Two Wrongs (Detective Inspector Ross Reed Book 1) (15 page)

Reed was shattered. Emotionally and physically. It was 6.45am and he had been awake for over an hour. He felt tired but couldn't get back to sleep. Too tired is what some people called it, although he had never really understood that theory. After no more than two minutes of being awake and flicking his body around trying to find a comfortable position, thoughts of work and Kate had come flooding into his mind. Haunting him.

The previous evening, after Reed had explained to DCI Whitehead about Alan Westwood's whereabouts and the timing of him getting home on the night of Carmella’s murder, they had all agreed to sleep on the information before deciding what to do. Easier said than done in Reed's case. A night shift had been drafted in to investigate Alan Westwood a little closer. They would go through Alan's life with a fine-toothe comb, with the main focus being the level of suspicion surrounding his own daughter's death.

Having spent the night alone, Kate choosing to stay at her sister's house again, Reed had decided to phone her late last night just to make sure she was OK. She was. His daughter Evie was too busy playing and having fun with her cousins to talk to her dad so she was obviously OK too. His ears had started burning shortly after he had hung up the phone so he guessed his many failings were being discussed and agreed with at great length.

It was an interesting glimpse at his new life. Kate was leaving him, he was sure of it, she hadn't said as much but he could feel it. She had suggested some time apart and he couldn't help but think it would probably be for the rest of their lives. Did he want her back anyway? She had been spending time with another man, talking about anything and everything as they had once done together, laughing at each other's jokes. Slowly but surely, she was starting a new relationship in preparation of leaving him. She had already made her choice.

He knew he probably wasn't around as often as some other husbands were but it wasn't as if Kate was a strict nine-to-five person either. She worked all hours at the stables, including weekends. He couldn't help but wonder what her fancy man did for a living and how it fitted in so well with her new life?

He hadn't exactly relaxed during the evening last night either. He had tried to watch the TV but every time he heard a car outside he wondered if it was Kate. She might have needed some more clothes or she might have felt the urge to see him and sort this mess out. He wondered how he should look if she did come in? Relaxed? Sad? Happy to see her? He didn't know. She hadn't come home anyway. Maybe that was the real reason he hadn't slept.

Reed settled down in his office chair and wondered why his bed hadn't felt this comfortable. Having asked Tyler if she would mind fetching the report on Alan Westwood, knowing she would jump at the chance and that it would have been read by the time she delivered it to him, he had the time to relax a little. When she arrived, she could tell him the interesting parts if there were any.

“Airtight alibi, sir.” Tyler announced as she came through the door. Luckily, he had swiveled his chair around so that the back had been facing the door, this gave him a few valuable seconds to wake up and put his 'alert' face on.

“What was it?” he mumbled.

“He was thirty minutes into his shift at work at the time of Tina's death. Fourteen people confirmed it.”

“Anything else in there?” Reed nodded in the direction of the folder in Tyler's hand.

“Nothing really. He showed hostility towards officers as the investigation ran its course. Understandable really.”

He agreed. The police never caught his daughter's killer and that was enough to piss anybody off. Tyler took a seat opposite him and he was glad that despite him being her superior, she was comfortable enough not to be asked to sit. Tyler was chewing her bottom lip as she always did when she was thinking; Reed was watching her do it as he always did.

The shrill of the office phone snapped them both back to reality. Snatching angrily at the receiver he barked, “Reed.”

“Charming as ever I see.” John Fleming said. He was one of the lab technicians from forensics.

“John, please tell me you've got something on the earring?”

“Straight to the point. Lovely to hear from you too old mate.”

Reed and Fleming had played on the same pool team many years ago, done pretty well too. There was still the odd trophy kicking about somewhere to prove it. They had spent a lot of time together socially when they had both been uniformed officers, but things had changed when Reed had got married, had a child and gained a couple of promotions. This was hard for Fleming to understand as he was 40 years old going on 20, single, and living the lifestyle to suit.

“Sorry John, how are things?” Reed conceded to small talk.

“If you really wanted to know, you would have asked without me having to prompt you. I'll forgive you. Yes we have a match on the earring.”

After a short silence Reed prompted, “Mind telling me who?”

“First off, I've got some news on that rock that was thrown through your window. We don't have a match exactly but the DNA profile shows it to be a relation to you. More than likely a child, so unless it's a love-child you haven't told me about, I'm guessing Evie threw it.” Fleming explained, revealing a compassionate tone to his voice that Reed didn't know existed.

A pang of shame and guilt hit him in the depth off his stomach. The shame was the fact that Evie would do such a thing and the guilt came from his part in her behaviour by being a rubbish father and failure of a husband. Evie had been staying at her Nan’s house on the night the window was smashed. Why was she out unsupervised and what sort of crowd was she mixing with that were willing to drive a 13 year old to smash a window at her own home? “OK. Thanks.” Reed said, desperate to change the subject he asked “What about the earring?”

“If you promise me a pint?” Fleming said, returning to type.

“I'll get you ten, just tell me.”

“Promise?”

“I fucking promise. Jesus!”

Fleming, to his credit, picked up on his mood and switched from friend to work colleague with practiced ease.

“The earring you found at Carmella Chapman's murder site wasn't Carmella's.” Reed felt all hope evaporate. “It was Tina Westwood's.”

“Holy shit!” Reed said. Tyler looked on expectantly.

“We also have a partial fingerprint.” Fleming continued, pausing for effect. Reed was speechless with anticipation. His heartbeat had quickened to that of a marathon runner's. It might be Alan's fingerprint and that would mean nothing. They had lived together as father and daughter.

“Who?” He finally managed. His mouth dry. He was hating every second of Fleming's game of suspense but couldn't muster the anger to tell him.

“David Jones.” He finally spat out.

Reed explained the DNA results first to Tyler, then to Whitehead, who was only too happy to share some of his wisdom about investigating the obvious suspects, but investigating the less obvious ones even harder. It was as though he knew how it was all going to pan out and he had been waiting for everybody else to catch on. After pointing out a few other things Reed could have approached differently, Whitehead let him get on with trying to catch Carmella's murderer.

Tyler phoned Butler's Garage to see if David Jones was at work. He was. She asked whoever answered the phone to promise they would keep the current conversation a secret. When she wasn't satisfied by the reply, she threatened that charges of wasting police time could be enforced. Happy with the response this time, she hung up.

Reed drove his car with Tyler as his passenger, his confidence in its performance was slowly returning since it had been repaired. He thought it was funny that David Jones had fixed the car that was now coming to arrest him. They were followed by a marked police car and a standby warning had been issued to other officers in the area just in case of any trouble.

Adrenalin was flowing and it caused a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. Was this it? The breakthrough they needed? As unexpected as it was, David Jones obviously had a disliking of Gulliver. Was Jones trying to pin Carmella's murder on Gulliver? How did Tina Westwood and her earring fit into all this? Had Jones killed them both?

Reed's phone rang. The caller display said it was Whitehead.

“You can get that.” He said, gesturing to Tyler with his chin.

“You what?”

“Tell him the hands free thingy is playing up.”

Tyler reluctantly picked up the phone. “Sir, DI Reed is driving, can I take a message?”

“Yes you bloody well can. Two actually. Tell him not to use you as his secretary, he's not that privileged.” Tyler had turned the phone away from her own ear so it was pointing in Reed's direction, letting Whitehead's volume make up the distance between the two and pass on his own messages. “And, as he's the one driving, tell him to steer the car towards the Gleens factory. There's a situation.”

Tyler snapped the phone back to her own ear. Reed was straining to listen in again but without much luck. Tyler hung up shortly after.

“Well?”

“He said we'll see when we get there, Steve Garrood will be expecting us. The boys in blue will pick Jones up.” Tyler said.

Reed wondered what could be more important than Jones right now? Whitehead probably just wanted him away from the action so he couldn't mess it up. The marked police car turned off at the Watton/Thetford roundabout heading to Butler's Garage. Reed tried guessing how it would go for the officers? David Jones seemed nice enough, a man who didn't take kindly to Gulliver hitting on young girls, especially Jones' own sister, but how far would he go to show Gulliver the error of his ways? Murder a young girl? Would he go quietly with the officers or try to run away? And what the hell was waiting for Reed and Tyler when they got to Gleen factory?

When they turned into the factory car park there didn't seem to be anything untoward going on so they pulled up near to the main reception. They had barely unfastened their seat belts when the rapping of knuckles on the car window made them both physically jump. Steve Garrood was the anxious looking culprit outside. Reed lowered his window.

“I hope you didn't mind me asking for you personally?”

Well yes actually. “No, of course not. What's the problem?”

“It's Alan. Alan Westwood. He's up on the factory roof.”

Reed knew what that could mean but tried to block the thought. “Have you spoken to him? Is he threatening anything?”

“No. He's fairly calm. I think he's drinking up there. I didn't want to cause too much fuss, that's why I asked for you, but... there's a look in his eyes...” Garrood let the sentence fade away.

“When you say he's on top of the roof, is he at the edge?” Tyler asked, obviously fearing the same.

“No, but... I was worried enough to call.” Garrood said with a shrug, confirming that he too was fearing a nasty outcome.

Alan Westwood's daughter had been murdered and her killer was never reprimanded. Now, just as he had managed to carve out an existence of sorts, the murder of another girl who was of a similar age had happened in the same area and in similar circumstances, stirring up old emotions to the surface again. He'd done well to get through it once, but twice...

Garrood led the way down the same alley that took you to the smoking hut Reed had been to with Mark Parsons. After passing the hut and reaching the end of the alleyway, they turned to the left and headed towards the massive building in front of them. The walls were brick built from the floor to about a third of the way up, the rest of the wall was sheet cladding leading to what appeared to be a flat roof.

“We shouldn't draw too much attention coming round here. This building is always getting broken into so police visits are quite normal. It's a storage unit for finished products. Me and Alan used to have our lunch break up here in the summer months. This was before Health and Safety put an end to it.” Garrood said.

They stopped at the bottom of some metal steps on the outside of the building that led to the roof, Reed told Tyler to give Whitehead a call, he wanted an ambulance called but wanted it to arrive discreetly. Tyler started to operate her phone as he gestured for Garrood to carry on.

The steps clanged loudly under foot despite their best efforts to tip-toe quickly. Garrood moved with surprising speed, Reed consoled himself with the thought that whilst he might be slower than the man twenty years his senior, he was being quieter.

Nearing the top of the stairs but not yet on the roof, both men stopped and looked for any signs of Alan. Was he still up here? He might have needed a little time to himself and had now gone down to a safer level. It had been twenty minutes since Reed had received the phone call from Whitehead and a few scenarios washed through Reed's mind. Not all of them good.

There were air vents and skylights protruding from various positions across the roof. A waist-high wall had been built on the perimeter to stop anyone tripping over the edge, but it wasn't much of an obstacle to anyone who wanted to go over. There was a scattering of green gravel across the roof and there was what looked like a brick built shed set in the far left hand corner. This was probably an access point from inside the building.