Coming, Ready or Not

by Michael Fowler

  ‘So how did Elisabeth and Linane end up here?’ interrupted Mike Sampson.

  ‘The rent of their place in London kept going up and was eating well into their profits so they decided to look elsewhere. They’d built up a good business using the internet and so realised they didn’t need to be actually based in London. Linane is from round here. Her parents own a restaurant in Sheffield. They’re French, but Linane was born here. Her dad shoots with the Estate Manager at Wentworth and he got her the cottage at Street, just over a year ago. They ran the business from there.’ Tony paused, checked he still had everyone’s attention and continued. ‘They still needed the London auction houses and so would take it in turns to go down there whenever they needed to. That was why Linane was down there yesterday. She’d been to a sale and was staying over at a friend’s flat in Richmond. Elisabeth had apparently been down to Somerset yesterday to view a painting which they’d been offered privately. She’d just got back when the attack happened. That’s how Linane managed to be Skyping her. Elisabeth was showing her the painting she’d just bought.’ Tony relayed the specific details of the attack as witnessed by Linane Brazier. He added, ‘I believe this is where I now reveal my interesting piece of evidence. He scanned some of his colleagues’ faces. ‘Linane was unable to identify Elisabeth’s attacker. The person was dressed in dark clothing and was wearing a mask.’ He broke off for a few seconds, to let what he had just revealed sink in. He nodded towards the image still displayed on the flat screen TV. ‘Linane described the mask as being made of a sacking material. Something similar to hessian. She said that in a way it reminded her of the one the Elephant Man wore in the film, but that the mouth was stitched with dark thread. She said it made it look as though there were jagged teeth.’

  SIO Dawn Leggate chirped up, ‘Thank you Tony, if you don’t mind I’ll come in at that point.’ She explored the faces of her team. ‘You don’t need me to say that this is just too much of a coincidence. We have two vicious murders of females, both of them stabbings, in the space of a week of one another, and in both of them a masked individual features. I used the word speculation earlier on, when I ran through the sequence of events leading up to and including the attack upon Gemma Cooke. I would now like to put the word speculation to bed and focus on this being relevant evidence. I also want to introduce something else I learned yesterday from the post-mortem on Elisabeth Bertolutti. Tony hasn’t mentioned it because I asked him not to.’ She zeroed in on DS Kerr. ‘Hunter, this will go some way to solve the puzzle of why Polly Hayes T-shirt was on Elisabeth Bertolutti’s body.’ She returned her gaze into the room. ‘First of all, as you’ve heard, Tony has told us in detail about the attack upon Elisabeth as witnessed by Linane. During her interview the specific question was asked as to what top Elisabeth was wearing at the time she was attacked, and I can tell you she wasn’t wearing the Bon Jovi T-shirt she was found in. Linane is adamant that Elisabeth was wearing a white cotton blouse at the time.’ Her face took on a stern expression. ‘We have not found that white blouse.’ She let the detectives’ take in what she had said, before continuing. ‘I said some way to resolve the mystery of why Polly’s T shirt was Elisabeth’s body because Professor Lizzie McCormack, who carried out Elisabeth’s post-mortem, states that the Bon Jovi T-shirt was put on after the attack. That T-shirt has old, dry bloodstains upon it, as well as fresh bloodstains from Elisabeth’s wounds, and the knife tears in the fabric do not line up with the stab sites upon Elisabeth’s body. Barry’s already told me that when Polly’s body was found, back in nineteen eighty-eight, it had been wrapped in a dark green cloak. I think this has solved that puzzle.’ Dawn’s eyes diverted away from Hunter and roamed the room. She could see she had everyone’s fullest attention. ‘Unless anyone wishes to correct me, I think what we have here is a killer who is a trophy collector, who is switching items between his kills. For me, it’s not just the T-shirt business, but the necklace found on Gemma’s body which reinforces my thought. That necklace has been a puzzle since her parents mentioned it didn’t belong to her, and of course, as we know, it had the wrong initials inside.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m guessing we still haven’t found anything out about the necklace?’

  Mike Sampson responded, ‘That was my job, boss. And no we haven’t. I can’t find anyone who has seen that necklace before, or knows where it came from. I’ve shown it to a few local jewellers. They tell me it’s sterling silver – not an expensive one, and it’s a good few years old – its date stamp is nineteen ninety-five.’

  For a brief moment Dawn played with her bottom lip. ‘Okay, I still want some digging around with that enquiry. Let’s contact other forces, see if they have anything outstanding, murders or attacks on women where jewellery has been taken. I also want Adam Fields’ mate re-visiting. The one who lives on Manvers Terrace, and who rang Adam when he saw Gemma and Tom going into her house. I want to know if he saw anyone else on the street. Do the same with Gemma’s neighbour, Valerie Bryce. And let’s get hold of the cloak that Polly Hayes was found wearing when she was killed and make some fresh enquiries. We have an M.O. here of a very dangerous individual that needs following up. We know he’s killed at least three times, one of those was twenty one years ago.’ With an earnest look she said, ‘Something tells me there are more bodies out there.’

  - ooOoo –

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Day Eleven: 28th March.

  Hands clasped behind his head, steadying his heaving breath, Hunter stood roughly at the spot where they had found Polly’s body, twenty-one years ago, staring out across the landscape. He had been stationary for only a few minutes but already the cold was beginning to creep through his running gear. He stamped his feet to release the tightening in his calves and a sharp pain, like an electric shock, jolted his ankles. The ground was solid. There had been an acute temperature drop overnight and this morning a hoar frost decorated everything.

  He unhooked his fingers and dropped his hands down by his side. Taking a deep breath, he held it.

  The pangs of guilt are back.

  He had set off on his normal route into work, but a mile into his jog, the haunting image of Elisabeth Bertolutti’s bloodied body, dressed in Polly’s T-shirt, had invaded his thoughts, and he had deviated into the woods and followed the trail up to where he was now.

  He released a pent-up breath. A silvery shroud left his mouth and wavered on the still, cold air. It caught his attention. Pulling back his gaze from his panoramic view of the Dearne Valley, he watched it drift away. Then, for no apparent reason, the black and white crime scene photographs, from Polly’s murder file, wormed their way inside his head, and he glanced down at the ground, as if expecting to see her lifeless form laid out before him. He felt the hairs prickle at the back of his neck. Sometimes he wished he could switch his brain off.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, he tried to rid himself of the images, but they hung around. This was one of those moments.

  He had been here before. Many times. Though not in recent years. He had locked away his thoughts and memories of Polly a long time ago. Now, they were centre stage in his life again. He knew that what had happened three days ago was the reason behind it. That vision back in the cottage in Street had also been a stark reminder of his past wrongdoing.

  He snapped open his eyes. You have to stop doing this to yourself, Hunter Kerr. You can make amends by catching her killer.

  In the distance the morning sun was making its appearance above a hillside. A warm glow lit up the horizon. He began a gentle jog on the spot – re-invigorating the circulation in his lower limbs.

  Time for work.

  Today he had the task of visiting Polly’s parents to inform them of the investigation. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

  He pulled up the hood of his training top and stepped back onto the path.

  Hand poised, ready to deliver a knock, Hunter froze. A sudden feeling of dread engulfed him. He stared into the patter
ned glass panel of Peter and Lynda Hayes front door. His own shadowy image reflected back. He could feel his skin becoming clammy. Although he had visited this address dozens of times in the past this was one visit he hadn’t thought about making.

  Taking a deep breath he rapped. He did his best to make it sound nothing like his policeman’s knock.

  Within twenty seconds Peter Hayes answered the door. A look of surprise registered on his face.

  ‘Hello, Hunter…’ Then his voice broke off.

  Hunter watched Peter’s pale blue eyes stray over his shoulder. His face changed to an earnest look. Hunter knew he had clocked Grace following him down the driveway.

  He returned his gaze to Hunter. ‘This is about Polly, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes it is. Can we come in?’

  Peter Hayes turned and shuffled away down the hall, leaving the door open.

  Hunter and Grace traipsed in after him, following him into the lounge. When they entered Peter and his wife, Lynda, were standing close together. Lynda was grasping her husband’s arm.

  She said, ‘Is it about what’s been on the news. That woman’s murder?’

  Hunter thought he saw pain register in her eyes. He threw her a concerned look, nodded, and clarified with, ‘The one near Wentworth.’ He pointed out the sofa behind them, indicating that he wished them to sit. He chose one of the armchairs. It was a chair he had sat in on many occasions. He tried to remember the last time. When Polly had first been killed his visits had been almost on a weekly basis. Then, when he had joined the police he had called in every few months or so, while on the beat, to remind them he hadn’t forgotten them and that he was still making his own enquiries into Polly’s murder. The visits had slowed down when he had entered CID, and more so, when Jonathan and Daniel had come along. If truth be told he’d felt uncomfortable since he’d met and then married Beth. As if he was betraying them. Now he couldn’t remember the last time he had been here. It must be well over a year ago, he thought to himself. Suddenly, he felt guilty again.

  As he watched them sink into the cushions, exchanging glances and reassuring one another, he couldn’t help but notice how the pair had aged. The blue in their eyes was no longer as intense and bright and their faces were heavily lined. Peter’s once brown hair was greying towards white.

  Hunter quickly scanned the room. Except for a change in decor it was still very much how he remembered it. The three-piece suite was the same, as was the sideboard, and that was still cluttered with the pottery clowns, which Lynda collected. Hung above the stone fireplace was the Cornish seascape he had painted when he first dated their daughter; they had supplied him with one of their holiday snaps and he had gifted them with it. It seemed such a naïve piece now, but he had been so proud of it at the time. He could still visualise how their faces had lit up when he had presented it to them. He was so glad they still appreciated it enough to display it on their wall. Close to it, in one alcove, was a large selection of framed photographs, featuring Polly. Her smiling features pricked his conscience. He dragged his eyes from them back to Peter and Lynda and said, ‘I wanted to come and see you personally to tell you this. I always said if I ever had any news about Polly’s murder I’d make sure I was the first to tell you.’ He met their curious and expectant looks. ‘We’re re-investigating Polly’s case.’

  Lynda offered him a puzzled frown, ‘Hunter, that’s really good news, but what’s Polly’s murder got to do with that woman’s in Wentworth. Do we know her?’

  Hunter shook his head, ‘No, I don’t think so.’ He paused and checked their faces. ‘What I’m going to tell you now mustn’t go outside this room.’

  They nodded an acknowledgment of understanding.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do. But we don’t want the press to get hold of what I’m going to tell you. Not yet anyway. They’ll get hold of it soon enough and then we’ll have our hands full.’

  Peter replied, ‘You know you can trust us.’

  Hunter settled his gaze upon Lynda. ‘As you’ve already mentioned, it is about what’s been on the news. The murder near Wentworth.’

  Lynda exhibited a puzzled look. ‘You’ve just said we don’t know this other woman that’s been killed.’ Her expression changed. ‘Then is it to do with who killed her? Is it the same person who killed them both?’

  Hunter assented with a brief dip of his head. ‘That’s something we’re looking into. It’s a strong possibility.’ Then he said, ‘Remember that day she was killed?’

  Lynda quickly delivered, ‘I’ve never forgotten it.’

  Hunter checked himself, ‘Course not, forgive me.’ Then with a qualifying look he added, ‘I don’t want to upset you with any of this but we’ll be going back over every statement ever made in that enquiry, and then be re-visiting every witness to see if anything different or fresh springs to mind. You are the first to be seen. Are you okay to go back over things?’

  Peter and Lynda both returned a nod.

  Peter said, ‘Anything that will help catch her killer.’

  ‘Fingers crossed,’ replied Hunter. ‘Okay, now about your original statement. In it you told detectives that the last time you’d seen her she was wearing that Bon Jovi T-shirt she’d got at that concert we went to and a pair of jeans.’

  Lynda replied, ‘Yeah, I was the last to see her here. Peter was on days. It was just after nine that morning. I called up to her to tell her I was off out soon and asked her if she wanted a drink bringing up. She shouted down that she didn’t, and then a couple of minutes later she appeared and said she was going to grab some cereal. She was wearing the T-shirt over her pants. It looked as though she’d slept in it. To be honest, I was sick of seeing her with it on. I told her, wasn’t it time she washed the thing. She just laughed and kissed the front of it. Right over that singer’s autograph she’d sewn over. I remember what she said as well. She said he was nearly as gorgeous as her boyfriend.’

  Hunter felt his face flush. He caught a smile light up Lynda’s face.

  ‘Anyway, I was just going off to the Mother and Toddler Group, you remember, which I ran down at the community centre. I asked her what she was going to do that day, and she said she was gonna give you a call and then take Mollie for a walk. She knew I always got back around noon, and so she said she’d make me a sandwich for lunch and see me later. I left about half-nine. Toddler Group started at ten.’ For a second her eyes drifted away. Her face took on a studious look. Then she snapped her gaze back, nodding, ‘That’s exactly as it was.’

  Suddenly, the room started closing in on Hunter. What Lynda had just said triggered another flashback. That Thursday was back inside his head. Like Lynda, he’d never forgotten that day. In the early years the thoughts of what had happened to Polly had haunted him. Over time the burden had lessened, though the regret hadn’t. The crux of it all was that he knew he should have been with Polly during that walk with her dog. Instead, when she’d telephoned him that morning, he’d told her he couldn’t and had gone and had a kick-about with his mates. If he hadn’t have been so selfish she no doubt would still have been alive today. He caught Lynda’s gaze. He wondered if she laid any of the blame on him.

  Peter’s voice brought his thoughts back.

  ‘When they found Polly, you know she was wrapped in a cloak, don’t you, Hunter? They never found her Bon Jovi T-shirt.’

  ‘Yes, I’m aware of that. That’s what this is about. We’ve found Polly’s T-shirt.’

  ‘What,’ Peter spluttered out the words. He swapped glances with his wife.

  ‘You’ll appreciate, at this moment, I can’t go into any details about the circumstances of how we’ve found it, but I can definitely tell you it’s her T-shirt all right. We’ve checked it and her DNA’s on it. That’s why we’re re-opening Polly’s case.’

  ‘Where did you find it?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t go into that either at the moment. Sorry. But I can tell you that it was found in circumstances which lead us to belie
ve that whoever killed the woman near Wentworth also murdered Polly.’ Hunter fixed their looks. ‘But as I said earlier. That has to be strictly between us, for now. You mustn’t tell anybody. Not your closest friend. Not even a relative, until we officially release it.’

  Lynda made a cross over her heart and mouthed the word ‘promise.’