Somebody's Daughter

by Carol Wyer

  You owe me nothing but if you can find a smidgeon of kindness in your heart, please would you ring me?

  I miss you. I miss us, how we were before I messed up, before I destroyed what we had. Once upon a time, we were best friends, and although I don’t expect you to embrace the idea of having me back in your life, please consider it.

  I have put my phone number at the bottom of this letter and hope you will phone me. I’d love to hear your voice.

  Frances X

  Natalie folded the paper with trembling fingers, returned it to the envelope and placed it in her top drawer. She shut it firmly and stared into space. The letter had come as a shock. There was no way she could deal with its contents at present. It would remain stashed in the drawer until she could get her head around the fact Frances had contacted her and in the meantime, try not to lose focus or become too sidetracked. The investigation had to take priority.

  Doors shut and rubber squeaked across the tiled floor as officers came and went. Natalie dragged her attention back to the email Lucy had sent her the night before. Lucy kept everyone updated via email. It wasn’t a method Natalie had ever employed yet she was glad of it. This way she was fully aware of what had been happening throughout the investigation without having to ask every five minutes. Tommy hadn’t been at Amelia’s flat. His disappearance was more than irksome. Without him, the case was in danger of stalling, and Natalie had been hoping to find him so she could at least give the Hatfield Herald something to print. One thing was certain: she couldn’t let Bev publish the article she’d already written. If necessary, she’d involve Dan and get an injunction; however, her preference was to offer enough news to keep the journalist on side. Dan, fixated on the team’s reputation, would throw a fit if he knew about it. It would be more prudent to see how things went today before she requested his help. The leak was irritating. She couldn’t guess who was responsible. The only officers she trusted were Lucy, Murray and Ian because she’d had the benefit of working with them for some time.

  The sound of a door slamming and quick steps made her sit up. Murray appeared at her open door. ‘We had a call from central HQ. We’ve got another victim – a teacher at a primary school.’

  ‘Do we know who she is?’

  ‘It’s a male victim – Dominic Quinn.’

  ‘Male? Is this related to our case?’

  ‘The same word is written on his forehead. Lucy’s already on her way to the crime scene and wants us to meet her there. Ian’s staying behind to search for information on him.’

  Natalie was on her feet in a flash. The investigation had taken another turn. How many more would it take before they found the killer?

  ‘DCI Ward!’ The journalists’ cries rose the second she disembarked from her Audi. Calls that reached her ears even though the press and spectators stood some distance away from the school entrance, restrained by police officers and cordons preventing anyone from crossing the road. Behind them stood a large biscuit factory, and several brown-uniformed workers had joined the crowds milling around the pavement. Flanked by Murray, she didn’t respond; instead, showing her identification to the officer guarding the school gate, she moved into the asphalt yard, hidden from view by wooden fencing.

  She wasn’t surprised to see Mike, surrounded by a semicircle of forensic officers, head lowered, brow furrowed. He didn’t spot her as she took brisk steps over faded chalk markings, squares containing numbers and circles for playground games, towards the impressive multi-storey beige-brick Victorian building, with segmental arched windows, multiple gables and crowning cupolas resembling clock towers. Samford Primary School stood on the corner of St Mary’s Road, a solid, solemn building that, according to the date on the stone above the entrance, had been built in 1876.

  Lucy, in front of the door, was talking to a lugubrious-faced woman swathed in a huge patterned scarf covering her entire upper body and a long woollen coat that reached the top of a pair of soft suede ankle boots. Natalie approached the women and was introduced to Fiona Darwin, the head teacher, visibly shaken but able to speak with authority.

  ‘I arrived shortly after 8 a.m. and found his body beside his car in the staff car park. I was telling DI Carmichael that Dominic was one of our most dedicated members of staff and a pleasure to work with. I wasn’t surprised to see his car already here as he was invariably the first to arrive. I’ve known him to be in school even earlier, at seven, preparing lessons in his classroom.’

  ‘What year did he teach?’ asked Natalie.

  ‘Year six. The pupils loved him.’

  ‘What about the staff?’

  ‘Got on with everyone. Well thought of. I can’t understand why this has happened.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Terrible, absolutely terrible. Especially given it happened on school premises. You’d think we’d be safe here.’

  Murray looked towards the roof. ‘Is there any CCTV on the premises?’

  ‘No. We’ve never had the need for any. The front door and gates are kept locked until eight fifteen. Teachers use the rear entrance if they arrive any earlier or leave late after school. Both the entrance and car park are accessed by a keypad.’

  ‘Same code?’ Murray asked.

  ‘No, two different codes, and we change them every term.’

  Lucy spotted Andy, who’d entered the yard, and signalled for him to approach; she instructed him to take Fiona’s statement inside in her office. ‘DS Foxton will take a full statement from you now. Are you sure you don’t require any assistance from the medical teams? It’s been quite a shock for you.’

  ‘No, I’m okay, thank you. I need to inform the governors of what’s happened. How long do you think the school will be closed?’

  ‘It’ll certainly have to remain shut for today. I’ll ask Mike Sullivan, who’s in charge of the forensic team, to speak to you.’

  ‘I have to update the parents, you see? And we need to let staff know and…’ Fiona’s words petered out.

  Lucy nodded. ‘I understand. We’ll keep you fully informed.’

  Once Andy had disappeared into the building with her, Lucy accompanied Murray and Natalie to the car park.

  ‘It was fortunate Fiona found Dominic when she did and alerted the police straight away. She managed to prevent anyone else – staff, parents or kids – from coming into the school or car park.’

  The area, like the school playground, was enclosed by six-foot-high fencing, and the only opening was protected by a red metal gate that slid open only when an access code was punched into a keypad on the gatepost.

  Murray glanced around the car park with spaces for approximately twenty cars. ‘Somebody could easily climb over the gates. There are no security cameras and no buildings overlooking this side of the school.’

  There were only two cars stationed there: a white Skoda Superb Estate and a red Toyota Corolla. Forensic officers were checking the area and a crime scene photographer was taking photographs of the deceased, lying nearby. The photographer intercepted them as they walked towards the victim.

  ‘I’ve finished here. I’ll head back around the other side,’ he said and took his leave.

  Lucy spoke again. ‘The Toyota was locked when Fiona found him here but the key to it was lying on the ground, two feet from the body.’ She pointed at a marker already set out. ‘Unlike the previous victims, Dominic’s wallet and mobile were in his jacket pockets and not removed. Forensics have them for testing but we’ll be taking the phone back with us. I’m going to task the tech team with getting into it before we send it back to Forensics for further examination. The MO might have changed again – a male victim, identification and phone left with the body, not removed as with previous victims – but I’m convinced this is the work of the same person because of the message written on Dominic’s forehead.’ They’d reached the victim and Lucy stopped talking.

  Dominic Quinn, in his late twenties, could be described in one word: trendy. He was dressed in a dark corduroy jacket, crisp white shirt, designer jean
s and belt bearing the Gucci GG logo, and chocolate-brown Chelsea boots. His facial hair was trimmed to perfection and tapered sideburns merged with his hair, styled away from his broad forehead, where there was no mistaking the writing, the same precise capital letters in what appeared to be black biro. The bruising around his neck was an indication of how he’d died and Natalie was certain Pinkney would soon be confirming Dominic had been strangled.

  Lucy glanced at Murray. ‘Do we have anything else on him?’

  ‘Ian’s looking into his background. At present, we’ve only got contact details. He’s married to a nursery school teacher, Anne.’

  Lucy stared back at the man’s body. ‘This has to be the same perp. We need to establish links between all the victims. This school is only four streets away from the park where we found Rachel. There must be some connection between these people, or we’re looking for somebody who is fixated on murdering in this part of town.’

  ‘I’ll arrange a team to do door-to-door,’ said Murray.

  Natalie wandered over to the gated entrance and peered across at a line of concrete garages. ‘Who do the garages belong to?’

  Lucy answered. ‘We’ll need to find out.’

  ‘Might be worth looking into. Maybe one of the owners was about early and spotted something out of the ordinary.’

  Murray scowled at the gates as if they were to blame for Dominic’s death. ‘The killer certainly picked the right spot to attack him: no surveillance cameras, no houses overlooking the car park, no eyes on the back entrance. They knew exactly what they were doing. I’ve got a feeling this person is more devious than we first suspected.’

  Natalie agreed. This killer was on a mission, and unless they could quickly work out why, there’d be more victims.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Monday, 4 November – Late Morning

  Murray was on his way back to Holborn House with Dominic’s mobile, leaving Lucy and Natalie to break the news of Dominic’s death to his wife, Anne.

  The headmistress at Samford Nursery School had taken them to the staffroom so they could talk to Anne in private, and now the young woman, who looked barely twenty, sat in an armchair, hands clasped on her lap, unable to articulate. A cup of tea stood untouched on a side table.

  ‘Can we ring anyone for you?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘I… er… I…’

  ‘Have you a relative we can contact?’

  ‘My… no…’ Her eyes grew ever wider.

  ‘What about a friend?’

  ‘Kim.’

  ‘Where can we find Kim?’

  ‘Here.’

  ‘Kim works here at the school?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Natalie stepped outside to ask if Kim could be fetched then returned to the airy, bright room filled with children’s drawings. Anne was still staring at the wall behind Lucy.

  ‘Anne,’ Lucy coaxed. ‘We need to ask you some questions about Dominic.’

  The voice sounded far away. ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘We don’t know the full details yet but he was attacked this morning in the car park at work.’

  Although Anne’s body remained stock-still, her eyes flitted left and right. ‘Only Dom?’

  ‘He was alone in the car park when it happened. It was before eight o’clock.’

  ‘He was alone,’ she repeated.

  ‘Yes. He was the first to arrive at school this morning.’

  Anne’s lips parted and her eyes grew vacant. She seemed to have withdrawn from them, and Natalie was about to suggest they take her home when she whispered, ‘Dead? He’s dead?’

  Natalie expected tears but none came. ‘Anne, we need your help to find out who did this. Can you think of anyone who might have wished him harm?’

  Anne’s head turned, almost robotically, towards Natalie. ‘Yes. No… they wouldn’t have killed him. That’s crazy.’

  ‘Tell us what you know,’ said Natalie in a gentle, practised tone.

  ‘Dom promised it was over. He swore that it was and he’d never see her again.’ A tiny muscle pulsated in her jaw. ‘He promised me.’ The lips quivered and her eyes shimmered with tears.

  Natalie bent her head, tried to engage the woman in eye contact and urged, ‘Who was it? Who did he promise not to see?’

  Anne began stumbling, feeling her way through her tortured memory. ‘Two weeks ago… It was Sunday evening… He came to our house. I answered the door and he pushed me out of the way and marched into the house, yelling Dom’s name. Dom ran into the hallway and told him to get out, but he didn’t… He grabbed Dom by the throat and held him against the wall. It was scary. His eyes were staring at me… bulging. I screamed at him to stop but he told me to be quiet and spoke to Dom. He said, “You ever see her again and I’ll murder you.” Then he let go and shoved his finger in Dom’s chest and told him next time he’d kill him and then walked out. I wanted to ring the police but Dom wouldn’t let me. He confessed, told me everything about the fling. He assured me it was a one-off.’ Her lips trembled. ‘But what if Dom lied to me? What if he continued to see her? He wouldn’t have lied to me, would he?’

  Lucy crouched in front of Anne, whose eyelids had begun fluttering as she tried to make sense of it all. ‘Anne, you’re doing really well, but we need you to be a little clearer. Was it her husband who came around?’

  ‘It might have been. He was old and jealous and crazy mad at Dom.’

  ‘Do you know his name?’

  The tears were falling fast now, staining cheeks and dripping from her chin. ‘No. He just said he’d kill Dom if he ever saw her again.’

  ‘What was her name?’

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, gulped in breaths of air like a dying woman. ‘Rachel.’

  Lucy shot a look at Natalie. ‘Rachel who?’

  ‘Rachel… Hardy.’

  ‘You’re sure about that?’

  ‘Dom told me it was only one time… He went to the store to buy a new suit. She offered him a complimentary glass of champagne which turned into several glasses… and then… and he got a bit drunk and… she threw herself at him. They had sex, there in the store. He was truly sorry. He cried and promised it meant nothing. He’d been drunk. I believed him. He loved me and we were trying for a baby. He wouldn’t do that to me. Not Dom. He wouldn’t hurt me like that.’

  Lucy placed a hand on top of the woman’s. ‘Take your time, Anne. That incident might have nothing to do with what’s happened to Dominic so don’t imagine the worst. This has all been a dreadful shock to you. Don’t punish yourself this way.’ She was met with snivels and a tiny nod of the head. ‘Can you describe the man who barged in and threatened your husband?’

  ‘Taller than Dom… black beard… dressed smart, in a suit.’

  ‘How old was he?’

  ‘Fifty or sixty.’

  Natalie had already pulled out her phone and been searching for an online photograph of Eugene Hardy. She passed the phone to the woman, who stared at it, her voice a hoarse whisper. ‘That’s the man.’

  ‘That’s Rachel’s father.’

  ‘I thought he was her husband. He was really angry. If he killed Dom, it means…’ She squeezed her eyes shut again and tears spilled from under her lashes, mingling with her mascara to create more sooty streaks.

  Lucy squeezed her hand once more before getting to her feet. ‘Don’t torture yourself and assume nothing. It’s our job to find answers for you.’

  Anne wasn’t listening. ‘If he killed Dom, it means Dom lied to me.’ She stared at Natalie, bewilderment criss-crossing her delicate features. There was a sudden knock at the door and a woman crashed in without any apologies, raced over to Anne and threw her arms around her. Then the sobs began in earnest.

  ‘Where the fuck is he? He’s not at work and he’s not here!’ Lucy hammered on Eugene’s front door, to no avail. The only response to her shouts was frenzied barking from deep within the house. ‘First that sodding Tommy Field disappears into thin air and now this bas
tard does the same!’ Her tirade was interrupted by a phone call. Natalie left her to answer it and peered through one of the downstairs windows, a second sitting room where she made out two round chairs, each large enough for a couple to sit on together. She cupped her hands either side of her head but could make out nobody, the only movement coming from bright yellow fish darting backwards and forwards in a lit aquarium.

  Lucy hung up and wandered over to Natalie, who was now checking the second window. She stepped away and said, ‘Nothing untoward. No sign of anyone at home.’

  ‘The techies have cracked the password on Dominic’s phone and confirmed he and Rachel were having an affair. It definitely wasn’t a fling. Apparently, their WhatsApp messaging is almost bordering on pornographic. There are a couple of particularly interesting messages, sent on Saturday night. One asks where the hell he is and the second one says he can go screw himself, she isn’t waiting for him any longer. Guess we know who she was supposed to be meeting at Di Angelo’s bar.’

  ‘There’s nothing more to be gained here. It’s a question of pulling out the stops and unearthing both Tommy and Eugene. We’ll try to trace Eugene’s car and mobile.’

  Lucy followed her back to the car and jumped in. She didn’t start the engine immediately and instead rested her hands on the steering wheel and stared at the house. ‘You know, I’m beginning to wonder if these four deaths are connected at all. There’s an obvious connection between Dominic and Rachel, and Amelia and Katie are linked to Tommy Field, but there’s nothing to suggest either Dominic or Rachel knew Tommy, or even knew Amelia or Katie. What if we’re dealing with two killers… two people who follow similar patterns?’

  Natalie looked at the house, a perfect family home once occupied by a father and his grown-up daughter. Even if Eugene was angry enough to murder Rachel’s lover, why kill his own daughter or the teenagers? It didn’t feel right. Lucy’s theory made some sense. ‘It’s certainly possible.’

  Lucy dropped her head against the headrest and stared ahead. ‘I don’t know if it’s because somebody in the department is leaking information, or the fact we’re under enormous pressure to get this right and the body count is rising on a daily basis, but I can’t see my way forwards.’