Nine Lives

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Nine Lives Page 22

by Anita Waller

She clicked on the file labelled ‘Coffee Pot visitors’, and carefully scrolled through all the pictures. She recognised two; Jenna in her wheelchair with Danny helping her manoeuvre around the tables. The rest she didn’t know. It did occur to her that the owner and Georgia Knight knew everyone, and everyone who was a regular would know them… would customers accept a lift from either one of them? Too damn right they would.

  She picked up her phone and Flick answered immediately.

  ‘Hi, boss. Thought you’d still be in bed.’

  ‘I feel as if I should be. I’ve opened your email and the amendments are good. I’m looking at your pictures. I know two of them. The girl in the wheelchair and the feller with her are two people we’ve already interviewed. They were with Susie Roebuck and Clare Vincent at the theatre that night. They’re uni students. Did you have concerns, as I do, that Georgia and the owner of the café know everybody? Customers would accept a lift from them.’

  Flick laughed. ‘You’re a mind reader, boss. I’m checking both of them as we speak. When I’ve got some information I’ll contact you.’

  ‘Oh, God. Sorry,’ Erica said, ruffling her hair. ‘I should have known you’d be on it. Maybe I should go back to bed,’ she ended with a laugh.

  ‘I’m heading to The Coffee Pot to talk to Georgia officially, get her to go through these pictures and see who she can identify. Her boss is a proper tartar, times them to the minute on a break, so she’s going to be really chuffed when I turn up and say I need Georgia until I’m done. Quite looking forward to throwing my weight around. Hate bullies.’

  ‘Go you,’ Erica responded, and they disconnected.

  Immediately the phone pealed out. Beth.

  ‘Hi! You okay?’

  ‘I’m scared.’ There was a tremor in Beth’s voice.

  ‘Why?’ Erica tried to make her voice calm.

  ‘I can go home. I’m packed, about to ring a taxi, and I’m scared of going home.’

  ‘I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes, walk down to the Huntsman entrance and wait for me. You got all your medications?’

  ‘I have. I’m literally sat in my chair shaking, looking for some courage. They’ve stripped my bed, and I suddenly realised there’s only me.’

  ‘No, we have a spare room as you know. Stay as long as you want. See you in ten.’

  She grabbed her coat, put on her boots, and opened the door. The rain was torrential; she looked up to the heavens and said, ‘Thank you, God.’

  Beth seemed shrunken. The bandage around her head had been replaced by a large piece of gauze, and her fingers were still strapped together, although healing, she had said. Erica fastened her friend’s seat belt, and they drove home with the windscreen wipers on at full speed.

  ‘Hasn’t it stopped raining at all?’ Beth said.

  ‘It has, but when you hear what I’ve to say, I’d like you to do a little rain dance as your contribution to today’s activities,’ Erica said with a smile, trying to raise an answering one on Beth’s face. It didn’t work.

  ‘You need it to rain?’

  ‘We do. When you’ve had a rest and something to eat, I’ll tell you all about it. I’m going to have to leave you, because I’m doing today’s briefing at two, then I’m out until probably the early hours of tomorrow, but Frannie won’t be in too late. She’s going for a meal with her colleagues because she knows I won’t be home, and I don’t really want to mess her about and ask her to come home instead. Is that okay?’

  ‘It’s fine. I’ll probably have an early night anyway. Have you told Frannie I’m here?’

  ‘I’ve not spoken to her, but I’ve sent a text and she’s responded. Don’t worry, she’s not going to be surprised to see you.’

  Erica left shortly after one, leaving Beth curled up on the sofa, sleeping. She took with her a list of items Beth needed from her home, and called in there before heading into work.

  The briefing room was packed, and Erica noticed everyone at some point glance towards the window, checking it was still raining. Erica was no longer worried about that – it seemed it was going to rain almost non-stop for two days, and she knew this woman wouldn’t pass up a blatant abduction offering like that night was proving to be.

  Erica was aware she was nervous. Suppose they had it wrong. The evidence showed the small black car was right in the thick of this spree killing, and in her mind it almost felt like they were arresting a car. They had no idea of the identity of the driver, everything was a guess based on rainfall levels, and the damn river seemed to be complicit in everything that had happened or might happen that night if they didn’t get this right.

  They had no evidence that what had been inside that suitcase was a body – it could have been somebody fly-tipping into the river to get rid of rubbish. It could be pure coincidence that a body had been found in the same spot.

  Erica felt sick at all the what-ifs cascading through her brain. She knew she was going out on a limb, had no idea what the repercussions would be if she got it wrong and they ended up with a riverside corpse yet again, and as she watched the bustle of them meeting up with their partners for the operation, she shivered.

  She had opted to go in the car rescue truck. They would be the first to know that the killer had left Adam – again supposition that the killer would follow her normal routine, then bring him a McDonald’s – and the truck would immediately pull across to block off the garage entrance and exit. Nobody would go in or out in a vehicle. Once that was in place the entire team would move and Erica would lead them in to arrest the woman.

  The team of eight people were in place. Erica had refused the offer of armed backup, purely because at no point had firearms been in the equation. Every one of the nine deaths had been by manual strangulation with tights and she had no reason to believe the modus operandi would change at any point.

  She hoped.

  Erica and Flick climbed into the truck first, and eased uncomfortably behind the two front seats. The driver had placed a blanket on the floor, but it added nothing to their comfort.

  Will Bramwell and Kev Ward were in the front. It would raise no strange glances in their direction if both front seats were filled by men. Erica had made it clear that as boss, she wanted to be first onto that garage site, this case had haunted her for far too long.

  By four o’clock all cars were in position. Every one checked in at intermittent times and yet the occupants of the rescue truck couldn’t see anyone. The plan had worked so far.

  By five o’clock Erica and Flick were stiff and sore. They were threatening Will and Kev with gagging them if they didn’t shut up arguing over whether Sheffield Wednesday or Sheffield United was the best team in the city, but that seemed to have no effect at all.

  ‘I need a wee,’ Flick announced. ‘I shouldn’t have had that last coffee.’

  ‘No you shouldn’t,’ Erica responded. ‘Rule number one for surveillance is don’t drink for a week beforehand. You’ll be hours before you can get to a toilet.’

  Flick sighed and didn’t answer.

  The rain battered on the windscreen and appeared to be getting heavier. Erica could only imagine what the Porter must be like; she knew it would once again be in full spate, and this woman wouldn’t let that go. Perfect conditions for murder, for continuing what she believed to be her anonymity with regard to this crime. And anonymous she was, for the moment. Her one flaw was she needed this little black car that they had under their own watchful eyes.

  Sam and Mike checked in to say all was quiet, but while Sam was speaking he said, ‘Hang on a minute. Car pulling up about two hundred yards away.’

  There was silence in the truck while they held their breaths, waiting and hoping this was what they had been praying for.

  ‘Boss? You there?’ Sam sounded tinny, but she could hear something in his voice. Excitement?

  ‘Go ahead, Sam.’

  ‘It’s stopped. Somebody’s getting out. We’ll hold back until we see where they’re going.’
r />   ‘Over.’

  For a minute nobody spoke, then the radio crackled once more.

  ‘Boss, they’ve turned left and are heading up the road towards you. We’re not close enough to read the reg yet, will do that as soon as we get to it. We’re driving up to it and parking behind it in one minute. Think it’s either an Audi or a VW. This damn rain isn’t helping. Do you have sight of the person yet?’

  ‘We do, Sam. Get that reg checked ASAP, I’d like to know who we’re arresting. This bloody rain’s brought her here, but it’s stopping us seeing much. She’s carrying a carrier bag. Let’s hope it’s got Adam’s tea in it.’

  There was an air of expectancy inside the cab, and they waited. They could see little, and Erica told Will not to use the wipers. If they couldn’t see out, the killer couldn’t see in.

  The figure reached the garage site and paused to look around before entering and disappearing.

  Still they waited. They jumped when the radio crackled. ‘Boss, we’ve got the reg and confirmation of the owner of this red Audi,’ Sam said. ‘It’s a Francesca Johnson.’

  36

  Flick stared in horror at Erica. Her morning with Georgia had led her to think Georgia could be the prime suspect, and she had taken great care not to reveal any of the evening’s activities to the waitress.

  Suddenly Erica moved. ‘Flick, I need to get out.’ Kev jumped down from the truck, giving Erica egress. She almost fell out, moved across to the grassed area and vomited. Her stomach heaved and heaved until it was empty. Flick handed her a cloth she had grabbed from inside the truck.

  ‘Boss, you can’t have anything to do with this now,’ she said urgently. ‘Wipe your face with this and go and sit in Mike and Sam’s car. We’ll deal with whatever has to be done.’

  The beep of the alarm they had given to Adam sounded inside the cab, and Erica moved before anyone could stop her. She grabbed the radio in Kev’s hand and called, ‘Go, go, go,’ the agreed signal. She handed it back to Kev and ran across the road, followed by a panicked Flick. Erica heard the engine growl as it started, and knew Will was moving the truck across the entrance.

  Erica reached it and ran up the muddy roadway, closely followed by Flick and a mystified Kev. Erica knew the name Francesca Johnson meant nothing to him.

  Ian, Sam and Mike were there within thirty seconds. The plan had worked perfectly, although only Ian and Flick wondered how the hell they were going to stop their boss from committing all sorts of fuck-ups over the next few minutes.

  The Fiesta reversed out of the garage, and Frannie swivelled her head to look out of the back window.

  She had a choice. She could put her foot hard down and slam the love of her life into that brick wall, or she could stop the car, get out and kiss her for the last time.

  Neither option suited Flick. She picked up a huge rock, ran towards the car and slammed it against the driver window. It was enough to shock Frannie, who was a second too late in stopping Flick from opening the driver’s door.

  Ian had reached the car as well, and calmly leaned in and switched off the engine. ‘Out,’ he said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No? You want me to get you out physically? And you’ll be on this muddy wet floor in about ten seconds if I do, and you won’t be getting up in a rush. Don’t piss me about, Frannie, get out the fucking car.’

  ‘I want to speak to Erica.’

  Flick reached inside the car, pulled off the black knitted beanie and grabbed a chunk of Frannie’s hair.

  ‘As my colleague said, Frannie, get out the fucking car,’ and Flick pulled with all her might. Frannie tumbled out, screaming, landing in the mud.

  ‘The charge of resisting arrest will be nothing compared to the charges you’ve got coming,’ Ian said, and placed his foot in the middle of her back. ‘Hands behind you.’ He snapped the handcuffs on as she conceded defeat.

  Erica hadn’t moved. She stared as they got Frannie out of the car, watched as she was handcuffed and hauled upright, and then as Flick and Ian walked her back down to where the truck was blocking the exit. Ian’s car had been designated the one to transport the killer back to the station, so Flick went with him. Sam and Mike stayed with Erica, now fully understanding what had gone so dramatically awry.

  ‘Boss,’ Sam said, ‘I’m not going to say much because I don’t know what to say, but can I take you to Adam. I think you need a cup of sweet tea or something. You’re in shock. Please.’

  She looked at Sam, not really seeing him, but nodded. She knew Forensics were on call to move in and get the car onto the rescue truck, but it was no concern of hers now. The second she heard Sam say the name Francesca Johnson she had known it was no longer anything to do with her.

  Sam gently held her arm and steered her towards the top garage, where Adam had already raised the door slightly.

  Sam introduced them and asked Adam if he would mind making Erica a cup of tea. Adam didn’t query anything, simply lifted the heavy bottle of water and poured it into his kettle.

  Will reversed the truck down the narrow roadway with six inches to spare either side, then clambered out once the truck was fully in the garage clearing. He remained with the car until Forensics arrived. When they did, they didn’t take long, briefly checking it over, taking photographs and supervising it being loaded onto the truck. Once that was done they moved inside the garage. There was a small generator humming quietly in the background, and an old fridge plugged into a socket. Once the fridge was opened it was obvious it was there primarily for the tiny freezer top box. Inside that were nine sealed plastic bags, each containing the tip of a little finger. Names were written on the front to identify their previous owners. The normal part of the fridge contained a box of vials labelled Propofol, all full and unopened.

  Kev had stayed behind once Will had driven off, and he walked up to the top garage, knowing his boss, along with Mike and Sam, were there. He stood outside for a moment, unsure how to handle the situation. Then he knocked on the door and shouted out Mike’s name.

  The door lifted and Kev looked inside. His DI was clearly in shock, clutching on to a mug of tea. She was sitting on the garden chair, Sam and Adam sitting on the sleeping bag.

  ‘Boss,’ he said gently, ‘you still in charge?’

  She shook her head as if clearing her thoughts, and looked at the young man in front of her.

  ‘I suppose I am until I get back to the station. Then they’ll send me home so fast my feet won’t touch the ground. You need me for something, Kev?’

  ‘No, boss, only information for you. The car has gone, Will’s taken that straight to Forensics, but the team are inside the garage. I believe they’ve now locked up the case so tight…’ He paused, wondering how to make the find sound not so horrific. He couldn’t think of any way to soften it so carried on. ‘In the corner of the garage is a small generator and there’s an old fridge plugged into it. One of the old kind with a little freezer top box. Inside that top box they’ve found nine plastic bags each containing the tip of a little finger. They’ve also found her stash of Propofol.’

  Erica felt her stomach churn once again, and she took several sips of the tea, hoping to distract it from wanting to splatter yet more stomach contents over the floor of Adam’s garage.

  ‘Thank you, Kev.’ Her voice shook as she spoke, and she felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She wiped it away. No weakness in front of her team.

  But they could see the weakness, feel her pain.

  She handed Adam the almost-empty cup and smiled at him. ‘You’re an exceptional young man, Adam, and I’ll make sure you get some recompense for the help you’ve given us today. I know you have Sam and Mike’s numbers, but this one is mine. If you need anything, ring it.’ She handed him her card and stood. ‘I have to go back to the station, Mike, and speak to the Super.’

  Mike nodded, and all the police officers shook Adam’s hand before leaving his garage. Erica stopped as they approached the garage that had held the Fiesta and one of
the Forensics team saw her peering in. ‘Ma’am? You okay?’

  ‘I am, but I needed to see the layout inside.’ Needed to see where my wife must have spent so much of her time.

  Mike put his arm around her shoulder and gently steered her away. ‘Come on, boss. Let’s get you sorted. You can leave this to others now.’

  The briefing room held many people, but it was quiet. After such a successful result as this case had given, there would have normally been raucous laughter and jubilation, but a boss such as Erica, a much-admired DI, to be right at the heart of that result meant no celebrations.

  She walked in, flanked by Mike and Sam, and everyone stopped what they were doing and turned towards her.

  ‘Thank you, everybody,’ she began. ‘As you all know we appear to have everything we need for a conviction in this case, and we must make sure our paperwork is spot on. I probably won’t be here for a bit, my life is too closely tied to the killer’s life.’ She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. ‘I’m relying on you to get it right, so don’t let me down.’

  She turned and walked towards the door, afraid to say any more. She couldn’t let them see tears.

  The applause began before she had gone three steps, and for a split second she hesitated, then carried on outside the room and down the corridor towards the lift. The applause was still there as the lift carried her to the ground floor.

  Erica arrived home to find Beth on the sofa, reading. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I am.’ Beth looked puzzled. ‘I didn’t expect you home until much later than this. It’s been lovely to relax without having constant temperature and blood pressure checks. I had a lovely long shower…’

  Erica finally let the tears flow.

  ‘Oh my God! What’s wrong? What’s happened? You didn’t catch her?’

  Erica sank into the armchair, and reached across for the box of tissues. She dried her face, attempted to stop it getting wet again unsuccessfully, and Beth stood carefully and walked over to her. ‘I can’t hug you,’ she said, ‘but it looks as though you need one. I can make us a hot drink, and I can certainly pour us a brandy if you’ve got any.’

 

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