‘Thanks.’ He searched in his jeans pocket, took two keys off his key ring and pushed them across the desktop. ‘Here’s both keys. To the front door and her place up on the top floor and I would like them back. I’ve kept some of my things there and I wouldn’t like her parents to find them, see?’
‘Your wishes will be respected, sir.’
‘Okay, thanks.’ He drank the tea down in long gulps, got up and left the room quietly with a dazed look still on his face.
‘What do you think of that young man, Turner? Do you think he was being straight with us? Or did they have a lovers quarrel?’
‘Could be. I think that there’s more to it than what he’s saying. The parents may not have known of their daughter’s relationship with our lad. She didn’t seem more than a kid to me.’
‘She was working in the pub so she would have to be eighteen anyway. He wasn’t that keen for us to see her place, Turner.’
‘Shall we deal with it right away, guv? There wasn’t a gold anklet on the body, was it taken?’
‘Possibly but I hardly think that robbery was the motive.’
19
Kent thought it must be a good thing to have a dog, a Labrador perhaps or a Wire Haired Terrier, for company if you lived right on the top of the West hill. A long walk over it would give both of them some healthy exercise after work and a good appetite.
Getting out of the car, he paused for a moment or so, gazed down at the old part of the town nestled comfortably in the valley below, licked his dry lips and fancied he could taste the salt on them as the East wind whipped up over the hill from the sea.
‘Right now, a kite would be the just the thing, Turner. Have you got one for your kids? I bet you’d have some great fun up here today. It gives a great view of the town. You live near here, don’t you?’
‘Yes, guv. You can see our house from up here. Down there, near the cricket ground.’
‘A nice spot to be, Turner. It would suit me to have a season ticket for the cricket. Although tennis’s more my game. Now where exactly is the street we’re looking for, Turner?’
Yvette’s small bed-sit was in the top half of a graceful, Edwardian house in a long street of similar old buildings. Set amongst variegated rows of individual red tiled late Victorian terraced houses built on the top of the hill. There were several students sharing the same house.
Looking out of its tall side windows, it had a wonderful view overlooking the old town and the irregular tiled roofs of the black timbered houses set in the cobbled streets below. And the tall black tarred fishing huts, the pebbled beach and the Fish Market could be seen clearly now that the early sea mist had lifted. Even if it was quite a climb to get there, it was well worth it, Kent thought, as, hiding his amusement, he saw Turner with a sweating red face take a rest, half way up the wooden stairs. He sighed with relief when they reached the top landing.
Yvette was a private person. She didn’t mix with the other students. Even though they shared the large kitchen in the basement, and the boy in the bed-sit on the same landing, when questioned, said wryly; ‘Yvette rarely mixed with us. She was a poor, little rich girl.’
Kent turned the key in the lock and opened the door. They caught back their breath quickly. ‘Strewth! What a pong!’ Kent said bringing out his handkerchief, as he took in the disorder that lay out in front of them. The room reeking headily of expensive French perfume, from an empty scent flask lying amongst the strewn, tumbled contents from the dressing table drawers that had been tipped out onto the polished wood floor boards.
‘Good Grief!’ Turner said nearly choking on his sweet. ‘Has she been robbed?’
‘Shut the door quietly behind you, Turner. We don’t want this to get out.’
They put on their disposable gloves and gazed carefully at the wreckage lying around them. Turner took several photos. ‘Someone’s been a busy little bee in here,’ Kent said. ‘So - where do we start?’
‘What’s this all about then, guv? Who would want to wreck her place? Someone perhaps who didn’t like our poor, little rich girl? One of the other tenants?’
‘Could be. Was Jones lying? Did he come here and do this after he killed her? Or is it someone else who has her key? Were they looking for something and what was it? Could it be money or drugs?’
‘Hard to tell, guv. Looks like she made the most of this place. She liked the music scene too. Look at the posters of all these popstars,’ Turner said glancing round at the highly decorated walls.
‘See if you can spot the anklet anywhere. Or was she wearing it last night and it was stolen?’ Kent rubbed his chin and stifled a groan as they studied the general disarray all over the room. Most of it was on the floor. The mattress on the single bed had been turned up and over completely, throwing the bedding with it onto the floor, and the fitted wardrobe left wide open and the clothes fallen off their hangers onto the floor.
‘Phew! She spent a lot on clothes,’ Turner commented picking up dresses and examining them carefully. ‘You can tell by the designer labels. See here! Where would a young student get enough cash to pay for these expensive outfits? Yeah, she’s working but this bed-sit must cost her most of her wages; unless her parents are filthy rich and spoil her rotten.’
‘Whoever stirred these drawers up and turned over the mattress was looking for something. Something they wanted badly enough to risk being caught here after the crime. The news is hardly out on the streets yet. So who would know about it so quickly? The killer or someone else is desperate enough to come over here? Someone with a key and someone she knew well,’ Kent said, looking into the bathroom cabinet over the washbasin in the corner.
‘Perhaps waiting, till they saw the boyfriend leave. Jones would, I think, have mentioned the state it was in to us, if it had been turned over before he arrived. He’d have been breathing fire at the station.’
‘If he wants to pick up his stuff, whatever it is, he will have to wait his turn till we test for prints.’
‘This puts a different slant altogether on the case, doesn’t it, guv? Do you think Maureen Carey’s death is connected?’
Kent frowned. ‘What I saw of Yvette’s body before it was taken away made me think that it was done by the same person.’ He shook his head. ‘But now this. I’m up a gum tree for the moment, what was she up to this French filly? Was she on the game and Jones was her pimp? Or was she blackmailing someone? She has most expensive tastes.’
Turner nodded. ‘You can say that again, guv.’
‘And I wouldn’t say that the boyfriend was earning that much as a hotel chef, would you?’
‘She got someone worried by her sudden departure, that’s for sure.’
The sound of heavy feet tramping up the wooden stairs told them that the rest of the team had arrived. Kent opened up the door to them. He gave them a few seconds to take in the disaster scene then said; ‘Let’s go, Turner. We’ll leave you to it, lads. Someone gave it a good going over before we got here. Probably you’ll only get her dabs and Jones’s around the place. But you can never tell. Try the bathroom cabinet. You might find some stray ones on there. She was on the pill. Perhaps Jones was worried about that as far as her parents are concerned.’
Turner glanced surreptitiously at his watch. He was thinking of the chicken salad waiting for him back home and the apple crumble and cream. He was now feeling like a limp lettuce even in his short shirtsleeves and casual pants. Perhaps he ought to have a better try at losing weight. He’d planned to do the lawn for the second weekend running it had been left far too long already. He’d promised Carole he’d make it his priority.
And Carole had her own work cut out, her job as a district nurse, keeping her busy. He wished she hadn’t gone back to nursing now that the children were growing up. The warm weather was not giving up for the day at least, but probably planning to piss down with rain during the next few days to make the Carnival week, the wettest of the year. A gusty sigh escaped him as he tackled the stairs again.
‘Go home, Turner. You look famished. That bacon sandwich couldn’t hold you together for long. Come back after lunch; I would like to ask Mrs Flitch some more questions about Yvette. They worked together at the Nag’s Head. Perhaps Mrs Flitch could tell us a few things about our French Miss; some things that Cliff Jones neglected to tell us. Our fair Mam’selle must have come into contact with other men in the bar she worked in and perhaps unknown to her boyfriend. Who was she meeting at the chapel and who else had a key to the place?’
20
Kathie Flitch wasn’t pleased to see them, when they walked in to the Saloon bar and asked for her in the Nag’s Head. She flicked a cloth along the bar counter. ‘What do you want this time? I’ve told you all I know about Maureen Carey. You’ll give me a bad name asking so many questions.’ But she was smiling.
‘I would like to ask you how well you know Yvette Marceau, as she’s worked here with you at different times.’
‘She still does. She’s got time off today. Why are you asking?’ Kathie said gathering up some dirty glasses off the top of the bar. ‘What’s she been getting up to?’
She saw the grim expression on Kent’s face and stopped what she was doing. ‘Oh no! Has something happened to her? I told her to go straight home after she finished work but she wouldn’t listen. Said she was getting a cab. Her boyfriend was working late last night.’
‘Mrs Flitch, I’m sorry to have to break it to you like this. Yvette is dead.’
She cried out and dropped a glass she was rinsing onto the floor where it shattered into pieces at her feet. She stood looking down at it for a moment, or so, with a shocked expression on her pretty face.
‘Leave that for a moment please if you will. Can you come over here, Mrs Flitch, sit down for a moment and tell us what she said to you concerning meeting someone.’
She sat down at the table. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ Kent shook his head. ‘Thanks.’ She opened up her purse, fumbled with the pack and gas lighter.
‘So - what time was it when she left here and was she on her own?’
‘After we’d cleared up the glasses.’ She lit a cigarette and drew hard on it before answering. ‘It was a busy night. The place was full because we had the Karaoke Talent night. It always draws in the punters. So it was nearly midnight before we finished. John our landlord will tell you the same. Yvette told me she was meeting a bloke.’
‘And he was?’
‘She didn’t say who but it wasn’t her boyfriend, Cliff. She’d been meeting another man I think, on the side, especially flush with money, he was. And older. He could be married. I warned her not to play around as Cliff Jones has a reputation for having quite a temper if provoked.’
‘So?’
‘I think she picked up a taxi along the street as I left here. I heard the car door slam. What has Jones got to say? I bet he’s feeling pretty cut up. He was nuts about her. Or doesn’t he know yet?’ She tapped out the ash into the glass ashtray. Colour was coming back now into her pale cheeks.
‘It was Jones that informed us that she was missing, Mrs Flitch. He came into the station first thing. We had no idea of her identity when her body was first found. Her purse was missing and the gold anklet he said she usually wore.’
‘So she could have been mugged and then killed. I’d say that the anklet was worth a great deal. It was for real all right. She showed it to me and it was engraved with her name. Very proud of it she was. I think her parents spoilt her rotten that was half her trouble.’
‘So how well off is Jones? Did she mention anything to you? Was he earning sufficient to spend plenty on her?’
‘She likes - liked money. Lots of it.’ She drew hard on the cigarette again and Turner watching felt for another sweet in his jacket pocket. He would have to try a patch he thought desperately. ‘And I wouldn’t say that he’s that flush, Inspector. He’s a chef at a hotel. But he does get contracts for putting on special dinners for the swells in town. He aims to open up his own restaurant soon, according to Yvette. Now if you have all you need, I must clear up the broken glass,’ she said stubbing out her cigarette into the glass ash tray.
‘Thank you, Mrs Flitch. You have been very helpful.’
21
‘Jon - you look bushed, so how’s it going?’
‘Not good, I’m afraid. I won’t be good company this evening, Viviane. Sorry to spoil it for you,’ Jon said when he walked through the side gate into the garden, where he found Viviane with the aid of the watering can trying to undo some of the damage that the heat wave was wreaking on her shrubs and plants. ‘This new victim, her parents are flying over to identify her tomorrow.’
‘Who was she, Jon? You must know if her parents are coming. Flying you say? She’s not local?’
‘She was a French student. Just eighteen.’
Viviane stared back at him and let the water from the can drain away over her sandals and into the lawn. ‘Damn! Sorry Jon, when you told me that there was another girl, I didn’t want to believe it not at first. So is it possible that the two deaths are connected? Can you tell, or is it too early yet?’
He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Can’t say for the moment. For God’s sake, I hope that they aren’t. If they are perhaps it would make things much easier for us to deal with.’
‘You can’t really mean that.’ She stared back at him. ‘You do! Why?’
‘Because it would mean that there’s only one killer to pin down and catch. According to Turner, lovers find those woods irresistible. We think she was dumped there after she was killed elsewhere. Just like Maureen Carey.’
‘So the killer knows all the quiet spots. Where else is he going to strike before you stop him?’ She refilled the watering can from the water butt. ‘He’s running rings around you. Two murders in three days, that’s really going some, isn’t it?’
‘Viviane...’ He put a hand gently on her shoulder for a second and then took it away again. ‘Don’t worry. We will do our best to catch the bastard. What else can I say? I can’t promise anything else. Two families have lost their daughters and I don’t want it to happen again. But we have a clue given us by a taxi man who said that he dropped her off at a chapel near midnight.’
‘A chapel! So late at night! How strange. Does that mean she was meeting somebody who used it? You’ll have that to work on at least. I wish you all the luck that’s going. You’ll get the break. Just when you need it.’
‘Thanks a bundle. Well you know a lot of what goes on around here. You know the locals. You can give me the low down on some of them. If and when I need it.’
She laughed. ‘Now you’re trying to get round me. It’s your job to get to know the locals. But if I can fill you in on anything or anyone I will.’
‘Okay. I’m going to take a shower.’ He grinned. ‘I think I need one and an early night. In the morning I want to check up on the acquaintances and friends of both girls to see if there is any connection.’
Viviane thought on for a long time, hunched up in bed, with the cat pinning her feet down, she worried over what she already knew about the case. Was it possible that there was some real connection between the two girls? When the news broke to the public the following morning that another girl had been murdered, it was going to be difficult to keep it from being blown up in sky-high letters in print by the media. And that wasn’t good for the town’s good holiday reputation it would only attract weirdoes and the press.
22
The next day, Monday, saw the beginning of the Carnival week at last. And anticipation of the daily events to be carried out in Victoria Park, the pier and on the sea front, built up as the posters were on view everywhere announcing The Baby Show and Fancy Dress competitions for children to be held in the park, and dances nightly held in the pier ballroom.
And the big Carnival Float Parade through the town on Saturday, followed up by the presentation of prizes for the best floats, and the Firework Display in the evening in the Victoria Park.
It seemed so
unreal to Viviane, considering the two deaths, with all the entertainment going on as usual. But the show had to go on. Although it was bound to affect the party atmosphere generally encouraged during Carnival week. Careful parents were becoming especially vigilant now with their daughters’ safety in mind after dusk. The police force would be kept busy with watching out for drug pushers plus this murder investigation now their prime task.
Viviane didn’t envy Jon. Given that he did have the able assistance of Sergeant Turner at his elbow and some obviously well motivated detectives and uniformed officers. They needed a real break and some genuine leads to follow up that would solve the case sooner than later.
Kent had Turner take down all the names of the male members of the chapel congregation. Amongst them were Councillor Tom Berkley, the current Town Mayor, and Aiden Ludlam, a Councillor and Headmaster of a local private school for boys. Ludlam, he’d arranged to speak to that Monday. Whether they also knew the French girl he would only find out by speaking to them.
‘Mr. Ludlam, thank you for seeing us this morning. I gather that you have a busy schedule at the Town hall today.’
Aiden Ludlam saw them at his home. It was near some of the town’s private nursing homes, a large red brick house in a quiet select road along the back of the sea front.
Aiden Ludlam got up from his desk as they entered. Kent noted that under that expensive dark blue suit he had a frame that might be as powerful as it was graceful. ‘Yes, Inspector Kent. I am serving on the Police Committee. And our meeting is urgent, today. As you already know, we have our problems with drugs here like any seaside town these days. And these Carnival weeks bring in the drug dealers when they know that our police force are doubly stretched and especially now with these murders to contend with.’
‘I’m afraid that’s very true, sir.’
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