Bones in the Nest (19 page)

He went back to the kitchen where there was no chance of his father opening his eyes and asking what he was up to. Then he put Starkey’s phone on the drainer and used his own phone to photograph the cover image. He turned it over. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to pick up the scratches, but maybe Lizzie would know if there was some way of enhancing the image. She popped into his head and lingered there for a moment, like the hologram of Princess Leia in
Star Wars
, but he shut her out; he didn’t have time. If Starkey found out what he was doing, he’d probably beat him to a pulp.

He wasn’t sure what all the icons meant, so he touched various things, but nothing made sense. Suddenly, like an open sesame, a swipe across the screen opened up the settings menu. He scrolled all the way down and there, nestled at the bottom, was an icon labelled ‘About Phone’. He clicked it and scrolled slowly through a mess of words and numbers, trying to understand what they meant.

When the knock came on the door, he almost jumped out of his skin. He fumbled with Starkey’s phone, to get it back to where he’d started, and squeezed his own phone into his pocket. As he opened the door, he hoped the lack of light in the dingy hallway would cover the heat in his face.

Lizzie carried the evidence bags back to the police vehicles. The doors to the CSI van were open and Janet was loading several more bags into its temperature controlled interior.

Janet wrinkled her nose in the direction of the bag she was holding. ‘I’m not sure this lot’s going to tell us very much, but at least we’ve done our civic duty and left the place cleaner than we found it.’

‘Have we finished with the cars?’

‘The last one’s being processed. The uniforms have collected all the personal details of the drivers, so once Khan gives the OK, we can let them go.’

‘Good. I wonder if he’s had a chance to talk to the woman at the ticket office.’

‘Why don’t you ask him?’ Janet nodded to where Khan was sitting at one of the picnic tables. He pushed the hood of the white suit back and ran a hand over his hair, down his cheek and across his beard. He was staring across the field to the white tent.

‘What’s on your mind?’ Lizzie said, laying the gardening implement she’d found in the potting shed down in front of him. This time she was careful the blade didn’t tear the clear plastic bag she’d put it in. She’d narrowly missed slicing her finger.

‘North Yorkshire police just called back.’ His voice was deadpan, his eyes resting on the curve of the blade. ‘Chloe Toms is better known as Marilyn Nelson. She’s registered at a bail hostel in York. Our victim also has a name: Taheera Ahmed. She was a staff member at the hostel and Marilyn’s link worker, supporting her resettlement. As it happens, DS Simkins went to have a chat with Marilyn, or Chloe as she’s now known, about Mohammad Asaf. A local Doncaster woman thought she’d spotted Nelson on the Chasebridge estate the day before Asaf died.’

‘She’s the Chasebridge Killer? Jesus.’ Lizzie sat down on the end of the bench. She stared out towards the slope of lawn and the bank of rhododendron bushes, where the white tent stood.

‘Where’s Bill Coldacre?’

Khan paused. ‘Gone home.’

‘Where’s home?’

‘He lives in a tied cottage on the estate. Why?’

‘Did someone swab him before he went?’

‘He has no motive.’

‘And she does?’ Lizzie snapped.

‘She’s certainly a suspect.’

‘Have you spoken to the woman at the ticket booth?’

‘Do you want to swab her too?’

Lizzie turned round to face him. She could have slapped the superior expression off his face.

‘I don’t mean to overstep any lines of command here, DCI Khan, but I do need to get forensic evidence from anyone who may have been on-site at the time of death. So yes, I’d like her DNA, please, and if it’s not too late, I’d like the DNA of every single car owner before they leave.’

‘Good luck with that.’ He turned away and looked across the field again. ‘I’m not a complete fool, Lizzie. I know you’re pissed off with me about Sean Denton. On my way here I had a call from Commander Laine himself.’

Lizzie tried to keep a poker face. There was an old boy network in every walk of life, and even if she wasn’t part of it, her father was, and those old boys hadn’t wasted any time.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘I accept I may have been hasty. I assure you, I will do the right thing and withdraw the disciplinary proceedings against Sean Denton. Are you happy now?’

It was difficult to know how to respond, so she said nothing.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘taking up the time of all my constables to get swabs and fingerprints of twenty-two irate day trippers isn’t going to improve relations now, is it? We have a prime suspect with a motive. What more do you want?’

‘You are unbelievable!’ She stood up. ‘What happened to innocent until proven guilty? There’s no physical evidence that Chloe, or Marilyn, or whatever we’re calling her, killed Taheera Ahmed. In fact all the evidence I’m looking at suggests she didn’t. You know what I think?’

‘What?’

‘I think it’s some ritual thing, I don’t know, like an honour
killing. She let her attacker march her across the lawn and over the fence. She didn’t fight back.’

She held her breath, expecting a reaction, but he continued to focus on the white tent at the other end of the field.

‘Did you know her?’ she said.

‘What?’ He snapped round. ‘You think I know every Pakistani girl in South Yorkshire?’

‘No, of course not. That’s ridiculous. But when you first saw her, it seemed personal. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I’m prying.’

He sighed and looked back at the tent. ‘It’s our job to pry. I don’t blame you.’

Lizzie replayed in her mind the order in which Chloe had unzipped her jeans, handed her the clothes and done up the white suit.

‘Do you even know, detective, if your suspect is left-handed or right-handed?’

A wasp flew close to her ear and she waved it away.

‘A bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?’ he finally said. ‘A released killer and a murder in the same place? I don’t believe in coincidences, Lizzie.’

‘Neither do I, DCI Khan. I believe in empirical evidence and I’m not seeing any. What if the murderer is still in that group, biding his time until we let him drive out of here?’

‘Call me Sam.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Call me Sam. It’s my name.’ There was a softness in his voice and a weariness too.

She sat down again, opposite him this time.

‘What’s with the blade?’ he said, as if he’d only just noticed the wooden-handled knife in the bag.

‘It’s not the murder weapon,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s too big. But it’s very sharp and it’s got me thinking. I want to ask Bill Coldacre where he gets his knives. He’s got a whole selection in there that we don’t usually see in town.’

Khan shook his head. ‘He’s not our man. If he wanted to kill someone he’d snap their neck in one squeeze. Have you seen the size of his hands? No, this is much more precise, more personal. You’re right in that sense. She was crying. Not fighting.’

Lizzie thought about the imprint on Taheera’s arm. The hands were bigger than hers, but were they as big as Coldacre’s?

‘I’d like to check him over all the same.’

A uniformed officer was approaching the table. ‘Sir, Mrs Coldacre wants to get home to see if her husband’s all right. Someone’s told her she’ll need to give a statement. She says she’s ready, so if you could … sorry, her words, not mine … get a move on.’

‘Mrs Coldacre?’ Lizzie looked up. ‘Happy families?’

‘His wife. She was on duty in the ticket office this morning,’ Khan said. ‘I’m sure when you meet her you’ll agree she’s not the type either.’

A woman as broad as the gardener, but a foot shorter, was making her way over the grass towards them. Her wavy grey hair was short and neat and she wore a spotless white blouse over a navy skirt. Her Halsworth Grange badge read – ‘Brenda, Ticket Office, Happy to Help’.

‘Are you the detective?’ she spoke directly to Lizzie.

‘Er, no. This is Detective Chief Inspector Khan. I’m Lizzie Morrison, Crime Scene Manager. I’m sorry if those members of the public were giving you a hard time. It’s my fault we’ve had to keep their cars here.’

All the time, she was looking at Brenda Coldacre’s hands, trying to judge the size of her grip.

‘Don’t worry, pet. Water off a duck’s back to me. You get all sorts in my job. Now, Detective. I’ll give you five minutes then I need to get back to my Bill. He’s had a terrible shock and his heart’s not what it used to be.’

Lizzie tested the hypothesis in her mind that Brenda Coldacre was capable of marching a young woman across a field, over a fence, forcing her down onto her knees and slitting her throat. It had a certain efficiency that suited the older woman, but beyond that it was unlikely.

‘Do you mind if I take some DNA from you,’ she said, ‘while we’re here?’

‘Be my guest. Do you take it from my mouth like they do on the telly?’

Lizzie nodded and got a sample pot from her case, while Brenda opened her mouth like a willing dental patient.

‘That tickled!’ Brenda Coldacre laughed for a moment, then caught herself. She reset her mouth to a grim, tight line.

‘Now. This is what I wanted to tell you. I got to work at eight-thirty this morning, as usual. That gives me an hour to tidy up the hut, process the numbers from yesterday and get everything ready to open at nine-thirty. Bill went up to the big house for a meeting with Giles, the land manager. The girl, Chloe, she came in shortly after nine-thirty. She’s allowed to start late because she comes all the way from
York. She has a long journey, but she’s very committed.’

There was a challenge in Brenda’s voice that made Lizzie warm to her.

‘Did anyone else arrive before Chloe?’ Khan said.

‘Well this is what I wanted to tell you about. At around nine, a car came in. Now normally I wouldn’t have had the barrier up, but Bill said should he do it on his way past to save me the bother later? I’ve had this problem with my shoulder, you see, so I said yes.’

She paused for breath and Khan waited. Lizzie hoped Brenda would get to the point before his patience ran out.

‘It was a little car, white or off-white, with a dark red roof.’

‘The make?’

‘I’m not very good at car names. But you see them around. They look sort of old-fashioned, but I bet they cost a bomb.’

‘Did you see who was in it?’

‘Just a driver. I didn’t get a good look but I think female and she had dark hair. I was going to go and tell her she was too early, but I figured she’d work it out. She didn’t come by on foot, so I thought she must be waiting in her car. Anyway, at about twenty-past nine, I went to put the sign out. You see where it is?’ she pointed to the corner beyond the picnic area, ‘another car came in then. Well, that’s not so unusual, to be ten minutes early, so I didn’t take much notice.’

‘Can you remember anything about it, Brenda?’

‘Dark, blue or black, quite a posh make. A feller driving and someone in the passenger seat.’

‘And did they come to buy a ticket?’

‘Well, it all got very busy after that. There were three
minibuses full of cub scouts. So I was sorting out their group ticket, then it turned out there was a fourth minibus on its way, and they wanted to wait, because the scout leader was in the last bus and he had all the money. Anyway, you can imagine, they were all milling around and then the families started arriving and there was a disgruntled pensioner and his wife, who’d driven from Spalding and didn’t expect to have to wait around with nowhere to sit. They could have been the people from the dark coloured car, couldn’t they? I mean there are some very generous pensions nowadays. But no, they wouldn’t be, because they came in after the cub scouts arrived.’

Khan waited while she caught her breath again. Another wasp buzzed over the table and he ignored it.

‘Try to picture the driver of the first car, Mrs Coldacre. Was there anything about her, apart from the fact she was female?’

‘I didn’t take a proper look, I’m sorry.’

‘Did any woman come in on her own to buy a ticket? A young woman of Pakistani heritage, perhaps?’

Brenda shook her head. ‘I’m not saying we don’t get Asian visitors, because we do, Mr Khan, and we offer everyone here at Halsworth Grange the same welcome and the same treatment, but to be honest, I would have noticed, because at this time of year it’s usually families.’

‘And as far as you can tell, the driver of the little cream coloured car never appeared at the ticket office?’

‘I don’t believe she did. No.’

‘And Chloe Toms walked up the drive after both the cream car and the dark coloured car, but before the cub scouts?’

‘Definitely after the two cars, because I’d already put the sign out.’

He rubbed his beard in circles and smoothed it down again. Lizzie was distracted for a moment by trying to guess whether it would feel soft or bristly. She pulled her attention back to Brenda Coldacre.

‘Are the older couple or the cub scouts still here?’

The older woman shook her head. ‘The cubs were doing us in the morning and the farm park this afternoon, so they left at about noon, but I can give you a contact name and number, because someone lost their camera and I said I’d ring if we found it. I can’t help you with the miserable pensioners though. Oops, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say that. I’ll be one myself before long. It’s just what we call them when no one’s listening.’

A half-smile twitched across Khan’s face for a moment. Lizzie had come across people like Brenda before. The shock of a horrific crime made them burble and make jokes they would later regret.

‘Thank you, Mrs Coldacre,’ he stood up and shook her hand solemnly. ‘You’ve been very helpful. I’ll walk down to the ticket office with you and get that phone number, if that’s all right. Then you should go and see to your husband.’

‘Mrs Coldacre, do you mind if I pop in and see Mr Coldacre in about half an hour? I need to get a DNA sample to rule him out,’ Lizzie caught Khan’s eye as she spoke and he nodded. She hoped he was right about Bill, almost as much as she hoped she was right about Chloe. Ruling people out was the only way to start ruling people in.