Frozen

by Lindsay Jayne Ashford

  ‘Meg, wait. Can’t we sit down and talk for a minute?’

  ‘What about? Shouldn’t you be at home doing breathing exercises or something?’

  ‘That’s just the trouble. I don’t want to be there right now.’

  She hesitated. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘That’s why I came round to see you. I need to talk to you, Megan. It’s all too much – Clare’s changed – I’m not even sure I can handle being a father…’ He walked back into the living room and slumped onto the sofa. He stubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit another.

  Megan stood stock still in the hall, wondering if she had heard right.

  ‘Meg!’ It was almost a wail. ‘Come and talk to me, Meg – please!’

  Shaking her head, Megan stormed in. ‘You selfish bastard! You complete bloody coward, you! Coming here, two days before Christmas, with your girlfriend about to give birth, whining on about not being able to handle your responsibilities. What the hell were you expecting me to do? Welcome you back with open arms crying, “Come back, Tony, all is forgiven”?’

  ‘Look, Meg, I can understand you being upset about the baby…’

  ‘Upset? I’ll tell you what – I feel sorry for the poor little bastard having you for a father!’ She grabbed his arm, pulling him off the sofa, and pushed him towards the door. ‘Go on, get out! Get back to your girlfriend and start facing up to your responsibilities!’

  ‘But Meg, it’s you I want. I can see that now. The problems we had – I should have been more understanding.’

  He turned towards her but she pushed him away. Flinging the front door open she stood with her arm outstretched, pointing to the street. ‘Go on, get out! And don’t you dare come back here – ever – you pathetic wimp!’

  She slammed the door behind him and ran upstairs. Throwing herself on the bed she buried her head in the pillow and wept.

  ‘What the bloody hell are you crying for?’ she said aloud between sobs. ‘Not for that stupid bastard. He’s not worth it!’

  Still shaking, she stumbled across to the bathroom and splashed cold water onto her face. ‘It’s the baby, isn’t it?’ she said to her reflection in the mirror. ‘Not his baby – your baby.’ She crumpled up and collapsed onto the bathroom floor, hugging a towel. The tears came flooding out; tears held back from years and years ago.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been there when the phone rang.

  ‘Megan, is everything okay? We were expecting you hours ago.’ It was Ceri.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Megan said, trying to make her voice sound normal. ‘I got back and found Tony here.’

  ‘No! What on earth did he want?’

  ‘Oh, nothing, really.’ Megan couldn’t stop her voice faltering and cracking.

  ‘Oh Meg! Has that bastard said something to upset you? Listen – don’t try and drive. I’ll come straight round and pick you up.’

  ‘No, it’s okay, I’m fine now, really. I’ll be right with you. I’ve just got to throw a few things into a bag.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. This is ridiculous, you know,’ she said, laughing through her tears. ‘I’m the one that’s supposed to be looking after you. Bet you’ve hardly slept the past few nights.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. Just get yourself round here as fast as you can. Emily wants you to read her a bedtime story – she says you do it better than me.’

  *

  The girl was a pathetic sight. Skinny, with greasy blonde hair that looked as if it hadn’t been washed for weeks. And she twitched. Standing in the police station she couldn’t keep still. It was something the desk sergeant had seen many times before. The nervous, hyperactive rhythm of a crack addict.

  She didn’t look old enough to be driving a car. No wonder the drink-drive boys had flagged her down.

  ‘You’re not going to charge me, are you? I didn’t know he was in there – honest! I just took the car. I didn’t know he was in there!’ Her voice rose to a high-pitched shriek as she paced up and down in front of the desk.

  ‘I’d sit down if I was you,’ the sergeant replied in a level tone. ‘I think you’re in for a long night.’

  Chapter 14

  Megan was glad to be at her sister’s. She felt safe. Safe from whoever had sent that dreadful Christmas card. Could it have been Tony? Part of her wanted to believe it. But the chicken in the fridge – why would he pull a sick stunt like that? Did he really think he could scare her into having him back? Deep down she knew she was clutching at straws. Tony might be a coward but he wasn’t spiteful. This was the work of someone nasty. Can’t wait to give you your real present. What the hell had he meant by that? She thought for a moment. What if it wasn’t a he? What if it was Clare? What if she knew about Tony’s change of heart and was out for revenge? Easy enough for her to take his key. Megan frowned. In a way, she hoped it was Clare. The idea of Tony’s girlfriend prowling around the flat was far less terrifying than the other possibility. The one she was trying not to think about.

  She gazed at her nephew, who was sleeping peacefully in his cot. Whatever the sender of that card had in mind, they were in for a disappointment. She wasn’t going to be there for Christmas and no one – other than Leverton – knew where she was.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go to bed?’ Ceri asked. ‘I can take over now if you like.’

  Megan stretched. ‘I might as well stay up. It’s only a couple of hours until Emily’s due to wake up. Anyway, I don’t think I’d be able to get to sleep. While I was sitting up with Joe I kept thinking about this case I’ve been working on; it’s been going round and round in my head.’ She wasn’t going to tell her sister about the other thing she’d had on her mind. No point worrying her.

  ‘Neil told me about the woman they found in the car park. Sounded horrible. I think it really shook him up because he didn’t know anything about it until he switched the telly on when we got back from the hospital. He phoned the newsroom and they told him all the gory details. Are the police linking it to those other deaths?’

  ‘Yes. They’re being very cagey about what they say to the press because they’re worried about copycat murders. You know – some bloke who’s fed up with his wife bumps her off using the same modus operandi as a serial killer and gets away with it.’

  ‘Any idea who the killer is?’

  ‘Sore point,’ Megan replied. ‘Let’s just say that the bloke leading the inquiry isn’t being as helpful as he could be.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Martin Leverton.’

  ‘I interviewed him years ago.’ Ceri frowned. ‘Must have been before the Metro Rapist case. Bit of a smoothie.’

  ‘Hmmm. Well, up to now, he’s been very charming with me. He’s even asked me out for a drink. I haven’t been, of course, but it’s very unsettling. It’s as if he’s watching me all the time, weighing me up. When I’m giving him what he wants to hear he can’t get enough of me, but if I say something that doesn’t fit in with his view of things he just blanks me out.’

  ‘Is he married?’

  ‘As far as I know, yes. But he never mentions his wife or any kids.’

  ‘I’d steer well clear of him if I was you, Meg. Sounds very dodgy to me.’

  ‘That’s not the point.’ Megan picked up one of Joe’s teddies and retied the bow round its neck. ‘He’s wasting valuable time. Some other woman could be killed while he’s pissing about out there.’ She felt angry. Powerless. What could she do short of staking out the red light district single-handed? ‘Anyway –’ she turned to look at her sister – ‘how are things between you and Neil? I’ve been wanting to ask you about it ever since I got here.’

  Ceri bit her lip and looked away. Megan heard her take a breath.

  ‘What’s happened, Ceri?’

  ‘Everything and nothing, really.’ Megan could see her lower lip trembling. ‘We had a lot of time to talk at the hospital and it … well … it all kind of came to a head.�
��

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I asked him outright if he was having an affair. I reeled off all the things that had got me suspicious and said I couldn’t think of an innocent explanation for them.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He was totally gobsmacked. He’s always been a hopeless liar. He admitted that he fancied this woman at work and said he’d always flirted with her, but up until recently there was nothing in it.

  ‘He said that last summer when I was pregnant with Joe he felt claustrophobic. He used to go out to lunch with this woman and found her very easy to talk to.’ Ceri’s knuckles were white as she hugged her knees. ‘Evidently, he tried to talk her into having an affair with him but she told him to fuck off because he was married.’

  ‘Oh Ceri!’ Megan put her arms around her sister’s heaving shoulders.

  ‘Why couldn’t he have talked to me?’ Ceri sobbed. ‘Am I such a boring old has-been that I’m not worth making conversation with any more?’

  ‘Of course you’re not!’ Megan tried to keep her voice down in case they woke Joe. ‘It’s not your fault that this has happened. I’m surprised you haven’t kicked him out.’

  ‘How can I, Meg? I can’t cope with Joe and Emily on my own. It’s hard enough when there’s two of us. And anyway, he’s been making a huge effort over the past couple of days.’

  ‘What did he say, then? After he admitted it all?’

  ‘He said that Joe going into hospital had made him sort his priorities out. He realised how important the kids were to him and he promised to try harder with them, and with me.

  ‘We started talking about how good things used to be, and I said he only really loved me when I was doing something glamorous and exciting.’ She looked up at Megan, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘He said he felt guilty about me losing my career and he couldn’t stand the responsibility of it. Every time he came home and heard me moaning about the kids, it rubbed it in a little bit more. I can understand that, in a way. I was constantly laying into him about the kids and the housework, but it was my choice to give up work. I can’t really blame him for not wanting to be with me.’

  Megan frowned, wondering whether she should tell Ceri what had happened on Thursday night. If she and Neil really were going to make a fresh start, she reasoned, there must be no more secrets.

  ‘Ceri, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s probably nothing at all, but it’s about Neil.’

  ‘What?’ Megan heard the fear return to her sister’s voice.

  ‘Well, he asked me to babysit on Thursday night because you had to stay at the hospital…’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Ceri’s face relaxed. ‘The BTV party at Elizabeth’s. He said it was really boring.’

  ‘Oh,’ Megan said, confused. ‘Was it at someone’s house? I … er … got the impression it was a restaurant he was going to.’

  ‘Elizabeth’s is a restaurant – haven’t you been? We go there quite a lot. It’s all organic. Lots of nice veggie dishes.’

  ‘No – I’ve never even heard of it.’ An immense wave of relief swept over her. ‘Is it new?’

  ‘Yes. It only opened a couple of months ago. Neil got an invitation to the press launch.’

  ‘You’re going to think I’m really stupid, but when Emily said Neil had gone to Elizabeth’s, I thought Elizabeth was a woman he was seeing.’

  ‘Oh Meg! You poor thing!’ It was a relief to see Ceri laughing for a change.

  ‘I switched on the telly while he was out and the bloke reading the BTV news bulletin said some woman called Elizabeth would be on the next morning.’

  ‘Elizabeth Dawson! And you thought it was her!’ Ceri’s chuckles got louder and Joe stirred in his cot.

  ‘Shhhhh!’ Megan hissed, clapping her hand over her own mouth.

  They sat, shaking with silent laughter, until the sound of feet padding along the landing made them both look round. Emily appeared in her pyjamas at the door.

  ‘Auntie Megan, will you read me another story?’

  Megan rose stiffly from the floor. ‘Come on,’ she said, yawning, ‘I think you might have to read me one!’

  *

  Ceri had to shake her sister to make her wake up. ‘Megan there’s a phone call for you: It’s Martin Leverton – says it’s urgent.’

  Megan groaned. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Half past ten. I wanted you to have a lie-in after last night, but he says he needs to speak to you right away.’

  Megan jumped out of bed and stumbled through the door.

  ‘Take it in our bedroom,’ Ceri called after her. Megan picked up the phone and perched on the side of Ceri and Neil’s unmade bed. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Megan? Sorry to get you out of bed – your sister told me you’d been up half the night with the baby – but I thought you’d like to hear the good news. We’ve got the pimp!’

  ‘What? How?’

  ‘Warwickshire police picked up some young girl on suspicion of drink-driving last night. They thought she might be on drugs so they searched the car, and guess what they found in the boot: a man’s body!’

  ‘A man’s body? You mean the pimp’s dead?’

  ‘Yes. Warwickshire police traced the registration of the car to an address in Birmingham. They called us to see if we had anything on him. Costello was on duty and he picked it up straight away. His name’s Gianfranco Rossi and he’s on that list of pimps Donalsen gave us.’

  ‘Have you found anything at his house to link him with the murders?’

  ‘It’s an absolute goldmine. Pornographic magazines, pictures of Delva Lobelo, we even found Maria Fellowes’ money belt with a photo of that little kid of hers still inside.’

  ‘So how the hell did he end up dead in the boot of his own car? And who was the girl driving him round?’

  ‘We think she’s a prostitute. Evidently she’s denying any knowledge of the body being there. She says she went to his house yesterday afternoon to score some crack and found the house empty and his car keys lying on the kitchen table. She says she decided to nick the car, drive it down to London and sell it. She was picked up driving along the hard shoulder of the M42.’

  ‘So was she another one of his young runaways?’

  ‘Sounds like it, yes. She’s only sixteen. It’s a wonder she didn’t crash the car.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll know who the other killer is?’

  ‘I hope so. That’s what I wanted to ask you, actually. I’m taking Costello down to Leamington to identify the body. Will you come with us and interview the girl?’

  ‘Yes. Shall I meet you there? I can go down the M54 from here. It’ll be quicker than trying to get into the centre of Birmingham.’

  ‘Okay. What time do you think you’ll get there?’

  Megan glanced at the clock on the bedside table. ‘About midday, I should think.’

  ‘Right – I’ll see you then. Call me on the mobile if you get held up.’

  *

  The mortuary was a short distance from the police station and Leverton decided they should take a look at the body before interviewing the girl. The pathologist met them at the door. ‘How long has he been dead?’ Leverton asked.

  ‘At least twenty-four hours – can’t be more precise than that at the moment.’

  ‘How did he die?’

  ‘Can’t be certain until we’ve done the post-mortem. There are stab wounds but they look fairly superficial. There wasn’t much blood in the boot of the car. Do you want to take a look?’

  Megan couldn’t believe her eyes. ‘My God!’ She shook her head.

  ‘You know him?’ It was Leverton’s turn to look surprised.

  ‘He’s one of the security guards at BTV.’ She stared pointedly at Leverton. ‘He was on reception when I was there last Monday.’ Megan thought about the list of names she had recited to Eileen Bunce. She was sure this man’s name hadn’t been on it and she wondered why.

  She stared at the bloodless face, its lips curled into a mirthless g
rin. The teeth were a greyish-yellow. From where she was standing she could see the wear on the tops of the lower incisors. She looked at his hair. It was quite thick, black and wavy but greying at the temples. Her eyes travelled down the length of the pallid body, past the shrivelled genitals, to the feet. The toenails were long and dirty. The thought of this man having sex with girls barely out of childhood made her want to throw up.

  Leverton turned to Costello. ‘Is this the man we’ve got on our files?’

  ‘Yes sir.’ Costello pulled a photograph from his pocket and held it next to the dead man’s face.

  Leverton whistled. ‘Well, Megan, you’ve come up trumps on your profile of this one; right age, right address, right job – right car too!’

  ‘The old Ford Sierra?’

  ‘Yep. Forensics are taking it apart even as we speak.’

  So why didn’t you listen to me in the first place, you patronising git? Megan thought. She couldn’t believe Leverton was being so cavalier about it all. He appeared unperturbed by the fact that this man’s identity had been discovered by a lucky coincidence and that a team of detectives searching BTV had missed him completely.

  ‘It’s funny,’ Leverton said on cue. ‘It’s such a distinctive name, isn’t it? You’d think I’d remember a name like that. I saw a list of security guards the night Maria Fellowes’ body was found but I don’t remember a Gianfranco Rossi. Let’s go and find out what this Samantha’s got to say about him.’

  *

  To Megan the interview room seemed overpoweringly hot and stuffy, but the girl sat huddled in a corner, hugging herself as if she was freezing cold. She looked much younger than sixteen.

  She had laughed when Leverton had asked her if she knew who Sergeant Donalsen was, calling him ‘that dope-head’. When asked to explain what she meant, she clammed up.

  Megan tried another tack. ‘Samantha, what was the name of the man the police found in the car you were driving?’

  The girl sniffed loudly. She stared at Megan with hollow eyes. ‘Shouldn’t you have worked that one out for yourself?’ she snarled. ‘You’ve got his registration number, for fuck’s sake.’