Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
“Do you think we’ve got him?” Lachy presented me with a cup of tea that looked like piss, his expression similar to that of an over-enthusiastic puppy.
“No. I don’t think it’s him. I think he’s telling the truth and he doesn’t want to piss off his bit on the side by having her provide an alibi.” Although Neil Hunt was an easy path to wander down.
Too easy.
I didn’t trust things that were too easy.
Neil Hunt had requested a break so he could contact a solicitor – and probably his girlfriend in Newcastle, remembering that he hadn’t been arrested, so didn’t have to answer any questions if he didn’t wish to.
At present, all we had on him was that he wasn’t accounted for. Neither were Mrs Kinsella’s two sons, the apples of her eye, who were known loan sharks in the area where Chelsea had lived, but that was because we hadn’t located them yet.
We also knew Hunt’s car hadn’t left Newcastle – he’d parked up right where there was a camera, so we knew what time he’d parked up on the Monday, and that the vehicle hadn’t shifted until Friday, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t used someone else’s.
Nick was currently going through Hunt’s bank accounts, looking for any car hire or petrol purchases, as getting between Manchester and Newcastle was likely to require a top up somewhere. So far, there had been nothing.
We were potentially clutching at one of the only two straws we had.
“What motive’s he got? Or why would he? The lad’s got a clean record, not even a speeding fine.” Vinny perched on my desk; his arse entirely too close to me.
I poked it with a pencil. “Shift it.”
“You love it really.”
“I really don’t. I’ll need to disinfect my desk.” I poked him harder and this time he moved, laughing.
“Motive,” Lachy began, as if he was about to deliver one of Shakespeare’s soliloquies.
“He found her hard work, and she was in debt, possibly using him a bit for money, so he wanted to get rid, but – as we’ve worked out – she was a pain in the arse.
” He pronounced ‘arse’ like a proper Mancunian.
“She’d be a nightmare if he ended it, so maybe this was the easiest way to do it.
Or she knew he was having it off with the woman in Newcastle and was threatening to post it on social media and tell her husband.
” He gave a bow. “I thank you; I thank – oi! What was that for? That was assault!”
“That was for being a wanker.” Vinny had cracked him with a metal ruler that’d probably been new in the nineteen seventies. “I don’t think that’s a strong enough motive. He could’ve lost his temper with her, if he’d driven over to meet up with her, but how would he know she was in Manchester?”
Neil Hunt didn’t know the name of Chelsea’s friend in Manchester, or so he said.
He knew she had a mate there because she talked about her, but he had no idea who she was.
He didn’t think she was seeing someone else there, and it was obvious he’d have been all right with it if she was, because it would’ve given him a reason to end it.
“And he’s no previous. He’d have gone from zero to killing someone, without even a caution for breaching the peace.” Which was going against the statistics.
Lachy looked crestfallen. “Fair enough. What are we doing about the Kinsella twins?”
“Verity and Cameron are out looking for them.” I glanced at the door, seeing Wrigley and Cattrick through the glass panels, having some sort of heightened conversation, judging by their body language. “Hang on, what’s happening here?”
Wrigley almost flew through the door, Cattrick following him as Wrigley headed to the top of the room.
“Attention everyone!” He bellowed through the room, drawing every pair of eyes to him.
A few people stood up. “We’ve another body.
CSI are on their way there and the scene is being secured.
Female at first glance, in the Mersey this time, at the Brinksway Weir in Stockport.
Those of you hoping for a Liverpool connection – if they are connected – you’re probably going to be disappointed. ”
The River Mersey was closely associated with Liverpool, but it actually began at the confluence of the Rivers Tame and Goyt in Stockport, then running through Cheshire and into Merseyside, then into the Irish Sea.
“Do we already know it’s connected, Sir?” Lachy asked. “Why’s this come to us?”
“It’s a woman who’s been found in water.
I think that’s enough right now. If we’re lucky, she’ll have fallen in and drowned – lucky for us, not her, obviously.
Mac, Vinny, Nick – get your arses down there.
Lachy, get started looking for cameras near this weir.
Doubt you’ll have much luck, but let’s try. I’ll head down there too.”
The traffic had slowed everything down to a crawl.
I drove there with Nick, wanting a bit of space from Vinny in case he wanted to talk about Dr Miz again because I wasn’t ready for that again.
Nick was quiet, easy company and didn’t drive like he was practicing to be a Formula One racer, but he was a little too quiet until we got onto the motorway.
“When Wrigley asked you to look at the metadata on the email, did you see the subject line?” I was curious if he had; I’d felt like he’d been avoiding me since yesterday, although I could’ve just been being sensitive.
He groaned and looked out of the window to check the wing mirror, wanting to avoid me, probably. “Wrigley thought he’d gotten rid of it, but he hadn’t. I did get rid of it so no one else on the team or supporting saw it.”
“Did you know what it’s about?”
“No. I know you have a history, Mia, everyone has a history. You had a change of name – people do. I knew you were in the care system. You let it slip once after I first joined the team, but it doesn’t matter, does it?” He indicated to change lanes. “I haven’t gone digging.”
“Thank you.” Because if he found out about my birth family, he’d have a lot of questions.
Everyone would.
Trust would be questioned.
“What’s the update on Vinny and Miz? The wife wants an update.”
That was one way to change the subject, and keep it away from what we were about to find.
“If Dr Miz is on duty then you might have a real-life update for her.” Maybe I should’ve driven there with Vinny. I suspected he was bricking it, seeing her again and being a target for however she wanted to make him feel uncomfortable.
I grinned.
We parked about a third of a mile from the co-ordinates from the crime scene, a selection of hurriedly parked cars abandoned, and then a crime scene tape already erected. The weather had still been wet, but not like it was when we found Chelsea’s body.
“I can’t let you through, I’m afraid.” A very young and nervous looking PC guarded the entrance.
“And why’s that?”
I rolled my eyes. Nick enjoyed winding up baby police officers.
“It’s a crime scene, sir, and it’s authorised personnel only.” The officer stood a little taller.
“What’s happened? Can you tell us? I might be able to help.” Nick’s grin was too, too friendly.
“I’m sorry, sir. If you think you may have any information then please speak to my colleague over there.” He pointed to a van, the back doors open.
I rustled in my pocket and pulled out my badge. We had a body to get too.
“Detective Sergeant McCallister and this idiot is DS Nick Sweeting. Sorry he’s wasted everyone’s time – can you let us through?”
The baby officer nodded and raised the tape, stuttering an apology.
I told him it wasn’t necessary as we headed along the path that dropped down towards the river, the sound of the heavy flow of water tumbling over the weir clearly audible.
Jenna Osei was on her hands and knees, blocking the path while she looked at something. “Put shoe coverings on, please. We don’t know which way the vic got down here yet so we’re trying to preserve as much as possible.” She rummaged in the pocket and handed me two packets of them.
I gave one to Nick and then put my own on. “I can’t believe how dry it is under the trees.”
“It is here, but not near the path. It looks like she’s gone over the weir and ended up stuck, so we’re widening the cordon to find the entry point.
Dr Miz is on her way.” Jenna stood up, pointing to an area to one of her team who’d just appeared.
“Soil samples from there, then manage the rest. I need to go back to the body.”
We walked down with her, noting the thickness of the shrubbery and trees, even though nothing was fully in leaf. The water crashed, not that far away, and I winced thinking what state the body would be in, if it had ridden down the rapids of the weir.
It was easy to spot the area we were focusing on due to the number of people already there.
Wrigley was talking to Jenna’s second-in-command, Tom Smithson, his back to the river and reviewing the path.
Tom had been in the Navy before joining CSI a few years back, so I assumed they were discussing the flow of the river.
I walked over to the edge of the path, the drop down not too step, leading to a wider and probably shallower part of the river, a bank of reeds reducing the flow here, although the water looked fast beyond that point, where there was nothing in its way.
CSI were down there, one person taking photos, another collecting water samples. The body floated face down, hair that might’ve been dark because it was wet splayed out around her head. She was clothed, a coat visible, but it was still easy to see what’d probably killed her.
A dark stain covered the back of her light green coat, the material slashed where the stain looked darkest.
She’d been stabbed.
“Afternoon, good people.” Dr Miz announced herself, her assistant following behind, carrying most of her equipment like a reluctant husband on a shopping trip.
“Saira,” Wrigley said, giving her a nod. “Not the best of places to be recovering a body, but at least it’s not currently throwing a monsoon.”