Scared to Live (19 page)

have any idea what they were expecting to find. Sometimes they took protect and preserve a bit too far.

'Oh, you're back,' said Brian Mullen when they entered his room at the hospital. His voice sounded a bit better now, but for a slight tendency to squeak on the last syllable of a sentence. 'Sorry to bother you again, sir,' said Fry. 'This is my colleague, DC Cooper.' 'Do you have some information?' 'Sorry?' 'You said you'd keep me informed.' 'Oh, yes. Well, I'm afraid it's still early days yet. But I do have a few more questions.' 'Questions again?' 'I'm trying to get things straight in my mind. To clarify what happened the night your family died. Is that all right, sir?' He lay back wearily. 'I suppose so. As long as I can get out of here.' Fry opened her notebook. 'According to what you told me previously, you arrived home at about one thirty after your taxi dropped you off at the corner of Darwin Street. You saw the fire, but didn't realize it was your own house until you were closer.' 'That's right.' 'Who did you say you were out with, by the way?' He was distracted by the question, which was what she wanted. 'One of my mates, Jed Skinner. I work with him at the distribution centre.' 'Oh, you're a despatch manager, aren't you?' 'That's right. Jed's in the transport department.' 'Just one mate, was it?' 'Eh?' 'Just you and Jed out for the night?' 'Yes, like I said.'

Fry looked at her notebook. 'You told me you were "out with mates". That's "mates", plural.' 'Well, I might have said that.' 'Why?' 'Look, we were in the pub first off - the Forester's Arms. I know a lot of people in there, I'm a regular. So I was with lots of mates then.' 'But only Jed at the Broken Wheel?' 'Like I said.' 'You went there alone, the two of you? And you left together, just the two of you again?' 'Yes.' 'And that was just after one. So the next person you spoke to must have been the taxi driver. And then there was your neighbour, Mr Wade. Shortly after that, you ran into the house, then the firefighters pulled you back out.' 'I've told you all this. For God's sake ' Mullen controlled his burst of anger, then raised his still bandaged hands, as if presenting the evidence. 'And you can't remember what you burned yourself on, Mr Mullen?' 'I told you, it was the banister rail. It must have been that, because it was the only thing I touched.' 'Ah, yes. And it's made of wood, so it would have been burning, or at least smouldering. But the banister rail is only on one side of the stairs - the other side is a blank wall. Would you have touched the banisters with both hands?' 'I must have done.' Mullen held up his hands again, as if he thought she couldn't see them. The facts were indisputable, he seemed to say. Fry wished she could have taken swabs from his hands to test for traces of accelerant on his skin, but she had no evidence to push it so far. And it was too late now anyway. 'Look, maybe I panicked and touched it with the other hand on the way down,' said Mullen.

'It's possible.' 'Of course it is.' 'And you didn't go into any of the rooms downstairs?' asked Fry. 'The sitting room, for example?' 'No. Why would I do that? Like I told you yesterday, I knew my family would be in bed at that hour.' 'We believe the fire started in the sitting room. It must have been obvious when you entered the house that the smoke was coming from there. Are you quite sure you didn't go into the sitting room, or even touch the sitting-room door?' 'Yes, I'm sure.' Mullen was starting to look sulky and irritable. Fry gave Cooper a look that told him to take over for a while. 'Do you smoke, sir?' asked Cooper. 'No.' 'What about your wife? I'm sorry to ask ' 'No, Lindsay didn't smoke either. I can see what you're driving at, but we both agreed not to smoke a long time ago, for the sake of the kids. Passive smoking is very damaging to young children. Their air passages are so small they breathe in far more smoke than an adult would.' 'I see. What about other members of your family?' 'There's only John who's ever smoked. But he knows not to when he's in our house . . .' '. . . for the sake of the kids, yes,' said Fry. Cooper consulted the notes Fry had given him. 'John? That would be John Lowther, your brother-in-law?' 'Yes.' Fry noticed a nurse hovering in the background. 'We'll let you rest now, Mr Mullen. I realize you've had a terrible ordeal, and we appreciate your time and co-operation.' 'It's OK. Obviously, I want to help. I mean, it was my wife and kids who got killed in that fire. If some bastard ' Fry stood up. 'I understand. Well, until we speak again, Mr Mullen, I'd like you to see if you can remember who else

you spoke to that night at the Forester's Arms and at the Broken Wheel, and the names of everyone who was there that you knew.' 'What?' 'Well, think about it, sir. If that fire was started deliberately, it might have been done by someone who knew that you'd be out of the house at the time. Someone who'd seen you partying at the Broken Wheel with your friend Jed, perhaps.' Mullen nodded silently. 'Still can't think of anyone?' 'No.' 'Well, we'll keep making enquiries.' 'You've talked to Henry and Moira as well, haven't you?' 'Yes, I visited them the day before yesterday.' 'Why did you have to bother them? They're devastated about Lindsay and the children. We all are.' 'There might be some detail that Mr and Mrs Lowther have noticed. A person they've seen near your house, for example.' Mullen's expression darkened further. 'You're not letting go of this idea that the fire was started deliberately?' 'No, we're not letting go of it, Mr Mullen,' said Fry. 'Is there some reason that you think we should?' 'I just don't see how it's possible.' 'We'll know that better when we get the results of the forensic examination.' His shoulders sagged at the mention of forensics. Sometimes, the word seemed to carry a symbolic power, as if it was a scientific magic that human beings were helpless to challenge. And perhaps that was right. Forensic evidence could kick-start a process that was impossible to stop until the criminal justice juggernaut had crushed everyone in its way. 'Leave me alone,' he said. 'Leave us alone. Someone has got to look after Luanne.'

'I thought you were a bit rough on Mr Mullen,' said Cooper as they left the hospital and walked to the car park. 'Yes, I was. And wouldn't you have expected him to complain a bit more?' 'But if he bad complained more, then you'd be saying he protested too much, and that was a sure sign of guilt.' Fry laughed. 'Look, you know the husband is by far the likeliest candidate in a case like this.' 'Statistically speaking, yes.' 'So we have to look at him thoroughly. There shouldn't be any question of letting him get away with conflicting statements, just because he's supposed to be the grieving husband.' 'Conflicting statements?' 'Yes, like when "out with mates" suddenly becomes just one mate when he's pressed. It sounds to me as if good old Jed is the only mate Mr Mullen actually had lined up for an alibi. He had to change his story when he was asked for names. Not enough attention to detail, you see.' 'Diane, you've got him well and truly in the frame already, haven't you?' 'We'll see. What's the betting there are a few more little details Mr Mullen hasn't paid enough attention to?' 'You've given him a chance to work out his story now, though. You warned him you were going to ask for more names.' 'That's right.' 'Well, if Mr Mullen wasn't at the Broken Wheel that night, he wouldn't be able to make up names off the top of his head, would he? So shouldn't we have asked him right there and then?' 'My guess is he'd have said he couldn't remember. And if I tried pushing him, I'd look like a heartless bitch.' 'True.' 'And Mr Mullen would have got all stressed, and a doctor would have come and kicked us out.' 'So ... ?'

'So this way, I've done the caring and considerate bit and given him time to think about it while he's recovering from his injuries. If I've judged him right, the longer he has to think about it, the more anxious he'll get. Then he'll start trying to think up something to give us when we come back. That's where he'll go wrong.' 'Diane, I wouldn't have believed it possible, but I think you're getting more devious than ever.' 'Thank you.' 'You really think these tactics will work on Brian Mullen?' 'Yes. Don't you?' 'Only if he's guilty.'

For once, Keith Wade wasn't out in his garden supervising operations in Darwin Street. Not that there was much to see now, apart from the tent, a few metres of tape outside number 32, and a different member of the chorus from Pirates rehearsing his act at the gate. Cooper had to ring the bell of Wade's house for several minutes before there was a thumping on the stairs in the hallway and the door opened. Wade glared at Cooper, then recognized Fry standing behind him. 'What's happened?' he said. 'What's the panic?' He was unshaven and bleary-eyed, dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt that looked as though it had just been thrown on. Well, at least he didn't sleep in the woolly sweater. And he hadn't said 'where's the fire?', which might have seemed tasteless. 'Sorry, did we wake you up, sir?' said Fry. 'Yes, I told you - I do late shifts.' 'We won't keep you long. This is my colleague, DC Cooper.' Wade glanced up and down the street. 'You'd better come in a minute.' His house was pretty much what she would have expected from a divorced man living on his own. Stale smells of cooking

and body odour, mingling with cigarette smoke. He had to move piles of newspapers off chairs to let them sit down, and one glimpse of the kitchen told Fry that its condition wouldn't compare to Lindsay Mullen's, even after a disastrous fire. 'Yes, of course I remember Brian arriving that night,' said Wade when she prompted him. 'How is he, by the way?' 'Physically fine. We hope he'll be discharged today.' 'Great. He's a brave bloke, you know.' 'Did you see how he arrived?' 'No. He was only a couple of houses away by the time I saw him. There was too much else going on, you know. He looked pretty dazed, but he recognized me.' 'What did he say?' Wade frowned. 'I can't remember exactly. Should I have taken notes? It didn't seem that important.' 'No, I understand. But if you could try . . .' 'Well, he wanted to know if Lindsay and the kids were still in the house,' said Wade. 'That's what he was bothered about, obviously. When I said I thought they were, he went sort of berserk and ran off.' 'And that's when he tried to get into the house?' 'He did get in. The firemen had broken the door down by then. Brian ran past them and was in the house before they could stop him. Brave, like I said. I feel really sorry for him, you know. We've always been good friends, and good neighbours. As for little Jack and Liam, they were nice lads. It's such a shame.' For the second time, Wade seemed to have forgotten that Lindsay Mullen had died in the fire, too. It might be unconscious, but there had to be a reason for the oversight. 'How had Brian and Lindsay been getting on recently?' asked Fry. 'Sorry?' 'You knew them well, and you live right next door. You must have been aware of any problems in their marriage.

Domestic arguments tend to get a bit loud, and you're only a few feet away.' Wade shifted uneasily. 'I don't want to say anything bad about them. It wouldn't be right.' 'In these circumstances, it's not right to keep anything back,' said Fry. 'You must try to be objective if you're going to help us, sir.' He looked at her, and then at Cooper. Battling with his conscience - if he had one. Or weighing up which approach would be most to his advantage, perhaps. Fry was pleased they'd got him out of bed. His replies might be a little less calculated than if they'd caught him in his guardian-of-the-streets mode. 'OK, I have heard a few rows from next door,' he said. 'But it's normal, isn't it? God knows, I had enough bust-ups with Pat before she left.' 'Did the Mullens' arguments happen recently?' asked Cooper. 'Well, there'd been more of them recently. I could hear the shouting, not what they were arguing about, you understand. I wasn't eavesdropping.' 'Of course not.' Wade hesitated. 'Come to think of it, I reckon I heard them arguing on Sunday night.' 'The night of the fire?' 'Yes, it must have been before Brian went out. I recall he slammed the front door a bit hard as he left.' 'These arguments, were they getting worse?' asked Fry. 'Do you think they might have been close to breaking up?' 'Breaking up? Why would they?' 'Well, it happened to you, didn't it?' Wade seemed to consider that. 'Perhaps Lindsay was under stress, with the three children. It can put pressure on a couple, I reckon. But walking away from a marriage doesn't make it better.' 'Do you and your ex-wife have any children, sir?' 'No, we never had kids. Pity - I've always liked children.'

Before they left his house, Fry reminded Wade of his promise to email the photos from his digital camera. 'If you prefer, we could borrow the camera now and return it when we've downloaded the pictures?' 'No, no - I'll do it,' said Wade. 'I've been a bit busy, that's all. But I'll get around to it, I promise.'

Outside, Fry pulled out her phone and called Gavin Murfin. 'How are you getting on, Gavin?' 'I haven't been able to trace the taxi driver yet. Jed Skinner can't remember which firm it was that Brian Mullen used that night. Skinner lives in Lowbridge, so the two of them went off in completely different directions when they left the Broken Wheel. I'm running out of time now, Diane, so it's going to have to wait.' 'OK, Gavin. But otherwise, how was Skinner?' 'A bit oily.' 'Sorry?' 'I found him in the transport department at the distribution centre. He must be their lubrication specialist, by the look of him. Anyway, he confirms Brian Mullen's story to the letter. They went to the Forester's Arms first, then on to the Broken Wheel. They left some time after one. He saw Mullen get into the taxi.' 'Right. Thanks, Gavin.' Murfin breathed heavily in her ear for a moment before he rang off. 'Jed Skinner was word perfect, Diane,' he said. 'I wish you luck if you're going to try to break that alibi.'

16

Fry found a message waiting for her when she got back to the office. DS Fry, please see the DI. ASAP. Everything was ASAP around here. DI Hitchens had strong hands, with clean, carefully trimmed fingernails. He placed them on his desk in his most serious manner. There was still no ring on his finger, though he'd lived with a nurse for a couple of years now, and they'd bought a home together in Dronfield Woodhouse. Fry wondered again about the white scar that crawled across the middle knuckles of his fingers. No one had ever mentioned him getting injured, or being involved in a fight. It looked intriguing. But then, it was probably just the result of something very boring - an accident with a potato peeler, or a hand caught in the blades of a lawn mower. 'Diane,' he said when she entered his office, 'we've had a call from the Forensic Science Service.' 'A result?' 'Well, no. More of a complaint, actually.' She sat down without waiting to be invited. 'What's the matter with them?' 'Apparently, their fire investigation specialist, a Mr, er . . .' 'Downie.'