by Anita Waller
‘Where’s the body?’
‘A bit downriver from where everybody was yesterday. The man who rang it in is a bit shaken up, but he says he can see the police tape around the previous site. Who do you want me to call, ma’am?’
‘Can you get hold of DS Machin? Tell her I’ll meet her there ASAP. And then get in touch with the same message to Ian Thomas, Flick Ardern, Mike Nestor and Will Bramwell. And put a call in for a Forensics team to get out there.’
Disconnecting after Fisher’s assurance he would follow instructions, she immediately rang the safe house, getting the officer to check that both girls were there. He swiftly reassured her they were, he could see both of them still fast asleep.
Erica grabbed some warm clothing, left a quick note to tell Fran the situation, and headed up to Ringinglow. Erica’s head was spinning. She had thought they had possibly stopped him, or at least delayed his plans with the removal of the other two girls, but they hadn’t caused him any heartache, he had simply chosen someone else. Or had he been out-thinking them all the time?
The girl’s body was posed exactly as the others, and she was pretty, as the others had been pretty. Her shoulder-length dark hair with the flash of turquoise in the fringe was wet from the incessant rain, as was the rest of her body. The Forensics team had arrived at the same time as Erica had got there, and were busy setting up the tent they had removed from the earlier scene.
Monday Susie, Tuesday Clare, Wednesday Jane Doe, Erica’s thoughts were churning. Was that his plan? A girl a day? A beautiful girl a day? They couldn’t hide all the beautiful girls away, that was for sure, but they needed to get the message out not to go anywhere alone. She thought of all the students in the city from all around the world, and shivered as she realised how much the problem had escalated.
With Ivor’s arrival she followed him into the tent.
‘We have to stop meeting every day like this,’ he said. ‘We’ll be talked about.’
‘We certainly will. Do I need to ask if this is the same killer?’
‘Let’s look.’ He gently lifted the girl’s right hand and turned it over to reveal a VII carved into the palm. The tip of the little finger was missing. ‘It is, I’m afraid.’
‘Shit.’
‘I take it this isn’t one of the other girls?’
‘No, they’re tucked up in bed in a safe refuge. I checked before I even left home. We know this killer works to a pattern, there’s something linking the victims, and of course it was obvious it was that student house. He’s thrown us a curveball with this. Showing that’s not his pattern at all, it’s something else. Susie and Clare were on the same courses, maybe this girl is as well.’
Ivor confirmed death formally, and added that it was strangulation by tights, and again they had been left around the neck. He lifted her hair slightly and found the tell-tale mark of a hypodermic on her neck. ‘And I expect to find Propofol when we do the tox screen. Let’s get out of the way and get the photographer in. I’ve a flask in the car, come and have a coffee. You look like you need one.’
The riverbank was once more filled with uniforms searching for clues, but feeling demoralised before they started. Too much rain, too many consecutive days of dead bodies, everything was simply too much.
Erica had requested that if anyone reported a missing girl of around twenty, she was to be notified immediately if not sooner, but as with all the other bodies, nothing had been left at the scene other than the girl herself. No clothes, no bag, no soul.
Erica left Ian to organise the teams, pleased to see how well he responded when gravity and professionalism were called for, and walked back to her car. She felt the need to contact Fran, to hear her voice tell her to hang on in there, things would work out and they would find this killer.
The call went through to voicemail, and she left a brief message saying it was only a catch-up, and she would see her that night. No need to ring back.
She sat for a while staring out of the windscreen at the bleakness of the scene in front of her. The rain ran down the glass like mini rivers, all meeting up at the bottom and forming a large puddle. Halloween was the following day, and she guessed it would be a washout if this rain continued. Thousands of disappointed children, thousands of happy parents trying to look upset for the sake of their sons and daughters who had been planning outfits for a couple of months – and she realised they had nowhere near enough Haribos in the house to cater for the usual amounts of children who turned up on their doorstep because they went to the trouble of decorating with ghosts, witches, wizards and pumpkins. That problem would have to be rectified before Thursday evening. She couldn’t assume nobody would be out in the rain, and apart from that, she and Fran loved Haribos. For the first time that Wednesday morning she allowed a smile to cross her face, and the tiny sweets had put it there.
Was it really only Wednesday? Her thoughts drifted back to Monday morning, to the phone call that had dragged her out of bed. What the hell had prompted the killer to start again?
By eleven they had a name. Imogen Newland. Her boyfriend had reported her as missing; he couldn’t track her down. She had been out Tuesday night for a gym session followed by a meal with colleagues because he was on nights, and when he arrived home shortly after seven in the morning, she wasn’t there.
Pete Vanton had gone to bed, thinking she had probably had a drink so decided to stay with a friend, but following being woken by an Amazon delivery driver at a few minutes after nine he decided to ring her at work. She hadn’t arrived, and she wasn’t answering her mobile phone.
He spoke to one of her friends, and she confirmed Imo had been with them, but didn’t go for the meal. She had complained of a headache and decided to head home.
By ten, Pete decided enough was enough and he rang the police. He’d heard the news about the two dead students. He didn’t go back to bed.
Erica was impressed by the young man. He spoke well, waited, still in his dressing gown, until she sat, and watched as Beth disappeared into the kitchen to make them all a coffee. His face showed some unease and Erica was keen to progress, to help that unease disappear. He deserved that much.
She took out her notebook and carefully asked questions. She had already seen the photograph of Pete and Imogen that was standing on the coffee table, and knew she was about to impart the worst of all information to the young man with the blonde hair and watery blue eyes.
Beth returned with the coffee mugs, and he looked at Erica. ‘What aren’t you saying, DI Cheetham? Has Imo been in an accident or something?’
Erica leaned across and picked up the photograph. ‘Is this Imogen?’
‘It is. Will you please tell me what’s wrong?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Erica spoke gently, ‘but we believe a body found this morning is that of your Imogen.’
He seemed to crumple in front of their eyes. ‘A body?’
‘Yes. I’m so sorry. We will need to ask you to make a formal identification, but having looked at this picture I’m sure Imogen is our victim.’
‘Victim?’ He stood, agitated. ‘What do you mean? She’s been murdered? Or is it an accident?’
‘We believe the killer to be the same person who has already killed twice this week, but I can’t give you any more information than that.’ Erica took hold of his hand and gave a gentle tug. ‘Please sit down. We have a few questions we need to ask you. I understand you worked a night shift last night?’
He nodded, almost unaware of tears falling from his eyes, and she continued. ‘Where do you work?’
‘I’m… I’m a night manager at a twenty-four hour Tesco in Rotherham,’ Pete said, sitting down. He took a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiped his eyes. ‘Sorry…’
‘Please don’t apologise. Take your time. You didn’t leave your workplace at all last night?’
‘Not for a minute, there are twenty members of staff who will vouch for that, but so will your colleagues. We had some bother about two this morning w
ith some drunks who’d fallen out of a nightclub and called in to see what alcohol they could get from us. They dropped a couple of bottles of wine, so I went to deal with them, but they waved the broken glass around and I sent for the police. They were there until shortly after four. Arrested the lot of them.’
‘And you were home for just after seven?’
‘Yes. I finish at six, but because of the trouble it took longer than normal to do the handover. I had a form to fill out, that sort of thing, and it delayed my departure. When I saw Imo wasn’t here, I assumed she’d stayed with one of her mates. They’re a crowd of six or seven, all work for the same solicitors in the city centre. They go out a couple of times a month, so I didn’t worry then. It was only when I woke at nine to take in an Amazon delivery that I realised she’d be at work so I rang her. Her mate said she’d gone straight home after the gym session because she had a bad headache, so I tried her mobile. Nothing. By ten I thought there must be something wrong so I rang the police. And now you’re here telling me I’ve lost her.’
‘I really am deeply sorry. Is there anybody we can call for you?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I’ll ring my brother. He’ll come over. You’re sure it’s Imo?’
His eyes said everything, and Erica could have cried alongside him. ‘I’m sure. You’re not married?’
‘No, we’re engaged. Oh God… her mum and dad…’
‘Would you like us to notify them?’
‘No, that’s my job. I’ll get dressed after I ring my brother, and he’ll run me over to tell them. I’ll make the formal identification, DI Cheetham. I can’t ask them to do that.’
Erica put down her mug, and the two police officers stood. ‘We’ll leave you now. This is my card… if you think of anything that could possibly have some bearing on these cases, please ring. Anything at all, Pete. Any tiny detail.’
He followed them to the door and watched as they walked towards their car. Only then did he let himself cry properly for his Imo.
13
Erica felt angry. How could she be attending her third post-mortem of the week, and it only be Wednesday afternoon? She saw Ivor’s head lift and look across at her, and she waited.
‘DI Cheetham? This young lady was pregnant. I would say around eight weeks.’
Erica felt the anger escalate, knowing she would have to tell Pete Vanton this news. He hadn’t only lost his fiancée…
She breathed in and out slowly. ‘Thank you. And everything else is the same as the others?’
‘It is. We’re waiting for the tox results, but I don’t doubt the drug will be present.’
‘Why the hell are these girls getting into this car? It has to be a vehicle, and this weather is probably helping the killer. Offering them a lift because it’s raining – good call. But surely they must know him. Or think they do. Even that mark for the hypodermic leads us to think he’s in the driving seat, and he simply reaches across with the damn needle and injects it into them.’
‘I fear your reading of the situation is accurate. Now you have to weigh up how much to release to the general public to keep them aware, and how much to hold back. I don’t envy you your job.’
‘Thanks, Ivor. We have to go. I’d like to bring Imogen’s fiancé in tomorrow for the formal identification. Will she be ready?’
‘She will. I’ll finish tonight with her. You’re going to tell him she was pregnant?’
‘I am. It will come out eventually, and I’d rather he knew from the beginning. Let’s hope we’re not meeting up tomorrow for another PM, this week surely can’t get any worse.’
The university was obliging, and had allocated a small office for police use during the investigation. The Tech department had set up two computers, and Erica and Beth walked in, looking around with a degree of surprise.
‘This is smart,’ Erica said. ‘Puts my cubbyhole to shame.’
Beth picked up a note leaning against one of the monitors. ‘They’ve organised for the first two on our list to be available at four. They’re better organised than we are.’ She looked at Erica. She knew she was thinking about the issue of having to tell Peter Vanton about his baby.
‘Wouldn’t take much to be better organised than us,’ Erica snapped. ‘Since Monday morning we’ve had three bodies pass through our system, despite our taking people out of the way to keep them safe. Who’s first on that list?’
‘That girl in the wheelchair, Jenna…’ Beth hesitated while double-checking her list, ‘Jenna Armstrong, followed by Dom Andrews. Then there’s a further list of six for tomorrow. That’s all the people who went to the Macbeth performance and who saw Susie there.’
‘Okay.’ Erica checked her watch. ‘Shall we have a coffee before Jenna Armstrong arrives?’
Beth moved over to the coffee machine, and spent a couple of minutes working out how to use it. Eventually it was sorted and she turned to Erica who was checking something on the computer. ‘While we’re drinking this I’ll fill you in on what happened last night.’
She picked up the two mugs and walked across to Erica’s desk. ‘I had my locks changed,’ she said, moving to her own desk. ‘All went well, and when the locksmith had gone I set about changing stuff, moving the furniture around, that sort of thing. I ordered a desk from Argos which was delivered last night, but at one point I thought my heart was going to stop.’
Erica lifted her head. ‘Why?’
‘I heard a key in the lock. I knew it was Evan, and of course he couldn’t get in. He kicked the front door, said a few choice words, then went round to the back door. He tried to unlock that one, but I’ve had everything changed, plus extra bolts on, so he’s not getting in at all. It scared me, made me feel… oh, I don’t know, inadequate I suppose.’
‘He didn’t know you were in?’
‘No, I parked higher up the street, and he doesn’t know I’ve changed cars. He would have thought I hadn’t got home from work.’
‘You want me to have a word?’
‘Not yet. If he continues it might come to that, but I wanted you to be aware, just in case.’
‘You think he would attack you?’
‘Six months ago I would have laughed at the idea, but he’s changed. Don’t worry, if I feel he needs some heavy-handed treatment, I’ll tell you. Now, how do we handle these students? Gently, I assume?’
‘With care, definitely, unless we feel they’re holding back on something. I should imagine the women are feeling uneasy. I know our third victim wasn’t from the uni, but they don’t know that. And that little fact tells us that whatever is connecting these victims in this murderer’s brain isn’t the university. It’s something else.’
‘Pretty girls? All three girls have been really attractive, all had good figures which is what he likes the world to see. I don’t think it’s really that, it’s too simplistic. In twenty-fourteen it was all about the pretty girls and the way he displayed them, but their names did all begin with L, which was a much bigger link. I don’t think it’s only about them being physically attractive, it’s more than that, and until we recognise that link he’s going to carry on killing.’
‘Let’s hope the link isn’t one body a night, because if it is we’ll be up early again tomorrow.’ Erica sipped at her coffee. She looked up in response to a knock at the door.
Beth moved around her desk and helped Jenna manoeuvre her wheelchair through the opening that was only just big enough to accommodate it.
Erica smiled at the girl with the glowing cheeks.
Jenna shrugged off the all-enveloping rain cape and ruffled her hands through her curly red hair. ‘It’s pissing down again,’ she stated, ‘and I’m fed up with being wet. I’m Jenna Armstrong, although I suppose you’ve guessed that.’
‘Kind of.’ Erica laughed. ‘You need a paper towel or something to dry off? A coffee?’
‘I’d love a coffee. I’m chilled through. Bloody weather,’ she grumbled.
Beth stood. ‘I’ll get you one. Milk?’ She t
ook the cape from Jenna and hung it on the coat stand in the corner of the room, then pushed it closer to the radiator. ‘That should dry it out, but I can’t control how wet it gets when you go back outside.’ She couldn’t help but smile at the vivacious girl in front of them.
‘Milk and one sugar, please,’ Jenna confirmed. ‘I’m not sure if I can be of any help to you, but I do realise you’ll be talking to all of us who were there that night. It wasn’t only uni people though. Others who simply enjoy Shakespeare.’
Erica gave a slight nod in acknowledgement. ‘We realise that, but we’re making life a little easier by starting with those who knew Susanna and were there with her. I understand you sat next to her?’
Beth passed Jenna her drink, and Jenna smiled. ‘Thanks. I need this. Yes, I did. I like… liked Susie and Clare. Susie was in the end seat, Clare next to her, so I parked my wheelchair in the aisle and sat with them. It’s easier for me if I stay in my chair.’
‘Did you have any concerns about anything? Did anybody speak to them who you didn’t know?’
‘No, Dom and Danny were behind us, as were Maria and Anya, the twins, and during the interval we chatted with them. Dom went for some cans of Coke for us, but other than that we didn’t move, didn’t chat to anybody else.’
‘That would be Dom Andrews? Do you know the other lad’s surname?’
‘We all call him Brummy Danny, but that’s because his Birmingham accent is so strong. His actual name is Daniel Irving.’
Beth glanced down the list they had been given, and put a star by his name. She had noticed a twinkle in Jenna’s eyes when she had spoken of Brummy Danny, and guessed their flame-haired interviewee was interested in the lad who had sat with them in the theatre.
‘Jenna, can I ask how you came to be in a wheelchair?’ Erica spoke carefully.
Erica had decided to get the elephant out of the way so they could ask more probing questions. Jenna Armstrong was an extremely pretty girl with what appeared to be a slim, attractive figure and as such needed to heed the warning that she never accept a lift from anyone… conversely, if she was able to walk, a wheelchair would enable the transport of bodies to be undertaken very easily, with hardly a passing glance from members of the public.