Death and Deception (3 page)

Gould sighed, ‘Yeah, and this one doesn’t even look used, does she? No needle marks, no smell of alcohol.’

‘No obvious cause of death. Obvious result, though.’ Dan stared off into the trees.

‘You alright?’

Dan shrugged. ‘Yeah, sorry, thinking about something else.’ Thinking about my stupid, fucked-up sister. But he couldn’t say that, not to this stranger. Gould had been around so long he’d probably arrested her on more than one occasion, and Dan didn’t want to be associated with her through work. Not yet, anyway.

Fox tore off his gloves, ‘Too soon to tell what time she died, but I can say that there are signs of some kind of altercation. Now, if ye’ll back away nicely, boys, I’ll get the lassie back to my nice cool hospital and we can find out what else she wants to tell us.’ He finished stuffing his papers into his bag. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Post-Mortem will begin at 10.00am.’

He nodded at the waiting undertakers, who zipped Carly Braithwaite into a bag and lifted her onto a stretcher, ready for the long walk across the field to the waiting black van.

‘She must have been killed somewhere else,’ said Dan, eyeing the debris around their feet. ‘Forensics aren’t going to find anything useful amongst all this rubbish, and there’s no sign of a bag or a coat or anything, just an old school scarf that could be hers.’ They watched as the scarf was bundled into a bag and labelled.

Dan poked an empty tobacco pouch with his toe. ‘If you killed her elsewhere, why bring her to this copse? It’s hardly a safe place to dump a body with a thousand kids on site. Anybody could have come up here.’

‘Maybe that’s what the murderer wanted, for the body to be found,’ offered Gould.

‘Hmm, maybe. Or maybe he had to stash her somewhere quickly and was planning to come back the next night and move her, but three snot-nosed kids discovered her first?’

They watched the Forensic team tracing a third possible route through the trees to the quiet road beyond. One of them turned and gave them a thumbs up, indicating fresh tyre marks on the soft mud at the side of the road.
      
‘Guess we were right about her being brought here,’ said Dan. ‘I’ll bet you a tenner she was killed Saturday or Sunday and moved here in the dark.’

Gould thought about the bet for a moment.

‘Nah, easy money for you.’

Dan shrugged. ‘It’ll be good if they can identify the tyre prints, it may help to identify the vehicle that brought her here.’

‘And a set of footprints would be handy. At least we’ve got an idea when she died now.’ Gould looked up at Dan from under bushy eyebrows,‘and it looks like you’ve got your murder.’

Dan fought the treacherous worm of excitement in his belly. First case, first murder, all his. He almost rubbed his hands together.

‘We’ve got a lot of people to talk to, and there’s no point hanging round here. If I go over and see the family once they’re home, will you supervise the school interviews?’

‘Sure,’ replied Gould, unzipping the front of his suit with an audible sigh, and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. His earlier antagonism appeared to have been softened by the encounter with Fox. ‘I’m quite looking forward to interviewing someone on a murder case for the first time in four years.’

‘Right. I’ll get Sally Ellis to meet me at the Braithwaite house, sir. She can act as family liaison for the next few days.’

‘Good idea. By the way, you can call me Ian,’ he said, ‘as we’ll be working together.’

Dan smiled, one small battle won.

‘I won’t mess up, you know, Ian. We’ll get to the bottom of this and you can bow out in a blaze of glory.’

Gould snorted. ‘Right, I’ll look forward to that, then.’

They walked back to the small broken gate at the edge of the wood and handed their used coveralls, overshoes and gloves to the PC on guard duty.
      
‘Another slog down the bloody field,’ Gould grumbled. ‘Come and meet the Head teacher on your way out. He needs a bit of reassurance that we’re not turning his school into an episode of “Midsomer Murders”.’

Date:
Monday 24th April
Time:11:37
Alan and Jenna Braithwaite’s home

Alan Braithwaite, father of Carly, sat in the worn armchair by the fire-place, staring at the empty grate and clutching the photocopy of Carly’s white face that the woman police officer had passed to him. Jenna, his younger daughter, was squashed next to him. She held his hand and cried, letting the tears run down her face and soak into her school shirt.

Dan looked across at Sergeant Ellis. She had folded her hands in her lap and was looking at the floor, projecting calm and waiting for him to start. So far, they’d had to force Mr Braithwaite to even let them over the threshold and into the living room. Braithwaite had the look of an angry man, a man used to thinking with his fists.

‘Mr Braithwaite, we have good reason to believe that the girl we found this morning is your daughter, Carly. I know this isn’t a very good image.’ Dan paused. ‘So I’ll need you to go down to the hospital later today to make the formal identification of the body for us.’

‘Body
?’ Braithwaite stared at Dan, his face quivering. ‘Who the hell are you to come into my house like you own the place?’ His voice rose, thick with distress, ‘That “body” you’re talking about is my daughter, and she’s a good girl, not some little tart who had it coming to her.’ He clutched at his hair, shaking off his daughter’s hand.

Dan watched the flush rise from Braithwaite’s chest, rush up his throat and into his face and heard his breathing flatten into a rapid rattle of phlegm at the back of his throat. He had no time to react before, with a roar, Braithwaite raised his fists and lurched for him. He grabbed Dan’s jacket in his left hand and lifted him off the chair so that their faces were level, foreheads touching.

Dan felt anger flood his body. There was no way, bereaved or not, that he was going to let this character threaten him. He brought his arms up under Braithwaite’s and forced them apart, breaking the taller man’s hold. Before Braithwaite got his balance back, Dan placed an open palm on the centre of his chest.

‘Just sit down, now, sir,’ he growled, struggling to control his own anger. He pushed Braithwaite backwards, slowly towards his chair. ‘Just take a seat, please.’

‘Dad!’ Jenna leapt up behind her father and tugged at his arm, forcing her way in between the two men. Her voice was shrill with fear, ‘Dad, you don’t want to do this. Stop it. Stop!’

Braithwaite tried to shove her out of the way, but the act of pushing his daughter and her yelp of shock brought him back into the room. He lowered his fist and stared at it. He looked dazed. Jenna spun round to glare at Dan.
      
‘Can’t you just leave us alone? My sister’s just died. Can’t you see what you’re doing?’ She swivelled once more and pushed her father back into his chair, and perched next to him, pink spots of anger gilding her cheeks.

Dan let go of the breath he’d been holding. In his most truthful moments, he’d admit to hating having to deal with grieving parents. They were unpredictable and even the most docile of them could get angry... and this one was not docile. He glanced over towards Sally. She stared back at him wide-eyed and slid her baton back into her bag.

‘I really didn’t mean to cause offence, Mr Braithwaite,’ he began, ‘I apologise if I upset you. What I meant to say was, please would you go down to the hospital with Detective Sergeant Ellis later this afternoon? She’ll transport you there and back.’

Ellis nodded faint approval.

Braithwaite sank back into the chair, bewilderment blurring his sharp features.

‘Was she…was she murdered?’ he mumbled through hands clasped over his mouth.

‘We don’t know that yet.’ Dan lowered the tone of his voice, and the pace of his speech. ‘That’s what we need to find out. When we get Carly to the hospital, our pathologist will find that out, and then we’ll let you know as soon as possible.’

Sally Ellis cleared her throat, indicating to Dan that she would take over.

‘Jenna, love, will you put the kettle on and make us all a nice cup of tea?’ The girl left her father’s side with obvious reluctance and headed for the kitchen. Sally turned in her seat, ‘Mr Braithwaite, we do need to know when you last saw Carly.’

Braithwaite was quiet for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts, chest still heaving.

‘Yesterday afternoon, about four o’clock. She was going to that studio place to record some of her songs after tea.’

‘Studio?’ Dan asked.

‘Illusion Studios. Bloke called Jed Abrams. It’s on Sidwell Street in town.’ A dawning realisation twisted his face into a snarl and he sat up, hands forming into fists again. ‘If he touched her… if it was him…’ His voice was harsh, choked with emotions he could not have put a name to.

‘Then we will catch him and prosecute him, sir,’ interrupted Dan, voice as firm as he dared. The last thing he needed was some vigilante nutcase running around Exeter avenging the death of his daughter. Alan Braithwaite was tall and wiry, and a lifetime of working in the building trade had made him hard and muscular. He wasn’t sure who’d come off best in a fight, but he wouldn’t put money on it being him.

Sally continued her gentle questioning, ‘Did Carly have a good voice, Mr Braithwaite?’

Her soft West Country vowels and calm delivery settled Braithwaite. Dan watched his chest relax as he began to speak.

‘She’s a bloody good singer, would give that Adele a run for her money. That’s why she got the recording session, won a singing competition last month.’ He looked away, close to tears again.

Jenna came back from the kitchen with four mugs of tea. ‘I put milk and sugar in all of them, Miss, 'cos I didn’t know what you took.’

Dan noticed
the girl had given her face a scrub and gained more control than her father had yet managed.

Ellis smiled at her. ‘Why don’t you call me Sally? I’ll be here with you for the next few days.’ She made a space for the girl on the sofa. Jenna handed out the tea, and sat next to the p
olice officer, staring down at the milky drink.

Dan sank back into the sofa and let Sally get on with asking the questions. He was annoyed with himself. He knew how to deal with the bereaved. He’d been trained. He’d done it before. Why couldn’t he engage brain before speaking? He didn’t want to look like a total pillock in front of his Sergeant, and yet she handled this angry man like an expert and Dan had just made him worse. Tutting to himself, he slugged down a mouthful of sweet tea and yanked his thoughts back.

‘Did Carly have a boyfriend, or close friends we could talk to?’ Sally asked.

‘No.’ Braithwaite was emphatic. ‘She’s only just sixteen, and she was going to concentrate on her music, not mess about with lads, wasting her time.’

Jenna peered from under the fringe of fair hair framing her face. ‘She was sort of going out with Jamie May from school, Dad.’ She looked at Sally. ‘He’s been here for tea and to have band practices. He liked Carly a lot.’

Braithwaite stared hard at her, black eyes blazing again. She blinked tears away.

‘It’s true, Dad.’ She looked round at Sally for reassurance.

Dan couldn’t work out if her father was angry with Jenna for giving information to the Police, or whether he was mentally adding Jamie May to his list of suspects.

‘Do you like him, too?’ asked Sally.

‘No, not much.’ The girl was still eyeing her father.

Dan mentally added Jamie May to his list of suspects. So many women were killed by someone they knew, and so few by strangers. He now had two names to start off his investigation.

Sally spoke. ‘Tell us about yesterday, sir. What was Carly like during the day? Was she excited? Di
d she seem worried by anything? And what time
did you take her to the studio?’

‘She was fine. Normal.’ He shrugged. ‘Excited, yeah. Spent about two hours deciding what to wear. I didn’t take her to the Studio, though. She said she make her own way there with that Jamie lad.’

‘So Jamie went with her?’

He hesitated, ‘I didn’t see him arrive here. I went to the pub at about four o’clock to watch the match. Didn’t get back until late.’ His eyes filled again and he swiped at his face with the back of his hand.

Dan watched Jenna. ‘Jenna, did you notice anything different about your sister at the weekend? Did she mention meeting anyone new recently?’

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘But she probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. We didn’t get on all that well. I mean, I loved her, she’s my sister, but we weren’t really close, like some sisters are.’

A tear dripped off the end of her nose.

‘How would Carly have got into town from here? Which bus would she catch?’

Jenna looked at her father, who answered,

‘She probably walked to save the bus fare, that’s what she usually did if it wasn’t raining. I don’t know, I’m not her jailer, she just went, alright?’

Dan pressed him, ‘But what about coming home? Did you check on her when you got back?’

His voice rose again. ‘No, I didn’t. I bloody didn’t, alright? Her bedroom door was closed and I thought she was already in bed. So was Jenna. Her door was closed, too. So what are you trying to say? I was drunk? Yeah, well maybe I was. I’d had a few.’ He squeezed his eyes to stop the tears and held onto one fist with the other. ‘But I did not hurt my daughter. I did
not
hurt her.’

Jenna held onto his arm with both hands as if she could prevent another explosion through sheer willpower.

Dan recognised the warning signs. He stood and made his way towards the door. Sally would stay there for the rest of the day, to support the family, gather more information about friends or enemies, and have a good look at Carly’s room. Someone from the Forensic team would be over to examine the family car and the bedroom during the day too, if they could move it along at the crime scene.

He closed the front door quietly behind him, and tapped his car key against his lip. Dan couldn’t make up his mind about Alan Braithwaite. Was he really so naïve that he thought a sixteen-year-old girl wasn’t interested in boys, or was he hiding a darker set of feelings altogether for his daughter? And what would make those feelings spill over into murder?