‘Two women murdered in two weeks, within two miles of each other,’ Geraldine persisted.
Matthew grinned. ‘It sounds like a maths puzzle. Wasn’t there one very like that, something along the lines of, if two men take two days to build two walls… I’ve no idea how it goes on.’
A few colleagues sniggered.
‘This is no laughing matter,’ Eileen snapped. ‘Two women have been killed and we seem to be making no headway at all in finding out who’s responsible. Yes, they lived within two miles of each other but we’ve had a team investigating both their histories, and we’ve found nothing to connect them in any way, and nothing to indicate they ever met, apart from the fact that they lived within a couple of miles of each other. Now, what exactly are you saying, Geraldine, and do you have anything practical to add to the discussion, or is this just more speculation?’
‘Pansy and Vanessa lived quite near each other and they were killed within two weeks of each other,’ Geraldine replied. ‘I just wonder if that was really a coincidence? I mean, granted it could be, but do we really believe that?’
Eileen sniffed. ‘It’s not a question of what seems plausible, it’s a question of finding out what happened. We need to have a further look for anything that links the two victims. Widen the net and look for any associates they had in common. It’s high time we did some more delving into the two victims’ circumstances, and find out if their paths ever crossed. Geraldine, I’m putting you in charge of a team to follow this up. I hardly need to ask you to be thorough.’
She gave Geraldine a tight smile.
‘Teacher’s pet,’ Matthew whispered as they left the major incident room together.
Geraldine was pleased Ariadne was selected as the sergeant leading her team of constables.
‘And no being distracted by your wedding plans,’ Geraldine said, smiling.
‘Of course not. Come on then, let’s get started.’
Constables were tasked with finding out where the two victims had gone to school, and any educational establishment they had attended after that, and where they had worked. Pansy Banks’s recorded history was brief. She had left home when she was barely sixteen, reappearing twelve years later to give birth to a daughter who lived with Pansy’s mother and stepfather. A son born three years after that had been taken into care, when his grandmother had refused to take him in, on the grounds that one child was enough for her.
‘Two children and she couldn’t manage to take care of either of them herself,’ Ariadne said. ‘It’s shocking really, when you think there are couples desperate to have a child and she’s basically thrown them on the scrap heap.’
‘One in care, one with her mother,’ Geraldine replied.
‘And that’s just the ones we know about,’ Ariadne added sombrely.
The rest of Pansy’s adult life had been spent working as an exotic dancer or strip artist, and illegally soliciting on the street to fund her heroin addiction.
‘What a miserable existence,’ Ariadne said, shaking her head. ‘And we think we’ve got problems.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Geraldine replied. ‘No, don’t,’ she added quickly. ‘We can talk about your problems later.’
Ariadne laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going off on one again. Not right now, anyway.’
The second victim, Vanessa, had attended university, studying business management, but had dropped out after a year and gone to work in London where she lived for twelve years, during which time she had married and divorced. Returning to York after the failure of her marriage, for a couple of years she had worked at the jeweller’s shop Geraldine had already visited. Sifting through all the information the team had been able to gather, at no particular point in their lives did Pansy and Vanessa appear to have crossed paths.
‘They could have had acquaintances in common,’ Geraldine said. ‘Any number of men could have met Pansy and covered their tracks for obvious reasons. We have no way of knowing the identity of all her contacts. It’s not like she kept a journal with their names in it. Perhaps the manager of the jewellery shop knew Pansy.’
‘It’s possible,’ Ariadne agreed, ‘but it’s unlikely we’ll ever be able to find out.’
All their work had brought them no closer to finding Pansy and Vanessa’s killer, although DNA evidence indicated they had been murdered by the same man.
‘We just have to keep looking,’ Geraldine said.
It was a depressing end to the day, especially when she went for a drink with Ariadne who was still worried about her forthcoming marriage.
‘If you’re that bothered by it, maybe you should consider calling it off?’ Geraldine suggested.
‘Do you think I should?’
Geraldine shook her head. ‘It’s not for me to say. It’s your life and your decision.’
‘I know. That’s what makes it so hard. I mean, I know we have to use our initiative, or at least our own judgement, at work, but we’re operating within a framework and there are clear rules and guidelines governing what we can and can’t do. This is different. Having complete freedom to choose is scary. It’s like being in a vacuum. There’s no right answer. It’s entirely up to me, whatever I want to do. I guess that’s why we chose to work for the police in the first place, because it saves having to make decisions completely alone.’
Geraldine didn’t answer, but she wondered whether that explained her own circumstances. All this time she had believed her reluctance to settle down with Ian had stemmed from her dissatisfaction with his actions. Perhaps, after all, her own personality was responsible for her solitude. She was so used to following rules she was incapable of making a decision for herself. Ariadne had a point. That kind of freedom was daunting.
48
Sooner or later, Tod would learn the truth about Frank when his case went to trial. Frank’s physical assault on Ian and his subsequent capture would all come out in court, and it would be clear that Frank was no police informer. But that would not happen for a while. In the meantime, it was possible in the short term to prevent any contact between the two villains with Frank in police custody. But he could not be denied visitors indefinitely, and Ian intended to make the best possible use of the interim. His first and most pressing duty, once he was able to get to his phone, had been to speak to Jack, and impress on him the need to keep Frank out of sight. It was vital he had no contact with the world outside his police cell, and the fewer officers who knew about Frank’s arrest the better. Tod’s spies and informers could be anywhere, even within the police station.
In the twilight world of double-crossing informants into which Ian had strayed, it seemed no one could be trusted. As Archie, he had betrayed the trust of both Tod and Jack, not to mention Jenny, and he was generally honest. Uncomfortable with his own double-dealing, he tried to convince himself it was the undercover work that had drawn him into the dubious morality of a character like Archie, but he knew that he alone was responsible for his actions. Once he started to make excuses for his own duplicity, he was on shaky ground as an officer upholding the law, and as a human being. But he remained steady in his resolve, determined to do whatever he could to reunite Geraldine and her sister.
After several hours the hospital released him. He had spent most of his time there lying on a hard bed in a grey room, waiting for the results of X-rays, scans and various examinations. At last the consultant in charge of his admission told him his injuries amounted to nothing worse than a black eye and a few nasty bruises, and he was discharged with instructions to be careful, and to hold an ice pack against his face for brief periods until the swelling subsided.
‘Take things easy for a few days,’ the consultant warned him. ‘No vigorous exercise and no contact sports.’
Even nodding his head made Ian’s eye throb. He didn’t admit that he was almost bound to be drawn into a violent encounter of some kind, or that the threat of
physical contact was not only constant, but would probably be the least of his worries. In fact he was more likely to be shot than battered again.
The knowledge that Frank was securely behind bars offered Ian some hope of respite, as well as consolation for the time he had wasted hanging around in hospital. Ian had to pretend that his real identity was unknown to Tod. That meant Tod must continue to believe that Frank had been spirited away under police protection, as an informer. As long as Tod trusted Ian, there was a good chance Jack would be able to nail him. If Tod discovered Ian’s ruse, and learned that he was acting first and foremost as a policeman, Ian’s life would be over in the time it would take Tod to shoot him.
As soon as Ian left the hospital, he made his way to the main road where he walked quickly, halting every few yards, ostensibly to look in a shop window, but actually to reassure himself he wasn’t being followed. Wills was as likely to distrust him as Frank had been. After buying an old anorak from a charity shop he felt a little less anxious, although his black eye was still noticeable. On balance he decided sunglasses would be less conspicuous than the injury he sported, and he purchased a pair with a fairly light tint that could have been prescription glasses. Poorly disguised, he took a cab to the police station, where he was relieved to find Jack in his office.
Jack looked up in surprise when Ian walked in and took off his glasses.
‘Don’t worry,’ Ian assured him. ‘I wasn’t followed.’
‘Should you be in bed?’
‘I’m not sick. Everything’s fine. I just don’t look too great right now.’
Jack grinned. ‘And you’re usually such a beauty,’ he replied.
Ian laughed, although the movement pulled painfully at the swelling around his eye.
‘I got your message,’ Jack said. ‘Frank’s been doing his nut, but we haven’t let him make a call. Not yet. It’s highly irregular of course. We can’t hold out much longer.’
Grabbing a chair, Ian sat down and outlined his idea to Jack. The success of the plan depended on Frank’s arrest being kept quiet.
Jack nodded. ‘We’ll use a trusted lawyer,’ he replied. ‘We’re obliged to allow the brute his call, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t get through to anyone.’ He frowned. ‘It’s not exactly on the level, but I don’t see we have any choice, not if you’re going to have a chance of coming out of this alive. And in the meantime, that shiner should help you convince Tod that you subdued Frank and removed him.’
‘As long as I can convince Tod that Frank was double-crossing him, we’re in the clear and he’ll trust me.’
‘And if he doesn’t?’
Ian shrugged. He would have to deal with that situation if it arose. He was going to tell Tod that Frank was dead, and so eliminate any risk of Tod discovering the truth, but the problem with the claim was that, as with Nick, Ian wasn’t able to deliver a body. All eventualities considered, his only option was to say he had dumped the body in the river again, because that couldn’t be disproved. In the meantime, Frank would remain inaccessible, and Tallulah could confirm that Frank had betrayed Tod to the police. With luck, the disappearance of his former bodyguard would help convince Tod that Frank had been disloyal. It was only a holding measure to give Ian enough time to gather the evidence he needed to put Tod away. If Tod caught even a hint of a suspicion that Ian had really been working for Jack all along, Ian would never leave his office alive. It was all becoming too complicated for comfort.
‘You be careful,’ Jack called out as Ian walked out of the office.
‘I know,’ Ian replied, ‘I’m a very useful asset.’
Jack was indignant. ‘It’s not just that.’
‘No, no,’ Ian replied, ‘it’s because you love me. Don’t. You’ll make me cry.’
‘I don’t like to lose a man,’ Jack said sternly. ‘You’re important to the team.’
‘But dispensable,’ Ian muttered under his breath.
Leaving the police station, he donned his tinted glasses and pulled up his hood. A light snow was falling, and he wondered what the weather was like in York. Conditions were almost inevitably going to be more severe there than in the capital. Much as he disliked the snow, he felt a wave of homesickness just thinking about York. Dismissing his nostalgia, he hurried back home. By the time he reached his flat, his swollen face ached from the cold, and he was looking forward to putting his feet up for an hour or so before returning to the club to confront Tod. But the solitude he was eagerly anticipating eluded him. Jenny was sitting in an armchair in his flat.
‘How did you get in?’ he demanded, dropping his wet anorak on the floor.
‘Oh, please.’
Ian nodded. It didn’t matter whether she had picked the lock or let herself in with a key Jack had given her. He was just annoyed she was there at all.
He flung himself down on an armchair and closed his eyes.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Making your tea,’ she replied.
Coming over to him, she gently removed his glasses and he found her confidence both liberating and irritating. She simply assumed he would be pleased to see her. She expected to be liked, especially by men, and he realised it was refreshing to be with a woman who had no emotional hang-ups. Life with her seemed so simple. She didn’t seem to care about anything much. He wondered whether her experience of working undercover had cut her off from feeling any real emotion, or whether a naturally detached personality had led her to seek out her particular line of work. In a way he envied her. The emotional attachments he had formed with women had not made him happy.
‘It must be nice to be so disconnected,’ he said, but she had already left the room and didn’t hear him.
Jenny returned after a short time, carrying a tray of tea and toast. In spite of his painful face, Ian couldn’t help grinning.
‘This looks great,’ he said.
And it was. When he had finished, he explained his plan to her.
‘Sure,’ she replied. ‘I can do that. We just need to make sure our stories match in every detail in case he’s suspicious and grills us. Although I can always plead ignorance, or stupidity,’ she smiled. ‘We don’t want it to sound too rehearsed, but we need to more or less tell the same story.’ She smiled again, and reached out to take his hand. ‘We can work together, Ian. We make a good team.’
Ian hesitated. ‘Jenny, this is just work, isn’t it? I mean, we’ve agreed this isn’t going anywhere.’
‘This?’ she repeated, pretending to be baffled, although she must have understood perfectly well what he meant.
‘This relationship, you and me. It’s not going anywhere. It won’t last. It can’t.’
Jenny stared at him, looking faintly troubled. ‘You don’t know that.’
Ian was on the point of telling her he was already in a relationship, but he held back. Wanting it to be true didn’t make it so. He had once believed he and Geraldine were blissfully happy together, but she had thrown him out. He felt a pang of longing for her, not for the cold resentful woman she had become, but for the passionate and bold person he had fallen in love with. But Geraldine had made it clear she no longer wanted to have anything to do with him, while Jenny was warm and ready to welcome him into her bed. Still he hesitated. He liked women, and enjoyed flirting with them. He had even gained something of a reputation as a lady’s man when he was younger. Yet in all the years of his long relationship with his wife, whom he had first dated when they were still at school, and throughout his subsequent affair with Geraldine, he had never been unfaithful to either of them. He had started a relationship with his ex-wife when they were both teenagers, his affair with Jenny was the first time in his life he had embarked on a casual affair with a woman. Never having intended it to happen in the first place, he now wanted to extricate himself, but he didn’t know how. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. She smiled and began slowly removing h
er clothes.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I’ll be gentle. We don’t want to do anything that might make your eye hurt. You just sit there, and leave everything to me.’
Exhaustion, as much as lust, rendered him compliant. When Jenny aroused him, he found himself thinking not of her but of Geraldine. Nevertheless he sat back and allowed her to continue. More duplicity, he thought miserably.
49
The news that the van they had been searching for had been spotted hidden among the trees in Hagg Wood was a welcome development in an investigation that had seemed to be stalling for days. The excitement on discovering traces of the same male DNA on both Pansy and Vanessa’s bodies had not brought the police any closer to determining the identity of their killer. Questions to neighbours and known associates of both victims had so far yielded no new information. So it was with some relief that everyone attended a briefing where they were shown images of the battered old van which had been driven off the road in the wood. At last they seemed to be making progress. All they had to do now was find the driver of the van.
‘That thing’s nearly as decrepit as my car,’ Ariadne muttered to Geraldine as they stared at the images.
Geraldine smiled.
‘This was clearly an attempt to conceal the vehicle,’ Eileen said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. ‘It was spotted yesterday afternoon by a couple of teenagers who were walking in the woods.’
A few officers chuckled and nodded knowingly.
‘Is that what they call it nowadays?’ Matthew asked.
‘Oh for goodness sake, it’s freezing out there,’ Geraldine replied.
‘They probably went there to smoke a joint,’ Ariadne said. ‘I wonder why they didn’t report seeing the van straight away? They can’t have missed our appeals.’
‘Probably for the same reason they went to the woods in the first place,’ Eileen replied. ‘They had other things on their minds. They were just kids. Anyway, whatever they were there in the woods for, the fact is that they saw the van in the afternoon and got around to reporting it yesterday evening. They wasted a few hours, but at least the vehicle’s been found, so let’s be thankful for small mercies. A forensic team have been there all night, giving it a thorough going over, and we should have some results from them soon. In the meantime, I want a VIIDO team set up straight away to try and track the van’s movements before it arrived at Hagg Wood. It must be on CCTV somewhere, if we have to scour the whole of York to find it. If we can find out where it came from…’ She shrugged; there was no need to finish the sentence.
Deep Cover Page 22
