‘If they are, make sure they are out of the office in time. Make up a ruse if you must.’
‘That’s what I planned.’
‘Is Gladys Lake the bait?’
‘Not really, but if Charlotte Hamilton makes an appearance, we’ll be there to nab her.’
‘Good plan, as long as no one else is killed. And if the new SIO starts causing trouble, act professionally. If you catch this woman, the accolades go to you.’
‘And you, sir.’
‘Correct. But if she’s caught on the new SIO’s watch...’
‘He’s the hero of the hour, and you and I are dead meat,’ Isaac said as he left his DCS’s office.
Goddard shrugged his shoulders in agreement.
***
Charlotte continued to move away from where she would be recognised. She had considered her life expendable, if only it would ensure the death of her torturer, but now…
If only that woman had not got in my way, she thought.
She reflected on the events at the conference centre: the Ladies toilet, the knife in her hand, Sara Marshall separating her from her target, the knife entering her body, Dr Lake in the cubicle, inches from her. If only those two women had not come in, she would have completed her task. Now the plan was in shreds again, and she had nowhere to hide. She knew that she needed sanctuary. She needed her friend, where she had spent three years; she needed Beaty. But Beaty was dead; dead as a result of the shock of seeing her dead cat.
Charlotte realised that she had been the only person who had really cared for her, and if she wasn’t there, at least the area would be.
She walked towards Southwark, careful to avoid being too visible. A discount clothing store on the way gave her the opportunity to buy a thick coat; she had dispensed with the previous one in Windsor. Although it was not the coldest day of the year, it did not look out of place to the people scurrying along the street.
Taking stock of her appearance, she realised that she was still too recognisable. She bought a hat, which under normal circumstances she would not be seen dead in.
She chuckled at her appearance, but she knew she would not be recognised, at least by a patrolling police car; not even by a police officer on the street.
Slowing her pace, Charlotte reviewed the situation. She knew she still had a task to complete, but when and how? Gladys Lake, she knew, would be protected. As for Sara Marshall, she did not care whether she lived or died. The knife which she had used was at the conference centre, discarded as she left the building. She needed another.
Once at Southwark, realising that there was no transport available to her destination, she continued to head south, joining up with Old Kent Road. Another two miles, and she boarded a bus. She smiled to herself as she sat in its warmth and the comfort, thinking how easy it was for her to fool the police.
Chapter 29
Nothing had changed from what Charlotte could see, apart from Beaty, her friend, the only person who had cared for her, being dead and buried in the local churchyard. Although not religious, Charlotte visited the grave, placing on it some flowers which she had purchased from a florist.
‘Cathy,’ a voice startled Charlotte. It was a name she had not used since she had lived with Beaty.
‘Mrs Jenkins, how are you?’
‘Fine. We haven’t seen you for a long time.’ The woman had been a friend of Beaty and Charlotte, or Cathy as she was known then. Charlotte remembered that she had bad eyesight, surprised that she had recognised her, and that she never watched television or read a newspaper, which was as well.
‘I couldn’t stay after what happened.’
‘I know. We were all fond of Beaty, although she preferred you to all of us,’ Mrs Jenkins said.
‘I was so upset I had to leave that day. Not only Beaty but Felix.’
‘His grave’s still in the garden. Do you want to visit?’
‘Yes, please,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I hope Beaty won’t mind, but I’ll take one of her flowers for Felix.
‘I’m sure she won’t.’
Mrs Jenkins, a similar age to Beaty, chatted away as they walked the short distance to Beaty’s cottage. She gave Charlotte all the gossip: who had married whom, who had left whom, even who was having an affair. She even updated Charlotte on the boyfriend she’d had in the town, and that he had married and was now the father of twins. Charlotte felt as though she had come home.
Beaty’s cottage was now occupied by a couple from London who had relocated to avoid the hustle and bustle of the big city. They invited the two women in for tea. Charlotte put on some sunglasses and darkened her face with tanning cream, remembered it from when she had left some years ago, although the furniture had changed, and Felix the cat had been replaced by Ben, the Jack Russell Terrier, who instinctively liked her and came and sat beside her. Charlotte patted the dog and remembered Felix the cat and Beaty; a tear came to her eye. ‘Pleasant memories,’ she said, which was true.
She gave a thought to her past and could feel no anger, only regret about what she had done. She wanted to stay in that chair with that dog and that open fire forever.
‘Stay the night,’ the couple said.
‘Thank you. Too many memories here for me, but thanks all the same.’
Charlotte went out to Felix’s grave. Even though there were new owners, the small cross she had put there was still in place. She tidied the area surrounding it and laid the single flower on the grave.
She said a little prayer and silently mouthed a few words. ‘Forgive me Beaty and Felix for what I have done. You were the only two that loved me, I know that now.’
***
Isaac returned from Richard Goddard’s office to find the new man in place – Detective Chief Inspector Seth Caddick. He had arrived early.
‘Pleased to meet you, DCI Caddick,’ Isaac said as he shook the man’s hand firmly.
‘Fine mess you’ve got yourself into here,’ was the reply from the man, a Welsh accent unmistakable. ‘You’d better bring me up to speed if I’m to catch this woman. How many have died now?’
‘Six, possibly seven.’
‘It’s not going to look good on your record, is it?’ Caddick’s reply.
Isaac, a man not willing to judge people too harshly on first meeting, could only come up with one conclusion: he didn’t like him. To Isaac, who was willing to encourage and only criticise when necessary, his replacement was the complete opposite. Isaac studied the man more carefully than when he had first walked in the door. Caddick was as tall as he was; although he carried at least another twenty pounds, it was muscle, not flab. He had a full head of hair, although it was greying at the sides. Isaac judged his age to be about forty-five.
‘Where’s your team, apart from the one who was stabbed?’
‘Out looking for Charlotte Hamilton.’
‘Do they have a plan or are they just aimlessly wandering around?’
‘They’re professionals. They don’t just wander around,’ Isaac’s curt reply.
‘Maybe, but I’ll be bringing in some of my people in the next couple of days, to deal with this Charlotte Hamilton woman.’
‘Your prerogative, DCI,’ Isaac said.
‘I’ll need your office.’
‘I’ll move out for you.’
Isaac found a desk close to Larry’s and settled himself there. He could see Caddick making himself at home. He was on the phone, not attempting to lower his voice. ‘No worries, commissioner. I’ll soon lick this team into shape.’
Isaac had judged the man correctly; he was a sycophant who ingratiated himself with his superiors at every opportunity.
Larry entered the office, a look of surprise on his face at seeing his DCI sitting at the desk next to his. He looked over at Isaac’s old office, saw the new man in place. He rolled his eyes at Isaac; Isaac nodded.
‘Detective Inspector Larry Hill, sir.’ Larry introduced himself to the new man.
‘Caddick, DCI Caddick,’ the man replied. He sho
ok Larry’s hand with a bear-like grip.
‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Where have you been?’ It seemed to Larry a criticism, not a question.
‘I’ve been with our people trying to find out where Charlotte Hamilton has disappeared to.’
‘From what I know of her and Challis Street, she’s probably outside here having a coffee.’
‘Unlikely,’ Larry said, not sure how to handle the man’s surly attitude.
‘That may be, but I need to be updated by the team if we are to prevent any more murders.’
‘She seems to be focussed on Dr Lake at the present moment. CI Cook has ensured that she is well protected.’
‘She was meant to be well protected at the damn conference, but the woman got through, almost killed DI Marshall,’ Caddick said.
‘That’s true.’
Larry, summarily dismissed, sat down at his desk.
‘You’ve met our new SIO,’ Isaac said.
‘Gruff sort of man.’
‘DCI,’ a voice shouted from the other side of the room.
‘Our master beckons,’ Larry murmured.
Isaac re-entered his former office.
‘Yes, DCI,’ Isaac said.
‘I need to meet the team as soon as possible.’
‘They’re busy at the present moment.’
‘Where?’
‘Apart from DI Marshall, who you know about, Sergeant O’Riordan is staying close to Dr Lake in case Charlotte Hamilton reappears.’
‘Unfinished business?’
‘That’s what we believe.’
‘Who else?’
‘You’ve just met DI Hill, and Sergeant Wendy Gladstone is looking for the woman.’
‘I was told that she was excellent at finding missing people.’
‘She is.’
‘But not this woman.’
‘Not entirely true, but with this woman we’ve always been one step behind. DI Hill and Sergeant Gladstone found where she stayed in Windsor, but she had left by then.’
‘Not much use then, is it?’
‘I can’t agree with you on that. Any evidence or information assists.’
‘Agreed, but policing by the book isn’t working. What’s the latest on this woman?’
‘After the conference centre, we traced her movements down as far as Blackfriars Bridge.’
‘How?’
‘CCTV monitoring the traffic picked her up. That’s why Bridget Halloran, our CCTV viewing officer, is not here.’
‘She’s out checking the videos?’
‘We’re looking south of the Thames.’
‘And then?’
‘Hopefully, we’ll find out where she’s gone.’
‘What’s the psychologist’s analysis of the woman.’
‘Dr Lake believes she’s fixated on her. There have been two attempts on her life, so far. Charlotte Hamilton has succeeded with every previous victim.
‘Is Dr Lake, the best person to give an analysis?’
‘You’ve brought yourself up to speed on this case?’
‘Not totally.’ It was a frank admission from the new SIO. Isaac knew that this was not about a new broom to resolve the case; this was the commissioner looking after his people. Ousting him, and no doubt Richard Goddard, his DCS.
It was evident to Isaac that Detective Chief Inspector Seth Caddick would not be up to speed for some time, and if there was to be a resolution to the case, it was up to him.
***
Charlotte woke up the next morning when a cup of tea was brought to her. She had slept well. As it had been with Beaty, so it was with Mrs Jenkins. A cat which had climbed up on her bed during the night slept peacefully.
‘That’s Brutus. He’s been out ratting all night. If you don’t mind, I’ll leave him there.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Charlotte said.
‘Bacon and eggs?’
‘It sounds lovely.’
‘Twenty minutes. You can have a shower; I’ve put a towel there for you. Also, I washed and ironed the clothes that you wore yesterday. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘You’re too kind.’
‘Not at all. I know how much Beaty and Felix loved you. It’s the least I can do.’
Charlotte remembered back to her time in the town before; how much she had loved it there and how much she had loved Beaty, more than her own parents. She determined to stay in Sevenoaks and to forget about her past, even though she could not resist the need to phone the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel and to ask about Gladys Lake.
As she sat down to breakfast, Mrs Jenkins spoke. ‘You can stay here as long as you like. At least until you are settled.’
‘I would like that very much,’ Charlotte said as she ate her breakfast.
She had spent three years with Beaty, the best years of her life, when there had been no medication, no doctors, no anguish on her part, and no recriminations for the murders she had committed. She wondered if they had only been imaginings on her part, a result of her schizophrenia.
‘More toast?’
‘Yes, please, and some of your jam.’
‘Made it myself.’
‘I remember your jam from before.’
‘Where did you go?’ Mrs Jenkins asked.
‘After Beaty and Felix?’
‘Yes.’
‘I was so upset. They meant everything to me.’
‘But you had friends here; friends who would have cared for you.’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Let’s talk no more about it. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.’
‘I’m here now, and this time I’ll stay.’
It was eight in the morning as Charlotte wandered around the town, that she saw him. It was the driver of the truck that had killed Felix. Her anger flared, and she reached into her bag for a knife. It was not there, and he was gone.
She left the town by the next train. Her peace was gone, only to be replaced by an uncontrollable rage and a desire to inflict a fatal wound on the woman who had destroyed her life – Dr Gladys Lake.
***
‘She took a bus to Sevenoaks, thirty miles south from here,’ Wendy said on the phone to Isaac.
‘Our new SIO is here.’
‘What’s he like? As charming as you, sir?’
‘Charming is not a word I would use.’
‘Don’t worry. We’ll soon have this woman. We’ll make sure you get the credit for her capture.’
‘Thanks. What can you tell us about Charlotte?’
Larry sat alongside Isaac, the phone on speaker. Caddick sat in his office, looking through the reports.
‘How did you find her?’ Larry asked.
‘Bridget found her on Old Kent Road, CCTV cameras. After that, good old-fashioned legwork. A couple of local constables with me, and we started showing Charlotte’s most recent photo. That’s how we found her.’
‘Are you going to Sevenoaks.’
‘I’m on the road now. I’ve got the two locals from Southwark with me. I’ll be there in forty minutes. Also, I’ve phoned the local station there.’
‘Do you need Larry?’
‘It would help.’
‘I’m on my way,’ Larry said. ‘Give me one hour.’
‘How about you, sir?’ Wendy asked.
‘I’m travelling to Newcastle with Dr Lake. Sean O’Riordan is coming with me.’
‘She should be safe.’
‘With Charlotte Hamilton?’
‘You’re right. If she’s in Sevenoaks, we’ll find her.’
‘And if you don’t, she’s still coming after Dr Lake.’
‘She’s tenacious.’
‘And deadly.’
‘Don’t get too close. She’ll either take your photo or stick a knife in you.’
‘She’ll probably do both if she gets the chance,’ Isaac said.
***
Careful not to be seen, Charlotte left the train two stations before its final destination at Chari
ng Cross. She realised that London Bridge Station was not the ideal location, but she could not delay. It was already mid-morning, and Gladys Lake was due to check out around two in the afternoon. That could only mean that she intended to catch the 4.15 p.m. train from King’s Cross.
Charlotte checked her bag; she still had fifteen hundred pounds. A local shop provided a change of clothes and a cheap wig. She also purchased a kitchen knife in a discount store.
She walked across London Bridge and up Princes Street, before turning into Cheapside Street, eventually connecting with Farrington Road which took her close to King’s Cross Station. She found a small restaurant and ate a good meal.
She knew she was early, but she needed to check out the area: entry and exit points, roads and side streets to vanish down if the police were there.
Charlotte sang her song quietly, repeating all the verses as she waited for the woman.
Stupid Duncan up at the quarry, along came a sister and gave him a push.
Liam thought he was a stud until I stuck a knife in his heart.
Oh, what fun, I slit his throat. Who will be next? Will it be you?
The black policeman thought he was smart, but I killed him anyway.
Charlotte knew that Dr Lake would be accompanied by the police, and it would not be possible to board the train at King’s Cross, as they were bound to be on the lookout for her. She had attempted to kill the woman twice now, once in Newcastle, the other time in London, and they knew that she was determined and unlikely to desist.
Once the knife had entered the doctor’s body, she knew she would have no further use for life. Until she had that blood-soaked knife, there was no freedom from the torment that cursed her: fluctuating between sanity and malevolence, the loving environment of Beaty and Felix, the torture in Newcastle at the mental hospital, the love of her parents for her brother Duncan and their disinterest in her.
The weather had turned colder, and a biting wind blew. Charlotte knew that if Dr Lake was coming, it would be soon.
As expected, ten minutes later, a police car drew up at the station. Gladys Lake emerged, clearly visible. Charlotte felt a nervous tingle knowing that her prey was so close, yet so far. Also visible was the black policeman, DCI Cook, and another police officer that she recognised. The man she had seen with Inspector Marshall at Joey’s, the night she had killed Liam Fogarty, the least satisfying of her murders.
The DCI Isaac Cook Thriller Series: Books 1 -3 Page 83
