Buried

Chapter 16

After Anik’s previous encounter with Susan Withey — when he mostly impressed Ridley with his approach and his questioning — he was perhaps a little too confident going into this notification of death.

Susan was in the middle of getting ready to go out, and so she didn’t play by the book at all. When Anik asked her to sit, she didn’t. When he asked her to listen, she continued multitasking. It was only when he started following her round the downstairs rooms that Ridley took over.

‘Susan.’ Ridley’s voice was an enviable mix of gentle and authoritative. He stood in Susan’s way, put a hand on her back and steered her into the lounge, talking as he moved. ‘I need to be certain that I have your full attention, please.’ He sat down on the sofa, subliminally suggesting she do exactly the same. ‘We’ve now made a DNA identification on the body found at Rose Cottage.’

And that was all Susan needed to hear, really — although Ridley went on to say the actual words, so there was no doubt in his mind that she’d fully understood.

‘I’m sorry to confirm that it is your husband. It is Mike.’ Susan’s head dipped a little, but her facial expression didn’t change that much. She didn’t cry. She didn’t speak. ‘We’re investigating and I’ll personally keep you informed about what we discover. Where are you getting ready to go to, Susan?’

Susan, quiet and in shock, said that she was meeting a friend at the gym.

‘Would you like me to ask that friend to come here instead?’

Susan nodded, found her friend’s name in ‘contacts’ and handed her mobile to Ridley. He, in turn, handed it to Anik.

‘Say that Susan’s had some bad news and would like her to come round, please. Then put the kettle on.’

Ridley reassured Susan that they’d stay with her until her friend arrived, to deal with any questions either of them might have. As Anik stepped into the kitchen to make the call, he could hear Susan ask if she could see Mike.

‘There’s no comfort to be found in seeing him,’ he replied gently. ‘You leave Mike to me. I’ll look after him... so that you can look after yourself and your children.’

Anik heard Susan start to cry, followed by the rustle of Ridley’s jacket as he put his arm around her. When Anik returned to the lounge with a mug of sweet tea, Susan was sitting alone on the sofa and Ridley was standing in front of the fake hearth. The shoulder of his pale green jacket now showed a small dark patch, which Anik assumed was from Susan’s tears. Horrible though it was, he yearned for the day that a murder victim’s next of kin trusted every word that he said and rested their head on his shoulder for comfort.

It was almost seven o’clock when the team was back together in the squad room. Jack, having completed his interviews of the women from The Grange, confirmed that, in his opinion, they were nothing more than witnesses to Dolly’s murder and knew nothing at all about the train robbery until after the fact. With this line of enquiry closed, Ridley focused his team on Mike Withey, Barry Cooper and, possibly, Norma Walker. These people were connected to Rose Cottage and the money and, possibly, the robbery.

‘Sir,’ Jack interjected. ‘As well as the train robbery, Mike is also connected to an earlier crime in which, again, none of the stolen property has been recovered. The diamond heist back in ’84.’

Ridley looked at the extensive evidence boards that had been building over the past weeks. All of the historic research Jack had insisted on including in them might just come to fruition now. The Witheys’ name came up again and again, and Mike wouldn’t be the first copper to get pissed off with earning ten times less than the average low-life he nicked. What if he’d changed sides? Ridley didn’t want his officers to get overexcited, so he kept things calm.

‘We start from today and we work backwards, connecting the dots as far back as we need to in order to get the full picture. But,’ he emphasised, ‘this is, first and foremost, a murder investigation. If we connect the train robbery and the diamond heist as well, that’s a bonus.’ Then he changed the subject. ‘Jack, you’re with me tomorrow morning. We’ll go and tell Audrey about her son.’

Anik buried his head in his work, trying not to look fazed by Ridley’s decision to take Jack and not him on the second notification of death. Laura, as his sarge, felt she had to say something.

‘Notifications are tough, Anik. Because not only are you the one who will knock them down with the news that you bring, you’re also the one who will pick them back up again. That takes control.’

Jack repeatedly kicked on the front door until Maggie finally turned on the hallway light.

‘Darling, there’s someone at the door!’ she shouted up the stairs.

This was closely followed by Jack laughing from the front doorstep. Maggie opened the door, to reveal Jack laden down by a mini fridge. He staggered in and set the fridge heavily down on the bottom stair. Maggie wasn’t amused.

‘When some fuckwit kicks on my front door in the middle of the bloody night, I’m bound to pretend that my massive cage-fighting husband is upstairs, aren’t I!’

Jack hugged Maggie and rocked her in his arms. He was so tired, he could have fallen asleep right there.

‘Why have you bought a fridge?’

‘For the spare room. So I can work late without waking you up by going into the kitchen.’

With that, he picked up the fridge and took it upstairs. Maggie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

‘I’ll nick you a commode from work as well, shall I? Then you can lock yourself away for days searching for the elusive Jimmy bloody Nunn!’

Jack bounced down the stairs, grabbed her by the hand, and dragged her back up. In the spare bedroom, they both faced his ever-growing evidence wall. Jack stood behind her with his arms wrapped tightly round her waist.

‘You were right, Mags. I did need a better reason to exhume Rawlins’ first grave and now I’ve got it. This Rose Cottage case goes back way further than we thought... this far.’ He swept his hand through the air in front of Maggie’s face, indicating every piece of evidence collected. ‘Right back to 1984. Back to the diamond robbery. Back to Harry Rawlins. Ridley’s sold on the idea now, so all I need to do is persuade him that something relevant is hidden in that grave.’

Jack couldn’t see Maggie’s face, but it was a combination of worry and confusion. What the hell is he talking about?

‘The diamonds, Mags! They’ve never been found and they’ve got to be somewhere.’

‘Jack...’ Maggie started.

‘I know what you’re going to say. But this is as relevant to the Rose Cottage case as it is to mine.’

‘You haven’t got a case!’ Maggie flicked her hands dismissively towards his evidence wall. ‘This... This is not a police investigation. This is a personal... God knows what!’ She turned in Jack’s arms to face him. ‘You’re not supposed to be doing this and, more to the point, you don’t need to be doing it. You have a dad. Why do you need another one? Especially this one, Jack — he sounds awful.’

As Maggie talked, Jack looked deep into her eyes. His eyebrows were up, his eyes were wide and inviting and she could see that this was the version of her partner she’d been waiting for. He was excited. Animated. Happy. Jack was alive again.

‘I’m not trying to replace anything I have now, but my past, Mags, has holes in it that you could drive a bus through. There are missing pieces and I need to find them. Jimmy’s not an appealing man, you’re right, but my God, he lived. I just want to meet him. I need to know where this restlessness comes from. I can’t focus on “now” until I do.’

Maggie realised that she had to support Jack through this — whatever this was — and she hated that thought. But, as she smiled back at him, she also realised that this was how she’d get her husband back. The man she looked at now was the strong, driven man she’d fallen in love with back in Totnes. Their passions rose and, before she knew it, Jack was kissing her, perching her on the edge of the spare bed and pulling down her silk pyjama shorts. As she unbuckled his trousers, he kissed her neck until she tightened her legs round his waist to bring him to her. She felt now as she had felt the first time they made love; she had been desperate to experience the new man in her life and, as such, it was over in minutes, but what an explosive few minutes they were. She had that same frantic feeling now. Maggie once again felt desperate to experience this ‘new man’ in her life, but this time was better, because this time was also filled with love. Jack knew her, knew how to touch her, knew how to move her. Maggie arched her back, allowing Jack to be however he wanted to be. She loved him, she trusted him, and she wanted him.

Audrey Withey was one of those people who’d always lived life just the wrong side of the law, but never really saw it like that. She’d never declared an income, she’d not think twice about buying smuggled European fags and anything off the back of a lorry was fair game. Her home was nice enough for a three-bedroomed flat, but nothing matched — clearly Audrey scooped up anything that was getting chucked out by anyone else. One man’s trash...

Audrey was an almost skeletal 76-year-old woman who looked like she’d be blown over in a strong wind. When she took a drag on her cigarette, her face almost turned inside out and it was blatantly obvious from the smell that there was a large brandy in her coffee. As she walked Ridley and Jack into her lounge, she didn’t offer them any refreshments or, indeed, a seat. So, they both remained standing.

The décor would give lesser men a migraine. The curtains and walls were a fag-smoke tan colour and, although the flat was tidy, it wasn’t clean. Audrey had ‘gone to pot’. She was an old woman, wearing old clothes, surrounded by old things, in an old flat. Her days of making an effort had long gone. There were four photo frames on the sideboard: one picture of Shirley, aged 20, in a beauty pageant sash; one of Mike, at the same age, in his army uniform; one of Greg, aged about 14, in his school uniform; the fourth frame contained a tiny pink baby bonnet and mittens. Badly knitted. Never worn. These photos showed the pinnacle of each child’s life, and they were displayed with a huge amount of love and pride. They were the only things in this room not covered in dust.

Ridley sighed heavily. Shirley had been shot to death in a botched diamond raid, Greg was in prison on his fifth compulsory drug-rehab programme, there was obviously a miscarriage in the mix somewhere, and he was about to tell Audrey that Mike had been bludgeoned to death and then burnt beyond recognition. Sometimes Ridley hated this job — no mother should outlive one of her children, let alone three.

Ridley knew that, after the death notification, he’d lose any co-operation from Audrey; he opted to delay the bad news until he’d had the opportunity to ask a few questions.

‘Mrs Withey, back in 1995 there was a train robbery in Aylesbury, do you remember? Mike was still on the force back then, under the command of DCI Craigh—’

‘We never spoke about work.’ Audrey shut Ridley down before he could start. ‘What you asking about ancient history for, when you should be looking for my boy?’

‘I presumed Mike would have mentioned this particular case to you, seeing as it involved Dolly Rawlins.’

Audrey pursed her sallow lips and jabbed her yellow-tipped finger at Ridley.

‘You don’t mention that woman’s name in my house,’ she snarled as the instinctive, uncontrollable hatred bubbled quickly to the surface. ‘I only let you in ’cos you said you wanted to talk about Mike. And now you’re mentioning that bitch and talking about some train robbery. Not trying to pin that on him as well, are ya?’

‘As well as what, Mrs Withey?’ Ridley was annoyingly calm, making Audrey jump to her feet.

‘Don’t you dare talk to me like I’m thick. You’re in my house! I been around the block, son, so don’t try and trick me into incriminating Mike. Yes! I remember the train robbery — ’cos it was just months before your lot booted Mike out. He served his country, home and abroad, and what did you do? You treated him like a criminal.’ Then Audrey smiled. ‘You got no clue where he is, ’ave ya? Well, good. All you want to do is use him as a scapegoat again. If he’s running, good!’

‘Why would he be running?’

‘’Cos he knows your game. When she was released, we grieved all over again for our Shirl and...’ Audrey glanced at the photos, gulped and regained composure. ‘The bonnet and mittens are pink ’cos I so desperately wanted it to be another girl. I’d have called her Eve — that was my Shirl’s middle name, after my mum.’ When Audrey looked back in Ridley’s direction, her eyes were red but the tears were being held back by the hatred. ‘Stress, the doctors said. Stress made my body neglect my unborn child and she died inside me. Dolly Rawlins did that!’ She pointed to the line of four photos. ‘She did all of that!’

Audrey’s hatred for Dolly had taken her way off track, so Ridley endeavoured to pull her back to the here and now.

‘Mrs Withey, please calm down. We’re not here to pin anything on Mike, nor do we think he’s running. Please sit down.’ Audrey didn’t sit, but she did calm sufficiently for Ridley to continue. ‘We simply need to know if you and he spoke about the ’95 train robbery.’

‘He said one thing worth remembering in ’95. He said, “She’s dead, Mum.” Now I’d like you to leave.’

Ridley ignored the request. He asked Audrey if Mike had ever mentioned a police officer called Norma Walker, and if she knew where his Range Rover was. All the while, Jack remained silent because this wasn’t a normal notification of death. This was also a tactical interview and, with Ridley about to play the heartless bad guy, it would be useful for Jack to remain neutral in Audrey’s eyes. So, for now, he played the silent, unobtrusive young DC in the corner. Audrey hardly noticed he was even there.

Ridley asked Audrey once more to sit down and, once more, she didn’t. He took a step closer to her and spoke with all of the respect and kindness he could muster for such an objectionable woman.

‘Mrs Withey, I regret to inform you that, several days ago, we found the body of a man, which, via DNA evidence, we’re now able to identify as your son, Mike.’

He had very purposefully taken a step closer to Audrey so that, when her legs crumpled beneath her, he could catch her and sit her back in her chair. Audrey collapsed like a rag doll and howled in agony at the loss of yet another child. Jack poured her a brandy, but she didn’t even notice. In the end, sheer exhaustion made her stop crying and become almost catatonic.

‘Mrs Withey.’ Ridley’s words were met by a blank stare, but he hoped she could still hear him. ‘Someone took your son’s life and I want to arrest that person. Mike was mixed up in something, accidentally or knowingly, I don’t know yet. What I do know is that he was found in the home of Norma Walker, which was located next door to a house owned by Dolly Rawlins. And he was surrounded by evidence from a 24-year-old train robbery.’

Audrey’s eyes unglazed and she glared at Ridley.

‘Get out,’ she breathed, almost inaudibly.

‘Is there anyone we can call for you?’

Audrey dipped her eyes and she was gone again. Ridley moved away; Jack put the brandy down on the nest of coffee tables by her side and both men left, pulling the front door to behind them.

In the hallway of Audrey’s block of flats, Ridley briefed Jack.

‘Give it ten, then go back in. Apologise for me upsetting her — you be her friend. We need to know how much the villa in Spain sold for. Mike was the only one earning, so we need to know where that money came from. And see what she knows about Barry Cooper.’

When Jack entered Audrey’s lounge, she was seated in exactly the same position as when he left. He sat on the edge of the sofa, his body turned towards her, leaning forward into her eyeline — whether she acknowledged him or not, he wanted to be sure that she could actually see him.

‘I wanted to make sure you’re OK,’ he lied. ‘I don’t like the idea of you being on your own. Mrs Withey, I came back because, well, I wanted to assure you that this is a murder investigation and all we want is to find out who took your son from you. Of course we need to delve into his past, but not to discredit him in any way. We just need to track his associates, his friends... Barry Cooper?’

Without looking up, Audrey spoke.

‘How did he die?’

‘Mike suffered a blow on the head. He would have died instantly, before the fire started, and wouldn’t have suffered.’

‘Barry wouldn’t do that to Mike. Brothers in arms, they were.’

Audrey looked like a wrung-out rag, used up and ready to be thrown away. She was a sorry sight, but Jack knew that this new vulnerability would make her more likely to talk to him. He continued to play it as though he was on her side, by handing her the brandy he’d poured earlier on. This time, Audrey took the drink and downed it in one.

‘He felt so guilty for being abroad when Shirl got killed. By the time he got home, Greg was back inside an’ all. How come the wrong people always get away with it, eh? And decent people are left to suffer.’ She handed him the empty glass and he got up to refill it. ‘Dolly said she’d “do ten” for me. When she got out after blowing her husband to smithereens, she come round to my home and threatened to kill me too. That’s the sort of animal she was.’

‘Why on earth would Dolly want to kill you?’ Jack asked.

‘I dunno... People like Dolly don’t need an excuse to threaten and terrorise. It was just power games to keep people in their place.’

Audrey spluttered nervously. There was clearly more to this slip of the tongue, as Jack knew that Dolly was wily enough not to make idle threats. He left it alone for now and changed the subject.

‘Do you know where Barry is? Only he may have been the last person to see Mike, so we’d like to speak to him.’

‘I take it you know where he lives?’

Even now, amid so much grief, Audrey maintained her ingrained instinct to answer coppers’ questions with another question, to make sure she wasn’t giving away any secrets.

‘He’s not there. Barry’s not in any trouble as far as we can make out — he may be able to help us, that’s all.’

Audrey necked the second glass of brandy as quickly as the first and said that she had no clue where Barry was. She also denied knowing Norma Walker, claimed to have never been to The Grange and to have only learnt about the train robbery from the newspapers. When Jack took the conversation back a decade further, to 1984, her demeanour changed — she become nervous, evasive and she developed that very familiar look of a criminal desperately trying to accurately recall an old lie. Jack asked about the Strand underpass robberies, one and two. He asked about the diamond robbery — and he mentioned the names Terry Miller, Joe Pirelli, Jimmy Nunn and Harry Rawlins. Audrey leapt on to the defensive, saying that Mike was in the army when all of that went down, so why was Jack asking about them in relation to her boy’s murder?

‘You’re going to find his killer, aren’t you? He was one of yours, you owe him that much.’

‘I promise you, Mrs Withey, that the moment we find out who killed Mike, I’ll come back here and tell you personally.’

When Rob got home from finishing the repairs to the coach, Angela was sitting in the dark, holding a glass of wine in one hand and the small, worn teddy bear in the other. He moved round the back of her and wrapped his big, warm forearms around her shoulders. The thick black hairs on his arms tickled her chin — something that normally made her smile and scratch her face — but, this time, it went unnoticed.

‘The police have been round,’ she said calmly. Rob pushed his lips against her cheek in a long kiss to show her she had nothing to worry about. ‘He asked about the train robbery.’

‘We knew they would,’ Rob reasoned. ‘We’re in good shape. Everybody knows what they have to do.’ He held Angela’s hand, as she held the teddy bear. ‘I wish she could see you, Ange. Dolly would be so proud.’