Blood Axe (5 page)

9

Barely eighteen, Gary Farr
was gangly and ungainly, his face blighted with acne. It was hard to believe any girl would be interested in him. He sat on the sofa in his parents' front room, shoulders hunched, hands between his knees, looking thoroughly dejected. Angela was too good-looking to have any problem finding a boyfriend, yet she had texted him three times in ten minutes, wanting him to join her at a pub in Micklegate. It didn't take a genius to work out the reason for the summons. Gary might be unattractive, but at eighteen he would be served alcohol in any bar.

In response to Ian's demand, Gary held out his ID. Seeing the boy's hand trembling, Ian set out to intimidate him in the hope that fear would loosen his tongue.

‘When did you last buy alcohol for your underage friends? There's no point trying to deny what you did. I know all about it.'

Gary bit his lip. He was too scared to answer.

‘Gary, you could be in very serious trouble over this, but there's no need for it to go any further. No one else knows about it yet. All you have to do is give me some information, and we'll say no more about it.'

The boy mumbled something about all his friends being at least eighteen. He sounded close to tears. The boy was more frightened than Ian had realised. There was no point in terrifying him into incoherence.

‘Gary, I'm investigating a murder. So believe me, I'm not in the slightest bit interested in whether or not you bought alcohol for your sixteen-year-old friends. You must know it's against the law for an adult to buy alcohol on behalf of someone under 18. And you must have known your friends were underage. I'm prepared to overlook it and you'll hear no more about it. That's a promise. But I can only let you off if you cooperate with me. Otherwise, you'll have to answer for your actions as best you can, and you'll be on your own. Once I report what you did, there'll be no going back. You'll be prosecuted…'

‘No, no, I didn't know…'

‘Will you help me?'

Gary nodded his head fervently. ‘I do want to help, I do,' he babbled nervously. ‘What's it about? What's happened? Who's been murdered? What's it got to do with me?'

Ian watched him closely. ‘I'm investigating the murder of Angela Jones.'

The boy's acne showed bright against his sudden pallor.

‘Angela?'

‘When was the last time you saw her?'

‘Angela's dead?'

‘Yes, I'm sorry.'

‘Oh my God, I can't believe it. Angela?'

‘Gary, you need to answer my question. When was the last time you saw her?'

‘On Sunday night. We were out together. It wasn't just us,' he added quickly, ‘it was all of us; that is, a group of us, we went out, just for a drink.'

‘Tell me everything you can remember about Sunday evening, every detail, however unimportant it might seem. What happened?'

Gary frowned. ‘Nothing happened. We went for a drink, that's all.'

Bit by bit, Ian winkled information from the scared boy. Angela had texted him on Sunday evening to let him know she was in a pub along Micklegate with some friends. With a little pressure, Gary gave Ian all the names. The list included Zoe. Gary couldn't remember her second name. Ian told him.

‘Yes, that's right, Zoe Drayton.'

Gary glanced anxiously at Ian. It did no harm to let him believe Ian knew more than he did. If Gary thought Ian knew about Angela's friends, he would be less likely to lie about them. The boy's account of the evening sounded plausible, and innocent enough. He admitted Angela had summoned him so he could buy her and Zoe a drink, insisting this was the first time he had done it. Ian didn't believe that for a moment. It was pretty obvious when the boy was lying. His face flushed pink, and his eyes darted around frantically.

‘It wasn't just one drink, was it? Don't lie to me, Gary.'

The boy shook his head. ‘They had a pint of cider each, and then I told them that was enough. They were getting too loud, and people were starting to look at us. I didn't want to get in trouble for getting them drunk. I was doing them a favour, and they never thanked me for it. Not once. Like I was some sort of – I don't know – like a bloody waiter or something.'

Noting a flash of anger in the boy's voice, Ian darted in with a question.

‘Which one did you fancy? Oh come on, Gary, no young man buys drinks all night for two girls unless he's after getting his leg over.'

‘No, it wasn't like that. We were just friends.'

‘You don't really expect me to believe that?'

‘But it's true! And I didn't buy the drinks. I mean, I did, I went up to the bar, but they gave me the money.'

Ian remembered a comment he had heard in the forensic tent. It had troubled him at the time.

‘What did you do with the change?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘It's a simple question. They can't have given you the exact money for what they had. What did you do with the change?'

‘I gave it to them with their drinks. You don't think I'd want to rip my friends off, do you?'

‘Did you give Angela any change?'

‘Of course I did.'

‘How much?'

‘What?'

‘Did she give you change or a note to begin with?'

Gary screwed up his face, thinking.

‘This is important, Gary.'

‘She gave me a note.'

‘Are you sure?'

He nodded.

‘How much was it? Five? Ten?'

‘I don't know. Ten. Yes, it was a tenner. She waved it around like she was made of money.'

‘Just to be clear, you bought Angela a pint of cider on Sunday evening with her ten-quid note and you gave her the change?'

‘Yes.'

‘Was the change all in coins?'

‘No. There was a fiver and the rest in change. I remember because I gave the fiver to Zoe by mistake, and she'd given me a fiver in the first place.' He blushed at the memory.

‘Did Angela buy anything else? Any more drinks?'

‘No.' He blushed again.

‘How about crisps or nuts? Anything?'

‘No.'

‘So it was just the one pint she drank?'

‘Yes.'

‘So when she left the pub, Angela had drunk a pint of cider, and she had a fiver and a few quid's worth of change in her purse?'

‘Yes. I suppose so.'

He shrugged and muttered crossly about not being a bloody accountant. Ian watched him. Gary didn't appear to be lying. Angela had been found with no coins in her purse, only a five pound note. Somewhere between leaving the pub and being discovered, dead, she had lost her change but not her five pound note. It was a bit odd. He wondered if she had given her change away to someone begging on the street. Ian needed to know about any contact she had made with another person that evening.

‘Are you sure you gave Angela and her friends any change they were due?'

‘Yes, I'm sure. I told you. I always gave them their change.'

‘So this wasn't the first time you'd bought alcohol for Angela and Zoe?'

Recovered from his fear, and his shock, Gary had gathered his wits and refused to answer. ‘I won't say anything else until I have a lawyer.'

Ian smiled. ‘You're not under arrest, Gary. You're not even really under suspicion. Not yet, at any rate. Should you be?'

10

If anything, Zoe
was even more jittery than Gary had been when Ian turned up at her home asking to speak to her. He went round there after school, careful to take a sympathetic young female colleague with him. Realistically, Angela's friend might be more likely to confide in Detective Constable Naomi Arthur than in him. Mrs Drayton wanted to be present while her daughter was speaking to the police, but Ian wasn't convinced Zoe would be honest about her visit to the pub in front of her mother. He was right. As soon as he explained that he wanted to speak to her about her whereabouts on Sunday evening, she turned to her mother.

‘Just go, mum. It's fine, really. You don't need to be here.'

‘Don't worry, I won't leave the room,' Naomi added, as though Zoe might somehow be at risk on her own with Ian.

With a worried scowl, Mrs Drayton left. Turning to Ian with large hazel eyes, her skinny hands clasped in her lap, Zoe looked like a trapped rabbit.

‘I'd like you to tell me about your evening on Sunday, with Angela,' he said.

‘What's happened to Angela? Something's happened to her, hasn't it? That's why she wasn't at school today.' She looked close to tears. ‘Something's happened to her, hasn't it?'

‘What makes you say that?'

‘It has, hasn't it? Why else would you be here?'

Gently Ian explained that Angela had been attacked on her way home on Sunday. He asked if she had left the pub alone.

‘Oh my God, is she all right? Where is she? I want to see her. I want to see her right now!'

‘I'm afraid that's not possible, Zoe,' Naomi said, leaning forward before Ian could respond, her voice soothing. ‘You're going to have to be very brave now. I'm sorry to say Angela died as a result of the attack. She didn't suffer any pain because she died straight away. She wouldn't have known anything about it. But it's very important we find out what happened that night, and who did this terrible thing. So it would really help us if you answered a few questions. Please, Zoe, we need your help. For Angela's sake.'

Zoe nodded dumbly, tears streaming down her cheeks.

‘Tell us about your evening on Sunday, everything you can remember.'

Zoe's account tallied with what they already knew. With a little pressure she admitted that Gary had gone up to the bar for them, but he had refused to buy them more than one drink each. He had been afraid of getting into trouble. She was certain the girls had each paid for their own drinks. Hazy about the time they arrived, she confirmed that she and Angela had been together the whole time at the bar, until about half past ten.

‘What happened at half past ten?'

‘I went home. My mum goes mental if I get in late. If I'm not home by eleven all hell breaks loose.'

‘Were you alone?'

‘No. I left with Suzy. We always walk home together.'

‘Who's Suzy?'

‘Suzy's my friend. She lives next door so we always walk home together, unless one of our parents comes to pick us up.'

‘What about Angela?'

‘We said we'd see her the next morning, at school, and we left. She said she was going home too, but she lives in the other direction, so we left together, me and Suzy, like we always do. It wasn't like it was two in the morning or something. It was only half past ten.'

‘Who else was still there when you left?'

‘Oh God, everyone I suppose.'

‘Who is everyone?'

‘I don't know. It was Sunday night. There were loads of people there.'

‘Was Gary still there when you left?'

‘I think so. But he would never have done anything to hurt Ange.'

‘What makes you say that?'

‘He was nuts about Angela. He'd never have done anything to hurt her. It wasn't just that he fancied her. You know what I mean, he was mad about her. He thought she was the one.'

Unlike Zoe, Ian thought that made Gary a more likely suspect, a killer who had attacked Angela in a fit of frustrated passion. Before he could probe any further, Zoe's mother opened the door on the pretext of offering them all tea. Ian declined, although he was tempted to accept, in order to send her to the kitchen. Instead, she came in and sat down.

‘You mentioned that Gary was keen on Angela,' Ian said.

Zoe burst into tears. When she calmed down enough to speak, she sobbed that she didn't want to get Gary into trouble.

‘He's really sweet,' she said, ‘he wouldn't hurt anyone, I know he wouldn't. And he was nuts about Angela.'

‘Can you be more specific? How do you know he liked her, in particular?'

Zoe gave him a contemptuous glare. ‘How do you think I knew? He was always asking her out.' She glanced at her mother. ‘He wanted her to be his girlfriend. He said so. He was always on at her.' She glanced over at her mother again.

‘Would you prefer it if your mother left the room?'

‘Yes, no, oh, it doesn't matter. It's just that Gary comes out with us – that is, he used to come out with us – any time Angela called him and asked him. She'd just tell him where we were, and he'd always come straight away. It was a bit sad. It was like he was always just sitting at home, waiting for her to call. I mean, he never, never said no. Not once in all the time we knew him. But if I ever called him, or one of the other girls did, he either didn't answer, or else he just asked if Angela was with us. If she wasn't he would never join us. He was only interested in her. And that suited the rest of us just fine because no one fancied him. I mean, you've seen him.' She gave a mock shudder. ‘Angela couldn't stand him, but…'

‘But she used to phone him to join you. She took advantage of his feelings for her…'

‘He didn't mind. He knew he didn't stand a chance with her. I mean, he wasn't angry about it, or anything. He was always saying she was out of his league. But he still tagged along. I think he just liked to see her.'

‘Was Angela seeing anyone else?' Naomi asked.

‘No.'

‘Were you aware of anything happening between her and Gary recently? Anything unusual? Did she say anything about him?' Naomi persisted.

‘No.'

Ian sat back for a moment and allowed Naomi to take over the questioning. She seemed very confident, and he wasn't sure what to ask. Teenage girls and their boyfriends weren't exactly his territory. From what he could hear, the questioning seemed to be going round in circles, and he was becoming bored. At last Naomi fell silent. With an encouraging smile, Ian leaned forward.

‘Is there anything else you want to tell us, Zoe? Now's the time. Anything that might help us find out who killed Angela after she left you in the pub? We know Gary was buying drinks for you both and…'

‘Pub?' Mrs Drayton interrupted. ‘Zoe wouldn't have been in a pub. She's only sixteen. You've got that all wrong.'

‘Yes,' Zoe burst out suddenly, glaring wildly round the room. ‘I want to tell you! I want to tell you everything!' She dropped her head in her hands, and burst into loud sobbing.

Her mother put her arms around the distraught girl.

‘Come on, Zoe, it's all over. It's all over.' She glared at Ian. ‘I think you'd better leave, now. Zoe and I have some talking to do.'

‘No,' Zoe interrupted her mother. ‘Don't tell him to go. I want to tell him what happened. The police need to know about this.'

Ian waited while Zoe blew her nose and wiped her eyes, her complexion pale and blotchy. Staring at the floor, she said in a rapid monotone, ‘He raped her.'

‘Zoe!' her mother gasped. Her hands flew up to her mouth.

Even Naomi looked startled.

‘It's true, mum.'

‘Are you telling us someone raped Angela?' Ian asked.

Zoe nodded.

Ian tried to hide his disbelief. ‘Did she report it to the police?'

‘The police? No. She didn't want anyone to know. She didn't tell anyone apart from me, and she made me swear on my life to keep it a secret. Only now she's dead, I don't suppose it matters, does it? I mean, it's not her secret any more, is it?'

‘You're doing the right thing telling us,' Naomi assured her. ‘We need to investigate this.'

‘Where did this alleged assault take place?' Ian asked.

Something in his tone provoked Mrs Drayton to round on him as though he had told an inappropriate joke at a funeral.

‘It wasn't “alleged”. If Zoe says it happened, then it happened. My daughter doesn't tell lies, Inspector, and I'm sure Angela would never have made up something so horrible either.'

‘Take your time, Zoe,' Ian said, in as kind a tone as he could muster. ‘Tell us exactly what Angela said.'

‘She said he tried to rape her.'

‘
Tried
to rape her, or raped her? Think carefully. What were her exact words?'

‘Raped her, tried to rape her, what's the difference?' Zoe's mother barked. ‘You're being very brave,' she added, stroking Zoe's hair.

‘What happened?' Ian persisted. ‘This is a very serious allegation. You need to tell us why you are making this claim.'

‘I'm not making it up!' Zoe protested.

‘No one's suggesting you are. But you need to tell us what happened.'

‘We were all at a party and he tried to rape her. She was sitting on the stairs. He was going up the stairs and he tried to make her have sex but she pushed him off her and he said he'd tripped and fallen on top of her.'

The two women were gazing at Zoe as though she was some kind of wounded animal. As the only man present, Ian felt constrained from expressing any doubts. He was wary of laying himself open to an accusation of being insensitive or, worse, misogynistic, but he wasn't convinced Zoe's story was based on a real incident. It sounded like the kind of story a sixteen-year-old girl might tell to divert her mother's attention from the fact that she had been drinking alcohol at the pub with eighteen-year-old boys. Warily Ian stepped into the minefield.

‘Was Angela all right?' he asked, in preparation for his question.

‘Of course not!' Zoe was indignant.

Her mother and Naomi both turned to Ian. Mrs Drayton looked outraged. Naomi wore an expression which clearly stated that only a man could ask so obtuse a question.

‘She was terrified of him,' Zoe added, sniffing into a tissue.

‘It's all over now,' her mother said soothingly.

But of course it wasn't.

‘Did you see what happened?'

Zoe shook her head. ‘I was in the kitchen. But Angela told me all about it at school next day,' she added earnestly. ‘She made me promise not to tell anyone, but I don't have to keep that promise now, do I?'

‘You're being very brave,' her mother assured her again, patting her on the shoulder.

Ian took the plunge. ‘Why did Angela phone Gary to insist he join her at the pub on Sunday, if he'd previously tried to assault her? She texted him three times in ten minutes. She was quite insistent he join her. She wasn't really frightened of him, was she?'

‘She felt sorry for him,' Zoe replied promptly. ‘We all did. And he apologised. He said he couldn't help himself,' she added, turning her head to direct her wide-eyed stare at her mother. ‘Some boys can't.'

‘The boy's an animal,' her mother hissed. ‘You should lock him up. He must have been drunk and tried again, and when she rejected him, he lost his temper. Only this time…'

Zoe began to sob loudly.

‘We'll investigate this thoroughly, don't you worry,' Naomi said. ‘And thank you, Zoe, you've been very brave.'

Or very disingenuous, Ian thought, but he kept that to himself. Zoe was only sixteen. She could have no idea of the problems she was causing in seeking to protect herself from getting in trouble with her mother.