‘Tell Doreen I was asking for her. Nice woman that. Getting on a bit, though, but she must still have it, eh Councillor?’
Sullivan gunned his engine, and the silver Mercedes roared from its space toward the exit. He watched it go, and when he turned to head in the opposite direction he saw Doreen Leitch watching him from the top of the steps leading into the building. He waved, but it was not returned, and with a shrug of his shoulders he set off with his earnings.
Chapter 34
Tara
Next morning, having had the best night’s sleep in a while thanks to a cocktail, several glasses of wine – although no one was counting – and a good laugh with her mates, Tara strolled almost carefree into the office. Wilson and Murray were both eager to see her. She hadn’t sat down at her desk before the pair of them closed in.
‘You two are keen. Anything new?’ Wilson was about to let Murray, his superior, speak first when Murray nudged him forward.
‘You first, John.’
Wilson proceeded to place a bundle of files on the desk in front of Tara.
‘I picked up a few more common threads between the girls who’ve disappeared,’ he said.
‘Let’s hear them.’
‘I went through the police case notes for each girl. Took a long time because they’re from seven different police authorities around the country. What I mean is there is a different emphasis from one case to another. Some concentrate on the girl’s background as the main reason for the disappearance, a couple attempt to establish the last place a girl was seen before disappearing, some on the time of day, the weather and it goes on, but no one, I think, has brought all these files together in one place before. No one, other than Lawler, tried to establish connections or common factors between each one.’
‘We realise that, John. If it hadn’t been for our investigation of Lawler’s murder we wouldn’t be doing this either.’
‘Of course, mam, it’s just my way of explaining that there are several common factors running through these cases. It isn’t simply a matter that the girls have never been traced. It’s got more to do with how they disappeared.’ Wilson opened several of the buff folders in front of Tara.
‘These are a couple of files I’ve chosen at random. One girl comes from Glasgow, one from Manchester.’ He began indicating the relevant notes in the file on each girl. ‘See here, the girl in Glasgow; investigations by Strathclyde Police suggest she disappeared from a lay-by in a narrow street in the city’s west end. Probably late at night, after 10pm. No CCTV in the immediate vicinity, no apparent witnesses. Same thing in Manchester; girl last seen about 9pm, leaving work at a city centre store. Doesn’t make it as far as her regular bus stop where there is CCTV. Probably taken before that. Exactly the same in every case, no matter the region of the country. Girl disappears in dark city-centre street or quiet residential area. No CCTV recordings for any of the girls. No personal belongings retrieved from the possible site of abduction. You’d think one of them would have lost a shoe, a handbag, shopping – nothing. All very tidy. And in every case, in every police investigation, beyond the initial inquiries there have never been viable suspects identified; no scene identified, no mobile phone messages sent by any of the girls.’
‘Has to be the work of one person,’ said Murray. ‘Too much of a coincidence.’
‘And that’s why Lawler selected them,’ said Tara. ‘Because he worked out the connections. I wonder about the girls we haven’t identified?’
‘Could be a few too many. Maybe Lawler realised they didn’t fit the pattern,’ said Wilson.
‘What have you got, Alan?’
‘Well, if this is true’ – he waved a folder before them – ‘it probably eliminates Lawler as a suspect in these disappearances. This has happened since Lawler’s death.’ He tossed the file on top of those Wilson had displayed.
‘Two recent missing girl cases. You probably heard about them on the news. Both down in London; one is an actress the other is the daughter of the Duke of Berkley.’
‘Same pattern?’ Tara asked.
Murray grimaced slightly.
‘Not quite. The girls disappeared within 24 hours of each other. The Duke’s daughter, Tamsin, it is believed did not return to her flat in Holland Park after her day’s work. Nothing found on CCTV after she left the Underground station half a mile from her home. The situation for the actress is a bit different. Disappeared in broad daylight from outside her gym. Her car had been abandoned and witnesses report seeing a man driving a white van stop to help the girl change a flat tyre. Again no CCTV in the area.’
‘So this girl’s disappearance doesn’t fit the pattern,’ said Wilson. Tara, who had been browsing the file, leaned back in her chair and looked up at her colleagues.
‘Interesting work, but it hasn’t got us any closer to the killer of Terry Lawler. All it has done is remove him as a suspect for these girls going missing.’
‘But what if Lawler actually identified the man responsible for taking all these girls?’ said Murray. ‘The killer realises he’s been sussed out and decides to eliminate Lawler?’
‘I don’t disagree that it’s possible, Alan,’ said Tara. ‘But we are no closer to identifying him if he is the killer.’
‘We’ll have to go through Lawler’s papers again. If he identified the killer, his name must be there.’
Her beleaguered colleagues returned to their desks on the far side of the office. Tara, before she had a second chance to tackle her work, was interrupted by her phone signalling a text. She opened the message:
‘Have you phoned him yet?’
It was Aisling, impatient as ever. Obviously with nothing more important to occupy her morning than to wind up her friend.
‘Not yet’ Tara responded.
She’d only just managed to read one email on her computer when her phone went again:
‘Don’t you dare chicken out, Tara.’
She could become embroiled in some mudslinging with Aisling by suggesting that she should call James instead and arrange to go out with him, or else she could ignore her friend and get on with her work. Of course, it wasn’t long before Kate, probably goaded by Aisling, was sending texts on the same subject. Tara smiled as she replied with the same answer she gave Aisling, amused that she’d evoked similar pleadings in Kate. Beyond the single reply, she refused to indulge either one further in the matter, although somewhere in her subconscious she felt that she was actually toying with the idea of calling this man. Before falling into a sleep the night before, she’d been determined not to pursue the matter. This morning, she wondered if it was worth giving him a try. One date wouldn’t hurt, and at least it would get Kate and Aisling off her back.
When she’d dealt with her mundane stream of emails, she turned her attention to some research on the subject of Councillor Doreen Leitch. Reading from the Council’s website, she learned that Leitch had been a councillor for more than 15 years, had served on numerous committees including the Select Committee on Housing, and the Finance and Resources Select Committee. She had also served on scrutiny panels for Neighbourhood and for Shadow Health and Wellbeing. What stood out most, however, was that Leitch had been a member of the Planning Committee and a former secretary of the Environment Regulatory Committee. Tara wondered then if she had connections in the past with Evan Blackley and thought it might be a rather convenient arrangement arising from her current clandestine relationship with Matt Sullivan. She came across several press releases in relation to Leitch’s involvement in various neighbourhood schemes in the city, one concerning drinking alcohol in public, another on neighbourhood watch and one reporting her close involvement with a city-centre drop-in facility for drug abuse.
On the face of it Doreen Leitch was a hard-working elected official, keen on social issues and, whether intentional or otherwise, on getting her name in the papers. As Tara had already learned, several local journalists had tipped her as a possible candidate for Westminster in the next general electio
n. Obviously any journalist who outed this dedicated councillor, lay preacher, affectionate wife and devoted mother as an adulteress and perhaps a corrupt public figure would be destroying a parliamentary career in the making. Motive indeed for killing Terry Lawler.
Tara called Murray to her desk.
‘I want you to take a look through the libel case on Sullivan versus Lawler.’
‘Am I looking for anything in particular?’
‘Yes, see if Doreen Leitch gets a mention.’
Chapter 35
Guy
I was actually wheeling a trolley with a stiff on board from a ward down to the mortuary when my phoned vibrated in my pocket. It was her. Could hardly believe it. When she refused to give me her number, and asked for mine instead, I thought I was already dumped. She was never going to call me. Thought I’d blown it. I’d already decided that I was going to snatch her somewhere when the time was right. And then she calls me. She sounded nervous, unsure of herself. I hadn’t found her to be like that when we met.
‘Hi, James,’ she said. ‘I bet you thought I wouldn’t call?’
‘I thought that it was your way of saying no when you didn’t give me your number.’
‘I’m a police officer remember? Can’t afford too many private calls when I’m working.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘Anyway, I was thinking that maybe we could meet for a drink?’
‘Sounds good,’ I said. ‘I’d love to see you again. When are you free?’
‘How about this evening, about 7pm? Same place as last time?’
‘Great. I’ll see you there.’
Could hardly believe it. A woman, a fabulous looking woman asking me out. There’s hope for true love yet, I thought, patting the sadly departed on the head as I entered the lift.
Felt like my first ever date. My tummy jingling, my head racing, wondering exactly how to play it. Doubts creeping in, thinking that she was already on to me. That Lawler had suspected me before he snuffed it, and I was about to be trapped. But just as quickly the doubts were swamped by my lurid thoughts of what I could do with that baby face, the sexy pout and trim little body, and this time it would all be legal and consensual.
When I finished my shift, I hurried back to my flat, took a quick dip in the bath, ironed my best shirt and trousers and was back in the city centre in good time to get to the bar ready and waiting for Tara. I had a sneaking suspicion that I’d be waiting a long time, if she even turned up at all.
The bar was busy as usual. I pulled open the door and stepped inside, glancing around for a free table. Instead, I saw her. Surprise, surprise. What an eager lady. Then I saw the man sitting opposite her. What the hell was this? I could have turned around and walked out, but for some reason I moved toward them. See? All my good rules, years of experience going to waste for the sake of a pretty cop in a skirt.
Suddenly she glanced in my direction and smiled. Then she turned to her companion and said something. The big bloke was up from his seat and heading straight for me. I clenched my fists. I wasn’t for giving in that easy. I’d hit the bastard and make a run for it. He was a big guy, broad shoulders, fat neck and large protruding eyes which seemed full of laughter or ridicule. I stopped, waiting for his approach, Tara looking on. First sign of him trying anything and I would thump him. A girl stepped between us, and when she’d passed he was only 2ft from me. At least an inch taller, studying my face, he smirked and walked on by. I dropped my guard with relief. I was sure he was a peeler and if he worked with Tara I was quite certain he would remember me. Already I was past the point of no return. All my good sense had deserted me.
Tara watched my approach. Her hair was once again blonde, falling just below her shoulders. She wore a black jacket over a blue and white top in a swirling pattern, a short black and blue checked skirt and tights, and black shiny heels. Difficult to tell if she was dressed for work or dressed for a date.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘You’re early.’
Chapter 36
Tara
‘So are you,’ he replied.
‘Came straight from work.’
‘And the fella?’
‘Colleague. We took the opportunity to discuss some casework over a drink.’
She couldn’t help feeling attracted to this man. Dark wavy hair, eyes just as dark, but she viewed them as sparkling pools. His skin seemed tanned and healthy, his nose thin and tapering to a point. Cheeky, if she had to describe him in a word. Cheeky and smart, a Liverpool lad but for the accent. Full of mischief, yet irresistible. He seemed at ease in a striped shirt, open at the neck, a navy sports jacket and faded blue jeans. Looked fit, too. Only one thing haunted her, made her feel uneasy. That Belfast accent cut through with Scouse. She’d experienced that before. Callum, dead 18 months, his and her child still-born ten months ago. Why had she set herself up for this?
This man, James, she had yet to learn his last name, ordered drinks for both of them and sat down on a low stool directly opposite, peering intently into her eyes. She matched his stare for a moment or two. She smelled the spice from his aftershave and felt his minted breath wafting on her face. His skin was smooth and he was clean shaven, but there was sweat appearing on his cheeks. If he hadn’t behaved so confidently, she’d swear he was nervous. Nervous of her? He smiled and finally pulled away. Round one to her.
‘And how was work?’ he asked.
‘Busy, frustrating and tiring.’ He leaned toward her for a second attempt.
‘Talk to me, tell what you did.’
‘You really want to know about my day?’
‘Bound to be a cut above mine.’
‘You think so?’
‘I do surely. For instance, when you called me this afternoon I was wheeling a dead body down to the morgue. Now you can hardly call that a rewarding experience.’ He clinked his pint glass to hers and they both drank.
‘My day was spent trawling through files and papers looking for something that might help me with my present case. On top of that I had to deal with texts from my two girlfriends who were goading me into calling you.’
‘Glad to see you took their advice.’
‘Aisling doesn’t let things go without a fight. She’d be on at me for weeks if I hadn’t called you.’
‘Is that the only reason you did it?’
She smiled coyly, feeling herself blush.
‘Might be.’
‘So tell me about this case you’re working on?’
‘Can’t do that, I’m afraid.’
‘Must be something exciting then?’ She smiled weakly but didn’t respond. ‘A robbery? A murder? I know, a serial killer?’
She wasn’t to be drawn.
‘You have an active imagination. Why don’t we start by you telling me what you get up to?’
‘Sounds like the sort of question a police detective would ask.’
‘I thought you were interested in police work.’
‘Okay, you win. I work at the Royal as a porter, but you already know that.’
‘What do you do when you’re not working? And don’t say you hang around in bars trying to pick up women.’
He laughed and took another drink of his beer.
‘Shift work doesn’t allow for much except sleeping and watching telly.’
‘And where do you watch telly?’
‘Home.’ She cocked her head suggesting he should elaborate. ‘I live alone. A flat in Toxteth.’ She held her gaze on him, didn’t speak knowing that he was the type to fill the silence. ‘Not married, never have been. Not gay either, in case you’re wondering.’ He leaned close until only an inch separated them. ‘Now it’s your turn.’
She wouldn’t have minded if he’d kissed her then, but she moved back anyway; didn’t want to give the impression she was a push-over.
‘I’m single, a police officer, and I have a flat in Wapping Dock.’
‘How long have you been a peeler?’
It was the accent again, and the Bel
fast way of referring to the police as peelers. She felt uncomfortable. A nice looking fella and yet she could hardly bare to hear him speak.
‘Seven years.’
‘Put many crooks away?’
‘A few. I see we’re back to my job again? Here’s one for you. How did a man from Belfast end up on Merseyside?’
‘Merseyside? Only a peeler would call it that. There are loads of Paddies in Liverpool. Isn’t that what we are?’ With a wry smile he stood and went to the bar.
It had begun to feel like a tennis match, hitting a ball back and forth, trying to set up a winning stroke, trying to score points from each other. This was no romantic encounter. She didn’t know what it was.
When he returned with the drinks, thankfully for Tara, the conversation developed beyond their lives into discussion on city nightlife, movies, holidays, and for a time the competition between them ebbed away. She found herself talking about Aisling and Kate, about the things the three of them got up to, now and years ago at school. He didn’t say much, seemed more content to listen and to feed her the questions. By the time she managed a third glass of wine, following the first pint of beer, he caught her glancing at her watch.
‘Do you have to be somewhere?’
‘No, but it’s late. I’ve an early start in the morning.’
‘I can drive you home, if you like?’
‘That would be a no for two reasons. Firstly, I can get a taxi, and secondly you’ve had too much to drink and should not be driving anywhere.’
‘Here’s me suggesting I drink and drive to a peeler. At least let me wait with you until your taxi arrives?’
She didn’t refuse, rose from her seat and gathered her jacket and bag.
‘Thanks for the drinks,’ she said.
‘No problem. I enjoyed our wee chat.’
He followed her outside where the cool air refreshed them after the heady atmosphere of the crowded bar.
Lethal Dose; Lethal Justice; Lethal Mind Page 14