3.27pm Saturday 14th December
Tilly had not slept well. The nightmares were almost alive, and she’d woken twice screaming. It was more than shock. She had absorbed the terrifying image of Dennis Wade hanging by his neck and it had seeded itself in her brain. And now that seed was growing, its roots taking hold of her consciousness and wrapping themselves around her skull.
She felt trapped in the flat, so she wrapped up warm, put her headphones in her ears and set off for a walk along the Backs. She needed to clear her head, and Tilly hoped that the cold wind would blow some of the cobwebs away.
Before she realised how far she had walked, Tilly found herself standing on the green looking at King’s College Chapel, which stood proud with its two spires in the snow. It’s like a Christmas card image, she thought, and for a moment, the horror trapped inside her head melted away.
Around her, tourists walked enjoying the architecture and the winter setting while the lyrics from a Nirvana song echoed in her ears. Between the buildings and the path lay the river, partially iced over, and above the powder blue sky framed the scene perfectly.
Tilly was enjoying the moment, up until the point where she spotted a man who looked like Dennis. He even walked the same way, with his head bent down as if he was inspecting the ground. The moment the stranger stepped into her line of vision the memory, of the rope cutting into the skin of his neck, returned.
She did everything in her power to push the image out of her mind but it didn’t work. Instead she found herself thinking how odd it was that he didn’t have his glasses on. He always wore glasses. Why were they missing? Where were they? Tilly realised that she needed to tell the police. She felt it was important, somehow.
Determined to turn her nightmares into something positive she set off towards Parkside Police Station, her large boots crunching through the snow.
Barrett and Palmer where just about to knock on the door of the house belonging to Jane Campbell, the other bookshop manager, when Barrett received a call from Elly Hale.
‘What is it?’ Barrett didn’t like interruptions.
‘News on the CCTV, sir.’ She spoke quietly, trying to temper his mood. ‘We can see that a hooded figure left the back entrance of the shop at nine minutes past four. We followed it as far as we could, but the person disappeared onto Jesus Green and we’ve not been able to locate where they exited after that. It appears that the figure is male but we can’t be sure at this stage.’
‘Did you say nine minutes past four?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Right.’ Barrett’s mind began to race. According to the pathologist, Dennis Wade had died sometime soon after midnight. What had the killer been doing in the shop all that time?
‘We need more information on the figure spotted on CCTV. Get me height, approximate weight and anything else you can from the recording. I’m on Hobart Road. We are about to interview a Ms Campbell. I want that information on my desk when I return to the station.’ Barrett hung up.
‘Seems our killer spent a few hours in the company of the corpse, Joe.’ He turned to face Palmer who had been listening to the one-sided conversation intently.
‘Unusual,’ said Palmer as Barrett knocked on Jane Campbell’s green front door.
Jane lived in a small terraced house in the Romsey district of Cambridge, off Mill Road.
A skinny lady with frizzy brown hair opened the door cautiously.
‘DCI Barrett. I’m looking for Jane Campbell.’
‘I am she,’ the woman said opening the door wider and letting the officers into her small living room. ‘Excuse the mess.’
Palmer looked around, thinking it was an odd thing for Jane to have said. The place was immaculate. ‘We are here because of the murder of Dennis Wade.’
‘I realised that,’ Jane said as she sat down on her petite navy sofa and folded her hands together in her lap. ‘How may I assist you?’ Despite the fact that Jane was unhealthily skinny, she was tall and carried herself well.
‘We’d like you to tell us when you last saw Dennis Wade alive.’ Palmer sat on an armchair opposite that matched the sofa.
‘I was at work on Thursday. I did my normal shift and left at about half past seven, Dennis was in the building when I left. We said our goodbyes and that was that.’
‘How long have you worked at Ashton’s Book Shop?’ Barrett asked. He had remained standing.
‘Nearly ten years,’ Jane said with surprisingly little emotion.
‘Would you say that you and Dennis were friends?’ Palmer inquired.
‘We got on perfectly well. He was a nice man, with a good temperament. I wouldn’t say we were friends. We were colleagues. Our relationship was strictly business.’ Jane tucked a strand of her wild hair beneath her ear.
‘Were you aware of any problems Dennis was having at work or in his private life?’ Barrett was growing sick and tired of asking the question.
‘None. Can I offer either of you gentlemen a cup of tea?’ she asked checking her delicate gold wristwatch. Palmer guessed she was a creature of habit.
‘Not for me.’ Barrett wanted answers not tea. ‘You do not seem particularly upset or surprised by the murder, if you don’t mind me saying so, Ms Campbell.’
‘I do not think it is appropriate to be emotional in front of strangers.’ Jane played with a signet ring on her small finger. ‘I was brought up better than that.’
‘So there is nothing you can tell us that you think is of interest?’ Palmer decided to try a softer approach.
‘I don’t want to get anyone into trouble,’ she admitted biting her lip, ‘but I did happen to overhear an argument.’
Barrett raised his eyebrows.
‘It took place at some point in November. His son, Andrew, had called the bookshop wanting to speak to his father. When I handed Dennis the phone, he took it into his office and closed the door. I was rearranging one of the shelves nearby and heard his shouting a few minutes later. I wasn’t eavesdropping, of course; it was hard not to hear what was being said. Dennis was clearly irate. I’ve never known him to lose his temper. It became apparent that Andrew was in trouble and asking for money. Dennis was refusing. Realising that this was a private matter I moved away from his office to the other side of the shop and got on with my business. I don’t know how the call ended.’
‘And this was in November, you say?’ Palmer nodded, encouraging her.
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
‘Thank you for sharing that information, Ms Campbell.’ Barrett was now ready to leave. ‘If you think of anything else that may be relevant to the investigation, do call.’ He handed over a card with his number on it.
‘As I said, I don’t want to cause anyone any trouble. I’m just telling you what I know. It is my duty.’
‘We appreciate your time.’ Palmer got up from his chair and left the house with Barrett, leaving Jane sitting perfectly still on the sofa.
When the two men returned to the police station, Elly Hale was standing in the reception area greeting Matilda Edgely.
‘Miss Edgely.’ Palmer welcomed her with a smile and a nod of his head.
‘Inspector.’ She was slightly out of breath and her cheeks and nose were red. ‘I realised something.’ She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. ‘His glasses, he wasn’t wearing his glasses.’
‘Who wasn’t?’ Barrett asked perplexed.
‘Dennis. He always wore glasses, but I remember, when I found him, he wasn’t wearing them. I only just realised. I knew something was wrong but I couldn’t put my finger on it until now.’
Barrett and Palmer looked at each other. The young woman was right. Dennis had not been wearing glasses when they found his body.
‘Thank you very much for letting us know.’ Palmer shook her hand. ‘You’ve done the right thing.’
‘I want to help,’ she said vulnerably. ‘It’s not right, what they did to him.’
Elly could see that Tilly was becoming emotional.
‘You absolutely did the right thing.’ Elly encouraged showing Tilly to the door and wanted to give the young woman a chance to get herself together before she left.
‘We are getting somewhere,’ Palmer said, following Barrett out of reception and up to the incident room.
‘We are, Joe. Do you know if any glasses were found at the scene?’
‘I don’t believe so, but I’ll call forensics and see what they bagged up.’
‘Let me know when you’ve spoken to them. We also need to get Andrew Wade back again. He has some explaining to do.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Palmer said as he sat down at his desk and picked up the phone.
‘I’ll check with the wife. It’s possible the glasses are at his home or something, but we need to find them.’
‘Could our killer have taken them as a trophy?’ Palmer asked holding the phone to his ear.
‘Stop watching so much CSI on TV.’ Barrett winked as he disappeared into his office to put in a call to Veronica Wade.