by Carol Wyer
‘Yet you still helped him cover up this crime?’
‘I’m ashamed to say I did. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I was already involved. I knew what was going on in the club and I needed the money Wentworth was offering me for my silence. It paid for my daughter, Sierra, to go to college. She’d been through so much shit and I’d not been around when she’d needed me. Her mum and I had ruined her past, but the money meant I could give her a future. The boy was dead. He wasn’t coming back, but Sierra was alive. Pretty messed up, eh?’
‘You called the people you ferried to the club “boys and girls”. Were they under age?’
‘Maybe . . . Probably . . . but honestly, I don’t know. You can’t tell by looks, can you? I called them that cos they’re all youngsters to me. Anyone who looks under twenty-one is a youngster in my book.’
Although instinct told her Cooper wasn’t responsible for the deaths of Alex, Ian and Xavier, she still had to follow procedure and ask, ‘Can you confirm your whereabouts last Thursday morning?’
‘I was at home. I’d been on a bender since the night before. Sierra was out with Bradley on a driving lesson. When he dropped her off, he noticed me in the garden. I was in a crap state, weaving about outside, sobbing like a baby. He took me back in and got me a coffee. We talked.’
‘By bender, I assume you mean drinking heavily?’
‘Yes. I was still out of my skull when Bradley turned up.’
‘Did you talk to Bradley about the boy you buried?’
‘No.’
‘Can you be sure you didn’t? By your own admission, you’d drunk heavily and were depressed by what you’d done.’
‘I don’t blab when I’m drunk. Quite the opposite. I become tight-lipped.’
‘But he is a very good friend. You might have opened up to him.’
‘He and I fought side by side when we were in the SAS. I trust him with my life, but Bradley has a strict moral code, especially when it comes to children and family. He’d do absolutely anything for Fiona and the grandkids. If I’d confessed everything to him, he’d have insisted I turn myself in, or he’d have told you what had happened himself, so I only gave him a condensed version of events. I told him Ian Wentworth had asked me to rough up a troublesome reporter, and then begged me to stop the mercenary he’d hired to top the man, but I’d refused to assist and regretted the decision with all my heart. I said I wished I’d agreed because, with my training and circle of friends, I’d have stopped that lunatic with a gun before he could fire a single shot.’
‘How did Bradley respond?’
‘He was . . . understanding. Made me feel all the worse for holding out on him, because he kept repeating the train massacre wasn’t my doing, I couldn’t have foreseen what would happen and I should shake off the suffocating guilt. Maybe he suspected I wasn’t giving him the whole picture because while he agreed I’d done the right thing to refuse to rough up the journalist, he insisted I give myself up to the police because Ian Wentworth had to be held accountable for his actions.’ He lifted his head to the ceiling, his eyes damp with tears. ‘I should have acted immediately, but I needed a little time to prepare myself for the fallout. Then, the same day, Alex was murdered, and when I found out Wentworth had been killed too, I got it in my head their murders were connected to that night at the club. I thought my own life was in danger, so I asked Bradley to keep an eye on Sierra for me while I disappeared for a while, and made him promise to keep quiet about what I’d told him. He agreed and didn’t ask any questions.’ He swallowed hard. ‘The reporter was your husband, wasn’t he?’
‘He was.’
‘For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry.’
‘You didn’t kill him, Mr Monroe. And I doubt, even with your many skills, you’d have succeeded in tracking down the man who did.’
He hung his head at her words. ‘I could at least have tried.’
‘Help us. Show us where you buried the boy.’
Kate pushed back her chair. Her heart was beating firmly. For the first time in a while she had clarity and focus. She was aware of Chris, watching over her shoulder. The faces of the dead from the carriage rose in front of her eyes. They weren’t staring at her; they were urging her on.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
WEDNESDAY, 9 JUNE - MORNING
Emma rang Bradley. ‘Sir, it’s DS Donaldson from Stoke-on-Trent. Mr Monroe is at the station helping us with our enquiries, and we’d like to confirm some of the details with you.’
‘Yes, I’ll come by. Sergeant . . . Cooper’s a good man at heart. Go easy on him.’
Emma’s next call was to the cleaning company ABeClean to find out if any of the cleaners had injured themselves cleaning the paperweight, but Tabitha, who sounded groggy, was one hundred per cent certain neither she nor Poppy had sustained any injuries at any time.
No sooner had she finished the call than Kate and Morgan reappeared.
‘We’re going to the Maddox Club with Cooper,’ Kate informed her. ‘He’s going to show us where he buried the boy. I’d like you to come with us. Did you get anywhere with that blood found at the club?’
‘Negative. It didn’t come from the cleaners. Should we request a list of personnel who work there, in case any female employees might have had contact with the object?’
‘I’m sure they only employ men, but it might be worth asking the question. This does change the game, though, and beg the question – is our perp a woman?’
‘Who the fuck could it be?’ asked Morgan.
‘Somebody with a grievance against Ian, Alex and Xavier . . . and maybe even the superintendent, too,’ said Emma. ‘What about the girls used by members – the prostitutes?’
Kate agreed. ‘That’s a strong possibility. We’ll look into it further when we get back.’
While Emma and Morgan took Cooper out to the car, Kate phoned Ervin.
‘Hi, Ervin. It’s Kate. Are you still at the Maddox Club?’
‘No. I’m in the lab. I’ve been examining this fibre Harvey found in Xavier’s nose. It appears to be plastic-protected paper, much like the stuff our forensic paper suits are made of. If it came from one of us, I can’t understand how the contamination occurred. Only Harvey, you and I were close to the deceased, by which time he was, of course, incapable of inhaling.’
‘Are you sure it’s come from a paper suit?’
‘Almost certain, although I’ll test for other possibilities on the off-chance I’m wrong.’
Kate clicked her tongue. Ervin was never wrong. ‘You can buy forensic suits online or even in specialist shops. If the killer wore protective clothing during the attacks, it would certainly explain why they left no evidence behind.’
‘The same thought occurred to me. I’ll keep working on this fibre and see if I can be more conclusive for you.’
‘No, could you put somebody else on that? There’s an unknown vic buried in the grounds of the Maddox Club and I’d appreciate it if you came along.’
‘Another victim? I’ll meet you there.’
The temperature had risen and the day had become uncomfortably humid, but the thick canopy of leaves afforded shade; gooseflesh lifted on Kate’s forearms in the cool of the copse as she and her team traipsed over fern-covered ground. Birds perched high above their heads, chattering warnings to one another as the group picked their way through the trees towards a clearing. Flickers of sunlight darted through the occasional gaps, transforming leaves from a universal dark green to a mixture of shades and hues: sage, olive, jade, sea-green and lime. Kate focused her attention on Cooper ahead of her, retracing steps he had last taken in January. Her fingers brushed lightly over wide tree trunks as she walked towards the light. Ten metres . . . five, and then Cooper stepped to the left of an oak tree and into the clearing.
He bowed his head. ‘Here.’
Kate and her team gathered in a small group. Ervin issued instructions to his two forensic officers, who then headed towards the mound of earth and began
digging. Cooper moved aside and stared at the sky rather than watch. Kate shoved her hands into her jacket pockets as the spades struck the shallow grave, and waited in silence.
Within minutes, one officer spoke to Ervin. ‘We’ve got something.’
‘Take it slowly and first clear away the dirt. We don’t want to cause any damage.’
From where she stood, Kate spotted a piece of material. She knew the colour, even though it had been soiled. It was the edge of a silk velvet maroon bedspread. The deep brown earth was cleared away by hand, and the bedspread lifted and laid gently on the ground. The team approached Ervin as he unfolded the material to reveal the naked, unrecognisable face and torso hidden within.
A forensic anthropologist would be able to reconstruct his face, but the process of trying to identify him would take some time, especially if, as Cooper had suggested, the boy wasn’t registered in the UK. Kate’s eyes travelled the length of his body, some six foot in height, and came to light on his hands, where an object caught her attention.
‘What’s that?’ she asked.
Ervin crouched down and examined it. ‘It’s a woven bracelet.’
Kate’s synapses fizzed and spat. She rushed to Ervin’s side, bent over the body and studied the interwoven strands. She’d seen this bracelet before. She counted the colours – five of them: green, gold, red, black and white. The realisation stole her breath.
‘I think I know who this might be. Faith had a nephew. I saw a photo of him on her screensaver. He wore an identical bracelet.’
‘Hold on a second, Kate. There could be hundreds of bracelets like this. You can’t jump to outlandish conclusions,’ said Ervin, getting to his feet.
Kate jumped up. She’d had an epiphany. ‘Think about it. She has access to forensic paper suits. She knows enough about forensic science to leave little to no trace of her presence. She quizzed me about the crime scene at the Maddox Club and she was pushing to find out how much we already knew.’
Ervin shook his head. ‘No, sorry, Kate. I won’t have that. She’s a bright and dedicated assistant. She isn’t capable of any of the murders. It’s one leap too far.’
Kate looked at Morgan. The creases in his forehead were enough of a giveaway. He didn’t believe her. Emma was staring at the ground. They all thought she was wrong, probably imagined she was losing the plot, but she knew she was right.
‘Where is Faith today?’ Kate asked.
‘She called in sick this morning. She’s caught the stomach bug doing the rounds.’
‘I need to talk to her.’
‘Kate—’
‘What about the fibres, Ervin? Those found on Xavier’s body were surely identical. It makes no sense that one would come from toilet tissue and the other from a forensic suit. She lied. She lied to cover her tracks. Check both those fibres again and you’ll see I’m right.’
Ervin scratched his chin. ‘Well—’
‘And the blood on the bronze ornament and the carpet? Your test kit revealed it was from a woman. It wasn’t the cleaners’ blood, and when I mentioned it to Faith, she was quick to tell me those testing kits were often faulty, and offered to re-examine it herself.’ She shook her head. ‘We should have seen this!’
Emma pursed her lips. ‘We shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.’
‘She told me her nephew was dead and she doesn’t talk to her sister, yet she has a photo of the two of them as a screensaver on her mobile. Why a screensaver?’
‘It’s probably important to her, especially if the boy is dead,’ said Morgan.
Kate threw her hands up then with a sigh. ‘All right. We’ll do this step by step: find out who this boy is, check out Faith’s story about her sister and nephew and establish when and where he died. There’ll be records if he died in Zimbabwe. Ervin, please run those tests again on the fibres and see if I’m right. Find out what her blood type is and if it matches the droplet on the carpet. If this is her nephew, then she has all the motive she needed – revenge. She’s been targeting people connected with this death.’
‘Why would she kill Alex?’ Emma said.
‘He was at the club the night her nephew died. Him, Ian, Superintendent Dickson and Xavier. She’s been after them all!’
Morgan nodded in Cooper’s direction ‘And what shall we do about him?’
‘Caution him and take him back to the station. We’ll sort out charges later.’
Morgan headed over to the trees, where Cooper had been standing lost in thought and not party to the hushed conversation taking place beside the grave.
‘What now?’ asked Cooper.
Morgan began, ‘Cooper Monroe, you have the right to remain silent—’
‘But I helped you!’
Kate marched over and pointed a finger at him. ‘You could have helped a lot sooner if you hadn’t assisted a murderer, concealed this body and kept quiet about it, or if you’d even told police about Ian Wentworth’s intentions to hire a hitman. Then you would have helped – you’d have helped save several lives. Carry on, DS Meredith.’
She spun on her heel. She’d missed the fucking signs. She’d been so wrapped up in pinning something on John Dickson, she’d overlooked what had been right under her nose, and it rankled. Faith had been putting on an act. Every time Kate had shared confidences and talked to the woman, she’d been manipulated. Faith had been playing a game. She knew Kate was vulnerable and needed a friend, and had worked her like a puppet! She clenched her fists tightly. Shit!
A steady beat pulsated in her ears so loudly she didn’t hear Ervin’s quiet ‘I’ll finish here and then check the blood found at the club.’ She gave a vague nod of acknowledgement and strode off purposefully, signalling for Emma to join her. The woman was not getting away with this. Nobody messed with Kate and got away with it.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
WEDNESDAY, 9 JUNE – AFTERNOON
The block of flats was a mishmash of red and grey bricks with windows of all sizes and shapes, as if a child had used odd-shaped giant Lego bricks and pushed them together haphazardly to create an L-shaped building, staggered in height so the first section contained six floors, the middle section four and the remainder three. Kate and Emma entered the tallest part and mounted the circular stone staircase to the third floor, where Faith’s apartment was located.
‘Faith, open up! It’s Kate.’ There was no response so she tried again, this time louder, and turned at a faint creaking. The door next to Faith’s had inched open.
‘Hi. I don’t suppose you know where Faith is, do you?’ asked Kate.
The door opened further and a scrawny young woman in a dressing gown with a towel wrapped around her head peered out, eyes wide. ‘Faith?’
Emma held up her ID card. ‘The woman who lives next to you.’
‘Which one?’
Emma threw Kate a look before asking, ‘How many women do you think live here?’
‘Two. At first, only one lived there, then another one moved in.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘My bedroom wall backs on to the sitting room next door and the last couple of weeks or so I’ve definitely heard two women’s voices. Walls are paper-thin in this building. You can hear people pee in their bathrooms.’
Kate had sidled up to the door. ‘I don’t suppose you caught either of their names, did you?’
‘No.’ The towel wobbled.
‘Could you describe either women?’
‘No. I’ve only seen one of them a couple of times. I think she might be a doctor. She wears a white coat like doctors in Casualty or Holby City. I saw her this morning when I came in from work, which was about six o’clock. She was on her way out of the block when I came in.’
‘Did she speak to you?’
‘She nodded a hello.’
‘How did she seem?’
‘Fine.’
‘She didn’t look ill?’
‘No.’
‘You haven’t heard any movement or noises inside her apartment
today, have you?’
‘Not a thing. I think the other woman is out, too.’
‘Did you ever hear what they were talking about?’
‘No. Living here, you get used to blocking out all the noises, and I’m not interested in what goes on next door, or anywhere in the block.’
‘And you’re sure there are two women living in that apartment?’
‘Positive.’ She waited to see if there were any more questions, then excused herself and shut the door again.
Kate turned to Emma. ‘We need to gain entry. Let’s head back to the station and make the necessary arrangements.’
Back at the station, Morgan had been gathering what he could on Faith, and read out what he had assimilated.
‘I only managed to drum up some basic information. She came to the UK in September 2018 to complete a forensics course at UCL. She spent another year studying for an MSc, and then started work for forensic science services in Coventry in August 2020 until she got the appointment at Stoke-on-Trent in April this year.’
‘Why did she move from Coventry after only eight months?’ asked Emma.
‘I haven’t found out yet.’
‘She said it was because she wanted to work with Ervin. Now I’m not so sure.’ Kate chewed over the facts. Lisa Handsworth had been a pathological liar, but Faith was a master of deceit. She’d fooled them all: Ervin, her colleagues and Kate. Completely hoodwinked them. What angered Kate most was she had actually liked the woman. ‘It might be an idea to check with her employers at Coventry and find out their version of events. I know Ervin said she repeatedly pestered him for a position, but now I think she had an ulterior motive.’
‘Maybe she really did want to work with him,’ said Morgan.
Emma grunted a response.
Morgan shrugged. ‘It seems like a lot of this is guesswork. We don’t have any real evidence yet to point to her guilt.’
Once the tests had been completed they’d have all the evidence they needed. ‘Speak to her colleagues. What else can you tell us about her, Morgan?’
