Poisoned Cherries

Chapter 20

The woman in the public office looked a little more hesitant this time when ex-Detective Superintendent Ross marched in and asked to see Detective Sergeant Morrow.

‘I’ll see if he’s available, sir,’ she said, reaching for a telephone.

‘He’s available,’ Ricky snapped. ‘Now go and get him.’ Her face flushed up; but she stood and did as she’d been told.

‘Did you really leave the force?’ I asked him. ‘They don’t act as if you did.’

‘Oh yes,’ he replied. ‘If you’d been a fly on the wall at the last discussion I had with the former chief constable, you wouldn’t ask that. The only choice the old bastard gave me was whether I resigned as a superintendent or was kicked out as a sergeant.’ He smiled, grimly. ‘I had my supporters, though; coppers who’ve actually been out on the trail of villains, rather than building their careers pushing paper.

‘When I left, they had a big dinner for me in the King James Hotel. It was organised by the Superintendents’ Association. They invited the boss man, but he declined, so we drank a toast to him in his absence, only none of us stood up for it.

‘There’s a new chief now, a bright, young guy; he was a detective sergeant under me before he went south for a spell, so my face fits again, even in the executive corridor.’

The constable reappeared, stone-faced, with Morrow following her. He beckoned us through, and led us into the CID office. ‘For fuck’s sake, sir,’ he began. ‘I’m in the middle of an interview.’

‘We know you are,’ Ricky replied, ‘and we know who you’ve got in there. You let her phone her mother, and she phoned Oz in hysterics. Now is the lassie getting home tonight, or what?’

Morrow took in a breath, then let it out. ‘I don’t know. It’s actually the second time we’ve interviewed her today. I had her in this morning before I saw you. She’s been formally arrested, and cautioned, but we haven’t charged her yet.’

‘What are your grounds?’ I asked.

It was as if the sergeant was answering Ross. ‘First she doesn’t have an alibi for last Wednesday, and she’s lying about it. She told me at her first interview that she was at home, but we’ve checked with the taxi firm that has a contract with her company, and they’ve got a record of her being picked up that evening and being taken back to her office. It’s in York Place, and you could spit from there to David Capperauld’s flat.

‘On the back of that, we got a warrant from the sheriff to search her house.’ He reached into a drawer in his desk, took out a clear plastic bag. ‘We found that.’

We leaned over and looked down; it was a carpenter’s awl, small and needle-pointed, with a red wooden handle.

‘So,’ I said. ‘I used to have one of those. My Dad still has. Why shouldn’t Alison, or are girlies not supposed to have DIY tools?’

‘That one was found in her house, but it has David Capperauld’s prints on it. . and one of hers.’

‘They were engaged. Maybe he helped her put up a curtain rail or something.’

‘And maybe he cut himself when he did it,’ Ron Morrow retorted. ‘It also appears to have blood on it.’

‘Maybe he did cut himself.’

‘And hair.’ Finally, the sergeant looked at me. ‘I’m sorry, Oz, but there’s a real chance that’s the murder weapon. I’m just waiting for someone from the lab to come and collect it. They should be able to tell us for sure.’

‘It might take a while, though,’ Ricky pointed out. ‘Can you not let the girl out on police bail meantime?’

‘I’m scared she’d abscond.’

‘Release her into her mother’s custody then.’

Morrow’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Have you spoken to her mother? She’s a Mr Kipling job.’ Even I had to agree with that; there was a strong hint of exceedingly good fruitcake about Alison’s mum. ‘I might release her into someone else’s custody, though. How about you, Oz?’

‘Hey, wait a minute,’ I protested. I thought about Susie, and, for all her independence, and her hands-off approach to me, about how she might feel about Alison spending a night or maybe more under my roof. Furthermore, what if she had bumped off Capperauld? All round, I felt uneasy. ‘I’m not fucking idle here; I’ve got work to do,’ I told him, grabbing the easiest cop-out I could.

‘It’s the only way,’ said Morrow, firmly.

I looked at Ricky, then shook my head. ‘Yeah, I know, Mrs Ross wouldn’t have it either.’

He snorted. ‘Mrs Ross hasn’t been having it for a while: at least not off me. There is no Mrs Ross, not at the moment. Okay, I’ll be responsible for the woman, for tonight at least.’

‘If you’re sure about that,’ Morrow told him, ‘I’ll go and do the paperwork now.’

‘Go on then,’ snapped Ricky, ‘before I change my mind.’