by Carol Wyer
‘All taken care of. He’s popping next door again. He’s getting on really well with their little lad. I’ve not seen him this content for ages.’
‘Well, if you’re sorted—’
‘I am and don’t worry. I’ll keep my hand on my ha’penny.’
Kate laughed at the old-fashioned phrase used by Tilly’s grandmother, to warn both girls to keep their virtue safe from boys while going out on a date.
Tilly’s voice grew serious. ‘I’ve been lonely for a long time, Kate. I only want to let my hair down.’
‘Of course you do. Let me know how you get on tomorrow with . . . What’s his name?’
‘Chevy. It’s a French name meaning horseman or knight, so he might be my knight in shining armour.’ Laughter tinkled down the line.
Kate smiled. ‘Enjoy yourselves.’
‘Will do. And Kate . . .’
‘Yes.’
‘I love you.’
She put down the phone before Kate could answer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Kate had spent much of the night wondering if she was being over-cautious about Tilly. She blamed the investigation for her reaction and vowed to be more positive the next time they spoke. It wouldn’t hurt for her stepsister to meet new men and if it meant she gained confidence, then that could only be an added bonus. However, it didn’t prevent Kate from checking out Tilly’s dates. Although she’d have to ask Emma about Chevy, a quick look on the police general database for information on Ryan Holder confirmed he had no previous convictions, not even a parking ticket to his name. Checking through her old school website, she uncovered a photo of a fresh-faced Ryan, captain of the football team. She had a vague recollection of applauding a lanky individual during a school assembly as he collected a trophy from the headteacher, but nothing more than that.
Having decided she was being an interfering busybody, Kate flicked through the files appertaining to the investigation.
Jamie was once again the first team member to appear, a child’s rucksack over one shoulder. He cleared his throat and cast about before saying, ‘Erm, guv, would it be okay if I nipped off at about two thirty to pick my lad up from school and drop him off at his nan’s again? I’ll come back once I’m done. Sophie’s got a hospital appointment.’
‘Sure.’ She took in his haggard appearance. He looked as if he hadn’t slept all night. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Yeah, fine.’
She kept one eye on him as he tucked the bag under his seat, then fired up the computer. Satisfied he didn’t wish to discuss the matter further with her, she resumed her own musings. The fact the killer had knocked out his victims with a vagus strike, yet not killed them, and then chosen to strangle them rather than inflict a second, deadlier blow, still bothered her. The former would have been a quicker way to dispatch his victims and would have reduced the risk of him being caught. She could only conclude that the killer wanted them to be conscious throughout the rape attacks, the cruel carving of the word MINE into their shoulders, and for them to be fully aware of their intended fate. She wondered if it was worth asking a profiler to give them a clearer picture of who they were searching for. Her ruminations were interrupted by Emma and Morgan, who arrived together, both in a far sprightlier mood than Jamie.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Morgan, pausing to thump the overhead light. ‘We didn’t double-check Steve’s whereabouts for Monday morning. We ought to do that.’
‘Have we not got his DNA results back yet?’
‘No. We haven’t had any DNA results back.’
‘That’s crazy. Don’t they know we’re up against it here? Chase them up. It would save us a lot of legwork.’
She clicked onto her emails. The voices around her faded into a jumble of noise, merging with the buzzing overhead light. Ervin had replied to her message about the motorcyclist’s cigarette end. He had several of them to examine and would get back to her. He still hadn’t identified the weapon used to cut the women.
She ran both hands under her long hair, leaving cool fingers resting on the nape of her neck as she stared at the screen, then, reaching for her car keys, she said, ‘I’ll be with Ervin if anyone wants me. And we haven’t received Heather’s pathology report either. Emma, will you talk to Harvey and see where he is with it?’
‘No probs.’
With one last glance at her team, she strode off.
Ervin was wearing a yellow cravat with green polka dots, the top of it peeping over his lab coat. Kate couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d teamed it with, although it would surely be flamboyant. Ervin didn’t do ordinary.
‘I know. I know. Your investigation is stalling and the forensic department is being of no help whatsoever,’ he said as soon as she walked into his office. ‘What can I say? We simply haven’t found any evidence to help push it along.’
‘I’ve come to clear my head, not to bully or complain.’
‘Good because I’ve had enough of both already,’ he replied.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Kate and meant it. Ervin always went above and beyond expectations.
‘Bloody Dickson,’ he said in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I got it in the neck for slacking! As if? I don’t care how frustrating it is for senior officers in murder enquiries, we can only work at one speed and that’s invariably flat out.’
‘He gave me grief too. He wants answers and somebody charged.’
Ervin pursed his lips. ‘Don’t we all?’
The office overlooked the main laboratory and Kate glanced out at the trio of scientists occupied at various stations: one using an array of optical instruments, another by stainless steel ovens and the third seated at a bench, dropping liquid from an electronic pipette into a container. She knew little about forensic science and admired her colleagues in this department, especially Ervin, whose knowledge on the subject was encyclopaedic. Ervin, however, wasn’t in the mood to discuss the lack of findings or bandy any suppositions as was his usual wont. He was fixated on Dickson.
‘It’s not as if I need pressing on the matter. We’ve examined every scrap of evidence retrieved from Abbots Bromley and believe me, there was plenty of non-crime-related material there. It’s ten times more difficult to lift relevant evidence when a crime is committed outside in a public area.’ He dropped onto the edge of his desk and gave her a serious look. ‘I’ll tell you here and now, I don’t think we’ll find anything related to the attack on Heather.’
‘Other than DNA and fingerprints?’
‘There are no fingerprints on either body. I highly suspect the perpetrator wore gloves. Given we’ve been unable to retrieve mobile devices, handbags or any personal items he might have touched, we haven’t been able to lift any prints, although we got plenty from the industrial waste containers – too many!’
‘I get it. It doesn’t matter how quickly we want things to proceed, the fact is, all of this requires time.’
‘Exactly! Which is why I’m somewhat irked by the superintendent’s attitude. Still, enough of that.’
‘What about the sweet wrapper you found at Abbots Bromley? Did you get anything from it?’
He shook his head. ‘It had been there several days.’
‘Any new thoughts on the weapon used to cut the women?’
‘I’m afraid not. As you know, trying to work out the dimensions of a weapon can be inaccurate due to the effect of elasticity and skin shrinkage on withdrawal of the weapon. At this stage, we’ve only really determined the tip of a blade was used and on each occasion the perpetrator kept his lettering to a similar size and position. Always below the right shoulder.’
‘Given he strangled his victims soon afterwards, I’m guessing he never intended them to see this word. It seems as if he only wanted them to know he’d carved it into them and possibly feel the pain as he did it. Why would he do that if he didn’t want them to live with it, be reminded of what had happened?’ She answered her own question. ‘It’s his signature, his moniker.’
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‘He’s branding them, like cowboys with cattle, or pimps branding sex workers.’
She glanced out again, digesting Ervin’s words. The oven doors were now open and the scientist wearing padded gloves lifted out a container. She’d thought the same earlier in the investigation. Maybe branding was the answer. Ervin was now talking about clothing. ‘We collected various threads and fibres, again all to be cross-matched with those lifted from the second crime scene. Nothing so far from Salt Lane though. That scene is relatively clean.’
‘What about DNA on the victims?’
‘The killer used a condom; therefore no bodily fluids were left behind, but we lifted enough DNA from items of clothing to provide a match should you come up with a suspect.’ He waved his hands in front of his face. ‘Sorry. That was rude of me. I know you’ll find whoever is responsible. Ignore me. I got out of the wrong side of bed. Well, I didn’t actually get to bed so technically, I didn’t get up. You know what I mean.’
‘You didn’t spend all night here, did you?’
He dropped onto a stool, trousers rising to display yellow socks and boots. ‘Most of it, then I went out for a late-night takeaway with Terry and we ended up at his place, drinking and putting the world to rights until the wee hours. There was little point in snatching an hour’s sleep after that, so I went home to shower and change and came back in. I’m on my fifth cup of coffee already and grateful there isn’t another crime scene to attend. I’m short-staffed and out of sorts.’
‘Where is everyone?’
‘Most of them are still at Weston, checking out the building site where Olivia was dumped.’
‘I’m under the impression this killer is very well organised. He knows exactly when and where to strike.’
‘He’s definitely controlled,’ said Ervin. ‘I imagine he’s disciplined. People who perform martial arts usually are.’
Another thought rose like a bubble. Martial arts clubs. They still had that avenue to explore. Ervin muttered, ‘Bloody man.’
‘The killer?’
‘Him too. I was referring to the super.’ Ervin really had a bee in his bonnet today, thanks to Dickson. It was most unlike him to bitch about anyone and she became more than a little curious when he said, ‘And I’m not the only person he’s wound up recently.’
She faltered momentarily. Was he referring to her? She’d deliberately kept her feelings about the man to herself, unless she’d accidentally let something slip. ‘Who else has he cheesed off?’
‘Heather, for one. Last month, he dropped her from an investigation.’
‘How do you know about that?’
‘Do you remember I told you she sent me a thank-you gift?’
‘A bottle of brandy.’
‘That’s correct. A bottle of Hennessy X.O cognac, to be precise. A dark, complex cognac that retails at around £125 per bottle.’ He studied her with bright eyes, waiting for her to make the correct assumption.
‘Whatever you did must have been valuable to her.’
‘Exactly. It seemed excessive given all I did was test a bottle of liquid for her.’
‘And what was this liquid?’
‘Turned out to be ketamine.’
Ketamine was a dissociative drug that made the consumer feel detached from reality. With nicknames including Special K, vitamin K and cat Valium, it was used by doctors and veterinarians as anaesthesia, but was popular on the underground scene as a date rape drug. ‘Did she tell you anything about it?’
‘Uh-huh. Insisted it had to be kept hush-hush until I identified the bottle’s contents.’
‘Ervin, I’ve known you for years and whenever I’ve made similar requests, you’ve always wanted to know the reasoning behind it.’
A flicker of a smile tugged at his lips.
‘You’re a professional, through and through, and you wouldn’t work on something unless you were sure of both its origin and why you were being asked for help. You must have wormed it out of her.’
‘You know me too well.’ The friendly smile had finally appeared. ‘To be honest, I had no intention of helping her out and told her to go through the proper channels. Then she swayed me. She was certain that somebody else, assigned to the same investigation, was deliberately doing away with evidence and she didn’t want that vial lost or destroyed.’
‘Did she tell you who she suspected?’
‘No. And her reason for not telling me was that she didn’t want to put my job at risk. I thought she was overstressing until she rang to say she’d been dropped from the investigation, and that I should definitely keep quiet about the ketamine if I valued my job. Naturally, I followed her advice. After all, there was no need to rock the boat and I do have a hefty mortgage to pay off. I didn’t give it any further thought until Sunday morning. Since then, it’s played on my mind and I’ve been getting crazy notions that she was murdered because of that vial. Bonkers, isn’t it? A product of an over-active and over-worked mind. After all, the MO is the same for all three women.’ He continued rambling at speed.
A buzzing began in Kate’s ears . . . evidence . . . Operation Agouti . . . Dickson. She almost missed Ervin’s next comment.
‘It felt a little cloak-and-dagger to me and yet, Heather wasn’t somebody prone to flights of fancy, was she? Naturally, I wanted to return the brandy. She wouldn’t have any of it.’
‘Did she tell you what she did with the ketamine?’
‘I assumed she’d presented it along with her suspicions to the superintendent.’
‘And did she tell you why she was taken off the investigation?’
‘No. There could be any number of reasons, including not following procedure. And after my ear-bashing this morning, I’ve been wondering if the superintendent hasn’t guessed at my involvement. There was something in his tone today when he spoke to me . . . hostility. Either that, or I was simply over-reacting thanks to supreme fatigue.’ He gave a loose shrug.
Tiredness had not affected his perspicacity. They were both used to working ridiculous hours and Ervin had the ability to remain astute and focused, regardless of how little sleep he got. He was confiding in her not only as a friend, but because he believed there to be some truth in the matter and also had doubts about her superior.
‘Did she give you any idea as to what the investigation was about or who she was working with?’
‘Nothing more than I’ve already divulged.’
‘And she didn’t reveal where the liquid came from?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t suppose it’s relevant to your investigation.’
‘It’s unlikely to be, but you’ve helped me form a better picture of who she was. Seemed a highly dedicated individual.’
‘Which might also account for why Dickson is in such a tizzy to find somebody to hold accountable for her death. He feels guilty at dropping her.’
It was Kate’s turn to shrug. ‘I think he’s under pressure from above.’
Ervin gave a non-committal response and got to his feet. The yellow socks vanished under dark grey, pin-striped trouser legs that looked as if they’d come straight from a Corby press. ‘Talking of which, I’d better resume my duties. I shouldn’t have sounded off at you. You have enough on your plate without listening to my woeful meanderings. I can be a fearful grump, particularly when I’m sleep-deprived.’
Nothing could be further from the truth. Ervin was well adjusted and, in spite of the difficulties of the job, rarely downhearted. He must have been upset to have spoken about Dickson. ‘We all get grumpy in this line of business. It goes hand in hand with the hefty responsibility we cart about.’
He put a hand on her shoulder and gave a light squeeze – an unspoken thank you.
‘Let me know if anything comes back from those cigarette ends. I’m desperate for a breakthrough,’ she said.
‘I’ll be sure to ring you personally.’
Back in her car, she recapped on what she’d uncovered. The fact that Heather had been onto somebody in th
e team was of importance, probably not to the actual murder investigation, but certainly to Kate’s personal one. She really needed to talk this over with somebody and yet, there was no one she dared confide in, so she did what she always did when she wanted to draw on his strength and guidance: she spoke aloud to her husband.
‘Could Dickson be behind your death, Cooper’s and Heather’s? All of you had information that linked back to him.’
‘Let’s look at this logically.’ Chris always approached everything with journalistic thoroughness. ‘Firstly, you still have no proof he was involved in my death. Secondly, you actually don’t know why Cooper wanted to see you. And lastly, if Heather had suspected Dickson of disposing of evidence, she’d be unlikely to have confronted him. She’d have approached somebody higher up the chain of command.’
‘You’re right. As usual.’ She tapped her hands against her cheeks and blew out noisily through her lips. She was so desperate to pin things on Dickson she wasn’t thinking clearly. ‘Would I be stupid to consider the possibility he might have hired somebody to kill her and make it look as if it was the work of Laura’s attacker?’
Two lab assistants emerged from the building and crossed the car park towards a pickup truck. Chris’s response came a few minutes after they’d driven away.
‘What about the motorcyclist spotted at the car park in Newbury Avenue? The same person seen in Abbots Bromley, by the restaurant. Where does he fit in? Unless you think Dickson hired that person to kill both women, you can’t pin Heather’s death on him.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
When Kate got back, only Emma was in the office. She was quick to report on her findings. ‘I spoke to Harvey and he sent over the pathology report on Heather. As with Laura, there was significant damage to throat and neck structures, broken hyoid bone and a definite blow to the vagus nerve, with damage to the tissues surrounding it. There was bruising to the inner thighs associated with this type of attack.’ Kate had seen similar marks before, large haematomas caused by the victims’ resistance to their attacker’s demands. Emma passed her the photographs of the mottled abrasions on Heather’s legs where she’d tried desperately to hold them together and resist her attacker. Kate looked through each picture, noting the patterning of the dark markings against the alabaster skin.
