Roz Watkins - Dead Man’s Daughter

A wave of anger swept over me. ‘Let’s get it on record, shall we, that I used reasonable force to attempt to prevent your client compromising a crime scene. In retrospect, I clearly didn’t use enough force, because she has indeed compromised the crime scene, making it harder for us to catch the perpetrator. And incidentally, she punched me.’

The mole twitched. He clearly hadn’t known about the punch. ‘We reserve our position. I’m just putting you on notice.’

I took a breath and turned to Rachel. Was this coming from her or from her overpaid lawyer? I decided to ignore it for now. ‘When did you last speak to your husband?’

Her face showed a moment of confusion. Why wasn’t I saying more about the brutality accusation? Then, ‘Last night, from Mum’s phone.’

‘And how did he seem?’

‘Okay, I think. Maybe not quite himself?’

She seemed almost embarrassed. I assumed the police brutality thing had been the lawyer’s idea.

‘Not quite himself in what way?’

She was still bouncing and tapping feet and fingers, and had angled herself towards the door as if planning to make a run for it. She looked brittle and light, as if you could push her and she’d topple over. ‘I don’t know. He’s been a bit secretive recently, and angry with me for no reason. Complaining about me working too hard, that sort of thing.’

It sounded like the familiar story of the angry adulterer – finding fault with his wife so he could feel better about his own behaviour.

‘What job do you do?’ I asked.

‘Accountant. It can be busy sometimes but he was being unreasonable.’

Her voice was one-dimensional. She was hiding something, but this wasn’t at the heart of it.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I noticed a window open in your bedroom. Is that normal?’

‘I can’t sleep with the window shut. Phil complained at first but now he’s the same.’

‘And, we were wondering, it looked like someone had taken a shower soon before we arrived at your house this morning. Was that you?’ I spoke casually as if it didn’t really matter. Of course she knew it did, but sometimes if you got the tone right, they’d subconsciously follow your suggestion, and things would pop out before the conscious mind caught up.

Rachel wasn’t falling for it, but she was giving me something anyway. A flash of electricity. She stopped both the leg and finger tapping, and her eyes were wide. ‘No. Of course not. I didn’t get back until after you arrived. Maybe Abbie had one.’

Abbie had been covered in blood when I’d seen her, including in her hair, which had otherwise been dry. She didn’t look like she’d had a shower. Rachel may have been going through a similar thought process. ‘Or Phil could have had one late the night before.’

The lawyer sat forward on his seat, eyes flicking to and fro, mouth open ready to intervene if Rachel started to say anything too rash.

‘Phil’s drawings and sculptures – they were interesting.’ I pictured the carved girl with her heart missing. That one had seared its way into my brain. ‘They’re very . . . well, dark?’

There was something there. A crackle in the air. Something around the artwork. ‘Are they? I didn’t really think about it.’

The lawyer deflated a little. He hadn’t noticed.

‘Had Phil always been interested in art?’ I asked.

A tiny intake of breath. ‘I suppose so. Only as a hobby.’

‘And you had some mental health problems a few years ago?’

She relaxed – a slight shifting downwards of her weight, the energy that seemed to spin around her dropping a little. ‘After Jess died? I was upset but I wouldn’t say I had mental health problems. Who told you that? I had an infection and they couldn’t get to the bottom of it. And I was worried about Abbie. How could I not be worried when she could have died too?’

‘So, did everything improve once Abbie had the transplant?’

There it was again. She tapped her fingers repeatedly against her knee. Then spoke fast and somewhat mechanically, speedy- robot style. ‘Yes. I mean, we’re still worried about her, but it’s much better.’

‘Except for the night terrors? That must have been upsetting for Phil, particularly?’

‘Well, for both of us.’

‘What was she scared of?’

‘I don’t know, nothing in particular. She was just getting scared in the night. It happens.’ I could hear the dryness of her mouth. She hadn’t mentioned the dreams about Phil, or the theory about Abbie’s heart. Maybe she was embarrassed. Thought it would sound crazy.

‘But she was scared of Phil, wasn’t she?’ I said.

Rachel stood up. ‘I have to get back to Abbie.’

‘Why did you think she was having such bad dreams?’

‘I don’t know! She’d had a heart transplant! It’s scary. And Phil stupidly told her a horrible story about our house.’

On the face of it, this had absolutely nothing to do with Phil Thornton’s death. But if Karen Jenkins had been telling the truth, then Rachel was covering up the fact that Abbie had been terrified of her father. I decided not to mention what Karen had said, and see what more she came out with. The lawyer narrowed his eyes as if wondering what I was up to. Something was afoot.

‘But it was bad enough for you to take her to see a psychiatrist?’ I said.

She spun round and looked at her lawyer. My pulse whipped high. This was something.

A sharp knock on the door and Jai poked his head round. ‘Can I have a quick word?’

Rachel jumped up. ‘Can I go?’

Jai gave a rapid shake of his head.

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’ll only be a minute or two.’ I stepped outside the interview room and pulled the door closed. ‘What have you found?’

Jai kept his voice low. ‘We got the ANPR data. She drove towards their house at seven thirty, not nine thirty like she said. Then she left again, and came back when you were there.’

‘Did the CCTV actually show that she went to the house?’

‘There’s no CCTV to the house. But she went along the main road just before the turning to her house.’

‘So, in theory she could have driven past and gone somewhere else, and then come back?’

‘But why lie about that?’ Jai said. ‘She told us she came straight from her mother’s house.’

‘I know, I know. She’s dodgy as hell. What about in the night? Have we found her on the CCTV then? Around the time of death.’

‘No. She could have avoided it then. Gone round the lane off the main road.’

‘But then why not avoid it later?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t avoid it deliberately.’

I pushed the door open and walked back into the interview room. Rachel was still standing. I looked towards her chair. ‘You’d better sit down.’

She glanced at me and then at her lawyer, who nodded. She sat down.

The room seemed very quiet, its air thick.

‘We’ve got the CCTV footage,’ I said. ‘You need to tell us the truth now. You went back home earlier this morning, didn’t you?’

A muscle below her eye fluttered, and she gripped her hands together. ‘What? No. What have you seen on the CCTV?’

‘How about you tell us what happened?’

The lawyer shifted as if to put himself between me and Rachel. ‘Could we have a moment?’ he said.

Rachel spun round to face her lawyer. ‘It’s fine. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. I must have forgotten. I nipped into Eldercliffe to go to the shops, and then went home.’

‘That’s not true, is it? You don’t appear on the CCTV going into Eldercliffe.’

‘We need a moment,’ the lawyer said.

‘I went to the other shop.’ Rachel sounded as if she was about to burst into tears.

‘Which one?’