‘That’s not my fucking DNA!’ Johnny screamed. ‘That isn’t mine. I’ve been set up. I’ve—’
‘So you weren’t at Park Road on the night of her murder?’
‘No!’
‘But this says you were…’
‘No! I wasn’t!’
‘So if you weren’t there, tell me what you were doing?’
Johnny said nothing.
‘You still can’t tell me, can you? According to my notes, you finished at the club about one o’clock in the morning. At that point, Angelica was still in Memo. She didn’t get dropped off until half past, and she didn’t leave until approximately ten to two, which would have left plenty of time for you to leave Cool Cats and Kittens, and drive towards her house to pick her up.’
‘I… I… I told you I’ve been set up! That wasn’t me. I wasn’t there, I promise. I was…’
Tomek waited, nodded slowly. ‘Go on.’
Johnny let out a long, steady breath. ‘I was with someone. A guy. A customer from the club. He… we got talking after I’d finished and we went back to his place. He… he has a place along the seafront in Westcliff. We… we spent the night together. His name… his name’s James Fry. I can give you all his details. But… I swear to you, that wasn’t me.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
The Fork and Spoon stank of sweaty men and stale lager. The owner, Jim, an old friend of Tomek’s, had let standards slide since he’d last visited. The furniture was dirty and haggard, the carpet stained and unkempt, and the beer selection poorly stocked. The only sign of renovation and innovation, was the vending machine in the corner that was emitting a light as bright and harmful to the skin as the sun. The machine was supposed to be an extra revenue stream for the owner, but Tomek was sure he’d seen that same packet of Salt and Vinegar Walkers in the same position, dangling a fraction off the edge, since the time it had first been put in. At the bar were Sean, Rachel, Oscar, and Chey. Tomek had been in desperate need of a drink, and so everyone else in the team had come along with him. There was no cause to celebrate, not yet, at least; Johnny’s alibi still needed checking out, but it was looking good. They had DNA that connected him to the crime scene. There was no escaping that. Besides, he fit the bill: he knew everything about Angelica; he knew the significance of the church; he knew that her nickname was Angel; he knew how to apply make-up; he was in possession of a penis, so would have been able to rape her with ease. The only concern Tomek had, and it had grown rapidly ever since Johnny had come forward with his new alibi, was that his anger problem didn’t match the killer’s profile. Johnny had already proven he was aggressive and violent, as the bruises around his wife’s throat confirmed, but there had been no physical evidence on Angelica’s body. Nothing. No bruises, no blunt force trauma. Nothing to suggest that he had acted wildly. Tomek was admittedly having a hard time imagining the same man he’d seen straddling his wife with his hands wrapped around her throat, draining the blood of his sister, then gently cleaning her body.
It disconcerted him.
Before he could think on it any further, the team arrived from the bar. Sean set Tomek’s drink in front of him and shimmied in beside him on a wobbly chair.
‘Cheers for the hand there, mate. Really appreciate you carrying the drinks for us,’ Sean joked.
‘I carried this team during the investigation for long enough. About time you did the same.’
‘Carried us?’ responded Anna as she took a sip of her gin and tonic. ‘You weren’t the one spending all your time with Roy and Daphne. Never before have I seen a couple so distant and separate from one another. And my parents are divorced.’
Tomek lowered his glass to the table. ‘That stark, was it?’
‘Like you wouldn’t believe. A couple of times I got there and Daphne had no idea where Roy was. Said that he’d just gone out without saying anything.’
The cogs began whirring.
‘Does he do that often?’
‘Yeah. Couple of times a week for the past thirty years, apparently. All manner of times.’
‘Does she know what he does or where he goes?’
Anna shrugged. ‘Goes for walks, mostly.’
‘Walks?’
‘Yeah, where you put one foot in front of the other,’ Chey interrupted to chuckles of laughter.
Tomek flipped him the finger, then returned to his conversation with Anna.
‘He just goes out for long walks?’
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘It was all in my reports. Did you… did you not…?’
He hadn’t, no. He hadn’t found time to read through the team’s daily summaries, thanks to the mental distraction Abigail had caused over the past few days. That, and the feeling he’d had of being completely out of his depth. Making the step up to inspector, he now realised, had been a culture shock he wasn’t expecting. The spotlight that was thrust upon him, the laborious admin, the sensation of dread that tightened in his stomach exponentially as each day passed without success. And to top it all off, there was the time it had taken away from being at home and with Kasia.
His daughter had become a new responsibility in his life, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for another one.
‘Are we sure this guy’s not a stalker or serial killer?’ Rachel asked sincerely.
It was a second before Tomek came to. He shook his head.
‘No. No, we aren’t.’
Just as Rachel opened her mouth to respond, Martin interrupted.
‘Enough about work,’ he said. ‘We do that all day, every day.’ He took a first sip of his beer, set it down, then turned to Tomek. ‘I saw your young lady friend the other day.’
‘Which one was that?’ Sean responded. ‘There have been quite a few over the years.’
‘The one who writes for the Echo.’
‘She’s not my young lady friend anymore.’
