Someone Has Just Been Murdered - Chapter 7

“Ashleigh, are you in your school uniform yet?” Mrs. Hendry called up to her 16 year-old daughter.

This was the second summons issued to the teenager upstairs dressing. Fortunately, a third was redundant. Ashleigh half ran, half strode into the living room. In front of the mirror above the mantelpiece, she sloppily adjusted her tie and checked to see if she’d brushed her properly. Tugging at the hem of her skirt, she was able to straighten it. One wiggle of her hips to and fro finished the job of making the area around her backside more comfortable and less likely to chafe.

“Where’s your blazer?”

“Fuck, mum, it’s still in my bedroom!”

“That’s a quid in the swearing jar, young lady” exclaimed Sylvia. “You’re not eighteen yet!”

“I’m not the one who keeps filling it” said Ashleigh, “You and dad swear far more than me.”

“We’re the adults here, Ashleigh!”

Sylvia’s child was back upstairs before she expanded on her reply. Tom left the dining table and the remnants of the 2 slices of toast on his plate to straighten his tie. He was better at it than his daughter.

“I’m going to be late again tonight, Silvia.”

“That’s the third after hours meeting this week.”

“Can’t be helped, love.”

Ashleigh was two steps away from the downstairs corridor when two heavy knocks on the door caught her attention. She yelled to her mum “We’ve got a visitor!”

“What are you doing here?” was Sylvia’s response to seeing Suzanne on her doorstep.

“Sylvia Hendry – I am arresting you on suspicion of obstructing an investigation!”

“Are you on drugs, Detective Inspector? I told you what you needed to know about Samantha over a pub dinner!”

“Really”

“Yes, I said I didn’t know this Helen Stephenson, and I also made it crystal that I’d no idea what she meant by the remark “She’s resurfaced”.  I’ve nothing else to tell you in my own home.”

“Is Thomas in, Mrs. Hendry?”

Sylvia looked in Ameera’s direction. DC Jahil used eye contact with the woman who’d answered the door to her and DI Andrews to try and get some measure of Mrs. Hendry’s character. Not saying a word aided the process.

“How do you know my husband’s name?”

“I’ve been to see Olivia Blackwell.”

“Ashleigh, go into the living room” Sylvia said, half-turning to her daughter.

“No, I want to know what’s...”

“Just do it, Ashleigh!” barked Mrs. Hendry.

When her mother’s back was turned, Ashleigh stuck two fingers up at Sylvia. She then did as she was told. Unseen defiance was safer: no chance of punishment coming her way.

“What did she tell you?”

“Just what you didn’t”

DI Andrews was glad to see an expression of defeat on Sylvia’s face. Getting the proper facts from her had to be easier from this point.

“And what was that, DI Andrews?”

“The murder of Alice Thomas”

With the mention of that name, Sylvia’s air of defiance was stolen. Opening the door a little wider Suzanne identified as resignation. It was one of the physical gestures that people rely on when giving up.

“Can I get dressed properly?”

“Ten minutes – no longer, please!”

 

For the second hour running, Laura Blackwell was sat on her bedroom floor, amidst an ocean of displaced belongings. They had been flung around as part of her emotional eruption. Fondness and familiarity were two sensations Olivia’s revelation had rapidly torn to shreds. Through this painful turmoil, Laura was now looking at her room as a jail cell. This perception was perhaps a tad dramatic, but thinking rationally after realising every aspect of her childhood was a lie was currently improbable. Anything near her that she owned, she tried to kick away. From outside her bedroom, Mrs. Blackwell’s footsteps got closer. Laura reacted by standing up and pushing something in front of the door to bar Olivia’s entrance.

“Laura, I’ve brought you a cuppa.”

“I don’t fucking want it!” Laura screamed. “You’re not my mum! I don’t want a bastard thing from you!”

The side of Olivia that wouldn’t allow a member of her family to talk to her so harshly had been locked away for the moment. Chastising her was not going to be the way to re-establish some line of communication with the person she’d come to think as a daughter. A truth of this nature was bound to be devastating for any young woman to hear. Olivia was in no position to force her into talking about it, and she understood that if she’d been in Laura’s shoes, this reaction would be the one to be easily predicted. Strong language was an inescapable part of that, and Mrs. Blackwell saw there was no way Laura could steer herself past coming out with bad language. A retreat downstairs was Olivia’s sole move. Silence and personal space were granted to the person whose life had been turned upside down yesterday. The fall-out from that had invaded this household’s normal atmosphere.

It was another hour and a half before Laura made her way downstairs. There were reddish trails on her cheeks where the tears had descended. She entered the kitchen in an emotional daze. Finding the beverage Olivia had made, she took a swig, without realising it was stone cold. She expelled it into the sink and set about making herself a fresh one. As splintered as Laura’s ego was, she was ready to talk and not succumb to another bout of rage-fuelled vandalism. After downing three consecutive sips, she said to the woman who’d been assuming the maternal role in her life “Why didn’t you tell me when I was 16?”

“What good would it have done – have I not been enough of a mum to you?”

The guilt trip employed within the question had no effect on Laura. She was adamant on wanting to hear a reason Olivia didn’t come clean.

“I could’ve handled it.”

“The state you left your room in says otherwise, Laura.”

Olivia wasn’t going to dare to try and get an apology from her over that. She knew there were matters that shouldn’t be brought up in this variety of domestic drama, and this was a prime example of one. Four gulps away from finishing her drink, Laura said “I want to see her – I want to see my real mum!”

“I’ll arrange with DI Andrews and her superior for you to see the body in a few days time.”

“No, I want to see her today! I’m never going to see my real mother alive again, so I decide when I get to see her body.”

The insistent nature of Laura’s declaration bulldozed over any objection Mrs. Blackwell might’ve raised, if she saw herself in a position. At the moment, that wasn’t a viable prospect. Agreement to Laura’s demand was something she wouldn’t be able to skirt around. An OK was what she received, but Laura was miles away, mentally, from showing signs of gratitude or, most importantly for Olivia, forgiveness.

“How was she killed, Olivia?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

Laura raised her voice when repeating her query. Her tempestuous mood wasn’t going to allow any more truths to be shielded from her. She was determined to know, regardless of whether she was ready for those facts or not. Olivia didn’t want to be blunt, but the manner of Samantha’s death was laid bare. Protecting her had only paved the way to a sudden deterioration of Laura’s love for her: it wasn’t beyond repair but the relationship they’d had needed more fixing that Olivia thought. She was stark in her description. There were no details omitted on this occasion: the whole set of ghastly circumstances formed the core of what Suzanne had permitted Mrs. Blackwell to know about the killing of Samantha. Even the mutilation got a foothold in DI Andrews’ chronicle of the situation, which she was passing onto Laura.

Finishing the beverage had somehow caused Laura to brandish a stoical attitude. The expression on her face became a little harder. It was much more competent at restraining visible emotions. They seemed to be going through a type of partial shutdown. Denial was morphing into the disguising of sentiment. The pulling away from psychologically counter-productive method was yet another coping strategy. Laura was uncovering many that blotted out any mental pain. Putting on a front was instrumental in getting excellent results in that area. Laura was burdened with the awareness that she had probably less than a week to come to terms with this traumatic revelation and have any chance of being Samantha’s daughter for real. After that, her mum’s corpse would end up in a graveyard plot, deep in the ground. Saying goodbye permanently was all Laura could care about now. The shift to being an orphan was hard enough without the likelihood of feeling any guilt over venting her spleen at Olivia in the near future. Mrs. Blackwell wasn’t going to be the individual to double Laura’s emotional strain by making her regret her actions during the previous evening and those of this morning.

 

A female constable handed Sylvia Hendry the cup of coffee she had requested. Suzanne and Ameera watched her drink it for about a minute. DC Jahil inserted the cassette into the tape machine – the last preparation to be carried out for the interview about to happen. A quarter of the cup’s content vanished down Sylvia’s throat before Suzanne began the recording, pressing the two buttons needed at the same time.

“Interview commenced at 10:06am” said Suzanne, looking directly at Mrs. Hendry. “Officers present are Detective Inspector Suzanne Andrews and Detective Constable Ameera Jahil.”

Sylvia fumbled aimlessly with the bottom of her coffee cup whilst she was waiting for DI Andrews to ask the first question. Suzanne took a sip of her own coffee, prolonging the wait by a few seconds.

“Could you give your full name for the benefit of the tape, please?” she said dryly.

“Sylvia Marianne Hendry.”

“I would like you to tell me all you know about Alice Thomas’ murder.”

“She was strangled.”

“I need more than three words, Mrs. Hendry. Lying to the police or withholding information is serious: you need to be more giving about the details I require from you. We can start with the alleged motive for Helen Stephenson doing away with Alice.”

“Did that cow Olivia tell you what it was?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hendry, she did.”

“Well, why do I need this question?”

“Because I’m doing the asking, that’s why!”

“Alice took great pleasure in telling all and sundry that Helen and Samantha were an item.”

“Why should that be so scandalous? Nobody gets their knickers in a twist about lesbians anymore.”

“In this day and age maybe, but in the Eighties it was still a huge deal when women fell in love with one another.”

“True as that might sound, Mrs. Hendry, it’s a fact that the public as a whole don’t go around strangling and cutting out the tongues of those who spread rumours to do over their sexuality. Only Helen Stephenson did that! What you’re talking about is the justification of an indefensible act.”

“I’m not justifying what she did! Look, Helen said she was going to make sure Alice wasn’t going to be handing out vicious gossip about anyone else ever again – I never thought she’d carry out that threat!”

“Well, she did, Mrs. Hendry! So, where is she now?”

“I don’t know...really!”

Sylvia was quick to include that word on seeing Suzanne’s distrustful stare. She had no intention of being accused of lying when she was actually telling the truth this time. Mrs. Hendry then added “I haven’t seen from that day to this. She went completely off the radar.”

“Well, Samantha Williams saw her or came into contact with her, probably within the last week or so – and I imagine Helen thought she was the one who shopped her to the police.”

“I don’t know who it was that shopped her. When Sam talked about Helen being in Manchester, I did honestly think she was being a drama queen. It may appear I lied to you during the meal you paid for, but the truth is I didn’t want dredge up that business again.”

“I can half understand that, Mrs. Hendry, but this business, as you call it, is tied up with the murder enquiry I’m involved with – there’s no way to avoid the matter being resurrected.”

Temporarily, Sylvia put her distaste at having to relive those dark events from three decades ago aside. She didn’t want to increase the risk of facing a charge of obstructing a police enquiry, and total transparency was her ticket out of that.

“Okay, I’ll be honest as I can.”

Seeing there was no hope of negotiating for a higher level of cooperation than what Mrs. Hendry was offering, Suzanne said “That’s a start, at least! Did DCI Bauer have any other suspects when he was trying to catch Alice Thomas’ killer?”

“None – Helen was the prime suspect. I was interviewed, of course, but as far as I was aware, most of the evidence gathered back then pointed to her. What clinched Helen being the culprit in the police’s eyes was her alibi being pulled apart by the DCI leading the case.”

“You previously said Ms. Stephenson went off the radar after the killing, Mrs. Hendry – did DCI Bauer mount a search for her whereabouts?”

“Yeah, it went on for a few months, but it was eventually called off and the police never caught up with her. Lord knows where she is now!”

“What do you think she did during those years?”

“Became a different person, obviously: if I were trying to evade capture by the police, that’s the first thing I’d do”

“If Helen wanted revenge against Samantha, why wait thirty years to do it?”

“You’ll have to ask her that once you arrest her, whatever name she’s adopted now.”

“What can you tell me about Helen Stephenson as a whole?”

“Before she became a teenager, next to nothing – social services is your best bet.”

“Social services”

“She was in care homes since she was six.”

“Something else you failed to tell me whilst I funding your evening meal at the pub we met in.”

“I didn’t realise that kind of personal info was needed to aid ongoing police investigations.”

“That’s something we officers decide for ourselves; it’s not up to civilians to do that.”

Finding Suzanne’s exclamation a little overly egotistical, Ameera applied the throat-clearing gesture. DI Andrews automatically got the gist of it without the need for words.

“Another of Samantha’s workplace colleagues reported to the police that she was being stalked by someone wearing a red and blue hooded top. Did you see this individual in and around where you and Ms. Williams worked?”

“No, I never....hang on – did you say a red and blue hooded top?”

“Do you know who it belongs to”

“Yeah, its’ Ashleigh’s”

“Ashleigh? Was that the young woman in the corridor with you?”

“She’s my daughter.”

“Why would your daughter be stalking Samantha?”

“She wouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hendry, I don’t understand what you’re...”

“I hung it on the washing line overnight, a couple of weeks ago – the next morning someone had nicked it. Sam was still alive then.”

Though it was off-topic, a short conversation was triggered in which Ameera revealed that her parents were also targeted by a clothes line thief; an all too serious glance from Suzanne stopped DC Jahil from being more detailed about this incident.

“One final question, Mrs. Hendry – do you know who Laura Blackwell’s biological father is?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Because Samantha didn’t share that information with Olivia: I was wondering whether she felt more able to confide in you about that.”

“She didn’t – that was definitely one of the details she never shared with me.”

“There were others?”

“Yes, but since she never shared them either, I can’t tell you what else she was tight-lipped about.”

DI Andrews ultimately found she was lumbered with an irritating pause that followed Sylvia’s last answer. Suzanne couldn’t think of any further questions to highlight more details about the victim.

“Interview concluded at 10:12am.”

Mrs. Hendry didn’t like the sound of that statement. It drew up images in her mind of spending an entire night in a police cell.

“Am I going to be charged with obstruction?”

“No, you’re free to go. Don’t suddenly decide to take a holiday, though!”

 

The resulting facts from Mrs. Hendry being interviewed were added to what was already on the glass board by one of the constables attending this new briefing. As before, the CID officers were stood in locations reflecting their ranks.

“Helen Stephenson” boomed Josephine, “that’s now the second name that’s at the centre of the enquiry. Unlike Samantha, we have no photograph of this woman.”

“How are we supposed to identify her then?”

DS Pickford sounded like he’d ushered in his query randomly. However, it entered his mind when he was privately briefed that the team had a name to give the prime suspect. When he was told there was no picture, he tried to calculate how he was going to spot her face when perusing through CCTV footage. DCI Andrews verbally handed over the briefing to her daughter.

Stepping forward, Suzanne answered “The only visual aid we have to locate her happens to be a red and blue hooded top. Mrs. Hendry said that it was stolen from her daughter Ashleigh a fortnight ago, so this suggests it was already on Helen Stephenson’s mind to kill Samantha.”

“I thought Ms. Williams’ stalker was wearing that” interrupted DS Pickford.

“Until I come across a fact which tells me otherwise, I’m preparing to go with the assumption Helen was Samantha’s stalker. The two problems this enquiry faces are that we don’t know what this Helen Stephenson looks like and we are in the dark over what alias she is using to stay hidden.”

“What’s the plan here?” asked Ameera. The question was meant for both Suzanne and Josephine but DI Andrews was the first to answer.

“You’re with me, Ameera. The other Detective Constable will be partnered with the other Detective Sergeant.”

“And Pickford will be shadowing me” said Josephine, preventing him from looking foolish asking a question with an all-too obvious answer.

“DC Jahil and I will be seeing DCI Bauer in Morecambe tomorrow. He has information crucial to understanding the character and psychology of Helen Stephenson. He also might give us some further clues that can lead us to pinpoint where she is living and what her current name is.”

“What is this woman’s motive for killing Miss Williams?”

“Revenge, DS Pickford,” replied DI Andrews “she believes Samantha gave up her up to the authorities. We have no way, yet, to discover whether she was the one who put DCI Bauer on her trail, but our immediate line is that she bestowed the same murderous justice upon Samantha that she visited on Alice Thomas.”

Taking control of the briefing again, Josephine announced “What it basically boils down to is that Helen Stephenson committed two murders. They were carried out thirty years apart, but they have the same M.O.” DCI Andrews had put too much finality into what she’d said. It sounded like a closing statement, and the officers were all venturing to their desks. Suzanne timely copied Ameera’s throat-based gesture to get them all re-gathered.

“There are a couple of things I have to add to the briefing” began Suzanne. “Firstly, Laura Blackwell, who is Samantha Williams’ biological offspring, will be coming in to make a statement. She has only just learned the victim is her mum: she’s liable to be feeling raw and will find an over-abundance of questions too much at this stage. Ameera and I will be handling this. Her adoptive mother, Olivia Blackwell, will also be making a statement. I don’t want anyone else, except my mum, shadowing or interfering in this responsibility.”

This was a more erudite way of telling the other offices to butt out of this procedure. Suzanne knew what to expect with Olivia and the young lady she’d been raising as her own daughter, and did not feel that Pickford or the other DS and DC would handle the situation correctly.