‘So you don’t spend any time with them?’
‘No more than necessary.’ She glanced at Hollis. ‘Most of the men just want to get it over with and their wives do their best to be supportive but they don’t really want to talk about it either.’
Kate was puzzled. Why had Beresford included this woman in the list of interviewees if she couldn’t tell them much? Then she remembered his office and the almost pathological tidiness of his work space. He was being thorough. Kate asked Pauline about her own children – three, all conceived naturally – and her whereabouts on the previous Saturday – home with her family – before thanking her for her time and allowing her to leave.
‘Waste of time,’ Hollis muttered, finishing his notes and snapping his notebook closed.
‘Probably,’ Kate admitted. ‘I think Beresford’s just being thorough.’
‘Is that why his name’s not on the list?’
Kate smiled. She’d thought about that. After speaking to Beresford the previous day she suspected that he thought his part in the investigation was over. Time to let him know that he’d underestimated his own importance – if that was possible.
‘His name might not be on the list but we need to speak to him before we leave.’
‘Shall I go and find him?’ Hollis asked, starting to get up.
‘No point,’ Kate said. ‘I have a feeling that he’ll come to us. He likes to be in control and he won’t be happy until he’s personally seen us off the premises. I think we’ll just wait.’
Hollis sat back down and opened his notebook while Kate thought about what she wanted to know from the clinic’s director. So far all he’d given her was a response to her question about a possible appointment for Melissa on the day she went missing and access to his staff. Now Kate needed him to answer the questions that she’d been asking others all morning.
Her patience was rewarded with a tap on the door less than ten minutes later.
‘Everything okay?’ Beresford asked, peering round the door. ‘I thought you might be finished by now.’
‘Nearly,’ Kate said. ‘Would you mind coming in and having a seat?’
Beresford looked baffled but he complied with Kate’s request, sitting down opposite her and looking at Hollis who was sitting with pencil poised above a page of his notebook.
‘What’s this about? Was there a problem with one of my staff?’
Kate noticed the proprietary ‘my’. ‘Not at all,’ she reassured him. ‘I just need you to answer some questions. You would have been in contact with the Buckleys and you have admitted that you met them on at least one occasion. I think it wise that you answer the same questions as your staff. Unless you have a problem with that?’
Beresford stared at her, the outrage clear in his startled expression. ‘You want me to answer questions?’
‘We’re interviewing everybody who had contact with the Buckleys,’ Kate said, mildly. She was trying to sound reasonable but she could see that he was deeply irritated by her request.
‘I suppose that’s sensible,’ he conceded, crossing his legs and straightening the crease in his trousers. ‘Can we make it quick though? I’m already running late today.’
Kate found that hard to believe. Beresford struck her as a man who planned everything, down to the most minute detail. What he really meant was that she was holding him up and he didn’t want his day’s timings to be thrown off by her questions.
‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ Kate said. ‘Firstly – how well did you know the Buckleys?’
‘As well as I know all our clients. I do the initial assessment, meet with them and discuss their needs. After I explain what the clinic can offer I pass them on to the appropriate specialists.’
‘And you meet all your clients?’
‘Oh yes,’ Beresford said with a self-satisfied smile. ‘I pride myself on a personal service. I’m their first point of contact and I like to think that I can be approached if any difficulties arise.’
‘And do they? Do difficulties tend to arise?’
He took a deep breath and Kate sensed that she was trying his patience.
‘Rarely. Not in the Buckleys’ case.’
‘So you didn’t see them after your initial assessment?’
Beresford shook his head.
‘No. As far as I’m aware my staff handled everything to their usual impeccable standards.’
‘You seem to have a lot of faith in your staff,’ Kate observed. ‘A lot of trust.’
Buckley didn’t respond but kept his eyes firmly fixed on Kate’s. She could tell that he was trying to work out where she was going with the question.
‘A lot of them work weekends, is that right?’
‘We open on Saturday mornings for private clients. Obviously I’d like to offer the same service to our NHS-registered couples but that isn’t in my bailiwick. I can only do as instructed by the NHS trust.’
Kate heard Hollis splutter, presumably at bailiwick, so she tried to cover the noise with another question. ‘Do you work on Saturday mornings?’
‘Sometimes,’ Beresford said. ‘If a couple needs their initial assessment at the weekend then, yes, I come in.’
‘Were you working last Saturday?’
‘No.’ He obviously wasn’t going to elaborate unless prompted.
‘So where were you?’
‘At home. I took part in Parkrun, finished by half past nine – a personal best time this week. Then I went home for a shower, caught up on some work and spent the rest of the day pottering.’
‘Pottering?’
‘Tidying the house, cutting the grass, that sort of thing.’
‘Can anybody verify this?’
Beresford’s face flushed. ‘You’re asking if I have an alibi?’
Kate didn’t respond, waiting for him to fill the silence.
‘I don’t have to be here,’ he said, getting to his feet and looming over Kate. ‘I’m supposed to be running this facility not answering pointless questions.’
Hollis stood up, using his height to grab the other man’s attention. ‘Please sit down, sir,’ he instructed. ‘We’re only doing our job. We’ve asked your staff the same questions and they were more than co-operative.’
Beresford looked at Hollis then back at Kate and she saw the tension in his body relax. He smiled shakily. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just… I’m really busy and I need to get on.’
He sat back down, fastidiously adjusting the creases on the legs of his suit trousers, one foot twitching manically as he crossed his legs.
‘Do you live alone?’ Kate asked again.
‘I do.’
‘And there was nobody with you on Saturday?’
A slight hesitation before he replied. ‘No.’
‘Mr Beresford, do you have children?’
‘I have a son. He lives with my ex-wife.’
‘So he wasn’t with you on Saturday?’
Beresford shook his head. ‘As I said…’
‘I know. You were pottering.’
There was nothing else to ask him. It would be easy enough to verify his attendance at Parkrun and Kate already had his contact details. If there was any reason for suspicion it was possible that a neighbour might have seen Beresford on Saturday. Or not.
Kate thanked him for his time and allowed him to leave.
‘So. Another one with no concrete alibi?’ Hollis observed, tapping his pen on the desk. ‘And he’s a bit odd.’
Kate smiled. ‘You think everybody’s a bit odd, Dan. But we certainly made him a bit uncomfortable. Notice the hesitation before he told us that he was on his own on Saturday? I think there’s a story there. And the Dorries woman. Talk about unco-operative.’
The morning’s interviews hadn’t moved them any further forwards but she texted Raymond to let him know the results. She also messaged O’Connor to organise a full check of everybody’s alibis – those who had them. Kate’s gut was being irritatingly uncommunicative and Hollis’s
categorisation of Beresford as ‘odd’ wasn’t very helpful. They had a list of technical staff from the main hospital building to work through and she wanted to contact the other receptionist, Amy. In Kate’s experience, admin staff were often the most observant people in any organisation. ‘Got the other list?’ she asked Hollis.
He pulled a folded sheet of A4 paper from his inside pocket and passed it to her. There were nearly a dozen names. Easily an afternoon’s work.
‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘Let’s see if we can find any more “oddities”.’
Chapter 15
Chloe checked her phone for the third time since she’d arrived at the bar. She’d been registered with the dating site for a couple of months but this was the first time she’d got the feeling that she might have connected with somebody worthwhile. The others had been okay. One had even been able to hold an interesting conversation that wasn’t about himself, but Chloe thought that Max had the potential to be the real thing.
She looked again at his profile picture. The thick-framed glasses gave him an intellectual air – Siobhan had dismissed him as ‘geeky’ but Chloe and her flatmate didn’t have the same taste in men – and his thick dark hair and neat beard suggested that he cared about his appearance. Chloe smiled to herself as she remembered their most recent online chat where he’d been keen to find out about her, but also open about himself and his background. He was such a change from the men whose idea of a chat was to brag about their jobs, their possessions or, worse still, their ‘prowess’.
She looked around at the heaving crowd of weekend drinkers and revellers. Small knots of people clustered around tables and in the shadowy alcoves of the former church. Most leaned in towards each other, heads blown together by the force of the heavy bass of the loud music.
Chloe had been surprised when Max had suggested Madrigal’s as a meeting place as it was one of her regular choices of venue for a first date. It felt safe and familiar and very public. The other men she’d met had either chosen venues which were quiet and intimate or they’d allowed her to choose. She’d selected a position off to one side, standing between two tables with a clear view of the entrance and a place to balance her drink – non-alcoholic of course – she couldn’t afford to risk being out of control with a stranger, no matter how ‘geeky’.
Another quick check of her phone – just to see what time it was – she wasn’t going to revisit Max’s profile for the fourth time in less than an hour. Half past eight. There was nobody in the bar who even vaguely resembled the man in the photograph. For the first time since she’d left home, Chloe was beginning to have doubts. They’d arranged to meet at eight and she’d deliberately arrived a few minutes late – no point in seeming too eager – but, as she’d scanned the crowd, she’d realised that her usual tactic had failed her, leaving her no other option than to wait.
Twenty to nine. Still no sign of him. Chloe sighed heavily and began to push her way through the bodies heading in the direction of the bar. She needed a proper drink now; something to take the edge off her disappointment and humiliation.
She’d just ordered a large gin and tonic when a familiar voice addressed the barman.
‘I’ll get that, mate. And a Peroni for me.’
She turned to smile at her saviour. Perhaps the night hadn’t been a complete waste of time.
Chloe wasn’t quite sure whose idea it had been to carry on to X-Ray but, when she’d checked her phone and had seen that it was still quite early, she didn’t see any harm in having a few more drinks and a dance. The gin had loosened her inhibitions and the company of a charming man had made up for her earlier disappointment.
They’d chatted for over an hour before deciding to move on. Nothing serious, nothing heavy, just two people mulling over their lives, their likes and their dislikes. There had been no need for Chloe to rein in her drinking – it wasn’t like she was out with a man that she’d just met online – so she’d happily thrown back two more gin and tonics. The alcohol had improved her mood and she’d barely thought of Max as she’d considered the merits of her saviour. It was good to have company, to talk to somebody who understood her situation, and she was happy to go somewhere for a dance – and a few more drinks.
She left first. Her companion obviously didn’t want to explain why he said he’d follow her but she knew that he probably needed the toilet and didn’t want to kill the mood by mentioning something so prosaic.
The rain was a surprise. It had been so warm for the past few days that she felt like she’d forgotten the weather could even change. Cursing her lack of foresight, she lifted her handbag over her head and ran up the street.
The bouncer barely glanced at her as she plunged through the doors of the nightclub and into the warm embrace of the trance music that was usually playing on a Friday evening. The club was fairly quiet as she followed the beat down the stairs to the basement room she preferred. The bar was a beacon summoning her deeper and she felt the music loosen her limbs as she walked across the dance floor towards the rows of bottles and bobbing heads. Chloe ordered a Coke with plenty of ice. It was stuffy in the brick cellar and she wanted something refreshing. She didn’t regret the gin earlier but it could end up being a long night and she felt the need to try to keep a clear head. Leaving at closing time was always a bit of a scrum and she didn’t want to get caught up in anything if she left on her own – which he fully intended to do.
‘Hope there’s vodka in that.’ She turned towards the voice and smiled. After her earlier experience waiting for Max she had felt a flicker of doubt when she’d left Madrigal’s on her own but the smile was reassuring and slightly apologetic.
‘Thought I was going to get stood up again,’ Chloe joked.
His smile widened. ‘As if.’
She’d rather have spent some time dancing but they managed to find a seat away from the speakers and continued their conversation from earlier. After a couple of hours, though, Chloe sensed that her companion was losing interest. They’d taken turns buying drinks, Chloe asking for Coke when it was his turn to go to the bar and adding single measures of vodka when it was hers. The last one had made her feel a bit sick and she’d decided that it was time to leave. She stood up and felt the room tilt slightly.
‘You okay?’ he asked, frowning with concern.
‘Just tired, I think,’ she said. ‘I’ll be better after a walk to the taxi rank. The fresh air’ll do me good.’
‘I could walk with you?’
Chloe shook her head, the motion making her stomach reel. If she was going to throw up then she didn’t want a witness.
She bumped into the walls on either side as she climbed the stairs and then, suddenly, she was outside. The fresh air made her head spin again but she managed to remain upright and turned in the direction of the nearest taxi rank.
Ten minutes later Chloe had no idea where she was. People passed by, giving her a wide berth as though she had something contagious, and she considered asking somebody for help. But who? How could she trust a stranger on the street at this time of night?
And then that voice again. ‘Chloe? You’re going the wrong way for a taxi. Here, let me walk you there.’
She mumbled something about him being her rescuer and snuggled closer when he put his arm round her shoulders.
‘It’s going to be okay,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll look after you.’
Chapter 16
‘We’ve got another one,’ Raymond’s voice boomed down the phone line and through the stereo speakers of Kate’s Mini.
‘Another one?’ Kate asked, leaning forwards slightly in her seat to make sure that the microphone picked up her voice.
‘Another body. Like Melissa Buckley.’
Kate indicated left, pulled in to a bus lane and grabbed her phone. This wasn’t a conversation that she could risk being overheard by anybody sitting next to her in traffic. She turned off the Bluetooth function of her stereo and tried to steady her breathing as vehicles zipped past her, their driv
ers honking and scowling.
‘Where?’ Kate asked.
‘Trafford Lane industrial estate. Bin men found her this morning. Posed like the last one, same injuries.’
‘Who’s at the scene?’
‘Barratt. He was in early so I sent him out there. I suppose your mate Kailisa’ll be on his way and there’ll be assorted SOCOs in attendance.’
Kate checked her watch. Just gone eight. She’d been on her way to Doncaster Central to check statements and follow up alibis. In the two days since she and Hollis had visited the DRI the investigation seemed to be grinding to an embarrassing halt. They desperately needed a break but not like this. They should have been better, more thorough. There shouldn’t have been a second body.
‘I’m on my way there,’ Kate said, hanging up on the DCI and pulling back out into the traffic.
Trafford Lane industrial estate lay to the north of Doncaster, backing onto the canal. Kate remembered it from when she was younger and the first rush of out-of-town shopping had sprung up in the early 1980s. It had been a small area of warehouse-sized furniture and gardening stores, all of which had now either gone out of business or been bought out by the giants of the industry. Trafford Lane had become used mainly for storage by the larger retail companies and a small logistics industry had developed around their premises. There was still a large DIY warehouse which was open to the public and a small Gregg’s bakery to service the workers in the various operations.
A line of blue and white police tape cordoned off a corner of one of the parking areas guarded by two vans and three liveried police cars. A refuse collection lorry was parked away from the other vehicles with a group of figures huddled around it. Kate could make out two men in dirty fluorescent yellow bibs and two others in police uniform. Easing her Mini into a marked parking area, she studied the scene. She couldn’t make out where the body was from where she was sitting but she assessed the car park – trying to imagine it at night. There were two tall streetlights at the entrance and a CCTV camera was perched halfway up the one nearest to her. That looked promising until Kate realised that it was pointed directly towards the pavement and one of the wires was hanging loose, swaying gently in the faint breeze.
Bad Seed: a gripping serial killer thriller (DI Kate Fletcher Book 3) Page 12
