Killer Princesses: Gripping and gritty, a twisty and tantalising thriller...

Home > Other > Killer Princesses: Gripping and gritty, a twisty and tantalising thriller... > Page 6
Killer Princesses: Gripping and gritty, a twisty and tantalising thriller... Page 6

by Jennifer R Hollis


  Marie: No, we were never close; that was true. I didn’t know them outside of work and at work they were just thick as thieves with each other. Over the last year, we didn’t get on at work. But I’m still upset they’re dead.

  Officer: Of course. Do you know anyone who would have wanted to cause them harm?

  Marie: No, but then as I said, I didn’t know them. Who knows what they had gotten themselves into?

  Officer: OK, I only have one more question, Marie, then we’re done. Where were you on the evening of Friday 3rd August between 9.30 pm and midnight?

  Lawyer: Ms Webster is not a suspect in this case, or under arrest. Marie, you do not have to answer.

  Officer: I am aware, thank you. Marie, all of these questions are voluntary, but the answers may be beneficial in terms of ruling you out of any further inquiries.

  Marie: I don’t know why I should tell you my whereabouts, I didn’t do it, I didn’t know them well, I didn’t even know where they lived!

  Officer: I’m aware of that Marie, and I repeat, you are not under suspicion here. This interview is just standard procedure to build a picture of events. I am fully expecting you to rule yourself out of involvement, and for this to be our last conversation.

  Marie: *Pause* I was at home.

  Officer: The whole night?

  Marie: Yes.

  Officer: Was anyone else there?

  Marie: No.

  Officer: Did you use your phone, send any texts?

  Marie: *Pause* I don’t think so.

  Officer: Home alone, not on your phone. What were you doing then?

  Lawyer: This is an aggressive line of questioning against my client, who is not a suspect and is clearly very distressed. She has now provided you with voluntary information on where she was last Friday night, and what she does in her own home is not your concern. I suggest this completes the interview.

  7: The Amateur Detectives Club

  Friday 5th October 2018 - Karen

  Karen left the town centre shortly after her encounter with Marie. Of all the people to bump into, she thought, as she meandered back up Croydon High Street. She couldn’t wait to tell Debbie about it later that evening. They’d agreed to meet so that Karen could give the low down on her imminent meeting with the police.

  She had looked forward to her meeting with Okafor ever since Debbie’s discussion with him. She had pictured the event in her mind; the handsome DCI leaning over the table and looking deep into her eyes. He’d share his suspicions and ask her to help him solve the case of two murdered women. She’d even dressed up for it, in a smart short skirt and her best silk blouse.

  It was darkly glamorous, and she couldn’t wait to tell him her opinions about her colleagues. It was high time she delivered some payback to Renee and Marie. After all, they’d recently engineered all the complaints against her at work.

  Karen pulled up outside the police station and rushed inside with a smile.

  “I’m here to see Vincent Okafor, I’m Karen Goldman,” she announced to the young receptionist.

  “OK Madam, you and everyone else today!” he replied.

  “I’m a little late; I hope that’s not a problem?”

  “No Mrs Goldman, not to worry. As I said, he’s busy himself. I’ll let his team know you’re here and they’ll come down when they’re ready. Please, take a seat.” He gestured at the busy waiting area.

  Karen grudgingly took the last remaining chair, between two people who looked like they were from the New Grange estate. She lifted her nose and took out her phone to distract herself from them.

  Twenty minutes later, a uniformed officer escorted Karen to a small, dank room with no windows. In contrast to the warmer autumn breeze outside, the air in the room was cold. A fluorescent light flickered above her head. There were two chairs and a table covered in unplugged recording equipment. Karen crossed her arms, tapped her feet on the floor and took in her surroundings. It was hardly the interview location she’d anticipated. She waited another five minutes until DS Joanne Harris entered the room and closed the door behind her.

  “Karen Goldman?”

  “Yes, that’s me. Where’s Vincent?”

  “DCI Okafor is away on urgent business, Karen. It’s been a hectic day. He’s asked me to have this quick conversation with you in his absence.”

  “Right,” replied Karen tersely, not hiding her disappointment.

  “It won’t take long, and we do appreciate you coming in to help us with this investigation. Are you OK to proceed?” asked DS Harris, removing a pen and notepad from her jacket pocket.

  “I suppose so.”

  “Great. We wanted to pick up something from your original interview with us. We asked about your whereabouts on Friday 3rd August, between 9.30 pm and midnight.”

  “You did,” replied Karen as she tried to recall the conversation.

  “And do you remember what you said?”

  “I said I was at home, I think.”

  “It’s fine, I have the transcript here,” replied DS Harris. “Yes, you said: ‘I think I was at home’.”

  “Yes, how is this relevant?”

  “We wanted to ask whether you did go and check your whereabouts. This question isn’t about any kind of suspicion, Karen. We just need to dot the ‘I’s and cross the ‘T’s, you know.” DS Harris smiled at Karen, awaiting a response.

  “Oh, right,” sighed Karen. “Well I did check, and yes, I was at home all evening with my husband, Pete. It was just the two of us; the kids had a sleepover that evening at a friend’s house.”

  “Perfect, thanks, Karen. We’ll get that checked with your husband and add that to the case notes.”

  “Check with Pete? Is that necessary?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. As this case continues, we must have all our paperwork in order. Thank you for your time today, and sorry we missed you at your work yesterday. I know it would have been more convenient to talk to you there.”

  DS Harris rose from her chair and picked up the papers in front of her. Karen, however, remained seated.

  “Is everything OK, Karen?” asked DS Harris.

  “Is that all?” Karen replied, and she looked up at the detective in disbelief.

  “Yes, it is, unless you have anything to add. Was there something else you wanted to discuss?”

  “Well, Debbie said you discussed more with her, asked her something about a Princess,” Karen mumbled.

  “We also asked Debbie to keep the contents of that conversation private.”

  “It’s just Debbie mentioned it, and I remembered that our colleague Renee has a cat called Princess.”

  There was a brief look of surprise and interest on DS Harris’ face, but she covered it with a smile.

  “Thank you, Karen, now let me see you out.”

  Thoughts raced through Karen’s mind as she stomped out of the police station and into her car. Did they trust Debbie more than her? Was she a suspect? And how come the police weren’t grilling Renee or Marie? It would have been different if Vincent was there, she thought, as she kicked off her high heels and replaced them with a pair of old pumps. Her anger rose as she thought of DS Harris’ smiling face.

  “Patronising bitch,” she muttered to herself, as she started the engine of her black Range Rover and drove towards Debbie’s house.

  “Karen, you’re early!” Debbie looked surprised as she swung the door open.

  “Yes, I am, sorry, it didn’t take as long as I expected. Vincent wasn’t even there.”

  Debbie led the way down towards the conservatory. It was bright and heated by the autumn light streaming through the glass panes. Debbie’s demeanour seemed to have changed. She seemed much more hopeful and happier than she had done over the past few months.

  “I have something to tell you,” said Debbie with a mischievous grin, as she poured them both a glass of wine. “But first you have to tell me about the police, what did they say to you?”

  “Well, Vincent wasn’t there, he got
called away. So, I don’t think his deputy was able to talk as much. But she asked me about a few things in my original statement, and then about the Princess.”

  “Princesses?” corrected Debbie, her eyebrows raised.

  “Yes, ‘Princesses’. I told her about the cat.”

  “Good,” grinned Debbie. “I wonder if it means anything to them?”

  “Who knows. Anyway,” sighed Karen, keen to change the subject from her underwhelming police visit. “Guess who I saw today, out in town?”

  Debbie picked up her wine and looked at Karen with interest.

  “Mardie! I was browsing, and I turned around and bumped into her. She was staring at these two mannequins in underwear.” Karen laughed out loud, and Debbie snorted into her wine glass.

  “She was doing Renee’s shopping for her; can you believe it? She had so many bags, Deb; it was like she’d won the lottery or something. Expensive perfume, candles, and bags of other stuff.”

  Debbie was staring at Karen, eyes wide.

  “Well,” said Debbie with the same grin as before, “Renee was too busy to do her shopping today.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I saw Renee driving through the Melwood junction by the store today. She almost caused a big accident at the traffic lights. And she ended up at Gillian’s, you know, in Fair Lawns.”

  “How do you know she went to Gill’s?” asked Karen, though she had a feeling she knew the answer.

  “I followed her,” replied Debbie casually, as she took another sip of her wine. “After my chat with Okafor yesterday and the thing about the cat, I was curious. And anyway, it paid off.”

  “Debbie, you can’t go around following people! Renee’s from that awful council estate, she might know dodgy people. What do you mean, it paid off?”

  “Well, I pulled up around the corner from Gill’s, but I could see her front door. I knew Gill was at work, so I couldn’t figure out why Renee was there. Anyway, she knocks on the door and Kevin answers.”

  “Kevin!” Exclaimed Karen, “Gill’s husband?”

  “Yes. He lets Renee in, and she’s there for like half an hour. I was about to go, but she comes out of the house and Kevin gives her an envelope. It looked like one of those brown ones stuffed with cash.”

  Karen couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “And then,” continued Debbie feverishly, “she speeds off out the gate, scratching her car on it as she goes. By the time I got back on the road, I’d lost her. No idea where she went.”

  “Bloody hell Deb. It could have been anything in the envelope.”

  “I know. But it’s too much of a coincidence, isn’t it? Marie is splashing the cash in town, Renee is getting envelopes of cash or something from Kevin. They’re up to something, and they have a secret.”

  “Oh, come on,” challenged Karen. “They’re vile, but you don’t actually believe it was them who killed Janice and Caitlin, do you?”

  “I do think it’s possible,” asserted Debbie. “And what proves it, is us finding Caitlin’s bag in the lockers yesterday. The killer must have put it there to hide it, and therefore, the killer must be someone who works in the store.”

  “Caitlin could have left it there by mistake on the night she died,” ventured Karen, though she felt like she was fighting a losing battle. There was no stopping Debbie when she was in this kind of mood.

  “No, Karen, I doubt it,” replied Debbie, rolling her eyes.

  “What have you done with the bag then? Have the police picked it up, seeing as it’s evidence?”

  “I haven’t told them about it yet. And don’t look at me like that, I just wanted to take a closer look first.”

  Debbie’s eyes drifted to the table at the end of the conservatory, where a phone lay charging.

  “You can’t be serious, Debbie!” gasped Karen as her shoulders tensed. “Do not turn that phone on.”

  “Don’t you want to know what’s on there? There could be a clue about why they died. The police will have had access to her and Janice’s messages from Jan’s phone anyway. We’re not withholding anything they don’t know.”

  “What is this, the Amateur Detective Club?” hissed Karen, as Debbie leant over to see if the phone had charged. “I say we throw it all away, bury it somewhere and pretend we never found it. We could be in danger if anyone knows we have it.”

  But Debbie had already turned the phone on. Please let there be a passcode, thought Karen.

  “Passcode. Let’s try 2412,” said Debbie. “Her birthday,” she added as the phone sprung to life.

  “There must be something on here Karen. They knew something before they died. You remember how they were, always talking to each other in whispers.”

  “Jesus,” whimpered Karen, with her head in her hands. She peered between her fingers at her friend. No wonder Debbie looked so invigorated, she thought, she believes she’ll solve the case herself.

  As the phone sprung to life, new messages popped up. Debbie scrolled through and then stopped. Her eyes flitted back and forth over one message in particular. She glanced at Karen and beckoned her round. Karen reluctantly peered over Debbie’s shoulder to read.

  Sorry, Cait – I know you won’t get this till 2m morning. Sorry I didn’t come back in with you and for being so down. We know something dodgy is going on at work, linked to Princesses. It must all be run by someone at the store, they’re pulling the strings, must be to make money. We just need a bit more proof it’s who we think it is – then we report it to protect the vulnerable ones. Good luck tomorrow, you will smash it. J xxx

  “Oh God, I didn’t think we’d find anything. What is ‘Princesses’?” whispered Debbie.

  They scrolled down through the messages to find more clues, but there were none.

  “I have no idea, and neither do the police,” replied Karen. “But it sounds like Jan and Cait knew something about it.”

  “Yes,” replied Debbie gravely, “and it may have cost them their lives.”

  Excerpt: Interview with Karen Goldman. Thursday 16 August 2018, 17:30

  Officer: Thank you for making time to see us, Mrs Goldman, I understand you have a busy schedule.

  Karen: Sorry it’s taken so long. I’ve had to rearrange so many appointments, it’s just been difficult.

  Officer: I understand, this shouldn’t take long. Now, how well did you know Mrs Janice Locke and Ms Caitlin Murphy?

  Karen: We worked together. I’ve known them since they joined the store. I used to go out with them for drinks, Debbie would arrange it.

  Officer: Were you friends?

  Karen: I suppose, yes, we were.

  Officer: And were you ever aware of any problems they had, any situations they were uncomfortable with?

  Karen: No, not really. Caitlin was younger than us; she was just happy and laughed when the three of us complained.

  Officer: What about?

  Karen: Our husbands mostly.

  Officer: What did Janice say about her husband?

  Karen: Oh, nothing too bad. I just think he didn’t really like her working full-time. She never said anything terrible about him.

  Officer: So, there was no-one you can think of who’d want to cause either of them harm?

  Karen: No.

  Officer: I have to ask this Karen, where were you on the evening of Friday 3rd August between 9.30 pm and midnight?

  Karen: I think I was at home.

  Officer: You think?

  Karen: I mean yes, I was at home with Pete, my husband, I think.

  Officer: Are you sure of this, Karen?

  Karen: Well, perhaps let me go and check, sorry I meant to say yes, I was at home, but now I’ve confused myself.

  Officer: OK, Karen, please do check for us and let us know as soon as you can.

  8: Thin Blue Line

  Saturday 6th October 2018 - Vincent

  DCI Vincent Okafor arrived at the police station shortly before 8 am. He wasn’t meant to work on Saturdays, but he’d
felt compelled to read through the Melwood murder files again. He hated long, drawn-out cases, preferring to close them as soon as he could and move on. That attitude had helped him rise through the ranks in the police force to Chief Inspector.

  After a very bumpy six months in the role, the last thing he’d needed or expected happened; an unfathomable double murder in the more leafy, suburban part of the borough: Melwood. The inevitable media circus began, with all the reporters asking the same question. Why were two well-liked and decent women, with no criminal connections, shot dead in cold blood on the same summer’s night, after their shift at the local supermarket?

  Over two months had passed since those murders, and he was feeling the pressure acutely. He only remained the Senior Investigating Officer because no-one else wanted the job. They all knew they couldn’t have done any better, and that the case would likely remain unsolved.

  Okafor hadn’t put a foot wrong. First, he’d considered the ‘how’ of the crime. The killer murdered the women at point-blank range, with no signs of a struggle. The perpetrator used a vehicle with its number plate obscured. They drove it off-grid and torched it, leaving no trace of evidence.

  It wasn’t a crime of passion, an accident, or a random occurrence. It was planned and premeditated. Okafor was sure that the women had known their assailant. After all, Caitlin had let them into her flat without any sign of a struggle.

  His first hypothesis was that the women were secretly involved in organised criminal activity. After all, such executions were not uncommon in that world, and the women could have led a double life. His team worked under his guidance to seek out a link, but they found none. The friends and families of the two women seemed confused about why he had even considered it. He was sure that, had the situation not been so grave, they would have found it laughable.

 

‹ Prev