Deadly Obsession

by OMJ Ryan

  ‘Yes, Guv,’ said Entwistle.

  ‘What about the rest of the staff at Cedar Pines. What have we got on them?’

  ‘All DBS-checked, Guv,’ said Jones. ‘No records, and all legally allowed to work in the UK.’

  ‘Including the night manager, Eddie Randall?’

  ‘Yep, including him.’

  ‘I expected as much. Anything else would be far too simple for this unit, wouldn’t it?’ said Phillips facetiously, before changing tack. ‘So, who can tell me anything about strychnine?’

  Jones shrugged. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever come across it.’

  ‘Me either,’ said Bovalino.

  Entwistle was already typing into his laptop when Phillips turned to face him. ‘Come on, Entwistle, you must have something for me?’

  ‘For the moment, only what’s available online, Guv,’ he replied. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the screen in front of him.

  ‘Which is?’

  Entwistle turned the laptop so the screen was visible to Phillips as well as him. ‘It says here that in its natural form, the most common source is from the seeds of the Strychnos nux-vomica tree.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you say so? I’ve got one of those in my garden,’ said Jones, his tone sarcastic.

  ‘Have you?’ said Entwistle brightly.

  Jones’s face twisted. ‘Of course not, you daft bugger!’

  ‘Ignore him,’ said Phillips, chuckling.

  Entwistle continued. ‘It’s highly toxic, colourless, and can be inhaled, swallowed or absorbed through the eyes or mouth.’

  ‘Or fed into a cannula,’ added Phillips.

  ‘Indeed. Its most common use is in the pest-control industry to kill rodents such as rats and mice.’

  Phillips took a moment to process the information, then turned towards Jones. ‘Did you notice any pest-control boxes at the care home when we were there?’

  ‘No, Guv. But then I wasn’t looking for them.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Phillips said. ‘Why don’t you and Bov head back over there and take a look. See if they have a contractor for pest control. Most businesses with large waste bins do.’

  Jones and Bovalino nodded in unison.

  ‘And while you’re there, talk to the staff on duty the night Yates was killed. A DBS certificate is one thing, but I want you to look into their eyes and see if there’s anyone that stands out. It’ll probably come to nothing, but it can’t hurt to speak to them.’

  ‘Consider it done,’ said Jones.

  ‘What do you want me to do, Guv?’ asked Entwistle.

  ‘I’m still not convinced by Dr Goodwin, so I want as much information as we can muster on her life, as far back as it’ll go – including her finances. Let’s see if we can find out who she really is.’

  ‘On it,’ said Entwistle as Jones and Bovalino stood up from their desks.

  Phillips followed their lead. ‘Right. Well, I’d better get upstairs and update Carter. I’m only two days late for my meeting,’ she said with a grin, then made her way out of the door.

  7

  Thursday, February 11th

  Gabe sat on the high stool at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, holding Noah in his left arm whilst feeding him formula milk from the bottle in his right hand. Lola was in her basket, sleeping as usual. His son seemed desperate to drain the bottle of formula as quickly as possible, greedily guzzling on the teat with all his might. Breakfast television played on the screen on the wall in front of him, but he wasn’t paying much attention, too engrossed in his own thoughts and plans for the coming evening.

  A moment later, Jodie walked into the kitchen wearing tight-fitting sportswear, her wet blonde hair hanging free around her shoulders. ‘Do I look fat in this?’ she asked.

  ‘Not at all. You look great.’

  ‘Well. I don’t feel great. I feel like a right fat cow.’

  Gabe let out a silent sigh of frustration. No matter what he said to the contrary, or how many times he said it each day, Jodie was adamant she looked terrible, that her post-baby figure was repulsive.

  She continued. ‘I’m taking Noah to baby yoga at eleven and I just want to look nice. Instead, I look like a bloody elephant.’

  ‘Babe, you look really good. And don’t forget, it’s only been three months since you had him.’

  Jodie’s eyes narrowed as she rested her hands on the breakfast bar in front of her. ‘So you’re saying I do look fat?’

  ‘No. That’s not what I’m saying at all.’

  ‘That’s it. I’m not going,’ she said, slamming a clenched fist on the bench.

  ‘Oh, don’t be so bloody dramatic,’ said Gabe, beginning to lose patience. ‘It’s only a baby class, for God’s sake. And besides, everyone there will be the same as you.’

  ‘What? Fat, you mean?’

  Gabe let out a low growl and stood up from the stool, still feeding Noah. ‘I don’t know why I even bother. There’s no talking to you when you’re like this.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like a crazy woman. You had a baby three months ago. You’re taking him to a class filled with other new mums – who’s bodies have also changed after carrying a kid for nine months – yet you’re making it out like everyone there will be a supermodel dressed in designer gear. It hardly warrants a bloody meltdown, does it?’

  ‘Oh, that’s just typical of you, isn’t it?’ said Jodie.

  ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You’re still pissed off because I’m taking the full twelve-months maternity, aren’t you?’

  Gabe’s mouth fell open for a moment. ‘I’ve never had a problem with you doing that.’

  ‘Really? In that case, you should try telling your face once in a while.’

  ‘When have I ever said anything negative about your maternity leave?’

  Jodie folded her arms across her chest with all the petulance of an angry teenager. ‘Maybe not directly, but it’s there. I can feel it.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about? Feel what?’

  ‘Your passive aggression. You’re always telling me how many hours you’re doing, how hard you’re working and how difficult it is for you with no sleep.’

  ‘That’s got nothing to do with your maternity leave,’ said Gabe. ‘It’s just how it is at the moment. Noah’s got colic and cries all night, and work’s manic, so I’m just knackered all the time. Tell me how any of that is about you?’

  ‘Because you think I’m a terrible mother. Don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Gabe muttered as Noah finally finished his bottle.

  ‘It’s not easy being at home all day with him, you know. Nothing but feeds, nappies and never-ending piles of washing. I’m going insane, stuck in this house on my own.’

  Gabe placed a muslin cloth over his shoulder, then rested Noah on his chest and began rubbing his back, attempting to get his wind up.

  Jodie continued. ‘I’m an experienced finance lawyer, Gabe. I’m used to intellectual conversation every day. All I get round here is bloody baby talk.’

  ‘So what do you want me to do about it, hey?’

  ‘Well, you could start by being here once in a while, instead of always working or spending time at your dad’s.’

  Gabe continued to rub Noah’s back, but so far, the satisfying sound of a little burp eluded him. ‘Look. Everything costs money and your maternity money runs out soon.’

  ‘So you are blaming me?’

  Gabe finally lost his cool. ‘Well, you’re the one who wanted the expensive house—’

  ‘Yes, but only so we had room to raise a family!’ Jodie cut him off.

  ‘You want the flash holidays to Australia, not me.’

  ‘So Noah can meet his auntie and uncle. They’re the only ones he has.’

  ‘And you’re the one obsessed with sending him to that stupidly expensive private school!’ shouted Gabe.

  Jodie pointed a finger at him. ‘You want him to go to St David’s just
as much as I do!’

  At that moment, whether it was colic or the raised voices, Gabe didn’t know, Noah began to wail. Gabe could take no more. ‘Here!’ he said, and handed the baby to Jodie. ‘You deal with him. I’m already late for work.’

  Jodie pulled Noah into the nape of her neck as tears streamed down her face.

  As he left the room, Jodie followed him. ‘That’s right. Do what you always do: walk away!’ she shouted after him.

  Gabe grabbed his bag and coat from the hallway and headed for the front door. As he opened it, he turned back to see her standing in the doorway of the kitchen. ‘I’m working late tonight. Don’t wait up,’ he said, then stepped outside, slamming the door behind him.

  8

  Friday, February 12th

  ‘I’m coming up to Dunham Massey Park now,’ said Phillips, as she exited the roundabout and headed along Dunham Road.

  ‘Take your first left onto Farm Walk, we’re down there at the scout camp,’ said Jones on the other end of the call. ‘The track’s not been gritted and it’s pretty icy down here, so be careful, Guv. Thankfully Bov was driving, so we made it in one piece.’

  ‘I will,’ said Phillips as she slowed the car and turned left off the main drag.

  Jones had not exaggerated when he said the conditions were treacherous. It was a typical February morning in Manchester, cold and wet with temperatures below zero, and even though the time was approaching 8 a.m., the dawn was still struggling to break through. Sticking the car in first gear, she edged her way along the rough, icy road and through the trees, following the distinctive purple and white signs for the scout camp. Up ahead, she spotted the blue flashing lights of a patrol car as well as the cluster of unmarked vehicles parked up next to a quad bike, which was attached to a small trailer. After a few more tense minutes of driving, she saw Jones, stood with his back to her, on the edge of the track. He turned as she made her final approach and walked slowly towards the driver’s door. Bringing the car to a stop, she opened the electric driver’s window. ‘Am I all right to leave the car here?’

  Jones nodded. ‘Yeah, the body’s just over the other side of those huts.’ He pointed to a grouping of small wooden buildings.

  Phillips closed the window and stepped out onto the frozen ground. She was thankful she’d had the foresight to put on her walking boots this morning. Closing the door, she pulled her collar up against the biting wind that blew across the camp site. Jones had done the same thing, and the high collar of his black Mac, coupled with his bony features, gave him the appearance of Christopher Lee’s Dracula – albeit a much less imposing version.

  ‘She’s down here, Guv,’ he said, as he led the way.

  A couple of minutes later, they rounded the scout huts and found their way onto a piece of open ground that featured a tall flagpole concreted into the middle, as well as large logs that had been laid out in a wide circle. Phillips assumed this was where the scouts would sit around the campfire on summer evenings. Up ahead, a number of uniformed police stood in a cluster. Bovalino was positioned just behind them, staring down at the ground near his feet, which were hidden behind another log. His massive body was wrapped tightly in a blue padded coat with a fur collar.

  As Phillips approached, one of the uniformed officers stepped forward and introduced himself. ‘Morning, Ma’am. I’m Sergeant Rees, I called it in,’ he said, his breath visible in front of him.

  ‘Who found her?’ said Phillips.

  ‘One of the groundsmen – a Jerry Cooper – spotted her clothes first, and then the body. He’s in the back of our patrol car if you’d like to talk to him?’

  Phillips shook her head. ‘He’ll have to wait for a minute. I need to see the girl first.’

  Bovalino made his way over. ‘Morning, Guv,’ he said, then handed her a large torch. ‘The light’s getting better by the minute, but you’ll need to use this for the time being. It’s pretty dark over there.’

  ‘Lead the way, Bov,’ said Phillips.

  The big Italian obliged, and a moment later she cast her eyes over the naked body of a young woman, lying in a cruciform position on the other side of the log. Her eyes were black and wide in death. Phillips took a moment to process the macabre scene.

  ‘The groundsman reckons she was like this when he found her,’ said Jones.

  ‘What was the temperature last night?’ Phillips asked.

  ‘The forecast said it would be minus three,’ said Bovalino. ‘Poor thing will be frozen solid by now.’

  ‘Which will cause serious issues with figuring out the time of death.’ Phillips knelt to get a closer look. ‘What’s with the cruciform position?’

  ‘Dunno, Guv, but it sent shivers up my spine when I first saw it,’ Bovalino said. ‘It’s almost as if she was left here as a sacrifice, or something.’

  Phillips nodded. ‘Accidental homicide is one thing, but when a body is left like this, it usually means…’

  ‘A planned attack.’ Jones finished her sentence.

  Phillips stood. ‘Carried out with purpose and likely by someone wishing to make a statement.’

  Jones and Bovalino nodded in unison. They’d been Major Crimes detectives for long enough to recognise this was not a straightforward murder.

  ‘Have you called in SOCO?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘Yes, Guv,’ Jones said. ‘Evans called me just before you arrived. He reckoned he’d be here by 8.30.’

  ‘Do we know who she is?’ Phillips asked.

  ‘We found a couple of bank cards and a travel pass in the clothes. If they’re hers, then her name’s Gillian Galloway. No photo ID, though,’ said Jones.

  ‘Ok, well, that’s a start at least. Get Entwistle onto the banks and see if we can get an address.’

  ‘Already done, Guv. I called him straight after I called you.’

  ‘Good work, Jonesy,’ Phillips stared down at the frozen, naked body. Activating the camera function on her phone, she took a couple of pictures. ‘Whoever she is, I’m guessing she can’t be any older than early twenties.’

  ‘I’d say so.’ Jones’s phone began to ring. Pulling it from his pocket, he activated the speaker function. ‘Entwistle. The Guv’s arrived. What have you got?’

  ‘Gillian Galloway’s registered address is in Woodhouses. flat 14A on Newfield Road.’

  ‘Anything else?’ asked Phillips. ‘Any pictures of her?’

  ‘That’s it for now, but I’ll be able to get more after 9, once I’m at my desk and the rest of the world starts work.’

  ‘As soon as you have anything, call it through, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course, Guv. I’m leaving the house now, so I’ll be in the office in half an hour.’

  ‘Ok. You’d better get off then,’ said Phillips.

  A second later, Jones ended the call.

  Phillips said nothing for a long moment as she gathered her thoughts. Shaking her head, she locked eyes with Jones and Bovalino. ‘This is some weird-looking shit, guys, and I don’t like it one bit. Not one bit.’

  ‘So what now, Guv?’ asked Jones.

  Phillips turned in the direction of the uniformed police. ‘Let’s talk to the groundsman, see what he has to say for himself.’ She set off tentatively across the frozen ground towards the patrol car.

  A few minutes later, she opened its rear offside door. ‘Would you mind stepping out of the car, Mr Cooper,’ she said, gesturing for him to get out.

  Jones and Bovalino appeared at her side.

  Cooper did as instructed. Phillips was struck by how young he looked. She wasn’t sure why, but she had expected an older man. Wearing a heavy-duty Dunham Massey-branded fleece, beanie hat and gloves, Cooper was of slight frame, standing at about five feet ten inches by Phillips’s reckoning. A light stubble covered his top lip and chin.

  ‘Can you tell us what happened when you came across the body this morning, Mr Cooper?’ asked Phillips.

  Cooper appeared sheepish as his eyes darted from Phillips to Jones, and then to Boval
ino. His voice was quiet when he spoke, the accent thick Mancunian. ‘I was emptying the bins on the camp site and found an open bag of clothes in one of them. It looked like new gear, so I had a glance inside and realised it was women’s clothing. I thought nothing of it at the time. People are always dumping their old rubbish in the park, so I chucked the bag on the back of the trailer and carried on clearing the site. Then, when I reached the last bin on the camp, something caught my eye over by the logs. It was still dark, so I went to get a better look. I then realised it was a body.’

  ‘And what did you do then?’ asked Jones.

  ‘Called you lot.’

  ‘What time was that?’ Phillips cut back in.

  Cooper shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dunno. About half-six, seven this morning, I guess.’

  Phillips continued. ‘Who else has access to the site out of hours?’

  ‘There’s a few of us working shifts. I’m on earlies this week, but one of the lads is sick, so I’ve been double-shifting doing lates as well.’

  ‘And were you on lates last night?’ Asked Phillips.

  Cooper nodded.

  ‘What time did you finish, then?’

  ‘Just after six. The park closes early this time of year, so we knock off earlier, too.’

  Phillips pushed her hands deep into her coat pockets to fend off the cold. ‘Can the public access the camp site if the main park is closed?’

  ‘Not the camp site, no…’ Cooper pointed behind them, towards the main the road. ‘…but they can drive up as far as the barrier, which is locked each night.’

  Phillips turned and noted the long metal barrier some thirty yards away. It was fixed open to a post currently. She turned back to Cooper. ‘Did you see anything unusual last night?’

  ‘No. Nothing,’ he replied without emotion.

  ‘No headlights on the road? No voices, shouts or screams, perhaps?’

  Cooper shook his head. ‘Not that I remember.’