Make You Sorry

by Christine Rae-Jones

  ‘Yesterday evening Dr Gillingham and I spent some time categorising the evidence we have on our current five major cases and I’d like him to share with you some of his thoughts so far. Andy?’

  Gillingham strode to the front of the room with the confidence of a man accustomed to holding the attention of a large group of people when he spoke. His face was expressionless. Morgan knew that this was the self protection mechanism his friend had developed during the thousands of hours he had spent in the company of murderers, torturers and rapists. Morgan remembered him saying ‘If they can’t see that they are in your head, then they aren’t in your head.’

  There was a change of atmosphere in the room and many of the occupants fidgeted in their chairs. Gillingham cabled his iPad to the projector and moved a couple of the white boards to one side so that the image appeared on the wall mounted screen. He waited for the room to settle again and when he looked up, Johnson was leaving. He looked towards Morgan who shook his head and shrugged.

  ‘I’m going to start by telling you what I’m not going to do,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to tell you that you are looking for a five foot ten male who is unemployed, has dandruff, lives on his own and plays Abba music. It’s that sort of speculation that gives my profession a bad reputation, and anyway, profiling is more in the remit of criminal psychology. But I am going to play in that playground for a while, because I hope I can give you some insight into what I think is going on with some of your cases.’

  Morgan hoped that this introduction would help overcome any suspicion or negativity towards forensic psychology that might be in the room.

  ‘I’ve based my analysis on postmortem findings, photos taken of the bodies in situ, evidence, and the results of your investigations up to now. DI Morgan asked me to use this information to see if I could identify how many perpetrators you might be looking for, and that’s what I’ve done. So, starting with Carl Raynor...’ He walked to the white board and pointed to the photo taken from his criminal record. ‘I can’t link this death to any of the others. Firstly, there are no marks of strangulation. Also, he was never represented in court by Abigail Slater, and although there’s evidence of shoplifting, he wasn’t due in court. I’m aware of the speculation of there being a commonality of retribution against criminality across most of these cases but, for Raynor, it doesn’t fit for me. In the absence of any other evidence, I see this as a standalone case. This is your case DI Patel? Do you have any observations?’

  Her lips formed a moue and she shook her head. ‘Nope, nothing comes to mind,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not going to surprise anyone when I link Wesley Crook’s murder with what happened to father and son Maguire. I know that the wording of the sign around Crook’s neck was floating around social media by the time the Maguires were killed and also, that they don’t share an MO but I think this is the same individual. And I agree with those of you who are linking Abigail Slater with these cases. In fact, I think what links them is the legal profession.’

  Although he had already heard Gillingham’s hypothesis when he first suggested it in the early hours of that morning, Morgan listened carefully.

  Gillingham was pointing to the copy of the letter which had been delivered by hand to Wesley Crook’s home address. ‘“Offending behaviour” is wording I associate with the legal profession,’ he said tapping the board. ‘You hear it used by judges, the CPS, and defence solicitors. You don’t hear members of the public saying “did you read about that guy’s offending behaviour?” do you?’

  ‘And Abi Slater was a defence solicitor who was often at the Magistrates’ Court,’ said DC Leo Jenson. Everyone turned to look at him. ‘Sorry, just thinking out loud.’

  ‘What about magistrates? They would hear the expression a lot. Maybe some of them use it routinely?’ Jenny Smart added.

  ‘I agree,’ said Gillingham. ‘I don’t think we can rule magistrates out.’ Morgan groaned. He had quite liked the odds when the suspects were limited to the legal profession. The addition of magistrates added at least a couple of hundred more people to the mix, and that was if they limited it to their local courts.

  ‘Any questions so far?’ Gillingham’s eyes scanned the room but nobody spoke. ‘Okay, then here’s where I’m going to put forward a couple of suggestions rather than absolute theories. Wesley Crook was killed while he was waiting for his burglary trial. The Maguires were killed while they were stealing power tools. Harry Drake was stealing from people who thought they were buying legit insurance policies. Crook and Drake received letters telling them to stop their offending behaviour, which in their cases, was stealing, or they would be sorry. I think that, one, you’re looking for someone who has been directly or indirectly the victim of a theft of some sort and two, that this person also killed Abigail Slater, possibly because she defended individuals who were up for theft, when they appeared at court.’

  Someone in the room whistled, but apart from that, there was silence. Gillingham held their gaze his face as ever, impassive. ‘Any questions?’ he asked again.

  ‘Where does Councillor Kenneth Wyatt fit?’ asked DC Lynn Greenfield. ‘You’ve not mentioned him.’

  ‘I don’t know where he fits,’ said Gillingham, ‘Or even, if he fits. No sign round the neck and no connection with theft apart from a published desire to string burglars up. I don’t think there’s evidence that links him with Abigail Slater either. Based on what you’ve uncovered, I can’t see anything to link him to the others apart from the fact he was strangled.’

  ‘Unless we go back to the retribution theory,’ said Leo Jenson. ‘We could be looking for the relative of a girl who has been sold or offered drugs by Raynor, and been groped by Wyatt. It’s enough to make any father or brother go on a spree. I’ve got daughters myself.’

  There were soft murmurs of agreement and Morgan was glad that Johnson had already left. Gillingham looked over to where Morgan was standing. ‘That’s all I’ve got, for now,’ he said.

  Morgan looked around the room but there was no further input. ‘Thank you Dr Gillingham. You’ve given us a lot to think about. Now, we’re going back to my office to go through some action points. DI Patel?’

  ‘I’ll be right there,’ she said pausing to have a word with a couple of members of the Operation Heartwood team.

  ‘What do you think, Dave?’ DC Jenny Smart asked Spence. She had glanced over at him a few times while Gillingham spoke.

  ‘I didn’t want to like him. I thought he’d be too clever by half. Penny watches his programmes on TV and she’s read some of his books. He talks sense,’ he sighed, ‘but actually, whatever he says, we’re not going to know if it’s accurate until we catch the bastard. And we’re no nearer to that. I think I might have preferred it if he’d told us that he was five foot ten, living alone, unemployed and whatever else he said.’

  ‘With dandruff and plays Abba music,’ said Smart and they left the briefing room together.

  Chapter 68

  Friday 28th February

  Samantha was enjoying the excitement of her renewed relationship with Graham. She checked her phone constantly for a text or email. Once, he sent her a clip from a piece of music they shared as teenagers. The anticipation and fluttery feeling she got when she thought about him made her feel young again. Yesterday, while she was vacuuming the bedrooms, he’d sent her a text telling her to come to the door in ten minutes with a dress on – just a dress – nothing else. Her heart pounded as she stripped off and stood looking in her wardrobe. Difficult to decide but she’d settled on a knee length, sleeveless, navy crepe dress, very clinging and showing every curve. The hard work she had done in the south London gym had been worth it.

  She waited in the hallway until she heard his tyres on the drive, the slam of the car door, and his footsteps. When she opened the door he’d pushed her inside and against the wall, kissing her with passion and urgency. He’d run his hands up the back of her legs and gripped her buttocks, pulling her in to his hardness. Struggli
ng to grab her breath she’d whispered ‘Close the door.’

  ‘I can’t stay,’ he’d replied, taking a deep breath in and exhaling through his mouth. ‘I’m on my way to a client visit and I wanted you to know that I was thinking about you.’ As he hurried to his car he called back, ‘Wear that next time, I like it.’ And he was gone.

  Letting herself be led on like that and then disappointed; letting him exert that power over her; made her angry. She was snappy with the twins when they got home from school and had gone to bed early to avoid Nick. And always, at the back of her mind, was the problem. Her mother knew about her affair.

  In the early hours of Friday, she resolved to find out how big a threat her mother might be and, after breakfast, she called to invite her for coffee at the East Gullhaven Country Club. She could still hear the smug smile in her mother’s voice. ‘That would be nice dear, but why there? Does it have special memories for you?’

  Driving up to Silver Sands House to collect her, she saw that her mother was talking to the same man who reminded her of her brother. Dorothy was laughing, and reached out to touch his arm. Maybe she was settling in at last?

  Samantha stopped the car and her mother got in, immediately adjusting the seat. ‘How lovely of you to invite me,’ she said. ‘Such a treat. How are you and how are things?’

  Samantha glanced over to assess her mother’s sincerity. ‘We’re all okay, thank you. The twins are settling in well at school and seem to be making new friends. They still complain about missing their old ones, but we expected that. Alex...’

  ‘And Plod? How is his detecting going? Is he involved in the Kenny Wyatt case?’

  ‘Please don’t call him Plod. I’ve asked you before. Nick is working on some of the murders that have been on the news. He goes to work early and gets home late, and knackered. He doesn’t say much about his detecting, and I don’t ask. Why do you care?’

  ‘No reason. Just curious.’

  ‘He brought Andy Gillingham home for dinner last night and they stayed up till the small hours.’

  ‘So Nick needs help again, does he?’

  ‘Everyone wants to find who’s behind all this and lock them up.’ Dorothy gave a little laugh which Samantha would describe as musical but it contained no humour. They drove the rest of the short journey to the country club in an uneasy silence.

  Chapter 69

  Friday 28th February

  After the briefing, Gillingham and Morgan walked together to the car park. They talked about how the team had reacted to the analysis and Morgan apologised for Johnson leaving the meeting early.

  ‘I don’t see it as my problem,’ Gillingham replied. ‘I came to do a job and I’ve done it. It’s up to you and Maggy to either use the information, or not.’ With the parting advice ‘Stay away from your mystery woman,’ Gillingham shook hands with Morgan and got into his car. Morgan swiped his security pass to raise the barrier and waved before heading back to Maggy Patel’s office. She looked up as he got to her open door.

  ‘I’m starting to recognise your footsteps,’ she said.

  Without waiting to be invited, Morgan sat. ‘What did you think?’

  ‘Nice bloke,’ she replied. ‘Not at all full of himself or show bizzy. Yeh, nice bloke.’

  Morgan paused, staring at her ‘I meant what did you think about his findings.’

  Patel laughed and Morgan thought he detected a hint of embarrassment. ‘I thought he made a lot of sense,’ she said. ‘Some of it... we were already there, but that bit about the wording of the letters; he’s got a point. You do hear that at court and not many other places. Police don’t use it, I don’t think. It’s far too respectful for the scumbags. He’s right, it’s legal profession wording.’

  ‘And magistrates?’

  ‘I don’t know. Was Kenneth Wyatt a magistrate? He was on the Council and once people get into the habit of volunteering it can get addictive.’

  ‘Wyatt was dead before the Maguires. If we’re connecting the warning letters to the signs left on the bodies, that rules him out from killing them himself? I suppose you could argue he may have already paid someone to do it, before he was strung up. Anyway...’ he got up and walked to her office window, ‘I think I’m with Andy. I don’t think Wyatt’s part of the pattern.’

  ‘So, are we saying Carl Raynor’s not one of the ones who’s sorry?’

  ‘Well I’m sure he’s sorry, but maybe not in the same way.’ He sat down again, ‘I’m a bit restless, sorry.’

  She nodded, ‘I don’t suppose this was how you thought your first weeks were going to pan out down here.’

  He shook his head. ‘I haven’t even unpacked my stuff yet.’

  Patel’s computer pinged. She pointed at the screen, ‘Email from Johnson. Why do you suppose he left before the meeting ended?’ She clicked the mouse button and screwed up her face. ‘I think I need glasses,’ she said.

  Morgan waited while she read. ‘He’s sent you the same message. He wants to see us at two this afternoon. I still have Operation Heartwood, but now I have the Kenneth Wyatt case as well – Operation Artemis.’

  Morgan snorted. ‘Where does he get these names anyway?’

  ‘There’s a list and you get the next one on that list. Anyway, did you just drop in to take the piss out of my new operation name? We’ve got five murders to solve before two o’clock.’

  Morgan frowned, ‘it’s six.’

  ‘What?’ Patel was irritated now and not bothering to hide it.

  ‘You must have missed one out. There are six murders.’

  ‘Get out of my office and think of something to say that’ll appease Johnson at two o’clock.’

  ***

  There was a large envelope waiting on Morgan’s office desk. He opened it while he waited for his computer to boot up. Reading the first page put a smile on his face and he dialled Patel’s mobile.

  She answered her phone with ‘Now what?’

  ‘I’ve got the forensic report from the park home,’ he said. ‘Abigail Slater’s hair from the contents of the vacuum cleaner and a fingerprint match.’

  ‘Whose are they?’ asked Patel.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  He heard her exasperated sigh.

  ‘If you’ve not got a name, you can sod off and let me get on with my work. And don’t forget Johnson at two.’

  ‘I don’t know who they belong to, but I know that they were also found in the van that the Maguires were driving.’

  ‘Well, lucky you. So we’re categorically linking Abi Slater to the “Now I’m Sorry” signs.’

  ‘I’d say so, yeh. You’re going to have to pull a pretty big rabbit out of the hat to beat that when we see Johnson.’

  ‘Mmm. What are you going to do now?’

  ‘I’m bringing Maisie Sangster in to make a statement. Please God the vacuum cleaner she used when she cleaned that home was empty before she took it up there. I need Abi Slater, with her engagement ring, in that park home, with this guy and his prints.’

  ‘Sounds like a game of Cluedo,’ she said. ‘Be back by two.’ Patel ended the call without saying goodbye.

  Chapter 70

  Friday 28th February

  Dorothy chose a table near the door of the club. It gave her the best view of arrivals and Samantha was surprised by how many people came to hug her mother and share their gossip. Dorothy introduced her to everyone. ‘This is my daughter. She’s been in London for a while, but she’s back with family now.’ Nick and the twins were never mentioned.

  The waiter brought a silver cafetière on a tray with two white coffee cups, a jug of cream and a bowl of brown sugar cubes. There were four small ginger biscuits on a plate, just uneven enough to be made in-house. When he left, Dorothy caught Samantha off guard by asking her what she wanted to talk about. As she tried to put her words in order, Dorothy continued with her own agenda.

  ‘Because the twins are back at school now, and you promised to run the business.’

  Samantha s
ighed, ‘I didn’t promise, mum, you know I didn’t. And anyway, that’s Steven’s job. I’m not going to take away his livelihood.’

  ‘I can’t rely on Steven any more, especially not after his recent disappearing act. A funeral business can’t just be put on hold while the manager goes off in a huff. You know, he hasn’t even been to see me since he got back. Not a hint of an apology. I suppose he’s been in touch with you.’

  ‘I haven’t had any contact with Steven since I got here. I thought he was back at work.’

  ‘The business is spiralling out of control and if your father was alive, he’d be appalled.’

  ‘I’ve asked you before but, did you two argue again? I can’t see any other reason why he would just head off.’

  Dorothy looked away. She reached out for a ginger biscuit and bit down hard on it.

  ‘What did you row about?’ Samantha persevered.

  ‘I’ve always treated you both equally,’ said Dorothy.

  ‘What happened? What did you say?’

  ‘I didn’t get a chance to say anything. He did all the saying.’ She pointed to the cafetière. ‘Do the honours dear, I’m parched.’

  Samantha leant forward and pushed the plunger down. She poured the coffee; added one cube of sugar to her mother’s; stirred the cup and held it out.

  ‘Just put it on the table, thank you. My arthritis is playing up a bit today.’ Samantha pushed the cup across to within easy reach.

  ‘What did you argue about?’

  ‘I told him that I’d given you Cliffside and he wasn’t pleased.’

  Samantha frowned. ‘It’s nearly six months since we talked about that. When did you tell him?’