Dying to Meet You

by Patricia Scott

  ‘Linda used some money an elderly aunt left her to buy it.’ PC Armstrong supplied the information readily for Peterson as they walked in. ‘Before that she was pigging it out with me in my poky little place near the Harling railway station. She said she didn’t want to worry her folks with the hours she was kept on call if she stayed at home.’

  Peterson nodded. She knew from experience the difficulty in finding a decent place to rent in the popular seaside town. She was still looking for a house to buy while staying in the small White Rock hotel on the seafront. She smiled as she recalled that Richard would be joining her this weekend; they were hoping to find the right property that would suit them both, possibly further out of town for a start in the countryside.

  ‘Don’t miss anything, lads,’ she said to her officers dressed in their white snowman overalls, covered shoes and disposable latex gloves as they stood in the lounge prepared to start work with forensics. It seemed incredibly tidy; nothing seemed out of place. If Linda was killed here someone had seen to cleaning up the evidence efficiently afterwards. It reminded Peterson of a show place waiting for the estate agents and their clients to visit.

  ‘Nice place,’ she commented.

  ‘Smashing,’ Armstrong contributed. ‘She had good taste.’

  The furnishing was attractive, simple and easy to live with. There was a delicate long stemmed crystal vase with a tall pink-throated orchid and two used wine glasses standing on the glass topped coffee table by the long cream settee. They looked out of place considering the extreme tidiness elsewhere.

  ‘Phew! Expensive taste. It’s real and quite fresh,’ Calder said picking up the vase with his gloved hands to sniff the flower. ‘Shame there’s no scent.’ He put it back down on the table. Picked up the glasses. ‘Seems like there might be prints on both of these.’

  ‘Check them for Linda’s, and our files for sexual offenders.’

  ‘The bed’s made. Looks tidy like it’s not been slept in.’ Trask chewing on his peppermint sweet came out of the main bedroom. ‘Looks like there’s clean sheets on the bed and bed linen left in the washing machine.’

  ‘He’s left nothing to chance, that’s what,’ Calder said despairingly.

  ‘And did a bloody good job of clearing up any disturbance made out here.’ Nick Farmer said going into the kitchen. ‘Everything is spotlessly clean. But there’s a broken pane in the glass panelled kitchen door and it looks as if the glass has been swept up.’

  ‘It’s most likely an outside job then.’ Trask joined him. ‘That door leads to the fire escape outside at the back.’

  Peterson picked up something from the pale aqua blue carpet and studied it carefully in her gloved hand. ‘Looks like a nail extension.’ She put it into a plastic envelope. ‘Linda could have broken it in a struggle. Must check on her nails. It looks like it was a stranger, or perhaps someone wants it to seem like that?’

  ‘These old places on the seafront have fire escapes at the back. They were made compulsory by law, as it was originally a hotel. It could be that the killer broke in this way,’ Farmer said from the kitchen.

  ‘It certainly seems like it.’

  ‘The door has been forced, ma’am,’ Trask agreed.

  ‘So it’s possible she didn’t know her killer. Any footprints outside, Trask? We had some rain during the night.’

  ‘Not that I can see - could have dried since. It’s pretty warm now.’

  Peterson was looking through the walnut bureau also kept very tidy, letters and stationary neat in the cubby holes. ‘There’s no sign of her casework or notes in here. Strange that. She struck me as being a most methodical officer.’

  ‘She was that, ma-am.’

  ‘Perhaps they’re in the office.’

  ‘Could be. Was she working on something special, Farmer? That might have some bearing on all this.’

  ‘She kept a good bit to herself, until she knew she’d got all the facts. Worked a lot on instinct.’

  ‘So what was the last case that she was working on?’ Peterson said as they went down again in the lift, leaving the forensic team to check for blood and DNA around the flat.

  ‘There was a suspicious death on the East Hill; a woman, Geraldine Temple, killed herself. Just before you came, ma’am. She cut her wrists in the bathwater; pretty gruesome.’

  ‘Sounds like it.’

  ‘Yeah - you can ask Calder about that. He went with Handley to sort it. No suicide note was found. Handley told me later that she sussed out from the woman’s sister-in-law that Geraldine Temple had been Erik Kaufman’s long standing girlfriend at one time. That made Linda take note of it more than usual.’

  ‘The Kaufman’s again.’ Peterson frowned. Her mobile jangled in her jacket pocket. ‘Yes?’

  ‘We found the weapon that did the damage to Handley, ma’am. Close by the death scene near the rocks. The killer thought that the water would soon submerge it; a chunk of jagged bloodstained rock. Quite heavy too. Would have taken some considerable physical strength to handle it. We found it submerged in one of the rocky pools; luckily it was found in time before the tide came in. Testing it now for blood and prints.’

  ‘So the killer decided to leave it to the sea to get rid of the evidence,’ Peterson said. ‘Cocky, isn’t he? He could have left her here in the apartment. Why go to all the trouble of putting her on the beach? He surely didn’t think that the sea would cover up his crime.’

  ‘If it was the Kaufman’s responsible for Linda’s death then there could have been more than one of them in on it.’

  Nine

  ‘So - was it down to you, Erik?’

  Erik Kaufman halted cross-pollinating the mauve and gold speckled lavender orchid blooms to ask, ‘Was what down to me, honey?’

  ‘The death of the police woman last night - she was found lying on the beach by the pier early this morning.’

  Erik Kaufman snatched his heavy lidded slate blue eyes from the beautiful flower to Jude Van Hoet; her figure as slender as the flower’s stem, as she swayed towards him on her high purple stilettos down the tiled length of the large domed glass Orchid house.

  ‘So... what of it?’ The warmth of the place was steaming up his glasses. He took them off to wipe them with his handkerchief, the heavy rings on his thick hands shining like the two gold teeth in his smile which was twisted by a facial scar snarling up the left side corner of his mouth. ‘Was it anyone that we should know?’

  Her ark brown eyes narrowed slightly. ‘It was. It was the woman police officer DS Handley.’

  He nodded. ‘Ah - that sassy blonde bitch. Pretty, but too bloody nosy. She came with that other police officer to snoop around the Orchid Club the other week. I heard she was taking an interest in one of Freddie’s girls she brought to the station to interview.’

  Jude swayed seductively in front of him. He reached out his hand to touch hers.

  ‘Seen Freddie at all today, honey?’

  ‘Not so far. Do you think he had something to do with her death?’

  Jude knew she might be pushing things too far. She tried to keep out of the Kaufman’s business as much as possible. And if Erik knew anything at all about his brother Freddie being responsible for Linda Handley’s death, he wasn’t likely to share it with her, just as Jude was careful to keep a part of her life secret from Erik.

  ‘Freddie wouldn’t let on if he did,’ Erik said shortly.

  Jude was lost in her thoughts. If it was his brother Freddie who had had Linda Handley killed there would be difficulty in proving it. He’d get one of his boys to do it. But where was the motive? As far as Jude knew there had been no clash recently between the dead officer and Freddie Kaufman, other than the alternation over the Croatian girl who’d worked at the Health Farm. Their lawyer had soon got that sorted. Though she’d heard later that the girl had disappeared again and Freddie’s boys were looking for her. She shivered - it wasn’t a life she could fancy for herself. Once caught the girl would be sent away before she could get to know
anyone for long. There were too many girls like her trapped by the Kaufman’s.

  *

  Jude came out of the shower and joined Erik in the opulent cream and gilt decorated bedroom where he was watching the local news on TV. There was a brief announcement about the death of the young woman police officer. He grinned sardonically, switched it off and turned his full attention to Jude. ‘Come here, lover.’

  She dropped the fluffy peach bath towel she had around her immediately. She posed for him for a minute or so in the open doorway, her dark hair falling loosely about her shoulders.

  ‘Freddie’s downstairs, honey. You should be at the Casino...’

  She knelt down in front of him and kissed him tenderly. He could feel his body stirring as she nuzzled him tantalizingly on his heavy muscular neck.

  He groaned, ‘Jude, honey.’

  ‘Screw, Freddie,’ she said and slowly unbuttoned his silk shirt, unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. ‘He can wait - this can’t,’ she whispered. She licked his damp warm skin; as she nuzzled and teased his nipples with her tongue sending shivers down his spine.

  ‘Jude...’ he groaned.

  The small diamonds in the gold pendant sparkled and dangled in front of his eyes as he reached up for her roughly. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  ‘Erik...’

  Her damp, silky hair brushed against his navel. He could smell her sweet musky scent, as her tongue licked him tenderly. He groaned loudly with pleasure.

  ‘Don’t go... Stay with me, honey.’

  He was strong. He wanted her and it was tempting. He was a good lover and despite his limitations, he knew how to please her. Jude shook her head and gently lifted his hands to her mouth and kissed them tenderly. He moaned again with pleasure.

  ‘Jude…’

  ‘Sorry baby.’ She kissed him on the mouth and then pulled away out of the reach of his arms.

  ‘A few minutes longer...’

  Laughing she said, ‘I can’t. I’ve got to get dressed. I have work to do. We’d better go see Freddie.’

  Ten

  Freddie was waiting for them downstairs. Irritation served to enforce the mean look in his eyes as the lift opened in the large open plan living room. He’d brought his heavy boys along with him - big Dave Pullman with his ‘rough house’ build and thick pony tail of bleached blond hair and ‘Clark Gable’ moustached Ollie Grant - which meant he wanted to talk business with Erik. He’d have been left naked without them.

  He pointedly ignored Jude which amused her. She alone knew that he’d tried it on with her big time as soon as he could get her onto the velvet couch in the Orchid Club office; it was used often by Freddie and the young girls he usually preferred to shag.

  She glided across the floor to pose deliberately by the open French windows leading to the expansive garden and lawns and examined the gold extensions she wore on her slender fingers. She knew his eyes were on her. She had sliced Freddie savagely with them. He’d never risk it again unless he held a shiv or an automatic in his hand. She smiled at him venomously. She knew he’d do almost anything to bitch things up between his brother and her.

  Did Freddie know about the meeting she’d had yesterday evening with Linda? Jude knew that he made it his daily business to find out what she was doing. If he had felt their business threatened by her would he have ordered Linda’s death? She wouldn’t put it past the bastard.

  She’d had a different kind of relationship with Linda. They’d met at the Orchid club and their immediate mutual attraction had grown from that first meeting. Both trying to keep what they had together separate from their other lives. Had Linda risked her life because of Jude? She felt her guts twist up inside as her feelings got the better of her. She was damming back her tears.

  She should not have left when she did. She had made a quick exit by the fire escape when Linda let in her late night visitor. Neither of them could take the risk of being discovered together. Linda had not said who was calling on her but Jude knew that it was more than likely Linda had entertained her murderer because as she was leaving she had heard a man’s voice. Jude thought she might recognise it if she heard it again. Could it have been one of Freddie’s boys? Linda definitely wouldn’t have let Freddie Kaufman call in so late at night. In any case he wouldn’t have come alone. It didn’t seem likely that he was responsible for her death.

  God! She was hurting so bad inside; it had been difficult to stop the tears from flowing when Linda’s name had been revealed to her in the club by Connell, the barman. How that devil Freddie would gloat if he knew how she was feeling right now. If he knew that Linda’s death had scored a hit on her too.

  Barely able to hide the pain and loathing that she was feeling, Jude watched Freddie leaning against the marble surrounded fireplace in a swaggering pose. He wore built up heels on the expensive custom-made Gucci leather shoes to give him extra height. Erik gave him a good six inches before his accident. Even Freddie’s thick head of barbered brown hair couldn’t help his lower stature. Freddie was Erik’s Achilles heel. But Freddie was his baby brother, he could do little wrong in his eyes and Erik would never give him away to the cops even if he knew he was guilty.

  ‘So - have you had the pigs here yet? That dead bitch, Handley, was in the Orchid Club on her own last week. Did you know she was suspicious about your old tart’s death?’

  Erik studied his brother and smiled. ‘You let her in, bruv. Don’t worry, Jude said Handley never picked up on anything. She was just curious like the rest of them.’

  Freddie wasn’t listening. ‘They can’t wait to pin something bad on us. And that bitch gave Connell a good going over.’ His smile was evil. ‘Our young Connell has a bad reputation as far as women are concerned. And DS fucking Handley was no slouch; she was quick to pick up that he has been accused of rape in the past and a case of stalking.’

  ‘Not convicted though. It only needs something like Handley’s death to finish us and the business here for good.’

  Eleven

  ‘So the cause of death is...?’ Peterson studied the young woman’s body from the side view in the examiner’s theatre. It wasn’t a pretty sight. She’d sent Calder out to the gents when the Medical Examiner proceeded to make his first exploration with the knife as he was looking pretty ghastly.

  ‘Death by strangulation, Chief Inspector. A fractured thyroid. Considerable strength was used to achieve it. The severe cuts and bad bruising on her face and head were inflicted with a heavy weapon after death,’ the pathologist Henry Lawrence said. ‘The piece of rock fits the bill. I found a sliver of mussel shell in one of the facial cuts.

  ‘She was raped after she’d obviously put up quite a desperate struggle, I would say; moved sometime afterwards to where she was left on the sea shore.’

  Peterson hadn’t had much time to get to know DS Handley. A good officer with an excellent record, she was a local girl, and been on the force six years. So was rape the motive for her death after all? If he had killed for sexual gratification once he could do it again, and again - till he was caught.

  Linda wasn’t attacked at random out on the street, although it had been a sexual assault. Her murderer had made a hit on her in her own home.

  ‘He needs to be caught and soon,’ Lawrence remarked sharply breaking the silence that had built up. ‘Just a suggestion but you could put it on Crimewatch. That could pull in some help from the public.’

  Peterson chuckled dryly rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. ‘I don’t think that would go down so well with the town council. It’s not the kind of publicity they would be looking for at this time but it’s a thought.’

  ‘Who bloody cares? We’ve got to put the fear of God into the bastard who did this,’ the examiner exclaimed brusquely. ‘And catch him before he kills again.’

  Peterson nodded. ‘You’re right. Crimewatch it is then. Can you arrange it for me please, soon as...? Nick?’

  ‘Will do.’

  Twelve

  Tras
k brought in the evening paper, absently stroked Duke the family golden Labrador and sat down at the table with a smile for his wife Sue as she brought in the evening meal. ‘Sorry I’m so late. Things to do.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I suppose you’ve heard about Linda?’

  She patted him on the shoulder. ‘I know, love. How could I not? You must be gutted.’ She shook her head. ‘Still can’t believe it. Eileen won’t be coming in for the next few days, possibly weeks, poor soul. That’s only to be expected. They must be devastated. Who could have done it? Any ideas yet?’

  He pushed back the fuzz of fine fair hair from his wide forehead with his stubby fingers. He didn’t want to discuss what had happened not even to his wife and it showed on his pleasant features. It was still so unbelievable and raw. His head was buzzing and aching already. He hoped he wasn’t in for another attack of migraine. This was the wrong time to be out sick.

  ‘They’ll bring in all the local sex offenders and question ‘em to start with,’ he said helping himself to a thick slice of Yorkshire ham and another home grown tomato from their greenhouse. ‘The usual suspects I suppose. But this is not the usual crime. We’re looking for a psycho, I think. This is a real nasty.’

  Sue sat down with a cup of tea as he attempted to eat his meal. It looked good, but he hadn’t much of an appetite.

  ‘Peterson said she’ll go on Crimewatch with it.’

  ‘Really! She’s dead keen then.’

  ‘Yeah, keen as mustard - she should do all right. Farmer’s not so happy about her tagging along. Wishes she’d leave it to us to tackle it. But she’s new to the place still. Farmer knows her well apparently.’ He stirred the sugar in his tea briskly. ‘We don’t know yet what Linda was doing last night. But looks like she stayed in. She’d turned down a date with Nick Farmer. That’s where the killer found her. The bastard sexually assaulted her before she was strangled and battered some time after her death.’