by Helen Phifer
Dressed all in black she parked the unmarked car that she’d gone to the station to swap with her own across the road from the church hall. This way she looked far less obvious, and if she wanted to follow David for any particular reason she wouldn’t stand out. She had a hunch there was something going on with him. It was tough; this was much harder than she’d ever imagined her first case as lead investigator would ever be. She felt terrible for Tom and the horrific way he’d found out his mum had been murdered. Mattie had escaped on holiday leaving her here on her own, and Lucy wasn’t afraid to admit, at least to herself, that she was terrified it was all going to shit. They had nothing on Sandy’s killer apart from the possible connecting cat hairs. And Mattie would be furious with her, she knew. Here on her own, this late at night with no backup. It was just as well he wouldn’t know, so it didn’t matter; at least she’d had the common sense to pick up her radio, cuffs and CS gas, just in case.
People were beginning to trickle into the church hall, mainly women, which didn’t really surprise her. A couple of guys had gone in earlier, but no more since then. She recognised Natalia, who had walked in and immediately been ambushed by the vicar. He was a letch, at the very least, although that wasn’t really an arrestable offence, unfortunately. Ten more minutes and she’d make her entrance, piss him off a little. Probably piss his wife off a lot more if she thought she was becoming a nuisance. But they knew very little about Sandy; her Facebook account was pretty run-of-the-mill, she had a few friends, none of them local. She lived on her own in a small flat on Bridlington Court; her neighbours said they’d only just moved in so didn’t know her. So it was crucial she got as much information about her as she could from the volunteers: she needed someone to recognise her so she could get some kind of background information on her lifestyle. Failing that, she was going to have to put a request for information about her in the press, which she’d rather not unless she had to. It would mean losing more members of her team to answer the phone calls and follow up on enquiries which would more than likely have no value to the case whatsoever.
* * *
He was watching the church hall waiting to see how many turned up to tonight’s God squad meeting. He despised them, pretending to be nice humans when most of them were sinners, not saints. His fists kept clenching, and his brain didn’t seem as clear tonight, it was as if his thoughts were having to swim through murky water to form. He felt as if he needed to do something only he wasn’t sure what. He wanted the vicar. But he couldn’t go in there because he didn’t know how he’d react. It had taken him a while to realise he was the same one from when he was a kid, the creep who liked to fuck whores in the church. He doubted that he’d changed over the years and would bet anything that he still fucked whores. He couldn’t blame him when he looked at his wife though. She scowled most of the time, making her look as though she was in a permanently foul mood.
About to get out of his car, he stopped when he saw the woman a couple of cars ahead of him get out of hers and cross the road. He knew her, but couldn’t place her. Where had he seen her? This made him even angrier because usually his memory was impeccable and never let him down. She had something in her hand that she was trying to shove into her trouser pocket. He leant closer; she’s a fucking pig, that’s a police radio. He wondered what she was doing there. His paranoia kicking in, he turned the key and drove away, wondering why a copper was going into the God squad and why she wasn’t in uniform; what was she doing on her own? The plain-clothes coppers he saw were always in twos. What was going on? His heart began to race even faster, he needed to get away from here now. She might be onto him; she might know that he was waiting for the vicar to come out.
He drove off, and parked a few streets away and got out of his car. He needed fresh air to clear his head. He also needed to know what was happening, so he began to walk back towards the church hall. He would find a dark corner to hide in and watch her, needing to see what she was doing on his territory. If he had to take her out, he would, without a second thought. There was no way she was jeopardising everything he’d worked hard for.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
November 1994
He didn’t like living in the children’s home very much, but he supposed it could have been a lot worse. He did like where it was situated on the outskirts of Manchester, a huge house with its own secluded gardens and small woods at the bottom. He had his own little pet cemetery in the woods where he spent a lot of his time. It was his secret place; it was where he buried the cats, chickens, and rabbits that he’d killed. He enjoyed watching them bleed to death when he’d cut their throats; however, he could only kill them when he knew he could get back inside the house without getting caught covered in blood. Sometimes it got messy; if he had to he’d break their necks instead. It wasn’t as much fun though.
He was getting ready to sneak outside when he heard Angela calling his name. He was always respectful and kind to the staff. It wasn’t their fault he was here, and he didn’t want them to think he was anything other than normal. He left his room and ran downstairs to see what she wanted. Standing either side of her were two men in suits, and he knew they were either social workers or coppers. His stomach dropped and he wondered if he was being moved from here. Well if he was, he wasn’t going without a fight. He smiled at Angela, and she reached out to take hold of his arm.
‘Come on, sweets, these police detectives need to talk to you. We’ll go into my office.’
His blood ran cold and he wanted to pee so bad, his mouth was dry. How did they know it was him? Had he left some kind of evidence behind? The wave of nausea that filled his stomach made the colour drain from his face, and a voice inside his head whispered don’t freak out, act normal.
He followed her inside the office; the coppers followed him. She pointed to the chair by the desk and told them to sit on the sofa opposite. Angela perched herself on the desk next to him, and he smiled at her.
‘I’m afraid they have some bad news for you, pet, but I’ll let them tell you. Is that okay?’
She had hold of his hand. Normally he would have shrugged it away. This time he let her hold it; he could feel her soft, delicate fingers entwined with his and he liked it. He also wondered what it would be like to crush them between his much bigger hands, snapping her fingers one at a time.
‘I’m Detective Peters and this is Detective Andrews, I’m afraid we have some very bad news about your father. He was found dead this morning by the vicar who said he hadn’t seen him around for some time. He was concerned for him and went to pay him a visit.’
He wondered how he should react; shocked was probably the best way to go. Lifting his hand to his mouth he shook his head. ‘Dead? How? What did he die of?’
The men looked at each other and then at Angela, who nodded. ‘I’m a big believer that honesty is the best policy, there is no point trying to sugar coat it, is there? He needs to know.’
It was Peters who nodded in agreement. ‘We believe he was murdered. His body has probably been there a couple of days judging by the decomposition.’
‘But why, who would want to kill him?’
‘That’s what we have to find out. Don’t worry, we will find who did this to him. I need to ask you some questions if that’s okay, son. I know this is probably all a bit of a shock for you, so take your time and think very carefully.’
‘Okay.’
‘When was the last time you saw your dad?’
He shrugged. ‘I think it was about four years ago, when he came to the vicarage I was stopping at one night. Pissed up, demanding to see me, but Vincent, the vicar, didn’t let him in, and he was shouting and threatening him. Vincent had to ring for you lot, and they dragged him off in the back of a van.’
‘And you haven’t seen him since?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t want to. He used to hit me and my mum before she died.’
Angela squeezed his hand. ‘I’m afraid he wasn’t a very nice man, but surely you have all that on rec
ord?’
‘We do and no, he wasn’t. Have you been back to see him recently or had any chance meetings with him? We understand if you have and it brought back a lot of bad memories; it can’t have been very easy living in that house, never knowing what was going to happen next. It must have been horrible not being able to protect your mum.’
‘No, I hate him. Why would I want to see him again? I’m not even sorry that he’s dead. When you find out who did it tell them thank you from me. He ruined my life and killed my mum.’ A loud sob escaped his chest, and he buried his head into his hands to hide the tears.
‘I think that’s enough now. If you need anything else you can ring me, and we’ll do this once he’s had time to process everything you’ve just told him.’
Peters nodded. ‘Yes, of course. Thank you.’
Angela showed them out of the front door, and he kept his face buried in his hands; he couldn’t stop the grin that filled his face. When she came back into the office and hugged him, he let her. She smelt nice, and he could feel her breasts pushing against his chest as he pretended to sob. When he finally broke away he had to put his hands in front of his trousers to hide his erection. Excusing himself he ran back to his room, slamming the door for effect. Throwing himself onto his bed, he buried his head into his pillow, stifling the laughter that was trying to erupt. Even if he said so himself, that was quite a performance.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
David, who was laughing with Natalia, stopped and stared in horror at Lucy as she walked into the hall. He strode over to her, grabbing her elbow and steering her to one side.
‘Jan said you wanted to speak to me; she didn’t say it was in public. Can this not wait until tomorrow?’
Lucy shrugged her arm away from his grasp, anger threatening to fill her veins at the fact that he’d dared to touch her like that. ‘Actually, I want to speak to all the volunteers, not just you.’ Pulling the mortuary headshot of Sandy from the inside of her coat pocket she passed it to him and watched his face, hoping the horror of what he was looking at would give her the reaction she wanted.
‘Do you know her, recognise her?’
He took it from her and stared at it. ‘Is she, you know?’
‘Dead? Yes, very much so. Has she ever volunteered here? Maybe she’s been here when she was drunk for some of your help. I need you to think because it’s very important.’
His head shook from side to side. ‘I don’t think so, she definitely hasn’t been a volunteer. I know all of those, though I can’t say if she’s been here when she was drunk because I imagine she looked a little different when she was breathing.’
Lucy reached into her pocket, pulling the living, breathing image of Sandy out, and passed it to him.
‘No, I definitely don’t know her, sorry. I wish I could help.’
She took them both from him. ‘Thank you, I’ll just ask the others while I’m here. I don’t expect you can remember every drunk who sets foot through the doors. I know I wouldn’t be able to. One of the volunteers might know.’
‘If you insist, but please don’t upset them by showing them the picture of her you showed me first. These are nice, kind, gentle people. I don’t want them upset when they’re already grieving for Margaret.’
‘I do insist; my team can’t spare the man hours by interviewing them all at home, but of course I’m not going to purposely upset them. I do have a job to do though, and if they find it hard answering my questions then there’s not much I can do about that. You want me to find Margaret’s killer, don’t you? This could be related. I must also insist that you give me a list of the volunteers who normally help but who aren’t here tonight. I need to speak to them all.’
He walked off in the direction of the kitchen, where, no doubt, Jan was, and she began to introduce herself to the various volunteers dotted around the hall. None of them recognised Sandy, and Lucy could feel herself getting more despondent by the minute. She’d been sure she’d have found a connection between the murder victims and the work in the church hall.
Natalia walked out from the kitchen and smiled at her.
‘Ellie’s mum?’
Lucy nodded, smiling back. ‘Guilty as charged.’
‘Thank you so much for letting her babysit Bella, she’s such a lovely girl. I’ll take her home after I’ve done a couple of hours here. Tony should be home by then.’
‘That’s nice to hear, and you’re welcome. I suppose she’s told you we don’t always see eye to eye and that I’m a right old dragon.’
‘No, not at all. Tell me one teenager who isn’t a nightmare for their own parents. I was horrible to mine.’
Lucy warmed to the woman in front of her. She was nice and very diplomatic. She could understand why her daughter would like her, so that made her one of the good guys in Lucy’s books. There weren’t many people she liked knowing so little about them.
‘What brings you here?’
Lucy passed her the ‘nice’ photo. ‘I’m working; I desperately need to know if this woman has ever volunteered here or was ever here for help.’
Natalia studied the photo. ‘I’m not sure, she kind of looks familiar, but I couldn’t say. We get so many and usually they’re not in the best of states, as you can imagine. People look completely different when they’re dressed up to go out than they do every day. Sorry.’ She passed it back, and Lucy smiled.
‘Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. I guess I was clutching at straws. Thank you.’ She turned to walk away to find Jan, to see if she had a list of absent volunteers for her, when she heard Natalia shout.
‘Lucy, can I have another look?’
Lucy passed the photograph back, and also passed her the mortuary one. Natalia studied them both, looking from one to the other. ‘I think I do recognise her, though her hair is normally bigger and curly like they used to wear back in the eighties. She always has big plastic button earrings in. I don’t know if you’re old enough to remember, but back in the day they always wore these huge, brightly coloured earrings. She isn’t wearing the earrings in these photos, and her hair isn’t as bouncy. I wonder where her earrings are? She’s been in a couple of times, always plastered. Loud and funny, but I get the impression she’s a big drinker.’
Lucy wanted to kiss the woman in front of her. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Definitely, I thought I recognised her. If she’d had the earrings in I’d have known straight away; they must be antiques by now. She’s the only woman I’ve ever seen still wearing them.’
‘Do you keep records of the users who come in here?’
Natalia shook her head. ‘No, it’s hard enough to get a name or an address for a taxi to take them home. We don’t usually bother.’
‘It’s okay, thank you so much. You’ve been very helpful.’
‘You’re very welcome.’
Lucy went to the kitchen, where Jan and David were having the world’s quietest argument.
‘Sorry, am I interrupting?’
‘No, what do you want now?’
Jan was back to her normally feisty self. ‘Do you have that list of volunteers who aren’t here?’
She tutted. ‘Why didn’t you ask me that this afternoon? I could have got you the complete list and saved you the bother of coming here tonight, upsetting everyone and being a pain.’
‘I’m here to try and find out who would want to murder an innocent old woman, or had you forgotten about Margaret? Now if you could get me the list I can leave you all in peace.’
Lucy folded her arms and smiled at Jan, who was clutching a pair of tongs in her hands as if they were an offensive weapon. If being married to a vicar made you this angry and defensive, she’d get a divorce. The woman turned into a different person whenever she was in close proximity to her husband, and it wasn’t as if he was that good-looking. Lucy wondered why she acted this way. Slamming the tongs onto the worktop, Jan stormed off, returning five minutes later with a printed sheet of paper that she thrust into Lucy’s han
ds.
‘These are the names and addresses of all the volunteers. I’ve ticked off the ones who are here tonight, so you don’t go bothering them again tomorrow when they’re at home.’
‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you. Have a nice evening.’
Trying not to smile at the woman and upset her even more, Lucy headed towards the doors, where the first of the night’s casualties was being led in, the woman complaining loudly that she felt sick and didn’t know why because she’d only had one bottle of wine. David came into sight carrying a red plastic bucket which he thrust under her nose while grimacing. Lucy wondered if he actually enjoyed this or if it was all some kind of show. He didn’t take his eyes off her, and she didn’t let him know it bothered her. She was glad to be out of there before the girl began to puke her guts up – there were far better ways to spend your nights than holding sick buckets for complete strangers. Thanks to Natalia, at least she knew that Sandy had been here a few times. She had something to build upon now, and God knew she needed to catch a break with this case.
Chapter Forty
The briefing room didn’t seem the same without Tom or Mattie there, both of them an integral part of her team and her closest allies; Lucy checked the rest of her staff were all present.
‘Right, last night I had a bit of success trying to find out if Sandy Kilburn had ever accessed the Street Saviours. One of the volunteers recognised her after some time; she said whenever she saw her she always had huge plastic, brightly coloured button earrings in. When she was booked into the mortuary, I need to know if she had earrings with her. They weren’t on her body; I just want it double-checking. I’m pretty sure the answer is no, so if not where are they? The same for Margaret Crowe. I spoke to Tom and he told me that his mum always wore a gold chain with a small crucifix around her neck. I don’t recall seeing one on her at the scene or during the post-mortem, so someone check with CSI if they found one on a sweep of the crime scene. If not I have a feeling that our killer is taking trophies away from the scenes. As terrible as it sounds, it would be pretty good for the investigation, because when we identify who he is, if the earrings and necklace are in his property when we search it, then we will have him bang to rights.’
