DS Dave Spence left his black Vauxhall Astra in the 24 hour multi-storey car park and walked the short distance to Club Europium. He found DCs Jenny Smart, Leo Jenson and Lynn Greenfield waiting round the corner from the main entrance, where a queue was forming.
‘It’s just as well we aren’t meant to be undercover,’ he said, ‘I have more clothes on when I get into bed than some of those punters are wearing. It’s February, for Christ’s sake!’
Jenson was hugging himself and stamping his feet to keep warm. ‘I’ve been here half an hour and I’m freezing.’
‘You’re too keen, Leo,’ said Greenfield. ‘What’s the plan, sir?’
Spence reached into his jacket pocket and took out a wad of photos which had been downloaded from Abi Slater’s social media pages. He handed them round. ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t have a formal briefing, but with everyone involved in different cases, it’s been impossible to get us all in one place at the same time. Has anyone from uniform turned up to help?’
‘When I was leaving the office, every spare body went out on search warrants. Stolen firearms. Duty Sergeant apologised for not being able to help us,’ said Smart.
‘Typical,’ said Spence, distracted for a moment by a wish that he was involved in the raids rather than trying to extract information from party-loving clubbers. ‘The boss has given us an open remit here. Show the pictures; ask if anyone remembers her; what do they remember? Usual drill. Then...’ he handed round more pictures, ‘do they recognise this guy? Some of you will have seen his picture on the board in the briefing room. It’s Abi Slater’s fiancé, Joseph Kendrick.’
Greenfield took out her phone and shone its light on the photo. ‘I’ve not seen it,’ she explained, ‘I need a closer look.’
‘No matter,’ said Spence. ‘He told us he came here with Abi a few times and that during one of those times, Abi was approached by an aggressive male. He wasn’t able to give much of a description because it was pretty dark.’
‘In the club, or outside?’ asked Smart.
‘Inside. He caught a glimpse of the face but it didn’t leave a lasting impression. That’s about all I can tell you, I’m afraid.’
‘Can we go in now?’ said Jenson. ‘I’m freezing.’
Stop moaning, Leo,’ said Smart before turning to Spence. ‘Are the management expecting us? I mean, are they being co-operative?’
‘Yes, they are. They said they would put Abi’s picture up in the toilets with the Crimestoppers phone number and they’ve given us access to an office in the back if we need to speak to someone in a quiet place. I think you should take turns at speaking to the punters in the queue. Show them the pictures and see what you get.’ He rifled through the photos he had kept for himself before holding one up. ‘This is Abi in her clubbing gear and she looks very different from the ones the newspapers and TV have been running. If they recognise her at all, it’ll be from this one.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Let’s all meet up at the front of the Club at say... two o’clock. We can see where we are and decide how much longer we need to be here.’
They agreed and set off towards the entrance.
Chapter 56
Monday 24th February
‘Did you have a good weekend, sir?’ DC Jennifer Smart came into Morgan’s office with a stack of files in her arms. He was unpacking his briefcase and paused to reflect. Friday evening’s dinner had been fraught. Dorothy goaded him with regular references to his inability to catch whoever was responsible for the local murders. Sam had been apologetic and tried to make up for it in bed that night but he was tired and he kept remembering the sight of Maisie with tears in her eyes. He’d spent Saturday and Sunday up ladders, surveying, prodding plaster and brickwork, and measuring up what was going to be needed to replace the damage that years of salty sea air and neglect had caused. It had been good to be back in his scruffy jeans and sweatshirts and best of all, the phone hadn’t rung.
‘I did, thank you Jenny. What about you? How did your evening at Club Europium go?’
‘More of a night than an evening, sir. I’m getting too old for double shifts and all nighters. Yesterday was good. I took my nieces to the latest Disney film. It was nice to forget real life for a while and I even managed to catch up on some sleep without them noticing.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘We all gave our interview notes to DS Spence before we went home from the club on Friday, well, Saturday really. He’s checking a few things out with Leo before he comes in to speak to you.’
‘What was your gut feel?’
Smart screwed up her features and rocked her hand from side to side. ‘There was some interesting stuff, but I wouldn’t like to comment on its veracity. I spoke to a young lad who remembered Abi really well. He said she’d taken his virginity in the service alley behind the club.’
Morgan’s eyebrows rose. ‘Not beyond the realms of possibility, I suppose, given the other stories we’ve heard about her.’
Smart shook her head. ‘He was speaking to me in front of his mates who I think were egging him on. I suspect if we went to visit him at home in the presence of a responsible adult, like his mum, for example, we’d get a different story.’
‘Okay, I get the picture. Did anything else come in over the weekend? I didn’t get any calls.’
She shook her head. ‘Not as far as I know. Do you want me to check?’
‘I’m sure they’ll be in touch if we’re needed. I’m nipping downstairs for a coffee and then I’ll speak to Dave before we sort out the briefing.’
On his way back to his office, coffee in hand, his work mobile rang. Unknown caller. Morgan prepared to deal with what he expected would be a desperate journalist whose editor had given an ultimatum.
‘DI Morgan,’ he answered.
‘Is that DI Morgan?’ Immediately, he was irritated. Why did people do that?
‘Yes, it is, how can I help?’ He continued walking, juggling phone and coffee as he manoeuvred through fire doors.
‘Sharon Crook gave me your number.’ The name didn’t register. Then he remembered going with DC Smart to tell Wesley Crook’s mother that her son had been found under a tree with a sign around his neck.
‘Okay. And you are..?’
‘My son and Wesley were friends. It was a while ago.’
Morgan remembered Sharon Crook’s pragmatism. Surely she would not have given his number to a woman who only wanted to chat about her son’s schooldays?
‘How can I help, Mrs er..?’
‘I’ve had a letter,’ she said. ‘Or rather, my son’s had a letter. I opened it cos he’s inside at the moment.’ She spoke quickly as if she was frightened he would end the call before she had finished what she wanted to say.
Morgan waited. ‘And?’ he said.
‘Sharon said that Wesley had a letter before he was killed.’ He didn’t answer. ‘Are you still there?’ she shouted.
‘I’m here. What does the letter say?’
‘It says he’ll be sorry.’ The woman’s voice was breaking. ‘Sharon told me that’s what Wesley’s letter said.’
Morgan closed his eyes and nodded. He felt the back of his neck prickle. ‘I’m at my office now. If you give me your address, I’ll be with you within the hour. Don’t touch the letter again.’
Passing through the main office he noted that most of his team had arrived and were preparing their reports for the briefing.
‘Grab your jacket, Spence. There’s been another letter.’
Chapter 57
Monday 24th February
If Morgan had been expecting to visit a similar property to Sharon Crook’s flat, he could not have been more mistaken. Spence drove them north through the forest, before turning into a wide road lined with trees and grassy verges.
‘Are those cherry trees?’ asked Morgan when they stopped outside a detached 1930’s house.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never been here before.’
‘If they are, this road must look magical when the blossom’s in full bloom.’
Morgan pushed the wrought iron gate which squeaked as it opened. He made a mental note to buy some oil on his way home for his own front door, but knew he’d probably forget. As the two men walked up the path they were greeted by an elderly golden Labrador who appeared from the side of the house. Morgan offered the back of his hand and the dog sniffed at it. Spence held back.
The shiny blue front door opened before they had a chance to ring the bell.
‘I burnt the toast and had the back door open to get rid of the smell. She must have got out. Get in, Bella and stop annoying these gentlemen.’ They stood to one side to let Bella through and watched as she collapsed into a basket in the hall. ‘She’s thirteen and bothered by arthritis. She’s almost blind too. I don’t know how I’ll manage without her.’
The woman spoke quickly as if unfamiliar with the concept of punctuation.
‘I’m DI Morgan and this is DS Spence.’ They both held out ID but she waved it away.
‘I can tell you’re police by the way you walked up my path. It’s not the first time I’ve had police at my door. I’m Mrs Drake. Megan Drake, that is. Harry’s mother.’ She seemed about to offer a handshake, but changed her mind and continued speaking instead. ‘The last lot turned my house upside down and it took me a week to get straight. I hoped Bella might bite them but she just watched.’
‘Can we come in, please?’ asked Morgan hoping that politeness might help her forget her previous experience.
‘Of course. The kettle’s boiled.’ She pointed towards the back of the house where weak winter sunshine leaked into the hallway through an open door. ‘That’s the lounge. Have a seat. Is coffee okay? I’ve only got instant.’
Morgan sensed that coffee was a necessary ritual for Megan Drake and since he had left his first caffeine hit of the day untouched on his desk, he accepted. ‘That’s very kind of you Mrs Drake, milk and no sugar for us both, please.’
The room was a lounge diner with an arch through to the kitchen. Bi-fold doors led out on to decking which looked green and slippery and a garden which was well tended for the time of year. The officers stood at the doors and took in the view before making eye contact. Spence raised his eyebrows and Morgan replied with a shrug. This wasn’t the sort of property they usually visited when following up errant offspring.
Megan Drake came in, carrying a tray with three mugs of coffee and a plate of ginger biscuits. ‘I buy them at the farmers’ market. I don’t have time to make my own nowadays.’ She held the tray towards them. ‘Either of the green mugs,’ she said. The remaining white mug had a picture of a stick figure woman with a big round head and a wide smile. Her short arms with overly large hands were held open for a hug. Written beside her were the words “World’s Best Mum.” She saw them look at it. ‘I’ve had it a while,’ she said, obviously feeling the need to explain before pointing them towards the beige settee.
They sat, and Morgan, who had already planned his questioning strategy, started. ‘Mrs Drake, you should know that I’ve only been on this patch for a couple of weeks and I’m not aware of your son’s history. Before we get to the letter, it would help if you could start with some background.’
Spence fiddled with his phone before placing it on the coffee table. ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said. The prospect of having her words recorded flustered her, but she nodded her agreement.
‘Where should I start?’ she asked, still staring at the phone.
‘You said that your son is in custody, perhaps you could start there?’ said Morgan. He was hoping that Spence hadn’t blown it by introducing the recording.
‘Harry went to prison two weeks ago for breaching a restraining order his ex took out. He just wanted to see his kids.’
Morgan intervened with a placatory softness in his tone. ‘I appreciate how difficult this is for you but what I need is to get an understanding of how your son got to know Wesley Crook. Oh, and if you can tell me of anyone else who might know that they knew each other, that would help too.’
She looked disappointed. ‘But you need to know that he’s not a bad lad, really.’
‘I need to know about his relationship with Wesley, Mrs Drake. And about the letter too, of course.’
‘He met Wesley in Portland. Nothing was the same after that.’
‘Youth Offenders Institute,’ said Spence, in case Morgan hadn’t heard of it.
Morgan’s phone rang and she jumped. He reached into his pocket and handed it to Spence who disappeared into the kitchen to take the call.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Where were we?’
‘Harry met Wesley at Youth Offenders,’ said Morgan, at the same time, trying to get the gist of the conversation Spence was having in the kitchen.
‘They met there and they were released on the same day. Harry wanted Wesley to come here, but I put my foot...’
‘Sir,’ Spence’s head appeared round the kitchen door. He was pointing to the phone.
Morgan excused himself and joined Spence in the kitchen.
‘DI Morgan,’ he said.
DC Lynn Greenfield sounded excited. ‘The forensic report on Councillor Wyatt’s clothes has come in. There were marks on his sweat shirt which they have identified as tears and nasal secretions.’
Morgan kept his voice down to avoid being overheard by Megan Drake. ‘I might cry a bit myself if someone was putting a dog lead round my neck and about to hang me.’
‘It’s not his DNA,’ she replied.
He looked at Spence who was nodding and indicating that he wanted to speak.
‘Hang on a minute, Lynn, Spence wants a word.’
‘I saw the state of the bedrooms, sir. That man’s clothes have not visited a washing machine in a good few weeks. It could be his wife’s if he tried to stop her from leaving, or any other unsuspecting female he had his hands on.’
‘I heard what Dave said, sir,’ said Greenfield and Morgan heard the rustling of paper as she turned pages. ‘The report says that the secretions are from the same person and that person is male.’
Megan Drake appeared at the kitchen door as he ended the call. She was carrying the three empty coffee mugs in her hand. ‘I’ll put the kettle on again,’ she said.
‘Mrs Drake, something has come up and we have to be going. I’ll need the letter and please tell me why your son is in prison.’
‘They activated a suspended sentence for theft in breach of trust. He was selling fake insurance policies. But, it wasn’t his fault. Bloody magistrates didn’t even listen to all he’s been though.’
The officers made their way back through the long reception room and Spence picked up his phone and ended the recording. Megan Drake held out the letter and Morgan opened an evidence bag for her to drop it into. He gave it to Spence who started to fill in the details on the label. As Morgan thanked her again for the information and the coffee she was shaking her head. ‘Why did he have to go to prison? He only wanted to see his kids.’
They passed Bella who had fallen asleep in her basket and was snoring.
Chapter 58
Monday 24th February
Morgan entered the open plan office with Spence close behind him.
Greenfield looked up from her computer screen as they approached her. ‘Sorry, sir. No match for the DNA.’
DC Smart crossed the office to where they were congregating. ‘I’ve got bad news too, I’m afraid. The wording of the sign around Crook’s neck has been circulating on social media. Eight thousand hits so far but increasing faster than a celebrity scandal.’
For a moment, everyone seemed to hold their breath. Nobody had experienced how well or otherwise DI Nick Morgan took bad news and this was really bad news. He nodded and pursed his lips.
‘Well, I don’t know if it’s good news, or not,’ he said, ‘but we’ve picked up another letter. Same words as the letter to Wesley Crook.’ He held up the evidence bag before handing it to Jenny Smart. ‘Repent or die.’
Smart frowned.
‘Okay, I’m paraphrasing.’ He headed for the door.
Spence crossed to his desk and picked up a blue folder which had a sheet of paper sitting on top of it before following him, reading from the paper as he walked. He had caught up by the time Morgan reached his office. ‘The interviews from Friday, sir,’ he called from outside the door.
‘Come in, Dave,’ Morgan beckoned as he spoke. ‘Take a seat.’
Spence sat opposite Morgan and removed a thick sheaf of paper from his folder. ‘I came in yesterday and went through the notes. I’ve tried to put them in some sort of order.’ He held them towards Morgan who shook his head.
‘You’ve read them, what do you think?’
Spence pulled a notebook from his pocket and started to read from it. Morgan smiled. It was small, but it was a smile. He had suspected there would be a summary. He had saved himself time by not having to trawl though pages of notes written under dodgy lighting by tired officers who were beyond caring about legibility.
‘I’ve already heard about the virgin in the service alley,’ said Morgan.
‘I put that one down to wishful thinking,’ said Spence, ‘but there are a few things we might take a closer look at.’ He separated the sheets of paper into two piles. ‘Males and females,’ he said. ‘More males than females remembered Abi, thus the bigger pile.’
Morgan nodded. ‘Go on.’
Spence consulted his notes. ‘The males told us how pretty she was and that she was a good dancer. Never off the floor when she was at the club. She was seen to chat to everyone and dance with anyone. Leo spoke to a lad who saw an argument outside a different club, a couple of nights before Abi disappeared. Thought it might have been her, but wasn’t sure.’
‘And he didn’t think to mention this sooner?’
Spence looked down at his notes and then pointed to the pile of papers in front of Morgan. ‘Number twenty four.’
Morgan flicked through the larger pile and pulled out a page. ‘It looks as if Leo didn’t ask why this lad kept quiet for so long. That’s disappointing.’
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