by Rob Ashman
‘Maybe she discarded them, threw them away,’ Bagley said.
‘Maybe. But that doesn’t fit the profile, does it? Serial killers like to keep trophies, and if she had the intent of framing Palmer, I would have expected her to plant them on him. They are a key piece of evidence that’s missing.’
Bagley flashed a glance at Quade. ‘That’s right. We’ve been so absorbed in building the evidence case against her, we missed that.’
‘Do you have any ideas?’ asked Quade.
‘I do, ma’am. I reckon she’s planted them in Palmer’s flat. We searched his place once and came up with nothing but I think we need to tear the place apart.’
Quade stroked her chin.
‘I like it,’ said Bagley. ‘Get a team together.’
‘Wow, wait a minute,’ Quade said. ‘Palmer is the victim here. We can ill afford to be making matters worse by smashing his front door. Go pick him up from work. I’ll sort the warrant.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Kray turned her back and walked away, grinning from ear to ear.
The team assembled in the incident room. Kray briefed them on what was going to happen. Bagley went to wait at the takeaway with the others, while Kray and Tavener headed off to the factory to pick up Palmer.
Kray and Tavener walked into the reception of Sandringham Products. It was light and airy with a half-moon desk set against one wall. Sitting behind it was a young man wearing glasses. He looked up and smiled.
‘I’m Acting DCI Kray. We need to speak with one of your employees. His name is Kevin Palmer.’ Kray flashed her warrant card.
The young man looked as if this was an everyday occurrence. ‘I’ll see if he’s available.’ He picked up the phone and scrolled through the pre-programed numbers. ‘Oh, hi, this is Mat in reception. I have two police officers here who want to speak with Kevin Palmer.’ The voice on the other end went into a long rambling speech. He cupped his hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Kevin’s not in work today. He was due on shift but hasn’t showed. His supervisor is on his way. He wants to speak with you.’
Kray raised her eyebrows. Normally, they get told to bugger off.
Two minutes later, Vinny Burke burst through the doors at the back.
‘I’m the shift supervisor,’ he announced. ‘This is the second time this week that Kevin has been a no-show and you guys are making my life a bloody misery. How many more times are you going to stop him coming to work?’
Kray read the name sewed into his white coat. ‘Sorry to hear that, Mr Burke, but we thought he was on shift today, so if he hasn’t turned in, it’s not down to us.’
‘Well, it would be good if when you do detain him, you give him the opportunity to call, at least that gives us a chance to plan around him not being here.’
Kray had her second bombshell moment of the day. She took her phone from her pocket and dialled a number.
‘Do you have your works phone on you, Mr Burke?
‘Err, yes.’ He took it from his pocket. His mobile remained silent while a continuous tone came from Kray’s phone saying the number she had dialled was unobtainable. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Is that your usual work’s mobile?’
‘Yeah, I’ve had it ever since I was made supervisor. What is this about?’
‘Nothing, Mr Burke, sorry to have troubled you this morning,’ Kray said, before turning and walking off.
‘If you see Kevin, tell him he’s on another warning,’ Burke called after her and Tavener.
‘I’ll be sure to do that.’
In the car, Tavener turned to Kray. ‘Care to tell me what happened in there?’
‘When we had Palmer in custody, he asked to make a call to his workplace to tell them he would not be on shift. He gave me the number and I made the call. I spoke to a man called Vinny Burke.’
‘The man we just met. So?’
‘The Vinny Burke I spoke to had a stammer, and the mobile I called was not the one in his pocket. Palmer played us. The call I made was the signal to abduct Vanessa Wilding. Fuck!’
Forty minutes later, Kray and Tavener were pushing open the door to Mr Woo’s Takeaway for the second time that day. A few customers lined the walls waiting for their lunch, intrigued with the fact that the place was full of coppers. The warrant must have proved more difficult to obtain than hoped.
Bagley was talking to Joseph, who was getting pissed off with his shop being used as a meeting place for the police. Kray fought her way to the front, standing shoulder to shoulder with Bagley.
‘I am DI Bagley and we have a warrant here to search the flat of Kevin Palmer.’
Joseph frowned, ‘But my mother said–’
‘Yes, we were here the other day,’ Kray jumped in. ‘We’d like to take another look, if that’s okay. I think Kevin said you keep a key to the flat here?’
‘Err, yes, that’s fine.’ Joseph beetled off into the back. The customers were delighted with the floor show. He returned and handed it over.
‘Thank you.’ They trooped up the stairs, Tavener and Kray hanging back.
‘Where the fuck is Palmer? Do you think he’s in the flat?’ Tavener asked.
‘Don’t know. It will make things lively if he is.’
The sound of the door opening at the top of the stairs was followed by the sound of Bagley giving instructions. Palmer was not at home.
‘Okay, we are looking for something small. Maybe a container or a bag,’ said Bagley. ‘We need to be thorough but try not to break anything.’
‘I’ll take the bathroom,’ said Tavener.
‘Right behind you,’ added Bagley. Kray also followed them into the cramped room.
While the other officers were pulling drawers out and had the settee turned over, the three of them rooted around the bathroom. Kray sat beside the shower cubical and noticed the corner of the wood around the base standing proud of the seal. She picked at it with her fingernail. It was loose.
Kray took a pen from her pocket and worked the nib in between the joint and prised it away. The wooden surround came free. She flicked on the torch on her phone and shone the beam into the gap under the shower tray.
‘Give me some room, guys,’ she asked, lying on her side. A plastic bag was stuffed behind the plumbing, against the wall. She could just reach it, her fingertips clawing at the bag.
She was aware of the conversation going on above her between Tavener and Bagley.
‘Check this out, Dan. There’s tool marks around the beading on the window.’
Kray was only half listening.
She retrieved the bag, sat up and opened it up, tipping the boxes and jars onto the tiles. What the hell are these?
‘Go get a knife from the kitchen,’ Bagley said. Tavener did as he was told.
Kray got up and opened the medicine cabinet, checking out the boxes of Paracetamol and Cold and Flu remedies. They contained the same tablets as those stored under the shower.
Tavener returned and handed the knife over to Bagley who set to work.
‘The beading has come away from the moulding,’ he said.
Kray’s head spun with a thousand possibilities.
This little piggy went to market,
This little piggy stayed and home,
This little piggy had roast beef,
This little piggy had none,
And this little piggy went…
The final line resonated in her head.
‘Shit, the whole double-glazing panel comes out.’ Tavener said as Bagley popped it from the moulding.
Kray ran the lines over and over.
And this little piggy went…
She put the tablets in the bag and bolted for the door.
‘Fuck me,’ Bagley said.
Kray glanced back to see Bagley with his head and shoulders through the gap in the wall where the window had once been.
48
Kray drew her car onto the drive. Palmer’s car was already there, pulled as far forward as it would go. She picked the plastic
bag off the passenger seat and got out. The boot lid popped open and she reached in for her telescopic baton.
Kray walked around the back of the house to the garden to open the patio door. It was unlocked. She crept into the dining room and could see a bunch of screwed up papers and a mobile phone sitting on a three-legged tripod on the dining room table. The tripod was sitting on a pile of books.
Through the archway, Kray could see Palmer lying on the sofa. She flicked open the baton and went inside. His face was ashen. He looked like he’d aged fifteen years since their last encounter.
‘Palmer,’ she said. ‘Palmer, wake up.’ She reached down to feel his pulse. It was weak and erratic.
Kray pulled her phone from her pocket. ‘Can I have an ambulance please to fifteen Maybourne Crescent. It’s urgent.’
‘No, no, don’t do that,’ Palmer woke up, his voice was thin and croaky. He struggled to sit up and slumped back into the cushions.
‘You need a hospital.’
‘No, Acting DCI Kray, I need two things. Firstly, I want to know how my wife is doing, and secondly, I need a stiff drink.’
‘Sadie’s not so good.’
‘Pleased to hear it.’ A satisfied smile spread across his face. ‘I thought I had more time, but it would appear not.’
Kray tossed the bag of tablets onto the sofa next to Palmer. Cartons and plastic bottles spilled out onto the floor.
‘How long did they give you?’
‘Three to six months without treatment, nine to twelve months with a mix of chemo and radio.’
‘And you chose the “without” option?’
Palmer nodded.
‘How long have you had?’ she asked.
‘Five months.’
‘Sometimes, when it happens, it happens fast.’
‘So, they say.’ Palmer pushed himself up against with his elbows. His body shook with the effort. ‘Is this the end of the line? I somehow pictured it differently.’
‘We have a team over at your flat. I suspect one of them is climbing out of the bathroom window and onto the top of the wall at this very moment. So, yes, this is the end of the line.’
There was a long pause.
‘How did you figure it out?’ Palmer broke the silence.
‘I knew all along, even when the evidence was piling up against Sadie, I knew.
‘It’s a shame, Roz. I wanted the fun to last a little longer but I guess I’ve had a good run. Presumably that bitch of an ex-wife of mine is in the cells awaiting a court date. I bet she shit herself when she was charged. Sadie always thought she could brass her way out of anything, but not this time.’
‘Why did you do it?’
‘That’s easy. I’m surprised you have to ask. To make her suffer, the way she made me suffer. I wanted her life to fall apart. I wanted her to know how it feels when you lose everything. When every single thing that makes your life worthwhile crumbles to dust.’
‘This was about revenge.’
‘Oh yes, it was that alright. I would lie in my cell at night, fantasising about how I would kill them all, one by one, watching the life drain from their bodies. Then, leaving a trail of crumbs for you to follow. A trail of crumbs leading straight to my wife. Of course, I had to throw you off the scent first by putting myself in the frame, but…’
‘Did you use the patio door to get in and plant the key?’
‘Yes, it was the easiest way. Mind you, I had to come back four times to get the hair from her hairbrush. She kept locking the damned thing.’
‘I remembered reading about the patio door in your statement to the police.’
‘Very good, Roz. Well done.’ Palmer hissed a laugh.
‘Who rented the lockup for you?’
‘I hired a hooker. You would never believe the look on her face when I told her what I wanted. She said she’d done some kinky shit in her time but never anything like that. She reckoned it was the easiest sixty quid she’d ever earned, and if I ever wanted to get my rocks off again by hiring more garages – she was the girl for the job.’
Palmer closed his eyes and drifted off. Kray walked over to the dining room table and unwrapped one of the scrunched-up pieces of paper. Palmer stirred again.
‘Is this your confession?’ Kray asked.
‘Yeah, supposed to be. I kept screwing it up. How did you know I was going to confess?’
‘Because your wife was never the fifth little piggy,’ Kray paused. ‘The fifth little piggy was you. That’s how I realised where you were.’
‘Bravo, well done again.’
‘How does the final verse go? And this little piggy went wee, wee, wee all the way home. That’s right, isn’t it, Kevin? You ran all the way home – to your home.’
‘I did.’
‘The origin of the nursery rhyme is French. Everyone thinks that when they say ‘wee’ they are mimicking the noise a pig makes. But it’s not, is it, Kevin…’
‘Ha, no, it’s not.’ He shook his head, croaking out another thin laugh.
‘It’s oui, the French word for yes. The last little pig escapes and runs all the way home saying yes, because he’s escaped being sold at the market.’
‘My word, you have thought this through. I’m impressed.’
‘It took me a while but I got there in the end. You ran all the way home to make your confession – you ran all the way home to say, “Yes”.’
Kray held up the creased paper and read it out loud. ‘Yes, I killed John Graham. Yes, I killed Nigel Chapman. Yes, I killed Vanessa Wilding, and yes, I killed Teresa Franklin. You didn’t want your wife to go to jail, did you, Kevin?’
‘I did, but only for a short while, only until it was my time. I wanted her to feel what it was like. To lose your liberty along with everything else – but I loved her, you see. I couldn’t deprive the kids of their mother, however shit she might be. Despite everything she put me through, I loved her. She was my world…is my world. I wanted to teach her a lesson, that’s all.’
‘Who helped you abduct Vanessa Wilding?’
‘No, no, no. That will go with me to my grave. Don’t try looking, Roz, it won’t help.’
‘He had a stammer, I spoke to him.’
‘I don’t know anything about that.’
Kray took a seat opposite. ‘What stage are you?’ she asked.
‘Stage four.’
‘What is it?’
‘Brain cancer. I have what’s called glioblastomas. It’s a bit of a mouthful, so they affectionately call it GBM4. It’s aggressive and in a place where they can’t operate. All I can do is manage the symptoms, hence all of these.’ Palmer pointed at the drug haul scattered over the carpet. ‘I take steroids that make me sick, followed by anti-sickness pills to keep them down, and painkillers which aren’t working anymore.’
‘It was a nice touch transferring your meds into the other boxes, so when we came around we wouldn’t suspect anything.’
‘I know. I was proud of myself with that one. I couldn’t risk you finding out before I was ready and I knew you would be snooping around.’
‘Were you diagnosed while in prison?’
‘I’m afraid so, by a guy that looked like a geography teacher. I must admit, it did rather take the shine off getting out.’
Kray paused, then said, ‘I got a question.’
‘Really? You seem to have things all worked out.’
‘Where are the toes?’
‘Ah…now, that’s a very good question. I was worried that, despite my taped confession, you guys would not have believed it. I’d built a water tight case against my wife and some police forces don’t like to admit their mistakes. So, the toes were my backstop insurance, in the confession tape I was going to tell you where to look.’
‘And where was that?’
‘In my locker at work. They are in a glass jar, preserved in alcohol.’
‘But she could have planted the jar.’
‘Yes, she could have, but I was intending to send you guys tw
o video clips. Go get my phone.’
Kray went into the dining room and lifted the mobile out of its tripod cradle.
‘Please.’ Palmer held out his hand. He fiddled with the buttons on the screen, his fingers trembling. Eventually, he handed it back. ‘Press play.’
Kray hit the red button. It was Palmer talking into the camera.
‘Hello to everyone in police land. By now, you will know that I killed those people and first made it look as though it was me, then made it look as though I was being framed by my wife. Smart, eh? You will have also received my confession tape in a separate email. That tape tells you where to find the toes of the murdered victims – This little piggy went to market – and all that. Well, just in case you don’t believe the tape, I want you to see this.’
Palmer held a glass jar up to the camera with a clear liquid in it.
‘As I am the fifth little pig, it is only right and proper for me to do the honourable thing.’ He crossed one leg over the other and brought his foot up to the camera. The sole of his foot filled the screen. Then, a thin metal object protruded from between his little toe and the one next to it. A similar one appeared the other side. It was the jaws of a pair of wire cutters.
There was a crunch and the jaws snapped together. Palmer’s high-pitched scream made the speaker buzz, and the video picture twisted and turned in the air. Suddenly, Palmer’s face filled the screen holding the bloody pulp of his severed toe.
‘This should convince you.’ He plopped it into the jar will be with the toes cut from the victims. ‘So, you see, in this way–’
Kray pressed stop. Palmer’s shoulders were rocking back and forth. He was laughing, though it sounded more like air escaping from a tyre.
‘You are fucking sick,’ Kray said.
‘No, Roz, I’m fucking clever. Are you going to arrest me now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Even though I hold the ultimate get out of jail free card?’
‘You might recover enough to go back in jail.’
‘I doubt it.’
The noise of sirens filled the close as the ambulance drew up, and the paramedics piled out and banged on the door. Kray let them in, spoke to them briefly and walked out for some fresh air. She watched through the bay window as they checked his tablets and engaged in measured, well-practiced conversation.