Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2)

by Malcolm Hollingdrake

  ‘And the last time you had sex?’

  Rodgers’s answer came back immediately at full volley.

  ‘The day before she went missing.’

  ‘The day before? Please explain, but before you do, I’m going to caution you. This does not mean you’re under arrest it means you’ll be under oath and as we advised at the beginning this is recorded for your security as well as ours.’

  Lucy cautioned him before she repeated the question. ‘Talk us through your meeting with Carla on the day before she went missing.’ She added the day and date.

  ‘The date and the time’s correct, yes. It came out of the blue, the message, that is. She’d been out for a meal with Debbie. It was simple and straightforward. She asked me to meet her at hers and bring a bottle.’

  ‘What time did you receive it and what time did you arrive?’

  He took out his phone. ‘Received it at ten fifteen. She wanted me to be there after eleven fifteen. I wasn’t late, let’s put it that way.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘So, in answer to your personal question we had sex then. It was the last time.’

  ‘Did you stay the night?’

  ‘No, that wasn’t part of the invitation, never was. I left about two. I remember seeing the clock on the Atkinson when I walked home and it was two thirty.’

  ‘Were you then in a relationship, Mr Rodgers?’

  Fred and Lucy could see the immediate reticence flash across his face. The signals were subtle but clear enough. It was accompanied by a shuffling of his feet. He nodded.

  ‘Does the nod of the head suggest that you were and you still are?’

  ‘Yes, Debbie Sutch, but we don’t live together or anything like that. It’s just a relationship. We do our own stuff and neither of us communicates about that.’

  ‘Right. Did you then know they were meeting that evening for a meal and that they were also meeting again for lunch the following day?’

  ‘Lunch? No, I knew about the Italian meal but lunch, no.’

  It was clear that the thought brought a degree of concern. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘It was Ms Sutch who initially raised concerns of her going missing. Surely you were aware of that?’

  ‘No, I bloody well wasn’t.’

  ‘When did you last meet Debbie?’

  ‘Last week. We were supposed to go out over the weekend but she was too upset about Carla. She didn’t want company. I’m supposed to be seeing her tonight.’

  ‘Is she aware that you and Carla are still intimate?’ Lucy asked as she raised her eyes to meet his.

  Rodgers laughed lightly and shook his head. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Mr Rodgers?’

  ‘No, at least I don’t think so.’

  Chapter 13

  Skeeter was the first back at her desk and she googled the goddess Nike. It was as she had described to her colleagues, her memory was sound. Why would the killer change the cap? she thought as she copied the logo. Adding the words that described the goddess and her actions onto a tacky note before sticking it to the side of her computer screen.

  Looking through the forensic file on Jennings, she was desperate to locate a link or connection other than the possibility of a match with the soil sample found on the shoe he was wearing. ‘Someone doesn’t go to this trouble disposing of bodies.’ She stopped talking to herself as a thought came to her. As a wrestler, Skeeter was very much aware of body weight and the need for technique to lift anyone off the floor. Since she had been old enough, she had trained with the leather wrestling dummies in the gym. They were full adult size and weight mannequins that had a certain sadomasochistic appearance and she had acquired the necessary technique. This training had taught her that to move a dead weight was very difficult. The average male could not lift a dead and flaccid body off the ground, never mind transport an adult body, without strenuous pulling and dragging. Studying the images taken at the crime scenes, neither showed signs of a struggle, nor did they appear to show that the body was dragged. To get Carla onto the cross-like frame would not have been easy without extensive disturbance of the soil around the post. Although the ground had been disturbed, it did not suggest a struggle of any kind. She brought up onto screen the photographs taken at Carla’s crime scene. Pathology would identify grip and drag marks if that had been the case. She was convinced they would find none.

  Tony ambled in to the room, whistling an unidentifiable tune, a can of lemonade in hand.

  ‘Want one?’ He held up the can. ‘Best lemonade to whet your whistle. Have them in my desk.’

  ‘Thanks! Love one. By the way, your whistle is sharp enough to crack glass.’

  ‘How kind of you to say,’ he mumbled as he crossed to his desk and took out another can.

  ‘I’d also like to hear your wise words, you being a man who knows all about soil. You carry much of the stuff beneath your finger nails! My mother would say you could plant spuds under those.’ She leaned from behind the screen to see a middle finger retracting.

  ‘Ha, bloody, ha. Witch.’ He threw over a can. ‘Let’s hope that blows your head off when you open it.’

  She positioned it towards the waste bin before angling and pulling the ring. The hiss and the sudden ejection of some of the froth hit the bin’s metal side. She smiled at Tony. ‘More ways of killing a pig than stuffing it full of cherries.’ Taking a sip, she pointed to her screen. ‘Just been to the site where Carla Sharpe’s body was discovered. Look.’

  She flicked through the images of her scarecrow posture as Tony watched. ‘Bloody hell! We’ve a warped one here. How the fuck did he get her into that position?’

  ‘That’s my point. He didn’t have to. Why not?’

  Tony slurped the dregs from the can allowing a belch to erupt, loud and long. ‘Better out than in. Let me guess. There was more than one person involved in committing this crime? Maybe Jennings was involved?’

  ‘Nope. Let me tell you my thoughts. She walked there voluntarily. She believed that he wasn’t going to kill her. Maybe something he’d said or promised. Maybe she believed it to be a hoax.’

  ‘Hoax? Strapped to a pole in the middle of a bloody field. Fucking strange friends she must have.’

  ‘Ever heard of sadomasochism?’

  Tony frowned and Skeeter could see he had suddenly taken the thought seriously. He tossed the empty can into the bin.

  ‘She was fully clothed from these images. Do we know if she’d been raped or subjected to some strange act of perversion? I know this shit goes on but …’

  ‘Not as yet. Just like Jennings went to the isolated spot voluntarily, maybe so too did Carla here. What were they promised, I wonder?’ Skeeter tapped the screen.

  ‘Have we checked the IT equipment at their homes? If they’re into this kind of stuff it should be all over their internet search history.’

  ‘It’s in hand as we speak.’

  ‘Phone records with us yet?’ Tony quizzed.

  ‘Time, it always takes time. Had it been a child who’d gone AWOL then it would have been done within twenty-four hours but these two only reached high risk status and fast track and all that it entailed once their bodies were found.’

  ‘May we turn our attention to Cameron Jennings now? How well did you know him?’ questioned Lucy.

  ‘We’ve been mates for years. Occasionally went to the football together but he sometimes worked away so we’d only get together when he returned. We’d meet up at the weekend with a group, Carla was one and Debbie.’

  ‘Others?’

  ‘It depended on circumstances. If it was a birthday or a beach barbecue then it could be quite a few.’

  ‘We’ll need a list of the people within this group. Those who met regularly and then we will look at your contacts more broadly. Do you have your phone with you, Mr Rodgers?’

  He removed it from his pocket. Fred raised a hand and an officer appeared at the door. ‘Do a phone read and extract the contacts’ list, Facebook contacts and messages, usual stuff, please
and then return it as soon as. Photographs too. Looking specifically around this date.’ He handed him a slip of paper.

  ‘You can’t do that! Bloody hell that’s my personal property. You need a warrant or something. I have rights, don’t I? I want to see a solicitor and I want one before that phone leaves this room.’

  ‘Sorry, but we don’t need a warrant, and yes, you do have rights. It is a perfectly acceptable procedure and unless you’ve something to hide, I really can’t understand your protestations. If it happened as you say it happened, Mr Rodgers, then it will be confirmed on your phone. Can we get on? Let me take you back a few years. Your criminal record. Affray. Have you reformed, Mr Rodgers?’

  The red suffused Bill’s face and the veins on his neck and temple began to protrude. He slipped his hands below the table, clenching them as he fought to control his growing anger. ‘It was a one off.’

  In contrast, Lucy’s voice was calm and gentle. ‘To our knowledge, sir, you’ve been warned on many an occasion both pre- and post-offence. Football matches seem to be the common ground but also violence much closer to home.’

  ‘I made a mistake, I listened to gossip.’

  ‘You caused serious injury to a person you suspected was having a relationship with your girlfriend. “Too familiar” were your words to the magistrates. “He was too familiar when I saw them together.” Did you ask if he knew your girlfriend?’

  Rodgers was about to speak but Fred held up his finger and he stopped.

  ‘No. You simply beat him senseless. Did you do that to Jennings too? When you’d lured him out onto the sands where it was all quiet.’ He let the question hang momentarily like a bad smell. Rodgers tried to avoid a response by turning his face away and narrowing his eyes. His breathing immediately came in short, sharp intakes as if it were a controlling exercise, a method of quelling his growing anger. ‘Did she tell you she’d been shagging Jennings too and that he was better than you – bigger and better? Did you revert to your old Mr Hyde or is it Dr Jekyll? Do you know, Mr Rodgers, I can never remember who was the evil one in those two, can you? Did you kill him, Mr Rodgers? We’ll also need to take a swab for DNA. It should match what we have on record.’

  Rodgers brought his hands onto the table and placed them palms down as he turned to look Fred directly in the eye.

  DC Kasum Kapoor approached Skeeter, a file in her hand. We’ve just received this and I heard you’d been waiting. A matter of urgency, I believe.’

  ‘Results from the IT search?’

  ‘Indeed, ma’am. Is there anything else?’ She waited, hands folded, her back straight as Skeeter looked into the file.

  ‘No, no that’s perfect. Sorry, yes. Anything on the phones?’

  ‘Not as yet.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She watched as Kasum moved away. ‘That young lady does yoga, you can tell from her posture.’ She took a side glance at Tony. ‘Whereas you’re a grand master of slobbery. There’s a difference, it’s only subtle, yes, but there’s a difference.’

  Tony pulled a face. ‘If you bloody say so! I tell you what, she’s pretty though.’

  Skeeter extracted notes from the file. ‘Nothing to suggest SM or the like. Some porn but nothing we should worry about. Strangely, there’s more in Carla’s computer history than in that of Jennings’s. We also have confirmation of the material on Facebook, Twitter and other sites and their contacts. They’re each on the others but we knew that from Debbie’s phone. Interestingly the tech people have highlighted certain emails for our immediate attention. Don’t you just love them?’

  Tony leaned over her shoulder. Her tightly plaited hair was immaculate. ‘Do you do your hair yourself, Wicca?’

  ‘The bloody list, look at the list or bugger off,’ Skeeter grumbled.

  ‘Jennings! He sent flowers to Carla.’

  ‘What date was that?’

  Tony checked. ‘Just over a month ago. She was living alone then. Let’s see what was written on the card if there was one: “Thanks for your understanding, x”.’

  ‘What the bloody hell does that mean? Understanding of what I wonder.’ Skeeter shot back at Tony.

  ‘Look there, we have communication between Gaskell and Jennings. This goes back to about the time Smith and Sharpe were splitting up and leaving Gaskell’s flat.’

  They read through the mails. Tony continued. ‘He offers himself as a guarantor for Carla Sharpe if she could stay in the flat at a reduced rental for an extended period of one calendar month even though they were breaking their tenancy agreement. I just wonder how formal and legal the original documentation was?’

  Skeeter checked the file and dialled Smith’s mobile. It rang twice.

  ‘Smith.’ He sounded as though he had been working out.

  ‘Mr Smith, DS Warlock. Sorry to trouble you so soon after our meeting. One question. The tenancy agreement you had with Gaskell. How formal was it?’

  ‘It wasn’t. It was done on a handshake and that’s why he was so disappointed when we cut it short. It worked well for all of us until then that is. If it had been more formal, we’d have been buggered financially. Then we might have ended up staying together – who knows.’

  ‘So Carla tried to stay on, extend her stay at a reduced rental?’

  ‘Yes, I asked him if he’d let her stay as I knew I could find a place easily over on the Wirral but Carla loved the place. She couldn’t afford it and I couldn’t afford to help her.’

  ‘Do you know if anyone else tried to get him to change his mind?’

  ‘No, sorry. Not that I’m aware of. Like who?’

  ‘Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.’ Skeeter hung up. She looked for Gaskell’s number and dialled. Tony walked over to his desk. Gaskell’s phone went immediately to answerphone. ‘Bugger! Make a note to call Gaskell every thirty minutes until we get through, I need to know what all that was about.’

  Tony waved his hand. ‘Incoming aircraft every thirty minutes ...’ There was a pause. ‘Nike, the note on your computer screen. Did you see the cap found near Jennings’s body had the Nike thingy on it, you know, the tick?’

  Skeeter stopped what she was doing and immediately logged onto the forensic report.

  ‘I know differently. I didn’t kill Jennings, or Carla for that matter. You said she wasn’t dead but still missing. I’ve killed no one. And for your records …’ he turned directly to the camera ‘… she enjoyed being with me, if not why would I get those calls?’

  There was a knock on the door and an officer entered. Rodgers’ phone and a file were in a tray which was placed in front of Lucy.

  ‘Your phone, Mr Rodgers.’ She opened the file and scanned through the text messages for the date prior to Carla’s disappearance. ‘Here we are. Confirms just what you’ve told us about receiving the message. You see, evidence is a two-way street. Before we let you go, is there anything else you should tell us under oath?’

  Rodgers collected his phone and checked it. ‘No doubt you’ll be able to track me to all corners of the fucking globe now. No, nothing. What do they say, ‘If you control someone’s SIM card, you control their life.’ I wonder what you’ve done to mine?’

  ‘Thank you for your co-operation. When you get outside you will in the next hour or so hear that we’ve found Carla’s body. I offer you our condolences.’

  Lucy watched his expression carefully. Fred had ensured Bill’s face was turned directly to one of the ceiling cameras when the news was given.

  ‘You knew that the moment I stepped foot in here.’ His voice raised. ‘Bastards! Fucking condolences my arse. You don’t give a fuck, either of you and don’t tell me you’re just doing your job. Anything I say may be used … add that!’ He turned away and was escorted from the building.

  Skeeter Warlock leaned on her desk, elbows planted, her palms to either side of her face. She stared at the photograph of the black cap believed to be that belonging to Jennings. It was sitting within the grey-beige sandy soil that had powdered the peak. It was there,
she could clearly make out the swoosh, the upward rising tick embroidered in black. It was subtle and almost invisible.

  ‘Was I right?’ Tony’s call disturbing her concentration.

  ‘You most certainly were.’

  ‘Just do it! If you recall that’s what they told us in the advertising campaign,’ Tony remarked as if auditioning for a part.

  Skeeter was immediately reminded of the advertising campaign. ‘Just do it! What was written on Carla’s lounge wall in that copperplate type script? Her friends said it was her mantra.’

  Tony stopped what he was doing. ‘Give me a minute.’ He brought up the forensic images of her flat and flicked through. ‘Got it. Life is for living – just live it! Bugger me would you believe that!’

  ‘Tell me that’s not just a coincidence, Tony. Print it off and add it to the board with the two images of the caps.’

  ‘Am I still ringing Gaskell? If you pass that brush, I’ll sweep the office too whilst I’m at it.’

  As Tony moved away, Kasum dropped Carla Sharpe’s pathology results on her desk. ‘They’re on the system but there’s nothing like the real thing, paper. Interesting reading. A cruel way to die – to bleed out knowing there’s no one there other than the person who’s just ripped your neck and throat out.’ She tapped the file, turned and left. For Kasum, known for her poise and dignity, those words were in total contradiction. Reading the report, the results clearly pointed to the same type of weapon – a small piece of the tip found in part of the sternocleidomastoid muscle was being analysed. As the cut was performed on the identical side of the neck, the evidence indicated a strong likelihood it was executed by the same killer.

  She quickly flicked through the results and saw the cervicovaginal smears had identified four separate male epithelial cells. It would take some time to identify the DNA and match it with friends of both victims. She read the details. Rodgers, however, was named. As she had thought, there was no evidence of the body being dragged pre- or post-death. Only superficial bruising identified on the wrists and ankles was consistent with tight binding pre mortem and shoulder damage perimortem. How they could interpret the time line was always a mystery.