Cath Staincliffe - Dead To Me

‘No, that’s fine.’

‘Can I just ask you to wait here a moment?’

‘Yes.’ The slightest touch of uncertainty in his reply.

‘Thank you. Interview concluded at twelve twenty p.m.’

Rachel forced herself to move slowly until she got outside, Janet behind her. ‘Yes!’ Rachel said under her breath, fists raised in victory. ‘We’ve got him!’

‘It’s a beginning,’ Janet agreed.

‘It’s an arrest, that’s what it is.’ Rachel could feel the excitement thrumming in her veins. She was going to get the bastard, oh, yes!

Rachel went to see Gill, breathless when she got there, dying for a fag, too.

Gill turned away from the screen showing the video feed to the interview room and surveyed Rachel. Her face remained impassive for a moment and Rachel felt a wobble of doubt, then Gill grinned. ‘Nick him!’ she ordered.

Rachel couldn’t get there soon enough. Raleigh got to his feet as she came into the interview room. She dove straight in: ‘James Raleigh, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Lisa Finn. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence…’

The smile died on his lips. A glare of outrage replacing it, disbelief glittering in his eyes.

‘… if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence against you.’

‘This is some sort of joke,’ he blurted out.

‘Can you put your hands out.’ Rachel got out her cuffs, not yielding to the impulse to slam the cuffs on, pinching his wrists as she clamped them shut. ‘You will accompany me to the custody sergeant, who will explain your rights, then ask you to surrender your possessions. You will have the right to a solicitor and we can provide one for you if required. We will be making a search of your premises, so if you have the keys that will save the risk of any damage on entry.’

‘You can’t do this,’ he insisted.

‘Watch me,’ Rachel told him.

‘I didn’t kill Lisa,’ he said. ‘There must be some mistake. I want to speak to your superior officer,’ he stumbled over the words.

‘Senior,’ Rachel corrected him. ‘I’ll pass that request on. Don’t hold your breath.’

He huffed and puffed all the way to the custody suite. Rachel booked him in and waited, savouring the sight as the custody sergeant went through all the rigmarole, asking Raleigh to empty his pockets, phone, car keys, house keys, wallet and then getting him to sign a property slip for them. He had two phones, Rachel felt a nudge of excitement at that – she knew one would likely be kept for his dirty little assignations.

He was fingerprinted and the sergeant said they would now take a DNA swab.

‘No way,’ Raleigh said. ‘I don’t give my permission.’

‘We don’t need your permission,’ Rachel said. ‘You don’t cooperate, we can hold you down and rip hairs off your head. Need the say-so from a superintendent. Your call, pal. I’d rather we did it the hard way.’

‘This is not fair,’ he argued, but submitted to the swab being taken. He’d gone ashen by the time they took him to get changed. His clothes would be kept as potential evidence and he’d be given a disposable jumpsuit to wear. He still kept muttering denials and protesting that it was a farce, a mistake, crazy.

Now, Rachel thought, wired with energy, I really do need a fag.

THINGS MOVED QUICKLY after that. His phones were given to the telecoms officer for an analysis of all the data stored on them. Gill dispatched a team to search his house for the murder weapon, bloodstained clothing, any property belonging to the victim. And for seizure of his computer. A search was made of his car. Fingerprint analysis revealed Raleigh’s prints on the door jamb to Lisa’s bedroom and bathroom, though the partial print on Lisa’s gold cross did not match Raleigh.

The prepaid phone immediately yielded useful intelligence. Raleigh had the numbers of both Angela and Lisa Finn in his contacts list. His stored text messages showed several sent to both girls, among them one that made the hairs on the back of Janet’s neck prickle: Raleigh had sent a text to Lisa at half past twelve on the morning of her death. C u @ 2 babe x Babe! Oh, the bastard.

‘Janet,’ Gill said, ‘take someone and talk to Angela, will you? See what she can tell us.’

Janet scanned the office. They were all out, bar Andy. Who looked over and smiled.

Her heart sank. ‘Yes, boss.’

‘Ade – what did he…’ Andy asked as they drove to Cheetham Hill, the shops along the main drag awash with Christmas decorations, sledges and inflatable Santas.

‘Nothing. It’s fine. Kids’ stuff.’

‘Right.’ Then he turned to work: ‘What’s she like – Angela?’ He obviously wasn’t any more keen than she was to dwell on recent events.

‘Gobby,’ Janet said, ‘prickly, but she did talk to us, even if half of it was lies. And she’s holding down a job, so she has got something going on upstairs.’

‘We appeal to her intelligence?’ Andy said.

‘I’m not sure I’d go that far,’ Janet said drily.

She appreciated the fact that he was keeping things on a professional footing. But found it hard to act naturally in his presence, especially when they were alone like this. Her own voice sounded brittle in her ears, her smile false. God, did she regret what had happened. Too much drink coming on top of another miserable spell with Ade, which left her feeling unloved, middle-aged and in a rut. Not at work, but every other way. Andy seemed as anxious as she was to minimize the opportunity for any more lapses of judgement. That was good, wasn’t it? So why was there a part of her still fantasizing about the guy? Why did part of her wonder if she’d made the wrong choice way back, sticking with Ade, dependable Ade the boy next door, instead of upsetting the applecart when she’d met Andy at training. Taking the leap, choosing the unknown. But then she’d never have had Joshua, Elise, Taisie. Everything would have been different. Oh, God, why couldn’t she just get over it? Put it behind her, like she was pretending to do on the surface?

The rain had stopped, Janet thought, or maybe it was only suspended as grey mist. The dog-end of the year. Grim. All well and good if you were huddled round the fire toasting marshmallows, but there wasn’t much of that in the Scott household these days. Oh God. She’d have to pull herself together, make more of an effort, for the girls at least. It was a difficult age. Both of them yearning to be grown up, not wanting to do anything, have anything that smacked of being a little kid, though they were still kids all the same.

Finding them on her doorstep, Angela gave a groan and rolled her eyes at them. ‘This is harassment, innit.’ One hand on her hip. She flounced back into the house and they followed her into her room.

‘Sergeant Andy Roper’ – he showed his warrant card – ‘you already know DC Scott.’

‘We’ve arrested James Raleigh,’ Janet said.

The girl’s jaw dropped. ‘What? What the fuck are you talking about? What for?’

‘On suspicion of the murder of Lisa Finn.’

‘No,’ Angela said, her eyes filling, her hand going to her mouth.

‘Hey, come and sit down,’ Janet said. Before you fall.

For once Angela didn’t have a comeback, too shocked for that. She lowered herself on to the settee. Janet sat beside her, Andy fetched one of the kitchen chairs for himself. He flipped open his daybook, noted the time and looked over at Janet.

‘No way,’ Angela said quietly, her chin jutted out, but Janet could see the quiver around her mouth. She was struggling.

‘We know you’re having a relationship with James,’ Janet said.