by John Nicholl
Spencer pushed his chair aside. ‘Thank you, I’m grateful. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
The solicitor led his client into the reception, which also served as his young secretary’s office. ‘Can you check to see if Mr Spencer’s pending court appearance is marked in the diary for a week today, please, Helen?’
She opened the diary, flicked through the pages, stopped, continued, and stopped again. ‘Ah, yes, here it is, ten a.m. in Caerystwyth Magistrates Court. Do you want me to make another appointment while I’ve got the book open?’
The solicitor shook his head and smiled warmly. ‘No, no, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’ll see you in court on the twelfth, Mr Spencer, all being well. And remember what I’ve told you. Heed my advice. Don’t go anywhere near your wife. Stay away. I need you to take your bail conditions and the injunction seriously; it’s absolutely essential in the circumstances. The court would not look on it favourably were you to transgress again.’
‘Okay, I’ve got the message. Enough said.’
Turner reached out and shook Spencer’s hand. ‘I’m glad to hear it. And put on a shirt and tie for the magistrates. They appreciate a bit of effort on the defendant’s part. Play the game as I’ve advised, and you’ll have a much better chance of winning. Is that clear enough for you?’
Spencer looked back and winked as he approached the exit, with the hint of a smile playing on his lips. ‘You can rely on me, I’ll do exactly what you’ve told me to do. I’m feeling more confident about things already.’
The solicitor’s irritation was palpable as he glared at his client. The man was an utter pleb; a moron. ‘Say no more for now, Mr Spencer. It’s time to be on your way.’
2
Detective Inspector Gareth Gravel, or Grav as he was known to all in the force, stuffed half a stale sausage roll in his mouth, washed it down with a slurp of excessively sweet coffee, and picked up the phone on the fourth ring. ‘CID.’
‘Hello, sir, it’s Sandra on the front desk.’
‘Yes, I do know, love. We’ve been working together for about fifteen years. You say the same thing every single time.’
‘Really, only fifteen? It feels like longer.’
He chuckled to himself. ‘What can I do for you, love?’
‘I’ve got your daughter here with me. Such a lovely, pleasant girl, unlike some I could mention. She must take after her mother.’
Grav silently observed that Sandra had never said a truer word in her life. Emily was so like her mum, with her brown eyes, dark, Celtic good looks, and friendly persona, and he still missed her every second of every single day. ‘Does she seem in a good mood?’
Sandra looked up, trying not to be too obvious and failing miserably. ‘I’d say so.’
‘Glad to hear it. It must be good news. Tell her to wait for me in the canteen. I could do with a bite to eat. I’ll be with her in two minutes max.’
Grav approached his daughter as she stood in the queue behind three uniformed officers at the canteen’s cluttered counter. He lifted her off her feet and engulfed her in a powerful bear hug, which caused her to gasp for breath, before setting her down again. ‘Good to see you, love. Any news?’
She took a single sheet of embossed paper from the back pocket of her blue jeans, unfolded it theatrically, and broke into a smile that lit up her face. ‘I got the job. What do you think of that, Mr Policeman? Your daughter’s going to be a kick-ass lawyer.’
He beamed. ‘Oh, that’s brilliant, love. I never doubted you for a moment. Mum would be so very proud of you.’
Emily looked away as the past closed in and surrounded her mercilessly. ‘I wish she was still with us.’
‘Me too, love… Oh, here we go. What are you going to have? My treat. I know how skint you student types are.’
She smiled thinly. ‘What do you recommend?’
‘Well, most of it’s terrible, but Gloria here does a passable egg and chips on a good day.’
He turned to face the long-suffering-cook- cum-chief- bottle-washer, who was swaying from one foot to the other with her arms folded in front of her. ‘What’ll it be, Grav? Come on, I haven’t got all day. You're not the only one who needs feeding.’
‘I’ll have two of your gourmet egg and chips, please, love. Nice and greasy, mind. Just like you usually make it. And some baked beans too. You should be able to manage that without too much trouble.’
Gloria stifled a smile, not wanting to encourage him more than she already had. ‘Yeah, hilarious as usual, Inspector. You always manage to eat it all from what I’ve seen. It can’t be that bad.’
He patted his overhanging beer belly. ‘I’m a growing boy, love. A man’s got to eat. I can’t afford to be fussy.’
‘Anything to drink?’
‘A cup of tea for me, and what about you, love, any preferences?’
Emily suspected the answer would be an emphatic no, but she met Gloria’s tired eyes and asked anyway. ‘Do you have herbal tea of any description? Camomile or peppermint would be lovely.’
Gloria glanced around the room and shook her head. ‘Not a chance. It would be wasted on this lot.’
‘Just a coffee, then, please.’
‘Milk and sugar?’
She briefly considered asking for cream but decided against it. ‘Just a splash of milk, please. Semi -skimmed, if you’ve got it.’
Gloria walked away and returned a few minutes later with two unappetising looking meals, followed by their hot drinks in steaming white porcelain mugs that were long past their best. ‘Anything else?’
Grav took a crumpled ten-pound note from the inside pocket of his tweed jacket. ‘Nah, that’ll do it thanks. And keep the change. You deserve it, with all your hard work.’
‘What, all twenty pence of it? I’ll try not to get too excited. Maybe I’ll book a holiday somewhere nice for a bit of sun.’
‘You do that, love. I hear Barbados is nice at this time of year.’
Grav led his daughter towards his usual table, tray in hand, and winced on sitting down as his overburdened knees stiffened and complained. ‘Right, tell me all about this new job of yours. I could do with a bit of cheering up.’
Emily took a gulp of gradually cooling coffee and grinned. ‘Two years of on-the -job training, and I’ll be a fully qualified solicitor.’
‘I’m pleased for you, love. Honestly, I am, that goes without saying, but why here in town? Why Harrison and Turner?’
Her mouth fell open. ‘You told me they had a good reputation when I asked you a couple of months back. You're not going to tell me something different now, are you?’
‘No, no, it’s nothing like that. They’re a decent firm, from what I’ve seen. But I thought you loved Cardiff. You’ve told me that yourself more than once – the nightlife, the theatres, the galleries, and music venues. Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted to have you back in this part of the world, of course I am; it’ll be good to see more of you. I’m surprised, that’s all.’
She shifted her food around her plate before responding. ‘I had a brilliant three years at university. Some of the best times of my life. But I’ve decided it’s time to come home. Time to move on.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you certain there’s not more to it? I felt sure you and Richard were settled in the city for the foreseeable future. What about his job? Is he going to commute? It’s a fair old drive from Caerystwyth to Cardiff five days a week. I wouldn’t fancy it myself. Particularly at rush hour, and when it’s throwing it down. It’s going to add a good three to four hours to his day. There’s only so long anyone can do that sort of thing.’
‘We’ve split up. It’s over.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, when did this happen?’
Emily put down her knife and fork and exhaled slowly through pursed lips. ‘At the beginning of October; the sixth, to be exact. It’s engrained in my psyche. Carved in tablets of frigging stone never to be forgotten. I’ve been sleeping on a girlfriend’s se
ttee ever since. I couldn't keep up the rent on the flat once he’d gone.’
‘Why the hell didn’t you say something before now? I could have helped you out. You only had to ask.’
She focused on the table top. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Dad, but it’s the sort of thing I used to talk to Mum about. We haven't spoken that often while I’ve been at university, if you think about it. And when we do, it’s usually small talk, not relationship stuff. When was the last time we had a real heart-to-heart?’
His face reddened. ‘I do my best, love. It’s difficult, what with the pressure of work and all that. And your mother was good at this kind of thing. Well, you know what I’m saying. We played to our strengths. Worked as a team.’
‘Fucking cancer.’
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand for a moment before releasing it and slumping back in his seat. ’You’ve got that right. It’s become something of a mantra.’
‘Yeah, it has.’
‘So, what happened? I thought you and Richard were going the distance.’
‘So, did I, until he screwed some tart he works with.’
Grav shook his head. ‘What an idiot, throwing everything away because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Some people don’t seem to value what they’ve got until they’ve lost it.’
‘I got suspicious when he started coming home late from work a little too often; he’s hardly the dedicated sort. Then, I discovered bright-red lipstick on his shirt, and it stank of cheap perfume I didn’t recognise – something I’d never wear. I knew something was up. I was certain of it.’
‘Did you challenge him?’
‘Oh yeah, but he denied it, said I was being stupid, and stormed out of the flat full of feigned righteous indignation. He even slammed the door on his way out. He almost had me convinced for a while. He’s a good liar, I’ll give him that much.’
Grav glowered. ‘The evidence spoke for itself.’
‘I did a bit of detective work of my own after that and found some photos he’d taken of her. Let’s just say, they didn't leave anything to the imagination; you know what I’m saying. She was all high heels, black stockings, sex toys, and no knickers. The dirty bastard! I really trusted him. I’d never felt so betrayed in my life.’
‘What a tosser.’
She laughed despite herself. ‘Yeah, that’s one word for him. I can think of a few more. I called him most of them.’
‘What did he say when you told him what you’d seen?’
‘Oh, some total crap about it not being what it looked like. She meant nothing to him, it was just sex, he still loved me, he’d never do it again. The usual shit men come up with when they’re caught out and faced with the undeniable.’
‘Not all of us, love. I want you to remember that. We don’t all screw around.’
‘I wanted to forgive him – I was desperate to forgive him and convince myself it was a one-off aberration, but a girl on my course told me he’d done it before. He’d had sex with one of her drunken mates after a party, when I was tucked up in bed with the flu. The girl was legless, apparently. It all happened in a pub car park, really classy. It seems everyone knew all about it, except me.’
Grav clenched his hands into tight fists before consciously relaxing them and focusing on his daughter. ‘You’re well rid of him, love. I know men like him; some with wives and kids. Blokes who take off their wedding rings when they go out for a few pints on a Saturday night. Most of them never change. It’s pathetic, really. Why the hell they get married in the first place is a mystery to me.’
‘I never want to see his ugly face again.’
He reached across the table for a second time and patted her hand. ‘That’s the spirit, love. Forget the cheating bastard. He doesn’t deserve you. You’ll find the right man. Mark my words. It’s just a matter of time.’
‘Thanks, Dad. You’re getting better at this relationship stuff.’
‘So, come on, let’s stay positive. Why not focus on the future? Life goes on, whether we laugh or cry. You're back in God’s own country, things could be a lot worse. When are you starting this new job of yours?’
‘This coming Monday.’
He jerked his head back. ‘What, as soon as that?’
‘Yeah, it surprised me as well. Mr Turner seems really keen for me to start as soon as possible. I was hoping to move into your place until I find somewhere of my own, if that’s okay with you? It shouldn’t take too long, maybe a month or two.’
He nodded less than enthusiastically. ‘You’ll be very welcome, love; it’ll be nice to have a bit of company again. Do you need a hand with the move?’
‘Have you got the time?’
He paused before responding. ‘I could probably manage a couple of hours over the weekend, if that’s any good to you?’
‘How’s the murder investigation going?’
‘Don’t ask.’
‘What, that bad?’
‘Worse.’
‘You don’t want to talk about it?’
‘Not really, there’s nothing positive to say; the investigation’s going nowhere.’
‘Okay, message received loud and clear. Can I borrow your car on Sunday afternoon?’
Grav relaxed. ‘Yeah, no problem. I’ll add you to the insurance.’
‘You’re sure you won’t need it? I can always ask a friend, if it’s an issue.’
‘No, I’ll borrow one from work. Keep the Golf for as long as you need it. It’s the least I can do. I’ll even fill it with diesel for you.’
‘Thanks, Dad, that’ll do nicely. I haven't got that much to pack anyway. I’ve already taken a load of stuff to the charity shop. A lot of it his. Too many memories. I want a new start.’
‘If you’re sure.’
Emily nodded her reluctant acceptance. ‘It’s going to be a lot of change all at once. Leaving my friends in Cardiff, starting work for the first time, and finding a place of my own. I just hope I can handle it all.’
He smiled warmly, picturing the little girl who’d become a woman. ‘You’ll be fine, love. You’ve got a first-class degree, a good head on your shoulders, and your old dad’s good looks, wit, and sparkling personality. What could possibly go wrong?’
She laughed as the tension lifted. ‘I’ll be a legal eagle before you know it. Watch out world. The Old Bailey, here I come.’
‘Of course, you will, love, and that Charles Turner’s not a bad looking bloke, according to one of our PCs. She only met him the once and was banging on about it for ages. He looks a bit like a young Paul Newman, apparently. I can’t see it myself.’
‘Men aren’t very high on my priority list at the moment.’
‘No, I guess not. But you’ll have to get back on the horse sometime.’
‘Like you have, you mean?’
His facial muscles tightened. ‘Oh, come on, that’s different. Me and your mum were childhood sweethearts. We were together for a very long time.’
‘Turner’s a bit too much of a charmer for my tastes. He’s a ladies’ man – that’s obvious from the second you meet him. I’ll be looking for someone a bit more reliable when the time feels right.’
‘Oh, you mean someone like your old dad.’
She laughed again and started eating with gusto.
‘There you go, love. Things are looking up. You're forgetting about Richard already.’
‘Richard who?’
‘I’ve got no idea who you’re talking about.’
Emily swallowed her last two eggy chips and drained her mug. ‘Right, I’d better make a move. Things to do, people to see. There’s no rest for us busy professional high-flyers.’
Grav rose stiffly to his feet with the aid of the table. ‘Are you okay for cash?’
‘I could do with a few quid until the end of the month, if that’s okay with you? Just something to tide me over until my first pay packet.’
‘Of course, it is. Who else am I going to give it to? Is five-hundred quid all r
ight to be getting on with?’
She extended her neck and kissed him on his stubbled chin. ‘Thank you. If you’re sure it’s okay?’
‘I said so, didn’t I?’
‘Thanks, Dad. You’re a lifesaver.’
‘So I’m told. Maybe they’ll give me a medal.’
She took his hand in hers. ‘Come on, you can walk me out.’
He turned towards her, on reaching reception, with a sudden sullen expression that seemed to age him. ‘Look after yourself, Emily. And remember, there’s a killer on the loose. Don’t go out alone after dark, and be wary of any men, whoever they are. It could be anyone. Remember that. These people don’t come with psycho stamped on their foreheads, more’s the pity. They can be the last person you’d expect, the seemingly ordinary and unthreatening. That’s how they avoid detection for as long as they do. The bastard’s likely hidden in plain sight, only his victims see the monster behind the mask.’
She smiled reassuringly. ‘I’m a copper’s daughter. I know how to look after myself.’
‘Just be careful, love. That’s all I’m saying. Three girls are already dead. That’s almost one a month, and all on this patch. It doesn’t get more dangerous than that.’
She clutched her left arm with her right hand. ’Yeah, I’ve been watching the Welsh news. It’s awful.’
‘Yeah, it is.’
‘You’ve got to catch him, Dad. Catch him before he kills again.’
He nodded. ‘I’m trying, love, but some things are easier said than done.’
3
Charles Turner pulled up his pants and trousers, looked down at the broken body of the young woman at his feet, and silently acknowledged that his work for the night was done. An itch had been scratched. A fantasy brought to life. And, for a time, like it or not, the memory would have to sustain him. You could only kill them once. That’s what he told himself. The glorious high would gradually fade, to be replaced by the insatiable longing to do it all over again. The overwhelming and all-consuming desire to strangle and rape that he found so utterly impossible to ignore. It made his life worth living. It gave purpose to his very existence. It was a case of survival of the fittest; evolution at its rawest and most intense. Such things defined him, and there was nothing wrong with that.