Make You Sorry

by Christine Rae-Jones

  ‘When you go through the pages, you’ll see that a lot of them are headed GIR. That means Gave Information Reluctantly. I asked the team to add that where it was relevant to show why they hadn’t pushed hard.’

  Morgan felt chastened and continued to read. ‘So, he wasn’t sure that the girl was Abi, but he recognised the male in the picture he was shown.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Joseph Kendrick. Abi’s fiancé. And when Leo showed him the picture of Abi in her clubbing gear, he was a bit more sure it was the pair of them he’d seen arguing, and that Kendrick had slapped her.’

  ‘And yet, a day or two later, she picks up a wedding dress, presumably with the intention of marrying him?’

  ‘I hope you’re not going to ask me to comment on the psychology of female motivations, sir.’

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it. What was the gist of the interviews with the females?’

  ‘Some of the females were complimentary, especially if they were interviewed in the company of their boyfriends. However, this is a selection of the more typical responses.’ He cleared his throat before reading from his personal notes. ‘“Abigail Slater was an attention seeker. She wore clothes that barely covered her arse and when she was dancing, or chatting, she was constantly looking round to see who was admiring her, or if there was someone more important to be seen with.”’

  ‘Meow,’ said Morgan.

  ‘It gets worse, sir.’ Spence returned to his notes. ‘And I quote. “She never left the club with the same man twice. I thought she was on the game until someone told me she was a solicitor. When I heard she was engaged, I felt sorry for the guy.”’

  Morgan blew air out of his mouth. ‘Those comments corroborate what we’ve heard about her. Useful to know, but doesn’t take us any further really.’

  ‘Until this came in while we were out talking to Mrs Drake. It’s from Crimestoppers.’ Spence indicated the page from the top of the pile. ‘It’s anonymous, but it’s a message left by someone we spoke to on Friday who says they didn’t want to be overheard giving us information. He or she says that Abigail Slater was still meeting one of her previous boyfriends at the club, long after she was telling everyone that she was engaged.’

  ‘I don’t suppose they left a name for this boyfriend?’

  ‘Sorry, sir.’

  Steven Cooper’s name was in Morgan’s mind and he was certain that Spence was thinking the same. It would also tie up with the rumour Graham Fletcher had told them. Abi was still seeing Sam’s brother when the banns were being read. He waited for Spence to speak and when nothing was offered, carried on.

  ‘And it says she was meeting him at the Europium? Didn’t the fiancé tell us she’d stopped going to clubs because she was often the overnight duty solicitor?’

  ‘Maybe that’s just what she told him. Perhaps she was still going dancing and telling him she was on duty.’

  Morgan sat back in his chair and tutted. ‘So we’ve got the fiancé telling us they’d stopped going clubbing, but he’s seen arguing with Abi outside a club and slapping her, two days before she disappeared. Did he find out about this other man? We’ll have to get him in again.’

  ‘Sir.’ Spence headed for the door, but Morgan was still speaking.

  ‘Would she do that? Would she risk her imminent marriage to a successful broker just for some illicit sex? I’m going to struggle to sell it to Johnson, which is what I’ve got to go and do now.’ Morgan looked up at his office clock and compared the time with his watch. He followed Spence through the door and stopped abruptly when he heard a text alert. The message was from Maisie but he couldn’t make sense of it.

  Come now fnd ring

  He frowned at the phone as if that would help. ‘I need to make a quick call. Sorry.’ He hurried to the doors at the end of the corridor and slipped through them into the stairwell. After listening for footsteps on the concrete steps, he called her and she replied immediately.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his concern obvious. I don’t understand the message.’

  ‘The papers said that Abi Slater’s engagement ring was missing, is that right?’

  Morgan hadn’t been keeping up with the papers or social media. It was a deliberate choice on his part. He preferred to deal with evidence based facts from investigation rather than supposition. He opened the door to the corridor where Spence was leaning on the wall inspecting his own phone screen.

  ‘Remind me. Is Abi Slater’s engagement ring missing?’ he called to his DS.

  Spence thought for a couple of seconds. ‘Yes. I remember her flatmate... Juliet something, she asked if we had it.’

  ‘Okay, hang on.’ Morgan returned to the stairwell. ‘Yes, it’s missing.’

  ‘I’ve got it. Or I should say, I think it’s the same one - she only showed it to me once. It’s a sapphire with two diamonds on either side of it.’

  ‘I don’t think we have a description, unless it’s in a statement somewhere. Where did you find it?’

  ‘If you come now, I can show you exactly where. It was next to a bed.’ She was using the soft, husky voice he remembered from before their relationship had progressed beyond flirting.

  He cleared his throat and tried to lose the image of her naked body and her eyes smiling at him.

  ‘DS Spence and I will be there right away. Where shall we meet you?’

  ‘I’m in A-38,’ She gave concise directions in a business-like voice. ‘Please hurry, I’ve got a lot on today.’ She ended the call before he could answer.

  Spence hadn’t moved and was looking expectant. ‘Is it the ring?’

  Morgan stretched out his arms, palms facing upwards. ‘It’s a ring, whether it’s her ring is another matter. Looks as if Johnson will have to wait for his update.’ They set off back to Spence’s car.

  Chapter 59

  Monday 24th February

  Morgan got out of the car first and approached the open door to the park home with a sense of urgency. It would only take Spence a few moments to park in the tight spot between the bushes and Maisie’s service van, but that was long enough to explain why he had come accompanied.

  Maisie appeared at the door. ‘I thought I heard a car. You made good time.’ She looked beyond him. ‘On your own?’

  ‘DS Spence is parking. If this is Abigail Slater’s ring, then two of us need to see where you found it. We’ll need to get a crime scene team here too.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ she scoffed. ‘I’ve been cleaning. I had a call from the owners last week and they’re coming on Thursday for a few days. They asked me to tidy up and air the place. It’s not one of ours but the owner, Mrs Stockton, uses a walking stick nowadays, so I help her out when I can.’

  Spence knocked on the open door and came in without waiting. ‘This is really nice. I’d no idea they were so spacious,’ he said.

  ‘Where’s the ring?’ asked Morgan and followed Maisie’s pointing finger to the breakfast bar. ‘Did you touch it?’

  ‘It was between the bed and the wall in the master. I pulled the bed out to vacuum and there it was.’

  ‘We’ll need the vacuum cleaner for forensics,’ said Spence.

  ‘How long for? The season is starting soon and I need every vacuum cleaner I’ve got.’

  ‘Can you make the call please, DS Spence?’ Spence nodded and took his phone outside.

  ‘We’re going to need a statement, Maisie.’

  ‘I remember what happened last time you said that.’

  ‘I do too. I remember it well, and I think of it often.’ Their eyes met and Morgan cleared his throat. ‘Can you show me exactly where you found the ring?’

  He followed her down the hall to the master bedroom. Through the window he could see across the lake and into the woods. If Abigail Slater had died here, even someone unfamiliar with the territory would have seen there was an ideal place to dump her body right on the doorstep.

  ‘When was Mrs Stockton last here?’ he asked.

  ‘The Stocktons don’t have to boo
k because this is their property.’

  ‘So, you don’t know.’

  Maisie looked a little taken aback. She was used to “off duty” Nick Morgan and seemed to find DI Morgan a bit abrasive. She looked uncomfortable.

  ‘I do happen to know, actually. Mrs Stockton popped in to wish me a Happy New Year. They were here for Christmas and drove home on New Year’s Eve.’

  ‘Is this one of the homes you allowed Abi Slater access to for her personal assignations?’

  ‘No!’ she shouted. ‘I told you. This is a privately owned home. I have a master key which gives me access, but I would never allow anyone to use it.’

  Morgan heard Spence call for him and he put his head around the door. ‘We’re in here.’

  ‘Forensics don’t have anyone free to send until later this afternoon but I’ve got a PCSO coming to hold the fort. He will be here in about fifteen minutes and he’ll put the tape up. When can you come in to make your statement, madam?’ He was looking at Maisie.

  ‘It’s not that easy to say. I’ll come when I can get someone to cover.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Morgan ‘But that really needs to be sometime today. Ask for either DS Spence, or DC Smart when you arrive. Please contact Mrs Stockton and explain that they will have to delay their visit, I’m afraid. This could be where Abi Slater was murdered.’

  Chapter 60

  Monday 24th February

  In the days since overhearing the plans to burgle the DIY store, he used his motorbike to visit a few sites, checking to see which of them had shipping containers in their car park. He narrowed it down to two and picked one at random. If they turned up, he would deal with them, if not, well, he’d never intended this to be about commercial burglars, it was the bastards who invaded homes and turned lives upside down he wanted to make sorry.

  He was in position when the store closed at nine o’clock. Most of the staff had left by quarter past getting into vehicles parked up against the back fence. He was out of their line of vision, but ducked down in the front seat of the van anyway. After a while, there was only an estate car and a small hatchback beside it. Management, he thought. They would be more vigilant in looking around when they left. He considered cutting his losses and going to the pub. Dinner felt heavy in his stomach and a couple of pints with a few games of darts would help his digestion. Besides, his friends would be wondering where he was.

  Twenty minutes later, the small staff door opened again and a tall thin man appeared followed by a shorter woman. They were laughing and he saw small clouds of condensed breath. The man pushed the woman against the wall and started to kiss her. She was still laughing as the security light faded, leaving them in darkness. Under any other circumstances, he might have enjoyed watching, but not tonight. He needed them to leave.

  A white car pulled into the car park and approached the delivery bay. The couple must have moved because the security light triggered again. The car changed direction and drove towards them. From his van, he could see a shield logo on the front passenger door and blue and white chevron markings up the side. Mobile security. He hadn’t thought about that. How often did the patrols come?

  The couple chatted briefly with the uniformed driver before waving as he reversed into a parking bay to turn the car, and leaving. They snogged again, then the woman got into the estate car and blew a kiss as she drove away. He watched the man get into the hatchback and make a phone call. He guessed he was telling his wife he’d been delayed at work. Liar.

  The security car returned about two hours after the first visit. The man got out and flashed his torch at the store’s main entrance and the staff door before getting back in and speeding off. As he watched, it crossed his mind that the company would be pissed off if they knew the level of service they were getting for their money.

  He had brought a couple of tins of beer and a large bag of crisps to help pass the time and eventually, he needed to pee. When he got out of the van and went round to the back he heard a vehicle approach. It was being driven slowly but it went straight past the entrance. It was a van, dark coloured, not very big. Earlier, articulated and refrigerated lorries from the industrial estate had gone by, but not for a while. God, he really needed to pee but he zipped himself up and crouched down behind his van. If this was them, he didn’t want to be caught with his dick in his hand.

  The van drove into the parking area for the property opposite. When he popped his head up, he could see the lights were off, but heard the engine running. After a couple of minutes it crossed to the DIY store car park and stopped, facing the storage containers’ padlocked doors. The headlights came on again – full beam. He ducked back down behind his van.

  Fuck it! Everything he needed was on the passenger seat but, if he opened the door, the internal light would come on. It would either scare them away or, more likely, they would come for him and he didn’t think that would end well.

  There was another delay before he heard the van doors open and when he looked again he saw they were both wearing balaclavas. Short Man was carrying what looked like a cordless angle grinder and the other one had bolt cutters. He couldn’t see what they were doing at the front of the containers, but he saw a shower of sparks and it wasn’t long before the doors of the first one swung open. Short Man disappeared inside and he started to pile big boxes between the container and their van.

  Tall Man started to load the boxes into the back of their van. He heard him say that they should have brought help. It was the higher voice and, remembering it from the court waiting area, he knew now that he was the younger guy. That made it easier to plan how he would tackle them.

  As he crept around the back of the container he heard Short Man say ‘Pack ‘em in tight. We’ll get as much as we can.’

  The open door hid him from view as he tiptoed up the side of the container. He saw the discarded bolt cutters. They would have to do.

  Short Man was taking longer to make each trip into the container and he could hear laboured breathing.

  He waited.

  Tall Man jumped down from the back of the truck and he arced the bolt cutters down on his head like an executioner’s axe. A loud crack, then his knees buckled and he fell forwards, knocking over the pile of boxes he had been reaching for.

  He heard a voice call ‘Mickey?’ It was no louder than a whisper. Then, ‘Mickey? Are you alright?’ followed by a stream of curses.

  He could hear that Short Man wasn’t pleased. ‘Fuck’s sake, Mickey. What have you done?’ He waited until Short Man was bending over Mickey then delivered the same fate. He went down like a felled tree across the top of Mickey’s body.

  He leant against the shipping container for a moment to catch his breath before hurrying to the Transit and turning off the lights and ignition. The next security patrol might come any minute and he wanted to be sure that the car park was in darkness. He rubbed the handles of the bolt cutters on his jeans and threw them into the back of the open container. Then, he went back to his van for gloves and a Sharpie pen. He ripped the top off one of the cartons. There was just enough light for him to see what he was writing before he tucked the card between the layered bodies and went back to his van. As the wind picked up across the car park he felt chilled and realised that at some point, he must have wet himself.

  Chapter 61

  Tuesday 25th February

  The Ops Room inspector was apologetic when he woke Morgan up at 4.30am. ‘It’s a messy one, DI Morgan. Two men in a DIY outlet car park, both with head injuries. Life pronounced extinct and pathologist in attendance.’

  Morgan rubbed sleep from his eyes. ‘I’m not the Duty DI. You should be contacting DI Patel.’

  ‘I did, DI Morgan, and she attended. Dr Mack told her there were similarities to a case you’re working on and said he thought it appropriate for you to attend.’

  ‘Since when do pathologists get an input into our duty rota?’ Tiling a shower until the early hours of the morning had done nothing to improve Morgan’s amenabili
ty. ‘Sorry. Late night. Can you give me the details?’

  A PCSO logged him in at the scene. He directed Morgan over to the area furthest from the floodlit activity where he parked, locked up, and thrust his hands into a pair of blue nitrile gloves retrieved from a box in his boot. Wind was swirling litter around the area and a crime scene technician was chasing after it with long handled tongs. He pulled up the collar of his thick wool coat, thankful that at last, he had access to his full wardrobe. He strode across to where people in white hooded overalls were working.

  ‘Dr Mackenzie. I understand you put in a special request for me to attend?’

  Mackenzie nodded and beckoned him towards the white crime scene tent. He held the flap open and Morgan saw that he would have to wait before getting a closer look. There were CSI technicians taking photos and collecting evidence under lights which made the tent glow like an alien craft, recently landed.

  ‘It’s two men. One draped over the other. Looks like blunt force trauma to the head. Both of them. Of course, I’ll know more after the examinations.’

  ‘And why’s it for me?’ asked Morgan.

  Mackenzie called over to one of the white suited technicians who produced a flat evidence bag from a plastic crate.

  ‘We found this, tucked between the bodies. I believe you’re collecting them?’ He produced a small torch from his pocket and shone it on the piece of brown corrugated cardboard, sealed in plastic.

  Morgan read aloud. ‘“Now I’m sorry and Mickey’s sorry too.”’

  Morgan was at the front of the briefing room talking to Spence when the door flew open and crashed into the wall behind. They looked up to see DC Jenny Smart struggling to manoeuvre another white board into the room. ‘No, please don’t anyone help, I’ll manage.’ Some of the men looked embarrassed but most laughed. ‘This is the last spare board. I’ve stolen it from the lecture room,’ she continued. ‘If we don’t catch this one soon, we’ll have to draw on the walls.’