The Hanging Tree (11 page)

'I just told you how,' she said flatly. 'By hounding as many MPs as we
could, by making their lives a misery until they agreed to take up our cause. As
for that letter, it's nothing to do with us. I've never seen it before.' The
other two echoed her statement.

With an apologetic shrug, Rafferty gestured to Llewellyn to resume the
questioning.

'Yet, I understood from Mrs Nye that all three of you proposed the idea
of an “outing” campaign here in Elmhurst. Are you saying that's not the case?'

As though concerned that Sinead Fay might let herself be goaded into
making further provocative statements, Ellen Kemp answered. 'No. She's merely
saying that we haven't organised such a campaign.' As though anxious to take
their interest away from her outspoken friend and on to herself, she continued,
'But maybe an “outing” campaign is what's needed to make the authorities sit up
and take notice. Women have always been too quiet, too undemanding about the
things that affect them. That's why their needs are so often ignored. They
should take their cue from the AIDS lobby.'

The other two were nodding. Obviously, Rafferty reflected, this was a
much discussed issue.

Although she kept her voice level, her feelings in check, it was evident
that Ellen Kemp felt every bit as strongly as the younger woman. 'Do you know
how much money and help the AIDS campaigners have had showered on them?' she
asked. 'All right,' she admitted, 'many people would say it's a worthy cause. But
then, so is helping the victims of rape. So is doing something about the level
of sexual assault.' She leant forward as though to convince them. 'Apart from
financial input from the government, the AIDS campaign get film stars hosting
charity dinners, rock stars throwing charity concerts. What do rape victims
get? You know the answer yourself — pretty pastel rape suites in police
stations if they're lucky; a few pot plants to give the impression that the
powers that be give a damn about women's fears.'

Ellen Kemp rose, walked to the table and picked up a selection of the
RSG leaflets and handed them to Rafferty. 'I suggest you read these, you'll
find all the facts in there. Were you aware, for instance, that over 20,000
women and girls are raped or sexually assaulted in this country every year? -
and that's just the tip of the iceberg. There are many more who never report
it. A fifth of the victims are under sixteen; little girls, Inspector. Vulnerable
little girls, just like Smith's victims. Easy prey for rapists, of course, that's
why they target them. They can be pretty sure that the ordeal of testifying in
court will deter most of them from seeking justice. Understandable, of course,
when you know how their courage is rewarded by the – mostly male – legal
system.’

She opened a leaflet and began to read, her voice matter-of-fact rather
than ranting. 'Take just one year — 1991 — more than 4,000 women and girls
reported rape to the police and just 559 men were found guilty. Roughly one in
eight. With time off for good behaviour, most of them were out in very few
years. It's their victims who got the life sentence.'

Rafferty knew what she said was true. It often angered him; he had a
mother, sisters, nieces. Maybe one day, he'd even have daughters. He knew the
terrible, life-long damage such assaults inflicted, the shattered lives, the
mental trauma, the vanished confidence, that was so often the victim's lot.

Some, like the Walker's daughter, committed suicide. He could understand
the women's anger, their determination to do something. He frequently felt the
same way. That was the trouble.

But he knew he couldn't afford to show his weakness. These women were
suspects in a murder case, and it would be as well for him to remember it. Now,
thrusting aside his instinctive sympathies, he said bluntly, 'I'm aware of all
this, Ms Kemp. But I'm only a policeman. I just try to catch villains. And
whatever Maurice Smith did or didn't do, and whether I like it or not, I have
the task of finding his killer. Now, perhaps you could tell me where you all
were on the evening of Thursday 18 December, when we understand Maurice Smith
was murdered.'

'Certainly. We were here. We were all here.'

'All evening?' She nodded.

As an alibi, it was far from convincing. Rafferty was beginning to think
of them as The Three Musketeers – one for all and all for one. He'd made a bad
mistake in speaking to them together like this. Next time he'd make sure he
spoke to each of them alone; that way the wiser head of Ellen Kemp would be
unable to restrain Sinead's hotter one.

'What about your daughter? Was she here, too?'

 Ellen Kemp's smile was ironic. 'No. As you saw, my daughter prefers
ogling men to getting involved with her mother's campaigns. She spent that
entire day at her friend Cindy's house and slept over. Check, if you like.' She
supplied the address of her daughter's friend and sat back.

They were too much on their guard for Rafferty to imagine they would get
much more out of them today and, recognising the futility of continuing the
interview, he stood up to go. But he was more than ever convinced they were
involved.

'They sent that letter,' he said to Llewellyn as they walked down the
path. 'I'm sure of it. It would explain why they were outside Smith's flat – probably
scared he'd do a bunk so they were taking turns on guard duty. Making sure he
didn't get a chance to escape whatever punishment they had decided on. We
already know that from where they were positioned they would have had a good
view of both entrances of Smith's place. They'd have seen anyone going in or
out, especially as there are street lamps within a few yards of back and front.
If they didn't kill Smith, the odds are they know who did, so let's work from
there. Who, exactly, are Sinead Fay and her friends likely to try to protect?'

'Smith's young victims, obviously.'

'Not Stubbs and Thompson?'

'I can't see someone like Sinead Fay putting herself out to protect
policeman, even ones who had supplied them with information. I'm sure, like the
other women, they would have thought the two men more than capable of looking
after themselves.'

'What about Frank Massey?'

Llewellyn hesitated. 'More difficult. He's what you might call a
halfway-house as far as they're concerned. A victim of sorts, but again, I
think it likely they'd feel that as a grown man he would be capable of
protecting himself; even more so as he's already had one spell in prison. Whereas
Smith's victims proper are still very young, possibly naive.'

Rafferty nodded as they got in the car. 'That's what I thought. We'll
have to check with the neighbours. Put Hanks on to it. It's possible the
neighbours noticed any comings or goings from Fay's house during the evening.'

He didn't hold out much hope. The neighbours on one side were an elderly
couple. It was another dull, dismal day and, like many people they had their
living room light on. He had noticed them on their arrival. The television had
been on and plates of brunch in their laps, already engrossed in the day's
viewing that probably continued till they went to bed. Perhaps they'd have more
luck with the people on the other side.

'Get Hanks to check out Ellen Kemp's garage at the same time,' he added.
'If, as she says, Sinead Fay's car was there last week, her own vehicle could
well have been parked on the street. The neighbours would have noticed and
remarked on it, if so. After all, who's going to leave their car outside these
icy mornings and give themselves the chore of scraping the frost off the
windscreen if they don't have to? Better get him to check that she was telling
the truth about the daughter, too, though she seemed too confident about that
to be lying.'

Llewellyn nodded, then added, 'I was thinking.' Rafferty waited. 'Mrs
Penny, Smith's landlady, said she rarely goes out in the evening. Don't you
think it's strange that she should go out on the night Smith was murdered?'

Rafferty glanced at him, pleased that he was ahead of his sergeant. It
was unusual at this stage of an investigation. 'Perhaps you should put that the
other way round? Strange that Smith should be murdered on the night she goes
out. It's clear that whoever killed Smith knew the flat downstairs would be
empty that evening and made use of the knowledge. Forensic found traces of
blood on the fire stairs at the back of the building, and we found a navy
thread, which presumably came from his blue and maroon tracksuit.'

Although they were still waiting to learn whether the blood and tracksuit
threads had been Smith's, Rafferty felt it probable. He also felt they had
enough evidence to guess what had happened.

'Getting a body, even a light one like Smith's, down those fire stairs
is unlikely to have been a silent operation, so whoever killed Smith would have
been keen to know the downstairs flat was unoccupied that night. Go and see Mrs
Penny later today, Dafyd. Find out who knew she'd be going out. Ask her when
she mentioned it to Smith. You might also ask around and see if anyone noticed
a strange car parked behind the house. We know the lock on the back gate was
forced, recently too, as the wood is still clean; all the evidence points to
the body being taken out that way. I reckon whoever killed him backed their
vehicle onto the hard-standing, using the gate to conceal it. Then they walked
round to the front, got the onceover from Smith via his spyhole, was let in,
and killed him, bundling his body into a rubbish bag and down the back stairs.'

'Pretty cold-blooded.'

'Don't they say revenge is a dish best eaten cold?'

Llewellyn frowned, then reminded him, 'According to his landlady, Smith was
very careful about opening his door to strangers. Understandable, of course;
he'd had to move from his previous address when a sharp-eyed neighbour
recognised him and caused trouble. With this “outing” threat, he'd have been
even more cautious, especially when his friendly landlady was out for the
evening. He must have felt he had nothing to fear from whoever he opened his
door to. So — who would be likely to fall into such a category?'

Rafferty provided the obvious answer. 'Police, family, old friends – if
any exist. Though, as Mrs Penny said he had no friends that just leaves the
police and his own family.'

'Jes Bullock, you mean.'

Rafferty nodded. 'He'd certainly stand further questioning, though to be
frank, I can't see the ladies of the RSP protecting such a man. Still,
something's eating at him, I'm sure of it. We'll go and see him again this
evening, as soon as we're free,' Rafferty decided.

Thoughtfully, Llewellyn put forward another possibility. 'You said,
other than his family, Smith would be most likely to open the door to a
uniformed officer, like Thompson. If we take that together with Mrs Nye's
information that she thought maverick policemen were supplying Sinead Fay and
her friends with information on possible “outing” targets, Thompson may well
have left a computer trail behind him.'

'Doubt it. No, if Thompson has been supplying the breakaway RSG women
with information, either the information he obtained wasn't taken from a
traceable source like a computer, or he got someone else to access it for him. That's
another area to look into. You're the computer buff, can I leave you to check
that out?'

Llewellyn nodded.

'Check with the Social as well. They might have Smith cross-referenced
in their files under his original and his current name. It's possible they gave
his address out to someone. Whoever's responsible for this local spate of
“outing” threats is getting their information from official sources. Trouble
is, it may be difficult to get to the bottom of it. Most of the coppers I've spoken
to about the case were of the private opinion that whoever killed Smith did an
excellent job. If one of them provided Thompson with Smith's whereabouts, he's
unlikely to admit it.'

`Rafferty was sure that if Thompson was guilty, he and his informant
would be likely to hang together, scared, as the saying went, that, if they
didn't, they'd hang separately.

'Anyway,' he decided. 'After what we learned from Mrs Nye, we'd better
make checking the alibis of Stubbs and Thompson a priority. If they were supplying
information to those three women we need something to tie them together. All
we've got at the moment is the fact that Smith opened his door willingly, tied
to the probability that Sinead Fay's old Zephyr was parked outside his flat. What
we need if some proof.'

He fastened his seat belt. 'Come on, let's get back to the station. Maybe,
by now, Liz Green and Lilley will have turned up a nosey neighbour or two for
us.'

They drove back to the station. The Council workmen had finished the
belated erection of the Christmas decorations and were standing about admiring
their handiwork as throngs of busy shoppers bustled past.

With a guilty pang, Rafferty remembered he hadn't yet been to see his
niece, Gemma, as he'd intended. Hopefully, if nothing broke between now and
Christmas, he'd be able to make time to get round to his sister's.

It wouldn't be today, though, he realised, when they entered the office.
Although Liz Green and Lilley had yet to return to the station – with or
without a few nosey neighbours in tow – there was plenty to keep them busy. On
his desk, a pile of reports awaited attention, among them statements from
householders near the woods, from motorists who had been in the vicinity and
had come forward, as well as those routinely stopped and questioned.

Rafferty read through them swiftly and pounced on the several that
reported seeing an old Zephyr on the road to the west of the wood. The time was
about right, too, he realized excitedly. As he read them, he passed them to
Llewellyn, waited impatiently for the Welshman to finish, and then said, 'First
we had a Zephyr parked outside Smith's flat; now, we've got a sighting of the
same make of car by Dedman Wood at the appropriate time and not just by one
witness, but by several. What would you say to us pulling Ms Fay and her
friends in for further questioning?'

'I'd say it would be unwise – unless you're anxious for some bad
publicity. It seems likely, given that Ms Fay and her friends seem able
regularly to put forward their views and opinions in the media, that if we do,
they must have several tame newspaper editors more than willing to supply
damning front-page headlines. We've no more than circumstantial evidence to
link them with Smith, no more than our own suspicions to say they had anything
to do with his murder. A clever lawyer would tear such evidence apart in five
seconds.'

Automatically straightening the reports that Rafferty had disordered,
Llewellyn went on. 'You said yourself that what we need is proof. Don't you
think it would be better to wait to see if WPC Green and Lilley come back with
some? After all, we don't yet know if these three women were even acquainted
with any of Smith's victims, so if they saw one of them dragging a
suspicious-looking shape down the fire stairs, why should they interfere?'

It was a point Rafferty hadn't previously considered. 'You're right – we
don't know if they even met or counselled Smith's victims. Maybe it's time we
found out.'

He began hunting through his desk; bits of paper fluttered to the floor
as he shifted and shunted the contents. 'What did I do with Mrs Nye's phone
number?'

Llewellyn, to save Rafferty's desk from any more wanton trashing,
produced his own notebook. 'I've got it here.'

Rafferty read the number and dialled. His call was answered almost
immediately. He knew it was a policy of Mrs Nye's; as she warned her staff and
volunteers, it might be a distraught young girl on the other end and an
endlessly ringing telephone could be enough to put her off trying again. Once
put through to Mrs Nye, Rafferty explained what he wanted.

'I'll have to go through my records for the other two, Inspector,' Mrs
Nye told him, 'but I know Ellen Kemp did similar work in Burleigh, some years
ago. I'm not sure exactly when, though.'

'Perhaps you could let me have the details of your opposite number in
Burleigh and I'll check it out myself.'

Mrs Nye supplied the details with her usual efficiency and also checked
on Sinead Fay and Zonie Anderson, ringing back with the information that
neither had worked as a support volunteer ten years earlier. Zonie Anderson,
could, anyway, have been no more than fifteen at the time — hardly old enough
to counsel rape victims.

After thanking her and ringing off, Rafferty told Llewellyn what he'd
learned. 'It would be a turn-up if Ellen Kemp did counsel one of Smith's
victims. It would give us our link - and the third circumstantial connection.'

After some minutes' difficulty, he managed to decipher his scribbled
notes and dialled the number for the Rape Support Group in Burleigh. But his
hopes were dashed as quickly as they'd been raised. The link he had hoped to
establish between one of the breakaway RSG women and Smith's victims didn't
exist. Ellen Kemp hadn't become a volunteer until nearly two years after the
Smith case and had never counselled any of his victims. Rafferty scowled and as
soon as Llewellyn set off to see Smith’s landlady, Mrs Penny, he bent his head
back to the reports, hoping to find evidence that would satisfy even the Welshman's
requirements.