by Anita Waller
She sat back in her chair and let that fact run around inside her head, and knew it was yet further confirmation it was the same killer. Rain kept people indoors. Heavy rain even kept dog walkers confined to their back doors at night, with the poor dogs merely let out into the garden for their ablutions. Drivers hesitated before venturing forth in heavy rain, and children were made to stay indoors by parents who didn’t want to have to deal with sodden offspring and their clothes.
The killer needed time to set up the display, time for the rain to do its cleansing work in case there had been a transfer of bodily fluid, skin cells and suchlike, and most of all the effect of the body when it was discovered had to be perfect. He or she must have been incredibly fed up when Susie had been dislodged from her position in the pocket park and forced downriver to where she had been found.
Erica headed towards Flick’s desk, wrote a little note that said thank you for the weather report, smiled at the wording and headed back to her own office after a brief glance at the murder board. It would be extremely full once the new case was added.
Back in her own office, resplendent in the middle of her desk, was a large chicken and stuffing sandwich, an iced doughnut the size of one of the rings of Jupiter, and the biggest cup of coffee she had ever had. Her driver had scribbled a little note telling her to ring him when she needed to go anywhere.
Once again she felt close to tears. People really shouldn’t be nice to her, she wasn’t good at accepting niceness. Or was it simply that she was so goddamn tired and so worried about Beth that coping was a step too far.
And she still had that toerag Evan Yeardley to deal with. Word from the custody suite was that he was definitely under the weather so probably the optimum time to interview him was around one. He would still be feeling the effects of the alcohol, but sober enough to answer questions.
Evan Yeardley looked up from his thumb-twiddling hands as the interview room door was pushed open. Erica and Flick walked in, and took the two seats opposite him. They started the recording and introduced the three of them plus the duty solicitor, Jeffrey Galloway, who looked with some disgust towards his client. He was obviously getting the bulk of the waves of alcohol that were emanating from Yeardley’s body.
Flick opened the proceedings. ‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence, Mr Yeardley. Do you understand the caution?’
He looked down to his hands and mumbled.
‘For the recorder, please, sir.’
‘Yes. Fucking yes.’
Erica slammed her papers down on the table, and he jumped.
‘Okay, Evan, let’s begin with what’s going to happen at the end of the interview, shall we?’
His solicitor looked across at her with a degree of surprise.
‘At the end you will be charged, probably with an initial one of attempted murder, but that of course may change.’
Yeardley tried to lever himself upright, but the officer standing quietly in the corner moved across the room towards him, and he sat down.
‘What’s that silly cow said?’ Evan demanded.
‘That silly cow can’t say anything following emergency surgery through the night, and little hope of a recovery.’
There was a brief moment of silence, then he looked wildly around. ‘But I didn’t…’
‘Unfortunately, you did. I hope you think that a few CDs and DVDs were worth the sentence you’re going to get. Time to start limiting your alcohol intake, I think, Evan. It’s going to be a long time before you get another drop.’
He turned to his solicitor, who merely pointed forward and said, ‘Answer the questions, Evan, answer the questions.’
Yeardley slumped in his chair, then ran his hand through his hair. ‘I’ve got a fucking headache. I can’t deal with this.’
‘Medication will be provided after the interview if it is still required. We don’t treat headaches. Now, Evan, tell me what happened last night from… oh, let’s say five o’clock, shall we? I want to know everywhere you went, everything you did, and eventually we’ll end up in the charge office – but that’s some time away yet.’
19
With a confession to what had happened, or the tiny amount Evan Yeardley could remember after a night of beer, vodka, and wine, he was formally charged with attempted murder and placed in custody, prior to a magistrates hearing scheduled for the following day.
Erica rang her driver and he appeared immediately, as if waiting outside her office door.
‘Ma’am?’
‘Can you take me to the hospital, please? Then you can stand down, I don’t know how long I’ll be so–’
‘I’ll wait,’ he interrupted. ‘I can park anywhere and sit and read until you ring me. Sorry, DI Cheetham, I have my instructions, as you know.’
Erica stifled a laugh. He was so formal. And clearly enjoying his day in the limelight with the serious crimes squad.
‘Okay, thanks. What’s your name?’
‘PC Lee Jesmond, ma’am.’
‘Okay, Lee. Let’s go. And try not to get a parking ticket.’
Beth’s head was swathed in bandages, and apart from the gentle rise and fall caused by her assisted breathing, she looked… dead. The nurse explained Beth’s parents had gone to find a hotel for a few days, but she had her instructions to ring them immediately should there be any change.
‘The young man who was on guard duty outside the door has also gone,’ she said.
Erica pulled the blue plastic chair a little closer to the bed and sat. ‘Yes, we’ve been able to call him off. We’ve arrested someone, and he’s been charged. I don’t believe there’s any danger now, Beth simply needs to get better.’
The nurse looked at her for a few seconds. ‘It’s a very serious head injury, you know. They’re monitoring her closely, and there’s every chance they may need to operate again. You may not get back the Beth you once knew, although I haven’t said any of this to her parents.’
Erica gave a brief nod. ‘I understand. And you’re going to tell me this is one of those cases where there’s no time limit. She’ll come round when she comes round.’
‘That’s true, although we will lessen the sedation if she begins to show any signs of emerging. That’s not going to happen yet, though, she needs rest to recover from the attack and from the surgery.’
Erica took hold of Beth’s hand, and stroked her fingers. She felt helpless. ‘Hi, Beth, it’s me. I don’t know whether you can hear or not, but I’m going to talk anyway. It seems it did rain every evening in the twenty-fourteen lot, so this bugger is simply carrying on. We need to find a psychopath who loves the rain.’
The nurse turned slowly. ‘You two are working on the three young girls who’ve been killed?’
‘We are, or at least I am, now.’
‘The last one, Imogen Newland, I knew her. She goes to my gym. I wasn’t there on the night she was taken, I was on duty here, but we’d chatted a few times. Lovely girl, and incredibly happy.’
Erica’s phone vibrated, and she pulled it out. It was a text telling her there had been a positive ID on the girl from the morning. She stood. ‘I have to go but I’ll try to get back later. This isn’t public knowledge yet, but will be by tomorrow. We had another body this morning, and she’s now been identified. If you’re on next time I come, I’ll maybe have a couple of questions for you, although I do realise you weren’t there that night. But you did know Imogen, so keep thinking. Anything could lead us to this killer.’
Erica sent a swift text to Lee, placed a gentle kiss on the back of Beth’s hand, and walked down to the hospital entrance. Lee was waiting, and drove her back to headquarters.
Ivor was waiting for Erica. ‘Her name is Tanya Lacey. Twenty-four, and her prints are on record. Minor drug offence five years ago, non-custodial sentence but obviously prints taken. Nothing since that. I’m running a tox s
creen as we speak to see if she still imbibes.’
Erica sat down at his desk, facing him. ‘Thanks, Ivor. I’ve come from seeing Beth – traumatic. She looks lifeless. There’s a machine breathing for her, and she’s bandaged around her head.’
‘Give it two or three days,’ he said gently, recognising the stress showing on her face. ‘There’ll be a noticeable difference.’
He passed across the report that indicated the name of the new arrival in his autopsy suite and remarked she was another beautiful girl.
‘And there was no sexual activity?’
He shook his head. ‘No, little fingertip missing, and VIII carved into her palm. You considering a profiler?’
‘I am. Or at least I’m considering asking if we can have one. This has escalated so fast. Four bodies in a week. It was over five months back in twenty-fourteen, and Beth had been doing some work on prisoners who’ve been locked up and released since the last of those four murders, but from what I can see of her report, it’s leading nowhere. So what else could have given us a five-year hiatus? A change in lifestyle? He or she fell in love? Possibly got married but is currently going through a rough time? An illness? Something serious that stopped the killing but is now much improved and the urges have risen again?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m no profiler, Erica, but it strikes me that if this was an ex-con doing this, something would already have been highlighted. HOLMES throws all sorts of oddities at you, and you would have picked up on it. This is somebody who stopped for a reason back in twenty-fourteen. Did he fall in love with someone? Was he unhappy then happy? Minds are strange things, as you know, and I suspect his mind is stranger than most. Something happened to trigger the first one and he gained a lot of satisfaction from it, so he didn’t stop until the fourth. Where did he come across the fifth? Was she special to him?’
‘Go on.’
‘I can’t, but I started to think, as you can tell. All these beautiful girls I’m doing post-mortems for, it’s so wrong, Erica. So wrong. But of one thing I am sure – he venerates them. He wants people to see how beautiful they are unclothed.’
‘You’ve studied psychology?’
‘I have a degree in psychology, but my real love was forensics, so I acquired a second degree.’
She stood. ‘I have to go. Now that we have a name for this latest victim, I have parents to inform before something is leaked to the press. Please keep thinking, Ivor. You’ve opened up my mind, even though I’ve no idea how to track down this one person. But we will do it. I don’t want them falling in love with the next victim and stopping all over again. This time we get him and lock him away for ever.’
Tanya Lacey had two younger sisters and a mother and stepfather living in Peterborough who adored her. She had rung them from her small flat in Sheffield to say she was going to the gym to escape the constant knocks of the ghosts and fairies, and she’d see them at the weekend. They had no idea she was missing, believing her to be at work in an office in Sheffield, where she was training to be an accountant.
Officers from the Peterborough force had notified the family, and explained they would take them to Sheffield to formally identify the body of their daughter.
Tanya’s whole family was devastated. They had heard of the ongoing spate of murders in the steel city, but as with everything in life, had assumed it could never happen to them. Yet it had.
Erica sat at her desk and woke up her computer. She pulled up all witness reports, friends’ statements, anything she could find – there was a niggle in the back of her mind.
The piece of A4 paper looked too pristine, so she turned it around to landscape it and drew four lines top to bottom. Then she headed each column with the names Susie, Clare, Imogen, and Tanya. There had to be a link and she was going to find it, or find a suggestion of it.
She scrolled carefully through everything they had on Susie, but almost from the beginning saw slight differences. Susie was the practice model. Susanna Roebuck hadn’t remained in situ, she had been swept downriver by the torrent that was the Porter in its current state. The killer had become more careful in his, or her, positioning after that.
Susie had been picked up and that pick-up had an almost accidental feel to it, an opportunistic move on the part of the killer.
The other three shared a noticeable link once everything was written down on the paper. A gym.
Was it the same gym? Clare Vincent had tried to escape the horror of her girl-friend’s murder by going to the gym for a couple of hours, but according to Starlite Gym had never arrived. That information had been treated as a dead end in view of the fact that she had never arrived.
Imogen Newland had gone to the gym – the same one – for a girly night out, confirmed by Starlite, and Tanya Lacey had rung her family to say she was going to the gym to escape the Halloween visits. The same gym? Could the Starlite Gym be the link between the last three victims?
One other factor linking all four was that none of them had used a car, and in fact only Tanya had owned one, although hadn’t used it, on the night of her abduction.
Did the killer know this? Did this mean that Tanya Lacey was a second opportunistic abduction? He wouldn’t have been able to lure anyone into his car to escape the rain if they already had a car of their own.
Erica’s mind was buzzing. It felt to her that this was almost the first time she had been able to sit down and view the facts, make some sense of them. The murders had happened seemingly one after the other, and they had only started on investigating each individual one, then another happened. Now she could see the four as a whole, and knew she had seen something new to chase. Starlite Gym. She needed to know whether Tanya had been a member there.
Erica showed her warrant card, as did her colleague Flick Ardern. The receptionist initially said she couldn’t give them the details they wanted, but soon backed down when they talked of closing the gym to facilitate their investigation. Flick knew it wouldn’t happen; the receptionist didn’t.
It appeared that all four girls were registered with the gym, all four living fairly locally to it. She also confirmed that Susie hadn’t attended on the night of her death and hadn’t been for about two weeks prior to that. Clare had last visited on the same night as Susie. She hadn’t shown up on the night of her death. Both Imogen and Tanya had been there on the night they were abducted.
‘There you go.’ Erica smiled. ‘That wasn’t too hard, was it?’ She handed her card to the grumpy-looking receptionist. ‘My email is on that card. I would like the complete membership list, please. Names, addresses and telephone numbers.’
‘But…’
Erica held up a hand. ‘Don’t even begin to say you can’t do it. You can, and I want it by the end of today. I don’t need to remind you this is a quadruple murder investigation. Quadruple so far, that is. And I need to know attendances over the last three months of every member.’
Flick sank into the back seat, alongside Erica. Lee put the car into gear and pulled smoothly away. ‘Phew, that’s why you’re the boss and I’m a lowly DC. Think she’ll do it?’
Erica laughed. ‘Oh, she’ll do it all right. And you’re not a lowly DC, I’m moving you to acting DS until we get Beth back again. That okay with you? It’ll look good on your form when you take your sergeant’s exams.’
20
Erica’s headache was worsening, so she went home early. Flick was only too happy to write up the notes from their trip to Starlite Gym, and everybody said an inward little prayer that there would be no more early-morning call-outs to bodies found near to the River Porter.
Lee dropped Erica off, and seemed quite unhappy at it being the last time he would be needed, but she was adamant.
‘Honestly, Lee, thank you for your chauffeuring skills, but tomorrow I’ll have had a good night’s rest, I hope, and I’ll take my own car.’
She watched him drive away, a smile on her face. Maybe she could ask for him to be put on temporary assignment to her team. Lord knows, t
hey needed all the bodies they could grab with four murders to sort out.
Frannie’s car wasn’t on the drive, so Erica guessed she would be on her own. Take a couple of painkillers to divert the headache from thinking it was migraine material, and close her eyes for an hour. Bliss.
Frannie didn’t wake her. She’d spotted the paracetamol packet on the coffee table, alongside the glass of water, and knew Erica was hurting, so quietly closed the lounge door and headed for the kitchen.
Frannie opened her laptop after making a coffee, and entered the notes from the house she had recently visited before heading home. Things seemed to be on the up for the family since the permanently drunk boyfriend had found some other poor woman to take him in. Frannie was close to adding them to her six-monthly visiting list, and made a note to that effect. She would visit in a month’s time, and if the level of cleanliness in the home and with the children continued to improve she would make the list transfer.
She closed her laptop and sat back with a sigh. Her thoughts spiralled as she sipped at her coffee, and she let them travel where they would. Meeting Erica had saved her, of that she had no doubt. She had been going through a deeply black period a few years earlier when the woman with the beautiful smile that could light up a room had lit up her life. Frannie had tried to hide her sexuality, but with Erica’s arrival it had been a natural progression.
Moving in together, marrying, the blackness had lifted and her life had changed for ever.
Frannie looked up as the kitchen door handle clicked, and she smiled as Erica appeared.
‘Feeling better?’
Erica walked across and stood behind Frannie, wrapping her arms around her, and kissing the top of her head. ‘Much better, thank you. Headache only an ache now, and I’ve caught up a bit on sleep. This case is bloody harrowing, Fran. Can we have something light tonight?’
‘Eggs on toast?’