The Scent of Death

Chapter 25

‘I don’t know.’

I tried to keep the frustration from my voice. Across the scuffed Formica table, Ward and Whelan sat in identical plastic chairs to mine, their faces blanked of emotion. We were at a police station only a mile from the mortuary, a tired red-brick building that seemed designed to crush the spirits of anyone who passed through its doors. I’d been in the dingy room for two hours, first answering questions from a detective sergeant I didn’t know, then waiting for Ward and Whelan to arrive.

If I’d hoped things might improve after that, I’d soon learned otherwise.

‘Try to remember,’ Whelan said. The DI looked crumpled and tired, and the overhead lighting gave his complexion a sickly tint. ‘None of the other witnesses were as close as you. You were right next to it.’

I didn’t need reminding. But the entire incident was starting to seem unreal, a before-and-after too raw to think about. The young nurse and I hadn’t been on our own with Mears for long. Police rapid-response teams were at the scene in minutes, cars and vans disgorging dark-clad officers in body armour. For a while all had been confusion, the strobing blue lights lending a nightmarish quality to the scene until it was established there was no further risk. Gradually, some semblance of order had been restored. Paramedics rushed to tend to Mears, and as the nurse and I were led away I looked back to see screens being set up around Oduya’s body.

That was the last I saw of him.

I’d been quizzed about what had happened, then given paper towels and antiseptic gel from the ambulance to clean up before being taken to a police car. The rain on the windows turned the coloured lights of the street into prismatic smears as I was driven to the station. Once there, I’d been taken to the interview room and brought a polystyrene cup of tea.

It sat in front of me now, untouched and with a scum of grease on its surface, as Whelan continued to quiz me.

‘What sort of car was it?’

I tried to visualize it again. ‘A hatchback. Not a Golf, but something the same sort of size.’

‘Can you remember the registration? Even part of it?’

I shook my head. ‘It was over too fast.’

‘What about the colour?’

‘Dark, but under the streetlights it was hard to tell.’

‘Blue, black, red?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘And you didn’t get a look at the driver? Or how many people were in the car?’

‘No, I’ve told you. It was dark and raining, and I couldn’t see for the headlights. There must be street cameras around there, can’t you pull something from them?’

‘Thanks, that had never occurred to us,’ Whelan said flatly. ‘Could it have been accidental?’

‘No.’ I was certain of that much, at least. ‘The driver must have seen him. Oduya called to me, and as soon as he started to cross the road the car pulled out and drove straight at him.’

‘So it was waiting?’

I heard the squeal of rubber again as the engine was gunned, saw Oduya turn as the headlights picked him out. I tried to dispel the image. ‘That’s how it looked.’

‘Some of the other witnesses say the car swerved to try and avoid Mears after it hit Oduya. Is that how you saw it?’

‘The car seemed to weave around as Mears tried to get out of the way,’ I said, trying to recall how it had happened. ‘It could have been trying to avoid him, I don’t know. But there was no chance of that, not at the speed it was going.’

Ward stirred. She’d been largely silent so far. ‘What was Oduya doing there?’

I’d known that question was coming. ‘I’d arranged to meet him.’

Whelan blew out a breath in disgust. ‘Jesus Christ.’

Ward’s expression didn’t change. ‘Why?’

‘He called me this afternoon and said he’d got a pro bono case he wanted me to take. It was nothing to do with St Jude’s, so I agreed to meet him after work to discuss it.’

‘At the mortuary?’

‘No, a pub nearby. The Plume of Feathers. I think he’d probably come by Tube and was on his way there, because he was coming from the direction of the station. It was just by chance that I left as he was passing.’

‘By chance,’ Whelan echoed. ‘And was it by chance that the car happened to be waiting for him?’

‘I’ve no idea. I didn’t tell anyone I was meeting him, if that’s what you mean.’

‘You didn’t tell us, that’s for sure.’

‘There was no reason to, it didn’t have anything to do with the inquiry,’ I fired back.

‘All right.’ Ward sounded too fatigued to be angry. ‘Who suggested whereabouts to meet, you or Oduya?’

I thought back. ‘He did. He said he knew the pub from his time at the law courts.’

Whelan gave a snort but said nothing. Ward nodded. ‘Oduya didn’t have a car, so anyone who knew where he was going could guess he’d get the Tube. All they had to do was park up and wait.’

I pressed my thumb and forefinger into my eyes, seeing him stepping out from the pavement: Dr Hunter! I shook my head, a physical attempt to dispel the images the words had provoked.

‘Have you any idea why?’ I asked.

‘We can’t entirely rule out terrorism yet, but this looks more like a targeted attack on Adam Oduya,’ Ward said. ‘It’s possible someone had a grudge against Daniel Mears we don’t know about, but so far everything suggests he’s an innocent casualty. It was just bad luck he was crossing the road at the same time.’

‘Good luck for you, though,’ Whelan said. ‘If you’d left the mortuary first it could have been you instead.’

He didn’t need to remind me of that either. ‘Have you any idea who the driver was?’

Whelan shrugged. ‘Oduya made a career of upsetting people. If we’re looking at anyone with a grievance against him, it’ll be a long list.’

But I’d noticed the hesitation before he answered. I looked from one of them to the other. ‘You do, don’t you?’

Whelan glanced at Ward. She sighed. ‘Keith Jessop’s disappeared. We went to interview him yesterday about the asbestos and the assault at St Jude’s. No one knows where he is. His wife last saw him three days ago, when he turned up drunk and abusive after the scene with Adam Oduya. She tried to throw him out, he started smashing things and then ran off when a neighbour called the police. It’s logged, we checked.’

Jessop? I sat back in my chair, trying to fit the contractor into the equation. The man was a drunken bully who’d made no secret of his feelings for Oduya. He’d blamed him for holding up the demolition work, even tried to assault him in front of police officers.

Still, there was a big difference between taking a swing at someone and deliberately running them down. ‘You really think it could have been him?’

‘I think I’d like the chance to ask him,’ Ward said drily. ‘We knew the delays at St Jude’s had hurt Jessop financially, but it’s worse than we thought. He’s bankrupt. The banks have foreclosed on his debts, and because he’d put his house up as collateral he’s going to lose that as well. And his wife’s divorcing him, not that I blame her. He’s lost everything.’

It was hard to think. I felt exhausted, emotionally and physically drained by what had happened outside the mortuary. Even so, something about this wasn’t right. ‘I saw Jessop’s car at St Jude’s. It was an old Mercedes. A saloon, not a hatchback.’

‘He could have more than one car,’ Whelan said irritably. ‘It might be a work vehicle, or one he stole. We don’t know yet.’

‘What we do know is that Jessop’s a drunk with a violent temper and a public grudge against Oduya,’ Ward went on. ‘That alone’s enough to pull him in for questioning, so the fact he’s disappeared doesn’t look good. And it isn’t only the asbestos he’s been lying about.’

I rubbed my temples where a headache had begun to form. ‘What do you mean?’

Ward paused, perhaps regretting what she’d said. The strain of recent days was etched on her face. Whelan folded his arms and stared at his lap as she continued.

‘This doesn’t go any further than this room, OK? We’ve learned Jessop had access to St Jude’s sooner than he’s been claiming. He was supposed to have surveyed the site a full year before demolition work actually started. We’re still looking into the dates, but that potentially overlaps with when Christine Gorski and Darren Crossly went missing.’

‘Wait a minute,’ I said, struggling to take this in. ‘Are you saying now he could be involved in their murders? Not just the hit-and-run?’

‘I’m not saying anything yet. But earlier today we got a warrant to search Jessop’s work premises. We found plastic tarpaulins in his yard like the one used to wrap Christine Gorski’s body. And before you say it, yes, I know half the builders in the country probably use something similar. But Jessop had a guard dog in his yard, a black-and-tan Rottweiler. Same colour as the dog hairs we found on the tarpaulin from the loft.’

‘Not much use as a guard dog,’ Whelan commented. ‘It was daft as a brush. It’d run out of food and water, so it was just pleased somebody had come to see it.’

I barely heard him. It was one thing being told that Jessop was suspected of the hit-and-run that had killed Oduya. But the sadistic murders that had taken place at St Jude’s were something else entirely.

‘Guard dog aside,’ Ward continued, pointedly, ‘most of the tarpaulins were coated in cement dust and powder, which, admittedly, is only what you’d expect, given his trade. But some of them had dried paint on them, the same blue as the paint on the tarpaulin from the loft. We’re getting it analysed, but it looks identical. And Jessop’s wife let us take some of his clothes, so we’ve got samples of his hair. If his DNA matches the human hair we found on the tarpaulin as well, then he’s going to have some tough questions to answer.’

I sat back in my chair, numbed by this new information. ‘So where does this leave Gary Lennox?’

Ward spread her hands. ‘At this moment in time, he’s still the main suspect for the St Jude’s inquiry. But that was always going to hinge on whether his fingerprints match the ones from the false wall. We still haven’t been able to check that, so in the meantime we need to find Jessop and—’

She broke off as her phone rang in her bag. Taking it out, her face cleared of all expression as she looked at the screen.

‘I need to take this.’

Pushing herself to her feet, she left the room. Whelan and I sat in an uneasy silence after the door closed behind her. He took out his phone and began scrolling down the screen.

‘This is going to be bad for her, isn’t it?’ I said.

For a second I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he reluctantly lowered his phone.

‘Yeah, it is.’

‘Tonight wasn’t her fault.’

‘Doesn’t make any difference. This whole investigation’s been a PR train wreck. Might not matter so much if we’d anything to show for it, but we’ve got one suspect practically out of bounds in hospital and now another on the run. Doesn’t look good, however you try to spin it.’

No, it didn’t. ‘Do you think she’ll stay on as SIO?’

Again, there was a pause. ‘It all depends. If we get a breakthrough with either Jessop or Lennox in the next twenty-four hours, she could still come out smelling of roses. If not…’

He shrugged.

If not, the finger of blame would be levelled firmly at Ward, I thought. An inexperienced SIO — and a pregnant one, at that — in charge of her first murder inquiry would make a convenient scapegoat, regardless of whether it was fair or not. This must have seemed a fantastic opportunity when Ward was appointed.

Now it could end her career.

The door opened and she came back in. Whelan and I both looked at her as she returned to her seat, but her face was unreadable.

‘We’ve heard from the hospital,’ she said, sitting back down. ‘Daniel Mears is out of surgery. He lost the leg.’

Jesus, poor Mears. It was only a few hours before that I’d seen him in the pub, brooding and withdrawn. Whatever had been bothering him would seem inconsequential now.

‘At least he’s alive,’ Whelan offered.

‘Is that supposed to count as a win?’ she snapped. ‘Only one dead and one maimed? Jesus.’

Whelan coloured, looking down at the tabletop. Ward gave a long sigh.

‘Sorry, Jack.’

He nodded, though his jaw muscles didn’t unclench.

Ward pushed a hand through her hair, making it even more unruly than before. ‘OK, I think we’re done here. I need to get back to headquarters. We’ll have to prepare a press statement and Ainsley’s going to want briefing.’

‘Do you need me for anything else?’ I asked. I was expecting her to say I could leave. Instead, she considered me for a moment.

‘Actually, yes,’ she said. ‘We have another problem.’