Copycat

by Diane Saxon

  She recognised them all. Recognised also the concern reflected in each of their gazes.

  Jenna’s heart gave a fast thump against her ribcage in a cruel reminder of that time, a mere few months before, when they’d gathered in such a large group to be briefed about the disappearance of her own sister. The news hadn’t been good then, in fact it had been devastating when they discovered Fliss had been taken by the same man who’d left the naked body of a woman and a baby on the hillside of the Ironbridge gorge.

  Now they were eager. Anxious. Keen to hear they’d got a result and Ray Horrobin had been arrested for a horrific murder. A quick result. That breath-holding moment when they wait to be told they can stand down.

  As Jenna made her way to the front of the room, silence descended. She was about to disappoint them. There was no quick result.

  Acting Detective Inspector Evans stepped up beside her. The last thing he needed was a grisly murder when he was covering for DI Rous, who was off long-term sick, and DI Taylor, who was on annual leave. This was the kind of case to make or break a stable career, never mind the career of a man who only had one foot on the rung of the promotion ladder.

  She cast him a weak smile. He wasn’t someone she particularly knew. He’d come from Kidderminster Station recently, with barely any time to get to know his own shift. Still, he’d stand or he’d crumble, but Jenna was damned if she’d let that affect her case.

  She ran her gaze over the notes in front of her and, when she was ready, she raised her head just as young DC Ryan Downey slipped into the back of the room. Ignoring her advice to take the rest of the day off, he’d been home, changed, probably rested, probably let his mum fuss over him until he could stand it no more, and then he’d made his way back into Malinsgate. Her lips twitched up in a smile of admiration. There was no keeping a good man down, and Ryan Downey was, without doubt, a good man.

  She cleared her throat and made a start.

  ‘I’m going to begin halfway through and work around.’ She nodded at the buff folders she could see. ‘You all have your brief, but this is the latest update. At approximately 0615 this morning, the body of Marcia Davies was discovered in her own house. The doors were locked, no sign of forced entry. She was tied to a kitchen chair, her throat slashed. On first sight, we believed there was a resemblance to murders committed some time ago. However, we had every right to believe the ex-boyfriend, Ray Horrobin, who claimed to have discovered the body, may have been involved in her death.’

  She raised her head and acknowledged the nods from the attending officers, knowing she was about to dash that glimmer of hope.

  ‘DC Mason Ellis and I have literally just come out of interview with our prime suspect.’ Her mouth tightened as she scanned the room and shook her head. ‘His alibi is pretty much watertight. It looks as though Ray Horrobin is off the hook. He’s in a better position now than he’d been in twenty-four hours earlier.’ Regret flowed through her voice. Supercilious moron that he was. ‘According to him, Marcia was a nightmare of an ex-girlfriend, who wouldn’t sell their jointly owned house, despite Ray’s desperation as his current girlfriend is pregnant.’ Jenna shrugged. ‘Marcia is now off the scene, house is in joint names, insured for each other. The perfect motive for murder.’ She drew in a deep breath and blew it out again. ‘Only Ray Horrobin also has the perfect alibi.’ She raised her voice above the ripple of groans. ‘Obviously this needs to be corroborated.’ She glanced at PC Donna McGuire and caught the slight nod, knowing she could rely on the officer to follow the task through. ‘According to him, from 1800 hours last night until 0600 hours this morning, he was at the hospital, where he has a job as a porter.’

  Salter raised his head from taking down notes in his untidy scrawl. ‘It might have been good if he’d remembered that nugget of information before you brought him in for questioning. It would have saved us several hours of kicking our heels thinking you had the perp.’

  ‘What an idiot,’ Wainwright murmured under his breath.

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Donna’s quiet voice had heads turning in her direction. Her cheeks turned ruddy, but her dark eyes sparkled with conviction. ‘People react in different ways to shock. Some cry, some scream, some collapse. People have been known to turn catatonic, depending on how severe the shock is. Ray Horrobin may see death every day while he carries out his job, but from the look of it…’ she flicked open the folder she had on the desk in front of her and Ryan leaned in over her shoulder to get a better view, then recoiled, his nostrils turned white as he drew in a deep breath through them. Donna tapped her finger on the victim’s photograph. ‘That would be an immense shock to anyone.’ She glanced up. ‘Never mind the person you’d recently left.’ She flipped over the first photograph and held up a second. The word ‘Bitch’ emblazoned on the front lawn. ‘Guilt. Guilt mixed with shock and fear. Because when it comes out that prior to Marcia Davies’ death she was ruthlessly bullied by her ex, his reputation will be dirt. More than.’ She placed the photograph back down and closed the folder. She rested her arms on the top of it and fell silent as she waited for Jenna to continue.

  Jenna sent her a brief nod, both grateful and unsurprised that Donna had tracked every step Mason and Jenna had taken throughout the day. ‘Thank you, Donna.’ Donna’s cool, calm personality and depth of knowledge and commitment was always welcome. ‘Eventually we coaxed the information we needed from Horrobin to show his innocence. Innocence that related to her murder, not the relentless bullying, as Donna mentioned. There’s nothing we can do regarding that.’ She found she couldn’t be as forgiving as Donna. ‘I just hope that guilt sticks in his throat for at least a while.’

  Murmurs of agreement rolled around the office until she pulled the officers back again.

  ‘Horrobin called in to see Marcia Davies on his way home from work to try and persuade her to sign agreements with the solicitor, which she’d apparently been ignoring. He found her. Very much dead already. His first instinct was to call the police. He recognised a dead body when he saw one. This body hadn’t just been left for dead. It had been arranged. Posed. Hair, make-up, clothes. Attention to detail.’

  ‘Horrobin corroborated what we’ve already ascertained…’ she flicked a quick glance in Ryan’s direction. ‘And that is, Marcia wasn’t one for thick, layered make-up. She’d be more subtle.’ Too subtle for Ray, it appeared, as he’d left Marcia for a more mature, sharper version, from what Jenna gathered in her conversation with him. Once he started, his conversation flowed, never stopping until he’d poured it all out. She almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost, but not quite.

  His worst offence was that he’d intimidated Marcia, mentally and verbally and, through his own guilt, passed the blame onto her. Unfortunately, Jenna couldn’t arrest him for that. As Mason said, being a wanker didn’t make him a murderer.

  Jenna raised a hand to rub away the weariness in her eyes before she remembered where she was and scooped her fingers through her hair instead before she glanced at Acting DI Evans. He took his cue and stepped forward.

  ‘Right!’ He rubbed the back of his neck, a sure indication of nerves, then he skimmed his hand across to indicate the uniformed officers on the left of the room. ‘We have our team ready to take over the door-to-door from the day shift. People will have arrived home from work, they may have heard something on the news, the radio, social media, but as it stands at the moment, the only thing that has been released to the press is that a body has been discovered and police are investigating.’ His thick, dark brows dipped low over silver eyes, his voice dropped an octave. ‘That’s the way I would like it to stay at present. We don’t need a panic on our hands.’ He grazed his intent look over all of them, pausing every so often before moving on.

  ‘Right, you all know what you’re doing. Forensics have Marcia’s phone and will be trawling through that for any indication of unusual activity. It’s a painfully slow process. We’re already on the follow-up with the Uber driver. Donna, can you get back to me wi
th confirmation of Ray Horrobin’s whereabouts at the time of murder?’ At her nod, he continued. ‘Obviously, we have a rough estimate from CSI, which will be nailed down shortly.’ He turned his attention to Salter and Wainwright. ‘Find out where Paul McCambridge is.’ At the vague raised eyebrows, he glanced over at Jenna and she stepped forward.

  ‘At this time, it appears that there are similarities to murders carried out by one Paul McCambridge some years ago. It’s not currently in the pack as we didn’t think it was going in that direction, but PC Sabrina Wallis will sort out the information. We believe he should still be in prison, but we need confirmation of where he is. Was he released? Has he escaped? Did he have a temporary pass out for some reason?’

  Acting DI Evans stepped forward again. ‘If you have any questions, see me. We’ll regroup in the morning.’

  As the team clamoured to get out of the room, Jenna closed her eyes and pinched the top of her nose between thumb and forefinger. She needed to go home, eat a decent meal and sleep. She knew the last would evade her. She yawned and blinked open her eyes. She raised her hand to acknowledge Mason’s departure. Tomorrow would be early enough to analyse everything again in detail once they assembled the team in the morning. Unless some maniac ran down the centre of Lawley village brandishing a bloodied knife, it was all about grass-roots policing. A long hard slog with no shortcuts, no guesswork. She’d done all she could do for the night and she’d need to be fresh again for the following day.

  Jenna glanced at her phone and swiped away the brief message from Adrian. Meet for a coffee and a chat. She needed to think about it. Technically, it wasn’t a date. Her chest gave a painful squeeze. She’d reply later when she had a spare moment. If she ever got a spare moment. Adrian would have to wait.

  She tucked her phone in her handbag and zipped up the closure, conscious that anyone could dip their fingers into it and swipe out money, purse, keys. Just as Frank Bartwell had before he let himself into her house and went after her sister.

  She’d never leave herself exposed to such a crime again.

  She wandered through to her darkened office. With a sigh, she glanced at the time and switched off her computer.

  Jenna scanned the room to make sure everything was in order before she swept up the manila files she’d prepared. A little bedtime reading if she could keep her eyes prised open.

  The day had turned out to be far longer than she’d prayed for at the beginning. Any memory of her hangover had been wiped away with the vicious, bloodthirsty turn of events.

  She swung her handbag over her shoulder, legs heavy as she wandered through the virtually empty office. Too weary to engage anyone in any further talk, she could only hope no one stopped her.

  Home was all she needed. Home, a cuddle with Domino, a hug from her sister, some decent food and bed. Of all of those things, bed held the most appeal.

  14

  Wednesday 5 February, 10:40 hrs

  Impatient to be off, Jenna snatched up her handbag as she scanned over the paperwork she’d been emailed. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to obtain the permissions they required to gain access to Paul McCambridge once Salter and Wainwright had tracked him down. Other than information on McCambridge’s whereabouts, nothing further had emerged from the early-morning brief.

  She’d had to go via Chief Superintendent Gregg to the Governor of Long Lartin prison in Evesham to have it processed quickly. She glanced at her watch. It had still taken too long.

  Built originally as a category-C training camp in the 1970s where prisoners who could not be trusted in an open prison resided and were offered the opportunity to develop skills so that they could integrate back into the community once their sentence was over, Long Lartin maintained the vibe of the previous war department ordnance depot, its prefabricated buildings still housing the majority of prisoners while new construction took place. Strictly category A and B, HMP Long Lartin contained some of the worst criminals imaginable. It had been the home of Cat A offender, inmate A3446RS Paul McCambridge, for the past nine years, serving a whole-life sentence with a recommendation from the Home Secretary that he die in prison.

  A touch of evil skittered over Jenna’s skin, so fine goose bumps broke out as she glanced at McCambridge’s photograph, his dark eyes devoid of all emotion. A true psychopath in every sense of the word. She closed the folder and passed it to Mason as they took the stairs down, passing the front desk on their way to sign out the keys for the police vehicle.

  ‘Have a look at him while I drive. It makes for interesting reading.’

  She slipped into the driver’s seat and tapped the destination into the navigation system, while Mason flicked through the files.

  ‘We’ve got the permissions there to get into Long Lartin.’ She dashed a look into her rear view mirror before she reversed out of the parking space some idiot had parked in forward. She’d check when she got back to the station and have a quick word. Rule of thumb. Always reverse a police issue vehicle into a space, allowing for a quick exit. ‘I nabbed a short profile of Paul McCambridge. Nasty piece of work.’

  ‘Mmm. Looks like he has a real aversion to authority and women,’ Mason agreed. ‘Which is part of the reason he’s in Long Lartin.’

  ‘The main reason he’s there is because he’s a psychopath. He slaughtered four women, but, yeah, I noticed the comment about him not responding well to female influences.’

  ‘He must find it pretty hard having a female governor. All that power in the hands of a mere woman.’ Mason snorted as he flicked over another page to study the full colour photograph of McCambridge’s last victim. ‘Are you sure you want to do this? Under the circumstances, it may have been better if we’d sent Salter and Wainwright. Or I could have taken Ryan with me instead of you.’

  Not even tempted by the suggestion, Jenna shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I’d want Ryan to visit Long Lartin yet. He may want some considerable experience under his belt before he does that. It’s a horrible place. Gives me the creeps.’

  ‘Maybe so, but with all due respect, Sarg, looking through this profile, I don’t think you’re the best person for this job.’

  Jenna opened her mouth to protest, but Mason tapped the file with his knuckles. ‘Really, everything about this screams that he hates women. I wonder how much money it cost for them to actually diagnose his condition, how many sessions with a counsellor it’s taken to establish that the man really doesn’t like women.’ He flicked the file closed and leaned his head back on the headrest. ‘They should have just asked the officer who dealt with the case.’

  She glanced sideways at him and then pulled onto the motorway. She nodded at the file. ‘DI Taylor dealt with it.’

  ‘Really?’ Engaged, Mason shuffled around in his seat to face her. ‘How did you find that out?’

  ‘I skimmed through the case notes last night. Interesting bedtime reading, all the better for giving me nightmares.’ It was an understatement, she’d barely slept a wink as vile images flashed across her mind all night. She eventually drifted off in the early hours, only to be awakened to a pitch-black room as her alarm rudely reminded her it was time to get up. ‘Taylor was only a DC at the time. Must have been a challenging case.’

  ‘We could do with speaking to him about it.’

  ‘He’s on annual leave for another few days. I’ll catch up with him when he gets back.’

  ‘Can’t you phone him?’

  She shook her head, checked in the mirror and pulled into the overtaking lane. ‘Afraid not. I think he may be in Yosemite.’

  ‘The whatymittie?’

  She knew Mason wasn’t stupid, but she indulged him with a smile in any case, as he splashed a touch of humour into the mix. ‘Yosemite California, I believe.’

  Just to prove he had more grey matter than people credited him with, he snapped her a sharp smile. ‘National Park. Sierra Nevada, to be more precise. Waterfalls, rock formations and shit. Didn’t know Taylor was an outdoorsy type. I hope the grizzly bear d
on’t get him. We could bloody well do with him right now.’

  She glanced in her mirror, manoeuvred into the middle lane and let the blue lights sail by, hoping to hell it wasn’t going to a road traffic collision up ahead. She could do without the delays.

  ‘I hope they don’t either, I could do with picking his brain.’

  ‘I’m surprised Jim Downey didn’t mention Taylor’s involvement when he spoke about the case yesterday.’

  ‘He probably didn’t have time to think about it yesterday. He had other things on his mind, like a dead body, and his son.’

  Mason just hummed in the back of his throat.

  Jenna reached over and tapped the file. ‘There’s not a lot in there. Chief Superintendent Gregg has applied to the Governor of Long Lartin for McCambridge’s psych evaluation, but we know that all takes time. According to information we have, though, McCambridge’s mother, a nurse, killed herself when he was a child – only seven years old. He found her, still alive, and was traumatised, unsurprisingly. She used to dye her hair.’ She cast a sideways glance at Mason and raised her eyebrows. ‘Red.’ He blew out a breath in response. ‘With no other family on the scene, he was in a children’s home. Fostered several times, never adopted. Some minor offences, didn’t appreciate authority, but nothing to signpost any real problems. Until ten years ago. He met his first victim, Charlotte Goodall, through a dating site.’

  ‘Did they have dating apps back then?’

  She slanted him a look. ‘There have always been dating apps, they just started in a different format. Lonely hearts used to advertise in newspapers.’

  ‘I suppose you remember that?’

  ‘Cheeky bugger.’ She smiled as she overtook a lorry and then pulled into the middle lane of the motorway. Jenna was a mere few months older than Mason, just cresting the top of her twenties, soon to be the big three-oh, oh. That was something that didn’t bear thinking about. ‘The first dating apps on computers started at about the time McCambridge met his first victim. I’d just joined the force, but I was never on his case at the time. Something about Charlotte Goodhall triggered his memories and McCambridge went on a killing spree. Four women in quite quick succession over a six week period.’