by Helen Phifer
Audrey’s face beamed. ‘Thank you, make sure you tell the girls who work there you’re my friend next time, and they’ll give you a discount. Now, what kind of doctor did you say you were, pet?’
Beth inhaled: this was the moment of truth. Most people she told were horrified and would excuse themselves quickly after hearing what she did for a living.
‘I’m a pathologist, specialising in forensic pathology.’
Phil began to laugh, which made her grin. Audrey was looking ever so pleased with herself.
‘You mean, like Quincy?’
Beth had no idea what that meant. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t follow.’
‘Oh, it might have been before your time. Quincy was an American pathologist on a television show I used to love. Such a good-looking man, and he always solved the murders. Then he’d go and confront the killers himself.’
Now it was Beth’s turn to laugh. ‘I do remember that show now. I’m afraid it’s nothing like that. Sorry. I tell the police how the victim died. I give them as much evidence as I can, so they can go and find the killer. Thankfully, the chasing part has nothing to do with me. When they catch them, I go to court to give my evidence against them and hope that it’s enough to secure a conviction.’
Bob reached forward and patted her hand. She did her best not to draw it away from him.
‘You are a very clever young lady; thank you for all that you do. Especially for the people whose lives have been taken from them. I’m sure they appreciate it.’
For the second time in less than thirty minutes Beth felt her eyes fill with warm tears, and she wondered if the block of ice around her heart was finally beginning to thaw; if she might just be on the verge of remembering what it was like to be human.
Excusing herself to go to the toilet, she bumped into the man who’d come to fix her cameras. He was staring down at his phone and lifted his head to apologise.
‘I’m so sorry.’ He looked at her for a moment, and she smiled at him.
‘The lady with the lovely lakefront house and the broken front door camera, how are you?’
She laughed. ‘You have a great memory. I’m good thanks. Yourself?’
‘I’ll be wonderful when the part for your camera arrives tomorrow. I don’t like keeping customers waiting too long. I know how unnerving it can be when you’re used to the security.’
‘It’s fine, it’s only been a couple of days, but thank you. And yes, I am very security conscious.’
‘What brings you to The Stag? I haven’t seen you in here before.’
‘I came with some friends. They’ve been asking me for months and I finally decided to give it a try.’
He laughed. ‘You don’t know what you’ve been missing. I come here most evenings for a drink before going home to my lonely old house to warm up a microwave meal for one.’
‘Oh dear, it sounds as if your life is as exciting as mine.’ She hesitated, and then said, ‘Listen, it was nice seeing you; hopefully I’ll see you soon with the parts.’
She began to walk away, and he called after her: ‘Can I buy you a drink?’
Beth froze and felt the hairs on the back of her neck rising, as a voice in her head whispered, please act normal. Don’t freak out. Turning, she smiled at him.
‘No, thank you, that’s a very kind offer and I would love to say yes but I’m driving, and I have a busy day tomorrow. I only came in for a quick drink. Maybe another time.’
‘No problem. That would be nice.’
He lifted his hand and waved at her as he turned to walk away, and she waved before returning to the table where Bob and Phil were having a heated discussion about something whilst Audrey was chatting on her phone. She’d had enough for one night and was pleased with her effort to do something a little different and socialise more than she had in a long time. Excusing herself, she left them to it, feeling as if she’d started a new chapter in her life, and she liked it.
Forty
The gates to Dean & Sons were closed. Josh stared at the intercom, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. On one hand, he wanted to go in there and search the place from top to bottom. On the other, he knew that unless the owners were very understanding he wouldn’t get to do that without a warrant, which could take hours, especially with so little real evidence to go on.
He turned to Sam. ‘Do you think we’re going to fuck it all up if we go in there now?’
‘Honest opinion?’
He nodded.
‘Then most probably, yes. They’ll likely refuse us entry because we have no real grounds to go in there.’
‘Or we can use Section 17 (1) of PACE—’
‘I know, it gives us the power to enter premises without a warrant “in order to save life and limb”. Look, Josh, I want to find her as much as you do. I’ve felt sick since we got the call about it, and I can’t stop thinking about how terrified she must be, but…’
‘But?’
‘We don’t have much to go on; the top brass are not going to fall for that. What if she’s already dead? She’s been gone since the early hours of the morning. If we barge in there and piss them off and she is in there, it’s going to make everything ten times worse.’
‘You’re right, let’s go back to the station and run it past the DI…’
Sam released the breath she’d been holding in.
‘… after you’ve pressed this buzzer and asked if you could speak to them. Tell them you’re trying to locate Jason Thompson. Ask them how well they know him, when they last saw him. You know the score, just keep them talking.’
‘And whilst I do that, what are you going to be doing?’
‘Just having a little mooch around the grounds, peering through a few windows. You know, that kind of thing.’
‘What if you get caught, Josh?’
‘I don’t know. I‘m not sure I care. If I hear the slightest whimper, then we’ll go get a warrant… if I can’t kick the bloody doors down to take a look myself first.’
‘Jesus, all this for a free coffee. I’ve been ripped off. Remind me the next time you offer to buy me a drink that it’s in exchange for my career.’
He started to laugh, then louder when she butted him in the ribs with her elbow.
‘Get in the back and duck down. I’ll speak to them, so they don’t realise you’re in the car. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have cameras installed, which is bad news if this all goes wrong.’
‘It won’t, it will be okay.’
He was out of the driver’s door and in the back of the car before Sam had unclipped her seat belt. Once she was in the driver’s seat she rolled the window down, leant forward and pressed hard on the buzzer. After a few moments there was a burst of static and a deep voice filtered through.
‘Hello, Dean & Sons, can I help you?’
‘Yes, my name is Detective Constable Sam Thomas. I wonder if it’s possible to come and have a chat with you about some enquiries I’ve been tasked with. It’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Of course, officer, I’ll open the gates. Drive through and up to the house.’
She heard Josh whisper ‘Bingo’ from behind her as the two huge, black ornate cast-iron gates began to slowly open in front of them. She started the car and, as soon as the gap was wide enough to drive through, she put her foot down.
The grounds were beautiful, lush green lawns surrounded by rich evergreen plants and shrubs. The house had clearly been a private residence at some point before it had been turned into a funeral home. They drove along the gravel drive until they reached the front of the house where there were several empty parking bays. Getting out, Sam didn’t lock the doors and left the keys in the ignition should Josh need to make an emergency getaway. Without looking back, she set off for the marble steps that led to the front entrance.
Forty-One
Once Sam had entered the building, Josh tried to open the car door, and swore: the bloody child locks were on. Great for keeping suspects inside the car, not so goo
d when you’re trying to be discreet. Climbing through into the front seat he managed to extract himself out of the passenger side door. He looked around; the place seemed deserted. Surely it wouldn’t hurt for him to have a little peek. He headed towards the rear of the building where they must have a back entrance for bringing the bodies in and out. Staying close to the walls, he reached the end of the brickwork and turned the corner. Bingo. Parked around the back was a silver van with blacked-out windows with the words ‘Private Ambulance’ emblazoned across the side. This was the vehicle they used to transport bodies from the hospital or wherever they may have died. There was a double garage with a huge door attached to the house. He pressed his ear to it. Squeezing his eyes shut he concentrated as hard as he could, but he couldn’t hear a thing.
He did the same at the back door, pulling his sleeve down over his hand to push gently on the handle. It didn’t move. The whole place was locked up tight. He looked around. Behind the house, a good distance away, were more garages and sheds. He jogged over to find the main doors were locked, but the side door opened inwards. For a moment he wondered if he should leave it be, go back to the car and wait for Sam. But he couldn’t do it; he needed to have a quick look inside.
Squeezing through the gap, he stepped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark interior. There were a variety of hearses, limousines, and the strong smell of petrol filled his nostrils. A row of different sized coffins was lined up against the back wall. He stared at them and shuddered. Christ, he thought his job was bad, but he only dealt with death occasionally. He crossed over to the coffins and noted that most of them had lids propped against them but not screwed down. One by one he checked them, his heart in his throat. They were empty.
When he heard voices in the distance, he realised he was pushing his luck staying here so long. Going back to the side door, he couldn’t see anyone and slipped back outside, running quickly and quietly around to the side of the house in time to see the front door closing. Sam was sitting in the driver’s seat of the car with her phone pressed to her ear. He felt his own begin to vibrate in his pocket. Lifting it to his ear he whispered: ‘What?’
‘Get back here now before you get caught, that’s what.’
He ended the call and ran around the front of the building, before pausing to check with Sam. She nodded her head and waved him on. Running the rest of the way to the car, he threw open the passenger door and got inside as Sam drove off as fast as she dared without drawing any attention to them.
‘Where the hell were you?’
‘Checking out the garages; they had coffins of every shape and size back there.’
‘It’s a funeral home, they’re supposed to. Any sign of Annie?’
‘No, what did he say when you asked him about Jason Thompson?’
‘Not a lot. Said he knew who he was, had spoken to him on several occasions but didn’t really know him. Said he dealt with Barry more than him, thinks he seems like a nice lad.’
‘What did you think about him?’
‘Harry Dean seemed like a genuinely nice bloke. I can understand how families must feel reassured dealing with someone like that.’
‘He didn’t come across as a raving, homicidal maniac then?’
‘Obviously not, boss.’
‘Shame. Come on, drive me back to the station. I need to go through everything we have and see if we can get a warrant to come back and do a proper search of the main house.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know, it’s just a gut feeling that something isn’t right. We’re looking for someone who has no qualms about putting a woman in a box until the air runs out and she dies. It takes a special kind of psychopath to be able to do that, don’t you think?’
‘Well, yes it must. But it doesn’t mean it’s an undertaker, does it?’
‘For Christ’s sake, I’d rather look an idiot and be wrong than be too afraid to make the call and be right. At this moment in time I don’t have any other viable suspects with the means and ability to deal with death and bodies so… so casually.’
They drove the rest of the way back in silence. As Sam pulled up outside the front of the station, Josh turned to look at her.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’m tired, hungry and pissed off that we have no idea where she might be. Thank you for everything you’ve done today, I do appreciate your help.’
She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Apology accepted. Let’s go order some food, have a bit of a breather for ten mins and see what we can come up with. Hopefully the cameras on the main roads will have picked something up – like a number plate or a clear image of the bastard.’
Forty-Two
He’d noticed the police from a distance, despite them driving an unmarked police car. The man in the crumpled suit was looking considerably more stressed than the woman with him. Did that mean he was in charge? He liked that, relished the fact that his actions were causing so many strangers to have a bad day. Picking up the bunch of wilting roses he’d plucked from the bargain bucket outside Pretty Flowers, and tucking the local daily paper under his arm, he strolled up the hill towards the chapel, although not too near it. He’d read about too many killers who’d been so wrapped up in what they’d done, they’d revisited the scene of the crime and got caught. Fools, all of them. As if the police hadn’t cottoned on to his idea by now. Ever since they’d made the discovery of the girl in the grave there had been a white car parked up by the empty grave, watching and waiting to see who turned up. He chose a grave that was a bit unloved and bent to lay his flowers down. A flurry of excitement mingled with fear filled his veins as he pulled weeds away from the gravestone. He began to arrange the stems of flowers in a cracked vase; they were crooked and far too long, but it didn’t matter. The two detectives were walking towards him with a man wearing a high vis jacket and a spade slung over his shoulder. He lifted a hand in polite greeting and the gravedigger nodded back. Lowering his face and pulling the peak of his baseball cap down, he quickly stared back down at the grave in front of him; he didn’t want any of them to look too closely at him.
He didn’t know if she was dead yet; he hoped that she was because it would make his life a lot easier. Physically killing his victims left too much trace evidence behind and forensics were a lot more advanced now than they’d been when he’d been a teenager. He’d sweated beneath paper overalls and three pairs of rubber gloves when he’d put the girl into that grave. It was risky to do it himself, but he had to admit that the excitement had outweighed the danger. Creating puzzles for the police sent a thrill through his body like no other.
Straightening up now the weeds had been cleared and the roses propped against the headstone, he could hear voices as the group approached. Slipping on to a bench near to the grave he’d been tending, he pressed his hands tightly together and shut his eyes. They might glance across at him but they wouldn’t speak. You didn’t intrude on a person’s conversations with God, even if they were about murder. His steepled fingers pressed against his lips, covering the smile which had formed upon them.
Forty-Three
Josh forked the last mouthful of chicken tikka in to his mouth, mopping up the rest of the sauce with his naan bread. Sam still had half a plate of food left, which he looked at hungrily.
‘You’re such a lightweight.’
‘You’re such a pig.’
He snorted, almost spraying the computer in front of him with mashed-up food.
‘Right, what should we do now? Call a briefing, go back to the hotel, find Claire and see what she’s come up with? Get a team together to go and arrest Florence Wright’s concerned relative?’
Sam was staring out of the window by her desk. ‘Probably hide.’
‘Why?’
‘Barker has just angry-slammed his car door and is heading this way with a face like a slapped arse.’
Josh stood up and peered over her shoulder.
‘Shit, he looks furious.’
‘I wonder why?
It’s not as if we’ve been sneaking around where we shouldn’t, is it?’
‘He won’t know about that, how could he?’
She shrugged. ‘Just a feeling. Are you going to wait around to find out, or should we just go and find somewhere else to figure out what to do?’
Josh grabbed his jacket, laptop and car keys and Sam shrugged her jacket on, picking up her bag from under the table.
‘I vote we leave.’
There were two doors that led into the CID office, one at each end of the room. If the chief was coming in from the car park, he’d use the one nearest to Josh’s desk, so he and Sam headed towards the other exit. But as they barrelled out of the door together, they walked straight into the brick wall that was Detective Inspector Eric Barker.
‘Thought I might find you sneaking out, Walker.’
‘What do you mean by that, boss? We have a valid enquiry that needs urgently following up on. I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?’
Sam squeezed past and began hurrying towards the stairs. Josh tried to do the same, but Barker put his arm out.
‘A word, if you don’t mind. In my office. Now.’
Forty-Four
The smell of stale sweat filled the cramped office as Barker slammed the door shut behind them. It was hot, stuffy and the worst place possible to be stuck with an angry boss. Josh tried to keep his distance and not to inhale too much through his nose.
‘So, I’ve just got off the phone with a very good friend of mine. It was quite an interesting, yet puzzling call.’
Josh nodded. The takeaway he’d enjoyed moments ago lay heavy in his stomach; he knew where this was going.
‘Do you want to explain to me what you were doing sneaking around the back of Dean & Sons funeral home? Breaking and entering their outbuildings?’
‘I didn’t break in anywhere. The doors were open for anyone to get—’