He drew in a deep breath and broke out into a cold sweat. His mouth drying up on him suddenly. Swallowing hard, he forced some saliva back into his mouth. And, removing his Keeper’s cap, pushed his shaking fingers through his damp hair, wondering how long the police would take to act. Finally, getting his panic attack under control, he used his cell and contacted the police station.
‘Toomey, Head Park Keeper speaking. You’ve got to come to Victoria Park straight away. I’ve found a girl’s body,’ he announced shakily. ‘Er - near the bird aviary.’
‘Right, stay where you are. Scene of Crime officers will be with you shortly, sir.’
Staying on the spot, he cautiously took another look at the body. The girl was naked but for the brightly coloured silk scarf wrapped around her slender neck which had been bruised and crushed like a flower stem. Toomey hesitated, feeling sick. Her swollen face wasn’t a pretty sight. Her protruding tongue and glassy blood streaked eyes frightened him. The last person she’d seen with them was the killer.
And his first inclination was to throw his linen jacket over her. But knew he would be making a mistake by touching her. He could disturb the DNA or any important clues the police forensic team would be looking for. They would be narked if he disturbed anything. His cell rang shrilly in his jacket pocket making him jump. And the peacocks displaying to their hens screeched loudly beside him on the lawn.
‘Where are you Ralph? Worrying about those silly birds again, I suppose? I’ve cooked your breakfast. Mushrooms, pork sausages and bacon. Are you coming, love? It’ll spoil if it’s left any longer in the oven.’
‘I-I can’t come for a bit. I’ve had to call the police. They’ll be coming through the gates any minute. Any sign of ‘em yet?’
‘The Police! Yes. There’s a police car just drawn up in the road. And there’s some men coming through the gate. In white overalls and uniforms and detectives, I think. What’s wrong, Ralph? What’s happened? Are you all right?’
‘Now, don’t fret yourself, Sandra. Sit down. And listen carefully to me. We’ve got a body in here. A girl’s body. I-I’ve just found her.’ There was a cry of alarm at the other end of the line. ‘Don’t get yourself upset now. Or you’ll do yourself and the baby no good. I’ll be home soon. When they’ve finished with me here. First I’ll have to answer their questions. You can forget my breakfast though. I don’t fancy it now. Just a piece of toast will do.’
34
Turner snatched up a piece of buttered toast and ignored the tempting pieces of smoked bacon that his wife was cooking. She had just come in from seeing to one of her elderly patients, Mrs Barnes, who’d had a bad turn at home that morning. He poured out another cup of strong saffron coloured tea and heaped in sugar by the spoonful. She looked over at him anxiously. ‘You sure you don’t want a bacon sandwich, love?
‘No, thanks.’
‘Is it another killing, Stan?’
He sighed heavily. Nodded. ‘Seems like it, love. The Scene of Crime officers are there. And it’ll be another lousy long day for the team traipsing around. Making house calls. Knocking on doors. And the Incident Room on full alert. Oh, go on then, love. I’d better have a rasher or two, I suppose. Make me a couple of sandwiches. Don’t know when I’ll be back in. It promises to be another scorcher too. So I’ll fancy nothing too heavy, tonight.’
‘A light salad then? I’ve got some ham in or there’s cold chicken.’
‘That’ll do nicely. Just our luck I’m on and you’re free this weekend. Still there’ll be no leave for anyone. Give your mother a call. If you’re worried about Mrs Barnes. Ask her to keep an eye on the kids this morning. She offered, remember? Then give the kids the picnic in the garden, I should this afternoon. Fill up the paddling pool for them. Sorry it’s happened like this on our day out.’
Carole Turner sighed too. She had hoped they could do something special this weekend. Take a trip out into the country. Let the kids run loose a bit. Take a picnic basket. And get away from the crowded beaches and the holidaymakers. She was frightened by the way the case was building up but she didn’t want to worry Stan. She stirred her cup of tea and with one eye on Emma feeding her rabbit in the garden said; ‘It is another young girl, isn’t it?’
Guessing the way her mind was working, he nodded and frowned. ‘Yes, I think so. Don’t start chaining Emma up, woman. But she’ll not be going anywhere without you or me till this case is cleared up. And don’t say what if it isn’t. It will be. Kent is a good ‘un. And everyone is behind him. We’ll catch the bugger. You’ll see.’
‘Oh, I really hope so. I shan’t be able to work without wondering what’s happening to her if you’re called out. You know what kids are like? They don’t see any danger when they’re Emma’s age. Maureen didn’t, did she?’
‘No. But Emma’s got more sense. Stop seeing danger when there is none. There’s a good girl.’
*
Viviane stirred in her bed. Beazy sat up right as they heard the quick light footsteps on the stairs. She ran her fingers through her hair, yawned and listened. Out again. Another call? She hoped that it didn’t qualify what she’d thought before the night before. That it would be so easy to snare another victim while the Carnival revels were on. The fireworks display had been so loud and noisy. But if it had, it must have happened afterwards. There were such big crowds it would be fairly easy to pick up a girl without attracting too much attention.
She had made no plans for the day. Other than taking it easy in the garden where the dried up lawn and plants were simply begging for water. And hoses as usual were banned. It was too hot to do any needed housework. The spiders could spin their webs for all their worth in the house. Instead she’d hand wash some newly acquired cambric vintage petticoats she’d spotted and bought in the old town, and hang them out to dry. They should look good with the sun helping to bleach them white. And they looked a pretty sight on the line when she stood back to admire them.
Simon was playing cricket later with some of his friends. He’d asked her to come along to watch. But she wasn’t in the mood. Here was the weather that the town hoped for and all the day-trippers would be down by the coach load. Filling up the cafes and the beaches. It didn’t make Jon’s work any easier. She could imagine the team pulling out all the stops in the incident room to nail the killer. They really needed a break. Perhaps they would get one now.
Beazy flopped down in the shade of the bushes and the garden shed. Choosing to ignore a green frog hopping at great speed across the lawn to get to the pond with its inviting splashing fountain and lily leaf pads. Even Beazy hadn’t much energy to spare.
35
In the park, the police sealed off the spot with the official tapes, then stood by and waited while the police doctor carried out his examination.
‘Dead about nine to ten hours. Not killed on the spot. I would say she was brought here afterwards.’
‘That would be difficult, wouldn’t it, guv? If the park gates are closed at night.’
Kent looked at the Keeper. ‘There is a small gate in Lower Park road that is sometimes left open, isn’t it, Mr. Toomey? Or do you manage to go round closing every one last thing?’
‘I officially check on and close up all the main gates by ten or eleven on a special night like last night, sir. But you’re right. That small gate is sometimes left unlocked. Not many people would notice. Probably only the residents in Lower Park road would use it. Or someone local would know that it isn’t locked. Most people come and go by the main gates which are more convenient for public use. I shall make sure after this that I close every gate from now on if it takes me an extra hour closing them,’ he said miserably.
Kent studied the young man’s wretched face. ‘You aren’t responsible for her death, Mr. Toomey. She wasn’t killed in the park. This was just a convenient dumping place. You can go now. Try not to take it so much to heart.’
‘Thank you, Inspector,’ he said hurrying away.
‘Poor lad. He must have felt
like bringing his boots up,’ Turner said.
‘Someone though must have had this place stacked out well beforehand.’
‘I should say so, guv.’ Turner agreed gloomily.
36
Viviane knew she was going to be on tenterhooks all day. She didn’t, as a rule, watch TV so early but midday she switched it on for the local news. Simon munching a ham sandwich watched alongside her as the News Reader announced solemnly.
‘Another girl’s body was found in the popular seaside resort of Harcombe on Sea. The victim’s waiting for identification. This makes the third in less than eight days. The police are still seeking the motive for the killings.’
She wondered how Jon Kent was feeling. Right now. Gutted more than likely. What a way to make an impression in a new position. Were there any fresh leads? Earlier, according to Jon, there had been door to door visits from the police checking up on known sexual offenders but all had been cleared.
She sighed and chewed her under lip fretfully. ‘Stop worrying about it, Mum,’ Simon said patting her gently on the shoulder. ‘You’re not going to be any help to Jon if you let it get to you like this. He doesn’t need to see you getting all het up.’
‘You’ll be with Michael for the rest of the day, won’t you? Give me a ring. Let me know when you’ll be home, won’t you?’
‘I could be having something at his place. At the Berkley’s. Just take it easy. Don’t try and solve the case single-handed.’
‘I just feel I have a head start. Jon’s not so familiar with the people here.’
‘It could be someone who doesn’t live in Harcombe anyway. He could be down here for a holiday. And Jon’s got Turner. He’s worth his weight in gold bricks and that’s something.’
37
The two men walked slowly into the mortuary. Neither of them looked forward to this visit. It was beginning to become a familiar chore. They had no doubt what they would see. Had to face once again. The girl had been removed from her leafy bed and brought here ready for identification on the cold slab. Where the previous two had lain. And now waited on the ice box shelves for burial. Turner ran his hand down the nape of his neck. It prickled. He was getting that feeling again.
Kent rubbed his chin distractedly. ‘What age would you say she was, Turner?’
‘Looks young like the others, guv. She’s as thin as an alley cat. Not more than sixteen at a guess. Could be fourteen, fifteen? That would be more like it. Was she a user? ‘
Kent lifted the sheet away gently from the thin arms and saw no marks.
‘No. Clean by the look of it.’
They studied the swollen, livid face of the girl lying on the slab carefully. Method of death the same. Was she a local or a townie? Had she come down from the smoke to join the rest of the social misfits on the beach while the sun shone? And her fate had been decided for her because she was so young. Was she known by the killer or picked out of the crowds in the park because she was alone and vulnerable at the time.
Turner frowned. ‘I could be wrong, guv. But she looks familiar. I recognize that face from somewhere...’ He scratched the side of his stubby nose thoughtfully for a minute with a thick forefinger, a frown creasing his freckled forehead. ‘And - I saw her last night with Raymond Perkins,’ he announced this solemnly. ‘In the park. That’s it, I think.’
‘That’s interesting, Turner. That boy has got himself in the frame once again. An innocent bystander, or what?’ Kent leant over the face. ‘Look at this, Turner. Looks like she wore a nose ring of sorts. What do you think? The killer tore it out? There’s a trace of blood around that nostril?’
Turner snapped his fingers. ‘Bingo! I’ve got it! I’ve seen her face on a poster in the station and around town. For the last three months, I’ve been looking at her. She’s our missing girl, guv. I should have realised it. Her parents have been looking for her for the last six months. They obviously thought she might have come down here. But they didn’t worry enough to come down here to take a look, did they? Or if they did, they didn’t try hard enough.’
Kent sighed heavily. ‘Thanks Turner. That cuts down some of the paperwork. Christ! It’s not how I’d like the search for a missing child to end. Those poor parents. How the hell do you break it to them?’ he said.
‘It resolves it I suppose, guv. They might never have known what happened to her. Some parents never do trace them. What makes kids go off the rails? Leave home without a word. To live rough. Can it be so very bad at home?’
Kent wondered where exactly did this take them. Could they stop these killings now? He had visions of more than three dead girls. The media would make hay out of it. He could see his position here being reviewed by the police committee and soon. They might ask for help from outside from the Big Boys at the Met.’
38
In the Incident Room. The news came over the phone and was received with muted sighs of relief. ‘Her parents were contacted in London, guv. They’re both professional people. Lawyers. The stepfather is a barrister. There are three distressed parents to deal with. It couldn’t be worse for publicity,’ Carter said.
It was a difficult occasion. When they turned up at the station late in the afternoon, Kent felt out of his depth. Jodie’s mother wasn’t at all what he expected. She was Estelle Bellingham, a lawyer, a tall dark elegant woman, in a black costume, who gave away little away of her true feelings at first, but collapsed into raw heart breaking tears when she identified the girl as Jodie Charters, her daughter.
She came into the mortuary with the girl’s natural father, her ex-husband, Gerry Charters. There had been no argument over this arrangement. The step-father Larry Bellingham waited it out in the police station. They listened to the Inspector explaining the circumstances of their daughter’s death, and asked when the body would be released for burial. Her mother’s brown eyes burned with fury as she heard the frightening details of her child’s death.
‘So, Inspector, how soon do you think it will take you to catch this murderer of innocent children? How many more mothers will wait in vain for their daughters to come home from school? Before you do your job and bring him to justice?’
Turner listening in the background thought uneasily that he wouldn’t like her to be the prosecuting counsel in a case against him in court.
39
June Perkins heard the bad news on the small kitchen radio and sat down heavily in her kitchen chair with her cup of tea spilling over into the saucer on her lap. Not another girl. She wondered if Raymond would be questioned yet again. Sure to be. The police were persistent. He’d gone to the park with the girl Jodie. Came in late again last night. Slamming the doors behind him.
She guessed that something was wrong. He’d been stood up for some reason. He was sleeping in late now.
When the loud knock came at the front door she knew that it was the police. And her heart beat fast which added to her general panic. She felt sick. She’d meant to ask her doctor to give her something for these nervous attacks. Her heart must be dicky. None of this trouble was helping her health wise. She would definitely ask for a check-up.
‘Inspector, Mr. Turner. What brings you back here again so soon? Is it because there’s been another girl killed?’ she said letting them in. ‘Raymond is in his room listening to his CDs. It’s Sunday. Do you have to speak to him just now?’
‘Yes we do, Mrs Perkins.’
‘And why do you want to speak to him? He hasn’t met another girl that has been killed, has he?’ she said letting them in. ‘He’s done nothing wrong.’
‘Now, now, Mrs P. you know that we have to ask questions of anyone who has met the victim. And your grandson was out with the girl who was killed last night.’
June Perkins gasped. ‘Oh, no! Not Jodie!’
‘I’m afraid it is. And we know you have met her too. In fact you were able to help her find a place in the hostel for the homeless. But she didn’t go there last night. Mrs Watts got onto us this morning from the hostel as soon as she heard
about the girl’s death.’
June Perkins`s usual bright colour vanished from her round cheeks. ‘That poor little girl. Raymond liked her. Liked her a lot. He told me so. She was nicer than that stuck up Maureen. And Jodie came from a good home. I could tell. But she didn’t make him feel small when he asked her out. The other day when she had a shower here I heard her singing. She had such a sweet voice. I meant to ask her if she wanted to sing in the chapel,’ she said, clapping her plump hand over her trembling mouth.
‘I hoped I could get her to phone her parents from here. I was working on it.’ The tears were running down over the plump cheeks unchecked. ‘She hated that horrible step-father. She wanted to live with her real daddy. And now - now she’s dead. And it’s too late.’
She sniffed and felt blindly for a cologne scented hanky from her pinny pocket. ‘I’m sorry. Oh dear. I have hay fever again. It always catches me by surprise.’ She blew her nose heartily and blinked back the tears. ‘Sorry. I’ll be all right in a minute.’
‘Take your time, Mrs Perkins. Did Jodie mention meeting any other people besides Raymond?’
‘Roger Welbeck first off gave her a lift to the hostel, Mr. Turner. His cousin Mrs Watts runs it. She seemed so relieved about it. She’d been sleeping rough. And living off scraps literally.’
‘Where had she been sleeping? Did she say Mrs Perkins?’
‘She said she slept sometimes in shelters on the sea front. And in a blanket in the underground car park. Or on good nights under the pier on the beach. And in the park garden most times if she could get in late at night. She said that there was a small gate often left open.’ The detectives looked at one another. ‘Anywhere she wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone. She was afraid of the junkies and alkies.’
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