IMPERFECTION by Ray Clark (e novels to read online TXT) 📗

“We have discovered one or two points worthy of further investigation.” Briggs was pleased with himself for that one.

“Have you identified the man?”

“We are at present interviewing someone.” Briggs held up his hand. “But let me make it absolutely clear, he is only helping us with our inquiries, he is not a suspect.”

Another reporter stood up. He was about to throw a question when Briggs himself rose from his chair.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to stop you there, gentlemen. We do have a very important investigation on our hands. Thank you for your time.”

Briggs left the room, closed the door behind him, relieved that it was over. He was still furious that they were no further on; two murders within a week, both in the same part of town. There were similarities, neither of which had turned up any evidence. The next meeting in the incident room would be one to remember.

Chapter Twenty-five

Gardener studied Alan Cuthbertson.

The expression of fear on the shop owner’s face had Gardener concerned. Was he frightened about the situation he was in; felt he was being fitted up for something he hadn’t done? Or was it guilt because he had committed murder, and the police had figured him out a lot sooner than he’d anticipated?

They had taken his clothes and supplied him with a plain black T-shirt, dark blue jogging bottoms, and black plimsoles – standard issue custody clothing. Cuthbertson’s pallor was deathly white. He constantly twitched. He also rubbed his hands together a lot whilst inspecting his fingernails every few seconds.

“Am I under arrest?” he asked.

“Not yet,” replied Gardener. “You’re helping with our enquiries.”

“Do I need a solicitor?”

“Do you think you need one?”

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” he shouted.

“Bit of a shock for you, seeing that” said Reilly.

“Shock!” repeated Cuthbertson. “I was bloody traumatised. It’s not every day you open your shop and find your assistant hanging upside down with her insides in a bucket.”

“Not so shocked that you didn’t take everything in, by the sound of it,” said Reilly.

Cuthbertson fixed Reilly with a stare. “What are you suggesting?”

“How would you describe your relationship?” asked Gardener.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” retorted Cuthbertson. His eyes were like slits and his expression had hardened. “I’ve heard about you lot and your strong-arm tactics. Well, you won’t get me to admit to something I haven’t done.”

“We don’t want you to. But we would like an answer to the question I’ve just asked.”

“Oh, God.” He placed his arms on the desk and supported his head with his hands. “What a bloody mess.”

Gardener didn’t feel the need to repeat the question. He chose instead to simply stare at the suspect.

Cuthbertson sighed. “My relationship.” He lifted his head and rubbed his hands together. “Well. It was pretty much like any other. She was a good worker. Usually on time, never really took time off sick.”

“Had she caused you any problems recently?” asked Gardener.

“I think she’s had something on her mind. Last couple of days she’d been late, and her attitude with customers wasn’t what I would have expected of her. More than once I had to smile and make an apology.”

“Did she say what it was?”

“No, but she was certainly withdrawn. I did ask of course, but she just blamed it on women’s problems. Maybe it was boyfriend trouble.”

“Do you know the boyfriend?” asked Reilly.

“Yes, met him a couple of times. He’d picked her up from the shop. He seemed all right, but then don’t they all when you only see them for a couple of minutes?”

“Do you know anything else about him? His name? Where he lives? His job?”

“Carl Simpson, lives over Esholt way; don’t know where exactly. Plays in a band, as far as I know. He’s a drummer, likes to make a bit of noise. Not the sort of band I’d want to see, nor you two by the look of you.”

“Were there any other problems?” asked Gardener.

“Nothing she let on about.”

“So, you worked well together?”

“Yes, I just said so, didn’t I?”

“How long had she worked for you?”

“About five years. The shop had been growing steadily busier, and I advertised for an assistant. She was the best of the bunch.”

“Did she ever talk about her home life? About her relationship with her parents?” asked Gardener.

“A little. She had a younger sister who was still at college. Her father’s dead. Her mother takes in ironing.”

News of her father’s death struck a raw nerve with Gardener. Was it Jack Harper of the watch committee? If it was, then they needed to find Fletcher for all sorts of reasons. “Did you know her father?”

“No. He died before Janine came to work for me.”

“She ever mention his name?”

“I can’t remember. Look, where the hell are you going with all this? It’s not helping find the killer, is it?” asked Cuthbertson.

“We have to build a picture of what Janine was like,” said Gardener. “You’ve already told us she wasn’t herself of late. We need to know why. Was it family problems? Boyfriend trouble? Had someone threatened her? Did she have money problems? Any debt? Do you know anything about her social life?”

“I’m her employer. The kind of questions you’re asking me should be directed at her mother. She knows her better than I do.”

“In that case,” said Reilly, “let’s talk about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Tell us something about yourself?”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“I wish I had a pound for every time I’d heard that, don’t you, boss? I’ll tell you what, we’ll make this easy for you. We’ll ask questions, you answer. How long have you had your business?”

“Thirty years. I haven’t been in the arcade for thirty years because it wasn’t there then. I started off in a little village, Burley