A Cut for a Cut (Detective Kate Young)

by Carol Wyer

‘Then I think we’ve pinpointed exactly where the rape took place. You want to check it out?’

  ‘Thanks, Harvey,’ she said, before following Ervin over the grass to where several markers had been set out, next to small rust-coloured stains, blood, possibly from the wound in the victim’s back. Ervin pointed out shredded blades and exposed earth where heels and fingers had scrabbled for leverage, or to escape the attacker. Ervin fell silent.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, me? Yes. Sorry, I was miles away . . . in the zone. Not a great place to be.’

  She understood. Ervin would have been envisaging the possible scenarios as if he’d been present, witnessing them. She too could imagine the woman’s anguished cries of terror as she was forced onto the grassy bank, raped and then mutilated, only metres away from safety and the restaurant, yet unable to attract any attention. A person willing to carry out all of this and then kill their victim so close to a car park, road and restaurant was either extremely self-assured or was so desperate, or fixated, on their actions, they threw caution to the wind. Would someone who took time to carve a message into the victim’s flesh and who was disciplined in martial arts and capable of inflicting specific damage to the vagus nerve be the latter? It seemed unlikely to Kate. To her mind, the attacker had calculated he wouldn’t be disturbed, and had possibly been stalking the victim for some time in order to establish the prime location and moment to act.

  She examined the squashed and torn grass blades, imagined the brute force on the back of the woman’s neck required to hold her in position while she was raped. Maybe the victim had been unconscious for a great deal of the attack, only coming to towards the end of her ordeal, when she attempted to break free and flee. She wore no jewellery. Could the killer have removed such items? She headed back towards the bins, Ervin by her side.

  ‘Harvey, any signs she wore a wedding ring?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing to suggest one was forcibly removed. The skin isn’t slightly shinier or smoother on her ring finger, nor are there any tan lines or callouses that might be present. However, if she’d only had a ring for a while, none of those would be visible.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks. Nothing else to help us identify her?’ She looked at Ervin.

  ‘Not so far, but we’re checking every bin bag. No house keys, no phone and no ID yet. Killer might have taken them.’

  ‘Then we’d better hope somebody at the village hall knew who she was. I’m going to join Emma. Let me know if you find anything at all.’

  She rang Jamie’s mobile as she made her way up the path.

  ‘Sorry, guv. I’m only just leaving Stoke. I had to drop Zach off at his nanna’s then I got held up in traffic.’

  ‘Then it’s probably best if you turn around and head to base to wait for instructions. We have a female victim who was attacked, raped and probably strangled last night. We haven’t identified her yet, but we might hit lucky, so hang fire there. I’ll need you to check out a few names for us.’

  ‘Sure thing. Sorry. I wasn’t expecting to get called in—’

  ‘It’s okay. I understand. We were called in last-minute. I’ll ring as soon as I have something for you.’ She shoved the phone back in her pocket. Jamie was a decent enough officer although he might have to sort out his work/life balance, like they all did, if he wanted to make promotion as he hoped.

  The path, wide enough for a small vehicle, wound past a children’s play area to another small car park, empty of vehicles. A one-time chapel, the village hall was a red-brick, single-storey building, with a sloped, tiled roof and, above the aged door, the words Abbots Bromley Parish Hall written in a half-moon around a circular stone sign of the Staffordshire knot. A number of posters adorned the glass-covered notice board next to the wide entrance, advertising events and classes. Kate pushed open the door and called out Emma’s name. She followed the response to a room with high windows that looked out onto a blue sky. Stacks of chairs were piled against the wall apart from one, on which sat a man in his late sixties, bald scalp, head in his hands. Emma was crouched beside him.

  ‘This is Peter Grantham, the caretaker. Peter, this is DI Young, who is heading the investigation.’

  The man, beetle-browed and ravaged by time, looked up. Misery elongated his features. He lowered his trembling hands.

  ‘Morning, sir. Can we get you anything? A drink of water—?’

  ‘No. Thank you. I’m fine.’

  Emma got to her feet and approached Kate. She lowered her voice. ‘Mr Grantham told me Laura Dean taught a yoga class last night. It was due to finish around eight o’clock. The description he gave matches that of the victim.’

  Kate glanced in the man’s direction. He’d overheard. Rheumy eyes locked onto hers. His voice faltered. ‘Laura’s been killed, hasn’t she? If I’d locked up the hall as usual, I’d have accompanied her down the path and halfway down the road, but my little dog hasn’t been very well recently and I was worried about her, especially as there was a storm brewing. She gets unnerved during storms, you see? Goes into a right frenzy, so I asked Laura if she’d lock up after the class and post the keys in the box. She didn’t mind in the least, so I left her to it. I came in about an hour ago to prepare the other room for a music event later today. I’d no idea she’d been hurt.’

  Kate was firm. ‘We can’t jump to conclusions, sir.’

  He lifted his arms in a helpless gesture. ‘I’ve lived in Abbots Bromley all my life. It’s a normal village. Nothing like this has ever happened here before. This is . . . this is dreadful.’ He pinched his nose, shaking his head to halt any further displays of emotion.

  ‘Where does Laura live?’ asked Kate.

  ‘In one of the cottages opposite the old school. The one with a blue door – Bluebell Cottage.’

  ‘And where do you live?’

  He opened his mouth but no sound emerged. He shook his head instead.

  ‘Mr Grantham’s house is on the far side of the field behind the hall, which he crossed to get here and is why he didn’t see the police vehicles on the main road. That’s correct, isn’t it, sir?’ said Emma.

  Peter nodded. ‘I can see the hall from my bedroom window.’

  Kate asked, ‘Did you notice anything odd or anybody acting strangely last night when you left?’

  ‘No. I didn’t see a soul and after I got in, I turned on the telly and I didn’t peer across until it was time for bed. The lights were off then.’

  ‘How long have you been the caretaker here?’

  ‘Since I retired from the brewery. About five years.’

  ‘And what do your duties entail?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Well, we don’t leave the hall unlocked unless there’s a class or event on, so it’s my job to open up, put out chairs if they’re needed, tidy up afterwards and then lock the hall up again. I also keep an eye on the place, come across now and again to deter any vandals or local kids from hanging around.’

  ‘Have you had much trouble from vandals?’

  ‘Only once, when some lads came in from another village and caused some bother. That’d be about a year ago.’

  ‘And you open up and lock up after the yoga class on Fridays?’

  ‘That’s right. I come over ten minutes or so before the class begins, then return once it’s finished. Cassie’s the instructor, but she had to go to Bakewell to look after her poorly mum. Laura’s been standing in for her the last few weeks, running both of her classes: Tuesday mornings, eleven until twelve, and Friday evenings, seven ’til eight. On Fridays, I normally walk down the road with Laura and stop off for a pint at the pub.’

  ‘What do you do while the class is on?’

  ‘I’m usually at home or at one of my friends’ houses in the village, and pop back around lock-up time. I don’t go far.’

  ‘But last night, you were worried about your dog, so you stayed at home?’

  ‘That’s correct. On account of the storm. Betsy hates the thunder. Scares her witless.’


  ‘Was the storm still in progress around the time the class finished?’

  ‘Yes. It had been rumbling for a good hour by then. We had a few nasty thunderclaps and quite a bit of lightning, but little to no rain. By about half eight, it was moving away.’

  ‘I see. Well, if you think of anything else that might help us with our enquiries, would you contact us, please?’ Kate looked at Emma, who reached for a business card and held it out. Peter took it with a shaking hand.

  ‘I hope you find who—’ He stopped and shook his head.

  ‘We’ll do everything we can.’ Kate led the way out of the building where she paused to take in the surroundings.

  ‘Where’s Peter’s house?’ she asked Emma.

  ‘Over there.’ Emma stepped towards a gate at the end of the path and pointed out the dwelling in the distance. The upstairs window was visible and overlooked the hall. From it, Peter would be able to see if the lights were on at the hall. ‘I’ve got the names of a couple of women who attended the class.’

  ‘Good. We’ll need to find out who else was there last night. If the body is Laura’s, then we need an address for her next of kin.’ Kate was off again, this time in the opposite direction, phone clasped to her ear.

  ‘Jamie,’ she said. ‘You in the office?’

  ‘In and awaiting instructions.’

  ‘Can you pull up information on Laura Dean? She lives in Bluebell Cottage, on the main street in Abbots Bromley, opposite the old school.’

  ‘On it.’

  She ended the call and drew to a halt at the sight of Morgan, crossing the car park at speed. He drew up in front of her and Emma.

  ‘The chef has spotted the victim using the path to the village hall on several occasions. He doesn’t know her name but is sure she takes the yoga class every Tuesday morning and Friday evening.’

  ‘Then it is most likely to be Laura Dean,’ said Emma.

  ‘It certainly looks that way.’ Kate lowered her head, stared at the tarmac for a moment. ‘Morgan, will you interview a couple of women who were at the class last night?’ Emma tore out the page with the names and addresses from her notebook and passed it over to Morgan. ‘Emma, come with me. I want to check out Laura’s house. See if anyone else is living there.’

  She was on the move yet again, long strides down the road, in the direction of the old school and a house with a blue door, Emma trotting to keep pace. Kate’s face was set stern. The body hadn’t been formally identified, and under normal circumstances she would wait until it was, but in a small village like this, where news and gossip would spread quickly, time was of the essence. The next twenty-four hours, while people’s memories were freshest, would be vital, and Kate was counting on this tight-knit community to provide valuable clues.

  It took only five minutes to reach the terraced cottages. Laura’s was the middle one, bang opposite the school entrance. Kate rattled the door knocker, half-hidden by a blue floral wreath, and stood back, staring up at bedroom windows. There was no sign of movement.

  ‘I don’t think she’s in,’ said a voice. ‘Normally, I can hear her music through the walls but there’s not a sound this morning.’

  Kate lifted her ID card. ‘DI Young, and this is DS Donaldson. I’m sorry, what’s your name?’

  ‘Shalini Towcester.’

  ‘Shalini, when did you last see Laura?’

  ‘Last night. I bumped into her up the road. She was on her way to a yoga class.’ The woman, in her mid-forties, cradled a white dog in her arms. ‘Why are you trying to contact Laura?’ In spite of her casual tone, she couldn’t disguise the curiosity in her voice. Kate deflected her question.

  ‘Did you speak to her?’

  ‘We had a couple of words about the Horn Dance festival. I’m on the committee for it this year and asked if she was attending the church service on the big day. She said it wasn’t her “thing”.’

  ‘How long have you lived here?’

  ‘Twenty years, though not always in this house. I used to live at the other end of the village then, after my divorce, I moved here. I didn’t want to leave Abbots Bromley and all my friends.’

  ‘Are you very friendly with Laura?’

  She let out a half-laugh. ‘Laura? No. I hardly know her. After she first moved in, I did the neighbourly thing, invited her around for coffee only to be rebuffed. I got the impression she didn’t want to become pally with anyone. I was surprised when she agreed to take over the yoga class.’

  ‘Do you ever go to the classes?’

  ‘No, I’m a member at YOLO’s gym on the way to Lichfield. I prefer cardio activity.’

  ‘Does anyone else live here?’

  ‘Only her.’

  ‘Thank you. Tell me, Shalini, after you saw Laura last night, what did you do?’

  ‘Came home, watched television.’

  ‘Did you walk your dog?’

  ‘Ye-es.’

  ‘What time would that have been?’

  ‘Seven thirty.’

  ‘Where did you walk?’

  ‘Down Radmore Lane towards the cricket field, and back home.’ The voice had grown wary.

  ‘You didn’t head towards the village hall?’

  Shalini’s eyes narrowed. ‘No.’

  ‘Thank you, Shalini. You’ve been most helpful. Another officer will be along in due course to take a statement from you.’

  Shalini opened her mouth, obviously thought better of asking any questions, and closed it again. She nodded dumbly instead. Kate spun on her heel and paced back up the road, Emma by her side. ‘It won’t be long before people start putting two and two together and speculate who the victim is. We need to notify her next of kin before that happens.’

  Kate was aware of curious faces at windows, observing their movements as she and Emma retraced their steps to the car park. Was it possible for somebody to attack a woman and flee unnoticed in a place where little seemed to escape the residents? Surely somebody here would have spotted suspicious activity and be able to assist them.

  CHAPTER THREE

  An alarm rattle went up as a startled blackbird, disturbed by the white-suits, scuttled from under the bushes and flew away with noisy screams. Kate ignored the racket, her attention on the crime scene. Several numbered markers had been placed in positions around the car park, along the path and on the grassy bank, one close to the scuff marks.

  Kate shut her eyes momentarily, trying to picture Laura walking down the path towards the main road. She might have been surprised by her attacker as she left the hall. Or somebody who had accompanied the young woman down the path might have then turned on her.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve found anything to shed light on what happened, have you, Ervin?’

  She knew it was a big ask, especially as the team hadn’t been on site for very long. In an area like this, frequented by the public, retrieving evidence relevant to the case was a tall order. Ervin handed a clear polythene evidence bag to a fellow officer, who dropped it into a container. He turned his attention to the question.

  ‘Sweet wrappers, cigarette ends, a butterfly back from an earring, a key ring, top from a drinks can.’ Ervin reeled off more items. Kate lifted her hand to halt his spiel.

  ‘I was hoping the killer had been careless and left a big clue. Like they do on television dramas.’

  ‘Ah, if only! Real-time forensics would be too dull for most people to watch.’

  ‘As would real-time policework.’

  ‘True.’ He gave a half-hearted smile, his eyes scouring the car park as he spoke. ‘I suspect you’re going to have your work cut out here. There doesn’t appear to be any CCTV overlooking the car park or, for that matter, anywhere along the main road. I guess they’re not used to high crime rates around here.’

  Kate would double-check. Sometimes, people had home security on their properties. Harvey was in the process of packing up his medical case, a sign he was ready for the body to be removed. She remained close to the wall. There was no further
need for her to trample over the scene and risk any cross-contamination of evidence. Harvey picked his way towards her.

  ‘Aggressive force used. There’s no evidence of semen but she was certainly violated. I’ll send the medics in to collect her and get back to you as soon as I can.’

  ‘Thanks, Harvey.’

  Emma, who’d been talking to a uniformed officer, signalled for Kate to join her. The news wasn’t hopeful.

  ‘Plain clothes have canvassed the immediate area and it appears nobody saw a thing. Thanks to the weather, those people whose sitting rooms overlook the road had their blinds or curtains drawn. Looks like our killer chose the perfect night to attack his victim.’

  ‘Damn! We’re going to be reliant on those who attended the yoga class and anyone at the restaurant,’ said Kate.

  ‘And anyone who is currently out at work and is still to be questioned.’

  ‘How many of those are there?’

  Emma gave a half-hearted shrug. ‘Only six houses along this stretch of the main road. We’ve extended the area and officers are now canvassing everyone who lives beyond the green to the far end of the village.’

  ‘And I bet those people will also have had their curtains closed.’ No sooner had Kate finished her sentence than her phone rang. Jamie sounded animated.

  ‘Guv, we have a formal ID. It is Laura Dean.’

  ‘How come we have that so quickly?’

  ‘Ervin sent across the victim’s prints. We have a match.’

  ‘She has form?’

  ‘In February this year, she was caught shoplifting and given a penalty notice for disorder. I’ve grabbed some basic info on her which I’ll email you. The next of kin is her father, Richard Dean. I’m sending details across to you now.’

  ‘Good work.’

  ‘He lives in Sutton Coldfield.’

  ‘I’ll head over there to break the bad news to him. Can you arrange for a FLO to visit him?’ The Family Liaison Officer would be an experienced officer, trained to support bereaved families and able to provide a two-way flow of information between the family and the investigative team.

  ‘Yes, guv.’