”
Paul nodded.
“Well the discovery of Carol Siddons body is linked to Rebecca Morris. The forensic pathologist has confirmed that the killings are similar. It looks as though the killer picked up Carol Siddons after he’d nicked your CID car that night, drove her around in it, murdered her, and then buried her. Her body was found only about fifty yards from the old track where the car was dumped and set on fire. It had been buried in a shallow grave.”
Paul almost dropped into the chair beside the table where they had placed their drinks.
“Fucking hell, I can’t believe this,” Paul growled beneath his breath, and snatched up his beer and took a swift gulp.
“Do you still have that cardigan, because you know what I’m thinking now don’t you?” said Hunter now also seating himself at the table beside his colleague.
“DNA.”
Hunter nodded. His head tumbled around the knowledge he had of the scientific processes of matching DNA. Things had changed so radically since its introduction twenty years ago. He knew that forensic scientists were now able to work with the smallest sample of genetic material, such as sweat, or tears on clothing, often referred to as trace evidence, to enable a match.
“Bloody hell Hunter I never actually booked it in as evidence. I’ve told you what I was doing with it all those years back. It was like treading on eggshells with the gaffer so I kept a low profile with my enquiries. I just kept it in my drawer until I needed it.”
“Did you get rid of it then?”
“I’m sure I didn’t sling it,” Paul retorted. “I can remember taking it with me when I moved. It stayed in my locker for ages.” After a moments silence he suddenly blurted out “I do have it. I put it in my garage. It’ll still be there. But if I do get it how can we get it into the evidence chain without being disciplined for breaching standards? The gaffer back then, Jameson, died of lung cancer a few years back, so there’s no one to back up my story as to why I had to suppress it as evidence.”
“Paul this is something you need to sort out. It’s not me who breached standards. We need that cardigan for forensic evidence.”
“So much for being buddies.”
“Look Paul I don’t want to fall out over this but I covered up enough for you that night when you were out shagging instead of doing your job, and rightly or wrongly the DI did his best to play down the link of one of his department’s cars being involved in a fatal accident, even though it had been stolen. We know there was the death of your sister’s boyfriend that night involving the CID car, plus now the murder of Carol Siddons, and the only evidence we’ve got is that cardigan. You recovered it and it should have been booked in. You know how this job has moved on, especially where it comes to preserving evidence. I don’t care how you do it now but we really need that cardigan. It could be our best chance of catching this bastard.” He paused and took on a more sympathetic tone. “Look it’s like you said, this happened years ago. Things were different back then, and there’s no doubt that DI Jameson had some influence on your decision not to book it in. But if you think about this there must be some way you can turn this around. My guess is that the evidence property books will have been destroyed a long time ago, and you’ll be able to come up with something to cover your back.” Hunter took another sip of his beer, fixing his gaze on Paul, whom he could see was trying to make some sense of this dilemma. “Another thing” he added “And I know this could complicate things further but I also need to know where you were that night. Who were you shagging when the car was nicked, because there might be some vital witnesses to all this.”
“I can’t do that. You don’t need to know this after all this time. What difference will it make? No one will be able to recall anything that far back.”
“She was married wasn’t she?” He sensed Paul hesitate. “Come on you’ve got to be straight with me. I need to know what I was covering up all those years ago.”
“She was married yes. She still is to the same guy, and that’s why it’s so messy.”
“Come on cough up. You’ve done the hard part getting this far.”
“He’s a local councillor.”
“Why’s that so messy?”
“Because he’s now a member of the Police Authority.”
“Bloody hell Paul. You certainly pick ‘em don’t you. Now you’ve told me that you might as well tell me now who she is.”
“Karen Gardner.”
“Karen Gardner, married to Jerry Gardner — chair of the Police Authority?”
Paul nodded “One and the same.”
“But she must be fifty if she’s a day.”
“Probably now, yeah. She was in her thirties when we met. I went to a burglary at their flat, and when I caught the kid who’d done it, she sort of rewarded me. After that I used to visit her every so often when her hubby was at his meetings.”
“I have to say a few of the lads used to hint that they thought she was a bit of a warm ‘un. You dirty bugger.”
“Yes she was. In fact she was red hot. Can you see now why I never said anything? And I know that I wasn’t the only one doing the rounds with her. I got a whisper she was getting a good seeing to by a local villain and that’s when I called it a day.”
Hunter’s breath hissed through clenched teeth. “That puts a different complexion on things. If you knew about him then he might also have known about you being a cop.”
“I have to confess, it’s got me thinking now.” He paused and screwed up his face, then rubbed a hand across it. “This is a real fucking mess Hunter isn’t it?”
Hunter chose not to respond immediately. He was still a colleague even though they had been out of touch for all these years. He bit down on his lip, and then said, “You know who the guy is?”
“No idea. It was just a snippet I picked up in the pub, and so as I say I stayed well clear of her.”
“You know what I need to do, don’t you?”
“Interview her.”
Hunter nodded. “You and I go back a long way. I promise I’ll be as discreet as I can be. But it’s all fitting into place now. This villain whoever he is, may well have known about you visiting Mrs Gardner and thought of a really good way to get back at a cop. So the possibility is he could have either nicked the car that night, or got someone else to do it to set you up. And then somehow or other Carol Siddons got involved and ended up dead.” Hunter pondered for a second, then added, “Most probably because she witnessed the accident, which killed your sister’s boyfriend and was going to blab.”