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

by Jennifer R Hollis

  “Promise me, Deb, promise me you’ll drop this now,” whispered Karen.

  Gillian couldn’t see Debbie’s non-verbal response. But the fact that Karen’s next word was ‘good,’ suggested that Debbie had nodded in agreement. Gillian slunk back to the canteen as her colleagues made their way back downstairs.

  19: Overheard At The Funeral

  Thursday 6th December 2018 - Joanne

  Over a month after she’d discovered the body, DS Joanne Harris dressed for Dawn’s funeral. Each day since, she’d woken up and checked her emails for the final forensic and coroners’ reports. Until they had them, they couldn’t determine their next steps, if any, on the case.

  But, despite the delay, the images of Dawn’s bedroom, her body, and the blood were still crystal clear in Joanne’s head. According to her in-force counsellor, she’d never entirely forget them.

  The coroner had released his report a few days ago; a copy of it lay open on Joanne’s dressing table, in front of her. He’d determined the time of death as Wednesday 31st October, between 7 pm and 9 pm. The body had been in the bedroom, undisturbed, for a whole five nights before Joanne discovered it.

  It could have been there longer, had one of Dawn’s colleagues, Debbie, not reported her absence to the police. Joanne felt a familiar pang of pity for the woman whose body she’d found. She glanced down at the report for what felt like the hundredth time. As always, the word ‘suicide’ stared back up at her, in bold black ink on the white page. She shook her head; this incident wasn’t black and white, as the report seemed to suggest.

  She remembered the shoes knocked out of place in the hallway. She knew that the team had failed to find Dawn’s phone, which was last used at 8.30 pm on Halloween to send a message to Debbie. And buried in the forensic report was a reference to unfamiliar clothing fibres found on Dawn’s body.

  Of course, there had been plenty of evidence for suicide too. Indeed, the coroner had found the weight of evidence in favour of that verdict. Yet, that did nothing to quell the uneasy feeling in Joanne’s stomach. She strongly suspected that Dawn, like Janice and Caitlin, had been murdered by someone she knew. She was also sure that DCI Vincent Okafor privately shared her suspicions. But then, Inspectors couldn’t run around challenging Coroners’ reports. He couldn’t neglect investigations into organised crime and drug distribution to chase ghosts.

  Indeed, that was why Okafor was leading the latest drugs raid today, while Joanne was off to Croydon crematorium for Dawn’s modest funeral.

  She took her time driving her car slowly through the town centre. She wanted to arrive only just on-time, to avoid awkward conversations with the supermarket workers she knew from the Janice Locke and Caitlin Murphy case.

  Outside, it was a bland kind of day, neither warm nor too cold, neither sunny nor overcast. It struck Joanne as somewhat apt for Dawn’s funeral. She passed the queues of cars outside the shopping centre and arrived at her destination a few minutes early.

  Outside the crematorium, roughly twenty people were gathered, in black clothes and coats. Closest to the entrance were an elderly couple and a woman who bore some resemblance to Dawn. Beside them, staff from the supermarket chatted in huddles.

  At the rear, Gillian stood on her own, shuffling Orders of Service. Joanne willed herself to approach her.

  “Hello. Gillian, isn’t it?”

  “Hello,” chirped Gillian. “Lovely of you to attend,” she added, with a pursed smile.

  It didn’t take a detective to spot the change in Gillian. DS Harris had only ever known her to be visibly irritable and stressed. Yet now, she looked relaxed and content. Her short, dark blonde hair shone and held its shape. She’d put on a little weight, which filled the wrinkles on her face and suited her. It made her appear a bit less stern.

  “Not at all, I’d like to pay my respects,” replied DS Harris. “You’re looking well, how is everything at the supermarket?”

  “Oh, yes, we’re doing OK. It’s been tough, of course, after these terrible, terrible events, but we’ve pulled together. Things have been a lot calmer in the last month, you know.”

  Gillian’s eyes swept the groups in front of her with the same tight smile. Joanne followed her gaze. Renee Beck and Karen Goldman were deep in what looked like an amicable conversation. Debbie Gomez was close by with her husband, engrossed in discussion with Marie Webster.

  The only person who still looked miserable was Jade Dimont. She stood next to two other young people but wasn’t taking part in their conversation. That was no surprise, though, given what had happened to her father and brothers in the last month.

  “Good,” said Joanne in reply, “and your husband, Kevin, is it, he’s not here today?”

  For a fraction of a second, Gillian’s smile slipped. Yet, she recovered in a flash and looked back at Joanne with the same twinkle in her eye.

  “No, why would he be? He didn’t know Dawn, and he runs a very busy company.” She wrinkled her nose and stared at Joanne, her lips pursed into a smile again.

  “Of course,” nodded Joanne. She breathed a sigh of relief as the vicar appeared and invited everyone inside for the ceremony.

  Joanne sat alone near the back of the hall; her eyes fixed on the pamphlet in front of her. It was a short affair; the vicar cantered through the usual readings and a few standard hymns. Towards the end, he asked whether anyone would like to say a few words. The gathering exchanged nervous glances, as the three family members shook their heads.

  The vicar looked somewhat taken aback as Debbie Gomez stood up with a start and marched to the front of the hall. Debbie’s husband and Karen glanced at each other with concern from either side of the empty seat. Debbie cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ears. She clasped her hands together in front of her.

  “I knew Dawn for almost fifteen years,” she started, her voice shaking.

  “Well, as well as you could know Dawn, I suppose. She was a very private person, very happy in her own company. Some of us need to be around other people all the time, to be the centre of attention. Dawn was the opposite of that, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t content.”

  There were nods and murmurs of assent from around the room.

  “When she was at work, I suppose it forced her out of her comfort zone. But in those situations, she was always polite, and hard-working, and compassionate.”

  Debbie paused and looked as though she was weighing up her next words carefully.

  “She noticed things,” she spluttered.

  Joanne noticed that Debbie’s knuckles had turned paler, from grasping her own hands.

  “And...and she wanted to do right by everyone. If she were here, you know, still alive, I would say to her that I knew the truth. And that I am so sorry that I didn’t do anything to stop what happened.”

  Debbie’s breath caught in her throat, and she gave a short sob before returning to the stunned audience.

  Joanne could feel the tension in the room. After all, Debbie had just referred to someone who had apparently committed suicide as ‘content’. Debbie’s husband stood up and put his arm around her. Karen glanced at Dawn’s parents and sister apologetically.

  “Thank you,” said the vicar, “for those kind words. Of course, it is common for us to find words for those who have passed, that we could not find in their life…”

  The service continued a little longer until finally, the plain coffin rolled away. Karen hurried to escort Debbie, who was still crying into a tissue, to the toilets.

  Joanne’s detective instincts kicked in, and she sloped out of the hall after Debbie and Karen. After all, Debbie had chosen some rather curious and ambiguous words in her speech.

  The door to the ladies’ toilets hung ajar. Joanne loitered outside with her phone in her hand. She was close enough to hear the conversation within.

  “What on earth was that all about?” demanded Karen.

  “It’s her funeral and nobody else was going to speak. She deserved at least one person s
aying something nice about her,” replied Debbie.

  “You know what I mean,” hissed Karen. “You said, ‘I know the truth, I’m sorry I didn’t prevent it’. It has been such a good month, and things are getting back on track, please don’t dredge all this up again.”

  “I can’t help it, I feel like a fraud sitting here, everyone believing that she killed herself.”

  “She did!”

  “We both know she didn’t, Karen!”

  Joanne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could Debbie and Karen know Dawn’s death wasn’t suicide? Before she could gather her thoughts, the toilet door swung open. Karen marched out, looking paler than usual behind her black fascinator.

  “Excuse me,” Karen pushed past Joanne without looking at her. Debbie came out of the toilets a few seconds later and offered Joanne a teary smile and a nod. She shuffled over to Joe, who ushered her out of the main entrance after Karen.

  Joanne hung back beside the toilets as Dawn’s family and colleagues started filing out. She heard chairs scraping and muffled voices from inside the main hall. She leaned around a pillar to look back inside and saw Marie clutching Renee’s arm.

  “Jesus Renee, are you OK, you almost fell…”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I’m light-headed, that’s all. Will you stop fussing over me,” muttered Renee, as she stood up to her full height. She also looked pale and a bit clammy, underneath a long black jumper dress.

  “Please, let me help,” begged Marie, her voice strained.

  “I don’t need help!” snapped Renee, as she bent over to collect some items she’d dropped.

  “Yes, you do. I know what you’re hiding.”

  A red flush returned to Renee’s cheeks, and she glared ferociously at Marie.

  “Whatever you think, Marie, you don’t breathe a word of it to anyone!”

  “I won’t, I promise. But I can help.”

  “I mean it. Remember, I know your little secret too, don’t I?”

  Joanne hid as they stomped out of the building in silence, oblivious to her presence.

  “Wow,” she muttered to herself.

  She took her notebook from her pocket and scribbled down what she’d overheard. One thing was for sure: Debbie, Karen, Renee and Marie were all hiding something. She couldn’t wait to tell Okafor.

  Once the final car had pulled away, Joanne skipped out of the building, keen to get back to the station. As she approached her car, she saw a small figure sitting on the ground next to the driver’s door. At first, she thought it was a child. But as she got closer, she recognised the blonde hair and thin, pale face of Jade Dimont. She stopped in her tracks. The last time she saw Jade was the day of her three half-brothers’ arrests. After that, her brothers, her father and stepmother had entered witness protection. Jack had taken a deal and given Okafor volumes of information on his suppliers and their network.

  During the negotiations, Jack Dimont had not once mentioned his daughter. He didn’t seem concerned about her wellbeing, or to want her to come with them.

  “Hello, Jade,” greeted Joanne. “What are you doing down there?”

  “You’re the policewoman, you were there on that day, in New Grange,” said Jade, as she got to her feet. She was wearing an old black jacket and a short black skirt that wasn’t entirely appropriate for a funeral.

  “I was.”

  “I wondered if I could talk to you alone?” asked Jade. She folded her arms across her chest, and her bottom lip trembled.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t discuss your family’s case with you. Did the liaison officer explain what’s happened to them?”

  “Yes, but,”

  “Well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that. If you like, I could get my colleagues to give you another call?”

  Jade nodded and bit her lip.

  “Is there something else, Jade?”

  Joanne sensed that Jade had something on the tip of her tongue. But instead of saying it, the young girl shook her head and turned away. Joanne felt a tinge of guilt, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

  She got into her car and dialled Vincent’s number. She willed him to answer, and grinned as he picked up. She kept her voice as calm and level as possible as she reported everything she’d overheard at the funeral.

  “Well, well,” said Vincent. “I want you to talk to Dawn’s supervisor team. One by one, ask them where they were on Halloween evening. Keep it as casual as you can, as though you didn’t hear those conversations. Then, we’ll put their answers to the test. Anyone who doesn’t pass will face some very tough questioning.”

  “Understood,” confirmed Joanne, and she couldn’t help but smile. Janice, Caitlin and Dawn deserved justice, and she would get it for them.

  Excerpts: Saturday 8 December 2018 – Melwood Interviews

  Karen

  DS Harris: Can you recall your whereabouts on 31st October 2018, between 6 pm and 10 pm?

  Karen: Umm, what day was that?

  DS Harris: It was a Wednesday, Karen. Halloween evening, the night of the riots.

  Karen: What’s this about?

  DS Harris: A review of Dawn Smith’s case.

  Karen: Right. What does Halloween have to do with Dawn?

  DS Harris: It was the night she died, Karen.

  Karen: *Laugh* Well, what are you asking me for?

  DS Harris: It’s helpful for us to place people who knew Dawn, on the night she died. You don’t have to answer, but you will be helping us if you do.

  Karen: Oh, fine. I was at home.

  DS Harris: With your husband?

  Karen: Yes, yes, and the kids. We had a family night together. But for God’s sake, please don’t go asking them. We’re struggling a bit, me and Pete, and this will stress him. You’ve already wasted my time, don’t waste his, too. The woman killed herself, and we all just want to move on.

  Gillian

  DS Harris: Can you recall your whereabouts on 31st October 2018, between 6 pm and 10 pm?

  Gillian: Why are you asking me this? You said it was suicide.

  DS Harris: We are reviewing the case file, Gillian. You’re under no obligation to answer, but it is helpful for us to place everyone who knew Dawn.

  Gillian: Well, I was at the Homestead Community event, OK? I went straight there after work for 5.45-ish to help set up. Dozens of people saw me there. When we heard the news of the riots, I locked everyone, including myself, in the hall. We were there until about 9 pm. When the situation was under control, I packed up and drove straight home. I’ll be on the Fair Lawns’ gate camera coming back in at 9.30ish, no doubt.

  Jade

  DS Harris: Can you recall your whereabouts on 31st October 2018, between 6 pm and 10 pm?

  Jade: I remember it because I was working on my own that night. I mean supervising the department on my own, from 5.30 pm when Gillian left. Steve wasn’t there, but the Duty Manager, Gerard, locked the doors when we saw the rioters outside. We opened them again at 8.45 pm to let people out, and then we closed on time. I cashed up and walked home down Melwood High Street at about 9.30 pm.

  DS Harris: You walked back alone?

  Jade: Not like I can afford a cab! And I’m not scared of boys rioting, what’s the worst they could do?

  Ethan

  DS Harris: Can you recall your whereabouts on 31st October 2018, between 6 pm and 10 pm?

  Ethan: Halloween? The night Dawn killed herself?

  DS Harris: Yes

  Ethan: I was at home with my parents all night. Why, what else happened that night?

  DS Harris: That’s all, Ethan. Thank you.

  Marie

  DS Harris: Can you recall your whereabouts on 31st October 2018, between 6 pm and 10 pm?

  Marie: No. *Interview refused*

  Renee

  DS Harris: Can you recall your whereabouts on 31st October 2018, between 6 pm and 10 pm?

  Renee: Oh God, Halloween. I remember it because I just felt so awful. Really sick and weak all day
. You know when you have chills and a fever at the same time? I just couldn’t leave the house.

  DS Harris: You booked the day off work, I heard?

  Renee: Yes.

  DS Harris: Rather than taking a sick day? You couldn’t have predicted being sick, could you?

  Renee: Well, no, I suppose not.

  DS Harris: So why did you book it?

  Renee: I never work on my birthday, that’s why I booked it, not because I knew I’d be sick.

  DS Harris: Your birthday is on Halloween?

  Renee: Yes, it is. I usually have the best birthday parties. I’m not lying! Check my bloody birth certificate if you like.

  DS Harris: So, were you sick, or out for your birthday?

  Renee: Well, obviously, I had planned an evening out with my cousin, Claire, and some friends. We’d booked this table at this new cocktail bar in town. Great reviews. But because I felt so awful, I cancelled it and stayed at home. That was for the best, really, given what happened that night with the riots. I mean can you imagine, if I’d gone and got stuck in that! It would have been awful.

  DS Harris: Thank you. So, you were at home all evening. Can anyone confirm that?

  Renee: Princess was with me.

  DS Harris: The cat?

  Renee: Yes! How did you know she’s a cat?

  DS Harris: Anyone else, Renee? A human?

  Renee: Ohhh, yes. I had a knock on the door from trick or treaters. I gave them my last chocolate bar.

  DS Harris: What time was that?

  Renee: Oh, no idea, sorry. It was getting dark.

  Debbie

  DS Harris: Can you recall your whereabouts on 31st October 2018, between 6 pm and 10 pm?

  Debbie: I was at the Homestead community event until about 7.30 pm – then I drove the kids home when I heard about the riots.

  DS Harris: Are you OK, Debbie?

  Debbie: Um, yes, sorry, I’m still very upset about Dawn’s death. Well, you saw me at the funeral.

  DS Harris: What time did you get home?

  Debbie: I – uh – had to take a longer route home, because of the riots, I can’t remember exactly.