Class Murder

by Leigh Russell

  In the summer it would be a picturesque corner of the world, with an arched brick bridge spanning the canal. Ducks might be scudding around, with birds in the trees, and people walking their dogs along the towpath or leaning on the parapet of the bridge to gaze out over the water. But in winter the whole area was deserted, apart from the small crowd that had gathered on the pavement trying to find out what was going on. Down by the water, the white forensic tent was the only sign of life.

  It was cold and miserable standing around there. Just as Geraldine was thinking about leaving, Ian arrived, his cheeks ruddy from the cold.

  ‘Well?’ he asked by way of greeting.

  His brusque manner reminded Geraldine of her own approach to colleagues when she had been an inspector, conscious of the weight of responsibility that attached to her position. As a sergeant her work was equally important, but somehow she didn’t feel under quite so much pressure, perhaps because she could no longer harbour any ambition to progress in her career. Short of behaving in a manner that was criminal or negligent, her position was secure. The worst had already happened.

  ‘There’s no sign of a body,’ she told him, ‘but Bethany Carr has disappeared. She went out yesterday evening and hasn’t been home since. I’ve spoken to the girl who found her bag, and it doesn’t look as though she left it here it intentionally. Apart from money, her keys were in it, and other personal bits and pieces, like her phone and make-up.’ She frowned. ‘A girl in her twenties would never discard her phone and make-up, not to mention her purse with her credit card.’

  She paused. Ian scowled at the implication of her words. Having the canal dredged would be an expensive undertaking, but there was no other option.

  ‘We need to circulate her picture as widely as we can, and get the diving team here as soon as possible,’ he said.

  ‘That’s what I was thinking.’

  He nodded. ‘They’ll have to do as much as they can while they can still see enough. Then, if they’ve not found her, we’ll pick up again in the morning, at first light.’

  Geraldine appreciated the urgency. If the missing girl’s body was in the canal, the longer it remained in the water the less evidence it was likely to yield, evidence that could be degenerating with every passing moment.

  31

  Beth’s photograph had been sent to all the local police stations, constables were speaking to her former colleagues at work and a further team had been tasked with knocking on doors in her street to enquire whether anyone had seen her leaving the flat on Sunday evening. The weather had been very foggy, so it was hardly surprising that no one remembered having seen her out in the village that night. Time seemed to crawl by until late in the afternoon, when Eileen gathered the team together. A hush fell over the assembled officers as the detective chief inspector looked around with an expression even grimmer than usual. Her eyes had almost disappeared beneath her lowered brows and her thin lips were pressed closed. Even the most insensitive of the officers present must have realised Eileen had summoned them to pass on bad news. Geraldine suspected she knew what they were about to hear.

  A young constable standing next to Geraldine mumbled something about Eileen losing the plot. Another officer barely out of his teens agreed. It wasn’t the first time Geraldine had noticed the absence of deference the younger officers seemed to show towards their senior officers. It had been very different when she had been new to the force. Before she had time to reproach either of her young colleagues for their lack of respect, Eileen cleared her throat and began. She spoke fiercely, as though the news infuriated her. Perhaps it did. Certainly they were all frustrated at the lack of progress in the investigation to discover who had killed Stephanie and Peter.

  ‘I’ve called you here because there’s been another one.’ She paused and drew in a deep breath.

  Seeing her senior investigating officer visibly moved, Geraldine wondered how she herself might have behaved if she had ever found herself in a similar position. She had to accept that she would never face that challenge now. At one time, she had virtually taken her promotion to detective chief inspector for granted. But at least she was still alive to experience the frustrations and regrets of her career.

  ‘That is, another member of the same class at school has been found dead. I’m sorry to inform you all that Bethany Carr’s body has been discovered in the canal. Given recent events, we’re treating this as a suspicious death for the time being, although nothing has yet been confirmed.’

  ‘So this could have been an accident?’ someone asked.

  Eileen inclined her head. ‘Yes, it’s certainly possible this was just a terrible coincidence. I know you’ll all join me in hoping that will prove to be the case. Of course, it’s a dreadful tragedy, whatever the circumstances. The poor girl’s dead. But we have to remember that Stephanie and Peter were both stabbed to death in similar attacks. Beth drowned in the canal, which is a very different matter. All the same, three deaths in ten days…’

  There was silence for a moment. More than two murders would be very serious news indeed. No one wanted to be dealing with a serial killer. And the media would be driven into a frenzy if this turned out to be another victim of the same killer.

  ‘For the time being there is to be no hint to the media that this third death could be related to the others. Hopefully they haven’t yet caught on to the fact that Bethany was in the same class as Stephanie and Peter. We want this to be reported as a tragic accident. Let’s hold off speculation about a serial killer for as long as possible. It only gets in the way of us getting on with the job if we keep being pestered for press releases.’

  ‘And a lot of hype in the media could encourage a serial killer, if that is what we’re dealing with,’ Geraldine added quietly.

  Eileen frowned.

  ‘A drowning could be a suicide,’ Naomi pointed out.

  ‘Yes, that’s possible.’ Eileen gave a forced smile.

  No one really doubted that they were looking at a third murder.

  ‘Three deaths in ten days,’ one of the young constables repeated.

  ‘That’s one every three days,’ another youngster added.

  ‘Let’s not go jumping to conclusions,’ Eileen said, but she looked weary and her voice lacked its usual sharpness.

  The detective chief inspector seemed to have lost her bounce. Usually a forceful presence in the room, she now stood with shoulders bowed, looking older than her years, as though all her energy had drained away. Geraldine was faintly bothered. At a time like this a senior investigating officer needed to be on top of her game, driving her team to greater efforts. She ought not to be overwhelmed by the pressure of a desperate struggle.

  As soon as the meeting finished, Geraldine and Ian set off for the mortuary. The post mortem had not yet been completed, but Jonah had contacted the police station to let them know he was ready with his initial findings. As they drove to the hospital, Ian expressed his surprise at the peremptory summons.

  ‘He usually wants to complete his examination before speaking to us,’ he said.

  ‘Perhaps he’s found something unusual.’

  They went straight to the examination room without pausing to exchange pleasantries with the anatomical technology assistant. Geraldine thought Avril looked slightly disappointed as Ian hurried past her with a cursory nod by way of greeting.

  ‘Ah, good, you’re here,’ Jonah said, looking up with a broad smile. ‘That was quick. I’m glad you’ve come because I’ve got something here that I think may interest you. The body was pulled out of the canal this morning, the supposed victim of a drowning. What you want to know is whether the death was accidental, or the consequence of foul play?’

  Ian explained that they were worried someone might be targeting the members of a particular class that had attended Saddleworth School. It could be coincidence, two of them being murdered within a week of each other,
but three in less than a fortnight suggested the victims had been deliberately selected.

  ‘Ah yes,’ Jonah agreed, ‘three coincidental deaths does stretch credibility.’

  At her side Geraldine heard Ian swear softly. She stared at the bloated white body lying on the cold metal table. The day after Bethany had gone missing Geraldine had gone to her flat to speak to Leah about her disappearance. She might already have been dead by the time Geraldine arrived in Uppermill. It was even possible she had been dying at the very moment Leah was telling Geraldine her flatmate had gone out the previous evening and not come home again. Although it made no sense, she couldn’t help wondering whether this death might have been prevented if she had gone to see Bethany one day earlier. It was possible the dead girl had known something about the killer but had been reluctant to go to the police with her information. Perhaps that was why she had been killed. Someone should have approached her sooner. As soon as they had finished at the mortuary, Geraldine resolved to go and speak to the other members of Stephanie and Peter’s class straight away. Whatever else happened, they had to do everything they could to prevent any further deaths as quickly as possible.

  ‘When did she die?’ she asked.

  ‘She died on Sunday night, some time between six and midnight. It’s impossible to pin it down exactly as she was in the water for about thirty-six hours.’ He paused and glanced first at Ian and then at Geraldine, as though to check he had their full attention. ‘Now, the interesting aspect of this death is that she didn’t drown.’

  Geraldine leaned forward to look more closely at the body, but could see no gashes in the chest marking it as similar to the other recent murder victims.

  ‘I can’t see any stab wounds,’ she said.

  ‘Did I say she was stabbed?’ Jonah asked. ‘Guess again.’

  ‘Can we please not play games,’ Ian broke in irascibly. ‘You’re not making sense. What do you mean, she didn’t drown? She was pulled out of the canal. What the hell did she die of, if not drowning?’

  Jonah shook his head, making a tutting noise. ‘Do I detect a temper, Ian? Now that does surprise me. And just for that, I’m going to keep you in suspense a little longer. You’re going to have to guess what killed her.’

  Out of the corner of her eye Geraldine could see Ian was uneasy. He concealed his feelings well, but when they had first worked together he would have had to leave the room to throw up when faced with a disfigured corpse. She wondered whether she would have realised how queasy he was if she had only just met him. Jonah seemed oblivious to Ian’s discomfort. With Ian temporarily incapable of banter, she took up Jonah’s challenge herself.

  ‘She didn’t drown, and she wasn’t stabbed,’ she said slowly, studying the body. ‘There are no signs of any injury that I can see, no signs of bruising around the neck, although it’s difficult to be sure, with the skin so mottled and swollen.’

  ‘But possibly there are signs that you can’t see,’ Jonah replied.

  ‘She was poisoned?’ Geraldine hazarded a guess.

  Jonah nodded at his assistant. Together they gently turned the body over so he could point out a whitish blemish between the dead girl’s shoulder blades. It wasn’t easy to spot, but on close examination Geraldine could see the skin was puckered around it. She frowned and shook her head to indicate she didn’t know what it was. It looked like a bullet wound.

  The pathologist spoke solemnly now. ‘There’s no exit wound, which suggested the bullet was still inside the body.’ He reached for an evidence bag which he held up, with a flourish. ‘And here it is! I found it lodged in her heart. There was barely any water in her lungs. She must have been unconscious when she entered the water, but still breathing for a few seconds at most, maybe one inhalation. She couldn’t have shot herself in the back,’ he added lightly.

  ‘So this is definitely another murder,’ Ian said heavily. ‘It looks like we’ll have to dredge the canal after all.’

  Jonah looked uncharacteristically sombre. ‘I hope you find it.’

  If the gun wasn’t in the canal, it could still be in the hands of the killer.

  32

  The cause of death having been established, they were waiting for the results of the toxicology report. The forensic lab were checking skin samples in hopes of finding traces of the same DNA on Bethany’s body as had been found under Stephanie’s nails. With Bethany having been underwater for over thirty hours, it was unlikely they would find such evidence even if there had been any physical contact between the victim and her killer. Meanwhile the dead girl’s parents were due to arrive that evening to make a formal identification. Jonah had a few hours in which to try and make her face appear presentable.

  ‘This isn’t going to be easy,’ he said.

  Geraldine looked at the bloated and discoloured flesh, swollen and grey, and felt a wave of compassion for the victim’s parents. In addition to suffering the unimaginable pain of hearing that their daughter was dead, they now had to view her ravaged face.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll do a great job,’ Ian said.

  Geraldine didn’t see how that was possible, but she didn’t say anything. It wasn’t important anyway. The girl was dead. Her appearance no longer mattered. With a pang she remembered the make-up and mirror found in Bethany’s bag. Whatever she looked like now, her parents had lost her. This hideous lump of grey flesh could bear little resemblance to the daughter they had known.

  On the way back to the police station Geraldine tried to initiate a conversation.

  ‘Do you think we should speak to the other members of the class, and warn them they could be in danger?’

  There was no need to explain what she meant by ‘the class’, or that the investigation had just taken a serious turn for the worse. It seemed they were hunting for a serial killer who had somehow acquired a gun. Ian merely grunted. Understanding that he needed time to recover from viewing the body, Geraldine kept quiet.

  After a few moments, he replied. ‘You’re right. They could be at risk. Let’s talk about it when we get back.’

  Geraldine was pleased that Ian agreed with her, as did Eileen when they discussed it back at the police station. There had been seven former classmates living in the area. Now there were four.

  ‘You spoke to Leah, didn’t you, Geraldine?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Well? What did she have to say for herself?’

  Geraldine only hesitated briefly. She didn’t have much to add to what she had already recorded but was uncertain whether Eileen had yet had time to study her report. She decided to recap, just in case, and described Leah’s anxiety about being followed.

  ‘Yes, I saw that,’ Eileen said. ‘But what was your impression, Geraldine? Was she actually being stalked, as she claimed?’

  Geraldine shrugged. It was impossible to draw a definite conclusion from someone who was hysterical.

  ‘Go and speak to her again,’ Eileen said. ‘See if you can find out anything concrete. And once you’ve finished with her, you can pump the other former members of the class and find out if they can shed any light on all of this.’

  While Geraldine set off to talk to Leah, Ashley, Robin and Ned, Ian was busy trying to trace the gun, looking into where it had come from and, more urgently, what had happened to it since the shooting. With luck, it was lying concealed beneath the dark waters where Beth had been found. At the same time as the canal was being dredged, Ian was organising a team to investigate sales of guns in the area both physically and online, cross-referencing anything that came up with people who had attended Saddleworth School while Stephanie, Peter and Bethany had been there. It was a massive undertaking. Not a single transaction must be allowed to slip through the net. The gun had probably been acquired illegally so the borough intelligence unit, the drugs squad, and other local officers were also investigating, calling in favours and exerting as much pressure as possib
le on all their informants.

  Calling up and finding Leah was at home, Geraldine drove straight to Saddleworth. In a heated car, she removed her jacket. Only when she stepped out of the car did she pull her jacket tightly around her as she walked carefully to Leah’s front door, keeping an eye out for icy patches. The last thing she wanted to do was to slip over and injure herself, miles away from a home that wasn’t even her home.

  Leah must have been listening out for Geraldine because the door opened as soon as the bell rang.

  ‘Where’s Beth?’ she asked before Geraldine was even over the doorstep. She looked past Geraldine, her round cheeks pale beneath red-rimmed eyes, scanning the corridor. ‘When’s she coming back?’

  The dead girl’s parents were on their way to identify the body but Leah hadn’t yet been told what had happened.

  ‘Let’s go inside and sit down. It’s freezing out here.’

  Once they were seated, Geraldine gently explained that Bethany wouldn’t be coming back.

  ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ Leah asked and burst into tears.

  Having given the girl time to regain her composure, Geraldine leaned forward in her chair and studied Leah’s expression closely as she began to question her.

  ‘Did Bethany say anything about who she was going to meet, on the night she died?’ she asked.

  ‘What happened to her?’

  Geraldine hesitated, afraid of provoking another bout of crying. ‘Nothing’s been confirmed yet,’ she replied vaguely.

  ‘Does that mean there’ll be an autopsy?’

  ‘I’m not able to discuss any details about the investigation.’

  ‘But she was my friend. I have a right to know what happened to her.’ Leah’s narrow eyes widened. ‘I could be next.’

  ‘We’re doing everything possible to find out what happened to her. We need you to give us as much help as you can.’