‘He knew the system. The smarmy git sat there saying “no comment” to every question asked for hour after hour on the advice of his solicitor.’
‘I don’t know how he slept nights. Or the lawyer for that matter. How can anyone defend a cunt like Harper?’
‘Do you want another one of those?’
Lewis held his big hand out, palm up, fingers spread. ‘Go on then, I’m starving. My alarm didn’t go off. I didn’t have time for breakfast.’
Kesey tossed her sergeant the packet, as his face took on a more serious expression, pensive, deep in thought. ‘I nicked Harper a few times over the years. He always blamed his violence on the alcohol, like someone was forcing it down his throat. Like it somehow excused him from everything he did to the women and children who were unlucky enough to have him in their lives. It’s pathetic! Most of his kind are the same, never taking responsibility for their shortcomings. And Harper was one of the worst, a total psycho. I’d like to have punched him in the throat.’
As Kesey sipped her coffee, she questioned the origin of the strength of Lewis’ feelings before refocusing on their conversation. ‘I know what you’re saying. It’s always someone else’s fault, never theirs.’
‘On a happier note, has Harper’s missus heard the good news?’
Kesey smiled thinly. ‘Not as yet; I did wonder if it was her driving the vehicle that hit him.’
Lewis tossed his blue plastic biscuit wrapper into a nearby wastepaper bin, resisting the impulse to cheer when it toppled in off the rim. ‘I wouldn’t blame her if she was. She’s been a punchbag for years.’
‘I’ve made a few phone calls. Mrs Harper moved into the women’s refuge here in town very soon after her husband’s release. I spoke to the manager, an Ivy Breen. Louise travelled to Scotland by train two days before her husband’s death. Ivy dropped her off at the station and waved her away when the train left the platform. She’s staying at her sister’s place in Glasgow for a family birthday celebration. I’ve asked the local police to check out the facts. Better safe than sorry: you know what it’s like. There’s no room for assumptions in our job. But it looks as if she’s got a watertight alibi. I think it’s highly likely we’re looking for somebody else.’
‘I’ve known Ivy for years. We grew up on the same estate. She used to hang around with my little sister, Emily. She’s a few years younger than me. If Ivy says Louise was on that train, she was on it. You can trust her completely. She’s one of the best.’
Kesey nodded. ‘Yeah, I met her briefly at a child protection case conference a few months back at Llanelli Hospital. The Milligan case, you must remember it?’
‘Yeah, only too well, horrendous.’
‘Ivy was there representing the refuge. She seemed to know what she was talking about.’
‘Oh, she does, and she cares too. It’s more than a job to Ivy. I think she’d do it for free if she had to. She’s lived it. It’s not book learning. She’s not like that tosser we’ve got in charge with his paper qualifications and fuck-all frontline experience. She’s been there, seen it, done it and got the T-shirt. There’s no better knowledge than that.’
Lewis was in the process of enthusiastically unwrapping the third biscuit when Kesey’s desktop phone rang out, breaking his concentration. She answered it on the second insistent ring. ‘Hello, Sandra, yeah, great thanks. I’m a bit pushed for time. We’ll have a chat another time. What can I do for you?’
Kesey held the phone to her face, listening to the response. ‘Okay, thanks, Sandra, that’s good to know. I’ll get on to it.’ She paused, listening for a few seconds more before speaking again. ‘No, you can tell uniform to leave it to us. We could be talking murder. If Sergeant Davies doesn’t like it, tell him to talk to me. He knows where to find me.’
And with that, Kesey placed the phone back on its cradle, rather more firmly than was the norm. She turned her attention back to Lewis, who was wiping chocolate from his stubbled chin with a sleeve of his jacket. Kesey made a quickly scribbled note in her police issue pocketbook before speaking. ‘Okay, it’s time to get serious. A burnt-out car’s been found in the grounds of an empty cottage, a couple of miles from where Harper’s body was discovered. I want you to check it out. And talk to scenes of crime. If it looks as if it’s the vehicle we’re looking for, which seems likely, I want them all over it.’
Lewis drained his mug, savouring the intense sweetness at the bottom. He swirled the rich, warm liquid around his mouth before swallowing. ‘Have you got the address?’
‘Talk to Sandra on the front desk, and she’ll give you the details. And tell Ben Davies where to get off if he tries to stick his nose in. This one is down to us.’
‘What is it with you and Davies?’
‘I don’t like the man.’
‘You don’t want to tell me more?’
Kesey shook her head. ‘The man’s a dinosaur who doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. Especially when he’s had a drink. Let’s leave it at that.’
Lewis placed his empty mug on her desk and pulled his tie loose at the collar. ‘Right, I’ll be off then. You don’t fancy coming with me, do you? I could tell you about a rugby trip I’ve got planned. I’d be glad of the company.’
‘Nah, I’ve got to be at the mortuary for the post-mortem at ten.’
Lewis screwed up his face. ‘Rather you than me. Who’s doing it?’
‘Dr Carter.’
‘Sheila? I thought she’d retired.’
‘She’s agreed to stay on until they find a suitable replacement. I think she’s starting to regret it now. They’ve had to re-advertise. It’s not easy attracting consultants in this part of the world. It’s been dragging on for months.’
‘Well, at least you know you’re in good hands.’
Kesey checked her watch and nodded. ‘I’ll see you later on, Ray. We can have a catch-up and compare notes. See where we are with the case.’
‘What sort of time have you got in mind?’
‘I’ll meet you in the canteen at one o’clock sharp. I’ve got to be in Ammanford by half two at the latest for a meeting. Give me a ring if you think you’re going to be late. I’ve got plenty to be getting on with. I don’t want to be hanging about wasting my time.’
Lewis raised a hand to the side of his head in mock salute and curtseyed. ‘Will do, ma’am, anything you say, ma’am. Your wish is my command. I’m here to serve.’
She gave him the finger, laughing as he approached the door. ‘I don’t know why I put up with you sometimes.’
‘It’s because I’m a great detective, Laura. You know that. You’re lucky to have me. I’m one of the best.’
6
Dr Sheila Carter was close to completing Aled Harper’s post-mortem examination by the time Kesey arrived at West Wales Hospital’s brightly lit mortuary later that morning. Kesey paused at the entrance, dabbing a little menthol vapour rub under each nostril before entering the room. It was a well-established ritual, a technique she’d learnt from her much-loved mentor DI Gravel. A coping mechanism she’d used ever since but with only limited success.