by Mark Roberts
But he didn’t do that. Instead, Cole looked at the images as a whole and, in the part of his brain where the dots formed that needed joining, he felt the pressure of their emerging existence.
The door of the incident room opened and his chain of thought was interrupted. A young constable who he’d never seen before entered and approached him, carrying an A4 envelope.
‘Detective Constable Cole?’
‘Yes. And you are?’
The constable handed the envelope to Cole. ‘Michael Bennett. Sergeant Harris asked me to come and give this to you. It was handed in at reception, just now.’
‘Thanks, Michael.’
Cole sat back and slid the contents from the envelope, a stylish black leather book. He turned it over and saw the words Address Book embossed in gold. The word Fiorenze was pressed into the leather. He opened the book and a piece of Doherty Estates and Properties headed notepaper fell on to his desk.
DS Cole,
Please find enclosed Richard Ezra’s address book. I would be grateful for its safe return when you have finished using it in your investigation.
Yours sincerely
Brian Doherty
Cole opened Richard Ezra’s address book at the A page.
68
10.29 am
Outside Interview Suite 2, Clay heard Sergeant Harris, standing guard on the door.
‘It’s a no-go area for the foreseeable. If there’s anyone else who didn’t get the message, tell them fucking straight and direct them back to me if they’ve got a problem with the concept.’
The stern outburst broke the tense and lengthening silence between herself, Hendricks and Riley.
‘Gina, don’t pick up the phone when it first rings out. Count it in, three or four rings.’
Clay looked at Hendricks’ laptop screen, saw the map of Garston where his mobile was located in Trinity Road on Geolocator, and the box inviting him to type in the mobile number that he wanted to locate.
She looked at the clock on the wall, at her iPhone in Riley’s hand, and made eye contact with Hendricks.
‘As soon as we get a location for his phone on Geolocator, I’ll message Cole and get him to send in the troops. It’s all set up to roll on red alert.’
The minute hand touched the curve of the six’s body and slowly leaked further into the digit, the hum of clockwork in the stillness and quiet of the room. Clay’s index finger hovered over the record button on the audio box on the table.
The display panel of Clay’s iPhone lit up and within a heartbeat the ringtone of an old-fashioned landline rang through the air. She pressed speakerphone and Clay pressed record.
‘He’s calling from a mobile,’ said Riley. ‘07700 913133.’
The second ring.
Hendricks typed the digits into Geolocator.
On the third ring, Riley connected.
‘Hello?’ said Riley. ‘Is that you, Geoff?’
‘It is.’ He sounded happy and light-hearted to the point of oblivion. ‘And that is you, isn’t it, Sally?’
There was a rumble of traffic in the background and it sounded like the call was being made from a street.
A map of Grassendale Park came up on Hendricks’ laptop screen, a small icon, a phone close to the junction of Aigburth Road and Grassendale Road.
Clay sent a message to Cole.
Call switchboard to make a general red alert. All officers to flood Aigburth area near Grassendale Park. Focus on Aigburth Road and Grassendale Road. The Ghoul is outdoors and on the street. Full speed. No sirens. Trace this number. 07700 913133.
‘Yes, it’s me,’ said Riley. ‘I was worried you wouldn’t call, Geoff.’
‘Don’t be worried. Of course I was going to call you. You have a lovely voice by the way, Sally, lyrical, lilting. Are you a singer by any chance?’
‘I’m not a singer, Geoff. I could never stand up on a stage and sing in front of people.’ Clay smiled at the display of diffidence. ‘You’re not from Liverpool, are you, Geoff?’
‘I am from Liverpool.’
‘You have an accent.’
‘Oh yes, I know what you mean,’ he laughed. ‘I spent a lot of time growing up in North Wales. Some of that accent rubbed off on me, I guess.’
‘Whereabouts in North Wales?’
‘Flintshire.’
‘That’s a nice part of the world, Geoff. I’ve been there. I’d love to go again.’
‘Maybe we could go together? I could show you all the beauty spots. You did say in your profile that you liked long romantic walks in the countryside.’
In the background, they heard a bus speeding past him.
‘Did you know, Geoff, if you look across the river near where I live on a clear day, you can see the outline of Moel Fammau?’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Off Riverside Drive, just by Otterspool Promenade. Do you know it?’
‘I haven’t been there for a long time, but yes, I know the prom.’
‘Where do you live, Geoff?’
‘Gateacre. I’ve got a cottage.’
‘A cottage? Sounds cosy.’
‘It’s lovely. You mentioned in your profile you love real coal fires.’
‘I love roaring log fires. Drinking wine and making pictures in the glowing coals.’
‘Maybe when we’ve been walking in the countryside we could come home and light the fire, settle in front of it with a nice bottle of red wine.’
‘You’ve got a real coal fire, Geoff?’
‘Yes, I have. Just no one to share it with.’
‘Well, maybe that’s all about to change,’ said Riley, her face set and her eyes burrowing into the phone on the table. ‘Geoff, I know your profile by heart but I was wondering…’
‘Yes?’
‘… if you could tell me something about yourself that isn’t in your profile?’
‘Oohhh, well…’ He fell into a silence that was difficult to read. ‘I kind of get the feeling you want me to make a confession of some sort.’
‘No, I just want to know more about you. I feel like I know you so well already, but I’m really keen to get to know you just that little bit better again.’
‘I do have a confession of sorts to make.’ His tone shifted down a gear.
‘Go on?’ Riley pushed.
‘On my profile I said I was single. It seemed like the simplest way to convey my situation. I’m new to internet dating and a little nervous around the whole process. Maybe I should have given this thing between us a little more time before diving in at the deep end. I mean, we only connected yesterday.’
‘What are you telling me, Geoff? Are you trying to tell me you have a girlfriend? I mean, I really don’t want to get hurt…’
‘The last thing I’d do is hurt another human being because I’ve been through so much. I don’t want to get hurt again. The truth is I am and I’m not single. My wife died at the end of last year. I’ve been on my own since then. But I’m terribly, terribly lonely. I know I can trust you to tell you that.’
‘Thank you for trusting me with that. Thank you for telling me that you’re a widower. I’m so sorry to hear that.’
‘Please don’t think I’m trying to make emotional capital out of my misfortune.’
‘I don’t think that. I think you’re being upfront and honest about what’s happened to you. It takes guts to be honest, and I respect you for that.’
‘You do?’ He appeared to sound surprised. Clay couldn’t decide if it was part of the act or if it was the sound of advancing cars speeding at seventy to eighty miles per hour down Aigburth Road towards him from either direction.
‘Do you have children, Geoff?’
‘No. We nearly did. Lucy was six months pregnant when she died.’
There was a pause that turned into a silence that Riley span out to give the officers descending on Grassendale the advantage of time.
‘Are you still there, Sally?’
‘I’m so… so… sorry. It soun
ds busy where you are. Where are you?’
‘I’m on Lister Drive near Old Swan. The traffic is busy. Listen, Sally, are you busy tonight?’
‘No.’
‘I know we hardly know each other but…’
‘But?’
‘Does this sound crazy? I feel like we’ve made a connection already, a real connection. From your profile and the messages we’ve exchanged. I – I’ve just got this gut feeling, especially now I’ve heard your voice. I mean, we’ve talked on and off all night over the internet and it’s like you’ve already lifted a weight from me. I think we should meet up soon, get talking to each other face to face.’
‘Yes! I’m ready. I just hope I don’t disappoint you, Geoff.’
‘You won’t. And I hope I don’t disappoint you. Do you like the Albert Dock, Sally?’
‘It’s my favourite part of the city to go out in.’
‘Me too.’ He laughed and Riley joined in with a pair of stones for eyes.
As the laughter faded, Riley said, ‘Geoff? Can I ask you a question?’
‘You can ask me anything, Sally.’
‘Then if you don’t mind me asking, just how did Lucy die?’
‘How about I tell you when I see you, when we can see and hear each other directly?’
Behind him, Clay heard the sound of speeding cars slowing down and his footsteps picking up speed as he walked away from the main road. It sounded like he was disappearing around the corner and away from the dual carriageway.
‘Sally, something’s just cropped up. How about we say, eight o’clock tonight at the padlocked railings. You know it?’
‘I know it. It sounds perfect, Geoff.’
‘It’s all on me, Sally. You can pick anywhere that you like to eat. No expense spared.’
More cars approached, splitting off from the main road and down the streets leading off from it.
‘You’re worth it. You deserve kindness. You deserve a man in your life who’ll worship the ground you walk on and celebrate the air that you breathe. See you at eight, Sally. Oh, one last thing. Are you driving there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where are you parking?’
Riley looked at Clay. In the place where there’ll be six hidden marksmen.
‘Usually when I go to the Albert Dock, I leave my car in the Marina’s car park and walk along the promenade.’
‘That’s a good place to park. But a friend of mine turned up one minute after his pay and display ran out, and they clamped him and hit him with a hefty fine. I don’t want us to be watching the clock when we should be watching each other. What do you think, Sally?’
‘I’d better not leave it in the Marina’s car park.’
‘You could always park it round the corner near the apartments. It’d be pretty safe there.’
‘Thanks for that tip, Geoff. I’ll do that.’
‘Don’t want a great night out being ruined by a car park fiasco. I’ll see you at eight, Sally.’
Before Riley could reply, the dead tone filled the interview suite.
‘Do you believe him?’ asked Hendricks as Clay pressed stop.
‘He lied about his location,’ said Clay. ‘I think he’s putting the accent on. Why would he tell us anything about the truth of his background? Why would he tell the truth about anything? All we are in his mind is meat to be preyed on.’
69
10.43 am
The Ghoul walked slowly down Dugdale Close, away from Aigburth Road and on to Montfort Drive.
Why? Why all these police cars here, so suddenly? The mind danced as it leaped over itself at what it saw and heard.
At the end of Montfort Drive, as it ran into Grassendale Road, a marked police car cruised past and out of sight. It provoked a feeling of overwhelming paranoia that made the simple act of breathing like hard labour.
The policeman in the driver’s seat looked straight ahead; relief came in floods like sudden rushes of blood from the heart.
The recent memory of Sally’s voice came as a consolation. She sounded as thick as she was insipid, a lifelong loser who thought she had something to offer in life when all she really had to offer was her corpse.
Planning out the night ahead was the best way to cut through the stress that constantly chewed at the gut and pressed down on the skull like an invisible clamp.
Watch Sally from a distance, savour her mounting agitation as she realised she was being stood up by Geoff, and follow her sagging shoulders to the place where she had parked.
As she arrived at her car, perform a quick but thorough three hundred and sixty degree check to make sure there was no one and nothing around to witness the first words hitting the back of her neck. ‘Excuse me!’
Dread mounted as another car came closer on Grassendale Road.
The car slid past. It wasn’t a marked police car. But that didn’t stop it being an unmarked vehicle. It carried on. Was it from the neighbourhood? Could’ve been; no way of knowing for sure.
As soon as possible, Sally would receive a picture of Richard Ezra to her iPhone that would surely get her hopes up so high that when she fell she would land with a mighty crash.
Carry her down the wooden steps like a bag of potatoes but enjoying the warmth and vulnerability of her body against the power of The Ghoul.
Picturing the look on Francesca Christie’s face when she saw she had a roommate, stress gave way to joy, joy gave way to ecstasy.
‘Look what I’ve got, Francesca. Look at me, Francesca. Look at me with the look of love, love, love. Lurrraaammeeeeee!’
70
10.55 am
‘Eve, I was just about to call you,’ said DC Cole as she entered the incident room. ‘How did the call to Geoff go?’
‘He’s a slimeball who knows how to press all the right buttons. He’s also a slimeball who doesn’t know it yet but he’s bitten off far more than he can ever chew.’
Cole held up a black leather book.
‘What’s this, Barney?’
‘Richard Ezra’s address book, as supplied by Brian Doherty, his last employer before he died.’
Clay sat next to Cole.
‘Anything?’
‘It’s mainly business contacts, contractors, solicitors, surveyors, advertising agencies, printers, other estate agents and the like. How did your meeting with Norma Maguire go just now?’
‘Norma Maguire?’ Switches tripped in Clay’s brain. ‘She’s of interest to me because she employed Francesca Christie. And on the day Francesca Christie suddenly walks out of her employment, she goes missing. Norma tried to play the mother hen over Francesca’s internet dating, and had her fingers in her employee’s online activity on Pebbles On The Beach. She may come up with something that we can use. Let’s put it this way, I’ll be in touch with Norma very soon, no doubt whatsoever.’
‘OK,’ said Cole, turning the pages of Richard Ezra’s address book to the M page and handing it to Clay. ‘Richard listed the business address of Maguire Holdings but he also listed Norma Maguire’s private residence at 73 West Road.’
‘Is that the only double listing relating to one individual?’ asked Clay.
‘No. If you go to the D page you’ll find Brian Doherty’s business address on the commercial end of Allerton Road, a couple of blocks away from Maguire Holdings, and his home address in The Serpentine. It wasn’t unusual for Richard to have double takes of business and private contacts. But I’m flagging up Maguire and Doherty because on the day Francesca Christie went missing, she walked out on Maguire and went in to work for Doherty. Could be something, could be nothing.’
‘Keep that plate spinning, Barney. What’s wrong?’
Clay saw an undertone of sorrow play out on Cole’s face.
‘I saw her yesterday morning, Eve. Francesca Christie.’
‘Yeah?’
‘When I went to talk to Brian Doherty. She was in his office while I waited outside. He’d just given her the job. She looked like she’d just had a massive burd
en lifted from her. She was like really grateful to him. I didn’t know who she was at the time or where she worked but she couldn’t have been more thankful to him. I can only conclude one thing. She must have been as miserable as sin working at Maguire Holdings.’
Clay looked at Norma Maguire’s home address, at Richard Ezra’s elegant handwriting, and felt the sadness of his presumed suicide and his wife’s violent death.
‘Up close and personal, Francesca Christie’s a really lovely-looking young woman. I could tell she was a really decent sort,’ said Cole. ‘I’d go as far as to say, she’s gorgeous. I don’t know why on earth she needed to use internet dating sites.’
‘Barney, the way we see ourselves isn’t always the way others view us. Sometimes, some people love themselves for no good reason. Sometimes, some people undervalue who and what they are. I bet when we sift through all this, we’ll find Francesca was in the latter category. She must’ve had her own good reasons for internet dating.’
Clay handed Richard Ezra’s address book back to Cole.
‘I’ve photocopied it. I’ll get the book back to Brian Doherty. He comes over like a pompous shit but he’s really hurting over Richard Ezra. Guess what, Eve?’
‘What?’
He held up the address book and pointed to Norma Maguire’s home address.
‘She lives in the Grassendale Park grid.’
71
11.05 am
Francesca Christie’s mother hurried towards the front door, the ringing of the doorbell drawing her to it like a siren song.
‘Francesca! Is that you, Francesca?’
She reached the front door but there was no reply from behind it.
When she opened the door, her first impression was that there was no one there. She looked down and saw Norma Maguire looking up at her from her wheelchair. On her lap was a large bunch of roses.
‘Can I come in, please?’ asked Norma.
Margaret Christie opened the door wider.
‘If you could just help me over the step, please.’
When Norma wheeled herself inside the house, Margaret slammed the door shut out of sheer disappointment.
