‘Laura Frost?’ the tall policewoman asked.
Molly nodded.
‘Hello, Laura. I’m Detective Sergeant Geraldine Steel. The desk sergeant tells me you might have some information for us?’
Molly nodded again, and the detective gave her an encouraging smile. She was not wearing a uniform and carried herself with an air of confidence that suggested she was in a position of authority, so it looked as though the police were taking Molly’s claim seriously.
‘Please, come with me and you can tell me whatever it is you know. Any information at all could be important.’
‘OK.’
There was something reassuring about the woman’s composure, and the way she spoke to Molly, as though what she had to say really mattered. Perhaps it did. After all, she had witnessed a murder.
‘Before we begin, Laura, can you please tell me how old you are, and where you live?’
‘I’m fifteen, that is I’m sixteen. I can’t tell you where I live because I haven’t got a home and I don’t live anywhere. I’ve got a shop doorway, in Coney Street, and that’s where I sleep.’
She stared defiantly at the detective, who smiled at her.
‘You don’t need to feel frightened here,’ she said kindly.
‘I’m not frightened,’ Molly lied.
She had the impression the woman’s black eyes could see right through her.
‘Would you like someone else to be present while you talk to me?’
‘Like who?’
Molly glanced at the female constable standing silently by the door, as though to point out there was already someone else in the room with them.
‘Would you like to have someone you know and trust here?’
‘No. I don’t want anyone else here. And I don’t trust anyone.’
‘You can trust me, Laura. And we don’t have to ask anyone to join us if you don’t want to. What was it you came here to tell us?’
‘I saw him,’ Molly blurted out. ‘I was sleeping – well, that is, I wasn’t asleep, but I was in one of the alcoves in Nether Hornpot Lane for the night, and I heard a weird noise.’ She paused, reliving the experience, and was grateful to the detective for waiting until she was ready to resume her account. ‘So I heard this weird noise, like a kind of choking sound. I thought it was an animal or maybe someone was sick. Anyway, I looked out and saw a man squatting down by the old guy who sleeps on a ledge in the opposite wall. He used to sleep there, anyway. The noise went on for a bit, not very long, and before I could do anything to help the old man, the other man got up and left.’
‘What happened then?’ the detective prompted her after a moment.
‘I stayed where I was, because it was all over. But in the morning I saw that the old man was dead.’ She hesitated, struck by a sudden fear. ‘Am I going to be arrested?’
‘What for?’
‘Because I didn’t tell anyone what happened. I just ran away. I was so scared. But he was already dead, so it didn’t make any difference to him if he waited a bit longer to be found, did it?’
‘No,’ the sergeant agreed gently, ‘it didn’t make any difference to him, but we do need to find this killer, and it might have helped if we had reached the crime scene earlier. But no one’s going to blame you for running away. You were sensible to leave the site. And it was very brave of you to come and see us now.’ She leaned forward slightly. ‘Laura, I want you to think very carefully. Can you describe the man you saw?’
Molly nodded. Screwing up her eyes, she told the detective the man had been wearing a grey hoodie.
‘He wasn’t a rough sleeper,’ she added. ‘I’m sure of that.’
‘What makes you think he wasn’t another rough sleeper? Tell me everything you can remember about him.’
Molly told her about the man’s smart shoes and his jeans that looked new.
‘Did you see anything of his face?’
‘Not much.’
‘But you did see something? Can you tell me if he was white or black?’
‘He was white, and clean shaven, and his eyes looked black. His nose was quite pointy and I think he might have been quite tall and he wasn’t fat or thin, really, just normal.’ She hesitated. ‘Normal in his size, I mean. I don’t think it’s normal to kill people. That’s not what I meant. He turned round but he didn’t know I was there,’ she added, with a shiver. ‘If he’d seen me...’
The detective nodded, suddenly brisk. ‘Would you recognise the man if you saw him again?’
‘I don’t know. Probably, yes, because he had a funny walk.’
The detective’s expression did not alter but there was a faint air of excitement about her after Molly mentioned the killer’s awkward gait.
‘In what way was it funny?’
Molly frowned with the effort of remembering. ‘He had – it was like a limp, but not a limp. Just a funny way of walking. I’d recognise him if I saw him walking. One of his arms kind of waved around more than the other one when he was walking.’
She stood up and tried to show the detective what she meant, and was rewarded with a broad smile.
‘Thank you, Laura. That’s very helpful. You’ve been brilliant, and very brave.’
40
The detective rose to her feet. ‘Now, you must be hungry. Would you like something to eat?’
Molly nodded, and the detective left her with a female constable while she went to organise some food. It seemed to take a long time but at last she came back with a mug of tea and a plate of chocolate biscuits.
‘We can offer you somewhere to stay for the night,’ the detective said, as Molly began tucking into the biscuits. ‘We can’t put you up here, in a cell, of course. Those are reserved for people who have been arrested.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘But we can find you a bed in a hostel for young women, just until tomorrow,’ she added quickly, seeing Molly’s reaction to her suggestion. ‘You’ll be able to have a shower there, and wash your hair, and they’ll give you supper tonight and a really good breakfast in the morning, and then you can have a chat with them about your future plans.’
‘I don’t have any plans,’ Molly replied crossly. Somehow things were spinning out of control. ‘I’m happy as I am. I don’t need anyone else to get involved.’
‘That’s fine then. You can be on your way after breakfast tomorrow. Now, why don’t I find out whether you can stay there just for tonight? I think they said they have fish and chips and chocolate pudding on the menu tonight.’
The prospect of fish and chips and chocolate pudding did it.
‘OK,’ Molly agreed. ‘But just until tomorrow.’
The detective smiled again. Suddenly, Molly was afraid she had been an idiot to trust her. After all, she was a policewoman and trained to lie in such a way that people would believe everything she said. But it was too late to change her mind and, besides, the thought of having a hot shower followed by fish and chips and chocolate pudding was hard to resist. The detective had said she could leave the hostel the next day, so there really was no downside to the arrangement.
The hostel itself was nothing like she had expected. For a start the building looked as though it had been recently decorated. There were a lot of windows and stairs, and although the door was locked behind them there were no bars in sight. The other girls did not seem to mind being there. It reminded Molly of school. She was not keen on the woman in charge who was bossy, and spent ages telling her all the things she was not allowed to do. Molly recalled Rose telling her that the hostels were no better than prisons.
‘I don’t smoke, and I don’t drink,’ she fibbed at last in the hope that the litany would come to an end, and the woman’s stern expression relaxed a little.
Molly showered and changed into clean clothes that were too big for her, before she was given fish and chips followed by chocolate pudding. She hardl
y spoke to the other girls staying at the hostel, and they ignored her, but that did not bother Molly because she was only staying there for one night. In a narrow bed in a narrow room, she slept well for the first time since she had left home. She had forgotten how comfortable it was to sleep on a mattress with a pillow under her head instead of a bundle of old newspapers, not smelling of piss and sweat, and above all not listening out for trouble.
When Molly finished breakfast the following morning, one of the key workers summoned her to the manager’s office for a chat about what she wanted to do. Molly followed her submissively enough, although she had already told the detective and anyone who would listen to her at the hostel that she wanted to return to the anonymity of the streets. But no sooner had she taken a seat with the manager than the office door opened and she was shocked to see her mother walk in.
‘What’s she doing here?’
‘The police officer you spoke to yesterday identified you and told us how we could contact your mother. You don’t have to go back with her, but you should at least listen to what your mother has to say. After that, if you still decide not to go home, we can make arrangements for you. Either way, we have a duty of care towards you as a minor, which means we can’t just let you go back on the streets.’
Molly frowned. ‘I don’t understand. I told the police my name’s Laura so how did they find out who I am?’
‘Yes, you gave your mother’s name. Fortunately for you, the detective you spoke to realised what had happened.’
‘But how did she find out who I am?’
‘She checked with the Missing Persons Bureau, and she must have looked through photos of missing girls until she recognised you.’ The manager paused. ‘She must have spent hours looking through thousands of pictures. She sent us your details and we called your mother. Now, the least you can do is listen to her.’
Molly turned to her mother. ‘I don’t understand. Why did you report me missing?’
‘Because you vanished, and I thought something must have happened to you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’
‘You needn’t have bothered. It was a big mistake, you coming here. I don’t ever want to see you again. I’m leaving right now.’
‘Wait,’ her mother cried out.
‘You can’t just walk out of here,’ the hostel manager said.
‘You can’t stop me. And I’m definitely not going home with her.’ She turned to her mother. ‘It’s not my home any more, is it?’
Thinking about Rose, she wondered how many rough sleepers would be pleased to have a mother who wanted to put a roof over their heads.
‘At least talk to me,’ her mother begged, with tears in her eyes. ‘Baz has gone.’
‘How come?’
‘I threw him out after you left.’
Molly was not sure whether to believe her.
‘Once I knew it was going to be him or you, it had to be you. I’ve been searching everywhere for you. I went to the police. I went to the papers, and the Missing Persons Bureau. I want you to come home, Molly.’
Molly interrupted her mother. ‘Did you get rid of him because of his son?’
Her mother shook her head, but she looked uneasy. ‘All that matters is that they’ve gone, both of them. It’ll be just you and me again, like before.’
Molly nodded. ‘OK. But he’s not coming back. The minute he walks through the door –’
Her mother interrupted her in tears. ‘He threw me down the stairs. He could have killed me. I was wrong about him, about both of them. I promise you, things are going to be different from now on. But I need you to come home. Please. I can’t do this on my own.’
‘If he comes back, I’m off.’
‘He won’t come back. He can’t. I’ve applied for an injunction which means they won’t be allowed anywhere near me again. If they do, they could be arrested. I mean it, Molly. I’m serious about this. The only person I care about is you. Come home with me.’
Molly was crying as well now. ‘OK, mum. Let’s go home. But you’d better not be bullshitting me.’
As she followed her mother out of the room, Molly wondered what would have happened to her if the dark-haired detective had not searched for her photo in the records of the Missing Persons Bureau. She wished she had thanked her for her help, but it was too late now.
41
Leeds police officers were sent to the pub where Jessica claimed she and Don had been drinking on Saturday night. The landlord recognised Don’s photograph as one of a party who had been carousing there on Saturday evening. If any additional proof were needed that Don had been there, he had paid for a round on his credit card. The intelligence unit in Leeds identified two people recorded on the pub security camera leaving the premises with Don and his group around midnight. After that, Don would conceivably have had time to get back to York and kill the old tramp, Alf, and return to Leeds early the next morning in time to catch his train home again mid-morning, in order to give himself an alibi for the time of the murder in York in the early hours of Sunday morning.
But although a team scrutinising CCTV from the station spotted Don and Jessica arriving in Leeds on Saturday afternoon and leaving again late Sunday morning, there was no sign of Don returning to York and going back to Leeds again between those times. When the local police questioned Don’s cousin and his wife, both corroborated Jessica’s story, as did another friend of theirs from London who had also stayed the night with Don’s cousin. This last witness alleged never to have met Don before the night of the party, and she seemed credible as well as independent.
‘So it seems Don’s in the clear, and we’re left with three bodies and no suspect,’ Eileen announced to the team who had assembled in the Major Incident Room. ‘Three bodies,’ she repeated, as though anyone present could have missed that. ‘And we’re back to the drawing board.’
‘It’s better to discover we had the wrong suspect, than waste time building a case that was bound to collapse,’ Geraldine said.
There was a muted murmur of consent.
‘Now we can devote all our resources to looking for the real –’
Before she could complete her sentence, Eileen interrupted her sharply. ‘Thank you, Sergeant.’
Not for the first time, Geraldine hoped Eileen wasn’t going to berate the team for their lack of results. It was hardly the fault of the officers working on the case if they had no leads. If anything, they needed to be encouraged, not reprimanded. For once, the detective chief inspector seemed resigned to the situation and the team dispersed to their various tasks without being subjected to one of her lectures. Given the tension between them, Geraldine felt a flutter of dismay when she was summoned to the detective chief inspector’s office. Eileen was evidently disappointed when they had to release Don, but it was hardly fair to vent her feelings on Geraldine.
‘You wanted to see me?’ she asked as she entered the detective chief inspector’s office.
Eileen nodded. ‘Come in and pull up a chair.’
Geraldine did.
‘I just wanted to throw a few ideas around. To be frank with you, I’m struggling. I haven’t said anything about this to anyone – and this is in confidence – but my brother’s going through a rocky divorce and I’m afraid I may have taken my eye off the ball.’ Eileen heaved a sigh. ‘I know my family situation has got nothing to do with work, but he’s staying with me which makes it difficult to ignore what’s going on. He’s in pieces. He keeps me up half the night wanting to talk about it, and it’s not as if there’s anything I can do.’
Geraldine could feel the tension in her shoulders relax as she realised she was not in trouble with her senior officer.
‘You’re an experienced officer,’ Eileen went on more briskly. ‘I wonder what you make of this mess, only it seems to me every time we have a suspect, by the time we work out we’ve got the wrong man, th
ere’s been another murder.’
‘It’s early days,’ Geraldine began, but Eileen interrupted her.
‘Yes, yes, I know, spare me the platitudes, please. Don’t tell me it’s unreasonable to expect the answer to drop into our laps. Believe me, I’m well aware of that. But the Powers that Be are putting pressure on us to put a stop to this killing. We’ve had so many resources thrown at us, we could start an army. Three victims. The media are going insane about the “Tramp Murders!” It’s all over the national press, and questions are being asked.’
Geraldine thought she understood Eileen’s drift, but she wanted to make sure.
‘Questions are being asked?’ she repeated.
‘Yes, yes, questions,’ Eileen snapped. ‘Questions about the team, and about my competence.’
Uncertain exactly what Eileen was asking for, Geraldine remained silent.
‘Do I take it by your silence that you agree I’m not up to the job?’
‘No, absolutely not. That wasn’t in my mind at all. We’ve been investigating the first death for less than a month, the second death was only a week ago, and the third victim was killed just three days ago. He’s barely cold. They can’t expect miracles.’
‘No one’s looking for a miracle – except me, perhaps. But we seem to be getting no closer to a resolution. What if we never find him?’
Geraldine felt a flicker of anxiety, seeing the fear in her senior officer’s eyes. Now, more than ever, they could not afford to lose their focus even for a moment.
‘We just have to keep going and it will all work out,’ she replied, trying to sound confident. ‘And with so many officers following up so many different threads, it’s just a matter of time before something comes up. You have some good officers working the case. I’ve never known Ian to fail. It’s almost inevitable that we’ll find this killer –’
‘Almost,’ Eileen cut in sharply. ‘That’s not good enough, is it?’
Deathly Affair Page 18
