Chapter 100
Una Savage was waiting in the reception area when Lottie returned from Alice’s house.
‘Inspector, I have something that might help you.’
‘Oh, I’m in a rush, Una. Talk to the duty sergeant.’
‘Wait. I heard gossip in the shop earlier that you’d arrested Caroline’s mother. I remembered her from Freya’s party because she rubbed me up the wrong way. Anyhow, I have some photos from the party.’ She waved her phone. ‘If you give me your number or email, I can send them to you.’
Interested now, Lottie said, ‘Show them to me.’
She slapped the clear evidence bags on the interview room table and sat. Alice was still waiving her right to a solicitor. Her arrogance suited the detectives just fine.
‘She thinks she can talk her way out of this,’ Lottie had said to Boyd before they entered the room.
He’d replied, ‘She’s steeped in a sense of superiority and her own self-importance.’
She had to agree as she watched Alice turn up her nose, arms folded, eyes dark with disinterest.
‘This is your laptop,’ Lottie said, shuffling out of her coat, thankful that the lab had fast-tracked the fingerprint and DNA comparisons.
Alice shrugged her shoulders. ‘Never saw it before in my life.’
‘Your fingerprints are all over it.’
‘Doesn’t prove it’s mine.’
‘Oh, we can prove it. But that’s something for solicitors to debate in future. Sure you don’t need one?’
‘Guilty people need a solicitor. Does that answer your question?’ The arrogance dripped off each word as if coated in syrup. In danger of slapping the smug smirk, Lottie sat on her hands.
‘The contents of said laptop make for an interesting read.’ She didn’t offer more information.
She wanted Alice to dig herself deeper into the hole she had already started.
Like how she knew that the shoes that had left the mark on Caroline’s back had ended up on the victim’s feet.
Lottie hadn’t brought it up yet because she knew that once a solicitor got wind of it, it could be swatted away as Alice just making an assumption.
A confession would be good, but she was too shrewd to slip up again. Silence reigned.
Boyd lost patience before either woman did. He tapped the other evidence bag. ‘These items of clothing belong to you and you can’t deny it. Your DNA is all over them.’
‘So what?’
‘They were buried in one of your flower beds,’ Boyd said triumphantly, and Lottie wanted to warn him. Goading Alice wouldn’t work.
‘Maybe I was returning them to the environment because I no longer need them.’
‘Do you know why they are now part of our evidence?’ Boyd asked.
‘I’m sure you’re about to tell me.’ Alice’s lip curled, but Lottie thought she saw a glimmer of uncertainty flash across her eyes.
‘We found Cameron Healy’s DNA on them,’ Boyd went on.
‘That’s odd.’ Alice had recovered quickly, donning a faux-confused look. ‘I have no explanation for that, unless he came in contact with me at Freya’s party.’
Lottie had had enough of the pussyfooting. ‘When Detective Sergeant Boyd says Cameron’s DNA was on your clothing, he means Cameron’s blood.’
The woman’s thin face appeared to siphon the life out of her body, and her breathing turned raspy. Lottie could see her literally biting her tongue.
‘Care to explain?’
‘Someone is framing me.’
‘And who would that be?’
‘Sadie Clarke and her poxy husband.’
Lottie inhaled deeply. The woman had an answer for everything, and she could pre-empt Alice’s reply before she laid out the next piece of evidence.
‘This envelope of money was found wrapped in plastic in the same bin.’
‘That’s what Thomas Clarke brought over to my house. There’s your proof.’
‘What proof?’
‘The Clarkes are trying to frame me.’
‘There’s a problem with that scenario, Alice.’
‘What problem?’
‘You told me that Thomas took the money back.’
‘I told you he was a liar. I have a good memory, Inspector.’
‘And do you remember telling me that the shoe used to harm Caroline was on her foot when she was found dead?’
Alice paused, and Lottie could imagine the computations going on in her mind.
‘I just assumed that whoever killed her found a clever way of hiding evidence.’
‘The thing is, Alice, your DNA was inside those shoes.’
‘Then I must have given them to Caroline.’
‘We can prove you wore them very recently.’
‘Enlighten me on your work of fiction.’ Too smug. That worried Lottie, but she still had a weapon to use.
She opened her phone and tapped a photo. ‘A party guest took some photos. She emailed them over to me. That’s you, with your fake smile, standing between your daughter and granddaughter.’
‘That awful woman who works in a tiny coffee shop said she wanted our three generations in a family photo.’ Alice continued to stare at the image. Was she wondering what was incriminating about it?
‘Take a closer look at what you’re wearing.’
Realisation dawned on Alice’s face at her fatal mistake, no words emerging from her open mouth.
‘I’ll point it out for you,’ Lottie said. ‘You’re wearing the same blouse and slacks that are now in this evidence bag. You’re also wearing the shoes we found on Caroline’s feet.’
Talk your way out of that, bitch, she thought.
‘Proves nothing.’
God, but she was relentless.
‘It proves a lot. You won’t wriggle out of these murders like you did the Tormey murders twenty years ago.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you? I did not kill the Tormeys.’
‘You knew enough to replicate some of the crime scene.’
‘I did not.’
‘I can’t understand why you would dress your daughter and granddaughter in similar clothing to what the Tormeys were found in.’
A smirk spread over Alice’s face. Lottie held her breath. Was the woman about to gloat over her own genius? No such luck.
‘Sadie killed my family. She must have got Thomas to plant evidence in my garden. And now I think I would like that solicitor.’
In an attempt to hide her disappointment, Lottie asked, ‘How did you know about Dermot Macken?’
‘He hung around Sadie Tormey years ago and I saw Caroline talking to him at Freya’s party. He had to be involved.’
‘He was there to fix the balloon arch.’
Alice sneered. ‘Do your job, detectives. But I’m not saying another word until I get a solicitor.’