An Early Grave Page 23

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘Tell me where you met her, the time of day and what you did together.’

  ‘She was standing at the back gate of number six.

  ‘What time?’

  ‘About four in the afternoon.’

  ‘Was she alone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can you elaborate please, Callum?’

  ‘Usually she was alone, but that day she was talking to a young lad.’

  ‘Do you know this lad?’

  ‘Mark Crawley.’

  Tara glanced at Murray. At least there was some coming together of two stories.

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘I walked by on the other side of the road, and Audra called out to me. She waved me over, and Crawley backed away. He didn’t look too happy to see me. When he was out of earshot, Audra told me that he’d been pestering her, asking her out, and inviting her round to his place. She asked if I would stay with her until her people arrived.’

  ‘Her people?’

  ‘That’s what she called them.’

  ‘Did you see or meet any of them?’

  ‘Never met them, but I saw them each time Audra was there.’ He raised his voice in frustration. ‘I’ve told you this before, Tara.’

  She wasn’t having any tantrums. Callum Armour was not leaving the room until he’d told everything. If she suspected he was holding something back, he could stew in a cell for a month for all she cared.

  ‘Inspector Grogan to you. For the record this time, Callum.’

  Grimshaw was about to speak, but Tara headed him off with a polite smile of the put down variety.

  ‘Two men would usually arrive by car and go into the house with Audra. Then a few more women would appear. That would be it until late on. Sometimes they stayed overnight. I used to see bright lights in the rooms, especially upstairs. I told you I saw cameras and lights carried into the house. I reckon they were making adult films.’

  ‘Why do you have a note of the house owner’s name, Teodor Sokolowski, in your files at home?’

  ‘I asked Audra what went on in the house. Nothing bad, she told me. Nothing wrong. I think she meant nothing illegal. I asked her who owned the house, and she gave me the name Sokolowski. She said he was a nice man, but she couldn’t tell me anymore or she would lose her job.’

  ‘Did she tell you what her job was?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you think she was frightened by what she was doing there?

  Callum shrugged then realised he should provide a verbal response.

  ‘She never looked happy. Nervous, I would say. When the others arrived they went inside, but sometimes laughing and smiling together.’

  ‘Were you ever invited into the house by Audra or any of the others?’

  ‘Never met the others. Even on the day she asked me to wait with her, she told me it was best if I went before the men arrived. I was never invited in.’

  ‘So you watched what went on?’ Murray asked, his eyebrows raised suggestively. ‘Seems like you noticed quite a bit, Callum?’

  Callum didn’t respond. Stupid question and anyway he didn’t like this copper.

  ‘Why did you make a note of the house owner’s name?’ Tara continued.

  ‘I grew concerned about Audra. She was very young, and she told me she hadn’t been in Liverpool for long. Seemed a bit strange to me that she was Lithuanian, and some of the others were Polish. I didn’t think they would mix socially. So I thought it was worth contacting Sokolowski to find out if he was aware of what was going on in his house. I couldn’t find an address for him, but I contacted the Citizens Advice people, and they put me on to the local Polish Association. They provided me with a list of agents in Liverpool renting houses to Polish workers. I started visiting these agents asking if they knew of Sokolowski. Didn’t get anywhere, but in one of the offices I saw the two men who would meet Audra at the house. They appeared to be working in the agency. I didn’t reckon it was a coincidence.’

  ‘What did you do next?’ Murray asked.

  He smirked.

  ‘I contacted your lot. Told them what was going on in the house, and about the guys at the agency. Still waiting for a reply. I suppose I’m regarded as the local nutter, not worth taking seriously.’

  Tara ignored the remark.

  ‘Where is this agency?’ She said.

  ‘London Road, near the Odeon. I’m sure the two guys are long gone by now. Probably got offside after Audra was found in the house.’

  ‘Do you think these men are responsible for Audra’s murder?’

  ‘That’s for you to decide. Not my job.’

  If ever there had existed any warmth between Tara and Callum, with his reply to her question it had certainly dissipated. She called a break to the interview, to let things rest for a while and, leaving the room, instructed a uniformed officer to organise tea for Callum and his brief. When she met up with Murray in the corridor, she ran off a list of orders.

  ‘Get down to that agency, and check out those guys Callum was talking about. He’ll have to identify them at some point. That’s if they haven’t scarpered. You need to round up as many of the girls as you can find who featured in those films, and especially the two who gave the ID for Audra. Then we need Callum to tell us which of them were at the house that night.’

  ‘You believe him then?’ said Murray, his shoulder pressed to the wall, left hand in his trouser pocket and a buff folder tucked under his right arm. She never cared much for his attitude. At times he forgot who he was speaking to.

  ‘I’d take his word over Mark Crawley’s certainly,’ Tara replied.

  Murray looked down at her with a satisfied smirk on his face, like a school boy playing chess who has just check-mated his teacher.

  ‘Maybe you should look at this,’ he said, handing her the folder. ‘Just picked it up from my tray. Results of the prints. Armour’s are a match for those found in the house.’

  She pulled out the sheets of paper and glanced at the text. Murray continued, gleefully.

  ‘He was all over that house, Tara: back door, kitchen door, banister, bathroom and door frame of the room where Audra was found. If his DNA matches the semen found on the girl’s body, he’s finished. Sorry I don’t share your trust in him.’

  CHAPTER 38

  One by one she placed five photographs of Audra Bagdonas on the table in front of him. All were taken at the murder scene in the back bedroom of the house.

  ‘Did you kill her, Callum?’

  Grimshaw, sniffing then breathing heavily through his mouth, attempted to whisper in Callum’s ear.

  ‘No comment.’ It was hard to miss.

  ‘No,’ said Callum, ignoring his brief. ‘I didn’t kill her. How can you even think that?’

  She remained standing, feeling she had more authority looking down upon him.

  ‘You have not been honest with me. I am trying to find the person who did this, Callum, and at every turn you have held something back. Now you’re telling bare-faced lies.’

  ‘I didn’t kill her.’

  ‘We have a witness who saw you going into the house’

  ‘He’s lying. I didn’t go in. I only went as far as the back door. The two men drove up, and I left her with them.’ He stared at the picture of Audra, a close-up of the burn marks on her pale chest, the word KURWA quite clear, although its meaning lost on him. Tara watched him for a moment. How stupid could he be? An educated man, a graduate of Oxford, who couldn’t see how bad his situation had become. Georgina’s phone call began to make sense. This man, once Georgina’s close friend, had disintegrated after his wife’s death; for him nothing else mattered, nothing else held any value. He didn’t care what people thought of him; he didn’t care for anyone. The world had conspired against him. Why should he help the police? And yet, if he was speaking any truth at all then he had tried to help the young girl. Murray had overlooked that. Callum had tried to find the owner of the house. He’d contacted t
he police, and they had not responded. He acted to improve Audra’s situation. Why, now, couldn’t he finish his story? Tell the whole truth, when the evidence was stacking up against him.

  ‘We have your fingerprints, Callum. Taken from inside the house, from the back door, the kitchen and upstairs. You were inside that house!’

  He fixed his gaze upon the photographs. Tara resumed her seat at the table. Murray came in and sat down beside her. Didn’t surprise her. He’d want to be here for the big finale. For the moment when she’d be made to look the fool. Bring Tweedy in too, she thought, just to seal her fate.

  ‘Why did you kill her?’ she continued.

  His bowed head began swinging to and fro. Martin Grimshaw, fingers entwined upon the table, had nothing to offer.

  ‘I saw her dead, but I didn’t kill her.’

  ‘You need to explain that, Callum. Do you understand what I’m saying? You have to explain yourself, and this time it has to be the truth.’

  ‘What I’ve told you is true. Mark Crawley was bugging her, trying to get off with her. I sent him on his way, and I stayed with Audra until the two men showed up. I left her at the back door of the house. I never went inside, not then.’

  ‘What did you do when she went indoors?’

  ‘I went home. I watched from my kitchen window until the other girls arrived.’

  ‘How many girls?’

  ‘Three. Two, in their twenties I would say, and an older one, mid-thirties, early forties.’

  ‘Had you seen them before?’

  ‘Yes, but not all of them necessarily together on the same day. There were a few girls who came and went from the house on different days.’

  ‘What happened after that?’

  ‘During the evening I kept an eye on the house. The maroon car was still parked outside when I was going to bed. I saw the bright light in one of the bedrooms. I don’t sleep well. A couple of times I got up and went downstairs. I like to check the doors are locked. Can’t be too careful. When I got back to my bedroom I heard voices outside. I saw the two guys carrying stuff from the house and putting it into the boot of the car.’

  ‘What kind of stuff?’ Murray asked.

  ‘Cameras, I suppose, lighting gear. A couple of bin bags. They drove off. Then I went back to bed. Next time I woke it was about five. I usually take Midgey for his walk. On the way home I passed by number six, and I could see over the fence. I noticed the back door was open. Ajar, not wide open. I took Midgey home and returned to number six. I didn’t see anyone about, so I went through the gate and up to the back door. I shouted inside, but got no response. I went in. I kept calling for Audra, or for anyone, but there wasn’t a sound. I climbed the stairs and looked into all of the rooms. She was in the last room, the bedroom at the back. At first I thought she was asleep; the light was poor, the curtains closed, but then I saw the marks on her chest.’

  He buried his head in his hands, sniffing his tears. Tara was content to wait, but Murray jumped in.

  ‘What did you do next, Callum?’ Tara frowned at her colleague. She didn’t believe they would ever make a team. Callum wiped his nose on his sleeve and sat upright.

  ‘Take your time, Callum,’ said Tara.

  ‘I ran out.’

  ‘Did you call for help? Phone the police?’ Murray asked.

  ‘I ran home. Threw up in the kitchen. All I could think about was Tilly and Emily.’

  Murray looked perplexed. Only Tara could understand the remark, but she was in no mood to start explaining things. Besides, Murray already knew about Callum losing his wife and daughter. Not her fault if the information had washed over him. She found it easy to picture Callum running away; she’d witnessed it for herself the day before at the home of Charlotte Babb.

  ‘Is that how you left things?’ She asked.

  ‘I waited all morning. Nothing happened. The back door of the house lay open.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call the police?’

  He fired them a look that managed to convey his disdain of the local police service and how they usually behaved towards him.

  ‘I thought someone would come, but hours went by. I was about to go for help, when you lot suddenly turned up. I guessed a neighbour had beaten me to it.’

  ‘You waited hours, Callum,’ said Tara. ‘The girl might still have been alive when you found her.’ He shook his head dismissively.

  ‘No. I touched her arm. Dead cold.’ Yet again Tara’s frustration boiled as Callum persisted with his habit of gradually adding detail to his account, as if he was baking a cake where the recipe instructed him to add the flour slowly with stirring.

  ‘Why have you waited until now to tell us? Don’t you think Audra deserves justice? That her killer should be caught? You’ve been fighting to get justice for Tilly. Why not Audra? Why shouldn’t I charge you now for withholding information? Or are you still lying to us?’

  ‘I don’t think Dr Armour deserves to be addressed in this manner,’ Grimshaw put in. ‘As far as I can tell he has co-operated fully with your enquiry. If you do not intend to place charges, I suggest you allow him to leave.’

  ‘Dr Armour,’ Tara began, with considerable heat in her voice, ‘Has told me nothing that he can prove is true. I’m afraid he will be staying here for now.’

  CHAPTER 39

  They agreed to split for the time being. Murray went with a uniformed constable to fetch the girls from the house on Stanley Road. Attempts to find the two men who worked at the rental agency, and were responsible for running the adult film enterprise at the house in Treadwater, had so far proved fruitless. It seemed likely that they had left the country. Once identities were established for the pair, and their whereabouts traced, they could be brought back to Liverpool if necessary. They sat below Callum on the list of suspects, but for reasons she could not explain, Tara didn’t think them guilty of murder. See the victim, and you won’t stop searching for the killer. She could see the word burnt into the flesh of Audra Bagdonas. Kurwa: bitch, whore. Callum said he saw the two men leaving the house. He didn’t mention seeing the other girls leave. Had they left earlier, before the men? She didn’t believe so. She was on her way to visit the person who knew the truth, but who so far had acted strangely to the point where he was determined to place Callum at the centre of the inquiry.

  DC Wilson stopped the marked police car outside the house, three doors from the scene of the murder. The pair of them walked to the front door, and Wilson wrapped heavily with the metal flap of the letter box. Through the lounge window she saw a large screen television, a video game being played by someone inside. Tara glanced at her notebook making sure she had the correct address for Mark Crawley, the youth she would always associate with a blue football shirt. The door eventually opened, and a heavily pregnant girl glared at them through pretty, but nervously darting eyes.

  ‘Hello, Debbie. How are you?’

  ‘All right,’ the girl replied in a downcast tone. The bump was certainly increasing with each encounter. Debbie pressed her left hand against her back, clearly feeling uncomfortable. Barefoot, she wore a pale pink towelling bathrobe. The toddler, Curtis, wearing only shorts and clutching the living room door, stared intently at the callers.

  ‘We were actually hoping to speak with Mark. Is he here? I didn’t realise that you lived together, but this is the address we have for him.’

  Debbie seemed unimpressed by all the civility aimed at her.

  ‘Mark,’ she called into the room. ‘Bizees want to see you.’

  ‘Tell them to fuck off. I’m busy.’

  Debbie glared at Tara as if to say you have your answer, but Tara smiled back. She hoped to keep on the right side of this girl. From their first meeting, outside Callum’s house, she had the feeling that Debbie was honest and trying her best to stay out of trouble. Tara still had difficulty believing that this young girl was willing to associate with the likes of Mark Crawley, never mind him fathering her child.

  ‘Do you mind if we come in, D
ebbie?’ The girl glanced nervously towards the living room, her expression betraying the dilemma facing her. ‘This won’t take long.’

  Reluctantly, Debbie stepped away from the door allowing Tara and Wilson to enter. She remained in the hallway as Tara entered the living room. Curtis scuttled past their legs reaching for his mother. She took him by the hand, but left him on the floor, unable to lift him in her arms.

  ‘Hello, Mark,’ said Tara in a civil tone. ‘I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right?’

  Crawley, wearing blue jogging trousers and the Everton shirt, was sprawled in an armchair, his legs dangling over the side. He stared keenly at the television, a game controller held in both hands, thumbs moving frantically across the buttons. A combat game was playing, guns, bullets, tanks and night vision glasses, essential components of the war. Easy for the youth to ignore his visitors, but Wilson had other ideas. He stepped between Crawley and the television.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Detective Inspector Grogan would like a word, mate.’ Wilson glared at the boy with menaces, real-life combat a much harder game to that playing on the television. Crawley wouldn’t stand a chance against Wilson.

  ‘Why did you claim to have seen Callum Armour going into the house with Audra Bagdonas?’ Tara asked. It was unlikely the boy would ever submit to eye contact with her.

  ‘Cos that’s what he did, all right?’

  ‘What were you talking about with Audra before Callum turned up?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘Did you threaten her? Were you trying to get off with her? Did she turn you down, Mark? Is that why you got angry? Is that why you decided to point the blame at Callum Armour? Because he helped her?’ She fired the questions at him, hoping to rile him, eager for him to lose it. Debbie stood by the door watching, biting at her fingernails, her uneasy gaze fixed on her boyfriend.

  ‘How’s your Polish, Mark? Know many words?’

  ‘What are you on about? I don’t know any Polish.’