Cold Blood: A gripping serial killer thriller that will take your breath away (Detective Erika Foster Book 5)

by Robert Bryndza

  ‘Did he tell you this bloke’s name?’ asked Erika.

  ‘No. He wasn’t gonna start naming drug dealers.’

  ‘So this bloke was a drug dealer?’ asked Moss.

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Why would a drug dealer be signing on?’

  ‘I presume for the money, and as a front. I don’t know the ins and outs.’

  ‘So this bloke asked Thomas if he wanted to earn ten grand smuggling drugs?’

  ‘That’s what I said!’ Mariette was becoming flustered.

  ‘Did Thomas say where he would be going, and how this smuggling would work?’

  Mariette put up her hands, and cigarette ash fell on her legs. ‘I didn’t want to know! Okay? Look at where I live. There’s bloody druggies everywhere. I’ve got that shit on my doorstep. I didn’t want him talking about it in here.’

  Erika could see she was shutting down on them, so she changed tack.

  ‘Can I show you a photo?’ she asked, balancing the cup and saucer on her leg to reach into her pocket. It rattled in the saucer, and Mariette leapt up from the armchair, and grabbed it.

  ‘Please watch the spills. This sofa is very pale and it shows everything,’ she said, placing the cup and saucer deliberately on the coffee table with a coaster.

  ‘Sorry, of course,’ said Erika. She retrieved her notebook, and passed Mariette a photo.

  ‘She’s pretty,’ said Mariette. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Her name is Charlene Selby. She was also found dead, her body dismembered and stuffed in a suitcase,’

  They watched Mariette’s face, but she remained impassive and passed the photo back.

  ‘That’s awful.’

  ‘You never saw her with Thomas?’ asked Erika.

  ‘No.’

  ‘He didn’t talk about her?’

  ‘No. Was she involved with this smuggling?’

  ‘We can’t share that information. Do you know if Thomas had a girlfriend?’

  ‘He didn’t. He’d have told me; he’d have boasted about it.’

  ‘Do you mind me asking why you two divorced?’

  ‘He was obsessive. I felt suffocated by him. He was jealous, and he could be violent. I thought I was better than that,’ she said.

  ‘Why did Thomas have a rough few years?’

  ‘He got married again. Debbie, her name was. Nice girl. A bit plain, bit of a doormat, but she took the edge off him. She worked in the office of a haulage firm in Guildford. One day she went out into the yard to talk to one of the drivers, and didn’t see a lorry coming. Poof. Died instantly, so did the baby; she was pregnant. Tom went to pieces. He couldn’t afford the mortgage on his own. Lost his job. He came back to London hoping that he could get a fresh start. I let him stay here for a bit, but we fought, so when he found some work he got a flat in Dollis Hill. Then the work dried up, so he had to sign on.’

  ‘Didn’t you think it was strange that you hadn’t heard from him in three weeks?’ asked Erika.

  ‘We weren’t in each other’s pockets.’

  ‘Did you know his family?’

  ‘His mum and dad died when he was eighteen; he didn’t have any brothers or sisters.’

  Erika and Moss exchanged a glance.

  ‘I’m having a hard job putting his life together. We’ve drawn a blank on Debbie’s relations. Her parents are dead; she was also an only child,’ said Erika.

  ‘Drawn a blank, have you? I’m sure you two live happy lives with plenty of cash, a comfortable home in a safe area? Your neighbours probably lean on the fence to chat to you when you mow the lawn. Look around, this is what happens when you don’t get a good start in life,’ she said, jabbing her finger on the arm of the chair, ‘and no bugger gives you a break. I don’t have a circle of friends, or go for dinner parties, or to book clubs. I grew up in children’s homes, shunted between foster parents.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ started Erika.

  ‘Oh, I don’t want your pity. I’m just telling you why you can’t find evidence of Tom’s full and happy life. It didn’t exist… Now are you going to drink that tea I made for you?’

  They drained their cups and placed them back in the saucers.

  ‘Would you be willing to come and formally identify Thomas?’ asked Erika.

  ‘What? In bits?’

  ‘Yes. It’s a formality.’

  ‘Go on then,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you. And we may have more questions.’

  ‘Oh, may you? What do you expect me to say to that? If you’ve got questions, you’ll ask them!’

  Mariette watched from behind the net curtains in her kitchen window as Erika and Moss walked across the car park. The group of lads were still huddled around smoking, and they turned to look as they climbed into the waiting car. Even though it was unmarked, and they were in plain clothes, they could smell coppers a mile off. When the police car had driven away, Mariette went to the landline in the hall.

  She picked up the receiver and dialled a number.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘What did you think of Mariette Hoffman?’ asked Erika when they were in the car and heading away from the estate.

  ‘She was honest, brutally honest,’ replied Moss. ‘But we shouldn’t be disarmed by her apparent honesty and willingness to talk.’

  Erika nodded. ‘Interesting she kept Thomas’s surname, even though they were only married for a year and it ended acrimoniously.’

  ‘Is it? Maybe she couldn’t face the bureaucracy, especially if she’s long-term unemployed and it could have stopped her benefits. Why did you keep yours?’ asked Moss.

  Erika was taken off guard.

  ‘Shit, sorry, boss. I wasn’t thinking. It was a genuine question.’

  ‘It’s okay. My maiden name was Boldišova.’

  ‘How do you say it?’

  ‘Bol-dish-oh-vah. Erika Boldišova. It’s very Slovak.’

  ‘And difficult to say after a couple of rum and cokes.’

  Erika smiled. ‘It was easier to keep being Erika Foster. And it’s a little piece of Mark I get to keep. What about you and Celia?’

  ‘She’s Celia Grainger, and I’m Kate Moss.’ She saw the driver glance at her in the rear-view mirror. ‘Not THE Kate Moss, obviously.’

  ‘Obviously,’ he laughed.

  ‘Cheeky bastard,’ grinned Moss. She went on. ‘I suppose we both kept our names when we got married for our careers. Jacob is Moss-Grainger, which sounds quite posh I suppose.’

  ‘Let’s do some digging on Mariette; find out her maiden name and where it leads us. She could be one of the last people who saw Thomas Hoffman,’ said Erika.

  They hit the start of the evening rush, so it took almost two hours to drive over to Uxbridge, in west London. Charlene Selby’s parents lived in a long leafy avenue, a world away from the Pinkhurst Estate. At a set of black iron gates, Moss got out of the car and went to a small intercom embedded in the brickwork, and was ready with her warrant card when a woman’s voice answered. She sounded wary and didn’t want to let her in, but eventually relented, and the gates swung inwards. A long tree-lined drive took them to a large manor house, and they parked beside a huge ornamental fountain. It had started to rain, and even though it was blurring the surface, Erika could see huge koi carp swimming lazily on the bottom.

  A woman opened the front door. She was in her late fifties, elegantly dressed, with overly tanned skin and short bleached blonde hair. She had a very detached manner.

  ‘Good afternoon, are you Daphne Selby?’ asked Erika. The woman nodded. ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Erika Foster, and this is Detective Inspector Moss, may we come in?’

  Erika and Moss flashed their warrant cards. Daphne peered at them and nodded. They stepped into a large, double-height hallway with a winding staircase. The rain rattled onto a small stained glass cupola above. She took them through to a large airy living room, where an open fire was burning low; lots of dark wooden furniture and a chintzy sofa and armchairs. A tall, middl
e-aged man was working with a screwdriver to release a huge pull-down cinema screen. He wore tan slacks and a salmon-coloured V-neck sweater, and like his wife, he had a deep tan.

  ‘The police are here,’ said Daphne.

  His face dropped when he saw them, and he leaned forward to shake hands.

  ‘It’s Charlene, isn’t it?’ he asked.

  ‘Please, can we all sit down,’ said Erika. ‘Can I confirm you are Justin Selby?’

  He nodded. ‘Just tell us straight away, don’t lead us around the houses. It’s Charlene, isn’t it?’ he said. His face was turning red and tears were forming in his eyes. Daphne reached out and took his hand.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid your daughter was found dead,’ said Erika.

  Justin staggered to the sofa, helped by Daphne. Erika and Moss waited until they were seated, and each perched on an armchair. Daphne and Justin held each other for a long time, sobbing, and then Erika gently gave them the rest of the details.

  ‘Do you feel up to us asking a few questions?’ asked Moss softly.

  ‘Like what?’ asked Justin, wiping his eyes with the back of his tanned hand. He wore several gold rings and a gold identity bracelet. ‘If we know someone who would do that to our daughter? No!’

  ‘Can I ask why you didn’t report Charlene as missing?’

  A sad despairing look passed between Justin and Daphne.

  ‘We were estranged,’ said Daphne. She had a very soft voice.

  ‘Why was that?’ asked Erika.

  ‘Drugs, she was a drug addict,’ said Justin. ‘There’s nothing more destructive than a kid with a drug problem, and an allowance. They destroy themselves, and they attract all kinds of hangers-on. She’s been an addict for the past few years.’

  ‘We’d cut off her allowance in the spring,’ said Daphne. Despite her voice being soft it was strong. ‘She’s been to rehab four times. You have to understand, we did it, we did it to try and help her. The doctors said she had to reach rock bottom. We didn’t even know her address… You said you found her body on the South Bank, by the Thames?’

  ‘Yes. Now there’s no way of putting this nicely,’ started Erika. ‘Her body was found inside a suitcase. It had been dismembered.’

  Daphne began to cry.

  ‘When did you last see Charlene?’ asked Moss.

  ‘Three weeks ago… It was the day when we get new cars in at the showroom. She came to the showroom on Love Lane.’

  ‘This is your car showroom?’ asked Erika.

  ‘Yeah.’ He put his arm around Daphne.

  ‘Do you mind telling us what happened?’

  Justin laughed bitterly. ‘She wanted to take one of the cars on a test drive. I bet it was that bloke who was with her,’ said Justin.

  ‘What bloke?’ asked Erika.

  He heaved and sobbed and managed to get control of himself. ‘When she came to the showroom, there was a bloke with her. A big dirty bloke with dark hair. She just rocked up out of the blue, demanding the keys. I said she couldn’t take it; she said she was sober, then he joined in and made a scene.’

  ‘What kind of scene?’

  ‘She was shouting; he was getting up in my face, saying how he knows all about us, how we don’t care about Charlene… Like this stranger had the right… I would have lamped him, but we had two clients in that day, both of them do a trade-in every year. We’re talking three hundred grand of business sat there in the showroom, watching it all…’ His voice tailed off. ‘So, I let them take the car.’

  ‘What time of day did they come to the showroom?’ asked Moss.

  ‘Two, two thirty-ish.’

  ‘Three weeks ago on Tuesday, was the 12th September, does that sound right?’

  Daphne lifted her head, wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded.

  ‘Did you get this man’s name?’ asked Erika.

  ‘No. He was big; he stank of booze. We didn’t bring her up to hang about with people like him.’

  Erika took a small photo of Thomas Hoffman from her bag and held it up.

  ‘Yeah. That’s him,’ said Justin. ‘Have you arrested him?’

  ‘No. He’s also dead. We also found his body in the river, in a suitcase, and dismembered, just like Charlene,’ said Erika softly. There was a long silence.

  ‘Did Charlene say why she wanted to take the car?’ asked Moss.

  ‘She just said she fancied taking it for a test drive,’ said Justin.

  ‘Is this something she did often? Take out cars for test drives?’

  ‘It was something she used to love doing when she was learning to drive, when she was seventeen… Of course, back then she was, she wasn’t drinking or taking drugs.’

  ‘After they took the Jaguar, we didn’t hear from her and she didn’t return it that day, or the next. We found it abandoned three days later outside the gates of the car showroom.’

  ‘That would be Friday the 15th of September?’ asked Moss.

  ‘If she said three days later then that’s what it is!’ snapped Justin. Daphne put her hand on his arm.

  ‘The keys were left in the ignition. The upholstery was stained. It was a mess; someone had been sick in the back.’

  ‘Did you call the police?’ asked Moss.

  At this, Justin became angry. ‘No! I wouldn’t call you lot for my own daughter. We knew she’d bring it back.’

  ‘And you have no idea why she took it for so long, and where they went?’

  Daphne shook her head.

  ‘And what did you do with the Jaguar?’ asked Erika.

  ‘We had it cleaned, but it’s still a bloody mess. We’re waiting to have it re-upholstered, in the hope we can still…’ said Daphne. She started to sob. Justin waved his hand dismissively at them, dropping his head to hide his tears.

  ‘Let’s give you some space,’ said Erika.

  Erika and Moss retreated from the living room, past the staircase, and into a bright airy kitchen looking out over a beautifully kept garden, with a sandpit and a child’s swing set and a slide. Erika filled the kettle at the sink.

  ‘If they cut off Charlene’s allowance, where was she getting her money from?’ she asked. ‘How did Thomas fit into the equation? Was he using drugs? I wish we had the toxicology reports back on their bodies.’ She plugged in the kettle.

  ‘On September the 12th Charlene went to the car showroom with Thomas. That’s the same day that Mariette says Thomas went to see her,’ said Moss.

  ‘He saw her in the morning. So it could just be coincidence, but I don’t buy into coincidence.’

  They were silent for a moment and listened to the sound of the kettle starting to boil. Erika moved over to the large stainless steel American-style fridge. It was covered in Post-its and a Weight Watchers diet sheet. There were pictures of Daphne playing with a tiny boy and girl on the swings and slide in the back garden, and in another she was pictured hugging the children in a restaurant. Above it was written ‘Granny’s 60th!’. There was a wedding photo of a thin-haired man in a suit with his bride.

  ‘This must be Charlene’s brother? And the grandkids?’ asked Moss.

  In the top left-hand corner there was a photo stuck on under a smiley face magnet. Erika lifted it off the fridge. It was taken at a party, and it was a family photo with Daphne, Carl, the small kids and Charlene, who was standing on the end. She looked emaciated, with messy hair, and was holding a bottle of beer, but despite her bedraggled state, she was still an attractive woman. The smiley face magnet had been placed over her part of the photo.

  ‘They looked like they’d been expecting to hear that Charlene was dead,’ said Moss. ‘I can’t imagine living like that. Waiting for the call, or the police at the door.’

  The kettle clicked off and they made tea for the grieving parents.

  Chapter Fifteen

  August 2016

  Nina and Max were staying above an old-fashioned pub in a small village on the edge of Dartmoor. It was a tall thin building of granite blocks, perched at the edge of
a small village. Nina woke early, and looked over at Max sleeping beside her, and to the window where the sun streamed through onto a threadbare red carpet. Holding a T-shirt to her bare chest, she went to the window and opened it. She hadn’t seen much when they’d arrived late last night. The air was fresh and a little chilly, but the sun was already climbing up a clear blue sky. She could now see for miles across a vast expanse of green hills. A group of walkers were passing on the road below, the clacking of their sticks mixing with murmured chatter. As they hit the grassy moor the clacking ceased and they moved away, their chatter receding. The view was spectacular. Nina was a London girl through and through, and she was struck by just how much colour there was, so many vivid shades of green, stretching away for miles to the grey-topped mountains in the distance. She heard a whistle and turned her head. Approaching from the village, in the other direction, was the young dark-haired guy they’d got talking to in the pub last night. He was handsome, but very skinny, and he’d been very flirty with her.

  ‘Hung-over?’ he asked, squinting up at her with a toothy grin.

  ‘A little,’ she said, twirling a strand of her long hair between her fingers, and smiling.

  ‘You still up for going on a hike?’

  ‘I don’t know; Max is still asleep.’

  She felt fingers close over her arm, and Max was behind her.

  ‘Who are you talking to?’ he snapped.

  ‘Look, it’s Dean,’ she said, pointing.

  ‘Put some fucking clothes on,’ he said, seeing the T-shirt clutched to her chest and pulling her away from the window. He looked down at Dean. ‘Wait there. We’ll be down in a bit.’

  He slammed the window shut. Max stomped off for a shower in the bathroom down the corridor, and Nina sat on the bed, confused. Last night had been fun. They’d had a late dinner in the pub downstairs, and when Max had gone up to get a round of drinks, he’d returned with Dean, who he’d met at the bar.

  ‘This is my Nina, isn’t she gorgeous,’ Max had said, introducing them.