Chapter 52 #2
In the front-page photo, Con was wearing a cardigan. This in itself was odd, but odder still was the fact that it was identical to the one Derek was wearing in the promotional shot.
Probably a coincidence. Helen sighed. It meant nothing, but at least it was a new fact.
She took the photocopies of both photographs and set off to catch a bus to Ealing.
The exterior of the small terraced house was immaculate. Pansies stood in neat rows around the edge of the patch of green grass and, as Helen rang the brass bell, a little fresh polish smeared her index finger.
The door opened.
‘Mr Garratt?’
Despite being well into his seventies, Helen knew he recognised her instantly.
‘Miss McCarthy. Have you come to murder me on my doorstep?’
‘No. I’ve come to ask for your help.’
‘I see.’ He studied her warily. ‘Forgive me if I feel ill at ease. It’s not the first time I’ve had an ex-con turn up to exact their revenge. I have a panic button wired to the police station for just such a situation as this.’
‘The last thing I want is for you to die. I’m trying to clear my name and you are one of the only people that can help me. You can search me for a gun or a knife if you want. Please just give me a few minutes of your time.’
‘You have them, right now.’
‘Okay. I want to know exactly what Sorcha said before she died.’
‘As you know very well, Miss McCarthy, we asked her if it was you she’d seen standing at the door of recording suite one with the gun and she told Mr Daly and myself that it was.’
‘And that was all she said?’
‘I can’t remember her exact wording, but yes, we both heard her confirm it. I wrote every word she spoke down in my notepad.’
‘Would you by any chance have the notepad with the exact wording in it?’
‘Sorcha’s statement was typed up and will be in the police file.’
‘I think it’s unlikely I’ll be given access to that, don’t you?’
‘Highly. Miss McCarthy, can I give you one word of advice? You were not only convicted of this crime, but you lost two appeals. The evidence against you was beyond reasonable doubt. Now you are a free woman. Let it go.’
‘I didn’t do it, Inspector Garratt. My God, if I had wanted to kill either Sorcha or Con, I certainly wouldn’t have used my own gun, hid it in the cistern and then walked as bold as brass past the security guard!
It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.
’ Helen’s shoulders drooped. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll go.’
‘Look, give me your address. If I can get hold of the statement, I’ll send a photocopy to you, but it won’t do you any good. Mrs Daly’s words are there in black and white and there are two witnesses who heard her.’
Helen scribbled her address on the back of her bus ticket and handed it to him.
‘Still the same address. You managed to hang on to the house then.’
‘Yes, it’s about the only thing I’ve got left. Goodbye then.’
‘Miss McCarthy, just one thing before you go. As you know, past crimes are always inadmissible at a trial, but I’ve always wondered . . . Did you kill that young man we found in the bath at his flat? Tony . . . er . . .’
‘Tony Bryant? No! Of course not! You really do believe I’m a calculating, cold-blooded murderess, don’t you?’
‘My job was to look at the facts, Miss McCarthy. With your conviction for Sorcha Daly’s death and your presence in the flat of another murder victim, it has made me ponder the possibility, especially as Bryant’s murder was never solved.’
Helen could feel the tears burning the back of her eyes. ‘You see? Until I clear my name everyone will react like you do. I’m guilty until proven innocent.’ Helen clenched her jaw. ‘And I intend to prove that innocence if it’s the last thing I do. Goodbye, Inspector!’
He watched her turn and stride off down the path. She had certainly convinced herself of her innocence, if no one else. He’d seen it before. If he remembered correctly, it had been an open-and-shut case.
Garratt closed the door and went into the small room he used as a library.
There on the shelves, filed neatly in alphabetical order, were photocopies of his case notes on crimes he’d investigated that had specifically interested him.
One of his only pleasures these days was to look at the unsolved ones again. It kept his brain active.
‘Daly . . . Daly . . .’ He pulled the file off the shelf and, just for the hell of it, removed Tony Bryant’s file too.
Moving to his desk, Garratt sat down and opened them up.
He found the page that Helen McCarthy had been so interested in, then flicked through the rest of the notes and statements he had taken from all personnel who worked at Metropolitan.
No, there was no denying her guilt. His eyes moved across to Bryant’s file and read through the contents again.
‘Hold on a minute . . .’
Garratt re-examined the Daly file to double-check.
Yes, sure enough, the name was the same.
It was a total coincidence, surely? Garratt had seen many in his time, but one never knew . . .
He took out a sheet of writing paper and an envelope. He enclosed the photocopied page from his notebook, then scribbled down the name he’d just discovered. He presumed Helen knew of the connection, but if she didn’t, it might be worth looking into.
Garratt sealed the envelope, addressed and stamped it, then decided it was time for a cup of tea.