Rogue Killer

by Leigh Russell

  ‘We move in the shadows,’ Nelson repeated.

  The words had a certain ring to them. Even though it wasn’t cold in the garage, Daryl shivered. If the other two thought there was nothing to worry about, perhaps they were right and he was behaving like a girl. But it was equally possible his companions were cretins. There had always been a risk they would be caught by the police, only now they might be accused of murder as well as mugging. He wished he knew how to persuade Carver to take the threat seriously. But Carver was frowning with concentration as though blowing smoke rings was the only thing that mattered. Not for the first time, Daryl wished he had never met Carver and Nelson. The trouble was, his companions were never going to allow him to walk away from them. He knew too much. His grandfather used to tell him that knowledge was power, but this knowledge enslaved him.

  13

  ‘We need to find out who she was,’ Eileen said.

  ‘We’re searching for her dental records with all the local surgeries,’ Geraldine replied. ‘Her teeth are in good condition and she seems to have taken care of herself, so it’s likely she went to the dentist regularly. Let’s hope so anyway. It’s a good reason for making regular visits to the dentist.’

  ‘What? So that you can be identified if you’re killed and your wallet is stolen?’ Ariadne asked, laughing. ‘I can think of better reasons for going to the dentist.’

  Geraldine’s optimism proved justified when the dental records of the second victim were traced. A primary school teacher living on her own, Felicity Dunmore had been twenty-seven when she died. The man who had stumbled on her body at the river’s edge came to the police station to make a formal statement. Geraldine had the impression he was quietly excited by all the unexpected attention he was receiving. To be fair, he hadn’t seen the dead woman’s face, only the back of her head as she was lying in the water. He had been kept well back while the body was recovered, even before the rescue team were aware of any necessity to protect the site as a crime scene. Shielded from the disturbing sight of a dead body seen at close quarters, he appeared to be treating the incident as a kind of day out at the police station, where he was offered tea and biscuits and an attentive audience. She wondered if he lived alone. Seeing a gold band on his wedding finger, she guessed he was a widower, and his first words confirmed her impression.

  ‘I often walk along by the river,’ he told her. ‘My wife used to like it there, and the river helps me remember her. She’s been gone fifteen years and it’s sometimes hard to keep hold of the memories.’ He gave an apologetic shrug, as though he had confessed too much. ‘It’s something to do, anyway,’ he added in a brisker tone. ‘We’re all just filling in time to distract ourselves from the human condition, aren’t we? That’s the best we can do, on our journey from birth to death.’

  Touched by his bleak outlook, Geraldine asked whether he had any family.

  ‘I’ve got a daughter, but we don’t see one another anymore. She fell out with my wife.’ He paused. ‘Some people just can’t seem to accept when their children aren’t cast in their mould.’

  ‘There’s nothing to stop you getting in touch with her again. She might be pleased?’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s too late for that. I made my choice.’

  ‘It’s never too late,’ Geraldine said.

  They both knew that wasn’t true.

  She felt a wave of sympathy for this man who looked so small and frail. He was right. Thinking about the transience of existence was depressing. The irony of using the deaths of strangers to distract her from thinking about her own mortality was not lost on her. Shaking off her despondent musings, she snapped back to the job in hand. Another distraction.

  ‘Can you tell me exactly what you saw when you found the body?’

  ‘Well, it’s like I told your constable, the woman was just there, in the water. It was only by chance that I happened to see her because she wasn’t that easy to spot from the footpath. I think I noticed her legs first, or maybe it was her arms. Anyway, I went a bit closer because at first I thought I was imagining it, and then I saw it was a dead body all right, so I called 999 straightaway, and I have to say they responded very quickly.’

  Geraldine did her best to find out whether he had noticed anything unusual, but he had nothing of any interest to tell her. Thanking him for his help, she left him quietly sipping tea in the company of a constable. It was time to take a closer look at the victim.

  Ian decided to accompany her to hear what Jonah had to tell them, but he was so silent in the car, she wished she had gone alone.

  ‘Are you sure you want to come along?’ she asked and was rewarded with an incoherent grunt.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ Ian said, after a few minutes.

  She didn’t respond that she hadn’t thought it was, but waited to hear what he was going to say next. For a while neither of them spoke.

  ‘Bev’s been in touch,’ he said at last, as though in answer to her unspoken question.

  Geraldine took her eyes off the road long enough to observe the firm set of his jaw, and the tension in his hunched shoulders.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked when she couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

  He didn’t answer and they drove the rest of the way in silence.

  The anatomical pathology technician, Avril, looked slightly flushed when she let them in.

  She flashed a broad smile at Ian. ‘Haven’t seen anything of you for a while,’ she said, addressing him as though Geraldine wasn’t there. ‘I was beginning to think they’d thrown you out.’

  Geraldine was tempted to point out that she had been there four days ago, but she held her tongue. There was no need to remind Ian about her recent trip to the mortuary. Besides, Avril’s flirting might cheer him up. He had always been quick to respond to such banter before, but on this occasion he barely seemed to notice Avril and strode past her, his expression sombre. The pathology technician drew in a sharp breath and opened her mouth, then thought better of it and closed it again. Geraldine followed Ian, pretending not to notice Avril’s disappointment.

  ‘Aha, the wanderer returns,’ Jonah greeted Ian jovially. ‘Been taking a holiday from the grim reaper’s carryings-on this time around, and leaving your sergeant to shoulder the burden?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Ian replied. ‘Although sometimes life can be harder,’ he added almost under his breath.

  ‘True enough.’ Jonah winked at Geraldine. ‘Sounds like our inspector’s in trouble. A case of cherchez la femme, is it? Oh well, nothing like an interesting cadaver to take your mind off your problems.’ He turned his attention to the body. ‘She wasn’t in the water very long, I’d say less than twelve hours. Overnight anyway.’ He indicated a gash on the left-hand side of the dead woman’s chest, just below her breasts. ‘Whoever stabbed her was aiming for her heart. Either that, or it was a lucky strike.’

  ‘Lucky?’ Ian queried.

  Geraldine didn’t comment. She had heard Jonah make a similar comment about the other recent corpse.

  ‘There was no trace of frothing in the mouth, no water in the lungs; our girl here was dead before she reached the water.’

  ‘The scene of crime officers seemed to think she was dragged to the water’s edge and fell from the bank after a brief scuffle.’

  Jonah nodded. ‘Makes sense. So we have evidence of a scuffle?’ He raised his head, his eyes alert with interest.

  Geraldine nodded. ‘Yes. But so far all we know is that the killer was wearing new Wellington boots which might not have been the right size as he seemed to slip around a bit in the mud. So they don’t necessarily reveal very much. There’s not a lot of point trying to follow up everyone who’s recently bought Wellington boots. We don’t even know it was a recent purchase, or that he bought them locally.’

  ‘Or she,’ Jonah added. ‘A woman could have been
wearing boots that were too large for her to throw us off the scent.’

  ‘We’re pretty sure the killer was a man,’ Geraldine said. ‘Forensics have found a trace of DNA at the scene –’

  ‘And it matches the DNA found on Grant’s sleeve?’ Jonah interrupted her, his eyes brightening with excitement although he kept his voice steady.

  ‘Yes,’ she told him. ‘So we now suspect the killer is a blond blue-eyed man and, if we’re right, he has killed twice in a week.’

  ‘Well that narrows it down a bit,’ Jonah said, raising a quizzical eyebrow at Ian. ‘Rules out me and Geraldine at any rate.’

  Jonah grinned. He could afford to be cheerful, Geraldine thought. He could go home confident that he had been thorough and his work was finished, while the detectives’ job had scarcely begun, and they were still casting around for leads.

  14

  Frustratingly, the second DNA sample they had obtained gave them no more information than they had already gathered. Although it matched the trace that had been found on Grant’s body, they were still no closer to finding the culprit. A team of officers had been patrolling the areas where youngsters were known to hang out, asking around. Although the police suspected their targets might no longer be in full-time education, they also visited schools and colleges in and around York, trying to pick up information about the muggers. The intelligence officers gathered little about the local gangs that they didn’t already know, and no one shared any information that gave any positive leads to the identities of the three youths who had been responsible for the recent muggings.

  Armed with a vague description of the gang, Geraldine and Ian questioned the head teachers at several local schools, but they too drew a blank. Whoever the muggers were, they had succeeded in keeping a low profile. Since none of the boys known locally as troublemakers matched the details the police had been given, they wondered whether the members of the gang might have come to York recently. Students in higher education wouldn’t be known at any of the local schools, so Geraldine and Ian visited the vice chancellor of the university.

  ‘This is going to be a waste of time,’ Geraldine muttered as they waited in the hushed corridor outside the office.

  ‘I feel as though I’m back at school and have been summoned to see the headmaster,’ Ian whispered, with a smile. ‘I bet you were never in trouble at school.’

  Geraldine returned his smile. He was right. She had been an exemplary pupil, but she hesitated to admit it for fear of sounding boring. Instead, she turned the implied question around.

  ‘I bet you were always in trouble,’ she replied.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t get out of answering that easily. I’m intrigued now.’ He leaned forward, his blue eyes alight with amusement. ‘Tell me honestly, what was the naughtiest thing you ever did at school?’

  ‘Naughty?’ she repeated.

  Before she could say any more, they were summoned to see the vice chancellor. Breathing a sigh of relief, Geraldine wondered whether Ian would remember their unfinished conversation and challenge her again.

  The vice chancellor of the university was a charming man who seemed genuinely dismayed at being unable to help them.

  ‘My role is largely nominal,’ he explained, with an apologetic smile, as though he was somehow letting them down. ‘Sadly I don’t enjoy much contact with the main body of students here. It’s not like being a head teacher in a school. But I had a long discussion with the dean, who has spoken to all the tutors, and we just can’t come up with any suggestions for you.’

  ‘He almost seemed disappointed that he’s not aware of any students who are running around mugging people,’ Geraldine said as they drove away.

  Ian nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Only as they reached the entrance to the police station car park did he say, ‘I haven’t forgotten, you know.’

  ‘Forgotten what?’

  ‘You still haven’t told me what you got up to at school.’

  She laughed. ‘I’m afraid that would be another disappointment for you.’

  Later that morning, the team scanning through hours of CCTV footage picked up a blurry image of the female victim making her way down towards the river, shortly before she was killed. She was instantly recognisable from the billowy skirt she was wearing.

  ‘It’s definitely her,’ a constable said when Geraldine went to see the images for herself.

  Registering her colleague’s excitement, Geraldine felt a pang of regret, recalling her own enthusiasm when she herself had been a young officer. Increasingly these days she was feeling dull and slow, as though she had lost her edge. She had never really been driven by ambition so she didn’t think her fading enthusiasm for her job was due to her demotion. Perhaps she was just getting too old for her chosen career.

  ‘Do you ever feel you’ve been in this job too long?’ she had asked Ian one day.

  He was the only colleague she knew well enough to share her feelings with, but his blank stare made it clear that he hadn’t really understood what she was talking about.

  ‘It’s not just the skirt, but the way she walks is quite distinctive,’ the VIIDO officer said.

  Geraldine leaned forward to study a grainy image on the screen, noting the woman’s gait as she disappeared down steps leading from Lendal Bridge to the river path below. It was probably the last time anyone had seen her alive – apart from her killer. As she watched, a second figure walked across the bridge, right at her heels.

  ‘Did you see that? There was someone behind her,’ Geraldine said. ‘Go back. Play that again.’

  She hadn’t been mistaken. A figure shrouded in a long hooded coat turned off on to the bridge just after the woman in the full skirt started down the steps.

  ‘We need to enhance that image,’ Geraldine said.

  ‘We did our best,’ the constable replied. ‘The hood gets in the way. There isn’t a clear shot of his face.’

  Geraldine studied the moving image. Stilled, it was too blurred to make out any details. It wasn’t even clear whether they were looking at a man or a woman. She swore softly.

  ‘Work backwards,’ she suggested. ‘We need to find an image of this figure before he or she reached the bridge, an image where you can actually see the face.’

  ‘We’ve tried,’ the constable assured her. ‘We’ve scoured all the footage we can find of the streets leading to the bridge, searching for an earlier shot.’

  ‘Try harder,’ Geraldine snapped.

  She knew she was being unreasonable. The visual images team were doing their best. Everyone was doing what they could, but it was frustrating to be so close to the face of a witness who might be able to describe the killer, yet not be able to see it. It was even possible they were watching the killer as he followed his victim down to the river.

  ‘Just keep looking,’ Geraldine said as she turned to leave the room.

  The constable scowled. ‘I told you, we’ve looked everywhere.’

  Nevertheless she must have persisted because barely an hour later she called Geraldine.

  ‘It’s a woman,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The person who followed the victim down off the bridge was a woman. We traced her back through town and a CCTV camera picked her up as she was passing a lighted shop window. We’ve got a shot of her face, although it’s not very clear even after we enhanced it. But someone might recognise her,’ she added uncertainly.

  It was disappointing, since they were looking for a man, but beneath the anonymous figure’s hood it was just about possible to make out long dark hair and dark lipstick. The woman also appeared to be wearing fairly heavy eye make-up, although that could have been shadow. Looking at the image Geraldine could see why the constable had sounded unsure. It was unlikely anyone would be able to identify the woman from that fuzzy image. Still, it was possible the unknown woman had seen the kille
r and would be able to help them with a description. Instantly, Geraldine thought of the dark-haired woman who had been spotted near the scene of the first murder. They had to try and find her.

  ‘And there’s no sign of a gang of youths,’ Geraldine added, when she told Eileen about the sighting.

  The detective chief inspector chose to ignore the last comment. Geraldine wasn’t even sure if Eileen had heard her.

  That afternoon, Eileen prepared an urgent television appearance in which she appealed to the unidentified witness to come forward.

  ‘We’ll be inundated with false information,’ she grumbled.

  They were doing everything possible to find the woman who had followed the victim. Even so, Geraldine wasn’t optimistic. If the missing woman had witnessed the murder and not reported it at the time, she was hardly likely to come forward now.

  ‘Perhaps she was scared,’ Ariadne suggested.

  ‘Why would she be less scared now?’ Geraldine asked.

  ‘Or maybe she saw the killer approaching, but had no idea what he was intending to do. I mean, it’s hardly what you’d expect to see, is it? Anyway, once she’s seen the TV appeal, or heard about it, she’ll know this is a murder investigation, and she might decide to show up. There’s a chance, anyway.’

  And without any other leads, they needed to follow up any chance they had.

  15

  The next morning there was a predictable flurry of spurious phone calls and people arriving in person at the police station to describe their experiences of walking by the river. Most of them claimed to have been followed and even accosted by strangers who were clearly harbouring murderous intent. All were able to give quite detailed accounts of the person they had encountered. The only common feature in the diverse descriptions was the manic expression in the killer’s eyes which were variously blue, brown or green, ‘like a snake’, one witness said.