Their Fatal Secrets

by JANICE FROST

  But Beth remained silent. It was Natalie who brought up the elephant in the room.

  “Are they all dead too?” she asked, pointing to the other three names on Leanne’s list.

  “Natalie!” Bryony said sternly, but had probably been wondering the same thing.

  “We don’t even know who they are,” Neal answered truthfully. “Maybe they’re just people Leanne knew.” The word ‘victims’ flashed into his mind.

  “She knew a lot of dead people and now she’s dead too,” Natalie said, unhelpfully.

  Neal was beginning to have a bad feeling about the other women on Leanne’s list. From the way Ava’s eyes lingered on the names, he could tell she was thinking the same.

  “Thanks for your input everyone.”

  Ava was looking longingly at a cafetière on one of the worktops. It was the first sign she’d given that she was feeling hungover. It was hardly surprising, given how drunk she’d been the night before. It explained why she’d been taking a back seat all morning.

  “There should be CCTV footage of the incident with Seth and the girl outside the nightclub,” Neal remarked when they were back outside the Trust. “With luck we can find out who she is.”

  Ava was unusually quiet on the drive back to the station. Was she embarrassed about her behaviour the night before? She dropped Neal at the entrance to the station, though normally he came with her into the car park.

  As soon as Neal walked in, Tom Knight stood up and came across. “We think we’ve got some information on one of the other names on Leanne’s list, sir.” PJ hovered by his side, looking like the cat that got the cream.

  “Let’s wait for DS Merry,” Neal said. “My office in five.”

  In exactly five minutes, all four were sitting around Neal’s desk. PJ had coffee for Ava and she poured iced tea for the others. It was her latest fad, according to Ava. Neal approved. He filled the others in on their visit to the Yeardsley Trust.

  “So, what have you got?” Neal asked.

  “Ruby Kennedy, sir.”

  Neal leaned forward. “Details?”

  “Database came up with a match, sir. Her parents reported her missing some time ago. Ruby had been living with foster parents in another county until she was eighteen, then she took off on her own without telling anyone where she was going. Had a history of running away, apparently.”

  Neal nodded. “Have you checked out the other names on Leanne’s list?”

  “No match for any of the others, sir.”

  “Well, we have to assume that their names were there for a reason.” Neal looked around. “Speculation?” It was something he often said when he wanted to encourage his team to share their thoughts.

  “She knew them?” Ava suggested.

  Neal smiled inwardly. Ava’s still not firing on all cylinders, he thought.

  Tom Knight shrugged. “You said Leanne had been working on compiling a database of the Trust’s previous attendees. These names could simply be the ones she’s been unable to follow up on.”

  Neal shook his head. “Bryony Stamford told us that none of these other women ever attended the Trust. We need to check the electoral lists and see if we can come up with matches for Alyssa Ballard and Corinna Masters. Get someone to look on social media sites too.” He turned to Tom. “How was the interview with Leanne’s next of kin?”

  Tom told them.

  “I’m interested in this anger management therapy group that Leanne attended and in the abusive boyfriend, although he’s unlikely to be a factor after so long,” said Neal. “Make sure you follow up on both these elements. And I want Chantelle’s suicide and Michaela’s drowning accident reviewed. We need to establish beyond a doubt that there were no suspicious circumstances.”

  “OK, chief.”

  Ava was looking pensive. “Strange. Leanne would have known that Michaela Howard and Chantelle Clarke were dead, but not Ruby Kennedy, as far as we’re aware. Leanne included Ruby in her list of so-called ‘victims,’ but Ruby must have been alive when she compiled the list. Sorry to be gruesome, but if it wasn’t a death list, what exactly did Leanne consider them to be victims of?”

  “Or who?” PJ gave a shiver. “What’s that saying? One’s coincidence, two’s chance, three’s a pattern.” A grim silence followed her words.

  Neal tilted his head. “Maybe yes, maybe no. We need to do the groundwork before we make any inferences. We must find the other two women on the list for one thing.” He looked from Tom to PJ. “Make that a priority. If either of those women is missing, someone may be holding them captive somewhere — or worse. Worst case scenario? We could be looking at two more deaths.”

  Chapter Eight

  As though they’d summoned her from the netherworld, Ruby Kennedy’s body turned up the following day. Neal informed his team in sombre mood, and asked Ava to accompany him to the scene.

  Ruby’s body had been discovered on a secluded stretch of the River Strom, where it meandered through sporadic woodland near the village of Carlby, some ten miles from the centre of Stromford. Summer foliage and a steep embankment had hidden it from sight. Neal, Ashley and Ava arrived to find a couple of uniformed officers waiting with a huddle of community volunteers in yellow jackets with ‘Stromford River Trust’ emblazoned across their backs.

  Neal greeted one of the PCs, who introduced himself as Bill Purdy.

  A middle-aged woman stepped forward. “I’m Norma Standish. I coordinate the volunteer activities in this part of the county.” She led them to the edge of the embankment. The victim was lying on the riverbank just clear of the water. “Two of us clambered down the embankment to see if she was breathing, even though it was pretty obvious she wasn’t going to be, poor lass.” Norma grimaced. “We lifted her clear of the water. We couldn’t just leave here there. I’m sorry if that was the wrong thing to do, forensically speaking.” No one told Norma she’d been wrong.

  Norma was the sort of no-nonsense person Neal liked to deal with at a murder scene. No histrionics, just a concise account of the discovery of the body. He looked at Ashley, who was already suiting up.

  “Let’s take a look, shall we?” the pathologist said, wearily. Neal and Ava slithered down the steep embankment after him. Ava held some low hanging tree branches aside, and Ashley bent low over the young woman to feel her neck for a pulse and make a short examination.

  “What are you thinking, Ash?” Neal asked.

  “You don’t need me to tell you she’s been in the water for a while,” Ash said. Neal nodded. The corpse was bloated, the stomach distended and there was maceration or wrinkling of the skin on the hands and feet. It was also blotched with patches of green and black, like bruises. Lividity. Neal frowned. Ash read his mind, “At a glance, pattern of blood pooling isn’t typical of drowning. Would expect to see more in the head and neck, which leads me to suspect death occurred on land.”

  Neal knew this conclusion was based on a cursory examination, and wasn’t definitive. Even so, Ash had been in this game so long that even his guesses were probably right.

  “Look at the head.” Neal looked, and thought he understood what Ash was getting at.

  “The position? Turned to the side?”

  Ash nodded. “Again, not typical of a drowning.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not yet. Sorry, Jim. Ante-mortem injuries are going to be hard to detect, given the extent of putrefaction.”

  Ashley cast a look of lingering sadness on the young woman, as did Neal. Of the three of them, childless Ava seemed the least affected by the sight. Neal suspected that his sergeant was still a long way from considering motherhood. He thought of Myrna in the weeks leading up to their son Archie’s birth — her slow, cumbersome movements and aching back. Neal suspected that, for Ava, the worst aspect of pregnancy would be the vulnerability. She wouldn’t willingly give up her physical prowess.

  Ava was looking around. “This isn’t a particularly busy area. We’ll be lucky if a witness comes forward. It is Ruby, i
sn’t it?

  “I think so,” Neal said. Despite the condition of the body, it was still possible to discern something of the girl’s features.

  They climbed back up the embankment, where more police officers and SOCOs had joined the sombre group of volunteers.

  Chapter Nine

  Ever since the ‘organ incident’ as they called it now, Jess had been jumpy. Like the policeman, she thought the perpetrator was most likely Pam’s ex, Michael Hollings. That meant Hollings might be capable of worse. Pam had told Jess she left Michael after only two years of marriage because of his unreasonable behaviour. She hadn’t said as much, but Jess suspected that physical violence might have been a factor. Unreasonable people had a tendency to become even more unreasonable when they didn’t get their own way.

  “Marry in haste, repent at leisure. The old adage is true, at least in my case,” Pam had said to her. “I was still grieving for my lovely Stan and afraid of facing a future on my own. Michael came along out of the blue and proposed after only six weeks. I thought, ‘Why the hell not?’ I didn’t have time to find out what a possessive bastard he was. It was the usual thing — gradually becoming isolated because Michael was jealous of my friendships, staying at home more and more because he didn’t like me going out. I wasn’t going to hang about waiting for the next slap. I’m afraid I was a classic case.”

  “No you weren’t,” Jess reassured her. “You realised your mistake and got out. You hear so many stories of women staying in abusive relationships for years.”

  “I’d never thought of myself as a victim. Fortunately it didn’t take me too long to come to my senses and realise what kind of man Michael really was.” She sighed. “I just want the divorce over and done with so I can get on with my life.”

  “You’re doing that already.” Jess counted herself lucky to have ended up with Pam as a neighbour, and she had come to value Pam’s advice. But she certainly wasn’t going to sit back and ‘let the police do their job’ in the case of Leanne’s death. Her conversation with DS Ava Merry at the pool had been deeply disappointing. She appreciated that Ava couldn’t divulge any details of an ongoing investigation, but she’d hoped to hear something to reassure her that the police were making progress.

  Mitch was being more attentive than ever since the offal incident. After the news of Leanne’s murder, he even suggested she avoid walking alone after dark. Jess teased him about his over-protective attitude, but she also quite liked it. Mitch’s job reflected his protective personality. It was in his nature to be caring, she knew, but Pam’s experience had taught her to be wary of controlling men. It certainly wouldn’t be a good idea to let Mitch know that she intended to look into Leanne’s death herself.

  It was half past two in the afternoon, but Jess had already finished for the day. She walked into town. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee from a café on the High Street enticed her inside. She was feeling deflated, and a couple of shots of caffeine would perk her up. She stood at the counter, fumbling with her purse, and a hand reached across her, holding out a ten pound note.

  “My treat, and can I get an Americano. Extra shot, please.’

  “Jonty?”

  “Hi, Jess. I saw you come in and thought I’d join you. I hope you don’t mind. There’s a couple of things I wanted to ask you to do with Barney.”

  Did she mind? Jess wasn’t sure. He’d given her no opportunity to refuse. He led the way to a table by the window.

  “I see there’s no news yet,” he said. Jess frowned. “About your friend? There’s been nothing on the news about how the investigation’s going.”

  “No. I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.” Jess thought of DS Merry and their meeting at the pool.

  “Yes. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they get someone for it.”

  Jess nodded. She gazed out the window at a smoker at a table outside, just a pane of glass away. She remembered walking past the woods at the end of the school playing field once and seeing Leanne standing alone, smoking. She smiled at Jess and held out her packet of cigarettes, but Jess shook her head and hurried on. Why hadn’t she stopped? She looked back at Jonty. “Yes, I expect so.”

  “You look sad,” he said.

  “Do I?”

  “Are you still upset about her?”

  Of course I am. Jess blew on her coffee, hoping it would cool quickly so that she could drink it quickly and go.

  “When did you last see her?”

  Hadn’t she told him that morning on the bridge? Why did he want to know, anyway? It was none of his business. Come on, she told herself, he is only being friendly. Was she treating him as she had treated Leanne that day by the woods? Or was she simply twisting everything to fit her image of herself as someone no one really wanted to befriend or love?

  “Sorry,” Jonty said. “I wasn’t being nosey. I was just going to say that you should focus on the last time you saw her when she was happy. Remember her that way. That’s what everyone told me when my gran died. She had dementia, and I try not to think of how she was in her last few months, but of how kind she was to me and Barney when we were kids.”

  The last time she had seen Leanne? Being dragged through the town centre by a couple of PCs, drunk and kicking. Nice last image to focus on.

  “Thanks, Jonty. That’s good advice. I’m sorry about your gran.” Be nice, she told herself. For the next twenty minutes, Jess concentrated on having a conversation with Jonty, and to her surprise, she found herself liking him. Jonty talked about Barney a lot. Rather too much, Jess thought. Was he using Barney to cast himself in a favourable light? Still, it was admirable that he cared so much for his brother.

  After a while, Jess stood up to go. Jonty looked up at her shyly. “I . . . er . . . I don’t suppose you’d like to go out sometime?”

  Jess cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m seeing someone.”

  Jonty gave an embarrassed laugh. “Well, he’s a lucky guy. If it doesn’t work out between you, keep me in mind, won’t you?”

  Oh God. Jess would have to be honest. “Listen, Jonty, you’re a lovely bloke, but . . . I just don’t think . . .”

  “Sorry, Jess. I’ve put you in a really awkward position. I do understand.” He gave her a shy smile. “Friends?”

  Jess hesitated, then smiled. “Friends.”

  It was only after she left the café that she realised Jonty hadn’t even mentioned the ‘couple of things’ concerning Barney.

  Yet again, Jess’s thoughts turned to Leanne.

  That day in the corridor near the art room, when she had stuck up for Jess, Leanne had been so fearless. It occurred to Jess that Leanne could have been popular if she’d put her mind to it. She was pretty and clever enough to get in with the cool kids. But she’d remained on the outside, a lone wolf. Was it out of choice? Leanne had been in prison. She seemed to have turned her life around since coming out. But what if she’d gone off the rails again, and got herself mixed up in something bad? It wasn’t what Jess wanted to believe. She wanted to believe Leanne had got herself killed because she’d used that same courage and fearlessness to help someone else.

  By the time four o’clock arrived, a thin headache was threading its way through Jess’s skull, the onset of a migraine perhaps or a sign that she needed some rest. Instead she went home and stilled her mind in a burst of cleaning.

  Returning the vacuum cleaner to its stand in the hall, she noticed an envelope sticking through her letterbox and tugged it out. There was nothing on the front or back — no address, no stamp. She tucked it under her arm and went off to the kitchen to make tea. As she waited for the kettle to boil, she tore open the envelope and extracted a folded sheet of paper. A single sentence was printed there in a bold gothic font.

  “Stop looking into things that don’t concern you or people close to you could get hurt.”

  The note fluttered to the floor. Jess looked around her small kitchen. All the familiar knickknacks suddenly seemed less homely. Even the yell
ow smiley stickers on her calendar, marking the days when she’d stuck to her alcohol limit, seemed to grin at her with a sense of menace. She returned to the hall to double check that she had locked her door. Her key was still in the lock, and she twisted it out and hung it on the hook above the radiator.

  Back in the kitchen, Jess picked the note up with the prongs that she used for turning meat under the grill. She knew it was important not to contaminate evidence, and she intended to show the letter to DS Ava Merry first thing in the morning. Before she could place it somewhere for safekeeping, she was interrupted by an urgent knocking on her door.

  She opened it and gasped. Pam stood on the mat outside. She had a cut on her forehead and the beginnings of a black eye. “What happened to you?”

  “I was bloody mugged. In broad daylight. On my way back from the cinema. A man grabbed me from behind and demanded some money. Luckily I didn’t have much cash on me, but he took my mobile phone.” Pam’s voice was shrill with hysteria. Jess thought of the note.

  “Oh, Pam!”

  “It was all over so quickly. One minute I was walking along minding my own business, the next I felt my arm being grabbed and I was pushed against a wall.”

  Jess put her arm round Pam’s shoulder. “He . . . he didn’t have a knife or anything, did he, Pam?”

  “No. But it was still pretty scary.”

  “I’ll bet. Pity you didn’t have Bunty with you. Not that she’s much good as a guard dog, but seeing her might have deterred him.”

  “She would have licked him to death.” They both smiled.

  “Are you going to report the incident to the police?”

  “Probably not much point, but I suppose I should. I’m afraid I can’t give them much of a description though. He was wearing a hoodie — of course — and he twisted my arm behind my back so I couldn’t turn around to get a look at his face.”

  “I’ll go down to the station with you now, if you like.”