Only the Lonely: DI Ted Darling Series Book 5

by L M Krier

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Martin Wilson was pissed off. Really, seriously pissed off. And horny as hell with it, which was not a good combination. He'd spent all day Saturday at a poxy housing exhibition, trying to flog various types of insurance to would-be house buyers, as well as those planning ahead for their so-called golden years. Most of Sunday would be spent following up leads, a lot of which would probably not turn out to be as lucrative as he'd hoped.

  The only thing which would get him through the weekend was the prospect of his pre-arranged meeting with the amazing Linda Lovelace on Saturday night. What she was offering him in her emails had him checking to make certain he had his little blue pills in his pocket. He wanted to be sure he was ready for seconds, following the main course she had promised him. And it sounded like there may be dessert to come after that, possibly even a cheese course, if he got really lucky. Even thinking about it kept giving him an uncomfortable hard-on.

  He loved his wife. Of course he did. She was gorgeous. But with her bloody Pilates and sodding yoga and whatever else there was, she hardly ever had time for him any more. It seemed as if the more desirable her body became, the more it was off-limits to him. Lately, it was always, 'not now, Martin, I've got to do my exercises,' or some such excuse. Which was why he no longer minded these trips away. He could usually find someone who was after the same thing as he was – no-strings sex, the hotter and steamier the better.

  This Linda Lovelace certainly came across as hot and steamy in the few emails they'd exchanged. And she was nothing if not inventive. Some of the things she had proposed had surprised him, and he was no shrinking violet in the bedroom department. The worst of it was, she hadn't shown up. She was now considerably more than fashionably late. She was definitely in the category of no-show. Leaving Martin with a massive itch he needed someone to scratch and so far, no signs of anyone suitable in the bar where he was sitting.

  He still kept optimistically looking towards the door every time it opened, but there were no single women in sight. Few single men, either. Just him, and another poor Billy No Mates sitting in a corner with his newspaper, repeatedly looking at his watch. He looked as if he'd been stood up, too.

  Martin fleetingly wondered if they were both there to meet the same woman. Their eyes met at one point and Martin lifted his glass in silent acknowledgement of the other man, who grinned ruefully and did the same.

  Oh well, no point sitting there gagging for it and doing nothing about it, Martin told himself, and started looking round the room for a likely target. He dismissed the younger crowd. He wasn't bad looking and kept himself fit, but they hunted in packs and weren't always an easy target. He might be better with more mature meat. Sometimes the older ladies were the most surprising. And the most desperate.

  He spotted a group of three, sitting together. All looked to be about mid-forties, dolled up to the nines. Martin was in his early forties and, even though he said so himself, he scrubbed up well. It wouldn't be the first time he'd managed to pull out of the blue. Feeling as he did, he was up for anything. Perhaps even his first foursome, if the girls were game. He had nothing to lose by trying.

  He drained his half a lager, all he had allowed himself so he would ready for anything Linda had planned for him, and made his way across towards the bar. He was getting interested look from three women as he approached, so he paused at their table and gave them his most dazzling smile.

  'Good evening, ladies. I was just heading for the bar so I wondered if I could buy any of you a drink while I'm there?'

  As chat-up lines went, it wasn't inspired, but it had worked for him before and the way the one nearest him was giggling, he suspected it might just work again. He went off to get himself another bottle of lager, and the red wines the women had asked for. He could feel their eyes on him as he stood at the bar, with his back to them.

  'Nice bum,' one of them commented to the others. 'I wouldn't mind getting my hands on that.'

  'Kathy! You brazen hussy!' one of her friends laughed.

  The third was more serious. 'Just be careful, Kath. Have you seen the stuff in the papers about these killings in hotels? You never know who you get talking to in a pub.'

  'Yes, but that killer is targeting blokes,' the one called Kathy said dismissively. 'And it would almost be worth the risk to stick your claws into that bum while he was, you know…'

  It was to three helplessly laughing women that Martin returned with his lager, plus a bottle of red and three glasses for them. This definitely looked promising. And it wouldn't even cost him the price of a meal. He noticed that they had already eaten. He rightly identified the one who introduced herself as Kathy as the most likely, so he carefully sat where he could make sure his leg came into frequent contact with hers.

  His radar hadn't let him down. After a couple more wines, it was Kathy who accompanied him back to his hotel, a short walk away. Neither of them noticed the man Martin had nodded to earlier in the evening carefully fold up his newspaper, follow them back to the hotel, and up to the floor where Martin's room was, then disappear round a corner.

  Kathy surprised him by being more athletic and adventurous in bed than he'd dare hoped. He had to listen to the history of her life in between two rounds of lively sex, which he could have done without, and it wasn't quite what Linda had been offering, but it more than sufficed.

  He bundled her out of the room shortly after midnight, being careful to give her his business card in the hopes of maybe selling her an insurance policy or two at some point. She gave him her mobile number and, promising faithfully to call her, and to meet up again, he closed the door behind her and headed for a much-needed shower.

  He'd just covered himself in shower gel when he heard a knock at the door. She must be insatiable, he thought, grinning to himself as he stepped out of the small cubicle, switching off the water. He was just going to open the door as he was when a man's voice outside said, 'Sorry to bother you, sir, there's a plumbing problem. I need to come in and look at your shower.'

  Martin grabbed a towel and wound it round his waist as he opened the door. The face of the man outside, dressed in overalls, was familiar somehow, but he didn't make the connection before the first blow hit him in the midriff and he doubled over, staggering back.

  All he could think, as the subsequent blows started to rain on him, was that this must be a jealous husband. But there was something wrong with the punches. He wasn't feeling pain, so much as a terrible numbness. And why was there so much blood suddenly coming from his mouth, when none of the blows had landed on his face?

  He was already slipping into unconsciousness when the wildly slashing knife blade caught the side of his neck and opened up his carotid artery. It meant he was blissfully unaware of the savage assault from the work boots, connecting with his head and face, the minute he hit the floor.

  Ted was anxious to get going on Sunday morning, but Trev had other plans. He was hoping for a long lie-in with his partner, followed by a leisurely breakfast in the hotel dining room.

  'You'd have heard if there was anything going on,' he told Ted reasonably. 'And you know all's well with the Ice Queen now. So surely, as long as you put in an appearance some time this afternoon, that will be enough?'

  Ted had received a text from the Ice Queen first thing that morning. It told him that her son Justin was now well enough to be discharged later that morning, and thanked him for all his help. It ended with, 'Thanks for Maurice. He was a treasure!' then, much to Ted's surprise, two kisses to finish with.

  He'd never previously seen the motherly side to his senior officer. There was clearly nothing like almost losing a first-born to lower all defences and show the person behind the rank and the uniform.

  'I wish you'd stop tempting fate,' Ted told him. 'It's like a John Wayne film. As soon as you start saying how quiet it is, that's when I'm bound to get a call saying there's been another murder. And that won't be an excuse for you to exceed the speed limit all the way back, either.' />
  They'd made it as far as Gloucester on the M5 before Ted's phone went and it was Jo.

  'Sorry, boss, I know you're still off, but I thought you'd want to know. We have a fourth victim. Manchester city centre this time. I've let the DSU know and Mike and I are on our way there now. Another hotel, similar MO, from what the first responders have reported. Duty pathologist and SOCO are all heading there, too.'

  'I'm on my way back now. We've just passed Gloucester. I'll get Trev to drop me straight there, then someone can give me a lift back home afterwards. We'll be three hours or more, though.'

  'Take your time, boss. Mike and I can handle it, with the local team. No need for you even to go there if you don't want to.'

  'Sorry, Jo, that wasn't meant to suggest that I didn't trust you. I know you're up to the task. Certainly Brian Donohue is, and it's his patch. It's just that I'd planned on being in work today, so I might as well come and join you.'

  He relayed the information to Trev through their helmet intercom system and again cautioned him against exceeding the speed limit.

  'I know you're keen to get there, but we're going to need a short break on the way to grab a drink, if nothing else. I'll drop you straight there then I'd best get back to the cats or they won't speak to either of us for days,' Trev told him.

  Ted's mother had been looking after the cats for the weekend. He'd finally relented and given her a key to the house, for just such occasions. They now got on well, but he had still felt reticent about taking that big step. She'd been missing from his life for such a large chunk of it that it still felt awkward to him.

  The hotel address which Jo had given him was situated on DI Brian Donohue's patch. He and Ted knew one another well and got on. Ted didn't anticipate any rancour from him about him coming in to his territory as SIO and taking over the case.

  In fact, Donohue welcomed him with a smile and a handshake, saying, 'Congratulations on the promotion. About bloody time. Our turn for your killer now, it seems. I'm assuming it's the same man, from what Jo's been telling me.'

  'Looks the same, boss,' Jo agreed. 'Another insurance salesman. The hotel was pretty full this weekend. There was a big property exhibition on in town so there were a lot of people here for that. People coming and going all the time, so no one saw or heard very much, from what we've found out so far. Once again our victim seems to have got out of the shower to answer the door.'

  'Where's he from, do we know?'

  'Northumberland, his documents say. Name of Martin Wilson. And once again, we've got the phone and computer bagged and ready to go to Océane. She's certainly going to be earning her keep on this case.

  'The pathologist's been and gone and SOCO are just finishing up. They confirm signs of recent sexual activity in the bed once more, but our victim had booked in just for himself. I'm betting that his partner wasn't Mrs Wilson, if there is one. We're checking into that now, so we can at least let her know as soon as possible.'

  'Is the body…?'

  'About as bad as any of them, I would say, boss. Not a pretty sight, and it's certainly not going to be nice for the next of kin to identify, once again.'

  'He's one jump ahead of us all the time so far. I think Océane's right. We definitely need to start thinking of bringing him to us, rather than waiting to see where he strikes next. I'll need to run it past the DSU.'

  'Just let me know what you need from my officers and we'll get on with it,' Brian Donohue told him.

  At least Ted would have no worries about how the local division conducted their enquiries. Donohue was a good officer; his team would know what they were doing. He was a far cry from Foster and his sorry crew.

  'I've just come up from Somerset on the bike with Trev. If there's somewhere we can get a cup of coffee, Brian, I can fill you in on everything we have so far.' He was happy to keep it informal, with just the three of them.

  Ted was still in his leathers. Donohue grinned. 'I thought it was unusual uniform for the SIO on a serial case. The management here are being helpful. They've said we can use the dining room when we need to, outside of mealtimes, obviously. We've already started interviewing staff.'

  'We really need to get statements from as many hotel guests as we can, as soon as possible. I'm assuming those up for the exhibition will have left or be leaving first thing in the morning. I'd like to get their statements while things are still fresh in their minds. Can you rustle up enough officers, or do you need me to bring in some reinforcements?'

  'I've already got some of my team on to it, and some Uniforms helping out. There's CCTV, too, of the entrance, so that might give you something.'

  Ted nodded. 'Right, thanks. Now, a coffee would be good, it's a long ride up from Somerset. Then we can talk strategy.'

  'I'll get straight on with the CCTV, boss,' Mike offered. 'I had to wimp out of the crime scene again. I'm not too bad with blood, but when it comes to bits of brain…' he broke off and swallowed hard.

  'And I'll carry on interviewing the staff, boss,' Jo told him. 'Let me know when you're ready to leave and I can run you back home. It would be nice to meet your Trevor in the flesh.'

  Ted sat down with Brian Donohue over some surprisingly good coffee and brought him up to speed. When he mentioned their prime suspect to date, the DI laughed.

  'John Smith, eh? That's not going to simplify things for us. How many tens of thousands of those are there in the UK?'

  'Less than twelve, young Steve tells me,' Ted told him cheerfully. 'We've got this new CFI now as well, and she's proving a big help. She suggests springing a trap for our suspect as the best way forward and I think she's right. I'm going on the assumption that he's still local, more to my patch than yours, since that's where the late wife lived.

  'I don't know if it's one specific person he's trying to catch and kill, or if he's on a mission to get as many so-called financial advisers as he can. Some sort of campaign of revenge for his wife and others like her who may have lost money. It never came out at the inquest who was behind the scam she fell for, and I doubt there are still any files or documents to be found.

  'I know I can safely leave you and your team to this one, Brian, unlike Foster and his useless lot. I need Jo and Mike on another nasty case we've got going on.'

  He went on to explain about the deaths at Sabden House flats and how the last victim there, Honest John, had died.

  Donohue shook his head in disbelief. 'Well, that's certainly a new one on me. Murder by chocolate? It's some pretty nasty piece of shit to come up with a cynical method like that of getting rid of vulnerable people.

  'Leave this one to us, Ted. Me and my team will be more than happy to do the legwork on it, leave yours to get on with what sounds like a nasty case. You can count on us. Looks like we have a couple or more really sick bastards to get off the streets, so we'd better get stuck in, eh?'

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  'We need this bastard off the street, Ted,' Jim Baker growled when Ted phoned him from Manchester with an update. Jim hadn't been over to the crime scene himself. Ted was SIO. Jim's role was more to do with the politics and purse strings, and he had better things to do with his Sundays than look at blood and brains. Especially now he had a lady friend. Or fiancée, to be precise. He'd never imagined himself being loved up at his time of life, but he certainly was. Given the choice between time with Bella and with a dead body, he'd decided to leave the gruesome stuff to Ted.

  'At the moment, the best way I think we're going to do that is to bring him to us, Jim. He's constantly on the move, so he won't be easy to track down, especially with a name like John Smith. I know that will need clearance higher up. Can you arrange it? We'll need to have a strategy meeting to plan how we're going to do it. We can't just wait around to get lucky.'

  'It will take a lot of planning,' Jim warned.

  'We may not have a lot of time before he decides to kill again. We're trying all the conventional means at our disposal, but with a name like that for our prime suspect, and nothing
but throwaway emails, progress risks being slow.'

  'I'll run it by the powers that be first thing tomorrow.'

  'I'll want everything. Tasers, firearms, the lot. If we succeed in drawing him out, we'll only get one crack at him before he disappears under cover. And I want him, Jim.'

  Ted was summoned to coffee with the Ice Queen as soon as he had finished the Monday morning briefing. It could potentially be a bit awkward for both of them, getting back to business as normal after they'd shared an intensely personal moment by phone. Hopefully, they were both grown-up enough to handle it. He first needed to brief all the team members on the latest killing, and to kick some ideas around. Most of all, he wanted a trail to John Smith, as soon as possible.

  As usual, Océane seemed to be able to keep one ear in listening mode while she worked, and to chip in when necessary.

  'I'm only just starting on Victim number four, boss, but he's had emails from the lovely Linda, like the others. Usual steamy stuff. Then arranging a meet at a pub, just off Piccadilly.'

  'Is it Linda who suggests where to meet or the men? If Linda is suggesting it, does it mean our killer has local knowledge? If it is this John Smith, then he did live in the area for a number of years.'

  'Boss, anyone with a computer can know an area these days, with things like Google Street View,' Océane said patiently.

  Ted grinned at her. She had certainly got his number. He could find his way around a computer just enough to do his job, but was definitely in the novice category for anything else. Then he asked, 'Do the men ever mention which hotel they'll be staying in?'

  She shook her auburn locks. 'No, none of them have done, so far. They've just said that they'll be in the area and staying in a hotel. I suppose Linda could guess which one, from the ones near to the pub they pick? Again, that's easy enough to find with a computer. But then, men like these wouldn't give out the hotel name, would they?'