by Mark Roberts
‘Everything’s sorted.’
‘Eve, shouldn’t we be frying Norma Maguire first?’ asked Cole.
‘She’s a dead duck, Barney. Edgar McKee’s the biggest problem here. And if we don’t get a result from Terry Mason’s DNA hunt, we’ll probably be releasing him this evening. We’re going to expose him as a liar and destabilise his macho head. Let’s show him what his lady friend makes of him and his oh-so-pumped-up masculinity.’
123
11.55 am
Edgar McKee looked at Riley and asked, ‘Who’s she?’
‘This is DS Gina Riley. The officer standing behind us is DS Bill Hendricks. I’m going to play back some of the remarks you made in a previous interview, on audio. Are you ready?’
Clay pressed play at the selected place.
Let’s just say the women I pay for sex don’t fake their orgasms. I’m better than good in bed. They tell me all the time. I know when people bullshit me. These women aren’t bullshitting me.
Clay turned the recording off.
‘Is that correct, Mr McKee?’
He smiled at her and she was sure the words wouldn’t you like to find out were running through his head. Edgar McKee glanced at Hendricks, smiling, seeking his affirmation and admiration but receiving absolutely nothing back.
She turned her iPhone round, paused at the place where Winters went in with the big money question.
‘Watch and listen, Mr McKee,’ said Riley. ‘We’ve been watching this, all of us have. The he that DC Winters is referring to is you.’
Clay waited, watched his eyes settle on the still image of Susan Hurst in her front room. She pressed play and released Winters’ voice into the interview suite.
‘He also said that he satisfied you and other women that he paid for sex.’
A cloud passed over Edgar McKee’s face.
‘Why’s she smiling?’ asked Clay.
‘She’s smiling at the idea that they had orgasms as a matter of course because you were so skilled at sex.’
‘Turn it off,’ said Edgar McKee.
‘You need to hear her response to this,’ said Clay as, on screen, Susan Hurst put her baby in the playpen.
‘How would he know what sexual intercourse with me or any of the other girls is like?’ asked Susan Hurst.
‘Turn it off!’ He slammed a fist down on the table. ‘Do you hear me?’
‘If you want further clarification, I can give you the mobile numbers for Chloe and Erica, his other regulars from my agency.’
‘I’ll take those numbers before I go but for now, tell me what you mean, Susan?’
‘Edgar McKee’s impotent. It’s all in his head. He tried Viagra. Even that didn’t work. The brain to penis highway’s closed and bombed out. He simply can’t get a hard on.’
‘Turn it off now!’ He stood up and within half a second Hendricks was at his side.
‘Sit down!’ said Hendricks.
Edgar McKee sat down, his face bright red, his breathing heavy.
‘She’s a fucking whore, do you believe her?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Clay looked at Riley, addressing the answer directly to her colleague.
‘Me too,’ responded Riley.
‘What are you bitches smirking at?’
‘I’m not smirking,’ said Clay. ‘Are you, Gina?’
‘Nooo…’
‘She went on to explain that she stuck things up your anus, phallic objects, and that you used to perform oral sex on her because, I guess, there was no point in her performing it on you because your penis was flaccid.’
Edgar McKee looked at his solicitor. ‘Say something. Do something.’
‘DCI Clay, what are you establishing with this?’
‘Two things.’
She pulled up the pictures McKee had taken of himself on her iPhone.
‘There were a lot of selfies on your phone, Mr McKee, that support Susan Hurst’s version of events.’
She showed him the images he’d made, penetrating himself with a rolling pin.
‘There’s a lot of naked selfies but there isn’t a single image in which your penis is erect. You clearly enjoy having items inserted inside your body. So, you’re a liar. You lied to Wren. We know that. Sandra O’Day, Annie Boyd and Amanda Winton. There was no sign of sexual trauma on any of them. That’s because you’re not capable. Your impotence ties you in even more closely with what happened to these poor women. You must hate women. You must hate men who push prams, men who can build relationships with women and perform adequately in the bedroom. But women? You must hate them with a vengeance. Talk about salt in the wound.’
‘Do you hate women?’ chipped in Riley.
Rage was printed deep inside his eyes and his head rocked from side to side as if his brain was about to start dribbling out from both ears.
‘Are you impotent, Mr McKee?’
Clay tapped the screen of her iPhone.
‘What are you doing?’ he shouted.
‘DC Winters gave me her number. You think her name’s Candy.’
‘Who?’
‘Erica. I’m calling her.’
‘Stop! Stop it now!’
‘It’s ringing out. I’m going for a second opinion. It’s gone to answer machine. Hello, Erica. My name’s DCI Eve Clay. You personally have nothing to worry about. I want to ask you…’
‘Hello?’ A woman spoke.
‘Is that Erica?’ asked Clay, staring at McKee, twisting on his seat.
‘I’d like to talk to you about Edgar McKee.’
‘Susan tipped me off. I was expecting a call from you. Edgar McKee’s a limp dick. A perv who can’t perform. Do you want the details?’
‘Lying cunt!’ screamed McKee.
‘Fuck off, McKee,’ retaliated Erica. ‘I’ve got a nickname for you. Tic Tac Dick.’
‘Thanks for that, Erica.’
‘I’m coming for you next!’ shouted McKee.
She disconnected and Clay looked across the table at McKee, Harris and Watson either side of him.
‘You just threatened Erica, Mr McKee. You said, I’m coming for you next. Next? Who did you go for before?’
McKee covered his face with his hands.
‘Norma Maguire. Edgar McKee. Was there a third person involved in this barbarity?’
There were tears in Edgar McKee’s eyes.
‘I’ll ask again. Was there a third person involved? Give me a name.’
‘No, there wasn’t!’ He screamed and jumped out of his seat. ‘No! No! No! How do I know?’
Clay lay her hand on Riley’s sleeve. ‘Did you hear that? We aren’t looking for a third party. Straight from the horse’s mouth. It’s just McKee and Maguire we’re dealing with. We’re going to close the interview there.’
‘You tricked me into saying that. I’m not involved in murdering women.’
‘I think we’ve now got a rather substantial motive for why these murders have been happening. You’re threatened by women. Every woman on the planet is a living reminder of your inadequacy as a man. So what do you do to that threat? Snuff it out. The only good bitch is a dead bitch. Who is Norma Maguire to you? Maybe it’s time to tell me, Mr McKee. She’s your partner. You’ve stepped over the last line together. You’ve murdered together. Don’t insult me. Don’t tell me you don’t know her.’
124
1.20 pm
As he walked away from the medical records office of the Royal Liverpool Hospital, Winters called Clay.
‘How’d it go, Clive?’
‘According to the records, Edgar McKee’s had no treatment in his life for any physical illnesses but was briefly under the shrink for his sexual dysfunction. He went for cognitive behavioural therapy but he wasn’t a model patient. In the end the hospital discharged him because he wouldn’t do the work. He thought that Viagra was going to be the cure-all but as we’ve learned from Susan Hurst, it was a no-show.’
‘What about Norma Maguire?’
‘Thirty years ago, she was
admitted to A & E with spinal injuries. 19th August, 1991. She’d been to Crosby Beach with her father, Terry Maguire. She’d been swimming. On the way back to Liverpool, a truck heading towards Hornby Dock went into Maguire’s Bentley. Driver fell asleep at the wheel. Her father walked away without a scratch but Norma was admitted to the Royal with spinal injuries. A week after she’d been admitted, Norma’s mother, Catriona West, signed her daughter out and transferred her to a private clinic. There the trail goes cold.’
‘It didn’t say which clinic?’
‘No. The initial medical examinations said she’d never walk again. I’m on my way back.’
‘By which time, I’ll have charged Norma Maguire with conspiracy to murder. We’ll build it up from there. She’s been preying on women on Pebbles On The Beach. It’s time for her to face up to the misery she’s been spreading.’
125
1.23 pm
As Clay made her way towards Interview Suite 1, the swing door leading into reception opened and DC Barney Cole came on to the corridor.
‘I’ve come straight to see you, Eve,’ said Cole as he handed her four receipts. ‘They’re from Norma Maguire’s office.’
The door leading into the cells opened and Norma Maguire appeared on the corridor with Sergeant Harris and Ms Rice behind her. She stopped and stared at the group ahead of her with a look of sour premonition.
Clay scrutinised the receipts. Eurostar Gare du Nord. Paris to London St Pancras. Then Virgin, London Euston to Liverpool Lime Street, all on 31st July, 2021.
‘Come here, Ms Maguire,’ said Clay.
Slowly and reluctantly, Norma Maguire wheeled herself down the corridor. Hendricks made his way through the automatic doors from reception towards the interview suite, carrying Norma Maguire’s open laptop.
Clay showed the receipts to Norma Maguire.
‘What are these, Ms Maguire?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Does your credit card end in the digits 3245?’
She was quiet, looked as if someone was sticking pins in her scalp. She nodded.
‘From your office. Did you travel from Gare du Nord to London St Pancras on Eurostar on Saturday, 31st July this year? Whoever travelled on these tickets left Gare du Nord at 9.15 am. Was it you? If it wasn’t you, who was it?’
‘It could have been anyone.’
‘Did you travel from London Euston to Liverpool Lime Street on the same day?’
‘I can’t remember.’
Clay held out a stamped train ticket, Liverpool Lime Street to London Euston, on Friday, 6th August, 2021, and a ticket from London St Pancras to Gare du Nord, Paris, 6th August, 2021. She showed Norma the receipts, pointed at the last four digits of the credit card used to pay for the trains.
‘You bought these tickets with your credit card. You paid for them and saved the receipts in your office on Allerton Road. Who did you fund to travel back to Liverpool from Europe and back to Europe from Liverpool on these two dates?’ Norma Maguire looked at the ground. ‘I’m asking you now because I’ve got quite a few questions to ask you once we’re behind that door. About your laptop and what was found on it. Want to tell me who the tickets were for?’ Silence. ‘No?’
Clay turned to DS Cole.
‘Go to the incident room and ask DS Stone to send Edgar McKee’s picture to passport control at Gare du Nord, Paris. He’s to ask them to look at who passed through the border on Saturday, 31st July, heading for London, and find a match for Edgar McKee. Ask them if they could also look at CCTV footage from the same day. Once that’s sorted, go with DS Stone to Lime Street Station. Ask to see the CCTV footage of passengers disembarking from all incoming trains from London Euston on the same day, Saturday, 31st July.’
Hendricks opened the door of Interview Suite 1.
‘Do you want to confirm that you purchased the travel tickets for Edgar McKee or are you going to make us show you the truth, Ms Maguire?’
She looked at her solicitor and said, ‘Help me.’
‘Help yourself, Ms Maguire,’ said Ms Rice. ‘I’ve told you several times. Tell the truth.’
126
1.26 pm
As he prepared to leave the incident room to look at the contents of Norma Maguire’s office in Interview Suite 3, the landline telephone on DC Barney Cole’s desk rang out. He didn’t recognise the number on display as he picked up the receiver.
‘DC Cole speaking, how can I help you?’
‘It’s Carolyn Wilkes from Maguire Holdings. I was asked to find out if Norma had any favourite places she visited and to let you know.’
‘Fire away.’
‘I rang around everyone and it was strange. We all thought we knew Norma so well, but when it came to it, what we knew about her didn’t add up to very much.’
Cole resisted the urge to laugh at the bitterness of the truth that had just slipped blithely from Carolyn’s mouth.
‘We know she likes classical music and sometimes goes to the Philharmonic Hall to listen to concerts. She loves her house in Grassendale Park.’
That’s been torn to shreds, thought Cole, and Francesca Christie wasn’t there.
‘The restaurants on Allerton Road where she takes us when we hit our targets. And then, when we thought that’s about it, my colleague Carly Cross reminded us all of the summer of 2018 when it was really hot. One Saturday she told us we had to dress down for work on Sunday because of the heatwave. We all showed up in our shorts and T-shirts and there was Norma with hampers of food and coolboxes full of bottles of wine and beer. It was a big surprise. Norma took us to Crosby Beach. She’d hired a bus and a driver so we could all have a drink if we wanted. I sat behind her on the bus and I asked what’s this for, Norma? It turned out it was a very special anniversary for her, but she wouldn’t give anything else away. Just that she loved Crosby Beach and it’s a place she comes to every so often to look across the water, see what floats off to nowhere, and watch the comings and goings.’
‘She used that expression, see what floats off to nowhere?’ checked Cole.
‘Yes.’
‘What was the date?’
Carolyn considered the question for a few moments.
‘Sunday, 19th August, 2018.’
‘What kind of a day did you have?’ asked Cole, pulling up a map of Crosby Beach on his laptop and looking at the relationship between the Irish Sea, the beach and the network of roads leading down to the sand.
‘Strange. One minute she was really happy, the next she was withdrawn. By half eleven most people were muttering that they wanted to go home, but they couldn’t because they were on office hours and we had to stay until four o’clock, Sunday closing time. It was unpleasantly hot and the beach was crowded.
‘She had a couple of glasses of wine and started saying how much she loved swimming in the sea. I thought to myself, maybe she likes Crosby Beach because that’s where she used to go before her accident. Then she started going on about her father, how he drowned in the Irish Sea. He’d gone out alone in a motor boat and his body was washed up on the shore. She said it was suicide but he never left a note. The bizarre thing was, she smiled as she told the whole story about her father.’
‘That’s very helpful, Carolyn,’ said Cole.
‘It was well meaning of her, but altogether it was a horrible day. Oh, yeah. She asked Des, one of the lads, to push her down to the water’s edge so that she could get a closer look at the Iron Men. It nearly killed him getting her wheelchair across the sand and back.’
‘Did she say anything to Des?’
‘No. She got a bit weepy. Des thought it was a combination of too much sun and too much wine. That really is all, DC Cole.’
‘Thank you, Carolyn. That could be incredibly helpful.’
He placed the receiver down and attached a map of Crosby Beach and the surrounding area to the email he composed to the whole team.
Norma Maguire’s favourite place. Where are we looking for Francesca Christie?
127
1.37 pm
‘I’ve got to hand it to you, Ms Maguire. You certainly know how to manipulate lonely women. Your tag team strategy was little short of masterly. Danny Guest dumps Annie Boyd and she goes running into the arms of Richard Ezra. It’s all on your laptop. Why did you delete all these messages?’
Norma Maguire said nothing.
Clay turned Norma Maguire’s laptop around and showed her the brief and hurried dialogue between Sally Haydn and Geoff Campbell.
‘You went from being cool and patient to being in an awfully big hurry. You just couldn’t wait to get talking on the phone with Sally Haydn. Only when DS Riley did speak with you, it wasn’t you. DS Riley spoke with Edgar McKee. Posing as Sally Haydn, she told him something like I love roaring log fires, drinking wine and making pictures in the coals.’
‘I don’t know what the policewoman said. I didn’t take the call. Edgar…’
‘Go on. Edgar?’
‘If Edgar took the call, whoever Edgar is, how do I know what was said?’
‘I don’t think there was any if in your mind just then, Ms Maguire. You were going to say, Edgar took the call. Edgar who I know. Edgar who murders lonely women with me. Edgar who abducted the women.’
‘His Sandra O’Day alibi has just crashed and burned,’ said Hendricks. ‘You paid for him to come back into the country on the day before Sandra was reported missing and to go back to Europe on the day after she was killed.’
‘That’s right, isn’t it?’ pressed Clay.
‘Tell the truth, Ms Maguire,’ urged her solicitor. ‘The evidence against you is compelling, and I’m pretty sure there’s more evidence rolling in on the next wave.’
‘I admit I talked to the women on the internet but that was because I was lonely and bored.’
‘You admit to all the evidence on your laptop?’ said Clay.
‘Yes.’
‘If it was company you were after, genuine company, why didn’t you go on Pebbles On The Beach as yourself?’ asked Hendricks.
‘Because I’m hideous! I’m hideous! Hideous! Hideous!’ She exploded, tears cascading down her face, which was one shade down from purple.
