by Candy Denman
They reached the top and turned into the lane that zig-zagged to the top of the hill.
“Well, it wouldn’t work if there were only men registered, would it?” Kate responded, slightly out of breath despite all her time in the gym. “Or rather, that’s a different sort of website altogether.”
“Have you ever tried internet dating?” Callie asked her friend.
“God, yes.” Kate paused for a moment to catch her breath. “Complete disaster. Why? Were you thinking of giving it a go?”
“Well, yes.” She searched in her bag for her keys and opened the door. “I have thought about it, but never actually had the nerve. What happened to you?”
“I learnt a very valuable lesson.” Kate followed Callie up the stairs. “Never give anyone any real details about yourself until you are absolutely sure they aren’t some kind of crazy stalker. Good job I’m a lawyer, because it took all sorts of legal threats and an injunction to scare him off.”
Callie stared at her in amazement.
“I’ll remove that from the list of things I can do if I get desperate, then,” Callie said as she filled the kettle with water from her filter jug, before asking: “Coffee or wine?”
Kate looked at her as if she were mad.
“Wine of course. Coffee at this time of night would keep me awake.”
The advantage of an open plan living room and kitchen was that they could easily continue their conversation as Callie opened the bottle.
“To be fair, I know lots of people who have managed to find what they were looking for and not had any problems, so I’m not a good example. You just have to be a little more careful than I was.”
“What exactly happened?” Callie asked once they were settled.
“We exchanged emails on the dating site, and agreed to meet in a wine bar, and I had a perfectly nice evening with him. He made me laugh, seemed a nice guy, and we agreed to meet again so I gave him my mobile number. Then I met Pete, do you remember Pete?”
“The plumber?”
“That’s the one. Came to fix a leak and stayed for six weeks.”
“That was soon after I met you, but he seemed a nice man.”
“He was indeed” – Kate smiled wistfully at the memory – “so I cancelled the second date with the internet guy. Of course, he had my mobile number and kept calling and texting, refusing to go away, even when I ignored him.”
“I remember you telling me you were changing your number because some man was harassing you. I hadn’t realised you met him on the internet. Didn’t he track you down at work as well?”
“That’s right. During the evening I’d told him a bit about myself, you know, about being a solicitor working in criminal law, having an office in the main town. I didn’t give him my life history, but he had enough to track me down again after I changed my phone number. Turned up at the court to try and speak to me, but I refused to see him and they threw him out. Stupid of him really, there’s bound to be security at a court, but he honestly thought I’d change my mind I suppose. Couldn’t believe I wouldn’t fall at his feet. It got a bit awkward but fortunately the threat of legal action against him was enough to scare him away.”
Callie brought her laptop over to where they were sitting.
“In some ways it was lucky you found out what he was like so early. Imagine if you had tried to end it after you had been going out a while.”
Kate nodded.
“I know, lucky break. Of course, you don’t just find nutters like that on the internet. I’ve dealt with stalking cases a couple of times, and neither of them were from internet dating.”
“Right. Let’s take a look at this website, then, what was it called?”
“SusSEXtra.co.uk,” Kate answered, spelling it out. “It’s a conflation, you know, a word made up of others, in this case Sussex, SEX, helpfully in capitals just to make sure you know what it’s all about, and extra, I presume for extramarital.”
Callie looked horrified.
“I know, I know, but I didn’t name it, did I?” Kate took the laptop from Callie and typed the name in.
The first page asked if they were a woman looking for a man or a man looking for a woman, for a first name and email address. Kate paused.
“Why are we doing this?” Kate asked.
“If you’d rather not–”
“It’s not that, but are we going on to the site simply to see what it’s like out of curiosity? Or to see if we can find either or both of the victims registered? Only, if we want to see if we can find the two ladies, we are going to have to register as a man, or as bi or wanting a threesome.”
Callie looked appalled.
“You think they were into that sort of thing?”
“I don’t know, and that’s the problem. We don’t know what they would be interested in and therefore we can’t put in a profile likely to bring them up as a match.”
Callie looked as if she was rapidly changing her mind about everything.
“But if we did put in a fairly basic profile, do you think we would be able to find them?”
“It’s unlikely, in my view. Apart from anything else, they probably wouldn’t use their real names.”
Callie thought for a while.
“I just want to have a bit more of an idea about the site and if it could be where the killer meets his victims,” she said finally. “And I have to admit to a certain amount of curiosity.”
“Me too,” Kate said with a smile as she clicked and typed. “Let’s say we are a woman looking for a man then. First name?” She looked at Callie. “And don’t say Callie.”
“Mary?” Callie suggested.
“Nice name, but not really, you know, sexy. How about, Vicky short for Victoria’s Secret.” Kate didn’t wait for Callie’s approval but added the name Vicky.
“Ah, now we have to put in an email address.”
She clicked open a new tab and quickly registered a new email account for Vicky S.
“Have you done this before?” Callie asked. “Only you seem rather experienced.”
“I told you, I learnt from my first foray into internet dating. Now if I do it, I don’t just use a fake name, I have a fake email and a throw away phone, a suitably unrecognisable photo and I make sure I never tell them anything true about me.”
Callie thought about this as Kate continued setting up her new persona.
“What if you meet somebody you like though? And want to start a real relationship. There has to be a time when you tell them the truth.”
“Of course,” Kate said glibly. “Once you’ve thoroughly vetted them.”
“Well, don’t they object to the fact that you aren’t who you said you were?”
“Dunno, never got that far.” Kate typed Callie’s new email address in. “And anyway, you have to remember they may not be who they say they are, either. Password. How about ‘2ladies’? Like in Cabaret? Think you’ll remember it or do you want to write it down?”
Callie wrote the password down on a notepad.
“Right. Next question. A little about me…” Kate read from the screen. “For example, if we were alone for the night, how we would try to make it sexy and inviting. What do you think we should write, Vicky?” she said to Callie, who was looking bemused. “On second thoughts, I think you need to leave this to me.”
Callie had no argument with that, she was still struggling to take it all in. She looked at what Kate was writing and decided to drink her wine instead.
“Right, photo. We can use one we download from the internet or we can dress you up and take one.”
“I don’t know, I mean I don’t think anyone I know would be on this website but it would be really embarrassing if they were and they, you know, recognised me.” The thought of a colleague, or even worse, a patient, seeing her picture was enough to make her blood run cold.
“Relax, Callie.” Kate laughed. “The advantage of using your own picture, suitably blurred or photoshopped to ensure your own mother wouldn’t pi
ck you out in a line-up, is that photos taken from the internet are so obviously fake, it’s got to the point that some models are threatening to sue people who use their photos on these sites.”
“It’s really that common?”
“Yes. It’s called catfishing but most people don’t fall for it and along with not posting any picture at all it just tends to suggest you have something to hide, and you get ignored.”
Callie didn’t seem convinced but Kate filled up her wine glass and sorted out a revealing top and having rejected all Callie’s understated jewellery, insisted Callie wore her own dangly earrings and matching necklace. Then she did Callie’s makeup more heavily than she would ever do herself and fluffed her hair up. Kate rifled through Callie’s jewellery box again and picked out her grandmother’s wedding ring and went to slip it on the fourth finger of Callie’s left hand but she pulled away.
“What are you doing?”
“You are supposed to be married, so you need a wedding ring.”
“No, no, you can’t do that. It’s bad luck.” Callie snatched the ring from her and threw it back in the box.
“I didn’t know you were superstitious!”
“I’m not.” Callie paused. “Except about this. Wearing a wedding ring when you are not married means you will never get married.”
Kate was amazed that her normally rational friend was so superstitious.
“How are you supposed to try it on for size?”
“I suppose, that would be okay, provided you were engaged.”
“Well, anyway, if you are right that means I won’t ever get married then, because I’ve done it hundreds of times, whenever I needed a bit of space.”
But Callie wasn’t going to be persuaded.
“I know it’s stupid, but indulge me. I’ll put my left hand out of sight.”
She put one hand behind her back and Kate decided to let it go.
“Okay, now pout like you are taking a selfie.”
Callie obediently pouted and Kate took a photo on her phone.
“There you go, no one would ever think it was you.”
She showed Callie, who had to acknowledge that she was right. Her normal image was understated, smart, controlled, professional and the picture Kate had taken was of a far more free spirit, sexy and rather wanton. Callie was surprised and, she had to admit, slightly excited to see this alter ego.
“Never knew you had it in you, did you?” Kate teased as she uploaded the picture and Callie poured them both another glass of wine.
“Now, what’s next, ah yes, your preferences.”
Callie sat down and looked at the new page that Kate had opened.
“Definitely a non-smoker, and he needs to be taller than me.”
“I’ll put six foot then, because they all exaggerate their height.” Kate took a sip of her wine. “Build: let’s say toned. Back to you. Marital status: married. Favourite position?”
“For what?” Callie asked and then giggled as she realised what Kate meant. “Really? I haven’t even met the guy yet?” She looked at the list. “What on earth is cowgirl?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, woman!” Kate took over again, as she completed her list of Vicky’s preferences. “And finally, what gets you going?”
They both looked at the list.
“Wow,” Kate said.
“Are they even legal?” Callie asked, astounded.
“Most of them,” Kate replied. “Between consenting adults, anyway, but not all of them. I suggest we keep it legal.” She ticked a couple of the tamer suggestions and submitted them before Callie could object.
Payment and phone number were not required at this stage, only once Vicky decided to contact anyone who was matched to her or who responded to her post, so Kate clicked finish and raised her glass.
“Here’s to Vicky.”
They clinked glasses.
“What’s next?” Callie asked.
“You just wait for some suggested matches picked out by the computer or, I suspect, chosen by a particularly malevolent administrator, or for a man who has been sent your details in the same way to respond. I suggest you get a pay-as-you-go mobile ready.”
“I’m not going to actually contact any of them,” Callie said, horrified. “One of them could be a serial killer.”
“Good point.”
The thought made them both feel suddenly sober.
“That’s why I need to tell the police about Carol being on here. I mean even if they can’t find him through this, they need to warn people.”
“That could be difficult, from a legal perspective. I mean they don’t know the killer meets women through the website, the only evidence we have is that one of the women reportedly used it.”
“I can’t just not tell them. It might be their only way of tracking him down.”
“I know, but–” Kate said dubiously. “I suppose I ought to do it really, it was my friend who told me about it. I just don’t want it brought up every time I go in there to see a client. I mean, if I tell those Neanderthals that I’ve been looking at websites like this, I’ll never hear the end of it. I can’t do it, Callie, I’ll never be taken seriously again.”
They both thought for a moment.
“Presumably they gave out a number for people to call with information, we could ring it anonymously, couldn’t we?” Callie suggested.
“They get thousands of calls after a press conference,” Kate responded. “It would be easy for one call to get missed, but you’re right, it’s better than not telling them at all.”
They both thought about it some more, knowing that it wasn’t an ideal solution and feeling guilty.
“I’m sorry but I think it’s best if we tell them direct.” Callie was suddenly decisive. “I don’t mind doing it.” She thought for a moment. “I know, there’s this sergeant I know from custody but I saw him in the incident room, I think he was setting it up. Oh, what’s his name?” Callie asked herself, then it suddenly came to her. “Nugent.”
“I know him.” Kate responded with excitement. “Nigel Nugent but they all call him Nerdy Nigel. He’s a sweety, you could certainly ask to speak to him. He’d pass the message on and might not even involve you at all.”
“Okay. I’ll go and speak to Nerdy Nigel tomorrow as it’s my morning off.”
“Thank you.” Kate hugged her, very aware that she had chickened out, and Callie was braver and doing the right thing for her friend, and the women of Hastings.
Chapter 11
The office Callie had been taken to by Nigel was little more than a stationery cupboard, but it offered the privacy she felt she needed to explain about Carol Johnson’s use of an internet dating site. She had hoped that he would be as shocked as her that it seemed to be aimed at people already in relationship, but he wasn’t.
“I have heard of them,” he said, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “There are quite a few offering no strings sexual encounters and swinging and such like, at least, I believe there are.”
At least he seemed to be taking it seriously, Callie consoled herself, although she quickly changed her mind when he said she would have to tell DI Miller.
“Can’t you?” she pleaded.
“He’s going to ask me how I heard and want to speak to you anyway, so it’s best to get it over with.” Nigel stood and turned to open the door for her and she squeezed past him into the corridor. She would have liked to tell him to make sure that she spoke to Miller alone or at the very least not have Sergeant Jeffries present, but Nigel was already heading off down the corridor at speed and she had to hurry to keep up with him.
He opened the door of the incident room and ushered her in. Callie reluctantly came into the room behind him and tried not to show her dismay, and, indeed, horror as she realised the whole team were there, in the middle of morning briefing. A sea of tired faces turned to look at her with undisguised interest, including Miller, who was standing at the front of the room by the whiteboard. As she felt a blush of e
mbarrassment developing, Callie looked around and, unfortunately, saw Sergeant Jeffries, clutching a mug of tea and a bacon roll. Did the man ever stop eating?
Miller raised an eyebrow at Nigel’s interruption before nodding to the middle-aged man in a cardigan who was standing next to him to continue his report. As everyone turned back to the front, Callie could feel the redness spread up her neck until she could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as she hoped against hope that she wouldn’t have to talk about the website in front of everyone. She tried to concentrate as the man who was, she presumed, the civilian who collated all the reports as they came in, listed a swathe of negatives in a monotone: no sign of the car being stolen earlier in the evening on CCTV, no one from the door to doors having seen or heard anything, until the explosion, of course, and no car heard leaving the scene after that.
He went on to report on the predictably massive response to the press briefing and the call for information on where the two women had been on the nights they were murdered, but none of the callers were looking likely to have any useful information. According to the people who had rung in, Carol might have been in The Hastings Arms, but it could have been on another night; the two women were definitely together in Brighton, the day after the first was murdered, one caller was sure; and Sarah, the first victim was apparently at school with a very weird boy fifteen years ago and he probably killed her.
“We checked him out” – the collator seemed more animated at this point – “but it turns out he joined the police and was custody sergeant in Brighton the night of her murder, as witnessed by large numbers of colleagues and criminals, some of whom did agree that he was weird, however.”
There was a ripple of laughter as he continued to tell Miller and the room that some calls were still being followed up, but not one credible sighting of either woman had come to light. Callie was silently praying that Miller would end the briefing and she could speak to him in his office but he nodded at a female officer who Callie recognised as PC Jayne Hales, whom she had worked with several times in the past, and she came up to the front.