by Jay Gill
‘Of course not. And do you really think any of this would ever make it to a courtroom? What planet are you on? Those set to make their millions from the deals, in this country and abroad, would never allow it. You and I both know I’m a dead man.’
‘You need to hand yourself in. We’ll look after you and your family. You have my word.’
‘Your word means nothing. They can’t risk me talking. My only option is to finish what I started, get paid and disappear.’
‘So why are we here? If you’re looking for me to console you, agree that you have no choice, then you’re going to be disappointed.’
Vaughan sighed heavily, the frustration apparent on his face. ‘Is your brother really a Marine?’
‘Yep. And my father was a Scotland Yard copper like me. I guess looking out for others is in the blood. You either have it or you don’t.’
‘Sounds like one big happy family.’
I decided to test a theory. ‘What about my daughter? You scared her half to death with your stunt. Live ammunition, a sniper’s bullet, in a child’s school bag is a step too far.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Vaughan.
‘Only a coward would threaten a child. If you have a problem with me, you come at me, not my family. If you come near my children again it will be the last thing you ever do.’
I could hear genuine anger in Vaughan’s voice. ‘I never went near your children. I wouldn’t do that. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
I studied Vaughan for a moment. ‘So if it wasn’t you, then who?’
‘Who the hell do you think? These people will stop at nothing. You’re being used as much as I am.’
I needed Vaughan to realise his only option was to work with me. He was a self-reliant man. Right now, though, I sensed he trusted no one. ‘I don’t see you have many options. You could leave, finish the kill list and collect the money. You’ll probably wind up dead. Most likely at the hands of your friends; they won’t make the same mistake next time. Next time, they’ll come at you with greater force.
‘Or you’ll be tracked down and shot dead by a police marksman in some sort of standoff.
‘You could run, spend a lifetime looking over your shoulder and sleeping with one eye open. Alternatively, you help me bring down those who put you where you are now. I can guarantee it won’t end well for you. Life in prison is the best-case scenario, but you might save your family. And you’ll get to see your daughter grow up. The choice is yours.’
‘Nice try, Detective.’ Vaughan got out of the car and then leaned back in. ‘But it’s too late. I’ll be in touch.’ He thrust the pistol into his jacket pocket and walked away.
I watched as he disappeared through the car park. I had mixed feelings. I wanted to tell him it’s never too late, but I wasn’t sure that was true.
Chapter Forty-Two
It wasn’t the first time she’d played away. There had been other times. The first time was just before they were married. They’d been engaged for seven months when he discovered she was screwing the DJ who was booked to do the disco for their wedding reception. He seemed a nice enough bloke and was very apologetic. He explained that it was usually the bridesmaids, not the bride, he fooled around with. It was a perk of the job. After all, the money was lousy and the hours unsociable. Cutler never did get the deposit back.
At the time, Melanie explained it as pre-wedding nerves. The fear of committing to one person for the remainder. Deep down, he’d known it wouldn’t be the last time. Melanie was an attention seeker. She liked the limelight; she liked the thrill of the chase. Of course, it never lasted. They’d enjoy her for a while, and why not? But eventually they’d see her for what she was.
Cutler watched the pair of them outside the Premier Inn, his wife and Mr Flexi-fun, her fitness instructor, whose real name was Patrick Hicks. They’d been visiting the hotel for several months. Melanie looked so happy. It had been a long time since he’d seen her smile like that. A full head-back laugh as well. It even made him smile as he watched her. Not so fun to watch when Mr Flexi-fun squeezed her butt, though. She wasn’t even trying to hide her infidelity as they disappeared inside the hotel. No shame.
Cutler took out his tuna sandwiches and kettle chips and began pondering the problem while he ate. Killing her was out of the question. Besides the fact he loved her, despite her failings as a loyal wife, it would bring down a lot of attention that he wouldn’t welcome. The last thing he needed was anyone shining a light on their life – and on his life in particular.
There was also the fact he’d be stuck looking after the children. That wouldn’t do. He found it difficult enough as it was to make time for his own needs. The truth was he needed Patrick Hicks gone, and he needed Melanie to behave. He couldn’t just ignore it. Not any longer. The days of him accepting or ignoring her self-indulgent behaviour were long gone. It had become humiliating and was reckless. The new Michael Cutler couldn’t allow it.
He needed to be smart. To find a way of sending her the message that this would no longer be tolerated and at the same time remind her how much she meant to him.
Cutler threw the empty lunch packets into the passenger seat foot-well and sipped a can of Sprite Lite. He read for a while, a John Grisham he’d picked up at a service station. After a couple of hours, the lovers resurfaced. He watched as they embraced and attempted to go their separate ways. They were laughing and pulling each other back for another and then another kiss. Seemingly unable to leave each other alone. As they embraced one last time and kissed passionately, Cutler noticed Hicks’s eyes follow a young woman leaving the hotel. She was pulling a suitcase behind her and he was checking her out.
Even while he’s in the arms of another man’s wife he’s looking over another piece of skirt. What a shit this guy is. That does it, Patrick Hicks. You, my friend, have got to go. You’ve got to go permanently and painfully.
And believe it or not, honey, I’m doing you a favour by ridding you of him. Your Romeo is not what you think he is, and I’ll prove it to you.
Chapter Forty-Three
He breezed through the front door and could immediately sense something was wrong. The house was too quiet. Michael Cutler walked to the kitchen and put a bouquet of summer flowers and a packet of jelly sweets on the table. He picked up the note from Melanie. He only needed to read the first line to know what it was about.
He threw the flowers in the pedal bin and started eating the jelly sweets a handful at a time. He read the note again and then stuffed it in the bin alongside the flowers. He dialled her mobile phone but it went straight to voice mail. Without leaving a message he hung up.
There was a knock at the front door and the doorbell rang. He ran to the door and opened it with a big smile on his face. The smile vanished when, instead of Melanie and the boys, he was greeted by two police officers. For a moment he was speechless and slightly bewildered.
‘Evening, sir. I’m Sergeant Murtagh and this is WPC Lorimer. Are you Mr Michael Cutler?’ Cutler nodded and Murtagh continued. ‘Lovely. Would you mind if we came in for a few moments? We need to ask you some questions and it would be best done inside. You know how tongues wag.’ Sergeant Murtagh turned his head from side to side as though looking for nosey neighbours.
‘Is it Melanie? Is she okay? Are the boys okay?’
‘Is Melanie your wife, sir? As far as we know, your wife is fine. We’re not here about your wife. May we come in?’ repeated Murtagh.
‘Yes, yes of course. Please come in. What’s this all about?’
‘Is everything all right, sir? You look distressed,’ said Lorimer.
‘Well, no, not really. About five minutes ago I discovered my wife has walked out on me, and she took my boys. So, no, everything isn’t all right. And also, I’m not used to the police knocking on my door.’
‘I quite understand, Mr Cutler. I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll be as brief as we can,’ said Lorimer.
‘Do you know a
Miss Stacy DiMarco?’ asked Murtagh.
Cutler’s head began to spin for a moment. Do they know something? Are they on to me? If they knew something I’d be speaking to a detective, wouldn’t I? ‘The name rings a bell. My mind has gone blank. I can’t stop thinking about my wife.’ Cutler stroked the stubble under his chin as though he was pondering the name. ‘Where would I know her from?’
‘She worked at Cassley Shoes. She was found dead.’ Murtagh watched his reaction. ‘Murdered.’
Cutler said nothing and instead sat down as though to gather his thoughts. Which was in fact what he was doing. Why were they here? What were they up to? ‘I’m sorry. My mind is all over the place right now. I do know her. Stacy DiMarco works at the Uxbridge branch. Lovely girl, very polite. Excellent with the customers. Who would want to harm her?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to establish,’ said Lorimer, a little too sharply.
They were all sat in the front room now and Murtagh took over. ‘Has she worked there long, at the Uxbridge branch, I mean?’
‘I’m not sure. A few months, maybe. You’d be better to check with head office.’
‘How did you know Stacy?’
‘I’m the regional manager, so I know most of the long-term staff. We get quite a few temps and part-time staff who can be gone within a few weeks, or even days sometimes. I remember Stacy because I was disappointed when she told me she wouldn’t be staying. She and her boyfriend were going off around the world. No, actually they were going off around Europe. Have you spoken to her boyfriend?’
Cutler was getting into his stride now and watched as Murtagh avoided the question. Peter Rabbit’s dead, isn’t he, Murtagh? I should have skinned that pesky wabbit.
‘Did you meet her boyfriend, Mr Cutler?’
‘I didn’t meet him. I saw him waiting for her once or twice.’ Like a love-sick puppy. ‘He was probably waiting for her to finish her shift.’
‘Really? When was that?’
‘I don’t know. Let me think. I only visit each store occasionally, you understand, usually about every three weeks or so. I’d have to check my diary, but I was there last about two weeks ago. In fact, I spoke to two detectives the last time I was there. A detective called Pardy or something like that; very intense man. He looked like he needed a holiday. The other one was called Rayner. I remember his name for some reason. He was quite grumpy.’
As he’d spoken to the detectives only briefly, Cutler was surprised the officers hadn’t visited him sooner. Then again, the police would have spent a lot of time speaking to friends and family, he knew. Nearest and dearest are well known to be the most likely suspects in a murder. What if they’d been following him? What if they knew it was him and this was all a setup? You’re being stupid. Think about it. If they suspected you of anything, there is no way their questioning would be this informal. They don’t have a clue. ‘I probably shouldn’t say anything, but under the circumstances . . .’ He let his voice trail off.
‘Go on,’ said Murtagh. ‘Any little detail can often be extremely valuable during an enquiry of this nature.’
‘Her boyfriend seemed quite aggressive to me. I happened to notice them arguing in the car park outside the store before I left. He was getting extremely irate about something. He had quite a temper and I was tempted to intervene but I needed to get on my way. So I left them there arguing. Perhaps I should have stepped in. Perhaps she’d still be alive.’
Murtagh made a note and then the two officers looked at each other. Cutler knew his red herring wouldn’t work, as they would have known Peter was dead before Stacy was murdered. All the same, it was fun and it might send them off along a new line of enquiry.
‘That’s very helpful. Thank you,’ said Murtagh. He then asked Cutler about his whereabouts at the time of Peter and Stacy’s deaths. Cutler suggested he would double check but he was most likely travelling. He did a lot of driving for his job, well over fifty-thousand miles a year.
After a few minutes, the officers thanked him and got to their feet, saying they’d be in touch if they had any more questions. Cutler shut the door and watched Lorimer and Murtagh walk to their squad car. They chatted briefly, most likely discussing what they thought about him as a suspect. Lorimer then looked at her watch and the two of them smiled. He was in the clear. No doubt about it. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but he was in no doubt they had decided to go and get some food. If he was a prime suspect, what was the likelihood they’d pop off for fish and chips or a KFC Bargain Bucket before passing along their concerns to a detective?
Cutler smiled to himself. The investigation must be a mess. He had spoken to detectives and now police officers and neither knew anything. They were like headless chickens going round asking questions. What a bunch of jokers.
That said, things were getting a little crazy. In that sense, Melanie’s leaving might be a blessing. In time he’d make all the right noises to get her back. He did want her back; he felt sure he loved her.
Right now, though, things were spiralling out of control, and whether or not they were clueless he didn’t like talking to the law. What he needed was a little space to take stock and decide his next move.
Chapter Forty-Four
‘What would it take to get a decent cup of coffee round here?’ Rayner tossed the rest of his coffee in the bin and immediately regretted it. He’d been up most of the night and the caffeine was the only thing keeping him awake. He was feeling guilty about not spending enough time at home and was fighting the urge to call it a day. What he wouldn’t give to just go home and climb into a warm bed beside Jenny.
When the phone rang it made him jump and he cursed under his breath. He was in no mood to speak to anyone. ‘Yep. What?’
A male voice came on the line. It had a slight accent to it; warm Welsh tones, maybe? He was too tired to think about it. ‘Is this Detective Inspector Rayner?’
‘Speaking. What is it?’
‘I’m Detective Sergeant Ewan Jones, Thames Valley Police. It’s so late I didn’t think I’d catch you. I was going to leave you a message. You’ve caught me a little off guard now. Sorry, one moment. Let me get my notes.’
‘That’s great.’ Rayner waited for him to stop sounding flustered and get to the point. He could hear papers being moved about.
‘You know what? Forget the notes.’
‘Good idea. I was just about to leave.’
‘Understood. The thing is, I’ve been following the case of the Angel Killer. The serial killer case you and Detective Chief Inspector Hardy are working. In fact, I’ve followed it very closely. You know, I met DCI Hardy once. It was at a conference. Didn’t know who he was at the time. Wasn’t until I got back to the station that someone pointed out to me who he was and the cases he’s worked. Missed opportunity, could have picked his brains. Seems a nice chap, very down to earth. Really knows his stuff—’
‘I know the case,’ interrupted Rayner. Would this guy ever get to the point?
‘Sorry, yes. Anyway, we’ve had a murder. Well, two, in fact,’ said Jones a little apologetically.
Rayner straightened in his chair and was immediately more awake. ‘Same MO?’
‘That’s just it. Not really, no. A couple were killed. They were found by a Cub Scout group out doing a nature walk. Some of the children were very young and—’
‘How is this connected?’
‘Ah, yes. Sorry. Well, they were cut using a blade, which early indications suggest was a surgical blade similar to the one used by the Angel Killer. I thought there was a similarity. I was unsure whether to call or not. Of course, it might be just a coincidence.’ Jones sounded unsure of himself.
‘I know it’s an unusual weapon of choice, but I don’t see the similarity, and I’m really tired. So perhaps we could catch up again tomorrow.’ Rayner had the feeling this jerk wanted nothing more than to be part of the celebrity of the case. It wasn’t unusual in high-profile cases for onlookers and those on the periphery to want to f
eel they were involved in some way.
‘Her arms were crossed.’ Jones rushed the words, as though worried Rayner might hang up before he had a chance to say them.
‘What? What did you say?’ Rayner sat up straight.
‘That’s just it, sir. Her arms were crossed over her chest. Deliberately. It was weird. The whole scene was a bloody mess. Literally, a bloody mess. But she was on her back with her arms crossed over her chest. Just like with your Angel Killer.’
Rayner rubbed his forehead with the phone and scribbled some notes on a pad. The pad was a Valentine’s Day gift from Jenny. While he listened to Jones, he absently started shading the printed words ‘Hot Stuff’. ‘Do you have any suspects?’ Rayner reached out and pulled the bin towards him to see if any of the coffee was still in the cup. No such luck.
‘Nothing so far. Early days. I can send you a report of what we have so far. Might be useful.’
‘How soon can we have it?
‘I’ve already prepared it. You’ll have it tomorrow morning.’
‘Do that. Send it over and I’ll take a look. And Jones?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Good work. Thank you.’ Rayner hung up before Jones could reply. He stared at his desk and at the ‘Hot Stuff’ note pad and then pulled his jacket from the back of his chair. He decided tomorrow was going to be a good day. Tonight, though, he needed a little bit of Jenny time.
Chapter Forty-Five
Dad was standing at the front door as I pulled up outside his house. He called inside to let Mum know he was leaving, then headed down the garden path to my car. Mum appeared at the window and Dad and I gave her a wave as we pulled away from the kerb.
I’d called earlier in the day to arrange a chat and suggested a pub not far from their home. It was a little off the beaten track and I hoped it would be quiet. I needed to talk and get some sound advice and perspective.
