Peter Robinson - Friend of the Devil

“So what happens?”

“Oh, people usually calm down. I mean, no one ever got really hurt or anything. It’s just the language flying around, and the rudeness. Not that I’m a prude or anything. And then there’s the smoke. You wouldn’t believe how bad it gets sometimes. First thing I have to do when I get home is put all my clothes in the basket and have a long soak in the bath.”

“That should improve after the smoking ban in July,” said Winsome. “Is there anything else about working there that bothers you?”

Jill paused and bit on her lower lip. “I shouldn’t be telling tales out of school,” she said finally, “but in the summer, when me and Pauline drove across to France for a weekend, Jamie asked me to stop and fill the boot with cheap lager and cigarettes.”

“It’s not illegal,” said Winsome.

“I know, but I think selling them in the pub is. I know lots of people do it, and like I said, I’m not a Goody Two-shoes, but I didn’t want to do anything that might harm my future, especially if I’m going to be connected to law enforcement. That would be crazy.”

“Quite right,” said Winsome. Illegal booze and cigarettes was not exactly the kind of breakthrough she was looking for, but it was another snippet to add to the file. As far as telling Customs and Excise was concerned, though, a pub like the Fountain was so low down the pecking order when it came to smuggling that it would be hardly worth their while. “Jamie says he was there until half past two cleaning up after someone wrecked the toilets,” she said.

“I know. He told me. I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Has it happened before?”

“Not that bad, but someone broke some glasses once. And they often stuff toilet paper down the bowl. That’s what I mean about working there. You dread going to work on a weekend, and the rest of the time it’s dead, except for lunch sometimes. I’m sorry I left Jamie in the lurch like that. I feel really bad now I know he was there all by himself when… you know… it happened.”

Winsome stood up. “He’ll survive. Thanks a lot, Jill, you’ve been a great help.”

“I have?”

Winsome smiled. “Like I said, every little bit helps.”

Detective Superintendent Catherine Gervaise had called the progress review meeting in the boardroom of Western Area HQ for 5:00 P.M. that Wednesday afternoon, by which time some of the forensic reports had started trickling in. DS Stefan Nowak, the crime scene coordinator, was there as liaison with the lab, along with Dr. Elizabeth Wallace, Banks, Templeton, Wilson, Hatchley and Winsome, just back from talking to Jill Sutherland.

“Okay,” said Gervaise, when everyone had settled with coffee, pads and pens in front of them. “Let’s add up what we’ve got so far. First off, DS Nowak is here on behalf of forensic services. I know it’s probably too early yet, but do you have anything for us, Stefan?”

“Not a lot, I’m afraid, ma’am,” said Nowak. “And most of it’s negative. Technical support did manage to enhance the number plate of the car that passed by around the same time Hayley Daniels went into Taylor’s Yard, but it turns out it was just a couple on their way home from celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary at that posh restaurant down Market Street.”

“What about Hayley herself?” Gervaise asked. “Anything more on what happened there?”

“The rapist wore a condom, so we don’t—”

“Hang on a minute,” said Banks. “What about the semen on the victim’s thigh?”

“I was getting to that,” said Nowak. “All I can suggest is that he was in a hurry and it spilled out when he removed the condom, or it belongs to someone else. We’re still waiting on DNA results.”

“There were two of them?” said Gervaise.

“Not necessarily two attackers,” said Nowak. “Someone could have had consensual sex with her, in accordance with the theory that she went into the Maze to meet someone.”

“Then someone else killed her?” said Templeton.

“Possibly.”

“She went into the Maze to relieve herself,” said Winsome. “And she wasn’t a slut.”

“I’m not suggesting that she was,” said Nowak, looking taken aback. “Just that the results are inconsistent. We know that someone had sex with Hayley using a condom because we found traces of a lubricant used on a common brand, but we also found traces of semen on her thigh and on two of the adjacent leather remnants. Those are the facts. It’s not up to me to speculate, but I’d ask why a killer clever enough to clean up the body to some extent would miss the semen, unless it happened at a different time, or perhaps was left by someone else. There was one slight inconsistency.”

“Yes?” said Gervaise.

“The seminal fluid wasn’t quite as dry as it should have been given the time of death.”

“As I’ve explained many times,” said Dr. Wallace with a definite hint of defensiveness in her tone, “time of death is always, at best, a rough estimate.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Nowak.

“What time, then?” asked Banks.

Nowak looked at Dr. Wallace before answering. “I don’t see any reason to argue with the original estimate, between midnight and two A.M.,” he said. “There could be other reasons for the inconsistency. I’ll work on it.”

“Very well,” said Gervaise.

“I noted in my postmortem that Hayley might have tried to fight off her attacker,” said Dr. Wallace. “Did you find any tissue in the samples we scraped from under her fingernails?”

“Alas, no,” said Nowak. “As you mentioned in your report, the nails were too short to actually scratch anyone. All we got were a few common cotton fibers.”

“Any luck identifying them?” Gervaise asked.

Nowak shook his head. “We’re still working with them, but they could come from any number of brands. Not only that,” Nowak went on, “but she could have picked them up at any time during the evening. Remember, she was with a large group of people, and the odds were that some or all of them touched or brushed against the others at some point.”

“Hair?” Banks asked.

“Only hers and Joseph Randall’s.”

“So our killer wore a balaclava, or he’s bald,” said Hatchley.

Nobody laughed.

“There’s evidence the killer cleaned her up,” said Dr. Wallace. “Washed her pubic area.”

“Except he missed that semen,” Banks said.

“It looks that way,” said Nowak. “Or that happened after he’d cleaned her up.”

“Possible,” Dr. Wallace agreed.

“Fingerprints?” asked Banks.

“None. Sorry.”

“I thought you lot could perform miracles these days,” said Banks, seeing everything slipping away.

Nowak looked at Dr. Wallace. “Sometimes it seems that way, but we’re only as good as the evidence we collect.”

“Any luck with the known offenders?” Gervaise asked.

“Nothing,” said Banks. “They’ve all been interviewed, and they all have alibis. We’re still working on it.”

Gervaise turned to Nowak again. “Have we missed something?”

“I don’t think so,” said Nowak. “The SOCOs went over that place as thoroughly as any scene they’ve ever handled. One other thing we found was traces of the girl’s urine on the ground outside the storage room, which is consistent with her friends’ statement that she went down Taylor’s Yard to relieve herself. We also found traces of vomit which we matched to her stomach contents, so it looks very much as if she was sick, too. The team also went through the neighboring buildings. Most of them are empty or used for storage of some kind. Nothing there.”

“So are we dealing with a particularly clever killer?” Templeton asked.