Separated at Death (The Lakeland Murders) (18 page)

So Jane hadn’t made any close friends in the police, and found herself stuck between two worlds: with cops on shift, joking and piss-taking to keep the realities at bay, and spending time with old university friends in the evenings, feeling more removed from their world with every passing week.

She knew that something had to change in her life, so when she finished her probation she started to look around for a DCs job in one of the rural counties north of Manchester. Her widowed mum still lived in Buxton, where Jane had grown up, and she didn’t want to move too far away from her. But other than that she no dependents, not even a cat: although that didn’t stop the lads at work inventing a flat full of the things for her, and then teasing her mercilessly about them. She was surprised that cops could be so imaginative, but she took it all well enough, and handed a bit back when she had the chance.

So far she felt she’d made the right decision in coming to Cumbria. She’d rented a flat in the middle of town, and although she was still a bit lonely she was used to that. It felt like her default position now. The cops in Kendal were a bit less outgoing, and older, than most of her colleagues in Manchester, but she liked it that way.

Yet despite Jane’s best efforts at diplomacy Beech had been pretty unpleasant when she’d relayed Hall’s request. ‘Young lady, all of our equipment is subject to annual inspection, under Home Office rules.’

‘And when was it last done?’

‘I’d have to check, but I can assure you that we will be within the appropriate guidelines.’

‘Could you do that now for me Doctor?’

‘I could not.’

‘You really want me to go back to DC Hall, who is leading a team that’s going the extra mile to get this case cracked, and tell him that you won’t tell us when your kit was last checked, let alone consent for it to be checked again?’

‘You just don’t understand. When did any of you people ever actually do this kind of work?’

So Doctor Jane Francis told him, and suggested a few papers that Beech might like to read if he wanted to confirm her academic credentials. He very nearly apologised then, but not quite. But Beech did call his office, and asked when the equipment that he’d used both at the locus and in the lab was last tested. None was more than 3 months before.

‘Would you still like them checked?’ he asked, putting his hand over the mouthpiece. Jane nodded and, her mission accomplished, began to wonder how the searches had gone.

Inspector Andy Hall had plenty of time to think through how he’d play the interview with John Hamilton. His solicitor was from Manchester, and would take two hours to be with them.

But it wasn’t tactics that he was thinking about. It was own performance. Had he made any decisions that had compromised the investigation? Probably not, because even his own sternest critic - and that would usually be Hall himself - couldn’t really say that his own empathy with Hamilton had altered the shape of the investigation one bit. He’d executed the warrant promptly, and had never said anything prejudicial to Hamilton.

Then he thought about the possible explanations for why the phone had been found in the house. Forensics had already confirmed that the SIM was Amy’s, and that the only prints were hers, plus a few handling smudges from a gloved hand. They weren’t sure why ‘pinging’ it hadn’t worked, but it was probably because signal strength was very weak in John Hamilton’s road.

That gave Hall an idea. He phoned the uniformed Inspector who had led the search of Hamilton’s house. He was still there, finishing up. Nothing else of any interest had turned up. ‘Have you found any gloves during the search?’

‘None hidden, but we did find a pair of thick walking or skiing gloves in a rucksack with his walking kit.’

‘Can you bag them and bring them in?’

Then Hall called the Doc’s office. He was quite glad to find that he’d just gone home with a migraine. His assistant was a woman called Donna, who Hall would have said was attractive if it wasn’t for what she did. ‘Could a pair of thick gloves have been used on Amy, or are we talking about something thinner? I seem to remember that’s what the doc said.’

‘I’d have to see them to be sure, but probably not very thick at all. The definition on the throat was very clear, so I’d say thin gloves every time. Leather maybe, or something of the same kind of thickness.’

‘I’ve got a pair of gloves coming to you now from the suspect’s house. Could you take a look and call me back. Presumably it won’t take long?’

‘I could give you an informal view today, but if you want something definitive I’ll need to call Doctor Beech back in. Do you want me to do that?’

Hall said not to worry, and rang off. So if he assumed that Hamilton had killed his daughter, then why would he bring the phone back to the house, but dispose of the gloves he’d probably used? It didn’t make any sense.

So what other explanations for Hamilton having the phone in his house were there? What if it contained incriminating evidence, pictures maybe? Hall thought about what he’d have done in the same situation, because he doubted that Hamilton was significantly more tech-savvy than him. Hall thought that what he’d have done was to reset the phone to default settings as best he could, then flush the SIM down the loo, and finally dismantle the phone as best he could, if necessary with a hammer, and then get rid of the bits. Easy done, and Hamilton had certainly had plenty of time to do it before now.

So, if he was the killer, why hadn’t he got shot of the phone? Yes, Hamilton was still shocked and utterly grief-stricken, but Hall didn’t think that could explain such stupidity. Throughout his career Hall had often been astonished at how people were able to continue to function, even in the immediate aftermath of appalling events. It seemed to be some kind of deep-seated defence mechanism. And if Hamilton was guilty then surely he would have expected to come under suspicion at some point?

So why else might the phone be in the house, when it was certain that the SIM inside it had been with Amy at the time of her death? Hall thought about the possibility that someone else had been involved, and that Hamilton was covering up for them. But who could that be, and the fundamental question remained: why hadn’t Hamilton got rid of the phone?

Hall knew that there was another obvious explanation, but he wanted to be sure that he’d thought every other option through first. Because from now on he would treat Hamilton just like any other lying scum-bag. For the courts it was innocent until proven guilty, but for an investigating officer with a prime suspect in his sights it had to be the other way round.

And Hamilton was a more than credible suspect. There was a hint of motive now,  clear opportunity, no verifiable alibi and now the phone too. But what if it really had been planted on Hamilton by the killer? Hall made a note to ask Hamilton for a full list of key holders, as well as visitors since Wednesday night.

Ian Mann stuck his head round the door.

‘You ready for this boss?’

‘As I ever will be.’

‘His solicitor has arrived. He’s said they’ll be ready in ten minutes.’

Hall had already decided to lead the interview himself. He was certain that he would remain objective. But he still wasn’t looking forward to it one little bit.

John Hamilton looked terrible, and his solicitor looked expensive, judging from the suit. His name was Palmer, first name mister. Hall and Mann sat down, and Hall got started straight away. Palmer probably charged by the minute.

‘You understand why you’re here, Mr Hamilton?’

‘Mr Hamilton understands that he has been arrested on suspicion of the murder of his daughter, Amy’ said Palmer. ‘He denies this charge, and has asked me to say that he had no involvement in, nor any knowledge of, this appalling crime.’

Hall looked steadily at Hamilton as his solicitor spoke.

‘Thank you for that. But how do you explain the fact that your daughter’s phone, which we are quite certain was in her possession at the time of the attack, was found in your home today?’

‘I didn’t put it there, so if what you say is true then someone else must have’ said Hamilton. Palmer looked very slightly exasperated at his client’s answer.

‘My client has no knowledge as to how the phone came to be at his home, and I have advised him not to speculate as to how it occurred. It is your job to find that out.’

‘We intend to, but I’m interested in Mr Hamilton’s reply. What I’m hearing is that the only suggestion that he can put forward is that someone else must have planted the phone. So would I right in thinking that such a person must also be your daughter’s attacker?’

‘Inspector Hall, I must ask you not to invite my client to speculate on matters of which he can have no knowledge. Could I ask you to restrict your questions to matters on which my client does have knowledge?’

Hall looked down at his pad.

‘So let’s just get a few points clear for the tape, shall we? Where were you last Wednesday, between 8pm and 11pm?’

‘At home.’ Hamilton seemed to have got the message to keep his answers brief.

‘Can anyone else confirm that?’

‘No.’

‘Did you speak to anyone on the phone, or did anyone come to the door?’

‘No.’

‘So you can’t prove that you were at home?’

‘Inspector Hall, this is becoming tiresome’ said Palmer. ‘My client knows perfectly well where he was last Wednesday evening. It is entirely up to you to demonstrate otherwise, if that is your belief.’

Hall didn’t break his verbal stride.

‘And you didn’t go to Serpentine Woods?’

‘I did not.’

Then Hall did hesitate.

‘And you didn’t attack your daughter?’

‘Of course I didn’t. How can you even ask such a question?’

Hall paused.

‘We’re going to need a list of everyone who has been inside your house since last Wednesday evening. Can you give me those names now?’

‘You mean excluding all the police who have been inside my client’s house?’ said Palmer. ‘You will add those names to the list and make them available to me I’m sure.’

Hall nodded assent.

‘So who else has been in your house, apart from us? I assure you that they will be spoken to about this.’

‘My ex-wife, her husband, my daughter, my mother, my brother and Jim Daniels, who is the general manager of my firm. Then there’s the undertaker and one of his colleagues, and the vicar. I think that’s everyone.’

‘My client will certainly continue to reflect on that question, and will let you know if anyone else has been in his house. May I assume that he’ll be able to undertake such reflection from the comfort of his own home?’

‘I’m afraid not. Your client will be spending some time with us while we continue our enquiries. I believe you have a note of the time of his arrest?’

‘I do, and you can rest assured that I will make an application for bail at the first available moment, although I remain hopeful that my client will be released before that time.’

Back in the office Hall called the team together. He briefed them on the interview, and started on next steps.

‘Everyone who spent time at the house needs to be re-interviewed, and eliminated afresh. We need to know which rooms they say they were in, and whether or not they were alone at any point.’

For the first time since the investigation started there were a couple of audible groans. Hall wasn’t surprised, because it was inevitable that everyone was getting tired, but if John Hamilton was guilty that was the quickest way to a bit of R&R.

Ian Mann was less tolerant, and told everyone to quieten down. They did, and Hall carried on. ‘We don’t know that John Hamilton is guilty of anything, but if we can be sure that he, and only he, is responsible for that phone turning up in his house then we’ll charge him, no question. And we’ll probably be able to do it tomorrow. All being well we just need one last push, so Ian, let’s get the interviews shared out please.’

‘Which one for you and me boss?’

‘Surprise me. But make it someone we haven’t spent time with yet. And before  John Hamilton’s solicitor heads back to Manchester in his helicopter or cruise liner or whatever it is can we get back in with them and get a list of the rooms that each of his visitors was in, and whether they were ever alone. And get that out to everyone who is going out before they leave if you possibly can.’

Hall went back to his office and wrote down the two binary positions that seemed possible. Either Hamilton had killed his daughter and failed to dispose of the phone, or someone had planted the phone in his house, presumably to implicate Hamilton. The latter seemed unlikely in the extreme, but he was just starting to think about it carefully when Mann knocked on the open door.