Dead ringer, p.3
Dead Ringer, page 3
part #1 of DI Chilcott Series
Chowdhury coughed quietly and shifted on his feet. The DCI noticed and shot him a fierce stare.
‘Reasonable grounds to suspect involvement is all we need at this stage, people. Singleton was with her moments before her death. We’ve got unusual behaviour on his part, and potentially, we also have sexual interest. Get him in.’
‘I’ll notify custody to keep a space,’ Chowdhury said.
‘I want three teams,’ the DCI said. ‘One to effect the arrest alongside uniform. Another to conduct a search of the property and a final team for interview. Those of you on CCTV duties secure that footage ASAP. I want to see our victim leaving her place of work. I want to see her walking down Whiteladies Road, Cotham Hill, entering the wine shop, the works. I want all that footage until we can see her no more.’
Chapter Four
5:43 p.m.
Jeremy Singleton was at home with his wife when a loud knock came at the door.
‘Are you expecting someone?’ his wife asked, pausing the TV with the remote control. She was addicted to Game of Thrones and was watching the boxed-set for the umpteenth time.
Singleton didn’t take his eyes away from his iPad and shook his head.
‘What time did you say you were going out later?’ she asked him.
‘Doesn’t matter what time I’m going out,’ he said, still not looking up from his tablet.
‘But didn’t you say you were meeting work colleagues – could it be one of them?’
Singleton gave his wife a disinterested glance and peeled himself up from the seat and dragged himself to the door. The last thing he wanted was for his wife to finally meet one of his girls, not that they were remotely likely to come directly to his house. The door knocked loudly again.
‘Alright. Fucking hell, give me a chance,’ he said beneath his breath, opening the front door.
‘Jeremy Singleton?’
A large man in a grey suit flanked by two police officers in uniform who looked as if they were ready for a war stood on the doorstep.
‘Ye… yes.’ He looked beyond the officers and saw two others in suits and another three officers in uniform standing in his front garden. He glanced quickly left, then right to see if any of the neighbours had noticed. Suddenly, he felt a strong grip on his right wrist.
‘Jeremy Singleton, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Samantha Chamberlain on Friday the twenty first of this month. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned, something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?’
Before he knew it, his arm was being twisted and he was forced into a spin, his face planted against the hallway wall as his second hand was wrenched from his side and forced up his back. He suddenly felt a sharp pain as cold metal clamped down hard around his wrists.
‘Who is it?’ his wife called out from the living room.
Snapping back into reality, Singleton turned his face to the arresting officer, one cheek pressed firmly against the cool wall. ‘Wha…’ he whimpered. ‘W… w… what’s?’ He was too stunned to speak.
‘Who else is here?’ one of the uniformed officers asked.
‘M… my… w… wife. My wife. Jesus! What are you doing?’
Two of the suited detectives entered the property and headed towards the female voice.
Singleton was bundled unceremoniously outside of his property, down the steps to the front garden where another uniformed officer began rummaging through his pockets.
‘Got anything on you that may harm you, me, or any of my colleagues,’ the officer said as he patted the outside of Singleton’s trouser pockets before stuffing his gloved hand inside to double-check he hadn’t missed anything.
‘What’s happening?’ Singletons voice broke with emotion. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing? You’ve got the wrong person!’
‘Afraid not, mate,’ the detective who was still holding on firmly to Singleton’s bicep said, nonchalantly. The detective spoke to one of the other officers standing nearby. ‘Inform custody we’re one up and coming in.’
‘Custody?’ Singleton repeated hysterically. ‘What?’ He wept as he was forced to walk away from his garden by two officers on either side of his incapacitated arms. They walked towards a waiting police van and the rear doors opened outwards.
‘Watch your head getting in,’ one of the officers said moving Singleton towards the rear cage of the van.
‘I don’t know what this is?’ Singleton wept, his tears no longer holding back.
‘You are being taken to Patchway Custody Suite, where you will remain until interview,’ the first officer said. ‘You can arrange to have legal representation once we get there.’
‘Interview? You’ve got the wrong the person…’
Singleton was forced to sit down onto the wooden bench and the double doors closed tight with a clattering bang.
Chapter Five
11:49 p.m.
It was hard to tell who was more surprised at the arrest, Singleton or his wife. He had come as willingly as possible, for a murder suspect, his wife, on the other hand, was nearly brought in herself for obstruction. Singleton came from a nice home in the Clifton area of Bristol. He was a local man running a family business that his father began back in 1981. A struggling enterprise at first during the market recession, the business boomed during the “yuppie-years” of rising house prices and wages, when more people were encouraged into enterprise and in turn, needed sound financial advice. Singleton was a man who knew every step and raised paving slab of the neighbourhood. That meant he also knew every camera location, escape route and hidey-hole if he needed to.
Jeremy Singleton was a wiry forty-seven year-old man with longer than average dark hair slicked back away from his forehead. He had a pox-marked jaw, partially disguised by five-day-old growth around his top lip and at the point of his chin. Small wispy hairs on his cheeks disclosed he probably struggled to grow a full beard. His small beady blue eyes looked cold against his navy Ralph Lauren polo shirt. He appeared overtly anxious as he stared furtively between the interviewing detectives seated opposite him; Fleur Phillips, the OIC, and Penny Chiba the number two interviewer. It had been decided that two female officers would interview Singleton. They weren’t at any particular risk. Two other burly detention officers were waiting on the other side of the closed interview room door and the girls themselves were known to mix it up with the best of them, when required. It was anticipated that two things might happen as a result of facing his female interrogators; either, his chauvinistic qualities would shine through and he’d feel less threatened by their presence and potentially open up more than if two male officers interviewed him, or, they might get to see the real Singleton in the face of two attractive young females. He was also accompanied by the duty solicitor, Mr Franklin, who had only left the station a couple of hours earlier having dealt with a robbery detainee for the preceding six hours. That one hadn’t gone his way; the young man was being remanded to the next available court on Monday. This wasn’t turning out to be his day.
As DC Phillips commenced the interview following the standard legal introduction, a shimmer of perspiration glistened on Singleton’s forehead from the fluorescent strip lighting above their heads.
‘We are here about the murder of your employee, Samantha Chamberlain early yesterday evening,’ Phillips said plainly.
‘Yea…yes.’ Singleton dabbed around his hairline with the back of his index finger. ‘It wasn’t me.’
‘Tell us about Samantha.’
Both officers waited, eyes fixed on their subject as he squirmed in the seat and his face made all manner of contortions.
‘Um…’
‘Start by describing her,’ Detective Chiba asked.
‘Uh… you mean how tall she is…?’
Both officers picked up on the nuance of the word is.
‘When did you last see Samantha?’ Phillips asked.
‘On Friday. At work. She… she, she—’
‘Take your time,’ Phillips gently soothed.
‘She left before me.’
‘Who else was left in the office between Samantha leaving and you closing up?’
He looked nervously between the two officers. ‘No… no one.’
Phillips massaged her lips together in response to the answer, ensuring Singleton noticed her reticent reaction.
‘I promise… it wasn’t me,’ he said despairingly.
‘Ah ha,’ Chiba uttered making a note in her interview book.
‘Seriously,’ he bleated looking between them anxiously. ‘I wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
‘Do you know how many times we’ve heard that, Mr Singleton,’ Phillips came back.
‘Oh God!’ Singleton began to shake.
Mr Franklin leaned forwards and handed his client a plastic cup of water. ‘Take your time,’ he whispered. ‘Remember, you don’t have to answer any of these questions—’
‘No – I… I want to,’ Singleton answered back. ‘I didn’t kill Samantha.’ He stared at both officers. ‘I didn’t kill her.’
‘Image is important to you, isn’t it, Mr Singleton?’ Phillips asked conversationally.
‘Um…’ he shook his head.
‘You’re wearing a nice designer top around the home. Your staff say that you always dress in smart, expensive-looking suits and I can smell that you care about your hygiene.’
‘Y… yes.’ Singleton looked confused and then peered at his solicitor.
‘I’m sorry,’ Mr Franklin intervened, holding out a calming hand towards his client. ‘I was under the impression my client was under arrest on suspicion of murder, not because he takes pride in his appearance.’ Franklin glared at Phillips over the top of his rimless spectacles.
Phillips smiled thinly at the solicitor. ‘I’ll get to the point,’ she said. Her smile dropped instantly. ‘You are a player, Mr Singleton. You prey on the female members of your staff. You employ attractive young women so that you can fantasise about them. You proposition them, you give them unwelcome attention and you bully them, don’t you?’
Singleton wiped a quick hand across his mouth. ‘I—’
Phillips didn’t give him a chance to speak. ‘We’ve got statements here from your current employees.’ She looked up from the pages and stared at him. ‘All pretty young women. And we’ve got a statement from a recent employee who left as a result of the sexual harassment she was suffering at your hands.’
‘Deborah was a trouble maker,’ he threw back quickly.
‘How did you know I was talking about Deborah?’
Singleton’s eyes flickered and he looked down at the table.
‘And so, Mr Singleton… we know you fancy your chances with the ladies.’
He shook his head but didn’t answer.
Phillips separated one of the statements away from the others. ‘Michelle has provided us with a statement specifically relating to the Friday just gone. The Friday that Samantha Chamberlain was murdered.’
Singleton looked up briefly enough to catch Phillips’ eye.
‘You were trying it on with Samantha moments before she left the office, weren’t you?’
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
‘Asking her to meet you over the weekend. Getting unnecessarily close.’ Phillips leaned back against her chair and allowed a few seconds of silence to magnify what was coming next. ‘She spurned you. Didn’t she? You didn’t like it, so you followed her out of the office and took your opportunity to teach her a lesson—’
‘No.’ He pleaded with red and despairing eyes.
‘No?’
‘I… I…’
‘Yes…’
He dabbed at his wet cheeks. Detective Chiba tossed a box of tissues across the table towards him. He took a fist full and rubbed at his eyes.
‘I didn’t follow her,’ Singleton breathed. ‘I left at least ten minutes later.’
‘So?’
‘I didn’t see her again.’
‘Do you have CCTV at the office?’ Chiba asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Where exactly does it cover?’
‘Uh… by the safe. Uh… the entrance.’ He wiped beneath his nose and flicked her a glance.
Phillips narrowed her stare and cocked her head. ‘And?’ she asked after a deliberate three-second pause. She could see from his lack of eye contact he was holding back. ‘Where else?’ She asked, her voice stern and demanding.
He looked down and away from everyone including his solicitor.
‘Okay,’ Phillips said. ‘We’ve got officers there right now. They are seizing all computer equipment and CCTV recording equipment. What else are they going to find, Mr Singleton?’
He swung around to face her. ‘There’s…’
Phillips raised her eyebrows and gestured with her hands for him to continue.
‘There… there’s recording of the ladies changing area.’
Phillips’ brows dropped. ‘You’d better tell us more.’
Mr Franklin lowered his pen to his lap. ‘You do not have to answer any of these questions,’ he repeated in a calm, reassuring way.
‘Agh… um… there’s a camera in the toilets.’ He blinked and stared down at a spot half way between himself and the officers. ‘They’ll find… recordings.’
‘Okay,’ Phillips encouraged. ‘Recordings of Samantha?’
Singleton scratched the side of his face. ‘All of them. Uh… all of them.’
Phillips and Chiba exchanged a tight look. Phillips continued. ‘Thank you for offering that information, Mr Singleton. We’ll deal with those matters separately.’
She waited until Singleton looked up directly at her.
‘Did you kill Samantha Chamberlain?’
‘No,’ he said immediately.
‘Did you follow her from the office and strangle her?’
‘No.’ His face warped and he began to weep loudly.
The officers waited until his emotions subsided. Neither of them spoke encouraging Singleton to speak next.
‘Yes, I recorded the girls,’ he suddenly blurted out. ‘I… I did have thoughts about them, well, some of them, but I didn’t kill Samantha.’ He covered his face with his hands and broke down in wailing tears.
‘I think my client needs some time,’ Mr Franklin said. ‘I’d like a private consultation with my client if you don’t mind.’
Phillips turned to Chiba and then looked back at the small video camera above the door that had been recording their conversation. ‘The time is zero seventeen hours on Sunday the twenty-third of February. This interview is being suspended to allow Mr Singleton to seek further legal advice.’
Phillips watched Singleton with pity as he was assisted from his seat and taken back to his cell.
Mr Franklin came back from the cell block to find the officers talking in the corridor.
‘Will there be another interview tonight?’ he asked.
‘No, I don’t think so. We’ve obviously got some CCTV to review from your client’s office.’
Mr Franklin gave a pained expression. ‘You’ll appreciate my client didn’t have to answer any of those questions. The information he has volunteered has assisted you with your investigation. May I assume that this will be fed back to the Crown Prosecution Service when a charging decision is made?’
‘Yep.’ Phillips agreed. ‘He didn’t have to tell us that, I agree.’
‘For what it’s worth,’ Mr Franklin said as he secured his aged brown leather briefcase with a click of a metal buckle. ‘I don’t think he’s your man.’
Franklin left the officers with a nod and walked out of the unit.
The DCI was waiting for Phillips and Chiba beside the charge desk. ‘I heard everything from the satellite room,’ she said. ‘Let’s wait for the results on the office search and scene forensics before we go at him again.’
‘What do you think, Ma’am?’ Detective Penny Chiba asked.
‘Argh! It’s early days, but that’s as compelling a denial as we are likely to find.’ DCI Foster’s mind drifted off briefly and then snapped back into focus. ‘Thanks for your efforts today, girls. Get yourselves home and try to grab some sleep. I think we’re in this one for the long-haul.’
Chapter Six
Sunday 23rd February
5:12 p.m.
It had been another long and painstaking day at the Central Major Crime Investigation Team. DCI Foster had let everyone go by 4 p.m., and now she was alone in the large silent incident room looking up at the timeline. Not much had changed since this time yesterday. They were still waiting on the results of the forensic examination at the church and the post mortem was due to commence in the morning at ten. Both could be game changers. She’d taken the bold move of releasing Jeremy Singleton on police bail regarding the murder – on the proviso that a district CID officer would take on the voyeurism case separately. That gave twenty-eight days to prove or disprove his involvement in Samantha Chamberlain’s murder, or up to three months, if they obtained a superintendent’s authority. Deep down, however, she believed he wasn’t their killer. Nobody of his fragile emotional state was capable of such a cold-blooded, calculated killing, unless he had a schizophrenic side like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
These were the worst moments of a major crime investigation; the delays she couldn’t control. Her team were keen, but needed small results to feed from. They were like a pack of wolves hunting down the killer, but even wolves needed a scent to keep them hungry.
She drew a deep despondent lung full of air and flicked off the light switch. Her car was parked in the front open plan car park. Apart from the utility vehicles used to conduct enquiries, hers was the only other car present. She waved to the security officer at the barrier as the large blue metal gates retracted on their wheels allowing her to exit the compound. She turned right onto the avenue and waited at the main road as a procession of Sunday drivers pootled past. Indicating, she pulled out and began her thirty-minute drive home.
