by OMJ Ryan
‘And did you touch the body at all?’
‘God, no,’ said Cooper vehemently.
‘So you found the clothes, then the body, and you called us? Is that what you’re saying?’ asked Phillips.
‘Yeah. That’s right.’
She studied Cooper’s face intently, but saw nothing that made her believe he was lying. ‘Ok. Well, that should be everything we need for the time being.’
‘Does that mean I can go now?’ asked Cooper.
‘Yeah,’ said Phillips. ‘We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.’
Cooper didn’t reply. He turned and walked at pace towards his quad bike.
When he was out of earshot, Jones stepped closer to Phillips as she watched him closing the rear gate on the trailer. ‘You want me look into his background, Guv?’
Phillips produced a wry smile. ‘You read my mind, Jonesy, but Bov can do that. I want you to come with me to Galloway’s place.’
‘Whatever you say,’ said Jones.
Phillips turned to Bovalino. ‘Are you ok to wait for Evans and the rest of SOCO?’
‘Of course, Guv.’
‘Once you’ve briefed them, get yourself back to HQ. I want you and Entwistle to get as much information on Galloway and Cooper as you can.’
The big Italian nodded.
Phillips rubbed her hands together against the cold. ‘Come on, Jonesy. Let’s go and see if Gillian Galloway is our victim.’ She headed off in the direction of her car.
9
Phillips parked the car in the small communal car park in front of the two-storey block of flats and killed the engine. Then she pulled out her phone and scanned the last SMS message sent by Entwistle to remind herself of the address as she opened the driver’s door to get out.
Jones followed suit, and a few minutes later they found the flat, to the rear of the seventies-looking brick building. As they knew nothing of Gillian Galloway or her life, they took the precaution of ringing the doorbell in the hope she might live with someone. If she did, it would speed up the identification process massively. With no answer following the first ring, Phillips tried again as Jones took a step back and inspected the building and surrounding area. As was to be expected in such a small apartment block, a neighbour twitched curtains and peered out at the unknown visitors. A few moments later, the front door to flat 14A opened on the chain and a dishevelled young woman looked out.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked.
Phillips stepped closer and presented her credentials. ‘Detective Chief Inspector Phillips from the Greater Manchester Police. Do you live here?’
A puzzled look appeared on the girl's face behind the chain. ‘Yeah, why?’
Phillips ignored the question. ‘Does Gillian Galloway live here, too?’
The girl nodded.
Phillips glanced left as the neighbour twitched the curtain again. ‘Could we come inside for a moment?’
The door closed momentarily as the girl released the chain before opening the door wide. Then she pulled her thick grey dressing gown tightly around her torso, folded her arms and headed back into the flat. Phillips followed her through, with Jones in tow, as the girl guided them into the small lounge at the end of the narrow hallway. She took a seat on one of the armchairs.
‘Do you mind if we sit?’ asked Phillips.
‘Go ahead.’ The girl’s eyes were full of suspicion.
Phillips and Jones took seats on the small sofa opposite. ‘Can I ask your name?’ said Phillips.
‘Kelly,’
‘Kelly, what?’
‘Kelly Windsor. Look, what’s this about?’ said the girl with an air of petulance.
Phillips didn’t answer, and noted the girl’s wild hair and red eyes. ‘Sorry, Kelly. Did we wake you?’
Windsor nodded. ‘Yeah. I’m on nights this week, so I’d just got off to sleep when you rang the bell.’
‘And what do you do?’ said Jones.
‘I’m a nurse at Wythenshawe Hospital. Look, what are you doing here, and why do you want to know about Gilly?’
Phillips’s voice softened as she spoke. ‘Kelly. When did you last see Gillian?’
Windsor’s brow furrowed. ‘Last night. Look, seriously. What’s going on?’
Phillips shifted towards the edge of her seat. ‘I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but we found a body in Dunham Massey Park this morning that we believe could be Gillian.’
Windsor’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she raised her hand to cover it.
Phillips continued. ‘We don’t know that for certain, but we found a bank card in Gillian’s name in the vicinity of the body.’
‘Oh my God,’ whispered Windsor.
‘I know this is a lot to take in,’ said Phillips, ‘but do you have any pictures of Gillian we could take a look at, to help us know for sure?’
Windsor swallowed hard, then nodded her head slowly. ‘I’ll get my phone,’ she mumbled as she stood up from the chair and left the room.
A moment later, she returned and retook her seat. The phone shook in her hand as she attempted to unlock it with her fingerprint. After a few false starts, it opened and she flicked through a number of images until she found what she was looking for. As she handed over the phone, Windsor’s eyes oozed fear.
Phillips looked down at the screen and was taken aback by the pretty, smiling face looking back at her. There was no mistaking it. The body in the park was Gillian. But the contrast between the cold, dead face they’d witnessed just an hour ago and the warm, beautiful young woman in the photograph made her feel physically sick.
She handed the phone to Jones and turned her attention to Windsor once more. ‘Kelly. Based on that image, I’m very sorry to tell you that the body we found is Gillian’s.’
A wave of shock and grief appeared to smash down over Windsor as she blinked furiously and began to stutter. ‘Th-th-th-that’s not true. I-i-i-it can’t be.’
‘I’m sorry, Kelly. We found her body this morning,’ said Phillips.
Windsor dropped her face into her hands and began to sob. Quick as a flash, Phillips was out of her seat and moving across the room to comfort her. Jones was up as well, grabbing a box of tissues from the small coffee table next to the TV, which he passed over.
Phillips wrapped a protective arm around Windsor’s shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry, love. I know it’s a shock.’
Windsor continued to cry.
‘Jonesy. Why don’t you make us a nice cup of sweet tea?’ Phillips suggested.
Jones nodded, and made his way out of the lounge room and into the adjacent kitchen.
A few minutes later, he reappeared with three cups of tea on a tray, which he placed on the small, metal-framed glass table in the middle of the room. He handed one of the cups to Windsor, who tentatively took a sip of the steaming drink.
‘I know this has all come as a huge shock, and I’m sure it’s the last thing you want, but would you be ok to answer some more questions for us?’
Windsor nodded as she took another sip of her tea.
Jones pulled out his notepad and took a seat back on the sofa, with Phillips following suit.
‘When exactly did you last see Gillian?’ Phillips asked.
Windsor took a moment before she answered. ‘Last night. As I was leaving for work.’
‘And what time was that?’
‘My shift started at seven-fifteen, so I would have left just after six. She was in the bath, getting ready to go out.’
‘Where was she going?’
‘On a date.’
‘Do you know who with?’
‘Kind of. It was some guy called Conrad that she met on Tinder.’
‘I see,’ said Phillips. ‘Did she go out on dates a lot?’
‘God, no! Gilly is…’ Windsor seemed to run out of words for a moment, before regaining her composure. ‘…sorry, I mean Gilly was, super shy.’
‘So how did she end up with a Tinder account? That’s not exa
ctly for the shy type, is it?’ Jones interjected.
‘I set up her profile on my phone without her knowing. I did all the swiping left until I found someone I thought she might like. She literally had no clue what I’d done until a guy asked her for a date. At which point I told her.’ Windsor’s shoulders sagged. ‘It’s my fault she’s dead, isn’t it? If she hadn’t gone out last night, she’d still be alive now, wouldn’t she?’
‘You can’t blame yourself, Kelly,’ said Jones, his tone paternal. ‘At this stage we still don’t know for sure how or when she died.’
‘Do you have a picture of the guy you set her up with? asked Phillips.
Windsor nodded, and began flicking through her phone. ‘This is him.’ She turned the screen so Phillips and Jones could see the man.
Phillips took the phone and examined the image closely. The young man smiling out from the picture was extremely good looking, with chiselled features and thick, curly blond hair. His profile said his name was Conrad Eve and the photo had been taken on a beach somewhere hot. It was hard to tell whether the image was real or a fake. She handed the handset to Jones, who pulled out his own phone and took a picture of the young man’s profile. He then handed the phone back to Windsor.
‘Do you know where she was going on the date, last night?’ Phillips asked.
‘The Pig and Whistle in Altrincham, as far as I know.’
Phillips took a moment as she tried to place the pub in her mind’s eye.
‘Is that the one near the bus station?’ asked Jones.
Windsor nodded. ‘I think so. I’ve never been, but she mentioned it was easy to get to because it was near to her bus stop.’
‘But that’s an old man’s boozer, isn’t it?’ said Jones.
Windsor didn’t answer, and instead wiped her nose with a tissue before blowing it loudly.
‘If she was so shy, then how did you manage to get her to go on the date?’ asked Phillips.
‘Well, you’ve seen his picture. He’s gorgeous. Even Gilly couldn’t say no.’
‘I see what you mean, yeah,’ said Phillips, smiling softly. ‘Can you tell us what Gillian did for a living?’
‘A nurse, like me. She worked on the kids’ ward at Wythenshawe; loved it.’ Tears began to well once more in Windsor’s eyes as her lower lip trembled. ‘How am I going to explain this to her mum and dad?’
‘Please don’t worry about telling Gillian’s parents, Kelly,’ said Phillips softly. ‘That’s down to us. Our officers will break the news later this morning. Do you have an address for them?’
Windsor got up from the chair and left the room for a minute, then returned with a small address book. She opened it and presented it to Phillips, who took a picture on her phone.
‘Would you mind showing me that photo of Gillian, again?’ asked Phillips.
Windsor obliged, and Phillips once more took a snapshot on her phone. She glanced at Jones, who nodded. As ever, he knew what she was thinking: Windsor had had enough questions, for now.
Jones folded his notepad and placed it inside his coat pocket.
‘We’ll leave you to it, Kelly.’ Phillips stood and handed over her business card. ‘If you think of anything else that might help, give me a call, day or night. Ok?’
Windsor glanced down at the card in her hand, then back at Phillips. ‘I will.’
‘You should get some rest,’ said Phillips, her soft smile returning, then took her leave. Jones tucked in behind her and followed her out.
A few minutes later, they were back in the car.
Phillips turned towards Jones. ‘What were you getting at back there, when you said the Pig and Whistle was an old man’s pub?’
‘Well, it seemed an odd venue, that’s all. Look, I’m no Casanova, but if I was a good-looking lad like Conrad Eve, trying to impress on a first date, I’m not sure an old man’s boozer next to the bus station would be my first choice of venue, that’s all.’
‘You’ve got a point there,’ said Phillips.
‘I really don’t know Altrincham town centre very well at all, but I’m sure there’s a lot more trendy places they could have gone.’
‘So why choose that one?’
‘Beats me, Guv.’
Phillips fell silent for a moment, before straightening and switching on the ignition. ‘Let’s get back to Ashton House and catch up with the guys. And then I want you and Bov to pay a visit to the Pig and Whistle. See if anyone saw Gillian and our mystery man last night.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
Phillips continued. ‘I’m not a betting woman, but if I was, I’d put money on the fact the gorgeous-looking man in Conrad’s profile picture was not the actual person who turned up at the pub.’
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Jones.
Phillips slipped the car in reverse and edged backwards. ‘Because if you’re that good looking, you don’t need dating apps.’
10
After a full debrief of all the information gathered so far on Gillian Galloway and Jerry Cooper – none of which was remotely remarkable or of any help in finding her killer – Phillips had despatched Jones and Bovalino to the Pig and Whistle in Altrincham. A couple of hours later, they were back.
‘It appears Galloway did meet a man in the pub, but it certainly wasn’t Conrad Eve, the beach bum from Tinder,’ said Jones.
Bovalino interjected. ‘The barman’s description was a little bit different, Guv.’
‘How so?’
‘He said her date looked like a Thunderbird.’
Phillips frowned. ‘What did he mean by that?’
‘Apparently he looked like he was wearing a wig, and had thick-rimmed glasses,’ replied Jones.
‘So, what else did the landlord say?’
Jones continued. ‘He reckons they had a couple of drinks and left after about an hour, but that when they did, she was a bit wobbly on her feet and her date had to help her out the door.’
‘So, she was drunk?’
‘That’s what the landlord seemed to think, Guv,’ Bovalino said. ‘But he did say it seemed a bit odd considering she’d only had a couple of vodkas.’
‘Galloway’s flatmate said she hardly ever went out, so maybe she wasn’t much of a drinker?’ added Jones.
‘Maybe not,’ said Phillips. ‘Did the landlord notice anything else about Galloway’s date?’
Jones shook his head. ‘Nothing of any real value. Said he was wearing a lot of aftershave and relatively well spoken. That’s about all he remembers.’
‘What about her?’ asked Phillips.
‘Nothing that stood out to him other than the fact she appeared to be drunk. Apart from that, he described her as pleasant, but quite quiet.’
‘You mentioned they left together?’
Bovalino nodded. ‘That’s what the landlord said, yeah.’
‘Does the pub have CCTV?’
‘No, Guv, it’s a right dump. Nothing worth nicking, according to the landlord,’ said Jones.
‘What about outside? Any council cameras? Neighbouring buildings?’
‘Nothing, Guv,’ Jones replied. ‘We checked all around, but the pub’s in a total blind spot.’
Phillips eyes narrowed. ‘Which means our guy is either incredibly lucky, or he knew that was the case.’
‘That’s what we were thinking,’ said Bov.
Phillips said nothing for a moment as she considered the next steps. ‘Ok. Check the cameras in and around that area of town. See if our man shows up on any of them.’
Jones and Bovalino nodded in unison, then made their way back to their desks.
Phillips turned her chair to face to the window and stared at the treetops swaying in the wind outside. Her mind was awash with questions, one of them being that if Galloway had been expecting a good-looking beach bum like Conrad Eve, why had she settled for a man who purportedly looked like a Thunderbird? It had been a very long time since she had been on a blind date – or any date for that matter – but even she
knew that just didn’t make sense.
11
Monday, February 15th
Phillips walked into the Pathology Department of the MRI just before noon, where she was met by Chakrabortty. The chief pathologist was drying her hands on a large blue paper towel and her green surgical scrubs were covered in small wet patches that Phillips chose to assume had come from the water she’d just used to clean up.
‘Morning, Jane,’ said Chakrabortty, as she pressed the foot pedal on the orange bin in front of her and tossed in the towel.
Phillips was keen to know how Galloway’s post mortem had gone, so got straight to the point. ‘What have you got for me?’
‘Let’s go to my office,’ said Chakrabortty. The stench of bleach and cleaning fluid was pervasive. Thankfully, Phillips thought to herself.
Once they were both seated, Chakrabortty picked up a clipboard from the desk and scanned the top page for a long moment before she spoke. ‘It’s quite a complex case, this one.’
Phillips nodded. ‘I had a feeling it might be.’
‘The cause of death was asphyxiation, by strangulation. The size and shape of the bruises on her neck are consistent with a man’s belt, or something of a similar width and weight, but aside from her throat, there wasn’t another mark on her. In fact, the body had been cleaned. Which means no fingerprints and no DNA.’
‘Damn it!’ said Phillips.
‘I know. I’m sorry, Jane.’
‘Had she been sexually assaulted?’
Chakrabortty’s nose wrinkled. ‘That’s the odd thing. There was no sign of intercourse at all, but her blood showed traces of rohypnol.’
Phillips recalled Jones’s debrief on the Pig and Whistle the previous evening. ‘That would fit with our witness statements. They said she appeared wobbly on her feet and had to be helped out of the pub the night she died.’
‘Judging by the size of the dose, I’d say it would have eventually rendered her unconscious, but not quickly and not for any great length of time.’
‘Long enough to strangle her without her putting up a fight?’ said Phillips.
