‘No, no,’ he shook his head, ‘I just found her.’ He was frightened. With good cause. He had waited to call the police for over half an hour. He had taken items away from the crime scene, he had disturbed the crime scene, he had a volatile relationship with the victim. Janet thought they might be moving close to an arrest. She concluded the interview, but told Sean he would be expected to return to the station when requested as they would definitely need to talk to him again.
* * *
Gill had been observing the interview and told Janet she had already contacted Phil Sweet to secure the bins behind the parade of shops on Garrigan Street. ‘Not much of the parade left,’ Gill said. ‘There’s only a pound shop, an offie and a hairdresser’s still open.’
Pete had established that bin day was Thursday, which meant the rubbish would not have been collected since Sean left the things there on Monday. MIT were able to give Phil Sweet a list describing the carrier bags that Lisa was seen carrying on the various CCTV tapes.
In order to protect evidence and minimize the risk of cross-contamination the dumpsters would be removed wholesale to one of the forensic units where the search would be systematically documented.
RACHEL HADN’T SAID anything to Janet about visiting Rosie Vaughan. She’d only get her knuckles rapped, or maybe worse. Definitely worse if Janet snitched to Gill. They were pretty pally. Rachel got the impression they were mates outside of work.
Perhaps Sean wasn’t the link; she’d thought some more about Sean’s DNA not being a match and about Rosie’s reactions. It was Ryelands that was important. She read the report that Janet had put in after her visit there, turned to the final page, which she hadn’t bothered with before, just a list of extra bits of information. Among them the name of Lisa’s social worker, now retired. Martin Dalbeattie. Rachel felt her scalp tighten. Martin Dalbeattie had been Rosie’s social worker too. Available for background, Janet had noted, contact via Ryelands House. So he hadn’t died or gone off round the world. He could still be in Manchester.
Rachel picked up the phone and rang Ryelands. Marlene Potter answered.
‘DC Bailey, Manchester Metropolitan Police,’ Rachel said briskly, one eye on the door into the corridor in case anyone came in. ‘You spoke to my colleague yesterday.’
‘Janet, yes.’
‘She’s… Janet’s asked me to get contact details for Martin Dalbeattie. You thought he’d be happy to help if we needed him?’
