by David Carter
But if she was there she had buried herself well, for he could not find her. There were huge numbers of interesting women who were there though, and many of them quite local too, and some of them more than passable, and some of those, particularly voluptuous, just as he liked them. There was nothing wrong in looking, was there? And he had to admit; it was far more interesting and entertaining than the TV.
Little wonder there were more than half a million people currently online, accessing that site, so the stats boasted at the top of the screen, the figure forever updating, and invariably increasing. The twenty-first century, eh? He said aloud. What would his old aunt Mimosa have made of that?
David Baker arrived at Karen’s flat clutching a bottle of Australian chardonnay. He smiled his cute smile, a grin she couldn’t ignore, as they kissed in the hallway.
‘You’re not staying,’ she whispered.
‘I know.... so you said.’
‘Just as long as that is understood. Do you want a drink?’
‘Maybe a little one, I’m driving, and I don’t want to fall foul of the local law.’
‘Quite right too,’ she said, taking the bottle to the fridge. She set it inside and took out a half drunk cold one, and poured him a drink.
‘Ta,’ he said, taking it from her, as she sat on the sofa. She smelt nice, but she always did, expensive perfume, that was obvious, and even though she was dressed in ordinary grey slacks and a plain white cotton blouse, she still looked fab.
‘So,’ he said. ‘David Baker’s famous neck massage.’
‘Yes,’ she said, and she reached behind her and rubbed her slim neck. ‘Where do you want me?’
‘On the sofa, on your tum, and undo the top two buttons of your blouse.’
That made sense, as she assumed position; and he took hold of the blouse collar and gently tugged it back a tad, brushing her blonde hair to one side with his hand, exposing her porcelain like neck. He clapped his hands gently, rubbed his fingers together, crouched beside her, and set them to work.
‘Ooh, that’s lovely,’ she cooed. ‘Yes please.’
‘Good?’
‘Fantastic.’
‘I can tell you’re tense; your neck is not relaxed at all. Just relax, Miss Greenwood, let all your troubles float away. Relax.’
‘Yes, Mr Baker. Ooh, that’s so good, who taught you to do that?’
‘Can’t remember now. One of my many hidden talents.’
‘You have other talents, do you?’
‘Many.’
‘Such as?’
‘That would be telling.’
‘Do you mean in or out of the bedroom?’
‘Both,’ he said, grinning.
Karen giggled. He was good fun, that was undeniable, but he still had plenty of making up to do after he had let her down so badly last time.
‘Don’t stop,’ she said. ‘I could get used to this.’
They talked about her day, though not in any great detail, though he was very interested in everything she had to say, as he always was.
An hour later, he refused a sandwich and another glass of wine; but insisted on another dinner date that Karen happily agreed to, and finally, he helped himself to a far more passionate and lengthy kiss in the hallway, and after that he was on his way, happier than he’d been when he’d arrived, and she was too, that much was obvious.
It was already after eleven and she was bushed. Went to bed, slept well, dreamt better, and got up early, refreshed and relaxed and ready for another busy and very long day. They were going to be so much more productive in the day ahead, she was confident of that. Sometimes great results could be achieved solely through positive thought; she was a great believer in such things. It had served her well in the past, it had served the whole team well on many occasions, and it would do so again. Bring it on.
Twenty-Three
No one had actually said to be in extra early, but everyone was there, not a single soul missing. Mrs West thanked them for their dedication, as the early morning briefing got under way. Walter growled, ‘Overnight reports?’ and Karen said, ‘Quite a few in, Guv.’
‘Well, let’s hear them.’
Jenny read out the toxicology report on Belinda Cooper. It showed that Bel had not been into illegal drugs, in fact she was totally clean, other than alcohol, and even that figure wasn’t overbad, considering she’d apparently dispatched a full bottle of white wine, unless she’d had company while doing so.
‘And one other thing, I could not find her on any dating site.’
‘No, neither could I,’ said Walter.
‘You looked, Guv, did you?’ said a grinning Gibbons.
‘Yes, I did, Darren, purely as research, you understand.’
Gibbons muttered, ‘If you say so, Guv,’ and then he read out the report on the scrapings of mud he and Hector has taken from Crocker’s mother’s old car. It was clear; leastways it was, so far as the ground at the foot of Marigold Lane was concerned. There was definitely no match. Jenny came back with a more detailed SOCO report on the greater Marigold Lane site.
‘There were a large number of footprints in the mud down there, and many of them were downgraded by the heavy rain, but nevertheless a number of recognisable footprints in more shaded positions, were recovered,’ and she pointed to the Hytec screen, ‘and as you can see, the vast majority of those were size 10.’
‘So,’ said Mrs West, ‘If we have a murder down there, and if the killer’s footprints have been recorded, we are saying he probably has size 10 boots.’
‘That’s about the size of it,’ said Jenny.
‘Two too many “ifs” for me,’ she said, coolly.
‘It’s not conclusive,’ agreed Walter. ‘But it might help us somewhere further down the track.’
Jenny switched tack and changed reports.
‘But there is a positive report. We did get DNA from Dorothy Wright for Ellie, and we did a comparison on the incapacitator, and the traces of blood thereon definitely belonged to Ellie Wright.’
‘Why would that be?’ asked Nicky Barr, coming to, after an unplanned late night.
‘Why would what be?’ said Walter.
‘Why is there blood on it?’
Karen jumped all over that.
‘Presumably because Miroslav Rekatic assaulted Ellie Wright with sufficient force to spill Ellie’s blood.’
‘I can’t see it,’ said Nicky, not yet willing to back down.
‘The luminol chemiluminescence can see it, and that’s good enough for me,’ said Walter.
‘I don’t mean that, Guv.’
‘So what do you mean?’ snapped Mrs West, becoming irritated that precious time was being wasted.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, scratching his head. ‘Seems odd, that’s all.’
‘It’s clear enough to me,’ said Karen. ‘That man is a serial abuser of women, even went to the trouble of going to Germany and buying a specialist piece of equipment, a product that is probably not available here, to assist him in doing precisely that, equipment that now has Ellie Wright’s blood all over it. How much more do we need than that?’
‘We need to check his alibi for Bel’s murder for a start,’ said Walter. ‘We’ll go and see him this morning.’
‘Do you want to bring him in?’ asked Mrs West.
‘No, not yet, ma’am, need a little bit more before we do that.’
‘How did you get on with Ronald Speight?’
Walter deferred to Karen and she recounted their meeting with Speight. Yes, he had known and met both women, and admitted visiting both women in their homes, so it would be no surprise if his DNA turned up there, and he also admitted to a sexual relationship with both, and yes, he wore size 10 shoes too, and it was also true that he had no alibi for the TODs on either women. On the other hand he had no known history of violence against women, or anyone else, and they hadn’t been able to come up with a motive. He’d also confirmed the baseball bat was Bel’s, it had previously been her father�
�s, and that it was kept to ward off possible burglars.
Walter jumped in. ‘He also knew that Ellie was a drug user, and after some pressure came up with an image of Ellie sitting in the pub with a known drug dealer, where he, Speight, imagined that Ellie was buying gear.’
‘Do we have a description of this guy?’ asked Jenny.
‘A vague one’ said Walter. ‘Tall, dark hair, clean cut.’
‘So,’ said an exasperated Mrs West. ‘Do we now have a prime suspect?’
‘Speight is the only one who we positively know knew both women,’ said Jenny. ‘That weighs heavy for me.’
‘The Mirror man for me,’ said Karen. ‘We have proved he is violent towards women, he has demonstrated that he does not care one bit about anyone else’s opinions, or feelings, just look at the way he has treated his beautiful wife and family. He went to Germany and bought equipment that can be used in torture, gear that has Ellie’s blood all over it, and it makes me wonder what exactly he did to that girl. And maybe, there were others too.’
‘Some people like excitement in the bedroom,’ said Gibbons. ‘It’s not unusual, and it could be nothing more than that.’
‘Yeah, but not in his own bedroom!’ shot back Karen. ‘That’s the point! He’s playing away from home, and spilling blood whilst doing so. For fuck’s sake, how much more excitement do you want?’
Gibbons grimaced and glanced away, maybe the sarge had a point.
‘We seem to be forgetting here the one man who has already been convicted of killing a woman,’ said Hector.
‘Flanagan?’ said Jenny.
‘Correct.’
‘Tagged,’ said Mrs West. ‘Both times.’
‘You know my views on that,’ said Hector.
‘Well, you’re wrong.’
‘We need to see Miro again,’ said Walter. ‘And we need to speak with the solicitor guy, Williams, too, and I’d also like to talk to Lena Freeman again. She might know more than she’s told us.’
‘You mean you think she’s holding back?’ said Mrs West.
‘Not necessarily, ma’am, just that she may know a little more about Belinda that she doesn’t think, or imagine, is in any way important. There could be something there.’
Mrs West nodded hard and said, ‘Get it done!’
Walter glanced at Hector and said, ‘You and Darren go and see Flanagan again, seeing as you have such a bee in your bonnet about him. See if you can get him to confess with tag tampering. He’d need advanced computer skills to do that, find out if he has such abilities, and after you have done that, go back to the pubs and flesh out this description on the drug dealer. Track that guy down. We want to talk to him.’
‘Sure, Guv,’ said Hector, and Gibbons nodded.
Walter again. ‘Jenny, you and Nicky, go and see Nesbitt and check his alibi for Bel Cooper, and do the same thing with Crocker, just to be on the safe side, and will everyone please remember that we have not yet identified and ruled out this Iain character, one of Bel’s five menfriends, and two others from the five are still totally missing too, so think on about that.’
‘Has Bel’s technology been broken into yet?’ asked Mrs West.
‘Not yet, ma’am,’ said Jenny, knowing that such a question would be asked.
‘Why not?’
‘Seems there is some kind of backlog delay, they have assured me it will be done by this afternoon.’
‘We have a potential double bloody murder inquiry here,’ she snapped. ‘That’s not good enough! Tell them I said so. And tell them to get a bloody move on. Today.... Or else!’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Any questions?’ asked Karen.
No one had.
‘Let’s get to it,’ said Walter. ‘Time is slipping by, we don’t want the trail going cold.’
Karen grabbed her water and jacket and headed for the lift, and the garage down below, to grab a car before all the good ones had gone. The meeting broke up. It was half past nine.
‘Where to first?’ she said, as the Guv got in the car and scratched his cheek.
‘City centre, solicitors and travel agents. Two birds with one stone.’
Karen bobbed her head and eased the accelerator down, and the car cruised out into another dismal November day.
Twenty-Four
The offices of Jones Rees & Wilbert were located in the ancient Rows, over an upmarket indie dress shop. Two entire floors of small queer shaped rooms, lots of paperwork, new office equipment, and that permanent smell of stationery being turned over, and quiet people with earnest faces and new glasses, and white skin and swept back hair, and a good supply of coffee and apples and bought in sandwiches, just like all the other solicitors offices across the kingdom. A pretty trainee showed Walter and Karen into Gareth Williams’s small odd shaped office.
Walter went to the window and stared down and across the road, and directly into the travel agency. He could see Lena Freeman jabbering on the phone, and he wondered who she was talking to, and what she was talking about.
‘Take a seat,’ said Gareth, pointing at two small red chairs set before his desk, but they couldn’t sit down because both chairs were covered in piles of files and papers.
‘Chloe!’ he yelled, ‘come and shift these files,’ and the pretty girl returned and murmured, ‘sorry about that,’ and grabbed the manila files and took them away.
Gareth pointed at the chairs, and they all sat down.
Walter and Karen stared across the desk. By crikey, the bouffant hairdo had put on even more weight, and more height too. It was mesmerising. Neither of them could tear their eyes away. It was like a bushy creature living on the top of his head, with a life and mind all of its own. Mind you, thought Karen, the Guv had odd bad hair days when he let it grow too long, when it stood up on end as if it had seen a ghost, but Gareth’s dark swept-up-and-back mop was something else.
‘What can I do for you?’
Walter kicked off. ‘It’s about Belinda Cooper.’
‘Thought it might be.’
‘You know....’ said Karen. ‘That’s she dead?’
‘Yes, I bumped into Lena. She told me about it.’
‘You had a relationship with Belinda Cooper?’ asked Walter.
‘I did.... For my sins.’
‘Sins?’ said Karen.
‘Just an expression.’
‘You’re married?’ asked Karen.
Gareth nodded and muttered, ‘Look, I’m not proud of it.’
‘Does your wife know?’ asked Walter.
‘Yeah, she’s forgiven me, at least I hope she has.’
‘Where were you on...’ and Walter relayed the time of death.
‘Home in bed.’
‘Can your wife confirm that?’
‘Sadly, she can’t, she had a bridge night with her friend, and the crazy woman took a few wines too many, and rather than drive home she decided to stay there.’
‘You could have gone and fetched her,’ suggested Karen.
Gareth shook his head. ‘I’d been drinking too.’
‘There’s such a thing as cabs,’ said Walter.
‘True,’ said Gareth. ‘It was just more convenient for her to stay.’
‘Do you know a young woman by the name of Ellie Wright?’ asked Karen.
Gareth’s bottom lip came out, as if he was thinking, and he shook his head and said, ‘Not that I know of. Why? Who’s she?’
‘Just routine enquiries,’ said Walter. ‘How tall are you?’
‘Six one,’ he said, without hesitation, though Karen imagined he was lying, because men often lie about their height and weight, exaggerating their height, being economic with the truth over weight, but no matter.
‘Belinda Cooper mentioned on more than one occasion that she had only been involved with five men....’ said Walter, and though he hadn’t finished the sentence Gareth answered anyway.
‘Yeah, she told me that too.’
‘Did you believe her?’ asked Karen.
‘You’re one, we have identified one other, can you help us out with the other three?’ asked Walter.
Gareth grinned. ‘Well there’s so sorry sad Iain, for one.’
‘Iain who?’ asked Karen.
‘Iain Donaldson.’
‘And why is he so sorry sad?’ asked Walter.
‘Well, he was pissed off with me for a start. She left him for me, you see, and I’m not surprised. She said he could bore for Cheshire, a geography teacher, he is, the poor lamb, works at the high school.’
‘And this was before she discovered that you were married, and messing her around?’ said Karen.
Gareth bobbed his head and sighed and said, ‘I guess. Look, I am not proud of it. It just kind of happened, mid life crisis if you will, I’d like to turn the clock back and do things differently, but that ain’t going to happen, is it?’
‘Do you know where this Iain bloke lives?’ asked Karen.
‘No, she never told me that, but you’ll find him at the school.’
‘And the other two?’ asked Walter.
‘There was the gay fella.’
‘She had a relationship with a gay man?’ asked Karen.
‘She did, though he liked to say he was bi-sexual. You can imagine how upset and betrayed she felt about that when he told her one night in the pub: “Excuse me darling, but I fancy men at least as much as I fancy you!” Did he really expect to get away with that? He must have been a bit simple.’
‘Name?’ said Walter, his pencil poised over his notebook.
‘Marcus something, she might have mentioned his surname, but I can’t remember it right now, if it comes back to me, I’ll give you a bell.’
‘Appreciate that, if you would,’ said Walter, glancing at Karen as if to say, anything I’ve forgotten?
Put on the spot she was momentarily lost for words, which wasn’t like her, or for the pair of them, and then Karen blurted out, ‘What size shoes do you take?’
‘Nine and a half, or ten at a push, why?’
‘Just routine,’ said Walter. ‘Do you know a man by the name of Miroslav Rekatic?’
Gareth shook his head and said, ‘Nope.’