Killer Princesses: Gripping and gritty, a twisty and tantalising thriller...

by Jennifer R Hollis

  “DS Harris,” he called out over the Christmas playlist. He pressed the print button on all the documents. “Office, now!”

  Joanne dropped her mince pie and shared a significant look with the rest of the team around her. She grabbed her notebook from the desk and joined Okafor at the printer.

  “I’m not clocking off anytime soon, am I?” she asked with a smile on her face.

  “Not if you want to crack the Melwood case with me, Joanne, no,” he whispered, and her eyes widened in interest. They entered the investigation room, where Okafor laid out the various printed documents. Joanne looked over his shoulder, eagerly.

  He sent a short message to his Superintendent, asking him to set the wheels in motion as planned. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Finally, it all made sense to him - and he had enough evidence to prove it.

  “These documents and pictures are all about Renee Beck, sir,” said Joanne, with a note of surprise. “Was Debbie Gomez right, then?”

  “Renee is integral to this case, Joanne. Not because she’s guilty, but because she isn’t. And by exonerating her through the evidence, we reach the truth.”

  He saw the perplexed look on DS Harris’ face as she tried to keep up with his thinking. In years to come, thought Okafor, the College of Policing would make a case study of this. But this was a live case, and he needed to bring Joanne up to speed quickly before they made the arrests.

  “Here, we have Renee Beck’s mobile phone records from the last year. Though we can’t see or hear the content of the messages and calls, we see this number over and over again. It belongs to Gillian’s husband, Kevin.”

  “Ah,” acknowledged Joanne. “I expect the most obvious explanation is the correct one, sir?”

  “Yes, it is, and sometimes these romantic affairs have unexpected consequences. The devil is in the detail here, and it was you who first spotted something, Joanne.”

  “I did?”

  “After the store party, you asked, ‘does Renee Beck strike you as the designated driver type?’ It was a pertinent question, because, of course, she doesn’t. What would make Renee take that role? What would keep her at home alone, instead of working or raising a glass for her birthday?”

  “She’s pregnant,” whispered Joanne, with a look of dawning realisation on her face.

  “Quite,” he replied, as he tapped on the second document; Renee’s medical records.

  “These records that she had a 12-week scan on Halloween. It was the morning she booked off from work, knowing she had an appointment. Can you hazard a guess at the estimated date of conception?”

  “Surely, not Friday the 3rd of August?” replied Joanne, shaking her head in disbelief as Okafor nodded. “Now, we know from our investigation that Renee lied to us in her initial statement. She did leave her house on the night Janice and Caitlin died. She drove off-grid and returned later in the evening. Given what we now know about the pregnancy, we can guess what she drove off to do.”

  “Or who,” replied Joanne, and Okafor chuckled, despite the seriousness of the situation.

  “Now, previously Joanne we asked for images of cars leaving the Fair Lawns estate. This time, I asked for images of people. Renee wouldn’t make a habit of parking outside Kevin’s house, so I assumed she parked outside and entered on foot.” He paused and tapped two pictures of Renee Beck entering and exiting Fair Lawns via a footpath on the evening of Friday 3rd August.

  “So, Renee is in the clear for Janice and Caitlin…” surmised Joanne. “She’s busy with Kevin. Though, if she was with Kevin, then…”

  “Where was Gillian?” Okafor finished her sentence gravely.

  “I believe, Joanne, that Gillian slipped out of Fair Lawns earlier in the evening. There is a path from the estate to the neighbouring woods, which she could have taken to avoid cameras. She gets into the vehicle, commits the crime, and then drives back off-grid. We found the torched car on the edge of a large field, which borders those very woods.

  “Back at home, the neighbours see Kevin drawing the curtains, and he later gives Gillian her alibi. Gillian’s car never leaves the estate, and no-one sees her leave on foot. It’s a near-flawless plan, right? Except, once Gillian leaves, Kevin couldn’t resist an opportunity to invite Renee over.”

  Joanne exhaled and scratched her head.

  “But Gillian, sir, she has never seemed nervous with us, she’s complied fully with the investigation. She always seemed very composed, very together.”

  “Think of the details again, and the type of person capable of committing such a crime,” urged Okafor.

  “Janice and Caitlin’s murders were cold, callous assassinations. ‘Princesses’ is an organisation which exploits the most vulnerable. These are crimes which the emotional and irrational types of Renee, Debbie, Karen and Marie couldn’t have committed. But Gillian,” he continued, “has she ever shown you or me empathy or emotion? Anything other than rational, reasoned answers and performances? Remember how convincingly she contradicted Edith Coaker’s account of the staff party? She wanted the investigation to go away, so she lied.”

  Joanne nodded her head.

  “As well as that,” Okafor pushed on, “until May this year, she was a local Councillor for the Homestead ward in Croydon. She would have known about unoccupied but unregulated local buildings, like The Castle. She would have known how to avoid cameras.”

  “She sure would,” sighed Joanne. “But how does Gillian, a Councillor and checkout manager, start exploiting people like this? And why?”

  “Only she can tell us that, Joanne, and she will. I guess that she’s been at this for years in Surrey. But I think it’s no coincidence that ‘Princesses’ ramps up in Croydon when she loses in the council elections. Rejection doesn’t play well with cold, nasty people who are capable of extreme violence and exploitation. And, maybe she also knew her husband was playing away with a woman from New Grange. That might have been enough to trigger her worst instincts and capabilities. She could easily identify vulnerable girls from New Grange through the supermarket, to expand her enterprise into Croydon. But after a few months, Janice Locke and Caitlin Murphy started joining the dots…”

  “I’m with you,” confirmed Joanne. “But what about Dawn Smith? Dozens of people gave Gillian an alibi that evening.”

  “Indeed,” sighed Okafor. “Gillian made sure she surrounded herself on Halloween. Imagine how thrilled she was when she got to lock herself in the hall. There are two possibilities here, Joanne. First, that the coroner had it right; Dawn Smith, weighed down with the stress of the secret, decided to end it all.”

  Joanne raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

  “Or, we go back to Renee’s records. On Halloween, she receives an unanswered call from a burner phone in the vicinity of Dawn’s house. Well, I traced the sale of this phone and SIM card back to a shop in Croydon and look who we have here.” Okafor pointed to a picture of Kevin handing over cash at the till.

  “Kevin’s letting the side down, sir, he’s not as savvy as his wife.”

  “He had a Renee-shaped weak spot, yes. Now, this suggests that Kevin went to see off Dawn. He was the person Debbie Gomez saw outside the house: tall, slender, and male at a guess. Why he called Renee, and what he was going to tell her, we don’t know, because she didn’t pick up. And did he go to kill Dawn because he’s complicit in all this? Or was he coerced by his wife? Again, we don’t know.”

  “So, we need to bring them both in, sir?”

  “Yes Joanne, the Super is liaising with Surrey police now. We’ll send a joint convoy down to Fair Lawns as soon as it’s all squared. For Gillian and Kevin, the party is very much over.”

  One of Joanne’s phones buzzed from her police belt.

  “It’s the private phone line for the Melwood investigation, sir. Should I answer it?”

  “How curious,” mused Okafor. “Yes, please do.”

  “Hello, DS Harris speaking,” answered Joanne, and she switched the call to the loudspeaker.

>   “Hello,” shouted a familiar, abrupt voice. “It’s Marie Webster here. I’d like to report a serious assault on myself and theft, by Deborah Gomez.”

  Okafor rolled his eyes, and Joanne bit her lip.

  “She pushed me outside Renee’s house, stole my phone and my car keys, and left me for dead on the ground. Karen Goldman was there too, and she did absolutely nothing to help.”

  “Ok, Marie,” said DS Harris. “Where are you now? Are you receiving medical attention?”

  “I managed to get up and hop around the corner to my, uh, friend Rachel’s house. We called 999, but they don’t have an ambulance available unless I’m actually dying, apparently.”

  “Right, if you’re safe there Marie, if Debbie and Karen have gone, I suggest you await medical attention. We’ll take a statement from you about the assault once they give you the all-clear.”

  “Oh, they’ve gone all right, sped off to Fair Lawns,” grumped Marie.

  Okafor and Joanne looked up at each other in shock.

  “Why? Why have they gone there?” asked Joanne, her voice strained.

  “They think Renee is there. Well, they know she’s there because they stole my phone and saw a message from her. Debbie and Karen think Renee is some sort of criminal mastermind, but I can assure you that she isn’t. She’s gone to tell Kevin something.”

  “OK Marie,” interrupted Joanne. “I’m afraid I need to go. Urgent call on the other line. Please get back in touch once you’ve received medical attention.”

  She hung up the phone and looked at Okafor.

  “I don’t think we can wait for Surrey, sir,” she whispered. “Renee, Debbie, Karen - they’ve all walked into the lion’s den.”

  Together, Okafor and Joanne ran into the main room and grabbed their equipment. Okafor ordered the quick assembly of the convoy. He alerted his Super that, due to an immediate threat to life, Croydon police would be going to Fair Lawns, with or without their Surrey colleagues.

  Ten minutes later, Okafor sat next to Joanne in the leading car of the convoy. They were moments away from departing the station.

  “Renee Beck,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Wandering over to her boyfriend’s house on Christmas Eve, unaware of what his wife, and indeed he, may be capable of doing. What if she tells Gillian she’s four months pregnant with her husband’s child? I wonder, who would Kevin choose if it came down to it?”

  “I guess that depends on how strong Gillian’s control over him is. And how strong his feelings for Renee are, of course,” replied Joanne.

  “We don’t know if she’s a bit of fun for him, or if he’s madly in love with her. We don’t know much about Kevin at all.”

  “True. And bloody Debbie Gomez,” Okafor cursed. “Couldn’t resist getting involved, putting herself and Karen in danger yet again.”

  “Sir, Marie said Renee had gone to see Kevin, right? Gillian may not be there. Best case scenario, they’ll all confront each other while Kevin looks on. They’ll exonerate themselves and leave unharmed?”

  “I don’t know Joanne,” said Okafor grimly. “It’s a big house, and I don’t have a good feeling about this. Something tells me Gillian is there, whether the others know it or not.”

  At 18:20 on the dot, their driver pulled away, the rest of the convoy in tow. Joanne looked pale yet resolute.

  “Are you sure, sir? Absolutely sure we’ve got this right?”

  “Oh, I’m sure, Joanne. You see, there’s something else I haven’t mentioned to you yet, that was pointing us towards Gillian all along.”

  “Sir?”

  “We spent so long dwelling on Renee’s cat, that we missed the other ‘coincidence’ that was staring us in the face. Sociopathy and narcissism always leave a trace.”

  He paused and turned towards a confused-looking DS Harris.

  “Gillian’s surname, Joanne. And don’t worry. Everyone else missed it, too.”

  33: Bang

  Monday 24th December 2018, 18:20 – Gillian

  Gillian Prince held her breath, out of sight of those inside the reading room. Silence had fallen. She assumed that the creaking hallway floorboards had finally given away her presence. Not that it mattered now, she supposed. Debbie had finally worked out the link between Gillian, ‘Princesses’ and the murders. So, Gillian had no choice but to intervene and to silence her. It was a shame that it would have to end this way. But needs must.

  She’d been quite content for most of the day. Upstairs in her study, she’d played her favourite classical music slightly louder than usual, keen to avoid distractions. She’d organised piles of banknotes, checked in with her various fixers. She’d completed all sorts of admin that came with running off-the-books businesses. Over the last few weeks, she’d fallen behind with it all. She’d fabricated a Christmas vacation to justify a few days off, to get on top of more important matters. And she’d made exceptional progress. She would have had everything shipshape if it wasn’t for this unwelcome interruption.

  She wasn’t sure how long the uninvited guests had been at The Manor, or the order in which they’d arrived. She only realised they were there when she listened to the unexpected voicemail from Debbie Gomez.

  She was curious about why Debbie had dropped by, and what she needed to discuss so urgently. So, she’d crept downstairs and followed the noise to the reading room. As she approached, she realised that Karen and Renee were there too, so she had hovered outside. She had stayed there as Debbie accused Renee of the things that Gillian was in fact responsible for. Her jaw had twitched as she listened to Renee’s defence.

  She had discovered her husband’s affair with Renee almost a year ago, in January. He was terrible at lying, and he’d hardly covered his tracks. The thing that annoyed her most was the timing. Shortly before she’d found out, Gillian had used her savings to bail out Kevin’s collapsed business. An affair with a loudmouth woman from New Grange was a poor way to repay her.

  But the pregnancy was news to her, as was the fact he’d invited Renee over on the 3rd of August. That hit her like a gut punch. Both errors were utterly unforgivable, and he would pay for it.

  She’d planned to dip into the kitchen opposite and wait for Debbie, Karen and Renee to go. Then, she’d deal with Kevin. But Debbie, once again, couldn’t keep her mouth shut and her nose out.

  “Did you hear that?” asked Renee, inside the room. “Who’s there?”

  Gillian took a deep breath, stepped towards the door and nudged it with her foot. It creaked open, and four terrified faces stared back at her.

  “Well isn’t this cosy!” she remarked.

  She took a step forward onto the reading room carpet with her hands behind her back. She wrinkled her nose and smiled sweetly, taking in the scene. Renee was in front of her, to her left. Karen and Debbie were next to each other towards the opposite corner of the room. Kevin shook nervously on her right.

  “You’re not on holiday!” gasped Karen.

  “It certainly looks that way, doesn’t it?” replied Gillian, still smiling. “So, to what do we owe this visit?”

  “Gill, this is all a misunderstanding.” Kevin stepped forward, trying and failing to appear nonchalant.

  “The girls were all worried about you, for some reason. Spooked by everything that’s gone on recently. I didn’t want to disturb you, because you were busy, but now they can see that you’re OK, I expect they’ll be off.”

  Debbie and Karen nodded, but Renee hadn’t quite got the memo; she was staring daggers at Kevin.

  ‘Ah’, thought Gillian, ‘he didn’t tell her I was here’.

  “Came to check on me, did you, Renee?” she asked.

  Renee clenched her jaw, turned towards Gillian and gave a stiff nod of her head.

  “So very kind of you. And there was me thinking you were a no-good New Grange slut, who came here to steal my husband.”

  The colour drained from Renee’s face as Gillian turned to Kevin. He raised his hands in front of him.

  “You co
uld do better, dear,” Gillian commented with contempt. “I mean, she’s pretty enough, but the child probably isn’t yours. And you two,” she turned to Debbie and Karen before Kevin could respond. “You’re here to catch a killer, to clear your names. Well, I suppose you found one. Well done!”

  “I actually followed Debbie,” mumbled Karen. “I didn’t want any part of this.”

  “Look, Gill,” pleaded Debbie. “We don’t know anything. Nothing at all. We can go on like normal, can’t we, Karen? Let us get out of your hair.”

  “I don’t think so, Debbie. Do not play dumb with me, and do not treat me like an idiot!” warned Gillian, as the smile slipped from her face.

  “You can’t keep us here,” whispered Debbie. “You can’t hurt us all.”

  “I never planned for anyone to get hurt, Deborah!” Gillian raised her voice, causing the others in the room to jump. “I never planned to kill anyone. I didn’t want to kill anyone. I wanted people to stay out of my business, and to not poke their noses in. Janice and Caitlin gave me no choice, just like you’ve given me no choice now!”

  “You did have a choice Gill,” protested Debbie. She appeared to be the only one with an ounce of bravery. “You do have a choice. You could’ve shut down ‘Princesses’ and you could have handed yourself in. Those poor girls. Jade, Louisa, Stacy, how many more? You can still do the right thing, though.”

  “How on earth is sending myself to prison for life the right thing? How would that benefit me? And those ‘poor girls’ are happy to be earning money,” argued Gillian. “At least it gives them something productive to do with their time. Better than being on the dole.”

  “Why are you doing this?’ asked Debbie, shaking her head in disgust. “You have a job, and you have money, you don’t need any more!”

  “I had money; I had a reputation. I was quite happy, running a smaller, off-the-books operation away from Melwood for the last ten years! Then this fucking idiot,” Gillian glared and gestured at Kevin, “tanked his business. He almost bankrupted us. I bailed him out, with a considerable chunk of my savings. And then I lost my place on the Council and the money that comes with it. Do you think a small enterprise in Surrey and my supermarket salary would match the payments on this house? On his debt? No. I had to take a risk and expand ‘Princesses’. And now, it bankrolls everything you see here, our entire life, and I have every right to protect that.”