The Lady in the Street

by Emmy Ellis

  “Do your thing with the map,” Helena said to him, waving at his computer. “He was spotted in Darby Road to begin with, then he turned to go farther into the estate and jumped over a wall. I want all the streets within a two-mile radius.”

  “Okay, guv.” Phil got to work.

  Ol was still standing by the doorway. She’d gone white. “Darby Road is near where my friend lives.”

  “Is it? If you’re worried about her, give her a ring.” Helena smiled sympathetically. The killer could be targeting anyone, whatever age or sex, so she could understand Ol being concerned.

  “I will. Bear with me, I have a hangover, even though I only drank two glasses of wine.” Ol walked over to her desk and pulled her mobile out of her handbag. She pushed her hair out of her eyes.

  “Good night, was it?” Helena asked, grinning despite the severity of the situation.

  “My friend’s hen do.” She swiped her screen and lifted the phone to her ear, tapping her fingertips on her knee. “We had a bloody good laugh. I should go out more often, but I’m always too knackered.” She frowned. “There’s no answer. She had a fair few drinks, so I expect she’s slept through her alarm or is driving.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Helena said in jest. “She might still be under the influence. Try her home phone?”

  “I don’t have it. I’ll look it up. She’s not due at work until nine, so I’ll ring her there as well.”

  “Why are you so worried? I know there’s a killer out there, but it’s highly doubtful he’d have gone for her. You were all together, weren’t you?”

  Ol winced. “That’s the thing. She walked home by herself.”

  “Oh fuck…”

  “I told our other friend, Cassie, to tell her about the murders, but Katy still went off by herself.”

  “Where were you?”

  “The Villager’s Inn.” Ol bit her lip.

  “Right, so that’s close by Darby Road. Look, if it’ll make you feel better, me and Andy will go round there now, okay? Not the usual thing to do, but I can’t stand the thought of you fretting all day. What’s her address?”

  Ol logged on and accessed the information. “Fifteen Scribbins Avenue.”

  “Come on.” Helena got up and poked Andy in the arm.

  “Thanks,” Ol said. “I’m probably just being silly, but Cassie said Katy had been bothered recently by some bloke.”

  “In what way?”

  “Oh, she saw him a lot in various places.”

  Helena thought of Marshall and how he’d done the same to her. She shivered. “Anything else?”

  “He went into Vicky’s Café and asked to buy her a coffee. She said he was odd, like he stooped over her, and his eyes were strange. Recessed. Beady. She told him no thanks, and he said she’d regret saying no to him. I told her last night to report it if she saw him again and it was obvious he’d followed her.”

  “That’s about all the advice you could have given, so don’t worry about it.” Helena walked to the doorway. “We’ll be back in a few, all right? Keep trying her on the phone.”

  She left the station with Andy in tow, the car still faintly warm from where they’d been in it before. Just as she buckled up, the wind pushed at the vehicle, and the rain came down.

  “Bloody weather,” she said and set off for Scribbins Avenue.

  “Do you think this is warranted?” Andy asked.

  “Do I eff. I’m just doing it for Ol. You know how she gets when something bothers her. She’ll be off her game all day and, for purely selfish reasons, I don’t want her to be. We need her on top form.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Besides, it’s only a quick trip. We’ll see she’s all right then get back to work. By the time we do, Phil will have found out all the streets we need to focus on. Our killer lives in one of them, probably on the other side of that wall.”

  She still couldn’t believe the fucker had stabbed Clive. Then again, the fear of getting caught would have spurred him on. He was lucky Clive was going to pull through, otherwise he’d have a harsher time of it once he was nicked than he usually would. Coppers looked after each other.

  Outside number fifteen, she cut the engine and reached into the back seat, collecting them both a pair of gloves. “Just in case.”

  They walked up Katy’s path. The front door was ajar, which was alarming, so she raised her eyebrows at Andy: We’re going in?

  He nodded, stepping inside first.

  Helena followed. A pair of high heels had been left beside the door, and a coat hung skew-whiff on the newel post. She used her elbow to push the door to.

  Helena called out, “Katy?”

  With no answer, they stuck together and checked the downstairs rooms. The back door in the kitchen had been jimmied, and slithers of wood were scattered on the mat. She glanced at Andy, and he grimaced.

  “Shit,” he whispered.

  “Why break in through the back then presumably leave through the front?” she whispered in return. “Unless Katy heard him coming in and escaped out the front way? In that case, why didn’t she call it in?”

  Andy shrugged and pointed to the ceiling. She nodded and tailed him up the stairs. All the doors were closed. Andy slid his gloves on, as did Helena, then he opened the doors until only one was left. Helena took a deep breath. She had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. While it might not have been a killer who’d broken in, that front door being open wasn’t right.

  Andy turned the handle and pushed the door wide.

  A wicked stench billowed out.

  “Oh my fucking God!” Helena closed her eyes for a moment, a finger beneath her nostrils, and when she opened them again, the scene was unfortunately still there.

  It was reminiscent of Felicity’s. The woman on the bed had been tied to it, and her stomach was a wreck. Her top had been pulled up to below her breasts, exposing the slashes and stabs. Her insides poked through. Her face hadn’t been touched as far as Helena could tell, although blood flecked it, giving the impression she was covered in burnt-red moles.

  Helena glanced away while Andy continued to stare, his breaths coming out heavy. She studied the walls, looking for that fucking witch drawing and the number, but so far, all she’d picked up was blood. It formed a rectangle behind the bed, perfect lines either side where something had been put up. She glanced at the ceiling at the spatter there and a patch where paint had been ripped off.

  Her tummy hurt. She was that sick of this—of all of it. What kind of maniac were they dealing with? And what the hell was the reason for this? Was it the man who’d been following Katy? Had he followed all the others, too?

  She took her phone out and rang Ol. “Hi.”

  “Is she all right?” Her voice wavered.

  Helena took a deep breath. “I’m afraid not, love.”

  “What?” It wasn’t a shriek but a quiet query.

  “Sorry, Ol, but he’s got to her.”

  “Oh my God!” Ol’s breathing was erratic. “Stabbed?”

  “Yes.”

  “That fucking bastard!” A small sob filtered through the connection.

  “Do you need to go home?” Helena asked.

  “Fuck no. I’m going to help bloody find him. I’m not close enough to her for it to be a conflict of interest. I just feel sorry for Cassie. They’ve been best friends for years.”

  “Okay, what day and date did the man offer to buy Katy a coffee in the café? Can you remember?”

  “Last month sometime. I don’t know when. Oh God… I can’t think!” A pause, more erratic breathing. “Hang on… It was a weekday, because she’d gone to Vicky’s for her lunch. She said she had lasagne and it was on special, so that’s a Wednesday. I go there sometimes for that.”

  “Fantastic. If you’re sure you’re up to it, request CCTV footage if they have any for inside the shop, and there will definitely be some for outside. Check every Wednesday, going back two months, okay? Two. Does she have family aro
und here?”

  “I don’t know. She’s mainly Cassie’s friend. I only see her when we get together. We’re mates, but not like that. I’ll run a check.”

  “Right, and if you find anyone, text me the name and address. We’re going to be a while.”

  “Shit, shit, shit.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  “Me, too. I need to get on. We have to find him.”

  Helena ended the call then rang Phil. “Don’t let Ol know it’s me. Keep an eye on her, will you? We’re here, and it isn’t good.”

  “Okay, Benny. A drink sounds great,” Phil said.

  “Good thinking, making out I’m your brother. Watch her for me. I just rang her, so she knows Katy’s dead. In case she suddenly has a meltdown, I’ve asked her to get CCTV from Vicky’s Café for the past two months. We’re looking at Wednesday lunchtimes. That was when the bloke asked to buy her a coffee.”

  “What time shall I meet you then, Benny?”

  “You’re good at this.”

  “Cheers. Catch you later.”

  “Tarra.” She sighed and rang Louise. “Hi. We’re at fifteen Scribbins Avenue. Residence of a Katy someone—I don’t know her last name. She’s been stabbed, same as the others, so can you ring around and get balls rolling? Me and Andy will stay here until SOCO and Zach arrive.”

  It came to something when she saw her boyfriend more at work than outside of it.

  “Blimey,” Louise said. “So that was most likely the killer who knifed Clive then.”

  “It’s looking that way, but we have a break of sorts. Someone has been following Katy, and we have some dates we can poke into, thank God, and maybe find him on CCTV. We’re getting closer. I’ve got to go.”

  “All right, guv. I’ll sort everything now.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Helena slid her phone in her pocket. She didn’t want to step into the bedroom as she didn’t have booties on, so while Andy stayed at the bedroom doorway, she went to the car and got some. The rain had stopped, but the ground was still wet, so she’d have to put the booties on inside. In the hallway, she placed them over her shoes, put Andy’s in her pocket, and glanced back outside. A man came out of next door, and she smiled when he turned her way, giving her the once-over, his gaze stopping on her feet.

  He frowned.

  “Hi. I’m DI Helena Stratton.” She showed him her ID. “Do you know the resident of this address?” She jerked her thumb at Katy’s door.

  He was around fifty, with thinning grey hair and a white goatee. He stroked it while thinking.

  What’s there to bloody think about? You either know her or you don’t!

  “Not really. I’ve only been here for two weeks—I live alone. I’ve seen her coming and going, and she’s said hello once or twice.” He stared at her feet again. “Um…” He pointed at them.

  “Did you hear anything last night?” she asked, hoping he’d be able to give her something.

  “Only her going out. I looked through the window as I was closing the blinds and saw her walking down the street all dolled up. I assumed she was going out for a drink or something.”

  “Did you hear her come home?”

  “No, I went to bed about nine-thirty. Had an awful headache. Is everything all right?” He frowned harder, appearing genuinely worried.

  “Nothing for you to concern yourself with, sir.” She smiled, and to call an end to the conversation, she added, “Thanks for your time.”

  He waved awkwardly and strode down his path. A police car arrived, and the neighbour glanced back at her over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, then got into his Ford and drove off. She’d bet he’d be thinking about their encounter all day.

  Two uniforms came up to her, and she briefed them. “It appears to be the same bloke, but if anyone mentions seeing a blonde lady, don’t discount it. So, door-to-door, please. Ah, here’s SOCO.” She briefed them, too, then followed them up the stairs, passing the booties to Andy on the landing. “I’ve just spoken to the neighbour on the right. Nothing except he saw her go out. She was alone and walked. ‘Dolled up’ as he put it.”

  “Why aren’t I surprised he didn’t know much?”

  She shrugged. “We ought to be used to dead ends by now. Anyway, two uniforms are here, so I’ve sent them on door-to-door. Maybe something will come up there. You never know, a miracle might happen.”

  Andy shook his head. “We’ll be strapped for officers at this rate, because you can bet your life there’ll be a few out this morning where Clive got stabbed, doing the same thing, probably getting no bleedin’ answers.”

  She sighed—a constant in her life lately—and watched a SOCO take photographs. “See anything in amongst that blood on the walls?”

  The SOCO glanced at her. “Like the pictures from the other places?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hang on.”

  He walked closer to the bed and peered at the red patterns. It seemed to go on forever, him looking, but at last he pointed. “Just there.”

  “Can I come in?” she asked.

  “Let me just take some pictures of the doorway and carpet there, then you can.”

  Helena and Andy stepped to either side to get out of shot.

  “Come on then,” the SOCO said and beckoned her in.

  She walked to the head of the bed, forcing her attention to the wall and not Katy. Leaning over, she stared, the stench of dried blood and dried urine rising to greet her. She bit back a gag. There, the same size as the others, was a pencil drawing of a witch’s face, the number twenty-three above it.

  “What the hell are you telling us?” she whispered and drew back to text Ol. She needed to remind her to also look into witches this morning. It might have slipped her mind, seeing as this had happened.

  Her reply came back quickly: Okay. Her mum lives at nineteen Bassett Road. Valerie Watkins. Her dad, Stuart, lives in Sheffield.

  Helena typed back: Are you up for seeing a picture of her? We need to make sure it’s her.

  Ol: Yes.

  Helena snapped one of Katy’s face then sent it along. Ol came back with a simple ‘yes’, and Helena messaged her to hold off contacting Sheffield police to tell Katy’s father until they’d had a chance to visit the mother.

  Zach appeared, and she smiled at him.

  “This is just too much for words,” he said and approached the body. He took a packaged thermometer out of his bag.

  While he did the business, Helena did her usual and glanced around the room. She thought about Katy still wearing her clothes. The poor woman hadn’t even had a chance to get her pyjamas on. Had the killer dragged her up here and forced her to get on the bed? She wasn’t under the covers, so that was highly likely.

  Christ. The idea of Katy being terrified out of her wits was something Helena didn’t want to think about, but she did anyway. How could she not when presented with such a gruesome scene?

  “I’m estimating around midnight,” Zach said.

  “Okay, you might not have heard, but Clive got stabbed about two a.m. He was following who we think is our killer.”

  “Jesus.” Zach shone a slim torch onto Katy’s stomach.

  “So the timeline fits. He was here, then he was going home. Two secs.” She rang Phil. “Concentrate on the direction the man was going, not where he was coming from. Get CCTV of the area. I’m betting he was on his way home.”

  “On it, guv.”

  Phone in her pocket again, she moved away from the bed. The smell was getting to her. “We’re going to have to leave you to it,” she said to Zach. “We’ve got a mother to visit.”

  Helena and Andy left the house and, taking a moment in the car, she phoned Louise. “Have you any news on the uniforms asking questions on the estate where Clive was attacked?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Bugger. Thanks.” Next, she rang Phil again. “It’s me. I forgot to ask… Is Ol holding up okay?”

  “All right.”

  “Good. I k
now you usually ring when you’ve found something, but…”

  “Nothing yet. Just waiting for a movie to arrive from Amazon.”

  Good. He was playing the game again, pretending.

  “The CCTV?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Taking a while.”

  “We’re off to Katy’s mum’s place, so don’t expect us back for another hour or so. Find out where Katy worked and sort out someone to go and question the employees. Shit, we could do with another person. Good job we have Evan joining us soon.”

  “Yeah, I heard it was a good plot. I like a bit of action, me.”

  “I’ll let you get on.”

  She drove away, heading for Bassett Road. “Slow as anything.”

  “What is?” Andy asked.

  “Getting information. We’re so bloody close yet miles away, know what I mean?”

  “Yep. Still, we’ll get him.”

  “Providing the cameras even work outside Vicky’s Café. If they don’t, I’ll know damn well the universe is against us.”

  “They can’t all be broken.”

  “No, but this is a small town, so funds for that sort of thing get pushed to the wayside. Let’s just hope we have a bit of luck now. If we can spot Katy going into the café, we can look for who else went in there as well. Shit. Ring Louise for me, will you? I need officers to go to The Villager’s Inn and ask for names of people who were there last night. I’m not saying the manager will know everyone, but he’s got to know some, surely.”

  Andy made the call, and Helena parked outside Valerie Watkins’ house. She took a moment to gather her wits. There had been too much death the last few days, what with the Walker sisters and the new murders. It was bound to filter through to the main news stations soon, then no one would want to bloody visit for a holiday come the summer. She shouldn’t be thinking of it in those terms, but Yarworth was bound to, the higher-ups breathing down his neck, then he’d have to breathe down hers, and she shuddered at the thought.

  “Louise is doing it now,” Andy said, shoving his phone in his jacket pocket.

  Helena stared at her hands, at his, then into the footwells. “Blimey, we still have our booties and gloves on.”