by Candy Denman
As Jo hesitated, unsure whether or not to disturb them, Orde came out of Miller’s office and walked briskly passed her, a nod his only greeting as he hurriedly left the room.
Once he was out of sight, Jeffries came out of Miller’s office and looked theatrically around.
‘All clear, is it?’ he asked and was met by a nervous laugh from the rest of the CID staff in the room.
Jeffries looked at Jo.
‘Don’t suppose you know where the boss is?’ he asked.’ Not hiding under your bed, is he?’
‘No,’ she admitted, choosing to ignore his insinuation. ‘In fact, I came here to give him a piece of my mind for ignoring me – oh, that and to tell him I know who killed Giles Townsend and Adrian Cole.’ She had so wanted to say that in front of Miller, to see his face when she said she was right all along and she had solved his case for him. Unfortunately, the moment wasn’t nearly as good with Jeffries as stand in. There was a murmur of interest from those in the room, but if Jeffries was surprised, he covered it well.
‘So, come on, Doc. Tell us all who did it.’ He sat on the edge of a desk, causing a pile of papers to fall off, but not even bothering to pick them up or apologise to DC Nigel Nugent whose desk it apparently was and who spent the next few minutes picking up and sorting all the paper that had fallen. Jo explained about Fiona Hutchins and what had happened at Wendlesham’s and then at Townsend Bartlett.
For the first time ever, DS Jeffries didn’t even interrupt her with a crass or sexist comment.
‘So, you reckon this Fiona is the one who killed the two of them and set the others up?’
‘I know it seems hard to-’
‘She’s supposed to be drop-dead gorgeous and all the victims knew her, but no witness saw anyone like her and none of victims says any- one involved is her. Don’t you think that’s a bit strange?’
‘But-’ It was the weak point of her story, Jo knew. However, Jeffries wasn’t about to let her finish telling them why she thought it had to be Fiona.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ he interrupted. ‘I admit it must have some- thing to do with her. It’s just that I think we’d have noticed someone that much of a looker hanging round, especially the boss.’
‘But you will investigate her? Find out where she is now?’
‘Too bloody right. Just as soon as we find out where the hell he is, I’m sure we’ll be right on it.’
He stood up, dismissing her, and Jo turned to walk towards the door, before stopping.
‘Why did you say that?’
‘Say what?’ Jeffries seemed surprised.
‘About “especially the boss”. Why would he have noticed her es- pecially?’
‘Because he was the senior investigating officer,’ he explained. ‘When she tried to bring charges against Townsend. Believe me Doc, we all wanted to see Townsend go down for shagging her, but the CPS wouldn’t go for it.’
Jo walked slowly back towards Jeffries as she processed what he had just said.
‘You’re telling me that he was part of the team that failed to prose- cute Giles Townsend for rape, along with Townsend who is dead and Doreen Ponting who was set up? And he just happens to have gone missing? You don’t think that perhaps she just might have gone after him as well?’
There was an uncomfortable silence, as everyone looked at Jeffries. ‘That’s not fucking likely, is it?’ but he sounded flustered. ‘I mean the boss? He’s probably just got a problem with his Missus’s pregnancy.’
‘Then why hasn’t he let us know?’ Jayne interjected. ‘And why doesn’t his wife know anything about it?’ Jeffries looked a question at her. ‘I just spoke to her. She’s staying at her sister’s for a few days, has no idea where the DI is.’
‘I can’t believe this.’ Jeffries shook his head. ‘Why him? He did his best to get the CPS to charge Townsend.’
‘But he failed. And to Fiona he’s just another person who has let all this happen to her.’
‘You think she’s going to kill him?’ Jayne asked. Jo shook her head.
‘That’s not her pattern. Only the actual perpetrators have been killed. Everyone else has just been embarrassed in some way.’
‘Right.’ Jeffries was suddenly decisive. ‘Let’s get everybody on this and find the boss before the press get pictures of him with his trousers down. Nigel, see if his car pinged any ANPR cameras. The rest of you, get checking CCTV, see if you can spot him. ‘What time period?’ someone asked.
‘From when he left here, gone ten last night, and when he should have been here at eight this morning,’ Jayne answered and Jeffries nodded.
‘Could we try and get the phone company to track his phone?’ Jef- fries asked Nigel, who was the resident guru for anything technical like that.
‘They’re going to demand a warrant, which will take a while, but I can get started on that,’ Nigel agreed. ‘Also, I can ask IT to get into the DI’s computer and check his emails, see if there’s anything there.’ Jeffries looked horrified.
‘Can they do that?’
‘His work ones? Of course.’ Nigel seemed surprised to be even asked the question and Jo could see Jeffries mentally checking what they might find if they looked at his emails before dismissing the thought.
‘Jayne, let’s start at his home, see if we can find any clues there.’
As they all hurried to their allotted tasks, Jo was left standing there like a spare part. Desperately worried as she was, she knew that she had nothing more to contribute and so she turned and left them to their search.
Outside, once Jo was sitting in her car, she took out her phone. She always kept it on silent when in the surgery and had forgotten to turn the ringer back on, but she had felt it buzz while she was talking to Jeffries. There was a missed call and voice message from Kate. She waved at Jayne as she and Jeffries drove out of the carpark on their way to Miller’s house and listened as the phone connected with her voice mail.
‘Hi Jo,’ came Kate’s cheery voice. ‘I’ve taken a look at the will and probate documents and Fiona’s address is given as Castle Cottage, Lye Lane, Bodiam, so you will be able to deliver the whole case to the sultry Steve all tied up with a bow. If that doesn’t make him eternally grateful, nothing will. Ciao!’
Bodiam was a small village about ten miles from Hastings, famous for its fourteenth century castle, built to defend the area from an invasion by France.
Jo hesitated. There was no way she could get there and back before evening surgery. She could let Nigel and the incident room team know the address and leave them to follow it up, but they were all busy with their own search and it might be a while before they could get someone there. In the end, she compromised by sending a text message to Jayne giving her the address and saying she was going to check it out and then rang the surgery.
‘Hi Linda,’ she said. ‘You’re not going to like this but -’
As predicted, Linda did not like Jo pulling out of her evening sur- gery at such short notice.
‘I’m sorry but it’s a police emergency,’ Jo explained. ‘You know I can never predict when I’ll be needed.’ Jo had her fingers crossed as she allowed Linda to believe that this was really an emergency with her police job even though she knew there was no way that this expedition would be classified as part of her role. But she couldn’t help worrying. What if Fiona really did have Miller in her clutches? What if she was setting him up like she had done to both Doreen and Mervyn? The press could have already been alerted, incriminating photos could imminently be appearing on line. Time was definitely of the essence if she was going to stop it happening again. Having left Linda the task of cancelling as many patients as possible and re-allocating others to Jo’s colleagues who, no doubt would want some return favours like covering their weekends on call as a result, Jo started her car. There really was no time to lose if she was to stop Miller from being the latest victim.
Chapter 29
As she drove into Bodiam and turned right down Lye Lane towards the castle,
Jo realised just how isolated this location was. Castle Cot- tage was only just visible from the road, situated as it was down a short track between fields. It certainly had no neighbours near enough to hear a scream or a shout for help. You’d have to hoist a flag saying “Help!” and hope a passing car stopped to do so.
As Jo turned into the lane leading to the cottage, she realised that anyone in the house would know immediately that someone was coming, but it was too late to do anything about that now. Parking in the main road and walking across the fields might have given her the element of surprise, but with all the rain in recent days she’d end up covered in mud and would probably still be seen from the cottage well before she reached it.
There were no other cars parked outside the quaint little house and Jo wondered if this was going to be a dead end in more ways than one, with no one at home, and that she might have cancelled her evening surgery for nothing. She checked her phone. No signal. Typical, she thought to herself as she parked the car and got out. A phone signal out in the country? That really would be asking too much. Another reason she could never live there.
The cottage seemed very quiet as Jo got out of the car and scrunched across the gravel to the front door. There was no bell, so Jo used the knocker and listened. She couldn’t hear any response to her knocking, so she knocked again and called out:
‘Hello? Fiona? My name’s Dr Hughes. Please answer the door.’
She listened again and this time she thought she heard a noise. Not the sound of footsteps as someone came to answer the door, but more of a strangled cry.
‘Hello?’ she called again and the sound became more urgent and louder. It was hard to understand but Jo thought she could just make out the word ‘Help!’. That was enough for her and she tried the door. To her surprise it opened.
Inside, the cottage was furnished with items more suited to the large house in Markwick Terrace than a small country cottage, making Jo feel sure that she had the right place. The sounds of distress continued and appeared to be coming from upstairs. Looking around for something to use as a weapon, just in case, Jo picked up a poker from the companion set beside the fireplace.
‘Fiona?’ she called out again. ‘If you’re here, I’m coming upstairs. Is that okay?’ She was rewarded by more strangled noises with no distinguishable words.
Upstairs there were only two doors leading off the small landing. Jo cautiously pushed the first door open to reveal a tiny bathroom. The second door was ajar and she could see the end of a brass bed. As she pushed the door further open, she could see the whole of the large double bed, on which a man, stark naked, was spread-eagled. His wrists were tied to either side of the brass bedhead with velvet ribbon and his feet were similarly attached to the smaller foot- board. She moved towards the bed and noted that he had a small English rose tattoo just above his right breast, but no other identifying marks that she could see. Once Jo looked at the man’s head, it became clear why he was unable to speak clearly. His head was encased in a gimp-mask, complete with a ball in his mouth. The man wriggled and cried in distress, desperately trying to free himself. ‘It’s okay, I’ll try and get you out of this,’ she said as she unzipped the mask and pulled it off.
‘Jesus, fucking Christ!’ Miller said as he coughed and heaved with relief at being freed from the ball obstructing his mouth. Jo could only imagine how grim it must have been for him to lie there with the smell of rubber and the ball making it hard to breathe and impossible to speak. As he continued to recover, Jo set about freeing him from the velvet ties on his wrists and feet. The knots were impossibly tight, probably worsened by his attempts to get free, and she had to run into the bathroom to find some nail scissors to cut them. Once he was freed, Miller rubbed his hands, trying to bring the feeling back, seemingly unaware or uncaring that he was completely naked. Jo tried not to look, but was pleased to note that he appeared to have all the right bits in all the right places.
here was the sound of cars crunching on gravel, and Jo looked out of the window.
‘Looks like the press are here,’ she said. ‘And DS Jeffries.’ She turned back to see Miller clumsily pulling on the clothes that had been left on the floor. His hands were still numb from being tied up so long and he needed her help to do up his shirt buttons, although they left a number of them undone.
‘Excuse me, Sir,’ they heard Jeffries say outside the window. ‘This is a police matter and I would be grateful if you could wait outside.’
‘So would I,’ Miller said, and Jo was glad that he seemed to be feel- ing better.
Miller was still pulling on his trousers when they heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.
‘Hurry up,’ Jo said urgently, knowing that she would be the butt of jokes for years to come if she was caught in a bedroom with Miller in an undressed state. She had no intention of helping him do them up, because being caught doing that would be just as bad.
The door opened.
‘Hello, Sergeant Jeffries,’ Jo beamed, blocking his view as Miller finished doing up his fly behind her.
‘Everything all right, boss?’ Jeffries asked, peering round her. ‘Only the gentlemen of the press downstairs seem to think you might have been involved in a bit of bondage.’ His gaze went around the room, taking in the ties still on the bed and the gimp mask on the floor, the smirk on his face showing that he understood exactly how Jo had found his senior officer, and Jo was sure she could see a tinge of regret in his eyes that he hadn’t been the one to find and rescue him. He would have loved to have been able to hold that against Miller forever. ‘I have no idea who it was that was involved in bondage here,’ Mill-
er said with a degree of gravity that Jo found impressive under the circumstances and considering that he still didn’t have any socks and shoes on, ‘but it certainly wasn’t me.’
‘He was able to tell the press that they had received a tip-off that someone was being held at the cottage but that the person must have been able to free themselves and escape before the police arrived,’ Jo explained to Kate over a much-needed drink later that night. ‘Of course, they couldn’t really argue because the man in the pictures they had been sent had on that gimp mask so they couldn’t really know who it was.’
‘She is some piece of work, isn’t she? I mean, you’ve got to hand it to her, she had him trussed up like a kipper. Thank goodness you got there first. Although I’d never have given you the address if I’d thought for one moment that you were likely to go there on your own. Promise me you won’t do that again, Jo. After all, she’s a killer.’
‘I wouldn’t have been in danger. She’s only interested in the people she feels have done her wrong.’
‘But how on earth did she get Miller like that?’
‘She called him, saying that she was the woman who lived dow stairs from Giles Townsend. You know, the one who disappeared?’ Kate nodded. ‘And she had some information that might be relevant.’
‘And he wasn’t suspicious?’
‘Apparently not. She was offhand enough to convince him it was probably nothing, but he thought he’d better go out there and speak to her in case. Everyone else had knocked off for the night or were finishing up paperwork, so he went himself.’
‘And when he got there and discovered it wasn’t the lady from downstairs?’
‘Oh, but it was,’ Jo said triumphantly. ‘That’s the amazing thing. He felt quite relaxed, knowing it wasn’t Fiona, and accepted a cup of coffee. After that he has only hazy recollections of what happened un- til he came to, tied to the bed and with a gimp mask on.’
‘So, the killer isn’t Fiona? Is this woman someone she knows?’ ‘No, no. It was Fiona. Miller remembers enough of what she said
before he passed out to realise that it had to be her. We’ve all been looking for this beautiful svelte blonde but she’s changed her appear- ance to the point of being unrecognisable.’
Kate sat back in surprise. ‘You’re joking!’
‘No. Honest. She’s
obviously put on a lot of weight, had a bad haircut and let her hair go back to it’s natural mousey brown. Really let herself go. If you imagine her, not in the designer clothes everyone associated her with but in cheap, ill-fitting clothes as well, I’m not surprised no one recognised her.’
‘You’d think someone who knew her as well as Giles would have spotted something, the way she spoke or smiled or something.’
‘I think the trouble with being really truly beautiful, like Fiona was before her breakdown, is that no one actually remembers anything else about you,’ Jo said profoundly.
‘Good job we don’t have to worry about that, then,’ Kate said with a grin.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Jo agreed and they clinked glasses.
Chapter 30
In the days following Miller’s close call, as Jo liked to refer to it, she was disappointed that he didn’t contact her. She felt she was owed somewhat more than the brief moment he had taken to thank her at the cottage once all the press had been sent away, disappointed not to get another salacious story to grab the headlines. She wasn’t sure the reporters had believed the story that an unknown man had been held prisoner but escaped before the police arrived, but they weren’t going to risk being sued for saying the pictures they had been sent, along with the address of the cottage, featured Miller when they had no oth- er evidence to support that allegation. It was certainly impossible to tell who was in the mask. When Miller had thanked her, he’d seemed both relieved and embarrassed that it had been she who had found and freed him. Embarrassed to have been found naked, but relieved that it was her rather than the press, or Jeffries, and she could under- stand that. She could only imagine what Jeffries would have had to say about finding his boss, stark naked and tied up like a Christmas tur- key. He would have regaled the canteen with the story for ever and a day. Jo was pretty sure Jeffries would have bribed one of the reporters to give him a copy of the picture anyway, because of course he knew it was Miller, even if the reporters weren’t going to risk saying so. In which case, Miller might not have got that much of a reprieve.