The Fourth Victim

by John Mead

  ‘I am DI Merry and this is DS Lukula,’ Merry began, his tone quiet and polite, ‘we need to ask you about this girl, do you recognise her?’ The three young men barely glanced at the photo the inspector held out, shaking their heads in automatic denial. Although the one in the shorts flexed his chest muscles and grinned lewdly at Lukula, all three were taken off-guard by Merry’s direct and polite approach.

  ‘Are you certain?’ Merry calmly persisted. ‘You all went to school with her.’

  ‘I’d remember that cute face,’ Tobes, sitting up on the press bench, having put the bar on its stand, and looking Lukula up and down, stated. ‘Though I prefer an older woman myself.’ Lukula continued to stare into the middle distance, unperturbed, not only could she bench press ten kilos more than was currently on the bar but sweaty, muscular bodies were also her biggest turn off.

  ‘She’s probably changed a bit since you last saw her, more than four years ago,’ Merry continued in the same tone, aware that Donald was still over by the entrance, intently listening and watching, ‘just before you were expelled from school.’ The third member of the trio maintained his silence but sucked his teeth in response, his face disapproving and angry, though as he and the one wearing shorts continually glanced at their seated companion Merry took it that Tobes was the leader of the three.

  ‘I didn’t get expelled because of her, I can tell you that,’ Tobes handed the picture back, still puzzled as to what the pair confronting him thought he knew.

  ‘Her picture has been in the news as she’s been killed,’ Merry noticed the immediate change in the young men, switching from being relaxed and on their home ground to defensive and wary. ‘A few people seem to think you have been in touch with her recently. We were wondering what that might be about?’

  Lukula’s passive stare was obviously starting to get to the guy in the shorts, his grin having turned to a snarl and his head dropping ready to strike out.

  ‘That’s wrong,’ Tobes replied, trying to sound relaxed but standing so as to put himself between his two companions and the officers. He was also aware of Donald watching the proceedings, not entirely certain why the big man was taking such an interest. The Towers crew might coincidently bear the name of Ricky Towers but his connection with the gang was through a long line of intermediaries and his only interest in them was that they were one of a large number of outlets for his product, and drugs were only a small part of his empire. Donald was known to be an old, if now distant, friend of Ricky’s; not that the big man needed to call on Ricky’s protection as he could bench press more than Tobes’ bodyweight.

  ‘We don’t know her, so piss off,’ Lukula’s passive stare was finally too challenging for the shorts wearing youth and he now felt a need to exert his dominance.

  ‘OK, well thank you for your help,’ Merry’s sudden backdown surprised them all, including Lukula. ‘You understand we have to follow up on every lead in cases of murder. Of course, we will have to speak with you again, search your homes, places you have been recently. You’ll have alibis and we’ll have to check those out, put your friends and associates under the spotlight but I’m sure they will understand. Murder isn’t like other crimes, there is no letting up.’

  5

  Lukula’s smile had returned but was no longer benign, picking up on the Merry’s lead, it was now clearly meant to show how much she was going to enjoy taking the three young men’s lives apart. There was more to her boss than she had given him credit for.

  ‘You’ll be wasting your time,’ the trio’s leader, told them, ‘but I can’t help if I don’t know her, can I?’ If his two companions hadn’t understood Merry’s threat the look Tobes gave the pair clearly told them to keep their mouths shut unless they wanted to lose a few teeth.

  ‘From what we have been told,’ Merry started to spell out exactly what he wanted from the trio, ‘the three of you beat her up, quite badly, when she was thirteen because she told on one of your girlfriends and got her in trouble at school. You would have been about fifteen yourselves, which is not so long ago, so I don’t believe you can’t remember that. Your girlfriend’s name was Michaela.’

  Topes’ deepening, puzzled frown suddenly gave way to one of insight. ‘That fucking black bitch, we had nothing to do with that. I’m sorry, nothing meant,’ he almost added ‘Miss’ as he turned in sincere apology to Lukula, ‘I ain’t no racist but that cow and her mate are real nasty bitches.’

  ‘Although you still hang around with them?’ Julie decided a change of tone would now press home the breakthrough Merry had achieved.

  ‘They like to hang around, buy a little of this and that to sell on, wind some of the guys up to see if they can start a fight,’ he turned to look at the young man wearing shorts, who looked suitably sheepish. ‘Every so often they might like a change of pace by adding a bloke into the mix, for a bit of variety, but as a rule they are so close they share sweat.’

  ‘The other girl is Karen Swarsky, the white girl?’ Lukula asked, receiving a nod as confirmation. ‘You are saying they beat up Lynsey for grassing on Michaela, when you were all in school?’

  ‘Yeah, mad fucking bitches.’

  ‘What about their other friend?’ Merry interrupted. ‘We were told there were three girls involved, another black girl called Teresa?’

  ‘Tessy, yeah, she was in on it as well. The three of them did for your dead girl real good, didn’t see nothing of her after that. We ain’t seen Tessy since getting kicked out of school, she moved away to some fancy place in Essex called Ongar.’

  ‘Has Michaela or Karen mentioned anything about Lynsey since?’

  ‘Not to me,’ both his companions shook their heads as well, happy now they thought they had deflected the police suspicions onto the girls. ‘The only other girl they ever speak about is Tessy. They all party at Tessy’s place, she has a little studio set up so they can sell their get togethers live on line. Ask PeeWee here, he has a subscription.’ PeeWee who had maintained, his hard man silence throughout suddenly erupted into a series of expletives, his voice sufficiently high pitched to suggest the origin of his nickname being a once well known American TV comic.

  The three continued to swap insults as Merry, without much concern, told them they might be needed to give statements at some stage, as unlikely as he thought it to be. His and Lukula’s going was barely noticed except by the owner, who still loomed, mountain like, by the entrance.

  ‘Get everything you need, Inspector Merry,’ Donald asked, taking care to emphasis Matthew’s rank.

  ‘Yes, thank you Donald, it’s been a help,’ Merry smiled back. ‘Seen anything of Ricky lately?’

  ‘Not as such,’ Donald replied with a shrug. ‘He’s too high and mighty these days.’

  ‘Oh well, pass on my love,’ Merry said over his shoulder as he went out of the door, followed by Donald’s deep, rumbling laugh and Lukula’s surprised and puzzled countenance. This was a side to her boss she hadn’t seen before and hadn’t expected, out on the job he was starting to give glimpses of the possibility that he actually enjoyed the work.

  Merry told her, ‘Get in touch with your friend in Gangs and say I’d like to meet with her boss, as we need to formally interview the two girls. A chance meeting between them and Lynsey in the park could have resulted in her murder. It’s a stretch about using a hammer but it’s a good alternative to carrying a knife and less risky than acid.’

  Lukula nodded as she started the car and was thinking of asking Merry how he had come across Key and Towers when his phone rang. Matthew could barely hear Mrs Hensley, even though he had turned to one side to face away from Julie as she started to speak on the handsfree set. The mother’s voice was faint and he had to apologise that the line was bad so could she speak up.

  ‘I’m sorry, I said I have been to see Lynsey,’ Joanne’s hollow voice still barely carried to his ear. ‘I don’t know what too say to anyone.’ />
  ‘That must have been traumatic for you,’ it was a bloody stupid comment to make to a grieving mother who had just been to view her deceased daughter’s body, but it was all Merry could think to say. Then guessing at what her second comment referred to, he added, ‘You don’t have to talk to anyone about it, unless you want to, especially not the press. It’s not for me to say but personally I’d wait until I knew what to say.’ There was a long pause, only her breathing telling him she was still on the line.

  ‘People call, telling me how sorry they are to hear Lynsey is gone. So many people, I didn’t expect that. Staff from the school and the clinic, where she still helped out, people whose names I don’t recognise.’

  ‘Has the family liaison officer contacted you?’ he could hear the confusion and her inability to cope in the mother’s voice, ‘They can help and advise you about all this.’

  ‘So many people in her life that I didn’t know about.’

  Merry thought he should tell her he was following up on some leads, still working hard to find whoever had done this, but the line went dead and he didn’t have the courage to phone her back.

  Julie had caught enough of the conversation to leave him to his silence for the remainder of their journey. Merry’s sullen mood deepening as the DI from the Gangs Unit gave them the bad news that the two girls they suspected of being involved in Lynsey’s murder had an alibi.

  ‘I’m sorry, but they were in court all day,’ the inspector from Gangs looked as fed up as Merry, ‘the case isn’t going too well and they spent the day looking smug.’

  ‘What exactly have they been up to?’ Lukula asked, as much to extend the time with her friend, the brunette sergeant, who was casting admiring glances in her direction, as from professional curiosity.

  ‘Extortion and sexual assault, they came on our radar because of their links with the Towers Crew but they seem to be working on their own on this. Basically they pick up young women, get them drunk or high, then film them having sex with one or both of them,’ the Gangs inspector paused to stretch himself, his neck muscles taut with stress were protesting at his recounting the case. ‘Then when it’s over, they take the girl somewhere quiet and beat her up, tell her they will do it again and put the film out on the internet if she doesn’t give them something. A couple of the victims have had the strength to inform the police. However, all but one have withdrawn their statements after more threats and beatings, though nothing we can prove. Our last hope is a woman in her mid-twenties, an LGBTI activist, but the case is weak as it’s her word against theirs and they have a tape where she consents to a bit of rough sex. On top of that the physical evidence isn’t that great. The hold they have over their victims, what with the photos and videos they have and the threats of violence, is hard to break,’ the inspector twisted his neck as the muscles tightened like vices squeezing at the frustration he felt about the case that was slipping away from him. ‘We’ve gone back over all the reports made about the pair since they were both sixteen, but we can’t find where they keep the videos. No doubt they’re securely stashed in some cloud or other we can’t find a link to.’

  ‘What about Teresa, their old school friend who moved out of the area? She’s into the internet and that sort of thing,’ Merry asked, listening but still distracted by the mother’s phone call, now knowing he had to tell her they had no viable leads. ‘We’ve been told they all still keep in touch.’

  ‘I owe you a drink,’ Lukula told the brunette, as the Gangs inspector, suddenly animated by the information Lukula and Merry supplied about Teresa, made a number of phone calls and Merry stared distractedly out of the window.

  ‘Actually, from the sound of things I owe you a meal, it’s the best lead we have had for a while,’ the brunette smiled, bringing a warm, welcoming look of expectation to her face.

  ‘Well, I don’t have anything on tonight,’ Lukula’s stomach flipped with anticipation.

  ‘Let’s skip the meal then,’ the brunette’s smile widened, she saw no reason not to be direct as Lukula’s eyes completely gave away what was going through her mind.

  ‘I can’t help feeling I’ve missed something,’ Merry told his wife, as they sat sipping wine having put the girls to bed. Kathy had been telling him about her parent meeting but had stopped as he obviously wasn’t listening. ‘It all points to some random attack, a mugging gone wrong, but it doesn’t feel right. Perhaps I’m over thinking it, that’s what Malcolm would say.’

  The silence between the pair lengthened, then Kathy stood up, picking up the half-empty glasses. ‘You know your trouble is your gut tells you one thing and your head another, you need to decide which is in charge and go with that.’

  ‘Well at least I know who’s in charge in this house,’ Matthew muttered as he got up to follow her, as they were obviously having an early night.

  Leanne had been as good as her word and had stayed late at the supermarket to make up time, not that the manager had seemed appreciative, giving her nothing but black looks. Once home she had begun cleaning, as she always did when she suspected one of the others, apart from the children, had been about. She could never be completely certain who had been there so she took all precautions: scrubbing the small shower and toilet with bleach, stripping the bed, hoovering, dusting, clearing the fridge of anything open, cleaning the kitchen and washing all the crockery and cutlery. She had long ago given up throwing out clothes she didn’t recognise, unless they were soiled in some way, it was too expensive no matter how disgusted she was at the thought of wearing someone else’s clothes. Instead she put out to wash anything that looked as if it had been worn. By the early hours, she was exhausted and sat at her kitchen table eating a cheese sandwich with a glass of milk and working on her diary.

  The cover of the diary, a thick, ruled notebook, had the title ‘Leanne Solbury – age 32’ on it, she had a dozen others like it and had been keeping them reasonably consistently since her therapist, Doctor Alima Hassan, had recommend doing so. She hadn’t always trusted the doctor and had left her care for a number of years, only recently meeting with her again. However, in all fairness, much that the therapist had advised her to do had been beneficial. Keeping the diary helped her with the gaps in her life and what caused them, on occasions she could even make a good guess as to who had taken over control of her life. Although she knew not to dwell on this as it brought about the stress she worked to avoid.

  The irony of her life was the more that she understood her condition the greater the chance she would lose hold, the first time she had realised this had caused her to leave therapy. She was particularly terrified by a nagging dread that constantly hung over her, that one personality in particular might take complete control thereby banishing her to some dark recess of her own mind. She could only comprehend that as some form of death.

  The last thing she could remember from the previous night was watching TV, a talent show, then turning it off to avoid the news, another potential stressor. Then nothing until after lunch time today, some three hours after the start of her shift. From the clothes strewn in the bedroom and the general state of the place she guessed it had been the one she labelled ‘The Slut’, refusing to acknowledge her name helped make her seem less real. Not that it mattered, what worried Leanne was why this had happened now after what had been a few incident free weeks of calm; apart from the children who tended to emerge when she was at home, the feeling of safety luring them out.

  She knew her condition would never go away, knew these episodes would happen throughout her life but the aim was to keep them to a minimum. She was also pretty certain that she had had a mini-episode during the interview with her manager, his reaction and her inability to remember the end of the meeting suggested this was the case. She could even guess who was the most likely candidate for that as well. But she got no further. Exhausted she fell asleep on her arm, the half eaten sandwich and untouched milk beside her. Her diary, her lif
eline, still open in front of her.

  Julie Lukula was pissed off. Sex with the brunette sergeant from the Gangs Unit had been great but barely before she had gotten her breath back the woman was getting dressed and saying she had to go.

  ‘Can’t be too late back,’ she had stated with a smug smile, ‘my partner might get suspicious.’

  It wasn’t that Julie was a prude about such things and in all likelihood would have bedded the brunette even knowing she was in a relationship. It was the not being told beforehand, not being given a choice in the matter that annoyed her. She was left alone, angry at being used, a quick lay who wasn’t trusted to say yes if told the truth. The anger flared inside her, sending her out of the bed and into jogging bottoms, top, trainers and out the door. It was late and the recently rain-washed streets were nearly deserted. At first she had run hard to burn off the adrenaline, so she would be able to sleep, but after a while her pace slowed and her running took on a rhythm so that she hardly noticed the exertion.

  On one street she slowly overtook another runner, a man of about her own age, who glanced over his shoulder on hearing her footfalls and slowed his pace so she caught him up.

  ‘Hi,’ he smiled, hardly any sign that he laboured for his breath. ‘Nice night for it.’

  She nodded back, there had never been a time when she had preferred men over women, boys over girls, she had never been in the closet. Although she had, once or twice, given thought to having sex with a man and she could appreciate a well toned male body, like the one jogging along beside her, but she had never gone beyond speculation as the thought seemed unnatural to her. She could rationalise why women might be attracted to men but, beyond the occasional fantasy, could not contemplate it as a reality.