Minds That Hate (16 page)

Next morning, Nash’s head felt clearer and his throat less sore. When he arrived at the station, Fletcher was already in a holding cell. Clara walked in quarter of an hour later.

‘You do the interview,’ Nash told her. ‘Get someone over from
Netherdale to take in with you. Better if I’m not involved. I’m going to get the film from that camera developed. You sort out Fletcher and charge him. I’ll ask Becky to make a statement.’

The flat Becky ushered him into was light and spacious, the furnishings modern, with light wood and bright
colours tastefully blended. ‘Coffee’s on,’ she said. ‘Kitchen’s this way.’

After Nash had taken her fingerprints he took the camera out of the evidence bag, handling it with latex gloves. He gave Becky a pair.

‘I’ll take this through to the darkroom when we’ve had our coffee.’

The darkroom was little more than a store cupboard. ‘It used to be a pantry, but being on my own, I’ve no use for that much storage,’ she said as they crammed into the tight space.

‘No boyfriend then?’ he asked lightly.

‘Not at present.’ She was concentrating on the camera as she spoke.

In the confined space, he could smell her perfume. His pulse quickened slightly. Careful, he thought. Don’t go there.

She began the developing process. ‘Give it a few minutes. There look to be only half a dozen exposures.’

The prints showed the time and date they were taken. Nash stared at the results. The first ones were of Vickers and Nash outside Felling Prison. He glanced at the others.

‘Is that who I think it is?’ Becky asked.

Nash’s face was bleak, an expression she’d not seen before. ‘It is,’ he told her. ‘Look at the date and time – 5 p.m. on Tuesday. Tucker must have taken these just before he was killed. Probably dropped the camera in the struggle, which would explain how it fell into the rabbit hole. The killer can’t have known Tucker took them.’

‘You don’t think there’s any doubt?’

‘I don’t see how there can be. Tucker was killed in the same place as Stacey Fletcher. The weapon and method were the same. And here’s evidence of Vickers walking towards Tucker just before the murder.’

Chapter eighteen

Nash dialled Helmsdale station. DS Mironova was still interviewing Fletcher. He was put through to Pearce. ‘Viv, get Clara to ring me back immediately she’s finished, will you?’

‘Right you are, Mike. Oh, hang on, she’s here.’

‘How did you get on?’

‘Fletcher didn’t say a word.’

‘Don’t worry about him. I want you to get a warrant and go to Grove Road.’

‘What for?’

‘To bring in Gary Vickers –,’ Nash paused, ‘– on suspicion of the murder of John Thomas Tucker.’

‘You’re not serious?’

‘Too right I am. I’ve just seen the film from Tucker’s camera. There are four shots of Vickers walking towards the camera. The time and date match.’

‘Hell’s bells!’ Clara paused for a moment. ‘There’ll be a right hullabaloo when Fletcher finds he’s in the next cell to the man who killed his niece.’

‘That’s his problem. Get on it straightaway. I don’t want Vickers doing another disappearing act. Whilst you’re at it, get a search warrant for the house as well.’ Nash ended the call and stood for a moment, phone in hand.

‘I suppose you’ll want to dash straight off?’ Becky asked.

Nash looked at her. Or at least he looked in her direction, but she realized his thoughts were far away, in deep concentration. Despite her godmother’s warning, she couldn’t help but wonder about him. What was it Aunt Gloria had said? ‘Better keep your hand on your ha’penny if he’s anywhere near you. They don’t call him Dead Eyed Dick for nothing. He’s had more women than I’ve had hot dinners.’ Should she take the warning seriously? He was certainly attractive. Not handsome, but pleasant enough. So what was it that women found irresistible?

His gaze returned from the middle distance. At the same time he smiled. ‘Can I be cheeky, and impose on you for another coffee?’

‘That isn’t an imposition. When I’ve had enough of you, I can always throw you out.’

‘I need a moment or two to think.’

She set the steaming mug in front of him. ‘I’ll leave you to it, if you want.’

He caught hold of her hand. ‘No, stay, I want to bounce some ideas off you. I might have jumped the gun. Listen, and tell me what you think.’ He collected his thoughts. ‘Last Sunday I went to Felling, to collect Vickers. Tucker was waiting in the car park.’ He told her what had happened. ‘Vickers wanted to do some food shopping. Made some crack about the milk he’d left in the fridge being off after fifteen years.’ He related the conversation between Vickers and the till operator. ‘I was sure that was the reason Vickers went into the shop. He’d a maintenance company looking after his house and contents. Why not ask them to buy food? I believe Vickers engineered the conversation round so he could make that statement.’

‘Why do that? I’d have thought he’d want to keep a low profile. He must have realized the news would get round faster than if we’d splashed it all over the front page?’

‘Exactly, and if he’d killed Stacey, keeping his head down would have been a natural course of action. But suppose he didn’t kill her, suppose his story’s true. That he and Stacey were lovers, and far from raping her, he merely made love to her. That someone else actually murdered her. If that’s so, his actions become logical.’

‘You mean like a gunfighter walking into town in one of those old westerns? Challenging the killers, seeking revenge, that sort of thing?’

‘Couldn’t have put it better.
The last thing Vickers said to Tucker on Sunday was “come round on Wednesday”. As far as we’re aware, the two never communicated again. Vickers didn’t have any incoming phone calls or letters, he doesn’t own a mobile so Tucker couldn’t have sent him a text.’

Becky laughed. ‘JT wouldn’t have known how. Barely knew how to switch his phone on and off.’

‘Then how did Vickers know where Tucker would be on Tuesday afternoon?’

‘What if Tucker was following him?’

‘Why would he? They’d a meeting set up for the next day. Besides, he wasn’t to know Vickers would be leaving the house. Not when he was supposedly being protected by us. Anything he wanted to find out, he could ask on Wednesday.’

‘I accept that, but it’s still a bit theoretical.’

‘Hang on, there’s more. One of the first queries I had about Vickers’ conviction was to do with his arrest. The police went through that house with a fine toothcomb. There was no evidence of piano wire in the house. What’s more, they failed to find any evidence of Vickers buying any. So, where did he get the wire used to kill Tucker between Sunday and Tuesday?’

‘He could have bought some on his way there, couldn’t he?’

‘Tuesday’s half-day closing in Helmsdale. The only place that stocks anything like piano wire is the music shop in the arcade. And I know for a fact they’re closed on Tuesday afternoon.’

‘What else is making you have doubts?’

Nash stared at her. ‘What makes you think there’s anything else?’

Becky shrugged. ‘Don’t know, just a feeling.’

‘You’re right. The other big question is, why? I’ve spent time with Vickers. He’s an intelligent man. He’s not one to act on the spur of the moment. Given that he’s not an impulse killer, and that he’s not a psychopath, what motive would he have for killing Tucker? Tucker’s the last person Vickers would want dead, especially before their interview. I know a lot of people want to murder journalists after they’ve written something.’ Nash grinned ruefully. ‘Me included from time to time, but never beforehand.’

‘I can see your logic. It boils down to why Tucker wanted to interview Vickers, and why Vickers was keen to talk to him,’ Becky suggested.

Nash thought about this. ‘You’ve got a point there, Becks,’ he said absentmindedly.

She smiled. In his abstraction he’d used her pet name. She didn’t mind. In fact, she rather liked it.

He moved restlessly. ‘Yes, that’s a really good point. Why were they both so keen?’

‘Maybe he wanted to announce his return, and make some sort of a statement.’

‘On the lines of “I’m coming to get you”?’

‘Something of the sort.’

‘And whoever felt threatened decided to silence Tucker?’

‘It makes sense.’

‘There are three components to murder: motive, means and opportunity. Vickers had the opportunity. But unless he knew Tucker was going to be in Helm Woods, the opportunity aspect is suspect. We can’t find any way of Vickers taking possession of the murder weapon, so the means part is also weak. And we can’t find any motive whatsoever.’

‘Does that mean you’re not going to arrest Vickers?’

‘Let me think about it for a few minutes.’

Becky regarded him with mock severity. ‘I suppose that means you’ll want yet another coffee?’

‘Yes please, Becks.’ His voice was absentminded, his eyes far away again.

Becky grinned and collected the mugs. When she handed him a replacement, his attention was back. ‘Go on,’ she encouraged him.

‘Yes, I will hold him.’

‘But you said
...’

‘I know. But if everyone thinks Vickers is in the frame for Tucker’s murder, I can dig about without putting them on guard. And it’ll keep Vickers safe. I can hold him for forty-eight hours before charging him.’

‘If Vickers didn’t kill JT, who did?’

‘I was going to say I’ve no idea, but that wouldn’t be accurate. I’ve a couple of suspects in mind. The problem is I’ve no proof. I need to find evidence linking the murderer to both victims.’

‘Both victims?’ Becky echoed.

‘That’s what this is all about. Ever since Vickers came back, he’s been looking for something. He’s done everything but tear the floorboards up. He doesn’t know what, but he’d been told of it, and what it represents. He said it was proof, but of what he didn’t know. Still doesn’t. All he is sure of is that it exists.’

‘How can he be sure?’

‘There’ve been several break-ins at Grove Road, plus an arson attack. Vickers thinks someone’s trying to destroy it.’ He paused, realizing he’d said too much. ‘Can I trust you to keep everything we’ve talked about confidential? When the time’s right I promise you’ll have first access to any information.’

Suddenly, it was important to reassure him. ‘I promise I won’t send anything through until I’ve cleared it with you.’

‘That’s as much as I could ask.’ He sighed. ‘Not that there is anything printable yet. Not by a long way.’

‘You’re going to have your work cut out.’

‘
True, and I suppose I ought to make a start.’ Before he could stop himself he added, ‘Care for dinner tonight? To repay you for last night.’

‘Aunt Gloria told me a lot about you,’ she said, in a tone devoid of expression. ‘I think she was trying to warn me you were dangerous to know.’

‘She tried to scare me off too,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘It was a thinly veiled threat that if I didn’t treat you right, I’d be in trouble.’

Becky smiled.
‘Just dinner then.’

His face was an expressionless mask.
‘Of course, just dinner.’

Billy was frustrated. He’d failed; big style. The gippovan had been great, and the knifing. But that was way back. Since then things had gone bad. The pervert’s house at Grove Road had been the first. Worse had followed; that family at the shop, they should have gone up. The building had, but they’d all got out. Not what Billy had in mind; not what he’d been told to do. Wipe them out, they’d said. Well, that hadn’t happened. Bloody firemen got there too quick.

Then the other flat.
What was it they’d called the bloke? A snooper; that was it. A dirty, stinking snooper. He’d to be stopped. He’d got something bad, bad for Danny, bad for Billy, bad for their friends. It had to be destroyed. He’d done that alright. The flat had been gutted. Everything inside went up a treat. At least he thought so. Until he watched, Billy hadn’t known there was anyone inside. That’d have made it better; knowing. Then he’d seen them. He nearly screamed at the sight. At the window, desperate faces. The excitement mounted. Was that the snooper? Billy felt that thrill again as he watched them. Watched them trying to get free from the monster; his monster. The one he’d created. Then, as his excitement became close to uncontrollable, when he was on the very edge of success, they’d escaped.

That was his worst moment. Or so he thought. Then he went straight to Grove Road with Mister Ronnie. But he’d failed again. He’d failed and got shot. Just a graze, but it scared the shit out of him. He’d failed, and Mister Ronnie failed, and Mister Ronnie got done over. Would he blame Billy? Billy was scared of Mister Ronnie. More scared of Mister Jake. Mister Jake had come to the house yesterday. Billy hid under the stairs. He thought Mister Jake had come for him, because he’d let Mister Ronnie down. Turned out he’d only come to talk to Danny. But
Billy’d nearly messed his pants with fright.

Billy was desperate. He needed to do something good.
Something big; something dramatic. Something to prove his worth. Danny had told him so. And Danny was right. Danny was always right in Billy’s book. It had to be something to hurt them. He couldn’t do all their houses. He couldn’t burn the fields where they worked. Then he remembered. Some of them worked on the industrial estate. Billy knew it because he’d seen them when he was nicking stuff.

He told Danny. And Danny told Mister Jake. And the message came back. ‘Burn down the places where they work,’ Danny said. ‘If
there’s no jobs for them, they’ll have to fuck off, back where they came from.’ That was it. Billy had a new purpose. His mood lifted. He had a target. More than that, he had a mission.

‘They put Vickers at the murder scene at the right time. But there are plenty of things don’t add up.’ After she’d looked at the photos, Nash told Clara his reservations.

‘I see what you mean. Is that why you want the search warrant?
To look for something to connect Vickers to the murder? Something more than just being in the wrong place at the wrong time?’

‘Not exactly.
As you know I’ve had my doubts all along. Now we’re talking murders, not murder.’

‘What? Have I missed something?’

‘Not that I’m aware. But I think we should be reinvestigating the death of Stacey Fletcher, as well as the murder of Tucker.’

‘Do you think there’s a chance, after all this time? Accepting that Vickers didn’t kill the girl, how difficult is it going to be to find the killer now?’

‘Very,’ Nash agreed. ‘But we start with several advantages.’

Clara frowned.
‘Such as?’

‘They were so convinced they had the right man, the police didn’t look for anyone else. And they didn’t know about
Gemma’s relationship with Rathmell.’

‘You think that’s relevant?’

‘It might be. If that affair was going on at the time, it might be more than relevant. Look at it this way. Tucker wanted to interview Vickers as soon as he was released; presumably because he had doubts about the conviction. So, what made Tucker suspicious? Then we find out that Tucker had been following Rathmell. And in the process took those photos. Before Tucker can talk to Vickers, he’s murdered. How convenient, if someone didn’t want them to meet.’