THE WEST LONDON MURDERS an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detective Rob Miller Mysteries Book 2)

by BIBA PEARCE

  Rob shook his head, struggling to get to grips with this new angle.

  Tony gave him a moment to let it sink in. “It’s hard to picture a woman as a violent killer because they’re viewed as nurturers and homemakers,” he said softly, “but women can be as violent as men. They’re known as the ‘quiet killers’ for just that reason, because they often slip under the radar.”

  “Quiet killers?” There wasn’t anything quiet about these murders.

  “They often target family, children in their care or people with whom they already have a relationship,” he said. “And like I mentioned before, their methods are less showy — for example, they don’t mutilate their victims’ bodies and there isn’t normally any sign of sexual abuse.”

  “Our victims weren’t family members or people in their care,” Rob said.

  “But you can bet they had an existing relationship with the murderer.”

  Did they? Rob wasn’t sure. “We know the victims let the killer in, but we’re not sure whether they knew him — or her — personally.”

  “It might be who they represent that your killer is familiar with.” Tony’s gaze dropped to the case notes.

  “You mean like a drug dealer?”

  Tony nodded. “Yes, or someone who is abusive towards women, or who neglects their wife or partner — a cheating husband, for example.”

  Rob exhaled slowly. “Are—are you saying that the murderer is going after a type? That we could have a serial killer on our hands?” Oh boy, the Superintendent was going to love this.

  Tony flipped over the page. “It’s too soon to say. You’ve had two very similar murders, but technically a serial killer is only termed as such after three or more victims are found with the same signature or MO.”

  A cold feeling dropped down the centre of Rob’s body, like he’d swallowed a stone. “In that case, we have to wait until he — sorry, she — kills again.”

  Tony met his gaze. “I’m afraid so.”

  * * *

  “If it happens again, at least we’ll know it can’t be Asir Ahmed,” said Rob optimistically. He was sitting in Lawrence’s office across the desk from his stony-faced boss.

  “Is Tony absolutely sure about this?” Lawrence growled.

  Rob shrugged. Criminal profiling was to him a mixture of common sense and calculated guesses, but he couldn’t be too critical — he’d seen Tony in action. “He’s about as sure as he can be at this stage. Obviously, it’s not an exact science.”

  Lawrence sighed. “So, we’re looking for a female knife-wielding serial killer.”

  “Yes, someone who’s hell-bent on revenge.”

  The Superintendent leaned forward across his desk. “Revenge?”

  Rob had talked to Tony for most of the morning, analysing every aspect of the case. By the end of their discussion, he, too, was convinced they were looking for a woman. The ease at which she’d gained her victims’ trust and been able to take them by surprise, the meticulous manner in which she’d planned the attacks, the way in which she’d cleaned the murder weapon and removed blood-spattered clothing, all spoke of a cunning female mind. The only thing uncontrolled was the murderous act itself. Stabbing was violent and messy, and the killer must have had a strong motive for causing that much pain, for succumbing to that level of anger.

  “Yes, because the attacks are so violent. Tony feels it’s the only thing that can generate that level of rage.”

  “Do we have any idea who this person is? If it’s not Asir Ahmed, that is.”

  “I’ll question Asir as soon as I’m allowed to.” Rob gave his boss a pointed look. “But until then, I think we should continue with this line of enquiry.”

  “Any leads?”

  Rob hesitated. “Not as such. We’re looking at vehicles that turned into Yousef’s road the afternoon of his death and we’re narrowing it down slowly, but it’s going to take time. We’re also waiting on lab results from the second crime scene and the post-mortem is due to take place this afternoon.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  Rob returned to his desk. Jo hadn’t made an appearance today, but that was to be expected. After the NCA’s big bust over the weekend, she would have had her hands full questioning suspects and following up evidence. He felt a little sad that he wouldn’t be seeing her around anymore and realized it was because he missed her. Shaking the feeling off, he went outside to call Yvette.

  Chapter 13

  Dennis’s wife, Michelle, was in her mid-thirties with a pale, dazed expression that told Rob she was still in shock. Over the weekend she’d been informed that her husband had been killed in a London hotel room while on a sales trip. According to the family liaison officer that Rob had spoken to, she’d taken it very badly. It was only today that she’d felt up to answering some questions.

  Rob and Mallory sat in front of Rob’s computer while they tuned in to the interview via a video link. Mrs Patterson had agreed to come to the Harrogate Police Department accompanied by an FLO, to be questioned by a local detective.

  She gave her name for the recording and for those watching. She’d been told that a live link was being sent to the detectives investigating her husband’s murder in London.

  “Michelle Patterson,” she said. Her voice was steady but so soft they had to strain to hear what was being said. Rob pressed the volume key and turned it up as far as it would go. The local DI had been briefed on the investigation and knew what to ask. Rob had spent twenty minutes on the phone with him prior to this interview.

  “What was your husband doing in London?” the DI asked.

  “He was on a sales trip for his company, Avar. He sold dental equipment.”

  “Was he happy in his job?”

  “Yes, I think so. He never complained about it. I—I got the impression that he quite enjoyed going away. It gave him a break from the kids.” She stifled a sob.

  The interviewer gave her a moment. “Did he go away a lot?”

  She nodded. “He was away for one week of every month. It was part of his contract.”

  “Did he always go to London?”

  “Oh no, they sent him all over. Sometimes it was Sheffield or Manchester, but this time it was London.”

  “Did he tell you where he was staying?”

  “You mean which hotel?”

  The DI nodded.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I didn’t pay much attention to his travel plans, but then he went away so often and with the twins . . .” Her eyes filled with tears. She was probably wishing she had paid more attention now. The FLO patted her hand.

  “Are you okay, Michelle? Can I get you anything?”

  Michelle shook her head. “I’m okay. I just—I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

  The FLO nodded sympathetically.

  The DI continued with his line of questioning. “Did you speak to your husband while he was away?”

  “Yes, of course. He rang every evening to see how the twins were.”

  “Did you speak to him on Wednesday evening?”

  She thought back. “Yes, I did. He rang around eight, after I’d put the girls down. We talked for a few minutes, that’s all.” She sniffed again. Rob felt terrible for her. Now she’d have to bring up the twins by herself. A single mum.

  “And, how was he?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did he appear normal? Was he agitated or upset at all?”

  “No, nothing like that. He was plain old Dennis.” She seemed bewildered. “Why are you asking me that?”

  “It’s for the purposes of the investigation,” the FLO said lightly, patting her hand. “You’re doing great.”

  “Mrs Patterson, did your husband mention meeting anyone else in London, other than for work? A business associate or friend who he might not have seen in a while?”

  She bit her lip, the tears in her eyes threatening to overflow at any minute. “No, he didn’t. He asked after the girls — they’re at nursery school now
— and we talked about that and how my day was.” She swallowed. “I didn’t ask him about his day or how things were going in London. I never do.” Now the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m a terrible wife.”

  “No, you’re not.” The FLO cast a glance at the DI. “You couldn’t have known what would happen. You’re just a busy mum with two toddlers. None of this is your fault.”

  She nodded, but the silent tears kept falling.

  “Would you like to take a break?” the DI asked.

  Michelle sniffed. “No, let’s carry on. I want to get this over with.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. I know this is difficult. So was Wednesday night the last time you spoke to your husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “He didn’t text you or try to contact you on Thursday morning?”

  “No.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “Was that when . . . ? Was that when he died?”

  People had trouble with the D-word, Rob observed. It was almost as if once they said it, it suddenly became real and they had to deal with the fact that their loved one was never coming home.

  “We don’t know the exact time of death,” the DI said tactfully, which was true. He hadn’t been privy to that information. “But it was sometime on Thursday, yes.”

  A pause as Michelle absorbed this information.

  “Mrs Patterson, I apologize if this question offends you, but were you and your husband happy together?”

  Her eyes widened. The DI clarified. “Did you have a good relationship?”

  “Yes! I mean the twins were hard work, but we were a team. He was a very hands-on dad.”

  “What about your relationship? Were things okay between you?”

  “Yes, why wouldn’t they be?” She was worried now, her forehead wrinkled with lines.

  “No reason. We just have to ask.”

  Rob had specifically asked to find out if they were having marital problems because, as Jo said, prostitutes, escorts and masseuses all made home visits — something they had to look into now that they were searching for a woman. In this respect, however, it seemed Dennis Patterson was a loyal family man. Rob didn’t think he would have been the type to mess around with prostitutes and the like, but then you never could tell. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been surprised.

  “What about your finances? Were they secure?”

  Michelle spluttered. “Yes, why do you ask? What’s going on, detective? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “She knows her husband was murdered, doesn’t she?” Mallory glanced from the screen to Rob.

  “I assumed so, but maybe not.”

  The DI hesitated and looked at the FLO, who nodded. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs Patterson, but your husband was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” She blinked several times as if she didn’t understand the word. Then her hand flew to her mouth and she stifled a gasp. “You mean someone killed him?”

  “Yes, that’s correct. We’re trying to establish who might have had a motive to do that.”

  She looked like she was hyperventilating. The FLO put an arm around her shoulders and told her it was going to be all right, that the police were going to do everything in their power to find out who did this.

  “Who would want to murder Dennis?” she breathed, her eyes even more glazed than before. Rob could sense her bewilderment from 200 miles away. It was a good question. Dennis Patterson was an unassuming, middle-aged sales rep. He wasn’t particularly good-looking, he didn’t have a high-flying job, and he didn’t gamble, according to his bank statements. In fact, he seemed a pretty average guy. So why had he been targeted by a female serial killer, if that was who they were dealing with? It still sounded slightly surreal, and not for the first time Rob questioned whether Tony knew what he was talking about. Maybe he’d jumped to that conclusion because it was his job. Maybe he’d worked with serial offenders for so long, he saw them everywhere. He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

  “She ought to have been told beforehand,” muttered Mallory. He looked away from the screen and took a sip of his now-cold coffee, pulled a face and put it down again.

  “They probably didn’t want to upset her any more than was necessary,” said Rob. “The FLO said she was pretty cut up.”

  Once she’d got herself under control, the Harrogate DI continued.

  “So you don’t owe any money or have any big expenses to pay off?”

  She shook her head. “No, not that I know of. We have a mortgage, of course, but Dennis took care of that.” She lowered her face into her hands. “I have no idea what I’m going to do now.”

  Rob’s heart went out to the poor woman. On top of her grief she had to deal with their finances and loss of income. Life really did suck sometimes.

  “You can’t think of anyone who would have a reason to harm your husband?”

  She lifted her tear-streaked face. “No. He was a decent man and a good husband. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt him.”

  “Okay, well I think that’s everything for now,” the detective said. “Thank you for coming in, Mrs Patterson. We appreciate that this is a very difficult time for you.”

  She gave a small nod and glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room. It was the first time she’d looked directly at it, but Rob didn’t miss the pleading expression in her eyes. It was as if she was begging him to get to the bottom of this, to find out who had killed her husband and ruined her life. He gave a little nod and promised himself that he would. Whatever it took.

  * * *

  “Yes!” Rob pumped the air. “It’s about time we had some good news.”

  DS Jenny Bird, who had just arrived back after attending Dennis Patterson’s post-mortem, smiled.

  “Have we got a lead?” asked Will, who’d been ploughing through Patterson’s work emails, none of which were very exciting. “I need a break. Dental equipment is quite possibly the most boring topic on the planet.”

  “The pathologist found a skin scraping under one of Patterson’s fingernails that doesn’t belong to him. It could be our killer!”

  “Excellent.” Will high-fived Jenny.

  Everybody was pleased. They needed a break in the case. Ever since the press had been informed of the hotel stabbing, Rob had been shielding calls from investigative reporters sniffing around to find out if there was anything more to the story than the watered-down statement issued by the police department.

  Dennis Patterson had appeared on the second page of London’s dailies in a short article stating that the North Yorkshireman had been found stabbed to death in a boutique hotel in Hammersmith. DI Rob Miller had been named as Senior Investigating Officer and anyone with any information asked to contact the Putney Major Investigation Team. Rob knew Vicky Bainbridge, the Homicide and Serious Crime Command’s press liaison officer, had quietly released the statement the night before. At least nobody had linked it to Yousef’s death, which, miraculously, had been kept under wraps — thanks to the NCA’s gag order.

  “Let me know when that sample comes back,” Rob told Jenny. “Before we run it through the database, I want to know whether it belongs to a male or a female.”

  It would help if they could prove whether Tony’s theory was right and they were, at least, on the correct track. It would make Rob feel a little less like he was shooting into the dark. At the moment everything they had was hearsay. They needed something concrete, something that would stand up in court.

  Chapter 14

  Rob stood outside the National Crime Agency HQ in Lambeth finishing his cigarette. He’d rushed through here first thing this morning only to have had a very unsatisfying interview with Asir Ahmed, the drug kingpin arrested in connection with supplying class A drugs to the county lines network. Ahmed, who’d had his lawyer present, admitted to knowing Aadam Yousef, but said he hadn’t gone near his house on Monday 27 January. He’d been at home working and his wife could back him up. When Rob had aske
d him about Friday, the day Dennis Patterson was killed, he’d claimed he was at Friday prayers and about fifty other men could vouch for him.

  “How did it go?” Jo came down the steps to join him. Her cheeks were flushed and she appeared a little out of breath. “I heard you were here, so I ran down to catch you before you left.”

  He smiled, pleased she’d taken the trouble. “It went okay. He’s not a very nice bloke, is he?”

  She laughed. “No, he’s not.”

  Ahmed was a medium-sized Asian man with greasy hair plastered against his scalp and strange, bulging eyes that were never still, even when he was looking straight at you. They shifted constantly like a goldfish swimming around a bowl looking for a way out.

  “He’s got alibis for both murders.”

  “Can you check them out?” Jo asked.

  “I will, but I’m pretty sure his wife will vouch for him no matter what and anyone I talk to at the mosque will corroborate his story for Friday. At his one, they tend to close ranks against outsiders, particularly the police. I’ve had dealings with that mosque before.”

  Jo nodded. “You still don’t know whether he was responsible?”

  “No, but I don’t trust him. I know that much.” He felt his stomach rumble. “Do you want to grab something to eat? I’m starving and will probably have to work late tonight.”

  She glanced at her phone. “Sure, I can spare half an hour.”

  They went to a small deli-style bistro down the road from the NCA building. It wasn’t a great area, but the bistro seemed okay and sold a variety of sandwiches and salads. They took a seat in the back. There were a few other customers reading the newspaper and drinking coffee, but it wasn’t busy.

  “The coffee’s pretty good,” Jo said. “Another hour and there’ll be a queue out the door. It’s the only decent place to eat around here.”

  They went up to the counter and ordered. Rob had a chicken mayo baguette while Jo had a toasted cheese-and-ham panini. Armed with their coffees, they returned to the table.