‘Look,’ she said, when he joined her. ‘The ground wasn’t disturbed when we came over the wall this morning. Get digging.’
She trained the light on the ground as McGorry began scraping at the soil. He only had to dig down a few feet before he uncovered something small and grubby, wrapped in plastic. Erika pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves and squatted down beside the hole. She shook off the soil, and gently started to unwrap several layers of plastic bags, thinking she was going to find a block of cannabis resin. The final layer of plastic uncovered an iPhone with a pink bejewelled case. Written across the back in clear Swarovski crystals was the name, ‘Marissa’.
‘Bloody hell,’ said McGorry.
‘Indeed. Let’s bring him in for questioning,’ said Erika. She checked the iPhone was switched off, and slipped it into a clear evidence bag.
* * *
They came back to the house, and went into the kitchen. David and Elspeth Pitkin had just arrived home.
‘What is the meaning of this intrusion?’ said David, still wearing his thick winter coat and grey bobble hat. Elspeth went to Joseph and started to examine his tear-streaked face.
‘What did they do to you?’ she said. He stared blankly at her.
‘Mr and Mrs Pitkin. Did you have a nice evening?’ asked Erika, smiling sweetly.
David turned to her. ‘What is this?’
‘Your son was burning photos of the murder victim in your garden.’
Elspeth shot a look at her husband, but he ignored her.
‘It is not illegal to take photographs; we’ve already been over this, DCI Foster.’
‘It is illegal to steal a mobile phone from a dead body and then bury it in the garden.’ Erika held up the mobile phone in the evidence bag. ‘It’s called withholding evidence.’
‘How do we know you didn’t plant it there!’ cried Elspeth, her voice cracking with emotion.
Erika nodded at the two uniformed officers. ‘Joseph Pitkin, I am arresting you on suspicion of withholding evidence…’
‘NO, NO, NOT MY BOY!’ cried Elspeth, moving to block the two officers.
‘…Withholding evidence pertaining to a murder enquiry. You do not have to say anything; but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
‘He was with us all last night! He didn’t go out!’ insisted Elspeth, reaching to grab at Joseph. One of the uniformed officers moved her to one side and handcuffed Joseph with his hands behind his back. ‘Don’t you touch me! Don’t you assault me!’ she screamed. David looked on, his face ashen.
‘Please, officers, my son is very vulnerable,’ he said.
‘Get his phone,’ said Erika. One of the officers reached into Joseph’s coat and pulled out a smartphone. She handed it to Erika, who switched it off and put it in a clear evidence bag. ‘I want this house searched, top to bottom. And as you are aware of the law, Mr Pitkin, you’ll agree that your son has given me enough cause to search without a warrant.’
‘Please! Don’t lock him away. Please!’ cried Elspeth. David had to hold her back, as Joseph was led away.
Ten
The custody suite at Lewisham Row police station was down in the basement, and separated from the rest of the offices in the station by a thick steel door. Erika had been a police officer long enough to remember that it used to be called ‘the cells’. However, the fancy term didn’t hide the fact that this was a dank and depressing part of the station: a thin corridor lined with big steel doors with hatches, painted a deep pea-green colour.
Ray Newton was the custody sergeant who was on duty. He was a small, rotund, balding officer with a thick moustache, and he was waiting for them when Joseph was led up to the desk by two uniformed officers.
‘He’s had a full body search,’ said Erika. ‘And we’re waiting on word about a solicitor.’
‘Right, young man,’ said Ray, pulling out a clipboard and handing him a pen attached to the desk with a thick piece of string. ‘We have to fill out some paperwork, so the officers are going to remove your handcuffs. I don’t want any funny business. You treat me well, and I reciprocate.’
Joseph’s mood flipped, and he started thrashing about with his arms still cuffed behind him.
‘You! You’re fucking cunts!’ he screamed, trying to turn around and see Erika and McGorry.
‘That’s enough!’ said Ray.
‘They stitched me up! I’ve done nothing! NOTHING!’
‘We’ll leave him with you,’ said Erika, indicating to McGorry that they should go.
They came up the stairs, through the thick doors, and into the main part of the station. They stopped at the vending machines by the stairs.
‘That’s a first, being called the C-word on Christmas day,’ said McGorry.
‘Makes you feel all cosy and festive, doesn’t it? Like you’re beside the fire with a glass of something warm.’
‘You want to let him sweat in the cells overnight?’ said McGorry.
‘I want to wait till morning to question him,’ corrected Erika. ‘Kay is working on unlocking the phones upstairs.’
Her phone rang and she had a brief conversation with one of the officers at the Pitkin house.
‘They found an improvised darkroom upstairs, in a small cupboard in Joseph’s bedroom, but there were no photos,’ she said when she came off the phone.
‘Burned them before we got to him,’ said McGorry.
‘Kay is trained to forensically examine electronic devices. I want to know what’s on his phone and Marissa’s, before we question him. Let’s hope there’s something.’
‘They’re a bit of a weird family, aren’t they? The posh ones always are a bit odd. Is he really stupid enough to have buried that phone, with Marissa’s personalised case still on it?’
‘Don’t underestimate how stupid people can be. I also want to run his prints against the ones we found on the plastic film holder in the alleyway.’
‘What about all those photos of Marissa Lewis? Do you think she knew he took them?’ asked McGorry.
‘He probably bought a ticket to her show.’
‘Then why burn them?’
Erika shook her head, feeling exhausted.
‘We need to confirm the phone was registered to Marissa, and see if we can get any more information about Joseph. Has he got a record? Etc.’ She selected her coffee, and they were silent as the cup dropped out and it began to fill and steam. ‘Mandy Trent was pretty open about who Marissa associated with. She didn’t mention Joseph. I’ll get Tania, the FLO, to ask her again.’ She took her cup from the dispenser.
‘We don’t have enough to charge him with her murder. And he has an alibi,’ said McGorry.
‘From his mother.’
‘We’ve got nothing that places him at the scene last night.’
‘Yet. Nothing yet. Post-mortem, forensics, everything is still left to play.’
McGorry yawned as he put money in the machine and selected coffee. Erika studied his tired face as the machine filled his cup. ‘You should go home and get some rest. I want you here when I question him tomorrow morning.’