Cass also knew that she didn’t have an option but to let the police in. She knew what a warrant meant, she’d seen police programmes on the television. The fact that DI Harte was asking was more about being polite and not trying to alarm her. She opened the door, letting them into the small hall that led to all rooms. ‘Of course. What’s happened?’
‘Do you have the keys to Robin Dawkins’s car and can you tell us where he keeps it?’
‘He doesn’t use it. The MOT ran out ages ago. It’s in the garage rotting away – number three in the block opposite the flats.’ She passed the DI the car keys that had been dangling off the key hook for months. The DI handed them to the suited male officer, then he left.
‘Shall we sit down?’ DI Harte led her to the kitchen and they sat at the kitchen table while the other officers carried on with their duties. She watched through the gap in the kitchen door as gloves were snapped on and hair was covered. The DI loosened her stab vest and wriggled a little until she got comfortable. ‘That’s better. These things are a little tight. I know this looks scary and I know you’re probably wondering what’s happening. We have your partner Robin Dawkins in custody at the moment, as you know. As it stands, we can’t place where he was at the time of Francesca Carter’s murder. I was hoping we could have a little chat.’
Cass knew that police didn’t just chat. This was an interview and everything she said would be duly noted. Her mind flitted back to Elvis and how secretive he’d become. She swallowed again as she thought about the drugs she’d poured out of his boot earlier. They’d long gone. If the police found more drugs, would she be arrested? ‘I know Elvis has done time, he said something when the officers came to take him. What did he do?’
‘You’ll be able to speak to him yourself soon. For now, would you mind if I ask a couple of questions?’
She shook her head. She did mind really. She didn’t want to be associated with anything as vile as the murder of Kerry’s friends and now her boyfriend was in the frame. She thought of the messages that Kerry had sent. Her friend wouldn’t want to know her if all this came out.
The DI gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I know this is worrying for you but I will try to make it as easy as possible. Would you like some water?’
‘No. Am I in trouble?’
‘We just need to ask you a few questions, that’s all. Can you tell me if you saw Mr Dawkins on Monday the eleventh of May between six and eight in the evening, that’s this Monday just gone?’
‘Let me think.’ That was the night she’d visited Kerry after work. ‘I tried calling him a few times to tell him that I wouldn’t be home when he finished work but his phone kept going to voicemail so I left a message.’
‘Where did you go?’
Cass straightened her back and spat out the stray hair that had made its way into her mouth. She stared at the DI, slightly open-mouthed as she realised that she was probably a suspect. Could they think that she helped Elvis to kill Fran? ‘I haven’t hurt anyone.’ Why did she feel so guilty even though she was telling the truth? Cass knew she had one of those faces that screamed guilt even though she’d done nothing wrong. Maybe Elvis had said something and was trying to push the blame onto her for something he’d done.
‘I’m not saying you have but we just need to establish where you were so that we can eliminate you. This is nothing more than routine questioning. We’ve been asking everyone the same questions.’ The DI smiled lightly as she placed her pen on her notebook.
‘Okay. I visited Kerry, that’s Kerry Powell. We’re old school friends and after what happened at her wedding, I wanted her to know that I was there for her. I thought she might need to talk.’
‘I’m sure she appreciated you going around. What time did you arrive?’
Cass pulled the loose end of her thumbnail away and dropped it onto the kitchen floor. ‘She told me to get there for eight so I got there for eight.’ The DI made a few notes. ‘I don’t know where Elvis was between five and seven. I know where I was. I finished work at six, went to the Co-op on Cleevesford High Street and I bought a bottle of wine; this was about half six. I then waited at the bus stop for an hour so that I wouldn’t get to Kerry’s house too early. There were lots of people there and the man who runs the chippy waved at me. I didn’t want to go home, didn’t see the point so I just waited and played games on my phone. At about seven thirty, I got on the bus, went six stops to the edge of Cleevesford, then got off the bus and I walked along the roadside until I reached Kerry’s house.’ She paused for a moment and gasped for breath, realising that she’d reeled off her whereabouts without breathing. ‘I was a little early but that didn’t seem to matter. She let me in anyway. We had a glass of wine and she spoke about Holly and how upset she was, but she was quite drunk. I had a Sambuca with her. Then, about forty minutes later, I left and went home.’
Her mind whirred. She’d been waffling and she looked too nervous. She pulled the top of another nail away and dropped it into her lap. The detective glanced up at her, waiting for more. Should she speak? She placed her finger in her mouth and began chewing the ragged nail. She couldn’t give Elvis an alibi. He didn’t text her back or answer her calls during the time that Fran was being murdered. The more she thought about it, the more she knew that Elvis wouldn’t stand a chance with a woman like Fran. He was a scally, poor and uneducated, not the type a sophisticated young woman would go for. But Cass had seen women when they’d had a few, playing up to him when he performed as Elvis and they’d downed too much Prosecco. He could put on a show, albeit a very average show.
‘What time did you hear from Mr Dawkins after you visited Kerry’s house?’
‘I remember Elvis messaging me when I was on the bus home but he didn’t say when he was coming back.’ She pulled her phone out and scrolled through her messages. ‘Look, he said he’d be home soon, it was nearly nine when he sent this message.’ The DI glanced over and made a note.
‘When did he get home?’
Cass remembered the foul mood he’d been in, especially as she hadn’t bought him anything from the chip shop. ‘I guess he got home about half ten. I got back to Cleevesford High Street about quarter past nine, I went to the chippy and walked home.’
‘How did he seem?’
Should she tell the DI that he was angry? She crossed her ankles under the table and continued picking at the same nail. She pulled and almost yelped as the sting of pulling nail from skin hit her. ‘Short-tempered.’ Her eyes watered up as she rubbed her sore finger.
‘In what way?’
‘He told me he was with friends when I asked him where he’d been. He basically told me to mind my own business and he was angry that I didn’t get him any chips.’ Their relationship problems went beyond chips but she couldn’t explain why he was the way he was. ‘I think he was cheating on me. He would never tell me where he was going or who he was with. He had all his gadgets password protected.’ She spotted a forensics-suited officer through a gap in the door. He was bagging and tagging Elvis’s laptop. ‘He didn’t want to touch me. I could just tell. He was very secretive.’
The detective scribbled everything down. ‘Can I ask about the night of Kerry Powell’s wedding reception? You were working at the party, not there as a guest?’
Cass stared at the detective. What was she getting at? She was saying that Cass wasn’t a good enough friend to get an invite. They’d just been distanced over the years, that was all and now they were going to be best friends again. The DI wouldn’t understand that. ‘I wanted the best for her and I knew if I helped out with the guest ale bar, it would all go well. She was happy with me doing that. I was behind the bar all night. I didn’t even get a chance to pee.’
‘Were Robin Dawkins and Samuel Avery working behind the bar with you?’
She shrugged her shoulders and began chewing on another nail. ‘They seemed to be enjoying the party. I was run off my feet, I didn’t see what they were doing all night. I’ve already given a statement.’ She did remember something that was said, something by Samuel Avery and it had upset her that Elvis thought it was funny. It wasn’t funny at all. She couldn’t tell the detective, not before speaking to Elvis first. Or could she? He’d been treating her horribly. Maybe she should tell. What they were saying definitely wasn’t funny.
