by Wyer, Carol
The sight of Katy’s body in situ almost broke her but Natalie kept a poker face and gravitated towards Stu Oldfields, who was sat in the back of an ambulance, his face the colour of putty. Natalie sat on the bed opposite him. ‘Must have been a horrible shock for you.’
He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and nodded.
‘Think you can answer a couple of questions?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Who ordered the skip?’
‘The boss – Noel. He arranged everything. We just got told what the job was and when to go to it. We shouldn’t have been here. We should still be working on Jane Hopkins’ house. We’re only doing this driveway because we couldn’t finish that job.’ His teeth were chattering as he spoke, a reaction to shock.
‘I understand you found the body?’
‘Yeah, we’d done all the prep work yesterday so we had to wait for the bricks to be delivered. They weren’t coming until ten so we didn’t arrive until almost half nine. We sat inside the cab with a flask of tea until the delivery arrived, and once it was offloaded, we started work. I don’t know how long it was before I went over to the skip to toss out some cement and the girl was there, looking up at me with bright-red eyes.’ He began to shake at the memory.
‘I take it the owners weren’t at home when you arrived?’
‘No. They’re away for the week. There was no one at home.’
‘Did you know the victim?’
Tears began to roll down his face. ‘I never saw her before.’
‘She was one of Harriet’s friends.’
‘Was she?’
‘Did Harriet ever mention her name to you – Katy? Katy Bywater?’
His head swung side to side and he clenched his teeth. Natalie studied his reaction. Stu was nothing like the arrogant, swaggering young man she’d met on Tuesday. There was little doubt he was not responsible. This was either an unfortunate chance event or the killer was even cleverer than she’d imagined. She left Stu in the care of the paramedics and joined Murray, who was awaiting instructions and observing the crime scene from the pavement. The skip dominated the front garden and was almost the same height as a medium-sized car. Katy had been well-hidden. Only somebody peering out of a bedroom window might have spotted her body, and the house owners weren’t there. The pathologist and Forensics had yet to arrive, and everyone was keeping their distance so as not to contaminate the scene. Natalie could guess how Katy died. Graham had told her there was visible bruising to the girl’s neck. She’d been strangled.
Her mobile rang and she made a grab for it. A sudden, urgent hope that it was David to say Leigh was home rose from deep inside her. It wasn’t her husband but Ian who spoke excitedly.
‘I’ve got important information on Brendon Jones. He’s related to Mitchell Cox. They’re cousins. Brendon’s mother, Gabrielle, and Mitchell’s father, Craig Cox, were siblings.’
‘Wait up, Ian. I’m putting you on speaker so Murray can hear.’
Ian repeated what he’d just said.
‘You have got to be kidding. What else have you found out?’ Murray asked.
‘Hang on a sec, give me chance to check this…’ His voice trailed away for a second. Natalie assumed he was typing. He returned with, ‘Gabrielle Cox married Gareth Jones in Manchester in 1976 and Brendon was born in 1978. He worked as a supervisor at a small logistics company until late 2012 when he began claiming sickness and unemployment benefits. He’s been out of work since.’
‘Any clue as to why he’s receiving medical assistance?’ Murray asked.
Natalie had read the files and took a guess at the answer. ‘During one of the interviews, it came to light that Brendon had been receiving treatment for depression following the death of his parents.’
Ian spoke again. ‘They were killed in a motorway accident in August 2012. The investigating team were concerned because Brendon not only lived on a narrowboat close to where Alisha had last been spotted but he’d been drinking heavily and had little recollection of the events of that day. He stood by his claim that he fell unconscious sometime late morning and didn’t see a soul. The team couldn’t prove otherwise and there was no forensic evidence on either his boat or his person that linked him to the girl.’
‘That’s right,’ Natalie said.
Murray dragged his eyes off the skip and said, ‘I wonder why he felt the need to move here after four years moored in Manchester.’
‘Maybe Mitchell knows,’ Ian replied.
‘We’ll talk to him. Does Brendon have any other family, Ian?’ Natalie asked.
‘Only Mitchell.’
‘What about Mitchell’s dad? What happened to him?’
Ian read aloud, ‘Craig Cox was a freelance reporter, one of those on board a DC-10 travelling from Brazzaville, in the Republic of the Congo, to Paris when it exploded and went down in Niger in 1989.’
Natalie recalled the tragic event. It had been in the newspapers and on television. It had been claimed the attack was the work of Libyan agents in retaliation for France’s support of Chad during the Chadian-Libyan conflict. Mitchell must have lost his father when he was a child.
Ian continued searching through databases, leaving Natalie and Murray discussing how best to use this new information.
Natalie ran through her thoughts. ‘Brendon wasn’t found guilty of Alisha Kumar’s murder but the police had serious doubts about his innocence at the time. Now we have three victims, we believe his narrowboat is in the area and the girls all visited Mitchell’s phone shop. This feels like we’re onto something at last. We need to establish if these two are close. Ian, do you have anything else on Mitchell?’
‘Yes… just looking at that info now. He was born in Salford in 1985.’
Murray’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. ‘What? He looks way older than thirty-three or thirty-four. I had him pegged as forty at least.’
Ian carried on. ‘His mother’s maiden name was Jenny Pullman. She married Craig Cox in 1983. Oh, there’s a brother – Andrew Cox, born 1992. No. He’s dead too. Mother and son both died in 2005.’
‘How did they die?’
‘Car accident.’
Natalie shook her head. Motor vehicle crashes accounted for a huge number of mortalities each year.
‘Mitchell worked in Manchester as a computer technician for a tech company from 2006 until February 2013, when he purchased the phone shop and flat in Watfield. Been there ever since. Hang on… The tech company was on the same trading estate as the logistics company where his cousin worked.’
‘So, Mitchell and his cousin worked near each other. Maybe they were chummy too. Ian, Mitchell had a girlfriend, Cosmina Balan. See if you can find out anything about her that might be useful. I understand she passed away shortly before he bought the shop,’ said Natalie.
‘Will do.’
She faced Murray. He spoke first. ‘Back to Mitchell?’
‘You got it.’
Duffy let out a soft groan when he saw Natalie and Murray for the second time that day and adopted a defensive pose, arms folded across his chest. His hair was styled and shining and he was dressed in a blue suit with skin-tight trousers and the same brown brogues he’d been wearing the day before. It seemed style was everything to Duffy.
‘We’d like a word with Mitchell.’
On cue, Mitchell appeared at the door behind the counter. ‘I saw you on the monitor screen.’
‘Could we speak upstairs, please?’ Natalie asked.
Mitchell nodded and disappeared from view. Natalie and Murray followed him to the flat, which smelt of melted cheese and toast. Steam rose from a mug on his table.
‘I’m sorry to disturb your lunch but some information’s come to light regarding Brendon Jones.’
Mitchell stiffened at the name.
‘We understand he’s your cousin.’
‘He is but I haven’t seen him in years.’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
He shrugged. ‘
Ten… twelve years. I couldn’t say.’
‘You’re not close, then?’
‘Not at all.’
‘You don’t keep in touch?’
‘Christmas cards… the odd phone call.’
‘Did you attend your uncle and aunt’s funerals in 2012?’
His face darkened momentarily. ‘Yes. I did.’
‘And did you see your cousin after that?’
‘Maybe once. I can’t remember. We really don’t have anything in common.’
‘But you both worked at companies on the same trading estate. I find it odd you wouldn’t have seen more of each other.’
Murray gave her a lengthy stare. ‘We don’t get along. Now, you’ve wasted enough of my time today. I think I’ve been more than helpful, on a number of occasions, and I’d like to be left alone to finish my lunch.’
‘You are aware your cousin was a suspect in a murder case, aren’t you?’
‘I have nothing further to say to you.’
‘Earlier, you wanted to help bring the person who’s murdered these girls to justice. It won’t hurt to answer my questions. You might hold a vital piece of information we need.’
‘I don’t. I haven’t spoken to Brendon in a very long time.’
Natalie tried one last time. ‘Have you set eyes on him at all since you moved here? I don’t need to stress how important it is that you tell us what you know.’
‘I’ve nothing to tell you. Now… leave me alone.’
Natalie squared up to him but backed off at the last minute. There might be a reason he’d become so defensive – he was hiding something. She marched outside, ignoring looks from passers-by as she threw open the squad car door. Murray got into the driver’s seat and commented, ‘That was a sudden change of attitude. Where did Mr Helpful disappear to?’
‘I think our phone shop owner just revealed his true colours.’ She pressed the button on the comms unit and spoke to Ian. ‘Pull out all the stops. I want everything on Mitchell Cox.’
‘Roger that. I’ve just established Brendon Jones doesn’t own Swinging Rose. He’s living on the boat but it’s registered to somebody else.’
‘Then who the hell owns it?’
‘Wait a minute…’
It was over a minute before Natalie realised she’d been holding her breath. The comms crackled and Ian said, ‘It was bought in 2011 by a woman – Cosmina Balan.’
Natalie thumped her thigh with her balled fist. ‘I knew he was keeping something back. That’s what he didn’t want us to know. Cosmina was Mitchell’s long-term girlfriend. When did she die?’ There was another pause as Ian hunted for the information.
‘March 2012.’
‘And who did the boat pass to after her death?’
‘I don’t know but there seem to be no named relatives. She was a Romanian refugee who came over to the UK in 2001 when she was eighteen. That’s all I have for the moment.’
‘That’ll do for now. Keep looking and let me know when you find something.’
‘Will do.’
She turned to Murray. ‘He’s involved in this somehow.’
‘Maybe they both are – him and Brendon.’
Natalie made a rapid decision. There was no more time to waste. Her daughter was still missing and a fast action might save her life. ‘We’ll tackle him about this. Now.’
Natalie grabbed her mobile and rang her superior for a warrant to search Mitchell’s premises. With assurances it was on its way, they got out of the car and headed to the phone shop. This time they weren’t coming away without answers.
Thirty
Friday, 20 April – Early Afternoon
Lucy dashed into the office. It was already 1.45 p.m. and she ought to get to the hospital to be with Bethany. She’d almost covered all the exit points along the canal from Samford to Watfield but had yet to try Watfield to Castergate.
‘What’s happening?’ she said, breathlessly.
Ian filled her in with the details he had. The news about Katy knocked her for six.
‘Oh, fucking hell! I really hoped Katy was going to be okay. What about Leigh?’
‘No news. I don’t know about you, but I think the killer’s taken her too.’ Ian stared at her with sunken eyes.
‘I bloody well hope not.’
‘Well, there was that article in the newspaper about Natalie. I think the killer might have read it. This person loves playing games and the attention they’re getting. What could be more attention-grabbing than kidnapping and then murdering the lead detective’s daughter?’ His concern was evident. Lucy chewed it over. There was a good chance that was the case. She made a quick decision then rushed upstairs to the roof terrace, where she rang Bethany.
‘Hey, look, I know how important today is but how much would you hate me if I said I couldn’t make it?’
‘I wouldn’t hate you. I’m guessing you aren’t going to make it.’
‘We just found a third victim. I’m needed, Beth.’
‘You found another girl?’
‘Yes, and Leigh still hasn’t returned home.’
‘Then you can’t leave the team. I’ll get a recording of the baby and we’ll watch it together.’
‘Thanks. I feel really bad about this.’
‘It’s okay. You care, Luce. That’s what’s important. You care. See you later.’
She pocketed the mobile with a heavy heart and an, ‘I’m sorry, Spud.’ She had to get back to the canal and track down the narrowboat. She couldn’t let anything happen to Leigh.
* * *
Natalie held up the warrant. Mitchell maintained a guarded look.
‘I don’t know why you feel the need to search here. I haven’t done anything.’
‘You failed to tell us about Swinging Rose.’
His shoulders drooped and he hung his head.
‘It would have been helpful to know it belonged to your girlfriend, Cosmina, and that after she passed away it fell into your hands. Given your cousin lives on board, I’m sure you’ve had occasion to speak to him since 2012. Where is the boat, Mitchell?’
He held up his hands, palms open. ‘Honestly? I don’t have a clue. Cosmina left the boat to me. She’d always wanted to live on a narrowboat. She fell in love with it the second she saw it and bought it with a little help from me. We were going to use it for holidays and weekends and travel the locks of the UK, but we didn’t. She became ill very soon after she bought it.’
His eyes had misted but he continued. ‘Have you ever lost somebody you felt was part of your very being? That’s how I felt about Cosmina. She and I were two halves of the same person, and after she died I was ripped apart, like some vital part of me had been sucked out. I couldn’t function properly, and the boat… it filled me with such unhappiness she couldn’t be there. I can’t explain it any more than that. It was painful to go on board. Brendon’s always had mental health issues but after his parents died, they became worse. He lost his job and started drinking heavily. He spiralled into debt and couldn’t afford the rent on his flat. At the same time, I’d decided to jack in my job, move from Manchester and try to start afresh. I’d bought this place and had no use for the boat. He came to see me before I left, begged me to take him with him but that was the last thing I wanted to do, so instead, I let him live on the boat, free of charge.’
‘I asked you before when you last saw him. I’m asking again now – when did you last see your cousin?’
Mitchell drew himself up to his full height and said, ‘At his parents’ funeral and once afterwards.’
‘Were you aware he was questioned by police in 2014 over the disappearance and subsequent death of a teenage girl.’
‘I wasn’t.’ He scratched casually at his neck.
‘He didn’t contact you at the time?’
‘Why would he?’
‘Because he was probably anxious, had few people to turn to and you were his only relative.’
Mitchell snorted. ‘I’d already been generous enough
. He’s a difficult man – an unstable drunk who doesn’t want to face up to the real world. I suffered painful losses too but I didn’t drown myself in self-pity and turn to drink and drugs. By gifting him Cosmina’s boat, I gave him a golden opportunity to sort himself out and still he made no effort whatsoever. I visited him a few weeks after he’d moved in and the place was a pit – a stinking mess that made my stomach turn. He’d violated everything I loved. I told him he’d have to sort himself out or I’d evict him, and you know what the ungrateful git did? He attacked me. Went for me like a crazed animal, got me by the throat and said if I tried to make him homeless, he’d kill me.’
‘Yet you still let him live there. You could have involved the police and had him moved out.’
‘It wasn’t worth the effort.’
‘But he’s living on a boat that your girlfriend owned. It isn’t his. I’m sorry but I find this very hard to believe. Why would you allow a man you despise or have no contact with to stay on somewhere so filled with memories of her?’
‘I was also at a low point in my life. Grief makes you behave in bizarre ways, which is why I decided on the spur of the moment to let him live there. Arguably not the best decision I’ve made but one I made nevertheless and that is the truth.’
While Natalie was questioning him, a stony-faced Murray searched the flat. Mitchell’s story sounded plausible and his mannerisms and facial expressions appeared genuine, yet Natalie wasn’t giving up. Brendon could be their killer, but if he was, why had he moved to Watfield? There were two possibilities: Mitchell was working with his cousin to kill the girls, or Brendon was trying to make it seem as if Mitchell was the murderer – some peculiar vendetta on his part.
‘You haven’t made any further attempts to have him removed from the boat?’
‘I should do. Maybe I will now this has happened. I’m mentally stronger than I was back then.’
Natalie still couldn’t accept what was being said even though her own personal experiences with Frances had proved that relatives could come to despise one another. Facts. She needed facts. Someone had dropped Katy’s body into the skip near her home off Church Street earlier today. A pulse quickened in her neck.