DI Sally Parker Thrillers Box Set, page 24
part #1 of DI Sally Parker Series
“Mainly, whether you can think of anyone who would deliberately set out to hurt your daughter?”
Heather placed her head in her hands and sobbed openly. Sally and Jack exchanged an awkward glance while she wept.
“My baby. My poor baby. I’ll never see her again. It’s not right for a child to leave this world before the parents.” Her head rose, and she looked Sally in the eye and nodded. “He did this!”
Sally shook her head as if trying to stir herself from a daze. “Excuse me. Who did it? At least who do you believe is responsible for killing Gemma?”
Her lip curled. “Take your pick.”
“You’re not making any sense, Heather.”
“None of this makes sense to me. She’s fallen out with so many of her family members lately, it could be any bloody one of them.”
Jack withdrew his notebook.
“Okay, I think you better start giving us some names and the reasons why you think they might be in line for us regarding them as a suspect.”
“Do we have to do this now? Am I not allowed to grieve, even for twenty-four hours?”
“If that’s what you want, then I’m happy to adhere to your wishes, although I do have to tell you that there is every chance of the suspect taking off, the longer we delay things.”
Heather let out a long breath and swept a hand over her colourless cheeks. “You should visit that no-good bloody father of hers first.”
Sally nodded—so far, the evidence against him was stacking up, placing him at the summit of their suspect list. “Okay. Who else?”
“Her husband, Mark—I wouldn’t discount him, either.”
“Why do you say that, Heather? Was the marriage in crisis?” Sally asked, flummoxed by the revelation.
“It’s had its moments over the years. Like every marriage in this stratosphere.”
“Okay, that’s plausible and something we’ll eagerly delve into.”
“Then there’s that smarmy shit of a brother of his.”
Sally had the notion that Heather, and not just Gemma, had fallen out with most of Mark’s family over the years and was merely venting her anger to combat the loss of her daughter.
“I’m getting the impression that you don’t care much for any of these men.”
She shrugged and exhaled again. “All I’m doing is helping with your enquiries. I believe these men should be taken into consideration when you’re looking at suspects. You’d be foolish to ignore me.”
“I appreciate that. Do you want to go into detail as to why we should question these men in connection with the… crime?”
Heather lit a cigarette; her brow creased as she thought about Sally’s question. “I would rather wait and grieve a while, but I’m aware that any evidence I give you now will get this vile creature off the streets before they can harm anyone else. I doubt that will happen, though, as their target has already been brought down.”
Sally smiled at the woman, appreciating her willingness to be open. “Just take your time. Let us know if you need to take a break, okay?”
Heather inhaled a few more puffs of her cigarette, then started telling them about all of Gemma’s father’s faults, which were lengthy to the point that Sally wondered if Jack would complain his hand hurt once he’d noted down all the information. Before things got out of hand, Sally interrupted Heather. “Okay, I think we need to narrow this down to actual specifics. I appreciate that he’s your ex-husband and that he’s your ex for a reason, Heather. The thing is, I need to find a possible motive your ex-husband might have for taking his own daughter’s life.”
“I understand that, and that’s what I’m trying to give you, Inspector. Maybe we should call it a day, if you’re not interested in what I have to say about him.”
“I’m sorry if that’s how it came across. Of course I’m interested in what you have to say. My job is to sift the information into piles of possible grievances on your part as an ex-partner and plausible motives for a father killing his own flesh-and-blood daughter.”
“Stop right there. This isn’t about me trying to get retribution for the years of suffering that man has subjected me and my daughter to in the past. This is about his relationship with Gemma, the child he wanted me to get rid of as soon as I found out I was pregnant with her.”
“I see. And yet you went ahead with the pregnancy?”
“I did. No man has the right to tell a woman, with his fists, to get rid of her unborn child.”
“I agree with you wholeheartedly,” Sally said. She looked sideways at Jack, who fidgeted in his seat and refused to raise his head to look at either of the women. He’d recently gone through the same agonising decision whether to ask his sixteen-year-old daughter to terminate the child she was carrying or not. In the end, the family had compromised and was looking forward to the child being welcomed into the fold in the next few weeks. “Therefore, are you saying that he’s never treated or loved Gemma like a daughter?”
“He’s had his moments over the years, but always ends up spoiling any trust that he tries to build up between them.”
Sally found it hard to understand any father not wanting to be part of his own daughter’s life.
“When was the last time Gemma had any contact with her father? Can you tell me that?”
“At the beginning of the year. He showed up at the house drunk one day, begging for forgiveness after neglecting her all these years.”
“And did Gemma welcome him with open arms?”
“Foolishly, yes. She usually did. The thing is, I’ve never set out to deter her from seeing her father. I believe children should be guided in this life to form an opinion of people for themselves. There should be no need to force your feelings upon others. Don’t you agree?”
“I do.” Sally found it strange that Heather would say such a thing after spending about ten minutes at the start of the interview ripping Gemma’s father to shreds. Maybe it was her way of venting her grief and anger or frustration with herself for not forcing her child to think poorly of her own father now that she’d lost her life. “So, this time, they remained on speaking terms. Is that right?”
“No, anything but! She left Samantha with him one day while she went out to the shops. When she returned, Samantha was bawling her eyes out, and she had a huge red mark on her bare leg.”
“From what?” Sally asked, sitting forward in her chair.
“I suspect it was from his hand, but Gemma seemed to accept his answer that Samantha fell and banged her leg on the table as she tumbled.”
“You didn’t, though?”
“No, I didn’t. I know the bruises he used to give Gemma during her childhood. At one point, I threatened to hit him with a frying pan. On that occasion, I realised we no longer had a future together and told him the marriage was over and to get out of my house.”
“How old was Gemma?”
“Just turned three, I believe.”
“And you’ve struggled to bring her up on your own ever since?”
“Yes. He flitted in and out when guilt played havoc with his heartstrings, but apart from that, he pretty much left us alone while I raised her myself.”
“That must have been hard?”
“It was, but I managed it. I couldn’t have done it without having the best neighbours around for support, though.”
“Mark mentioned that you had to work two jobs, which meant that you saw very little of Gemma.”
Heather’s head tilted to the side. “Is this your way of telling me that I’m on your suspect list, too, Inspector?”
Sally shook her head vigorously. “Not in the slightest. I asked Mark what sort of character Gemma was, and he gave me a rundown attached to a statement, ‘considering what her childhood had been like.’ I’m sure he never intended it in a derogatory way, Heather.”
“The trouble was I had to work my arse off because her father contributed very little to her upbringing, a pittance really. I took him to court one year. The judge looked down at him and called him ‘a sorry excuse of a human being’ and raised my maintenance money. Actually, he doubled it. I walked out of the courtroom with my solicitor to find my ex waiting on the other side of the road with his new young wife, stripping off and shouting, ‘Here, you might as well take the shirt off my back, too.’ The solicitor whisked me away and bought me a coffee. My hands were shaking so much, I spilt most of it.”
“What a terrible experience for you.”
“He’s a terrible man, Inspector. The world revolves around him and his infantile universe, I’m afraid, and woe betide anyone who doesn’t conform to his way of thinking.”
“He sounds a real sweetheart. Going back to the incident with Samantha, can you tell me what the outcome was?”
“Gemma said that she believed her father, but deep down, I don’t think she really did. She said it would be better for him to leave and ring when he wanted to visit them again.”
“Do you know what Mark said about it?”
“I don’t think she ever told him.”
“That’s a bit awkward. Any idea why she would keep that kind of information from the father of her child?”
“Speaking as a mother, it’s what we do sometimes.”
“Really?” Out of the corner of her eye, Sally noticed Jack’s head rose to look at the woman. “Would you appreciate that kind of info being held back as a father, Jack?”
“No, I would not.”
Heather shrugged. “To each their own. The marriage was in trouble. I guess Gemma was more cautious about giving her husband information that could be used against her if they split up.”
“I can understand that logic. Was there a danger of Gemma and Mark going their separate ways?”
“Not that I’m aware of. I was there only as a shoulder to cry on at the end of the day, Inspector. Maybe Gemma confided in her friends more about that than in me.”
“We’ll see what they have to say about that then.”
“You do that. Going back to the incident with my granddaughter, I wouldn’t put it past Ray to have threatened Samantha.”
“What? Threaten a five-year-old? How?”
“You know, ‘Keep this a secret between us, or I’ll tell Mummy you did this.’ He used to do it all the time when we were all together.”
“That’s appalling. I’m not surprised you kicked him out if that was his game.”
“Yeah, he’s a real peach. Take my word on that.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting him. Okay, I think you’ve drawn a clear enough picture about Gemma’s dad to be going on with. You mentioned Mark’s brother—care to enlighten me about what kind of relationship he had with Gemma?”
“Are you insinuating that something might have been going on between them, Inspector?”
“No, not in the slightest. Sorry if it came across that way. I was simply asking why they had a falling out. That is what you suggested earlier, wasn’t it?” Sally asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“Yes. His name is Colin Whiting. He’s a baker. Just lately, I’ve picked up a bad vibe between them when they were in the same room together. I have no idea what was going on. I tried to get it out of Gemma, but she clammed up. Told me to leave well alone.”
“Okay, that doesn’t sound too good. And there’s no way that they’d ever have a relationship?”
“No, she would have been crazy if she had. He seems very needy to me. Not the type you’d want to encourage to be friends at all.”
“Did he visit the family home much? Gemma’s home, I mean?”
“Not that often. He used to visit up until recently. That’s when I noticed a frosty atmosphere between him and Gemma.”
“When did you notice this chill develop exactly?”
Heather contemplated her answer for a few seconds as she lit up another cigarette and swept the back of her hand across her cheeks, wiping away fresh tears. She exhaled a large puff of smoke then said, “Well, we all—the family, that is—turned up for a barbecue back in August. Gemma was in the kitchen, preparing the coleslaw. I walked in to get the cutlery and found them deep in conversation. He had his hand on her arm, gripping it, and his face was close to hers. She seemed scared of him. Neither of them appeared to notice my arrival, and I coughed to get their attention. He let go of her arm swiftly and left the room. I asked Gemma what was going on. Her cheeks coloured up, and she told me everything was all right and that I should forget about it.”
“Interesting. Did she ever confide in you what the incident was concerning?”
“No. I tried several times to raise the subject, but she refused to tell me what it was about. I hate secrets, Inspector. My advice would be to dig very deep there, too.”
“I intend to, I assure you. Is there anything else you think we should know about regarding the family, Heather?”
Her eyes widened. “I think that’s enough for you to be going on with. Isn’t it, Inspector?”
Sally and Jack stood and followed Heather into the hallway. At the front door, Sally replied, “Yes, you’ve been very kind talking to us today, considering the sad news I’ve given you.”
“When can I see her?”
Sally placed her hand on the woman’s forearm. “I’ll have a word with the pathologist to see if we can arrange that soon. Take care, Heather. We’ll do everything we can to bring your daughter’s murderer to justice. You have my word on that.”
She sniffed and wiped away another tear. “Thank you, Inspector. Please keep me informed.”
“We will. I’d suggest you have little or no contact with Mark or his family in the meantime. I know that’s going to be difficult, and you’ll need to restrain yourself after the information you’ve divulged today, but please, let us handle them.”
Heather nodded and closed the front door behind them.
“Oh, what tangled webs,” Jack said once they were back in the car.
“Yes, indeed. Strange that Gemma didn’t tell her mother about having her father in a stranglehold, eh?”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. It’s all very strange.”
“I don’t need to look into my crystal ball to know that we’re about to untangle a lot of secrets; maybe secrets that some of these folks would rather have gone to the grave with the victim. Let’s see what Raymond Lord has to say for himself, shall we?”
CHAPTER FOUR
While Sally drove the twenty-odd miles to the address Heather had given them for Raymond Lord, Jack rang Joanna to see what she had garnered from the background checks.
“Thanks, Joanna. We’ll be back after we’ve visited Gemma’s father.” Jack hung up and tapped his notebook.
“What did she find out?” Sally asked, turning into Forster Road, where Lord’s flat was situated.
“He’s been in trouble with us over the years.”
“Has he now? Come on, Jack, out with it.”
“Mostly petty crimes. A few shoplifting charges, nothing major. But there is an assault charge in there, too.”
“On whom?”
“A teenager—he was in his teens as well.”
“You say that as though that’s an acceptable excuse for his actions, partner.”
Jack shrugged as she parked the car outside a rundown house, which had a sheet of plywood covering the downstairs window. “Kids will be kids, I suppose is what I’m saying. I certainly wouldn’t condone what he did. I met my fair share of smart mouths in the army. We soon knocked the ‘Big I am’ attitude out of them, I can tell you. Oops, I shouldn’t have told you that.”
Sally sniggered. “I always thought you were a bit of a thug.”
Jack opened his mouth to object, and Sally punched him in the leg. “Come on; we’ll leave this discussion for another time. Let’s see what we make of Raymond Lord for now.”
“By the looks of this place, maybe we should go in there wearing rubber gloves,” Jack grumbled as they walked up the cracked concrete path, dodging the stinging nettles off to their left that dominated the front garden.
“I take it Lord lacks any gardening talent. A bit like you in that respect,” Sally teased.
“Cheeky mare. I’ll have you know I have many talents in that department, although they do tend to focus on the massive gas barbecue we treated ourselves to at the end of last year.”
“That figures. Right, straight faces now.” Sally rang the doorbell, wiped her hand on her black suit trousers, and pulled a disgusted face at her partner.
The door was eventually opened by a tall, skinny man in his late fifties or early sixties. He squinted against the daylight. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Lord?”
“That’s right, and you are?” The door closed a little as if he intended to slam it in their faces if he didn’t care for their response.
Sally and Jack showed the man their IDs while Jack snuck his foot into the gap just in case. “DI Sally Parker and DS Jack Blackman of the Norfolk Constabulary. Is it possible for us to speak to you privately for a moment, sir?” Sally asked.
“About what?” he asked menacingly, inching the door their way again.
“Concerning your daughter, Gemma.”
The door opened again, and the man stood back to let them in. “The place is a tip.”
“That’s okay. We’re not here to judge your domestic skills.”
“Good job, ’cause I haven’t got any. This way.”
He showed them upstairs to a second-floor flat that looked as though it hadn’t been touched by either a duster or vacuum in months. Sally’s nostrils flared as they filled with the smell emanating from the pile of takeaway cartons in the corner of the room and a more recent one, floating with grease, sitting on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
“Take a seat, if you want to risk it.”
“We’ll stand if it’s all the same to you.”
Lord shrugged and flopped into the sofa. A cloud of dust burst from the cushions and surrounded him like a mist. He coughed and waved the dust away from his face.
Shit! The quicker we get out of this shithole, the better.
“So, what’s my darling daughter been up to then? She’s not the type to get in trouble with you lot.”
