by David Carter
The man was in a jam. One week he had a beautiful woman on tap, presumably providing him with all his bedroom needs, and in the next, he’s reduced to visiting a downmarket call girl in a scruffy and smelly caravan to get his fix at the sexual well. What a come down that must have been.
That was the picture in a nutshell; throw in threats of attack, even to the extent of murder, a serious motive present in jealousy and revenge, and lo and behold the man had no alibi, and through his arrogance he even thought that was something of a joke.
Walter snorted. It was time to bring Ronald Speight in for a serious quest-sess, in fact it was overdue, and that would be done sooner rather than later, and yet.... and yet, the bottom line was that Walter did not believe Ronald Speight to be the murderer. True, he was the only name in the frame to have had a relationship with both dead women, so far, if visiting a call girl could ever be described as a relationship.
The more one juggled the facts, the more likely it looked that Ronald Colin Speight was the killer, yet Walter didn’t concur. He’d been wrong before, and he was well aware of that, and many times too over his long career, and no doubt he would be wrong again, before the final curtain came down on his working life, but he did not feel he was wrong this time.
What was it that ma’am had said? Keep asking them questions until they trip themselves up. The stock tactic of detectives going back millennia, and Walter would indeed do just that, but the annoying thing was that right there he thought they could go on asking Speight questions until the sun went out, with no discernable results. In other words, it was a complete waste of precious time, his, and the team’s.
No matter, he made a mental note to send the boys, and maybe boys and girls, round in the morning, to bring Speight in to discover if an intensive questioning session might just reveal something. Anything would be nice. Unlike the others, Speight was not excused. Not yet.
David Baker sipped his drink and tried to avoid Karen’s question.
‘Come on,’ she said, smirking. ‘Where did you meet her? Is she another online dater?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not a computer babe, in fact you are the first woman I have ever met online.’
‘Yeah, right,’ said Karen. ‘And see that flying pig?’
‘That isn’t a flying pig, it’s best Scottish pork loin, Ali’s well known for it.’
They laughed together.
‘So where did you meet her?’
‘Is it important?’
‘Don’t know. Is it?’
‘I met her at her place of work, if you must know.’
‘Whereabouts?’
‘Forgive me for saying, but this conversation seems to have morphed from friendly banter, to a police interview. Would that be fair to say?’
Karen giggled and said, ‘Course not, sorry if I sound a little officious, it’s just asking people questions all day in a certain manner, inevitably, I guess sometimes I relapse into enquiro-speak out of hours. I’ve been told off about that before.’
‘I’ll bet you have.’
‘Why did you stop seeing her, or is that a secret too?’
‘She stopped seeing me, she said I was too young.’
‘She was older than you?’ asked Karen, though she thought she already knew the answer to that.
‘A little, but not by much.’
‘Do you miss her?’
‘No, not now, not when I am with you,’ he said, his dark eyes piercing into her blue, holding her gaze, hoping that she believed him.
She thought that might be so much flannel. She’d always seen through disingenuous male compliments, always been wary of them, but she wanted him to talk some more, and maybe even wanted to believe him. Truth was, she wanted to believe everything about the guy, but he still fitted the profile of the man wanted for murdering Belinda Cooper, and she now knew he had a motive too. Rejection. Simple as that. Plenty of people have been murdered for far less.
Walter finished the can of stout and pondered on whether to go to the kitchen and fetch another. Maybe in a second. There were still a few names in the frame to review. Derek Nesbitt? No, there was absolutely nothing to suggest he was involved with Bel, unless Karen could come up with something via Bel’s broken passworded tech.
What about Marcus Royce, as Karen had now discovered his name to be? What was it Lena Freeman had said? He’d run off to one of the three B’s: Bournemouth, Blackpool or Brighton, seaside resorts all. If Walter had to bet, he’d choose Brighton, though a case could be made for all three. For now, the guy was beyond the reach of questioning, and there wasn’t sufficient intelligence warranting a nationwide search in order to bring him back to Chester for interrogation. That could change of course, but for now he was, in Walter’s mind, ruled out.
It didn’t leave much.
Speight of course, a nagging picture that would not go away. Andrea Dennehey, a tough young woman not averse to using violence. A so far unidentified drug dealer called Marty, and that left just two other possibilities. The fifth man, Belinda Cooper’s mysterious fifth lover, also yet to be identified. Surely to God there must be something within Bel’s tech to ID him, and Walter made another mental note to ask Karen about that in the morning, while the final possibility was someone yet to enter the picture. Someone new. Someone unknown. Someone mysterious. Seemed unlikely, but certainly not impossible. But who could that be? He glanced at his overlarge watch. 11.32pm. That wasn’t too late to ring someone, was it? Not when a murderer was still at large. He wandered through to the hall and picked up the phone.
David Baker paid for the excellent meal and drove Karen straight back to her apartment. It was something of a relief, though if he had suggested a late night drive out into the wilds of North Wales it might have brought things on a little. Earlier, he had parried her questions well, and even she must have realised she was going to give her true intentions away if she persisted any further.
They’d only been in the flat for a couple of minutes when the phone rang.
‘Sorry to trouble you so late,’ mumbled Walter.
‘No problem, Guv. What’s up?’
‘I was wondering how you were getting on with Bel’s laptop.’
‘Good. There’s a lot of stuff in there, it’ll take a bit of time to get through it all.’
‘I was wondering about the fifth man. It would be weird if there was nothing there about him.’
‘If he exists.’
‘You think he doesn’t?’
‘We only have Bel’s word for it,’ said Karen, glancing across at David, who was busy standing and admiring some Greenwood family photographs on the far wall. He had a cute bum.
‘I don’t see why she’d lie.’
‘I am not saying she did, but we don’t have a fifth man until we have proof that such a person exists,’ said Karen, knowing that she was misleading her boss.
‘I think there is a fifth man, and I want you to step up your search in Bel’s tech. He must be in there somewhere.’
‘I’m on it, first thing in the morning.’
Walter sniffed and said, ‘I think the fifth man is the killer.’
‘Really,’ said Karen, still looking at the handsome Mr B, who had turned round and was smiling at her through those fab eyes. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because I don’t think it’s any of the others. Our man is smarter than the ordinary Joes we have in the frame, much smarter, and more dangerous with it. He’s a cunning foe to be reckoned with.’
‘You think?’
‘For sure. I wonder where he is now, and what he’s doing.’
Karen’s mouth fell open and she shivered.
David smiled. Walter sighed.
‘God knows,’ she said, thinking, maybe he’s right in front of me now, about to go to work again, God forbid.
‘Sorry to bother you so late.’
‘No problem, Guv. You’ve discounted Andrea?’
‘Not entirely.’
‘Neither have I.’
‘Ah well,’ said Walter. ‘Early start tomorrow, yeah?’
‘Yeah sure, Guv, I’ll be there. Sleep well.’
‘You too.’
Karen put down the phone as David said, ‘Who was that?’
‘My boss.’
‘Does he always ring so late at night?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Does he fancy you?’
‘Good God, no.’
‘I should hope not.’
That was an interesting thing for him to say, I should hope not, but maybe not so surprising. Men are fiercely territorial creatures, they never like other males on what they see as their territory, but it was interesting that David Baker appeared to imagine that she might be part of his domain. Taking a bit for granted, a little bit arrogant too, but hey, it was a lot better than showing no interest at all, far better, for she liked him, and a little bit more with each passing day.
She shook her head and closed on him and said, ‘Now listen, Mr B, I have to be up real early in the morning, and you are going to have to go.’
‘So soon?’
‘Yes, soon, like now.’
‘But at least not until I have done this,’ and he reached out and tugged her to him and kissed her like he meant it. He was strong, really strong. It was good too, though she never let herself go, not completely, for that weird thought was there again, nagging away. Was she kissing a killer? Had this man murdered Belinda Cooper, snapping her neck with a baseball bat as if it were a twig? Walter seemed to think so, and that was worrying.
They agreed to meet again in three days. That would be enough time, she hoped, to prove his innocence, or guilt. Later, in bed alone before she fell asleep, she pondered on her predicament. One lie could quickly lead to another, or one half-truth to another, or one misleading comment to another, and it had. She had already denied in the office that she knew of a fifth man, and his ID, and now, this very evening, she had done so again, while actually looking into the fifth man’s smiling face.
She would have to come clean about it, and soon, and that was going to be mighty tricky. The worst thing was she realised what delicate ground she strode upon. Her entire career was now at stake. Nothing less. She tried to switch her mind back to what might have happened if DB had stayed over, stayed the night, stayed with her, in her bed.
It would have been good, beyond good, she was certain of that, and on another day, and another night, she might have forced the issue, though she didn’t imagine she would have to do much forcing. She wondered what it would be like, sleeping with David Baker, or sleeping with a killer, or were they one and the same? In any event, he excited her. That was beyond doubt.
Twenty-Nine
It was a new dawn and a new day and I’m feeling good, thought Walter, as he knotted his favourite red and blue striped tie, but it was a dark one, the morning that is, one of those horrid November days that never really gets light, dank and cold and miserable and negative. Is there anything good about November in England?
But Walter wasn’t negative at all, as he went outside and ambled down the road to catch the single decker bus on the ten-minute trip into town. The usual four early birds were there at the bus stop. They were all on nodding terms, like some kind of special club of hard-done-by-ers, out alone, working early, when the lucky world slept soundly on.
‘Be along in a minute,’ said the plump woman, forcing a smile, as she glanced away from her mobile.
‘Hope so,’ said Walter, ramming his hands deeper into his coat pockets. It wasn’t actually raining, but there was a creeping cold chill and dankness in the air, capable of attacking anyone who was going to stand about in it for too long.
And then the little bus appeared like some kind of happy dog, its headlights grinning a good morning, bringing relief. Walter imagined a frantic tail wagging at the backend, and all those waiting at the bus stop smirked at one another, and muttered positive vibes, as they changed weight from one foot to another, and formed an orderly queue, the woman first, and then the men, strictly in order of time of arrival, Walter bringing up the rear, and then they were all aboard, half full, plenty of seats at that hour, lots of room to spread out, and the beautiful heater blowing out comfort and happiness, as the bus glided almost silently into town, so much so that the November blues were obliterated completely, almost.
In the office everyone was in early, even Mrs West. They were a good crew; Walter couldn’t help thinking that, though truth was they were all in because of him, though he would never have realised that in a month of Sundays, though a month of Sundays these days would be just like any other month, seeing as Sundays were no longer any different to any other day. Empty churches, full bookies, frantic shopping, horseracing on the telly, pubs open all day, X-rated pics on the flicks. Sundays were no longer as they once were when Walter was a not-so-little little boy; that was for damned sure.
Hector brought him a coffee and set it carefully down on Walter’s desk.
‘Thank you, man.’
‘Welcome, Guv.’
Walter wasn’t in any mood for gentle introductions, or a gradual build up. He was straight on it.
‘Karen, I want you to stay in all day and get on with disseminating any intel in Bel’s tech.’
‘Sure, Guv.’
‘Nicky, I want you to stay with Karen and give her any help necessary.’
‘Sure,’ he said, grinning at his sarge.
‘You know what we are looking for. Any clues the killer may have left in there, any hints that he was about to do what he did.’
‘You said “he”, Guv, but it could still be a “she”,’ said Jenny.
‘Yes that too. Jenny. I want you to find out where Andrea Dennehey is right now, I want you to get us a good unmarked car, and I want you to take me to see her as soon as we have finished here.’
‘Sure, Guv, leave it with me.’
‘Hector and Gibbons, I want you to find out where Ronald Speight is this morning, I want you to go and see him later, and bring him back here to answer my questions around lunchtime.’
Mrs West nodded and looked happy.
‘What happens if he refuses to come?’ asked Hector.
‘Tell him I’d appreciate his cooperation, if he still won’t come, arrest him on suspicion of the murder of Belinda Cooper, that should concentrate his mind.’
‘Sure, Guv,’ said Hector.
‘Looking forward to it,’ said Gibbons.
‘There’s a £20,000 reward been put up for information leading to the conviction of.... etcetera etcetera,’ said Mrs West.
‘Who by?’ asked Karen.
‘Not sure, some local businessman.’
Walter nodded and said, ‘Thank you, ma’am, anything that helps is good. It’s come to my attention that some of you are not reading all the reports relevant to this case, or these cases, the deaths of Wright and Cooper. Put that right now. Toxicology reports, SOCO reports, fire reports, autopsies, the whole bloody lot. You can’t afford to miss things, so make sure you all read all the reports, and I don’t care how long it takes, or how boring some of them may be. That clear?’
‘Sure, Guv,’ mumbled a few.
‘Any questions?’
No one had.
‘Get to it.... Today’s the day....’
And people started to move, as Gibbons added, ‘The teddy bears have their picnic!’
‘Shut up, Gibbons,’ said Karen, as Walter nodded to her and said, ‘Use Nicky wherever you can. I know there’s loads of stuff to get through, but use him, he’s supposed to be bright. We need to get finished.’
Karen nodded. ‘Sure, Guv. I’ll see you later.’
Jenny came over to Walter and said, ‘Andrea Dennehey works in Austerity Hayes old department store in the city, on the perfume counter apparently, and she’s there this morning.’
‘That figures,’ said Karen. ‘She uses enough of the stuff, and wears false lashes like big black hairy caterpillars. You won’t miss her, or them.’
&n
bsp; ‘Car, Jen?’ said Walter.
‘On my way, Guv, see you downstairs in ten.’
Walter glanced back at Karen.
‘Have a good morning, I’ll want you in on the Speight interview later.’
‘Sure, Guv,’ and Walter turned about and limped away towards the lift. After he’d gone Karen pondered on her continuing predicament. Now it was even worse, for she had the little runt Nicky there snooping around, and how bad would it be if he found evidence of the fifth man before she did? That didn’t bear thinking about. She’d have to give him something to keep him busy that didn’t jeopardise her own position, and that wouldn’t be easy, but one thing was clear, she was going to have to reveal the ID of the fifth man soon.
Nicky ambled over and smirked down and said, ‘I’m all yours.’
The idiotic little guy seemed to think he had a chance with her. The fool. She gave him Bel’s bank statements, going back five years.
‘What am I looking for?’
‘Clues, DC Barr, clues.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Anything that looks out of order, any payments to and from anyone involved in the case. You have read all the reports involved in these cases, I take it?’
He looked guilty. ‘Maybe not all of them.’
‘Well do that now!’
‘Sure, sarge,’ and he ambled away, as Karen smiled to herself.
Austerity Hayes old department store hadn’t changed that much in forty years, and it was still busy too, even first thing. It didn’t matter one bit that it was a dank November day; there were still plenty of tourists about. Chester is a touristy town, and they kept the tills ringing with their euros and dollars and yen and yuan, and a goodly proportion of visitors had chosen to pack out the perfumes and cosmetics department on the ground floor.
Walter and Jenny stepped through the recently modernised double glass doors to be hit with an aroma that reminded them of first dates, and Christmas gifts, and romance, and, dare one mention the word, sex, too? Though Walter would keep that colourful thought to himself.
They sought out the floor manageress, explained to her that they needed somewhere quiet to talk to Andrea Dennehey, she wasn’t in any kind of trouble, simply helping with their routine enquiries, and the manageress was most accommodating, providing them with a quiet furnished room.