‘Yeah,’ agreed Erika. Moss was right, there was something off that she couldn’t put her finger on. ‘He’s an actor. Do you think he was acting?’
‘If he was, he needs to get his money back from that drama school. He wasn’t very convincing,’ said Moss.
Peterson emerged from the Golden Lamb pub, waited for a gap in the traffic and sprinted back across the road to the car.
‘Okay. His alibi checks out. The manager said Shawn arrived at ten to six for his shift. He stayed until closing.’
Erika thought for a moment.
‘He could have killed her and made it back in time. He had ample time. He doesn’t have a car. If he did kill her, he’d have to do it and then travel back to Forest Hill for work. Let’s pull CCTV from public transport in the area.’
15
On the drive back from Forest Hill to Lewisham Row, Moss was next to Erika in the passenger seat. Peterson was sitting in the back seat, talking on his phone to Crane back in the incident room, asking him to find CCTV footage from Blackheath train station so they could check out Charles Wakefield’s alibi.
‘If Shawn was at Vicky’s flat around the time she was killed, there’s a good chance he passed that bus stop,’ said Moss. ‘He doesn’t own a car. He would either have to go on foot, bike, or public transport.’
‘Or Uber,’ said Erika. ‘Ask Crane to look at Uber journeys and taxis,’ she added to Peterson in the back. He nodded.
‘Nothing from Isaac,’ said Erika, glancing at her phone.
‘It’s early days,’ said Moss.
‘He’d told me he was going to conduct the post-mortem last night, as soon as he got back to the morgue.’
‘It’s only just past lunchtime,’ said Moss. Erika nodded, trying not to feel her impatience turn to annoyance. Isaac was a brilliant pathologist, and he was also a good friend. She knew that barring something unforeseen, he would come back with at least preliminary results. At a set of traffic lights, she dialled his number. It went straight to voicemail and she left him a message asking if he was okay, and to call her.
The incident room was busy when they got back.
‘Boss, I’ve got Fiona Watson on the line,’ said Crane, holding out the phone to Erika with his hand over the receiver.
‘Who?’
‘She’s the Family Liaison Officer for Tess Clarke.’
Erika nodded and took the phone.
‘Do we have any news on when you’d like Tess to formally identify her sister’s body?’ asked Fiona. She had a slightly camp, dry delivery.
‘Our forensic pathologist is usually very fast, but I’m waiting to hear back from him,’ said Erika, pulling her phone out of her pocket to check for a missed call or message from Isaac.
‘Tess wants to know if she can leave.’
‘Of course. Where does she want to go?’
‘Work…’ Fiona lowered her voice. ‘Jasper, that’s the husband, he’s been ringing her all morning, saying that he can’t manage at the restaurant on his own.’
‘They’ve opened their restaurant today?’
‘Yes. Apparently, they’ve got a lot of lunch bookings,’ she said, with a tinge of disdain. ‘It’s just around the corner from where they live.’
‘Have you spoken to the husband, Jasper?’ asked Erika.
‘Yes. I saw him at breakfast. He made us all a big fry-up. Black pudding, the works.’
Erika looked back at the crime scene photos on the wall. The violence of Vicky’s stab wounds, her face and hair covered in dried blood.
‘Even if I hear back, we won’t be able to arrange an identification until later this afternoon,’ said Erika.
‘Okay,’ said Fiona. ‘I’ll go with them to the restaurant, in case you need to get hold of them quickly. Keep me posted.’
‘Everything okay?’ asked Crane when Erika came off the phone. He was sitting at his desk with a computer screen filled with video files. Erika ran her fingers through her hair.
‘If your sister died hideously, would you take the next day off work?’
‘Depends what I did. If I was a brain surgeon and I had an important operation, I’d probably go in,’ he said. ‘If it was my mother-in-law, I’d be popping open the champagne.’ Erika laughed.
‘No. It’s Vicky’s sister and her husband. They run a restaurant in Blackheath. And it’s a Tuesday lunchtime. I just thought they might close, out of respect.’