The Ice Killer (The DI Barton Series)

by Ross Greenwood

  For the first time in many years, Barton felt out of his depth. If there was a God, he’d heard Barton earlier boasting about his experience and calmness under pressure. A detention officer asked if everything was all right. Barton arranged for her to ask if the two sisters wanted another drink while they waited. Barton always treated the lowly paid detention staff well because they paid it back at times like this. Then he and Strange joined Zander in the room where he’d been watching the video feed and took seats next to him.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so unsure concerning something so serious,’ said Barton. ‘Ellen makes me uneasy, and it’s not just her looks or cool demeanour. It’s an unusual vulnerability that is making me feel sorry for her, even though there’s something inside warning me to stay away.’

  ‘That’s how I was feeling when she was speaking in her flat,’ said Zander. ‘You want to believe her. It’s almost like a lure.’

  ‘You mean like with a hypnotist?’ said Strange.

  ‘I was thinking more of a cliff edge. You know, when you shouldn’t get close, but it’s hard to resist.’

  ‘Ellen seems vulnerable to me too,’ replied Strange. ‘She’s been through at least two terrible experiences, whatever she did after them. She reminds me of a colleague I knew in London. She wasn’t that pretty, but there was something about her that made you enjoy spending time with her. Loads of men wanted a date, but it was as though she couldn’t see her own worth. She’d get tangled up with idiots and they treated her like shit.’

  ‘And we know how that type of man reacts if the woman tries to stand up for herself,’ said Zander.

  ‘Violently,’ confirmed Strange.

  Barton took a deep breath. ‘What is Ellen guilty of? Murder? GBH? Poisoning? Nothing? Can we prove anything?’ Neither of his sergeants spoke, so he continued. ‘I’ll run this past the CPS solicitor and see if she wants to charge. Although I’m not even sure if the custody sergeant will authorise keeping Ellen in.’

  ‘Some would give her a reward for ridding Peterborough of its scumbags,’ said Zander.

  ‘True. It’s far from straightforward with her having mental-health issues and her sister being a solicitor,’ said Strange. ‘Also, would she have the strength to kill those three men? Ash was huge. I get the impression she’s a remote type, as though she struggles to feel strongly about most things. If three men raped her, she gets my vote for just being here and telling us it happened so clearly. I’d have been there for hours if they’d done it to me, chopping them to pieces.’

  Zander gave her a firm nod while Barton swore under his breath.

  ‘Shit, I’ll ring the CPS, and I’d like to bounce this off someone with more experience,’ said Barton.

  ‘Cox,’ offered Strange.

  ‘I can’t see her swapping her newborn baby for the phone. It wouldn’t be fair when she’s off, either.’

  ‘The super?’

  ‘I’ll need to ring him anyway, but I reckon that he’ll tell me to make the decision.’ Barton clicked his fingers. ‘I’ll ring Naeem. She loves a mystery.’

  Barton sent Strange off to prepare the statement and a mobile-record authorisation for Ellen to sign, told Zander to get anyone who was around to the detectives’ room and returned to his office. After a ten-minute conversation with the CPS, Barton put the phone down and took a deep breath.

  He picked it up again and called his old DCI. Pick up, pick up, he pleaded as it rang.

  ‘Nav speaking.’

  ‘John here. Are you busy?’

  He spent ten minutes updating her. Afterwards, he could hear her nibbling a biscuit for a while. He could almost see her eyes focusing as she rolled the information around in her head.

  ‘That is a puzzle,’ she said.

  ‘Not helping,’ he replied, but he knew she’d have more.

  ‘First, relax. If you get uptight, you won’t be at your best. We have procedures. What are they?’

  ‘Take statements. CPS will charge if appropriate. Lock up if we need further questioning. When we’re confident, get them remanded in court.’

  ‘So, you’ve taken a statement. If CPS don’t want to charge, the rest is easy.’

  Barton shook his head even though he was on the phone. ‘CPS don’t think there is sufficient evidence for a prosecution. There’s too much doubt. Even I believe part of Ellen’s story, but I’m not sure I believe it all. There’s something unbalanced about her. I can’t be clearer than that.’

  ‘Don’t ignore your gut feelings, but do you have to keep her locked up overnight?’

  ‘I’d like to, but if we get a confession of sorts tomorrow, it’s weakened if she says she didn’t know what she was saying after no sleep in our cells with her mental health, assuming she can cope with a night behind bars.’

  ‘You need to remember that she’s also a victim. That seems to be a fact, and she has no priors. But you have a hunch, and that’s important. What makes you think there’s more to it? It’s credible that she was raped by those men and fled to her ex-partner, Vickerman. He flew into a rage. She left, but Vickerman and Quinn visited the house and attacked the rapists, who ended up dead. They attempted to conceal the evidence by wiping the door handle. They also cleaned the murder weapons of their own prints, but placed them back in the hands of their victims.’

  ‘Possible.’

  ‘The killers were drug addicts. Who knows how they would react during the following week? They could have felt guilty and overdosed deliberately the next weekend as Mortis hinted, but more likely it was just a mistake. You don’t have any evidence of her buying drugs and poisoning them, if that’s what you were thinking. Take a photo of Ellen, so you can check if any of those we caught with the deadly fentanyl recognise her. They’d jump at the chance for her to take the rap rather than them, but that’ll take time and they may lie. As for the paedophile in the road, forget about that. I’ve seen the footage. She’s got away with that one, even if she did it on purpose. It’s all plausible. What’s stopping you from releasing her?’

  Barton looked at the photo of his family on his desk. ‘It’s her dad. He’s a multiple killer, and I suspect she’s inherited some of his traits.’

  ‘That’s possible, but you can’t prove it. Do you think she’s likely to commit any more crimes?’

  ‘Not in the next few days, no. The men who died have known her for years. They’re historic. But I trust her sister, who seems dependable and solid. If we tell Lucy to bring Ellen back tomorrow, I’m sure she’ll do it.’

  ‘Great, that’s a plan. It will take a while to collect and sift through phone evidence. If you keep her in, she’ll need food, drink, and various support workers. Tell Ellen to return tomorrow, even if it’s only for her to check in, and let her go again. Do the same the day after. If she doesn’t turn up, we’ll know to dig deeper. If she’s had any contact with Hofstadt in the past year, we’ll know she was lying about that, too. Same with all the victims. We can’t hold her for having a murderous father and if she’s an innocent victim, we have a duty to really focus on her well-being.’

  Barton finished the call. His old boss was spot on, as always. He recalled talking to others himself in the same way she’d spoken to him. Pressure had made him panic, and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. It was time to put the magnifying glass over Ellen’s life. They would look for little holes in her and everyone else’s stories. If they were there, Barton would tear them wide apart.

  68

  Acting DCI Barton

  Barton left his office and returned to the detectives’ room. Zelensky, Strange, Zander, Leicester and Malik were there. Barton stood in front of the boards displaying the faces of the victims, or killers, depending on what the truth was.

  ‘Here’s the plan. I’m releasing Ellen. Her sister, who is a solicitor, will ensure she returns tomorrow at 10 a.m. I suspect she may come back with a brief who specialises in criminal cases and we might get no more out of them, but they’ve been reasonably helpful
so far. Zander, can you sort that?’

  ‘Sure. It’s a pity we can’t bail her to return, then we could put conditions on it, like her not leaving the property.’

  Barton considered everything for a moment.

  ‘No, she’s definitely not telling us the complete truth. Zelensky, did you say that there was only one way in and out of that place?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a block of six flats with no access to the rear. I knocked on all six doors earlier. Only the bottom two opened up, and they were both weird.’

  ‘Weird in what way?’

  ‘A speccy guy looked me over like he’d ordered a call girl, and the woman opposite told me she knew I was from the council and to stop lying. I’m glad I don’t live there. It backs onto a cemetery, too. There’s a two-metre iron fence keeping people out of that, so if you left, you’d need to leave through the car park to the main road.’

  ‘Right, when we’re ready, drive Lucy and Ellen back. Then wait outside and keep an eye on them. It’d take too long to set up proper surveillance, and it doesn’t matter if they see you. I just want to make sure she returns tomorrow. If she wanders out the front, I need to know about it. I’ll get some cover later tonight to take over. If they leave, call it in and we’ll go from there.’

  ‘Call records?’ asked Strange.

  ‘Right. Let’s not forget that she probably lied about the whereabouts of her phone. She’s with one of the networks where we can get call information fast. We’ll see how lost that phone is.’

  Barton’s mind was whirring now.

  ‘Malik, get her phone records. Check them against all the other victims. If you score a hit, we’ll know she’s been lying. If she uses her phone, same again. Leicester, where’s Ewing?’

  ‘Still no sign, sir. His phone isn’t ringing, it’s straight to voicemail. He said he was going to drop in on his sister because she’s just had a baby. I’ll message her on Facebook.’

  Barton frowned and caught an uneasy look from Zander, too.

  ‘Was Ewing working near those flats?’ asked Zander.

  ‘No, he was quite a few streets away.’ Zelensky blinked as she realised what they were implying. ‘Ellen can’t have done anything like that. We only spoke to him less than an hour before we went to her flat, when he said something had come up.’

  ‘It’s a tiny window for getting rid of a body and tidying up the mess,’ said Zander.

  ‘Zelensky,’ said Barton, ‘check that Ewing didn’t know Ellen Vickerman before you drive her back. If she knows him, or you suspect she knows him, tell me. Leicester, pull Ewing’s work and personal phone records. Compare them against everyone’s, including Ellen’s. Get onto the phone companies and ask for locations where both Ellen’s and Ewing’s phones were last used. Malik, chase Ewing’s next of kin to see if they’ve seen him. Strange, have those statements finished and signed, and we can get the ball rolling.’

  Barton tried to consider all the angles. With the new interception laws, they could get most companies’ call records online in minutes. Besides, Ewing had a work phone. Who he’d been ringing on that would be easy to determine. Barton needed to know if he’d rung Ellen’s number. If he had, she wouldn’t be leaving the building.

  69

  The Ice Killer

  I sit quietly in the back of the police car on the way to my flat. Lucy is next to me on the phone to the hospital near her house. Greg has been taken in with suspected pneumonia. She has a sheen of sweat on her forehead that wasn’t there in the police station and her hands tremble. I relied on my mother to keep me relatively balanced. Whereas it’s clear that when the storm raged around my sister, Greg was the mast she lashed herself to.

  The clock on the dashboard informs me it’s gone 8 p.m. and the night is dark. I feel rather than see the young female detective, Zelensky, glancing back at me.

  ‘So, you don’t know a Robert Ewing?’ she asks.

  ‘No. I told you that earlier.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  She stops then and grimaces. I recall Ewing mentioning her. Looks like another woman that he’s abused.

  As we approach my home, it dawns on me that it’s only a matter of time until the net closes in. They won’t link me directly to Ewing, because it’s been years since we had any contact, but they will connect Scarlett. After all, she rang him shortly before he got his just deserts. They’ll eventually connect her to me.

  Repeating my story to the police has changed how I feel about what I’ve done. The men I killed should have been punished further by society. You could argue that I finally gave them the sentence they deserved. Apart from Ewing, that is, and I will pay the price for that transgression.

  I already sense the deadening effects of the drugs, but it seems neither the drugged me nor the crazy me have much compassion.

  I need to visit both Trent and Scarlett to find out if they hid the body. It’s hard to get my head around a scene of those two dragging a corpse through the fields. Scarlett’s reasons for doing so are clear. She lives in a drunken world where she neither feels nor loves, which isn’t so different from mine. She is close to the edge, and not a solid prospect to trust with your future.

  Trent’s reasons for helping are harder to fathom. God knows what the sentence is for hiding bodies, especially those of public servants, but it can’t be good. I had better not look it up later, either, when I fetch my phone from him, although I suspect Trent will already have done so. Do I let events play out and hope for the best? Or do I act?

  We arrive at the flats, and my sister and I get out of the car. There’s a chink in Trent’s window, where I can make out enough of his face staring out at me. I nod to him, and he disappears. At the door, I glance back and see Zelensky has parked in one of the spaces and turned off the engine. Lucy’s voice is rising behind me as we climb the stairs. Tears stream when she terminates the call.

  ‘How is Greg?’ I ask.

  ‘He’s in Intensive Care. Pneumonia’s been confirmed.’

  My sister’s a decent person. Life doesn’t come with an instruction manual, so the best of us try to do the right thing most of the time, and that includes Lucy. I pull her into a wooden hug and whisper into her ear.

  ‘It’s not a problem, you should be with him. He’ll need your strength.’

  She wipes her eyes. ‘But they told us not to leave the flat.’

  ‘I’m not supposed to leave the flat, you can. All you said was that you’d return me to the police station by ten tomorrow morning. Come back first thing if you’re able.’

  ‘I can’t leave you on your own.’

  ‘Lucy, I’ve been on my own most of my life. A few more hours won’t make any difference.’

  It’s a low blow but, even though she flinches, it gives her an out. She should be with her husband anyway, just in case. She grabs her things, and I follow her down to the door, where she pauses.

  ‘Take your medication,’ she says. ‘I’ll be back in the morning.’

  Her Range Rover burns off in a cloud of smoke and screeching tyres. I watch the detective talking on her phone while she stares at me. I wave and return inside. Alone again, with time to ponder.

  In my flat, I spend a few minutes on my make-up, focusing on my eyes. I’m not sure what will happen tonight, but I want to look nice just in case it’s the last thing I do. I put the red wig on, and pull on thick jeans and a warm jumper. Dragging a bin liner out, I put everything I can think of that might incriminate me inside it. My diaries go in, any medical notes, and the wigs and clothes I wore at the incidents.

  My medication is still on the side. I throw the pills that I was supposed to take and didn’t in the sink and turn on the tap, but leave today’s dosage in front of me. The angel and demon come out on my shoulders. They’re pleading and persuading in equal measure. It’s hard to decide. Will steady Ellen win the day, or do I need unpredictable Ellen’s strength to pull me through? What should I do?

  70

  The Ice Killer

 
I trot down the stairs to Trent’s place, and he lets me and my bag in. He’s all of a jitter.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he snarls under his breath.

  ‘I got taken in for questioning, but relax. They don’t know anything. There’s no link to me from the murder, neither is there one to you. Did you hide the body where Scarlett said?’

  ‘We couldn’t. Scarlett drank from a bottle as she sped through the streets. Her driving almost made me forget the body in the boot. When we got back, her husband, Tim, was in the house. He’d returned early from a business trip. It was a nightmare. He started asking questions about who I was, and Scarlett didn’t know anything about me. Tim thought I’d gone there to bang his wife.’

  I stifle a chuckle at the irony. ‘What happened?’

  ‘She called Tim some names and said she’d drive me home. Tim took the keys off her, saying that he’d take me back. I had to sit next to him while he drove me into town. My heart wanted to leap out of my chest. I got him to drop me outside Peterborough Conservative Club on Broadway, so he doesn’t know where I live.’

  ‘What did he say on the journey?’

  ‘It was weird. He wasn’t rude, but he told me to stay away in a kind of sad manner. Apparently, Scarlett needs help, and he’s going to arrange it for her. I spent the whole time imagining that smells from the corpse were filtering into the car. I kept waiting for the body to roll around or some kicking to start from behind us. My God, you owe me.’

  ‘Yes, I understand that, and I appreciate it.’

  He surprises me with his speed and grabs my wrist. My body tenses, my teeth grit, and I grab his arm to shove him off, but he easily pulls my hand away. Spinning me around, he holds me tight from behind and snarls into my ear.

  ‘You really, really owe me, and you always will.’

  Stunned by my lack of strength compared to his, I relax my shoulders and gradually his breathing slows. I carefully step away from him.