It was difficult to suppress the guilt she felt. If she hadn’t allowed herself to be distracted chasing the ghosts of the past, they might have brought someone to task for this by now. A young man was dead, little more than a boy, and she had failed in her duty of care.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lucy Russell was in her late teens, possibly early twenties, blonde and willowy, with sad eyes and a firm handshake. She led Denning and Neeraj into the compact flat she shared with two other art students in an Edwardian block not far from Wandsworth Common. The living room was decorated with joss sticks and candles, and abstract photographs of children and animals filled the walls. Lucy Russell was dressed in a washed-out man’s checked shirt and a pair of torn dungarees; the front of which was adorned with splashes of dried paint.
‘We knew about Dad,’ she said, sitting opposite them on a squishy beanbag. Denning and Neeraj sat on a faded leather sofa that looked like it had once belonged in the back of a Ford Cortina. Someone had written ‘K+L’ in Tippex on one arm of the sofa.
Lucy Russell flicked a loose strand of blonde hair from her pale face. She’d reported her father missing earlier that afternoon. When she couldn’t get an answer from his mobile phone, she’d rung one of his neighbours. She’d gone round to his flat, but there had been no answer at his front door. Then she’d contacted the police. It was, she’d told them, very out of character for him not to be in touch.
Tony Russell was an unemployed divorcé who had lived in Islington. He was also a crossdresser whose alter ego went by the name Tanya.
‘Mum was cool with it,’ Lucy added, ‘or as cool as anyone can be about these things.’
‘How long had he been doing it?’ Neeraj asked. His tone suggested that he equated transvestism with paedophilia in the list of life’s perversions.
She looked at Denning when she answered. ‘I don’t know; a while. Possibly from before they were married. It wasn’t something we discussed much.’
‘When you say your mum was “cool” with it, how much did she know about his other life?’ Denning kept his voice, neutral; trying to sound non-judgmental.
‘She knew about “Tanya”. She even helped with his make-up sometimes; suggesting a softer blusher, or a subtler eye-liner. Mum used to joke that it was one thing being a transvestite, it was another thing looking like one.’ Her shoulders dropped. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t plain sailing. She was always concerned about friends and neighbours finding out, but I think that was because she worried they wouldn’t understand and would make my dad’s life difficult.’ She threw a glance at Neeraj, sitting uncomfortably on the car seat of a sofa. ‘Some people think cross-dressing is weird, but that’s mostly to do with their own issues rather than other people’s.’
Denning suppressed a smile. ‘Did it play a part in your parents splitting up?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘No. Looking back, I suppose it didn’t help, but they split up because of the usual stuff: money, work. They’d been together since they were teenagers, so it wasn’t an easy decision. Mum’s remarried now.’
‘Lucy, I know this may seem like a tactless question, but I have to ask it: was your dad gay?’
She looked from Denning to Neeraj and back to Denning. ‘Most people make that assumption, but no, my dad wasn’t gay.’ She sat back on the beanbag and offered them a weak smile. ‘It’s hard to explain, but…’
‘Try to,’ Denning suggested. ‘Take your time.’
She picked at a loose thread on the beanbag. ‘When he was Tanya, it was like a different personality took over. Tanya enjoyed the company of men. She liked flirting, and enjoyed the attention men paid her. She liked men buying her drinks, and I suppose, deep down, she revelled in the idea of them finding her attractive.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s something in all of us: the need to satisfy the masculine and feminine sides of our personality.’ She fixed Neeraj with a kind smile, which he didn’t return. ‘I honestly don’t think it was anything to do with sex,’ she said.
‘You’re sure?’ Denning asked.
She nodded. ‘I’m pretty sure my dad never took things any further than flirting.’
‘But he might have done?’ Denning fixed her with a reassuring smile. He didn’t want to make things any harder for her than they already were, what with losing her dad and having to talk openly about private and personal matters, but he had to determine why Tanya Russell had been killed. If Tanya had been picked up by someone who had expected one thing and got another, it could be a strong motive for murder. He’d seen The Crying Game. He knew how easy it was to mislead someone, even innocently.
Lucy Russell stopped plucking at the loose thread. She placed her hands on her lap, and Denning saw tears prickle in her eyes. ‘I’m not entirely sure I can explain it. I think, maybe, it was a self-esteem thing. Dad was…’ she dabbed at her eyes, shook her head and continued, ‘he was a lovely guy, but he wasn’t the sort of person who’d stand out in a crowd. It’s not that he was shy exactly, more reserved. He came from a very conservative background; he’d worked in banking and had few very close friends. Tanya enabled him to become someone else: someone attractive and glamorous, even though it was a lie.’
Neeraj shuffled his feet awkwardly. Denning asked, ‘Where did Tanya go to meet men?’
‘She would hang around bars – straight bars – and sometimes clubs. I think she belonged to a website for men who were attracted to cross-dressers, though I don’t think she ever actually had the nerve to meet up with anyone she chatted to online.’
‘Websites…?’ Denning tried to keep the surprise from his voice.
She smiled at him. ‘Yes, it came as a shock to me too, but apparently there are straight men out there who get turned on by transvestites.’ She sighed again. ‘I suppose it takes all sorts.’
‘Did any of the men he met ever turn violent?’ Neeraj asked.
She shook her head. ‘He never said if they did, but I don’t think so. Usually the men were either totally oblivious, or too pissed to care.’ She smiled again, happy memories overtaking the sadder ones. ‘Tanya was very convincing, even close up. Especially with my mum’s help. She always said there were times even she found it difficult to tell.’
‘Was there a particular bar Tanya liked to frequent?’ Denning asked.
She shook her head. ‘I honestly don’t know. I never really enquired. It’s not an easy conversation to have with your dad. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him and I didn’t have a problem with what he did, but like I said, it wasn’t something we discussed much.’
‘What about last night?’ Neeraj asked. ‘Do you know where he went?’
Again she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I wish I could help you more.’
‘Perhaps your mother might be able to throw some light on his movements?’
‘Mum remarried about four years ago. She hasn’t seen my dad in all that time. My sister lives in Wolverhampton, and she and my dad were never close.’
‘Was there anyone else in his life? A partner? Friends?’
She wiped away another tear with the back of her hand. ‘My father was a very private man, Inspector. There was so much I didn’t know about him. Perhaps it’s only now that I fully realise that. But, no, he wasn’t seeing anyone after he and my mum divorced. I don’t know about friends, but I’m pretty sure what friends he had knew nothing about his other life.’
She paused, as though unsure about saying anything more.
‘Anything you tell us, Miss Russell, will be treated in absolute confidence,’ Denning soothed. ‘And anything, no matter how trivial or seemingly irrelevant might be useful in catching your father’s killer.’
Lucy Russell nodded and cleared her throat. ‘Dad was very clean-cut; he rarely drank and never took drugs.’ She clasped her hands together and tried to squeeze her body into a tight shape. ‘Tanya, however, did use recreational drugs from time to time. Cocaine mostly, but only sometimes, and usually when needing a bit of a confiden
ce boost.’
‘You wouldn’t know where your dad… I mean, where Tanya would have got her drugs from?’ Denning asked.
Lucy Russell shook her head, but Denning was sure he could hazard a fairly accurate guess.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tyler Rabas lived in a fourth-floor flat of a tall, soulless high rise on the Ashbrook estate, about half a mile north of Hackney. At first his mother refused to let Molly in, insisting that her son was out and defying Molly to suggest otherwise. It was only when Molly told her Adam Sloane was dead that she finally and reluctantly allowed Molly across the threshold.
The flat was neat and homely, decorated and furnished on a budget Molly surmised, but not without a nod towards creativity. A wooden sofa and matching armchairs were arranged around a low cabinet, on which sat the telly and some family photos. There were plenty of pictures of Tyler Rabas and his mother and young sister, but no suggestion of Tyler’s father.
Tyler padded through to the living room when his mother called him. He looked sulky and petulant as though she’d interrupted something important, like his PlayStation, or a session chatting to mates on social media.
His mother introduced Molly as a police officer with the drugs’ squad, and told him she wanted a word about Adam Sloane. He sat down on the edge of the sofa, looking for all the world like a little boy lost.
‘Ty,’ Molly began, keeping her voice level and calm. ‘Adam died this morning.’ She let the words sink in. She watched as he looked over to his mother before staring sullenly at his feet. Tyler Rabas was a teenage boy, so he wasn’t going to show any emotion in front of a police officer, especially a female police officer, but she suspected he was struggling to take in the news about his best friend.
‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, still fixated on his feet.
‘I’m sure you are, Ty. And I really don’t want to intrude on your grief any more than I have to, but I need to know who supplied Adam with the drugs. I need you to tell me who’s responsible for killing him.’ She was being deliberately blunt, trying to shock him into telling her what she needed to know. ‘As you can imagine, his mother is devastated.’ Molly looked at Tyler’s mum, who sat tight-lipped on the other armchair, arms folded across her chest. She slowly shook her head at the mention of Adam’s mum, doubtless imagining herself in Debbie Sloane’s shoes.
Tyler looked up from his feet and glanced over at his mum. ‘I don’t know,’ he muttered, refusing to meet Molly’s gaze.
‘I think you do, Ty. And I think you owe it to Adam to tell me.’ She looked at him, her voice still calm and sympathetic; her body language neutral and unthreatening. She wasn’t going to get anywhere bullying the lad. ‘You were Adam’s best mate. You were with him the night he took the Ecstasy. You were going to a friend’s party, that’s right, isn’t it? You wanted to have a good time. You knew how to get hold of drugs.’
He nodded slowly. ‘It was Adam’s idea,’ he said, a slight catch in his voice. ‘I said I’d get some booze. I knew where I could get some vodka, but Adam said he wanted something harder.’
‘I’m not judging you, Ty, and I’m certainly not blaming you.’ She pulled herself forward on the sofa so that she was only inches away from Tyler’s face. ‘We all do silly and impulsive things sometimes, things we later regret. And sometimes we wish that we could go back in time and do things differently. But we can’t. However, we can do the right thing if we’re given the opportunity to do so.’ She was so close to him, she could smell his sweat. The redness in his eyes told her she was getting through to him. ‘Ty, this is your opportunity to do the right thing now, and tell me who sold Adam the drugs.’
He looked up at his mum again. She reached out and put a hand on his arm. ‘Ty, if you do know anything, you need to speak up.’
He shook his head again.
‘Ty, was it Gregor Kane?’ Molly asked. ‘Was he the person who sold Adam the Ecstasy?’
She waited for an answer. He didn’t speak, just continued to stare intently at his feet. Eventually he nodded.
It was the admission she’d been waiting for, but she needed to be certain. ‘You’re sure, Ty? Gregor Kane provided Adam with the Ecstasy?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘It was Gregor. He used to hang round the school. Everyone bought gear off Gregor.’ His voice was blank; sticking to cold, bare facts; keeping emotion at bay.
Molly thanked him. He would have to come down to the station and make an official statement confirming what he’d just told her, but that could wait. It was likely they would have to offer the family police protection once it was made formal: grassing on a member of the Kane family wasn’t going to make their lives easy in the Ashbrook estate, or anywhere in east London for that matter.
Once she was outside, she phoned her boss. ‘Boss, we’ve got Gregor Kane,’ she said. ‘We can bring him in at last.’ But even as she spoke she had a feeling this was just the beginning of their problems rather than the end.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘Tony Russell, otherwise known as Tanya Russell. Cause of death: a fractured skull, causing a bleed on the brain. His badly beaten body was found in a car park behind a KFC earlier today. Motive, as yet unknown.’ Denning addressed the group. There was a photograph of Tony Russell on the whiteboard, next to one of Tanya taken from the website his daughter had mentioned. If he looked closely, it was possible to see Tony Russell hiding behind Tanya’s made-up face and slicked blonde wig. But Lucy Russell was right: Tanya was convincing. The other photo, taken post-mortem, showed a face twisted out of shape by repeated blows. The level of violence suggested that whoever had done this had revelled in the sheer brutality of it.
‘We’ve got a tranny-basher out there now too, as well as a psycho killer,’ Dave Kinsella said. He shook his head; Denning wasn’t sure if it signified disgust or despair.
‘Like I said, Dave: no known motive as yet, so let’s try not to jump to conclusions. And can we please avoid using expressions like “tranny-basher”. Tanya Russell is a victim and will be treated with the same respect as all victims. We’re not here to judge either the victim or how she chose to live her life. The victim identified as female and that is how we will refer to her.’
The room fell silent. Denning was sure he spotted Kinsella’s face redden as he exchanged a glance with another officer. ‘The good news is that forensics got some DNA this time. Unfortunately the DNA database drew a blank.’
‘So whoever it was has no previous?’ Kinsella asked.
‘Looks that way, Dave. But it does mean that when we do finally arrest someone for this, we have something solid in the way of evidence.’
‘Are we definitely ruling out a connection with Leanne Wyatt?’ Trudi asked.
‘At this stage, Trudi, yes.’ Denning was determined to treat the two cases separately. There was still nothing concrete to suggest an obvious link. Trudi and Ryan had been going over Tanya Russell’s laptop, checking the details of anyone who had visited Tanya’s profile on the dating website. It was going to take time to get names and addresses as, perhaps understandably, most of the site’s users were keen to maintain their anonymity. It was also possible that this was an entirely random attack: transphobic crimes were on the rise in the capital and cases like Tanya Russell’s were becoming depressingly common. ‘However, we know that Tanya was an occasional cocaine user. We don’t know who supplied her, but we do know who the main dealer is in this area.’
‘Gregor Kane,’ Trudi offered.
‘More than likely, but I can’t see Kane admitting anything. And besides, this doesn’t look like it’s drugs-related, at least not on the surface.’
‘Russell could have owed Kane money. That’s a motive,’ Neeraj said.
‘Again, that’s a possible avenue worth exploring,’ Denning said. ‘However, according to the post-mortem there were no traces of cocaine or any other drug found in Tanya Russell’s system when she was killed, and speaking to his daughter, I get the impression she was only a light us
er.’
Kinsella said, ‘Maybe he found out Tanya was a bloke and went for him. I don’t reckon Gregor Kane’s much of a tranny lover.’ He looked round the room, then added, ‘Sorry, lover of people who cross dress.’
Denning waited a moment before he replied. ‘That’s not Kane’s style. He’s living in his daddy’s shadow, a wannabe gangster. Beating someone up if they get in his way, perhaps, but this is in a different league. Anyway, at this stage, any connection to Gregor Kane is tenuous.’
‘Sorry if I’m being naïve,’ Ryan Cormack said, ‘but are we sure we want to rule out a connection between this and Leanne Wyatt? I mean the manner of the murders is very similar…’
‘Except “Tanya” wasn’t raped,’ said Kinsella, ‘for obvious reasons.’
‘It’s possible whoever did it didn’t know about Tanya…’ Ryan said, ignoring the sniggering that rippled round the room. ‘All I’m saying is, maybe we’re being a bit hasty in assuming the cases are unconnected.’
‘Tanya didn’t have a cross engraved on her forehead,’ Trudi said.
‘Maybe he only does that after he’s sexually assaulted them.’ Ryan Cormack seemed determined to push the point. ‘Perhaps it’s some kind of marker.’
Denning looked at the two whiteboards: one for Leanne Wyatt, another for Tanya Russell. Similar, but different…
‘OK, so if we’re saying there is a connection, what are we talking about?’ He looked around the room. ‘I’m not sure that’s a route any of us wants to go down unless we have to.’
There was a general murmuring from the room. He saw Dave Kinsella shake his head again. Denning raised his hands until there was calm. ‘For the time being, we treat the two cases separately. As soon we get any evidence that points us in a different direction, then we’ll start exploring other options. Until then, let’s find out all we can about Tanya Russell, also known by the name Tony Russell: talk to colleagues and anyone who frequented the same bars and clubs as Tanya. Speak to anyone who might have seen Tanya with someone on the night she was killed. Let’s go over any CCTV footage from the area. Unlike Leanne Wyatt, Tanya Russell was killed where she was found. Whoever’s responsible has to have been spotted. Which means we put out an appeal for eye-witnesses, and plough over CTTV.’
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