Dead Memories: An addictive and gripping crime thriller

by Angela Marsons

  As the two strands of what both he and Stacey were investigating had come together, they’d agreed that he would come and speak to Billie’s family and she would continue trying to trace Duggar’s whereabouts. He had to admit he was beginning to get a very bad feeling in his gut about John Duggar.

  The door was opened by a frail-looking man with reddened eyes.

  ‘Mr Styles?’ he asked.

  The man nodded and stood aside.

  Penn entered. ‘I’m here about Billie,’ he said. Her father was much older than he’d imagined.

  ‘The nice police constable told me someone would come,’ he said, shuffling down the hall. From his own experience with his mother Penn guessed the man needed a new hip.

  Penn followed him into a small lounge that, although old fashioned, looked clean and comfortable.

  He eased himself down into the single chair, slowly.

  Penn sat on the two-seater sofa.

  ‘How is she?’ he asked.

  ‘You haven’t been to see her?’ Penn asked, before he could help himself.

  The man shook his head sadly, and Penn wondered if it was a mobility issue.

  ‘She’s stable,’ Penn offered. ‘Not out of the woods yet but she’s alive and given the nature and extent of her—’

  Mr Styles held up his hand and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t hear that again.’

  ‘Sir, may I ask if Billie is?…’

  ‘My granddaughter,’ he said, staring at the carpet. ‘My daughter died of breast cancer at the age of forty-five. Billie was nine and came to us. There was no one else.’

  ‘Her father?’

  ‘Never met him. It was only Sylvia and Billie until…’ His words trailed away as he wiped at his eyes again.

  ‘And your wife?’ Penn asked, gently, feeling the silence of the house.

  ‘Died five years later. Massive stroke, so we’ve kind of muddled through, Billie and me.’

  Penn had a sudden rush of sympathy for this man who had endured too much tragedy already.

  ‘Mr Styles, if you need someone to take you to see…’

  ‘Thank you but no,’ he said, shaking his head.’ I just can’t face her, knowing what was… I’m sorry but…’

  ‘It’s okay, Mr Styles,’ Penn said; although his heart went out to the young woman, barely conscious, lying alone in a hospital bed, he felt the misery emanating from this elderly man.

  ‘Is there someone I could call to come and sit with you?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m fine, son. What can I help you with?’

  ‘I’d like to talk to you about a friend of hers. Do you know a man named John Duggar?’

  The watery blue eyes sharpened showing Penn the man’s brain was not ageing at the same rate as his body.

  ‘You don’t think?…’

  ‘Let’s just say the man is on our radar.’

  ‘I suppose it would… oh my goodness.’

  ‘Did they know each other well?’

  He nodded. ‘They were together off and on for a couple of years. They met at the pub where he worked. She’d always liked tall men and this one had the added attraction of being an ex-criminal. Except he wasn’t so ex. He was still up to no good even though he’d been given the chance of a decent job. One of the reasons I didn’t like him.

  ‘I tried to warn her about him but she insisted he’d changed and put his past behind him. She wouldn’t listen and she was earning her own money as a dental assistant, had her own place.’

  ‘Sounds like she’s a very sensible girl,’ Penn noted, bringing her back into the present. She wasn’t dead.

  ‘That’s what made it all the stranger at first. It’s like she was blinded by his bad boy image or whatever it is they call it. And then she started to see sense.’

  ‘Was he ever violent with her?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not that I know. He liked to try and scare her but…’

  ‘Sorry, but I’m not sure…’

  ‘Let me explain. The first time John got caught for fencing stolen goods she forgave him. Visited him in prison, stood by him and accepted he’d made a mistake. He did his time and got out. Second time he got caught she wasn’t quite so forgiving and started to see what life could be like with a career criminal. She waited until he was out and told him it was over.’

  ‘And how’d he take it?’

  ‘Well, it seemed, until Billie started hearing noises late at night and lots of hang-up phone calls.’

  ‘Did she report it?’ he asked, although they’d found nothing on the system.

  ‘She had no proof it was him and she thought if she ignored it, he’d get bored and just stop.’

  ‘And did he?’

  ‘I don’t think so. She was still getting the hang ups when we spoke a few days ago.’

  Penn sat for a moment and considered what he’d just learned. The man was not given to violence. Strange given the level of death in the case they were investigating, but more interesting to him was one simple truth that stood out.

  That when John Duggar was focussed on something in particular, he was not prepared to let go.

  Ninety-Eight

  ‘Storm’s on its way,’ Bryant said, as they parked outside Winson Green. There’d been a few rumbles of thunder and the clouds were gathering. Every other person was looking to the sky expectantly.

  ‘It’ll probably pass,’ Kim said, heading towards the entrance.

  They repeated the process imposed a couple of days earlier and cleared security. They were shown to the visitor’s centre by a sullen officer who offered no conversation en route.

  The hall was more crowded than before but her gaze swept the room and easily found one man sitting alone with his head down. She didn’t need the surly guard to point him out and headed through the crowds towards the back. She kept her head held high ignoring the curious glances that never ceased to amaze her, like some kind of sixth sense that there were police officers in the building.

  ‘Joel Greene?’ Kim asked, sitting.

  He raised his head and nodded.

  ‘You’re not the easiest man to find,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I ain’t been hiding,’ he said, looking around.

  ‘I’m assuming you know about your parents?’ she asked.

  ‘He wasn’t my dad. And yeah, I saw it on the news.’

  Kim felt a sadness steel over her.

  ‘I’m really sorry you had to find out like that,’ Kim said.

  ‘Yeah, it was shit but I let Gennard know and he sent me to sort some books.’

  Kim thought for a minute and then understood what he was saying. This wasn’t a place where you wore your emotions on your sleeve. Gennard had offered him a period of privacy.

  ‘Your last name complicated matters along with the fact that everyone told us you were away travelling,’ Kim explained.

  He smiled sadly. ‘Yeah, my parents used that line every time I got stuck in here.’

  Kim found herself having a strange reaction to this man. He was almost thirty yet there was a sense of hopelessness about him that she couldn’t fathom.

  ‘How many times you been inside?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘Six, seven and I’ll be back again,’ he said, honestly.

  ‘Were you not close with your parents?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. ‘Not really. Don’t get me wrong. I loved them but we didn’t understand each other. They couldn’t understand why I was always in trouble and I didn’t get why they were so happy to toe everyone else’s line. They loved me but I wasn’t exactly what my mother hoped for.’

  Kim found herself wanting to know more.

  ‘Go on,’ she urged.

  ‘Well they worked their whole lives at average paid jobs, living in an average house with average friends and neighbours. Nothing wrong with that. It’s clean, tidy, respectable. Everything I don’t want to be. I want to be rich and I’m happy to try and get there by breaking the law. It’s how I live my life, how I want to live
my life. I’ll get released and I’ll reoffend. I know that. I may get caught or I may not but that’s what they couldn’t accept about me, that I actually didn’t want to change.’

  Kim admired his honesty even though she now wanted to follow him on release day and nab him when he did reoffend.

  ‘So, can you think of anyone who would want to hurt them?’ Bryant asked.

  He looked at them incredulously. ‘Now I know you’re joking. Neither of them ever offended anyone in their lives. I bloody wish they had but they were the most inoffensive people on the planet. You can ask most of these guys. When they came to visit they spent more time buying sandwiches and coffee and chatting with other visitors; it was easier for them than sitting here talking to me.’

  Kim sensed she was getting nothing further. Their lives had been worlds apart.

  ‘We’ll release the bodies as soon as we can and you can apply for a day pass.’

  ‘I won’t be going to the funeral,’ he said, quietly, turning his head away. He swallowed deeply, twice, before turning a face with reddened eyes back towards them. ‘Imagine if I turned up attached at the wrist to Egor over there. It would give their friends and neighbours gossip fodder for months and they’d hate that. I wouldn’t do that to them. I’ll say my own goodbyes.’

  Kim wondered if Joel Greene understood the core of decency that ran through him.

  Kim thanked him for his time and stood.

  She saw that team leader Gennard had joined Officer Surly next to the vending machine.

  His eyes were sweeping the room efficiently, assessing the situation, ensuring all was as it should be.

  ‘Just the man we’re looking for,’ Kim said to Bryant.

  It wasn’t until she reached the other side of the room that she realised Dale Preece and Symes were nowhere to be seen.

  Ninety-Nine

  Stacey closed the front door behind Charlie and Barney. The neighbour had come to collect the dog for an afternoon walk.

  ‘It’s okay, Alison, you can come down from the bar stool now. He’s gone,’ she said.

  ‘I’m fine up here,’ she said, stubbornly. ‘Although I do need a quick pee,’ she admitted.

  Stacey chuckled. The woman had been up on that stool for almost six hours without venturing into the shark-infested waters occupied by the saft as tuppence dog.

  ‘Where is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Door next to the garage.’

  Having found it herself earlier, Stacey had been unable to resist a sneak peek into the garage. The boss’s Ninja had gleamed at her from the furthest point, right by the roller shutter door. Between her and the bike was a sheet covering the concrete filled with what looked like scrap metal.

  Stacey had known her boss restored classic motorcycles in her spare time but she’d assumed they came in kit form with glue, fixings and instructions, like the Airfix aeroplanes her dad had spent hours on when she was young. She hadn’t thought the garage would resemble the back of a scrap man’s van.

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ she said as the doorbell rang again. ‘Boss needs a flipping butler. Oh, it’s you,’ she said, opening the door to Penn.

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ he said, rushing past her. He removed his jacket, sat and looked around. ‘Err… we lost a dog and a profiler?’

  ‘Both gone wee wee,’ she said, taking her seat opposite.

  ‘So, what did you find out?’ she asked.

  ‘Duggar and Billie were definitely a couple, as we thought, but she broke it off months ago. Had enough of being a prison wife. He didn’t take it too well. Harassed her a fair bit.’

  ‘Violence?’

  Penn shook his head. ‘Strangely not. Looks like Duggar was telling the truth when he said he didn’t like fighting.’

  ‘Yeah, but given the brutality of the attack on Billie…’

  ‘I know. I mean Duggar’s all over this but he never laid a hand on his girlfriend and none of his crimes are violent. Never been in possession of a knife or any other weapon.’

  ‘What do you think about Duggar, Alison?’ Penn asked, as she retook her place on the stool.

  ‘We have a situation where the evidence says yes. He viewed the flat where Amy and Mark were killed, so he had access to the key. He was the person who took the car into the scrapyard and he could have met the Phelpses at the prison. We know he’s linked to Billie Styles. But, and it’s a really big but, he doesn’t even come close to fitting the profile. And we’ve all agreed that whoever is doing this must hate your boss very much. He was pleasant, co-operative and honest, so, quite frankly, my opinion is… I have no clue.’

  Stacey couldn’t help the chuckle that broke free at Alison’s admission. It made her more human, somehow.

  ‘Well, the boss’ll be on her way back from Birmingham soon and I’m pretty sure she’s gonna expect a bit more than that.’

  One Hundred

  Alison waited for Penn to close the door as he left for a snack run. She counted to three and then went for it.

  ‘Stace, you got a minute?’

  The constable turned to her. ‘Did I miss the memo on being assigned to?—’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, meaning it. After the call-out last night the woman was demonstrating great patience, but Alison knew she was out of her depth. Stacey had already told her that she’d passed the earring along to someone named Mitch to maintain the chain of evidence, and now she was asking for even more help.

  Many times she’d considered asking Penn for help but she had no idea if he’d worked with Merton and therefore had a connection. If they were friends Penn might drop her in it.

  ‘I just don’t know what to do. I know that Merton won’t even take my call. I can’t pass all this on as the entire team at West Mercia thinks I’m useless.’

  ‘Is there no one involved in the investigation you can trust?’ Stacey asked, turning back to her computer.

  She considered Jamie, but he was so far up Merton’s behind he’d probably drop her in it without even realising it.

  She shook her head. ‘I just feel as though I should be doing something. I mean, what if he is still out there? What if they have got the wrong guy and the real killer is out there. He could be targeting somebody right this very—’

  ‘Sorry, but I need to—’

  ‘Will someone just bloody listen to me,’ Alison raged, banging her fist off the table. ‘My whole career has been trashed, my reputation all but destroyed. It’s unlikely I’ll ever be asked to consult again but, most importantly, they have the wrong man and I’m sick and fucking tired of—’

  ‘You’re shouting and swearing at me?’ Stacey asked, wide-eyed.

  ‘Put yourself in my position,’ she said, trying not to take out her frustration on the one person who had tried to help. ‘I’m about to lose everything and I know I’m right. An innocent man is going to prison for the rest of his life and the real killer is going to walk free. As a police officer that—’

  ‘Alison, are you trying to use your powers on me?’ Stacey asked.

  ‘I don’t have—’

  ‘Joking, Alison.’

  Alison wondered how these people managed to keep their sanity. There was no way she could make jokes while both her stomach and her head were in turmoil and her nerves were shot to bits.

  Lives were at risk and these people did this every day.

  Stacey gave her a long look. ‘Okay, so what do you actually have? You’ve found an earring at the location that Beverly was taken from and you’ve got the barmaid now saying the singer was with her.’

  ‘And the fact I just know Curtis didn’t do it.’

  ‘Yeah, we’ll leave that aside for now,’ Stacey offered. ‘So, given that you have absolutely no access to any of the evidence—’

  ‘I have statements.’

  ‘CCTV?’

  Alison shook her head. She’d never viewed the CCTV images.

  ‘Damn. We’re going to need more than that to divert this investigation. You don’
t even know if that woman will repeat her confession officially, so if you can’t disprove Curtis, you’re going to have to try and establish the real killer.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘Shush, I’m thinking,’ Stacey said, opening a new tab and Google Earth.

  Alison watched as she enlarged, clicked and navigated with speed and accuracy.

  ‘Hang on one…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Shush,’ Stacey snapped.

  Alison realised that she really had to get a handle on when people were speaking to her and when they weren’t.

  She watched as Stacey moved around the screen, putting the blue figure onto roads and looking around.

  ‘Just give me two…’

  Alison said nothing.

  ‘Jackson Little,’ Stacey said, reaching for the phone.

  ‘Who’s?…’

  Stacey held up her hand. Alison listened in awe as Stacey gave the nature of the call. She quoted dates and times and gave her email address.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Alison said.

  Stacey went back to the map. ‘Okay, you said that the club CCTV turned up nothing and the local council CCTV search was focussed on Curtis’s van, assuming they left the club together. We now know they didn’t, so did Beverly leave alone? Again, I’m sure all registration numbers of vehicles on the car park were checked, so we have nothing to gain there.’

  ‘Okay,’ Alison agreed.

  ‘So, what if she left on foot and the killer followed her. She was found less than a mile from the club, so it’s possible she never got into a car at all.’

  Stacey put the map back onto the screen.

  ‘So, if you look at the route from the pub to the crime scene, Lissett Road runs for a quarter mile of it and the only industrial premises that takes up one side of the road is a fastener manufacturing company called Jackson Little who have an entrance gate for the delivery vehicles right about here.’ She switched to the satellite view. ‘See?’

  Alison nodded, dumbfounded at the speed of both Stacey’s mind and actions.

  ‘And if we’re lucky that ding we just heard is a collection of the footage from their external cameras and we can see if Beverly walked past and, more importantly, if she was alone.’