by Jay Nadal
“And her relationship with Richards soured after that point?”
Jackie shrugged. “They went their separate ways.”
“Did you ever see him being violent towards her?”
“No, I witnessed nothing myself, but he gave her hell on more than a few occasions. I told her to leave him, but she never did. He was moody, especially when he’d had a few beers. He would give her the odd slap when she got on his nerves. I think his mood changed after he found her in bed with someone. He would always check her phone, asking a lot of questions, and being a bully. He said women were all the same and didn’t have a nice thing to say about them…or her.”
Scott changed tact, still probing. “Was her relationship with Dalca any better?”
Jackie laughed. “I don’t think better, and relationship belong in the same sentence when it comes to Linda’s love life. He’s a fucking weirdo. Apparently, he was on his laptop till the early hours most nights; I’m surprised he didn’t get calluses on his hand if you know what I mean…”
Scott didn’t respond. “Would you see any reason why he would harm Linda?”
Jackie’s eyes widened. “Do you think he did it?”
“We are keeping an open mind in relation to everyone.” Scott kept things vague. “He was seen in the vicinity the night Linda disappeared.”
“I can’t imagine it was him. He’s not even in the same league as Richards. A weird pervert, yes, a man who batters women, no.”
“Do you think Dalca is Leo’s father?”
“No. Linda had already told me she didn’t think it was him. He just upped and left not long after being told about the pregnancy. I don’t blame him; would you hang around?”
Scott and Abby exchanged a glance.
“How was he so certain? I believe you mentioned that they didn’t have sex that often. But that suggests that they did have sex?” Abby questioned.
Jackie shrugged.
“And Dalca is in a new relationship?”
“Yeah, Lexi Freeman, a twenty-six-year-old redhead. Slim, petite, almost innocent-looking. Bumps in all the right places. All the things that Linda wasn’t.”
The name spiked Scott’s interest again.
Frustrated at feeling they were going around in circles, Abby hardened her tone. “The married man. You must know something about that? A name? What he looked like? Any trivial bits of information that Linda may have divulged?”
Jackie shrugged, a blank unconvincing look fixed on her face. “Seriously, I don’t.” She shook her head. “She said he was generous, married, and had cash to splash. Linda had told him how she was struggling for money. He helped financially after the baby was born. Linda said he would pop by with a couple hundred pounds every week in cash.” Jackie’s eyes glistened with jealousy, as if her friend had just won the lottery.
“How long did that go on for?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a few months, two, perhaps three. Then she was ever so upset, always down and crying. Negative in everything she said. I thought it was postnatal depression or something like that, since you hear about it all the time.”
“Did she get any help for it?”
“I don’t think it was that. After a while she said she felt betrayed and used.”
17
He felt naughty, like a schoolboy playing with his favourite toy when he had been told not to. The shoe and underwear were the only things he thought about as he caressed them. He inhaled the scent from the knickers; they’d been worn. Probably some tart on a night out who had chosen not to wear them again after a night of passion.
He recalled a story online in a dogging forum where a woman had fucked her boyfriend in the car after some heavy petting. Her knickers were damp from the excitement. Not wishing to go home without them, she had dried them on the hot air vent in the car as her boyfriend drove her home.
He smiled as he caressed the high-heeled shoe and imagined perfectly painted toenails through the peep-toe. He stroked the long, spiky stiletto heel before jabbing the tip into his testicles. Erotic pain shot through him as he hardened in seconds. He had carried a fetish for high-heeled shoes for as long as he could remember. There was something elegant, and sexy about a woman in high heels. The way it shaped the leg and how it pronounced the calf muscle. As for showing the arch in the instep of the foot, he failed to find words to describe the overwhelming surge of eroticism that flooded every cell of his being.
Minu had never worn heels; she was firmly ensconced in the flat shoe brigade. When he had suggested that she dress up in sexy underwear and heels, she was repulsed by the idea. “We don’t do things like that,” had been her scornful reply.
She would kill him if she found out again. She had hit the roof last time. Their relationship narrowly survived after his promise never to do it again. She had seen his Internet search history and the X-rated magazines hidden in a lever arch file in the study. She had seen the bank statements detailing the massage parlours he’d visited, and she had seen his scrunched-up boxer shorts tucked under the pile of washing.
He was in the shed at the back of the garden, satisfying his urges and curiosity. The glow of the light reflected off the highly polished patent surface of the shoe. He only wished that the wearer was here with him. Her legs would be wrapped around his waist pulling him in with each thrust, begging to be satisfied, her breasts rocking with the motion, and her high heels calling to be licked. His mind raced like wild horses galloping through fields, his body tensed, and his senses flooded his consciousness with erotic fantasies.
He would find any opportunity to escape to the shed. When Minu was at work, or in the bath.
For now, he would leave his prize well hidden. Knowing it was waiting here for him only added to the naughty boy feelings that coursed through his veins.
The familiar mix of plants, paint and timber created a unique smell that greeted Scott and Abby as they walked into the DIY store. With its metal corrugated walls, and high ceilings, along with the bleeping noise of small forklift trucks, a symphony of sounds reverberated around the large space. Oversized trolleys were pushed in all directions by shoppers and tradesmen alike.
Scott was a strong DIY enthusiast, and often liked nothing more than wandering around these cavernous spaces admiring tools like screwdrivers, cordless drills and SDS drills in a nerdy kind of way. He was well-versed in knowing the difference between a slotted, Phillips or Pozidriv screwdriver.
His face lit up as they walked through, a reaction not lost on Abby. He had told her en route about forthcoming DIY projects planned for his house now that Cara had moved in.
“You are such a weirdo. Only you could get excited walking in a DIY store,” Abby teased. “Next thing you’ll be walking around CID with a tool belt hanging off your waist and calling yourself Bob the Builder.” She laughed.
“Your obsession is the gym, mine is DIY,” he said proudly.
Abby shook her head in disbelief. “I’d keep that to yourself if you value your street rep.”
Having asked, they had been informed that Dalca would be towards the back of the store near the electrical section.
“Andrei Dalca?” Scott asked, producing his warrant card.
The man was in a crouched position, stocking the lower shelves, and glanced up, his eyes peering at them through dark heavy eyebrows. He stood and straightened up, wiping his hands on his already grubby orange apron.
“Yes, that is me,” he replied in a thickset European accent. He avoided eye contact and glanced towards the floor.
Dalca was shorter than Scott, at around five-foot seven inches. His jaw was strong and angular with high cheekbones, and a chin that reminded Scott of James Dean. He had a thickset of gelled hair, with a side parting.
Scott introduced himself and Abby. “We would like to ask you a few questions in connection to an ongoing investigation.”
Dalca shifted his gaze around, embarrassed by the unnecessary attention Scott’s visit generated. Shoppers and store employees cast
cursory and inquisitive glances in his direction. “What is it you want?” he asked in a hushed tone, uncomfortable with the attention.
“We’re investigating the murder of Linda Allen.”
Dalca’s eyes widened for a moment. “How I can help?” His voice was soft; his words clumsily strung together.
“Could you tell us more about Linda, and your relationship?”
Dalca shrugged his bony shoulders. “There is not much say. We were together for a while. But it didn’t work.”
“Was it more of a causal relationship, or a loving relationship?” Abby probed.
Dalca considered the question for a few moments and narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips to suggest he wasn’t sure. “Both. I liked her, she liked me.”
“You weren’t together long?”
Dalca offered a shake of his head.
“Did you talk of starting a family?” Scott asked.
“We spoke about children once or twice.”
“So why did it end when she fell pregnant?”
Dalca’s eyes shifted again between Abby and Scott, his mouth dry, his senses screaming at him like an animal trapped in a snare. “Because the baby was not mine.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because she was okay. But in bed, we had different tastes. She is a very dirty woman. She likes a lot of things. So, do I. But different things.”
“Are you’re telling me that you hardly had sex with Linda?”
“True. Sometimes. But when she doesn’t cooperate, I’m not interested.”
Cooperate. Scott found that an unusual term.
“Was she not interested because of your preferences, or because of you?”
Dalca tapped his temple with his finger. “I’m not stupid. I worked out the dates. It’s not mine.”
“If it’s not yours, then who is the father?”
Dalca waved his arm in a large arc around him. “Take your pick. It could be anyone here. It could be any man on the street. She liked cock a lot, and she needed money. She was a whore. A filthy whore.”
“Are you suggesting that she was a prostitute?”
“Maybe, maybe not. You find out. Listen I wore rubber on the few occasions we did. She slept around. I didn’t want to catch anything.” Dalca’s voice turned harsh, aggressive and angry.
“So that annoyed you and you left? Were you angry?”
“Of course.”
“Angry enough to hit her?”
Dalca’s body stiffened. He waved a finger in front of his face. “No, no, no. I did not kill her. You are finding way to send me back home. If someone beats her up, then it wasn’t me. Try her ex-husband. She told me many times he hit her when he had been drinking. Why should I hang around and watch her get bigger with someone else’s baby? Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”
Scott smiled. “You tell me, Mr Dalca.”
Scott’s response riled Dalca further. He slammed his fist down hard on the shelving, the sound echoing around them, causing others to turn in surprise. “I did not touch her,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“And you left her to it? You didn’t want revenge for making you look like an idiot?”
Dalca’s jaws flexed as he clenched his teeth.
Scott continued to push. The man’s pride dented. “I think someone in your position would be furious, and humiliated, as she preferred someone else over you. Maybe she deliberately became pregnant as a way of getting rid of you?”
Dalca struggled for each breath as his chest heaved. “I feel sorry for the fucked-up bitch. Getting pregnant made situation worse.”
“Where were you on Sunday evening between six p.m. and midnight?”
“I was around. No idea where.” Dalca smiled at Scott. “Probably with my girlfriend Lexi. You can check.”
“We have witnesses who believe they saw you in The Greys Pub. Is it somewhere that you go often?”
“I go there sometimes. When Lexi gets on my nerves, I go to the pub.”
“Did you see Linda on Sunday evening whilst you were there?”
Dalca shook his head.
“Have you spoken with, or met Linda since you parted company?”
“We have had no contact since we split. If I was in same pub as her, then it by chance,” he replied. An undercurrent of frustration and boredom laced his voice.
“Linda was seen talking to a man outside the pub not long before she disappeared. It seems convenient that you were both in the same pub, on the same night that she disappeared. Was that you?”
Dalca rocked back and laughed. “Inspector, you are asking me the same questions. Either you not hear me, or you trick me.”
Scott crossed his arms and held a stare. “You didn’t answer my question.”
There was an uneasy silence between the three with a tense stand-off.
“No. I’m not interested in her. If someone killed her, then it’s her own fault for messing people around.”
“And when you left the pub, where did you go?”
“I went home to Lexi. I fucked her. Check if you want. Check her phone. She videoed me fucking her.” Dalca sneered with the force of the words.
“Can you think of anyone else who would wish to harm her?”
Dalca laughed again. “I guess that list is too long. Try Richards or try the little boy’s father. He was married, right? He’s just as fucked as her.”
“Do you have a name for the married man?”
“No. And I don’t fucking care. Whoever he is, they deserved each other.”
Scott assessed the man’s body language. His arms by his sides, his head tilted to the left, and as the conversation progressed, Dalca increased eye contact. They were all signs that Dalca wasn’t hiding anything, or he was a great liar.
“As someone who had a relationship with Linda Allen, you don’t appear to be upset that she is dead? Or the fact that two children have been left orphaned?”
“I feel sorry for children. Linda could have been nice person, but she’s too fucked in head.”
18
“Dalca’s certainly got possible motive, revenge for her infidelity,” Abby suggested as she forked the chips on her plate.
Scott nodded his agreement. “Despite trying his hardest, he let slip his anger on more than one occasion.”
“We’ll need to check his alibi, but I suspect his girlfriend will only confirm that he had spent the evening with her, especially if the sex was captured on her phone. That will be time and date stamped, which could give him a rock-solid alibi.”
“For the time being, we can still keep him in the frame. She had an affair with a married man, and for a bloke like him, that’s nothing short of humiliation.”
The cafe that they were in was hot and steamy. On a cold but breezy day the locals extended their lunch break, reluctant to go about their day, instead preferring the warmth and comfort of both the cafe and its hot food.
Scott glanced around and saw the usual mix of tradesmen in their work-stained clothes and steel toe capped boots, dunking their toast into runny egg yolks. They were in marked contrast to a few young ladies, gossiping and giggling, and one or two elderly people, who Scott thought looked lost and alone. He watched as they gingerly picked at their food, their bony and skinny fingers reaching out like skeletal tentacles. Others stared at their cups of tea, lost deep in thought.
He never tired of watching human behaviour, simple and yet so complex and unique in form. Just in the space of a few square feet around him, thousands of thoughts were being processed every second, decisions being made, outcomes being explored, and feelings being analysed, unnoticed and unheard.
Abby squirted more salad cream onto her plate, before dunking her chips again. “Do you think she just had a bad taste in men, or do you think she was looking for something that she couldn’t find?”
Scott furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes, seeking further clarification.
“What I mean is that she never seemed to have a happy or suc
cessful relationship. Richards, Dalca, a married man, and God knows who else. And yet the flipside is she was on these dating websites with pictures that left little to the imagination. She was looking for love, but never seemed to find it. The question is, was she looking for love in the first place?”
Scott leant back in his chair and thought about it. His eyes drifted around the room, taking in the appearance of all those around him. “It could be either. She was trying to find something that was missing in her life. Whether that was a man, or the love and security that being with someone offered her, is anyone’s guess.”
Scott’s phone vibrated in his pocket, as he pulled it out, Raj’s name popped up on the caller ID.
“What’s up, Raj?”
“Guv, I’ve just got the medical records back for Linda Allen. She was being treated for depression and anxiety. She went through a period of postnatal depression after Shannon was born, and more recently after Leo’s birth as well. On both occasions she went through six weeks of CBT.”
“What medication was she on?”
“Venlafaxine, seventy-five milligrams. The doctor confirmed that she was still taking it, and SOCO discovered a box in her bedside drawer. The GP also confirmed that Helen had been in to see her just over two weeks ago because she was experiencing problems sleeping, had bouts of restlessness and irritability,”
“Anything else?” Scott asked.
“As a matter of fact, yes, Guv. Linda had said to her GP, that the meds had improved her mood to begin with, and that it had improved her relationships and sex life. But then Linda came to her more recently concerned that the meds weren’t working because of increased restlessness, impulsive actions, and suppressed sexual urges. The doctor said that she sensed concern and desperation in Linda’s tone and behaviour.”
“What course of action did the doctor take?”
“Linda wanted an increase in her dosage. The doctor refused, instead organising for an appointment to be made with the local mental health unit.”
“Okay. Thanks, Raj.”
“Well?” Abby asked.