by Jay Gill
‘Women! You can’t live with them and you can’t live without them.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Cutler stared up at the dirty-looking flat above a parade of shops. Hers was above a cat rescue charity shop. He had to admit he found it disappointing Stacy DiMarco lived there. Perhaps it was nice inside. He felt sure she would have it made homely.
The police had stayed for several hours and he’d watched as officers had come and gone. No doubt they wanted to know about her relationship with Peter Rabbit. When had she last seen him? How long had she known him? Were any of Peter’s friends known psychopaths? That sort of thing.
Cutler chuckled to himself. He wondered whether they’d mentioned the inelegant truth that her boyfriend had died while having a wee behind a parade of shops.
It was getting late and the light was fading. He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the back seat and, keeping his head down, walked the short distance to Stacy’s flat. He pressed the buzzer. No answer. He pressed it again.
‘Hello?’ came a soft voice. She sounded like she’d been crying.
‘Hi Stacy, it’s Michael from work. I hope I’m not intruding, only I’ve been asked to see how you are.’
‘Michael?’
‘Yes, Michael Cutler. Regional Manager.’ There was silence before Cutler added, ‘Cassley Shoes.’ He could hear her hesitation. He could tell she didn’t want to let him in, but her good manners would prevent her from turning him away.
‘Of course. Just give me a moment,’ she said politely. A few seconds later the buzzer sounded and Cutler pushed the front door open.
Stacy stood at the top of the stairs. She looked pale; her face was puffy and her eyes bloodshot.
He held up the flowers and smiled sympathetically.
‘Oh, thank you,’ said Stacy. ‘You shouldn’t have. That’s so sweet. Come on up.’
‘I hope I’m not intruding.’ Cutler was pouring on the Good Samaritan vibe. Yeah, the Good Samaritan with cuffs, rope, tape and a scalpel hidden in his jacket. ‘I’m sorry to hear about Peter. This must be a very difficult time. How are you coping?’
He took the stairs two at a time and then followed Stacy into her sitting room. He had suspected from looking at her that she had good taste, and looking round her small flat now it was just as he’d hoped. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture or ornaments, but what she did have was of quality. The sitting room was open plan with two armchairs, a two-seater sofa, a coffee table and a TV at one end. At the other was a small but well-equipped kitchen. There were two doors at the far end of the sitting room, no doubt the bedroom and the bathroom.
Michael handed Stacy the bouquet. He watched as she filled a vase with water and then carefully arranged the flowers before placing them on her coffee table.
‘They’re beautiful,’ said Stacy. She took a tissue from her jeans and wiped her nose. ‘Would you like a coffee or a tea?’
She was mesmerising, and Cutler was finding it difficult to keep his emotions under control. He was desperate to see how she would look but needed to run through a few things first. ‘I don’t want to intrude. You must have people coming and going all the time at the moment. Do you have family close by?’
‘No, not really. I’m thinking of going to my parents’ tomorrow. They’re in Birmingham.’
‘You take as much time as you need. And I mean that. We’re all so sorry to hear about what happened.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Who’s keeping you company? You’re not all alone at this terrible time, are you?’
‘Well, yes. I haven’t really been here, in Uxbridge, that long, so I’ve not had time to make friends. I met Peter at Glastonbury last year, which is why I moved here from Birmingham. We wanted to spend more time together. Peter’s from here. He’s the only person I know here – in Uxbridge, that is. I’m sorry. Am I making any sense? I feel like I’m rambling.’
‘You’re making perfect sense. I’m so sorry about Peter,’ said Cutler. ‘Don’t forget you have your work friends. I know it’s not the same, but—’
‘Oh, I know. Of course. Thank you. And there’s Anthony, from the shop. He’s so funny, so lovely. He and I talk about boyfriend problems all the time. He makes me laugh so much.’
‘That’s nice. He’s a good lad,’ said Cutler. He needed to make sure they wouldn’t get a surprise visitor and so far, things were looking good.
‘Do the police have any leads?’
‘Not really. Too early to say. It may be just a case of Peter being in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
I’ll say, thought Cutler. Though it was more a case of being with the wrong woman at the wrong time.
‘I suppose they’re coming back this evening with more questions? They must have so many things they need to know.’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. They said they’d call if they needed to ask me anything else. I was just planning on an early night.’
‘Of course. I’m sorry; you must be exhausted. I just want you to know that the Cassley Shoes family is here for you. I know it sounds like old-fashioned sentiment, but it’s the truth. If you need anything, just let me know.’
Cutler got up and walked to the door. He was happy they wouldn’t be disturbed. Being so close to her, hearing her soft voice and feeling how vulnerable and sensitive she was, charged him with energy. She would be his perfect angel. He was playing an ever more dangerous game, but he knew he wasn’t able to stop. Taking her now was risky; he hadn’t taken any of his usual precautions. He hadn’t studied her habits like he had with all the others, but he felt sure if he didn’t take the opportunity now, he’d lose her. He was trying to fight it, but in truth the battle was already lost. What was about to happen was inevitable. He knew it would happen. Whatever the ultimate cost to himself.
‘Thank you, Michael. I really appreciate that. I’m sure I’ll be fine, but if I need anything I’ll be in touch.’ Stacy looked at the door, using her eyes to encourage him to leave.
‘I almost forgot. I’d be in trouble if I didn’t mention it. My wife Melanie suggested I offer you a hot meal. It’s lasagne night and she would welcome some female company. We have two young sons who are a bit of a handful. She’d be delighted to meet you.’ He knew she’d never say yes, and put his hand on the lock of the door as if to leave.
Stacy walked towards him to show him out. ‘Please thank your wife for me. Homemade lasagne sounds lovely. But right now, I’m not good company. Maybe another time?’
‘Of course. Just one last thing,’ said Cutler. He turned to the door again, but instead of opening it he flicked the latch to lock it and then slowly and carefully slid the chain across. He turned back to Stacy and immediately grabbed her by the throat. He showed her the scalpel. His transformation from charming to monster happened in flash. ‘There’s something I need you to do for me.’
Stacy’s wide eyes showed him she understood. She understood all too well.
‘Don’t scream. Don’t you dare scream. Do you understand?’ He could see she was on the verge of fighting back, but like all the others, she hoped that by obeying him, she would save herself.
Cutler pressed the blade to her soft neck and carefully stroked it up and down. ‘You’re going to take me to the bedroom.’
Stacy gave out a loud sob.
‘You scream or resist I will cut your face to pieces.’ Just like I did to your precious Peter.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Stacy’s struggling was pointless and Cutler ignored it. He would take them off later, once she was too weak to make a sound, but for now the mouthful of cotton and the strip of heavy-duty tape across her face would stifle her screams. He stroked her hair and then, pulling her close, pressed the blade just below her eye. He didn’t cut her. He would never cut her face. She didn’t know that, of course, and he only did it to ensure she understood he was serious.
He was happy with how things were going. He’d had to improvise, as she had no headboard on th
e bed for him to cuff her to. Instead, she was cuffed with her hands behind her back and her ankles tied. He was good at thinking on the spot; he had to be. He certainly didn’t want Stacy thinking this was amateur hour.
He nodded at her legs, which were bound together. ‘I’m not a piece of shit rapist,’ he told her.
That always seemed to calm them down a little. He didn’t understand why. When a psychopath is waving a blade in your face, how is knowing you’re not going to be raped any kind of relief?
‘You need to know I won’t hurt you unless I have to. To me, you’re very special. I wouldn’t dream of hurting you in that way. Blink if you understand.’ Stacy blinked twice and tried to nod. ‘Good girl. Just do exactly as I say. If you do that, then I promise you won’t end up the same way as little Peter Rabbit. Understand?’
Stacy’s eyes fixed on his.
‘Goodness me, the cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it? Yes, that was me. I am sorry about little Peter. He was a first for me. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it, but because of you I had to try. In the end, it was easier than I imagined. I suppose you could say every day’s a school day.’ He lifted a pillow and held it over her face. Ignoring her moaning and violent thrusting movements, he pressed down hard. ‘It does demonstrate,’ he continued, ‘that I went to extraordinary lengths for you. You should be flattered.’
He was over her now and he pushed down harder with the pillow. ‘Good girl. Let it go. Calm yourself. Relax. Don’t fight it.’ As Stacy’s movements began to weaken, he took the scalpel and ran it across her neck, opening her carotid artery. He took away the pillow so he could watch. She was fading fast.
Cutler ran to the kitchen and grabbed a stool. He needed to be quick. He placed it next to the bed and observed. When he was sure she was almost gone he set to work. He removed the tape, uncuffed her wrists, untied her legs. Using her own hairbrush, he brushed her smooth, dark hair. Finally, he tidied her clothes and placed her hands across her chest. Satisfied, he sat back down to watch her final moments.
‘I miss you, Amanda. I really miss you, sis,’ he said softly. ‘There’s not a day goes by when I don’t think of you.’ Cutler reached out and put a hand on the bed. ‘Guess how old you’d be now? Can you guess? Nearly forty-two; can you believe that? You’d be a big girl, probably a mother, definitely a mother. All grown up. You’d have been a great mummy.
‘You’re still my guardian angel, frozen in time. You know that, don’t you? I’m still your pirate. I’ll always be your pirate.
‘I miss you so much. I’ve got no one now. I want you back. I need my big sister back.’
Cutler began to cry uncontrollably, his body convulsing as he sobbed. Fat tears rolled down his face. He wiped away the tears and snot with his arm.
‘Now look what you made me do,’ he laughed tearfully. ‘Big sister makes little brother cry. Nothing new there, I suppose. I’ll stay for a little while longer, but I had better go soon.’
After an hour, he collected his things and left, promising his sister he’d see her again soon, really soon.
Chapter Twenty-Three
My heart sank when I saw Stacy DiMarco. I told myself we should have been able to prevent this. Somehow, we should have seen it coming. I was probably wrong on both counts, but it didn’t make me feel any better. Another young woman murdered. Same MO. This wasn’t a copycat killing: it had to be the same psycho, as earlier crime scene details had not been made public.
I had no idea how her boyfriend’s murder was related to her own, but I knew it had to be. Once more, I had more questions than answers. The sad truth was that Stacy’s death would bring us closer to catching whoever did this to her.
Rayner was with me and we stepped aside to give Heidi Hamilton room.
‘Another sweet angel. Poor baby. Look at what he did.’ Hamilton looked over at the pair of us and gave a sad smile. Quietly, for only us to hear, she whispered. ‘We need to stop this man. And we need to do it fast. You hear me?’
I nodded and began to look around, careful not to get in Heidi’s way. Even at this early stage I could see plenty of similarities between this scene and Stephanie Walker’s. Same attention to detail. Same cause of death. Body left the same way, with hands clasped across the chest. Hair brushed and an aura of serenity around the victim. Same impressions on the carpet where he must have sat.
My eyes moved to the kitchen, where I could see the stool he must have used. It was back in place, set neatly beside the small table.
My eyes were drawn to a fresh bouquet of flowers sat on Stacy’s coffee table. They looked out of place. I wandered over and read the small card attached to them.
So sorry to hear of Peter’s demise. With love from all at Cassley Shoes.
I read the card again. ‘Demise’ seemed an odd choice of word. I looked around. They were the only flowers in the room.
‘Nice flowers,’ said Rayner, appearing behind me.
‘Yes. I guess she worked there.’ I placed the card in an evidence bag and handed it to him. ‘I’ll check with uniform. They’ll know from when they spoke to her about her boyfriend’s death.’
‘They were quick off the mark.’
‘Who?’
‘Cassley Shoes. It takes most companies an age to get organised when there’s a bereavement.’
I agreed. ‘They got here with flowers in twenty-four hours. So who brought them? There’s no name on the card.’ I went over to the bin and pulled out the wrapping. ‘These are from Sainsbury’s supermarket. Let’s find out where the nearest one is. Then we need to speak to Stacy’s boss and colleagues and see if we can discover who brought these flowers.
‘Whoever it is, they’re likely to be the last person to have seen her alive.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rayner and I stood outside the Uxbridge branch of Cassley Shoes. The air was refreshing, and the morning sun felt warm on my back. A young man in a white shirt, black skinny trousers and highly polished black shoes unlocked the floor-to-ceiling glass doors.
‘Good morning, gentlemen. You’re keen. Welcome to Cassley Shoes,’ he said with a genuine smile. ‘My name’s Anthony. Can I help you with anything in particular, or are you just here to browse?’
We showed our warrant cards and asked for the shop manager.
‘She’s not here today, Inspectors. If you don’t mind waiting a little while, you can speak to our regional manager.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Michael – Mr Cutler, I mean – should be here very soon.’
Anthony was very relaxed and very attentive.
‘We’ll wait, thank you. So why is the manager away?’ asked Rayner.
‘She’s not herself this morning. Seems she’s a little too grief-stricken.’ His face suggested he wasn’t convinced. ‘I guess you’re here about Stacy and Peter? We’re all in shock. I know I am. I can’t stop thinking about it. Poor babe. I loved Stace.’ Anthony pressed the corner of his eye. ‘Heart of gold she had. Heart of gold. Soon as we met, we were like brother and sister. It was like I’d known her forever. For. Ever. I told her everything; I do that sometimes. I’m a sharer. You know what I mean? She was so easy to talk to. Such a great listener. I knew I could trust her. Instantly. I mean, I could tell her anything. Anything. She knew my whole life the first day we met.’
I didn’t doubt that for a second.
‘Peter I only met once or twice, here at the shop, and he seemed nice. They seemed happy together, bless them.
‘Bianca, our manager, who isn’t here, as I said,’ he touched his hairline in a way that indicated his frustration, ‘seems to have taken it really badly. She’s quite fragile, very sensitive. I don’t want to sound bitchy, but with her, every cold is flu. Headaches are always a brain tumour. And when she gets her monthly, well, oh my God, you can just forget it.’ Deciding he needed to spell it out to us, he stepped closer and lowered his voice. ‘She hardly knew Stacy. She’s using what happened to her as yet another excuse for a few days off.’ He pulled a face to show his d
istaste. ‘But you didn’t hear that from me.’ He lightly touched Rayner’s arm and smiled at us warmly. ‘I don’t want people thinking I’m some sort of blabbermouth.’
We asked Anthony when he had last seen Stacy, his whereabouts at the time of her murder and whether he thought Stacy had had any personal problems.
When pressed, it turned out he knew very little about Stacy’s own personal life. Unfortunately for us, Anthony was much more of a sharer than a listener.
Anthony showed us to the staff area at the back of the stock room and then left us so he could assist customers.
A few minutes later we heard Anthony and a second voice. Moments later, a man whom I guessed to be the regional manager entered the stock room. He was well-turned out in a dark suit and a Cassley Shoes tie. Friendly enough, but from the look on his face not best pleased to see us. Rayner and I showed him our warrant cards.
‘Are you Mr Michael Cutler?’ I asked him.
‘For my sins, yes. Michael Cutler, regional manager for Cassley Shoes. Let me just put my stuff down and I’ll be right with you. I’m a little all over the place at the moment, as you might imagine. But we muddle through, don’t we? Have you been offered a coffee or tea?’
‘We’re okay, thank you. But you carry on. We’re here to ask you about Stacy DiMarco and Peter Rice, her boyfriend.’
I followed Cutler into the small kitchen staff room where he filled the kettle and switched it on.
‘Yes, Inspector. Terrible what happened. Terrifying, in fact. It’s shaken us all up. Hard to believe something like that could happen to one of the family.’
‘Family?’
Cutler was nervous and I watched as he tucked his hands in his pockets then took them out and tried to look relaxed by leaning against the kitchen worktop. He was finding it hard to make eye contact. I tried to put him at ease so he’d open up.
‘Family?’ I asked again.
