by Graham Smith
Beth felt her own smile widening as she realised the undertone to the conversation she’d just had. With Hilton, she now had a high-ranking ally, but his parting shot at the end had also been a warning. To the best of her knowledge, only the four members of FMIT knew about Thompson christening the killer with the derogatory name ‘Justin’, yet the chief super had heard about it. That meant he had spies in the camp.
Another pleasant hour passed and then the host stood on a chair to make a speech. He was a good orator who could work a crowd, but when he waxed lyrical about the rape charity and called Beth and Forster to his side, Beth knew the perspiration covering her body had little to do with the evening sun.
As she posed for pictures with the host and Forster, Beth could feel the mayor’s hand on her back. Unlike the host, who’d kept his arm at shoulder height, the mayor’s hand was lower. So low she could feel his fingertips against the waistband of her skirt. When he lifted his hand away, he ran one finger upwards over the knuckles of her spine.
Had Ethan done the same thing, Beth would have shivered for a different reason. Forster’s smile told her that he thought he’d had the effect she expected from Ethan.
As confusing as this was for Beth, due to the way she was beginning to feel about the mayor, she knew that so long as she was seeing Ethan, nothing would happen.
After another half hour, she made her excuses and left. Forster gave her a goodbye hug that saw his fingers again caress the fastening of her bra, and arranged for them to meet later in the week to start getting the charity established.
Seventy
2 August
Dear Diary
I let Derek seduce me and forsook every vow I said in God’s house.
Howard must never learn of this secret.
I no longer feel that I can cuddle my husband because I fear he’ll feel my betrayal against his skin.
My marriage lies broken around me and I do not have the strength to fix it.
If Howard learns of what I’ve done, he’ll be destroyed. I cannot let that happen.
Goodbye, Dear Diary. You’ve been a good friend to me. A companion through my life. You’ve never judged me. I, however, have judged myself, and I’m broken by what I’ve become.
P.S. At least I’ll soon see poor darling Harriet once again, and am safe knowing that whoever raped and killed her will be going to Hell.
Seventy-One
Beth raised her glass in a silent toast to the day’s successes. Ethan chinked his pint against her wine glass and gave her a smile before he continued with his story.
Rather than dine somewhere in Penrith, they’d driven the five miles to Langwathby. It had been Ethan’s suggestion and Beth liked the idea of having him to herself without any of their friends joining them at any point. They both knew a lot of people in Penrith, and by coming out to the Drover’s Rest they’d reduced the chances of interruptions to their conversation. Being out here would also mean she could focus on Ethan rather than get distracted with her habit of scanning her surroundings looking for the man with kisses tattooed on his neck.
The Drover’s Rest was a typical village hotel-cum-pub. There was a small dining room and a comfortable bar which had a beamed ceiling and an earthy, yet homely feel. It was the kind of place where strangers are a welcome distraction to the regulars. Pewter tankards hung from eyehooks screwed into the beams and there was more chance of getting a flight to the moon than a cocktail.
‘So there we are, treating this woman for a broken wrist when her husband appears at the ambulance door. He’s naked from the waist up and his jeans are hanging down low enough to show that he’s wearing women’s underwear.’ Ethan took a drink of his pint. ‘Next thing, this big bloke comes tearing out of the house, apologising to the woman. He’s six three at least, built like the proverbial brick outhouse with a shaved head and a beard you could hide a badger in. Thing is, he’s wearing a bright-red dress with a split in the side that’s opening up enough to show his stocking tops.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘The only thing I could do. I leaned out the window and said, “I’m sorry, madam, but we’re treating a patient” and left him for the husband to deal with.’
‘Oh my god. What happened next?’
‘We took her to hospital and she got her arm fixed. Turns out she knew her husband liked to wear women’s clothing, but she didn’t know her brother did as well.’
‘So how did she break her wrist?’ Beth lifted her drink and guided the straw to her mouth.
‘She did that when she punched the brother.’ Ethan fiddled with a beer mat. ‘She wasn’t very big, but by hell she was a wild woman. Even with her broken wrist she wanted to go back out and have another go at him.’
Beth scrunched round the table a little so she was close enough to lay her head on Ethan’s shoulder for a moment. It was an act of intimacy, but she wanted him to know how she was feeling and she’d always believed actions spoke louder than words. As much as she found Ethan handsome, it was his caring nature that drew her to him more than anything. On their first date, he’d been passionate when telling her about his job and the various highs and lows it brought into his life.
She drained her glass and went to the bar to get some more drinks as Ethan stepped outside for a cigarette. He claimed not to be a heavy smoker, but his smoking was the one thing about him that she didn’t like. To her, smoking was a smelly habit that shortened lives, but it was his life, and so far, he’d always made sure that he had mints to hide the smoke on his breath.
O’Dowd had called her earlier to let her know that Cooper had confessed in the hope of getting a lesser sentence when his case went to trial. The only victim he’d stood firm on not being responsible for was Felicia Evans.
As a rule Beth wasn’t a big drinker, but tonight was a night for celebration. Not only had she caught a murderer and a rapist, but she’d also got the necessary evidence to guarantee a conviction. Ethan could leave his car in the car park; she’d run him through for it in the morning.
Beth suddenly realised the subtext behind her plan of having more drinks than usual. She was building her confidence up so she could take Ethan to bed.
They chatted for an hour, and as Ethan went to visit the bathroom, a man walked into the bar. As a reflex action borne of long habit, her eyes flicked to his neck.
Beth’s mouth tightened when she saw the two lipstick kisses tattooed onto the side of the man’s neck. One pink and the other scarlet.
The man asked the barman for his usual as Beth turned her face away from him.
Kisses. Tattoo. Pain. Justice. The four words were shouted in her head, but her mouth never uttered a sound.
She’d been looking for this man for four years.
He was one of the men who’d been fighting the night a broken bottle had slammed into her cheek.
He wasn’t the one who’d held the bottle, but he was the one who’d deflected it into her face.
Ethan came over with a last drink for them while they waited for the taxi to arrive. All Beth wanted to do was go and confront the man, ask if he knew who she was, demand to know if he’d ever thought about the innocent woman who’d fared worse than either him or the man he was fighting.
She’d dreamed of this moment and what she’d do should it ever arrive.
All those plans went from her mind as she sat and pretended to listen to what Ethan was saying. Now that she was in this position, she was at a loss as to what to do. Her instincts told her to stay calm and to try to learn more about the man. To find out who he was, to discover who he’d been fighting, as his opponent had been the one to escalate the fight by smashing the bottle to use as a weapon.
It might have been the wine she’d drunk or the fact the man at the bar had never been punished for his part in her disfigurement, but something made Beth throw caution to the wind.
She rose to her feet, grabbed her purse and strode over to the bar, her heels pocking on the tiled floor.
Whe
n she got to the bar she made sure that she was at Neck Kisses’ right-hand side so her scarred cheek would be on full view. He didn’t look her way, wasn’t bothered about anything except his mobile.
Beth made sure her voice was a little louder than it needed to be. ‘Can I get two bags of cheese and onion crisps, please?’ She added a little slur to her voice for effect, but she’d never felt more sober.
Neck Kisses turned and flicked his eyes over her. There was no spark of recognition. He took in the scar, but he didn’t look at it any more or any less than most people. All he did was give her a polite nod and twist his head back to his mobile.
Now she knew he didn’t recognise her, Beth felt a strong sense of elation. She’d be able to come back here another time. She’d engage him in conversation, find out who he was and then she’d be able to pounce. Get the justice she’d always been denied.
A double-beep from outside signalled the taxi had arrived.
As they travelled back to Penrith, Beth took Ethan’s hand in hers. Today had been a good day and she didn’t want it to end.
When Ethan leaned in for a kiss, Beth responded with a hunger she hadn’t realised was inside her.
Seventy-Two
Beth printed off the transcription of Cooper’s interview and the subsequent confession and started inputting the details into her spreadsheet. The more she read, the more she felt that her theory about Cooper and Felicia Evans was correct.
Cooper had denied killing and sexually abusing Felicia Evans and despite seeing first-hand what a monster he was, she believed him on this point. When she’d shared her concerns with O’Dowd, the DI had been dismissive and had demanded proof, as she believed he wasn’t coughing to that murder as he’d not actually been able to penetrate the dying woman himself.
Regardless of this, Beth had spent the day poring over her spreadsheet and every report she could find.
O’Dowd was preparing to leave when Beth called her over.
‘What is it, Beth?’ O’Dowd looked at her watch. ‘It’s the hubster’s birthday today and we’re going out for a meal. He’ll also expect to come across to my side of the bed tonight, so I’m going to need time to shave my legs before we go out.’
It took all of Beth’s self-control to blot out the mental images O’Dowd’s words were painting.
‘I have evidence that Cooper didn’t kill Felicia Evans.’
‘Show me.’
Beth turned her monitor round so O’Dowd could see the spreadsheet. ‘The search of Cooper’s house didn’t unearth two vital things. Number one, Felicia’s nightie. We know he kept the clothes of his other victims, so hers being missing is an anomaly.’
‘It’s little more than circumstantial. I need something better.’
‘Please, let me finish what I’m saying, ma’am. They also failed to find any kind of sex toy that could have caused the internal injuries Felicia had. Most of all, the timings were wrong; the more I thought about it, the more I realised that he had to build himself up to the attacks. Even when he had Willow at his mercy, he took his time preparing both Willow and himself for the attack Kieran and I thwarted. There’s another key fact, and that’s that he was raping them because he needed to get his rocks off via penetration. Whomever it was who murdered Felicia didn’t have penetrative sex with her. Instead they used a sex toy.’
‘Are you sure of that? What if he did his thing and then used the sex toy to cover his tracks?’
Beth nodded. ‘I thought of that too, but it still stands that there was no sex toy found at his house. If he was changing his methods then he would have had one to use on Willow Brown, wouldn’t he?’
‘Dammit, Beth. Are you certain there’s another murderous rapist out there?’
‘Yes and no. When I got as far as I’ve just explained to you, I checked what Digital Forensics got from Cooper’s iPad. He was watching porn well into the early hours of last Monday morning. Right around the time Felicia was being killed and her corpse defiled.’ Beth looked into O’Dowd’s eyes. ‘You know all the accusations against the mayor? Well I think that Felicia was killed and the mayor’s credit card was dumped with her so the mayor would be tied to her murder. In effect, she was killed so her corpse could be used to frame the mayor. Also, Digital Forensics found a whole load of pictures of the other victims on Cooper’s mobile, but none of Felicia.’
‘Shit, shite and buggery.’ Another look at the watch. ‘He’ll go spare if I have to call off tonight. Can you track down the mayor and tell him to stay in a hotel? He needs to be protected.’
‘Of course, ma’am.’
Beth walked into the foyer of the Halston Hotel in Carlisle and asked for directions to the Lonsdale Suite. She’d remembered Forster had told her he was attending a function here, and when he hadn’t answered his mobile, she’d travelled up to Carlisle to find him face to face.
She could have done without having to drive to Carlisle as she’d hoped to meet up with Ethan when his shift finished.
The receptionist gave her directions to the Lonsdale Suite and as she walked along the corridors, Beth flashed back to childhood memories of being brought to the cinema which had once stood on this site.
When she entered the room she had to cast her eyes around every table until she found Forster. As befitted his station, he was seated at a table next to the small stage where a well-dressed man was delivering a speech about affordable housing.
Beth was aware the eyes of the room were on her as she weaved between the various tables until she reached Forster. The tap she gave his shoulder startled him, but he recovered his composure in a flash.
‘I need to talk to you. Urgently.’
A sharp nod. ‘Two minutes.’
Beth left the mayor to make his apologies and made her way back to the corridor.
Forster was as good as his word and joined Beth as she was tapping out a message to Ethan.
‘What is it?’ His face was flushed and Beth caught traces of brandy on his breath.
‘It’s not good news, I’m afraid. I’ve spent today reviewing the case against the Lakeland Ripper.’
‘Yes?’
Beth caught more than just inquisition in the single word. There was a trace of apprehension and possibly even a quiver of fear.
‘Specifically I was looking at the murder of Felicia Evans. The Lakeland Ripper denied killing her and we found no evidence whatsoever to tie him to her murder.’
‘I don’t follow you.’ A glance back at the Lonsdale Suite. ‘Can you explain what you’re getting at, please?’
‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we believe that Felicia Evans was killed for the sole purpose of framing you. When you put everything together it’s a definite campaign. First the minor attacks, then the child abuse images were secreted onto your computer so they’d be there when your PC was taken in response to the anonymous letter sent to the chief constable. When the letter sat unopened for almost a fortnight, the person framing you escalated his campaign by stealing your credit card and then leaving it beside Felicia Evans’s corpse. There was even an invitation to one of your Christmas balls to make it crystal clear which Derek Forster owned the credit card.’
Beth used a soft tone as she spoke, but there was no lessening the impact of her words. The colour drained from the mayor’s face and he looked as if he was about to collapse.
‘Are you sure? Please, tell me this is a sick joke.’ There was no mistaking the beseeching tone or the look of desperation in Forster’s eyes.
‘I’m sorry, but while we can never be certain of anything without hard evidence, everything we’ve worked out suggests that what I’m telling you is correct.’
‘Oh God. That poor woman. She died because of me. Because someone hates me. Surely ruining me isn’t as precious as that lady’s life?’
‘If it helps, and I don’t expect that it does, she had terminal cancer and only had a few weeks to live.’
The mayor shook his head then knuckled at both of his eyes
. ‘It doesn’t help. She died because of me. Nothing you say, however well-meaning, will help. She died because of me and I have to find a way to live with that fact.’
Beth was full of sympathy for Forster, but she still hadn’t got to the reason why she was here.
‘You will. However, you’ve more pressing concerns at the moment. We believe the person who killed Felicia Evans will try and attack you again. Only now that everything else he’s tried has failed, we’re concerned that he’ll try and attack you in person.’ Beth locked eyes with Forster as she was unsure her words were sinking in. ‘We’d like you to stay in a hotel tonight until we can organise some protection for you or catch the person who’s trying to frame you.’
Forster gave a shake of his head as if he could toss out the bad thoughts and escape the fact his life may well be under threat.
‘No. No way. I won’t hear of it. I’m not staying in a hotel. If this… this despicable fiend is going to target me, then there’s no way on earth I’m having anyone else’s life put at risk.’ Another shake of the head. ‘I’ll stay in my own home and take my chances.’
‘Derek. That’s not a good idea. You’ll be safer in a hotel.’
‘Maybe. But it’s bad enough one person has died because of me. There’s no way I’m prepared to gamble that the person after me won’t kill a hotel worker or another guest to get at me. Not happening.’
Behind Forster, Beth saw the doors to the Lonsdale Suite open and a smartly attired woman approach them.
‘Derek, is everything okay? You’re due to say your piece in a couple of minutes.’
Forster gave his head another shake and took a deep breath. ‘I’m fine.’ His gaze shifted to Beth. ‘I’ve a speech to give and then I’ve got the closing address to make. After that, I’m going home.’
The determination in Forster’s expression told Beth that it would be a waste of time arguing with him. She made a snap decision and fired a question at Forster.