Dead Sweet: A D.I. Turnbull mystery

by Sally O'Brien

  Chapter Ten

  Monday July 8th 2013

  17:00 hours

  D.I. Todd Turnbull stood in the under-furnished bedsit on the ground floor of a large house on St Jim's Road.

  The house was once a glorious town house but had since been split into seven bedsits covering three floors; each one a self-contained unit with shower cubicle and toilet secreted behind a curtained area in the corner. A very small kitchenette was situated in the other corner with just enough space left for a bed and small wardrobe.

  Penny Baker had made the best use of the space she had, choosing to use a sofa bed which she had bought very cheaply at the RSPCA Charity Shop. The sofa bed remained closed against the wall opposite the kitchen and bathroom area and Penny sat on an old wooden chair in the middle of her bedsit.

  Penny's head hung down towards her knees; face barely visible as Penny's leonine hair hung shaggily over her legs. Bodies milled around Todd; paper overalls rustling as each individual carried out their job at the crime scene. Pink froth dribbled down occasionally from Penny's hidden face to rest on her knees and pool on the floor below. Penny had been tied to the chair with a length of blue rope, the thin kind used for hanging out clothing; very thin but impossibly strong for its appearance.

  "Not naked this time," Jan said to Todd as she came to stand beside him.

  "Or on a bed," Todd agreed.

  "Or handcuffed," Jan reminded him.

  "Cut?" Todd asked.

  "No cuts but she was killed with the sherbet," Jan nodded, "No funnel left this time and her eyes are intact."

  "No hot caramel either," Todd observed.

  "No saucepans." Jan said pointing at the two ringed hob on the kitchen unit. "I don't think she did much cooking."

  "I don't know, it seems unfinished somehow," Todd looked around him; the bedsit had nothing but the sofa bed and chair as furniture; clothing sat in a heap on the floor and a small collection of make-up and hair brushes plus a mirror lay beside the clothes. No pictures or photos adorned the walls and no ornaments or curios gave a clue as to Penny's taste or travels.

  "This girl had nothing," Todd voiced. "What does he gain from killing her?" He spoke aloud as he contemplated the crime. Candace stood quietly by his side listening intently as Todd theorised.

  "What's the point to this murder? There is no apparent sexual contact this time; her clothes are still on. What has changed? It is a time problem.... Candace." Shouted Todd, making her jump.

  "Yes Guv?"

  "Find out what everybody else in this house was doing, what time they came in, who speaks to Penny, who saw her come and go."

  "Yes Guv."

  "There has to be a reason he didn't finish the job. I want to know why."

  "Could just be a copycat." Candace ventured, "Someone who read about it in the papers and did the killing but never had the balls to do all the other stuff."

  "That is a very plausible explanation." Todd agreed, "That's the problem with the bloody media, everybody knows what's going on and then idiots think they are clever and do shit like this. It's a very nasty can of worms."

  "We withheld most of the details from the press other than the sherbet Guv. Could be another reason the other stuff isn't here." Candace said.

  "True, but I'm not ruling anything out; we don't know the person who killed Amanda Thomas. We don't know who he was or why he killed her. Same goes here; let's keep our minds open, our ears sharp and our eyes clear. Something has got to break soon, that DNA better help or we're fucked."

  Todd fought an urge to reach out to Penny and stroke her hair. He felt a need to offer he comfort even though he knew she was beyond any kind of feeling.

  "OK, anything on the boss?" he asked.

  "No Guv, his name is Gregor Stanlawski, Polish guy who came to make his fortune. Has been running the B&B on Woodlinds Road for about five years. Apparently Penny turned up there one night as a homeless person and worked for her keep. Got herself a deposit on this place but continued to work for him; sound like they're good friends."

  "Is she English?" Todd enquired, pointing at Penny.

  "Yes Guv, apparently was kicked out of home by her parents. She hasn't really spoken about them with her boss but by his reckoning they are quite wealthy."

  "Anything in her stuff to let us know their whereabouts?"

  "Couldn't find anything Guv." Candace shrugged, "Just a letter from the council about her housing benefit, nothing else; no passport, driving licence. Nothing apart from a few photos."

  "Where are they?"

  Candace went to the bedsit's open door and reached out into the corridor where a pile of police evidence bags were stacked on top of each other. A paper suited officer was busy compiling the list of exhibits in a search book and cataloguing where each one was found and by whom.

  "Sorry Geoff, I just need these." Candace apologised as she removed a bag from the middle of the pile. Geoff nodded at her, "It's ok; I haven't done them yet."

  "Thanks," Candace returned to Todd and handed him the bag. He struggled to separate the photographs inside the bag but could see a middle aged couple posing in a front garden with a very chubby looking girl in between them; her bushy hair easily identifying her as Penny even when the fat was stretching her features

  "She was a fat kid," Todd said.

  "Yeah well she's not now," Candace pointed out, "She's practically skin and bone."

  "No but she was a fat kid. This has definitely got something to do with it Candace."

  "How Guv? Are you saying the killer knew her when she was a child?"

  "It's possible," Todd enthused. "Let's go on the theory it's someone who despises fat, hates sweets; sees them as instruments of torture. Preys on people who used to be fat, people from their past maybe."

  "Well we need to see if Amanda Thomas and Penny Baker knew each other."

  "Yes they may have gone to school together."

  "I don't know Guv," Candace looked doubtful, "I'm not sure we're looking at this from the right angle."

  Jan, the Coroner's officer, interrupted the debate to let Todd know Penny Baker was ready for removal. Todd indicated it was fine, then watched as Penny was gently lifted from the chair she sat on.

  As Penny's body left the chair, two words were exposed which had been scrawled on the chair underneath her. Candace gasped as she saw the words appear.

  FEED ME

  Todd looked long and hard at the words, all the cogs in his brain whirring and electrical impulses shot back and forth as he considered the words.

  "I think you may be right Candace," Todd agreed. "Have you ever heard of feeders?"

  "Urgh, yeah I saw a programme on TV the other night about that. There are some weird sexual perversions out there."

  "You're not wrong. Look at the words, 'feed me'. Look at what he did to Amanda Thomas; stuffed her full of sweets. I think it's someone into feeding; someone who can't find anyone to join in with his fantasy; maybe he's ugly or a weirdo."

  Candace gave a short laugh, "Obviously a weirdo."

  "Yes but I mean he's undesirable to women so has to resort to killing them; so he can get them to eat. I reckon he was disturbed here before he could do anything. There's a lot of people living here, he may have become spooked and chose to walk away - live to fight another day."

  "Yes Guv, for all we know he may have pulled out the sofa bed once he had killed her and moved onto the sex and the feeding after that."

  "Exactly; I think we're on the right track here. Listen there are plenty of websites and chat rooms about stuff like this. Our killer may use them for networking; he may have even written about this in the chat rooms, bragging about what he's done. We need to start looking there."

  "Ok Guv, what do you want me to do?"

  "We are going back to the nick and firing up the laptops. It's gonna be a long night Candy Cane; come on, the doughnuts are on me."

  "Not really appropriate." Candace admonished.

  "Doughnuts are always appropriate."
Todd laughed. He was feeling the adrenalin rush which accompanied a breakthrough in an investigation. Todd was confident they had established a motive for these killings and the hunt was now on to bring the killer to justice.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tuesday 9th July 2013

  12:00 hours

  Vixen lounged on her oversized lilac chenille sofa. The Fendi cushions which cost her a whopping £500 each nestled under her head and she stroked the Roberto Cavalli throw which adorned the arm of the sofa. At £1,500 it was just one of four that Vixen had bought to casually deposit around her home. She knew the price of everything in the house and could reel off the list should anyone be of a mind to ask her. Paul sat on his armchair with the matching throw and cushions; he had thrown said throw onto the floor and was sweating heavily in the summer heat.

  "Why didn't we get air conditioning?" he wondered, "All the money you've spent on this place and you never thought to put even one fan in any room. Ridiculous."

  "Well it was winter when I did the plans. I never even thought about summer." Pouted Vixen, "I was too fucking cold at the time."

  "So thick," Paul sneered and threw the cushion at Vixen's face.

  "Oy, don't do that to the cushions," she complained, "The crystals will come off."

  "Fucking crystals," Paul guffawed then turned his attention back to the television. It was a rare day off for both of them as Vixen had been signing books all around the country since their launch. He had every intention of catching up on all the crap TV he had been recording over the last month and was currently watching 'Not Going Out' which Vixen was not happy about as most of the jokes and double entendre went way over her head.

  "Go and get me a whiskey and coke babe," he asked Vixen who hauled her heavy chest from where she had been lounging. She went into the kitchen, poured Paul's drink and walked it over to him.

  "Blimey Tracey, what have you been eating today? You look like a sumo wrestler."

  Vixen touched her flat stomach self-consciously. "I've only had some pasta this morning," she whined, "Is it really bad?"

  "Well I'm not saying you're fat, but you could make use of the gym you've spent so much money on."

  "It's my day off." Vixen protested.

  "You never have a day off of looking beautiful; there's a photo shoot in a couple of days, you don't want to look like a light bulb; no one will pay for that."

  "That's what airbrushing is for, I'm not fat anyway."

  "You keep telling yourself that darling and when they start giving the work to other younger and slimmer girls, don't come crying to me," Paul took a long gulp of his whiskey. "No fuck off V, I'm trying to watch this."

  Vixen leant into Paul for a kiss but he brushed her off and moved his head out of the way. Believing his rejection was down to her sudden weight gain, Vixen ran to the toilet and purged herself of the pasta she had eaten earlier. Wiping her tears and mascara from her eyes, she changed into some sports clothes and took herself into the gym which shone in the sunlight coming through the skylights installed in her conservatory. Crystals adorned each machine and a 'V' was inscribed on the control panel of every one. Vixen climbed onto the elliptical Cross Trainer, plugged in her headphones and turned on the seventy two inch television which was mounted on the conservatory wall.

  As the Cross Trainer took Vixen's heart rate to its highest level, she concentrated hard on breathing and almost missed the News report being played on screen. The mention of Elisworth, however, grabbed her attention and she concentrated on what was being said. The News Reader solemnly reported the death of another young woman in Elisworth.

  "Good afternoon. Penny Baker, a nineteen year old girl from Elisworth, was found dead in her bedsit in Woodlinds Road on Monday evening. Reports state that there may be a link to the death of Amanda Thomas, the glamour model who was also found dead in her flat on the Fernbridge estate just five days previously. A source from Olinsbury Police Station told BBC News that there are similarities in the way both young women were murdered.

  Detective Inspector Turnbull of Olinsbury Police Station was interviewed earlier today and here is what he said."

  The screen changed to give a profile of a middle aged, silver haired male. His green eyes were striking and drew Vixen into his face. He exuded charisma and Vixen could imagine being with him almost instantaneously. She couldn't believe he was a police officer when he clearly should be in a Hollywood film. He began to speak and his gravelly voice sent shivers along the back of Vixen's neck. The content of his soliloquy made her feel even worse.

  "I can confirm the body of Penny Baker was found this morning. She was murdered by means of suffocation which is similar in style to Amanda Thomas. It is not the police's wish to alarm women but it is our job to keep them safe, which is why I not suggest that women take extra steps to secure their safety. Don't go out alone unless absolutely necessary and if you do have to go out, make sure you tell someone exactly where you are going. We suggest you don't agree to meet men for appointments unless their credentials are one hundred percent certain. We ask these steps are taken until the killer of these two young women is found. Let's all work together to ensure this doesn't happen again. Thank you."

  The camera panned back to the Reader who continued with a report on the local sewage plant and how the smell was affecting the local community. Vixen began to exercise vigorously, determined to get rid of the imaginary band of fat which Paul had alerted her to. As she worked her brain kept flashing memories of Malcolm. She remembered how he had been constantly talking to her, possibly following her and how his advances were becoming more and more familiar and too personal. Although Vixen didn't think it possible Malcolm could be responsible for the murders, she was concerned that his stalking could escalate into something else and maybe become violent. Although Paul had advised her strongly against bringing the police into the situation, Vixen was becoming increasingly worried about Malcolm's behaviour and in light of the murders she decided she was going to ignore Paul and phone the police.

  Vixen finished her workout two hours later. Sweating and aching she was exhausted and very hungry, but above all, determined to call the police. She walked past Paul who was now gently snoring in his armchair. Vixen debated whether she should rescue her precious cushion from the dribble threatening to escape Paul's mouth, but decided against it as she didn't want to wake Paul up and have him deter her from her current goal. She grabbed her mobile phone from the glass topped coffee table and tiptoed up to her bedroom where she could call the police in peace.

  "Hello, Olinsbury Police Station, how can I help you?"

  "Oh yeah, hi, I need to speak to that hot copy who's investigating the murders." Vixen purred down the phone.

  "Do you mean Detective Inspector Turnbull ma'am?"

  "Yeah him, I really need to speak to him."

  "Can I ask who's speaking?"

  "Vixen."

  "Do you have a second name ma'am?"

  "No, just Vixen; you may have seen me on Vixen's Victories; it's my own show."

  "Oh ok ma'am, I will see if he's available, bear with me."

  Vixen held on the phone for a good five minutes before she heard the same gravelly voice which had been on her television screen. Her belly jumped as he said 'hello' down the line.

  "Yeah hi, I think I have a problem with a bloke; he keeps messaging me."

  "I'm sure you get a lot of messaged, especially with the job that you do." Todd said.

  "Yes of course, but this is different."

  "Different how?"

  "Well, he keeps telling me what I've done in the daytime and talks about what I'm wearing. He says he wants to meet me and wants to protect me."

  "Ok, it sounds like you need to make a report for harassment. I can arrange for an officer to come over and take a crime report from you." Todd didn't feel like anything Vixen had said was going to add to his murder investigation.

  "There is something else." Vixen stopped him before he could put the phone down on
her. Todd paused to hear what the something else may be.

  "He says stuff to me that's weird."

  "What does he say?"

  "He says he wants to feed me."

  That statement grabbed Todd's interest. "Feed you how Vixen? Can you tell me what he says to you?"

  "Oh he tells me all the time that he would love to watch me eat. He thinks I'm too thin and I need to eat more. He says he'd like to cover me in chocolate and that he wants to see me suck on lollies and wants to fuck me with a Snickers bar."

  "How long has this been going on for?" Todd asked.

  "Ever since I finished Celebrity Nurses. I started a Twitter account and he used to follow me, then a few weeks ago I let him start to private message me. He was ok for a little while and then all this started. I think he's following me."

  "Ok, do you know anything about him? Where he lives, his real name, anything?"

  "No, I think Malcolm is his real name but I only know him from the computer. I don't know where he lives or anything but..." Vixen paused.

  "Yes?"

  "Well he must be local or he wouldn't be able to follow me all the time would he?"

  "I don't know Vixen, you are a public figure; pretty much everything you do is reported in the papers or online. It would be easy to follow you through the media."

  "No, it's not just my public appearances." Vixen protested, "He knows when I've been shopping and when I have things delivered. He must be hanging around my house."

  "Could he be a member of the paparazzi?" Todd brainstormed.

  "No," Vixen gave a derisory laugh, "This guy is a moron and he is a freak. I'm telling you, he gives me the creeps. There's something wrong with him."

  "Ok, I'm going to send an officer around to your home Vixen; we need to seize your computer."

  "What? I need that computer, my whole life is on there."

  "I'm sorry but you have given me some really important information and I want to follow up on it. The only way I can think of to find out who Malcolm is, is to check out the IP address of the computer that he's sending messages from."