by Coles, Linda
When the hole was finally filled in, he took care to smooth the soil evenly but with a slight mound for settlement to occur. The turf that he’d carefully removed earlier was placed over the top like a giant green jigsaw and finally the job was complete. It didn’t take long. Will returned the excavator back to the shed and changed into his driving clothes for a second time. He wondered about Jonesy’s near miss, and who the pair were. Were they just tasked with the abduction – the hired muscle, as it were – or were they more involved? Did the same thing happen to Clyde or was his situation different? Were they even connected at all? So many questions, and not much chance of finding the answers. DI Mason had made it clear he shouldn’t involve himself; they’d take care of it. What had her words been? ‘I’ve done this before.’
He placed his work gear back in the holdall and set off towards home. Louise and the girls would be back by now, and something tasty would be cooking in the oven. With the exhumation one night and then a longer shift at Refresh the next, he felt like he hadn’t put his feet up and caught his breath with his young family in days. He hoped there was a bottle of wine on the go, preferably red, school night or not.
Twenty-Eight
It was Stephen Flint that took the call when another body was found. Curiously, it was at Hunsbury Hill Country Park, though it wasn’t the exact same spot as where Clyde Mollineau’s body had been discovered only three days ago. He almost ran into the office, shouting to get DI Mason’s attention. He succeeded.
“Boss! We’ve got another one,” he said, sounding disheartened but excited all at the same time, if that was even possible.
“Another one?” she said. “Where?”
“Hunsbury Hill, near the woods. Same as the last.”
“Who called in?” she asked.
“Someone walking their dog. Uniform are already on their way to secure the scene.” He watched as she grabbed her bag and jacket and walked towards him with urgent purpose.
“Let’s go over there then,” she said. “You’re driving.” Stephen grabbed his car keys and caught her up. “Have the crime scene investigators been advised?”
“Yes, I believe they’re en route. They might be there before us.”
They quickened their pace as they headed for the staff car park where DC Flint slipped in behind the wheel of his own vehicle. It wasn’t long until they were out on the main road and heading west over to Hunsbury Hill. Traffic was heavy around the ring road as usual, but they made good time and arrived just before the crime scene investigators. Once he had parked up as close as he could, they both leapt from the vehicle. Uniformed officers were milling around securing the area, and though it wasn’t exactly the same place as where Clyde had been found, it wasn’t far off. Curiously, it was further forward, rather than deeper into the woods, and in a more open area. The killer was obviously getting more confident in disposing of his victims. Or her. Blue-and-white crime scene tape flickered in the wind as they approached, and DI Mason wondered exactly what they would find this time. Would there be a message written on this one also, and what might it say?
“It’s not even dark, still dusk,” said Stephen. “Who would risk placing a body out here now, why not wait another hour or two?”
“A confident or stupid individual,” said Mason. “There’s plenty of them around. But I get what you’re saying, why not wait until the full cover of darkness? Why risk it?”
“Perhaps they wanted to be seen?” said Stephen. “Though what would be the point in that? I read somewhere that some criminals want to be caught so they are put away for their own safety. They want to live in prison.”
“Well, only a nutter would want to live in prison.”
“You don’t think you’d need to be a nutter to kill someone?” asked Flint. He wasn’t being facetious, but quite serious. Rochelle grumbled anyway.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said hurriedly. A van door closing loudly behind them made her turn. The crime scene investigators had parked in the car park before following the track that they had just walked up themselves. It would be difficult to get much closer with their vehicle, but they would no doubt try once they’d seen the terrain they were dealing with. Lights would be set up and a canopy placed over the body to protect it from the elements. Even though the weather forecast hadn’t suggested rain, it could never be counted on and all evidence needed preserving. It also helped with prying eyes. There were always dog walkers in the park, and when it came to respect for the dead, the general public had more of a morbid interest than a respectful interest. Rochelle approach one of the uniformed officers and showed her warrant card, as did Stephen, and asked for what was known so far, which turned out to be precious little.
A spotty individual who looked like he’d left Hendon Police College only last week seemed nervous in her presence, but that didn’t bother Rochelle.
“Who called it in then, are they still here?” she asked rather gruffly. Tiredness was catching up with her. She hadn’t had time to snatch forty winks this afternoon and it was beginning to show.
“A female dog walker called it in. She’s sitting just over there,” he said, pointing to his right.
Rochelle glanced across to see a woman bent over, sitting on an old tree stump. Her shoulders appeared to be moving up and down as though she was crying.
DC Stephen Flint glanced across at the same woman and said, “I’ll go,” sensing that his boss was not the woman for the job, not right then, not today anyway. Rochelle watched him go and was thankful for his intuition, she didn’t feel much like being compassionate and her temper seemed to be wearing thin these days. That wasn’t a good thing, she’d have to work harder to keep it in check before the team became suspicious. She just needed some sleep, the radiotherapy making it tough to operate without a nap after her appointment. Now, with another body found, there would be fat chance of getting an early night. She stifled a yawn as she slipped under the police tape and approached the spot where yet another young man’s body lay, roughly covered over with a few leaves. It couldn’t be termed buried. Apart from the jacket, he was dressed in a similar way to Clyde – bland thrift-shop clothing that hadn’t been laundered in some time. Porcelain skin covering his ribs gleamed white, his shirt undone and hanging loose by his side. His hands were grubby, hair greasy and lank. It wasn’t hard to assume the young man laid in front of her was another homeless person. Rochelle found a Sharpie in her bag and used it to lift the corner of the victim’s shirt a little. Blue ink stared back at her, another message: Touch move.
While it didn’t fit the dictionary definition of a serial killer, DI Rochelle Mason knew they were dealing with one.
Twenty-Nine
It was Will’s turn to get the kids ready for school since Louise had swapped her shift with a colleague in need. When he was on duty, he set the clock on his phone so that he could wake before the rest of the family and sneak out of bed and have some quiet time with his coffee, toast and the Mirror newspaper alone at the breakfast bar. While he got plenty of time on his own during the day, it didn’t compare to the time when the morning sun poured through the kitchen windows, and all was peaceful in the Peters’ household. He liked to feel that, with his family safe and asleep upstairs, he was somehow watching over them. It made him feel good. Life was full of small pleasures. He poured a second mug from the cafetière and carried on through the newspaper, scanning the articles for something of interest and finding nothing of note. He wondered, not for the first time, why he bothered with the newspaper at all – it was yesterday’s news anyway. He ought to cancel it and read it online instead. At least that was more up to date. With that thought, he pushed the newspaper to one side and grabbed his smartphone to check the online version. Will clicked on the yellow banner tickertape at the bottom of the screen – Breaking news: Another body found in Hunsbury Hill Country Park. Will quickly read the short report. There wasn’t much of note apart from the fact that there was another body. There was mention, however, that it look
ed like another homeless person. Will’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. He hadn’t realised that anybody else was missing; Jonesy was back, thank goodness. Who could it be? Another body? Was someone clearing up the streets, didn’t like them loitering in their doorways, or was it something else? He closed the page down and sat back in his chair, pondering. Obviously, DI Mason would know by now, though there was little point in ringing in her. He wondered if it was the same cause of death as Clyde, strangulation. He needed to find out more. Maybe it was someone that visited the centre for the services they provided? Was it someone he knew? Perhaps, if he did know them, he could identify the body. Unless they carried ID of their own. But few homeless people had a driving licence or a credit card, and most were estranged from their families, if they had them in the first place. They didn’t carry next of kin notification or useful information that would help if their body was ever discovered.
Will tossed back the remaining coffee and headed upstairs to the shower. He wasn’t sure what he could do, but he knew that he needed to do something and getting a head start on his day was the best thing he could think of while he processed what he’d just learned. After he’d dropped the girls off, his first pickup wasn’t till nine o’clock, so there was plenty of time. He could even pop in and see if DI Mason had got some news for him. Though would she even share? Maybe a phone call would be better. She’d looked tired when he’d left after the interview with Jonesy. A murder investigation would mean longer hours, and if she’d worked late, she could well be cranky this morning. That’s what lack of sleep did to you. He only needed to look at Poppy to know that one. Whenever they let her stay up a bit later than normal to watch a movie, she was always the same the following day, a dinosaur to live with. The thought made him smile, a welcome reprieve in light of the news. It had only been a couple of days ago that she’d wanted to go to school dressed as one. He wondered what she’d want to be today.
Will dried himself quickly and popped his head into the bedroom to see if Louise was awake yet. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he liked to take her a cup of tea in the morning if he had time. Swapping her shift at least meant a lie in. As he looked down at his beautiful wife, she started to stir at his presence, her eyes half-open, a smile beginning to creep across her mouth. He bent down and delivered a light peck to her lips. She tasted of sleep.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said. “Would you like a cuppa?”
She rubbed her eyes and said, “Yes, please,” so Will trundled back downstairs to make it. He put two slices of bread in the toaster then put the mug of tea on a tray and waited. When the toast was golden brown, he added butter and marmalade, taking care to remove the strands of rind, then took it upstairs to the bedroom. Louise, noticing the tray in his hands, sat up in bed as he put it down in front of her.
“What’s all this?” she asked.
“Well, I thought as you’re not in a rush this morning, breakfast in bed you deserve.” He sat down on the mattress. “I’ve got some news,” he said. “There’s been another body found in the woods.”
She stopped chewing for a moment and looked enquiringly at him. “Oh.”
“From the description online, it sounds like another from Refresh, or someone homeless at least.”
“What can you do?” she asked, resuming her chewing.
“Not a lot, I don’t think, but I will call the DI in charge, see if she’s got any news, if she’ll tell me anything. I’ll offer to identify the body, though I hope it’s not someone we know. That said, I also hope I can be helpful.”
Louise leaned forward and touched Will’s hand gently. “I’m sorry to hear that, Will. I know how much your work, the whole centre, means to you. You’re such a good sort.”
He raised a smile in reply. “Let’s see what the day brings.”
Glancing at the bedside clock, he noted it was not even 7 am. If DI Mason was still asleep, he didn’t want to be the one that woke her. He’d call just before he picked Birdie up.
Thirty
Will made himself useful and called the centre, hoping Hazel was on a shift. Breakfast started early and lingered until almost mid-morning since those that lived on the streets weren’t exactly in a rush to get on with their day. Any early birds tended to be people that were struggling to make ends meet on the little income that they did have and perhaps did have an early shift to start. If Hazel wasn’t there, it didn’t really matter; there’d be someone he could talk to to see if the drums had been beating with word that somebody else hadn’t been seen for a while. He’d only heard about Jonesy, who thankfully was now safely back on the streets, if ‘safely’ was the word he could use. Some people enjoyed the lifestyle, some couldn’t wait to get away from it, and Jonesy fitted into the former. He was in luck, though. Hazel was on duty. He waited patiently for her to come to the phone.
“Hey Will,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
“Have you seen the news?”
“Not yet, what’s happened?”
“They’ve found another body at Hunsbury Hill Park. They seem to think it’s a homeless person again and I wondered if anybody else had been reported missing.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line, Hazel was obviously thinking. He heard a deep sigh before she responded. “I’ve not heard anything, no, but that doesn’t mean…”
“I know, I thought the same. I’m going to ring the DI that is investigating Clyde’s case and see if she’ll tell me anything, though I doubt she’ll say much.”
“I am guessing you’re thinking the same as me, it could be anyone?”
“Afraid so,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I find anything out. Keep your own ears open.”
“I will. I’d better go,” said Hazel before hanging up.
Will took his chance to risk the wrath of a tired Rochelle Mason. He dialled her number and waited.
“DI Mason,” she said formally.
He could hear a mixture of tiredness and busy in the way she answered. With two victims, she and her team would have their work cut out for them, particularly with the deaths occurring in such close proximity of time. If both were left in Hunsbury Hill Park, there was an obvious link that any layperson would understand.
“Sorry to disturb you, DI Mason,” Will said. “It’s Will Peters.”
“Yes, Will, what can I do for you now?”
“I heard the news about another body found in Hunsbury Hill Park, likely a homeless person again.”
“What can you tell me?” she said gruffly.
“I was hoping you could tell me something actually,” he said, trying to sound light-hearted and failing terribly.
“Do you have information that somebody is missing from the centre?”
“Not that we know of, no, but that doesn’t mean much with the community we help. But I wondered if you needed me to come along and perhaps take a look at the victim, see if I recognise them?” Rochelle Mason stayed silent, obviously pondering what to do, and Will instantly knew that the victim hadn’t been carrying any ID.
“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “What time can you be at the mortuary?”
“I can be there about half nine actually, if that would help?”
“I’ll meet you there then.”
And she was gone. As Will placed his phone back on the kitchen worktop, he looked out at the green grass of the postage-stamp-sized garden, bright sunlight flooding into the room. A beautiful day for most people, but a terrible day for somebody that had lost their life. Rochelle Mason sounded a mixture of tired, overwhelmed and distracted, and he felt sorry for her, but he felt even more sorry for the latest victim and any family yet to find out.
He grabbed his car keys and set off to Birdie’s house. She’d lift his spirits, she did every time they met, and he always enjoyed spending time with her. If ever he was feeling low or disgruntled with something, no matter what it was, she had a habit of lifting them in an instant, even though she was a feisty individual he’d never wan
t to cross, particularly now that he knew she’d stabbed her husband to death. He’d find out the reason why one day, but it wasn’t important, he simply enjoyed her company. Today, she’d be dressed in black Lycra ready for her Pilates class. She said it kept her supple. He smiled at the bright red lips that would complete the look. Yes, Birdie would lift his spirits for sure.
Thirty-One
Will pulled up outside Birdie’s big house as she was closing the door behind her. Just as he’d suspected, she was dressed head to foot in black Lycra, her red exercise shoes and small sports bag identical in colour to her lips, her grey hair tied up in a neat French plait. She cut a sharp figure and he wondered if she’d always been in such good shape all her life. As Birdie turned towards him, she waved lightly, a smile stretched across her face as per usual. He loved her mood – she only had the one and that was upbeat. He jumped out and opened the rear passenger door for her and waited until she’d set herself comfortable and fastened the seat belt before getting back in himself.
“And how is Birdie today?” he asked as he prepared to pull away from the kerb.
“Perfect as a usual. Every day I’m alive, I’m perfect,” she added by way of explanation.
“Well, I’m glad that you’re perfect every day, Birdie,” Will said with a smile. “I must say I always enjoy your positivity. Not many of my customers, or should I say none of my customers, are anything like you.”