by Carol Wyer
‘I expect you have their contact details. It’s customary for landlords to have such records.’
Dev gave a dry cough. ‘I have one slight confession in that department. While I have the details of those individuals because they signed agreements prior to renting, and all paid a refundable deposit of £600, Stephen Robinson did not in fact, take up the room. I think he failed his exams and didn’t return for his final year. His room was let out to another of their friends. The boys didn’t tell me the tenant had changed until they’d vacated the property and Dominic confessed.’
‘Did Dominic divulge the name of the third occupant?’
‘It didn’t crop up. Dominic was loading up his car and keen to get off when I saw him. I was checking the place for damages. I signed off on his rental agreement and we shook hands, wished each other well. That’s it.’
Robyn pursed her lips. ‘I’ll need all the contact details you have, if you don’t mind.’
‘I don’t have them on my email. I’ll have them scanned and sent over to you. My secretary should still be there. Is it okay if I ring her?’
Robyn waved a hand in agreement. Dev lifted his smartphone and read his text. His thumbs flew over the screen as he replied to his message, then called a number, requested the information and, returning the phone to the table, asked, ‘Is that everything, DI Carter?’
‘I’m somewhat concerned, Mr Khan, that you have no details for the third student who rented your house. I’d like to remind you that you didn’t take down Joanne Hutchinson’s details correctly either.’ Robyn sat back, arms folded.
‘I accept it was lapse, DI Carter. Some days, I’m simply too busy to deal with everything and some things slip through the net. Neither of these slip-ups are offences, and I’ve been as helpful as possible.’ The man was smooth, articulate and irritating.
‘Could your brother not have dealt with interviewing students? You and he share the property portfolio.’
Dev shook his head with a smile. ‘He’s wrapped up at the convenience stores. They’re scattered about the country. He’s even busier than me. I spend more time in Manchester than him, so it was my responsibility to deal with the houses.’ Robyn gave a slight shrug, a sign Mitz recognised as his cue to join them at the table and speak.
‘Mr Khan, a trunk was ordered and delivered to 13 Edgar Street. Did you order it?’
‘Why would I do that? No, I did not.’ He studied Mitz for a moment. ‘I get it. It’s about the trunk at the self-storage warehouse, isn’t it? I can categorically say I did not buy, borrow or order a trunk and have it delivered to that house, or anywhere, for that matter. I’d have to be off my head to order a trunk for a dead body to a house I own – and to hide anything, especially a body, in one of my own warehouses. And, I can assure you, I’m not off my head.’ His voice took on an icy edge.
‘Did you ever come across a trunk on a visit to the house?’
‘If I had, I’d have mentioned it. I didn’t come across any trunk until the day that poor girl’s body was discovered. Happy now?’
‘You must admit, sir, it’s a coincidence that a trunk was delivered to one of your houses, and a trunk exactly like it was found at one of your self-storage facilities,’ said Mitz, unperturbed by the stony look Dev was giving him. He continued his line of questioning.
‘We’ve yet to locate Mrs Hutchinson, and given you are one of only a few people to have seen her, I wondered if you could tell us any more about her?’
‘No. I’ve already told you everything. I’d recognise her immediately if I met her again, but I can tell you no more, given she supplied a false address and name.’ He held up a finger. ‘There was one thing. She mentioned receiving a leaflet about the self-storage warehouse. That’s how she found us. I forgot about that. Those leaflets go out all over Staffordshire. We use the post office to deliver them, so she could have been from anywhere in Staffordshire.’
Mitz made a note. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘As I said a moment ago, I’d have to be off my head to hide a trunk, a body, or drugs, in one of my own units. It’s pure coincidence that a trunk similar to that one was delivered to one of my houses. I’ve got forty-eight warehouses, fifteen properties, twenty convenience stores and any number of other little businesses. I have connections to half the people living in this area one way or another. And coincidences do happen. Can we be clear on that matter or do I have to involve a lawyer?’
Mitz shook his head. ‘That won’t be necessary. And again for the records, can you account for your movements on Friday the thirteenth?’
Dev huffed. ‘Give me a moment.’ He reached for his BlackBerry, head bent to read his agenda. ‘I was in Manchester for a site meeting at ten, visited the Bradford self-storage in the afternoon and held interviews for the position of a security officer. I finished at six, drove back home, went to the gym, trained for two hours, returned home, answered some emails then went to bed.’
‘And you have witnesses who saw you at the gym?’
Dev nodded an affirmation.
‘Can I ask when you were last at the Rugeley warehouse?’
‘That would be the last time we spoke, Officer Patel. I haven’t been in this area since then. I’ve been up to my eyeballs in work. My secretary will have my exact movements and appointments since then, should you need them. Have we finished? I really would like to get to Milton Keynes this afternoon. It’s getting pretty late in the day.’
Robyn had no grounds for keeping him at the station so she pushed back her chair and extended a hand. ‘We appreciate your help, Mr Khan. Thank you for giving up your valuable time.’
Dev rose as well. He gathered his phones and took her hand. A sardonic smile played across his lips. ‘My pleasure. Next time you want me, DI Carter, don’t send the good sergeant to hunt me down, just give me a buzz.’
Robyn flopped back into her seat. It was, as Mr Khan had just pointed out, getting late. Her team was exhausted and there was not a lot more they could achieve by staying behind. Once Dev had left the room, she spoke. ‘You and Anna should go home. We’ll tackle this better when we’re rested. You’re both off tomorrow, aren’t you?’
Mitz nodded. ‘I don’t mind coming in, boss. I want to catch this perp.’
Robyn threw him a smile. ‘I know you do. We all do. Take time out and approach it with fresh eyes on Monday. Matt and Dave are in tomorrow. We’ll handle it.’
‘Okay, guv. Let me know if you need me.’ She waved at him to leave. Staring into space, she brooded over her decision to send Mitz to fetch Khan, and acknowledged it had been over the top. The irritation in Khan’s glittering dark eyes had been unmistakable – a look of scorn mingled with annoyance. The evidence they’d had against him had been flimsy. She propped her head up with one hand. Her zeal to charge someone for the murders would endanger Siobhan’s life if she didn’t exercise more caution. If Khan had been their perp and was keeping Siobhan captive, angering him might have caused him to act hastily and harm her. She yawned and rubbed at the ache in her neck. She needed some time off too. She had hardly slept since the discovery of Carrie Miller’s body.
Anna knocked on the door.
‘Sorry, guv. It’s a no-go for Fox or Dog. I spoke to Samantha Dancer and Jade North. Neither has heard of the app. Carrie and Amber didn’t mention it to them. I looked through Siobhan’s Facebook account too and she hasn’t liked the Fox or Dog Facebook page. I cross-referenced all the pages that the girls liked and it’s an eclectic mix from beauty product pages to games apps. As I said before, they liked quite a few of the same pages. I don’t think the fact two of them liked one dating app page is as hopeful as we first thought.’
Robyn shook her head. ‘Bother. It seemed promising. Any other pages that look hopeful?’
‘Nothing that stands out. Jade said it was quite normal to click on the like button randomly for these pages. They pop up in your Facebook feed and you can like them purely because they look interesting. She said Carrie didn’t need t
o use any dating app. She was popular enough.’
‘That’s true. She has a point. Okay. Thanks for going through all that. I’ll see you on Monday. Have a good day off.’
After Anna shut the door again, Robyn stood up from the hard chair. She’d head back to the office and leave a list of tasks for David and Matt. She’d try and relax tomorrow. Her body could certainly do with a rest.
Forty-Three
DAY SEVEN – SUNDAY 22 JANUARY
Amélie’s text to Robyn said she wanted to chat urgently. Robyn had only just got home from a morning at the gym. The tension in her skull had risen to such proportions overnight she had deemed it necessary to train solidly for three hours. It had felt good to be back in control of her body. The hip flexor that had been injured was feeling stronger, and Robyn put the discomfort in her legs down to lack of use rather than any damage. It had been a tough few days and she’d missed her regular training. The endorphins she got from pushing her body had been the medicine she’d required.
Mindful her jeans were hanging on her hips, she tipped a handful of nuts and raisins into her mouth before ringing. Amélie picked up at once.
‘Hey, what’s up?’
‘Mum says it’s nothing, but it isn’t. I’ve fallen out with Florence.’
‘And have you tried to make it up?’
‘She refuses to talk to me. I’ve left messages and phoned but she isn’t answering them.’
‘Didn’t you have a similar situation last year when Florence fell out with you over a boy?’
‘This is different. It happened so quickly. On Friday we were talking about a teacher, Mr Chambers, and she got really snarky with me. I was being a bit silly and messing about, saying she fancied him, but when I said sorry, she blew up at me. And she swore at me. She never swears. She said I always thought about myself and that she was fed up being my friend. She said she was sick of me acting the clever one and her being the stupid one. She gave me such a horrible look. Like she hated me.’
‘So was this fallout over a teacher, or because she thinks she’s less intelligent than you?’
Amélie’s words were garbled and incomprehensible. Robyn listened patiently as the girl attempted to voice her concerns.
‘I came top in an English test and I didn’t know but Florence came bottom in it. She was upset about and I didn’t have any idea, which makes me a bad friend, doesn’t it?’
‘Your mum’s right about this. You and Florence have been best friends since for ever. Florence will get over it. You’ll soon be friends again.’
‘No, we won’t. She really hates me. Will you speak to Florence for me? She isn’t answering my calls and Mum will only say no if I ask her to ring. Can you tell her I’m sorry?’
Robyn pulled a face. She had no idea what to say to either girl. This all seemed so trivial but she couldn’t bear to hear Amélie so upset.
‘How about I drop by Delia Marsh tomorrow afternoon to collect you instead of you catching the school bus, and accidentally bump into Florence? I could pretend I don’t know what’s happened between you two, and offer her a lift home as well. And then, we’ll take it from there.’
‘That’d be great. We’ve got geography last lesson on a Monday. The classroom’s in the main building. If you wait near the entrance, I’ll come out after Florence, then that’ll give you time to talk to her. Convince her to speak to me.’ She sounded more hopeful.
‘Sure. We’ll do it that way. See you tomorrow. If I can’t make it, I’ll call you and you can catch the bus as normal.’
‘Thanks, Robyn. You’re the best.’
Robyn smiled at the mobile. Amélie was the closest she had to her own daughter. If parenting meant helping to mend a little girl’s heart, then she’d do it. Florence had certainly changed recently, physically and in her attitude. Surely she couldn’t be jealous of her friend? Robyn thought back to the charade at the cinema when Florence pretended to be sick to hide in the toilet and use her phone. A love interest must be at the heart of this matter. She would have to try and get Florence to open up.
The phone bleeped with another message. This time it came from Tom Shearer and simply said, Don’t forget to eat. She tipped the remainder of the nuts into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
She rearranged her Post-it notes and stared at them. She had the names of three young women lined up in front of her. On luminous orange paper were her suspects; on blue, places they lived; and on pink, the locations where Amber and Carrie had been discovered. She dragged up a map of the area on her computer and studied it closely, trying to see the connection, but it continued to evade her. The phone buzzed again and broke her concentration. The irritating voice at the other end made her roll her eyes.
‘I’m not complaining this time. Mr and Mrs Dalton were interviewed on BBC Radio Derby this morning and I fully intend to interview them myself later today. I thought I’d be generous and give you the heads-up.’
‘Amy, I can’t stop you, but exercise caution.’
‘I wanted to get your take on it for exactly that reason. Mrs Dalton told the radio listeners that she believed a serial killer had murdered Amber and warned parents to keep an eye on their daughters.’
Robyn let out a loud tut of exasperation. ‘That’s exactly what I didn’t want to get out. Parents everywhere will go mad with worry. Can you do any damage limitation on that?’
Amy was quiet for a minute. ‘What are you suggesting? It’s a big story and I don’t think we should dumb it down. As callous as it sounds, serial killer stories sell papers. You’ll have to go on record if you want the article to be more neutral in tone.’
‘Curse you, Amy. There’s no other way, is there?’ She rubbed at both her temples with one hand. ‘You’ll have to talk to the press team at the station about this. I’m not going to be able to comment.’
‘Is that it?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Off the record, do you think there’s a possibility that one person murdered both these girls?’
‘No comment.’ Robyn willed Amy to hang up.
‘Do you want to know what I think? I think you are searching for one person in connection with the murders, and I hope I’m wrong. A lunatic hunting down schoolgirls is a terrifying picture. I won’t be able to keep a lid on it, especially now Mrs Dalton has voiced her concerns on air. I won’t sensationalise my article, but you’re going to have to work quickly. The press will be breathing down your neck, and for a change it won’t be me leading the charge.’
Amy disconnected and Robyn let out a hefty sigh. She really didn’t need media involvement. She rang the station to let them know what she’d told Amy. Her mobile rang. She feared it would be Flint, but it was Harry McKenzie. He confirmed her fears.
‘Robyn, it appears your supposition was correct. I’ve examined Miss Miller’s head again, especially the ragged edges of the flesh on her skull which was fairly badly decomposed. On closer examination, after I scraped it away and pulled off the flakes that remained, straight lines, consistent with cuts made by a sharp knife, were visible in the layers below the epidermis. There were also some scratches on Carrie’s Miller’s skull that weren’t obvious from the X-rays I took. It appears you could be correct, and skin was cut away from Carrie’s forehead, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s in a shape of a rectangle.’
Her phone vibrated as she spoke, alerting her to the fact her superior was after her. She ended the call with Harry and dialled Flint’s number.
‘We need to talk,’ was all he said. She sighed and picked up her car keys.
* * *
Flint was in the foulest of moods. A red flush had crept up his throat and spilled onto his cheeks.
‘So, who put the Daltons up to this?’ he barked as soon as she sat down.
‘I understand the Daltons took it upon themselves and contacted the radio station. I spoke to the radio presenter on my way here. They were fearful that other young girls might go missing and wanted only to make people more vi
gilant.’
‘I don’t need to tell you that we can’t have the public panicking over a serial killer. The press will have an absolute field day with this.’
‘I agree, sir.’
‘I’ll have to consider addressing the public.’ He spoke more to himself than Robyn. ‘It’s a complete mess. Have you got anything we can use to reassure the public?’
‘I’m afraid not. In fact, I’ve spoken to Harry McKenzie in the last half an hour and I’m now sure we are dealing with a serial killer.’
He groaned loudly, throwing his head back against the headrest. ‘Go on,’ he moaned.
She told him about the piece of skin missing from Amber’s head and how there were cuts and scratches that indicated a piece was also removed from Carrie’s forehead. She added the information about both bodies being frozen and reiterated her concerns.
‘I think we’re going to have to come clean. This sort of thing can’t be kept from the public. I’ll arrange a press conference for tomorrow. It would help if you had another suspect to bring in.'
‘We’re working hard on it. We’re looking into every possible avenue, and we’ll find the person responsible.’
He sat motionless for a moment then nodded. ‘I’m going to talk to the press team. See how best to handle this. I might like you to team up with Tom Shearer on this. We’ll need a result quickly.’
‘With all due respect, sir, there’s been a lot of information to process and people to speak to since this investigation began. I had limited assistance at the outset, and I believe since then we’ve covered many angles, eliminated suspects and are making progress. We’re dealing with somebody who is devious – clever enough to avoid CCTV footage, use aliases and snatch young women without being spotted. I’m sure we’ll find that piece of evidence we need. I shall personally make sure we do, and in the quickest possible time. Giving me more officers who need to be brought up to speed when I have an efficient team will only hinder my progress. I’d like you to leave me to handle it my way.’