Delayed & Denied (5 page)

Friday 10th August

Flimby

‘It’s just up here, Andy,’ said Dixon, looking at the sat-nav as Hall drove. ‘That’ll do.’

Hall parked, and looked at the small, terraced house that they were outside. ‘I wonder if he’s got a sea view.’

‘I hope not. I bloody hate the sea, me.’

‘But when you were in the job you and your wife were forever jetting off to Spain, Ray. They must be able to see your carbon footprint from space.’

‘I know, but I never went in the sea. It’s full of fish, and sewage, and seaweed, and Christ knows what else. You’re a damned sight safer on a lounger by the pool, believe you me.’

Hall led the way to the front door and, more in hope than expectation, tried the bell. In his experience the kind of people who received visits from detectives, or even former detectives, rarely bothered about replacing batteries in anything other than the TV remote. But a few seconds later the door opened and a man appeared. He was tall, and stooping, and seemed to be dressed entirely in shades of brown.

‘Mr. Burke?’ said Hall cheerfully. ‘We spoke on the phone. Andy Hall. This is my colleague, Ray Dixon.’

‘Aye, come on in.’

‘Thanks.’ Hall made eye contact, and smiled. He got no reaction, one way or the other, from Burke, who turned and walked slowly down the dark hallway. Hall noticed the silence as soon as he entered, but then Dixon was wearing his usual soft-soled shoes, in a summery shade of blue.

Burke didn’t offer them drinks, but his living room, though small, was tidy. It reminded Hall of something, and it took him a moment to realise what it was. It was the furniture, of course. It was very like the first suite that he and his wife had bought after they’d got married, back in the ‘80s. Give it another ten years and it’ll be all the rage again, he thought.

Dixon and Hall sat together on the sofa, and Dixon got out his notebook and a small digital audio recorder.

‘Is it OK if we record?’ Dixon asked. ‘Give my writing hand a bit of a break, like.’

‘Aye. If you want.’

Burke didn’t seem at all curious about their working method, or even especially interested in why they were there.

‘So I expect that Sarah Hardcastle told you why we were coming?’ asked Hall.

‘Aye, to ask me some questions. But I’m not sure how much I can remember, like. It was all a right long time ago.’

‘We understand. And that’s why we want to talk to you now. But I expect you’ve thought about that time a lot anyway, over the years?’

Burke looked slightly surprised, as if the thought had never really occurred to him. ‘No, not really. I didn’t see the point.’

‘But I thought that you approached Sarah, and asked her to look into your case?’

‘Oh, no, marra. She approached me. That’s how it happened, like. I’ve always known I’m innocent, and I can’t get the time back, so I’ve just tried to get on with it, best as I can, like.’

Hall smiled again, and tried to look encouraging. ‘Understood. But since you didn’t kill your wife, I bet you’d like to know who did, wouldn’t you?’

‘Aye. Of course I would, aye.’

‘Good. Because I’ll be honest with you, Adam. Is it all right to call you Adam? Good. And I’m Andy, and this Ray, OK? Anyway, what I was going to say is this. If I’m honest with you the only way that we’re going to be able to clear your name publicly is if we can suggest very strongly that someone else killed Sharon.’

‘Aye, right. I see. Someone else. That makes sense, aye. Has to be, like.’

‘And do you have any thoughts about who that person might be? I bet you’ve got your suspicions, haven’t you?’

‘I thought that’s what you were here for. To find out, like. You were both detectives in the police, weren’t you?’

Hall glanced across at Dixon and nodded slightly. It was time to make a proper start, because he was getting nowhere. Dixon looked down at the questions that they’d agreed on, and began. He already had the feeling that it was going to be a long morning.

And it soon turned out that Burke’s memory of the events around the time of his wife’s death had certainly altered since he was first interviewed: but only to the extent that it had gone from being extremely sketchy to almost non-existent. But what he said this time, such as it was, chimed very closely with his original statements, and Hall felt no need to interrupt Dixon’s flow of questions. And as the words flowed past him he found himself trying to empathise with this man, and to imagine how he must feel if he was actually innocent. It wasn’t just difficult, it felt almost impossible. It really was as if they were all talking about someone else entirely.

Dixon was leaving pauses after each question was answered, always briefly and often monosyllabically, partly so that Burke would be encouraged to elaborate, and possibly lie, and also to give Hall room to come in with a follow-up if he chose. And eventually he could resist no longer.

‘I’m sorry, Adam, but I have to ask this. You were convicted of murdering your wife, lost all your friends and family while you were inside, and yet I’m starting to wonder if you’ve even thought about what happened to you, and why? Don’t you still go through it all in your head, over and over? I know that I would, if I were in your position.’

Burke was silent for a moment, and then he shrugged.

‘What’s the point? No-one believed me then, and no-one believes me now. I still dream about her, you know. Every night, probably. But it doesn’t do any good, does it?’

‘So you don’t think we can help you? Is that it, Adam? Is that why you’re not engaging with us as we hoped you would?’

He shrugged again. ‘Maybe. Aye, maybe.’

Hall glanced across at Dixon, and nodded again. Ray continued through his litany of questions, some repeating or rhyming with earlier ones, and in another twenty minutes they were done. There was a long silence before Hall finally spoke again.

‘Thanks for that, Adam. That was helpful, honestly. But there are a couple of things I wanted to ask you about in particular, OK?’

‘Sure. Whatever.’

‘Good. Now, on the day that she disappeared your wife left the house in the morning, is that right?’

‘Yes. Some time in the morning.’

‘But you’re not sure when?’

‘No. Like I said, I was in bed. Flu it was. Like I said.’

‘Yes, that’s right, you said. And you didn’t know where she was going?’

‘No. I thought she’d been called in to work. I think she said something, like.’

‘But she hadn’t gone in to work. And you found this out when you called the hospital the next morning, immediately before you called us to report her missing?’

‘Aye, like I said. She hadn’t been in, they said. You lot checked the phone records, marra. I was telling the truth, like.’

‘Yes, you were. But why didn’t you call her work the previous night, when she didn’t come home?’

‘I must have been asleep, I suppose.’

‘But you’d been in bed all day. Did you not sleep, or doze, in the daytime?’

Burke shrugged again. ‘I must have. I don’t remember.’

‘Did you take any pills? Anything like that? Did your wife bring home a couple of sleeping pills from work, maybe?’

‘She never did anything like that. No, never. Why would she do that?’

For the first time Hall felt the lie, and he sensed that Dixon did too.

‘Come on, Adam. It doesn’t matter now. You can’t get Sharon into trouble, can you? She was only trying to help, I expect. You know, because you were feeling so poorly.’

‘Aye, she was.’

‘So she gave you a tablet, before she went out?’

‘Aye, she did.’

‘And another for later, I expect.’

‘Aye, a couple more.’

‘And did she say what these tablets were?’

‘Maybe. Probably, aye, she would have. I don’t remember.’

‘Were they sleeping tablets, Adam?’

‘Aye. Sleeping tablets. I think so.’

‘And why didn’t you mention this before? When the police first interviewed you? Or after the body was found? Then, at least.’

‘I didn’t want to get my Sharon into any trouble. I knew she was dead, like, but I didn’t want anyone to think bad of her, you know.’

‘Yes, Adam, I do. I completely understand.’

Hall sat back. He was excited, but nothing about him expressed that excitement in any way. But they’d turned a corner together, he just knew it.

‘You’re doing really well, Adam. And remember, there’s no reason why you can’t be completely honest with us, OK? We’re just here to help, if we can.’

‘Aye, I understand.’

‘Good. So let’s talk about Jack Lee.’

‘All right.’

No reaction. Hall tried again.

‘Do you know why we might be especially interested in Mr. Lee, Adam?’

‘Aye, because he said I told him that I’d killed Sharon, and where I dumped the body, like.’

‘And that was a lie?’

‘Aye. I never said that. I never killed her. I didn’t know where she was. I didn’t even know she were dead until they found her, like.’

‘So why did Jack Lee lie like that? Why did he condemn you to all those years inside?’

Another shrug. But this time Hall was having none of it.

‘Come on, Adam. You must have some idea. You can’t tell me that you haven’t given it some thought. Why would your mate, your best mate, lie about something like that? Especially because he must have known that you’d go to prison for a long time. He must have had a reason; so what was it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You can do better than that. I know you can. When you were inside you must have thought the same thing, every single day. Is this going to be the day when my mate Jack does the right thing, and admits that he lied? But he never did, did he? So why was that, do you think?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe he killed Sharon.’

Hall paused. Dixon glanced across at him, but Hall’s expression was the same as always. Alert, friendly even, but always strangely still.

‘Let’s talk about that possibility, Adam’ said Hall. ‘The possibility that Lee was the killer, and that he framed you for it. Did you talk about that possibility with your defence team, before the trial?’

‘Aye, we talked about it. They never bloody stopped, to tell the truth. But I just asked them, why would Jack kill Sharon? They didn’t have owt to say to that. And he couldn’t have, anyway. He was at work all day on the Friday, like.’

‘So you don’t think that he killed your wife?’

‘No. Never have. But before you ask I don’t know why he said that stuff to the police. Maybe he thought I was guilty, because everyone else bloody did, and he just told them enough to get me convicted.’

‘But how did he know where Sharon’s body was? How could he possibly have known that?’

‘I dunno.’

Hall paused, but knew that he’d wait all day before Burke spoke again.

‘All right. Let’s move on a bit. How well did you and your wife know Jack and his wife? Did you socialise much?’

‘No, not really. Jack was my mate from work, like. We fished a bit, had a drink, you know. Not stuff you do with your wife.’

‘But Jack knew Sharon?’

‘To say hello to, aye. But they weren’t the ones having the affair, I’m sure of that.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I just know.’

There was something about the way that Burke said it that caught Hall’s attention. If he’d read the sentence in a transcript it would have meant nothing in particular, but then, at that moment, he heard something significant. A speed of response, and that atypical hint of certainty in Burke’s voice. It could only mean one thing.

‘So you knew who she was having an affair with? Is that it, Adam?’

‘Aye, I knew. A doctor, from work.’

‘And his name?’

‘Paul Fleming, Dr. Fleming.’

‘And how did you know about this affair?’

‘Sharon told me. About a month before she died. But it was over when she told me.’

‘How did you know it was over?’

‘Because she told me.’

‘Did she say who ended it?’

‘Aye. He did. He ended it.’

‘And why didn’t you mention this, when you were being interviewed?’

The pause was long, and by far the loudest thing in the room were Ray Dixon’s shoes.

‘I thought they might think I’d killed her because of it, like.’

‘I see. But did you not think that he might have done it, this Fleming? Killed your wife, I mean.’

‘It wasn’t him.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I went to see him, the day after she disappeared. Straight after I’d spoken to the police it would have been.’

‘So the Saturday afternoon or evening?’

‘Aye, it must have been. He told me that he’d been on duty the previous day, and that he hadn’t seen my wife, except at work, in weeks.’

‘And is he still living and working locally?’

‘Aye, as far as I know.’

Hall nodded to Dixon, who took the hint. He leant forward and turned off the tape machine. But the phone sitting next to it was still recording.

‘All right, Adam. We’re almost done for today. You’ve been great, honestly. And now I need you to listen to me very carefully. I do believe you, Adam. I believe you when you say that you didn’t kill your wife, I believe that she gave you those sleeping pills, and I believe you when you say that you spoke to this Paul Foster. How about you, Ray? Do you believe Adam?’

‘I do, aye.’

‘You hear that, Adam? We both believe you. So before we go, is there anything else that you can tell us? Anything that you haven’t said to anyone before? Maybe something else that you thought showed Sharon up in a bad light, or that you think makes you look guilty? You can tell us anything, I promise you. Don’t hold anything back, nothing at all. So is there anything?’

Burke shook his head. His expression didn’t change, but a single tear trickled, very slowly, down through the stubble on his cheek.

Dixon didn’t speak until they were pulling away from the kerb.

‘Did you really believe him then, Andy? You know, because of what you said in there.’