Kennedy 01 - Into the Shadows

by Shirley Wells

  ‘Or he could live in a tower block in Manchester,’ he scoffed.

  Jill leaned back in her chair. ‘Does being this grouchy come naturally or do you have to work at it?’

  He looked up, surprised, and then, amazingly, gave her a small smile. It was the first time she’d seen him smile.

  ‘Sorry Bad weekend.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘My car wouldn’t start so I had to call out the AA, the wind blew a ridge tile off the roof that missed the car by inches, the washing machine flooded the kitchen, and my lottery numbers came up and I’ve lost the damn ticket.’

  Jill gasped at the latter.

  ‘Only a tenner,’ he said, ‘but it’s not the point.’

  ‘Could have been a lot worse then,’ Jill said, grinning. ‘The ridge tile might have missed your car and hit you instead, and your numbers might have come up for the jackpot.’

  ‘True.’ He didn’t look cheered. ‘Let me see your report asap. By the way, we found a piece of chewing gum at the scene.’

  ‘What? From Valentine?’

  ‘Who knows? I’ll keep you posted,’ he said, closing the door after him.

  No, you won’t, she thought grimly.

  Jill didn’t get too excited. Valentine wouldn’t leave chewing gum around. He was far too careful. She concentrated on the changing areas of Lancashire that were

  coming up on her display. Valentine could live in Kelton Bridge.

  That begged another question, one she hardly dared ask herself. Was he responsible for the deaths of Alice and Jonathan Trueman?

  Valentine was a killer - fact. He killed working prostitutes.

  As he’d killed Anne Levington, they had to assume he was responsible for the lock of Anne’s hair that was delivered to Jill’s cottage.

  Anne’s father had formally identified her body. She’d been left in a crumbling old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere that hadn’t been occupied for many years. True to form, she’d been left naked with only a couple of strangulation marks on her neck and the usual hearts, twelve in all, cut away from her young, pale skin.

  As yet, no clues had been found at the scene - other than that piece of chewing gum. Officers were still carrying out a fingertip search, but no one was hopeful. It was uncanny how Valentine left no clues.

  So - Alice and Jonathan Trueman. The killings weren’t Valentine’s style. The first had involved a knife, and although Valentine was skilled with a scalpel, he liked to strangle his victims first. Alice had been naked, but she 165

  wasn’t a prostitute. For Jonathan’s murder, the killer had chosen a gun and that certainly wasn’t Valentine’s style. It was too messy, and too risky. Valentine didn’t prolong death; it was always over quickly.

  Had Alice ever been a prostitute? Surely not. She had been a dancer and - what had Tony called her? - a real little raver? What if she’d used the casting couch method to gain a place in the dance group? They needed to delve very deeply into Alice’s past.

  But perhaps the killings weren’t linked.

  Jill stood up to stretch her legs, then decided to get herself a coffee.

  It was good to get out of that cramped, airless room and see people rushing along corridors. Stuck in her office, the world could end without Jill being any the wiser. Here, there was constant noise - people running, shouting and talking, and phones ringing.

  She was at the machine, waiting for it to pour some sludge into a white plastic cup, when Max came striding along.

  ‘Any news?’ he asked her.

  ‘How would I know? Cornwall doesn’t confide in me.

  Although he did say something about finding chewing gum out there.’

  Max’s eyes lit for a brief second but then he shook his head. ‘Valentine’s not that daft.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I know it’s nothing to do with you, Max, and Cornwall would have me flogged at dawn if he knew I was discussing it with you, but I think Valentine’s most probable dwelling is in Rossendale.’

  His eyebrows rose at that.

  ‘It could even be Kelton,’ she said, suppressing a shudder.

  ‘Now, do you think he’s responsible for Alice and Jonathan Trueman’s deaths?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘But if ‘

  ‘Never in a million years, Jill. There’s nothing whatsoever to connect them. They’re totally different.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jill agreed, knowing all too well that Max wouldn’t want the crimes connected, ‘but they just might be linked.

  I was thinking about Alice. She was a dancer, and I heard her described as a real little raver in her youth. Who’s to say she didn’t sleep with the odd director to get on TV?’

  ‘That was years ago.’

  “I know.’ At least she had his attention. ‘But it’s possible.’

  ‘No. Jonathan Trueman killed his wife, I’m sure of it.

  Whoever killed him was out for revenge.’ He put some coins in the machine and gave it a thump. ‘Let me see this report you’re doing on Valentine, will you?’

  “I will.’ Sod Cornwall.

  Back in her office, a plastic cup of sludge in her hand, Jill thought about Valentine. Several times she’d wondered if the envelopes had been delivered to her cottage because Valentine wanted to be caught. He was famous now, yet he couldn’t reap the benefits of that fame. Was he eager to grab his glory?

  If she was right about him living in the Rossendale area, that would narrow it down to, oh, a mere twenty thousand people. Even if they got lucky and that chewing gum did belong to Valentine, a blood test of twenty thousand men didn’t bear thinking about. And, of course, Valentine would make sure someone else went along in his place.

  Meanwhile, he would kill again. And again.

  The computer had analysed everything and Jill was as certain as it was possible to be that their man lived in the Rossendale area - Rawtenstall, Haslingden, Waterfoot, Stacksteads, Bacup, Irwell. It was a big area, but they had narrowed it down. He would also live on the edge of a community so they could forget the centre of Rawtenstall or Haslingden, and the main road running through the valley.

  The dates of the attacks. She needed to compare the dates and times the victims were first reported missing, the dates and times the pathologist believed the victims were killed and the dates and times the bodies were found. The latter wouldn’t tell her much, but you never knew. It was just possible that the computer might find some link.

  Every millimetre of CCTV footage was being checked, but that was a long, slow process, especially when they had no idea what they were looking for. A glimpse of Anne Levington’s last movements would be good. According to the pathologist, Anne had died around three hours after eating that burger with her friend. If only they could see her on CCTV at some point during those three hours. Even better if Valentine slipped up for once and they saw her getting into his car. And how unlikely was that?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  There were four faces waiting to greet Max when he arrived home that evening. Two faces looked wary, one looked exceedingly sheepish and the fourth …

  Words failed him.

  “I can explain, Max,’ Kate offered, still wearing her exceedingly sheepish expression.

  “I don’t need an explanation,’ Max told his mother-in law, scowling at the four-legged creature that was staring back at him. ‘All I need to know is when it’s going back to wherever it came from.’

  ‘Well ‘

  Before Kate could proffer this information, the four legged creature wandered over to Max, had a quick sniff and promptly lifted his leg and urinated on Max’s trousers.

  ‘Oh, Lord! Boys, get your dad a drink - half an inch of whisky. I’ll, er, get the disinfectant.’ Kate looked at Max.

  ‘Why don’t you change? Give me your suit and I’ll deal with it. I can pop it into the cleaner’s in the morning.’

  The boys headed off, whispering.

  ‘Make that an inch,’ Max called after them. ‘A big inch.’

/>   Max went upstairs, vowing with every step that he would not get talked into this. He loved his kids more than life itself, and he knew how much they wanted a dog, but it wasn’t practical. He had no idea how this creature had found its way into the house, but it would leave by the same route. And fast.

  It was huge, too. Big, yellow and boisterous, it was half Labrador and half collie, Max suspected, which would make it neurotic, greedy and stupid.

  What the devil was Kate thinking of?

  He switched on the bedroom light and pulled the curtains across to shut out the dark, damp evening. Perhaps Jill was doing the same. The difference was that Max’s house was set back from a busy road where streetlights illuminated the shadows. Jill’s cottage was remote. Anyone could lurk along that unlit lane.

  Why wasn’t Cornwall taking her stalker seriously?

  Because he was confident it wasn’t Valentine? Because he thought some small-time crank was responsible, one whose arrest wouldn’t further his career?

  Perhaps he was right.

  Then again, perhaps he wasn’t.

  Max pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and went

  downstairs.

  ‘Right,’ he said, as he walked back into the lounge. ‘Let’s hear this explanation. And if that damn dog wants a pee, he can use someone else’s leg.’

  Harry handed him a glass, in which was a good inch of Scotch.

  ‘Thank you. But don’t think this will win you any favours. He can’t stay here - not even for a night.’

  ‘Max ‘

  ‘I’m serious, Kate. The boys and I have discussed this a dozen times, and we all know that a dog is out of the question.’

  ‘Will you let me explain?’

  He stood by the mantelpiece, trying to be patient. ‘I’m all ears.’

  While Ben hugged the dog in a way that said he would die rather than be parted from the creature, Kate sat on the edge of an armchair.

  ‘A couple of weeks ago,’ she began, ‘we called at the rescue centre. I thought it would be a good idea for the boys to see that a dog was a huge commitment, and to see exactly what changes would be needed before they could have one. I guessed the staff at the centre would have plenty of good advice.’

  ‘What? All they want to do is offload the dogs.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ she scoffed. ‘They check out potential homes.

  They won’t allow them to go anywhere, you know.’

  ‘Right, so having garnered all this wonderful advice …?’

  ‘We met poor Fly,’ she explained.

  ‘Fly? This creature is called Fly?’ Apparently, it was. At the mention of his name, a huge tail swept half a dozen unread newspapers off the coffee table and on to the floor.

  ‘And why poor Fly? Oh, don’t tell me, let me guess. He was unloved, unwanted, uncared for, probably abandoned on the motorway ‘

  ‘The RSPCA found him. He’d been neglected and tied up near a disused railway line.’

  ‘My heart bleeds,’ Max said, ‘but he’s not staying. We can’t have a dog, and that’s that. They’re too much of a commitment.’

  ‘Ben, Harry, take Fly upstairs,’ Kate said firmly. ‘If you’re careful, you can throw his ball across the landing.’

  Ben’s bottom lip was trembling as they left the room, Max noticed.

  Kate rose to her feet and walked over to Max. She stood for a moment, running her fingers over a glass paperweight that sat on the mantelpiece between various framed photographs.

  “I have always tried not to interfere, Max,’ she said at last, her voice like steel. ‘I’ve tried to stand back and say nothing as you’ve made a complete mess of your life.

  Sometimes, I’ve even gone along with the nonsense you dish out. When you first introduced me to Jill, I went along with your story about only having met her recently - yet I knew damn well that you’d known her a long time.’

  Max couldn’t hide his shock.

  ‘Oh yes, I knew there was someone else in your life, Max. I haven’t blamed you for that. These things happen and, thankfully, Linda was too wrapped up in the boys to notice.’

  Max felt himself redden. Even the tips of his ears were hot with shame.

  “I can’t say I approve of your life,’ Kate went on. ‘You live in a nasty world, you still drink too much, and you can be arrogant, selfish and downright stupid.’ A sudden, reluctant smile softened her words. ‘But I do love you, Max, and I know how much you love the boys.’

  Max paced the length of the room, her words making him uncomfortable. He’d had no idea she’d known about Jill. In his naivety, he thought she’d always seen him as the model son-in-law.

  ‘Harry and Ben don’t live in your nasty world, Max.

  They live in the same fun world that most people do. They don’t know about killers, and I’m damned if I’m going to sit back and watch them find out. They’ll learn about the darker side of life in good time. Meanwhile, they need fun, laughter and happiness.’ She paused. ‘Ben still misses Linda, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I know that.’

  ‘He misses Jill, too. The boy was ready to accept Jill as a replacement mum.’

  “I know that, too,’ Max said grimly.

  ‘I’m not suggesting for a moment that you attempt the impossible and find him a mother,’ Kate said lightly. “I do think he would benefit greatly from a dog, though. He needs someone or something to love, someone or something that is always there for him.’

  Max knew that. As soon as Ben had left the room, with his bottom lip trembling, Max had known he would have moved mountains for the boy if it would put a smile back on his face.

  Of course, there was another reason he was so against having a dog in the house. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he still harboured the faint hope that Jill would come back to them. She wouldn’t leave her cats, and no way could anyone survive in a house that contained three cats and a dog. It was as if Max had to say goodbye to that hope …

  ‘OK, Kate, you win.’

  Kate slipped her arm around him, and he felt her gentle sigh as she rested her head on his chest.

  ‘You’re doing a great job with the kids,’ she said softly, ‘you know you are. Harry’s fine, he’s like you, but Ben sometimes my heart breaks for that boy’

  ‘You know something, Kate? Sometimes mine does, too.’

  ‘Yes, I know that.’

  They could hear the sound of the boys’ laughter drifting down from Harry’s bedroom. Heavy paws pounded across the landing.

  ‘And sometimes,’ Kate added quietly, ‘my heart breaks for you, Max.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Liz Hutchinson had a glass in her hand as she showed Max and Grace into her lounge. It might have contained water, but Max doubted it. Her husband, Tony, was sitting reading a newspaper, but he happily put it aside and got to his feet as soon as they entered. Max suspected he would dine out for weeks on stories of how the police had come to him for help. What a character he was. Nothing fazed him. Even the knowledge that his missing shotgun might have been used to kill Jonathan Trueman hadn’t shaken him. Although what they had to say to him today might wipe the smile from his face.

  ‘Hello, there, what can we do for you? I’ve already ‘

  “I know,’ Max cut him off, ‘but I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind. Could we have a word?’ He looked at Mrs Hutchinson and gave her a smile. ‘Alone?’

  ‘There’s nothing Liz can’t hear,’ Tony declared.

  ‘This could be a little delicate, sir.’

  ‘Nonsense. We’ve no secrets, have we, Liz?’

  She pulled a face, as if even the sight of his cajoling smile was distasteful to her.

  Fair enough, Max thought.

  ‘So,’ he began, ‘will you tell us again when you discovered your gun was missing?’

  ‘Sit down/ Liz offered. ‘Can I get you both a drink?’

  Max and Grace sat.

  ‘Thanks,’ Max said, ‘but I’ll save the drink for another time i
f I may.’

  ‘Not for me, either.’ Grace had a quick sympathetic smile for Liz Hutchinson.

  Liz stood at the window, facing them. She looked tense, Max thought. Tense, angry and ready to snap in two. Tony Hutchinson looked his usual confident self.

  ‘Mr Hutchinson?’ he prompted.

  ‘As I’ve already told your chaps, I hadn’t noticed it was missing until they came looking for it. I used to be a member of a club, you see. The licence is in order, though,’

  he added hurriedly.

  ‘Yes, we’ve checked that.’

  ‘Let me see - Jon was killed on the Monday. On the Tuesday afternoon, when I returned from the school, your people were waiting to talk to me. I told them I owned a gun, and when I went to the cabinet, I found it had been stolen.’

  ‘You’re sure nothing else was taken?’

  ‘We’ve checked and yes, we’re sure.’

  ‘And you’ve no idea when the gun was stolen?’

  ‘None. I remember cleaning it just after the summer break. Late September, I’d say. Since then -‘ He shook his head. “I haven’t even opened the cabinet since then.’

  ‘How many people know you own a gun?’ Grace asked, and Tony Hutchinson smiled at that.

  ‘Most people. Anyone who comes here.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Come with me.’

  Max and Grace followed him to the dining room where several trophies were displayed on beech wood shelves.

  ‘Everyone is curious about these.’ Tony was bursting with pride. “I was a pretty good shot, even if I say so myself.’

  Smug bastard.

  ‘So most people around here would know you had a gun?’ Max asked. ‘And would they know where it was kept?’

  ‘Oh, yes. People liked to see my guns. At one time, I had four, but I sold the others. It’s a great sport, although sadly I don’t have time for it these days.’

  They returned to the lounge. Liz was still standing with her back to the window but, during their absence, she’d refilled her glass with what Max assumed was vodka.