“There was a message left on my voice-mail this morning from a Detective Superintendent Dawn Leggate. I got in at half-seven, so I was able to arrange a driver to pick up the case box-files first thing.” The DS handed Hunter the thick bound file.
Hunter weighed it in his hands, turned it and fanned apart some of the pages with a thumb and glanced at the top typewritten sheet. It had the patina of ageing but was easily readable. He glanced at the strap-line, reading it off inside his head; Regina v Daniel Weaver.
“You’re very lucky. Many of the really old case files have been destroyed. Forces have had to be ruthless because of the lack of space, and I know from experience that huge swathes of paperwork have been binned. I’ve had a cursory look inside the boxes of your case. There’s an inventory at the top of each one. And although all the paperwork appears to be there, I’m afraid there’re no exhibits. I don’t know yet if those have been destroyed or not.”
Hunter pursed his lips and shot a quick glance at Grace.
“No need to look downhearted. I do have some good news. Since I’ve been doing this job we’ve discovered that the forensic science labs, unlike the police, have kept files and samples from every job ever submitted to them. So somewhere in their system will be samples taken during the Lucy Blake-Hall investigation. Once you sort through the paperwork, if you let me know, I can set things in motion with an e-mail and go up to forensics with you, if you’d like?”
Hunter mouthed “cheers” and returned the file. He cast his eyes along the pile of cardboard archive boxes.
There’s certainly a lot of paperwork to go through, he thought. He set the lid back on the carton and heaved it up.
“We’ll give you a hand to load it,” offered Jamie. He picked up a box from the pile and hoisted it mid-chest. “Listen, we have loads of experience now of dealing with cold cases, especially tracking down witnesses. We have found it can be tricky tracking down female witnesses. Many women get married, change their surname and also move away, but we have tried and trusted ways of finding them. Once you’ve gone through the boxes and sorted everything out, if you get stuck with anything just give us a bell.”
Hunter cast him an appreciative smile.
“Just a bit of advice as well. When the time comes for you to speak with the detectives who previously worked on the case, I know from experience that some of them get very nervous when you start going back over things, because methods that were used during their time were not always the right ones. Just remember that was then this is now! Your focus shouldn’t be about how the case was detected.”
Suddenly, Hunter got an image of Barry Newstead. He knew exactly what Jamie Parker was talking about. He’d been introduced to many unorthodox methods in his pursuit of villains during his early CID days; all of them instigated by Barry. He couldn’t help but crack a grin as he turned towards the door.
* * * * *
Dressed in a black and grey D amp;G logo T-shirt and faded denim jeans, Katherine Edwards answered the front door with her mobile pressed to her ear. She pointed to it and mouthed the words ‘My mum’ back at DCs Tony Bullars and Carol Ragen, standing shoulder-to-shoulder inside her porch.
She waved for them to come in with her free hand, spun on her heels and sauntered off along the hallway towards the back of the house, still speaking on her phone as she went. She was finishing her conversation as the two detectives caught up with her in the kitchen.
“Yeah the police are just here now. I’ll give you a ring later when I find out what’s what, okay? Yeah love you too bye.” She ended the call and placed the mobile onto the marble surface of the kitchen’s central work island. It was a bright and airy L-shaped kitchen diner in a contemporary black and white theme. Italian design high gloss units lined soft cream walls. Most of the light came from a large set of French doors, which gave a view out to her well tended garden. Today, everything was in the grip of the first signs of winter. The clipped bushes and mature trees could just be made out in the morning’s cold damp haze.
The expensive, well designed look of the kitchen reminded Tony that she had told him the previous day that as well as holding down a full time job as a sports injury therapist, she boosted her income with private consultations working from home.
“Sorry about that. That was my mum I’ve only just managed to get hold of her and break the news. She didn’t get back from Gran Canaria until the early hours of this morning.” She picked up the electric kettle and filled it from the tap. “Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?”
Both agreed on tea.
“Sorry to burden you at a time like this, Katherine,” opened Tony with a sympathetic look. “But as you can probably appreciate we need to move on this quite quickly in order to find your father’s killer. I know I bombarded you with quite a number of questions yesterday, but I need to go back over things with you. We have a number of gaps that need filling, both in terms of his past history, as well as recent events in his life. We’re hoping you will be able to fill those in?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night. I can’t believe what’s happened. It’s something you dream about isn’t it, someone in your family being murdered I mean. And Dad as well. All those murders he’s investigated in the past and now he himself has been murdered.” She set the filled kettle back onto its electric base and switched it on. Then she plucked out three cups from a wall cupboard and arranged them around the kettle. Turning back to face Tony, she swept a hand through one side of her dark bob of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “You can’t imagine it, can you?”
She fixed him with her grey/blue eyes. “This is such a shock. Thing is, I thought I’d done most of my grieving for him several months ago when I found out he had terminal cancer. I’ve been to hospital so many times with him these past few months that I’d thought I’d become hardened to the fact that he was going to die.” Her voice trailed off on a brittle note. Dabbing a forefinger into the corner of one eye, she turned quickly back to face the boiling kettle. “But this…I mean Dad murdered. It’s just so hard to imagine.”
Tony got a whiff of her perfume. It reminded him of roses. He couldn’t help but think that at 42 she was in really good shape. She was tall and slim, with a well toned physique, though today he noted how drained she looked. Dark rings circled her eyes, a clear sign she had endured a restless night. He wasn’t surprised, given the previous day’s shock.
Tony had spent several hours with her the day before, prising out of her as much background information as he needed for the present stage of the investigation. But she had repeatedly burst into tears. Today, he was here with the added support of the Family Liaison Officer Carol Ragen to squeeze out that bit more.
“Katherine, I want to introduce you to DC Carol Ragen.” He swapped his gaze from Katherine to his colleague. “After today, Carol will be spending quite a lot of time with you and your Mother throughout the duration of this enquiry. She will be here to support you both, and give you everything you need. If there is anything you don’t understand, just ask her. She will keep you up to date with the enquiry. Is that okay?”
Katherine Edwards nodded as she took the female detective’s extended hand.
DC Ragen met her gaze. “As Tony says, if you want to know what is going on or anything you don’t understand, I’m there for you and your Mother. The only thing I ask is that what I tell you is kept to yourself.” Carol had a noticeable Lancashire accent which accentuated the ‘o’s’ in her words. She removed her hand from Katherine’s grip, then smoothed it through the soft curls of her shoulder length fair hair. At 45 years old, Carol Ragen had been appointed FLO because of her similar age to Katherine. She had been a cop for 22 years, the last ten of which she had served in Headquarter Public Protection Unit dealing with victims of domestic violence.