Their Fatal Secrets

by JANICE FROST

  “Body parts?” The policeman was already following the smell. “Ah,” he said, seeing the upturned box and its reeking contents. He bent down for a closer look. He pointed to the dog collar. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a dog collar.” The voice came from the stairwell where Pam had been hovering. Now she came all the way to the bottom of the steps. “It belongs to my dog, I think. What’s going on, Jess?”

  The officer looked from Pam to the pile of offal and back.

  “We thought it was Bunty’s . . . organs.” Jess said, with an apologetic glance at Pam.

  The police officer raised his eyebrows. “Right.”

  “At first we thought they might be human, that’s why my friend called you. We’re really sorry for wasting your time, officer.” Jess was relieved to see that the police officer did not look annoyed.

  Pam chipped in. “Hang on. This could be a serious matter. What’s Bunty’s collar doing with that lot?”

  “I take it none of you know how it got there?” the policeman asked. He peered up the stairwell. Anyone else live here?”

  “No. There’s just the three flats — mine, Pam’s and Magda’s.”

  “How secure is the entry to the flats?”

  “We all have a key to the main door. We always keep it locked.” Pam and Magda nodded.

  “Who else might have access? Husbands? Boyfriends? Partners? Anyone ever lent a key to someone, or given them one to keep?”

  All three women shook their heads. Jess was sure Magda sometimes gave her key to her boyfriend but she didn’t say anything.

  “Anyone have reason to believe that someone might be trying to intimidate them?” He looked at Pam. The dog collar was hers.

  “Well, there’s my husband, I suppose. We’re going through a rather acrimonious divorce, but I’m pretty sure Michael wouldn’t pull a stunt like that.”

  The police officer seemed sceptical. “You’d be amazed at what people are capable of, given the right circumstances. Vengeful partners are the worst.” His tone suggested he was speaking from personal experience.

  “How can you be sure these are animal organs? I mean, don’t you need to take them away and have them examined by one of those forensic people?” Pam asked.

  “Looks like something you’d find down the butchers, but it makes sense to treat it as evidence in case there is some funny business going on.” The officer took out his radio.

  The women retreated upstairs to Pam’s flat. Pam took a cup of coffee down to the police officer who was guarding the scene until his colleague came in with an evidence bag.

  “This is all a bit creepy,” said Pam. Jess and Magda sat together on Pam’s comfortable sofa, drinking coffee laced with whisky ‘for the shock.’

  “Someone has taken collar from your dog, no?” Magda suggested to Pam.

  Pam shivered. So did Jess.

  “Letting agency has spare keys,” Magda pointed out.

  “They wouldn’t give them out to just anybody.” Jess turned to Magda. “If that policeman comes up here, promise you won’t mention Jack the Ripper.”

  The PC brought back his empty coffee cup. “My partner’s had a quick look and he’s pretty sure they’re an animal’s organs. Most likely it’s the sort of mixed bag you can buy over the counter at the butcher’s, but we will check that out.” He looked at all of them in turn. “That doesn’t mean we won’t take the matter seriously. If it’s a hoax of some sort, it’s in very poor taste. It might be a good idea for you to be more mindful of security. Do you have a personal alarm?” He looked to Pam.

  “I don’t need one. I have a dog.” Bunty wagged her tail.

  The PC looked at Bunty. “Is she always with you?”

  “Point taken.”

  “You should all have one.” Magda pulled a rape alarm from her handbag and the PC gave her an approving smile. “Right, well. Keep us advised of any further incidents.”

  After he’d gone, Jess nagged Pam about buying an alarm. “It wouldn’t hurt any of us to be a bit more security conscious. I’m going to ring the letting agency and see if they can persuade the landlord to get the locks changed.”

  Magda looked sceptical. “Huh. Good luck with dat. Still I am waiting for repair to bathroom tap.”

  “What about your ex, Pam? You said he wouldn’t do such a thing, but can you really be sure? And what about this Henry you’re seeing? How well do you know him?” Jess looked at Pam.

  “Michael wouldn’t do a thing like that. It’s not his style. And I’m not exactly ‘seeing’ Henry. We’ve only just met. It’s just a prank. Someone’s idea of a laugh. It could be anyone, really. Lots of people know I’ve got a dog called Bunty. Maybe one of them found the collar and decided to play a sick joke.”

  Jess sighed. “You’re probably right. Any chance of a top up?”

  Pam picked up the bottle of scotch. “No point diluting it. I’ll get some glasses.”

  By the time Jess got back to her flat, she was feeling slightly drunk. As she fumbled with her key in the lock, she felt a prickling sensation, as though she were being watched. She turned round and Mitch stepped out of the door alcove. “Mitch! You scared the shit out of me! How did you get in? Wasn’t the outside door locked?”

  “Sorry for scaring you, babe. The door was ajar. Someone must have forgotten to lock it.” He sniffed the air. “Smelly in here today.”

  Jess invited him in. “We’ve had a bit of an episode. The police were here. We must all have forgotten about locking the door in the excitement.”

  Mitch looked at her. “What kind of an episode?”

  Jess told him about the smell, the bag of organs. He looked troubled. “So . . . Do you think it was Pam’s ex — what’s his name, Michael?”

  “I don’t know. It seems the most likely explanation.” Mitch gazed at her with a worried expression. “What? What’re you thinking, Mitch?”

  “People who do this sort of thing . . .” Mitch’s voice trailed off.

  “What? Tell me what you were going to say.”

  “Well, sometimes this sort of thing can escalate, you know, like with people who start fires.” Mitch was a fireman. He was always telling her stories about arsonists and how their behaviour often followed a particular pattern. According to him, a lot of serial killers began life as arsonists or animal torturers. He rubbed his chin. “I don’t like this, Jess. It’s sinister. Maybe I should move in for a bit, keep a closer eye on you.”

  Jess shook her head. “I think you’re overreacting. No one’s been hurt, and the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it was probably Pam’s ex. From what she’s told me, he’s a deeply unpleasant man. And before you say it, there’s no danger of him coming here. Pam’s got a restraining order. He’s not allowed within a mile of her address.”

  “Well, if it was him who planted that bag of organs, he’s already broken that, hasn’t he?” They argued a little more, until Jess pulled him into the bedroom and began to undress. It seemed to resolve the issue.

  Chapter Seven

  The Yeardsley Trust was located in a small industrial estate on the outskirts of the city. It was purpose-built and had both workshop and office space. It offered opportunities for training and work experience for adults recovering from mental illness or with ongoing mental health issues, as well as people with learning difficulties and disabilities. The cynic in Neal noted that attendance at the Trust was linked to the receipt of benefits.

  Megan Black, the Trust’s manager, greeted Neal and Ava and ushered them into her office. She was a stout, fortyish woman, with voluminous black hair that reached to her waist. She was draped in loose-fitting garments in marbled shades of blue and grey, and she evidently had a fondness for chunky, arty jewellery. For all that she seemed larger than life, Megan Black was surprisingly softly spoken.

  She invited Neal and Ava to sit down. “Terrible business. Leanne was a lovely young woman, everyone respected her. She’ll be greatly missed.”

  Neal wondered h
ow much contact Megan had had with Leanne. A lot of managers he’d come across had little to do with the admin staff in their organisation. “How well did you know Leanne?”

  “Not that well, personally,” Megan confessed. “But I heard glowing accounts of her from her line manager. I encouraged her to enrol in a part-time accounting course at Stromford College. She was a very capable person. She’d have moved on from here eventually, I suppose.”

  “Were you aware of Leanne’s background when you took her on?” asked Neal.

  “You mean the fact that she served time in prison, or the fact that she suffered emotional and quite possibly physical neglect as a child, Inspector?”

  “Both. And you’ve just answered my question.”

  “I’m a great believer in second chances. Though ‘second chance’ is a bit of a misnomer when a person never had a chance in the first place, don’t you think?”

  Neal smiled. He recognised a kindred spirit in Megan Black.

  “What exactly was Leanne’s role here?”

  “You’d probably be better off speaking to her supervisor about that. I’ll take you down and introduce you.”

  The admin office was a box-shaped room with windows overlooking the car park. There were only five desks, one on its own, the others arranged in a group. Neal noticed a name plaque on one of these. Leanne Jackson. From the desk adjacent to Leanne’s, a young woman smiled at Megan. Her eyes darted from Neal to Ava and back again.

  “Good morning, Natalie.” Megan looked towards the empty desks. “Where is everyone?”

  “Beth’s doing the post. Jack’s dealing with an IT issue up in the Business Centre and Bryony’s just nipped out to the toilet. Been ten minutes already, so she shouldn’t be much longer.”

  “Please could you ask DI Neal and DS Merry if they’d like a drink while they wait for her?” Megan asked. Natalie took their orders and disappeared through a door, leading, presumably to the kitchen.

  “Natalie’s our apprentice,” Megan whispered. “She’s a bit inexperienced but she’s a bright girl. Now, I’m sorry to rush away but I have to be at a meeting on the other side of Stromford in half an hour. Please get in touch if you want any more information about the Trust. I’m sure Bryony will be able to answer most of your questions when she arrives.” And with that she left.

  Ava crossed to Leanne’s desk. There were no personal effects. Either there never had been or they had been removed already. She opened the desk drawers one by one to reveal the sort of items you’d expect to find in any office drawer: a ball of elastic bands, paper clips, a stapler, scissors . . .

  “All exceptionally tidy and organised, just like PJ said her house was,” Ava remarked. “Natalie could do with following her example.” The apprentice’s desk was cluttered with personal possessions. Ava picked up a pen with fluffy pink feathers attached to the top. “Remind you of anyone?”

  Neal smiled, picturing PJ.

  Natalie brought their drinks and by then Bryony had returned, closely followed by Beth and Jack.

  “You must be the police officers Megan said were coming this morning to talk about Leanne. I’m Bryony Stamford, office manager.” She dragged over a couple of chairs for Neal and Ava. “Terrible tragedy.”

  “It must have been a shock for everyone,” Neal said. “How long had Leanne been with the Trust?”

  “Just under a year. She was a good worker. Quick learner. I think she appreciated being given a chance to prove what she could do.” Her eyes flicked to Natalie, and Neal gave a slight nod.

  “What were Leanne’s duties here, Ms Stamford?”

  “She did general admin duties to begin with, and she proved so competent that I started giving her more complex tasks. She was wonderfully organised. She was always making suggestions to help streamline our procedures here.” Bryony sighed. “She’s going to be very hard to replace.”

  Neal nodded. “How well did you know Leanne on a personal level?”

  “Not that well. None of us did, really. Leanne was a very private person. She joined in all the staff social activities — you know, birthdays and Christmas meals, but I wouldn’t say she was great friends with anyone here. Certainly not with me, although we got on well enough as colleagues. I’m quite a bit older than Leanne was, married with kids. We didn’t have a lot in common really.”

  “Natalie?” Neal turned to the girl, who had been hanging on their every word.

  “I haven’t been here long. I mostly talked to Leanne about work. We weren’t friends or anything and she didn’t talk about her personal life much.” Natalie spoke hurriedly. Nerves, Neal guessed. Just as he thought she’d finished, she added, “I think she was having boyfriend problems, though. Someone called Seth. I heard her on the phone to him once. She called him a bastard and she sounded pretty upset.” She gave a sideways look at Bryony. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”

  But it wasn’t Natalie’s nosiness that was bothering Bryony. “Seth Conway?” she asked, sharply.

  “I don’t know his surname.”

  “You’ve heard of him?” Neal asked Bryony.

  “If it’s the same person, he did a placement here some time ago. He was a mental health nursing student. That was before Leanne came to work here, though.”

  Neal raised an eyebrow. “Did I pick up a hint that you disliked Seth Conway?

  “You did, Inspector. Though I was pretty much alone in that. He had most people wrapped around round his little finger. Myself included, until I saw a completely different side to him, quite by chance.”

  “And that was . . .?”

  “I saw him outside a club in town one night. Jeffers. Do you know it? On West Irongate Street?” Neal looked blank. Ava nodded.

  “He was with a young girl. I know it’s hard to tell these days, but I have a thirteen-year-old daughter and I don’t think that girl was much older. I saw him give her a slap and pull her along by the hair. I was really shocked.”

  “Did you intervene?”

  “My husband called out, but by the time we crossed the street and reached the door of the club, Seth had disappeared back inside.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “He left her there. We offered to pay for a taxi to take her home but she refused. She said she had friends inside the club and she went back in to join them.”

  “Did you tell anyone about what you’d seen?”

  Bryony looked shamefaced. “I spoke with Seth the Monday after it happened and he said I must have mistaken him for someone else.”

  “Could you have?”

  “I suppose it’s possible. I’m a bit short-sighted and I didn’t have my contacts in. Seth left the Trust about a week after that, so I let it go.”

  “Do you remember the date when this incident occurred?” Neal asked.

  Bryony nodded. “That’s easy. It was my wedding anniversary.” She gave them the date.

  “I’d be grateful if you could let us know Seth Conway’s contact details, Ms Stamford. It would save us a bit of time tracking him down. And a photograph would be useful.”

  “No problem. I’ll ask Helen. She’s our HR person.” Bryony made the call and scribbled the details on a post-it.

  Neal handed Bryony a copy of the list of names that had been found in Leanne’s home, with the word ‘victims’ erased. “Do you recognise any of these names, Ms Stamford? We thought it might be something that Leanne was working on for the Trust.”

  Bryony studied the list. “No, I don’t think so. Actually, wait, two of the names are familiar. Chantelle Clarke. She was one of our clients. Sadly, she’s no longer with us.” Bryony lowered her voice. “She took her own life.”

  Neal nodded. “Yes, we were aware of the tragedy. And the other name you recognised?”

  Bryony looked a little distressed. “Michaela Howard. Hers was another tragedy, I’m afraid. Oh dear, it’s going to look as if all our clients meet some terrible fate after leaving here. It happens from time to time, of course, given that a lot of our a
ttendees have mental health issues . . . Michaela drowned trying to rescue a dog. It was somewhere in Nottinghamshire, I think.”

  Neal nodded. “And the other three names, they don’t mean anything to you?”

  “I’ll check our database, but the names aren’t familiar.”

  “Thank you.”

  Bryony turned to her computer. “Ruby Kennedy, Alyssa Ballard and Corinna Masters never attended the Trust.” She looked thoughtful. “I wonder. I’d tasked Leanne with creating a database of information on our former clients. We needed to know what happened to them after they left the Trust, for funding purposes mainly. Leanne was finding out how many had gone on to find work or apprenticeships, or secured a place at college. She volunteered to do it. It was just the sort of thing she was good at. I wonder if that’s where she came across Chantelle Clarke and Michaela Howard. I’m not sure why she’d have written their names down at home though.”

  “How far had she progressed with this work?”

  “She’d made good progress. I know she had quite a lot of difficulty tracking some of our former attendees down. She had to be a bit of a detective.” She glanced sideways at Neal.

  He smiled. “I’d be grateful if you would let us have access to the rest of the spreadsheet Leanne was working on.” Seeing Bryony hesitate, he added, “Disclosure of information is permitted when it is required for the prevention and detection of crime and for the apprehension or prosecution of offenders.”

  Bryony frowned. “Oh, that should be okay then, but I’d still like to run it past Megan.”

  “I’d be grateful if you’d do that as soon as possible.” Neal guessed there would be little of note in the spreadsheet, but it would be worth checking out the names against their own databases.

  “Is there anything you can tell us about Leanne in the weeks leading up to her death? Did she say or do anything that was out of character, perhaps? Was she worrying about something?”

  Bryony shook her head. “Not that I can think of.”

  At this, Beth Upton gave a sob. She and Jack had been largely silent, merely nodding or shaking their heads. Of all of them, Beth seemed the most upset over Leanne’s death. Neal thought she was holding something back.