by Jade Winters
“I don’t know,” DCS Ripley said. “Something doesn’t strike me as quite right.” He turned to Colleen.
Colleen squinted her eyes as she looked at Jimmy, who sat with his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. “I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt, myself. He doesn’t seem to be holding anything back. He really seems upset about the girl’s death.”
Ripley’s jaw tensed. “No disrespect, DCI Rees, but it’s been a long time since you’ve interviewed a suspect. He most probably thinks he’ll get an easy ride because she was a celebrity, and we must have plenty of stalkers and weirdoes on our suspect list.”
“I agree,” Dale chipped in. “I know a liar when I see one. And he’s definitely lying, big time.
Ripley looked at Ashley. “What are your thoughts?”
Ashley appeared doubtful. “I haven’t quite put my finger on it yet. I think he’s lying about something, but whether he’s lying because he’s guilty is hard to tell. He may be covering something else up.”
DCS Ripley straightened his tie. “Two against two,” he said to Colleen. “Looks like we’ll have to wait until the lab results come back to see who’s on the money.” He turned to Ashley. “Let him stew, and then have another go at him. But less in his face next time, okay?”
Ashley nodded once, her lips set.
Ripley and Colleen turned to leave. Colleen stopped as she reached the door, putting her hand on the wood, her nails tapping out a rapid beat as she turned her head to look at the two detectives.
“I don’t want a word of this getting out to the media. Do you both hear me?”
Ashley lifted her chin a fraction. “As if we would.”
Chapter Thirty
Warren swung his front door open with a smile. He liked receiving visitors. The smile faded quickly when he saw who his visitor was. Visitors were nice, but not this one.
The Fixer roughly pushed past him and walked straight into the living room. Warren stayed at the door for a few more seconds. He knew this moment had been coming, but he’d thought the dressing down would be by phone, not in person. He stuck his head out the doorway and looked up and down the balcony to make sure The Fixer had come alone, which appeared to be the case. He could see none of the goons that The Fixer took along when things were going to get dirty. It gave him a little more courage to believe he wasn’t going to be killed today.
Warren closed the door and sauntered into the room where The Fixer was waiting. The air was charged with tension.
The Fixer glared at him. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”
Warren backed away and stood next to the wall. He hated being shouted at. It reminded him of his childhood. All those times the kids at school yelled at him whilst they beat him senseless.
“I asked you a question!” The voice said again, louder this time.
Warren’s words came out shaky. “I...don’t...know–”
“Don’t play me for a fool. Did I not tell you to lay low?”
“I have been. Honest.”
“So, that wasn’t you who murdered Justine Lockhart?”
“Justine who?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Warren! Why did you do it? Why? What part of ‘lay low’ involves slicing up a celebrity? Tell me, what part?”
Warren crouched down to the floor and covered his ears with his hands. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” he repeated in a whimpering voice. Tears he’d believed himself incapable of shedding flooded down his cheeks. How could he possibly explain that he couldn’t resist the woman who had filled his every fantasy? Parading herself on the TV and newspapers. Flaunting her sexy body in his face; on every magazine cover, on every TV channel. On social media. She asked for it. Besides, he would never have touched her if her boyfriend hadn’t come into his place of work. It was his fault. It was the boyfriend that The Fixer should be blaming, not him.
“Stand up, you pathetic idiot,” The Fixer demanded.
Adrenaline coursed through Warren’s body. He shot to his feet. His temples pounded. The only person who’d ever called him a pathetic idiot had been his tutor in secondary school.
He vowed then that no one would call him that again. He turned in The Fixer’s direction but kept his head bowed. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I don’t know why I did it. I only went to her flat to have a look at her. What man wouldn’t want to have a close up look at her?” When he got no answer, he continued quickly, “I didn’t mean to kill her. I swear, I didn’t! She saw my face. I thought you’d be even angrier if I ended up in the police cells. You wouldn’t want that now, would you?” He lifted his head slightly and relished the panic he saw in The Fixer’s eyes.
“Well,” The Fixer’s voice faltered. “You’d better pray to God nobody connects these two cases. Because if they do, you’ll be the next body the police will find!”
Warren stood straight and pushed out his chest. Gone was the contrite slobbering pathetic idiot and in his place was a dead eyed, heartless, ruthless killer. He knew he looked like the monster people had nightmares about. He took a step forward, his eyes trained on The Fixer as prey. “I don’t like being threatened,” he said in a low, menacing growl.
The Fixer’s gaze slid to the door and then back to Warren.
“I’m not threatening you,” The Fixer said, starting towards the door. “I just want you to do as I ask. It’s not that difficult, is it?”
The hardness in the Fixer’s voice had been replaced by a reasonable tone. Warren could tell by the look of respect in The Fixer’s eyes that the balance of power had shifted. He was no longer the underdog. He was the top dog, and The Fixer knew it too.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ashley stood by the window in her office, her gaze focused intently on a spider spinning a web, laying the foundation to catch its prey. Much like her job, only she wasn’t catching anybody at the moment. She thought back to earlier that morning. She was relieved that her parents’ prison visit with Nathan was over. It had been hard to see her dad choke back his tears whilst trying to be strong for his son. Her mum had surprised her and had not cried once. Instead, she’d spent the whole visit trying to buoy Nathan up with words of encouragement – the main one being that Ashley would prove his innocence. Ashley hoped that she was right, as it was harder than she had initially imagined it would be. The interview with Jimmy hadn’t thrown up any new evidence so she was back to square one yet again.
She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the window. There had been even more upsetting news. Abbi Connor’s condition was deteriorating. She’d been updated by the hospital that things had taken a turn for the worse overnight and there wasn’t much hope of her pulling through. It angered her to think that the case had been static and no new leads had come through. She was convinced that there was a person out there who must have felt the need to speak to someone about what they’d done. Unfortunately, until they did, she couldn’t see how else the case would be solved.
Ashley felt a twinge of guilt when she checked her mobile for text messages from Tasha. Though she missed her she was starting to feel relieved that she wasn’t around, especially with the ongoing drama with her brother. She needed to try and stay as focused as she could and Tasha would only be a distraction. Ashley spun around when the door opened and she saw Dale who remained standing in the doorway.
“Ashley, Ripley wants us to interview Jimmy again in the hopes of breaking him and making him confess.”
She smiled at him. “I wouldn’t hold my breath. If anything, I think he’ll be more pissed off he’s not been released and convinced that we had something to do with it.”
Ripley had ordered that Jimmy be held in custody for the maximum time allowed, because they were still awaiting the DNA results. The last thing they wanted was to have to try and re-apprehend him.
Ashley didn’t know what to believe about Jimmy. Something about his recollection of events seemed a bit amiss. He was planning to go to a party at his sister’s but convenie
ntly fell asleep when he got home. His phone records showed he’d made calls from Justine’s neighbourhood. None of it added up. Maybe the crime scenes being identical was a coincidence after all. Wearily, she followed Dale to the custody suite. She wasn’t looking forward to another round with Jimmy.
Jimmy glared at her as they entered the interview room. Dale walked over to the table, turned the voice recorder on and the interview began.
“Things are not looking good for you, Jimmy.” Dale straddled the chair and folded his arms across the back.
Jimmy remained silent, staring straight ahead, his face devoid of expression.
This was the first time Ashley had seen him since the previous interview. His eyes were sunken and he had a few days’ growth of stubble on his chin. He seemed bone weary. He didn’t look like he’d had much sleep, if the black rings below his eyes were anything to go by. Ashley couldn’t help but compare his situation with Nathan’s as she sat in the interview room. They’d get the preliminary results on the blood found in Justine’s flat shortly, and hopefully they’d know if he was guilty.
“Look, let’s stop beating about the bush.” Dale abruptly jerked the chair closer to the table and leaned over to grab a folder that held a pile of crime scene photographs. He emptied them onto the table. The overlapping photos created a sea of blood.
Jimmy looked at the photos and then quickly averted his eyes from the gruesome images, swallowing repeatedly
“Look at your handiwork! Are you feeling ashamed of what you did?” Dale grabbed the picture nearest him and thrust it close to Jimmy’s face. “Did you actually get pleasure out of torturing her? Does her voice begging you to stop not haunt you at night? Look at all the blood you spilt, Jimmy. Look!”
Jimmy’s skin had paled and there was sheen of sweat across his brow. He looked at the photo in front of him and gagged, covering his mouth with his hand. “I think I’m going to be sick.” He had turned a nasty shade of white, tinged with a nauseous green.
Dale’s voice was loud and angry, and his accent had become thicker. “Why do you keep lying? How would you feel if this was your sister? That some monster did this to her? She was savagely slaughtered. This innocent woman, murdered in her own bed. Wouldn’t you want the killer to confess and spare your family any more pain?”
Tears welled in Jimmy’s eyes. “Of course I would,” he said with grave courtesy. “But I–”
“–Look, Jimmy,” Ashley said in an almost tender voice as she turned the pictures face down, one by one. “We’ve got a young woman in the mortuary whose family is in terrible pain. They can’t get their daughter back. All they want is closure. To find out why this happened to their loved one, and who would do this to her.”
Jimmy met Ashley’s stare. “Why would I want to kill her?” The words came out almost like a whine.
“I don’t know, you tell me.” She looked deep into his eyes, trying to determine whether he was telling the truth.
Jimmy blinked feverishly. “It don’t make no sense. She was my world, my girl. The woman I loved more than I ever thought was possible, you know? She’s all I had. I ain’t got nothing else of worth in my life, just her. My life is shite; she was the best thing that ever happened to me. I couldn’t believe someone like her would even look at somebody like me, I’m a nobody, I’m nothin’. But she chose me. Me! I’d hardly go and kill her then would I?”
Ashley and Dale exchanged sharp glances at this passionate outburst. Ashley spoke up first, “Seriously, Jimmy, you’d be surprised at how many people kill the ones they love.”
Jimmy took a deep breath. “But not me.” He lowered his head and rested it on the table, closing his eyes. He looked completely exhausted and barely conscious.
“Come on, Jimmy. Sit up and tell us what really happened. We’re going to find out the truth sooner or later,” Ashley said. She knew Jimmy was holding out on them. She just couldn’t quite put her finger on exactly what it was.
Jimmy looked at Ashley out of the corner of his eye. “I hope so. I really do.” He suddenly stood up. “I need to take a piss.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Dale said impatiently. “Does it have to be right now?”
“It’s okay. I’ll take him,” Ashley said, as she ushered the suspect out of the door and walked him down the corridor, making sure she kept a wary eye on him. He was not going to catch her off guard again.
She nodded to the toilet. She listened, albeit with her mouth set in a grimace, to the sounds of the man using the urinal. Any silence that lasted longer than it took for him to zip up his fly was going to have her barrelling in there like a tornado. He may sound weak and soft, but Ashley knew only too well that there was a dark side to Jimmy Marsh.
As they re-entered the interview room, Ashley saw that Dale had risen from his chair and standing next to him, speaking to him in a low voice was a plain clothes female colleague that Ashley recognised.
“Jane,” she acknowledged.
“Hi, Ashley,” the officer replied. “Brought you something your man here might find interesting.”
Jimmy stopped in the middle of the room. He looked from Dale to the officer, and then fixed his eyes on Ashley. Gone was the weepy man who had lost the love of his life. His face was set and his eyes cold. “I’ve had enough of this shite. I’m not saying another word to no one. I want to see a solicitor. I have me rights to a solicitor, don’t I? One phone call. I want me one phone call to call my solicitor?”
“I think that is a good idea, Jimmy. You’re going to need one. The lab results are back. The blood found at the scene has been matched and it is yours,” Dale said. “Follow me.” Dale took him firmly by the arm and started leading him out of the room.
“Where are we going?” Jimmy’s eyes darted from one officer to the other. “What’s going to happen now? I told you, it wasn’t me! I didn’t kill her. I wouldn’t do that! I tol’ you!”
“Yep,” said Dale wearily, suddenly sounding very tired. “We’ve heard your story, but DNA doesn’t lie. I’m taking you down to be charged…”
His words were cut off mid-sentence as Jimmy’s eyes widened in horror, then rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the floor.
Chapter Thirty-Two
After the interview with Jimmy had taken place, Ashley felt further away from the truth than ever. Jimmy’s blood at the scene literally demolished her theory that the killer responsible for Emily Hill’s murder was also responsible for Justine Lockhart’s as well. Colleen had been right. It was an open and shut case. She had invested way too much energy in yet another false lead. She sighed in frustration and continued writing the report that was long overdue. She sighed again heavily. Paperwork was the curse of her job.
There was a tap on her door and she turned around in her chair as the door opened.
A stocky female officer poked her head in the room. “DS McCoy, Jimmy Marsh is asking to see you.” The officer glanced at Dale. “Sorry, just McCoy. By herself. Shall I tell him you’re busy?”
Ashley looked at Dale questioningly who returned her gaze with a smirk. “No, it’s okay. I’ll go and see what he wants. Thanks, Tracey.”
“I told you he wasn’t talking because I was there,” Dale said, as she got to her feet. “He wants to talk to the pretty detective all on his own. Gee, I could have seen that coming from a mile off!”
Ashley cocked her head. “Do you want me to start calling you Mystic Meg from now on?”
Dale pulled a face and rolled his eyes. “Please, after all that palaver with Aaron, let’s not even mention psychics. Even in jest.”
Ashley gave a mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”
She left the office and walked down to the cells with determined steps, wondering what she was going to be told that wasn’t for Dale’s ears. When she entered the claustrophobic cell, the stench of urine from the dank silver bowled toilet in the corner overwhelmed her senses and she wanted to retch. She tried not to look at the toilet but instead turned her eyes to Jimmy who was curled
up on the blue rubber mat that lay on top of a concrete block. He had his back to her, rocking himself gently from side to side. He didn’t stop even when she cleared her throat.
“If you think I have nothing better to do than…”
“I was in the flat with the...the body.” His words came out flat and dull and so quiet that Ashley had to strain to hear them.
“Pardon?”
Jimmy slowly rolled onto his side. The light coming through the glass brick window highlighted his puffy eyes. She could see tears still welling, threatening to roll down his face. He looked like a broken man.
“I saw Justine. I saw her dead body.”
Ashley cocked her head as she studied him. Her heart pounded. So she had been wrong about him after all. Maybe the desperate need to prove her brother’s innocence really was clouding her judgement. “Jimmy, did you kill her?”
He nodded solemnly.
How could I have been so bloody stupid to think for even a second he could be innocent!
Jimmy pushed himself up into a sitting position and wrapped his arms around his leg. He rested his forehead against his knees. “I didn’t kill her but I might as well have. I was never good enough for her.”
Ashley took a step forward. Her head was spinning, and she needed to make sure of what she was hearing. “Hold on a second. What are you talking about? Did you or did you not kill Justine?”
He leaned his head to the side to look at her. “Not in the physical sense, like, no, but…”
Ashley shook her head in frustration. “Oh, Jimmy, don’t try and play mind games with me. I’m not going to be at your beck and call. If you want to confess your emotional indiscretions, go and see a priest when you’re in prison. If you want to confess to the murder of your girlfriend, this is the time. Right here, right now.” Ashley spun on her heel, angry that he had wasted her time.
Jimmy’s eyelids flickered. “I didn’t kill her, I tol’ you that but I saw the killer leaving the building.”