Claire Trent clicked off her phone. ‘We’ve got a pissed-off sixth floor, Ridpath. It’s almost as if I had purposely committed these murders to embarrass them at a difficult time in their lives. If I ever get like that, you have permission to shoot me.’
Ridpath stayed quiet.
She checked her watch. ‘When’s the bloody doctor coming out? He’s been in there for nearly an hour.’
‘He’s thorough.’
‘I need speed now.’
Just as she finished speaking, the doctor came out of the front door, slipping off his mask and the hood from his Tyvek overalls.
He walked towards them, chatting to the crime scene manager. As he got closer, he stopped and said. ‘Well, in my eyes it looks like a carbon copy of the murder in the Removal Centre and in Chinatown.’
‘So this is our third victim?’
He nodded. ‘Twin marks from a Taser on the chest. In my opinion, it’s the same as was used on the other victims, a Raysun X1. Same cut marks in the throat.’ Once again, he mimed getting a person in a headlock, stabbing the knife under the left ear and dragging the knife across the Adam’s apple. ‘No defensive marks across the hands. Looks like the victim was unconscious or comatose when he was killed.’
‘Alan Butcher is certain all the doors were closed when he was here. Looks like Tony Osborne knew his killer,’ said Claire Trent.
Ridpath stepped forward. ‘My bet is the killer knew all three of his victims.’
‘So who was it, Ridpath? Who knew all three people?’
‘That’s what we need to find out, boss.’
‘One more thing,’ interrupted the pathologist, ‘I use an ultraviolet light to check for marks and stains on the clothes or body I can’t see with a naked eye…’
‘And?’
‘The ultraviolet picked out a mark on the wrist.’ He passed Ridpath a piece of paper. ‘I drew a copy of it because I know you want to get working straight away.’
Ridpath stared at the round drawing. It looked like a stylised elephant.
‘What is it?’ asked Claire Trent.
‘If I’m not mistaken, it’s an entry stamp from a nightclub. It may mean nothing, but our victim was out clubbing last night.’
Chapter 67
Back at the station, Chrissy had already added a picture of Tony Osborne to the board in the situation room. Ridpath was at the front explaining his recent finding to the assembled detectives.
‘We now have three linked deaths. Wendy Chen was the first on August 20th. Next came Liang Xiao Wen, who had the room next to hers in the Centre and was either involved in her death or may have heard what happened. Finally, just three hours ago, the murder of Tony Osborne, a custody officer at the Centre was discovered in his home in Handforth.’
‘Anything on him?’ asked Emily Parkinson.
‘I made a preliminary search of his bedroom. It was obvious Tony Osborne was planning to do a runner to Thailand tomorrow. He had a new passport, a ticket and, according to an estate agent, had recently contracted with them to let out the home. We checked his bank details and 5000 pounds was paid into his account six weeks ago, followed by another payment of 5000 pounds three weeks ago.’ A close-up of a bank statement appeared on the screen behind his head.
‘Where did it come from?’ asked Emily Parkinson.
‘He paid it in himself, in cash, so untraceable. We’ve also checked through his phone records.’ Another image on screen. ‘Most of his calls were to a couple of bookies and his ex-wife. There are six calls to this number.’ The image cut to a number circled in red. ‘Guess what?’
‘It’s a burner phone, pay as you go.’
‘Right first time, Emily.’
‘And it’s also the same number Liang Xiao Wen called from the IRC.’ The screen changed again to show a close-up of the call sheet with the number underlined.
‘We also found two sets of keys in the bedroom. We showed these to David Carlton, the Centre Manager and he says they look like the keys for his facility.’
‘Were the custody officers allowed to take them home?’
‘No, it was against standard operating procedure for keys to leave the Centre. All sets were counted and locked in a cupboard in Carlton’s office.’
‘Where did these come from?’
‘It looks like Tony Osborne had them made. We’re checking out locksmiths at the moment. Any luck Chrissy?’
‘Nothing so far, Ridpath.’
‘What’s your conclusion?’ asked Claire Trent.
Ridpath paused for a moment. ‘There are two possibilities. Tony Osborne gave the keys to an outside person to allow them to gain entry to the Centre. He may have also been involved in rendering the CCTV cameras unusable to give that person an unobserved route to Wendy Chen’s room. The man locked all the doors behind him until Joe Cummings came along and discovered the body at 4 a.m.’
‘But why didn’t he lock the door of the victim’s room? She wouldn’t have been discovered until much later when they opened all the doors,’ said DS Parkinson.
‘I don’t know the answer. Perhaps the murderer wanted the victim to be discovered by Joe Cummings. It immediately gave Tony Osborne an alibi.’
‘What’s the other possibility, Ridpath?’
‘Tony Osborne released Liang Xiao Wen when he did his rounds at 3 a.m. so he could commit the murders, and then locked the man in his room afterwards.’
‘Pretty cold blooded…’ said Parkinson.
‘I agree, if it were true. But Osborne didn’t strike me as the type. He would have wanted as little to do with the actual crime as possible.’
Claire Trent stood and walked over to Ridpath. ‘If all three of these people are dead, it means our killer is still at large.’
‘What’s the motive for the deaths?’ asked Parkinson.
Ridpath knew it was a good question, he just wished she hadn’t asked it at that moment. Everybody was staring at him. ‘The truth is we don’t know. From my perspective, it all started with her death.’ He tapped the picture of Wendy Chen. ‘There’s something we don’t know about her. Her death was the catalyst for everything that followed.’
‘Or could she simply be the first victim?’
‘Explain what you mean, Emily?’ said the detective superintendent.
‘Well, we know Wendy Chen was trafficked into this country. Could she have come in illegally through one of the ports? Could we be dealing with a group of Chinese people traffickers like those involved in the deaths of 58 people in a container truck in Dover in 2001?’
‘Remind me again, Emily?’
‘In June 2000, a Dutch container lorry came on a from Zeebrugge in Belgium. Inside were 60 Chinese, 56 men and four women, and only two survived. It was determined that the deceased were illegal immigrants, and likely died of asphyxiation, though carbon monoxide poisoning was not ruled out. The 60 people were trapped in the container for more than 18 hours when the outside temperature reached 32 °C (90 °F). The survivors were found closest to the doors.’
‘It’s a possibility, Ridpath. These murders are a cover up of people trafficking. Was Liang part of the gang and that’s why he was killed? It would also explain why he could afford an expensive lawyer.’
‘Possibly… Emily, have we arrested Lam Tai Kong yet?’
‘Not yet, the local plod said he managed to get away from them,’ she answered.
‘Bloody idiots, can’t they do anything right? We also need to talk to the Immigration Enforcement.’
Claire Trent put up her hand. ‘I’ll get on it. I know Jeremy personally. Sorry, should have done it before.’
‘And Chrissy, have we found out which club uses that stamp?’
‘Working on it, Ridpath.’
‘Work quicker.’
‘We still have Joe Cummings and David Carlton in the interview rooms,’ Emily Parkinson interrupted.
‘They’ve been stewing for over three hours now. Apparently, the Centre Manager is fuming. Threatening blue
murder, he is,’ replied Chrissy.
‘Let’s have a chat with Joe Cummings first. I have a feeling once he knows Tony Osborne is dead, he’ll start singing like Katy Perry.’
Chapter 68
‘Dead? What do you mean he’s dead?’
Ridpath looked across at Emily Parkinson. On the left, Claire Trent was watching through the one-way glass in another room.
‘Exactly what I said, Mr Cummings. Tony Osborne was found in his home with his throat slashed at 3 p.m. this afternoon.’
‘B-b-but it can’t be, I just saw him this morning.’
‘I’m afraid it’s true, Mr Cummings.’
The custody officer shook his head. ‘Like the girl?’
‘You mean Wendy Chen?’
Cummings nodded.
‘Exactly like her.’
Cummings went pale and gagged. Ridpath grabbed the waste bin and stuck it under his face. Cummings panted heavily, his face getting whiter. A few times he retched, but nothing came up.
Emily Parkinson took the envelope full of keys and dropped it on the middle of the table where it landed with a thud. ‘We found these keys for the Removal Centre in his bedroom. What do you know about them?’
Cummings eyed the keys and immediately returned to the bin to dry retch again.
‘What do you know about the keys?’ repeated Ridpath.
‘Tony is dead?’
‘I saw his body lying in his living room.’
Cummings was silent for a long while, his eyes moving from side to side like a mouse cornered by a cat.
‘We know you knew about the keys,’ Ridpath said softly, ‘how Tony had them made at the locksmiths.’
Cummings nodded slowly. ‘He showed them to me once, said they helped him move around the Centre.’
‘Why? Why did he want them?’
‘He told me he was nicking stuff. Nothing major – things they didn’t use from the storerooms. DVD players, bedroom stuff, towels, that sort of stuff. It was to get those bastards back for being so cheap all the time.’
‘Which bastards?’
‘New Hampshire and Tiny Bloody Tim.’
‘You mean David Carlton?’
Joe Cummings nodded. ‘He was forever docking our pay for demerit points and just being a cheapskate. It was all about how much profit they could make. Tony said he was getting his own back.’
‘You didn’t make your own set of keys?’ asked Emily Parkinson.
Cummings shook his head. ‘I wanted nothing to do with nicking stuff. Tony offered but I said no.’
‘And the night Wendy Chen died, what happened?’
‘It was like I said but…’
‘But what?’
‘Tony wasn’t in the control room at 3 a.m., he was moving stuff out to his car. That’s why he was late starting his rounds.’
‘What stuff?’
‘I dunno. Stuff he’d nicked. There were only two of us on, so he thought it was a good time.’
‘Is that why he disabled the CCTV cameras?’
‘Yeah, it was easy. Simply put a bit of silver foil across the contacts at the back and it shorts the fuse. There used to be a camera in the rest room until the management got bored fixing it.’
‘What if I told you Tony wasn’t putting stuff in his car, but letting the killer of Wendy Chen into the Centre? What would you say?’
Joe Cummings stared straight ahead, his eyes glassing over and his face becoming paler and paler. Then he grabbed the bin and held it next to his face.
This time, he wasn’t dry retching.
Chapter 69
Ridpath reached home just past midnight. The house was quiet and, for a moment, a strange feeling of emptiness enveloped him. He saw a note on the mantlepiece with the message, ‘Don’t stay up too late,’ followed by a series of cartoon characters describing the process of getting undressed and going to bed. The last picture showed a stick man with ZZZZZZZ coming out of an open mouth.
He fixed himself a large snifter of Glenmorangie and sat in the armchair.
Today had been a tough day but they were finally making progress. He thought of the three people who had died so far.
Wendy Chen.
Liang Xiao Wen.
Tony Osborne.
What linked all of them?
Wilmslow Immigration Removal Centre was one obvious link. All had either been detainees or worked there. Tony Osborne had been involved in some way in the death of Wendy Chen. Did he make copies of the keys and disable the CCTV cameras to allow the killer into the centre? Or was he even more involved? Letting the killer in and guiding them to the right room.
He paused for a moment, thinking of the Custody Officer, remembering his testimony from the morning in the Coroner’s Court. Did he do the killing himself?
Ridpath shook his head. This killer was cold-blooded and ruthless. A man who would let nothing stand in his way. Osborne didn’t strike him as that sort of man. And besides, the MO of his death was exactly the same as the other two.
This was one killer, one man, who had committed three murders.
But why?
What made him kill three people so brutally?
Was it the people traffickers preventing any possibility of their crimes being discovered? They had shown a casual brutality to their victims in the past. Leaving them to die of hypothermia in a refrigerated container. Abandoning them at sea in a sinking boat. Or simply leading them out onto the sands at Morecambe to pick cockles and allowing them to drown.
But this seemed to be such personal killings. Always one on one and always slashing the throat of the victim. The first may have been an attempt at faking a suicide, but the last two? They were just brutal murders.
He took another sip of the whisky. He always marvelled at the purity of the colour as it swirled in the crystal glass.
And then it occurred to him: the last two killings only happened after Ridpath started investigating the death of Wendy Chen.
Was the killer covering his tracks, removing all witnesses to something he’d done?
But what had he done?
Chapter 70
Mrs Challoner was also at home, but she was still reading her case notes and studying the files.
What had she missed?
Today had gone badly. Even though they now knew Wendy Chen had been murdered, the Removal Centre was still maintaining its stance of ‘we followed our standard operating procedures as laid down by government statutory rules’ line.
Bugger statutory rules. Bugger standard operating procedures. A woman had died and their one concern was they should not be seen as responsible.
And there was the arrival of the Chief Coroner’s clerk to ‘observe,’ as he euphemistically put it. They too were more concerned with how this was going to play in the tabloids than if a grieving family had been treated correctly by the British government.
She ran her fingers through her curly grey hair. Do I need this crap at my age? Haven’t I worked long and hard enough?
Perhaps Ridpath was right: she should have waited for the investigation to be complete before holding the inquest. MIT was now investigating, and with their resources they would find out the truth. Hadn’t they already made more progress in two days than Barnes had made in a month?
She put her pen down and reminded herself her job was not to find a killer but to represent the family of the deceased.
How did Wendy Chen die?
Had Wilmslow Immigrant Removal Centre done all in its power to prevent her death?
Could Greater Manchester Police have investigated the death with more rigour and professionalism?
Who did it was less important to her than why it happened, when it happened, where it happened and how it could be prevented from happening again.
She stopped for a moment and stared at the pictures of her own daughter on top of the piano. They hadn’t spoken in weeks. No real reason, just the pressures of business and life and time.
Tomorrow, when this case was over,
she would call her, arrange a place to meet for lunch, just spend time together, two women talking about nothing and everything.
She picked up her case files and started reading the Head of Security’s statement again, its bland generalisations and clichés annoying her.
At the back of her mind, a little devil was whispering. ‘You’ve let this family down. They trusted you and you’ve let them down.’
However hard she tried, the voice wouldn’t go away.
Chapter 71
Yang May Feng was lying on the bed, panting with exhaustion. She had tried to struggle against the handcuffs but all she had succeeded in doing was exhausting herself and reducing her wrists to a mess of blood, cuts and bruises. The gag around her mouth had bitten deep into the skin. She’d tried to shout, to let the woman next door know what was happening, but all that had come out was a few unintelligible grunts.
What was she going to do?
Wendy was dead and she would be the next to go.
A shadow appeared in the doorway. She strained her neck to look over in that direction but couldn’t see who it was.
Then she heard his voice.
‘I told you not to struggle but you wouldn’t listen, May Feng. Now look at your beautiful arms.’
He stepped into the light. She could see he was carrying something in his hand. What was it?
‘I’ve been busy since I last saw you…’ a smile crossed his face, ‘…tidying loose ends. That’s a good way to put it. And now you are the last one. The last little loose end.’
He sat on the bed beside her and stroked her face. She struggled to escape his touch, but he held her jaw between his strong fingers.
‘Listen. If you want to stay alive, listen to me. I’m busy today but I’ll come back this evening. If you want, you can come to the flat, take Wendy’s place. What a shame about her. I did love her, you know. In my own way. She was a beautiful little sparrow to own and possess. But she wanted more. They always do. When she started talking, I didn’t know if she would ever stop, so she had to be quietened. You do see that, don’t you?’
Where the Innocent Die Page 22