One Bad Turn (24 page)

*

Elba Carruthers lived on an executive development in Clifton, a cul-de-sac of mock Tudor homes looking onto a three storey apartment block. Coupland pulled up in the car park beside the block and consulted his notes. ‘Flat number 6,’ he said, stepping out of his car. ‘She’s remarried,’ he said across the car bonnet to Ashcroft as he bleeped the car locked. ‘Goes by the name of Dunleavy now.’ Coupland had telephoned ahead so when he pressed the buzzer the door clicked open without an enquiry to see who was there. The flat was on the first floor, accessed by a communal stairwell, clean and recently decorated if the smell of paint was anything to go by. The door to Elba’s flat was already open, a man with a thick mop of white hair stood in the doorway waiting for the detectives as they walked across the landing. ‘Elba asked me to get the coffee on; I expect you’ll be glad of a cup?’

Coupland nodded, ‘I take it you’re her husband?’

‘Yes! Sorry! Where are my manners? I’m afraid ever since we got the news…My name is Gerald, I was a friend of Elba and her husband before his death, I’d not long been widowed myself, knew what she was going through. I know to some we probably seemed a little hasty with our nuptials, but we’re none of us getting any younger, are we?’ Coupland inclined his head in agreement.

‘How is she?’ he asked, as he drew close.

‘She’s beside herself,’ the man replied, ‘this is the worst possible news. She and Kathleen were so close. She was upset when Kathleen’s marriage broke up, worried about how it was going to affect her grandson but this is off the scale…nothing prepared her for this.’ He led them into a small hallway. A door leading off from it was partially open, ‘Please, go through,’ he said, ‘Elba’s waiting…’

The woman seated on the corner unit stared at Coupland as he approached her. She looked older than he expected, white hair peppered with grey and deep lines on her forehead which added ten years to her face. Her eyes were red rimmed and her face was blotchy. She was squeezing the life out of a crumpled tissue in her hand. It was only when they were standing in front of her that she seemed to notice that Coupland wasn’t alone, that Ashcroft was lurking somewhat uncomfortably behind him.

‘Thank you for agreeing to see us.’

A thread of snot threatened to drip onto her upper lip, she dabbed at it with the well-worn tissue. ‘Please, take a seat,’ Gerald instructed, moving into the open plan kitchen to pour boiling water into a cafetiere before carrying it through to the lounge area where he placed it upon a coffee table, cups and saucers already set out. He poured coffee into three cups, Elba’s cup already had liquid in it, tea or coffee it was impossible to make out. ‘Why do people always insist on making drinks when someone dies?’ she sighed, ‘I had to put up with this when I lost Lewis, like it was supposed to help in some way when it doesn’t help at all. Not one little bit.’ She glared at Gerald as she said this, but he concentrated on offering the detectives milk and sugar, as though his wife hadn’t spoken. She turned her attention to Coupland, ‘Why would anyone want to hurt Kath?’ she asked, ‘She was a schoolteacher, for goodness’ sake.’ People often said this, as though there were occupations that deserved murder as a possible outcome, but Coupland didn’t agree. Apart from traffic wardens perhaps, he could make an exception for them, and anyone from HMRC for that matter, or politicians… ‘Every resource we have has been allocated to this investigation, I promise you. I know there’s a lot to take in but please be reassured that we’d like nothing more than to bring the person responsible to justice. But for now, we’d like to talk to you about your husband…’ Coupland cast a glance at Ashcroft, signalling permission to step in if he was too heavy footed. ‘Your late husband…’ he corrected himself, ‘…what with him being in the job…’

‘Married to the job more like,’ Elba remarked, not unpleasantly, ‘Are you married?’ She directed the question at both detectives but only Coupland responded.

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘a work in progress at the best of times…’ he let his words trail off while he thought how to get the conversation back on track. Sometimes honesty really was the best policy. ‘Look, I’m really sorry about intruding on your grief like this, but I don’t think this can wait.’

Elba regarded him sharply, ‘Why? Lewis has been dead nigh on a year. Do you think there’s a connection?’ She looked at Gerald as though prompting him to step in.

‘How can my wife help you Sergeant? You can see she’s distressed.’

Coupland sighed, moving so that he stood in front of Gerald thereby blocking him from Elba’s line of vision. ‘How did your husband die?’

Elba’s head reared back sharply, ‘You couldn’t have got this information from someone else?’ Gerald’s brows knotted together as he moved to sit beside his wife. Ashcroft chose that moment to speak: ‘We discovered this morning that two other women, murdered the same week as Kathleen are daughters of officers who served in the force the same time as your late husband. You can appreciate that tracking down the coroner who recorded an open verdict at his inquest could take some time, and if we approach your GP they won’t speak to us without your permission.’

‘So here we are,’ Coupland picked up, ‘and we don’t have all day.’

Gerald took his wife’s hand, gave it a squeeze. Elba sighed. ‘Lewis loved hillwalking. It’s what he did in his spare time, man and boy, climbing God forsaken peaks just because they were there. Selfish I always thought, that on his days off he’d prefer to head out to the middle of nowhere.’

‘You didn’t share his passion, then?’

‘Not at all!’ Elba wrinkled her nose in disgust, ‘At best I’d go and stay in the nearest B&B while he went off on his adventure…but it was lonely, to tell the truth, hanging around all day waiting for him to come back. And when Kath came along I had a ready-made excuse to stop going. He loved his solitude so much; sometimes I wondered why he bothered marrying. Oh, that’s unfair in a way, he was good company when he made the effort, but something changed in him and over the years he became withdrawn.’

‘Any idea what?’

Elba studied her hands. ‘Well…I can’t be certain. It wasn’t something he confided in me you understand, but I know he blamed himself for a colleague getting injured when they were on foot patrol.’

‘When did this happen?’ Elba looked off into the middle distance, ‘Well, now you’re asking, I can’t be certain…early nineties, maybe?’

‘Do you know what happened?’

She shook her head, ‘Not exactly. I mean, I know that they were policing outside Old Trafford and that the crowd turned on them. I’m afraid what I’m about to say doesn’t put Lewis in a good light, but, well, it seems he ran off, leaving his colleague to the mob. Harry - that was his colleague - suffered appalling leg injuries.’

‘Can you remember his surname?’

A shrug, ‘Sandwell?’ Close enough. ‘He was confined to desk duties when he finally returned to the job after leaving hospital, pensioned off not long after that. Lewis told me about the incident and Harry’s injury, but he never confessed to me about running away and leaving him on his own. If he thought I knew the cause he’d have been deeply ashamed.’

‘So how do you know all this?’

Elba lowered her head, ‘I heard him on the phone once, to Harry.’ She looked across at Gerald whose expression said it was the first time he’d heard this story. ‘I was embarrassed, even a little ashamed, I didn’t want to discredit his memory by mentioning it after he’d gone.’

‘Very wise,’ Gerald replied, patting her hand.

‘So, you heard him on the phone to his pal…’ Coupland prompted her.

‘No, they weren’t pals,’ Elba corrected him, ‘they didn’t mix out of work, Lewis had barely spoken of Harry before his injury, and afterwards, well, Lewis barely spoke full stop.’

‘Why did he phone him, then?’

Elba shook her head, ‘I can’t be certain…I didn’t catch the first part of the call,’ she looked down at her lap, at Gerald’s hand stroking hers, she placed her free hand on top of his, ‘I’m ashamed to say I listened in on the phone’s extension.’ She looked up at Coupland shyly, ‘He’d stopped sharing his life with me, Sergeant, I thought there may have been another woman.’

‘But instead it was Harry.’

‘Yes, and he was saying the most hateful things. That Lewis was a coward, that because of him he’d been cheated out of a career and the least he could do was to keep to his side of the bargain.’

‘What did he mean by that?’

‘I don’t know, Harry put the phone down on him and from then on Lewis seemed to shut down even more. It wasn’t his way to share his problems with me and I couldn’t own up to eavesdropping. But something was gnawing away at him; I’d always assumed it was the fear of Harry discrediting him to me at some point. Truth was, I was so relieved he hadn’t gone off me that if he’d told me he’d left Harry to his own devices that day I wouldn’t have berated him. Besides, Harry didn’t sound like a very nice man…which is why I took Lewis’s death so hard afterwards…I blamed myself you see, that my silence had left him carrying the burden of a secret that no longer existed.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘After that phone call he became more withdrawn, he couldn’t wait to get away from here.’ She laughed bitterly, ‘I know a lot of retired cops head for the sun but not my Lewis, in fact the colder and bleaker the destination the better as far as he was concerned. Then one day he headed out and just didn’t come back.’ She shuddered, as though something cold had settled on her shoulders. Coupland leaned forward, dipping his head as he spoke, ‘Can you tell us what happened?’ Elba turned to look at Gerald who nodded in encouragement. ‘It just wasn’t like him…He was very organised you see, as thorough as a boy scout, you know, prepared for anything. Over the years he’d amassed all the right climbing equipment and professional clothing, and he always remembered a back pack full of provisions in case he got stranded somewhere. Only on this particular day when he went out he didn’t return to the B&B at the time he told them he’d be back. They didn’t waste any time raising the alarm but it took several hours for the mountain rescue team to find him and by then he was dead. Hypothermia.’ Who wouldn’t freeze to death if they got lost on a mountain top? Coupland supposed. Instead he asked, ‘Where did this happen?’

‘Kinder Scout, he went there three or four times a year.’ Elba tutted as she looked over at the lounge window and the grey sky beyond.

‘What is it?’ Coupland asked, more sharply than he liked.

‘He was an experienced climber, DS Coupland, on a mountain range he was familiar with, yet he’d gone out without protective clothing, no equipment and no means of raising alarm. There was an inquest several months later, the coroner recorded an open verdict but the truth of it was clear to see for anyone who bothered looking.’

‘And that was?’

‘He set out that morning never intending to come back.’

*

Once they’d returned to his car Coupland checked his phone, he’d turned it off while he was with Elba Dunleavy out of respect. He had two missed calls, both from Amy. He tapped the screen to call her back but her phone rang out.

‘Suicide then,’ Ashcroft observed as he fastened his seatbelt. ‘Sounds like it,’ Coupland agreed, ‘just need to find out what he was running from.’

‘You don’t buy that shame theory, that he was embarrassed about leaving another officer to fend for himself?’

Coupland pulled a face, ‘I’m not sure. I suppose Sandford could have been blackmailing him, pay up or I tell your wife, but blackmailing someone on a police pension isn’t exactly going to fund an extravagant lifestyle.’

‘Says the man who just came back from Vegas.’ Ashcroft joked.

‘Hmm, with the credit card bills to prove it,’ Coupland grumbled, ‘and what would blackmail have to do with a convicted killer murdering their daughters?’ The facts kept pointing to something Coupland couldn’t quite put his finger on.

‘Shall we go and speak to Harry Sandford?’

Coupland hesitated, ‘I think I’d rather speak to Nathaniel Mathers first, see if he can paint a picture of what the relationship between these two men was like.’ He pulled a face. ‘Don’t much like the idea of breaking that particular bit of news to his son, though,’ he blew out his cheeks as he reached for his phone, ‘here goes.’

Chapter 15

Incident room, Wednesday afternoon

The afternoon briefing showed that progress was being made. The officers tasked with searching for cases where PCs Mathers, Sandford and Williams had worked together pulled out a series of raids and stop and searches in and around pubs with a reputation for being frequented by known local football firms during the eighties and nineties. ‘You know the kind of thing,’ One of Quinlan’s DCs advised, ‘making sure home and away fans didn’t mix on the approach into Old Trafford. Visiting fans would be escorted from the station to the game, or met off coaches where they’d be searched, especially if the coach was dropping them off at particular pubs that had an affiliation to one team or another.’ Coupland remembered the stories from older, battle worn cops, the weapons found inside gang members’ coat linings: carving knives, machetes, ice hammers, carried by men who held responsible jobs in the week but turned feral come match day.

‘Good work,’ Coupland said. Quinlan nodded his appreciation. Coupland turned to Krispy Kreme, ‘Does any of that feature in the digging you’ve done online?’ The DC nodded, ‘there was a murder in ’92 at a derby game, the leader of a City firm, Eddie Garside, stabbed during an altercation inside a multi-storey car park,’ he hesitated, looked over at the detectives seated close by. The teams were still gravitating towards their own packs, Coupland noticed, but the gap in the aisle between them was narrowing. One of Quinlan’s DCs, a woman with close cropped hair and large glasses waited for Krispy Kreme to finish before speaking: ‘We’ve cross referenced the date of that murder and all three officers were on patrol that day. In fact not only were they in the area, two of them were present when the suspect was picked up. Nathaniel Mathers was the arresting officer.’

‘Was he indeed?’ Coupland muttered, ‘Funnily enough I’ve arranged to pay him a visit first thing tomorrow.’