by M K Farrar
Erica had one of her constables going through each of Naomi’s social media platforms in detail, running through the posts and comments, looking for anyone who might have been posting threatening comments, or simply something that didn’t feel quite right. That didn’t stop her scrolling through them herself, though, trying to get a better idea of who Naomi was and how she’d attracted a killer into her life. She also wanted to know if Naomi had scheduled her most recent posts, or if whoever had killed her had posted them for her, perhaps as a way to prevent people knowing she was already dead. But why would they want to hide that she was dead? To buy themselves more time? To do what?
Erica wasn’t into social media—she simply didn’t have the time to be on it—and frankly it terrified her to think that Poppy would be navigating all these sites in years to come. She knew as each year passed, the more the pressure would increase for Poppy to have her own phone and accounts. Her friends would all have them, and she’d be the odd one out. She’d start nagging Erica, and Erica knew she’d put her foot down and would be the bad guy. Trouble was, all the other kids in schools would have parents with nice, normal jobs. Jobs where they didn’t have to stand over the body of a murdered twenty-something and try to figure out which sick bastard had killed her. Other parents could pretend the bad things they saw on the news wouldn’t happen to people like them, but Erica knew differently. Bad things could happen to anyone at any time.
She kept scrolling, both fascinated and repelled by these clips into a stranger’s life.
What could the killer have learned from the videos?
This time, as she watched Naomi’s numerous clips, it was the background she sought out. What did the young woman’s videos give away that she might not have noticed? The photograph of the family in the background. A piece of wall art that said ‘single and lovin’ it’, a shot out of the window that gave a view onto the block of flats across the street. She’d thought it was possible the killer knew where Naomi lived because of her promotional work, but perhaps he’d simply caught sight of something in one of her videos that had given it away?
Shawn approached her desk. “I got hold of the manager at the wine bar Naomi Conrad arranged to meet her date at. He’s free to speak to us.”
“Great, let’s go and have a chat.”
They drove across the city and parked outside the wine bar. It was well into lunchtime, and the place was a busy bustle of young hipster and people in suits. As they entered, a woman in her early twenties approached with a smile.
“Do you have a reservation?”
“No, we’re not here to eat. We need to speak to your manager, Thomas Croft.” Erica showed the woman her ID.
“Oh, right. I’ll just go and check if he’s free.”
“He’s expecting us,” Shawn said.
She flashed him another smile and then hurried to the back of the wine bar where she vanished through a door. A moment later, she returned with a man in his early thirties, casually dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans.
“Detectives,” he greeted them. “I’m Thomas Croft, the manager. Do you want to come through to my office? It’ll be a bit quieter in there.”
Between the chatter of all the customers and the music playing in the background, it was hard to hear much. They followed him back through the door the hostess had gone through. The din from the bar decreased the moment the door swung shut behind them.
Thomas led them into his office and gestured for them to take a seat opposite his desk. The room was filled with boxes of promotional materials, coasters and pens sticking from the tops, reminding Erica of Naomi Conrad’s bedroom. Had she done any promotional work for the bar?
“What can I do for you both?” the manager asked.
Erica pulled up a photograph of Naomi that she’d downloaded from her social media. “Do you recognise this woman?”
He studied the photo and frowned. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Should I?”
“She came to the bar on Tuesday night. We believe she met a man here. Not long after she left, she was murdered in her bed.”
“Jesus, that’s awful. What can I do to help?”
“We need to track down the man she met. They arranged to meet here at nine p.m., and we’d like to see any CCTV footage you might have around that time.”
“That’s easy enough to do. I can show you now, if you like?”
Erica offered him a smile. It was so much simpler when people were cooperative. “That would be very helpful, thanks.”
“Just give me a minute.
He turned to his computer and brought it to life. Erica and Shawn waited patiently while he located the CCTV files and scrolled back to the right time and date. He angled the screen so they could see it as well.
Erica watched, searching the throng of people at the bar for Naomi. Plenty of customers were standing, or sitting on stools, but none of them were her. Erica checked the time on the footage. It was ten past nine now; Naomi was late. Erica switched from watching for Naomi to trying to figure out if any of the men were the one Naomi was meeting. They all had a similar style about them, as though they’d all been dressed by the same designer.
A blonde woman approached the bar, and one of the men turned to greet her, standing from the stool. He leaned in and kissed her cheek.
“That’s her,” Erica said. “I’m sure of it.”
“Do you want me to pause the video?” the bar manager asked.
“No, keep it running until we can see both their faces clearly.”
It only took another few seconds for that to happen. As the couple lined up, side by side at the bar, the camera was able to get a good shot.
“Yes, that’s Naomi,” Erica confirmed. “Now to figure out who she’s with.”
The man appeared to be in his late twenties to early thirties. He was attractive, with tattoos running down his arms in sleeves, and a tight shirt that showed off the kinds of muscles that could only be got after some serious gym sessions. He ordered some drinks and then paid with a card.
Erica pointed at the screen. “There. That’s what we can use to find him. I assume you have a record of your card payments.”
“Of course. I’ve still got the receipts.”
“Great.” She turned to Shawn. “We’re going to have to push this as being urgent. We can’t afford to be waiting for days to get a name.”
He nodded. “Agreed.”
She looked back to Thomas. “We’ll also need to interview the bartender who served the couple.”
“His name is Lee Cerny. He’s not in until later.”
“Not a problem. If you give me his address, I’ll send one of my detectives to his home to ask him some questions.”
They were one step closer to finding out who Naomi Conrad had been with that night and if he was the one who’d killed her.
A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER, the subpoena came through for the name and address of the man who used the credit card. The bank informed them that the credit card belonged to a Mr Robert Day and gave them his address.
Robert Day lived in a gated complex of newbuild flats on the Isle of Dogs. Erica pulled the car up to a microphone pillar in front of a huge metal gate and wound down the window. She reached out and pressed a buzzer to get the attention of security.
“I’m with the police. We’d like to have a word.”
The gate slid back, and they drove into a car park filled with BMWs, Audis, and Mercedes. Around the car park were a semi-circle of buildings. It was about six stories, and while the newbuild flats weren’t massive, they still would have cost a pretty penny to either rent or buy.
The concierge—a young Asian man in a badly fitting suit—left the office to meet them.
They climbed out of the car and slammed the doors shut behind them.
Erica showed her ID. “We’d like to speak to Mr Robert Day, is he in?”
“I don’t keep track of who’s in or not,” he said. “I’m more here to deal with peo
ple who lose their keys or take in packages or call in someone if there’s a problem with the swimming pool.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “We can go and knock to see if he’s home.” She jerked her chin at the security cameras either side of the door. “Are those things all over the complex?”
He nodded. “Pretty much. They’re definitely in all the main entrances.”
“So they’d catch it if someone came home or left again?”
He shrugged. “Unless that person went out of their way not to be seen, I suppose so.”
Erica exchanged a glance with Shawn. It might help them pin down Robert Day’s version of events on the night Naomi was murdered.
“Mr Day is in number three-oh-six. It’s that way,” the concierge said. “Third floor. You can take the lift.”
“Thanks. We may be back to ask you some more questions and request some CCTV footage from a couple of nights ago.”
“No problem. Whatever I can do to help.”
Erica and Shawn set off in the direction the concierge had pointed. They pushed through doors into the entrance lobby of one of the buildings.
Shawn let out a low whistle and nodded to a sign about the private swimming pool, gym, and sauna. “Mr Day does pretty well for himself, then.”
They caught the lift up to the third floor and then exited into a corridor. The place had a feel more of a hotel than a block of flats. They found the number they needed, and Erica rang the bell.
The man they’d seen on the CCTV footage at the wine bar answered the door. “Yes?”
“Mr Day? Robert Day?”
“Robbie,” he said. “I go by Robbie.”
“My name is DI Swift, and this is my colleague, DS Turner. Do you know a Naomi Conrad?”
“Naomi? Yeah, I do. Why? What’s going on?”
“We’d like to come in and speak to you, if that’s all right.”
“I suppose so.” He moved out of the way.
Erica and Shawn walked through. The flat was small, but it was brand-new. Erica peeped through each door as they passed—a bathroom, a double bedroom, a separate kitchen, and a living room that had a set of double doors leading onto a Juliette balcony with a view over the car park. Robert gestured for them to sit on the leather sofa, and he perched in the single armchair beside the balcony doors.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” said Shawn.
“Thanks. It’s all right.”
Shawn looked around the room. “What do you do for a living?”
“I work in media—film editing, to be precise.”
Shawn jutted his lower lip and nodded approvingly. “Must pay well.”
Even though this wasn’t huge, places in this part of London went for a fair penny.
“I do all right.” Robert Day turned to Erica. “What’s all this about? Is Naomi all right? She hasn’t replied to any of my messages.”
Erica kept her expression neutral. “How do you know Naomi?”
“We met online.”
She tweaked her lips in a smile. “Humour me, Mr Day. I’m not as young as you and everyone I’ve met has been in person. How exactly do you go about meeting someone online?”
He gestured with his hand. “Well, we first met on a dating app, but then we started following each other online. Through social media.”
“But then you met up in person?” she prompted. “When was the first time?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“And how often have you seen each other since?”
“It wasn’t a regular thing or anything. We met in person a few times, maybe five or six.”
Shawn scribbled some notes down in a pad. Erica waited until he was done and then resumed the questions.
“When was the last time you saw Naomi in person?”
His hand went to his mouth, pinching his lips, and his gaze darted between the two detectives. “A couple of nights ago. We hooked up, you know. A few drinks, and then back to her place.”
“How was the relationship between the two of you then?”
“It was good. Fine.” His teeth dug into his lower lip. “Look, are you going to tell me what’s happened? Clearly there is something very wrong? Did Naomi make a complaint against me or something?”
“Why would you think that? Was there violence between the two of you?”
He raised his voice. “No! Never. We were good. I’m just trying to figure out why I have two detectives sitting in my flat, questioning me about Naomi.”
“So the two of you didn’t argue?”
Twin spots of red appeared in his cheeks. “No. I already told you. We were fine. Please, just tell me what’s happened.”
“I’m afraid Naomi’s body was discovered this morning.”
His jaw dropped. “What?”
“She was killed in her flat a couple of days ago.”
“Killed? Do you mean murdered?”
“Yes, I do,” Erica said. “And we believe you might have been the last person to see Naomi Conrad alive.”
“We think she was murdered the same night you met up with her, though we’ll know a more precise time of death once the post-mortem has been conducted.”
“Oh, shit.” His face drained of colour. “You don’t think I have something to do with it?”
Erica studied his reaction for any sign of guilt or that he was hiding something. “We don’t know, Robbie. That’s why we’re here, so we can find that out. We need to ask you some questions. We’d like you to come down to the station so we can conduct a formal interview.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to help. Naomi was a sweet girl. I mean, I didn’t know her all that well, but she wasn’t all glamorous and overconfident like she is online. She’s actually pretty shy.”
“We can drive you down now, if you like?” Erica said. It sounded like an offer, but she didn’t intend to let him say no.
But she need not have worried.
Robbie got to his feet. “Let me grab my stuff.”
AN HOUR LATER, THE three of them sat in one of the interview rooms down at the station. They’d offered him a solicitor, but he’d declined. For the sake of the recording, she’d read Robert Day his rights, and run over the same questions she’d asked at his flat.
“You said you met up with Naomi just after nine. Can you tell me about the hours preceding that? How did your day start?”
He shrugged. “Just like any other. I got up and went to work. I needed to finish a job, so I stayed late and got back about seven. That gave me enough time to have something to eat and grab a quick shower and then I left to meet Naomi at the Wilde Sage Wine Bar in Shoreditch.”
“How did you get to the bar?”
“I caught the Tube and walked the rest of the way.”
“Did anything unusual happen that day? Did you notice anyone suspicious hanging around?”
Robbie looked between them. “No, I didn’t.”
“What about phone calls between you and Naomi? Did you speak to her that day?”
“We sent a couple of messages back and forth confirming tonight and saying we were looking forward to seeing each other, but that was all.”
“And are you seeing anyone else you’ve met online? Or even people you know in real life?”
Robert Day was young, attractive, and wealthy. She doubted he and Naomi were exclusive after only a few weeks.
“I’m in touch with other girls I’ve had hook-ups with, if that’s what you mean, but I’m not currently sleeping with anyone else.”
“What about Naomi? Do you know if she was seeing anyone else?”
He gave a small, nervous laugh. “That’s not really something we talked about.”
She offered him a smile of reassurance and jotted down some notes. “Did she ever mention feeling unsafe, or that someone was out to hurt her?”
He shook his head. “No, never. She dealt with plenty of trolls online, but that’s just part of the job. Everyone in her business deals with that kind of thing.”
“So there wasn’t anyone in particular that she mentioned to you?”
“No. I wish there was, so I could point you in the right direction, but those trolls hide behind fake profiles.” He swiped at his eyes and shook his head. “God, I can’t believe she’s dead. She was so alive, so full of energy and excitement for what she was going to achieve in her life. She would have done it, too, everything that she’d dreamed of. That was just who she was.”
Shawn clasped his hands on the table. “You seem to know a lot about her considering you’ve only really known her a few weeks.”
He shrugged, but colour bloomed in his cheeks. “I’d been following her on social media, too.”
Shawn frowned. “Doesn’t she post about makeup and skin care and things like that?”
His colour deepened. “She’s a gorgeous girl. I enjoyed watching her.” He must have realised what he’d said as he blinked rapidly. “That sounds bad. I don’t mean stalking her or anything. Just following her social media profiles, like everyone does.”
Erica took back over. “What happened on Tuesday evening after you’d met up?”
He blinked back at Erica. “Nothing unusual. We had a couple of drinks there and then went back to her place ’cause it’s closer.”
“Where she was later murdered.”
He put up both hands. “Hey, she was completely alive when I left her, I swear it. She was fine. More than fine. We’d both had a great night.”
Shawn pursed his lips. “You didn’t want to stay the night with her, though?”
“There’s nothing against leaving after a hook-up. That’s all it was. We weren’t in a relationship or anything. She seemed happy enough for me to leave. We said we’d do it again sometime.”
“Did she mention being worried about anything or anyone?” Erica asked. “Did you notice anyone unusual hanging around?”