‘It’s a thought, sir,’ said Hitchens. ‘We could suggest it as a special project group for the Operational Planning Department.’
‘I’ll think about it. It was also Leach’s wife who found the earlier victim, Crew, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘We mustn’t overlook any correlations that the computer throws up, Stewart.’
‘We’re not doing that, sir. I’m keeping Leach in mind until we can eliminate him.’
‘What about boyfriends of the victim?’
‘All accounted for, except for the one who wrote the note. All the others deny writing it, and their handwriting doesn’t match.’
‘And Stafford’s writing doesn’t seem to match, either.’
‘I’ve sent the samples to a handwriting expert. But at first glance, they’re quite unalike.’
‘So, a mystery boyfriend, then. I suppose that’s what you would call a start, is it?’
‘A mystery boyfriend who drives a white van?’ said Hitchens.
‘A mystery boyfriend who drives a white Transit van with a rusty wheel arch, who has something to do with animals and who possesses a sharp knife and a pair of boots that match our partial print. That would be ideal, I suppose,’ said Jepson. ‘Is that all you want for Christmas?’
225
r ‘If it’s Santa asking, I’d wish for Maggie Crew’s memories to come back as well,’ said Tailby. ‘Ah, yes. How’s Fry been getting on with her?’ ‘It’s slow going, by all accounts. Crew is completely closed in on herself. Putting Fry on her was a bit of a last resort. But we can’t treat her with kid gloves for ever, not if women are going to start dying on us.’ ‘Are you sure Fry’s the right person?’ said Jepson. ‘Where’s Ben Cooper today?’ ‘Cooper’s on the white van team,’ said Hitchens. ‘I can’t help feeling somebody else might have been better than Fry. Cooper does at least try to understand people. He has a bit more empathy.’ ‘Well,’ said Hitchens, ‘we’ve done empathy.’ ‘And what about Sugden?’ asked Jepson. ‘It would be helpful to appear to be questioning a suspect. Politically helpful, I mean.’ ‘We’re bringing him in now.’ ‘Good. And the woman from Cheshire - Ros Daniels?’ ‘Not a trace of her. It’ll take a damn sight more than empathy to find her, I’m afraid.’ Wayne Sugden hadn’t wanted to come to the station to be interviewed. It was understandable. He had been out of prison only two weeks, and the cells in the detention suite at Edendale carried bad memories for him. But in the end, they had just put him in an interview room, where Diane Fry and DI Hitchens found him bubbling with fear and anger. ‘You can’t leave people alone, can you? Once you’ve got a downer on a bloke, that’s it. Am I going to get
226
I this for the rest of my life? I’d be better off back inside.’ ‘Let’s just calm down, Mr Sugden,’ said Hitchens. ‘We only want a chat.’ ‘Oh, yeah? I know your chats. I’m saying nothing. Not a word. Fetch me a solicitor.’ Sugden could just about qualify as a match for the description given by Jenny’s neighbour. He was about five foot eight, a little overweight from his spell of prison food and lack of exercise, with pale eyes and hair the colour of Dettol. His accent was certainly local. Maybe he could even dress respectably sometimes when he finally put those jeans and the stained black sweatshirt in the wash. ‘I know my rights,’ he said. ‘It’s on the card. Here, you haven’t shown me the card. I can make a complaint, you know.’ Fry couldn’t raise any sympathy for Sugden. Maybe if she had just been released from prison herself, the last person she would have wanted to see was a policeman, and the last place she would have wanted to be was Edendale police station. But then, she would have thought of that in the first place before she got herself sent down for burglary. ‘We’re trying to eliminate as many people as possible from a current enquiry, Mr Sugden,’ she said. ‘We just want to ask you a few simple questions.’ Sugden smiled bitterly. ‘Nothing’s simple in this life. Your lot taught me that, at least. You made my life bloody complicated.’ ‘Wednesday 22nd October, Mr Sugden,’ said Hitchens.
227
‘What about it?’
‘Where were you that night?’ ‘Can’t remember.’
‘You were only just out of prison. You were released the previous day. If it were me, I’d remember exactly what I was doing in my first days of freedom.’
‘I expect I went for a drink,’ said Sugden. ‘To celebrate.’
‘Anywhere nice? I’m always open to recommendations.’
‘A couple of pubs I know in Edendale.’ ‘On your own?’ asked Fry.
‘I met up with a few people, said hello. Come to think of it, they bought me a few drinks. They all knew I’d been set up something rotten.’
‘What it is to have friends,’ said Hitchens. ‘What time did you go to Sheffield?’
‘Eh? I never went to Sheffield. I told you - just the pubs in town.’
‘Do you know a place called Totley?’ ‘I’ve heard of it,’ said Sugden cautiously. ‘Ever been there?’
‘Couldn’t say.’
‘I’m asking you to say.’
‘Did some place get burgled? It wasn’t me. And if you’re saying it was, I want that solicitor now.’ ‘Nothing like that, Mr Sugden. Take it easy.’
‘What then? What’s it all about? You try anything else on, and you’ll be in dead trouble. It’s my human rights.’ ‘You learned a lot in prison, didn’t you, Mr Sugden?’ ‘Enough.’
228
0
‘What we’re interested in is whether you were in Totley on the night of Wednesday 22nd October,’ said Fry.
‘Wednesday 22nd October. You said it before. The day after I came out.’
There was a triumphant look on Sugden’s face. Fry had seen it on faces so often before. She could practically hear the dialogue that went with it. ‘I suppose you’re going to claim you were never there,’ she said.
‘Am I?’ said Sugden.
‘That’s what they all say,’ said Fry. “‘I was never there.” We get sick of hearing it.’
