Death Track

by Sally Rigby

  ‘We found the ticket near a woman who’d been murdered on the train.’

  Logan paled. ‘I didn’t do it. I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘Where were you sitting on the train?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Near the back.’ He glanced in George’s direction, and when she made eye contact, he dropped his gaze. He couldn’t be more suspicious if he tried.

  ‘Was anyone sitting near you?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, how did your ticket end up on the floor of the middle carriage?’

  ‘I must’ve dropped it.’ He shrugged.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Getting off the train.’ He leaned back and folded his arms.

  ‘Why didn’t you get off from your own carriage?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘I didn’t want to,’ he replied.

  ‘That makes no sense,’ Whitney said. ‘Did anyone see you walking through?’

  ‘How do I know?’

  ‘Can you tell me your movements on Sunday during the day between eight and two?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Why?’ he growled.

  ‘Answer the question,’ Whitney snapped.

  ‘I was at home,’ he muttered unconvincingly.

  ‘Can anyone vouch for you?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Dennie was away for the weekend.’

  ‘And you were at home all the time?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve already told you. Why do you want to know?’ Logan sounded agitated.

  ‘We’re investigating two murders, both of which happened on trains.’

  ‘And you think I did them?’

  ‘Your ticket was found near one of the victims, and you still haven’t given us a reason why.’

  He looked away. Guilt etched across his face. ‘Were you doing something you shouldn’t have?’ George asked.

  ‘I want immunity if I tell you what I know.’

  ‘What do you mean immunity? This isn’t some TV show. Either you tell us what you know, or we’ll take you in for questioning,’ Whitney said.

  ‘All right, I did see a woman sitting on her own when I passed through. But she was asleep. Her laptop was on the seat next to her, so I picked it up and carried on walking. She didn’t notice.’

  ‘She didn’t notice because she was probably dead,’ Whitney said.

  ‘She didn’t look dead. I thought she was asleep.’

  ‘Did you actually look at her?’

  ‘A bit. She wasn’t looking at me, so I took the laptop.’

  ‘Is that why you always walk through the train? To see if there’s anything you can steal?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘I’m not admitting anything. I only told you about this one time, so you know what I was doing there, and why my ticket was on the floor. It must have slipped out of my hand.’

  ‘How did you get through the ticket barrier without it?’

  ‘It’s easy. Most of the time there’s no one around and you can walk through the disabled access.’

  ‘We need the laptop.’

  ‘Are you going to charge me with stealing it?’

  ‘Just get it for me,’ Whitney said.

  He left the room and came back within thirty seconds, holding a blue case. Whitney took it from him.

  ‘Is this the only thing you took from passengers today?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Get dressed. You’re coming with us.’

  The man scowled at them. ‘You said if I cooperated you wouldn’t bring me in for questioning.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘Are you charging me?’

  ‘We’ll discuss it at the station.’

  ‘Why can’t we do it here? I didn’t do anything to that woman. I didn’t see anyone else hanging around. The train wasn’t very busy. Why do I have to go with you?’

  ‘You’re coming to the station with us, now. If you don’t do it voluntarily, I will arrest you. Your choice.’ Whitney stood, and George followed.

  ‘What about my sleep? I’ve got work again later.’

  ‘You should’ve thought of that before you stole the laptop. The sooner you get dressed and come with us, the sooner you’ll be back in your bed.’

  ‘Can I take my car?’

  ‘No. Dennie can follow behind and take you home once we’ve finished.’

  He stormed out of the room and stomped up the stairs.

  ‘What do you think?’ George asked in a low voice.

  ‘He doesn’t have an alibi for the first murder. We need a search warrant to look through this place and I don’t want him, or anyone else, getting rid of anything incriminating before we get one.’

  ‘What about Dennie?’

  ‘That’s why I suggested she follow us to the station.’

  ‘It seems a bit of a longshot. In his job he’s hardly able to travel the country. How could he commit the other murders?’ George said.

  ‘We’ll know more once we’ve completed a background check on him. And right now, he’s the only lead we have.’

  Logan reappeared, dressed in sweatshirt and jeans. He followed them out to the car and sat in the back. Periodically, he’d moan about being tired and exhausted, and why it was pointless for him to be taken in. He hadn’t done anything, and he thought they were picking on him because he’d got a police record.

  They arrived at the station and left Logan in one of the interview rooms. Whitney asked a uniformed officer to wait outside the door to make sure he didn’t try to leave. They went into the incident room so Whitney could request the search warrant and arrange for the forensics team to be on standby. She also wanted to check whether any new information had come in.

  Matt was sitting at his desk, and she walked over to him.

  ‘We’ve brought in someone who was on the train this morning and stole the victim’s laptop. Ask Frank to check out the CCTV footage of people getting off at Banbury so we can see which carriage he came from. The train wasn’t busy, so it should be pretty obvious.’

  ‘Yes, guv,’ Matt said.

  ‘How’s it going with the rest of the CCTV search?’

  ‘We’re still working on it, but there is something I want to speak to you about.’ He glanced over to where the RF officers were talking to other members of the team.

  ‘Let’s go to my office. You come, too, George.’

  They reached her room, and she closed the door behind them.

  ‘I don’t trust those two,’ Matt said.

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’ she asked.

  ‘They’ve been snooping around, asking questions. Wanting to see everyone’s notes.’

  ‘They need to get up to speed with the investigation.’

  ‘They wanted to know where you’d gone, and when I wouldn’t tell them, they got very insistent.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing. Anyway, I need you to look into Logan. He doesn’t have an alibi for Sunday, and we know he was in the vicinity of the second victim because he stole the laptop. Look at all the previous murders, and ask Ellie to check his alibis for those as well.’

  Her phone rang. ‘Walker.’

  ‘Your search warrant has been approved,’ the officer said.

  ‘Thank you.’ She ended the call. ‘The warrant’s come through for Logan’s house. Change of plan. Matt, I want you to go with forensics to his house. In the meantime, I’m going to interview him.’

  They went back into the incident room, and she stopped at Ellie’s desk.

  ‘Do you have a list of all the murders? Times and dates?’

  ‘I can print it off for you,’ the officer said.

  ‘How’s the background check on Logan coming along?’

  ‘As I said previously, he’s been in and out of prison, mainly for burglary. I’ll get you the dates. He’s had a variety of jobs but doesn’t seem to stay very long. He’s been working at Smithfield for the last three months.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Do you want me in with you or observing from outsid
e?’ George asked as they left the incident room.

  ‘We’ll do this one together. There’s no one else available, and it’s far better to have two people there.’

  When they got back to the interview room, Logan was sitting with his arms folded, an angry expression on his face. He jumped up.

  ‘Where have you been? And why wasn’t I allowed to leave the room? I wanted to go out for a smoke, and the copper on the door wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘Sit down, Mr Logan. You can have a cigarette once we’ve finished.’ Whitney prepared the recording equipment. ‘Interview with Mr Patrick Logan, in the presence of DCI Walker and Dr Cavendish. Mr Logan, please confirm you’re here voluntarily to help with our enquiries, and you understand you’re not under caution.’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied.

  ‘We understand you’ve only been with your current employer for three months. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where were you working before?’

  ‘At a warehouse in Banbury.’

  ‘How long were you there?’

  ‘I don’t see why you need to know all this.’

  ‘Please answer the question.’

  ‘I was only there for a few weeks.’

  Whitney opened the folder she’d placed on the table. She glanced at the list of dates of the other murders and chose one which was earlier in the year. ‘Please can you tell me what you were doing on Monday eighteenth of February?’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding. How am I meant to remember that far back?’

  ‘Were you working in January?’

  He was quiet for a moment. ‘No, I’d just come out of prison.’

  ‘You mentioned earlier that you use the train as a place to find items to steal.’

  ‘I didn’t say that. The laptop was just sitting there, so I took it. I don’t stalk trains looking for things to nick.’

  ‘That’s not the impression you gave us earlier,’ she said, arching an eyebrow. ‘Going back to today on the train. You said you walked through and came across what you thought to be a sleeping woman. Take me through your journey, from leaving your seat to when you took the laptop. I want to know everything you saw. Every person you walked past.’

  ‘I was sitting in my carriage, and once we’d gone past the industrial estate leading into Banbury, which meant it would only be another few minutes before we reached the station, I stood up and put my rucksack on my back. I then walked through the carriage.’

  ‘Who was in your carriage?’

  ‘A woman on her own. She was reading a book.’

  ‘Next carriage?’

  ‘There were three men and two women. The two women sat together talking, and the men were all on their own.’

  ‘What did they look like?’

  ‘Like people going to work. One man was wearing a workers’ jacket.’

  ‘High visibility?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Next carriage?’

  ‘The woman. I walked past and noticed her sleeping. I saw the laptop on the seat next to her. I looked round. No one could see me, so I took it. Once the train reached Banbury, I got off.’

  There was a knock on the door, and Ellie walked in. ‘Can I have a moment, guv?’

  ‘Interview suspended.’ Whitney stopped the recording and left the room, with George following. She closed the door behind them.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked Ellie.

  ‘I’ve been running a check on Patrick Logan against all the other murders. He was in prison for six of them. He was released midway through the last set.’

  ‘Thanks, Ellie. I’m not surprised it isn’t him. Our perp’s been clever enough not to be caught all this time, and Logan doesn’t appear to have a lot between the ears.’

  They went back into the interview room.

  ‘Patrick Logan, I’m arresting you for the theft of a laptop. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?’

  ‘I offered to help, so you said you weren’t going to charge me.’

  ‘I said no such thing. We currently have a forensics team going through your house, and if we retrieve other stolen items they will be added to the charge.’

  ‘You can’t do that. You have no right.’

  ‘We have a search warrant.’

  ‘You won’t find anything.’

  ‘I’ll get an officer to process the charge, and then you’re free to go.’

  Whitney and George left the interview room.

  ‘So, we’re still no further,’ Whitney moaned. ‘With two more murders on the cards before the end of next week.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Friday, 14 June

  Whitney stared at the large Edwardian building that had been her mum’s home for the last few months. She’d popped out from work for a quick visit. She’d have liked to spend more time with her mum, but it wasn’t possible at the moment. She turned the brass handle and pushed open one of the white double doors, walking into a huge sterile vestibule with a high ceiling and bare walls, all of which had several cracks.

  The entire place was in need of a coat of paint and some interior design flair. But that didn’t mean the standard of care wasn’t good. She’d done the research after her mum’s social worker had recommended it, and it was rated highly. It wasn’t a large nursing home, with only twenty residents, all with their own rooms and en suites. Her mum seemed happy there, though sometimes it was hard to tell with the dementia.

  She walked over to the reception desk where an older woman was focused on a computer screen.

  ‘I’ve come to see my mother, Mrs Walker.’ She smiled at the woman while signing the visitor’s logbook.

  When her mum had first moved in, she’d spent a lot of her time in her room, saying she preferred her own company, but that was because she’d been a little nervous about joining in with the activities. It was different now, and Whitney expected to find her with the others who lived there.

  ‘Most of the residents are in the day room.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said as she turned and headed down the corridor.

  The day room was painted a soft yellow, and there was artwork hanging on the walls. The floral carpet was a bit worn, as were the selection of easy chairs and sofas, but there was a comfortable atmosphere. Her mum was sitting on the far side of the room. The TV was on, but she didn’t appear to be watching. She wandered over and tapped her gently on the arm.

  ‘Hello, Mum.’

  ‘Whitney. I didn’t expect to see you today.’ Her eyes crinkled at the corners.

  She leaned down and pulled her mum into a hug. ‘I thought I’d surprise you,’ she said, releasing her and scrutinising her face.

  Same old mum. Nothing had changed. Although, after visiting the other day, Tiffany had said her granny seemed more confused than the last time she’d seen her.

  ‘Sit down.’ Her mum tapped the arm of the empty chair beside her. Whitney pulled it around slightly so they were facing each other.

  ‘I bought you something.’ She pulled out of her bag the bar of dark chocolate she’d bought on the way there and handed it to her.

  ‘Mmm. My favourite.’ Her mum took the bar from her and stared at it, turning it over in her hands like it was something precious. ‘Would you like some?’

  ‘Why don’t you save it for later?’ she suggested.

  ‘Good idea. I’ll take it to my room when you go. Then I won’t have to share.’

  ‘Do they expect you to share everything?’ She frowned. She couldn’t imagine that would be the case.

  ‘The carers don’t. But you see the lady playing cards over there? The one with dyed black hair?’

  Whitney looked in the direction her mum was pointing and saw a woman hunched over a table, with her back to them, playing cards with three others.

  ‘Yes.’

 
; ‘That’s Miss Winter. If she sees you eating something nice, she demands half.’

  A bully? Here? That was ridiculous. Maybe she should have a word with one of the carers. Her mum’s happiness was paramount.

  ‘Just tell her no. You don’t have to take any nonsense.’ Her mum had always been able to stand up for herself. It was where Whitney got her no-nonsense streak from.

  ‘I can’t do that,’ she whispered. ‘She might put a spell on me. She’s a witch, you know.’

  What?

  ‘How do you know?’ What else could she say?

  ‘You only have to look at her. And—’ She lifted her hand to the side of her mouth to hide what she was saying from others. ‘Mrs Green told me she’d seen a broomstick behind the door of her room.’

  Whitney’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Her mum had never spoken like that before. She wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

  ‘Then take the chocolate upstairs, like you suggested. It’s probably for the best. Tell me what else you’ve been doing.’

  Her mum picked up the black handbag, which was at her feet, and put the chocolate in there. ‘Yesterday we had a concert. Some children from a local school.’

  ‘That’s nice. What did they sing?’

  ‘Songs from the shows. They weren’t as good as you at that age.’

  Whitney grinned. ‘You’re biased.’

  Singing was Whitney’s passion. She’d loved it from an early age and had put it down to being named after her mum’s favourite singer, Whitney Houston. As a teenager, she’d wanted to take it up professionally. But all that changed when she’d got pregnant at seventeen and had her daughter. Not that she regretted it. Tiffany was her life, and Whitney couldn’t be prouder of her. She was studying engineering at Lenchester University. The first in their family to go.

  She still loved singing and that was why she’d joined the local Rock Choir. Except she often had to miss rehearsals. That was the trouble with her job. It interfered with everything. But she couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Despite her family responsibilities, she made it work. It was a little easier now Tiffany no longer needed her so much and her mum and brother were being looked after.

  ‘I miss Rob,’ her mum said.

  ‘I know. We’ll arrange a time to go and see him.’