Concrete Evidence (41 page)

“What do you mean?” Graff half smiled.

“That is Rob Derry or whatever his real name is.”

Graff nodded and wiped sweat from his forehead. “You know that holding this back hasn’t helped you at all?”

“I was scared.”

“That’s understandable,” Graff said gravely. “Identifying him will help our case.” He paused and thought about his next words. “I want to get some things straight in my mind.”

“Like what?”

“If you want me to help you, I need you to answer me honestly, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You admit being at the first scene but when you left the house, both women were alive and unhurt?”

“Yes, absolutely. I’ve been saying this from day one.”

“How do you explain your semen being at the second scene?” Graff asked gruffly. He twiddled his pen between finger and thumb.

“Rob Derry planted it. I mean him, whoever he is” Tod tapped the photograph.

“Peter Barton.”

“Yes. Barton must have kept the condoms that I used.”

“Feasible, I suppose. Didn’t you throw them away?”

Tod sat forward and steepled his fingers. “Whenever we were in someone’s house, we used one bag for any rubbish and we always disposed of it away from the scene. We never flushed anything because it can be retrieved.” Tod lowered his voice. “He taught me that. Police training I bet?” He shook his head. “I think the bastard kept the condoms to set me up.”

“Okay that may throw up a shadow of doubt but what about the thumbprint?”

Tod held up his finger eager to answer. “He told me that they can pick up fingerprints using superglue, right,” he paused and looked over his shoulder at the prison officer, “it makes a raised imprint and once they have the raised print, it can be used to make a false print. Do you think that’s true?”

“I don’t know the science behind it but we can check it out. It makes sense on the face of it,” Graff nodded and made notes. “I’m trying to eliminate all the evidence that puts you at the second scene,” he paused. “How do you explain the knife and the DVD at your home?”

“Barton broke in and planted them,” Tod shrugged. “If he was a policeman then he could break in without leaving any sign couldn’t he?”

“Probably.” Graff ticked his list. “The ball bearings and petrol canisters?”

“He planted them all when I was in Benidorm.” Tod paused. “And the underwear, all of it!” Tod filled up with tears. “He told me to leave the country for a few days so I did. I thought it was just to avoid getting pulled but looking back, he knew what he was going to do didn’t he?”

“That is what we’re going to pitch to the police. He has the knowledge to carry out all of this and his recent spate of criminal behaviour shows that he is more than capable of organising a setup.”

“He is capable of anything. He said that he would kill my mum and he did!”    

“Okay, Tod,” Graff packed his papers away. “I’ll get this information to the DI immediately. This changes your position dramatically. I think the police will have a lot of questions for you and my advice is to tell them everything that you can. The more you can put onto Peter Barton, the better for you, understand?”

“Yes.” Tod said meekly. “He’ll have me killed, I know he will. He’s a psycho.”

“You’ll be safe here, Tod. I’ll speak to the governor personally and make sure that they protect you.” Graff looked at the prison officer. “If there’s so much as a hair on his head ruffled before his court case, I’ll bring personal law suits against any officer on duty. I suggest you spread that amongst your colleagues.” Graff nodded his head and his jowls wobbled. The prison officer scowled and his face reddened. “Now please escort my client back to his cell. I’ll be in touch very soon, Tod.”

“Thanks,” Tod said. He breathed a massive sigh of relief. “Thank God someone believes me at last.” Graff picked up his briefcase and headed for the door. “There’s a chance although it is slim, that we could get all but the rape charges dropped.” Graff said as he opened the door. A tear ran from Tod’s eye and Graff smiled thinly. He was unsure if he was fighting for justice or not.                                

                                   CHAPTER 47

              Alec pulled up to an ornate set of wrought iron gates that were designed with security in mind rather than decoration. High walls ran in both directions as far as the eye could see. He wound down his window and pressed a buzzer for the intercom.

              “Drive up Alec,” the familiar voice of Laura Ryder greeted them. He turned to Annie and smiled as the gates parted slowly.

              “CCTV,” Alec commented. “The place is still like a fortress.”

              “I can’t blame her considering who her husband was.”

              “True.”

              “I always felt sorry for her.” Annie said looking out of the window. “Poor woman lost everyone she loved.”

              “She doesn’t sound worried to see us,” Alec said.

              “Why would she be?”

              “Her late husband being a drug dealer, her son being a serial killer?”

              “Hardly her fault though is it?”

              “If the police had shot my son dead, I would be concerned if they came knocking on my door even if it is four years later.”

              “I wouldn’t,” Annie shook her head. “I would assume it was a follow up or something new had come up.”

              “Must be a woman thing,” Alec laughed. “Or maybe the job makes me paranoid.”     

              They relaxed a little as they drove up the long crescent shaped driveway towards the house. A brand new Porsche was parked in front of the double garage. The private plate read LT1. Annie frowned and looked at Alec. He shrugged and raised his eyebrows. “She changed her name?” Annie asked.

              “Maybe,” Alec said bringing the car to stop at the front door. “She might have remarried.”

              Laura opened the front door and smiled at them. She held out her hand. “You look well, Annie,” she said looking at her prosthetic eye. “You’ve healed well; you look as beautiful as ever.”

              “Thank you,” Annie blushed. She had to admire how straightforward she was. There were no false graces about her. “You haven’t aged at all,” Annie returned a compliment.

              “Well I could tell you that I don’t smoke or drink and that I make my own smoothies and bathe in vitamin c but that would be bollocks,” she winked at Alec. “Botox every six months!”

              “You do look well,” Alec said taking her hand. “Maybe I should try some.”

              “It is good Alec but it can’t produce miracles.” She winked again. Annie smiled and Alec nudged her with his elbow. “Come in. Can I get you a drink?” she asked. She led them into a huge L shaped living room. Panoramic windows gave a view of the expansive grounds.

              “I’m fine thank you,” Alec declined.

              “Not for me,” Annie shook her head, “we really don’t want to take up much of your time.”   

“I presume that you haven’t come to sell me a ticket to the policeman’s Christmas ball so what can I do for you?”

              “We found two more bodies on Crosby Beach,” Alec got straight to the point. “Two young boys.”

              “Boys?” Laura looked confused. “Oh dear,” Laura said quietly. “I’m not sure how I can help.”

              “Do you recognise either of these men?” Annie handed her two photographs.

Laura studied them and shook her head. “No. should I?”

              “We wondered if either of them were friends of Brendon.”

              “No. I don’t think so but then I didn’t know all his friends,” she paused. “In fact I didn’t know much about him at all did I?”

              “It was a long shot but we had to ask, sorry to drag the whole thing up for you again,” Alec apologised.

              “Don’t apologise you have a job to do. Brendon was a sick man and he paid for it with his life,” she smiled thinly. “The rest of us have to get on with it. Especially me!”

              “I noticed the plates on your car,” Annie changed the subject tactfully. “Did you change your name?”

              “Always the detective, Annie. There’s no getting anything by you is there!” She held up her ring finger. “And it’s not what you think either. I took my maiden name Thomas back.” She shrugged. “I have lost two husbands and a son to the Ryder name, enough is enough. I wanted a clean break, a new start.”

              “I don’t blame you,” Annie said looking around. There were no pictures of any of the family anywhere. “It’s the least you deserve.” She paused and smiled. “Do you see much of Geoff at all?”

                  “Geoff?” Laura looked surprised. “I haven’t seen him for about three and a half years.” Her face seemed blank, from the look in her eyes, she had drifted off somewhere else. “We fell out not long after the funeral.”

              “Do you mind if I ask why?”

              “Do you mind if I ask why you want to know?” There was an edge to her voice now.

              “We want ask him about these men.” Annie lifted the photos. “We checked his old address but he doesn’t own the property anymore.”

              “He sold that place years ago.”

              “His office told us that he was on extended leave.”

              “He’s a wealthy man. Why go to work when you don’t need to.”

              “What happened between you?”

“He made a move on me,” she rolled her eyes. “He took my need to lean on him the wrong way and he took the rejection very badly. He walked out and I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Do you know where we could find him?”

“No but I can tell you that he was always talking about travelling. I heard that he wanted to relocate.”

“Do you know where?” Alec asked.

“I believe he bought a villa in Spain somewhere and he planned to drive across the continent and maybe explore the Far East but I haven’t heard anything since.”

“Do you know where in Spain?”

“Not a clue. He may be back I really don’t know and to be honest, I don’t care. If I never see another Ryder in my life it will be too soon.”

Alec nodded and rubbed the dimple in his chin. “I understand, Laura, thanks for speaking to us.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled although there was no warmth in it. “I’ll show you out.” Annie felt awkward as they walked back to front door. They hadn’t been there long but they had already outstayed their welcome. The warmth that she had had in her eyes when they arrived was gone. She opened the front door and looked down at the floor as they walked past her.

“Thanks again and good luck,” Annie turned as she stepped outside but Laura had already closed the door behind them. Annie felt a little saddened by it. They climbed into the car in silence and Alec drove them along the driveway. The gates opened automatically and then closed behind them. Alec let out a sigh. “Well that went well.” Alec broke the silence. “Ryder has a villa in Spain?”

“I heard that.”

“Thoughts?”

“I’ll reserve judgment until we have all the travel movement information.”

“She wasn’t very forthcoming, was she?” 

“We got answers, what more could we ask from a widow whose only son was shot dead because he was a serial killer?” Annie felt drained by the experience. “She tried her best to be normal with us but when it comes to the Ryders, she doesn’t have anything left to give.”

“Can you get that while I’m driving?” Alec’s mobile phone rang and he passed it to Annie to answer it.    

“DS Ramsay’s phone,” Annie answered. She listened intently and frowned. “When was this?” she asked with a sigh. She rubbed at her temples with her fingers and thumb and closed her eyes. “Thanks, we’ll be in touch to arrange an interview.” She hung up and looked at Alec with a blank expression.

“What is it?” Alec asked.

“Tod Harris has identified Peter Barton as his accomplice.”

“Out of the blue?”

“Seems that way.”

“What do you think?” Alec looked at her face. “I know.” He nodded wisely. “You’re deferring judgment until all the facts are in, right?” 

“Damn right,” Annie said in a whisper.     

                                    CHAPTER 48

              Peter Barton reached up and dragged a tyre from a shelf. It was old and well worn but he didn’t like throwing things away. He dumped it onto a workbench and turned it with his hands. The inside was bone dry and flaking. He checked over the items on the bench. Fishhooks, superglue, firelighters and cling-film. He picked up one of the display fireworks that he had bought online and placed it on a plastic sheet next to the tyre. The label read ‘Armageddon’. Peter took a craft knife and sliced through the side of it. He held an empty soup tin beneath it and dark granules trickled out making a small pyramid in the bottom of the can. He moved the firework to one side and then took a box of matches from the bench. He struck one and watched it flare and then burn. The smell of sulphur drifted to him. It reminded him of his childhood. He dropped the match into the can and stepped back. A plume of blue flame shot skywards with a whoosh. He smiled and nodded. It would do the job.