by Joy Ellis
‘And if our murderer is Micah Lee; that is where he could be hiding.’ added Jon.
‘I can’t believe that he’d go back there, with half the county police force out looking for him, but we can’t take the risk, we’d better get a search party out onto the marsh and the surrounding fields before darkness falls.’ Kate glanced at her watch. ‘And we don’t have long.’
Jon jumped up from his place on the dusty floor. ‘I’ll go see the sergeant.’
‘Just make sure that Windrush remains under careful guard, Jon. Tell him that I want new officers brought in, we can’t afford to leave Windrush unprotected.’
‘Wilco, ma’am.’
Kate watched as he hurried from the room. ‘Do you really think we are dealing with a man with two personalities, professor?’
‘It would answer a lot of questions. Although we do have to look at this progressively.’ He leant forward towards her. ‘And to do that, we absolutely have to know everything we can possibly discover about that first body; the teenager that you call Fleur. The only one who wasn’t murdered.’ He drew in a very long breath. ‘And DCI Reynard? Regarding what you said earlier, about not going back to Windrush? Not only is it well documented that killers like to return to the scene of their crime, it should be remembered that as an organised criminal comes to the end of his career, he often devolves into chaos. His mind cannot go on being calculating and clever for ever. There is relentless pressure exacted on him, and degeneration begins to show, and that’s when he makes mistakes and gets caught.’
‘So you think it’s possible that he will find his way back, if he’s free to do so?’
‘He is by now in turmoil. His mind will be a vortex of anger, hate and confusion. The world has turned on him, and he knows there will be no happy ending.’ The professor looked grimly at Kate. ‘He’ll go back because he has no where else to go. And believe me; even if he is devolving, there’s a very good chance that he’ll think he is clever enough to take on both you and the entire force.’
As she began to digest that little nugget, she heard Rosie’s phone ring. After an animated conversation, she hung up and walked quickly over to where Kate waited.
‘That was Gary, ma’am. Apparently Ethan Barley has been dragging his brother Nic around all the sleazy bars and low spots in the area, in an attempt to find the man who paid him to copy the chapel key.’
‘And they got lucky?’ Kate felt a surge of excitement.
‘They did, ma’am! And he rang Gary from a grotty dive on East Street, in Harlan Marsh. Gary’s trailing the man now. He can’t afford to bring him in, because it would mean the next party would be cancelled, and then we may lose our chance to take Cade down. Gary’s going to tail him and find out who he is and where he lives.’
Kate thought quickly. ‘Excellent, but we need to be very, very careful, don’t we? Nothing about this must reach Cade’s ears, or we’re snookered.’
‘And that cannot be allowed to happen.’
Kate looked around and saw Jon standing behind her. His jaw was thrust forward, and his eyes held a steely glint. There was no mistaking that look. Jon Summerhill was finally seeing a chance for retribution.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
‘Should we bring in that vet for questioning?’ asked Scotty, munching thoughtfully on a tuna mayo sandwich. ‘We’ve decided that Elizabeth Sewell couldn’t be our killer, but like it or not, she knows someone called Fleur, her cards are in that hell-hole, and she’s written almost identical cards for the animal cages at Philip Graves’ veterinary practice.’
‘‘He’s got a point, ma’am.’ said Rosie. ‘Even though I cannot see that man being a cold-blooded killer.’
Kate stared at her own sandwich, but her appetite had gone. ‘Maybe we should. He does live in close proximity to the marsh.’ She pushed the uneaten food away. ‘And if we are looking at a split-personality, then..,’ she lifted her shoulders in a little shrug, ‘…how would we know what to look for?’ She looked across the room to where Jon sat a little apart from them, and deep in thought. ‘Penny for them?’
He looked up and gave a crest-fallen smile. ‘Not worth it. My thoughts are about as clear as an oil slick.’ He leaned right back in his chair, stretched, then said. ‘Okay. Twelve dead girls, all born on a Wednesday. One dead girl, in the same room, but she died of starvation. One girl, Toni, abducted and lives. One other girl, Shauna, abducted and dies. Two out of three spoke of a man with dead eyes.’ He raised his hands in a plea. ‘Have any of us seen anyone with strange eyes? No, we haven’t. Micah Lee has a horrible face, but his eyes are deep very capable of expression. Benedict Broome has perfectly normal eyes. Elizabeth Sewell is a woman. And not one of the people that we’ve interviewed, and we’ve spoken to quite a few, had weird eyes.’ He groaned loudly. ‘And who the hell is Fleur!’
‘It all comes back to her, doesn’t it?’ Kate felt their collective exasperation.
‘There is absolutely nothing on record of anyone going missing by that name,’ added Scott miserably.
‘What am I missing?’ Gary breezed into the room, a smile on his lips. Then he looked around and the smile faded. ‘Well, I see things are not too good here, but at least I have a name and an address for one of the drinking club organisers. It’s Brendan Keefe, and he lives on the outskirts of Harlan Marsh town. He’s ours for the taking, when we are ready.’
‘Good work, Gary. I suppose he didn’t have strange eyes, did he?’ asked Kate hopefully.
‘Depends how you feel about shifty, sneaky eyes. But strange, no.’
‘Pity. Sit down.’ She pushed her sandwich across to him, and said. ‘We are still trying to fathom out who Fleur maybe.’
Gary picked up the sandwich. ‘Ah.’ He bit into it gratefully, chewed and then said, ‘Thinking of Fleur, did you ever find that rose arch, Sarge?’
Jon nodded. ‘For all the good it’s done. You were right, it was out near Hurn Point, and Rosie confirmed that it was the site of the proposed onion waste recycling plant.
Although work on it has been halted because planning has been contested.’
Gary frowned, but before he could speak again, a civilian hurriedly entered the room.
‘Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but the Duty Sergeant thought you should know that the body of an IC1 male has been found out on the edge of the marsh. It seems that it’s a hanging, but because of its location, he thinks it may be of interest to you.’
Kate sat bolt upright. ‘Where is the location, constable?’
‘The old mill at Goshawk End.’
Kate pulled a face, but Gary immediately said, ‘I know it! It’s between Roman Creek and Hurn Point, and bang within the area that we’re searching for Micah Lee.’
Kate was already half way to the door. ‘Then you come with me, Gary, and you too, Scott. It’ll do you good to get some fresh fenland air. You need to sever that gossamer cord that attaches you to your computer just once in a while.’ She smiled at Jon. ‘And you can have a break from dead people. You and Rosie keep chasing Fleur.’
‘I wonder if it’s Micah?’ said Jon, almost to himself.
‘I’d say it could be.’ Kate checked her phone and her keys as she walked away. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll ring in and let you know.’
There wasn’t much to see in the old mill. Although what they did see was not what they expected.
The body wasn’t swinging slowly on a creaking taut rope. It was lying in a crumpled heap on the dusty dirty floor, surrounded by broken vegetable crates.
‘One body, life undeniably extinct, with rope still attached, and it’s not Micah Lee.’ murmured Kate.
‘Some sort of fight took place by the look of all this mess.’ said Scott.
‘Don’t think so.’ murmured Gary ‘It looks to me as if he climbed up these boxes..,’ He looked around. ‘No, that’s not right. They are too far away from the body.’
‘And how did the rope become detached from the timber spar?’ Scott stared up to the heavy hunk o
f wood. ‘It seems sturdy, and it doesn’t slope downward.’
Kate stared at the dead man. She looked at his twisted body and was grateful that his terror-distorted face was turned slightly from her. ‘The question we should be asking, is how did a dead man loosen the rope from his own broken neck?’
Gary and Scott let out a combined “Ah, right.”
‘So who was here with him?’ asked Scott after a while.
‘If they tried to save him, then it had to be someone who cared.’ Kate looked at the configuration of the old vegetable boxes, the timber beam, and the man’s body. ‘From all this, I’d say someone came in and found him, and then climbed up the pile of boxes and pulled the rope free of the beam. And simply because no-one phoned this in or called an ambulance, I would guess it was someone who wanted nothing to do with the police.’
‘So as the body isn’t Micah Lee, could it have been Micah Lee who found him?’ added Gary. ‘I wonder how long ago all this happened? I’ll get a shout put out that Lee maybe somewhere in the area and on his toes. There are only so many places he can get to from here.’ Gary moved towards the door.
‘Can he get to Windrush on foot?’ asked Kate.
‘He could. But it would mean crossing a pretty bad stretch of wetland, and best not attempted unless you know the paths well.’
‘But he worked close to here, didn’t he?’ ventured Scott.
‘And if he knew the marsh that well, then maybe he knew about the tunnels.’ Kate mused. ‘But right now we should get back. There’s no more we can do here. Uniform will keep this place sewn up until our overstretched forensic department can sort that poor sod out and work the scene. We don’t even know who he is. There is no ID on him.’
As they walked back to the car she wondered why the man had chosen to take his own life, and the word that kept coming back to her was guilt.
Guilt, or desperation. Surely it was no coincidence that a man should kill himself in such close proximity to the crime scene, and there not be a connection. Perhaps he had done it out of desperation at losing his precious girls in those neat beds with flowers on the lockers and carefully arranged clothes in the cupboards?
‘I suppose it is suicide?’ said Scott softly, clearly questioning what he had just seen in the old mill. ‘He could have been assisted.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Kate had seen a lot of un-natural deaths in her time, and you kind of got a feel for them. ‘I’d say, from the inverted V- shaped furrow in the victim’s neck left by that rough rope, that it was definitely a deliberate, and in his case, a very successful suicide.’
Kate glanced back the derelict old mill. It was just a circular shell of old bricks and a weather-beaten wooden door. It must have had sails at one time, but they had long gone. Her thoughts jarred to a stand-still. Jon! He’d talked about a mill! Kate pulled out her phone and punched his speed dial number.
‘A mill, Jon. No sails.’ she asked hurriedly ‘What were you meaning?’
Jon faltered for a moment, then recalled what she meant. ‘Fleur, ma’am. In the tunnel beneath the marsh. She showed me a picture of an old mill and she kept saying the word, ‘Dead’’
Kate gave a little gasp. ‘Well, she’s not wrong. I’ve found her mill, and there’s a dead man in it.’
‘Who is he?’ breathed Jon.
‘I wish I fucking knew,’ she groaned helplessly. ‘For heaven’s sake get some coffees in, we’re on our way home.’
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
‘There’s someone asking for you, ma’am.’ The desk sergeant pointed to where a young woman was sitting in the foyer.
Kate was about to tell him to get someone else to deal with her, when she recognised the Hannah Montana figure of Asher Leyton’s fiancée, Lynda Cowley.
As the foyer was almost empty, Kate went over and sat next to her. ‘Miss Cowley, isn’t it?’
The girl nodded. ‘I’m so sorry to bother you, DCI Reynard, but he’s disappeared.’ She unsuccessfully fought back tears. ‘Asher didn’t come home last night, and he’s not been at work today.’ She dabbed at her perfectly made-up eyes. ‘It’s not like him, he’s so thoughtful. He’d never go off without telling me. Something has happened to him. I know it.’
Kate did a quick mental catch up. Asher Leyton had talked to the dead girl, Shauna Kelly, on more than one occasion. And he had been warned about curb-crawling. They had talked to him about Shauna’s death, and now he had gone missing. Oh boy, that has such a hinky feel to it. ‘When did you see or speak to him last?’
‘Lunchtime yesterday. He rang to say he had a late appointment, but he’d be home for supper.’ The words caught in her throat. ‘But I went to bed really late, and he never came home.’
Kate made all the right noises, calmed the girl, and promised to make some enquiries. ‘I’ll do what I can, but he’s a responsible adult, so you do understand that I can’t list him as missing?’
Lynda nodded, and after pulling herself together, left the station.
Kate walked over to the desk. ‘Danny, get one of your crews to go have a word with the old toms down on Dock Lane, would you? See what they can tell you about a man named Asher Leyton. And maybe put an alert out on him too. I’d like to have a quiet word with that young man.’ She gave the sergeant a description of Asher and made her way towards the lifts.
Like it or not, it was time to bring the Super up to speed on the flood of new developments that were threatening to drown them.
As evening approached another call came in.
‘Uniform may have found your second crime scene, ma’am.’ Gary’s voice was sombre. ‘It’s an old static caravan on a piece of land that is attached to the Windrush estate. The problem is they only found it because it was on fire. There are men down there and a fire chief in attendance, but there’s no way they can get an appliance out there. It’s just mud and cabbages all the way to the marsh.’
‘Who does it belong to?’
‘The land belongs to a tenant farmer called Smith, but he says the old van was there long before he took the tenancy.’
‘Was anyone in it?’
‘They don’t think so, although it’s impossible to say for sure until they can get inside. The farmer is trying to get a tractor and irrigation hose down there, but its taking time.’
Kate saw in her mind’s eye, their crime scene drifting up into a bank of grey, smoky clouds. ‘Come on, Gary. Even if it is half incinerated, we need to see this.’
‘Okay, Guv. I’ll let them know we are on our way.’
Gary drove, and all the way to Roman Creek, he had the feeling of having forgotten something important. The others talked and threw theories around, but Gary didn’t join in, fearing that things were now racing away, and he was getting left behind.
When they arrived, after trudging over the ploughed field, there was little left to see other than a charred wreck of twisted metal and warped panels.
The fire officer greeted them with a grim smile. ‘I’m afraid it’s not good, ma’am.’
‘Someone died in it?’ Kate asked.
‘No, no bodies. But I did find blood evidence, and from the assortment of paraphernalia inside, it looks like you have a particularly nasty crime scene.’ He grimaced. ‘What’s left of it.’
‘What kind of paraphernalia are we talking about?’ Jon asked the question, but none of them wanted to hear the answer.
‘Well, it’s all badly burnt, but there are the remains of leather restraints, and other leather items, like a black full-head mask and some sort of weird stuff. There are chains with ankle and wrist cuffs, all bolted to the base of the caravan. More is showing up all the time, but it’s still smouldering and it’s too dangerous to stay inside for long.’
Gary flinched. He did not want to think about a sadist with the tools of his trade in the same thought pattern as pretty young women and little girls. He swallowed hard and tried to clear his head.
‘I assume that it was started deliberately?’ asked Kate, her vo
ice just shaky enough to give away the fact that she was thinking the same as him.
‘Oh yes. We found the remains of a LPG gas bottle with the valve open, and it was clear that an accelerant was used in the bedroom area.’
So, thought Gary, someone has done a clear-up job. Getting rid of the evidence, and covering up for either themselves or someone else. He stared at the smouldering ashes and smelt the acrid stink of burning rubber.
‘It all fits, doesn’t it?’ said Jon. ‘He takes them to the caravan, does whatever he does, then kills them.’ His lips tightened with anger. ‘And then the bastard takes the bodies over the lower marsh path, to the entrance to the tunnel, then loads them onto the trolley and wheels them down to the Children’s Ward.’
‘To sleep forever,’ whispered Gary. ‘Or so he thought.’
‘You know what I find worrying?’ said Kate quietly.
Gary knew. He felt exactly the same. ‘That the beast who did all this could be watching, as the last flame consumes his torture chamber.’
She didn’t answer, and Gary knew he was right.
They turned from the burnt out caravan, and walked back to the car. ‘I think we should go up to Windrush and get a report from uniform. We don’t need men combing the area for the second crime scene anymore, so it may be wise to get some extra manpower around the house and the tunnels. Just in case the killer does what the professor said, and returns to his lair.’
Kate had always loved evenings on the marsh. The dimming of the day was her favourite time. The sky never failed to present her with another unique masterpiece of breathtaking artwork, and the misty shadows that slipped across the water were mysterious and otherworldly. Even the sounds of the evening had a way of relaxing her pressured mind. Bird calls, the rustling of small animals in the undergrowth, and the wind making the tall dark reeds sway and dance to a whispery tune.