"She met a little boy who also has a brain tumour. It upset her, that's all."
I didn't tell him the full story. I selfishly wished Susan hadn't even confided in me. I'd never get that beautiful little boy's image out of my mind for as long as I lived. Cancer and serious illness is cruel and degrading for anybody to have to experience, but a child that’s sick seemed to defy all logic.
I protectively cradled my baby bump.
My baby hadn't even been born yet, and I already felt an overwhelming sense of protection towards it. I couldn't even begin to imagine what Susan was going through. To know her precious son was going to die, yet she still had to maintain a tough skin for fear of upsetting Toby.
Dad had followed Mum upstairs, and I considered phoning Simon. I needed to unload onto someone, but last time I'd called I'd been shocked when Kevin answered. I don't know why I was so surprised. I knew he was almost living there now. He was even buying my share of the house. But shocked I was, and that's what prevented me picking up the phone now.
I called James instead.
"Any news?" I asked when I heard his voice.
"Not a sausage."
"And no more attacks?"
"That's the worst of it, for Carl at least," he said. "It's not looking good."
"Things seem to be settling down here. I might try to visit him next week, if you fancy?" I asked.
"Yeah, can do. How's your mum?"
"She's doing well actually. The treatment knocks her for six, of course. I was wondering—what you doing now?"
"Not a lot. Was just thinking that I might even head home next week."
"You can't!"
"There's nothing to keep me here now, Geri. I've been able to busy myself with my writing. These rapes will only make up one chapter in my new book. So there's really no point in hanging around here."
"Do you want to meet me now? Get some fish and chips or something?" I asked.
"Can do—unless you want to come up here. I've bought myself a toasted sandwich maker and was just about to make a feast."
"What fillings?"
"Erm, let's see—I have ham, cheese, tomato and onion. Plus a large packet of smoky bacon flavour crisps and a large bottle of diet coke."
I laughed. "You're talking my language, Jamesey boy. See you in ten."
"I'll meet you halfway."
"No need. Just get the food started. I'm starving."
Before leaving, I checked on Mum and found her fast asleep in bed. Dad was sitting on a chair beside her.
"I'm going out for a while, Dad. Can I get you anything before I go?"
"No, you're okay, lass. We're fine. I might get some fish and chips later if Mum's feeling up to it."
"Okay. I have my phone on me. Call if you need anything. I'm only up the road."
"Will do, lass."
It was already dark by the time I left the house. The long winter evenings were definitely upon us. I realised that it was only a few weeks to Christmas. I shuddered just thinking about it.
The village green was surrounded by street lights that lit the way sufficiently. Just as I stepped off the kerb onto the road outside the hotel, the heel of one of my leather boots snapped clean off.
"Bugger!" I cursed.
"Having trouble there, Geri?"
I whirled round to see Vinny walking along the street towards me. "I'm fine, thank you," I said, with tight lips. I continued hobbling towards the side entrance of the hotel.
"James in for a treat, is he?" Vinny sneered.
"Fuck off, Vinny."
"Not only is she a filthy girl in the bedroom, but she has a filthy mouth to match."
I shook my head at him. "What the hell did I ever see in you?" I asked with contempt.
"Oh, have you forgotten? Here let me remind you. I believe you said I was the most handsome man you'd ever set eyes on." He smirked.
I snorted. "I must have been drunk," I said. "Oh, and Vinny ... James was right." I held my little finger up and wriggled it, before ducking into the hotel.
A woman I didn't recognise was on reception. "Good evening," she said.
"Hi. James Dunn is expecting me."
She nodded.
I stepped into the lift. There was no way I'd be able to make the stairs with a broken heel.
James opened the door. "What happened to you?" he chuckled.
"My bloody stupid heel broke." I kicked my boots off at the door.
"You don’t have much luck with shoes."
"Tell me about it. And I just saw Vinny—he drives me wild!"
"He has the same effect on me."
"Can't just be us—he must do it to everyone." I glanced around the room.
James, true to his word, had made a feast.
"Are you actually allowed to do this in here?" I laughed.
He shrugged one shoulder. "Don't care. I'm sick of eating in the restaurant, and fish and chips gets pretty boring after weeks."
"I guess. And you can't beat cheese and ham toasties."
"My sentiments exactly." He laughed.
I watched as he piled the food onto a large white plate and carried it to the small dining table. With his back to me I was able to admire how his muscular shoulders filled out his tight, white t-shirt to perfection. I had to quickly tear my eyes away as he turned to face me.
After we'd fed our faces, I helped to wash the dishes in the bathroom sink.
"I'm not sure this is very hygienic, James."
"Probably not." He laughed. "Anyway—what did you want to talk to me about?"
"Just needed to get out. It was a tough day at the hospital."
"Is it the chemotherapy?" He folded the small tea towel and nodded his head back in the direction of the dining table.
"No. Actually it's nothing to do with Mum." We sat down again and I went on to tell him about Toby and Susan.
"That's terrible—poor woman," he said.
"I know—it's so sad. I think Mum guessed, although she wasn't told anything. She took it really hard."
"She would do—she's a mother herself."
I instinctively placed my hand on my stomach. James—proving he was indeed a good detective, raised his eyebrows. "Do you have something to tell me?" he asked, nodding at my stomach.
"How did you guess?"
"I'm a good guesser." He laughed. "Congratulations."
"Thanks, although it's not common knowledge yet."
He made a zipping motion at his lips.
"Thanks."
"So, you and Simon?"
I nodded. "Yeah, we're gonna have a baby."
"It's all back on with you two, then?" he asked.
"Not exactly—but we're in this together." I smiled.
"Anyway—you didn't tell me what Vinny did to upset you."
"He's just a smart mouth. You know what he's like."
"Unfortunately, yes. I've spoken to several cops from Kirkby Mayor, and he's like that with everyone—he's not at all popular."
"He can be very nice when he wants," I said, remembering the lovely time we'd had on our date.
"Anyone can fake it for a short time."
"Maybe. It's a shame though."
"Apparently his own sister has washed her hands of him."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "He was telling me how he helps her out with the kids because she's sick."
"She's sick alright, but she won't let him anywhere near her or her kids."
"That's odd. He made out he was only staying in the area to help out."
"Talking bullshit, I'm afraid. They've not been on speaking terms for years. Even his mum has limited contact."
"I'm shocked," I said.
"I don't see why—he's a nasty piece of work."
"And a liar, obviously—not a very good quality for the village's only policeman."
"Not good at all."
"So when are you planning to go home?"
"Next week sometime. After we visit Carl."
"What day do you think we could go? Can
we just turn up?"
"Yeah, pretty much. He's on remand so it's different. I'll arrange it. What day can you make it?"
"Any day is good for me."
"Leave it with me, then."
"Thanks, James." I got up to leave.
"I'll walk with you—no excuses."
"Okay." I picked up my broken boot and laughed. "I'll have to walk barefoot.”
"You're bloody joking, aren't you? It's freezing out there. Your toes'll drop off."
I laughed.
"Here, put a pair of mine on." He handed me a pair of blue and white trainers.
They looked huge, but I guessed they were better than nothing. I slipped them on and shuffled to the door. "You'll have to hold onto me." I laughed. "I'm walking like a cripple."
James suddenly stopped, his coat halfway on, and stared at me.
"What?"
"That's it!" James ran to me and lifted me off my feet, swinging me round laughing maniacally, before placing me back onto my feet and smacking a big kiss on my lips.
"What the hell?" I said.
"The shoes. You've cracked it—you genius, you. It's been driving me absolutely batty, but it's that simple. The rapist has been wearing shoes that are too big for him.”
"Why would he do that?"
"Think about it. Ingenious really. The only thing at any of the crime scenes we could find of the rapist were footprints. Men’s size eleven—huge even for a large guy. I'm a size ten and I'm six foot three," he said. "Average size of men in the UK is between eight and nine."
"What's Carl?"
"He's size eleven. Not a large guy in himself, but he does have larger than average feet—one of the only things that can be matched to the rapist."
The penny suddenly dropped. "The real rapist knew the only thing he couldn't prevent leaving behind was footprints. So he combated this by wearing shoes that were too big for him. This created an entirely false profile in each case. The police have been searching for a guy with a limp and size eleven feet."
"I could kiss you right now," he said.
"You just did."
"So, although Vinny found the rapist’s clothing in Carl's wardrobe, the shoes were never recovered," James said, excitedly. "But without the shoes we get a completely different description. A man, a few inches taller than Carl, with a medium build but with smaller feet, say size eight or nine, to create the kind of shuffle described by the victims."
"We need to tell Vinny."
"Really?" James said. "He's convinced Carl's the rapist—he won't listen to anything we have to say."
"What about the other police contacts you have in Kirkby Mayor?"
"I can mention it to them—maybe they can sow a few seeds. But in the meantime I'll go back to my notes. I made a profile of all the men in the village—you know, height, build, shoe size for example. We just need to match them to what we now know of the rapist and bingo! We'll have a chance at finally cracking the case."
"Does this mean you're not going home, after all?" I asked, excitedly.
"You bet it does."
Chapter 34
My stomach was in knots as James and I shuffled in line towards the visitors’ centre of Durham prison.
"You did bring your ID didn't you?" James asked for the third time that morning.
"For the last time, yes. I've got my driver’s license," I said irritably.
"Sorry—these places unnerve me. I don't know why. It's not as if they'll lock me up and throw away the key if I look too shifty or don't avoid the prison guards’ eyes." He laughed.
"I know what you mean," I said, as a large girl in front of us let go of the door and it swung towards us.
James caught it. "Charming."
The girl turned to face us and sucked on her teeth.
I shuddered. The last thing I wanted was to be in the middle of a punch-up in the prison. I reached out for James' arm and patted it.
The girl's evil gaze rested on us for much too long, in my opinion, before she turned her back on us again.
I kept hold of James' arm. I felt safer somehow.
Apart from several kids, a well-dressed, elderly couple behind us, and a man who looked very much like a solicitor, the rest of the visitors in the queue looked scary—as if they wouldn't think twice about robbing you blind or cracking you over the head with a crowbar.
My teeth chattered and my entire body shook.
As we reached the metal detectors we had to part. James went to the left and I to the right.
There were two dogs walking about, in and out of the visitors, and a small brown one sat down next to the large girl in front of me. Without much kerfuffle, the guards whisked the girl away into a side room and closed the door behind them.
I met up with James again. "Did you see that?" I whispered.
James looked around shaking his head. "What?"
"The dogs sensed something about that nasty bitch in front of us, and she was taken over there." I nodded in the direction of the door.
James shook his head. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer person." He laughed.
Back in the queue, we approached a desk and were asked our names and had to produce our ID. Then we were asked to sit and wait to be called to the visiting room.
We didn't have to wait too long before a female prison guard came for us and led us to the main visiting area.
James guided me to one of the grey plastic tables and chairs, and I felt as though I might pass out.
"You alright?" he asked.
I nodded, but he obviously didn't believe me as he grasped hold of me around the waist and eased me into the chair.
"I'll get you some water." Moments later, he returned with a plastic beaker half full of water.
"Thanks." I sipped at the water.
Soon after, prisoners began piling through the door at the side of us, and tears pricked my eyes as I watched several emotional reunions.
When Carl arrived, my stomach lurched, and I almost didn't recognise him. His usually floppy quiff was now in a crew cut, and he looked a lot older than he had on the outside.
I jumped to my feet and hugged him, but he seemed uncomfortable and quickly pushed me off. He shook hands with James before sitting down opposite us.
"How are you?" I asked.
"Peachy." He smiled. "Love the new look," he smiled, nodding at my bandana.
"Oh, yes." I placed my hand on my head. "Did you get my letter?"
"I did—sorry I didn't reply but I'm not much of a letter writer—how's your mum?"
"That's okay. Yeah, she's doing alright. We were going to bring you some cigarettes and toiletries but, when James rang up yesterday, they said we weren't allowed."
Carl shrugged. "I'm trying to quit the fags anyway."
"How are you doing?" I asked, feeling at a loss for words.
"Oh, you know—the place isn't too bad. Whatsisname used to be in here."
"Who?" I glanced at James who shrugged.
"You know," Carl said clicking his fingers. "The pink panther—durham durham, durhamdurhamdurhamdurham durhaaam," he laughed, singing the Pink Panther theme tune.
"You idiot." I laughed, shaking my head.
Even James sniggered.
"I've been waiting for ages to say that to someone."
"I'd forgotten what a clown you are. I thought prison would have knocked it out of you by now." I smiled.
"Take more than this place to do that."
James cleared his throat. "Can I get anyone a drink?" he asked.
"Could murder a cuppa," Carl said.
I nodded.
James got up and jangled the change in his trouser pocket.
We watched as he headed to the vending machines.
"I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to visit," I said.
Carl shrugged. "Can't say I blame you. You hardly knew me and with all the evidence pointing my way ..." He shrugged again.
"I don't believe it for one minute—neither does James."
Car
l's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really?" Then his face fell. "Auntie Beryl does."
"I don't think she does. She just can't understand how those clothes ended up in your wardrobe."
James returned with three watery cups of tea held precariously together. I jumped to my feet and took two from him, handing one to Carl. Then James reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out several sachets of sugar and a couple of stirrers and threw them onto the table.
"Thanks, James," I said.
"Yeah, thanks, mate," Carl said, emptying three sugars into his tea.
"We were just talking about Auntie Beryl. Carl thinks she believes he's guilty." I told James.
James nodded. "That's tough."
"Who could have put those clothes there?" I asked, scratching my head.
"I've no idea. No-one came to the house apart from me and you—oh and Auntie Beryl, of course. I've gone over and over it in my mind."
"Did anyone have access to your keys? Someone at work maybe?" James asked.
Carl shook his head. "I don't think so. My house key was always on my car keys. The only time I took it off was that night we saw you and Simon in Kirkby Mayor. I knew you wouldn't be able to get in."
"Hold on a minute—you gave Vinny the key for me, that night?"
Carl nodded. "That's why we stopped."
"He didn't give it to me. In fact, I didn't get it off him until they'd searched the house late the day after."
"Really?" Carl’s eyebrows furrowed.
"I can confirm that," James said.
"No matter. It's just Vinny flaunting his power once again. Anyway—James thinks we've come up with some evidence of our own. Don't you James?"
James cleared his throat. "Yeah, we think the rapist wore boots that were a couple of sizes too big for him, hence the shuffling limp. But I don't know how we can prove it."
"Vinny's being a bastard—surprise, surprise," I said. "James might be able to convince a cop mate of his in Kirkby Mayor to re-look at it, but he wants to wait until he's gone through all his notes—at least then there might be a few potential suspects he can also put forward."
"Well, that's great!” Carl sat up tall in his seat.
I shrugged. "However, it might take a bit of time, but we won’t give up on you, Carl. I promise."
***
"Penny for them?" James asked as he maneuvered the car onto the motorway.
"Oh, you know—I feel terrible leaving him in that awful place."
Embellished Deception: A Psychological Suspense Novel (The Crime Files) Page 17
