Death and Deception (30 page)

‘And how was the new boss out in the field?’ asked Colin.

Sam contemplated Inspector Hellier’s heroics and shook his head in wonderment. The man was a maniac. ‘You know, Sarge, he looks a bit wimpy, but there are balls of steel under that smooth exterior. He was brilliant, saved the day.’

And a shooting, too. What a night.

The area car dropped Dan off at the front entrance to the Station. He had sent Sally home once they had escaped from the hospital. She had concussion and wasn’t making much sense. He touched the plaster on the front of his forehead as he limped his way to the main office on throbbing stockinged feet. He figured he would live. He was thankful that it was very late and there were few people around. He couldn’t have explained the depth of his tiredness, if he’d tried.

He could hear raised voices as he drew near the Interview Rooms. The angry tones of Alan Braithwaite were easy to identify through the walls. Dan looked through the window. Jenna was sitting hunched on a chair, turned away from the table, playing with a lock of hair and humming to herself. Stoned, he guessed.

Alan Braithwaite was arguing with Bill Larcombe and Lizzie Singh. The other person in the room was, Dan supposed, a social worker. He sighed. He’d wanted a few minutes to gather himself before this confrontation.

Braithwaite swung round as Dan entered the room and lurched towards him.

‘Been drinking, Mr Braithwaite?’ Dan asked and dodged round him, making for a chair on the other side of the table. The guy was intimidating enough when he was sober, There was no way Dan was going to stand up to him in a confined space, when he was drunk. And with feet that resembled tenderised steak, he wasn’t getting into a fight with anybody.

‘Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s happening?’ He nodded to the other officers. Larcombe moved to stand next to the door, and Lizzie took the other empty seat next to Jenna. Braithwaite didn’t move. He swayed backwards and forwards as if he was on a ship.

The social worker attempted to speak but Braithwaite went straight over her. ‘Why is my daughter here? Why won’t you tell me what’s going on? Why can’t I take her home with me?’

Larcombe looked over at Dan and shrugged. He hadn’t been able to get anywhere.

‘Ok, this is what we do,’ Dan said. ‘Lizzie, take Jenna and the social worker next door and make them a drink. Jenna may want a snack or something, too. Then Mr Braithwaite and I can have a proper chat.’

As Dan spoke, Braithwaite moved towards the table and leaned on it, glowering over him.

‘Would you like a coffee, too?’ Dan asked, and looked up into Braithwaite’s face. ‘Have a seat, Mr Braithwaite. I’ll explain what has happened to your daughter, I promise. No messing about.’ He gestured towards a chair and waited for Braithwaite to sit.

The girl left the room with her head down, led by Lizzie Singh and the social worker.

Dan allowed Braithwaite time to sort himself out while he tried to find a way to tell this bereaved father what he suspected his youngest daughter had done. He wished Sally hadn’t been injured, she was so good at this stuff.

Braithwaite leant back in his chair. He’d folded his arms across his chest and crossed one leg over the other thigh. His foot banged a regular angry rhythm against the metal leg of the chair.

‘First, can you tell me how Jed Abrams came to know your two girls?’

Braithwaite looked up under his black fringe. ‘Youth group they go to.’

‘Not the singing competition?’

‘Nah, that was done at Christmas. They’ve been going since last September on a Thursday night.’ He paused. ‘Jenna’s been going on a Wednesday, too, sometimes.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘This is to do with Jed Abrams, isn’t it? I should have got the slimy bastard when I had the chance. I always knew there was something wrong about him.’

Dan watched the colour rise in the man’s cheeks as his voice got louder and harsher. He realised he was too tired to do this diplomatically.

‘Mr Braithwaite, I wish I could make this easier, but I can’t. Jenna has been the victim of child abuse. Possibly not Abrams himself, but men he knew.’

Alan Braithwaite stopped in confusion. He didn’t see the mug of coffee placed beside him, or register that Bill Larcombe had taken up his position once more near the door. He stared at Dan, his eyes angry and shocked.

‘What do you mean? How?’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘No. I’d know. I’m her father. I’d know if something was wrong.’ He looked across at Dan again. ‘It’s not true. You’ve got the wrong girl.’ He stood. ‘You’ve made a terrible mistake, mate. I’ll just collect Jenna and we’ll go. It’s late and she needs to get to bed.’ He turned and made for the door.

‘Mr Braithwaite, you have to listen to me.’ Dan rose, too. ‘We have just brought Jenna back from a house where my officers witnessed a younger child being abused. Jenna was in the room, too, Mr Braithwaite. Jenna had taken three other children with her to that house. She wasn’t at Maddie’s for tea. She went to Jed Abram’s house, knowing what would happen there.’ He raised his voice. ‘Please sit down. There is more I have to tell you.’

Braithwaite looked longingly at the door. ‘I don’t want to hear any more crap talked about Jenna.’

‘There is another reason why I can’t let you take your daughter home tonight.’ Braithwaite turned and stared. ‘What? What’s worse than this?’

Dan took a breath and blew it out through his lips. He couldn’t think how to make this one easier either, ‘This afternoon, an eye witness said they saw Jenna strangle Carly on Sunday at your house.’

Braithwaite coughed out an incredulous moan. ‘What? What? Who said it?’

Dan ignored the question. ‘We have to investigate that allegation. We have to keep Jenna in custody tonight. But she won’t be here in the station. We’ll take her to a secure Children’s home. She’ll be quite safe, I assure you.’

Braithwaite had buckled back onto the chair at the mention of Carly’s murder. He fixed on a spot above Dan’s head and didn’t move. The room fell silent.

Dan glanced across at Bill Larcombe. The Sergeant shrugged. This kind of news took people in different ways.

‘It is just an allegation Mr Braithwaite, but we have to investigate. You do understand that?’

‘Can I get someone to give you a lift home?’ Dan suggested. Braithwaite didn’t move. ‘Maybe you would like to see Jenna before you go? You can spend some more time with her tomorrow. We all need to get some sleep.’ Still no response. Dan pushed on. ‘Sergeant Larcombe will get one of the patrol cars to pop back to the station and give you a lift home.’
      

Larcombe rose and took Braithwaite’s arm to lift him out of the chair. ‘Come on, chum,’ he said, ‘no point in you hanging round here. We’ll make sure Jenna is safe tonight.’

‘Can you get the victim support woman on the phone and ask her to go round first thing tomorrow? She can bring him in.’ Larcombe nodded and guided Braithwaite out.

Dan stood for a few minutes in the empty room, and swallowed two painkillers with the neglected mug of lukewarm coffee. His head hurt. The whole of his left side hurt. His feet and ankles hurt where he’d been pulled out from under the crushed wreck of his car. He was beyond exhausted. He didn’t know how a person was supposed to react to the kind of news Braithwaite had just received, but what amounted to a catatonic trance seemed appropriate in the circumstances.

Forcing his body to respond, he limped to the adjoining room for his last task of the night. He smiled wearily at the duty solicitor as he followed him into the room.

There was no defiance left in Jenna Braithwaite’s eyes. She looked like a thirteen year-old kid who had been caught doing something wrong, knees up to her chest, arms wrapped protectively around them, eyes huge in the pale face, holding onto Lizzie Singh’s hand.

She looked behind him, ‘Where’s my dad?’

‘I got a police officer to take him home, Jenna. He wasn’t well.’

‘Who’s that?’ She stared at the duty solicitor.

‘He’s a solicitor, here to make sure we all do this interview properly. He’ll help you if you get stuck or don’t know how to say something. He’s called Paul Fowles.’

He indicated the social worker. ‘This lady is …?’ he shot an enquiring look at her.

‘Kate Spicer.’

‘Kate,’ he nodded his thanks, ‘will take you to a safe place for tonight, and you can see your dad tomorrow. He needs a bit of space at the moment.’

‘Yeah, right,’ said Jenna, ‘space away from me, you mean.’

‘Well, Jenna, you have to admit, tonight came as a terrible shock to all of us.’ He paused and scrutinised her face. Jenna looked away from him and shuffled her feet on the chair, knuckles white round her calves. The duty solicitor opened a legal pad and nodded.

‘I want you to give me a statement regarding your involvement with Jed Abrams and the foreign woman. We need to know how you started going to see Jed Abrams, and why you kept on going. OK?’ There was no response.

‘Is that OK, Jenna?’ There was a reluctant nod of the head.

‘Is Jed in trouble?’ she asked.

Dan let out a reflexive snort of disbelief. ‘What do you think?’

‘He didn’t make me do it. I wanted to.’

The social worker interrupted, ‘Did Jed give you booze and ciggies?’ Jenna looked at the floor. She nodded.

‘Did he give you money, too?’

Jenna nodded again.

Lizzie Singh reached across and took the girl’s hand. ‘I bet he made you feel really grown up and special, didn’t he?’

Jenna looked up at her, grateful to have someone there who could understand. ‘Yeah, he did. I’m not clever or pretty like Carly, and I can’t sing or anything, but he made me feel like I was…’ she struggled for the word, ‘beautiful.’ She stopped, and looked at the floor again, blushing, conscious that she had said something so unbelievably stupid they would all laugh at her. But there was silence in the room, and they looked kind and were smiling at her. Maybe they did like her.

Kate Spicer started to gather her things.

‘There is one more thing I have to talk to you about, Jenna,’ Dan said, and the social worker sat down again. ‘It’s about the murder of your sister.’

The expression on Jenna’s face was hard to read. Hunted rabbit was the closest he could get.

‘Jenna, we spoke to Jamie May earlier today.’ Jenna stared at him but said nothing. ‘He said that he was at your house on Sunday, and that he saw you and Carly arguing.’

‘I already said that we argued. I said that to Sally.’ Panic made her voice rise. The solicitor ruffled the legal pad as he turned a page.

‘I know you did. But Jamie said it went a bit differently. He said that when he came into your bedroom, it was you who was strangling your sister. He said you did it, and he and Jed helped to hide the body.’

The girl’s face went white. ‘Jamie said that?’

He nodded, focussing on the girl and ignoring the glances being exchanged on the other side of the table.

Jenna’s face showed utter betrayal. She thought for a few seconds, fighting some kind of internal battle, and then her head came up and she wailed through tears, ‘I didn’t kill her, Jamie did. He told me he’d kill me, too, if I said anything.’ She looked round the table, hanging onto Lizzie’s hand, tears pouring down her face. ‘I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it. I want my dad.’

Dan took a minute while the two women did their best to calm the girl down. She subsided, sobbing into Kate Spicer’s arms while Lizzie brought more tissues. He glanced across at the solicitor who met his eyes with weary resignation.

‘So, if Jamie’s lying, can you tell us what actually happened, Jenna?’

‘I did have a fight with Carly.’ She sniffed and lifted her sleeves to show a long scratch mark on her arm, and bruises round both wrists. ‘I ran off when Jamie got there because she let me go. I went for a walk but I was really mad and I wanted my phone back. I had to stop her showing Dad.’ She swallowed. ‘When I came back upstairs, Jamie was white as a sheet. He was on the landing. He said I had to help him get rid of her body. He killed her, not me. When I went in, she was just lying there, on the bed, not breathing or anything.’ Jenna curled herself into the smallest ball she could on the cold metal chair and clung onto Kate Spicer, tears bleeding from her tightly squeezed eyes.

‘What did you do then?’

Jenna shook her head from side to side, keening despair making her voice cracked and ragged. ‘I didn’t want to do it, but I had to. Jamie tried to wrap her up in my duvet and tie it up with my scarf, but he couldn’t do it. And he was so angry. Shouting at me to do something. He said he would blame me and no one would believe me, and I’d have to go to prison. He said my mum left because I was so bad.’

Dan sat back in his chair, his earlier blithe acceptance of Jamie’s story gnawing at him, acid in his stomach.

‘So, what did you do?’

‘I didn’t know what to do.’ She blew her nose hard on a tissue. ‘Then, then I thought of Jed. He’s got a van. I let Jamie ring Jed, and then he told me to go out and he would sort it out. He said I owed him, and he would be back. So I ran out, round to Maddie’s. I was so scared. And when I came back, Carly’d gone. Like my mum. Just gone.’

The wracking sobs took over her whole body. Dan gave her a few minutes to calm down, guessing that the drugs in her system were beginning to wear off.

‘Why was Jamie at your house yesterday, Jenna?’

She spoke through snot and tears, reluctance making her whisper. ‘When he came on Sunday, me and Carly were arguing. She looked at my phone and saw…’ She stopped.

‘We know what was on there. Just tell us in your own words.’

‘Pictures of me and Maddie. With some blokes. She said she’d tell Dad

and I’d get put in a Home. She was always telling me what to do. I’d had enough of it.’

‘What happened to your sister’s phone?’

Jenna pulled out a phone from her jeans back pocket and placed it on the table, lining the edge of the phone up with the edge of the Formica. She kept her eyes down. ‘This is her phone. It was mine that got broken in the fight. I chucked that one in the bin on Monday morning.’