by Kate Ellis
Emily looked at him, worried. ‘How many?’
‘As far as I can see there are six missing. Someone’s trying to outdo the Doll Strangler.’
Joe turned to Sunny. ‘I think we need to see Brian Selly again. Now.’
Polly heard it on the radio. Child killer Gordon Pledge had been rearrested near his old home. Another man was found dead at the scene.
It was almost as if they were talking in code. What man? And how did he die? Had Gordon killed again?
‘Mummy. I want to go home. Mary’s lonely – I know she is.’
Daisy was sitting on the floor, looking up at her with reproachful eyes. Mary again. She bit back the impatient remark that was forming on her lips.
She was getting sick of Yolanda’s flat – and a little tired of Yolanda if the truth were known. And Gordon was safely behind bars again so there was no chance he could come and find them now.
‘OK, love. We’ll go back.’
She saw Daisy’s face light up with a blissful smile.
The cathedral’s bells were ringing out for Evensong as Philip Derby picked up the phone. He’d been on edge since he’d had the call from Brian Selly to say that the police had searched his house but now his hands were shaking. It would only be a matter of time before they came back and searched his place more thoroughly. The police had taken some of his DVDs but they had been the tame ones taken at the parties. There were others that he kept well hidden … and they were the ones he didn’t particularly want the police to see. He was reluctant to destroy them so he’d have to find somewhere safe to keep them, somewhere they wouldn’t think to look, until the fuss died down.
He held the phone to his ear while it rang out at the other end. He needed to speak to Ben Cassidy. Needed to extricate himself from this sorry mess.
‘Ben, is that you?’ he asked when he heard a voice on the other end of the line.
‘Who else would it be? What do you want, Philip?’ He sounded wary, as if Derby was the last person he wanted to speak to at that moment.
‘Brian Selly’s been arrested … for killing Natalie.’
For a few seconds Cassidy said nothing. Then ‘They’ve got nothing on us, Philip. They know about the parties but that’s all. They don’t have to know how far things went and they can’t prove a thing if we just stay calm.’
‘They might start digging.’
‘You’re panicking, Philip,’ said Cassidy, his voice rising a pitch. Derby knew he was starting to lose his cool. ‘I’m not panicking. I’ve lost my job and my reputation because of that silly little bitch but I’m not panicking.’
There was a long pause. Then Derby spoke again, putting into words the question that was gnawing at his mind. ‘Did you kill her, Ben? Did she go too far and …?’
Philip Derby suddenly heard the dialling tone. Benjamin Cassidy had rung off.
As the box containing the stockings and preserved body parts was placed in front of him, Brian Selly gave it a casual glance and shook his head.
‘We have evidence that your father killed four women back in the nineteen fifties, Brian.’ Joe sat back and waited for a reaction.
‘No comment.’ Selly leaned back and stared into Joe’s eyes, challenging him to a duel of wills.
‘There’s a collection of antique dolls in his attic. Did you ever go up there?’
‘No.’
‘You said the dolls at your house belonged to your father. You must have got them from the attic.’
‘They were in the dining room. I took ’em from the dining room.’
‘And you’ve never seen this box before?’
Selly shook his head. ‘I’ve just lost my father and you’re just sitting there accusing him of being a killer. It’s not right.’
‘Neither is killing innocent women,’ Joe snapped. He glanced at Sunny Porter who was sitting by his side, looking as though he was dying for a smoke. Emily had gone upstairs to bring the super up to date with developments, muttering something about steak and chips. Joe too realised that he was hungry. But then that was his own fault. He’d volunteered to interview Selly but now he was beginning to regret it. The man wasn’t talking and, although they had plenty of evidence against the father, the evidence against the son was purely circumstantial – nothing that would stand up in court.
Jack the Ripper had had a double event … so why shouldn’t it happen in modern-day Eborby? Two for the price of one.
It was getting dark and the archway leading into Singmass Close from Andrewgate was in deep shadow. The woman who always wore black as though she was in perpetual mourning had just returned to number six with her brat in tow – and the killer had watched as she opened the front door. She’d been smiling and she looked relieved, happy.
But that would soon change.
CHAPTER 26
The next morning Emily arrived in the office, remarkably cheerful, in spite of the fact that Brian Selly, her chief suspect, had been released on bail because they hadn’t enough evidence to charge him. But when Joe went to see her just before the morning briefing, he discovered the reason for her good mood.
‘This has just come in,’ she said, handing him a sheet of paper, her eyes twinkling. ‘Fingerprints found at Caleb Selly’s loft. Spot the interesting names?’
Joe smiled as he read the list. ‘Caleb Selly was there of course. And Brian Selly. Philip Derby’s prints were there too. And Benjamin Cassidy’s.’
‘Brian Selly claimed he’d never been up there. And what the hell were Philip Derby and Benjamin Cassidy doing up in Caleb Selly’s loft?’
‘Collecting dolls to leave next to the bodies of their victims?’ Joe suggested, half flippantly. ‘It says here there were also some unidentified prints.’
‘Could be anyone. Some plumber or builder who’s done some work up there maybe.’
‘It’ll be interesting to see what Derby and Cassidy have got to say for themselves. I take it Gordon Pledge is out of the frame for this.’
He saw Emily nod. ‘He didn’t even know his estranged wife was renting a house in Singmass Close – wasn’t even sure where it was. There’s absolutely no evidence that he ever knew Caleb Selly. And as it looks like he didn’t kill Francesca Putney …’ She didn’t finish the sentence. Gordon Pledge could probably be struck from their list. She looked up at Joe. He could see the frustration in her eyes. ‘Oh Joe, this should be so straightforward now we’ve discovered the source of the dolls. But we keep going round in bloody circles like flaming flies around a light bulb. If we could just nail Brian Selly …’
Joe sat down and considered the matter for a few moments. ‘I want to know about Derby and Cassidy’s involvement.’
Emily stood up. ‘It’s about time Selly suffered a bit more police harassment, don’t you think?’
Joe felt uncomfortable. If Emily pushed things too far with Selly, it could be counter-productive.
‘Isn’t your Maddy back today?’
Joe looked at her, surprised at the sudden change of subject. ‘Late afternoon.’ When he’d called her briefly the night before just to confirm her plans, she hadn’t mentioned the job in London and neither had he. Although it had been suspended between them like a rotting cadaver dangling on the end of a noose.
Emily gave him her version of a sympathetic smile, so quick he might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking at her. ‘I’ve got to see the super … report on our progress. Why don’t you go and have another word with Selly?’ She grinned. ‘And if we’re lucky, he might even want you to hear his confession.’
Joe forced himself to smile even though he’d heard Emily’s joke many times before.
Half an hour later Joe found himself in Abbotsthorpe, parked in front of Brian Selly’s house. Selly’s car wasn’t there so he assumed that, as his father had just died, there would be arrangements to make: funeral directors and paperwork. But when he called at the house, the mousy Mrs Selly said that Brian had gone to work. Saturday was his busiest day. He hadn’t been close to
his father so he saw no point in taking time off and wasting his precious holiday entitlement. Joe tried not to show his surprise, asking instead for the address of Brian’s work and promising to be discretion itself. Brian Selly’s colleagues wouldn’t even know the police had called.
Brian Selly was manager of a car showroom – the Mercedes place on the Tadcaster Road, which explained the shiny new black saloon he drove. Joe parked outside the showroom, experiencing a prickle of envy as he ran his eyes over the gleaming lumps of expensive metal on the forecourt. He gave his name to the receptionist but left out his rank. He wanted to gain Selly’s confidence and catch him off his guard.
He found Selly sitting in his office, smart in red tie and shirt sleeves, his suit jacket flung casually over the back of his chair.
He looked up at Joe and scowled. ‘Look, I’ve told you everything I know. And if you weren’t so bloody incompetent you’d know I’m telling the truth.’
‘I won’t keep you long – promise.’
Joe’s attitude took the wind out of Selly’s sails, which was the intention. It’s hard to argue with someone who’s being calm, reasonable and apologetic. He sat back. ‘Go on then.’
‘In your statement you said you had never been up in your father’s attic.’
‘Well … er … I didn’t say I’d never been up there. I just didn’t make a habit of it.’
Joe decided not to comment on this change of direction. ‘We found a number of fingerprints up there. Actually I think you know the people from your … er … parties. Philip Derby?’ He tilted his head to one side expectantly and waited for an explanation.
Brian Selly suddenly came over all co-operative. ‘I asked him if he could come and have a look at some of dad’s old books. He bought the lot for fifty quid.’
‘They were in the attic?’
‘That’s right. Like I said, he went up there to have a look at them and he bought the lot.’
‘And what about Benjamin Cassidy?’
Selly snorted. ‘The headmaster.’ An unpleasant smirk spread across his face.
‘He visited your father?’
‘Yeah … something about his kids doing decorating for old folk.’
‘Why did he go up into the attic?’
Brian Selly frowned and shook his head. ‘Search me.’
An hour later Joe Plantagenet was standing on the threshold of Benjamin Cassidy’s flat. It was a spacious apartment, occupying the entire ground floor of an elegant Georgian house; a home fit for the headmaster of a prestigious school, an upright pillar of the community. But maybe now Cassidy’s furtive sexual tastes had been exposed he’d probably choose to move on.
Joe could say one thing for Cassidy, he was putting on a brave face. From his manner nobody would ever guess at his disgrace. He had all the front of a professional politician caught with one hand in the till and the other up his mistress’s skirt. He gave Joe a businesslike smile but didn’t invite him in until Joe asked if they could talk indoors. He wasn’t going to be kept on the doorstep like a naughty schoolboy.
When they were in the drawing room Cassidy sat on the sofa, his fingers arched and an expression of polite expectation on his face. He still looked every inch the headmaster even though he’d now been forced to resign. Perhaps, Joe thought, he’d never be able to break the habit.
‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ Joe began. ‘We have reason to believe a man called Edward Caleb Selly killed four women in the Singmass Close area in the nineteen fifties. You know his son – Brian Selly.’
Cassidy looked wary. ‘I don’t see what this has to do with me?’
‘You also knew Edward Caleb Selly. You wrote to him.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Joe produced the clear plastic folder containing the letter and passed it to him. He noticed the relief on the man’s face as he scanned it.
‘My secretary wrote these letters. I just signed them. I can’t possibly remember everyone we contacted as part of the community project.’
‘The letter clearly states that you visit the old people involved in the project.’ Cassidy spread his hands as though conceding Joe the point. ‘And you must remember Caleb Selly. You went up into his loft. And before you deny it, we found your fingerprints up there. Along with his collection of antique dolls. Some of those dolls were taken, Mr Cassidy.’ Another pause for effect. Joe was starting to enjoy this. ‘And those dolls were found next to the two girls killed in Singmass Close. We found other items on the premises as well. Stockings that had been used to strangle the victims … and body parts.’
The last words made Cassidy turn pale. He leaned forward, the nonchalant manner suddenly gone. ‘Look, Inspector, I’d hardly have allowed my students to decorate his house if I’d known he was some sort of serial killer. We do have a strict child protection policy in place at Hicklethorpe Manor.’
‘And you’ve always taken your responsibility for your students so seriously, haven’t you, Mr Cassidy? Especially the female ones.’ Joe knew this last remark was wicked, but sometimes temptation is hard to resist.
Cassidy’s face turned beetroot red and he blustered for a few seconds. Then he took a deep breath. ‘Natalie Parkes was over eighteen and she was hardly an innocent victim, I assure you.’ He leaned further forward, man to man. ‘In fact I’d say that she took the lead … if you see what I mean.’
Joe ignored the remark. ‘Tell me about the community project. Was there any particular reason why Natalie and Karen Strange were assigned to Selly’s house?’
‘They were friends. We tried to keep friends together. There was a boy there too. Andrew Young.’
‘I’d like to talk to him.’
Cassidy gave a bitter smile. ‘You’re asking the wrong person, Inspector. I’m no longer in charge at Hicklethorpe Manor. You’ll have to ask my deputy. Sorry, I mean the acting head … Mrs Walton. But I’m sure there’ll be no problem. The boy’s over eighteen.’
Just like Natalie, Joe thought as he took his leave. But he said nothing. Cassidy had begun to pay for his stupidity. And things could only get worse. However, Joe found it impossible to feel sorry for him.
The killer turned the pages of the exercise book he’d found in the house, covered with Caleb Selly’s neat, almost childish handwriting.
Marion never suspected a thing. She even smiled when she told me to get lost. I had the stocking in my pocket and I could feel it, soft and slippery in my fingers. I waited until she’d turned away. I couldn’t do it if she was facing me, looking into my eyes. I felt this power welling up inside me just like I’d felt when Alice started to walk away from me. How I’d wanted to dance with Alice. How I’d wanted to kiss her and feel her little breasts but she wasn’t having any of it. I had the stockings I’d bought for her in my pocket – real silk – but she told me to stuff them. She was a married woman, she said. And there was no way she’d ever fancy a man who was pig ugly and played with bloody dolls for a living anyroad.
When she started to walk away the children began laughing and giggling. ‘She doesn’t like you, Caleb. She thinks you’re pig ugly. You play with dolls, Caleb.’ Giggle, giggle. How I wanted to kill them – to shut their stupid mouths.
I felt this fury inside and before I knew it, I’d taken the stocking out of my pocket. I ran after her and saw that she was smirking like them – like the kids. She told me to take a running jump but I put the stocking round her neck and squeezed. When she fell to the ground I thought she were dead and I felt so glad, like I’d got rid of their voices out of my head. Like they’d seen what I could do and now they’d leave me alone.
Then I saw that her shoe had come off and I could see her bare foot. It were so perfect … like one of those sculptures in the art gallery. All pale and perfect. She’d loved dancing but she’d never dance with me … never. And that one time I asked her she’d just laughed at me. I don’t know why I took my knife from my pocket and cut off her big toe but it felt right. She’d never dance with me so I
made sure she’d never dance again. I’d worked in a butcher’s once and I knew how to cut between the bones so it was easy. She’d never bloody dance again. Never.
Caleb had written it all down. His thoughts. His feelings. Everything he’d done. And the killer had read it through so many times. It had started when Alice Meadows had rejected his advances. Alice had survived somehow. But with the others he’d made sure he’d done the job properly.
It was time to arrange things, to send the e-mail. ‘From Dead Dolls. Double Event Tonight’.
CHAPTER 27
Jamilla had received her orders from Joe. She was to go to Bacombe and have another word with Karen Strange. It was Saturday so she’d probably find her in.
It was Karen herself who answered the door. Jamilla thought she looked nervous. But then a week ago her best friend had been murdered and that would be enough to shake anybody.
Jamilla smiled to put the girl at her ease. ‘Don’t worry, Karen. It’s just routine. I’d like to talk about the community work you did back in the summer. You did some decorating for the elderly on the Drifton Estate, I believe?’
Karen nodded.
‘You decorated the house of a man called Selly.’
Karen wrinkled her nose. ‘I remember. The place bloody stank.’
‘You were with Natalie and a boy called Andrew Young.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Did any of you go up into the attic?’
‘Andy did, I think. He was looking for something we could use as dust sheets.’
‘Did Andrew say he’d seen anything unusual in the attic?’ Jamilla watched the girl’s face. She’d been surprised and rather appalled when she’d heard about the dolls in the attic. She’d always loved dolls when she was small but since she’d been involved in this case, she’d begun to regard her former playthings as slightly sinister. The association with violent, perverted death had ruined their innocence for ever.
Karen shrugged. ‘He said he’d seen some dolls up there. He said they were antiques … probably worth a bit. He said the old bloke probably didn’t realise how much they’d fetch.’