by BIBA PEARCE
“I’m afraid so, although nothing is confirmed at this point.”
“Wow. Okay, so what do you want to know?”
“Firstly, was Rania wearing an engagement ring when she went missing?”
“Yes, I did tell the coppers that when they interviewed me. I’d bought it for her the month before. She wore it on a chain around her neck because she didn’t want her parents to see, but when she was with me, she wore it on her finger.”
“Her parents didn’t approve of the match?” said Rob, figuring he may as well get the fiancé’s opinion.
Anwar laughed. “You could say that. They wouldn’t allow me in the house. Rania had to pretend she was out with a girlfriend or at work.”
“Where did she work?” asked Rob.
Jo frowned. There hadn’t been anything about her job in the report.
“She was a sales assistant at Gap in Wembley. That’s where we met, actually.”
That’s where she could have met the stalker too.
“This might sound strange,” began Rob. “But did she mention anything about someone following her?”
“You mean like a stalker?”
“Yes, just like that.” He met Jo’s gaze across the table.
Another pause.
“No, not a stalker, but there was a guy who used to go into the store and chat her up. I don’t know if that’s relevant.”
“It might be,” Rob said. “Did she describe this guy to you?”
“I’m sorry, if she did, I can’t remember. It was too long ago. I do remember her reporting it to the store manager, though.”
Rob nodded at Jo whose eyes widened.
“What happened?” Rob’s pulse increased.
“Nothing. One day he stopped going in. Just like that. I remember her saying how relieved she was.”
“He just stopped going into the store?”
“Yes.”
Rob thought for a moment. “Do you think that could have been when she started wearing her engagement ring?”
Anwar hesitated. Rob knew it was a long shot. “Actually, it could have been, now that you mention it. But to be honest, I don’t remember.”
“Okay.” He exhaled. “You’ve been a huge help. Thanks Anwar.”
“Any time.”
He rang off. Rob stared at Jo. “There was a guy harassing her at the store. She reported him to the manager. He might be on CCTV.”
“Four years ago?” Jo frowned. “I doubt they’d keep their records that long, but we can try.” She finished her coffee. “Do you think he stopped harassing her because he spotted the ring?”
He shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”
“And that could have spurred him into action.”
Rob nodded. “It’s all I’ve got.”
Jo took a deep breath. “I think you might be on to something there, DI Miller. Let’s get back to the station and do some more digging.”
Rob grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” After all, she did outrank him.
As they drove back to the police station with the radio on, she glanced across at him. “You know, I think we make quite a good team.”
He grinned. “Yes, we do. And here I thought you were going to waltz in and take over my investigation.”
She chuckled. “I prefer a more subtle approach. Besides, it’s your first case as SIO. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”
“You knew that?” He glanced at her surprised.
She shrugged. “Sam told me when I got there.”
“Ah. Well, you certainly charmed him. I’ve never seen him laugh like that at work. Usually, he’s putting the fear of God into people.”
She laughed. “He’s a good man,” she said. “My boss at Lewisham MIT used to work with him.”
“Ah, do tell.”
They spent the next twenty minutes talking about the DCI and laughing at some of the more outrageous stories. By the time they got back to the station, and despite the traffic and the long day, Rob was in a good mood. This was so rare, even Mallory commented on it.
He glanced at Jo, sitting next to Graham, their heads together as they stared at the screen. He didn’t know how long they would be here, but he’d never enjoyed working with someone as much as he did Jo.
And that both excited and worried him.
Chapter 18
Rob woke to the sound of his alarm clock beeping in his ear. Was it morning already? Jesus, he must have gone out like a light. He stretched and glanced at the spot next to him where Yvette usually lay, her dark hair spilling over the pillow. He sighed. Would they ever work it out?
As he went downstairs and put the kettle on, he thought about the case. Last night had revealed nothing new. Jo’s team had worked late into the night on Rania’s last movements, tracking her mobile phone data and analysing her calls. Nothing. Their strongest lead was the guy harassing her at work.
Today would be another long day. He felt a guilty surge of relief not having to tell Yvette he’d be home late. Now that she wasn’t here, there was no explanation needed. No apology required.
He made a quick coffee, downed it and after showering and dressing, headed to work on foot. It was a crisp spring morning. The sky was cornflower blue, and everywhere he looked he saw daffodils poking their heads through tufts of grass.
He strode into the squad room. “Morning,” he called. He glanced around. Jo wasn’t in yet.
“You’re in early,” said Mallory, taking off his jacket.
“I wanted to get a head start on some of the leads we found yesterday.” He filled his sergeant in. “As soon as everyone’s in, we’ll have a briefing.”
* * *
Incident Room Two was filled to capacity. Rob raised his eyebrows at Jo. “You ready?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
They were standing at the front, side by side. Lawrence had squeezed into the back.
“As you know, DI Miller and I went to visit the mother of a potential victim yesterday,” she began. “As well as the victim’s fiancé.”
There was a murmur around the room.
Jo told them what they’d discovered, including the fact that the victim was engaged. “She began wearing a ring,” Jo continued, “and we think this is what spurred the stalker to attack her. We still don’t know where, and it’s unlikely we ever will. What we do know, however, is that there was a man harassing her at the Gap store in Wembley where she worked. My team will see if we can recover any CCTV footage from there.”
Graham nodded.
“My team,” cut in Rob, “will keep going with the CCTV around Julie Andrews and Sara Bakshi. Also, let’s go through all the calls to the hotline in case we’ve missed something.”
Mallory raised his hand.
“What you got?” said Rob.
“The tech team have been going through Greta Ansley’s laptop, and we’ve managed to get a rough draft of that article she was writing for the local newspaper, the Totley Independent.”
“Yeah? Anything interesting?”
“She was looking at country estates in the area, particularly Chatsworth House. We’ve requested a list of staff members and employees going back three years, but without a name to go on we’re shooting in the dark.”
Rob sighed. They didn’t even know if that’s how he’d met Greta. “Okay, thanks, Mallory. Let’s put that on the back-burner for now.”
They tied up the meeting shortly after that.
Lawrence caught up with them afterwards. “Great work, you two. Who says inter-agency cooperation doesn’t work? Huh?” He laughed and went back to his bubble office.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Jo perched on Rob’s desk. She had a familiar way about her — she broke down barriers without you even realising. Most of his team were under her spell already, including himself, he acknowledged wryly.
“My team might have found something else,” she said, tapping a pen against her cheek.
“What’s that?”
“Six years a
go, a girl was found dead on the beach near Deal in Kent. She’d been raped and murdered.”
Rob caught his breath. “Was she strangled?”
Jo nodded. “It was messy. According to the coroner’s report, she took a while to die. There were bruises and burn marks covering her entire body. He went to town on this one, Rob, and took his time doing it.”
“Could she have been his first?” he asked. “Girl Zero?”
“That’s what I was thinking. Fancy a trip to the seaside?”
* * *
The blue sky continued all the way down to the coast, but it was blustery, particularly on the beach. Jo’s blonde hair whipped around her face, threatening to tear loose from its binding.
“This is where she was found.” PC Warren shouted to be heard above the wind. They were standing beside a concrete groyne that began halfway up the beach and disappeared into the sea like a rigid serpent’s tail. It ran oblique to the shoreline, catching and trapping the shingle as it washed up onto the shore. “I was the first officer on the scene and I’ll never forget it. Poor lass. She was naked too.”
Rob frowned. “What? No clothes on at all?”
The PC shook his head. “None whatsoever, although some of her body was covered by shingle, but whether it was intentional or not, we have no idea. It could have been from the longshore drift.” He nodded down the coastline.
“Who found her?” Rob squinted against the wind, his eyes watering.
“A woman taking an early morning stroll. Come on, let’s go inside. DCI Becker is waiting for us.”
He led them up the beach and onto a wide pavement where wooden benches had been positioned every hundred yards or so to enable people to sit and watch the gulls dip and hover over the sea or admire the Kent coastline. Interspersed between the benches were old-fashioned lampposts festooned with colourful hanging baskets. Across the road, a line of pastel-coloured beachfront apartments, shops and cafés created a picturesque seaside façade.
They went into a small café with faded rose-patterned curtains made by some long-ago well-meaning proprietor and an assortment of mismatched tables and chairs. Shabby chic, Rob thought it was called, but he wasn’t sure. The glass cabinet at the front housed a delicious selection of pastries, cakes and muffins, and he suddenly realised how hungry he was. Jo, however, moved directly towards a table at the back, where a grey-haired man in a khaki fleece sat watching them. In front of him was an untouched cup of coffee. Sustenance would have to wait. Rob joined them, along with PC Warren, who made the introductions.
“DCI Becker, this is DCI Maguire and DI Miller from London. They’re here about Bridget Kane.”
Becker stood briefly to shake hands. “Retired DCI,” he said. “Please, sit down.”
As soon as they had, a waitress appeared to take their order. Rob asked for a large Americano, which he hoped would buoy him up for a while, and Jo ordered a latte. PC Warren declined.
“Now, what can I do for you?”
“You could outline the case for us.” Jo offered up a dimpled smile. “Just so we have the facts straight.”
The retired detective warmed to her and even offered a smile in return, which, judging by PC Warren’s surprised expression, didn’t happen very often. “Of course. Of course. It was a long time ago, but I remember it as if it were yesterday. Bridget Kane was twenty-one years old when she was killed. I was at her twenty-first birthday party.”
“You knew the victim?” asked Jo.
He nodded sadly. “Yes, I was friends with her father. He passed away a few years ago, poor sod. Cancer. Wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t the shock of his daughter’s death that did it.”
Jo gave a sympathetic nod.
He continued. “As PC Warren has told you, she was found over there on the beach beside the groyne, stark naked. She’d been raped and strangled.” He shook his head. “It was a tragedy. The whole town came out in mourning. No one could believe it. There’d never been such a violent crime in Deal before and there hasn’t been since, as far as I know.”
“Except for that decapitated head that washed up last year,” pointed out PC Warren helpfully.
Becker glared at him, and he went back to studying his hands.
“I believe you made an arrest.” Rob steered him back to the case.
“Yes, she’d been dating this guy called Ben Studley, a local lad. He was a bit of a shit, if you’ll excuse my French. Always in trouble at school, arrested once or twice for disturbing the peace, that sort of thing. I hauled him in once for smashing a chair over his stepfather’s head. He said the guy deserved it.” He sighed. “He had a temper on him, but I never took him for the murdering kind. Shows how wrong I was.”
“What evidence did you have on him?” Jo asked, beating Rob to it.
“That was the thing, the evidence was irrefutable. Bridget’s clothes were found in the rubbish bin outside his house and her DNA was in the boot of his car where he’d transported the body.”
“She wasn’t killed on the beach?” Jo frowned.
“No, not according to Forensics. She’d been raped and strangled in a field judging by the grass stains on the back of her heels and elbows and the blades of grass in her hair. She may also have been dragged across the field to the car, before he drove her to the beach and dumped her body.”
“Why would he do that?” asked Rob. “He could just as easily have left her body on the field to be found.”
Becker shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he was buying time? According to the pathologist, she died at least twelve hours before she was found. That puts the time of death at around seven o’clock the previous evening. Studley said he was home alone watching TV, but no one could vouch for him.”
“What about the burn marks?” asked Jo.
“Those were inflicted prior to her death,” Becker said with a small shake of his head. “Poor lass must have suffered horribly.”
“So, he tortured her before he raped and strangled her.” Rob said more to himself than to anyone else.
Jo was watching him. “What are you thinking?”
She knew what he was thinking. “That this was personal. He was upset, he wanted to hurt her.” Not like the other victims. Their deaths were planned, calculated. This was different. It felt different.
She nodded, her eyes sparkling. “I tend to agree. He was punishing her.”
Becker leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “Her fiancé admitted they’d had an argument earlier that day but denied anything to do with her murder. He claimed he hadn’t seen her since then.”
“What did they argue about?” Jo wanted to know.
He straightened up again. “To be honest, I can’t quite remember. I think it had something to do with her parents. They didn’t like him much. Didn’t think he was good enough for their little girl. Turns out they were right.” He nodded towards the manila folder lying on the table. “It’ll be in the report.”
“Can we take this with us?” Jo gave him another smile.
He pushed the folder over to her. “It’s all yours.”
They finished their coffees and Becker pushed his chair back, scraping the legs against the floor. “I hope it helps you. I believe you have something similar up in London?”
Rob didn’t meet his gaze. “There are definite similarities.”
“Well, Ben Studley is serving a life sentence at Whitemoor, which makes for a pretty decent alibi.” He chuckled at his little joke.
They walked past the counter towards the door. “Were there any other suspects in the case?” Rob asked. “Anyone who may have harboured a grudge against Bridget, for some reason? An ex-boyfriend, perhaps?”
“Are you saying we got the wrong guy?” Becker stopped walking and his expression darkened. He didn’t like to be second-guessed. PC Warren edged away from them towards the front door.
Becker squared up to Rob. “The evidence was indisputable. Her clothes were found in his bin, there was grass and hair in the boot of his car and he didn�
��t have an alibi for the time of the murder. It was him, all right. The jury agreed. They took less than an hour to convict him.”
Jo put a hand on the retired detective’s arm. “That’s not what we’re saying,” she said softly. “DI Miller is just covering all the bases. I’m sure you asked yourself the same questions at the time.”
Becker grunted. “Of course we did, but we had to prosecute based on the evidence.”
“Which was pretty indisputable,” Jo reiterated, showing her dimple and letting Becker hold the door open for her.
* * *
“Is there anyone you can’t charm?” asked Rob, as he turned onto the A20 for the motorway back to London.
Jo grinned. “It does come in handy sometimes. Besides, haven’t you heard, you catch more flies with honey?”
“Maybe you do,” he mumbled, causing her grin to turn into a chuckle. “It’s never quite worked for me.”
“Perhaps you’re not sweet enough.”
She was probably right.
Smooth FM played softly in the background and Rob, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time, concentrated on the road ahead while Jo read silently through the case file.
“There’s a couple of things that don’t make sense.” She glanced at him.
“Yeah?” He turned down the volume.
“For starters, why would Studley say he was home alone during the time of the murder? If he’d done it, surely he’d have come up with a better alibi than that?”
“Hmm . . . You have a point.” It was rather lame as far as alibis went. Usually, the perpetrator made sure someone had seen or could vouch for them before or after the murder to give their alibi some credibility. Studley apparently saw no one the whole evening and freely admitted it.
“Also, like you pointed out, why kill her in a field then transport the body to the beach? It’s only going to provide more evidence for the police to find. The beach is exposed and highly visible. It’s risky, even though it would have been dark by then. The body was much more likely to be found there, while the field, judging by this report, would have been fairly isolated.”
“That did strike me as strange.” Rob was glad she’d questioned it too. Why not leave her in the secluded field? What was the thinking behind the beach?