by BIBA PEARCE
“No luck,” said Mallory, a short while later. “I checked the hotel guest list and there’s no Lewis registered. I bet that wasn’t his real name.”
“Hardly surprising.” Rob sighed, but he hadn’t given up hope. He was sure they were on the right track. “Listen, I’ve been thinking that Patterson’s murder could be a case of mistaken identity. If the killer thought Lewis was in room eight, she would have gone there to murder him, except it was Patterson’s room and he hadn’t hired an escort. The thing is, the killer wouldn’t have known that. She would have assumed Patterson was Lewis and that’s why she stabbed him.”
Mallory’s expression turned incredulous. “You mean it was an accident?”
Rob held his hands out. “Why not?”
The DI shook his head. “The poor sod would have had no idea why he was attacked.”
Rob inhaled sharply. “This means the killer is getting their information from the agency booking system. It has to be someone connected with Daring Divas.”
But who?
Will, who’d been listening in, held up a finger. “Not necessarily.”
Both Rob and Mallory turned to face him.
“There’s a Lewis on the SAAFE forum too,” he explained. “There are several warnings about him. Check this out.” He scrolled to a post from a user called Roxygirl69.
Calls himself Lewis, Lou, Louie. Mid 30s. Comes across all charismatic at first. Don’t be fooled, he’s a convicted criminal (done prison time) for beating up escorts and women. Found out later from police. Has many numbers.
Will glanced up. “As you can see, she lists several mobile phone numbers but as per the site protocol, the last four digits are blacked out. You have to contact the user directly to get the full number.”
Rob frowned. “If he’s a convicted felon, we should have a record. Let’s find out who this guy really is. He sounds like a piece of work.”
“He might also be in danger.” Mallory sank into his chair. “By now the killer must know she made a mistake. What if she goes after him again?”
Rob blinked a couple of times. “Shit. We’d better find out where he is and put a unit on him, just in case.”
“On it,” said Will. “I’ll also contact Roxygirl69 and get the phone numbers from her. I doubt any of them are registered, but we might be able to trace him that way.”
“Ask her if anyone else has enquired after him.” Rob snapped his fingers. “If our killer hunts on the forum, she would have got in touch with this Roxygirl to get a number for Lewis. Same goes for the other victims.”
“Yes, guv.”
“If that’s the case, it could have been Lewis himself who gave out the wrong room number?” Mallory extrapolated. “Or the killer misheard. Either way, she got the wrong guy.”
The atmosphere in the room suddenly became charged. Rob felt his skin prickling like it did when a lead panned out. Things were finally starting to make sense. Finally, they’d solved the anomaly that was Dennis Patterson.
“It’s crazy to think the killer murdered Patterson by mistake,” Will murmured, turning back to his keyboard.
Rob couldn’t agree more. “She thought she was killing Lewis, a convicted woman-beater, meanwhile he was next door, waiting for a blow job that never came.”
Mallory swivelled around to face his desk. “How unlucky can you get?”
“Or lucky,” said Rob. “Depends from whose perspective you’re looking at it.”
* * *
Sick of office coffee and in need of a break — paperwork always gave him a headache — Rob went to get an espresso from Caffè Nero in the high street and call Yvette.
He and Mallory had spent the last few hours documenting every move they’d made in their quest to find the killer. That was the worst part of the job, writing up reports and filing statements, mapping their every move so that nothing could be questioned in court, should they ever reach a point where they could prosecute.
Except that would require actually having a suspect in custody, Rob thought grimly. At the moment, all they had was a hazy image of a woman with dark hair in a trench coat.
Yvette, not surprisingly, didn’t pick up. Annoyed and unwilling to leave the sanctuary of the café just yet, he dialled Jo’s number. She answered with an upbeat, “Rob, how nice to hear your voice.”
“What you up to?” He smiled at her response. Was she out with friends? Maybe she had a life and wasn’t working on her weekend.
“Not much,” she replied. “I’ve just got back from Borough Market and now I’m making some lunch and catching up on paperwork. We arrested several more suspects in the county lines gang, so there’s a shitload of paperwork to catch up on.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling.” He was secretly pleased she wasn’t out enjoying herself.
“How about you? You at work?”
“How’d you guess?” he asked.
“I know you.” He sensed her smile. “Are you using me as an excuse for a smoke break?”
He grinned. She always managed to put a smile on his face. “More like I’m using my smoke break as an excuse to call you.”
She laughed. “That works too.”
“Do you want to meet up later?” The words were out before he’d had time to think about them.
A slight hesitation. “Sure. Why not? It is Saturday, after all.”
“Great. Same place as before?” Waterloo was twenty minutes away if he caught the fast train.
“Yep, eight o’clock suit you?”
“Perfect.”
“See you then.”
Rob hung up and gazed into his coffee for a long moment. She’s just a friend, he told himself. There was no harm in meeting a friend for a drink on a Saturday night, was there? It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. Ignoring the tug of guilt, he downed what was left of his coffee and headed back to the squad room.
Chapter 33
“I can’t find any reference to Ken Billows on the forum,” said Will with his mouth full. He was eating a Big Mac at his desk.
“Another anomaly.” Rob rested his head on the back of his chair. Just when he thought he had a handle on this case, something popped up to throw a spanner in the works. First Dennis Patterson had been the odd man out. A decent family man. No reference to the agency or the SAAFE forum. Then they’d solved that mystery and narrowed it down to an agency connection, but then ex-con Lewis appeared on the forum, which cast that theory in doubt. Now, when it looked like the forum was definitely the killer’s hunting ground, Ken Billows was nowhere to be found on it. Back to square one.
“He could have used a different name,” Mallory pointed out. He was holding a cup of tea. Unlike most cops, Mallory didn’t like coffee. He was a tea drinker.
“It’s possible,” agreed Will. “That’s the problem when you’re dealing with punters. There are heaps of warnings on here. Any one of them could be about Billows.”
“Did we look up Lewis’s criminal record?” asked Rob, changing tack.
Mallory nodded. “Yeah, I was getting to that. Reginald Lewis, or Reggie as he was known by his mates, was arrested for beating up a sex worker last April. He did six months for assault. A year before that he was cautioned for domestic abuse — his girlfriend issued a restraining order against him. And the year before that, he was brought in for questioning with regard to another incident with an escort, but she didn’t press charges.”
“Can I see a photo?”
Mallory handed him a mugshot of Reginald Lewis.
“I can’t believe the murderer mistook Patterson for this guy.” Rob flicked the picture.
“Obviously no one mentioned he was a big, bald black dude,” replied Mallory.
Lewis’s hard, scornful eyes stared out from the picture. Funny how that had made the difference between life and death.
* * *
“Yes!” Will sat up in his chair and punched the air. “Finally.”
Rob and Mallory turned to face him. “You got something?” asked Rob
.
The DS pointed excitedly to the computer. “Icequeen has messaged asking for Peter’s number. She said she reckons she met this guy last night. A complete bastard. Same thing. Removed the condom. Wouldn’t pay. Hit her across the face.” He looked away from the screen. “To think there are actually guys out there that do this.”
“Give her the number,” said Rob without hesitation.
Will glanced at him. “What if she calls?”
“I’ll take the pay-as-you-go phone. I’ll be Peter.”
Both Mallory and Will stared at him. Rob could understand their hesitation. They had no plan. This had been a spur of the moment thing, a just-in-case scenario. None of them had actually expected it to work. Even now, they couldn’t be sure this Icequeen was their killer. It could be a genuine enquiry by a woman who’d been assaulted and wanted to make sure it was the same guy before she went to the cops.
“It might not be her,” he said. “But if it is, we can’t let this opportunity go.”
“How will you catch her?” asked Will. He hadn’t responded to the query yet. His hands remained poised above the keyboard.
“If she’s the killer and she’s set her sights on Peter, she’ll want to set up a meeting.”
“It’ll have to be in West Kensington,” said Mallory. “That’s what we put in the original post.”
Rob nodded. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, it’s still a long shot.” He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Not yet. If and when she rang him, he’d start getting excited. Until then, they carried on as normal.
“I’ll give it an hour.” Will relaxed his fingers. “I don’t want to make her suspicious by responding too quickly.”
“Good point.” Rob went back to his desk. “I’ll take that phone home with me for the rest of the weekend, and I’ll let you know if she calls.”
“Guv, we’re going to have to run this past the Superintendent,” said Mallory, always the voice of caution. “You can’t go and meet her by yourself.”
His DS was right, he couldn’t do that. It needed to be a planned operation with backup, possibly even armed police. The problem was, they didn’t have any concrete evidence that it was her, and he wasn’t sure the Superintendent would dedicate resources to a project that might never happen.
“I’ll speak to him,” he said. Then to Will, “Why did you choose West Kensington?”
“I live there,” replied the DS.
Rob smiled at him.
Will’s eyes widened. “No way,” he said.
* * *
“It’s a good plan,” Jo agreed that night at the pub in Waterloo. They were sharing a bottle of red and sitting in worn armchairs near the fire. Slow jazz was playing in the background and with every bar Rob felt a little of the pressure in his back and shoulders dissipate.
“Lawrence wasn’t so sure. It took a lot of persuading to get him to go along with it, but in the end, he relented. I think he knows this could be our one shot at catching this woman.”
“Is that it?” Jo’s gaze fell to the scratched Samsung lying on the table.
“Yeah.” He patted it reverently. “It’s on full volume, too, so I don’t miss it.” It was fairly busy in the pub, but the noise level wasn’t too bad. It shouldn’t be a problem to hear if it rang.
“What if she wants to meet tonight or tomorrow?” asked Jo. “Then what?”
Rob frowned. “Will has a place in West Kensington that we can use at short notice. Although, I don’t want to give her the address unless I’m absolutely sure she’s going to show up.”
“You could arrange to meet her at the tube station,” suggested Jo. “Then take her to Will’s place. I’ve heard some girls do that rather than going straight to a punter’s house. It gives them time to suss him out and change their mind if the guy doesn’t seem legit, you know?”
Rob nodded slowly. “What if she clocks me, then changes her mind? It would be better if she came straight to the apartment. Less chance of her backing out.”
Jo sipped her wine. Her blonde hair glowed in the firelight. “What about a motel or an Airbnb?”
“A motel has the risk of cameras and security staff, not to mention the other guests, and what Airbnb owner is going to want a killer in their apartment? I want to make this as easy for her as possible.”
“And I suppose you’ve thought through what you’re going to do if she attacks you?” Her clear blue eyes focused on his.
He shrugged. “Unlike the other victims, I’ll be expecting it. I’ll wear a vest, so my torso is protected, but I want to catch her with the knife in her hand, before she has time to attack.”
“A vest is a good idea.” Jo cradled her glass. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
He smiled. “It won’t.”
She nodded, but the worry was still etched on her face. He resisted the urge to reach for her hand. “Besides, she might not call at all. It could be a false lead. The real killer could be someone linked to the escort agency rather than the forum. We still don’t know for sure.”
Jo pursed her lips. “I was thinking . . . The killer might not be someone who’s been abused, she might be a close relative of someone who was abused. If they’d lost someone, that would make them equally mad, wouldn’t it?”
Rob gazed at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. “That’s an interesting point. We’ve been looking for someone who had a bad experience with a punter in the past. We’ve been following up on a list Francine gave us of girls who’ve been hospitalized, brutal sexual assaults, that sort of thing, but we haven’t — I haven’t — thought about the relatives of the victims.”
“You should check it out.”
Rob fired off a message to Mallory telling him they needed to get the team to follow up on all their main suspects first thing Monday morning. That included the four telephone operators, the escorts booked by the victims and Francine. We need to look for family members of abused or assaulted sex workers, he said in his text.
“It could be a mother or a daughter of one of the escorts.” Rob pocketed his phone. He thought of the lady who’d opened the door at Brooklynn’s house. They’d have to recheck everyone.
“It sounds like you’ve got some work to do.” Jo finished her glass of wine. “Maybe I should leave you to it.”
“It can wait until Monday.” Rob refilled her glass. He was already on his second. “The team deserves a break, they’ve worked hard this week, and there isn’t much we can do tonight.”
“Haven’t we all?” She reached for her glass and sighed contentedly. “This is really nice, Rob. We should do it more often.” She studied his face. “How are things with Yvette?”
He shrugged. “She’s still at her sister’s.” He wondered if she was ever coming home. He hadn’t rung her again, but then she hadn’t called him either. It seemed they were maintaining radio silence.
“Any idea when she’ll be back?” There was no edge to her voice, she was genuinely interested.
“After this case, I suspect.” He glanced at Jo curled up in the armchair, her hair framing her face, her lips stained red from the wine. “The thing is, I’m not sure I want her to.”
It was the first time he’d admitted it, even to himself, and he immediately felt guilty. He tried to find the words to explain how he felt. “She’s my wife,” he said, “and I love her, but I can’t help thinking she’d be better off with someone else.”
“You can’t mean that?” Jo gasped. “After everything you’ve been through?”
Rob sighed. “Yvette hated my job even before we got married. That’s why she left me the first time. She couldn’t handle the erratic hours, the phone calls in the middle of the night, the constant worry. You know what it’s like.”
Jo gave a sad nod. “Why do you think I’m still single?”
“Perhaps it’s time we put this whole sordid mess behind us and moved on. Made a fresh start of it. Just living with me reminds her of what happened, I think that�
��s part of the problem. My job causes her untold anxiety. She’s waiting for a killer to come knocking at the door.”
Jo let him talk and the more he did, the more he realized he’d come to a decision. “I honestly think it’s for the best,” he said. He looked down at his wine glass. “I don’t make her happy. I never did.”
Jo leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Rob.”
He gave her an embarrassed grin. “I didn’t mean to harp on like this. My personal life is not your problem.”
“We’re friends, Rob. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
He exhaled slowly. “Same applies to you.”
She tossed her hair back. “Luckily, I don’t have relationship issues — probably because I don’t have a relationship.”
He snorted. “I’m beginning to think it’s easier that way.”
“Easier, but lonelier. I sometimes think it would be nice to have someone to come home to, someone to cuddle at night, but it seems I can’t have that without all the bullshit.”
Rob couldn’t meet her eye. He knew they were both thinking the same thing.
The pay-as-you-go phone on the table rang.
Chapter 34
Rob stared at the phone, then at Jo. She waved her hands in a frantic aren’t you going to get that? gesture. Only one person other than Will had this number.
Icequeen.
He reached for the device and picked it up.
“Hello?”
A throaty voice said, “Hey, baby, my name’s Angelique. I heard from my friend Roxy that you were looking for some fun.”
Angelique.
“Maybe.” His heart hammered in his chest. Was this her? Was he talking to the woman who’d killed all four of his victims?
“She said you like it rough.”
He forced a chuckle. Stay calm. Act the part. “She didn’t, though. Stupid bitch.”
