The Clifftop Murders (Dorset Crime Book 2)

by Rachel McLean

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Lesley hurried into her office and grabbed her jacket. As she emerged, the whole team was staring at her. Waiting.

  “Right,” she said. “Tina, you go back to Harry Nevin’s emails, see if there’s anything between him and Priscilla that might give us an idea of what their relationship was like. We need to find where Priscilla works, we’ve already got her home address. Dennis, you and I are going to head over there now. Mike, Johnny, find out where she works. Go there. Wherever she is, I want to talk to her.”

  “We’re going to arrest her, boss?” asked Johnny.

  “Not yet,” Lesley replied. “I’ll talk to Gail in the car. Find out if there are any more forensics. But Priscilla Evans is a person of interest.”

  Dennis nodded. Lesley looked at him, wondering what he was thinking. Would he assume she was trying to move the blame away from Elsa?

  It didn’t matter. They needed to see Priscilla Evans. They’d asked her to provide an alibi for Nevin on Sunday morning and she’d said she was with him. That alibi looked somewhat different now she was a suspect.

  “Come on, then,” she snapped. Dennis followed as she hurried out of the office and towards the stairs. She ran down, almost tripping in her haste, and sped out into the car park.

  “We’ll take your car, Dennis,” she called to him. “You know the roads.”

  “Yes, boss.” He ran towards his Vauxhall Astra.

  “How long will it take?” she asked as she strapped herself in.

  “Forty, forty-five minutes? Not sure at this time of day.”

  Lesley checked her watch. It was quarter past nine, the rush hour would be ending. They would have to drive through Poole. At least rush hour traffic in the town was more predictable than holiday traffic on the Isle of Purbeck.

  “OK,” she said, “Put your foot down.”

  “I’m not breaking the speed limit,” he told her. “It’s not an emergency, I can’t put the blue lights on.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Let’s just get there.”

  He left the car park and they drove towards Wareham.

  As they passed the town, she turned to him. “I want to get this out in the open. About me and Elsa Short.”

  His face was still, his eyes on the road. “None of my business.”

  “You know I gave her an alibi,” she said. “You believe that alibi, right?”

  He glanced at her and then back at the road. His fingers gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. “Of course I do. Why would you lie?”

  She stared ahead. The traffic ahead had slowed. They were approaching the outskirts of Poole.

  “I didn’t lie,” she said. “But I also didn’t tell you I was in a relationship with her. I didn’t tell anybody.”

  “Like I say boss, none of my business.”

  She put her hand on the dashboard. “She was a witness in a case, Dennis. I should have come clean.”

  The car slowed and they came to a halt at traffic lights. Dennis turned to her.

  “I know you think I’m a dinosaur, but you’re wrong. I can understand why you didn’t want to talk about it. It’s awkward. You hardly know us, we hardly know you. Nobody’s judging you.”

  “Good.” She didn’t know if he was talking about the fact she was dating a woman, or the fact she was dating a suspect.

  The traffic started again and Dennis turned away from her.

  “When we get there,” she said, “we need to ask her where she was at the time of both murders.”

  “Do you think she was involved in Ameena Khan’s murder?” Dennis asked. “I thought we have Harry Nevin for that?”

  “She said she was with him. They could have been working together.”

  “What, and then she turned on him?”

  “He would have been a witness to her being a murderer. Maybe she wanted to get him out of the picture?”

  “But that would work both ways.”

  Lesley shrugged. “I don’t know. We can look into motive. But we’ve got her on that clifftop, I’m sure of it.”

  She grabbed her phone and called Gail. Engaged. Damn. Hopefully the CSM was talking to one of her team.

  “Maybe she was annoyed with him?” said Dennis. “That video, the CCTV outside the office.”

  Lesley nodded. Hurry, she thought, wishing they could put the blue lights on. She hadn’t spoken to Carpenter. She knew she didn’t have enough for an arrest warrant. But her senses were tingling.

  “I’m calling Tina,” she said.

  Dennis nodded, taking a left turn.

  “Where are you going?” she asked him.

  “Shortcut,” he said. “I know these roads.”

  “Fair enough.”

  She dialled. “Tina, is there anything else in those emails?”

  “Sorry, boss. Nothing yet. Plenty between Nevin and Priscilla, lovey-dovey stuff, that kind of thing. But nothing about Ameena, nothing about an argument.”

  “When was the last email that she sent him?” Lesley asked.

  “One moment… Last Tuesday.”

  “And did he reply?”

  “I can’t see anything. Oh, wait… No, no, there’s an autoreply. But no, last email between them was last Tuesday night.”

  Lesley looked out of the windscreen at the residential streets Dennis was taking. She was glad she’d told him to drive. She had no idea where she was.

  “So the last time that Harry Nevin and Priscilla Evans made email contact was the night we saw him kissing Ameena Khan?” she said.

  “The night before they had that row,” Dennis added.

  “You’re right,” Lesley said. “Tina, have Johnny and Mike got her work address yet?”

  “They just left, boss. She works in Poole.”

  “Where in Poole?” she asked.

  “I didn’t catch it. Johnny said something and ran out the door.”

  “OK. Keep trying Gail for me, will you? I need to know if there are any more forensics from his car.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  They were passing through the centre of Poole, turning towards the coast. Lesley drummed her fingers on her knees, impatient, wishing they could get there quicker. But the traffic had cleared and this was about covering the miles now, not about getting through the jams.

  At last they arrived in Sandbanks. There were no parking spaces near Priscilla’s flat. Dennis parked on double yellows and Lesley jumped out.

  She eyed the building that Priscilla Evans lived in. The woman’s flat was on the first floor, windows overlooking the road and the beach behind.

  She glanced both ways and started to run across the road. As she did so, the door to the apartment building opened. Three people emerged.

  Lesley’s eyes widened. “What the hell?”

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Elsa felt the wind knocked out of her as she fell against the man. She slid to the floor, her hip hitting it hard.

  The woman stood above her.

  “Tie her wrists,” she said.

  “No you bloody don’t!” Elsa screeched. She kicked out, hitting the woman in the ankle.

  The woman yelled and grabbed her ankle, losing her balance. Yellowbeard threw out a hand to stop her falling, and she righted herself.

  Now was Elsa’s chance. She jabbed out with her foot, kicking him in the calves. He stumbled.

  She pushed herself up and shoved her elbow into Scarface’s groin on the way up. He opened his mouth wide and doubled over. His face was red.

  Elsa pulled in a breath and straightened, trying to ignore the pain in her hip where she’d hit the floor.

  She turned and ran for the stairs, almost smelling freedom.

  As she reached the stairs, she felt a hand on her ankle. She turned to see Yellowbeard behind her. He lay flat on the floor, his arm stretched towards her, hand clasping her ankle.

  Elsa kicked out, but it was too late. She threw her hands out, panic making her skin tight. The stairs were made of concrete
, under that plush carpet. She remembered walking up them last night, thinking how solid they were.

  She lunged forwards, her outstretched arms giving her unwanted momentum. She screamed as she went down. Her head hit a step, the blow jolting though her. She tumbled over, twisting again and again as she shuddered to the bottom of the stairs. Her hip screamed at her as she went, making her cry out.

  She came to a stop at the bottom. Her ankle was twisted to one side, possibly sprained. She gritted her teeth, checking herself.

  Touching the side of her forehead, she found a lump. Warmth, wetness. She swallowed. She turned and tried to untwist herself. Her ankle screamed at her.

  She reached her arms out towards the front door of the building. Where was the other woman? The one who had opened the door to her last night, the one who let her in?

  “Help!” Elsa cried. She dragged herself towards the front door, unable to stand. If she did, that ankle would take her down.

  She was a foot away from the door. She stopped, feeling a weight on her back. It was sharp, a stiletto heel. The woman. Elsa grimaced as the woman ground her heel into her back.

  “Help!” she screamed.

  The front door was solid, but she had to hope someone would hear. She clawed her way a few more centimetres towards the door.

  “Put her in the van,” the woman snapped.

  “Where d’you want us to take her?” asked a male voice. Elsa couldn’t tell which of the men it was.

  A pause. “Boscombe Cliffs,” the woman said.

  “Again?” he replied. “It’s broad daylight, there’s no way we’ll—”

  “Just do it.”

  Elsa squinted as the front door opened. Sunlight fell across her face. Please let there be someone out there. Please let them see me.

  Hands dug under her arms and dragged her upwards. She kicked out, then screamed at the pain in her ankle.

  They pulled her up and out of the door, her injured foot dragging on the ground. Her breaths came out as whimpers. It was broad daylight, someone had to see. But this was Sandbanks. The houses were spaced apart, the frontages set back from the road. People kept themselves to themselves.

  The hands loosened and she crashed to the ground. Elsa closed her eyes. This is it, she thought. They’ll kill me before they put me in the van.

  But then she heard it.

  Footsteps, running towards her from the road.

  A voice. A familiar voice.

  “Police! Don’t move a goddamn muscle!”

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Lesley stared at the house. The door of the building that Priscilla Evans lived in was open, and two men were walking out. They were staggering, dragging a woman between them.

  Lesley hesitated, her mouth opening. Was that Priscilla between them? Who were the men?

  She ran towards them.

  “What’s going on?” Dennis called.

  “Run!” Lesley shouted.

  She pointed ahead of her towards the men. She sprinted across the road, oblivious to a blaring horn, and reached the pavement on the other side. She was focused on the three people, her stride not faltering.

  As the men left the building, a fourth person emerged behind them. A tall black woman with dark wavy hair. Priscilla Evans.

  Lesley looked down at the other woman, the one they were dragging between them. Her head was bowed. Her hair, like Priscilla’s, was shoulder-length and wavy.

  “Oh my god,” Lesley breathed. “Stop right there!” she called.

  She almost tripped in her panic, but then caught herself and carried on running. She picked up pace, speeding towards the men. One of them had a shaved head and blonde beard, the other had a scar on his right cheek. Behind them, Priscilla Evans was limping.

  One of the men, the one with the beard, looked up and saw Lesley. He dropped the second woman.

  Lesley gasped.

  “Police! Don’t move a goddamn muscle!”

  She ran to the woman on the ground.

  “Are you OK?”

  Elsa looked up at her, recognition filling her eyes. “Yes. Stop them!”

  Lesley sprang up. She grabbed the first of the men, the one with the scar. Dennis had already grabbed Priscilla. Lesley slapped handcuffs on the man and Dennis did the same with the woman.

  “Where is he?” she yelled, looking around her.

  The second man, the bearded one, had disappeared.

  “He won’t get very far,” said Dennis.

  “He could hurt somebody!”

  She stood, turning from side to side, her senses ablaze. Where was he?

  She grabbed her phone. “This is DCI Clarke.” She barked out the address. “Ambulance urgently required. Murder suspect on the move. Backup needed, right now.”

  She turned to see that Dennis had secured Priscilla and the man to the railing of the fence outside the building. She nodded at him. “Good thinking.”

  An ambulance pulled up and two male paramedics got out.

  “That woman, over there!” Lesley called, pointing towards Elsa. “Her name is Elsa Short, she’s been attacked.”

  “What about this pair?” said the first of the paramedics. Priscilla Evans was leaning against the railing, complaining of pain in her leg.

  “Worry about Elsa first.”

  Her phone rang: Tina. “Boss, Uniform will be with you in two minutes. Do you need anything from me?”

  “No,” said Lesley. “I just need Uniform to get here.”

  “Where is he?” Tina asked.

  “How do you know?” Lesley said.

  “PC Mullins called me. He’s been called to the scene.”

  PC Mullins was her colleague, the one Tina had been with when Lesley had first met her at Corfe Castle.

  “He’s probably on the beach,” Lesley said.

  She heard drumming above her head and looked up. A helicopter approached from the west. It flew over her head and made for the beach. Lesley panted, watching it disappear over the rooftops.

  “I have to go find him,” she said. She hung up.

  “No boss,” said Dennis. “Uniform will get him, you stay here.”

  She glared at him. “Don’t give me orders.”

  A squad car pulled up behind the ambulance and two officers jumped out.

  “PS Wright,” he said, “Who’s in charge?”

  Lesley turned to him, pushing down her irritation at Dennis. “DCI Clarke. We arrested two suspects, but there’s a third, a man. He’s got a shaved head and a blonde beard. He’s about six foot tall, heavily built, wearing jeans and a yellow t-shirt.”

  Sergeant Wright nodded. “Which way did he go?”

  “That way,” Lesley pointed towards the beach.

  Wright’s radio crackled. “The helicopter has spotted him, Ma’am. We’ll get him, don’t worry.”

  Another squad car pulled up and two more officers got out, along with a third from the car that PS Wright had been in. Wright turned to them, called out orders, and the five of them ran off in pursuit of the man.

  “Quickly!” Lesley called after them. “There are people on that beach.” Grockles.

  She turned to see a paramedic approaching, making for the ambulance. The man pulled out a wheelchair and hurried back to the building. Lesley followed him. The second paramedic eased Elsa up off the ground and helped her into the chair.

  Lesley bent over and grabbed Elsa’s hand. “Are you OK?”

  Elsa stared back at her, blinking. She nodded and then closed her eyes.

  “She’s lost consciousness,” one of the paramedics said.

  “Quick. Get her in the ambulance,” the other replied.

  Lesley pulled back, watching as they hurried Elsa towards the van. They closed the back doors and pulled away, sirens blaring as they drove towards Poole.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Dennis kept his eyes on his two detainees as the ambulance sped away.

  “Boss, I need some help here!” he called.

  Lesley app
roached. “Have you arrested them?”

  “I have. We need to get them in my car.”

  “No,” she said. “We’ll put them in the squad cars.”

  Three of the uniformed officers had run off for the beach. The others had gone in different directions, searching the roads.

  “Boss,” he said, “You’re not thinking straight. I can’t have them attached to the fence like this.”

  She turned to look at him. She looked at his car, then along the street, then at the suspects, and finally back at Dennis.

  “What?” she said.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. She was distracted. She’d watched the ambulance drive away with her girlfriend in it and she hadn’t snapped back to reality.

  “Boss,” he said. “You take her, I’ll take him. We’ll get them in the back of my car.”

  Priscilla Evans laughed. “What is this? Keystone Cops?”

  Dennis turned to her. As he moved he winced. Pain in his leg. How had that happened?

  “You’re injured,” said Lesley.

  “I’m fine.” He shook his head. “He kicked me, that’s all, nothing I can’t handle.”

  Lesley frowned. She looked off in the direction the ambulance had disappeared. Her eyes faded and then brightened again.

  “Dennis,” she said. “You take him, I’ll take her.”

  “That’s what I… Never mind.”

  Lesley looked at the man. “What’s your name?”

  “No comment,” he replied.

  Lesley balled her fist. She raised it and stepped towards him.

  “Boss,” Dennis hissed.

  Lesley stared at the man, her chest rising and falling. Slowly she let her fist fall to her side and took a pace back. Dennis stepped in between her and the suspect. He unfastened the man’s cuffs from the railing and to his own wrist.

  “I’m taking you to the car,” he said.

  As Dennis approached the car, PS Wright returned. Two of his men were behind him, the third suspect between them.

  Thank the Lord, thought Dennis. He raised a hand to touch his shirt, the crucifix beneath it.