A Killing Resurrected (32 page)

She was lying on her side, eyes closed. He looked up and down the hallway, then stepped into the room.

He wasn't really worried about Alcott, Paget told himself, but he remembered all too vividly how hard it had been to cope with Jill's untimely death, and he felt the need to satisfy himself that the Superintendent was all right.

‘Just going to pop round to Mr Alcott's house to see if there is anything we can do,' he'd told Fiona, and knew he'd done the right thing when he saw both relief and gratitude in the secretary's eyes.

‘Tell him we're thinking of him,' Fiona called after him as he'd headed for the stairs.

Now, as he neared the house, he was relieved to see that the door to the garage was up, and Alcott's five-year-old Volvo was inside. Paget parked the car on the street and walked up to the front door and rang the bell. He waited. No answer. He rang again. Still no answer. Perhaps Alcott simply didn't want to be disturbed, but Paget was reluctant to go away without seeing the man himself to make sure he was all right. Perhaps, if there was a door leading directly from the garage to the house, he could get in that way.

He crossed a narrow strip of lawn and entered the garage. Coming out of the bright sun, it was hard to see anything clearly at first, so he had moved almost the full length of the car before realizing that Alcott was inside. Sitting behind the wheel, head slumped forward, the Superintendent appeared to be fast asleep.

Paget opened the door and shook him gently. Alcott grunted and stirred. Paget shook him again. Alcott lifted his head, opened his eyes to squint at Paget, then shut them again. ‘What do you want?' he demanded gruffly. ‘Leave me alone and let me sleep.'

‘I will as soon as I get you inside,' Paget promised. ‘Come on, sir. Give me a hand.'

Alcott breathed a sigh of resignation. ‘Never could leave well enough alone, could you, Paget?' he grumbled as he allowed the DCI to help him out of the car. ‘And I haven't been drinking, if that's why you're sniffing. I'm just tired, that's all. So
bloody
tired I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again.'

Paget got him into the house, then rang Valerie, who thanked him profusely when he told her he was with her father. ‘He must have just come home,' she said, ‘because I've been round there twice myself and he wasn't in. I can be there in fifteen minutes, if you wouldn't mind waiting until I get there.' She paused to draw breath. ‘How is he, Chief Inspector?'

‘Exhausted,' he told her. ‘He just wants to sleep, so he could be in bed by the time you get here.'

But Alcott was shaking his head. ‘Tell her I'm all right and I'll be awake when she gets here,' he said, then headed for the kitchen.

Paget put the phone down and followed him. ‘Have you eaten anything today?' he asked.

‘Don't want anything,' Alcott said, ‘and I don't want another one of your lectures, either. I'm not hungry – but since you ask, a hot cup of tea wouldn't go amiss. Mouth tastes like a Sumo wrestler's armpit on a hot day.'

‘Can't say I've ever been that closely acquainted with a Sumo wrestler or his armpit,' Paget said as he filled the kettle and plugged it in, ‘so I'll take your word for it, sir. Where do you keep the tea?'

‘Excuse me, but what do you think you're doing?' The speaker's tone was sharp and challenging.

Caught bending over the bed, Al Jessop swung round to face a heavy-set man in a white coat. The man was drying his hands on a paper towel after washing them at the dispenser behind the open door.

‘Came to see the wife,' Jessop said belligerently. ‘Something wrong with that, is there? And who the hell are you?'

Before the doctor could reply, Sharon stirred and opened her eyes. She opened them wider and screamed. ‘No, Al, no!' she gasped as she tried to scramble away from him. ‘Get him away from me. Please, please get him away from me,' she pleaded hysterically.

The doctor took a phone from his pocket as he moved swiftly between Jessop and the bed. ‘I'm calling Security,' he said as he flipped it open, ‘and—'

Jessop drove a fist into the doctor's stomach, then bolted through the door and made for the stairs at the end of the corridor. He crashed through the door and leapt down the stairs, two, three, four at a time. He had to get to the ground floor and out of the building before the doctor recovered and alerted Security. Once clear, he would have to put as much distance as possible between himself and the hospital, because, after assaulting a doctor, every cop in town would be looking for him.

‘It's not your fault, Molly,' Ormside told her. ‘If it's anyone's fault it was mine. You put your case to have her guarded, and I discussed it with Mr Paget, but I must admit I didn't press all that hard what with our people spread as thin as they are. Obviously I was wrong, so I'm setting up a twenty-four hour watch on Mrs Jessop. I haven't had a chance to speak to the boss yet, but I'm sure he will back me up after what's happened this afternoon. Meanwhile, I want you to get over to the hospital and get statements from Sharon and the doctor her husband assaulted.' He looked at the clock. ‘I'm afraid you'll have to stay there until I can set up a rota and get someone else to take over, but I don't have any other choice. All right?'

Molly sighed heavily as she picked up her handbag and slung it over her shoulder. ‘There goes another exciting evening at home,' she said. ‘Mind if I take the file on Sharon with me? I don't know if it will do any good, but I'd like to review what she told me before and after she was attacked. There might be something in there that will give me a clue about where we might find Jessop. Funny thing is, I still think she's holding something back, and I don't know why.'

Ormside hesitated. ‘Go on, then' he said. ‘But don't let her see you with it. Keep it in your case until you get home, and I want to see it back here first thing tomorrow morning.'

W
hen Molly Forsythe arrived at work the following morning, the first thing she did was seek out PC Gordon Fry. She found him filling his mug with coffee from the machine in the hall.

‘Want some?' he offered, reaching for a styrofoam cup.

Molly shook her head. ‘No, thanks, Gordon,' she said, ‘but I do want to talk to you about the statement you took from Sharon Jessop's neighbour, a Mrs Martin. When, exactly, did you take that statement? It has yesterday's date on it.'

PC Fry moved away from the machine to let others in. ‘That's right,' he said. ‘Took it yesterday lunchtime. First time I've been able to catch her in. Been back there several times, but she was always out. Likes her bingo games does Mrs Martin.'

‘I thought everyone played bingo on line these days.'

‘A lot do, but the old church hall in Portland Road runs games six days a week, and it's well attended. Mostly seniors, but there are some younger ones as well.'

‘And when did you put her statement in the file?'

‘Yesterday afternoon,' he told her. ‘You weren't there, so Sergeant Ormside took it and put it in the file. Why? Something wrong?'

‘There could be,' said Molly slowly. ‘Oh, not with what you did, but I'm having trouble with what Mrs Martin told you. You say she saw Al Jessop come “storming out of the house” with Sharon screaming after him before she went back in the house and slammed the door. Were those her words or yours?'

Fry grinned sheepishly. ‘Her actual words, as I recall, were: “Al came flying out of the house with young Sharon chewing on his arse and screaming at him.” I thought “storming out of the house” was a reasonable interpretation, but I can change it if you want.'

‘No, no, that's not what I'm after,' Molly told him. ‘And this would be between nine thirty and ten on Saturday night?'

‘That's right. She said she was standing in the open doorway taking in a last breath of fresh air before locking up for the night.'

‘And it was definitely Sharon who slammed the door?'

‘That's right.' PC Fry looked puzzled. ‘I don't understand,' he said. ‘Why all the questions? I'm sorry it took so long to get Mrs Martin's statement to you, but as I said, I called back several times before . . .'

‘No, no, you did nothing wrong,' Molly assured him. ‘But if what this woman told you is right, then it wasn't Al Jessop who beat up his wife as she said. I suppose he could have come back later, but knowing there was no money in the house, why would he?'

Molly reached for a styrofoam cup. ‘I think I will have that coffee now,' she said. ‘I think I'm going to need it.'

Sharon Jessop was propped up in bed trying to drink orange juice through a straw. Her lips were less swollen than they'd been the day before, but the skin around the eyes was still puffy, and the bruises were even more colourful than they'd been on Sunday night.

A very bored looking PC put down the morning paper and got to his feet and stretched. ‘Nothing to report,' he said, and yawned. ‘Mind if I go and get myself a coffee while you're here?'

‘No, go ahead, but don't be too long,' said Molly. ‘I don't expect what I have to do will take very long.' She turned to the woman in the bed. ‘Did you get much sleep last night, Sharon?' she asked solicitously. ‘No nightmares about being attacked by your husband?'

‘No, thank God! They gave me something to help me sleep.' Sharon shivered. ‘Have you caught him yet?' Her words were slurred, but clearer than they had been.

‘Not yet,' said Molly. ‘But we will.'

‘So . . . why are you here?'

‘I need to ask you again about what happened last Saturday night, when Al came looking for money. Take me through it again from the time Al arrived at the house.'

Sharon winced as if she were in pain. ‘I don't even want to
think
about it, let alone talk about it,' she said. ‘Besides, I told you that already and you wrote it down, so why do you want me to go through it again?'

‘Just bear with me, Sharon. We can't be too careful if we want to put Al away for a long time for what he did to you. Assault and battery, maybe even attempted murder – they both carry a stiff sentence, but the way things go in court, it will be your word against his, so let's just go over it once again. You do want him put away, don't you, Sharon?'

‘'Course I do.' Sharon eased herself down in the bed and pulled the covers up under her chin.

‘Good,' said Molly briskly. ‘I don't want to tire you out, so let's get on with it, shall we? You say Al came round somewhere between nine thirty and ten o'clock that night, right?' Sharon nodded. ‘So tell me, how did you know he was coming? Did he phone you ahead of time?'

Sharon frowned. ‘No. Why would he? He never phones. He just comes when he feels like it.'

‘But you were expecting him, weren't you? I mean you did send the children next door so they would be out of harm's way.'

‘I just knew he would be round, that's all. He knows when I normally get paid. But they paid me in lieu of two week's notice on Friday, so I kept thirty quid and took the rest round for Dad to keep for me, because I knew if Al got wind of it he'd be after it.'

‘But why were you so sure he would be coming on that particular night?' Molly persisted.

‘Oh, God, does it matter?' Sharon asked wearily. She buried her face in the crook of her arm as if to blot out the sight of her questioner. ‘I knew he'd be round,' she continued with exaggerated emphasis on each word, ‘because he didn't come round on the Friday like he usually does, OK? Maybe he was doing a run out of town or something on Friday, I don't know, but I
did
know he'd be round the minute he got back. That's why I sent the kids next door.'

‘All right, let's leave that for now,' said Molly soothingly. ‘So he came round and you let him in. Why did you do that if you knew there'd be trouble?'

Sharon uncovered her face. ‘Easier than having him kick the door in and have half the street out watching,' she said wearily. ‘Look, Molly, I'm tired. Can't we just let it alone?'

‘I wish we could,' Molly said, ‘but it is necessary, so I'll try to be brief. Now,' she continued quickly before Sharon could object, ‘according to your statement, Al came in, you told him you'd lost your job and there was no money in the house, but he didn't believe you. He searched the place, didn't find anything, and that was when he came back and really went to work on you. Is that right?'

Sharon nodded, touching the bruises on her face as if to make sure that Molly got the picture.

‘So you didn't see him leave?'

Sharon rolled her eyes. ‘How could I, for Christ's sake?' she snapped, and winced. ‘I was unconscious, wasn't I?'

‘Were you, Sharon . . .?'

Sharon's eyes slid away. ‘'Course I was,' she said truculently. ‘It's a wonder I'm not dead.'

‘True,' Molly agreed quietly, ‘but, you see, Sharon, I have a problem with that. Because if you were lying on the floor after being beaten unconscious by your husband, how do you account for the fact that someone saw you at the door, screaming at him as he left?'

‘She's lying, of course,' Molly told Ormside later, ‘but she wouldn't admit it. And she's scared. First she said whoever had said they saw her at the door must have been talking about another time, and then she said her head was hurting, and she'd been having trouble remembering things, and if it had happened that way, then Al must have come back a second time, and so on and so on. Then she rang for the nurse and complained that I was upsetting her and she had these awful pains in her head . . .' Molly shook her head. ‘I didn't have any choice; I had to leave.'

‘But she still insists it was Al who beat her up?'