Ricky Lee squared his shoulders and raised his voice further. ‘We aren’t going anywhere. We need to speak to you about the recent murder in town.’
The dogs barking ceased but the woman’s voice was still persistent. ‘I know nowt about any murder!’
Ricky-Lee’s voice became more cajoling. ‘Just open the door and speak to us then. You don’t want uniform up ’ere to take your door off do you?’
By the sound of her voice, the woman inside appeared to have moved closer to the door. ‘You can see that I could do with a new door,’ she said, smugly. ‘Look, I don’t do drugs. Try four doors down, number thirty-two if that’s what you’re after, they’re churning ’em out like the world’s gonna end tomorrow.’
‘Thanks for the tip off, but that’s not why we’re here. We need to speak to you.’
There was silence for a moment. Ricky Lee looked down to where Annie stood at the foot of the stone steps. There was a gathering tension, but his expression was both determined and reassuring. The sound of bolts being taken off broke their gaze, and the door began to creak open.
The large Japanese Akita’s head squeezed through the gap, eager, impatient to escape its owner’s grip on its thick, stud-encrusted collar.
The detectives flashed their warrant cards, but their introduction was muffled by the noise.
‘Bronson, you twat!’ the woman growled, swiping her free hand hard across the dog’s head. The dog cowered and yelped out in pain. Annie winced.
Now both woman and dog stood before the detectives, filling the doorway. The dog slavered but sat, quiet and subservient at its owner’s side.
‘I’d invite you in but the house is a shit ’ole,’ she said, her pale-coloured eyes glanced cautiously up and down the street.
Annie willed the woman to keep hold of the dog. ‘Are you Kylie Matthews?’ she asked.
Twenty-six years old, and twenty-six stone, Kylie Matthews stepped from foot to foot on the doorstep, growing bolder by the minute, or so it seemed. Something like a conceited smirk crossed her perfectly round pink face. She had an air of being smugly pleased with herself, though whether or not it was the novelty of the situation, or some deeper motive, was not clear. ‘Fucking better be love, otherwise some other fucker has broken into my house and is impersonating me,’ she mocked, in a deep rich tone of voice.
The tight, black sleeveless T-shirt that Kylie wore had stains down the front, her bulging black leggings sported an array of holes, and she wore nothing on her filthy feet.
Ricky-Lee tucked his warrant card back in his coat pocket. ‘A phone call from this address was made to the murder Incident Room by a female…’
‘I suppose you’ll be wanting to ask me a lot of questions, then?’ Kylie interrupted, with it seemed, an almost perverted anticipation.
‘The caller said, and I quote, “Cordelia is a bitch, and she deserved to die.” Was that you?’
Kylie tilted her big round head on one side. ‘What if it were? Haven’t you lot heard of freedom of speech?’
The sunlight that appeared from behind the clouds picked up the deep red marks between the folds of flesh under her chin.
‘If it was you who made the call, we’re just trying to find out why you said what you did.’ Annie paused for effect. ‘There isn’t anyone else living here is there?’
Kylie hesitated, seeming to struggle against impulses. Finally she replied. ‘No, there’s no one else living here, just me and Bronson.’
‘So it was you?’
Kylie winked an eye at Annie. ‘You’re pretty sharp you are, you should be in t’knife drawer.’ Kylie laughed out loud.
Annie gave her a hard smile.
‘Let’s stop messing about shall we Kylie, unless you want locking up for wasting police time. Which in turn will result in Bronson being taken to the kennels.’
Kylie stroked Bronson’s head and for a moment appeared to consider what had been said.
‘Come on, help us out here, we’re just trying to find out who battered a young woman to death,’ intervened Ricky-Lee.
Considering her immediate response, it was clear to both detectives that they had spoken her language.
‘All right! All right!’ cried Kylie. ‘Shall I tell you why? I did it because she hit Bronson for cocking his leg up. He’s a pup for God’s sake. She was sat on the pavement. What did she bloody expect?’
‘What did you do, when she hit Bronson?’ pushed Ricky-Lee.
Kylie’s face turned red with anger. ‘I should ’ave smacked her there and then, but I didn’t because I knew that you lot would come and lock me up.’
Ricky-Lee considered what she had said, but it was Annie who spoke up. ‘You’re telling us that you made the phone call into the Incident Room because she once hit your dog?’
‘That’s what I said didn’t I? Truth is I’d drunk the best part of a bottle of cider that night wi’ mi’ takeaway, and enjoyed a bit of weed too, courtesy of number thirty-two for keeping my gob shut about their enterprise.’ Kylie scowled. ‘I’m serious about them at number thirty-two y’know. If you come at night, their house is like Blackpool bloody illuminations. My drug-taking is purely medicinal and for personal use only, of course.’
‘How did you know about the murder?’
‘Saw it on the news. The telephone number come up on the screen. No law against ringing in with information is there? I must admit I didn’t expect you on my doorstep like a couple of bloody Jehovah’s Witnesses.’
‘It’s a murder enquiry Kylie.’ Ricky Lee inhaled deeply. ‘Did you know Cordelia Le Beau?’
Kylie shook her head. ‘Nah, I’ve seen her sat outside the Medway, but I don’t know her. Word is that she puts it about a bit, likes ’em young, but whatever floats your boat. I prefer ’em more distinguished like yourself detective.’
Annie suppressed a laugh. Ricky-Lee refused to be drawn but made it obvious that he wasn’t about to hang about for more of the same from Kylie. Satisfied that she couldn’t help the investigation, or assist them any further, the officers left, but not before Ricky-Lee told her, in no uncertain terms, that if she made another hoax call she would be locked up for wasting police time, and there would be no doubt that Bronson would be sent to the kennels.
On arrival back in the Incident Room, Annie stopped to speak to Helen Weir, one of the police officers viewing the CCTV. While the murder itself had happened in a blind spot, the cameras on the approach to and route away from the murder scene were being closely scrutinised. It was highly likely that the killer passed by at least one of the cameras in the vicinity. She was eager to see some of those caught on camera, leading up to the discovery of Cordelia’s body.
Charley joined the pair.
‘I’ve printed some stills that I’ve numbered for you. These run from midnight until the time that the body was discovered,’ Helen told the SIO.
Charley slid into the chair next to Helen. ‘Run me through what you’ve got,’ she said eagerly.
‘At 12.20, a man and woman linked arm-in-arm walked along the High Street. At 12.25 a lone male, coat hood up, dressed in jeans and wearing training shoes walked past at a swift pace. He kept his head down, and kept close to the buildings. Then at 12.40, a taxi drives along the High Street at speed. You can just make out that the taxi belongs to Zee Cabs. At 02.00 to 04.00 all is quiet.’ Helen pressed a key on her computer. As she fast-forwarded the footage, Charley’s stomach twisted with anticipation.
Helen slowed the footage down. ‘The next thing is a couple of hours later when we see the postman.’
‘Presumably he’s on his way to work at the sorting office at that time?’ said Annie.
Charley stood. ‘That’s great. Carry on the good work. We need to trace that couple, and that man. They could easily have witnessed something without realising what they were seeing. Can you give me the clearest still you have and I’ll put out an appeal for the witnesses to come forward? I’ll get Ricky-Lee to contact Zee’s taxis and find out which cab wo
uld have been passing at that time of night.’
Helen nodded and turned back to the screen.
‘Do you think one of them could be our killer?’ Annie asked. ‘That couple… they could fit with the two shoe prints…’
‘I know…’ Charley ran a hand across her eyes. ‘What makes a person stand on a body? I’ve never come across anything like it before.’
Chapter 14
Crime Scene Investigator Supervisor Neal Rylatt sat opposite Detective Inspector Charley Mann, coolly looking over his papers, confident of his knowledge and ability in performing the specialist role with the police he’d been in for a number of years. His input for this strategy meeting was to utilise his experience to discuss the exhibits. Examination of every exhibit submitted came at a cost, and the budget was the SIO’s responsibility. Neal would never understand how anyone could put a cost to catching a killer, although he knew that’s how the system worked.
Picking up her pen, the SIO made notes as she listened to his suggestions for the next batch bound for forensic examination. Ultimately the decision was hers, but not to take his advice would be naive.
It was at times like these that she wished she had studied shorthand. Deciphering her scribble after the event was an art in itself, especially when it came to forensic and legal medical terminology. Eyes down, still writing, she instructed Neal, ‘I want you to liaise with Forensics to see if there are any new findings that Eira is able to share with us, the discovery of fibres or foreign hairs for example, before we make any decisions, and at the same time ask her to assure us that our exhibits are being treated as a priority.’
When Charley looked up, she scanned the faces of the others around the table with a determined look on her face.
She was rewarded with a reassurance that Tattie had joined them. The office manager sat perfectly poised, lipstick perfect, between Mike and Ricky-Lee, taking minutes of the meeting.
Charley put down her pen, feeling relieved. ‘As a priority, I also want us to be mindful of liaising with the local outreach teams, churches and any charities that you think of which may be able to assist us with our enquiries.’
She looked steadily into the faces of her colleagues, and on seeing a few puzzled expressions, she clarified her requirements by using her fingers to tick off the points. ‘We’re looking for the knowledge about, and numbers of, homeless people in the town, and their identities. Are there any reports of homeless people being abused, or assaulted recently. I would have expected them to have records of this readily available for safeguarding issues, amongst other reasons. One thing I learnt in London was that the homeless also tend to look out for each other, perhaps other street dwellers may also be able to help us with our enquiries. Of equal importance, did any of these organisations have dealings with Cordelia Le Beau, and if so, where and when did they last see her? Even if they didn’t know her name, Cordelia was noticeable and memorable because of the colour of her hair.
‘Also, check on any nuisance reports that may have been recorded, to see if there is any link to the enquiry. Let us speak to the workers at the retail outlets on the high street. The hairdressers, nail bars, coffee shops, restaurants, public houses, bars. I want Cordelia’s death, and this investigation to be in everyone’s conversations.’
Annie, amongst others, met Charley’s eyes with gratitude for the clarification. Charley smiled.
Walking back to her office after the meeting, Charley noticed that the HOLMES computer operators were already at their desks, busily entering follow-up actions into the computer system. She stood for one moment, feeling grateful all of a sudden that the Home Office Large Major Enquiry System was one of the tools in her investigative toolbox, which collated information on serious crime reported from far-flung jurisdictions more quickly than any humans. Charley felt safe in the knowledge that the actions relevant to the enquiry would be immediately farmed out for the necessary priority enquiries by the team, no information was destroyed, and any inputted information could be retrieved at the press of a button.
‘Had the police had HOLMES to make sense of the Yorkshire Ripper,’ said Charley to Annie who had just joined her. ‘Peter Sutcliffe would not have remained at large for five years.’
Annie gave the SIO a grim smile. ‘What an evil man.’ She shuddered. ‘Thirteen women killed. I studied the case a little on my training. Wilma McCann, Emily Jackson, Irene Richardson, Patricia Atkinson, Jayne MacDonald, Jean Jordan, Yvonne Pearson, Helen Rytka here in Huddersfield, Vera Millward, Josephine Whitaker in Halifax, Barbara Leach, Marguerite Walls, Jacqueline Hill…’
Charley turned to her. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
‘You are?’ Annie looked surprised.
‘Yes!’
‘Why?’
‘Because you remembered the names of the victims, most people only remember the perpetrator, especially the notorious serial killers.’
Annie followed Charley into the office. She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, but it felt nice to know that she was proud of her. ‘Remember I was schooled by nuns. Retaining facts was paramount. Anyway, you should know by now that I’m a bit weird about remembering details of things that are of interest to me.’
‘Like my Granny’s Yorkshire folklores?’
‘Indeed,’ Annie said.
Charley slid behind her desk, facing the door, and as she did so her smile grew wider.
Annie heard the telephone on Charley’s desk ring twice before the SIO picked it up. She turned to close the door behind her and in doing so she saw Charley’s eyebrows lift, then instantly fall.
Unbeknown to Annie, the person on the other end of the phone was Eira White. The forensic scientist told Charley that the swabs taken from Cordelia Le Beau showed that there was no evidence to suggest that sexual intercourse had taken place.
Charley put her elbow on the desk and her hand to her forehead. ‘I still can’t rule out the possibility that sex was the motive Eira,’ she said gloomily as she studied the pictures of the murder scene. ‘Her attackers could have been disturbed. If murder or robbery had been the intention why did they need to strip the body?’
‘Perhaps the intentionally demeaning act was meant to be a belittling insult?’
‘Mmm… You can’t get more belittled than being dead I guess,’ replied Charley, before thanking Eira and ending the call.
At two o’clock Helen knocked at the office door. The smell of freshly brewed coffee that Annie had brought with her for the women was especially welcome to the SIO, who hadn’t had lunch.
‘Please take a seat,’ Charley said, acknowledging the three women as she pointed to the visitors’ chairs at the opposite side of her desk.
Annie put the tray down, handed each a mug of coffee, then milk, sugar and a plate of Tattie’s homemade cookies.
Charley sat back, and relished the warm drink and sweet confectionary. Meanwhile, Police Constable Helen Weir took the lead, giving the others a comprehensive outline of what they knew so far.
‘As a result of enquiries being made into historical incidents of this nature on the campus, we found four female students, all of whom have a reputation for being hardworking and well-behaved, who told us the same story of waking during the night to find a stranger sitting on their beds, and with the exception of Dani, they confirmed he was fully clothed. Each individual description of the male, and the fact that he remained silent during their ordeal, was the same.’
Lisa interrupted eagerly. ‘There could be others, but for whatever reason, no one else has come forward yet, despite several appeals for information.’
Charley ruminated a little before she spoke. ‘It’s my understanding that this guy has never physically touched any of the students?’
Lisa nodded her head in agreement.
‘Hmmm, so he hasn’t touched them or made sexual advances towards them, apart from being naked in the case of Dani Miller… It almost seems fanciful for such a prolific offender,’ Charley mused. ‘What does he do when they wake
up?’
Helen’s mind replayed the encounter with Dani. Immediately her lips curved in an unbelieving smile. ‘When the students wake, and it’s apparent that they have seen him, he stands and, in Dani’s case he calmly got dressed, walked to the window, climbed out, and disappeared into the night.’
Lisa shivered with the memory. ‘The windows are always the point of entry and exit, whatever floor the student accommodation happens to be on, which could be the first, or the fifth, the height doesn’t seem to be a problem for him,’ she said.
Charley’s blue eyes narrowed at the observation. ‘It is known that a criminal’s modus operandi is comprised of learned behaviours that can evolve and develop, as they become more sophisticated and more confident, and it appears to me that in this instance, since he was naked during the most recent incident in Dani’s room, that this is the situation here. He’s gone a step further this time, and one thing I’m worried about is where this is going to end. Have you had any help, or contribution from security?’ Charley asked in a low deliberate tone.
‘Would you believe security is mainly focused on evidence gathering, reliant on CCTV of which hardly any of the cameras are in working order due to vandalism, and the students informing them of any issues, and I’ll tell you why. They have six employees, presently one is on long-term sick leave, one on a course, one on holiday, one position is vacant and the other two are trying to cover twenty-four hours, seven days a week and with two days off in that week, and one of those is a volunteer in the mountain rescue team,’ said Helen.
Charley groaned outwardly, looking from one police officer to the other. ‘CCTV cameras can’t stop crimes happening, but they can help deter and identify perpetrators, so what are your thoughts?’ Charley asked. ‘I’m very conscious Lisa, that Helen has been seconded to work on our enquiry, so this leaves most of the footwork to you doesn’t it?’
Lisa glanced sideways at Helen in a companionable way.
‘It’s okay. We’re managing quite well between us, and one of our complainants thinks that they might be able to identify him if they saw him again, and so does Dani. I’ve contacted the Viper bureau to arrange for the witnesses to be given the opportunity to identify possible suspects, in a video identification viewing. However as you know, we’ll only have success if he’s recorded on the system.’
Persecution Page 10
