The Kate Fletcher Series

by Heleyne Hammersley

  ‘Sam, how about you?’

  Cooper paused the video that was playing on her monitor but she didn’t look away from the screen. ‘I’m still trying to cross-match the two lots of footage. I’ve got three or four possible matches between Madrigal’s and X-Ray and I’ve given Dan some of the clearer still images to see if he can identify anybody.’

  ‘Three or four possibles?’ Kate was surprised that her colleague was downplaying what could be their most significant lead so far. If she’d seen the same person entering and leaving the bar and the nightclub at around the same time as Chloe then they just might be looking at her killer.

  ‘Hang on.’ Sam closed the programme that she was running and clicked on a folder of stills. She’d paired the images so that it was easy to compare the person from Madrigal’s against stills from X-Ray’s camera. The four that she’d already found looked like good matches to each other. One pair was clearly the same person, shaved head and trendy rectangular glasses, he looked like Heston Bloomenthal’s younger brother.

  ‘What about facial recognition technology?’ she asked. ‘Now you’ve actually got some decent stills. Can you not run each through a programme and see if they’re the same person? And can’t we do the same with the database of mug shots?’ She could hear the excitement in her own voice. How had Cooper not thought of this? And then she realised. Of course Cooper would have used facial recognition if it had been possible. If she hadn’t used it there would be a good reason.

  ‘I tried,’ Cooper was saying. ‘But facial recognition technology depends on points of comparison and the quality of the footage isn’t good enough. The light’s different in each one and the camera angles distort the facial features. The first pair I tried had nine common points of comparison which is really low. I put in a photograph of Dan and it showed six when compared to one of the suspects. Not great.’ She turned and glared at the image that she’d frozen on the monitor as though she held it personally responsible for her lack of success.

  ‘So all we can do is keep trawling through and see what we can spot.’

  Kate wasn’t willing to give in to the despondency that seemed to be infecting Hollis and Cooper. ‘But you’ve found a few. That’s something.’

  ‘I think I’ve just got another one as well,’ Cooper said. ‘Look.’

  She went back to the footage from X-Ray and showed Kate a still image of a man taking down an umbrella. His face was in shadow but she could see that he was well built and, judging by his position next to the door, he looked quite tall.

  ‘See,’ Sam fast-forwarded to 1.10. ‘He’s here again.’ The umbrella was the same, a regular pattern of black and white, each segment contrasting with its neighbours. But, again, it was impossible to make out the features of the man beneath it.

  Sam switched from the footage from the nightclub to the footage from Madrigal’s. Again, the same umbrella could be seen leaving just ninety seconds after Chloe. This time the angle prevented them from seeing the person beneath except for his legs and one hand clasped around the handle.

  ‘That could be anybody,’ Kate said. ‘Shame it was raining. That brolly hides his face but it looks like the same man. Better add him to your list and see if you can get a better image from when he enters the bar. That umbrella’s quite distinctive. You should be able to spot it if he’s carrying it. And who takes an umbrella on a night out anyway?’

  Sam was still staring at the screen. ‘It wasn’t raining though,’ she said quietly.

  ‘What? Of course it was. You can see people putting hoods up and holding bags over their heads.’

  ‘Not when Chloe left X-Ray.’ She went back to the image of the Umbrella Man outside the nightclub. ‘It had stopped by then.’

  ‘So why put his umbrella up?’

  The answer was obvious.

  ‘He knew about the cameras,’ Sam said. ‘And he didn’t want to be recognised.’

  Chapter 28

  Nick had been amused to find Kate poring over a website selling umbrellas when he walked into her flat.

  ‘Not your usual style,’ he said kissing the nape of her neck as he peered over her shoulder. ‘Not exactly easy to hide in your handbag. I’d have thought one of those automatic ones would have been better for apprehending villains. You know, push a button and whack him in the head. Those are all a bit John Steed, concealed sword-types, aren’t they?’

  Kate turned and grinned at him. Nick was different from her ex, Garry, in so many ways, but the one she most appreciated was that he never complained if he came over to her flat and she was working. If anything, he was usually fascinated and keen to help if he could. He didn’t mind ordering pizza when he’d been promised a meal and he’d usually offer to do a run to the off licence if they ran out of wine while she was still puzzling over a problem.

  ‘I’m thinking of suggesting them as police standard issue. At least until we’re allowed guns.’

  Nick smiled at her and ran a hand through his thick black hair, a gesture that made the muscles in his forearm ripple in a rather distracting manner.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve cooked anything?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Kate said knowing that he wouldn’t believe her apology. ‘There’s a lasagne in the freezer – I made it a couple of months ago now though. If you chip off the worst bits of ice it might be okay?’

  Nick was staring at her open-mouthed and she wondered what she’d said until she realised he was taking the piss.

  ‘You cooked a whole lasagne? From scratch? And had the foresight to freeze it? My God, you’ll make somebody an excellent wife one day.’

  ‘And you’ll make an excellent husband if you can learn to use the oven.’

  Nick stomped off to the kitchen and she heard him rattling round in the freezer. The oven door opened and closed and then the sound she’d been listening for as Nick opened the fridge and removed two bottles of lager. A hiss and clink, repeated, as he popped off the tops and then footsteps on the hardwood floor as he returned with his offering.

  ‘I could get used to this,’ Kate said, taking a big swig of Peroni.

  ‘Well, don’t,’ Nick responded. ‘In case you’ve forgotten I come from a long line of Greek chauvinists. So tell me about your umbrella search.’ He sprawled on the sofa opposite where she was sitting, his long legs dangling over one of the arms as he leaned against the other.

  ‘I’m trying to find out if a particular umbrella is as unusual as it looks. It’s huge and has alternate black and white sections.’

  ‘Like a golf umbrella?’

  ‘I suppose so. Is that what they’re called?’

  ‘Yep. They loan them out on golf courses when it’s raining – caddies stand over you with one while you take a putt. That’s why they’re so big. If you can afford a caddy that is. The course I used to go to stopped loaning them out because they were always getting nicked.’

  ‘I’m not surprised, looking at the prices,’ Kate said, scrolling down yet another page of umbrellas.

  ‘They tried branding them, having them specially made with their logo. I think a lot of the big golf courses do that. They’re a bit of a status symbol among certain members of my profession. I know of one consultant who never goes anywhere without his St Andrews brolly – whatever the weather.’

  His words started synapses firing in Kate’s dull brain. ‘Say that again.’

  ‘Whatever the weather.’

  ‘No,’ she protested, ‘the thing about the branding.’

  Nick shifted position and took another swig of his lager. ‘Some golf courses have their umbrellas specially made with their logo on. It was supposed to stop them from being stolen. I think you have to buy them in the club house now though.’

  Kate opened the file that Sam had sent to her – the clearest image they had of Umbrella Man. On two of the white sections of the umbrella’s fabric was an image. It wasn’t very clear but it looked like words arranged around a shape.

  ‘Come here,’ she snapped at Nick.
>
  He obeyed instantly with an ironic salute.

  ‘Could this be a golf club logo?’

  Nick stared at the picture, breathing gently, close to her ear. Kate shifted in her seat, unwilling to be distracted until she had an answer.

  ‘Looks like it to me. It might not be a golf course, though. I’ve seen similar ones at corporate events – some companies give them out as bribes. I swear I saw one for Viagra once on one of those pop-up brollies.’

  Kate reached round and swatted his leg. ‘Daft bugger. Seriously though – this could be a company logo?’ She was disappointed. The golf club idea had been a good one. If it had turned out to be a local club it would have given them somewhere new to look – a desperately needed new lead. If it had been handed out at a big event it could have come from anywhere. She zoomed in on the design but it blurred beyond recognition with even the slightest magnification. This needed somebody with technical finesse. Glancing round at Nick, who’d gone back to the sofa, Kate typed out a hurried email to Cooper then decided she was done for the evening.

  ‘It’s a garage,’ Sam said as soon as Kate sat down at her desk the next day. Still foggy from too little sleep and too much sex, Kate struggled to connect with what Cooper was saying.

  ‘The umbrella. It’s from Benton’s. The Toyota dealership in Rotherham. It’s got their logo on it. They’re not open yet but I’ll give them a buzz in half an hour. Oh, and I can’t find anybody carrying an umbrella into Madrigal’s on Friday night so I’m wondering if it was already there and he picked it up.’

  Which meant that the umbrella could have belonged to anybody. Still, it was the best lead they had and, if Sam was right about their mystery man not having the umbrella when he entered the bar that meant there was an image of him somewhere on the CCTV. As usual, Cooper was one step ahead.

  ‘I’ve already gone back to the hour of footage before Chloe arrived at Madrigal’s. There’s quite a bit of activity. I should have some fairly clear images once I’ve sharpened them up a bit. It’ll give Dan something to do today.’

  Kate smiled at the thought of Hollis’s face when he realised that he was going to have to spend the day looking through the same database of known criminals. It was his job now though, and she couldn’t waste time starting again with one of the others. She glanced at her watch. Briefing time.

  The team meeting was more upbeat than that of the previous afternoon. Barratt had been back through Cawthorne’s statement and, when he’d not been satisfied with words on paper, he’d rung the witness to ‘clarify a few points’. He’d had the definite impression that Cawthorne was being cagey but he’d not been able to get him to confess to speaking to a journalist. O’Connor, on the other hand, had had a bit more success. He’d spoken to his contact, Gail, at The Gazette and she’d confirmed that Duncan Cawthorne had approached one of her colleagues, thinking that the paper might pay for his information, but she couldn’t give him any specifics. It looked like they’d found the source of the newspaper story but there wasn’t much they could do about it.

  Kate shared the image of their suspect with the rest of the team – explaining the significance of the umbrella and then allowed them some time to brainstorm – before allocating jobs. What she really wanted was for somebody to go to Madrigal’s to find out who owned the umbrella but it was too early for the bar to be open. Instead she tasked Barratt with finding out when the umbrellas had been made – suggesting that he visit Benton’s garage rather than simply calling.

  O’Connor offered to check whether there was a connection between Ryan Buckley and Benton’s garage. As a mechanic it was possible that Buckley may have worked there or may have had an acquaintance who was a member of Benton’s staff.

  Hollis grimaced when Kate directed him back to the CCTV images but he went back to his desk without complaint. Kate knew that, while he was in the office, there was no chance of him being accosted by Suzanne and the intensive work might offer him a distraction from his thoughts about Raymond. Which reminded her…

  ‘The DCI’s doing a press conference this morning. It’ll probably be on the local news at lunch time. Have a watch if you can.’

  Barratt didn’t respond as he grabbed his jacket but O’Connor gave her a grin and a thumbs-up, which could have meant anything. Hollis and Cooper were already absorbed in their work.

  Kate had been resisting her email until she’d got back to Doncaster Central. Her return visit to the fertility clinic had yielded nothing of any significance. Beresford had confirmed Chloe’s appointment and had put on a sad face when he spoke about her ‘unusual situation’ but there wasn’t much that he could tell her. Chloe had attended a half-hour appointment with Matthias who confirmed the details but, again, couldn’t add much. Neither man had seen Chloe since her visit to the clinic, and neither had an alibi for Friday night.

  Even though she was desperate to know if Anna had got back to her, she reasoned that the longer she left before checking, the longer Anna would have had to formulate a response. Logging into her email, she realised that her hands weren’t quite steady. Anna had done such a good job the last time they’d worked together that Kate realised she was placing a lot of her faith in her friend. That wasn’t fair on her colleagues, she knew – they were all doing good solid detective work – but she felt like Anna might give her a way to cheat the game.

  There it was in her inbox. Anna must have worked on it for most of the previous evening – unless the email was telling her to sod off and do her job properly. Only one way to find out. Kate clicked on the email and noticed that it had a Word attachment. She scrolled quickly through the message noting the pleasantries and the disclaimer at the bottom stating that Anna didn’t want to be responsible for the direction of Kate’s investigation and the notes that she’d sent were purely for guidance.

  The attachment seemed to take an age to open. Another disclaimer at the top and then Anna’s thoughts based on the evidence that Kate had sent. This was what she’d been waiting for.

  Some of it was predictable – both victims were white which made it likely that they were looking for a white perpetrator. Anna seemed to favour the attacker being male despite the lack of semen or evidence of condom use – the nature of the violence and the bruising suggested a sustained but not necessarily frenzied attack by a physically strong individual. The control involved also suggested an age range of early thirties to early forties. Kate smiled as she remembered Raymond’s comments from the previous day but she didn’t bother scanning for ‘rabbit torture’ – she knew Anna had no time for clichés.

  The remainder of the notes were disappointingly vague. Sexual issues – possible periods of impotence or sexual abuse at an early age – and a suggestion that the person in question might struggle to maintain a relationship.

  And then the final paragraph.

  Given the nature of the abdominal wounds on each victim, it seems likely that the perpetrator is ritualising elements of pregnancy and birth. Furthermore, the precision of the wounds suggests skill and/or practice. It is possible that the attacker is a medical practitioner and has experience of performing surgical procedures although the violence of the strangulation may suggest otherwise as it is inefficient and inelegant. However, I feel that it is unlikely that the wounds inflicted on Melissa Buckley represent the first time that he has made this type of incision. He may have done this before – or something similar.

  ‘Shit,’ Kate muttered. ‘I should have thought of that.’ They’d been so focussed on the ongoing investigation, especially after the discovery of Chloe Welsh’s body that it hadn’t crossed Kate’s mind to see if there was a record of anything similar. She’d assumed Melissa was the first because, if anything like it had happened recently, she’d have heard. But what if it wasn’t recent? Or what if it wasn’t local?

  She logged in to the Police National Database and typed in strangulation and abdominal wound and, keeping Anna’s age estimate in mind, limited the search to the previous ten years. There w
ere nine hits – all strangulation/stabbings with each one resulting in a conviction. The PND was a fantastic resource but, like any database it was only as good as the people who added information to it and if Kate wasn’t using the correct keywords she could be missing similar crimes.

  Frustrated, she went back to Anna’s notes, her eye drawn to the last three words or something similar. What if Melissa had been the first one he’d got right? There could have been other attempts, similar wounds perhaps, or attacks which hadn’t resulted in the death of the victim. She knew that, if she widened the parameters of her search to include ‘wounding’ and ‘attempted’ she’d end up with hundreds, if not thousands, of hits. How many abdominal wounds had been recorded in the past ten years? How many strangulations? She needed a way to narrow it down somehow or a way to include as much description as possible.

  Logging out of the database, Kate clicked on a long-neglected icon lurking in the corner of her desktop. When she’d first been promoted, Kate had joined an online forum where detective inspectors could discuss the job and its issues. Ironically named DI Blues it had been a source of comfort for Kate when she’d moved back to South Yorkshire and needed to know others had experienced some of the same difficulties when they’d been promoted. Most of it was moaning about bosses or lower ranks but some threads had dealt with paperwork and other essential protocols and Kate had learned a lot. She hadn’t logged on to moan, though. There was a sub-forum where people posted about difficult cases and sometimes asked for the thoughts of other DIs. On more than one occasion, Kate remembered, requests had been posted for any information about similar cases and at least one such appeal had yielded results.

  Clicking on ‘start new thread’ Kate paused, considering how much information she could safely share. Eventually she decided to keep her questions brief.