Barton smiled. That was good thinking. ‘We’re nearly finished here. The father has been as helpful as the sister. We’ll drive on ahead and park down the road from Ellen’s. I’ve a suspicion this investigation is going to take a weird turn. Her dad is a peculiar individual, whereas you said the sister was normal.’
‘Normal but criminal. She lied to the police by saying she didn’t know Ellen’s location. At best, that’s obstruction. At worst, it’s assisting an offender.’
‘That’s true. We could arrest them both, but we’re not sure what Ellen’s done, so chances are her sister might not either.’
‘Agreed, and we can’t afford to make any mistakes with the sister and her husband, seeing as they’re solicitors.’
‘Fabulous. You kept that quiet.’
‘They aren’t criminal solicitors, so it didn’t seem important before.’
‘Get someone to cover the property without being seen.’
‘Okay. The team aren’t too far away. I’d just sent them on their lunch. I’ll ring Ewing and ask him to stand out of sight of the property. If I remember the road right, there’s a car park out front and that’s the only entrance and exit point. We’ll know if she leaves or arrives.’
Barton finished the call and rubbed his temples while he updated Zander.
‘Excellent work from Strange. She’d make a good DI,’ said Zander.
He looked for sarcasm in Zander’s expression, but there wasn’t any.
‘I want a few more questions with Deacon,’ said Barton.
They trudged back in. The offender manager and Deacon were laughing about last night’s TV. She smiled at Barton, but Deacon’s face dropped to a mask, with only the piercing eyes showing any interest. Barton returned Deacon’s stare. Probation wouldn’t be happy if he set Deacon off with harsh questioning. The man’s gaze was unsettling, to say the least.
‘Mr Deacon, I’m going to be blunt because it’s important. You killed two people while you were out of your mind. Aren’t you worried it’ll happen again, and would you even know if you had relapsed?’
Barton often used the disarming qualities of a double question. Deacon looked away as he processed them.
‘I haven’t killed anyone lately, if that’s what you’re starting to think. The medication makes me drowsy and disinterested in others’ affairs. In fact, I’ve only left Huntingdon once in the last year and that was to find out why the letters stopped coming from my ex-wife. A neighbour told me she’d died, and I came home. I’ve paid the price for being ill and then some. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t go mad, I was sick. There’s a difference, and it begs the question about whether people should be jailed for how they were made. They treated me, and now I’m fine.’
‘So you’re cured?’
‘No, Inspector. People with conditions such as mine generally have them for life. The illness is not fixed, it’s managed by a mixture of things, mostly by medication.’
Barton gazed out of the window for a moment and tried to recollect what he’d learned. If these deaths were murders, it would probably be someone not in their right mind.
‘What happens if you stop taking the drugs? I understand doing that is common with certain mental-health issues,’ he asked.
Hard eyes bored into Barton’s, but then Deacon smiled and his face relaxed.
‘You’re well informed. I have relapsed a couple of times and bad things happened, but I’ll never do it again. I’m in control of my life with regular therapy, support groups, my probation visits here and a regime set up to ensure that I don’t ever fail. Trust me, taking my pills is never far from my mind. I focus on it all day long.’
The Offender Manager showed them to the door. Deacon said goodbye but didn’t rise or smile as Barton and Zander left. They got in the car, and drove to the motorway Lucy would be driving up. Barton rang Control to receive the details of Lucy’s vehicle. They informed him she was travelling alone in a red Range Rover and had passed a patrol car as she approached the outskirts of Huntingdon. Barton decided there was no point in waiting. They had an address now. He’d drive there and formulate a plan. He finished the call.
‘Right, let’s go to Ellen Vickerman’s house,’ said Barton. ‘I’m interested in having a conversation with this woman. She’s going to need quite a performance if she hopes to be free after it.’
‘I had a twenty-three-stone strongman shout abuse in my face last month, but that guy worried me way more,’ said Zander.
‘Yes, me too. It’s scary that he’s out there, potentially a few missed tablets from killing someone. But what’s the alternative? He completed his sentence, and they deemed him fit for release. It’d be inhumane to keep him locked up when he’s served his time and isn’t a threat.’
Zander tutted. ‘Not to mention unlawful. It can be a strange world that we operate in. Feels like it’s just a matter of when, because who doesn’t have wobbles from time to time? I’ve got extra respect for the probation service. Wait a minute. Did you say Ellen Vickerman? Wasn’t that the surname of one of the two guys who overdosed?’
‘Shit, you’re right. What does that mean?’
‘Was she related, or even married to him?’
‘My head’s spinning,’ said Barton. ‘I had a feeling she’d be the link to everything. That’s seven people dead, and she’s the connection. We should be ready for anything.’
‘Didn’t Mortis say the overdoses might be suspicious?’
‘Yes, due to the amount of fentanyl that was used.’
‘Ah, maybe someone deliberately gave them too much. Perhaps Ellen did it and killed her own husband.’
61
The Ice Killer
Robert’s eyes focus on mine in disbelief. I daren’t break the connection, but I’m aware of the scissor handles protruding from his neck in my peripheral vision. He gargles, and a thin trickle of blood comes out of the side of his mouth. His eyes roll back in his head, and he topples over. I close my eyes for the crash, but there isn’t one. He’s dropped onto my wet washing with a thump.
It’s a shocking moment. I hold the worktop for support, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. I crouch beside his gruesome open-mouthed expression. He’s definitely dead, but there’s surprisingly little blood with the scissors still in place.
I spot about ten drips, and a big splatter, which probably came from his mouth, and a bit of spray on a cabinet door. I grab the nearest thing to hand in a panic, the knickers he just pulled off me, and clean the tiles. There’s a dribble of semen, which must have leaked from me. A benefit of third-floor living is you can hear who’s approaching. I’m frantically scrubbing when slow, tentative footsteps come up the stairs.
I freeze, only my eyes rising from my sick task to the handle of my unlocked door. The steps stop outside. I wonder if the sound of the knock will stop my heart, but instead the handle turns.
Scarlett staggers into the room. Her top lip is raised into a ready-for-action snarl.
‘Where the bloody hell were you last night?’ she says.
It takes a few seconds for her to take in the scene. It’s not every day you see your friend naked in high heels mopping up blood beside a dead man with trousers around his ankles.
‘Not interrupting anything, am I?’ she asks with evident joy.
She steps towards the body. The waft of excessive perfume stings my eyes.
‘Jesus, is that Robert Ewing?’
I grab some jeans, fresh underwear, and a jumper, and stand next to her. ‘How do you know him, Scarlett?’
She waves her hand dismissively. ‘Tim knows him.’
Not a bad lie on the hoof, but she doesn’t know that I saw her name flash up on one of Ewing’s mobile phones not long before she arrived.
She pauses for a microsecond before grinning at my predicament. ‘This will take some explaining.’
‘Help me. What should I do?’
I hardly recognise Scarlett as her cold mind runs through her options. Yes, hers, not mine
. How can this situation work for her? Even though I’m stunned by what I’ve done, a piece of the rage responsible remains and it turns its focus towards Scarlett. I realise, without a shadow of doubt, that she’d sacrifice me without a second thought if it helped her cause.
‘It’s quid pro quo,’ she finally says. ‘That’s something for something, and we know what I need from you.’
Part of me recoils in horror as I understand her price. Robert was morally corrupt, but he didn’t deserve to die. Tim is a terrible man, but it still isn’t right. Yet, I don’t want to go to prison. Should I hold up my hands and admit my mistakes? I yank my clothes on, thinking that as the body count rises my chances of a future crumble.
‘Jesus!’
Scarlett and I turn together towards the voice at the doorway. It’s Trent with his hand over his mouth.
‘What happened?’ he asks me in disbelief. ‘Are you okay?’
‘He attacked me. I defended myself.’
Suspicion passes over his face. But he makes his choice.
‘Don’t worry, Ellen. I could hear him hurting you. I’m sure he deserved it. What are you going to do?’
‘How sweet,’ says Scarlett. ‘Will you help me with my problem, Ellen?’
‘You already owe me.’
‘What for?’
‘The girl at school. You pushed her out that window. It was no accident.’
Her expression drops long enough for me to guess it’s true. She shrugs, then smiles. ‘That’s the spirit. Show some balls. Yes, I did, and I don’t regret it. We got away with it, didn’t we?’
‘You got away with it. I hadn’t done anything. That might have been the incident which made me lose my mind. That guilt weakened me until today. I carried it when you should have.’
I stop shouting and lower my shoulders. There’s a look of worry in Scarlett’s eyes, then she responds in kind, and her face twists in anger.
‘Well. Now we’re both killers. I, too, am ruthless. Do you want my help or not?’
I slowly nod.
‘Does anyone know he was here?’
I shake my head.
‘I wasn’t here,’ says Trent, backing away.
‘Stop, Trent. I need you to help. You always said you’d do anything for me,’ I say.
‘No, I can’t get involved with something like this. Sorry.’
‘Wait. I saw a picture of me on your computer last night.’
He stops and looks as guilty as I do.
‘That’s right. Superimposing your neighbour’s face onto hard-porn pictures won’t go down well with the police. Shut the door. We need help to get the body out of here. That’s all.’
Trent finally nods. I am the most important thing in his life. Scarlett stares at him with disgust. We put three pillowcases over Robert’s head and slide his body into a duvet cover. Scarlett wraps an entire roll of Sellotape around it, giving it the look of a mummy. She gives Trent her car keys, and he reverses the Qashqai up to the door. Trent and I struggle downstairs with the body, and place it in the boot. We rush upstairs and shove the blood-stained washing in a bin bag. Trent takes it downstairs.
Strangely, it doesn’t feel that weird, more like we’re doing a job together. I expect the guilt will come later. Scarlett grabs my arm and laughs into my face.
‘Who is that weirdo?’
Alcohol fumes drench me. ‘He’s my neighbour. He’s mad about me.’
I took a photo of the offending image Trent had made of me last night, but didn’t mention it. I had no energy for arguing, and it was pretty flattering in a way. The pills haven’t completely kicked in because I’m having conflicting thoughts within moments of each other. Surely, I’d be horrified normally. What is clear is that if a person’s worth is reflected in their friends, then I’m in deep trouble.
‘Can we trust him?’ she asks.
I give her a sad smile. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Does he understand what a dangerous person you are to know?’
‘Scarlett, what are we planning to do with Robert?’
She’s been thinking about it already because she answers straight away.
‘There’s a tunnel drain on the next field behind ours. We lost a ball in the stream once and it floated inside. Tim waded in and found it halfway along against some bars next to a rotten dead fox. We’ll dump him in the same spot for the time being. You be at mine in a few days when this has calmed down and we’ll think of something permanent, after we’ve discussed your debt to me.’
Scarlett winks at me and steps to the door.
‘Don’t you want me to come?’ I whisper after her.
She shakes her head in disbelief. Then points to a small splatter of blood up the side of the kitchen units. ‘You should clear up in here. And what about them?’
My eyes follow her pointed finger and see Robert’s two mobile phones on the table. One of them is ringing. The caller ID says ‘Strange’ on it.
‘What do I do?’ I ask.
‘You’re resourceful and you enjoy detective shows. Now’s the chance for you to put what you’ve learnt to use. I’ll take the phones. Do I need to turn them off?’
Her voice slurs the last word. I don’t relish the thought of relying on her. Trent, on the other hand, I trust.
‘Wait until you’ve driven from here,’ I reply. ‘It’ll look as though he’s gone elsewhere. Then throw them down a drain somewhere, but make sure they won’t be found. Take the back roads so they can’t trace your car with the camera network.’
‘This is quite exciting.’
‘Should you be driving?’
‘That’s the least of your concerns.’
She’s right. In fact, her crashing the car and dying with Trent would probably be a bonus.
62
Acting DCI Barton
Barton and Zander arrived back in Peterborough and headed towards Eastfield and the younger sister’s address. Zander pointed out Malik and Leicester outside a café. They drove a few streets further down and parked in a space fifty metres from the Monument Square flats where they could see who pulled in. If Ewing was nearby, he was out of sight. Barton grabbed his phone.
‘There’s Zelensky,’ said Zander.
Barton frowned as she shuffled towards them. She had a tiny frame, but even so her clothes hung on her narrow shoulders. He poked his head out of the window.
‘Afternoon.’
She shivered and merely nodded at him.
‘Get in for a minute, please.’
She didn’t need asking twice and let out a great exhale as she slumped on the back seat and huddled into her coat. Barton studied her for a moment. It was cold outside, but she still looked really pasty.
‘Everything all right?’
‘Not particularly.’
Barton wasn’t sure what to say to that. ‘Did you hear we have an address?’
‘Yes, I knew we were in the correct area. An old man I spoke to earlier had seen her over the last few days. Good legs, he said.’
‘An unmarked car is behind the sister and she’ll be here in a few minutes.’
‘Yeah, I’ve been informed. Strange was looking for Ewing, said he wasn’t answering his phone. I told her to ring Malik because he was probably having lunch with him.’
Barton picked up on the tension in her voice. ‘Why didn’t you eat with the others? We just saw them coming out of the café.’
‘I don’t want to be anywhere near Ewing.’
Barton sensed Zander tense next to him.
‘Have you had another falling out?’ asked Barton.
Barton watched in the rear-view mirror as she stared at the back of Zander’s head. She decided it didn’t matter who heard.
‘Thanks for encouraging me to get friendly with Robert, sir. I gave him another chance. He started off telling me how much he loved me, and how great we were together. He has a strange idea of what a loving relationship is, the depraved bastard. We’re having a meal at Nando’s and I have the impression
that people are staring at us. When Robert went to the toilet, a girl came over and told me to steer clear of that creep.’
Her face flushed as she recalled the moment.
‘I asked why. The girl, who looked about nineteen, said he’d slept or tried to sleep with loads of her friends while he was with her. She’d seen him in town with another girl only a few days before. It’s the same routine for all of us. He’s dead keen, and then he gets dirty. Once he’s pushed you as far as you’ll go, he dumps you and moves on to his next conquest.’
Barton cringed. ‘Sorry about that. I thought he was a decent officer.’
‘He is, but he’s a shit person.’
‘Did you tell him you knew?’
‘I asked the girl to wait until he came back. His face was a picture when he returned. It would have been funny if he hadn’t legged it and left me to pay the bill.’
Zander choked down a strange sound. This was why work relationships were tough. They needed a level of maturity that some people didn’t have. Break-ups always led to bad feeling as the locker room tended to split. Sometimes a transfer was the only solution.
‘We’ve got enough bodies on hand if you want to go back to the station.’
‘No, I’m staying. What’s the plan?’
Barton tutted. ‘Well, Strange said she was going to get Leicester and Ewing to park up here, but where is he?’
‘He’s not picking up,’ said Zelensky. ‘She left a message for him, but he didn’t return the call. She asked me to come instead.’
‘Okay, let’s see what happens. We’ll soon find out if this is the sister’s destination. She can’t be far away,’ said Zander.
Barton’s phone lit up with a call from Malik at the shops.
‘We’re on the way, boss. Red Range Rover just driven by, turning left onto Monument Street.’
‘Okay, wait just before the car park. I think I’m going to let the sister go in.’
Barton cut the call as the Range Rover pulled into the car park for the flats. Lucy stepped cautiously from the expensive vehicle. She took some deep breaths and straightened her shoulders. Then she marched to the entrance and pushed open the communal door.
The Ice Killer (The DI Barton Series) Page 24