“You didn’t check to see if she was alive or anything?” Mitchell asked. “Constable Pritchard said that when you called the station you said she was dead; did you check to be certain?”
Zack shook his head. “There was no need. I knew she was dead as soon as I saw her. It would have been a waste of time to check, and doing so would have put any evidence there might be at risk. My old boss would crucify me if I did something like that, being retired is no excuse.”
Mitchell spent a few moments absorbing that before he posed his next question. “If you didn’t get close enough to risk any evidence, why did you insist on your trainers being bagged up for the forensics team? Surely they won’t find any trace of you on or around the body.”
“No, they won’t,” Zack said confidently. “But if the forensics guys are at all thorough, they’ll check the ground for some distance around the body for evidence, and take casts of every shoe print they find; once they’ve done that they’ll want prints from the footwear all three of us were wearing this morning, so they can eliminate us from whatever they find.” It had been some time since he last had to explain forensics procedures to anyone. “If they want to be really thorough, they’ll even take our DNA and fingerprints.”
“Had you ever seen the girl before this morning?” Mitchell asked, not at all happy to be having his job explained to him.
“That’s hard to say,” Zack told him. “Given how unrecognisable she was, I could have seen her every day and I wouldn’t know it. Do you have any idea who she is?”
“We have reason to believe her name is Georgina Ryder, she’s been missing for a week.”
“The name’s familiar; I heard around the village she was missing, but since I didn’t have a face to put to the name, it meant nothing to me,” Zack said.
“So you can tell us nothing about her disappearance and murder?”
“Sorry, no,” Zack answered, doing his best to ignore the accusatory note in the sergeant’s voice.
7
Melissa stood at the police station door, watching Zack Wild as he walked off up the road, seemingly unconcerned that he was barefoot, having left his running shoes at the station for forensics.
She had been there for half a minute or so when she became aware of a presence at her elbow. Turning, she found that Mitchell was standing there, his eyes on the author, a look of distaste and annoyance on his face that Melissa found troubling.
“You think he had something to do with the murder, don’t you,” she said.
Mitchell shrugged, and said unconvincingly, “I don’t know. He has an explanation for his discovery of the body, one that could be true, or could be completely made up. Right now we have no reason for thinking he’s lied to us, and a number of reasons for thinking he’s telling the truth. If he’s connected to the murder, why would he have led us to the body? And why would he tell us he didn’t touch the body and voluntarily give us his trainers, that doesn’t make any sense if he’s the murderer.”
“But you think he might be involved in the murder, so why didn’t you question him about it more?” Melissa didn’t believe Zack Wild was a murderer, though she realised she didn’t know the man and so had no idea what he might be capable of; despite that she couldn’t understand why the author had been allowed to leave without being questioned more thoroughly.
“Because I’ve got no evidence, and if he is the killer, I don’t want him to know I’m on to him until I do,” Mitchell told her. “The inspector is making inquiries into Mr Wild to find out if he really is a former DI, and whatever there is to know about him. Hopefully, when we know something of the man, we’ll have some idea of whether he could be the murderer. If he isn’t, we’ll have to start looking elsewhere, at the rest of the village.”
Melissa could tell Mitchell didn’t like the thought of having to do that, it wasn’t something she particularly liked either. “How long until the forensics team, and the detective who’s going to handle the investigation, get here?” she asked.
“The forensics team should be here in another hour, hour and a half,” Mitchell told her. “But there won’t be a detective, at least not for the time being.” He saw Melissa’s surprise. “The inspector and I discussed having a detective, and decided it would be better for the village if we try and solve this ourselves.”
“What are we going to do to catch the killer then?” Melissa asked, wracking her brains to try and think how an investigation should be conducted.
“First things first,” Mitchell said. “We need to go and see John and Verity to let them know about this morning’s discovery, assuming they haven’t already been told. After that we need to talk to everyone we spoke to last week, when Georgina first went missing, they may remember something now that they didn’t at the time. We also need to speak to anyone who might have held a grudge against her. Then we need to speak to Theresa Goulding, her housekeeper, and anyone who may have seen Lucy yesterday, before she apparently went missing, so we can try and find out what’s happened to her, assuming she hasn’t already come home.”
*****
“Hello, John, can we come in?” Mitchell asked when the front door opened.
The man who stood in the doorway looked, understandably, to be in the midst of a nightmare, Melissa thought as she took in his rumpled clothing, the stubble on his chin, and his generally unkempt appearance. She had never seen him look less like the accountant he was – he looked more like a homeless person.
“Ha-have you found Georgie?” John Ryder asked.
Mitchell inferred from that question that his friend had not heard from anyone in the village that morning. “We should talk inside,” he told his friend, his voice neutral to avoid giving either hope or cause for alarm.
“You have, haven’t you, you’ve found Georgie,” John said in a stricken voice as he stepped back to let the two constables in.
“We may have,” Mitchell said as he entered and made his way into the living room. “I’m sorry, but the body of a young girl was found first thing this morning, early indications are that it could be Georgina. We still need to confirm the identity of the girl,” he hastened to say, “and that could take some time.”
“What do you mean you need to confirm her identity?” John wanted to know. “You’ve known Georgie all her life, you’re the closest thing to an uncle she’s got, surely you can say if it’s her or not.”
“The outfit matches what you said Georgina was wearing when you saw her last, but there are complicating factors that make it hard to say for sure who the girl is; the length of time she’s been out there, the weather during that time, and the fact that she was…” Mitchell hesitated for a moment and then went on. “There’s no easy way to say this, John, but the girl found this morning was beaten – beaten to death, that’s why it’s hard for me to say that it’s definitely Georgina.”
“Georgina was murdered?”
The shocked question came from the doorway, not the sofa, and three pairs of eyes turned in time to see Verity Ryder collapse to the floor in a dead faint. John was on his feet in an instant so he could hurry over to his wife, and with Mitchell’s help he got her to the sofa, where he set about trying to revive her – it took a short while.
“Is Verity right?” John asked hesitantly once his wife was fully revived, and he had assured himself that she was going to be alright, or at least as alright as anyone could be under the circumstances. “Was Georgina – was she – murdered?”
Mitchell would have preferred not to be asked the question, but since it had been asked, he couldn’t ignore it. “Based on what I saw this morning…” He nodded heavily, sadly. “Yes, the girl that was found this morning was murdered. But,” he went on quickly to try and forestall a second collapse from Verity, “we don’t yet know for sure that the body is Georgina.”
“How can you not know something like that?” Verity snapped. Although she appeared frail, and overwhelmed by the strain of her daughter’s disappearance, sitting there in the protective
embrace of her husband, there was a strength to her voice. “You’ve known Georgie all her life, and honestly, how many missing girls can there be in the village?”
“As of Theresa Goulding’s report last night, two,” Mitchell told her. “Georgina and Lucy, and there’s always the possibility that the girl that was found is someone from outside the village. A slim possibility, I know, but one that can’t be ignored at the moment.”
“If you’re not sure it’s Geor-Georgina,” John said, his voice catching in his throat momentarily. “Why’re you here? Can’t you see what an effect this is having on Verity?” He tightened his arm around his wife’s shoulder, pulling her closer, as if to comfort her, though she seemed less in need of comfort than he did.
“I appreciate that, John, Verity, and if I could have avoided this visit, I would have, especially while the identification is uncertain,” Mitchell told his friends. “We all know how quickly gossip goes round the village, bad quicker than the good, though. Sooner or later, and more likely sooner, someone would have been in touch to tell you about the body that was found. Most likely they would have taken a small amount of information and embellished it out of all recognition. I thought, and Inspector Stevens agreed, that you would prefer to hear what was going on first-hand, from me, and to hear the facts, few as they are.”
John digested that for a while before nodding. “You’re right. There’s a lot of people in the village who like spreading gossip, no matter how bad, and they’re none too careful about getting things right when they tell people what they’ve heard. I wish, with all my heart, that we didn’t have to hear this, that Georgie would come walking through that door like nothing’s happened, and she’s only been gone for a few hours, but I think we both knew, when she didn’t come home that first night, that something had happened. She’s such a good girl, she’d never stay away from home without contacting us, not even for a night, not unless something happened.”
Mitchell was a little disturbed by the way his friend’s attention wandered, and how it seemed as though he was talking to himself. He made no mention of his concerns, however, just then wasn’t the time.
“Was Georgina really murdered?” Verity asked. “Could it have been an accident?”
“As I said, we don’t know for sure the girl found this morning is Georgina, we still need to confirm her identity. As for whether she was murdered – I wish I could say otherwise, give you some comfort, but yes, I believe she was. It will be for the pathologist to say for certain, however, once he’s completed the post-mortem.”
“A post-mortem? Is that really necessary?”
Mitchell nodded. “I’m afraid so; apparently, it’s a legal requirement under the circumstances. It’ll establish how she died, and help confirm whether it is Georgina.”
John roused himself from the reverie he had fallen into. “Shouldn’t I go to the morgue and see if I can identify Georgie?” he asked.
Mitchell’s immediate thought was that it would do no good for John to go to the morgue, the odds of him being able to identify the girl were somewhere between slim and none. He didn’t say as much, though, for he suspected that going to the morgue would provide John with a measure of closure he wouldn’t otherwise get, despite the circumstances.
“One of you should,” he said, after thinking about it. “I’m not sure how much success you’ll have with making an identification,” he admitted. “But if you can, even if you’re only able to say that it isn’t Georgina, it will provide us all with an answer, rather than waiting for the results of whatever tests the pathologist has to run.”
“I’ll go,” John said decisively.
8
Mitchell was about to ring the doorbell for a second time when he heard approaching footsteps. He immediately dropped his finger and stepped back to wait.
Nigel Hunter wore an expression that could only be described as one of resignation when he saw who was on his doorstep. “What’s Kelly done now?” he asked as he automatically stepped back to let Sergeant Mitchell and Constable Turner enter his home. “It’s not her, you know, it’s that Lucy Goulding,” he said in a well-worn defence of his daughter. “I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve told Kelly to stay away from her – she just won’t listen. It’s only a matter of time before the pair of them get themselves in real trouble, and I just don’t have the money the Gouldings do; they’ll get Lucy off and Kelly will be left holding the can.”
“Calm down, Nigel,” Mitchell told the younger man as he passed him. “As far as I know, Kelly has done nothing wrong. I do need to speak to her, though, is she in?”
Nigel snorted. “In, she isn’t even up yet. If she didn’t have to be up for school, she’d never be up before midday.”
“Would you mind getting her up? It’s important that we talk to her.”
“She won’t like it,” Nigel said, nonetheless he made his way up the stairs after closing the front door.
While Nigel headed upstairs, Mitchell and Melissa made their way into the living room, where they took seats on the sofa. Raised voices came from above them after a minute, and a short while after that heavy footsteps descended the stairs; it could not have been more obvious that the approaching person was a teen who was determined to make it clear that they were not happy about something. Mitchell was reminded of Harry Enfield’s character from the 90’s, Kevin the angry teenager.
“What d’you want?”
Mitchell bit back the urge to respond to the rudeness of the question; he should be used to it, he knew, but somehow it annoyed him afresh every time Kelly Hunter spoke to him like that.
“Good morning, Kelly, sorry to have woken you,” he apologised. “But I need to ask you a few questions. Would you have a seat?”
“I ain’t done nothing,” Kelly said automatically as she entered the room and dropped gracelessly onto the sofa. “Neither’s Lucy.”
Mitchell’s irritation increased as the teen pointedly ignored him. “I need to ask you about Georgina Ryder,” he said, speaking loudly to be sure he was heard over the TV Kelly had turned on. “When did you last see her?”
Kelly scowled. “You already asked me that last week,” she said without taking her eyes off the TV.
“I know I did.” Mitchell was tempted to turn the TV off, but he didn’t imagine that would encourage Kelly to pay attention to him, so he left it. “Things have changed since then, though, and I’d like to see if you’ve remembered anything new. So, when did you last see Georgina?”
“Last Friday.” Kelly waited until the music video she was watching finished to answer the question. “At school,” she expanded when pushed. “I saw her at the end of school; Lucy and me were on our way into town, we saw her at the bus station, she was waiting for the bus back here.”
“And that’s the last you saw of her?”
Kelly nodded, though her eyes never left the television.
“You’re certain of that, you didn’t see her at any point after you returned to the village?” Mitchell wanted to know.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Kelly said with a laugh. “I didn’t get back to the village ‘til well after Georgie’s bedtime. Before you ask, I don’t remember what time I got back, but I’ve heard Georgie say before that she’s always in bed by eleven, even at the weekend, and it was way after that.”
“I can vouch for that,” Nigel spoke up from by the door. “It was around half-one when Kelly got home. I remember because I was up, waiting for her. I was worried when she wasn’t back on the last bus, and spent hours wondering when she was going to get home, and how.”
“I’m never on the last bus, you should know that by now; I’d have to be home before ten if I was.” Kelly looked at her father as if he was crazy. “Nothing happens before ten, nothing worth doing anyway. I did the same as I always do, I got a lift home.”
“And I hate to think who from. I can just imagine the kind of person who’d come so far out of their way to bring a teen girl home – nobody does that without bei
ng after something.”
Kelly laughed again. “Most of the time it’s Ollie who brings us home, and he’s already getting what he wants.”
“Ollie, Oliver Ryder?” Nigel moved round so he could see his daughter’s face. “You’re telling me you’ve been hanging around with Oliver Ryder, even though I’ve told you to stay away from him and his friends?”
Mitchell spoke up quickly to head off the argument he could see brewing. “This is something the two of you can talk about later, once we’re finished. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Georgina?” he asked of Kelly. “Someone with a grudge against her perhaps.”
“Are you kidding, who’d want to hurt her? Georgie’s a goody two-shoes pain in the ass that most of us want nothing to do with, but I can’t think of anyone who’d hurt her. Even if someone did want to, who’d be crazy enough to do anything, we all know she’s Ollie’s cousin and he’s crazy about her and would do anything for her. If anyone did dare do anything to Georgie, they’d have to deal with Ollie, and we all know how that would go.” The bored expression she had affected dropped away and she turned her attention from the TV to the sergeant. “Something’s happened to her, hasn’t it.”
Mitchell hesitated for a moment, reluctant to say anything. He realised there was no point in keeping what had happened from her, though, not when she would hear about it soon enough. “Yes,” he said with a quick nod of his head. “This may not be easy for you to hear, but first thing this morning, the body of a girl was found in the village, we believe it’s Georgina.”
“Bloody hell!” Kelly swore, her face pale with shock.
Nigel went even whiter than his daughter. “Wh-what happened to her?” he asked in a voice that shook.
“Get a grip, dad, Jesus!” Kelly told him. Once over her initial shock the colour returned to her cheeks and she showed enough animation to ask, “How did she die? Was she killed? I bet she was killed, that’s why you want to know if anyone would hurt her.”
Written In Blood Page 5
