by Mel Sherratt
‘No, but when I get them—’ Kathleen recognised Leon’s voice, but Eddie interrupted his sentence.
‘If this is to do with those parties—’
There was a bang, making Kathleen jump. It sounded like a hand being thumped on the desk.
‘I’m as freaked about this as you are, Ed. I could be next, for all we know.’
Silence fell. Kathleen was just about to go in when they started talking again.
‘Tom got suspended from work,’ Leon said.
‘What?’
‘He rang me yesterday. Someone complained about him getting too close to the students.’
‘For fuck’s sake!’ Another bang made Kathleen flinch. ‘Why did you start them up again?’
‘It was stupid, I know. But it was easy money.’
‘It’s tasteless, if you ask me.’
‘I don’t go with any of the girls!’ Leon’s voice rose.
‘That’s beside the point. The reason I wanted nothing to do with it was because I disliked what you were all doing.’
‘Okay, okay! Well, I doubt there will be any more now.’
‘How much did Dale owe us?’ Eddie asked after a pause.
‘Just shy of fifteen grand,’ Leon replied. ‘And if the cops find out that, we’re going to be prime suspects!’
‘And how exactly do you think they will find out, unless one of us tells them?’
‘What about Grace?’
‘What about her?’
‘You need to warn her off. She’s always creeping around. I don’t like it.’
A pause.
‘Does anyone else know what’s going on?’ Eddie said.
‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘So we stay calm, act normal if the cops come and question us. Get ringing around anyone who was at the last party. You need to sort this out, before one of us ends up dead.’
Kathleen gasped. What the hell had Tom Davenport been up to, to get suspended? What a stupid man to throw everything away, bring suspicion back to her family.
And what was all this about ‘parties’?
As she heard movement, Kathleen scuttled off before anyone saw her.
FORTY-TWO
According to Sam, Kyle Fisher was eighteen, had been in juvenile detention twice for breaking and entering, and theft, and was a cocky little bastard heading for prison. One of three, he came from a stable family who hadn’t been able to control him.
Before she went in to interview him, Grace spoke to a duty solicitor she hadn’t met before. Mitchell Patrick introduced himself and she warmed to him instantly. His smile seemed genuine and he spoke about Kyle as if he was an adult rather than looking down on him because of his mannerisms, as some did.
Grace went into the interview room. Mitchell was sitting next to Kyle. She slid a chair out and sat down opposite.
Kyle’s arms were folded, fingers on one hand revealing grubby, bitten-down nails. A pile of spots on his forehead and a few hairs sprouting on his chin that she assumed he was trying to pass off as a beard made him look younger than he was.
After going through the relevant details necessary to record the interview, Grace took out her notebook and started with her questioning.
‘Kyle, can you tell me where you were last night in between the hours of eight p.m. and ten p.m.?’
‘I was with my woman.’
‘Your woman?’ Grace raised her eyebrows. Kyle Fisher seemed barely a man himself.
‘Yeah, I met her at seven and dropped her off about quarter to ten. Had some business to attend to.’
‘Which was?’
He shrugged. ‘This and that.’
‘And where did you do your “this and that”?’
‘Around.’
‘So you dropped your girlfriend off. At home, was this?’
‘Yeah.’
Grace waited for him to elaborate but was met with silence. She sighed inwardly.
‘The address you dropped her off at – was it where she lived?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Which is?’
‘Leek New Road.’
‘That’s an extremely long road, Kyle. What number?’
‘Church View. It doesn’t have a number. It’s a monster of a house.’
Grace had started to write down the address but stopped and looked up. ‘What’s your girlfriend’s name?’
‘Freya Davenport.’
‘You are aware that a man was found murdered in the back garden of this home?’
‘Yeah. She told me her old man had been killed.’ He folded his arms. ‘But I had nothing to do with that.’
‘Is that why you were hanging around outside the address after it happened?’
Kyle frowned.
‘You were seen on camera across the road from the property, watching for over half an hour.’
‘I wanted to know what was going on.’
‘How long have you and Freya been together?’ Grace asked next.
‘Only for a few dates. I don’t know her that well. She’s not my type actually.’
‘Oh?’
‘She’s a bit young.’
‘How old are you? Seventeen?’
‘Eighteen.’
‘And you have lots of friends.’ Grace smiled. ‘I recognise you from Steele’s Gym. Do a lot of sparring, do you?’
‘I do a bit.’
‘Good at it, are you?’
‘Yeah, not bad.’ His chest puffed out a little as she complimented him.
‘Someone gave our victim’s wife a right hook that nearly knocked her out. That wasn’t one of your friends, was it? Perhaps slipped around the back of the property?’
‘No.’ Kyle threw her a filthy look.
‘For all we know you could be in this together with some of your boxing mates. Someone attacks Mr Davenport, then you hang around afterwards to see if the coast is clear.’
‘No!’ Kyle shuffled in his seat. ‘Look, if you must know I was dating Freya to get back at him! That bastard had been knocking my sister off.’
‘You mean having an affair with her?’ Grace probed.
‘Yeah. Something happened and it was all over, but she was so upset she wouldn’t tell anyone. Not even me. He’s the same age as our dad – that’s pervy, if you ask me. So I was seeing Freya to get back at him.’
‘How exactly were you going to do that?’
‘I … I was going to sleep with her and then dump her, like he did my sister. And then I was going to tell her what her dad had done.’
‘That’s hideous!’
‘So is what her dad did to Lucy.’
‘Your sister’s name is Lucy?’ Grace stopped writing again, excited at the revelation. They had only just started checking the names on the list from Staffordshire College.
‘Yeah,’ Kyle replied.
Grace needed to rule him out for certain now. ‘Where were you last Tuesday evening between nine p.m. and eleven p.m.?’
‘I was at home, with my mum and dad. We were binge-watching The Walking Dead.’
‘And Saturday evening between eight and nine thirty p.m.?’
‘I was in the pub. It was karaoke.’
‘Did you sing?’ Grace knew lots of people might have seen him if so.
‘You couldn’t get me off the mike.’
They would have to make sure his movements checked out but, if they did, Grace knew Kyle couldn’t have murdered the first two men. Her gut instinct told her the same killer was responsible for this, which meant Sam had been right: if he was involved, he was just an onlooker. Forensics would likely confirm his statement once they were in, but as yet no one who couldn’t be accounted for had been seen leaving any of the properties either side of the house.
But Kyle was the same frame and build as the person caught on camera running away from Dale Chapman’s home, and Grace had seen him in the boxing club on Sunday morning. If Lucy was the same size and height as her brother, she too fit the description of the person caught on camera ru
nning away from Dale Chapman’s home.
Grace needed to talk to Lucy Fisher, to see if she had sent the note they’d found in the kitchen drawer. She could also quiz her on the parties.
‘Does Lucy live at home with you and your parents?’ Grace said.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll give you a lift. Do you have her number so I can contact her?’
‘I don’t know it off the top of my head but it’s on my phone.’
Grace quickly went through everything with him again, writing it down so that he could check it over. Then she left the room and headed up the stairs two at a time.
FORTY-THREE
Tunstall, famously the birthplace of Robbie Williams, was the fourth largest of the six towns, in the north of the city. The Fisher family lived in a terraced house just off Greenbank Road where the former member of Take That and solo artist used to live.
Grace had taken her own car. Kyle got out almost before the wheels had stopped. It was clear he didn’t want to be seen with her, even in an unmarked vehicle. She quickly followed him up the path.
Lucy Fisher was in the living room, sitting on the edge of the settee. She stood up when Grace entered. She was the same height and build as Kyle, with the same colour hair and features. There was such an uncanny likeness that Grace wondered if Lucy covered her blonde bob with a hood and wore no make-up, would anyone tell the difference between the two of them? It was worth noting.
‘Hi, Lucy, I’m DS Allendale.’ Grace flashed her warrant card.
Lucy burst into tears. ‘I can’t believe Tom is dead.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss, but I’d like to ask you a few questions.’
Lucy’s mum sat next to her. ‘Take your time, duck,’ she comforted.
Lucy looked up through watery eyes. ‘I finished things with him because he was a pervert.’
‘Can you tell me what happened, Lucy?’ Grace sat down so she was eye level with her. ‘Kyle says you’ve been really upset about something.’
Lucy looked up at her mum, almost for reassurance.
‘It’s okay,’ Mrs Fisher said. ‘Tell her what you told me.’
‘I’d been seeing Tom for about two months. We used to meet after college had finished and sometimes, if we both had a spare session, I’d go to his office.’
‘Did you have a sexual relationship with him?’
Lucy nodded. ‘Not at first, though. I would go to his room for coffee and cakes. We’d play some music and talk. He was gentle and kind. Then one day it happened.’
‘In his office?’ Grace questioned.
‘Yes.’
‘So things were going good for you?’ Grace couldn’t see anything apart from a grown man who should have known better.
‘Yes, until he invited me to that party.’
Grace’s ears pricked up, instantly thinking of what Regan Peters had described. ‘What kind of party?’
Lucy wiped at her face as more tears fell. ‘I thought it was a house-warming do. Me and Tom had never been anywhere outside his office and I was excited when he invited me along. He wanted me to bring a female friend, so I would at least know someone as well as him, he said. But I decided to go alone. I wanted to spend time with Tom on my own.’
The room dropped into silence as Lucy struggled with her words.
‘Kyle, please stop pacing!’ Mrs Fisher said.
‘I’m going to swing for someone if he hurt her,’ he seethed, punching a fist into his open palm.
‘He’s dead, Kyle!’ Lucy cried.
‘What happened at the party, Lucy?’ Grace asked.
‘When I arrived, there were only a few girls. They were my age, maybe some younger, but they were all dressed in sexy dresses, high heels, lots of make-up. Some of them were really drunk. I was meeting Tom there so I went inside, trying to find him. As I went through the hall into the living room, this man grabbed me around the waist and pulled me towards him. He tried to kiss me but I struggled and got free. He slapped my bottom as I raced away.’
‘Bastard,’ Kyle raged.
‘And then what?’ Grace urged Lucy to continue.
‘There were men everywhere; some of them staring at me. It was horrible and I couldn’t find Tom for ages. And when I did see him, he was sitting in the conservatory, and there was another girl on his lap. He had his hand on her thigh and he was moving it up and down her leg. She was giggling at something he was saying.’ She hung her head in shame for a moment. ‘I was so shocked that I turned around and headed for the door. But another man stopped me, pushed me into the corner. I was terrified. He said he would pay me twenty pounds.’ She glanced at her mum before speaking again. ‘For a blow job! He thought I was a prostitute, Mum. I’m not that type of girl.’
Mrs Fisher took Lucy in her arms while she cried. Grace gave her a sympathetic look, understanding now why Lucy had been so reluctant to tell anyone what had happened. She could see she was upset, that the incident had brought back memories she was trying to forget, but Grace had to find out one more thing.
‘What happened after that? How was Tom when you next saw him?’
‘I avoided him, but he came after me. He wanted to know what was wrong, and when I told him, he said to stay away from him. He said he would deny anything I said if I told anyone about it. I … I made sure I was never alone with him again.’
‘Why didn’t you report it to someone at college?’
‘I just wanted to forget it. I only had two weeks before I left anyway. I just put it down to me being stupid.’
‘You weren’t stupid at all!’ Kyle shouted.
‘Tom Davenport was a sexual predator,’ Grace agreed. ‘He was grooming you. It’s not the first time he’s done something like this by the sounds of things.’ She waited. ‘Lucy, I need to ask you one more thing. Can you remember where the house was? It would be really helpful for us if you can perhaps recall the area, or the street name, or what it looked like.’
‘Seventeen Washington Place, Hanford. It’s a big house set back along a private lane. You can’t see it from the road.’
Lucy started to cry again then. Grace wound up their chat, asking where she was on the nights of the three murders and then getting her to write a few words. Grace had a photo of the greetings card sent to Tom Davenport stored on her phone. Lucy’s writing didn’t seem to match the words written on it. For now, she was satisfied with the answers.
She wanted to check out that address.
Before heading back to the station, Grace got on the phone to Sam, explaining what she had found out.
‘Can you get on to the electoral roll and the city council to see who seventeen Washington Place belongs to, please?’ she asked. ‘Let’s see if we can get in without a warrant first.’
By the time she got to her desk, Sam had the details she needed. ‘The house is rented out, so the landlord is registered with the council,’ she told her. ‘I’ve just spoken to a Mr Vaughan who rented out the property on a six-month lease to Mr Dale Jenkinson.’
Grace raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s the surname that Regan Peters mentioned.’
‘He’s not in the area but is happy that we visit the property. He’s going to check the account the rent is being paid from too – there’s no money coming out of Chapman’s as we know, so someone else must be paying it.’
‘Or Chapman has an account in the name of Jenkinson, which he must have had for years as everything needs ID nowadays to open anything. Or he has false documentation.’
‘Mr Vaughan’s certainly not happy that there may have been a crime committed on his premises,’ Sam added. ‘There’s a key at his offices, but it won’t be available until tomorrow as his staff have gone home.’
‘Oh, I’m not sure that will be a problem,’ Grace said.
In the evidence storeroom, Grace signed out the key that had been in Josh Parker’s locker and took it back upstairs. Perry was just getting back from seeing Stacey Ridgeway. He went to speak, but she held up her hand.
‘Update me on the way,’ she told him. ‘You and I are going on a mystery tour.’
FORTY-FOUR
‘Stacey Ridgeway,’ Perry said once he got in the car with Grace. ‘She came up on the list that was sent over from the college. She finished there the year before last. I spoke to her after you called me. It seems Tom Davenport tried to groom her too. I asked if she had been to any parties. She said he’d invited her lots of times, tried to pressurise her into going to one, and when she wouldn’t, he cooled things with her.’
‘Obviously moving on to someone who would be a willing participant.’
‘Yeah, the bastard.’
‘I’ll send uniform round to get a statement from her,’ Grace said.
‘So you think this house is going to be linked to all three victims?’
‘Let’s hope so. Lucy Fisher has alibis for the night in question, and the nights of the other two murders.’
‘We also know Freya Davenport arrived home at 21.40, after Kyle dropped her off,’ Perry said. ‘An ambulance was despatched ten minutes before that. Her father had already been attacked. Traffic cams also confirmed Kyle Fisher’s car on Leek New Road at the time of the murder, heading towards the Davenports’ home.’
Grace sighed. ‘Lucy said she didn’t send a card to Tom Davenport either. There was no match with her handwriting. Do you think our killer planted it?’
‘Another young girl he’s knocking off?’
Grace shuddered. ‘I hope not.’
It was nearing seven p.m. Washington Place was hard to find. It was situated up a small lane off a main road that you could easily miss if you didn’t know it was there. Driving along it revealed numerous large properties.
Number seventeen was in darkness when they got there. There was a large wooden gate attached to a six-foot wall either side. After slipping on latex gloves, Grace took out the key ring from the evidence bag and pressed the key fob. The gates began to open.
‘Pretty good hunch,’ Perry said as she drove in.
Grace drew up beside a rambling house; she guessed it could have at least six bedrooms, with a one-acre garden at the front alone. A security light came on as she parked in front of a double garage.
