by John Mead
‘Did they ever meet each other? Who were their friends here? Did either of them ever get into arguments with staff or customers?’ Lukula patiently asked, trying to keep her frustration at the manager’s attitude in check.
‘No, the staff are here to work not socialise,’ the manager stated with a shrug, wondering why the police were wasting time with such things. Shouldn’t they be out looking for the killer of these two girls? He had taken rather a shine to the pretty, polite and shy Lynsey, so sad she had been killed, but as for Jody, she was a waste of space and wouldn’t be missed.
‘OK, we will need details of all the staff that have worked here since both girls started,’ Lukula didn’t bother to be polite about her request. ‘While you are doing that I will speak to the staff that are here.’
Leanne didn’t like the assertive police sergeant or her questions, she found it upsetting to be told that two of the staff who had worked at the supermarket had died recently. She had explained that she knew Jody, a little, but didn’t really talk to her that much.
‘I keep myself to myself and don’t say much,’ Leanne explained to Lukula, she found that the women working at the store chatted a good deal during breaks but also bickered and talked about each other. She found it less stressful to keep out of such things and often spent her breaks locked in the toilet, ‘Jody used to talk more with Miah, the woman on the till. I don’t know any of the people who work at the weekends.’
Lukula left the supermarket much less happy than when she arrived, the manager had been less than helpful, Leanne Solbury, one of the shelf-fillers, obviously had some sort of learning difficulty and Miah Hussein, who worked on the till, suffered from verbal diarrhoea. Lukula had had to listen to the woman’s lengthy and detailed retelling of every conversation she had ever had with Jody, all of them centring on Miah’s desire to have a baby and the ins and outs of a number of TV soap operas and reality shows. However, at least the till operator had worked on some weekends, money being very tight at home, and knew Lynsey – such a tragic loss – not that the girl ever said very much and was probably a bit stuck-up. Julie checked the notes she had made of the various conversations, realising another dead-end loomed. She and Gillian Porter would speak with all the remaining staff on the list in the morning but, so far, the only link they had found between the two girls was not proving very useful.
It was after ten at night when Malcolm Swift decided to phone Matthew, he knew the hour was late but he wanted an update and to make it clear that if he had delayed telling Matthew about the Jody Grahame case it was not down to a lack of trust in him or his inquiry team.
‘It was your call to make,’ Merry said, doing his best to stifle a yawn and avoid his wife’s look of annoyance as he spoke with Swift. ‘Anyone taking up the investigation was bound to start taking a proactive look at things and Nowak’s cover story would be blown, alerting Trotsky and his mates.’
‘Yes, that’s understood,’ Swift stated, not entirely certain that Merry’s calm acceptance of events didn’t mask some degree of annoyance, in Merry’s shoes Swift would have been pissed off. Swift couldn’t decide if Matthew’s attitude was a good or a bad thing, ‘but I don’t want you or anyone on the team thinking it was down to a lack of professional trust on my part.’
‘If anyone raises it, sir, I’ll make the situation clear to them,’ Merry tried to sound reassuring, wondering why Swift was so bothered as they had more important things on their plate than such a storm in a teacup. ‘On the plus side you’ll be glad to hear that Julie has discovered both girls worked at the same supermarket, though they seem to have worked different shifts, she’s started talking to the staff but will finish up in the morning. As for the mental health links and Lynsey’s anti-drug volunteering neither are going anywhere. Despite the superficial similarities between the girls it would seem that their worlds didn’t actually overlap.’
Merry paused, thinking Swift was about to say something as his boss drew a deep breath, but then went on as he realised he was mistaken. Though in truth Swift had been about to speak, then bit his tongue, keeping to himself his concern over their lack of progress, understandable though it was, and Julie’s words in the briefing about the attacker seeking thrills played on his mind. Malcolm thought Julie was right and the logic of that thought meant there would be another death in the near future, a death he really wanted to see avoided and the whole shit show put to bed.
‘Hayden’s also drawn a blank,’ Merry continued, cutting into Swift’s melancholy thoughts, ‘the black youth seen climbing over the back wall has an alibi, some farce involving his girlfriend. David Anderson phoned a while ago, nothing in the records involving recent attacks in the local area with a hammer or other blunt instrument, apart from a road rage and a pub fight but they used a chair and a car jack. Still he used his initiative and asked the analyst to do a wider search tomorrow first thing.’ Again Merry paused and again Swift made no comment, so he continued, ‘We’ve all got some follow-up to do but unless Ray has come up with something we have missed then we really need to spend the briefing brainstorming new ideas and leads. If we could find that hijab wearing witness or glean some idea of a motive we might have a better way forward.’
Merry stopped talking, his wife was listening to the conversation as they sat in bed and he could see reflected in her face what Swift was no doubt thinking and what he, himself, already knew: a motiveless killing by a stranger was going to be near impossible to solve.
‘Perhaps we should chat just before the briefing,’ the deep well of tiredness in the Swift’s voice, echoing through the ether between their mobiles. ‘Nine thirty at Leman Street, that OK?’
Matthew was the last to arrive at the scene, just before dawn, at the western side of Wapping Woods where the path joined up with the canal path. He could see the neon floodlights the forensics team had set up plus the small tent to shelter the body, and followed the police tape until he reached the officer taking details of those entering and leaving the scene. The photographer was still at work and forensic officers were combing the area around the tent, before circling inwards for a more detailed sweep. The surgeon, a uniformed sergeant, Swift and Hayden were huddled in a group well away from the body while Lukula, who had been the first of the team to arrive, stood slightly apart carefully surveying all that was going on. Despite their distance from the body they all wore protective overshoes and gloves.
‘Another girl,’ Swift informed him as he approached, ‘Madeline Turner, we think, from the description the parents gave when they reported her missing at one ten this morning. Seems they were concerned, given the recent attacks, though they said she often stayed out with friends. White, sixteen years old and long blonde hair, with blunt force injuries to the rear of her head.’
‘Looks like a hammer blow again,’ the surgeon stated, ‘very similar to the victim I examined in Swedenborg Gardens. Subject to the pathologist’s findings but, as guidance, I would say the time of death is approximately midnight, no sign of any other injuries nor sexual assault. I can’t be certain of the last point but her rather skimpy attire and her underwear was in place so, unless we have an unusually meticulous rapist, it isn’t looking likely.’
‘No obvious signs of robbery. Her purse, with phone, money and cards still in it, some cheap jewellery and watch are still on the body,’ Swift resumed.
‘Who found her?’ Merry asked, watching the activity around the tent.
‘Anonymous tip,’ Hayden said, ‘by phone at one twenty five, a male by the sounds of it. The phone number was withheld but I’ve asked providers to see if they can trace it back.’
‘I’ve asked the sergeant,’ Swift informed Merry, who recognised Sergeant Mehta from a few days ago, ‘to get officers out canvassing and searching the park and canal as soon as it’s light.’ Mehta did her best not to look sceptical, her boss was likely to have a melt down at the amount of manpower it would take. ‘As for now
,’ Swift told Merry, ‘I’ll stay here with Hayden to organise things, you and Julie can go and speak with the parents.’
8
‘Did you see that new detective show on the TV?’ Merry asked, breaking the silence on the short car ride to the Turners’ flat. ‘The lead detective has flashbacks, resulting from the murder of his wife and son by an unknown killer, so he can now talk to the recently departed who help him solve his cases.’
‘Is he an alcoholic and, or a drug user?’ Lukula asked, knowing how common such detectives were on TV, their angst fuelled lives driving them to be the ‘number one’ detective.
‘No he’s a DCI but his sergeant, who seems to spend a lot of time changing in and out of her clothes in front of him and has great boobs, is a black lesbian,’ Merry informed her, checking his watch and regretting his interrupted sleep, ‘so I feel a certain affinity with him.’
‘Sod off,’ Lukula laughed, ‘I’m not an exhibitionist and you are not a DCI, not yet anyway.’
‘Can’t see that happening soon, not with the cuts,’ in any case part of Merry’s recent reassessment of his career had made him question whether he wanted the additional stress of another promotion and was having second thoughts about completing the required training to prepare for being a DCI.
‘How do you know Ricky Towers?’ Julie asked out of the blue as the question popped back into her mind at the re-emergence of Merry’s sense of humour.
‘We were at school together with Donald Key,’ Merry told her. ‘Towers was always a bit of an evil git but a lot calmer when his old man was inside. When his dad got out it all changed and we ended up fighting.’ Julie would have liked to have heard more but they pulled up at the tower blocks at the rear of Swedenborg Gardens, where the Turners lived.
‘It’s a repeat, you know,’ Lukula told him, wondering why all lifts in high-rise blocks smelt of piss. ‘The last episode ends with them in bed, like all TV lesbians she has a hankering for men.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up, I’m always too knackered to do more than sleep when I get near a bed.’ They both composed themselves as they waited for the door to be answered, ensuring they showed no sign of any levity and were radiating an aura of solemnity and respect.
The parents huddled on the sofa, the mother sobbing, doing her best to hold back the tears but failing, the step-father looking befuddled and disbelieving. There was no doubt it was their daughter lying just off the end of the canal path in Wapping Woods, not only did the description match the one the parents had already given to the police, but the photo on the TV cabinet of their daughter and her step-brother matched the one SOCOs had pulled off the girl’s phone.
‘We are sorry for your loss and having to bring you this news,’ Lukula pressed on, less patient than Merry who was giving the pair time to process the news of their daughter’s death. ‘Alan, isn’t it, you’re Madeline’s step-father and it was you who reported her as being missing at one ten, is that correct?’
‘Yes,’ Alan Turner, a short, ordinary looking man in his mid-forties with thinning hair and a body going to fat explained. ‘We’d seen the local news earlier, about the two girls being attacked and killed in the parks,’ Maureen, the mother, gave a loud sob at this, still struggling to keep her grief in check thinking it wrong to allow outsiders to see her raw emotions. ‘Maddy had promised to be back early, no later than half eleven, as she had work.’
‘Where did she work?’ Lukula asked, knowing her boss would take over when he was ready.
‘At a hair and nail bar, in the arcade of shops over by the Berner Centre,’ Alan explained.
‘She was good at it,’ Maureen, her voice deeper than normal from the tension, told them. ‘She had done work experience there as part of her college course, Hair and Beauty,’ her tension eased as she repeated her well practised boast of her daughter’s success. ‘They were so impressed that they offered her a part-time job, helping with the nails. She did mine,’ the mother held out her hands to show the sergeant the pink, sparkly nails. ‘Next term she will be doing my hair,’ she smiled, then her face dissolved again as reality struck her.
‘She had been there a few months now,’ Alan said, to cover his wife’s confusion. ‘I used to take her and pick her up.’
‘Before she started college what school did she go to?’ Merry asked the pair.
‘She knew that Lynsey Hensley, the girl on the news,’ Maureen had taken a deep breath, pulling herself up, determined to see this through for her daughter’s sake. ‘Maddy told us she had heard her give an assembly about bullying and how it changed her, so she recognised her when she came into the nail bar. She did her nails a couple of times, said they chatted about the school and how Lynsey was hoping to go to university. Maddy wanted to save up and get her own salon when she finished her course next year. She had a practical head on her shoulders and wanted to earn money, not rack up a debt going off to study for a piece of paper.’
‘Who was she going out with last night?’ Merry asked, wondering how Jody Grahame fitted into this.
‘Just a couple of her mates: Gillian, I think, and Amanda.’
‘Sergeant Lukula will take a list of all her friends later, and we will need to go through her room, laptop, that sort of thing to get a complete picture of her social and work life,’ Merry explained, as his mind worked out the order of the questions he wanted to ask. ‘Does she have a boyfriend?’
‘No, she went through boys like tissues,’ Alan snorted then shut-up seeing his wife’s exasperated look, not wanting her daughter’s memory to be tarnished.
‘She was young, no need for lengthy attachments with her whole…’ Maureen started to justify her daughter’s flirtations then realising what she was saying stopped, confused how to go on.
‘Did she socialise with Lynsey Hensley?’ Merry asked, deflecting the interview back to his next question.
‘No,’ the mother said, ‘she spoke about her when we heard the news, but she only knew her to speak to from the shop.’
‘What about Jody Grahame?’ but the mother just shook her head, the thought of the three dead girls was too much for her. ‘Did Madeline mention any arguments, problems at college or work?’ Merry was ticking off his mental list.
‘No, she got on with everyone,’ her mother paused before adding, as an afterthought, ‘Although she complained about one of the lecturers always being on her back, pushing her for assignments. I don’t think it was anything more than the usual teacher stuff. Maddy got bored quickly and always spoke her mind so she didn’t always get on with teachers.’
‘Did she do any volunteering, anti-drug stuff, that sort of thing?’
‘Not Maddy,’ Alan stated, thinking himself on sufficiently safe ground to re-enter the conversation.
‘She smoked a bit,’ her mother conceded, ‘just the occasional bit of pot, nothing more than anyone else. But she stayed away from that crowd, the ones who hang around the park.’
‘No problems that would cause her to access mental health support?’ Merry could tell from the shocked and perplexed looks he received from the parents at this unexpected question that their answer was going to be negative.
‘No, why should you ask that?’
‘It’s just routine,’ Merry explained, the doorbell rang and Lukula indicated she would answer it, ‘there will be a lot of things we ask that might not seem reasonable or linked with your daughter but we have to ask them all the same. It’s all part of the process to ensure we don’t miss anything, it’s important you understand how useful all your answers are.’
‘Sir!’ Lukula called from the hallway that divided the flat in two: bedrooms one side, kitchen and bathroom on the other with the living room at the far end, ‘uniformed and forensics are here.’ The Turners had looked slightly brighter at Merry’s explanation but their faces fell again at Lukula’s statement.
‘One last question, then we ne
ed to examine your daughter’s room and, if you are up to it, take down some details,’ Merry explained, giving a little smile of reassurance to the bewildered pair. ‘Do you know why Madeline should be on the canal path and in Wapping Woods so late at night?’ Both shook their head in response.
‘There’s a club down on Wapping Lane she sometimes went to,’ her mother explained, ‘she might have been taking a short cut back but it doesn’t make sense. She would have been with her mates, not alone. Where were her mates, why’d they leave her on her own?’ Maureen’s voice started to sound shrill.
‘We’ll look at her room now, which one is it? The two constables will take down some details…’
‘David,’ Maureen suddenly remembered their young son, still asleep and unaware of the tragedy that had overtaken the family, ‘we should wake him,’ she looked pleadingly at her husband, relying on his support, ‘tell him what’s happened. Dear God, he loved Maddy, they always got on not like some step-brothers and sisters.’
Merry explained what he wanted of the two uniformed officers, both young men: lists of friends, work mates, where the parents were for all the murders. Telling the pair not to push too hard, given the sobs that could be heard coming from the step-brother’s room.
‘Message from your DCI,’ the SOCO told them as he placed Madeline’s laptop and iPad in plastic evidence bags. ‘He said the briefing is being brought forward to eight thirty. You also need to know we have already found a few interesting things on her phone, sex texts, pictures of a few different men’s junk, some revealing selfies, plus a few dating apps. Seems she was what you might call outgoing, although sixteen seems a bit young to me but these days who knows?We’ll be going through her social media sites and emails. Hopefully we’ll have something for your briefing.’