Hidden Killers

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jane was waiting outside the small garage attached to the mews cottage as DS Lawrence drove out in a pale blue Austin-Healey Sprite sports car, the roof pulled down. He hopped out and opened the passenger door. He was wearing a Harris tweed cloth cap, and what looked like a dark green thick tweed shooting jacket, with a button at the collar. Jane got in and smiled saying that, like his mews house, she had not expected him to be driving a smart new sports car. He closed the garage doors and got into the driving seat.

‘Well it’s not exactly a smart new one, and to be honest with my long legs it’s not that comfortable. But I like to drive out to the country on my days off and I got it at a very good price.’

Jane wished she had worn a headscarf as the wind was blowing her hair loose from the hair grips. They drove through London to Croydon and onto the A23 Brighton Road. It was an hour and a half before they arrived on the outskirts of Brighton.

By the time they slowed down towards the town centre Jane’s initial impression that Lawrence was a careful driver had changed. He had put his foot down on the A23 dual carriageway and appeared intent on passing every vehicle, and her hair was now a tangled mess. Lawrence drove past the ornate Royal Pavilion, which looked very Arabian to Jane, with its bulbous domes, carved walls and beautiful gardens. They headed towards the seafront, the wonderful pier and fairground straight ahead. They passed the Aquarium on their left and, turning right, continued along the seafront, passing the Grand Hotel, and headed towards Hove. Lawrence pulled over to check a street map. By now it was almost four thirty and he passed Jane the map to double check their route. Jane studied the map as Lawrence drove at fifteen miles an hour.

‘Second on the right,’ Jane said. Lawrence indicated and turned into the pleasant Hamilton Street, with well-kept gardens and freshly painted three-storey houses. They passed a parked Mini outside number 34 and reversed into a space a few houses back. He got out to put the hood up as Jane searched in her bag for her hairbrush. She was on the pavement still trying to untangle her hair when he took his cap off and tossed it onto the front driving seat.

‘Right, we work this nice and calmly. We’re just making enquiries to check on Barry Dawson’s movements on the day in question. Don’t bring out the photographs until I give you the nod. Let’s see how much she admits to and if she’s going to co-operate.’

Jane nodded, then hesitated. ‘Do I look all right, or still windswept?’

‘You look fine.’ He stopped to run his fingers through his blond hair, and then walked up the path to the house with Jane following behind him.

There was a large pot plant at the door on a pristine black and white tiled step. The front door looked freshly painted and had a brass letterbox with a lion head door knocker. There was also a bell beside the door. Lawrence rang the doorbell and stepped back, waiting.

A pleasant-looking woman opened the door, wearing a pink house coat over a twinset and tweed skirt.

‘Mrs Harcourt?’

‘Yes.’

Lawrence showed his warrant card and introduced himself, saying that WDC Tennison was accompanying him and that they wished to talk to Katrina.

‘My daughter… Yes, do please come in.’ She hesitated. ‘Is there something wrong?’

‘No,’ he said charmingly. ‘We’d just like to talk to her, please.’

‘Do come in and I’ll call Katrina. She was just making herself a coffee.’

They were led into a very spacious front sitting room, filled with nice G Plan furniture, a large gas fire and decorated with flock wallpaper and a fur rug. There were numerous paintings, and copies of well-known artists hanging on the walls, and on top of a dresser were various family photographs.

Lawrence glanced at the photos and nodded at Tennison.

‘Right house.’

Jane turned to look at a line of silver framed photographs. There were two large ones of Katrina, one in tennis shorts with a racket and another standing wearing black riding boots and jodhpurs next to a white pony. But none of them looked very recent.

‘Hello.’

They turned as Katrina Harcourt walked in holding a mug of coffee. She was very attractive and slender, with an abundance of shoulder-length red curly hair. She had pale porcelain skin, which enhanced her green eyes. Her lashes were dark with thick mascara, and she appeared younger than they knew she was. However, she had a very mature and confident manner.

‘Mother said that you’re detectives?’

‘Yes.’

Lawrence introduced himself and Jane again. Katrina sat down on the edge of a thick cushioned sofa and crossed her slender legs. She was wearing fluffy slippers, and her legs were shapely and alabaster white. She was obviously a girl who stayed out of the sun despite the proximity to the beach.

‘What is this about?’

‘Do you know a Mr Barry Dawson?’

‘Yes, he’s a porter at St Thomas’ Hospital.’

‘You worked there until recently?’

‘Yes, that is correct.’

‘Were you aware that his wife recently drowned?’

‘I think I heard about it.’

‘But you had already left St Thomas’ by then, isn’t that right?’

‘Ummm, yes…’

‘So who told you about Barry’s wife then?’

‘Oh… I think my old room mate, Brenda, called me… it’s very sad…’

Jane looked up. She knew Brenda hadn’t said she’d been in touch.

‘Did you know Shirley Dawson?’

‘No.’

‘But you were well acquainted with her husband.’

‘Well, I’m not quite sure what you are inferring by saying I was well acquainted. I knew him as a porter and if he was on a wing I was working then I would obviously be aware of who he was.’

‘Well, we seem to have a different view because he has stated that you and he were having an affair, and that it had been going on for some time.’

Lawrence glanced at Jane, who was writing in her notebook.

Katrina shrugged, sipping her coffee. ‘Well, that’s porters for you. He has obviously exaggerated my being pleasant to him as something far more.’

‘So you are saying that you did not have a sexual relationship with Mr Dawson?’

‘If you need me to repeat it, then the answer is that I was not in any kind of relationship with him, and I am becoming rather confused as to why you are here.’

Lawrence gave a small nod to indicate for Jane to continue the questioning.

Jane smiled. ‘It’s just out of necessity really. You see, Mr Dawson claims that you were having a sexual relationship. He says that it was nothing more than a cheap fling. According to him you were having various other sexual encounters, in fact he spoke about you in rather derogatory terms because he was not interested in having a long-term relationship with you.’

‘I don’t believe this. Not that I give a shit because I have nothing whatsoever to do with him, and if he is saying those things about me then he’s disgusting.’

‘So are you admitting that you and Mr Dawson were having a sexual relationship?’ Lawrence asked. Katrina glared at him.

‘I am not admitting anything. I think you should leave… this is very upsetting.’

‘Did you know his wife Shirley?’

‘No, I bloody did not! I’ve said this before… I just don’t understand why you are here asking me these questions about my private business. If I did see Barry, then so what? Nothing is making sense to me… I mean, why are you here?’

‘Because we have some questions that need to be answered regarding the death of Shirley Dawson. We have to check that everything her husband has told us is correct. Could you please tell me where you were on the seventh of October?’

Katrina closed her eyes.

‘Seventh of October?… What day was that?’

‘Monday.’

‘Oh yes… I was here. There’s a new Arts Festival in Brighton and I went over there to see if any of the paintings interested me. We have a lot of artists in this area, and at one time I quite fancied the idea of running a gallery.’

Lawrence turned and waited for Jane to finish making her notes before he continued.

‘Am I correct in saying that Shirley Dawson found out that you and he were having a sexual relationship?’

‘I’ll tell you what is correct – he is a fucking liar! Firstly, he never told me he was married, or that he had a kid. Secondly, he came on to me and made me ridiculous promises until I found out the truth about him being married. I left my job at St Thomas’, which I was really enjoying, because I wanted nothing more to do with him and was disgusted that he had blatantly lied to me. I never met his wife.’

Neither Jane nor Lawrence said anything for a moment. It was obvious that since first denying having anything to do with Barry Dawson, she had now changed her story. They remained silent and Katrina seemed unable to keep quiet. Her leg twitched as she kicked out with her slipper.

‘I don’t know what he’s told you but I am now telling you the truth. I mean, it was virtually a one-night stand. I made a big mistake by trusting in what he told me. He said he owned his flat, that he would sell up and we would have money. I mean, please, he was promising me God knows what. I never had any intention of getting serious with him, he was just a porter for heaven’s sake.’

‘Did you ever go to Mr Dawson’s flat?’

‘No, I had no reason to go there.’

‘So, when you found out…?’ Lawrence said quietly.

‘I finished with him, and left my job at the hospital.’

In a quiet manner Lawrence told her that, contrary to her saying that it was her decision to leave St Thomas’, they had been informed that her contract had been terminated because of her unprofessional conduct.

‘That is total bullshit! It was my choice! They were always understaffed and we were constantly being asked to change shifts and work extra hours. I don’t know who you are getting this information from but it isn’t true.’

‘We also have information regarding your previous employment, Miss Harcourt, and that you had also been sacked from care homes for unprofessional conduct.’

‘Christ, if you think that washing dirty old women’s shit off their bedclothes is professional. Dementia patients are never easy to deal with… I tried to be caring but I was never cut out to be ordered around by some vicious trumped-up Matron who didn’t have the qualification to run any of the care homes I worked for. You give me any details you’ve got and I can qualify my reasons for leaving.’

Jane stood up and asked if she could use the bathroom. Katrina told her there was a downstairs toilet further along the hall. Jane was becoming frustrated by their interview and felt that maybe Lawrence would be able to get more information on his own. They had not yet gained any further evidence or connection to the death of Shirley Dawson. Jane left the room and closed the door. She walked into the hall and at the end of the hallway she saw Mrs Harcourt in the kitchen who, on seeing Jane, came out into the hall.

‘Did Katrina offer you a tea or coffee?’

‘No, but we’re fine – thank you. You have a lovely house. It must be so nice living close to the beach.’

‘Yes, we retired here quite a few years ago now. My husband and I really enjoy bracing walks on the beach, and they have a very good theatre in Brighton with some excellent productions.’

‘I’d love to see the rest of the house, Mrs Harcourt… it’s so beautifully furnished.’

‘Oh, let me show you around. When we moved there was a lot of work to do. My husband is a real one for putting up new wallpaper. He’s very accomplished, and we like to have everything clean and fresh.’

They went up the stairs. Mrs Harcourt was so sweet and proud of her flock wallpaper, and new stair carpet.

‘It must be nice to have your daughter home.’

‘Yes, she comes and goes but right now she’s looking for a new position. So until she finds one we’re happy she’s here.’

‘I suppose there is a very good train service between here and London.’

‘Yes, but she has her own car, and she doesn’t like to use the train when she needs to go to London for an interview, as they are always so crowded. She had a very important interview the other day and I had to put the alarm on to make sure she was up in time as she had to leave at the crack of dawn.’

‘Oh, can you remember what day that was, Mrs Harcourt?’

‘Yes I do, it was the seventh of October, because it was just two days after those awful IRA bombings in Guildford. She rang me from the petrol station on the roundabout by the A23, where my husband has an account, and she asked for permission to fill her car up because she’d left her purse at home.’

‘Do you recall what time that was?’

‘Well, now you’re asking me… I think it was before seven o’clock in the morning.’

Jane was very complimentary as they toured the house. She was shown the master bedroom and then Mrs Harcourt showed her Katrina’s bedroom. It was a large room at the front of the house, with bay windows and fitted wardrobes.

‘Oh good heavens, what a lovely room! Are those all fitted wardrobes?’

‘Yes, we got a local carpenter in and he made them to my husband’s specifications. He and Katrina are both very particular about things.’

Mrs Harcourt opened one of the wardrobe doors, saying that Katrina liked her clothes to be colour coordinated. Jane looked inside and glanced down at the shoe rack.

‘She must never want to leave! I am so impressed… I wish I had a wardrobe this size.’

Jane knew they had no search warrant, and spotting a pair of very high-heeled patent leather shoes was more than she could have anticipated finding.

As they were about to leave the bedroom Jane noticed on the dressing table a large framed photograph of Katrina in a wedding gown with a tiara and a beautiful long veil. She turned to Mrs Harcourt.

‘Oh, Katrina was married?’

Mrs Harcourt picked up the photo. ‘Sadly the wedding never took place. Katrina ordered this gown from Ossie Clark – he’s a very famous fashion designer – and the gown was satin chiffon Botticelli print. She had seen it in a fashion magazine and ordered it to be made especially. It was very expensive. Ossie Clark also designed her shoes and the bridesmaids’ gowns.’

‘Good heavens, that must have cost a fortune.’

Mrs Harcourt replaced the photograph. ‘It did, believe you me. My husband couldn’t afford it as he’s retired. So Katrina foolishly took out a bank loan. She’d ordered cars and booked a reception at the Grand Hotel in Brighton. It was just awful because she ended up in debt.’

‘Is she still paying it off?’ asked Jane.

‘Yes, she’s also paying for the lease on her car. I don’t know how she manages it, because you don’t get paid much as a nurse, do you?’

‘Going to such lengths, a wedding gown and all the arrangements, must’ve been dreadful. Was it Katrina’s decision not to go ahead with the wedding?’

Mrs Harcourt hesitated and looked towards the doorway as if afraid she would be overheard. She lowered her voice. ‘No, it wasn’t Katrina’s decision, it was her fiancé’s, although we had never met him. I don’t even know if they were officially engaged, and to be honest I felt very concerned at the time because she’d only recently met him. He apparently just said he had no intention of getting married and didn’t want to see her.’

‘That must have been dreadful.’

‘Yes, yes, it was.’ Mrs Harcourt rubbed her hands. ‘It was humiliating. I never thought she’d recover and truthfully she had no one but herself to blame. And now she’s still in debt, which is why she has to live at home with us. She has nowhere to go.’

By the time Jane returned to the drawing room, Katrina was standing by the fireplace telling Lawrence that she had been almost suicidal when her engagement to a young doctor had fallen apart.

‘I was devastated. I mean, it was a bolt out of the blue… one moment I was choosing my wedding dress and the next he had the audacity to call me and tell me it had been too much of a rush and he was undecided. Undecided?… I had booked the church and Mummy was organizing the reception! It gave me a total nervous breakdown.’

Katrina hardly acknowledged that Jane had returned and was very tearful, acting as though she was a wronged woman. Jane picked up her notebook and jotted down ‘Katrina in London 7th October – patent leather shoes in wardrobe’, before discreetly handing it to Lawrence.

Lawrence glanced down at Jane’s note and wrote a quick message before handing the notebook back to her. He watched as Katrina sat down on the sofa, acting like the bewildered, jilted bride as she shook her head and sighed.

‘So you have to understand that when Barry admitted to me he was married it felt as though it was all happening again. If you consider the lies I’ve been told and the promises I’ve been made I would never want to see his common little wife, let alone want to have anything to do with her. And I really don’t care if she drowned. All I care about is that nobody is ever going to betray me again.’

Lawrence stood up and quietly thanked Katrina for co-operating and for answering their questions.

‘I am sorry if this has been distressing for you.’

Jane stood uncertainly and joined him at the drawing room door. She thanked Katrina and then followed Lawrence out and into the hall. Mrs Harcourt was in the kitchen, as Lawrence smiled and said they would show themselves out. They didn’t speak until they reached his parked car and got inside.

‘Why didn’t you let me show her the photographs?’ Jane asked.

‘It’s called “keeping your powder dry”. I guarantee we will be interviewing Miss Katrina Harcourt again, and this time with a search warrant. With what you discovered in her room I think we have enough leverage for me to talk to DCI Shepherd first thing in the morning.’

Lawrence reversed in a three point turn before heading back towards the seafront.

‘If it’s OK with you, Jane, I think that I should talk to Shepherd alone. I don’t want there to be any negative repercussions on you and how much you’re investigating without his authority.’

Jane stared out of the window.

‘Do you really think we have enough evidence? I feel as though we should have questioned her further.’

‘Listen, you had confirmation from her mother that on the morning Shirley Dawson died, Katrina left Brighton early in the morning and drove to London. You also saw a pair of patent leather stilettos in her wardrobe. If we had continued to question her, or asked about the day she drove to London, or her shoes, all without a warrant, we could give her time to come up with an alibi, or get rid of the shoes. What we don’t need is for her to hear any alarm bells ringing.’

‘Well, she certainly kept changing her story. One minute denying she was having a relationship with Barry Dawson, the next admitting it. But do we have a strong enough motive?’

‘We do. It was when she said that Barry had promised to marry her, and told her he owned his flat. Plus, her mother said that she was in debt, so money is an incentive, and a motive to get rid of Shirley.’

Jane sat quietly, taking on board everything Lawrence said. She still felt uncertain about whether Barry Dawson and Katrina were in on it together, or if Katrina had acted alone. As if reading her mind Lawrence turned towards her and smiled.

‘I think they worked this together. If we can get that next-door neighbour to identify the shoes we can verify that at eight a.m. on the day Shirley’s body was found Katrina was there. It’s a question of the time line. We are told Barry Dawson was seen at the hospital after ten a.m. and there is a witness who is certain they saw him. But it could be that Barry came home earlier than he has stated, met up with Katrina, and both of them killed Shirley.’

Jane remained silent. They drove back the way they had come, and she was thankful that this time the hood wasn’t down.

‘Can I just ask you something? At first Katrina was very scathing about Barry, being just a lowly porter. I mean, she is quite stunning, she’s obviously well educated, and her mother was a sweetheart, proudly showing me all her husband’s prowess with the décor and fitted wardrobes. It doesn’t quite add up that she would go to such dreadful lengths to be a partner in crime with Barry, murdering his wife?’

Lawrence immediately replied that it was obvious to him. Katrina had recently been jilted at the altar and had been dismissed for her unprofessional conduct on several previous occasions. She was desperate, in debt, and had no job.

‘Yes, I am aware of that. But do you think she would really be prepared to be a party to murder?’

‘Yes, I do. I think she is a very dangerous woman with a psychopathic fury – did you hear what she said about the fact that she didn’t care if Shirley Dawson had drowned, all she cared about was that nobody was ever going to betray her again, or stop her from getting what she wants? In this case it was Barry Dawson. If he wasn’t a pawn then they planned it together. If I am successful in getting a more detailed PM, maybe we can prove it.’