by Anita Waller
‘Or you could put Lycra on and go and do a workout,’ Erica said, once again stopping the smile.
‘Ah, but it’s not about the gym, is it?’ Flick was quick to point out. Very quick. ‘I’m sure it’s that café. We’ve checked alibis for everybody who attended the gym on the relevant evenings, and they’re all clear. I’m sure we’re onto something with The Coffee Pot now we’ve found out it’s there. I think it’s where she meets her victims, and we need to know if any of the four girls used that café. That’s what I’m doing today – if that’s good with you?’
‘It’s nice that you’ve asked. You got a plot for this book then?’
‘It’s a police procedural.’
‘Oh good. Not much research needed for it. Give me a minute.’ Erica picked up her phone and dialled the safe house where Katie and Becky were still ensconced.
She spoke to a sleepy Becky and asked the relevant questions about the gym and the café, then quietly disconnected after reassuring Becky that they were close to a conclusion. Erica lifted her head and looked at Flick.
‘It seems all four of them used the café regularly. Take yourself off down there for a few hours, but you can’t make yourself known to the owners. One of them might be the killer so I suggest you pay particular attention to them. If they start to make noises about you moving on, you’ll have to do that, but stick it out as long as you can. Keep drinking and eating, then they can’t really ask you to leave. And save your receipts, I’ll authorise them. I’m going out to the safe house, have a chat with our two girls and see if they remember anything. I’ll also ask the families of Imogen, Tanya and Victoria if they knew whether their daughters used the café.’
Flick stood. ‘Okay, boss. I’m going to set up my book that I’m writing, so I don’t look like a complete amateur when I get there.’
‘You’ve brought your laptop?’
‘Certainly have. I couldn’t sleep for thinking about that damn café, so I knew I’d give it a shot for an hour today, but now I’ve got permission…’
Erica laughed. ‘Go for it. Contact me by text if you need to, don’t blow your cover by ringing me. Let’s hope the receptionist is a different one.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to go into the gym. There’s a door out of the café directly onto the street, so I’ll go in that one.’
‘So there’s two ways in?’
Flick pulled a piece of paper towards her and swiftly drew a sketch of the reception area, the double doors into the café, then a bubble-shaped space representing the café with the doors leading out onto the main road. ‘Ideal for any would-be murderer, isn’t it? Nobody in the gym knows she’s there if she came in off the road. And she can pull up outside like a good Samaritan if somebody comes out and fiddles with an umbrella, or stops to put the hood up on their jacket. Dreadful weather, want a lift home, Tanya? You can see it, can’t you.’
Erica nodded. ‘You can. Let’s go and brief the team on what’s happening. I’ll put Will on to getting some information about the café and its employees, see who owns it, he’s good at background digging.’
The briefing took longer than Erica thought it would. As the explanation of the café took hold in the minds of her team, the questions flowed and she could feel a sense of excitement that everybody thought it was a major step forward.
‘So that’s it,’ she said finally. ‘Flick will be unavailable once she leaves here, I’m going to see the families of our girls, plus going to the safe house. Does everybody know what they’re doing?’
Sam held up a hand.
‘Sam we’re not in school.’ Erica smiled. She liked the good-looking young officer; if he retained the enthusiasm he unfailingly showed, he would go far in his career.
He waved a piece of paper and pointed to the whiteboard. ‘Can I?’
She nodded and he walked to the front, attaching the two sheets of copy paper that had been stuck together with Sellotape.
‘I did this last night. The ANPR could only track that black car so far, then it disappeared, so I took the last-known recognition of it, and used several websites to track down garages and lock-ups within half a mile of that last sighting. If it’s okay, boss, I’d like to take a car and go out searching. I know it’s a long shot, and I won’t give it more than a day because of that, but…’
‘But nothing, Sam.’ She walked over to join the PC. ‘And well done. Seems we’re all doing lots of homework on this one.’
She looked at his diagrams, his annotations and little speech bubbles. ‘What’s this star?’
‘That’s the last point it was seen by the ANPR camera. There’s no further sightings at any point during the night, and we know she changes number plates so there’s no point in following that. On the two CCTVs we’ve caught her on, it’s showed the same car but with two different registration plates. I suspect she’s got a little stash of them in the garage with the car.’
Erica nodded. ‘I agree that it’s in a garage somewhere. We’ve made enough appeals about this car for somebody to have come forward if it’s on a road or in a car park somewhere. She takes a hell of a risk being out and about with it in this day of the police being able to check insurance, tax and everything on the spot.’
‘She chooses her time, boss. Between eight and nine the ordinary copper on the beat is reasonably quiet. Any later and we start to get the idiots roaming at large, tanked up on beer, but the autopsy reports place death at eight to ten at night, don’t they? It’s almost as if she understands the police system. Or she’s in the police.’
‘Okay,’ Erica said, ‘I can rule Flick out. She’s not fit enough to wheel an empty suitcase, never mind one with a body inside.’
Everybody laughed, and Flick grinned while holding up a finger.
‘Sam, bring your bit of paper and come talk to me.’ Erica left the room.
Sam straightened his carefully drawn diagram, and pushed it across Erica’s desk. She looked at it, letting her fingers trace the various routes and buildings on it. ‘Is it accurate?’
‘As accurate as I can make it. I didn’t have access to the council’s site from home, so I did the best I could with Google maps and stuff. Why?’
‘I don’t want you going alone. We know, we’ve seen at first hand, how dangerous this woman is. See what Mike’s doing, and if he can postpone it. He’s a big lad, you should both be okay. And well done on this, you must have been working on this most of the night.’
‘I was. But it’s got to be done. It’s the only lead we’ve got regarding this car.’
She handed the chart back to him. ‘Leave a photocopy of this with me before you go. If she does get the pair of you, I’ll need to know where to start looking for your bodies.’
‘Thanks, boss,’ he said, standing. ‘You’re all heart.’
She could see Flick beavering away on her laptop, Sam and Mike deep in conversation with their heads bent over Sam’s diagram, Will tapping away on his computer and she knew she couldn’t ask for a better team. This case had got to all of them, touched them deeply, and she knew it was because of the ages of the girls. Dead before they had chance to show their full potential, one of them leaving a tiny baby to be brought up by grandparents – it had been the hardest case they had worked on together, and by far the most difficult with the spectre of the twenty-fourteen murders hanging over everything like a pall.
They were a young team and most of them hadn’t been around five years earlier, and yet all of them now knew as much as she did about those murders after spending hours going through case notes. They had all made it a priority that they knew of the link that connected the five-year-distant deaths.
Erica saw Flick check her watch, close her laptop and stand, before walking across to where Sam and Mike were at the photocopier, making the requested copy for her. She saw Flick speak to them, clearly asking a question because Sam nodded enthusiastically in reply, and they made an extra copy and handed it to her.
Flick walked back to he
r desk, took a sip of water and sat down for a couple of minutes while she went over the hand-drawn diagram. After rummaging in her drawer for a pencil, she carefully traced around buildings and roads, then started up her computer and typed something in. She scrolled the screen, took it back to the beginning, entered something else and punched the air. Then she stood and headed for Erica’s office.
‘Do you know,’ Flick said, ‘how close this area is to The Coffee Pot?’
31
Erica walked through the door into Beth’s room and felt a burst of delight to see her sitting in the chair by the bed. She was still having fluids put into her, so remained attached to a drip, but everything apart from the bandage around her head appeared fairly normal.
‘That’s a sight for sore eyes,’ she said, and handed over a couple of magazines. ‘Your face looks so much better, the swelling’s almost gone.’
‘That’s only temporary,’ Beth said ruefully. ‘He didn’t manage to kick out any of my teeth, but he’s loosened two so much I’m going to have them taken out because they’ll drop out eventually if I don’t, and cause me no end of aches and pains. I can have implants put in, but I need to wait before tackling that.’
‘And your head injury?’
‘It’s doing well. The doctor will let me know tomorrow if I can go home. This is my last fluid IV, so all’s good.’
‘Okay, don’t forget my offer of coming to stay with us for a few days until you’re more able to get your own meals and suchlike. We’d love to have you. I’ve spoken to Frannie about it, and she didn’t hesitate to say yes.’
‘I know. She said so.’
‘She’s been to see you?’
‘She has. She didn’t say?’
‘No, but I’m not surprised. She’s always at the hospital. She has some really strange clients that frequently require hospitalisation after they’ve walked into a wardrobe door, or the kitchen door. You understand?’
Beth smiled. ‘I do. She didn’t stay long, brought me some Maltesers because I don’t need to chew them, and repeated your offer. But fill me in on the case. Are you any closer to a result?’
Sam drove, and he and Mike headed towards where the last camera had identified the Fiesta as passing it. Sam took the first turn left after that point, and found himself on a narrow cobbled street, so indicative of that area of Sheffield. He drove slowly, and Mike did most of the observation, his head swivelling as he checked the side streets and alleyways that led off the road they were on. They reached the end and Sam stopped, judging which way to go next at the T-junction.
‘Left?’ Mike suggested. ‘We can always do a second drive round, and take the right turns, we’ve got all day.’
With a brief nod of agreement, Sam quickly indicated left and pulled out. They followed the same routine until Mike spotted the row of garages they had been seeking. They drove down the narrow access road, and pulled up as the space widened to allow cars manoeuvrability. They climbed out of the squad car and walked towards the last garage in the row of seven. Much to their surprise the garage door slid up, but it was empty apart from a sleeping bag, a blanket, and a pillow. A small candle stood inside a grimy glass jar.
‘Bijou residence,’ Mike muttered, but nevertheless made sure the door was closed firmly. This garage was shelter for some poor bugger down on their luck. They walked back towards the entrance to the site, but none of the other six garages were unlocked. Two had holes in the doors through which they could see, but neither of them was home to a car, merely used as storage lock-ups.
Nobody was around for them to hold any sort of conversation with, so they headed back to the car, and drove out, following their left-turn rule.
Mike was ticking off their route by using a biro to draw along the roads they had already covered, and by one o’clock they were hungry. Their final left turn had brought them out on to the main road two hundred yards higher than the Starlite Gym, and The Coffee Pot where they knew Flick would be sitting writing her book.
‘We could go in there.’ Mike nodded towards the café.
‘Think she’d be mad?’
‘We’ll not talk to her. Don’t want to blow her cover, but surely six eyes are better than two. Come on. Let’s go and see if they do chips.’
Flick saw her colleagues walk through the door and froze, but they ignored her and chose a table at the opposite side of the room. She realised they weren’t going to acknowledge her, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Nobody had disturbed her for the two hours she had been sitting there, and she had actually enjoyed writing the book that had started out as a joke. She knew she would wipe it once the exercise was over, but it had given her a reason to do some typing, then stop and stare around the room as if seeking inspiration. In actuality, she had been people-watching, wanting to know who had come in, who had gone out, and who had been there as long as she had.
Robert had come in, enjoyed a coffee, smiled at her and left, so that didn’t help at all.
She had used her phone to take photos when it was safe to do so without being spotted, and she had managed to capture almost everyone who had entered. She had definitely photographed every woman.
Sam and Mike stayed around half an hour, then left without even looking in her direction. Good lads, she thought, good lads.
The waitress came across to take her empty cup away, and Flick asked for a cheese and tomato toastie along with a pot of tea. The coffee was making her head buzz.
It was delivered to her table ten minutes later, and the waitress pulled out a chair. ‘You a student?’
Flick swallowed. ‘No, I’m an author.’
‘I said you were! We saw you in here yesterday, so you must have enjoyed it to come back again today. What do you write?’
‘Murder.’
‘Oh my God, that’s awesome. How many have you had published?’
‘This is my first book.’ Flick was thinking on her feet, eager to keep the conversation going. ‘I’ve taken a year’s sabbatical from work to see if I can do it. If I can’t, I go back to my job. In accountancy.’
‘I’m so envious. I do a bit of writing.’
Flick’s heart sank. Please don’t ask for advice.
‘Will you be in again?’ The waitress was smiling at her.
‘I certainly will. Nobody has bothered me, I’ve been able to crack on with the book, and the food is excellent.’
‘Maybe we can talk again.’ She stood. ‘I work every weekday until about seven, but not weekends.’
Flick smiled at her. ‘I’d like that. You enjoy crime books?’
‘Love them. Will you be here tomorrow?’
‘I will. Let’s make time for a chat when you get your break.’
Mike and Sam continued checking garage sites in the area but saw no sign of a black old-style Fiesta. They had found three garages unlocked but nothing in them, and it was only when they decided to call it a day that Sam suggested they go round to the garage with the sleeping bag in it. They had spoken to only four people, and nobody had known anything about a black Fiesta in the area.
‘It’s not only about the car, I’d like to check they’re okay, whoever it is. It’s crap having to sleep in a garage,’ Sam explained.
He drove down the narrow entrance, made more difficult by the approaching darkness, and pulled up at the end garage.
‘Do we knock?’ Sam asked.
‘It’s their home, so I suppose we do,’ Mike said. ‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Come on, let’s see what he or she has to say.’
Sam tapped on the door. ‘Hello! Police. Can we have a quick word, please? You’re not in any trouble.’
There was silence, so Sam knocked again, this time a little louder.
Mike reached down to the handle and tugged. It lifted slowly and a frightened face peered out from the depths of the sleeping bag. The candle flickered but protected by the jar, didn’t go out.
It was a young face, and Sam guessed at no more than seve
nteen. ‘Hi,’ Sam said. ‘Can we come in?’ He felt foolish.
The boy nodded without speaking.
‘Only a couple of questions, lad,’ Mike said, ‘then we’ll be on our way. You okay in here?’
Once again the boy nodded.
‘You got a name?’ Sam kept his voice low.
‘Adam.’
‘Okay, Adam. You might have seen us driving around this area all day, but we’re only looking for a car, and my guess is you don’t have one.’
This time the boy shook his head.
‘You hungry?’
‘Yes.’
Mike stood. ‘I’ll be back in quarter of an hour. McDonald’s?’
Adam’s face changed from bewilderment to shock. ‘Please.’
Sam was sitting on the end of the sleeping bag when Mike returned, carrying three Big Mac meals, and three coffees.
He could see that Sam and Adam had progressed to talking, so busied himself sorting out the food.
‘When did you last eat, Adam?’
‘Yesterday. Somebody brought me a sandwich.’ Adam looked up as Mike handed him the Big Mac meal, a large coffee and an apple pie. ‘Thanks,’ Adam said quietly.
‘Let’s eat while it’s still hot,’ Mike said, ‘and then we’ll talk.’
Adam, it transpired, had lived at home until he was sixteen. His mother had then moved a boyfriend in, and they simply didn’t get on. Adam left without telling anyone he was going, and he hadn’t been back.
‘And you sleep here every night?’
‘I’ve been here for about three months. I’m not going back to hers.’ His defensiveness showed.
‘We’re not asking you to, pal,’ Sam said. ‘But there’s better places than this to sleep. You want us to look at getting you into a hostel?’
‘No, I’m fine here.’
‘Winter’s coming. The last three months were a picnic compared to the bad weather still to come before next April or May.’