At Your Door

by J. P. Carter

  ‘We liked each other and got on well. It was fun while it lasted.’

  ‘So why didn’t you move in together or allow yourselves to be seen in public?’

  His hands balled into fists on the table. ‘Surely that’s obvious. When it started I was married. Then after my wife died I thought it best to keep it quiet at least for a time. But you know all this.’

  ‘And can you confirm for the record that you paid the rent on Holly’s flat and for all the S and M equipment that’s installed there?’

  ‘Yes, I can. And she was entirely happy with the arrangement.’

  ‘But she wasn’t happy when you told her that you were ending the affair because you were in love with someone else.’

  He sighed. ‘I honestly didn’t expect her to react the way she did. I had no idea that she thought we’d be spending the rest of our lives together. I always assumed we would eventually go our separate ways.’

  ‘So what was your reaction when she told you that she was going to sell her story to a newspaper?’

  ‘I pleaded with her not to do it. I offered her money and tried to convince her that although we’d had a lot of fun together it was better for her that it was over. She could move on, marry someone her own age, have kids.’

  ‘But she didn’t see it that way,’ Anna said. ‘And that’s when you resorted to threatening her.’

  ‘What my client said during that argument hardly constitutes a serious threat,’ said Peake.

  ‘I beg to differ,’ Anna said. She opened the folder in front of her and took out a sheet of paper. ‘Let me remind you. Mr Wolf said, and I quote: “Take the money I’ve offered and move on or I swear you’ll regret it.”’

  Wolf’s eyes stretched wide and he shook his head.

  ‘It was an off-the-cuff remark. I didn’t mean it literally.’

  Anna reached into the folder again and pulled out a transparent evidence bag.

  ‘For the benefit of the tape I’m showing the suspect item twelve, a driving licence in the name of Holly Blake. Do you recognise this, Mr Wolf?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  Anna slid it across the table between Wolf and his lawyer.

  ‘Forensics have confirmed that those marks on it are specks of Holly’s blood. That suggests to me that it was in her possession when she was stabbed. The forensic report says the licence could have been contaminated with a spray of blood during the act itself or when her clothes were removed, assuming she wasn’t naked when she was murdered. But to be honest we’re not sure how it happened. Perhaps you can tell us.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know because I wasn’t there,’ Wolf said.

  ‘Then can you explain why it was in your jacket pocket?’

  ‘I’ve already told you I don’t know.’

  ‘So you’re claiming that someone must have put it there.’

  ‘Well, I can’t think of any other explanation.’

  Anna picked up the evidence bag and slipped it back into the folder. While she did this, DC Sweeny asked her first question.

  ‘When was the last time you wore that particular jacket, Mr Wolf?’

  He looked at her, his brow furrowed.

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I’ve got lots of jackets and suits. I don’t keep a note of what I wear and when.’

  ‘Well, I can tell you that you wore it on Tuesday,’ Sweeny said.

  It was Anna’s cue to take a newspaper cutting from the folder, which she placed before Wolf.

  ‘That picture was taken for a local rag in your constituency shortly before you drove back to London,’ Sweeny said.

  Wolf glanced at the cutting and shrugged a single shoulder.

  ‘So what if I wore it that day? I’d forgotten. But now I think about it I’m sure I wore it to the office on Wednesday too. It doesn’t prove anything.’

  ‘My client is right,’ Peake said, leaning forward and directing his words at Anna. ‘This so-called evidence is at best circumstantial. You know that Miss Blake was murdered, but you don’t know where it happened so you can’t place Mr Wolf at the scene of the crime. I’m assuming that his Range Rover was not picked up on roads near to where the body was found otherwise you would have mentioned it. The so-called threat he made is not as sinister as you’re suggesting, considering what she was planning to do.

  ‘You also have to concede that the driving licence might well have been planted in my client’s pocket on Wednesday or at any point since then. And as for the blood, well, you can’t be certain that it wasn’t put there by the killer as part of a crude attempt to frame him.’

  ‘I think you would have trouble convincing a jury of that,’ Anna said.

  ‘Well, I can’t really see this ending up in court,’ Peake said. ‘Not unless there’s incriminating evidence that we’re not being made aware of. Did you find anything else apart from the licence in the house in Kensington, for instance? Or at his property in Somerset? And what about his Range Rover? Did that contain traces of Holly Blake?’

  ‘I was going to come on to the vehicle next,’ Anna said, turning to Wolf. ‘The technicians say it’s been cleaned thoroughly both inside and out during the past week. Did you do that yourself or did you take it to a car wash?’

  ‘I did it myself on the driveway,’ he replied. ‘I always do it myself.’

  ‘And when did you do it?’

  ‘On Wednesday morning. I didn’t have to go to the office until after lunch so I cleaned the car because it was in a mess.’

  ‘But you have to admit that sounds suspicious, Mr Wolf,’ Anna said. ‘In fact as far as I’m concerned it feeds into the perceived narrative of events.’

  ‘I don’t see how,’ Wolf said.

  Anna rested her elbows on the table. ‘Then let me explain. Holly reacted badly when you told her that you were dumping her for another woman. She threatened to expose your relationship with her, along with all the sordid details. So you threatened her. Then when you returned from Somerset you somehow found out where she was going after she left her flat. You confronted her, killed her, then dumped her body on Barnes Common. But first you stripped her and took her possessions so as not to leave any trace of yourself. In doing so you slipped up and forgot about the licence you’d placed in your pocket. The next morning you took the extra precaution of cleaning your Range Rover to get rid of any evidence that Holly might have left behind.’

  Wolf just sat there with his mouth open, but his lawyer shook his head and grinned.

  ‘You have got to be kidding, Detective Tate. That account of what might have happened is so full of holes that the Crown Prosecution Service would throw it right back at you. You’ll need much more before you can even consider charging my client with Holly Blake’s murder. And I’m sure you know it.’

  ‘I think the lawyer’s right, guv,’ Sweeny said when they stepped out of the interview room. ‘We’ll need more evidence to be certain of securing a conviction.’

  ‘Do you reckon he did it, Megan?’ Anna asked her.

  ‘I don’t think there’s any doubt. He had motive and opportunity. He told her she’d regret what she was going to do. And for me the clincher is the licence. I don’t for a minute believe it was planted. It could be that after he killed her he was in a real state mentally. Maybe he put her purse in his pocket and the licence fell out. Or perhaps she slipped it in there herself while she was alive.’

  Neither of those scenarios seemed even remotely plausible to Anna. Killers often made stupid mistakes in the heat of the moment, and that was how many of them ended up getting caught. But another thing killers often did was to keep mementoes of their victims, including personal belongings such as jewellery, spectacles, watches and underwear.

  Anna also knew of at least two cases where murderers had kept their victims’ driving licences. She even recalled one of them saying during his trial that he did it because he regretted committing the crime and it was his way of keeping his victim close. So Anna coul
dn’t help wondering if that was why Wolf hadn’t thrown Holly’s licence away, along with her handbag, mobile phone and purse. Did he keep it intentionally and then forget that he’d put it into his pocket? It was one of far too many unanswered questions that were playing on her mind.

  She informed the Custody Sergeant that Wolf was to be taken back to his cell after his lawyer had finished speaking to him. She wasn’t prepared to charge him or let him go just yet even if she came under pressure to do so.

  The rest of the team were eager to know how the interview had gone so she called them together to relay the relevant details.

  But just as she started to speak, DS Prescott came bounding into the office, his face flushed with excitement.

  ‘We’ve just found some more CCTV footage,’ he announced for all to hear as he waved what looked like a USB flash drive above his head. ‘And believe me this clip is a real eye-opener.’

  Anna felt her pulse rate spike, thinking what they had come up with would strengthen the case against Nathan Wolf.

  But when she viewed it she realised it did no such thing. Instead it turned out to be a dynamite piece of evidence that put one of their other suspects firmly in the frame.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Sophie let Alice lie in while she showered and dressed. She wished now that she hadn’t promised to take her shopping. It was the last thing she felt like doing with her mind in such disarray.

  She was also nervous about leaving the flat because she continued to believe that someone had been stalking her over the past couple of days. If she was right then whoever it was might well be preparing to confront her, and God only knew what the outcome of that would be.

  Was it Bruno who was out there, biding his time while waiting for the right moment to pounce? Or was it someone she didn’t know? Detective Anna Tate’s private investigator, perhaps? Or even the person who had contacted the Evening Standard to say that a child resembling the Chloe Tate age progression image was a pupil at Oakfield School?

  Sophie was cold with panic even though the heat from the shower had made her skin go red. She knew she had to come up with a plan but she was struggling to get her head around it.

  From her bedroom window she looked out on a dull, wet day. The rain she’d heard pounding the city overnight had stopped, but the sky was still bruised and threatening. It made her think of Spain and how the sun shone for most of the year. She missed the bright, warm days that had filled her with a glorious sense of wellbeing.

  From time to time during the past three years she had actually thought about moving back there. But having finally settled in London she hadn’t been able to work up enough energy to do so. She had no regrets about rushing up to the capital the day after James was murdered in Southampton. Out of desperation she sought help from her friend Lisa, who was living alone in Dulwich back then and was only too willing to allow Sophie and Alice to move in with her for a couple of weeks.

  It was a hard, distressing time during which Sophie had to cope with her own grief and explain to Alice that she would never see her father again. She chose not to lie, but didn’t tell the whole truth. She said James told her they had to leave the house in Southampton because they could no longer afford to live there. He was due to meet them that night but he was attacked and killed by an unknown assailant in the park.

  The child was naturally heartbroken and inconsolable, but she believed what Sophie told her because she was only nine years old.

  While staying with Lisa, Sophie monitored the news reports about the murder of James Miller in Southampton and learned that the cops had no suspects. They were also looking for the unnamed woman and child who had been living with him.

  Lisa tried to persuade her to go to the police, but she said no for two reasons. Firstly, it would have been a waste of time because Bruno would have made sure he couldn’t be implicated in James’s murder. No doubt he’d have secured himself a cast-iron alibi. And secondly she didn’t feel that she could trust the police enough to risk making herself known to them. It was an open secret that Bruno and his dodgy pals – men like Michael Taylor – had contacts in the Met who were not averse to providing them with information in return for hard cash.

  Sophie left Alice with Lisa while she pretended to go and talk to the police and then to attend James’s funeral. It was all part of creating a story that Alice wouldn’t be able to pull apart when she was older.

  Sophie and Alice moved out of Lisa’s flat after two and a half weeks. It was just too risky to stay there given that her friend was still in touch with the group who hung around with Bruno. As a precaution she didn’t tell Lisa where she was moving to, but she promised to continue their friendship.

  A month later Sophie made enquiries and discovered that James Miller had been given a pauper’s funeral by Southampton Council. She found out where his grave was and took Alice to see it in the hope that it would help them both find closure, as well as add credibility to the story Sophie had constructed. It was an emotional pilgrimage, and Sophie took a photograph of the headstone with the inscription:

  Here lies James Miller. May he rest in peace.

  Sophie turned from the window and tried to blink away the memories so that she could focus on her current problem.

  She went into the kitchen and put the kettle on to make herself another coffee, but just as it started to boil Alice appeared in the doorway in her pyjamas. She was crying and her face was awash with tears.

  ‘What on earth is the matter, sweetheart?’ Sophie said as she rushed across the room to her.

  ‘I had a horrible dream,’ Alice said. ‘It made me wake up.’

  Sophie hunkered down and put her arms around her.

  ‘Oh, baby, don’t cry. What was so terrible about the dream?’

  Alice struggled to get the words out. ‘Y–you went away and left me like Dad did and a policeman came to tell me that you’d died as well and I was all by myself.’

  Sophie’s own eyes filled with tears. This wasn’t the first time that Alice had dreamed of being abandoned, but in view of what had happened in her short life it was hardly a surprise.

  It made it that much harder for Sophie to tell her that she was going to be uprooted yet again. If only there was some other way to keep her safe, to keep them both safe.

  ‘Dreams don’t always come true, do they?’ Alice said.

  Sophie pressed out a smile. ‘Only the nice ones, sweetheart. The nasty ones don’t. That’s a fact. So you need to remember that. I’m not going to leave you and I’m not going to die. OK?’

  Alice nodded. ‘OK.’

  Sophie stood up and ruffled her hair. ‘Now what would you like for breakfast?’

  Alice sniffed back a sob. ‘Cornflakes and tea, please.’

  ‘Then I’ll sort it while you dry your eyes and sit at the table. You can watch the television if you want.’

  Sophie was pouring milk over the cornflakes when the small TV was switched on behind her. The first thing she heard was a catchy jingle, followed by a familiar holiday company commercial.

  She stiffened suddenly and listened to the sales pitch from a well-spoken female presenter. And by the time the thirty-second commercial was over, Sophie had the answer to her prayer.

  She whirled around to face Alice. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ she said. ‘I was going to tell you later but you might as well know now.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You and I are going on holiday. I’ve had a really good month at work and it means we can afford to go abroad for a couple of weeks.’

  Alice looked shocked. ‘Really? But what about school? We’re supposed to be going back on Tuesday.’

  ‘That’s all sorted,’ she lied. ‘I’ve spoken to Mrs Holland. She’s given permission because I told her that it’s an early birthday present for you.’

  ‘That’s great, Mum. Where are we going?’

  ‘Well, I’m going to surprise you, and you won’t know until we get to the airport.’


  ‘Wow. Do you mean it? When are we going?’

  ‘Hopefully tomorrow. We’re not just shopping for clothes this afternoon but we are going down the High Street. While I go and sort out a late holiday bargain you can go to that trendy hairdresser’s your mates are always on about and get your hair done. And I’m going to let you choose what to do with it. If you want it short for a change then so be it. And I know you’ve been keen for ages to have it dyed blonde, so go for it. How does that sound?’

  Alice clapped her hands together, her face full of childish excitement.

  ‘It sounds fab,’ she said.

  Sophie was also excited at the sudden prospect of jetting off somewhere as early as tomorrow. It would solve the problem of how to respond to the threats they were facing.

  And it would give her time to come up with a longer-term plan that could include never coming back to London.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Anna and Walker arrived at the Royal London Hospital just after mid-day. They were armed with the CCTV footage that DS Prescott had described as dynamite.

  And he was right. What it represented was a significant development in the investigation. Ross Moore had some serious explaining to do.

  ‘Remind me what we know about him,’ Anna said to Walker as they were going up in the lift to where Moore was recovering in a private room.

  Walker took out his notebook, slipped on his glasses.

  ‘He’s twenty-four and works at a retail warehouse near to where he lives in Stepney,’ he said. ‘He’s got two previous convictions. One for assaulting his boss during an argument seven years ago and another for possession of drugs. That was two years ago. He was in a relationship with Holly and they lived together in Eltham before she dumped him.

  ‘After that he started stalking her and bombarding her with text messages, including at least one in which he threatened to kill himself if she didn’t take him back. He denied being outside her flat on Tuesday night, but we now have evidence that proves he lied to us.’

  Before leaving the office they’d received word from Moore’s consultant that he was in a fit state to be questioned. They had also been told that since he’d been admitted he hadn’t had any visitors. He was apparently the only child of a single mother who had died five years ago and he had no brothers or sisters.