No Lovelier Death (12 page)

‘And you think that makes us feel better?’

‘I’m sure it doesn’t.’

‘You think anything will make us feel better?’

Winter studied her for a moment or two. His own wife’s death had left him emptier than he’d ever imagined possible.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Not for a long time.’

‘But in the end?’

‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘In the end, yes. Something happens. Something comes along.’

‘Always?’

‘Always.’

‘Is that you being kind? Or do you know?’

‘I know nothing, Mrs Hughes. Except you have to wait a while.’ She picked up the iPod, weighed it in her hand.

‘What do you do for a living, Mr Winter?’

‘I work for Mackenzie.’

‘And before that?’

‘I was a copper.’

‘A detective?’

‘Yes.’

‘A good one?’

‘The best.’

‘I’m not surprised.’ The smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘It’s the way you ask the questions, isn’t it? And what you make of the replies?’

SUNDAY, 12 AUGUST 2007.
19.02

The second round of interviews with
Mandolin
’s list of suspects began shortly after seven o’clock. Faraday had organised interview teams at custody suites in Fareham, Havant, Waterlooville and Portsmouth, and briefed the TIAs to press for as much detail as possible. In particular, he told the Tactical Interview Advisers, he wanted a full account of bloodstains found on the suspects’ clothing, plus the names of the individuals with whom they’d spent most of the evening. In this way, matching one statement against another, he was looking for the kind of discrepancies that might offer leverage once he had a fuller picture of what had happened.

Of the seventeen suspects, six had been shipped down to the Bridewell. Ahead of the interviews, each of them conferred with the duty solicitor. Faraday, dead on his feet, had put Matt Berriman at the head of the list, determined to take his first good look at how the lad shaped up under pressure. It was still too early to talk about prime suspects but in terms of motivation Berriman faced some obvious questions.

D/C Bev Yates would again be partnering D/C Dawn Ellis in the interview suite. Faraday had talked them through the earlier exchange with Samantha Muirhead, and together with the Tactical Interview Adviser they’d agreed a shape for the next couple of hours. Yates and Ellis were veterans at this kind of work: good listeners, highly experienced, expert at preparing the kind of traps that might lead a cocky adolescent into a reckless boast or two. Ellis in particular, with her baby face and affection for off-the-wall T-shirts, was all too easy to underestimate.

Faraday settled himself in the monitoring room. Only this morning it had been Bazza Mackenzie’s face on the video screen. Now he found himself looking at a tall well-built youth with a savage grade one and a pair of startling blue eyes. He was still wearing the grey shell suit Thames Valley had found in their custody suite and the top, several sizes too small, emphasised the breadth of his chest and shoulders. He had a scorpion tattoo on the side of his neck and a tiny silver Yang buttoned one earlobe.

Even on the video feed it was impossible to ignore Berriman’s sheer physical presence. This was a lad who’d compel attention wherever he went, Faraday thought. His smile for Dawn Ellis seemed to fill the screen.

Yates had talked earlier to the interviewing D/C at Newbury and had a sheaf of notes on the table in front of him.

‘You didn’t tell us much about Rachel this morning,’ he began.

‘That’s because no one asked me.’

‘Wrong, Mr Berriman. We asked everyone whether they knew her or not. It was a standard question.’

‘And I said yes. It was her party. She’d invited me. Is that a problem for you guys?’

‘Not at all. But you didn’t say you’d been going out with her for five years, did you?’

‘No, you’re right, but like I said …’ he shrugged ‘… it never came up.’
^I

‘But you
did
go out with her?’

‘Yeah.’

‘All that time?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Until recently?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And it didn’t occur to you that’s something we might have been interested in?’

‘I’m not sure I thought about it. No one told me she was dead until later.’

Berriman held Yates’s gaze. There was a hint of accusation in his voice. My girl, Faraday thought. My Rachel.

Ellis took over. She wanted to know everything about the relationship: how it started, how much it had mattered, why it had crashed and burned. The latter phrase made Berriman flinch, and Faraday began to sense that Sam Muirhead had been right. Behind the mask of seeming indifference, he’d missed her. Badly. And he’d wanted her back.

Yates had seen it too.

‘So who ended it, Mr Berriman?’

‘She did.’

‘How?’

‘
How?
We had a fucking great row, that’s how.’

‘Go on.’

‘Go on what? You want to know what we said?’

‘I want to know how it was between you - why Rachel suddenly decided to call it a day, what actually happened.’

‘Who said it was sudden?’

‘You’re telling me it wasn’t?’

‘I’m telling you it’s none of your business.’ He was leaning back in the chair, smiling again, untroubled, back in control, determined to stay out of reach.

Yates held his eyes, then glanced sideways at Dawn Ellis. Her voice was soft. She was trying to help.

‘She’s dead, Matt. Someone killed her. You don’t need me to tell you that’s serious. She deserves the best we can do for her. Don’t you think that’s reasonable?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘So why don’t you tell us as much as you can?’

‘About what?’

‘About you and Rachel.’

He thought about the proposition for a moment or two, his long fingers drumming on the table. Then he seemed to make some kind of decision.

‘OK.’ He leaned forward. ‘If you’re asking me whether she mattered, the answer’s yes. She mattered a lot. Now, like you say, she’s dead. So how does that work?’

‘We don’t know, Matt. That’s why we’re here.’

‘But you think I can help?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because I was at the party?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re telling me someone killed her?’

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘How what?’

‘How did they kill her?’

There was a long silence. Matt Berriman had the steadiest eyes. They belonged to someone much older, Faraday thought.

‘Let’s talk about the party,’ Ellis said at last. ‘Tell us exactly what happened. Pretend we know nothing.’

Berriman pursed his lips. Then his head came up and he began to describe the way it had been. He’d come across the party, he said, through an invite posted on Rachel’s Facebook page. He’d passed the word on to a mate or two and thought it might be a laugh to go along.

Yates interrupted. ‘But Gareth Hughes was going to be there. The new guy in her life. And you’d have known that.’

‘I would?’

‘Yeah. It was part of the invite.
My new squeeze.
You’re telling me you didn’t spot that?’

‘OK …’ He shrugged. ‘So I knew.’

‘Yet you still went.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why?’

‘Because …’ He tipped his head back, stared up at the ceiling.

‘Because I was nosy, I suppose. I wanted to know what this bloke looked like. I wanted to know what she saw in him. Like I said … nosy.’

‘And hopeful?’

‘Always hopeful.’ The smile again. ‘Always.’

Yates nodded, scribbled himself a note. Ellis wanted to know if he’d arrived alone.

‘No. I had some mates with me.’

‘Who were they?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘You can’t remember or you’re not going to tell us?’

‘I can’t remember. I’ve got mates everywhere. It could have been a thousand blokes.’

‘And were they invited?’

‘Probably not.’

‘Did that bother you?’

‘Probably not.’

There was a silence. Ellis looked down at her notes. Yates stirred. ‘Don’t piss about, Matt. Just give us an answer.’

‘No, they weren’t invited.’

‘So why take them along?’

‘I didn’t take them along. They just came. There’s a difference.’

‘You mean you couldn’t stop them?’

‘It wasn’t a question of stopping them. We’d been drinking. We’d had a few. Like I say, it was a laugh. Those blokes don’t get to go to Craneswater every night of their lives.’

‘You make it sound like an expedition.’

‘It was. Sort of.’

‘Not for you though, surely?’

‘How come?’

‘Because you’d have known the house. Because you’d been there before. Quite a lot, I expect.’

‘When I was with Rach, you mean?’ He shook his head. ‘Not really.

She came round my place most of the time.’

‘But you knew the house? Knew your way round it?’

‘I’d been there, yeah.’

‘So that made you a bit special, didn’t it? As far as your mates were concerned? Big pad like that? Ex-girlfriend’s place? Giving them the full tour?’

‘That’s bollocks.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you make it sound like my mates are going to be impressed by shit like that.’

‘You’re telling me they’re not?’

‘Of course they’re not. That’s why it’s bollocks.’

‘OK.’ Yates accepted the rebuff. ‘So what was the point then? You’re not showing off. You’re going mob-handed. You know her new bloke’s going to be there. You know it’s going to be awkward. So why bother?’

‘I told you. I thought it would be a laugh.’

‘I don’t believe you, Mr Berriman. I think it was more than that.

I think you were closer last time when you said you wanted to scope him out. Maybe make him just a little bit nervous. And having mates around would make that easier, wouldn’t it?’

‘Suit yourself.’

‘But wouldn’t it?’

Berriman shook his head, refused to answer. Then came a whispered conversation with the duty solicitor before she turned back to Yates.

‘Mr Berriman’s happy to talk about what happened at the party,’ she said. ‘But he’s not prepared to help you speculate. As far as I’m aware, he’s a witness not a suspect.’

Ellis nodded at once. Yates seemed less certain.

‘When did you become aware that things were getting out of hand?’ It was Ellis.

‘After about an hour. There were loads of blokes in there by then.

Loads.’

‘And did you know these people?’

‘Some of them, yeah.’

‘Had you mentioned the party to them?’

‘No. One or two maybe, but no, not that many.’

‘So how come they were there?’

‘Because word goes round. Blokes were on their mobes all over the house. Party time. Come on round. Help yourself.’

‘To what?’

‘To whatever’s going.’

‘Were you aware of drugs on the premises?’

‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘There was a load of white. Don’t ask me where it came from because I don’t know.’

‘You don’t think it was Rachel’s friends?’

‘Rachel didn’t do drugs. Not if she could avoid it. There was her old man too. He could be a nightmare, believe me.’

‘So it wasn’t Rachel’s mates?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘All these people …’ It was Yates this time. ‘When did it all start getting out of hand?’

‘You’re asking me for a time? I haven’t a clue. The first thing I knew, some guy said there was a bunch of them trashing the old man’s study. I went up there. They were right.’

He described the kids dancing on the desk, stamping on the pictures, pissing all over them.

‘Who were they?’

‘I’ve no idea. But they were young, really young. Total idiots.’

‘Anyone else with them?’

The question seemed to catch him by surprise. ‘There was a girl,’ he said at last. ‘A bit older.’

‘Name?’

‘Haven’t a clue.’

‘You’d never seen her before?’

‘Never.’

‘Description?’

‘Tats. Piercings. And she shaved her head.’

Yates made a note, studied it a moment. Then he was looking at Berriman again.

‘You mentioned Rachel …’

‘Yeah. She was in a right state. I’d never seen her so wrecked. She was trying to stop the kids, like you would, but there was no way.’

‘So what happened?’

‘I sorted them out.’

‘Stopped them?’

‘Absolutely. They were out of order. Toerags. All of them.’

‘And Rachel?’

‘I tried to sort her out too.’

‘How?’

Another pause. He looked uncertainly at Ellis, then at the solicitor beside him. She told him it was OK to answer the question.

‘I took her to the bathroom. She needed cold water, a bit of a wash.

She needed to sober up.’

‘Was she pleased to see you?’

‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘She was.’

‘Grateful?’

‘Yeah. Of course.’

‘So how long were you in there? In the bathroom?’

‘A while.’ He shrugged. ‘I can’t remember exactly how long. Like I say, she was in a bit of a state.’

‘And the pair of you were talking?’

‘Of course.’

‘What about?’

‘Stuff. I can’t remember.’

‘Did you talk about Gareth? Did you ask her about Gareth?’

‘Yeah, I might have done.’

‘And what did she say?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘But you remember? You remember what she said about Gareth?’

‘Yeah.’ He failed to mask a smile. ‘Of course I do.’

‘And did you have sex with her?’

‘That’s none of your business either.’