Her Last Mistake - Detective Gina Harte Series 06 (2020) Read online

  ‘Well, thank you for your help, err…’

  ‘Annie.’

  ‘Thanks, Annie. I best get back to my work.’ Gina left the woman behind the cordon and headed towards the door. She now had something to discuss with Charlie Carter. Their arguments would be a start. Could Charlie Carter have arranged for someone to hurt Francesca on his behalf? He may not have been present at the scene but that did not warrant crossing him off the suspect list, not yet.

  She hurried along the drive, past the forensics van and the police cars. Several crime scene investigators huddled around discussing what they would be doing and Bernard towered over them all. Slipping his beard into a beard cover, he nodded her way. Jacob was standing near a well-trimmed hedge, talking to Jennifer. He placed a loving hand on her arm and she smiled as she did up her forensics suit.

  ‘You got here fast.’ Bernard passed Gina a coverall, gloves, hair and boot covers and she began speaking as she slipped them on.

  ‘We were only around the corner following up on another lead. No luck with that tonight. Have you assessed the scene as yet?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll take you up in a moment. Two of my team are in the bathroom taking the crime scene photos. The husband is with an officer in the kitchen. He found his wife’s body so I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say to you.’

  ‘What are your initial thoughts?’

  Annie, the neighbour she’d spoken to only minutes earlier, had returned with her husband and several other neighbours and they were beginning to flock around the cordon.

  ‘I think we should go inside.’ Bernard glanced at the forming crowd.

  Gina agreed. A little privacy would make things easier. She followed Bernard through the front door, straight onto the stepping plates in the hallway and up the stairs.

  ‘We’ll go in the spare room to talk.’ They took a left through the first door.

  As Gina followed him, she glanced to the side and saw a woman in a white suit snapping away in the bathroom.

  ‘Finally, a place with no eavesdroppers. Right, we got here forty minutes ago and sealed the scene off immediately. What we have is the body of a young woman identified by her husband as Francesca Carter. She is lying dead in the bathtub. My initial thought is that she died by drowning.’

  ‘Intentional or accidental?’

  A serious expression washed over his face. ‘Definitely intentional. There are signs of a struggle. The bathroom is soaking wet and there is a lot of red bruising to her chest and neck. A clump of her hair has been pulled out and discarded onto the bathroom floor. Her ankles and feet have bled quite a lot and there is blood on the taps. It looks like she’d been kicking them during the struggle. Everything is leading us to conclude that her death was intentional. The shower curtain and pole are on the floor too.’

  ‘She or the perp may have grabbed it.’

  ‘We will need to carry out the post-mortem to confirm exact cause of death.’

  Gina felt her head beginning to thump. She wanted to stand in a dark room, just like Briggs had been doing. She wanted the noise of everything to quieten just for a moment so that she could order her chaotic thoughts. ‘Only a few days ago, Holly Long was suffocated to death. Today, Francesca Carter has died in what looks to be a drowning. Both starved of oxygen but both being killed in different ways. Both had been bridesmaids at the same wedding. Can you give me the time of death?’

  ‘Given all that we’ve tested and found so far, the water temperature in the bath and that of the body suggest that Francesca Carter was killed approximately two hours ago, give or take half an hour each way.’

  ‘So around seven this evening?’

  ‘Give or take half an hour to an hour each way. Do you want to see the scene before her body is taken away?’

  She nodded. She didn’t want to see any such scene. She wished there wasn’t one to see, but she owed it to her victim to see exactly what her attacker had done to her. A sinking feeling washed through her. Only a few hours ago, Francesca had been in the station telling them of the assault against her and Gina had failed in her duties. Samuel Avery had walked. If he’d done this, she knew she’d struggle to forgive herself. She felt a lump forming in her throat as her gaze fixed on the bathroom.

  Bernard covered his mouth and beard again, then beckoned her to follow him.

  Lights on, the starkness of the bathroom almost made her wince. The crime scene assistant sidestepped around her and out of the door, giving Gina and Bernard some room to step inside.

  The young woman lay crumpled in the murky bath, the sole of her bent over foot wrinkled. Her large brown eyes had a glassy death stare where she’d finally rested on the curve of the bath. She looked more petite than Gina remembered. When Gina lay in the bath, she often had to throw a leg over the side as it never felt long enough. Francesca was almost cocooned by the tub. Her brown hair splayed all around her.

  ‘Any sign of flowers anywhere?’

  ‘No, none. We found her phone though. It has been catalogued and placed with the evidence.’ Bernard awkwardly waited by her side. ‘There was also a note found in the bath but the ink had ran all over the page. I couldn’t tell what was written on it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The shower curtain had been pulled from the rings, some of which had pinged across the room, lying broken on the floor. Gina took a step back. Before she went, she needed to speak to Francesca’s husband. She needed to be able to read his expressions herself and she needed to get to the bottom of their relationship.

  ‘Keep me updated as you get results.’ What she really wanted to know was if something had been lodged in Francesca’s throat.

  Bernard nodded and gave a muffled reply under his mask. ‘Will do. We’re going to be collecting evidence for most of the evening and through the night. I’ll keep you posted.’

  Gina let out a sigh as she left the room and pulled her mask away from her face. A bead of sweat had trickled down the side of her temple and onto her ear. The panic that must have been coursing through Francesca’s body during her murder was already starting to haunt Gina. She swallowed and took a deep breath before heading downstairs to see what Charlie Carter had to say.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Charlie Carter sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands and a glass in front of him. The bottle of Irish whiskey stood open. He swigged the contents of the glass and refilled it.

  ‘I wish I’d stayed at home and waited for her. She should have come over to my mother’s and spent the evening with us. Something was wrong. I know it. She hadn’t seemed herself since Holly’s murder.’

  Gina gently stepped into the room and sat at the table opposite him. ‘I think the murder of a close friend would do that to anyone.’

  He shook his head and looked up with glassy blue eyes. ‘It wasn’t that. She wasn’t telling me something. I should have been there more but I just wanted to go back to work. I couldn’t be around all this grief and misery. It’s just not me and not many people understand that. I’m not a tea and sympathy kind of guy.’

  His defined jaw and stubble made him look quite ruggedly handsome but his hair really smartened him up. The classic cut gave his dark hair a precise side-parted line. He was older than Francesca by about ten years, Gina could tell that much. She also knew what secret Francesca was holding onto, that of the sexual assault she’d reported, but now wasn’t the right time to upset her bereaved husband even more.

  He slammed his fist onto the glass table, making all the fixings underneath shake. ‘I should have been here. I shouldn’t have gone to work. What kind of husband leaves his wife and goes off to work after something so horrible has happened? She must have died hating me.’ He swigged his drink down in one.

  ‘Would you like us to contact her parents?’

  ‘I’ve already called her father. Her mother died a few years ago. He should be here in a couple of hours. He’s absolutely devastated, as am I.’

  Gina pulled out her pocket notebo
ok. ‘I’m so sorry this has happened but we need to catch the person who did this to Francesca and we need your help. Would you be able to answer a few questions?’

  A recurring twitch on his cheek caught her eye. She knew he was grinding his teeth behind his closed mouth.

  ‘Yes, of course I will. If you find out who did this, I’ll kill him myself.’ He snatched the bottle and poured another drink.

  ‘Can you please tell me where you were today?’

  ‘Am I a suspect?’ He tilted his head to the side and scratched his stubble.

  ‘These questions are just routine.’

  He exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair. ‘I was at the office from nine in the morning. Then I was at court between ten and twelve. Back at the office about twelve thirty as that’s how long it takes me to get from the courts to my office. I left the office about five and came home. Fran wasn’t in. I left her a note in the kitchen.’ Gina remembered what Bernard had said about a note being found in the bath.

  ‘What did you write?’

  His brow furrowed. ‘I can’t remember the exact wording. I just said I was at my mother’s fixing a curtain pole and I told her to come over so that we could all get a takeaway but she didn’t want to come.’

  ‘What is it you do for a living?’

  ‘I’m a solicitor. I practise family law, that’s why I was at court this morning and it’s also why I didn’t want any time off. My client was going through a difficult time with not having any contact with her child.’

  ‘Can you think of anyone who would want to harm Francesca? Any known enemies?’

  He leaned forward and placed his head in his hands. ‘I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt her. She was such a sweet person. I can’t imagine my life without her even though we have our petty squabbles. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

  Gina made a few notes. He’d admitted to squabbling with his wife. She needed to know a little more. ‘What did you argue about?’

  His hands dropped back to the table with a thud. ‘I didn’t hurt her. I was at my mother’s. I came back and found my wife in the bath, dead. Why is this relevant?’

  For a moment, their gazes met, neither wanting to say the next word. Gina gave him a moment. Sometimes silence acted as a prompt.

  ‘If you must know, we argued about money, that’s all. I earn a substantial sum but Fran, I love her to bits—’ A moment of realisation hit him as he closed his eyes, trying to force away a potential tear. ‘I will always love her, you understand.’

  Gina nodded. She had a dead ex-husband and if the hatred she still felt towards him was as strong as Charlie’s love, then yes, she understood.

  ‘She liked to spend. I could see our bank balance going down all the time. She had no idea how to budget. The clothes, the holidays, it was as if she was constantly trying to keep up with her friends who all seem to be more well off. I’m from working-class stock. My mother had to budget for everything so I suppose the reckless spending worried me. Anyway, I didn’t mind for the first couple of years. When she agreed to go out with me, I felt like the luckiest person in the world. She was funny, beautiful and she made me feel like I was her everything. I’d just come out of a bad relationship myself and I’d hit an all-time low. Drinking, being late for work; I’d lost weight. She saved me. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her. If she was here now, I’d tell her to spend everything. It wouldn’t matter. It’s just money.’ He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. ‘I can’t do this now. I need time to let this sink in.’ He got up and moved over to the worktop.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Carter. I promise you we’ll be doing everything to catch whoever did this to your wife. Just to warn you, we will be putting out an appeal on the news. We need witnesses to come forward.’

  ‘Do it. Do whatever you can. Just catch who did this.’ He began to breathe through his teeth and stood against the worktop as he seethed. He crouched over the sink and let out a roar.

  All Gina could see in Charlie Carter was a broken man. Footsteps echoed through the hallway and Jacob peered through the door. ‘Guv, can I have a word?’

  She nodded as she removed a card from the small pile she kept in her pocket. ‘Mr Carter, we will need you to make a formal statement as soon as you can. If, in the meantime, you remember anything, however trivial you think it might be, please call me straight away.’

  He took the card and stared out of the kitchen window at the garden. Gina glanced out at the back gate. A crime scene assistant was swabbing the catch. ‘Do you keep your gate locked?’

  ‘We tried to remember to lock it but we never did. This is a safe neighbourhood. We’ve never worried about these things.’ He held his hand out and looked away as if to say that was all she was getting out of him that night. Gina sensed she needed to leave him alone.

  She left him to his grief in the kitchen and followed Jacob out. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Footprint in a patch of earth just outside the garden. Size nine and a popular brand of work boot.’

  It was more than she expected but less than she’d hoped for. ‘Average and popular. Narrows it down a little but not much, but I’ll take that for now.’

  She saw a pair of Charlie Carter’s shoes under the stairs. Bending down for a quick look at the underside, she shook her head. ‘Elevens. Call the bride. We need to speak to her. Two bridesmaids is too much of a coincidence and this can’t wait until tomorrow. Find out where Samuel Avery is. Also, put a look out on Phillip Brighton. If he wasn’t in his bedsit at the time of Francesca’s murder, where was he?’

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Fat tears plopped onto the empty chip wrapper. Cass wiped the slithering damp from her glistening face as she checked her phone. There had been no reply from Elvis and despite Kerry telling her to message tomorrow, she’d gone ahead and messaged her during the bus journey home. Kerry hadn’t replied either, but she’d read the message. She hated herself for being so impatient and chips, pie, a sausage and three scallops had filled a temporary gap.

  A cramp seared across her upper stomach. She was in for a night of stomach hell and the lingering smell of grease was making her guts turn, that and the thought of the Sambuca she’d sipped with Kerry. She hadn’t wanted them. Deceptively, her stomach had screamed for the food but now all it did was rebel at the contents she’d guzzled at super speed.

  The key turned in the lock. Elvis was home. He kicked the stiff door and it bounced back from the jamb on the wall as he muttered obscenities against their landlord. ‘Cass. You in?’

  She grabbed the chip papers and wedged them into the plastic bin, swiftly dropping the lid on it. Snatching the tea towel, she began wafting the smell, trying to get rid of it.

  ‘Are we having chips? I’m starving.’

  She sat at the table, her back to him as she wiped a tear away. ‘I had no idea when you’d be home so I didn’t get you any chips. I tried to call but you didn’t answer.’

  He kicked the table leg. ‘I’m not allowed to do anything without you nagging me. My phone battery ran out.’ No sooner had he said the last word of his sentence than his phone beeped. ‘But I managed to charge it at the Angel.’

  ‘So, is that where you were?’

  He paused and walked over to the cupboard, opening the doors. ‘Here we go with the questions again. Do I ask where you are every minute of the day?’

  Now she thought of it, he never asked her a thing about her day. It was as if he didn’t care. He always expected her to be with him when he wanted her around. She helped him and his slimy boss, Samuel, with their functions and got paid a pittance. She did these things to help him and he never appreciated a thing.

  ‘It’s all about you, isn’t it?’

  ‘And what the hell does that mean. I work all the hours I can get so that we can get out of this dump and just because I want a couple of hours with my mates, you’re on my case.’

  She wanted to ask who these mates were but the more she spoke, the wo
rse things would get and that could result in him walking out again. Besides, when she got closer to Kerry, she knew she’d change, and that would show him. She’d rip the rug from under his feet and watch him tumble.

  ‘Why have we got no food?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘You see to yourself. How selfish. That’s you all over, isn’t it, Cass? Selfish with a big fat capital S. Look at this.’

  She turned to see what he was pointing at.

  ‘Beans, a tin of tuna, parsnip soup – I mean, who eats parsnip soup?’ He opened the fridge. ‘Cauliflower rice and not much else. You buy this crap and neither of us eat it. Do you think it just looks good in the fridge? We both know that it’ll end up in the bin and you’ll stuff your face with the shittiest food going.’ She glanced away, shame burning on her face. His phone beeped again. He pulled it from his pocket and preened his quiff as he read the message. ‘Stuff it. I’ll get my own food.’ He picked up the wine receipt she’d thrown on the worktop. ‘What’s this? Are you sitting here drinking when I’m not here? Is that why you’re like this?’

  ‘No. Let me explain.’

  His phone beeped again.

  ‘Wait,’ she called as he stomped out of the room. ‘Don’t go.’ Even with him yelling at her, she still wanted him to stay and not to run to whoever was texting. Her bottom lip began to quiver. She had been selfish. She’d thought about herself and her need to fill a gaping emotional hole when she’d passed the chip shop. She hadn’t known when he’d be home otherwise she’d have got him something too and now he’d gone.

  Her mind wandered over all the possibilities that could make up Elvis’s secret. Was she someone he worked with? A pretty girl had started at the pub, maybe it was her. Or, maybe it was someone he met at the wedding reception a few days ago. He hadn’t seemed himself since. They had their moments but something had changed and she wondered if this was the end of their relationship. She mulled over her conversation with Kerry. She’d confessed to not being totally in love with Elvis. Maybe he could sense that, which is why he was spending his time with someone else. There wasn’t much binding them together apart from a shared tenancy on a crummy flat, one she could just about manage to pay on her own if she really had to. She had to get to the bottom of what was happening.