Faithfully: Chase & Halshaw #1 (24 page)

Chase sipped his cappuccino from a cardboard cup, which bore
the Logistical Group logo. “Good afternoon, Mr
Lowther
.
Thanks for agreeing to see us,” he said.

“You’re welcome, Inspector,” Matthew
Lowther
replied, a sardonic smile flitting across his saturnine face. “What can I do
you for?”

Chase and Halshaw looked at each other. Chase gave an almost
imperceptible nod. “It’s about a woman called Lucy Faith,” she began.

Lowther
sat back in his chair,
shot his cuffs and smiled complacently. “Ah yes, of course. Dear Lucy. I was so
sorry to hear the sad news of her death.”

“Not exactly death, Mr
Lowther
.”

“No?”

“It was murder.”

“Murder? I’d heard she was found dead in her bed.”

“Yes, sir, that’s true.”

Lowther’s
smile did not falter.
“Poor Lucy,” he said. “Did she suffer?”

“She was smashed in the face with a brick, then dragged into
her bedroom and strangled,” Halshaw retorted. “Of course she bloody suffered!”

“Poor, poor Lucy,” repeated
Lowther
.
He turned to Chase. “But why do you want to talk to me about it, Inspector?”

“Because we know about your association with Lucy,” said
Halshaw.

“And what association might that be, Constable?” he asked,
condescendingly.

Halshaw felt her anger building, but resisted the urge to
explode. “How much did she charge for your monthly thrashing, Mr
Lowther
?” she demanded.

Lowther
laughed. “Oh, come now,
young lady. You can’t honestly expect me to respond to such innuendo, surely,”
he replied, looking at Chase with an expression of injured innocence.

“Answer my colleague’s question, please,” commanded Chase,
coldly.

Lowther
shrugged. “My Lady and I
had an understanding,” he said. “We provided, shall we say, a variety of
services for each other.”

“What sort of services did you provide?”

“Ms Faith is – was – an accomplished occupational
psychologist, as well as a skilful Life Coach. She also had a connection with
Logistical Group through her husband, as I’m sure you’re aware. So she was an
obvious choice when our people needed help with the inevitable changes in their
working lives.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, some of the subsidiaries in the group went through a
major restructuring of their back office functions a year or so ago. A number
of people had difficulty coming to terms with the change.”

“People who lost their jobs in the downsizing, you mean?”
demanded Chase.

“We prefer to call it right-sizing, Inspector,”
Lowther
retorted.

Chase grimaced. “So what did Lucy Faith do?”

“She provided those people with invaluable assistance, as I
said.”

“Counselling, you mean?”

“That kind of thing, yes.”

“Salving your corporate conscience, eh?”

“I like to think of it as discharging our duty of care,
Inspector.”

Chase snorted angrily.

“So that was how you paid her, was it, sir?” asked Halshaw,
who had recovered her equilibrium. “Putting work her way.”

“Nothing so crude, Constable,”
Lowther
chuckled. “Nothing so crude.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then, shall I, sir?” Halshaw
retorted.

Lowther
looked back at her
placidly and said nothing.

“Where were you last Tuesday evening, Mr
Lowther
?”
asked Chase, flipping open his notebook.

“Let me check,” he replied. He pulled out his Blackberry and
flipped through the menus. “Ah, yes,” he said eventually. “I was at a dinner.”

“What time did you get home that evening?”

“I didn’t, Inspector.”

Chase raised his eyebrows.

“The dinner was in Manchester. I stayed up there overnight
and flew back in the morning.”

“What dinner was it?”

“Women In Business. Logistical are one of the sponsors of
the organisation. We had a big fund-raising dinner at The Midland Hotel.”

“OK,” said Chase, making a note in his notebook. “And when
did you last see Ms Faith?”

“A month ago.”

“Where was that?”

“At the White Hart. She summoned me for our usual
assignation.”

“Of course. And when were you due to see her next?”

“Today, Inspector. That’s why I’m able to see you now. My PA
had cleared my calendar especially.”

“Did your PA know why?”

“No. I just told her I wanted to work from home this
afternoon.”

Chase nodded. “Last question, Mr
Lowther
,”
he said. “Do you know any of My Lady’s other vassals?”

“No. I’m afraid not.”

“So you wouldn’t know if any of them were Logistical Group
employees?”

“I don’t, Inspector. But I very much doubt it. That could be
rather awkward, don’t you think?”

*

“How are you, Inspector? Constable?” beamed Bryn Lewis, as
he entered the meeting room.

“Good afternoon, Mr Lewis,” replied Chase, as they shook
hands. “Thanks for coming in. We’ve got some news.”

“Go on,” said Lewis, settling himself in the chair facing Halshaw.

“But we’ve got a couple of questions we need to ask first,
I’m afraid,” she added.

“All right,” he sighed. “Fire away.”

Chase produced his notebook. “All right,” he said. “Do you
know any of Ms Faith’s other vassals?”

“No, Inspector. I’m afraid not.”

“Any suspicions?”

Lewis frowned. “Can’t think of anyone,” he said. “But My
Lady was very careful that I shouldn’t find out.”

“Why was that, do you think?”

“I don’t really know. Confidentiality, presumably.”

“You don’t think it was because she feared her hold over you
would be loosened if you found out?” Halshaw interjected.

Lewis frowned pensively. “Could be,” he replied, eventually.
“I hadn’t really thought of it that way, to be honest.”

“How well do you know Mr Matthew
Lowther
?”
asked Chase.

“Our Matthew
Lowther
, you mean?”

Chase nodded.

“Not that well, to tell you the truth. I’d rather deal with
my own people issues than bring in
Lowther
and his
mob.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because IT people are intelligent, talented professionals
who deserve better than to be treated like interchangeable bloody machine
parts.”

“And that’s what Mr
Lowther’s
department tends to do, is it?”

“Yes!” Lewis exclaimed. “Why else do you think they’re
called Human Resources?”

Chase smiled. “I gather he used to employ Lucy Faith as a
counsellor. Is that right?”

“That’s right, yes. But I don’t see the connection....”

“Neither do I,” Chase said quickly. “It’s another link
between Ms Faith and Logistical Group, that’s all.”

“I see,” mused Lewis. Then his face brightened. “You said
you had some news?”

“Yes,” replied Chase. “Not about Ms Faith’s murder, though.
We’ve finished interviewing all the people at last Monday’s meeting about the
break-in at Amy’s.”

“And?”

“Nothing definite, so far. We’re convinced that the texts Amy
received were connected with the burglary. We’ve interviewed everyone who was
at last Monday’s meeting and they’ve all got alibis.”

Lewis nodded thoughtfully.

“Does anyone you know of have a grudge against her?”

“Other than Paul McKinley, you mean? You know about him and
Amy, don’t you?”

“Yes. Anyone else.”

“No, Inspector. Amy’s pretty well liked, considering the
amount of dirty work I give her to do.”

“Sure?”

Another nod.

“Thank you, Mr Lewis,” yawned Chase, getting wearily to his
feet. “Come on, Halshaw. Let’s go.”

Halshaw rose gracefully and followed Chase towards the door.
At the door he turned.

“Oh, one other thing, Mr Lewis,” he said. “How did you repay
Ms Faith for her, er, kindness?”

Lewis dragged his gaze away from Halshaw’s denim-encased
posterior and met Chase’s eyes. “I didn’t actually pay her anything. Not as
such,” he whispered, after what seemed like an age.

“But you must have done something for her? Some kind of
favour? A quid pro quo?”

“Of course. But I don’t see...”

“It could be the key to her murder,” replied Chase, his eyes
burning into Lewis’.

“It isn’t, Inspector. Trust me.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to be the judge of that, sir,”
insisted Chase, sitting back at the table.

Lewis looked up imploringly at Halshaw, who had leant
against the door jamb, her arms folded. She looked back at him severely.
Eventually Lewis seemed to deflate.

“OK,” he sighed. “If you must know, I gave her husband a
job.”

A smile of triumph crossed Chase’s lips. “Thank you, Mr
Lewis. That’s all I wanted to know.”

Halshaw frowned. “But Mr Kelmarsh told us he was already
working here when you started,” she said.

Lewis seemed to recover his poise. “That’s quite true,
Constable,” he smiled. His Blackberry rang. He glanced at the screen, and leapt
to his feet with remarkable alacrity. “Excuse me, please,” he mumbled, as he
brushed past her and hurried out of the room.

Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement.

Helen Keller

Virginia
Marsham
, a trim
forty-something, answered the door wearing an oversized blue shirt and cut-off
jeans. Magnolia polka-dots adorned her shirt and one side of her collar-length
blonde hair. She glanced at their IDs and opened the door wide.

“Come on in, please,” she said. “Pardon the mess. We’re
redecorating.”

Chase and Halshaw followed her through a high-ceilinged
lounge, the floor covered in white sheets. A tall, athletic man in shorts and a
spotless white singlet was painting the sash window frames intently. A second
door led into a spacious kitchen furnished with rustic oak units.

“Have a seat, please,” she said, gesturing at the chairs by
the kitchen table. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No thanks, Ms
Marsham
,” Chase
replied quickly. “This won’t take long.”

“If you’re sure,” she answered. “But I hope you won’t mind
if I make myself one. I’m gagging.”

“Go ahead, please.”

Virginia
Marsham
filled the kettle
and slotted it into its base to boil. “What’s all this about, anyway?” she
asked.

“There was a murder last week. Here, in the Close. Did you
know the murdered woman, by any chance?”

“No, Inspector. Sorry.”

“That’s OK. I wondered if you’d seen or heard anything the
night she died.”

“Wednesday night, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

“We sleep at the front of the flat, Inspector. The lights
from the police cars woke us up. We had a grandstand view. The only thing was,
I had to get up early in the morning to catch a flight.”

Chase nodded. “And did you see anything? Before or
afterwards?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid. We came home quite early that evening.
We had dinner together and went to bed early.”

Before he could reply, the kettle boiled, and Virginia
Marsham
leapt to her feet. She took one out to the lounge,
then picked up the other and sat back at the kitchen table, one slim calf
tucked under the other knee.

“We understand that a Mrs Salter lives here too,” said
Chase, averting his eyes from the large magnolia splodge on the inside of her
bare thigh. “Is that correct?”

“That’s quite correct, yes.”

“Was she here last Wednesday?” asked Halshaw.

“Yes. Poor Elaine’s been here a couple of weeks, since that
swine of a husband kicked her out.”

“Would she have seen anything that evening?”

“No. Like I said, we came home early, had dinner, and went
to bed.”

“Why did her husband kick her out?” Chase interjected.

“Jealousy, Inspector.”

“Jealousy?”

“Yes. Of me, of everyone Elaine had any contact with. Male
or female, old or young, he was convinced she was having sex with them all.”

“And was she having sex with any of them?” asked Chase.

“Not as far as I know, Inspector.”

“Not even you?” he asked, blandly.

Virginia burst out laughing, revealing the results of some
expensive cosmetic dentistry. “God, no! Is that what Les is telling everyone?
That I seduced Elaine?”

“And did you?”

Her smiled disappeared. “No, Inspector. I’m straight. Very definitely.
You’ve only got to look at my husband to see that.”

“Your husband?”

“Yes. My husband Gary. Didn’t you notice him painting the
window frame in the lounge as we came in?”

Chase felt himself blush.

“So where’s Mrs Salter now?” asked Halshaw, quickly.

“She’s at work. She went back much too soon, if you ask me,
but Elaine’s turning out to be braver than I thought.”

“Braver?”

“Yes. She went back to their old house one evening last
week. She and Les had a Chinese together and spent the evening sorting out
their belongings. She came home with several boxes of books and CDs. They’re
all stacked up in the spare bedroom at the moment.”

“Which night was that?”

“Not sure. Sorry.”

“Never mind. But why was that brave, exactly?”

“Because it was less than a week after he threatened to cut
out her eyes with a kitchen knife. That’s why she finally left him, Inspector.
Didn’t you know?”

*

“I don’t get it, Sir,” said Halshaw.

“What don’t you get?” replied Chase, as he accelerated away
from the traffic lights.

“You seem convinced that the person who broke into Amy’s
flat was one of the people at the meeting on Tuesday, yet every single one has
an alibi.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit too neat?”

“How do you mean?”

“Most people aren’t that good at remembering what they did
when. For example, what were you doing last Monday evening?”

“Eating pasta and watching telly at
Tobe’s
,”
she replied immediately.

“Do you know what time you got there? What time you left?”

“I left work at six-thirty and got there at seven. I left
about eleven, and went straight home.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Tobe, of course. His Mum. My Mum and Dad. And the friends
they had round for dinner. That was why I went round to
Tobe’s
.”

“OK, Halshaw,” sighed Chase, with a smile. “But not
everyone’s life is run with such military precision, I’m sure.”

Halshaw frowned.

“And we’ve got another conundrum, haven’t we?” he asked.

“What’s that?”

“Kelmarsh claimed he was working at Logistical before Bryn
Lewis started. Yet Lewis claimed he gave him a job. So who’s lying?”

“Both of them?”

“Or neither, perhaps?”

Halshaw looked across at Chase questioningly. He looked back
at her, willing her to put the pieces together. But before she could, the
pregnant pause was shattered by a blast of classic Stax.

“What?” demanded Chase, tapping the button on his Bluetooth
earpiece.

“It’s Steve Quinten from Forensics here, Sir,” said a
tentative voice.

“About time,” Chase grumbled. “What have you got for me?”

“Nothing, Sir.”

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“I mean the phone’s totally clean. No fingerprints, no
fibres, nothing.”

Chase digested the information. “Understood,” he replied,
eventually. “Can you get the phone back to Ms Birkdale as soon as, please?”

“Will do, Sir.”

“And then run a check on those prints you took for
elimination. Just for completeness.”

“Right, Sir. Anything else?”

“That’s it, thanks, Steve. Have a good evening.”

“You too, Sir. Bye.”

Chase ended the call, then glanced to his left and noticed
Halshaw’s expectant expression.

“Forensics have examined Amy Birkdale’s phone,” he said.
“It’s clean.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean clean. As in not a mark on it. Nothing at all. Not
even a fingerprint.”

“But it’s an iPhone, for God’s sake! With a touch screen.
How can there not be fingerprints?”

“Very easily, if somebody cleaned it after they used it.”

Halshaw nodded thoughtfully. “You don’t sound surprised,
Sir.”

“Don’t I?” he smiled.

“No, you don’t,” she replied, trying not to rise to the
provocation.

“OK, OK,” he said quickly, noticing the look of exasperation
on her face. “What did you notice on Di
Rodway’s
desk?”

“A phone, a tub of pens, a notebook, a pair of scissors, an
empty coffee cup, an iPhone in a purple neoprene case... oh yes, of course! A
big tub of screen wipes!”

“Well done,” said Chase, genuinely impressed. “Half of which
are now in the bottom of a bin, probably.”

“So you think Dinah
Rodway
sent
the text from Amy’s iPhone?”

“Which she knows how to use, of course.”

“That’s true. So she sent you the text, then wiped the phone
clean with the wipes and put it back in Amy’s handbag.”

“That’s pretty much what I thought, Halshaw, except for one
thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Why would Ms
Rodway
send me texts
like that?”

“Why would anyone?”

Chase nodded thoughtfully. “Fair point. But there’s no
evidence that it was she who sent the texts, is there?”

“So you’ve no idea who’s sending them?”

“I didn’t say that, did I?” he smiled.

God, I hate that smug, self-satisfied smirk of yours, Sir,
she thought. But before she could respond, he had swung the Mondeo into the
forecourt of the police station and slotted it into a parking space.

“Goodnight, Halshaw,” he said, firmly.

Obediently, she opened the car door and climbed out.
“Goodnight,” she replied, shutting the door behind her.

Chase wound down the passenger window. “See you in the
morning at Skyline Place, bright and early,” he called. “And we’ll need
uniformed support on stand-by. Four, I think, including at least one female
officer.”

She leant forward. “OK, Sir. Why bright and early?”

“Because we’re going to arrest a murderer, that’s why,” he
grinned, as he began to pull away.

Once in the street, he dialled another number.

“Hi,” he said. “It’s me. I’ve finished for the day. Where
shall I pick you up?”