Urge to Kill (1)

by Franklin, JJ

  ‘And now someone like DI Turrell?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘Well, yes, like DI Turrell,’ the professor nodded.

  ‘So, it follows that the murderer must have met DI Turrell, either because of this case or before?’

  There was silence in the room, as they all digested the implications of this. McRay spoke first. ‘We’ll need to go over everyone we’ve already interviewed. Matt think of your old cases. Anyone with a grudge.’

  Matt didn’t want to waste his time going through old case notes. In his experience, there would always be some perp who resented being stopped in his career. He’d had the same amount of threats as any other DI who was doing a good job. But he was now side lined, and it was all in Jenny’s hands, now, so he gave a reluctant, ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Thank you for coming, Professor.’ McRay moved to open the door.

  Jenny half rose and shook hands. The professor stood ready to leave.

  Matt stood and thanked him too, and this time the feeling was genuine. Jenny had returned her attention to looking through the main notes of the case. Matt glanced at her profile, thinking that she was still attractive, except for a certain coldness. She looked up at him, as if she was aware of his scrutiny, and he went to sit beside her, deciding to play along with her obvious need to keep their past affair secret. There would be time enough later to catch up with old times. Stopping this murderer was more important.

  She was efficient, and Matt admired her thoroughness as she identified the main points. He paused in his run-through of the leads they were following, and she used the opportunity to speak to McRay.

  ‘I would like Inspector Turrell to continue to work with me on this case, Chief Inspector. The team have been working well, and it would be a shame to upset that. And, once I get up to speed, if our murderer still sees the inspector as a personal target, well maybe we could use that to our advantage.’

  McRay glanced at Matt, gauging his reaction to this suggestion. Matt nodded his agreement, glad to still be of some use. Although he did wonder what Jenny had in mind when she considered using him to catch the killer. He thought he would let that one pass for the moment. He supposed he would have to clear out his office, but if it were just for this one case, it was going to be a nuisance. Here was another of his quiet thinking places gone. He had always been able to alternate between home and office to ponder any case, but now both options were compromised.

  ‘There are one or two things I would like to set in motion before the morning briefing, Chief Inspector,’ Jenny said.

  McRay nodded as Jenny continued. Matt recognised the well-cultivated tone of authority in her voice. Like him, she had learnt of the need to take full control.

  ‘I would like all those interviewed after the first murder to be cross referenced with those who have been or will be interviewed after this second murder. Many will be staff, I know, but it would be useful to highlight those who were at the health spa when both murders took place.’

  Matt could see her reasoning but wondered if they had the resources. The hard-working backup team, seconded from uniform, were already working flat out.

  Jenny didn’t give Matt or McRay any chance to argue. ‘I will need the report on Miss Tomlinson’s phone call to…’ She paused to check the papers. ‘A Mr Graham, as soon as it is analysed.’

  ‘I’m…we’re…hoping to have that back by the morning,’ Matt paused, uncertain how to address her. McRay stepped in.

  ‘The interviews are collated and checked by DI Grant who will be back in tomorrow,’ McRay explained.

  Matt was looking at Jenny when McRay mentioned DI Grant. Although she covered it pretty well, he watched her face pale, together with a slight tightening of the jaw. So she and Grant had a history, and Matt would guess that it wasn’t a pleasant one. Jenny as well as Fluff. So the man preyed on women. He made a note to watch him.

  Her demands for the moment satisfied, Matt suggested he show her the way to his office. Jenny rose and followed him, after loading him up with several files. As soon as they were inside Matt’s office, Jenny spoke.

  ‘So, a wife, ah?’

  Matt had expected that she would want to keep up the pretence that they did not know each other and was shocked at this sudden change. ‘Yes, of nearly three weeks.’

  ‘Oh, bad luck getting this lot so soon into wedded bliss,’ she sympathised.

  ‘Yes, it’s not easy,’ Matt confirmed, while opening the top drawer of his desk and beginning to pull out all files there.

  Still standing beside the desk, Jenny seemed to hesitate. ‘Look, stop. I think it is silly you moving everything. How about if we shove a small desk or a table in here? That would do for me. After all, I’m not going to be here forever, am I?’

  She turned and walked back into the main office. Matt straightened. He felt a bit bewildered by her sudden change from the cold, in-charge DI Hadden, to someone resembling the Jenny he had known before. As he followed her, he supposed it was how she had survived. He would need to be a buffer between her and the team. For a start, it would be a good idea to find out what he should call her.

  Jenny had pounced on a small table, which was piled high with box files. Signalling Sam to help her, she started to put the boxes onto the floor. Matt could see that Sam looked sulky and reluctant to help, so he moved forward to encourage him. With the table cleared, he and Sam carried it into the office, and under Jenny’s directions, they placed it opposite Matt’s.

  ‘OK, Guv?’ Sam asked, emphasising the Guv and clearly stating his loyalty to Matt.

  ‘Yes. Thanks,’ Matt replied, moving Sam towards the door, while trying to signal for him to calm down. ‘And for now, I’m not your Guv,’ he said close to Sam’s ear as he pushed him through the door and closed it behind him. He turned to face Jenny. ‘So, what should I call you?’

  ‘In here “Jenny” and out there…well, we had better not use “Guv,” had we?’ she said, nodding towards Sam. ‘How about “Ma’am” just for out there in front of the troops?’

  ‘Sam’s a good sergeant.’

  ‘I’m sure he is,’ she said dismissively, busy arranging the files in order on her desk. ‘Let’s see the phone call from the victim…’

  ‘Miss Sandi Tomlinson,’ Matt couldn’t help interjecting.

  Jenny favoured him with a cold stare, which told him not to interfere when she was speaking. ‘To her boyfriend, Tom Graham,’ she continued.

  Remembering Tom’s grief, Matt wanted to interrupt her again and say that Tom was Sandi’s fiancé and that they had been planning their wedding for the last six months, and he wasn’t just a boyfriend but that Tom and Sandi were fully committed to each other. As Jenny continued, he decided against it.

  ‘Time of murder?’

  ‘She had been there all night. Slim thinks probably between nine and midnight. Most likely the earlier. He’ll give us more in the morning.’

  ‘Time of phone call?’

  ‘Eight forty seven.’

  ‘So we can assume that she made the call to Mr Graham, and almost straight away became victim number two. What time did her shift finish?’

  ‘Ten. She sometimes left early, if Harry, the night porter, had arrived. However, he said she had never left without asking him first.’

  ‘And he didn’t see her?’

  Matt nodded. It was good to go over the details of the case with someone from the outside, someone with a new eye who might spot something they had missed.

  Jenny snapped the file shut and stood up. ‘We need that phone call analysed. You took down a transcript before sending it to audio, I take it?’ she demanded.

  ‘Sam did, but it’s not typed up yet.’

  ‘Right, tell him I need that now. I’ll get hold of the sound guys.’

  Matt left her dialling the switchboard. He didn’t stop to tell her that he had already checked, and Nick Forest, the audio expert, wasn’t due in until tomorrow, having only arrived back from a holiday in America early this morning. Sam, who
shouldn’t even be here, was talking to Old Bill. He turned as Matt approached.

  ‘How is it going, Matt? If you want me to deck her I will.’ Sam punched the air in an imitation of a boxer.

  ‘No, it’s good,’ he said, trying for a lightness he didn’t really feel. ‘Let’s work with her; otherwise, we’ll just be giving the murderer more chances.’

  ‘OK, if you say so.’

  Matt knew the rest of the team would follow Sam and fall into place. ‘Yes, I do. Thanks,’ he replied, giving Sam’s shoulder a pat. ‘Right now, I need the transcript of Sandi’s phone call to Tom.’

  Sam turned to his jacket, which was over the back of his chair, to extract his notebook. ‘This is a bit rough I’m afraid,’ he said, flipping through the book until he came to the relevant page. We both listened to it. Nothing there, except for that squeaky sound, which could have been anything. So what does she think she is going to find?’

  ‘She’s trying to get Nick to come in tonight.’

  Sam laughed. ‘Well good luck to her there.’

  Matt wasn’t going to stay and argue. ‘In the meantime, can you type that up for me? Please,’ he added, seeing Sam baulk at the idea. He was relieved when Sam nodded and sat down at his computer. ‘Thanks,’ he said, heading back to his office.

  As he opened the door, Jenny was in the middle of a phone call. Her tone was strident.

  ‘And I want you to imagine turning on your television tomorrow morning to hear there is another victim. If that happens, you will know that it was all down to you. Nevertheless, if you think it is more important to sit there with your feet up, then you get on with it.’ Jenny slammed the phone down. ‘Poncy bloody idiot.’

  Matt thought she was being somewhat unfair and was about to say so when she turned on him.

  ‘As soon as those names are compiled in the morning, I want them interviewed.’

  Matt said nothing, still getting used to having orders barked at him. He hoped this wasn’t how he sounded.

  Jenny looked up, wondering why he hadn’t acquiesced to her plan.

  ‘Understand?’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am.’ It was a minefield, trying to figure out which Jenny was speaking, the friendly version or the bossy harridan, and Matt knew he would have to tread carefully until this case was over.

  CHAPTER 42

  Eppie was surprised when the unmarked police car stopped at a substantial looking older house, overlooking the ruined Abbey in Kenilworth. The house looked too big for one person.

  The driver, a plain clothed policeman, lifted a hand to stop Eppie opening the passenger door, and they waited as another car came alongside them. Eppie found she was almost holding her breath until the car had gone past. Two cheeky youngsters were fighting in the back seat and the driver was a harassed looking young mother.

  With a final look around, the man signalled her to go, and Eppie scrambled out pausing only to say thank you. The policeman seemed annoyed at this and indicated for her to go quickly up the pathway.

  Eppie felt like a schoolgirl but did as she was told. As she approached the front door, it opened and the woman known as Fluff ushered her in. Inside the hallway it was dim, but as her eyes became accustomed to the lack of light, Eppie noticed the wonderful pattern of what must be the original flagstones.

  Fluff led the way upstairs to the first floor, turning right at the top of the stairs towards the front of the house. It was much lighter here, and the landing was wide and carpeted. Eppie guessed the house was divided into flats. Fluff opened a white door marked ‘Four’ and stepped aside for Eppie to enter.

  Eppie was struck by the amount of light that flooded into the room from the street lamps. Combined with the light-coloured sofas and the small table lamps, it gave the room a glowing, cheerful feeling. Eppie moved instinctively to look out of the large bay widow.

  ‘Sorry, but it will be best if you stay away from the windows,’ Fluff said, moving beside her to close the floor to ceiling curtains.

  Eppie stepped back. ‘Oh, I didn’t think.’ She realised with a shock how serious this was. How long would she have to stay here? And when would she see Matt? Suppose they never caught the murderer? She didn’t want to be here with a strange woman who knew more about her husband than she did.

  ‘I’ll show you your room and then put the kettle on.’

  Eppie guessed she was trying to lighten the situation. ‘Thanks. I didn’t bring much, so it won’t take me long to unpack. Sorry to be fostered on you like this.’

  ‘Part of the job,’ Fluff said.

  From the way she said it, Eppie thought it sounded as if it was the very last thing she wanted. She couldn’t think of anything to say to make the situation easier, so she followed meekly along behind her.

  ‘Bathroom,’ Fluff indicated, pushing open the door to a large modern bathroom, white and gleaming, complete with bath and shower. ‘And here is your room.’

  Eppie moved past Fluff into the room. This room was light, too, but the window was much smaller. The room had the same basic colours of the living room except for the bedspread, which was of a multi-coloured patchwork design that added a comfortable cheerfulness to the room. As she put her bag on the bed, Eppie knew she could survive happily here and turned to thank Fluff, only to find she had gone.

  As she unpacked, Eppie wondered what she was supposed to call Fluff, as that was her nickname at work. As she put a few things away, she began a guessing game in her head as to what Fluff’s real name was.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ Fluff called from the kitchen.

  Instead of calling back, Eppie made her way to the kitchen. Now this was more like it. Although it was modern, the room had a warm homey feeling that Eppie had been longing for. It was very spacious after Matt’s tiny flat, and there was even room for a wooden table with four chairs.

  The heart of the house, Eppie thought, remembering those days at her Gran’s when she had made her first biscuits with little, somewhat grubby, hands and waited as the smell wafted through the kitchen for them to be taken from the oven. She had been so proud as Granddad, who said he was the official taster, had taken the first one and declared that they were the best biscuits he had ever eaten.

  As if reading her mind, Fluff produced a tin of biscuits and placed it in the centre of the table. ‘Not homemade I’m afraid. Have a seat. Did you say tea?’

  ‘Yes, please. I love your kitchen—the whole flat. Matt’s…ours is so small.’ Eppie had the feeling that she was being disloyal to Matt but Fluff seemed to understand.

  ‘They don’t need the space we do,’ she said, handing Eppie a mug of tea.

  As Eppie sipped, Fluff pushed the biscuit tin towards her.

  ‘Help yourself. They’re kept in that cupboard. Below, tea and coffee and then cereals,’ Fluff pointed to the right. ‘Have a potter through and you’ll soon find where everything is.’

  ‘You won’t be here?’ Eppie couldn’t stop herself asking.

  ‘I’ll be working as normal, but you will be fine,’ she added. ‘Don’t answer the door to anyone—or the phone. Downstairs left, Jake. Some sort of writer; you’ll probably never see him. Right, lovely Mary. Used to be a nurse. She’d do anything for you. But remember she is eighty. Opposite, Tilly and Don, both work in a bank. Haven’t been here long and keep themselves to themselves.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful place to live.’

  ‘We’ll call you by mobile if we need to. Stay in and mind the windows. A patrol will go past every hour, and if you are worried just call the station.’

  ‘Oh, I just thought—’

  ‘Super’s just taking precautions, as you’re one of our own.’

  Eppie had never thought that by marrying Matt she would gain an adoptive family, and at first it seemed quite nice, but then, thinking about it, somewhat controlling as she had had no say in any of the arrangements. She felt a bit like a parcel that was being passed around. She had a thousand questions but decided to keep the conversation light. ‘Have you had to
babysit anyone before?’

  Fluff put down her mug and shook her head. ‘Not at home, only a hotel and once at a safe house.’

  ‘Do you think it will take long?’

  ‘Impossible to say. This murderer is clever. It may take a while before he slips up. Our only hope is if he begins to think he is omniscient. That no one can catch him. That will be our chance.’

  Eppie felt daunted. In the rush, she had never really thought that she would be away for long. There was the apple crumble waiting in the oven. She must remind Matt it was there. Then she realised how silly she was being. Matt had far more important things to worry about. She told herself she would have to get on with it, make sure that she didn’t add to his burden. ‘Please call me “Eppie,” and what should I call you? “Fluff” is for work isn’t it?’

  Fluff laughed. ‘Yes. My name is Jane. All my friends outside of work call me that.’

  Eppie felt privileged to be included in the friend’s group and started to relax. It wouldn’t be so bad and she and Fluff—Jane—could get to know each other a lot better. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so separate and shut off from Matt’s work life.

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  The thought of the lovely meal she had prepared made Eppie feel sad. ‘Yes, thanks. We were in the middle of roast beef dinner when all this kicked off.’

  ‘Hey, stop. You are making me hungry just thinking about it.’

  ‘Haven’t you eaten?’

  Fluff grimaced. ‘Was on for a promise of pasta and a bottle of wine. But it all hinged on how the case was going anyway.’

  ‘I’ve really messed up your evening, haven’t I?’

  ‘Not really. Think I would have been asleep in five minutes to tell the truth.’

  ‘Tell him it was my fault.’

  ‘Her,’ Fluff emphasised.

  For a moment Eppie wondered if she had heard right. ‘Oh I see. Well she will probably be more understanding.’