by MA Comley
“A murder,” he replied in a flash.
Sally groaned and raised her eyes at her partner. “Thanks for clarifying that. Anything I should know about?”
“Why don’t you stop going around the houses and come out and say it, Inspector? You mean, ‘Can this crime be linked to the others?’”
“Yes. I don’t have to remind you that we’ve already arrested a suspect and placed the man on remand for those crimes, do I? Do we know how long she’s been lying here?”
Simon shrugged. “Not long, a few hours. If the accused is behind bars, then in all probability, I think we could be looking at someone being a smartarse and copying.”
“Well, the location is certainly different from what we’ve come to expect. I’ll go and check with the manager, see what info I can get out of him. See you in a mo.”
“You do that.”
Sally and Jack left the room. “He seemed pretty hacked off,” Jack noted.
“Yeah, something was definitely bugging him. That’s why I chose to retreat. I’ve been on the end of one of his foul moods once too often in the past.”
Jack held open the door to the reception area for Sally. The manager was standing behind the desk, his arms folded, glaring at them. Sally showed her ID and introduced Jack and herself to the man. “What can you tell me about the person who booked the room?”
“Nothing much.”
“Come now, Mr…?”
“Chamberlain. Nothing. A regular kind of guy, that’s all.” He shrugged.
Sally glanced around the office. “No CCTV cameras, I suppose?”
“Nope. It’s on the agenda for 2030, I believe.”
“Okay, that’s not very helpful. Was the room booked for a couple or just the man?”
“Nope. If I’d known he was bringing a bit of tottie back for the night, I would have kicked up a fuss and demanded the couple rate.”
Sally hated dealing with obnoxious men. Her insides clenched with annoyance. “You’re referring to a woman who has lost her life, Mr. Chamberlain. That’s a very disrespectful comment.”
“Couldn’t give a toss, love. She shouldn’t have ended up in a motel room with a murderer, should she?”
Jack nudged Sally, urging her to remain calm. He spoke next. “If you stick to the facts and refrain from forming opinions about a dead person, we’d appreciate it.”
“What do you want to know?” the man snarled back.
“If you didn’t see the woman arrive, maybe one of the other guests did. We’ll need to question them,” Sally stated.
“No guests stayed here last night. We tend to be dead, excuse the pun, during the week. We do most of our trade at the weekends.”
“That’s a shame. Has the man ever used this motel before? Do you have his name? Did he give you an address?”
The man shuffled his feet and avoided eye contact.
Sally exhaled a breath. “Don’t tell me, he paid you cash in hand, no questions asked.”
He bared his rotten teeth in an embarrassed smile. “Like I said, trade is shite during the week. I have to make up the loss somehow.”
“You’re unbelievable. I’ll be sure to notify the nice folks down at HMRC about you trying to cheat the system. I don’t suppose you can possibly give us a description of the man, either?”
“No, you’re right. I can’t. We get lots of ordinary folks taking rooms. I’ve had no need to question their motives for staying here. It was the same with this guy. He offered cash, and I agreed. Report me to HMRC if you like. It ain’t gonna alter the outcome of what I can tell you, Inspector.”
“You might as well add another sign by the roadside then, telling folks that murderers are welcome just as long as they’re willing to pay in cash.”
“Smart. I might just do that,” he replied acerbically.
Jack stepped forward a few paces, but Sally tugged on his arm to restrain him. “Leave it, Jack. He’s not worth it. We’ll just make sure we cordon off the area for an extra few days. How does that grab you, Mr. Chamberlain?”
“Do what you like, the business is dead anyway. The receivers are moving in next week.”
“I’m not surprised, with the type of people skills you’re portraying. You need to find a more fitting vocation for your sucky attitude.”
“Yeah, and you need to get out there and find a killer… just saying.”
Jack intervened the warring couple again. “At least tell us what kind of car he was driving.”
The man’s eyes rolled to the side as he thought. “A dark Mondeo. That’s all I know, so don’t bother asking me for the registration number.”
“Thanks,” Jack replied.
Dissatisfied, Sally and Jack left the office.
“Well, I suppose we should be grateful he clocked the bloke’s car. Let’s see what cameras are located in the area, Jack. That car must be on at least one of them.”
“My thoughts exactly. I’ll call the station.”
“Hold on. Let’s drop back to the motel room and see if there’s an ID for the girl. You can get the next of kin info at the same time.”
Simon was leaning over the body when they entered the room. “Everything all right? Is there something else we should know about?”
“Apart from the fact that the killer is escalating, you mean?”
“It can’t be the same killer, Simon. We checked the remand centre—he’s still lying on a two-inch mattress in a cell.”
He shrugged. “Then I need to re-examine all the bodies again to see if there is any other DNA that will lead us to who the real culprit is.”
“What about the wounds? Can you tell us what the positive cause of death is?”
“A fatal wound to the heart. He exerted a lot of force, because the knife he used was of the short-bladed variety. She has bruising to the mouth where he probably held a hand over it while he carried out the attack. If that is the case, then I would say anger was his motivation.”
“Maybe she changed her mind once he enticed her into the room,” Jack offered.
“I’m more concerned if we have the right man banged up for the previous crimes at the moment. What if the DNA was wrong? Is that possible?”
“No. You know that as well as I do, Inspector,” Simon replied impatiently. “To me, despite your theory, going by the available DNA, there is no doubt that this man is guilty.”
Sally sighed. “What a mess. Then we need to rush the results through for the DNA found on her. We’re stuck until we have that.”
“I’ll do my best to rush things along due to the importance of the issue.”
“Okay. We need the woman’s ID so we can contact her relatives. Do you have it?”
Simon picked up the victim’s small handbag and removed the woman’s purse. “Let’s see… I have a credit card with the name Tracy Brand.”
“Anything with her address on?” Sally asked hopefully.
Simon pulled out a recent electricity bill with the woman’s name and address on. “Here we go. Flat two, Duchess Street, Lingwood.”
“That’s not far from here. Let’s get over there, see if anyone is at home.” Sally turned, expecting Jack to follow her. She called over her shoulder, “Two days, max, on the results, Simon, if you can.”
“I have enough welts on my back already, evidence of your slave driving,” he called after her, and she chuckled. She knew he would do all he could to get the results promptly—that set him apart from the other pathologists she’d worked with over the years.
They parked outside the woman’s flat and got out of the car. Jack rang the bell. No answer.
“I’ll nip next door, see what the neighbour can tell us.” Sally rounded the hedge and knocked on the red door, which a woman in her late sixties immediately opened, holding a yapping Yorkshire terrier. “Hello, I’m DI Sally Parker,” she shouted above the enthusiastic dog.
“Hush now, Stella. Let’s hear what the nice lady has to say.” The woman jiggled the dog in her arms until its barking ceased
and was replaced by a low, intermittent growl. “There, that’s better. Sorry, dear, you were saying?”
“I’m with the Norfolk Constabulary. I was wondering if you know the resident or residents next door.”
“I do. Whatever have they done to bring the police knocking at their door?”
“Nothing. We’re simply conducting enquiries regarding a case we’re working on at present. Can you tell me the occupant’s name or names?”
“Let me think. There’s Jill and her friend, Tracy. Now don’t go asking me what their surnames are. I haven’t got a clue about that.”
“That’s really helpful. Do you know if Jill is around?”
“I wouldn’t know, dear. If there’s no answer, then I guess she must be at work.”
Sally shook her head. “There isn’t. Any idea where she works?”
“They both work at the local petrol station, the Esso one just down the road.”
“Thank you. I’ll drop by and see her. I really appreciate your help.”
“Any time, dear. Carry on doing a fabulous job keeping our streets safe, won’t you?” The woman waved Sally off.
“I’ll do my best.” Sally motioned for Jack to join her. “Apparently, Tracy shares her home with a friend named Jill. They both work nearby.”
They drove to the petrol station. Sally flashed her ID at the young woman with purple dyed hair and several piercings in her lip, serving behind the counter. “DI Sally Parker, and this is my partner, DS Jack Blackman. Are you Jill?”
She frowned and folded her arms defensively. “That’s right. Have I done something wrong?”
“Not that we know of. It’s concerning a friend of yours, Tracy Brand.”
“What about her?”
“I have some bad news. She was found dead this morning.”
Jill’s eyes widened, and she fell back against the counter behind her. “What? No, that can’t be right.”
“I’m afraid Tracy’s handbag was found at the scene. Of course, a formal ID has yet to be confirmed, but it’s important that we get our investigation started immediately, if we have any chance of finding the perpetrator.”
“I don’t understand. Are you saying her death was intentional?”
“Exactly. Her body was found in a motel room out at Great Plumstead.”
Confusion clouded the woman’s expression again. “I don’t understand. Why would John take her to a hotel room?”
Sally glanced at Jack and raised an eyebrow, then she turned back to the woman. “It was a motel, not a hotel. Who is John? Do you mean Tracy had a boyfriend?”
“Yes, John Hartman. Look, I had my own fella stay over last night. Tracy said she would give us some space and spend the night at John’s place. Not sure where the motel comes into it, though. John owns his own property.”
“Interesting. I don’t suppose you can give us his address?”
“Not off the top of my head, no. I can tell you where he works if that would help?”
“It would.”
The woman dipped her head and placed her hand over her eyes as if the news of her friend had just hit her.
“Are you all right, Jill?”
“Sorry, it’s such a shock. Not something you have to contend with every day. Let me think. Ah yes, he works in a restaurant down by the river. The Friendly Trout, I believe it’s called.”
“Okay, I know the place. Can you give us an insight into their relationship? Have they been dating long? Any trouble between them?”
“Gosh, doesn’t every relationship have problems from time to time? I don’t think theirs was any different. They’ve been dating a few years, off and on. There were no plans on them settling down and having a baby, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“That’s the type of information I was after. Any major bust-ups lately that you know of?”
“No. I doubt she would have made arrangements to stay with him last night if that were the case.”
“Thanks for your help. I’m sorry for your loss. One last thing, do you have an address where we can contact Tracy’s parents?”
“No. All I know is they’re both seriously ill.”
“Okay, we’ll look into that. Do you know their names?”
“Not their first names. I only know them as Mr. and Mrs. Brand or Mum and Dad.” She smiled weakly. “The nursing home is in the area, if that helps any.”
“Thanks, it does. Does she have any siblings?”
“No. She’s an only child. Dealing with her parents’ care alone has been a nightmare for her.”
“Okay, thanks again. Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll survive. I’ll call my boss and let him know. Tracy was due to work the evening shift. He’ll be pissed off about the inconvenience, I’m sure. Well, screw him.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sally and Jack left the petrol station and drove to the restaurant. “It’s getting on for eleven. They should be open by now,” Sally said.
“Do you really think the boyfriend could be the killer?”
“No, but we still need to question him, Jack. You know that. They obviously met up last night. The burning question is why they went their separate ways during the course of the evening.”
“Maybe the killer witnessed them having an argument or something along those lines and pounced on the opportunity to comfort her.”
Sally turned to look at him. “I’m impressed with your feasible assumption. Let’s see what John’s take is on the evening before we start thinking along those lines, eh?”
The manager of the restaurant greeted them in jeans and a T-shirt. “Sorry about the dress code. We’re just getting set up, not due to open for another hour or so. Police, you say?”
“That’s right.” Sally showed the man her ID. “We’d like to chat with John Hartman if that’s possible.”
“He’s busy preparing for a group party we have booked in at lunchtime. Can this wait until after his shift has ended?”
“No, sorry, it can’t. Is there somewhere private we can have a chat with him?”
“If you must. My office, I suppose. I’ll go and get him for you.” The man stomped off, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. He returned a few seconds later with a man dressed in chef’s whites. Sally immediately thought of the victim’s knife wounds. Knives were a chef’s tools of the trade.
The manager introduced them then showed the group into his office. He closed the door behind him, leaving Sally and Jack alone with a perplexed chef.
“What’s this about? The kitchen is really busy preparing for a long day ahead.”
Sally invited the man to take a seat and perched her backside on the desk in front of him. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her thighs. “We have reason to believe that you know Tracy Brand. Can you confirm that?”
“I can. Why?”
She smiled. “When did the pair of you last meet?”
“Last night. Why?”
“Where did you go?” Sally asked, ignoring the man’s question for the second time.
“Out to the pub, as usual.” Hartman shrugged his broad shoulders.
“Did something happen between you last night?”
“Depends what you mean. If you’re talking about sex, no.”
“I’m not, but thanks for the clarification all the same. That fact might come in handy later on in our enquiries.”
“What are you on about? What enquiries?”
“What happened after you left the pub?” Sally continued to ignore his questions. All her interviews took place on her terms, never on anyone else’s. The sooner this confrontational young man realised that, the better.
“Me and the lads went to the nightclub. Why?”
“Did Tracy join you there?”
“No.”
Sally raised an eyebrow. “Why do I sense that there is something you aren’t telling me?”
“Like what?” His eyes drifted off to the left.
“I don’t know. You te
ll me. You venture out for the evening with your girlfriend and end up going to the nightclub with a group of lads. Where did Tracy go?”
He shrugged again. “If you must know, I dumped her halfway through the evening.”
“What? Why?”
“That’s my business, not yours.”
Sally’s eyes narrowed into a warning glare. “Less of the crappy attitude, Hartman. What transpired with Tracy?”
“She left the pub about thirty minutes before us. What’s the frigging problem? Couples fall out all the time. Is that an arrestable offence? I got bored with her.”
“Bored enough to kill her?” Sally shot back at him.
His gaze drifted between Sally and Jack as his brow furrowed deeply. “Of course not, what a dumb bloody question.”
“Guilty as charged! I tend to ask a stream of dumb questions during a murder enquiry. It’s usually how I obtain the truth.”
“What murder enqu…” Panic appeared in his eyes as the realisation dawned. “You’re kidding me! She’s dead?”
Sally nodded and folded her arms. “Yes. And as you were the last known person to see her alive, the onus is on you to tell us why we shouldn’t arrest you for her murder. After all, you wouldn’t be the first boyfriend to ‘get bored’ with his girlfriend and kill her.”
Hartman took a step towards Sally, a menacing look in his eye, as if he meant to strike her, but Jack jumped in between him and Sally. “Not advisable, pal. You’re in enough trouble already.”
“For what? I didn’t kill her.” He seemed confused one minute and annoyed the next. His hand scratched at the stubble covering his chin, and he turned his back on them. “I swear. Anyway, I have a bunch of witnesses who’ll vouch for me.”
“Ah, your loyal friends. Yes, don’t worry, we’ll be questioning them all. Maybe they were all there at the scene. Someone is sure to slip up. The truth usually comes out in the end.”
“Get lost. I’m innocent. Jesus, what a way to bloody tell me my girlfriend is dead. You’re sick.”
Sally grunted. “I’ve been called far worse, I can assure you. Sorry to correct you, but I think you’ll find that Tracy was your former girlfriend, which means that our interest in you went up several notches. Now, here’s how we are going to deal with this: first, you’re going to accompany us to the station to give us a full statement. After you’ll give us a list of the friends you were out with last night. Then, depending on how much you cooperate with our investigation, we’ll either let you go or charge you with your girlfriend’s murder.”