Stop Dead Page 5

  ‘How long will all that take? Only my wife’s coming home this evening and she’ll need to put the car in the garage.’

  ‘As long as it takes for the forensic team to complete their search. I’m afraid I can’t say how long that will be.’

  Keith stood aside to let the two women in. Entering a neat narrow hallway Geraldine’s eyes were caught by a smear of blood on the light carpet. Noticing the direction of her gaze he started forward.

  ‘It’s not how it looks,’ he stammered.

  ‘How does it look?’

  ‘You think it’s blood, don’t you? Well, I think so too. That’s why I suspected something was wrong in the first place, but he never came here. I didn’t know him. It was my shoe, the blood was on my shoe –’

  Keith was babbling nervously.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to sit down and start at the beginning, Mr Apsley.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Come on in. Let’s go in the living room.’

  ‘We’ll get that checked forensically,’ Sam said, pausing and looking down at the stain.

  ‘There’s no need. I know where it came from. It’s from that car. I trod in it, you see. Look.’

  He darted forward, picked up a trainer and held it upside down.

  ‘See?’

  He waved the shoe at them before turning to lead them into a small square sitting room, furnished in pine and light blue. Plonking himself down on a chair, he launched into a rambling account of his discovery of the body.

  ‘My wife’s sister just had a baby, so Jenny’s gone over there. I’m here on my own. Yesterday morning one of my neighbours knocks on the door making a fuss about a car parked outside my garage, blocking his garage. That was the first I knew about it.’

  ‘What time was it when your neighbour called on you?’

  ‘Early, about seven maybe. I’d just started breakfast.’

  He gave them his neighbour’s details and returned to his narrative, describing how he had gone to the lock ups to take a look at the car.

  ‘You didn’t report this until after seven yesterday evening, nearly twelve hours later,’ Geraldine pointed out.

  ‘I know, but I had no idea there was anyone inside. I didn’t take a close look at it at first, I just clocked it was there and went to work. I hoped it would be gone by the time I got home but it was still there in the evening so I went up for a closer look and saw there was someone in the driver’s seat. That’s when I trod in the blood. At first I thought it was some kind of oil although it wasn’t leaking from the engine –’

  He broke off with a puzzled frown.

  ‘I couldn’t see much. I thought he was asleep, only he didn’t move, even when I shouted at him. I called out and banged on the window but he still didn’t move. So then I thought he must be drunk. I didn’t realise I’d trodden in anything until I came in and saw the mess on the carpet.’

  ‘You tried to clean it up.’

  Sam’s comment sounded like an accusation.

  ‘Yes, I know. I didn’t want Jenny to see it. She’s always on at me to take my shoes off in the house. We’ve got this cream carpet in the hall. I told her it wasn’t the best idea, but she insisted it would be all right. And it was, until this. We’ve had it for two years.’

  ‘So you tried to remove the blood stain from your carpet,’ Sam interrupted Keith’s panicked babbling.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Didn’t you wonder where it came from?’

  ‘I thought it was oil.’

  ‘Oil?’

  ‘I just assumed because it looked black to begin with, but when I started rubbing it with water it turned red and that’s when I knew.’

  He raised stricken eyes to Geraldine.

  ‘Thank you. We might ask you to come to the police station to answer a few more questions but that’s all for now, Mr Apsley.’

  He accompanied them to the door.

  ‘Inspector, can you tell me the best way to get rid of blood stains? I need to clean the carpet before Jenny –’

  ‘Please don’t touch the blood stain on your carpet for the time being, Mr Apsley.’

  ‘But I can’t just leave it. Jenny’ll go ballistic if she sees it.’

  ‘We’ll need to send a scene of crime officer in to examine it first.’

  ‘Why do you need to examine it? I told you where it comes from. You know what it is.’

  ‘And we’ll need your shoe –’

  Keith stared at her, belligerent with sudden fear.

  ‘What for?’

  His voice rose in agitation.

  ‘And when are you going to move that car? I told you, Jenny will be home this evening and she’ll need to put the car in the garage. There’s no parking round here without a resident’s permit. We haven’t even got one because we don’t need it. We’ve got a garage –’

  He paused and took a step back.

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just – I’m not feeling quite myself. This whole thing’s been horrible.’

  ‘Mr Apsley, we’ll send a scene of crime officer in as soon as possible,’ Geraldine assured him. ‘Once they’ve finished I’m sure they’ll be able to advise you the best way to remove the blood stain from your carpet.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Did you think there was something a bit dodgy about him?’ Sam asked as they walked back to the car.

  Geraldine shrugged.

  ‘My guess is he’s been drinking this morning. Not a good idea when you’ve missed a night’s sleep after a shock.’

  ‘But it’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?’ Sam persisted.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘His wife goes away and suddenly a dead body turns up on his doorstep.’

  ‘There’s nothing to suggest he had anything to do with it. Someone just happened to deposit a body by the lock ups. It’s a quiet enough spot.’

  Sam wasn’t satisfied.

  ‘What about the blood stain on his carpet?’

  Geraldine looked thoughtful.

  ‘He gave a reasonable account of how that got there. If he was implicated in the murder, why would he report it to us? And would he be so quick to show us the blood in his hall and on his shoe if he was guilty?’

  ‘We could hardly miss seeing the blood on the carpet. He didn’t exactly show it to us,’ Sam argued.

  Geraldine shook her head.

  ‘No. It doesn’t add up, Sam. He could easily have covered up the blood stain with a rug, or spilled red wine over it to mask it, or something, and we’d have been none the wiser. Why would he draw our attention to it? And why show us his shoe and admit he’d stepped in the blood right by the car when he could have disposed of the shoe without our seeing it and we might never have known he’d been anywhere near the door of the Mercedes. He could simply have reported what he’d seen through the windscreen, or just reported the car and not mentioned he knew there was someone inside it at all.’

  Sam scowled.

  ‘Well, it all seems a bit odd to me.’

  ‘We’ll certainly check him out, and his missing wife, but I don’t think someone who’s just committed a murder would be in such a hurry to summon us, and go out of his way to draw suspicion on himself. Why would he?’

  ‘To put us off the scent,’ Sam argued. ‘He didn’t exactly rush to call us. The car had been there all day, maybe longer for all we know. He said himself he saw it when he went out yesterday morning. He must’ve realised someone would report it eventually and it’s parked right outside his garage. He probably thought it would look odd if he didn’t report it himself.’

  ‘Well, maybe, but I don’t think so.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘For a start, he seemed far more worried about his wife’s reaction to the stain on the carpet than about the body outside his garage.’

  ‘Transference?’

  ‘Maybe. Now come on, we’ve got an important job to do.’

  Sam’s face fell.

  ‘Oh Jesus, what now?’

  Geraldine
turned to her with a laugh.

  ‘Lunch of course. Or aren’t you hungry any more?’

  Sam grinned.

  ‘Ravenous,’ she replied. ‘I know this great Chinese chippy not far from here.’

  CHAPTER 10

  ‘This place must have cost a few bob,’ Sam said with a low whistle as they cruised along an elegant tree-lined avenue in Hampstead and drew up outside a large detached house. She stared around in admiration before following Geraldine through an iron gate into a small front garden.

  ‘I reckon some of the windows at the back must have a view over the heath.’

  ‘Put your eyes back in,’ Geraldine smiled.

  The door was opened by a slim blonde woman in her late thirties, well groomed rather than beautiful. She was wearing a figure hugging dark green pencil skirt and matching shoes, with a pale green silk blouse which set off blonde hair as glossy as that of a model in a shampoo advertisement. Grey eyes peered at them through a long fringe. There was something guarded in her solemn expression. Whatever other emotions she might be feeling, the widow was clearly frightened.

  ‘Amy Henshaw?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Geraldine held out her warrant card.

  ‘I’m Detective Inspector Geraldine Steel and this is Detective Sergeant Samantha Haley. May we come in?’

  ‘This is about my husband, isn’t it? Has something happened to him? He hasn’t been home since Sunday and I’ve been so worried –’

  She raised a manicured hand to her mouth.

  ‘Let’s go inside, shall we?’

  Amy led them across a spacious hall into a living room comfortably furnished with armchairs, a small settee, and several occasional tables neatly positioned within easy reach of every chair.

  ‘I suggest you sit down, Mrs Henshaw.’

  ‘What is it? What’s happened? Tell me he’s all right.’

  She was chattering nervously, seeming far too jittery considering she had no idea yet what had happened.

  ‘I’m afraid your husband’s dead, Mrs Henshaw.’

  ‘Dead? He can’t be!’

  Her surprise seemed genuine.

  ‘It’s not –’

  For an instant Geraldine thought she caught a glimpse of real terror in Amy’s expression before she threw herself forward, hiding her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with noisy sobs.

  Geraldine gave Sam a quick nod and the sergeant set off to find the kitchen.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Haley’s gone to make you a cup of tea,’ Geraldine said quietly. ‘When you’re ready, I’d like to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘Questions?’

  Her shoulders were motionless now, her face still hidden.

  ‘What sort of questions?’

  ‘We’re investigating your husband’s death.’

  ‘Investigating? What do you mean?’

  ‘Mrs Henshaw, your husband didn’t die from natural causes. He was murdered.’

  Amy Henshaw shuddered. Dropping her hands, she peered up at Geraldine through her fringe and spoke rapidly, almost hysterically.

  ‘I don’t understand. You haven’t told me how he died. What makes you think he was murdered? That’s insane.’

  Her grey eyes glared at Geraldine.

  ‘It’s a horrible thing to say. No one would have wanted to harm Patrick. No one. What happened? Was it a drunken brawl? He liked to drink sometimes …’

  Her voice petered out.

  Geraldine leaned forward, watching Amy’s expression closely.

  ‘Was your husband often involved in fights?’

  ‘No. He wasn’t. He was never involved in any fighting. What makes you think he was ever in a fight?’

  ‘You said he drank and you thought he might have been in a brawl. It was your word.’

  The widow’s eyes flickered round the room, avoiding Geraldine’s gaze.

  ‘Was he a violent man?’

  ‘No, he wasn’t violent. He was… He was a good man.’

  ‘Were the police ever called when he was in a fight?’

  ‘No, no, there was nothing like that. No one was ever hurt. He just used to drink a bit. It was nothing serious.’

  Amy dropped her eyes and stared at her hands, while her fingers fidgeted with her wedding ring.

  ‘Two months ago you reported your husband for domestic violence.’

  ‘I retracted it,’ Amy whispered.

  She looked pale.

  ‘It wasn’t true, it was just … a mistake.’

  ‘A mistake?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she went on, her voice stronger. ‘It was a mistake. It was my own fault. I thought Patrick was seeing someone else, but he wasn’t. He was just working long hours. I made a mistake.’

  Amy stood up abruptly and walked over to the door.

  ‘I’d like you to leave now.’

  Geraldine didn’t move. Amy spoke angrily.

  ‘I don’t want to discuss this any more. Please, just go. I’ve just lost my husband.’

  Geraldine made no move to leave.

  ‘My sergeant will be here with a cup of tea for you soon, and then I’ll need to ask you a few more questions.’

  ‘No, no, I can’t, not now. Not yet. I can’t talk about this. It’s all too– too confusing.’

  Amy sat down again and flung her head in her hands. Geraldine could see nothing of the widow’s face behind its trembling screen of hair.

  ‘Don’t you want to help us find out who killed your husband?’

  Amy Henshaw sat up suddenly as though she had been stung, tossed back her hair and glared at Geraldine.

  ‘Of course I do.’

  Sam came in holding a delicate china cup and saucer decorated with blue flowers.

  ‘Here you go,’ she said, handing the tea to Amy. ‘I’m sorry, this tea set was all I could find.’

  Amy took a sip of tea and pulled a face. She put the cup down on the nearest table.

  ‘I don’t take sugar.’

  ‘You’ve had a shock, Mrs Henshaw. Sweet tea is the best thing for you right now. Drink it.’

  ‘And then we would like to ask you a few questions,’ Geraldine repeated gently.

  ‘Can’t you leave me alone?’

  ‘We’d like to run through a few routine questions first.’

  Reluctantly, Amy sipped the tea and nodded, her eyes downcast.

  ‘Go on then. Let’s get this over with.’

  ‘Mrs Henshaw,’ Geraldine leaned forward. ‘Were you aware of any bad feeling towards your husband? Anyone he might have had a falling out with?’

  Amy shook her head.

  ‘Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm him? Anyone who had a grudge against him? An aggrieved employee, perhaps?’

  Amy put her cup and saucer down on the table beside her.

  ‘Patrick didn’t discuss his work with me. I don’t know anything about it. He never said anything.’

  ‘Did he ever mention any names? Any arguments he might have had?’

  ‘No. I told you, he never brought his work home.’

  Her voice was clipped, curt, and she didn’t look up, every inch the bereaved wife in shock.

  Despite feeling that Amy Henshaw was playing a role, Geraldine spoke more gently.

  ‘Had you been married for long?’

  ‘Twenty years.’

  ‘Was it a happy marriage?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Your marriage. Was it a happy one?’

  ‘Yes. Of course it was. Patrick is – he was – a wonderful husband. Whatever I wanted –’

  She broke down in tears, hiding her face in her hands.

  ‘We’ll leave it there for now, Mrs Henshaw.’

  Geraldine stood up.

  ‘Here’s my card. Please call me if you want anything, or if you think of anything else you’d like to tell me. Now, would you like us to call anyone? You might not want to be alone –’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Just leave me alone.’
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  ‘So what did you make of the grief stricken widow?’ Sam asked as the front door closed behind them.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Geraldine admitted. ‘It was a bit much of her to claim he was never violent, just two months after she accused him of beating her up, or at least hitting her. Did she think we wouldn’t know about that?’

  ‘Well, there was something distinctly odd about her, if you ask me,’ Sam said.

  ‘Odd in what way?’

  ‘I don’t know, really. There’s nothing I can put my finger on, but I didn’t believe a single word she said.’

  Geraldine nodded.

  ‘I thought that too. She’s covering something up, but what? It might have nothing whatever to do with her husband’s death, but she was definitely frightened.’

  ‘Yes, that’s the impression I had, which suggests –’ Sam left the sentence unfinished.

  CHAPTER 11

  The pathologist’s report made unpleasant reading. The vicious injuries inflicted on Henshaw seemed to suggest the killer had known his victim. If that was true, with luck it could make the case relatively easy to wrap up; sooner or later painstaking investigation into everyone who knew Henshaw would lead to the murderer. In the meantime, Reg Milton was waiting impatiently to find out what information had been gathered so far. After spending most of the day studying reports, there had been little time to deal with a pile of paperwork that was growing on his desk, trivial but pressing.

  The detective chief inspector had summoned his team for a late afternoon briefing and waited while they all gathered in the incident room. Geraldine and Sam entered together, both clutching cups of coffee, smiling at something they had just been discussing. Watching them, Reg felt a pang of regret at the camaraderie he had relinquished in moving up the hierarchy. He greeted them all cheerfully before turning to Geraldine.

  ‘You questioned Keith Apsley, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what did you make of him?’

  ‘I think he was on the level, sir.’

  ‘My name’s Reg,’ he reminded her with a smile.

  ‘Sorry. Old habits die hard. I’m used to working in the Home Counties.’

  When Geraldine returned his smile, Reg thought that perhaps he had been right to go for promotion after all. Forming an effective team out of a disparate group of strangers was just a different kind of challenge to those faced by officers working out in the community. Even behind a desk he could make a difference. He turned his attention to what Geraldine was saying.