DC Townsend drove them back to GMP HQ, where DI Friar was waiting for them. DC Townsend headed for the lifts while DI Friar took Lulu and Phil back out to the car park. ‘How did it go?’ she asked Lulu.
‘There are definitely similarities to where our bodies were dumped,’ said Lulu.
‘So we could be looking at the same killer?’
‘It certainly looks like it,’ said Lulu.
DI Friar stopped by a dark blue Vauxhall Corsa and they all climbed in. Phil took the front passenger seat and Lulu and Conrad sat in the back. ‘We’ll go and see Mrs Sawyer first,’ said DI Friar. ‘I’ve told her that two colleagues from London want a word and she’s okay with that. But if at any time she shows any reluctance, we leave straight away.’
‘I quite understand,’ said Lulu.
Conrad settled in her lap and Lulu stroked him gently as DI Friar drove them out of the car park and onto the A56.
‘Where do they live?’ asked Phil.
‘Sale,’ said DI Friar. ‘About five miles away.’
‘Oh, we came through Sale on the Bridgewater Canal,’ said Lulu.
‘How long did it take?’
‘From Sale to Manchester? About an hour and a half.’
‘And how long from London?’
Lulu chuckled. ‘Eighteen days.’
‘Eighteen days!’
‘I can go twenty miles on a good day,’ said Lulu.
‘You could fly to Australia in twenty hours.’
‘You could, but it wouldn’t be as much fun.’
‘And you’ll take another eighteen days to go back.’
‘I was actually thinking of heading to the West Country for a while,’ said Lulu. ‘Maybe take The Lark to Bath.’
‘I know this is a stupid question, but what do you do bathroom-wise?’
‘Oh, I have a bathroom. It’s small but has a shower and a toilet and a washbasin. There’s enough water for two or three weeks and the waste stays in a capsule that needs emptying when it’s full.’
‘And you have electricity?’
‘Indeed. Whenever the engine runs it charges the batteries, and many moorings have electrical sockets you can plug into.’
‘A home from home.’
‘Oh, The Lark is my home. It has been for a while now.’ She stroked Conrad behind the ear and he purred softly.
Mrs Sawyer lived in a small red-brick semi-detached house with a slate roof. There was a little garden to the front and a single garage to the side. DI Friar parked in the road and they walked to the front door. Mrs Sawyer had obviously heard them pull up because she had the door open as they walked up the path. She was in her forties, her bleached blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, her face devoid of make-up. She was wearing a baggy pullover that Lulu thought had probably belonged to Mrs Sawyer’s late husband. Her eyes were red from crying and she was holding a pillow.
‘I’m so sorry to be bothering you, Sue,’ said DI Friar.
‘It’s not a problem,’ said Mrs Sawyer, holding the door open.
They filed into the hall and Mrs Sawyer closed the door. ‘This is Detective Inspector Jackson from London and Mrs Lewis, who was a superintendent in London. As I said on the phone, they would like to ask you a few questions.’
‘Come on through,’ said Mrs Sawyer. She took them into the front living room, where a young woman in a pink jogging suit was sitting on a low sofa. ‘This is my neighbour, Jenny,’ said Mrs Sawyer. ‘She’s been keeping me company.’
‘What about the family liaison officer?’ asked DI Friar.
‘She only stayed for a few days. She was doing her best, but she was just a stranger and she really wasn’t much help so I sent her away.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, she was fine. But really all I need is some company and Jenny has been a rock.’ She flashed her friend a watery smile.
Jenny indicated the seat next to her. ‘You sit yourself down and I’ll make everyone a cup of tea,’ she said.
Mrs Sawyer sat down and hugged her pillow.
‘Will you be all right, Sue?’ asked Jenny.
Mrs Sawyer nodded. Jenny patted her on the shoulder and headed to the kitchen. Lulu looked around the room. There was a large TV on one wall, facing the sofa, and two armchairs in a matching houndstooth pattern. There was a low brass and glass coffee table in front of the sofa on which was a box of Kleenex tissues and a copy of the previous day’s Manchester Evening News. There was a collection of framed photographs on a sideboard in front of the window. Most of them were of Sergeant and Mrs Sawyer, including several of their wedding. He was wearing an ill-fitting black suit, but Mrs Sawyer looked radiant in a flowing white dress.
Mrs Sawyer looked up at Lulu and for the first time noticed Conrad. ‘There’s a cat on your shoulders,’ she said.
‘Yes. His name is Conrad.’
On cue, Conrad jumped down onto the carpet and padded over to Mrs Sawyer. He looked up at her, meowed, and jumped up onto her lap. Mrs Sawyer beamed with delight. ‘Oh, he’s lovely.’ Conrad curled up and began to purr. Mrs Sawyer gently stroked him.
DI Friar sat down on the sofa next to her; Lulu and Phil took the two armchairs. ‘Mrs Lewis and Inspector Jackson have a few questions for you, Sue.’
‘They’re from London, you said?’
DI Friar nodded. ‘There were similar murders in London some time ago,’ said DI Friar. ‘It might well be that they are connected to Derek’s death.’
‘I was at Hendon with Derek,’ said Phil. ‘Do you know why he moved to Manchester?’
‘He said he didn’t like London. It was too expensive and he’d had too many bad experiences.’
‘Was he from London?’ asked Lulu.
Mrs Sawyer nodded. ‘He was born in the East End. A real Cockney, he always said. Born within the sound of Bow bells.’
‘So why Manchester?’
‘I’m not sure. I don’t think he ever said, really. I met him after he’d been here for a while.’
‘Did he ever talk about having any problems in London? Issues with anyone who might want to harm him?’
‘He didn’t talk about London much.’
‘It was a big move, though,’ said Lulu. ‘Change of city, change of job, a whole new life, really. When a person does that, there’s usually a good reason.’
‘I think he just wasn’t happy there,’ said Mrs Sawyer, her eyes on Conrad. ‘As I said, we didn’t really discuss it.’
‘Does he still have any friends from London? Anyone he was in regular contact with?’
Mrs Sawyer shook her head. ‘He never mentioned anyone.’
‘Did he go back to London?’ asked Lulu.
‘Never.’
‘What about his parents?’
‘His father left when he was a baby and his mum died when he was quite young. He was in a children’s home until he was seventeen and he joined the police when he was nineteen. He had a rough childhood, which is why he didn’t like talking about it.’ She looked up, her brow furrowed. ‘Why are you so interested in London?’
‘We had four very similar murders in London, about five years ago. Inspector Jackson and I wondered if the same person was responsible.’
‘You think someone from London killed Derek?’
‘It’s possible, yes.’
‘But why?’
‘The killer might have moved from London and started killing in Manchester.’
Mrs Sawyer’s frown deepened. ‘You mean that the killer followed Derek? After five years?’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Lulu. ‘It could have been random. That’s why we wanted to talk to you.’
‘Random? I don’t know if that’s better or not,’ said Mrs Sawyer.
‘Why do you say that?’ asked Lulu.
Mrs Sawyer dabbed at her eyes. ‘I’ve been racking my brains trying to think who might want to hurt Derek. Family, friends, his co-workers, you start to suspect everybody. Maybe he had offended someone, maybe one of our neighbours was bearing a grudge. Maybe someone from a case he’d worked on. It’s all I can think of. I’ve been looking at everyone with suspicion. Everyone.’ She blew her nose. ‘But now you tell me it could have been a complete stranger, that it was totally random. Derek was killed for no other reason than that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That means if he had changed his routine just a bit he might still be alive. If I’d just taken the time to give him a good morning kiss or made him finish his coffee, his path might never have crossed with the path of his killer and he’d still be alive.’ She was talking so fast that she began to hyperventilate.
‘Please try to stay calm, Mrs Sawyer,’ said Lulu. ‘There’s no need to rush. We have time.’
Mrs Sawyer nodded and took several deep breaths.
‘You need to think about the future rather than dwell on what might have happened,’ said Lulu softly.
Mrs Sawyer’s eyes narrowed. ‘What would you know about it?’ she snapped. ‘Your husband isn’t the one who died.’
Lulu smiled sympathetically. ‘You are quite right, Mrs Sawyer. And I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do – you have to process your grief in your own way.’ She shrugged. ‘And my husband died a couple of years ago, in what we thought was a hit-and-run accident. For a long time afterwards I kept trying to rewrite history. If I had just gone to meet him, if he’d come home earlier or later, if he’d done anything else other than cross that road at that particular time . . .’
‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Mrs Sawyer.
‘No, I’m the one who should apologize,’ said Lulu. ‘I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to try to tell me how to handle my grief and it was wrong for me to do that to you.’
‘I just miss Derek so much.’
‘I know you do.’
‘I don’t know how I can live without him.’ Mrs Sawyer sniffed.
DI Friar moved over and put her arm around the crying woman. ‘I think perhaps we should go,’ she said to Lulu.
Lulu nodded. ‘Of course.’ Conrad eased himself off Mrs Sawyer’s lap. Lulu picked him up, slid him onto her shoulders and stood up. ‘I’m so sorry to have bothered you, Mrs Sawyer. And again, I am so, so, sorry for your loss.’
Phil stood up. ‘We’ll see ourselves out,’ he said. He and Lulu left the room and walked down the hall. Phil opened the front door and they stepped outside. Phil closed the door and lit a cigarette. ‘It’s never easy, talking to the relatives of the deceased,’ he said.
‘It has to be done,’ said Lulu. ‘But it’s never pleasant.’
‘She’s clearly distraught.’
‘I don’t think there was ever a question of her being a suspect,’ said Lulu.
‘I didn’t mean that.’ He blew smoke up at the sky. ‘The marriage seemed rock solid, she obviously loved him.’
‘So not gay, is that what you mean?’
‘Everything I saw suggested they were a happily married couple.’ He took another draw on his cigarette.
The door opened and DI Friar appeared. She closed the door behind her. ‘She’s obviously still fragile.’
‘Understandably so,’ said Lulu. ‘I’m sorry if I upset her.’
‘You didn’t say anything wrong. She’s just in a sensitive state at the moment.’ She headed towards the car and Phil and Lulu followed her. ‘I don’t get the feeling that Sergeant Sawyer led a double life,’ said DI Friar.
‘Phil and I had come to the same conclusion,’ said Lulu.
‘So we have a killer using the same method but with a changed victimology,’ said DI Friar. ‘That is unusual.’
‘Everything about this case is unusual,’ said Lulu.
Phil threw away the remains of his cigarette and they all climbed into the car. DI Friar started the engine.
‘Where to now?’ asked Lulu.
‘Back to Manchester,’ said DI Friar, ‘to see Fraser Robinson’s parents.’