by Ann Bloxwich
Faz handed him a folder. ‘I could see you were flagging, so I had Ziggy take notes on your behalf as we went along. The list of items that she had with her is also in there. I’ll let you know when I’ve written up the full report.’
‘Thanks, tell Ziggy he’s a life saver.’ Alex looked at his watch. ‘Shit, it’s after six already. I’d better go and debrief the team. I’m going to try and bring someone in to ID her tomorrow if that’s okay.’
‘Sure, I’ll make sure our guest is ready. Come on sweetheart,’ Faz said, as he gently pulled the sheet up over the body. ‘Let’s put you back to bed.’
17
The following morning, Alex and Dawn pulled up outside Laura Morrison’s house in a cul-de-sac on the outskirts of Pendeford. The houses were all former council houses, most of them having been snapped up when Margaret Thatcher had given the go-ahead for them to be sold off in the Eighties. Laura’s was one of the few that had become private rentals. The small front garden had no fence or gate to enclose it but was well-kept, with a small flowerbed running around the edges and a miniature tree growing in the centre of the lawn.
Alex smiled as he recognised the woman getting out of a red hatchback parked further along the road. She walked towards Alex, returning his grin.
‘Hello, sir,’ she said in a sing-song Devonshire accent. ‘Makes a change to be in a nice part of town.’
‘Hello Tess, good to see you again.’ He turned to Dawn. ‘This is DC Tess Hicks, acting FLO, originally from Plymouth as you can probably tell by the accent, but now living in Perton. Tess, this is DS Dawn Redwood, she’s been with us for around three years now, and is one of the best.’
Tess was short and well-rounded, with dark curly hair pulled back into a ponytail.
The two women shook hands. ‘Wow, praise from Alex is high praise indeed,’ Tess said with a smile. ‘He doesn’t usually like anyone.’
‘Hey, watch it, or I’ll kick your backside,’ Alex laughed. ‘And I don’t know what you’re laughing at, DS Redwood, it’s not too late to deny your leave, you know.’
Dawn winked at Tess. ‘In that case, you can tell Barney he’s not going on holiday.’
‘Okay, there’s no need to threaten me with Barney,’ Alex said, holding his hands up.
Tess looked at her. ‘Is that your fella?’
‘He’s my dog,’ Dawn said. ‘German Shepherd ex-police dog. Less trouble than a man.’
‘I bet,’ Tess agreed. She looked at Alex. ‘I read your notes while I was waiting for you. The victim’s parents are away, is that right? Are you going to ask one of the friends to do a formal ID?’
Alex glanced at the house. ‘Let’s get this part over with first and see how it goes,’ he said.
***
Laura sat in her back garden, her mug of tea slowly going cold in her hands as tears slid down her face. She still couldn’t get her head around the fact that Vicky was most likely dead, that she’d never see her again. She tried hard to recall her friend’s sunny smile, rich laugh and warm hugs. She closed her eyes as she remembered arguing with DS Redwood, convinced that it was a case of mistaken identity. In the end, she’d lost her temper and sent them all packing.
The doorbell rang in the distance, but she ignored it, knowing that if she tried to stand up her legs might give way from under her. After a few minutes, the doorbell ceased.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ Helen’s face appeared over the top of the high wooden gate. ‘How come you didn’t answer the door, you lazy cow? I might have known you’d be out here, talking to your flowers again.’
Helen reached over the gate and slid the bolt back, allowing the gate to swing open. She strolled in, smiling until she saw Laura’s face.
‘What’s happened?’ Helen dropped to her knees and smoothed Laura’s hair off her face. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘They think Vicky’s dead, Hel. They found a body behind the Leamore Club.’ Laura broke down and Helen hugged her.
‘Don’t talk bollocks,’ Helen said, pulling away to look at Laura properly. ‘Who told you that nonsense?’
‘The police came around about an hour ago and told me. They tried to ring you, but your phone was off. They want us to go in and identify her.’
Helen rubbed her hand across her face, her eyes wide. ‘No, no that can’t be right. Tell me exactly what they said.’
Laura repeated what Alex and Dawn had told her, and Helen dropped her head between her knees and clasped her hands around it for a moment before standing up suddenly and kicking the fence in fury. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears.
‘That bastard!’ she shouted. ‘He did this, I know it! Wait till I get my hands on that creep!’ Helen pulled her phone out of her pocket, stabbing at the screen with her finger. ‘I’m going to kill him with my bare hands!’
‘Whoa, calm down!’ Laura grabbed at Helen’s arm. ‘We don’t know it was him. Who are you ringing?’
‘Damn, no answer. I’ll text him instead.’ Helen’s fingers skittered over the screen, then she put the phone away again. ‘I was ringing Neil to find out where that dickhead is working next. I’m gonna fuckin’ have him, just you wait and see if I don’t!
‘Can you stop yelling? You’re giving me a headache!’
‘Sorry. It just makes me so mad!’
‘Me too, but shouting won’t help. They asked if we knew much about Ray though. I know she told you stuff about him, so I wondered if she’d told you where he lived or anything like that.’
Helen wiped her eyes angrily. ‘I don’t know anything about him, except that he’s a twat. She tried to tell me how great he was and all that bollocks, but I told her I didn’t care, so she stopped talking about him in the end.’
‘Oh well, it was worth a shot. Hang on a minute. I got a text from Vicky on Saturday morning, do you remember?’
‘Vaguely, I think I was still drunk. What about it?’
‘If Vicky was dead then who sent it?’
‘I dunno, maybe someone nicked her phone and sent it for a laugh. We won’t know for sure until we check, so get your coat on.’
18
They took Laura’s car, but Helen drove as Laura was still too shaken up to think straight. Dawn met them at the front desk and took them across the green to the morgue, where she introduced them to a guy named Ziggy, who was waiting for them.
‘I’ll go in,’ Helen said to Laura as they approached the viewing area. ‘You wait here.’
Laura started to protest but Helen was firm. ‘They’ve already told us that she’s a mess. You don’t want to remember her like that. I’ve got a stronger stomach than you.’ She pushed Laura towards some seats. ‘Sit down, I won’t be long.’
Ziggy led Helen through some double doors while Dawn waited with Laura. After a few minutes Helen came back, her face white and her breath shallow.
‘Wow, I don’t know how anyone can work with that smell? It must cling to your skin.’ She sat down next to Laura and nodded her head. ‘It’s Vicky, mate.’
‘Are you sure?’ Dawn asked. ‘She was quite severely beaten, so it would be easy to make a mistake.’
‘I’m sure,’ Helen replied, pulling a sobbing Laura into her arms.
They walked back across to the station, Helen taking big gulps of air to try and eradicate the clinical smell that was stuck in her nostrils, Laura said nothing, but she was as white as a sheet. Dawn led them through to the same interview room as before. Mo was already there and had organised tea and coffee. She poured the drinks while the two women took their coats off and sat down.
‘This is Detective Constable Maureen Ross, she’s working on Vicky’s case with us,’ Dawn explained.
Mo smiled at everyone, helped herself to a cup of tea and sat on one of the armchairs. She was so tiny it almost swallowed her, and her feet didn’t reach the floor.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ Mo said. The two friends nodded at her in acknowledgement. ‘I have a couple o
f extra questions if that’s okay, but maybe you could take us through the evening again, mainly for my benefit as I’ve not heard it first-hand.’
‘Sure, but we all know who did it. It was that tosser Ray Diamond,’ Helen said, jumping up out of her seat and pacing the room. ‘She went off with him and the next thing she’s dead. Stands to reason really, he’s a user.’ She stared at Mo as if daring her to disagree.
‘We don’t know for definite that it was Mr Diamond, that’s why we’ve asked you to come in,’ Mo said in a clear, calm voice. ‘Rest assured, we will be speaking to him very soon. In the meantime, come and sit down, and let’s get started.’
‘Sorry if I sound like a bitch,’ Helen replied, plopping back down on the sofa. ‘It’s just that – well, I just wish that Vicky could’ve seen him for what he is, a waste of space.’
‘Do you know him personally? It sounds like you’ve crossed paths with him before.’ Dawn asked.
‘I don’t know him, but I know someone who does,’ Helen admitted. ‘I’ve been friends with Neil Stone for ages, we met at my work and hit it off straightaway. We’ve become good friends and he confides in me. He’s told me some horror stories about Ray Diamond that would make your hair curl.’
‘Mr Stone is the drag artiste?’ Mo asked, scribbling in her notebook.
Helen nodded. ‘Yes, he is, his stage name is Kitty McLane. He’s terrific, you should go and see him sometime.’
‘I might just do that,’ Mo grinned in return. ‘Now, tell us about that night. Let’s see if we can’t stir up a detail that may have been overlooked the first time.’
‘Actually, there is something I should tell you,’ Laura piped up. ‘On the Saturday morning, I got a text message from Vicky’s phone. But it can’t have been from her if she was dead, can it?’ Her eyes filled with tears.
Mo made a note of the new information. ‘Do you still have the message?’
Laura scrolled through her texts then handed her phone over. ‘Here you go.’
Mo read the message then passed the phone to Dawn. She handed the phone back to Laura.
‘We didn’t find a phone at the scene, and her handbag was missing too,’ Dawn said.
‘I said to Laura that it could have been nicked. Some people would have your fillings if you yawned widely enough. Of course, Ray could have it,’ Helen suggested.
‘We’re running a trace on her phone, but it seems to be switched off. We will be notified if it’s turned back on, then we’ll be able to get a location on it,’ Dawn said.
‘Should we tell her mum and dad?’ Laura asked. ‘Then there’s Milo, Vicky’s cat. Who’s going to look after him?’ She started to cry again and Helen pulled her into a rough embrace.
‘We will contact Vicky’s parents, but I’m sure they would appreciate it if you took care of Milo for the time being,’ Dawn said. ‘Now, let’s start at the beginning.’
***
By the time they had given their statements, Laura was emotionally drained, and Helen seemed even angrier than before. She kept insisting that Ray Diamond had killed Vicky, and it took a lot of effort to persuade her not to confront him. Dawn and Mo had asked them both to keep Vicky’s death to themselves for the time being, until her parents had been notified.
‘Can’t you wait until they get home?’ Helen had asked. ‘It seems wrong to spoil their holiday when they haven’t long gone away.’
‘Imagine how they will feel if we don’t tell them, especially if her mum is used to hearing from Vicky every day. There’s also the worry that the press may get hold of the information and we don’t want them finding out that way,’ Dawn explained. ‘I’ll contact the travel company and get a message to them onboard.’
‘Helen Whittaker really doesn’t like Ray Diamond, does she?’ Mo remarked after they’d seen the two women out. ‘I wonder what he’s done to upset her.’
‘Who knows?’ Dawn replied, as they headed back upstairs. ‘But from the sound of it, he upsets everyone he meets.’
19
The morning briefing was in full swing and Alex had the floor. Detective Chief Inspector Andrew Oliver, Alex’s boss, had been in and said his piece, and had been happy for Alex to take it from there.
Alex flipped through the notes he’d brought back from the morgue the day before. ‘This list confirms that there were hairpins in the victim’s hair that match Vicky Wilson’s, although some may have been ripped out in the struggle. There were no earrings on the body, were there any logged at the scene?’
‘Nope. Maybe they ended up in the field. More than likely the killer took them, trophies perhaps?’ Dawn shrugged.
‘Possibly. He confirms that cause of death was due to strangulation, possibly with a pair of tights or a scarf. There was extensive bruising to her abdomen area, lower back and between her shoulders.’ Alex read through the rough notes he’d made. ‘Multiple breaks, pretty much every bone in her body. Abrasions to her hands and knees and the bald patches on her head suggest that she was dragged backwards by her hair. Her face had been battered repeatedly with a heavy object, to the point that her face was practically obliterated. That tells me this was personal. There was semen in her throat but not anywhere else. Did Vicky’s friends say how long she’d been seeing the stripper for?’ Alex asked.
Dawn shook her head. ‘No, they didn’t, just that he’d given Vicky his number a couple of weeks ago.’
‘Les, have you had any luck with tracing Vicky’s phone?’
Les cleared his throat. ‘Not yet, boss, it’s either been dismantled or the battery’s dead.
He looked frustrated, but Alex put his mind at rest. ‘Never mind, it was worth a shot. Craig, what have you got for us?’
‘I’ve managed to track down the club’s manager, she’s agreed to meet me at the club this morning and said she’ll make sure all the staff from Friday night will be there. She said that the security staff were provided by Bulldog Promotions, the same agency that the strippers were from.’ Craig scanned his notes. ‘I’ve also set up a meeting with the agency’s owner, Mr John Jackson, for this afternoon at 2 p.m. at their office in Wolverhampton. Do you want me to go and see him after I’ve spoken to the club manager?’
‘No, it’s fine, I’ll go and see him. You and Gary take the club. Dawn, did you speak to Neil Stone, the drag artiste?’ Alex asked.
‘Yes, I did, he didn’t seem too eager to talk to me, but he did give me Ray Diamond’s address. It’s one of those big houses on the Wombourne Road. I’m going to see him this morning. Can I take Mo, or do you need her for something else? I’m thinking two women might get more out of him. Apparently, his ego needs a lot of stroking.’
Dawn laughed as Mo pulled a horrified face.
‘Good idea, we can put Mo’s incredible talents to use – I meant mental talents Mo, don’t look so shocked.’ Everyone laughed at the thought of Mo trying to chat Ray up.
‘Don’t worry boss, he may not be my cup of tea, but I don’t mind taking one for the team,’ she said with a wink, causing a ripple of laughter to go around the room.
‘I’ll speak to Mr Stone after I’ve been to see Mr Jackson. We need contact details for the other acts that were there too, including the DJ,’ Alex said, skimming through his list. ‘Right, have I missed anything?’
‘Boss, is it worth doing a radio appeal for witnesses?’ Les piped up. ‘There were a lot of women there that night, and we haven’t tracked down all the attendees yet. It might help us to fast-track through the list.’
‘Yes, speak to the press officer and ask them to set that up, get them to set up a hotline for information as well. I know I don’t have to tell you to withhold some details to weed out the crank callers.’
Alex glanced at his notes once more to check he’d covered everything. ‘Right, fuel up with bacon rolls, tea, coffee or whatever and let’s get some results. My wife has promised that my balls will be hanging on the Christmas tree if I’m not home on time tonight, s
o unless you want a boss who sings soprano, I suggest you get a move on.’
20
DS Craig Muir and DC Gary Temple were attempting to interview the staff of the Leamore Club but were making very slow progress. No-one seemed willing to speak up and eventually Craig lost his temper. He threatened to haul everyone down to the station and interview them under caution. Suddenly, everyone was more than happy to help. After a couple of hours, they were down to the last two members of staff.
‘Gary, you take the barman and I’ll take the manager.’
‘Righto,’ Gary chirped and beckoned to the man lurking near the bar. ‘Excuse me, sir, could you come here please?’
The man didn’t look very happy but followed Gary to the side of the room. He sat down, lolling to one side as if it were too much effort to sit up unaided.
‘Right then, let’s start with your name, shall we?’ Gary always sounded cheerful, even when he wasn’t. He sat opposite the young man, pen poised, and waited for him to speak.
‘Simon Tate,’ the young man replied with a sigh. He was dressed all in black and wore more eyeliner than Alice Cooper. His greasy black hair was cut short on one side and long on the other, and his fringe kept falling over his face.
Gary wrote the details in his notebook. ‘Now then, Mr Tate, tell me about Friday night.’
‘I was working the bar. It was packed so I didn’t see anything.’ Simon sat back and folded his arms, making a huffing noise.
Gary was irritated by his attitude but was determined not to show it. ‘Is that a special skill?’
‘Is what a special skill?
‘Working the bar with your eyes shut. I mean, they must have been shut if you didn’t see anything.’