The Burden of Doubt (17 page)

‘The memory of that argument is unbelievably raw,’ Patel said. ‘And through the next day my feelings veered between anger and regret. Moira and I hardly ever rowed. We were contained, private, civilized people.’ There was a long pause. ‘And when I got home it was too late to tell her I was sorry.’

Swift sat motionless and silent.

‘I didn’t kill her,’ Patel said softly. ‘That is one act I don’t have to agonize about.’

Swift took in and released a long breath. ‘Professor Patel, is there anything, anything at all concerning Moira’s death that you haven’t mentioned before.’

‘No. I’ve come to the sad conclusion that Moira and I were leading very separate lives. That I knew so little about what she was thinking and feeling. That I’ve just been wrapped up in myself and my work and all the various preoccupations we humans burden ourselves with.’

‘It looks as though we shall have to release Shaun Busfield,’
Swift said gently. ‘The evidence we have is not strong enough to make a case that will stand up in court. I’m sorry.’

Patel shook his head. ‘Better to release a man if there is doubt. Better to do that than incarcerate someone who is innocent. I’m not one who takes the view that catching a murderer brings some kind of relief or satisfaction to the ones left behind. The deed is done. The loved one is lost. That is the life sentence all of us who grieve share. For me nothing can soften the brutality of that sentence.’

Swift rose to his feet. ‘If anything comes to mind, Professor Patel …’ he said.

Patel got up. ‘Yes, of course.’ He led Swift to the door. ‘I’m thinking of taking a break from work,’ he said. ‘Maybe a few days in the Lake District. You have my mobile number.’

He stood in the doorway waiting whilst Swift got in his car. A very civilized man felled with grief.

Georgie Tyson’s article hit the streets around 2.30 in the afternoon. It had made the front page, and the picture of Tina staring at the camera with her carefully made-up eyes wistful and vulnerable made Georgie hug herself with glee. Even better there had been several requests from the nationals to run the story. The editor had gone so far as to offer congratulations.

Georgie collected Tina from her work and drove her to the station.

Tina was bemused with the attention the young journalist was giving her; half elated, half scared stiff. And whilst she was worried about all kind of things to do with Shaun, she was even more worried about pissing off her boss by asking to nip out of work without due reason or warning.

‘Hey! Lighten up,’ Georgie told her as they waited for Detective Chief Inspector Swift to collect them from the front desk.

‘I’m a worrier,’ Tina said, sticking a nail in her mouth, then stoically resisting gnawing at it. She laid her hands out flat on her knees.

‘Great nails,’ Georgie told, her eyeing the bright pink ovals with a strip of silver down the middle of each one. Did you do them yourself?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Look, stop fretting. Everything’s going to work out fine. Just remember you’re on the front page of the local rag. You’re a celeb already. And we’re going to get Shaunie out of here.’

Tina swallowed hard as Swift appeared at the door of his office. She was well practised at defending herself, but found it hard to know how to behave when she was with someone who obviously thought they were on the attack. There was something worryingly compelling about Georgie Tyson – Tina was slightly in fear of her and on the other hand anxious not to let her down.

Seated in Swift’s office Tina noticed that he was taller and thinner than she remembered, and in the light from the window behind his desk she could see that he was a natural redhead, his hair a full rich auburn you couldn’t get out of a bottle even in these days of advanced colour technology.

He sat quietly behind his desk, his expression neutral, neither friendly nor intimidating.

‘Have you seen today’s
Echo
?’ Georgie asked him.

He nodded.

‘Tina wants to know why you’ve had Shaun banged up when she’s given him an alibi for the time of Moira Farrell’s murder.’

‘We have to investigate all of the evidence we find,’ Swift told her calmly.

‘What evidence?’ Georgie asked with a degree of challenge. She waited, holding her breath, desperate to know what evidence they had. What juicy nuggets of information there might be which she could work into a new article.’

‘Miss Tyson,’ Swift said evenly, ‘you know very well I’m not going to tell you. When the time is right we shall give out information through our press officer.’

Georgie looked at Tina, wanting to pass on the baton of questioning, but the other woman sat in frozen silence.

‘Why won’t you believe Tina’s alibi for Shaun?’ Georgie demanded.

‘I didn’t say we didn’t believe it.’

‘Well it’s obvious you don’t otherwise you wouldn’t have
locked him up. Tina told the truth and she’s prepared to stand up in court and say so.’

Swift nodded his acknowledgement of this intention.

‘Tina’s come to demand that you release Shaun as soon as possible,’ Georgie said, having an uneasy feeling the interview wasn’t going as she had hoped.

Ignoring Georgie, Swift turned to Tina. ‘Is there anything you’d like to say?’ he asked in even tones.

‘I did tell the truth,’ Tina said.

‘Just remind me what you told us that morning we came to arrest Shaun,’ he said gently.

‘The morning you let him slip through your fingers!’ Georgie said, unstoppable.

‘Tina?’ Swift said.

‘Shaun was in bed with me when that poor woman was killed,’ Tina said.

‘And you’re sure about that?’

‘Yeah. I’ve thought about it a lot,’ Tina said. ‘That morning, how things were. And I’ll swear on the Bible that Shaun was snoring his head off beside me around six that morning, because he woke me up and I couldn’t get back to sleep. He’s been in the pub drinking most nights after his gran died, he was that upset. And drinking always makes him snore. I got heartily sick of it to tell the truth.’ She stopped and gave a sigh.

Georgie glanced at Swift. ‘Top that,’ she said, ‘for something that smacks of the truth. And I’ve got it all on tape.’

‘Yes, I’m aware,’ he said, glancing at the small bulge in the pocket of her jacket.

‘So! I think we’ve proved our point,’ Georgie said. ‘And it’s high time you let justice take its course and released Shaun Busfield.’

‘Yeah, let him go, please!’ Tina was suddenly overcome, tears spilling over her lashes. Poor Shaun; she hadn’t stood by him like she should have. She’d been blown about by her doubts, thinking it might be good to be as free as the air and manage on her own without having to rely on a bloke. It just showed how much she knew about herself.

‘We demand that you release an innocent man,’ Georgie said, planning to write verbatim whatever response the DCI managed to come up with.

‘He’s already been released,’ Swift said. ‘Half an hour ago.’

‘So were you blown away by the force of the wind rushing out of her sails?’ Laura asked, as she and Swift drove to Sylvia Farrell’s house. The image of her boss being confronted by the foxy Georgie and the doll-like Tina was very much to her liking.

He smiled. ‘I managed to stand my ground.’

They were met at the door by Jayne Arnold. ‘Hello!’ she said, smiling at Laura.

‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Swift,’ Laura told her.

‘Please come in.’ Jayne led the way into the sitting-room. She was wearing a bright red knitted wool dress over black leggings and clumpy high-heeled patent shoes. In Laura’s view she looked as though she had just stepped out of the fashion pages of one of the quality newspapers. Feeling rather lumpy in her last year’s tweed coat and grey ribbed tights from Marks & Spencer Laura made a note to make time to look in the funky fashion shops when she had her next day off.

‘My mother’s out at the moment,’ Jayne said, ‘but she should be back soon. Is there anything I can help you with?’

‘We came to tell your mother that the suspect we’ve been holding regarding Moira Farrell’s death has been released,’ Swift said.

Jayne’s smile faded. ‘Oh, I see.’ She spent a few moments in contemplation. ‘I think my mother will be sorry to hear that. She’s been hoping that there’d be some early resolution to Moira’s death. Some sort of closure, I suppose.’

‘I understand,’ Swift said. ‘Basically, the evidence our scene of crime officers found on the premises was not enough to enable us to bring a charge.’

‘I see.’ She dipped her head then looked across at Swift. ‘I don’t suppose you’re at liberty to say what kind of evidence was found?’

‘Not at present.’

‘So – we’re back to square one.’

‘Not entirely,’ Swift said. ‘We’ve gathered quite a lot of useful information.’

Conversation ceased as there was the sound of the front door opening and closing, quickly followed by Sylvia Farrell’s appearance in the drawing room. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, on seeing the visitors. ‘The police again.’

Jayne made introductions between Swift and Sylvia. She did it in a skilled and soothing manner, as though underlying the necessity of her mother’s need to be shielded from any further distress. ‘Would you like me to make some tea, darling?’ she asked her parent.

Sylvia shook her head. She sat down. She had a copy of the latest Echo in her hand and she laid it on carefully on the table. ‘I expect you’ve come to tell me about this,’ she said, pointing to the blaring headline and the winsome photograph of Tina Frazer.

‘Don’t get upset,’ Jayne told her. ‘The police are doing everything they can to find out who killed Moira.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Sylvia, looking sceptical.

Jayne gave her mother a brief and entirely accurate account of what had been said prior to Sylvia’s arrival. ‘Chief Inspector Swift says they’ve gathered quite a lot of useful information,’ she concluded.

‘Good,’ said Sylvia, still unconvinced looking sceptical.

Jayne turned to Swift. ‘Have you another suspect?’

‘We’re following some promising leads,’ Swift said.

She gave a twitch of a smile. ‘That sounds suitably non committal, Chief Inspector.’

‘I gather you were out of the country at the time Moira was
killed,’ Swift said. ‘It must have come as a shock to hear the news when you got home.’

‘Terrible,’ Jayne agreed. She looked kindly at her parent. ‘It was worse for Mother, of course. As I told Constable Ferguson, Moira and I weren’t very close. Different ages, different life-styles.’

‘How is Rajesh bearing up?’ Sylvia asked. ‘I keep meaning to get in touch with him, but…it’s just all so horribly difficult. I expect I’m a terrible coward. I keep thinking of the past, remembering some of the times we all used to get together – myself and Anthony, Moira and Rajesh. There are some good memories.’

‘Is there anything further you can remember concerning Mrs Farrell’s death?’ Laura interposed gently.

Sylvia turned to her, askance. ‘Good heavens, no! This murder was some dreadful random act, I’m convinced of it. I know absolutely nothing about it.’

Laura looked at Jayne, who gave a regretful smile and a little shrug. Me neither.

‘So,’ Swift said, on the way back to the station, ‘do we know much more about Sylvia and Jayne than we did before?’

‘I don’t think we do.’ Laura looked out of the window admiring the way the sun, which had not been seen for days, had suddenly made an appearance around midday and turned the countryside surrounding Bradford into a place of brilliant light and shade topped by a stunning cobalt blue sky. Just now it was setting, rolling down behind the hills like a huge glowing pumpkin.

‘What we do know, is that Sylvia Farrell had no alibi for the time Moira was murdered; that she didn’t seem to be on very good terms with Rajesh or Moira. Neither of which means very much at all. Not at present, anyway.’

‘And Jayne does have an alibi, but as far as we can tell she didn’t have any close connection with Moira – different age group, different life style.’ He drew the car to a halt at traffic lights.

‘I checked the booking list for flights from Prague in the days around the time of Moira’s death,’ Laura said. ‘Jayne cancelled her
original flight back and booked an earlier one setting off around lunchtime, a few hours after the murder.’

‘Did you check the boarding lists?’ Swift asked, letting out the clutch and easing the car across the junction.

Laura felt a prickle run down her spine. ‘No.’ Colour climbed into her cheeks as she glanced at his face. He didn’t respond for a few moments, throwing her into silent torment.

‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ he said. ‘But check when we get back to base.’

A sensation of horror seized Laura as she imagined the scenario in Finch’s office if her omission had come to light there. His icy derision, the awful humiliation. She looked across at the DCI and blessed him for his humanity.

Georgie drove Tina back to the house she shared with Shaun. As they turned off the main road running centrally through the estate and into one of the network of smaller roads Tina’s agitation accelerated.

‘You’ll come in with me, won’t you?’ she said to Georgie. ‘If he’s there.’

‘Sure. Try and stop me, I want to talk to him.’ She pulled up in front of the house, looking around and feeling faintly disappointed not to see a crowd of photographers and hungry newshounds swarming around the front door.

‘Come on!’ she said to Tina, who was huddled in her seat looking as though she might refuse to get out of the car.

‘He’ll be mad at me,’ Tina whined.

‘Of course he won’t. Why should he?’

‘I didn’t go and see him. I didn’t do anything to help him.’

‘You didn’t shop him, though, did you? That must count for something.’ Georgie hoped she wouldn’t need to spend much more time with Tina, the girl was getting on her nerves.

Georgie hopped out of the car, leading the way to the front door, then braving the gloom and damp of the hall. Going into the living-room she saw that Shaun was sitting slumped on the sofa staring blankly at the flicker of the television. ‘Hi!’ she said cheerily.

Shaun turned and leapt to his feet. ‘Who the fuck are you?’

Georgie held up her hands in surrender. She handed him her business card.

His eyes were shifting all over the place, fear emanating from him like smoke. Georgie could tell that the arrest and questioning of Moira Farrell’s murder had shaken him badly.

Tina came slinking into the room looking as though she wished she were invisible.

Shaun took his attention away from Georgie and looked at his girlfriend, his suspicion little diminished at the sight of her. He grunted some form of acknowledgement of her presence.

‘Are you all right?’ Tina said, hardly allowing her lips to part to let out the words.

‘What do you think?’ His voice was angry and sullen, and his eyes bored into Tina’s face.

She blinked. ‘I’ll go make us a cup of tea,’ she said, hurrying to the kitchen.

‘Don’t you remember me, Shaun?’ Georgie asked, in no way disconcerted by the viciousness of his mood, which she considered entirely understandable.

He looked at her and frowned. ‘You what?’

‘We went to the same school – Ravenscar First.’

‘That shit-hole,’ he said.

‘Quite,’ Georgie agreed. ‘Anyway I remember you, you were quite a livewire. Now listen, Shaun, I’m after clearing your name regarding this arrest for murder.’

His eyes were slits of distrust. He squared his shoulders. ‘How do you know I didn’t do it?’ The question had a chill to it, but Georgie liked a challenge.

‘Well, of course, I don’t. But I’m inclined to believe Tina when she says you couldn’t have done it because you were tucked up in bed with her at the time of the killing.’

Shaun pursed his lips and took some time to think about what he might have to say on that score. ‘Aye, she stuck by me, didn’t she? She could have dropped me right in it if she’d wanted.’

Georgie was not much concerned regarding the ins and outs of Tina and Shaun’s relationship, although her gut feeling was that it
was fragile and rocky, subject to as many shifts and changes as the surface of sand under an ebbing tide. And that strangely enough it could be one of those pairings that lasted.

‘I’ve thought of a way we can prove you didn’t kill Moira Farrell,’ she told him.

Shaun’s frown was still in place, but he was interested now.

‘If you’d agree to take a lie detector test, I’d make sure the results were splashed all over the papers and everyone would know you’re an innocent guy who’s been shamefully treated by the police.’

He took his time in thinking about it. ‘Do they really work, these lie detectors?’ he asked.

‘From what I’ve been told, yes. If they’re administered properly and interpreted by someone who knows what they’re doing.’ Georgie watched him, knowing that if he was guilty he’d be backing out fast. And that she’d be without her next big story.

Tina came in with the tea. She seemed to have been listening, and cheering up. ‘That’s a good idea. Don’t you think so, Shaunie?’

He took the mug she held out. Georgie held her breath.

‘I’m not sure what I think,’ He eyeballed Georgie. ‘Are you going to get it all sorted out, then?’

‘Yeah. I’ve already been in contact with someone who’ll be able to do the test.’

‘Who’ll pay?’ Shaun asked.

‘My newspaper.’ Georgie was filled with bravado now things were going well.

‘And what’ll I have to do?’

‘You’ll have some sensors put on your fingers, then you’ll be linked up to a monitor which would chart electrical responses from your skin.’

‘I’ll not have any electric currents passed through me.’

‘No, you won’t have. And it’s all quite painless,’ she hastened to assure him.

‘It had better be,’ he growled. ‘I’ve had enough grief this past week to last me a very long time.’

‘Sure,’ Georgie agreed. ‘Then you’d have to answer some
simple questions. You won’t have to make any speeches, just answer yes or no.’

Doubt was creeping into his face. ‘What sort of questions?’

‘Some general questions about yourself and your work, that kind of thing. Then mixed in with those there’d be questions about the time of Moira’s murder and what you were doing and so on.’

Shaun’s face was closing down, becoming fixed and stony. He took a long drink of his tea. ‘I’ll need to have a good long think about this,’ he said.

‘Don’t wait too long,’ Georgie warned. ‘I’ve got someone lined up who can get it all done for us later today. We don’t want to hang around, Shaun.’ Watching him as she finished her tea, she began to wonder just what had happened on that morning Moira Farrell met her death. But if he agreed to take the test she’d get fantastic copy whatever the outcome. Guilty or not guilty, it didn’t really matter.

Swift was summoned to Finch’s office.

‘Ed! Come in!’ There was the merest suggestion of excitement in the superintendent’s voice. ‘We’ve got results from forensics on the earth found in the van Busfield used during the autumn.’

‘It matches the earth found on Busfield’s trainers?’ Swift suggested.

‘Stealing my thunder,’ Finch commented without rancour. ‘It does indeed. Which does suggest that at some point Busfield has been in Moira Farrell’s garden.’

‘And also suggests he must have met her outside the confines of the hospital. And most likely at her home.’

‘Maybe he was doing a bit of gardening to earn extra cash,’ Finch said. ‘But whatever he was up to he was lying about only having met Moira at the hospital.’

‘Do you want us to pick him up?’ Swift asked.

Finch did a little pacing. Although he had only occupied the office for two months he was already wearing a small, narrow track in the carpet behind his desk. ‘It’s tricky,’ he said. ‘We don’t want to look as though we’re playing some kind of cat and mouse
game with him. This is interesting evidence, but still not enough for us to bring a charge.’

‘No,’ Swift agreed. ‘But on the other hand it would be even more tricky if he went to ground again.’

‘And that teenage journalist penned another of her pieces of fiction.’

‘I’ll go talk to him,’ Swift said. ‘I’ll take a backup team with me.’

Laura sat at her desk staring at the phone. She had just spoken to flight officials at British Airways. The flight manifests including the boarding lists showed that Jayne Arnold had not taken a flight from Prague on the afternoon of Moira’s death. She had, in fact, boarded a plane from Prague to Gatwick on the day before Moira Farrell was killed. Officials at Leeds Bradford Airport were able to provide further information that Jayne Arnold had boarded the last evening flight from Heathrow to Leeds- Bradford and come through passport check at around 9.30 p.m. She could easily have been home 10.30 on the evening before Moira’s death.

The information had made Laura’s pulse speed up and her heart start pounding. She knew Swift would carry the can for her omission to check out Jayne’s alibi in sufficient detail. But that didn’t make her feel any less guilty and inadequate. Shame swarmed through her veins. What made things even worse was that there was no one available whom she could tell. Well, no one she felt she could bear to give the news to. The thought of a meeting with Ice Man Finch in his office made her feel slightly sick. She headed to the ladies’ loo, locked herself in the nearest cubicle and tried to steady the violent workings of her autonomic nervous system.