The Girl in the Ice: A gripping serial killer thriller (Detective Erika Foster crime thriller novel Book 1)

by Robert Bryndza

  ‘We’d like to speak to Linda, please, if she’s here?’

  ‘You’ve got someone in custody, haven’t you? What more do you need from the family?’ the woman repeated.

  ‘We’re still building our case, Madam. We believe Linda will be able to help us to confirm a few details which could lead to a swift conviction,’ said Moss.

  The old woman regarded them, eyes darting from side to side under the hooded lids, the skin crinkling and twitching, reminding Erika of a chameleon. She opened the door, and stood to one side to let them in,

  ‘And wipe your feet,’ she said, eyeing the wet pavement outside.

  They followed her through to an open-plan seating area decorated in white. Along the back wall, an enormous clear-glass conference table glowed and changed colour. Adorning the walls were photos of the previous work Jocasta Floristry had undertaken: society weddings, product launches. The old lady vanished through a door at the back, and a moment later Linda emerged, carrying armfuls of yellow daffodils. She wore a long black A-line skirt, and another cat jumper poked out from behind a white apron. This time it was a giant tabby cat with languid eyes.

  ‘My mother isn’t here. She’s taken to her bed,’ she said. Her tone of voice seemed to suggest that her mother was slacking off. She crossed to the large table, laid the daffodils on the glass and began to sort them into bunches. Erika and Moss joined her at the table. ‘What are you doing here, DCI Foster? I thought you’d been taken off the case…’

  ‘Surely you of all people should know not to believe everything you read in the press,’ said Erika.

  ‘Yes. Journalists. They’re all beasts. One of the tabloids described me as a “moon-faced spinster”’.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Linda.’

  ‘Are you?’ snapped Linda fixing them with a stare. Erika took a deep breath.

  ‘When we spoke to you before, we asked if you had any information that could help us with our enquiries. You failed to mention to us that Andrea had a second phone,’ said Erika.

  Linda went back to bunching daffodils.

  ‘Well?’ said Moss.

  ‘You didn’t ask me a question. You made a statement,’ said Linda.

  ‘Okay. Did Andrea have a second phone?’ asked Erika.

  ‘No. I wasn’t aware she did,’ said Linda.

  ‘She reported it stolen in June 2014, but kept the handset and bought a pay-as-you go SIM card,’ said Moss.

  ‘So, what? You’re here on behalf of the insurance company to investigate insurance fraud?’

  ‘We found your criminal record, Linda. You have quite the rap sheet: assault, shoplifting, credit card fraud, vandalism,’ said Erika.

  Linda stopped bunching the daffodils and looked up at them. ‘That was the old me. I’ve found God now,’ she said. ‘I’m a different person. If you look close enough, we all have a past we regret.’

  ‘So when did you find God?’ asked Moss.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ asked Linda.

  ‘Well, you’re still on probation, and you caused eight thousand pounds’ worth of damage to Giles Osborne’s offices four months ago. Why did you do it?’

  ‘I was jealous,’ said Linda. ‘Jealous of Andrea, of Giles. She found someone, and as I’m sure you can imagine, I’m still looking.’

  ‘And what did Andrea and Giles have to say about your harassment?’

  ‘I apologised, I said it would never happen again and we all made up.’

  ‘He forgave you for killing his cat too?’ said Moss.

  ‘I DID NOT KILL HIS CAT!’ cried Linda. ‘I would never do something like that. Cats are the most beautiful, intelligent creatures . . . You can stare into their eyes, and I think they know all the answers . . . If only they could talk.’

  Erika shot Moss a look, not to go too far.

  Linda’s puddingy face clouded over and she slammed her hand down on the glass table. ‘I didn’t do it. I am not a liar!’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Moss. ‘Can you tell us who this man is in the picture with Andrea?’ She placed the photo of Andrea at the party with the dark-haired man next to the pile of daffodils.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Linda, glancing at it.

  ‘Look at it properly, please, Linda,’ said Moss, holding up the photo in front of her face.

  Linda looked at the photo and back at Moss. ‘I told you, I don’t know.’

  ‘How about this one?’ said Moss, pulling out the picture of Linda with Andrea. ‘This photo was taken of you and Andrea on the same night, at the same bar. He probably took this photo.’

  Linda looked at the photo again and seemed to compose herself. ‘You see, officer, your use of the word probably is quite telling. I came to that bar a few minutes before closing for a drink. I’d been working here all evening. When I arrived, Andrea was alone; whoever she’d been there with had gone. She’d waited for me so we could have a drink and a catch-up before the family Christmas events took over. This man may well have been there, but not at the same time as me.’

  ‘Did Andrea mention him?’

  ‘Andrea always had a lot of male attention when she went out. I only agreed to meet her if she promised not to go on about boys all evening.’

  ‘Don’t you like boys?’

  ‘Boys,’ Linda snorted. ‘You know, two intelligent women can pass an evening without having to talk about men, surely?’

  ‘What was the name of the bar?’ asked Erika.

  ‘Um, I think it’s called Contagion.’

  ‘Who was Andrea there with?’

  ‘I told you, I don’t know. Andrea had a revolving door of party mates.’

  ‘Where was Giles?’

  ‘I would have thought that he’d left by then so he could avoid having to see me.’

  ‘Because you harassed him, vandalised his offices, and killed his . . .’ finished Moss.

  ‘How many more times, I did not kill Clara!’ cried Linda. Tears welled up in her eyes. She pulled down a sleeve of the tabby jumper and wiped her eyes. ‘Clara was . . . she was a lovely animal. She would let me hold her. She wouldn’t let many other people, not even Giles.’

  ‘Then who poisoned her?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Linda, softly. She pulled out a lump of balled tissue paper from the pocket of her jumper and scrubbed at her eyes until they started to look red.

  ‘What can you tell us about this?’ asked Moss, placing down the clear evidence bag which contained the letter that Erika had received.

  ‘What’s this? No, no, no. I don’t know anything!’ Linda said, fresh tears appearing on her red face.

  ‘I think Linda has been accommodating enough,’ said a voice from the back of the room. The Douglas-Browns’ housekeeper with the hooded eyes, had materialised and was coming toward them. ‘If you want to talk to her further, perhaps we can arrange something more formal, with the family solicitor in attendance?’

  ‘Linda. This man,’ said Moss, tapping the photo of the handsome man with Andrea, ‘is also a suspect in the rape and murder of three young Eastern European women over the past two years, and the recent murder of an elderly lady.’

  Linda’s eyes widened. The housekeeper was now holding out her arm for them to leave.

  ‘Linda. Please contact us if you think of anything, however small,’ said Erika.

  ‘She either doesn’t know who that guy is, or she’s a very good liar,’ said Moss, when they were back out on the street.

  ‘The only thing I believed her about was the cat. She didn’t kill that cat,’ said Erika.

  ‘But we’re not investigating cat murders.’

  ‘I think we should go and pay Giles Osborne a visit,’ said Erika. ‘See what he has to say about Linda, and these photos.’

  43

  ‘She’s totally crazy,’ said Giles Osborne. ‘To the point where she frightens me and many of my staff.’

  Moss and Erika sat in Giles’s glass office, overlooking the back gardens of a row of terraced houses. A train cl
acked past behind the houses, and on an industrial estate to one side, four giant gas sumps rose up, slick with rain. It seemed absurd to build such an elegant state-of-the-art building with such a dismal view.

  Giles looked as if he hadn’t slept, and the skin on his face was loose and haggard. Erika also noted that he’d lost weight in the two weeks since Andrea’s body was found.

  ‘The family is all aware of Linda,’ Giles went on. ‘Seems she’s been the black sheep for many years. She was thrown out of every school they put her in. When she was nine, she stabbed her teacher with a compass. The poor woman lost an eye.’

  ‘So you think Linda has psychological problems?’ asked Erika.

  ‘You make it sound far more mysterious and exotic than it is. She’s just mad. It's a sort of tedious madness. But throw cash and an influential family into the mix and it's all heightened. The problem is that Linda knows there’s no real consequences for her actions.’

  ‘Yet,’ said Moss.

  Giles shrugged. ‘Sir Simon is always there to throw money at problems, or have a word in an influential ear . . . In the end, he bought the teacher a house, and she lives in the top half and rents out the bottom. Almost worth losing an eye, don’t you think?’

  There was silence. Another train clacked past on the track and blared its siren.

  ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to be cruel. I’m arranging Andrea’s funeral. I thought I’d be arranging our wedding, I never dreamed . . . Linda is doing the flowers; she’s insisted on the church she attends in Chiswick. I’m sitting here staring at a blank screen, trying to write her eulogy.’

  ‘You have to know someone well to write their eulogy,’ said Moss.

  ‘Yes, you do,’ said Giles.

  ‘Was Andrea religious?’ asked Erika, steering the conversation away from choppy waters.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is David?’

  ‘If all nuns had big tits and low-cut tops, I’m sure he’d be a Catholic,’ laughed Giles dryly.

  ‘What do mean by that?’

  ‘Oh Lord, do you have to take everything literally? It was a joke. David likes girls. He’s young. He’s remarkably normal. Takes after his mother more than . . .’

  ‘Linda,’ said Moss.

  ‘Yes, it’s just him and Linda,’ said Giles. He wiped a tear away.

  ‘And Linda attends church regularly?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure God isn’t too overjoyed at having to listen to her warped little prayers each night,’ said Giles.

  ‘Has Linda been to your office on many occasions?’ asked Erika.

  ‘She came once with Andrea, to see the place. Then she showed up a couple of times alone.’

  ‘When was this?’ asked Moss.

  ‘July, August, last year.’

  ‘And why did she show up alone?’

  ‘She came to see me, and it very quickly became apparent that she wanted, wanted to . . . Well, she wanted to have sex.’

  ‘And how did she indicate this?’ asked Moss.

  ‘How do you bloody think!’ said Giles, growing red. He looked around, desperate to be somewhere else. ‘She lifted her sweater and exposed herself. Told me that no one would know.’

  ‘And what did you do?’

  ‘I told her where to go. Even if she wasn’t Andrea’s sister, she’s not exactly . . .’

  ‘Not exactly?’

  ‘Well she’s not exactly a looker, is she?’

  Moss and Erika remained silent.

  Giles went on, ‘As far as I’m aware it’s not a crime to find someone . . .’

  ‘Repulsive?’ finished Erika.

  ‘I wouldn’t go quite that far,’ said Giles.

  ‘And then things turned nasty. Linda vandalised your office and, according to the records, broke in and poisoned your cat.’

  ‘Yes, and I don’t know. You’ve read the case files, then?’

  Erika and Moss nodded.

  ‘I found myself with an unfortunate dilemma with Linda. Sir Simon asked me to drop the charges. What could I do?’

  ‘I’m sorry to have to bring this up, Giles, but were you aware that Andrea was seeing other men when you were together?’ asked Erika.

  Giles paused. ‘I am now.’

  ‘And how does that make you feel?’

  ‘How do you bloody think that makes me feel?! We were engaged. I thought she was the one. Sure, she liked to flirt and play, and I should have seen it, but I thought she might calm down once we were married, and then we’d get sprogged up.’

  ‘Sprogged up?’ asked Erika. ‘You mean, have children?’

  ‘Yes. I had no idea she had several men on the go. She was so stupid to get involved with that hateful creature Marco Frost. He scared Andrea with his obsession. Do you think you have enough evidence to secure a prison sentence?’

  Erika looked at Moss. ‘Mr Osborne, can I please ask you to take a look at this photo?’ She placed the picture of Andrea with the dark-haired man on the table. He glanced at it.

  ‘No. I don’t know him.’

  ‘I didn’t ask if you knew him. Please take a good look; this was taken just four days before Andrea disappeared.’

  Giles looked at the photo again. ‘Well, what am I looking at? He was probably one of the many men who make eyes at her.’

  ‘What about this? Or this . . . or this?’ asked Erika. She placed the series of photos in front of Giles: Andrea lying in bed with the dark-haired man, naked, her nipple drawn between his teeth, then Andrea with her lips spread wide and his penis in her mouth.

  ‘What are you people doing?’ cried Giles, pushing his chair back and getting up. There were tears in his eyes. ‘How dare you come in here and take advantage of my good will!’

  ‘Sir, these are from Andrea’s second mobile phone which we recently recovered. We showed these photos to you for a reason. They were taken just a few days before she vanished.’

  Giles stood and went to the glass door. ‘Thank you, officers, but I came into my office today to remember Andrea, and write about her life. I have been asked to speak at her funeral, and you come here and sully my memories of her with hardcore pornographic photos!’ He opened the door and indicated that they leave.

  ‘Sir, we believe that the man pictured with Andrea is also involved in the killing of three Eastern European girls who worked as prostitutes, and the murder of an elderly lady. We also believe that Andrea was with this man on the night she died,’ explained Erika. She looked at Moss. Giles saw their exchange.

  ‘Hang on. What about Marco Frost? I thought he was your man? Chief Superintendent Marsh assured me, and Assistant Commissioner Oakley . . .’ said Giles.

  ‘This is another line of enquiry we are pursuing,’ said Erika.

  ‘So you really have no idea who killed Andrea? Yet you come over here hassling me, on a hunch? Andrea was a flawed human being, and she had secrets. But all she did was love, all she wanted was to love . . .’ Giles broke down, heaving and sobbing. He put his hand to his mouth. ‘I just can’t take this much longer. Please! Leave!’

  Erika and Moss went back to the table, gathered up the photos and left, leaving Giles to sob.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ said Moss, when they came back to the car parked a few roads away.

  ‘I said it, not you,’ said Erika.

  ‘Boss, I have to go and report this all to DCI Sparks, and Marsh.’

  ‘I know. And that’s fine.’

  Moss dropped Erika home and despite all that had happened, all the revelations, Erika felt no closer to the truth, and very far away from being reinstated and getting her badge back. When she came into her living room she switched on the light, seeing herself and the image of the room reflected back in the window. She went to the light and turned it off. She peered out of the window and down into the deserted street, but everything was still. Quiet.

  44

  Over the next two days, Moss and Peterson had to appear in court and give evidence in the case involving an armed gunman at the supermarket in Sydenham. M
uch of the original investigative team into Andrea’s death had been reassigned, now that Marco Frost had been charged with her murder. Erika was stuck in limbo, awaiting her misconduct hearing. She’d had a call from Marsh that morning.

  ‘Did you and Moss visit Linda Douglas-Brown and Giles Osborne?’ he demanded.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I’ve had complaints from them both, and Sir Simon is threatening to make a formal complaint.’

  So you answer their calls, but not mine? Erika wanted to say. She bit her lip. ‘Sir. I was there as an advisor to Moss; in both instances I wasn’t asked to produce identification.’

  ‘Leave it out, Erika.’

  ‘Sir, you are aware we recovered Andrea’s second mobile phone?’

  ‘Yes, I’m aware. Moss filed her report.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And, you withheld evidence. The note you received.’

  ‘But the note, sir . . .’

  ‘The note could have come from several places. Think back to your colleagues in Manchester. There’s still a great deal of anger towards you . . .’ Marsh tailed off. ‘I’m sorry. That was unfair . . . I think, Erika, that you need to let this go.’

  ‘What? Sir, have you seen the pictures?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen the pictures, and I’ve read Moss’s report very carefully. Although I can hear your voice when I read it. It still proves nothing, you have no grounds whatsoever to prove that this . . . person, whoever he is, was involved in the deaths of Andrea or Ivy.’

  ‘Or Tatiana, or Karolina, or Mirka?’

  ‘What you have succeeded in doing is pissing off a lot of people and metaphorically pissing on the memory of Andrea Douglas-Brown.’

  ‘But sir, I didn’t take those pictures she . . .’

  ‘She had a secret phone for God’s sake! Everyone has secrets.’

  ‘I take it this conversation is off the record?’

  ‘Yes, it is, Erika. And I must remind you that you are off the record. You are suspended. Now, be sensible. Enjoy the full pay. I have it on good authority that if you lay low and keep your mouth shut, you’ll be reinstated next month.’