Cold Blood by Jane Heafield (great books to read txt) 📕

saw the faces of Turner and his son, and he’s sure of the time? Turner’s got this belief his people wouldn’t ever lie to him, but what about for him?’

‘No direct identification, no. It’s not definitive and we’ll break that alibi apart if it can be. I imagine if the station attendant was going to lie to save his councillor, he would have blatantly said it was him. So I don’t think he lied and at face value the alibi looks good for the pair, at least until we find Lucas and hear what he has to say. The other Keys were at home and most have corroboration. Apart from Turner, these Keys are all pensioners or on the cusp, some infirm, and Turner’s hardly a spring chicken himself. If they had something to do with the killings, it was with younger help. We’re looking.

‘Crabtree is the one with no clear alibi. He reckons he was with a prostitute, and didn’t seem embarrassed at all to admit that. He gave us a phone number, which we traced to a pay-as-you-go device used predominantly in Derby centre. Nobody is answering it yet.’

‘What about the Sally Jenkins murder? Have you checked alibis for everyone for March 2010?’

Sutton sighed. ‘Bennet, you know how this works.’ Bennet did: confirming alibis could take a long time. It didn’t stop him being annoyed at the lack of progress.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t know myself recently.’

‘Look, we do know a little. Crabtree and the others we’re working on, but Turner’s alibi is confirmed. On the night Sally Jenkins disappeared, he was in Baslow, at a restaurant function at Fischer’s, about four or five miles away. Two dozen guests. Some were spoken to and confirmed he was there from around five in the evening until just past seven thirty. He left because his babysitter called him because his son was throwing up. And he went straight home. And the babysitter didn’t leave until about half past eight. And since Sally Jenkins disappeared between about six pm and six forty-five, his alibi is good.’

‘Who might have had motive?’

‘What motive could someone have for killing a ten-year-old girl? If she wasn’t taken by a paedophile, we’re blank. Look, Liam, I know you want this solved. We all do. And your timing about motive leads me on to something I want to show you. A possible motive for the film crew’s murders. We suspected they might have been killed because they were investigating the Jenkins killing. Now I think we have proof. We found a video.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, I think you should see it. Lorraine is in it. It was shot on Sunday evening, before the crew went to the Red Lion. It could be the last pictures of her before her death. Do you want–’

‘Send it.’

61

Sutton’s team had found a memory stick at the burial site containing a number of video and audio files. Most of it pertained to the documentary, some of it just camera practice, and the audio files were narrative editing for voiceover. But one movie file had intrigued Sutton. The location was the kitchen of Crabtree’s ranch, the time code Sunday the 19th of January, 8.18pm.

It began with an empty room, shot from one side with the kitchen door on the far left. The kitchen table, in the centre of the room, had a chair at each end and four or five sheets of overlapped A4 paper. The door opened to admit Francis Overeem, who passed the table and walked to the far wall, which was bare. He stood just inches from it, nose almost touching the plaster, like a punished child.

Next, Lorraine entered. She looked worried. Behind her came Betty Crute. No sign of John Crickmer, but he was probably behind the camera. All four were dressed as they had been at the Lion, suggesting they were soon to head across there.

Still facing the wall, Overeem said, ‘Sit, please. Don’t touch the documents.’

Documents? The fan of papers looked blank. Lorraine didn’t sit and the worry on her face deepened. She looked round at Betty Crute, who stood in the doorway with her arms folded, as if blocking an escape exit. Lorraine returned her attention to Overeem and voiced a question on Bennet’s mind: ‘What the hell is going on?’

‘You know what this is about. Am I wrong?’

‘Of course you’re wrong, you fool. How dare you accuse me of such a thing?’

Here, Bennet felt his heart thumping. This made no sense. What had Lorraine been accused of?

‘I have proof,’ Overeem said. He turned from the blank wall. ‘Sit down and talk to me. I’ll be happy to Alt F4 this joint.’

‘No.’ Strangely, Lorraine made a move as if she was straightening a necktie, even though she didn’t wear one. ‘I’m leaving. Don’t contact me again.’

Here, Crute interjected. ‘Hang fire. I don’t think he’d leave this early. Not if he came all this way.’

Behind the camera, Crickmer said, ‘Fair point. He needs to know how we know.’

Lorraine said, ‘I wasn’t going to leave. I was going to say I’m leaving unless you get right to the point. I reckon that’s what would happen.’

Overeem waved for silence. ‘Look, let’s redo. Nobody interrupt. We’ll keep the about-to-leave bit, so we can cover all eventualities. I’ll follow the bastard out the door if he tries. Let’s go again, John.’

Lorraine said, ‘We could skip the entry bit. Why don’t we pick up where we left off?’

‘No, we’ll redo the lot. Everyone out. You might as well just stay there, John.’

Crute vanished out the doorway. Lorraine gave a thumbs up and a smile and followed. Overeem got halfway to the door, then paused, then started walking towards the camera. ‘Let me know how it looked from that angle.’

And he grabbed the camera off Crickmer. The screen went black.

What had Bennet just witnessed? A dress rehearsal for a confrontation between Overeem and another man, played here by Lorraine? But who? And what was he being accused of? The Sally Jenkins – at