Dark Water: A gripping serial killer thriller

by Robert Bryndza

  ‘I didn’t want to talk shop tonight, but there’s something that’s come back on the bone marrow sample I took from Jessica Collins,’ he said.

  Erika put down her glass and her face became serious, ‘What?’

  He opened the oven and pulled out the tray of roasting potatoes, steam billowed out to the ceiling, ’There were very high levels of a chemical compound called Tetraethyllead present in the sample I took from her right fibia.’ He expertly started to turn the potatoes in the oil between two dessert spoons.

  ‘Say that again?’

  ‘Tetraethyllead. It’s an organic lead compound, and the ingredient which was added to petrol to improve performance. It’s now illegal and it’s been phased out of petrol since 1992.’

  ‘When petrol became unleaded,’ finished Erika.

  ‘I’m sorry. I know you never get the chance to switch off, but I thought you would want to know,’ he said putting the potatoes back in and closing the oven door. He came over to the table and sat topping up her glass.

  ‘Why would so much be showing up in her bones?’

  ‘Obviously I haven’t had any tissue or blood samples to work with, but the conditions in which the body was wrapped and left at the bottom of the lake has preserved the bones.’

  ‘She was a healthy young girl and she was eating well, and from what I’ve read she was a well cared for child.’

  ‘These levels indicate she could have potentially been exposed to high levels of lead petrol before she died, or that it contributed to her death.’

  ‘Which puts more credence to my theory that she was abducted, and kept in captivity for a period of weeks before her body was dumped in the quarry… It could have been fumes that she was exposed to?’ finished Erika.

  ‘That’s up to you to find out.’

  ‘I hate it when you say that.’

  ‘Always a pleasure to help,’ he grinned wryly. She took a long drink, placed it down and traced her finger over the condensation clinging to the glass.

  ‘What kind of state is a body in after being buried for twenty-six years?’

  ‘Buried how?’

  ‘In a grave, conventionally, in a coffin.’

  ‘It depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘The type of casket, conditions of burial. Sometimes we can see corpses in surprisingly good condition after many years underground. Mahogany lead-lined caskets often slow progress of decay. The cheaper coffins will erode away, leaving the body at the mercy of the earth and the organisms. Why? Are you thinking of digging someone up?’

  He got up and went to the counter bringing back a bowl of roasted almonds.

  ‘I don’t know. Possibly. I’d have to justify it, obviously. I’d be looking to prove the cause of death.’ Erika took a handful and popped them in her mouth savouring the crunch and the sea salt.

  ‘Wasn’t the cause of death proved?’

  ‘It was, but this is a slippery case. I think it was wrongly identified as suicide. I have a suspect who died twenty-six years ago… his cause of death was down as suicide, but his sister says it was a surprise that he took his own life.’

  ‘If it involved poison or broken bones, then traces can remain, but after twenty-six years you’d be risking upsetting family members for no reason.’

  ‘He hung himself, that was the documented cause of death.’

  ‘Okay, well there’s not going to be much to go on for that after all this time. There wouldn’t be much left of internal organs. If the neck was broken I would still be able to see that.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Just remember that exhuming anyone, especially after all this time needs to be justified in court, not just on a hunch… And on a completely different matter, are you eating dessert?’

  ‘I always eat dessert. That;s the only thing I’m sure of right now,’ she laughed.

  ‘Good, I made these little molten chocolate puddings, and I’ve been dieting all week,’ he said.

  29

  Erika took the stairs two at a time up to the top floor at Bromley Cross. She clutched a bulging file of notes, and checked for the fifth time that she had everything in order.

  It was early afternoon on Monday morning. It was now more than two weeks since Jessica Collins had been discovered, and she now had to go into a major briefing and give a progress report.

  As she came through the double doors and into the corridor, she met Superintendent Yale carrying his Who’s The Boss? mug.

  ‘Erika, you’re looking smart,’ he said taking in her black suit. ‘The cavalry are waiting; Commander Marsh, Assistant Commissioner Brace-Cosworthy and the media liaison with the twitchy eyes…’

  ‘… Colleen Scanlan. I’m sorry they’ve thrown you out of your office, sir, but Commander Marsh only called to say they were coming an hour ago, to say the Assistant Commissioner wanted to be briefed.’

  ‘Not too hot here is it? You’ve got sweat on your top lip,’ he said. She wiped it away and went to move past him, ‘Jason Tyler’s henchmen are being rounded up this afternoon. We leaned on him hard. Threatened to take the kids off his wife. He’s given us intel on six of his associates, plus access to the Paypal accounts they’ve been using. Looks like we’re going to clean up!’

  ‘Congratulations, sir. That’s great to hear. Let’s catch up later. Now please excuse me, I must go,’ she said hurrying away. He watched as she disappeared through the double doors,

  ‘Catch up later, eh? You could have stayed on the case you know, taken all the glory. This could have earned you a promotion too,’ he muttered ruefully. He took a gulp of his tea and started down the stairs.

  * * *

  Erika knocked on the office door and went in. The Assistant Commissioner sat behind Yale’s desk, in her crisp white shirt. Her blond shoulder length hair sleek, and parted to the left and away from her high forehead. Her pale face was lined and she wore bright red lipstick, so thick and red that Erika imagined if she was thrown against the wall, her lips would stick. Marsh perched on a low table to the left, his eyes were tired and his shirt was creased. Erika figured that he was still estranged from Marcie. Colleen Scanlan the MET’s Media Liaison officer sat to the right, her notes balanced on a sliver of desk. Her eyes flitted between Erika, Marsh and Camilla. She wore a grey sensible suit, and had recently succumbed to a brutally short haircut, as did many women in their fifties. It stuck up in brown tufts.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ said Erika.

  ‘Do take a seat, DCI Foster. I’ve used this lull in the proceedings to let my coffee cool. It was scalding, don’t you agree Paul?’ she picked up a white takeaway cup and took a sip, leaving a pair of bright red lips on the rim.

  ‘Yes, they do a good cup of coffee in the train station,’ said Marsh.

  ‘Yes, It’s a revelation,’ she agreed. Erika could never tell if Camilla was being sarcastic or making conversation. Colleen cautiously took a sip of her takeaway coffee and nodded her agreement.

  ‘Do sit down,’ said Camilla indicating the chair in front of the desk. ‘Do you have a working list of suspects for me?’ she added holding out a manicured hand, her long red nails waggling in anticipation.

  ‘I’d like to discuss that first before I commit any suspects to paper,’ said Erika sitting.

  ‘Oh,’ said Camilla. ‘You’d like us to do your job for you then?’

  ‘That’s not what I’m saying.’

  ‘What are you saying? And please hurry up and say it, we all have other meetings this afternoon.’ She had a habit of drenching everything she said with a synthetic politeness, and it put Erika off her stride.

  ‘In the short tine I have had with this case, I’ve identified a possible suspect. Robert Jennings, a loner who was squatting in a cottage opposite the Hayes quarry.’

  ‘This is good news. Why don’t you want to commit him to paper?’

  ‘We have a problem.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘He’s dead. Robert Hooley was fifty-three years old
. He died twenty-six years ago, three months after Jessica went missing. He hung himself in the small cottage opposite Hayes Quarry.’

  ‘And you think he was consumed by guilt?’

  ‘Possibly. I also suspect foul play, which is my conflict in making him a suspect.’ Erika went on to tell them what Rosemary Holley had said about his suicide, she also told them of Isaac finding high levels of Tetraethyllead in bone marrow extracted from Jessica’s remains.

  ‘I’ve only made the link to Robert Jennings now we know Jessica was dumped in the quarry. He could have kept Jessica Captive in the cottage opposite. It’s an isolated spot. However, he had no history of violent behaviour, no record, but he was known as the village oddball. He could have also witnessed something, and his death was staged to look like suicide.’

  Erika pulled out a photo of Robert Jennings

  ‘Village oddball,’ repeated Camilla, taking it and popping her glasses on. The thin gold chain swayed as she examined it. In the photo, he had a florid gnomic face, his large nose was bright red and he had a mass of greying dark hair.

  ‘What about Trevor Marksman?’ asked Camilla looking up at Erika.

  ‘He has an alibi. And he wouldn’t have been able to keep Jessica captive without help. We have no evidence he did.’ Erika went on to detail her meeting with Marksman and that she was trying to find the video tape evidence seized from his camcorder.

  ‘Could these two have been working together?’ asked Marsh taking the photo from Camilla.

  ‘It’s possible, Marksman mentioned that he saw Robert Jennings working locally as a gardener, even got him on one of his videos made at the park. I’d like to take a team out and look at the cottage, get forensics in there to pull it apart. I’ve looked at the plans and there is a cellar. We never know, there could be some freak occurrence and Jessica Collins DNA could be present. If that happened then we could put forward to have Robert Jennings body exhumed, again in the hope that there is a trace of something. Both are long shots.’

  ‘Ok… What about the usual suspects? Collins family members; The father? Any brothers? Other males?’ asked Camilla.

  ‘Jessica’s brother Toby was four when she was abducted. Her father has an alibi for when she was taken. He’s always co-operated, and again he was under surveillance along with Marianne Collins.

  Camilla sifted through the paperwork Erika had laid out as she was talking, picking up a photo of Martin Collins. She cocked her head at it,

  ‘There’s something quite Jason Statham-ish about him… What do you think, Colleen?’ Colleen looked up from scribbling her notes, and got confused as to how she was meant to reply. ‘I don’t know who Jason Statham is…’

  Camilla peered at her over the top of her glasses, ‘Are you serious? You work in the media and you’ve not seen the The Transporter?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Transporter 2 or 3?’ Colleen shook her head, a little panicked. Erika glanced over and saw Marsh suppress a smile.

  ‘A night in with a Jason Statham DVD always cures me of the blues… He’s quite the charmer, Martin Collins… I can almost see how DCI Baker succumbed to his charms. Almost. Do some subtle digging. Look at what he’s been up to in the last few years. Who he’s associated with. He came over to the UK in 1986 as a contract builder working at Canary Wharf. Let’s check he didn’t get involved in anything too dodgy.’

  Erika went on the explain that Oscar Browne was now working as representative for the family.

  ‘Very good.’

  ‘And one more thing, it’s come from the toxicology on Jessica Collins remains. There were unusually high concentrations of a chemical called Tetraethyllead in the samples of bone marrow. It’s an organic lead compound…’

  ‘It was added to petrol to improve performance, making it leaded,’ finished Camilla.

  ‘Yes, Ma’am. I speculate that Jessica could have been kept captive in the cottage and exposed to petrol fumes. As well as searching the cottage and cellar, we’ll be looking into if there was a power supply at the house or if a petrol generator was used.’

  The office was quiet for a moment as they absorbed this.

  ‘Good work, Erika, but you need to keep pushing forward with this. Keep your investigation pacey.’

  ‘Very good ma’am.’

  ‘Okay, Colleen. Apart from not knowing who Jason Statham is, what can you say to all this?’

  Colleen sat up, looking flustered. ‘I’d like to move for a press conference with the family in the next few days. Make a fresh appeal for any historical information. People’s memories may be jogged.’

  ‘Erika, if that lost video footage could be found in time, it could be something valuable to add to the appeal,’ said Camilla.

  ‘I’ll do my best, ma’am,’ said Erika.

  ‘Colleen can you make do with Commander Marsh for the appeal? I’ll be away fro the next few days. Perhaps he can give his shirt an iron before he goes on camera.’

  Marsh looked down and smoothed at his shirt.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Colleen. ‘I was planning on using the whole Collins family.’

  ‘Very good. Unity and family values, always play well. I’ll be away, but I’ll be watching.’

  * * *

  When the meeting had finished, Erika walked with Marsh back down to the underground car park. They chatted for a moment and then she was shocked to see Camilla emerge from the lift wearing full motorbike leathers and carrying her briefcase. She moved to a gleaming sliver and black Yamaha motorbike, slipped her briefcase into a carrier at the back and pulled on a black and sliver helmet and a pair of thick gloves. She flipped up the visor, and swung her leg over.

  ‘Beats the traffic every time,’ she shouted as the engine roared to life. With a wave she sped off past them and down the ramp to the slip road.

  ‘She didn’t offer you to ride pillion,’ said Erika.

  ‘Very funny. Riding pillion would be a promotion… She’s quite a character,’ he said.

  ‘There’s something quite predatory about her. I can imagine her organising those swinger parties where everyone throws their keys in a fruit bowl in the middle of the carpet.’

  ‘She’s married to a high court judge,’ said Marsh unlocking his car and opening the door.

  ‘Then they’re the ones who probably throw the parties.’

  ‘Get the job done. She doesn’t mess about, Erika.’

  ‘Yes, Sir. I’ll be in touch about the house search, and next time, iron your shirt.’

  He rolled his eyes and got into his car, making a far less impressive exit from the car park.

  30

  Early the next morning Erika travelled to Hayes Quarry with an expanded team, including forensics and uniform officers in a convoy of police vans. They parked close to where Erika had been with the Marine Recovery Unit almost three weeks previously. It was a freezing day, and everyone was rugged up in winter gear. Police tape was put up, closing off a large square of grass approaching the quarry, and its perimeter, including the swathe of overgrown land around the cottage.

  The first part of the morning was spent clearing away undergrowth and brambles. Council gardeners set to work with uniform officers and the air was filled with the high-pitched whine of strimmers. Erika waited impatiently outside one of the large support vans with Moss and Peterson. Her phone rang, but it cut out as soon as she pulled it from her pocket.

  ‘That’s the third call like that this morning, a withheld number,’ she said irritably peering at the screen.

  ‘Marketing bastards, I bet,’ said Moss. ‘I had a spate of getting them every evening when I sat down for dinner. It drove Celia mad.’

  ‘I’ve had them too,’ said Peterson blowing into his cupped hands with a stream of vapour.

  ’Just calls or text messages too?’ asked Erika. ‘I had a blank text delivered at four thirty. Again a withheld number.’

  ‘I’ve never had a text message from a withheld number,’ said Peterson.

  ‘Yeah
all your hotline bling girls leave sultry voicemails,’ grinned Moss.

  ‘Piss off,’ he laughed.

  DI Crawford approached them with a tray of tea, and they went quiet.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Erika as they all took a plastic cup.

  ‘All very exciting,’ he said pulling a silly face. ‘I was here the first time we searched the quarry, in 1990,’ he blew out his cheeks theatrically and tipped his head toward the waters edge. ‘Makes you realise how fast your life goes.’

  ‘How old are you?’ asked Moss.

  ‘Forty-seven in the new year,’ he said.

  ‘What about the Cottage? Can you remember it being involved in the search?’ asked Erika.

  ‘It was searched, I remember that. But they found nothing, I think they thought it was abandoned.’

  ‘But Robert Jennings was squatting there,’ said Peterson blowing on his tea.

  ‘Often with squatters you don’t know they’re there. They live in squalor, don’t they? Hence the term squatter,’ He rolled his eyes for Moss’s benefit, and went off with the tea tray.

  Erika’s phone rang again and she saw it was the same withheld number. She let it ring out and then stuffed it in her pocket. Moments later it buzzed to say she had a voicemail.

  ‘What do you think of him?’ she said.

  ‘He irritates me,’ said Peterson.

  ‘Makes me feel like I’ve got an extra tit,’ added Moss. ‘He’s always in front of me, asking questions, poking his nose in.’

  ‘It’s his job to ask questions and poke his nose in,’ said Erika.

  ‘But he never seems to be actively pursuing anything,’ said Peterson.

  ‘He’s got this annoying way of making jokes, always there with a stupid chirpy little know-it-all comment,’ added Moss. ‘I know it’s harsh.’

  ‘Yes, there’s something about him,’ said Erika. She didn’t mention about him coming back to the station on Saturday. There was a nigh pitched buzz and the sound of wood cracking, and a large lump of the undergrowth fell away exposing half of the cottage. They turned and watched as more bunches of dead vines were pulled away.