The Bad Things (17 page)

‘If you have a minute, Ma’am, I’d appreciate a word.’

She shook her head. ‘Can’t, I’m afraid. Got a news conference to attend. Shouldn’t you be with your ex-wife now?’ She deliberately made her voice cold. She had spent years avoiding this man in the corridors of the police station at Martlesham, not wanting such a tangible reminder of Harry Clements and his little body in the suitcase, and had been grateful Clements had never made it to the Major Investigation Team. She would probably have had to ask for a transfer if that had happened. Besides which, there was something she didn’t like about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. An untrustworthiness, maybe? And she had heard he had a reputation with the ladies – a love ’em and leave ’em – reputation. Was that part of her antipathy towards him? Then she felt angry with herself. Had the job taken all the compassion out of her? Clements had lost his whole family, he deserved her sympathy.

Something like hatred flashed in his eyes. ‘I’m on my way to see her, Detective Inspector. But I wanted to know. About Jackie Wood.’

‘What about her?’ She made her voice more gentle.

‘Do you know who killed her? Or why? Is there anything you’re going to keep back that perhaps I should know about? Anything at all?’

She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Come on, Sergeant. You know I can’t give you that information.’

‘Because you don’t know.’

‘Because I can’t give you that information.’

He took a deep breath, and she saw the strain in his expression. ‘Look, Detective Inspector, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be…rude.’ He swallowed. ‘It would just help to know how far on in the investigation you are. Rather than having to find out from the television or from reporters knocking on the damn door.’

‘Surely the FLO—’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, you know how it works. No one’s going to tell us a damn thing if they don’t have to.’ His voice shook. ‘Ma’am.’ He stepped forward and put his hand on her arm. ‘Please.’

Kate heard the murmurings in the conference room. They were getting impatient. ‘Look, all I can tell you is that, yes, it was Jackie Wood in that caravan and, no, we don’t know who did it.’ She looked at him, trying to understand what he was going through. ‘Go back to Sasha, Jez. Go.’

She felt his eyes on her as she went through into the small meeting room of the Sole Bay police station, which was jam-packed with journalists, and with cameramen and women making last-minute adjustments to their equipment. She could smell damp clothes drying out and the warm musk of body odour. There was a knot of irritation in her stomach.

Standing behind a trestle table hastily erected for the occasion, with a clutch of microphones propped up in front of her like a group of furry guinea pigs jostling for position, she waited for the flash of cameras to die down and for Helen to do her introductory speech. All she had to do was to say that she, Kate, was going to speak. Bloody protocol; she could have done without Helen listening to every word she was about to say.

Helen was sitting down, smoothing her skirt over her knees. ‘Where have you been?’ she hissed. ‘Everyone’s waiting for you.’

Kate merely nodded to her, then looked around the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ she began, putting her hands on the table and leaning slightly forward, deliberately looking down the barrel of a camera lens, ‘following a very detailed investigation I can confirm that the body of forty-three-year-old Jackie Wood was found at half past nine this morning in a caravan at the Harbour’s End caravan site in Sole Bay. She had suffered stab injuries.’ She paused for effect. ‘We have begun a murder investigation.’

A buzz went round the room like a Mexican wave.

‘No murder weapon has been found. We would urge anyone who was in the area at the time or anyone who has any information to come forward. Any little piece of information could help solve this heinous crime (For Christ’s sake - where had that come from? Heinous crime? This must all be affecting her more than she realized.)

She looked across at the array of reporters – wanting – needing their attention.

‘We know that out there is someone who wants to call us, who’s worried about something they saw. I say to you, call us now – you can be anonymous – simply tell us what you know. Please.’ She allowed a few seconds silence to let the words sink in. ‘Now, I will take some questions,’ she said.

Hands went up.

Kate pointed to the reporter from the local BBC news programme,
Look East
.

‘Can you confirm it’s the same Jackie Wood as the Jackie Wood who was recently released from prison?’ she asked.

‘I can,’ said Kate, nodding.

‘Did you know she was in the area?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you didn’t think you should have made that public?’

‘Why?’

‘In the public interest.’

‘No.’

‘No?’

Kate sighed. This was why she hated giving press conferences, especially about something like this, but she knew it was a necessary evil. And Cherry liked them. ‘All good for public relations. Visible policing and all that,’ he’d said.

‘No,’ she said. ‘It would not have been in the public interest to know Jackie Wood was living in Sole Bay, any more than it would be in the public interest for you to know where Maxine Carr is living. Jackie Wood was given anonymity and a promise her new name and whereabouts would not be revealed. And we kept that promise. And you should know that’s the way it works.’

The reporter arched her eyebrow. How she hated that supercilious look.

‘So you would rather keep a promise to a convicted murderer—’

‘Unsafe conviction,’ she said, feeling unaccountably weary.

‘You would rather keep a promise to a convicted murderer let out on appeal than keep the people of Suffolk safe.’

Kate stared at the young reporter. She’d had enough of this. ‘Don’t be so silly,’ she snapped. ‘She wasn’t a convicted murderer. She’d been convicted in connection with the murders. Next question?’

‘Penny Pembleton,
East Anglian
,’ said a woman with a shock of frizzy ginger hair. ‘Have you got any leads at all?’

‘We are progressing with our inquiries.’ Now who was being supercilious?

She took more questions –
Channel 4 News
, Channel 5, the
Guardian
, Sky, several of the tabloids – they were all there, determined to make something of the fact that Jackie Wood had been living in the midst of a law-abiding community. Kate wanted to sit down. Wanted a drink. Wanted to talk to Chris.

‘Final question, please,’ she said.

‘Ed Killingback,
The Post
.’

‘Yes Ed?’ She steeled herself.

‘Do the Clements know?’

‘A family liaison officer is on her way round as we speak.’ She looked around the assembled journalists. ‘Now, thank you all for coming and—’

‘Detective Inspector?’

‘I said that was the final question, Ed.’

‘Could Jackie Wood’s death have any connection with what happened fifteen years ago?’

‘We will be looking into that possibility, but it seems unlikely, at this stage. Now if I could give you all—’

‘What do you have to say about the rumours that Martin Jessop had another lover? Not just Jackie Wood?’

A loud murmur went around the room and all Kate could hear was the scraping of pens on paper and the tapping of fingers on iPads.

Shit.

She wanted to rub the tension in her neck, but knew she had to nip this one in the bud or all hell would be let loose in the papers the following day. As for Killingback’s rag – it was probably their front page exclusive splash.

‘I don’t know where you got that from, Ed?’

‘You know I can’t say. Sources and all that.’

‘Well, I don’t know what “source” that is, but I wouldn’t rely on it if I were you. And I think it’s unhelpful both for this case and for the Clements family for you to bring up some unsubstantiated assertion.’ Steady. She had to be careful or else she would be seen as protesting too much.

‘But—’

Ed’s assertion had shaken Kate, but she tried not to let it show. Beside her, she could feel the heat of rage coming off Helen. ‘If you have any evidence to do with a fifteen-year-old case,’ said Kate, interrupting him, ‘I suggest you get in touch with our cold case team. They would be very interested in what you have to say. In fact, if you have any new evidence, any new evidence at all, then we would like to hear it.’ She stared at him, challenging him. ‘Perhaps we could make an appointment for you to come to the station in the near future? Share what you have with us?’

He sat down, a slight smirk on his face.

Kate tried not to show any emotion at all. After giving out the phone number for the great British public to ring if they had any information, against a background of shouted questions and general hubbub, Kate gathered up her papers once more. ‘I think that’s all for now, ladies and gentleman. Meanwhile, we will put further updates on our website and Twitter feed. Any major news and we will call another press conference.’ And she swept out, with Helen scurrying behind.

‘That went well, Kate. Not.’ Helen’s mouth was in a straight line as she opened the door to the Portakabin for her.

‘Quite.’ Kate stopped and Helen almost cannoned into her. ‘What was all that about Jessop and a secret lover?’ She deliberately made her tone sharp.

‘I have no idea,’ she said.

Kate heard her press officer’s voice shaking. ‘Seemed to come from left field.’

‘I thought you were supposed to cover all bases, know what the press is going to ask?’

‘I’m not a mind reader, Ma’am,’ she replied, her shoulders stiffening. ‘Besides, are you sure you didn’t have any idea about the lover development? Because if you know anything, I need to know. I’m going to have the press on my back from now until God knows when, so I would appreciate any heads-up from you. Ma’am.’

‘It’s the first I’ve heard of it. And if it were true, then it would have come out by now, wouldn’t it? I suppose it’s possible – just about – the investigating team had known something about it but decided it had no bearing on the case.’

‘That doesn’t help me, Ma’am.’

Kate just wanted to get rid of her. ‘I’m sorry.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Time you were off home now anyway. The press can wait, or they can call whoever the duty officer is – for all the good that’ll do them.’

‘Thank you, Ma’am. Though the messages will still be there for me in the morning.’ She turned on her heel and walked away.

Kate went through the door into the incident room and collapsed onto a chair. ‘Bloody hell, why can’t press officers face that lot, answer all the bloody questions, not just introduce you and leave you to take the flak. Isn’t that what they’re there for?’

‘Because they’d be eaten alive,’ said Rogers, looking up from his computer screen.

‘You still here? Why aren’t you knocking on caravan doors, finding our killer?’ Kate eyed the doughnut on his desk wondering whether she could ask for a bite out of it.

‘Waiting for you, Ma’am. You said you fancied an evening out.’ He stretched, rubbing the small of his back. ‘Need some new bloody chairs here.’

‘It’s your age.’ Kate drummed her fingers on the desk. ‘Rogers?’

‘Ma’am?’

‘You were around when Jessop and Wood were arrested, weren’t you?’

‘I was, yes. It was one of the biggest stories at the time.’

‘And you helped on the case?’

‘I did, but I was quite junior then – not as junior as you were, though Ma’am.’

‘No, well.’

‘Though you have climbed up the greasy pole a lot quicker than me.’

‘Because I’m cleverer than you.’

‘More clever. And a woman.’

Kate grinned, enjoying the banter. ‘Now then, Rogers, I hope you’re not going to go all resentful on me and play the sexist card?’

‘As if I would, Ma’am.’

They both smiled at one another, having indulged in the game many times over the years.

‘Back to the Jessop and Wood case – had you ever heard that Jessop had another mistress, not just Wood?’

Rogers looked down at his paperwork, picked up a pen. Kate watched as he ticked a box, then another. He turned a page over. Read it.

‘Steve?’

‘I wouldn’t like to say, Ma’am.’

His shoulders were stiff, back rigid.

‘Steve, I’m asking you as a friend, not as your superior officer.’

‘Ma’am.’

She bit down a sigh. ‘It could be important. And I won’t say it came from you.’

Rogers put his pen down, carefully lining it up with the pad on his desk.

Kate looked around the small room. Eve and John were shifting in their seats, keeping their eyes glued to the telephone handsets in case they should miss them ringing. Or in case they should miss what Steve Rogers was about to say.

‘I did hear something, yes.’ He kept his voice low. ‘Probably just office gossip.’

Kate’s heart beat faster. ‘What did you hear?’ She knew gossip could have a kernel of truth.

He clasped his hands together. ‘There were rumours – very quiet ones, you understand – that Jessop might have been involved with someone that we didn’t know about. But they were squashed pretty quickly.’

‘Squashed? Who by?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But one day one of the officers on the case said he had evidence, the next day he didn’t. The whole line of inquiry was shut down.’

‘What? That’s nonsense. You must have some idea.’

He blew air out through his mouth. ‘Word was that the mother’s husband had something to do with it. And the officer in charge.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Kate held one finger up. ‘Let me get this straight. You’re saying that during the investigation of the murder of Harry Clements and the disappearance of Millie Clements, there was a rumour that Jessop had a secret lover and nobody looked into it?’

‘Something like that.’

‘No one looked into it because someone shut the line of inquiry down, and that someone was the detective inspector in charge?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the children’s father – another police officer – colluded in this?’

Rogers nodded, looking uncomfortable. ‘Jez Clements, yes.’