The DI Rosalind Kray Series: books 1-3

by Rob Ashman

  ‘Ma’am, are we okay to move the body?’ asked the crime scene supervisor.

  ‘Wait.’ Kray spotted something reflecting in the torchlight. She leaned over the body, slid her fingers down the back of the seat and levered out a mobile phone. She swivelled it in her hand and touched the screen - fifteen missed calls. She motioned to Mitch who held open an evidence bag for her to drop it into.

  ‘That’s Dukes’ phone.’ She nodded to the men crouched at the back door. ‘You can move him now.’

  They expertly manoeuvred the dead man out of the passenger door on the driver’s side and laid him on a plastic sheet. Mitch knelt down beside him to examine the wound on the side of his head.

  ‘Yes it’s definitely a puncture wound, we’re not looking for a gun.’

  ‘Let me see.’ Kray tilted his face away from her to examine the entry wound. ‘What do you make of this?’

  Kray pointed to the side of his face. Mitch moved the victim’s head from side to side.

  ‘Don’t know, but there is a slight abrasion on each cheek. What do you think, Roz?’

  ‘Not sure about the discolouration but there’s one thing I am sure about—’

  Tavener appeared from around the screen. ‘Roz, Dukes’ wife reported him missing last night when he failed to return home from work. He was supposed to be back by ten thirty and when he didn’t show she rang 999 and reported him missing around midnight.’

  ‘Where was he supposed to be?’

  ‘She said he was on a late shift.’

  Kray spun her wedding ring round and round as she stared at the lifeless body on the ground. The scars running across her back began to burn.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Mitch.

  ‘I think Dukes told his wife he was working late and took the opportunity to have casual sex with a stranger instead. Both front seats are pulled forward which would suggest there was going to be some action in the back. The vehicle is parked undercover and there’s thirty quid on the back window. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what happened.’

  ‘Do you think this is …’ Tavener left his sentence hanging.

  ‘I don’t think, I know. Dukes’ finger nails are scrubbed clean and that hole in the side of his head is going to be caused by a tool of some kind. Maybe a screwdriver or a drill bit. The thirty pounds has been left behind because this was not about money.’

  ‘You think he used a tool like he did with the lump hammer?’

  ‘Exactly. And when forensics get hold of this car I bet you the last bottle of wine I have in my fridge the back seat is covered with short black fibres.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ asked Mitch.

  ‘Because that was the colour of the dress the killer took from Lucy Frost’s apartment.’

  Kray stripped off her gear and stuffed it into a bag, then strode back to her car barking out orders, with Tavener in hot pursuit. ‘Check out the CCTV in the area. Find out where the victim worked and run an ANPR on all routes linking it to here. I found his mobile which should tell us the route he took. Also get a photo of Lucy in front of the local hookers to see if anyone noticed a new girl, and if they did, who picked her up.’

  There was the screech of tyres on tarmac. They both looked up to see two people get out of a car and run towards them. One was carrying a camera and the other a microphone attached to a rucksack by a cable. A second vehicle came to a stop, carrying the same cargo.

  ‘Oh, and keep the press away.’

  ‘On it, Roz.’ Tavener peeled off to confront the story seekers.

  Kray’s self-control lasted long enough for her to reach her car. She flung herself into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut and grasped the steering with both hands, almost tearing it from its mountings.

  ‘Fuck!’ she yelled at the top of her voice as she wrenched at the wheel. Then Kray collapsed forward with her head resting on her knuckles. Tears of anguish ran down her face.

  ‘I fucking knew it! I fucking knew it!’ She was yelling at no one. ‘We were looking in the wrong places!’ Saliva droplets speckled the dashboard as her shoulders slumped. ‘I could have …’ Her voice tailed off to nothing.

  Images crammed their way into Kray’s mind, her thoughts tumbling together. She could see the phone box outside her house and pictured the killer feeding a pound coin into the slot. She could see her favourite table at the Purple Parrot where she and Joe went every Friday night to kick-start their weekend with a few beers. She pictured the two of them walking hand in hand around Park View in the sunshine after their Sunday lunch.

  The colour drained from her face and bile filled the back of her throat. The whole world swam by on a swirling torrent of memories. Kray opened the car door and vomited on the grass. As she gasped for breath and stared down at the putrid mess splashed on the ground, the cold and terrifying realisation welled up inside her.

  The killer knows me.

  Chapter 48

  Kray was back at her desk ploughing through the deluge of paperwork, forcing the latest demons to the back of her mind. She had work to do and that sort of craziness wasn’t helping.

  The policing gods were not on her side. The forensics report on the glass found in the toilets of the Purple Parrot had come up with nothing. Smudged prints and not a trace of DNA. The Royal Mail had confirmed three deliveries to the P.O. boxes used by Harry Aldridge, which was good, but all three locations did not have CCTV installed and the paperwork had yielded nothing – which was bad. In addition, the forensic analysis of the documentation used to blackmail him was also clean. The only thing they could confirm was that Aldridge had handled them.

  Not only were the policing gods not on her side, to Kray it felt like they were laughing their bollocks off at her expense. She straightened the pens on her desk so they lay parallel to her laptop. It’s difficult to imagine how this could get any fucking worse.

  Her newsfeed came up in the right-hand corner of the screen. It showed a very harassed DCI Jackson on the steps outside the station, pinned down by a forest of microphones being shoved in his face. Scrolling at the bottom of the picture were the words: ‘Breaking News – Body found in Park View, Police say the killing is linked to previous murders.’

  Kray stared boggle-eyed at her screen trying to take in what was in front of her. She hit the sound button.

  ‘We can confirm that a body was found in Park View earlier this morning. The family have been informed and at this time we are not giving out further details as the investigation is ongoing,’ Jackson announced to the nation.

  ‘Is it true there have been three other murders?’ said a reporter.

  ‘Is this killing linked to the others?’ piped up another.

  ‘I am not prepared to give further information as—’

  ‘Why is the general public being kept in the dark about these murders? Don’t you think they have the right to know?’

  ‘As I said, this is an ongoing investigation—’ Jacko was drowning in the full glare of the media.

  ‘So all four murders are linked. Are you looking for a serial killer?’

  ‘That is not what I’m saying.’

  Kray stared through the screen. Get out of there. Get the hell out of there.

  Her phone vibrated on the desk. It was Tavener.

  ‘Roz have you seen—’

  ‘I’m looking at it now.’

  ‘How the hell did they get hold of this?’ he asked.

  ‘Let me call you back.’

  Jackson was still under fire. ‘How many other murders has this serial killer committed?’

  ‘We are following up several lines of inquiry. As I said the family has been informed and we would ask the public to be vigilant …’

  Kray closed her eyes and wished she was somewhere else.

  For fuck’s sake stop talking.

  ‘How can you expect the public to be vigilant about something they know nothing about?’

  ‘Do you have a description of the killer if you’re aski
ng for the public’s help?’ The questions came thick and fast.

  ‘No, what I’m saying is that we confirm that a body was found in Park View earlier this morning. The family have been informed and at this time we are not giving further details as the investigation is ongoing.’

  ‘So, what about the other murders? And do you want the public to be on the lookout for the killer?’

  ‘That’s all for now.’

  Jackson held up both his hands, turned and forced his way back into the station. Kray had her head in both hands staring down at the desk.

  What a car crash.

  She could hear the sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor and a door slamming shut. Kray looked at the time stamp on the video, it had happened forty minutes ago. Rage boiled inside her.

  What the hell is going on?

  She leapt from her desk, bolted for the door and met Jackson coming the other way.

  ‘With all due respect William, what the fuck was that all about and why was I not consulted as the senior officer in charge?’

  ‘Come with me.’ He turned and walked back to his office.

  ‘William, I insist that you discuss this matter with me.’ Kray followed him into his office to find ACC Mary Quade sitting at the oval table in the corner.

  ‘Sorry ma’am, I didn’t realise you were here,’ Kray apologised.

  ‘Take a seat, both of you,’ the ACC said in a flat tone.

  Quade was a scary monster with epaulettes. She was new in post and had come from GMP with a fearsome reputation. About the same age and height as Kray, she probably tipped the scales at twice her weight. Her management style could best be described as ‘vicious’. Jackson took a seat at the table, he looked like he’d just shit his pants.

  ‘Ma’am I wanted to ask DCI Jackson why I was not informed that a press conference was about to take place. And how did they draw the conclusion that the murders were linked? We have maintained a news blackout on this for the specific reason—’

  Quade raised her hand in a signal for Kray to stop talking.

  ‘They were chancing their arm. The press have been making their frustrations known about the blackout but we have refused to budge. When this latest murder was discovered they jumped straight in and didn’t wait to be told not to report it. They knew if they played up the link to the murders, we would be forced to respond.’

  ‘But why was I not informed, ma’am? I am the SIO and I could have helped provide a more cohesive view.’ She glowered at Jackson who looked away. ‘Instead we now have a situation that we cannot contain. We cannot be led around by the press. We have to get out in front of this story and manage it.’

  ‘Yes we do, we also have to manage the investigation.’

  Kray furrowed her brow. ‘I don’t understand, ma’am.’

  ‘Give me an update on progress,’ Quade asked, fixing Kray with piggy eyes.

  Kray was taken aback by the question. ‘Err, well, we are following several lines of inquiry. There is a definite link between the two women. We know the killer assumes the identity of the women to murder the men. I believe this latest victim was murdered with a tool of some kind in the same way as Josh Wilson. We have clear forensic evidence of fibres from the dress of Madeline Eve on Wilson. I believe we will find the same evidence of dress fibres in the back of the car of the latest victim. We have confirmation from the Royal Mail that—’

  Quade held up her hand again. Kray stopped mid-sentence.

  ‘All of this I know. What I don’t know is, are we any closer to catching the bastard who is doing this?’

  ‘Ma’am we are exploring every avenue.’

  ‘The force is pushing manpower at this at an alarming rate and what I am not hearing is anything that gives me confidence that we are using them in the right way.’

  ‘I disagree.’

  ‘We have a ton of forensics and hypotheses but that hardly constitutes as progress. When am I going to be able to give the Chief a date?’

  ‘A date, ma’am, I don’t get it?’

  ‘Or a timetable?’

  ‘Ma’am you’ve lost me.’

  ‘I need to be able to tell the Chief that we have a cohesive plan. I need to be able to say we have these many officers working these many hours on these lines of inquiry and we expect to have the suspect in custody by this date.’

  ‘But ma’am, it doesn’t work like that.’

  ‘Yes it does Roz and that’s my problem with this whole investigation.’

  ‘I must protest in the strongest possible terms and you need to back me up here, William.’ Jackson stared down at the table top, fiddling with the cuff buttons on his shirt. ‘We need the additional manpower because this is a complex case.’

  ‘Yes I agree, but my concern is the way that manpower is being deployed.’

  ‘They are all tasked in support of our lines of investigation, ma’am. I cannot see how—’

  ‘What about the other night? You had a crew of officers staking out the known haunts of the suspect in line with the pattern of the previous murder. Then on a whim you abandon that strategy and scattered them all over the place.’

  ‘I knew the suspect was out there, ma’am, and I realised he was about to break with his previous pattern.’

  ‘You realised? How precisely did you decide to rip up a perfectly sound surveillance operation in favour of a hit and hope approach of deploying officers all over the place?’

  ‘I knew something was wrong, ma’am and I was proved right. The killer did strike again and I was also right about it being in a different location to last time.’

  ‘Yes, Roz you were right. But we cannot run a multiple homicide case on gut feel and intuition. We don’t all possess your crystal ball. We have to demonstrate due diligence and proper policing methods, and this case has none of those qualities.’

  ‘William, you need to say something. Tell the ACC how I have conducted the investigation, tell her that it is based upon solid policing. Tell her William …’

  Jackson said nothing.

  ‘I need to be able to tell the Chief we are making progress. We need to be able to hold a press conference and tell the public we are making progress and I’m afraid with you in charge Roz that is not going to happen.’

  Kray looked at Quade trying desperately to hold back the tears and stop herself from punching her in the throat.

  Quade continued to twist the knife. ‘I am not denying you delivered some useful insights in the beginning, Roz. The snake venom, the way in which Suprane was being stolen from the hospital and the way the flies were screwing the timeline. But that’s it and I’m afraid that is not a substitute for old-fashioned, knocking-on-doors-style policing. You came back to work too early Roz and this case is too big for you.’

  ‘No, ma’am that’s not true. I am ready for this, we are making progress.’

  ‘I’ve seen the latest report from Dr Gilbert. He was so alarmed he took the unusual step of reporting it up the line because he deemed you a suicide risk.’

  It took Kray several seconds for the words to sink in.

  ‘No, no, ma’am, I was messing with him. The counselling is a waste of fucking time, I was spinning him a line.’

  ‘I understand the severity of what you went through, Roz, I really do. But this cannot be allowed to go on. Your judgement is flawed and it is damaging this investigation.’

  ‘No, ma’am, my judgement is sound. Say something, William, back me up here!’

  The buttons on his cuffs were subjected to even more fiddling.

  Quade went in for the kill. ‘Then how do you explain upsetting the apple cart by going to see Carl Rampton in prison. Talk me through that one. You see him on the pretext of pursuing a line of inquiry, end up discussing something completely different, and we all have egg on our faces. This can’t go on, Roz.’

  ‘But … but, the whole Rampton thing was a misunderstanding. He thought I was—’

  ‘I’ve heard enough, Roz. As of immediate effect I will be
overseeing the day to day tasking of this case with DCI Jackson as the SIO. You have two choices – you can either sign yourself back on the sick or we will re-assign you to another role pending a further doctor’s report. For the record, the Chief shares some of the responsibility for bringing you back too early, Roz and he wants to do the right thing. I want you to do the right thing.’

  Jackson looked petrified at the prospect of being accountable. Quade looked delighted she had savaged a member of staff and Kray wanted to curl up in a corner and die.

  Chapter 49

  Kray cleared her belongings from the incident room, avoiding eye contact with those who were there, and relocated to an office across the hallway. She offloaded her laptop and reams of paper onto the desk and closed the door. She stood in the centre of the room shaking.

  What the fuck just happened? That fucking Wacko set me up for a fall. He threw me under the bus to save his own skin.

  Outside, she heard Jackson barking orders in his best Metropolitan voice. ‘Right I want a briefing in ten minutes, bring with you everything you have, be prepared for a drains-up review.’ She heard the sound of feet scurrying about.

  She shuffled behind her desk and sat with her head in her hands considering her options. The prospect of being sidelined was a difficult pill to swallow, she could get her head around that, but signing back on the sick would be like giving up. The voice of doubt chirped away on her shoulder. Maybe the ACC is right, I have come back to work too soon.

  She could handle the loss of face in stepping down, her battle was with herself. Had she got it so wrong? She was just starting to get into the head of the killer, beginning to think like him, anticipating his moves. Or was she deluding herself and all her gut feel and intuition were actually the product of a crazy woman?

  There was a sharp knock on the door and Brownlow’s face appeared. ‘Morning, Roz,’ he said with a smile so wide it nearly cut his head in two. He disappeared, leaving the door ajar not waiting for a reply. She heard him enter the incident room. ‘Sorry I’m late, boss, what have I missed?’