by Carol Wyer
‘Doing what?’
‘Marketing.’
‘Do you know his surname?’
‘Sorry, no.’
‘Have you met him?’
‘No, but Heather was keen on him. She showed me photos of him. You don’t think he attacked her, do you?’
‘The investigation is at a very early stage. We’re trying to establish if she was supposed to be meeting him that night.’
‘If she planned on it, she didn’t mention it to me when we were riding that morning, before she went to work.’
‘Did you often ride together?’
‘At least once a week and most weekends.’
‘And you chatted while you were out?’
‘Of course.’
‘Did Heather ever discuss her job?’
There were sniffs and a pause as Zoe blew her nose, then, ‘Not very often.’
‘She didn’t mention anyone called Ollie Rankin?’
‘Yes. I remember him. He menaced her for a while. Nothing awful happened, but she stayed with me for a couple of nights because she was worried about being at home alone. It all got sorted out.’
‘I don’t suppose she said anything about a shoplifting case?’ asked Kate. ‘It happened in February last year.’
‘Erm. Actually, yes, but Heather passed the case on to somebody else.’
‘Did she tell you why she handed it over?’
‘I didn’t need telling. I knew why. It dragged up some bad memories.’
‘What sort of memories?’
There was a brief silence before Zoe answered. ‘Personal ones.’ There was another pause and then, ‘After Greg left her, she was in a really shit state. She couldn’t even face riding or coming to the stables. I took her shopping – a girls’ day out in Solihull to cheer her up. It didn’t really work out. She was downhearted the whole time. On the way back to the car we stopped at a department store so I could buy some face cream. While I was at the make-up counter, I happened to look up in time to see her put a perfume gift set into her bag and walk off. She obviously wasn’t going to pay for it. I headed straight for her, grabbed hold of her arm and asked her what the hell she was playing at. She became upset and confused. She claimed she had no idea why she’d taken the set; it wasn’t even a perfume she used or liked, and she had enough money to pay for it. I made her put it back before she got caught. She’d have lost her job if anyone else had seen her. Anyway, the case reminded her of that day. Heather said the woman was going through exactly the same sort of hell she’d gone through, following a break-up. She didn’t feel she was impartial enough to deal with it.’
Kate wrote Heather’s name on her notepad, along with Laura’s, and drew a circle around both names. She had another link.
Morgan finished his call soon after Kate had ended hers. ‘Greg bought Heather a bracelet from Lichfield Jewellers. From the way he described it, it might have been the same silver one she was wearing when we found her body. I’m going to email him a picture of it.’
‘Was Heather with him when he bought it?’
‘I don’t think so, but if it is the same bracelet, she took it back a couple of times to get the clasp fixed. Which means Steve could have been lying to us all along and knew her after all.’
She gave a thoughtful nod. ‘Worth looking into, although when did Greg purchase the bracelet?’
‘June 2015. It was for her birthday.’
‘Okay. If Greg confirms it’s the same bracelet, talk to Steve.’
‘Will do.’
‘I’ve spoken to one of Heather’s friends and it appears our victims might have known each other after all. Heather knew enough details about Laura to turn down working on her shoplifting case. And, we might have another lead. I need a surname, but Heather had been seeing a guy called Paul.’
‘And you think he might have been the person she was meeting after work?’
‘Worth looking into. I’ll head to Uttoxeter and have a word with him.’
Loud clomping in the corridor announced the arrival of Emma. She chucked her bag onto her seat with the practised aim of a basketball player. ‘We can forget Ollie Rankin. He spent the weekend in Southend with his girlfriend and her kids. Only got back home late last night. At 8.23 p.m., he stopped off at the Welcome Break services at Warwick North and bought fuel and four Burger King meals. According to his partner, he’s never raised a hand to her or the kids.’
‘He admitted to intimidating Heather, though?’ said Kate.
‘He did. Claimed he was worked up at being falsely accused and let rip with empty threats, for which he later apologised. He’s not heard of Laura Dean.’
‘Morgan and I have a couple of other avenues to pursue.’
‘Fine. I’ve got loads more stuff I want to go through here.’
‘Actually, I want you to head over to the technicians, smooth-talk Felicity and find out what they discovered on Heather’s laptop and I mean everything. Be subtle about it.’
Emma grinned. ‘Charm offence?’
‘If necessary.’
‘Shouldn’t be a problem. Felicity likes me.’
‘Oh, and you need to be at Newbury Avenue by five thirty. Morgan will explain.’
Kate collected her belongings and made for the door, aware the clock was ticking on this and they had still covered insufficient ground. Dickson was waiting for the moment to pounce. The thought spurred her on and with quick steps she hastened from the building into her car and away. She didn’t glance up at his office window but some sixth sense assured her he was watching from it. ‘I’m gunning for you too,’ she said, through gritted teeth.
Uttoxeter Racecourse hosted year-round chase and hurdle meetings, along with other events such as concerts, family-days out, exhibitions and private functions. The sign to the entrance indicated eleven were to be held this month, including a doggy day, a quilt and stitch village and two outdoor cinema experiences. Nothing, however, was programmed for today and groundsmen on green tractors, or wielding heavy-duty strimmers, were tending to the vast, oval-shaped course. In spite of living close to one of the UK’s leading hunt tracks, Kate had never attended a race day. She wasn’t a mingler or a party animal. Many would call her dull, but Chris had understood her reluctance to mix with others in large gatherings where she often felt isolated within a crowd. She felt more relaxed at small occasions, friends’ parties or evenings out with one or two other couples.
She’d googled the name of the manager and one of the grounds staff directed her to Paul Avery’s office where she found him hunched over a table filled with photographs. He stood up to greet her.
‘Good morning. What can I do for you?’ The voice was gentle, his face youthful and earnest, with sandy hair and cornflower-blue eyes. His outfit of jeans, shirt and jacket created the right balance of professional and relaxed, and Kate couldn’t help but notice the gleam from his light-brown leather boots. Chris had always believed in good-quality footwear and even when abroad on assignments, he’d taken a travel-set of brushes and polish to keep them shining.
The sudden recollection of her husband pulled her up short. She hadn’t spoken to him in a while. Palpitations accompanied the thought. He was slipping away from her, little by little.
The man in front of her was waiting for a response. She dragged herself back into the moment, lifted her card and introduced herself. His sparse eyebrows pulled into a light frown.
‘I’m here about Heather Gault.’
‘Heather? Why?’
‘You definitely know her, then?’
‘Yes, we’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months.’
‘When was the last time you saw her?’
‘Friday evening, after work. She came around to my house and we shared a bottle of wine and a takeaway. What’s this about?’
‘I’m afraid I have some bad news. I’m sorry to tell you that she’s dead.’
He rested his palms on the table, covering the pictures of horses thundering towards th
e finish lines with cheering masses in stands urging them on, and released a long breath before saying, ‘Okay . . . Okay. When did this happen?’
‘Saturday night. She was attacked on Newbury Avenue.’
‘Attacked and killed?’
‘Yes, sir. I’m very sorry. Do you feel up to answering a few questions for me?’
He flopped onto the chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut. ‘I can try.’
‘Firstly, can I ask your whereabouts for Saturday evening and night?’
‘I was here. There was a large private event and I had to be here to ensure it all went well.’
‘Can anyone confirm you were here?’
‘Many people. It was a drinks event, and I was on hand all evening.’
‘You didn’t arrange to meet Heather that evening?’
‘I invited her along to the do but she was working and unsure what time she’d be finished, so she declined.’ He ran his hands up and down his cheeks as if rubbing life back into them. ‘Oh, God, this can’t be true.’
‘How did you and Heather stay in contact? Was it mostly phone calls or messaging?’
‘Invariably WhatsApp. Messaging was more convenient for us both.’
‘And was it normal not to hear from her for a few days?’
‘Absolutely. We’re both independent people with demanding jobs and lives outside work.’
‘How often did you see each other?’
‘A couple of times a week. Much depended on work commitments.’
‘And you got along well?’
‘We were getting on really well.’
‘Do you recognise this phone number?’ Kate slid across the pay-as-you-go number. Paul looked at it and shook his head.
‘It’s not mine.’
‘Did she ever discuss work with you?’
‘Neither of us did. When we met up it was purely to have fun, forget about work and enjoy ourselves.’
‘Mr Avery, do you know anyone called Laura Dean?’
‘No. The name isn’t familiar.’
Emma’s name flashed up on her mobile. ‘Would you excuse me? I have to take this.’
‘Go ahead.’ He stared at the photos on the desk and rested his head in his hands. Kate went outside the office and took the call.
‘Kate, there’s been another victim. A young woman was found on a building site in Weston.’
‘Same MO as the others?’
‘One difference. She’s still alive. Critical but alive. They’ve taken her to County Hospital.’
‘I’m on my way.’ Kate pocketed the mobile and made her excuses to Paul Avery before running for her car.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kate remained bolt upright on the high-backed, fabric seat, as she had done for the last hour. She breathed in the mixture of chemicals, none of them identifiable, but combined gave a sense of cleanliness, a smell she found strangely comforting. The private room, used for giving individuals bad news about their loved ones, was bare apart from four wooden-framed blue chairs. She shifted in the one she’d chosen. The cushion pad had flattened and was beginning to become uncomfortable. She concentrated on the window affording her a view of the busy corridor, where she observed the by-now familiar faces of nurses who bustled up and down, pausing every time they passed the anti-bacterial machine to disinfect their hands. She stood up, took three paces across the room then back again. She needed to talk to the victim, now identified as Olivia Sandman, but the senior consultant had refused her permission to visit the girl.
She wasn’t going to leave, not until she’d spoken to Mrs Sandman, who was apparently with her daughter, and not before one of her own team had come to replace her. She also needed assurances she’d be notified as soon as Olivia became conscious. She paced yet again to the far wall, three long strides, and back, and was relieved when her mobile buzzed.
‘Go ahead, Emma.’
‘Okay. Well, first off, Christian’s alibi checks out. There was surveillance coverage of the street where he parked, showing his car didn’t move until five to nine. We also have clear footage of him actually getting in and out of the car at the relevant times. Likewise, it was there on Saturday evening, parked in almost the same spot. We can’t say with 100 per cent certainty he didn’t leave his office that night, but given he hasn’t shown up on any of the cameras in the vicinity, it’s looking highly unlikely he headed to Trentham House to attack Heather.’
‘What about Heather’s bracelet? Any joy there?’
‘Morgan’s spoken to Steve again. He can’t remember if he repaired the bracelet or not. Apparently, he sees hundreds of pieces of jewellery, so he can’t be certain. He definitely doesn’t remember selling it to her husband, and Greg didn’t recognise the photo of Steve we messaged him. Steve insists he’s employed several salespeople since 2015, so any one of them might have dealt with Heather.’
‘No news on his DNA sample yet?’
‘I’m afraid not. There’s a backlog of work at the lab and both his sample and Richard’s are waiting to be processed. I asked if they could push them along for us.’
‘Thanks. You don’t happen to know how long Morgan will be, do you?’
‘When I spoke to him a few minutes ago, he was already on his way to the hospital, so he should turn up in a quarter of an hour or so.’
Fifteen minutes wasn’t too long to wait, although she’d rather be back in the office. Emma spoke again.
‘Which leads me on to Heather’s computer. Felicity wasn’t keen to let me see what was on it, but I convinced her. In the end, she ran through it with me but it was all pretty much work-related.’
‘So why the reluctance to tell us?’
‘She was instructed to contact us only if she found anything relevant to our investigation, and the computer was for her eyes only.’
Kate was puzzled. This wasn’t usual procedure. The investigating team was always granted access to information on any device.
‘Anyway, I explained Olivia was in hospital, fighting for her life, and asked if I could check to see if there was any connection between her and Heather, and she caved in.’
‘You find anything at all?’
‘I’m afraid not. Felicity ran her name through all the documents and emails but turned up nothing.’
‘She wasn’t working on any cases involving Sunny Bank Residential Care Home, where she might have bumped into Olivia?’ They’d established Olivia was an assistant care worker at the home in Stafford.
‘No, but there was one investigation I’ve not heard of: Operation Agouti. It took place last month.’
‘Who was in charge of that?’
‘Superintendent Dickson.’
Dickson! ‘Any clue as to what the investigation was into?’
‘No. The emails were only regarding meeting times, nothing to indicate what the case was about.’
All police operations were given names chosen from a pre-approved list of random names. Agouti was one Kate wasn’t familiar with. What was also puzzling was his decision to choose a CIO over one of many police officers under his command. Dickson hadn’t mentioned working with Heather, and that rang alarm bells. It also went some way to explaining why Dickson had instructed the computer be taken directly to the technical department to be examined, rather than giving her team access to it. He hadn’t wanted Kate to find out.
‘Any sign of Olivia’s mother yet?’ asked Emma.
Kate made out the hesitant steps of a diminutive woman, being guided by a nurse, heading in her direction. ‘I think she might be here now. I’ll talk to you later.’ She jammed the mobile into her pocket and stood back. Mrs Sandman entered first, a robotic shuffle that came to a quick halt.
The nurse spoke in a soft voice. ‘If you need anything, Rebecca, I won’t be far away.’
Kate edged forward slightly. ‘Mrs Sandman, thank you for seeing me. I appreciate it. I’m DI Kate Young. I’m heading the investigation into the attack on your daughter. Would you like to sit down?’
The woman obeyed and the nurse backed away, shutting the door behind her. Kate pulled her chair forward to be nearer to Olivia’s mother. ‘I’m very sorry about your daughter. How is she?’
Her red-rimmed eyes were sunken in her hollow face. ‘She’s not come around yet. I was told I should talk to you. I ought to be with her.’ She clawed at the strap on a worn leather bag as she spoke.
‘I won’t take up much of your time.’
She didn’t seem to hear Kate. ‘I keep thinking, what if she screamed for help? I didn’t hear her. What if she was screaming for me and—?’ The words turned to snuffles and she rooted in the bag for a tissue and blew into it noisily.
‘None of us know what happened. You can’t punish yourself like this.’
‘But if I’d woken up and got up earlier, seen her car was still there and rung the police, they might have found her before this happened to her. She looks—’ Her face screwed up and she fanned a hand in front of it. ‘Sorry. It’s so awful. She was found at the building site opposite. So close to home.’
‘None of this was your fault. You did what you could. She’s alive. That’s what’s important. She needs you now.’
Olivia’s mother blinked away the heavy tears.
‘Do you feel up to answering a few questions?’
A clattering outside made the woman jump in her seat. She squirmed around in her chair, spotted the porter pushing an empty trolley and turned back with a sigh.
‘I’ll try,’ she said.
‘Listen, if it gets too much for you, say and we’ll stop.’
‘Okay.’
‘What time did you notice Olivia’s car was still parked outside?’
‘Not until I got up, at ten. I’m on a late shift today, so I had a lie-in. I thought maybe it hadn’t started and she’d taken a taxi to work, or got a lift and forgotten to tell me she was going with somebody. Her mobile was switched off, so I rang the residential home where she works, and they said she hadn’t turned up. Then I began to worry. I didn’t know what to do next. I tried all her friends and got the same answer – nobody knew where she was. I got a bad feeling about it, so I rang the police. They told me not to worry, and even suggested she was maybe playing hooky and would turn up later. I knew that couldn’t be the case. I explained how much she loved her job and how she was caring for three elderly people in particular, and wouldn’t let them down. An officer came out to take details and then about half an hour after he left, I got a phone call to say a young woman had been found on the building site opposite our house and rushed to hospital. She had no identification and they didn’t know who she was, so I drove here as fast as I could. I prayed it wasn’t her. I prayed so hard.’ She ran a finger under her eye and wiped away sooty smears. ‘That makes me a bad person, doesn’t it, because I wanted some other mother to go through this torture and not me?’