A Date With Death

by Mark Roberts

  ‘I tried to show her how men she may meet online weren’t like men she could meet face to face. I used the example of the street outside. I tried to tell her that she couldn’t possibly read the important signs of first impression in cyberspace, and how much information was lost from real-life encounters. I warned her, there were so many predators out there and that internet dating just wasn’t a safe game.’

  Clay weighed it all up and said, ‘Norma, I understand that you caught her using your equipment to visit internet dating sites. But can you see how that conversation might have been viewed by some as a little inappropriate, with you being her employer and Francesca being your employee?’

  Without hesitation, she shook her head.

  ‘I thought of her as a surrogate daughter, that’s how I perceived our relationship. There’s no fool like an old fool as the saying goes.’

  Clay observed Norma as she looked out of the window, her eyes becoming moist and her shoulders sagging. ‘Silly, silly girl. The whole thing makes me feel embarrassed. But that’s not the main issue now. There might be something in the file on my desk that will help you find Francesca. I don’t know the details of what’s in there. I just took the technician’s word for it and skimmed the information.’

  Clay looked across Norma Maguire’s desk and stifled herself from showing any sign of surprise when she saw the picture in the frame that faced the estate agent all day long.

  ‘She’s incredibly beautiful,’ said Clay.

  ‘Francesca Christie?’

  Norma turned around from the window and Clay stayed right where she was, looking at the framed picture on the desk.

  ‘No,’ said Clay. She pointed at the picture. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘She’s my mother.’ Norma picked up the framed black and white photograph.

  ‘She’s dressed differently,’ said Clay, observing the white pleated gown that exposed her elegant shoulders, visible because her hair was tied up in intricate curls.

  ‘She was an actress. This one was taken when she was playing Jocasta in Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex at the Everyman Theatre in the late 1960s. It was a publicity photo. She didn’t go out in the street dressed like that, for heaven’s sake. No, she was a smart, fashion-conscious woman, a woman of her times.’

  ‘What was her name, Norma?’ Clay smiled. ‘I kind of recognise her.’

  ‘Cecily Levin.’ She pointed at neat cursive writing at the bottom of the picture. ‘That’s her autograph.’

  ‘Did she work mainly in theatre?’

  ‘She did a lot of TV and some films.’ Norma placed the framed photograph back in its place on the desk.

  Clay placed her contact card down in front of Norma.

  ‘Is there anything else you have to add about Francesca Christie?’

  ‘No. I hope she comes back safe and sound, and this missing business has all been a horrible mistake.’

  ‘I need to take the file containing Francesca’s internet activity away with me, Norma, and her work laptop and any other devices she may have used that you issued her with.’

  ‘Yes, of course. See Daniel Ball. He’ll sort you out. Good luck, DCI Clay.’

  ‘Call me if you think of anything you haven’t told me so far, Norma.’

  64

  9.25 am

  In Interview Suite 2, Detective Sergeant Bill Hendricks faced Detective Sergeant Gina Riley across the table. Between them were the transcripts of online conversations between Sandra O’Day and Michael Towers, Annie Boyd and Richard Ezra, Amanda Winton and Thomas Saddler, and Francesca Christie and James Griffiths; sweet nothings to and from The Ghoul.

  Riley looked at the clock on the wall and observed, ‘An hour and five minutes until he’s supposed to put in his call. Do you think he’ll follow through?’

  ‘He’s the one in a hurry. He’s got Francesca Christie. He wants Sally Haydn in captivity with her.’

  ‘Never mind the ifs, buts or maybes. We’ll find out for sure at half past ten. Focus on this. Let’s go again,’ said Hendricks. ‘Keep those two d words spinning at the front of your mind. Diffident and desperate.’

  His face filled with a cheesy grin and he winked across the table. Riley laughed, but said, ‘This is serious, Bill.’

  Hendricks fixed his face and said, ‘Hi, Sally, thank you so much for letting me call you.’

  ‘No problem, Geoff. Thank you for suggesting we talk rather than use the dating site. You get a much clearer idea of who a person is and what they’re like from direct conversation.’ Silence. ‘You’re quiet?’

  ‘I’m just a little nervous around the whole internet dating scene. I’m brand new to it, you see.’

  ‘Well, I’m a little nervous too.’

  ‘Don’t be nervous, Sally. I kept coming back to your profile over and over again and found myself hoping that we could enter into a real dialogue. I’m so glad we have.’

  ‘Me too, Geoff.’

  ‘Your picture on the website?’

  ‘It’s not a very good one.’

  ‘You’re mistaken. You look great.’

  ‘You’re teasing me?’

  ‘I am what I said I am in my profile. I’m a stand-up guy. I don’t tell lies and I don’t say things I don’t mean. Look, I’m going to put my cards on the table. I don’t know if I am the right man for you. Or even if you’re the right woman for me. There’s only one way to find out. We need to meet up. Sooner rather than later, Sally, because I don’t want some other man to snatch you out of my hands.’

  ‘I’m not communicating with any other man. I picked you because of the things you said in your profile. I know we haven’t met but I feel like I know you already. I feel like you could be the perfect man for me.’

  ‘Then if you’re comfortable to do so, please meet up with me, Sally. Tonight. At eight o’clock.’

  ‘That would be great. Where, Geoff?’ Riley looked across the table at Hendricks. ‘What’s up, Bill?’

  ‘You micro-paused before accepting. Soon as he asks you out, bang, accept immediately. Otherwise, very good. Back to Sally and Geoff. Sally, do you know where the padlocked railings are by the Albert Dock?’

  ‘That’s soooo romantic.’

  ‘We’ll meet there. Is that OK?’

  ‘Brilliant.’

  ‘If I could just say, Sally, if it doesn’t work out between us, I sincerely hope and wish you well in your search for Mr Right. I confess, if that happens, I’m a little bit jealous of this stranger but if he gives you the happiness you deserve, if he worships the ground you walk on, I take my hat off to him.’

  Hendricks leaned forward.

  ‘Eight o’clock. The padlocked railings.’

  ‘I’m so excited to meet you, Geoff. Bye for now.’

  ‘OK, Gina. I’d put money on it that he’s going to go down that route or a very similar road when you speak on the phone. Diffident and desperate to The Ghoul. Right between his eyes.’

  65

  9.26 am

  Around the corner and out of sight of Maguire Holdings, Clay sat at the driver’s wheel of her car with Stone at her side.

  ‘How did you get on with the troops, Karl?’

  ‘They seemed over-cautious when I asked them about Francesca Christie. Nobody knows anything at all about Francesca going on dating websites or going on a date…’

  ‘That’s interesting. Francesca got pulled for using her office laptop to go on the sites. Daniel Ball, he was in the dark too?’

  ‘No. He took me to one side when I was on my way out and told me that Norma wanted to keep the information about Francesca going on the dating sites between themselves. She especially didn’t want anyone to know that Francesca had been using Maguire Holdings IT equipment during office hours to look for men.’

  ‘Any reason Norma wanted it like that?’ asked Clay.

  ‘She was trying to protect Francesca, spare her from any embarrassment. Even after yesterday when she walked without notice, breaking the terms of her contract with Norma and bas
ically treating her boss like shit. She didn’t want Francesca exposed as an internet dater. I feel sorry for the woman.’

  As she spoke, Clay reconsidered the information and wondered, but just why did you leave so suddenly, Francesca?

  ‘Anything else, Karl?’ asked Clay.

  ‘Yes. I asked Daniel Ball for a list of names, employees of Maguire Holdings present and past. We need to know exactly who’s on Francesca’s radar.’

  Stone looked out into the rain.

  ‘Spit it out, Karl,’ said Clay.

  ‘When I asked, he was guarded. I threw in a spoiler. Francesca resigned. Anybody else resigned from Maguire Holdings? He said he’d look into his records and let us know.’

  ‘What about the girls and boys on the office floor? What did they know about Francesca?’

  ‘Nothing. She was popular, hard-working, kept herself to herself socially after work finished. Except for the staff nights out when Norma used to take them to a restaurant and pay the bill for them all.’

  ‘Was this a regular occurrence?’

  ‘Monthly. She’s a bit of a task mistress but she’s a popular boss. I asked Daniel Ball how long he’d worked at Maguire Holdings. Twenty-two years. So what he doesn’t know isn’t worth a penny. But he had nothing more to add than the people who’d been there for a much shorter time.’

  He sat up, covered his mouth with his hand to conceal a lengthy yawn.

  ‘Ever heard of Cecily Levin, Karl?’

  The picture on Norma’s desk danced in Clay’s mind.

  ‘No. That name means nothing to me, Eve.’

  Clay found the picture from Norma Maguire’s desk on Google Images and showed it to Stone.

  ‘The face rings a bell though.’

  ‘I thought as much, Karl. You love your retro TV and movies.’

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Norma Maguire’s mother. She was an actress, 1960s and 70s, theatre, TV and film. I’ll ask Barney Cole to go on a fishing expedition on the internet.’

  ‘I know her face but I don’t know where from.’ Stone looked closely at the screen of Clay’s iPhone. ‘A twentieth-century actress?’ he asked himself out loud. ‘How is she of interest to us, Eve?’

  Clay half-shrugged. ‘The way I see it, Norma Maguire’s a little strange around Francesca Christie. This picture of her mother’s making me itch. I just want that itch scratched and then let’s move on.’

  As she watched Stone’s eyes processing information, the silence between them became deeper.

  She pricked the silence with a pair of words. ‘Cecily Levin?’

  ‘Feels like I might have had a dim and distant crush on her when I was a kid. Mind you, which actress didn’t I have a crush on?’

  He laughed out loud at the memory of his adolescent self and Clay waited for him to turn and look at her in the silence.

  ‘Karl, you’re the only person who hasn’t told me not to go on a date with The Ghoul. Do you have anything to say on the matter or do I just take your deafening silence at face value?’

  ‘I’ve been in an incredibly dangerous situation with you, Eve. When we were tracking down Adam Miller in the bell tower of the Anglican cathedral. Remember?’

  ‘God, yes.’

  ‘When I was knocked unconscious and you covered my back. I could have ended up as a box of ashes on the shelf in my ma’s front room but I didn’t. I’ve got every confidence in you. And this time, it’s my chance to cover your back if anything does go wrong. We need to catch this fucker before he does any damage to Francesca Christie, and you’re the woman to lead from the front. End of. My silence was a vote of confidence. I’ll be on the waterfront with you, and I’ll be carrying a loaded gun. Get the bastard but, know this, you’re not on your own.’

  Clay looked at the time on her dashboard, felt the stirrings of emotion and humility and snapped herself out of it.

  ‘Nine-thirty, time’s marching on. I need to get back to Trinity Road. Gina’s got a phone call coming and I need to sit in on it.’

  66

  9.30 am

  Wren paced in his father’s cupboard-sized office, three steps to the window, three steps to the door, wishing he could summon up that final flake of rage and transform himself into Captain Cyclone.

  ‘Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?’

  He stopped at the window, watched as a lorry backed in to the arrivals depot, heard the lowing of a truckload of cattle as the doomed cows edged closer to the clamps, saws and knives that awaited them, wondering no doubt, he thought, where their fields had gone to and why the barn that had housed them in the dark country night since they were calves had suddenly disappeared.

  ‘Where are you? Moo, moo, moo!’

  The door opened and Wren froze as his father squeezed into the cramped space.

  ‘Where is he?’ nagged Wren.

  ‘Calm down, Wren. Deep breathing, remember.’

  Wren made a show of breathing deeply but it did nothing to calm the red-hot ball in his stomach and the jagged spike of ice that pierced his heart.

  His father threw the only chair in the room in front of Wren and ordered, ‘Sit down!’

  ‘Where is he? Where’s Edgar?’

  ‘Sit down!’

  Wren sat down, drew the hands that knew how to make mischief under his thighs and fixed his entire attention on a dark spot on the opposite wall, where a tiny patch of old paint had long since flaked away from the plaster.

  His father stooped to get into his eyeline.

  ‘Edgar’s not coming in today, Wren. That’s why he’s not here. He’s got diarrhoea and vomiting. He couldn’t possibly come in to work in that condition. Think of the hygiene implications.’

  ‘Oh, noooooo…’

  The rumble of machinery on the floor below the administration offices moaned through the tiny room.

  ‘When’s he coming back?’ asked Wren.

  ‘When his condition gets right. When he no longer has diarrhoea and vomiting, he has to stay away from work for at least another two whole days, otherwise he’d be a health and safety hazard. Do you understand me?’

  Wren absorbed the information, felt the heat and ice of anxiety collide into a ball of sorrow.

  ‘He’s going to be away for ages, isn’t he, Dad?’

  ‘Days, days…’

  ‘Then I want to go home.’

  ‘I think that’s wise, Wren. Later. I can’t just drop everything now and take you home. I have to reorganise the skinning platform around Edgar’s absence. It’ll most likely be during my lunch break.’

  ‘I don’t like change.’

  ‘I know you don’t, son.’

  ‘Can I go and see him?’

  ‘He’s not well. He needs to recover in peace and quiet.’

  ‘Peace and quiet! Peace and quiet! How do you know he’s sick?’

  ‘He made a telephone call in to the main office. We know he’s sick. He’s not a malingerer.’

  Wren jumped up, flailed his arms.

  ‘Take me home. This place is nowhere without Edgar.’

  ‘Later. I’ll take you home as soon as I can. But until then you’ll have to wait here in my office. Not everyone in the abattoir is as nice as Edgar McKee. You understand?’

  ‘I understand, Dad. I’ll be a good boy.’

  ‘And, Wren. One last thing. Thank you for holding it a little bit together and not having a complete meltdown out there in front of my men.’

  ‘No, Dad. Nobody heard me screaming. They were wearing ear defenders and the machinery was working well.’

  67

  9.45 am

  Cole recalled asking Clay, why? and her answer, maybe it’s just the stuff that killed the cat. Normally open and as available as it was humanly possible to be, Clay had issued a statement to him by email. Planning was going ahead for the liaison with the perpetrator, and was awaiting a rubber stamp from the chief constable and his team. Armed officers were on call and, like every other police officer in the operation, t
hey were all undercover. She was off limits for the whole of Friday morning but more about that would be revealed before the day was done.

  Cole sent an image of Cecily Levin in classical Greek mode to the printer.

  He pulled up Clay’s email address and summoned up his thoughts about the actress, who he’d read about on her Wikipedia page and some retro fan sites. He wondered if Eve had roped him in to give her a mental pressure drop.

  Dear Eve,

  Cecily Levin was a London-born actress whose career was at its peak throughout the 1960s and early 1970s. She toured extensively as a repertory actress performing in plays by numerous playwrights including Oscar Wilde, Noel Coward and William Shakespeare, to name but three. She joined the company of the Liverpool Everyman Theatre in the early 1970s alongside actors such as Jonathan Pryce and Julie Walters and lay down her roots here. She started breaking into TV with increasingly bigger roles in Z Cars, Coronation Street, Till Death Us Do Part, Dixon of Dock Green and the BBC’s Play For Today series. With TV exposure came parts in British films, mainly for Hammer, where she had solid parts in Twins of Evil, The Vampire Lovers, Lust For A Vampire and Dracula AD 1972.

  She gave up her acting career when she married Terry Maguire, a local business mogul whose wealth came from building, tarmac, palettes, a fleet of taxis and several nightclubs across the north-west of England.

  When she stopped acting she went completely off the radar and was effectively never heard of again.

  You can see her acting on YouTube. All the Hammer Films are on there and some of the TV shows she was in.

  Best wishes and take care,

  Barney.

  He picked up the image of Cecily Levin from the printer and pinned it on the board near the image of Richard Ezra gazing lovingly into the space where his wife, Sarah, had been airbrushed out of existence, the picture The Ghoul had sent to Annie Boyd and other women.

  Cole walked down the noticeboard, looked at the images of Sandra O’Day, Annie Boyd and Amanda Winton dead in the watery places from which their bodies were recovered. He compared their images in death to their online profile photographs and was saddened enough to want to turn his back on the women.