Reunion: a gripping crime thriller (DI Kate Fletcher Book Book 4)

by Heleyne Hammersley

  Kate was puzzled. ‘How come? She didn’t limp when I was at the school.’

  June shook her head as though she couldn’t quite believe what she was about to say. ‘Broke her ankle on a school trip. I was there. We were abseiling from a bridge and she misjudged the drop. Fell the last few feet and did her ankle in. Shame really. She missed the last night of the trip.’

  ‘What about Mr Whitaker. Did he turn up to the reunion?’

  ‘No chance!’ June spat. ‘I’d have called the police if he did.’

  ‘Why?’

  June’s eyes narrowed. ‘He wasn’t right, that one. He always was a bit weird – everybody said so. He had to move away from here and the rumour was that it was something to do with little kids.’ She paused to let the implication sink in even though it was clear to Kate what she meant.

  ‘And you knew this when you were at school? Did something happen?’

  ‘We never knew. But kids get a feeling sometimes, don’t they, if something’s not right. I never trusted him.’

  Kate couldn’t help but wonder how much of this was hindsight. It seemed unlikely that children that age would think about their teachers in those terms, but she didn’t question June’s account.

  ‘He was on that trip, wasn’t he? Whitaker? The trip where Mrs Dalston broke her ankle.’

  June nodded. ‘He organised it every year. We talked about nothing else for weeks before we went. It was like a goodbye to our friends and the school, I suppose. It was even more of a goodbye for me because I didn’t go back for the last few days. My dad had rented a caravan at Bridlington, so we went the next day. No more junior school.’

  Kate could see that Hollis was making notes but, so far, there wasn’t much that was useful. They needed names.

  ‘June, can we get back to The Three Amigos. They were definitely Lee Bradley, Neil Grieveson and Vicky?’

  June nodded. ‘Lee was Lucky and Neil was Ned – because of the initials of their first names.’

  ‘What about Vicky?’ Kate knew that the third character was called Dusty – it didn’t match with the others.

  ‘That was the one that they thought was really funny,’ June said with a tight-lipped grin. ‘Vicky was Dusty because her surname was Rhodes – Dusty Rhodes? She thought it was hysterical, but then she always was a bit strange.’

  Hollis sat up a bit straighter. ‘Strange in what way?’

  June’s eyes drifted to the wall above Kate’s head for a few seconds. ‘Intense, I suppose. A bit quiet when she wasn’t with the other two. She was clever as well. Probably the cleverest in our year. I bet she went to university.’

  Kate took out her phone and showed June the image of two girls outside a tent – the one of Vicky and Angela.

  ‘June, is that Vicky on the right?’

  The other woman took the phone and used two fingers to expand the photograph, frowning in concentration.

  ‘Yes. That’s Vicky with Angela Fox. I remember she didn’t want to share a tent with Angela, but she couldn’t share with the lads, could she? God, I’d forgotten how much she hated Angela.’

  ‘Vicky and Angela didn’t get on very well?’ Kate asked, taking back her phone and texting Vicky Rhodes to Cooper. ‘Do you know why?’

  June shrugged. ‘I thought they were getting on okay, but the last time I saw Vicky Rhodes she was threatening to kill Angela Fox. And I think she really meant it.’

  22

  Linda Mitchell was just putting away her shopping when the doorbell rang. She shuffled to her walking frame and began the long trek to the front door cursing the delivery driver. What had he forgotten this time? She didn’t know how the supermarkets recruited these people but the last three had all either given her the wrong items or they’d forgotten something essential.

  ‘Hold your horses,’ she shouted. ‘I’m not as quick as I used to be.’

  Breathing heavily from the exertion she peered through the spyhole expecting the delivery driver to be standing there with an apologetic look on his face. Instead she saw a well-built woman with short dark hair.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked, opening the door. Her irritation with the supposed delivery driver had carried forward into her greeting, but she didn’t feel any need to apologise.

  ‘My name’s Stacey Duffy,’ the woman said, holding out a business card. ‘I’m with the South Yorkshire Post.’

  Linda snorted. ‘You must’ve got the wrong house, love. I’ve not done anything interesting and it’s pretty quiet round here.’

  The young woman – Stacey – smiled. ‘I’m not accusing you of anything, Mrs Mitchell. I’d just like a quick word. It’s about your upstairs neighbour.’

  Linda glanced at the ceiling of the hallway as though he was up there now. She knew he wasn’t though. She knew exactly where he was. ‘What’s he done? I thought he’d been put away.’

  Stacey nodded. ‘He’s still in prison, Mrs Mitchell. I’d like to talk to you about his release. If I could just come in for a few minutes?’

  Linda quickly weighed up her options. The woman’s ID looked official and there was nothing threatening or suspicious in her tone. Besides, Linda always wore a panic button round her neck. Social services would have somebody round in minutes if they thought she was in some sort of trouble. They’d told her that it was in case she had a fall, but she’d have no compunction about using it to summon help if she was being attacked.

  ‘Come on in then. I’m a bit busy so you’ll have to excuse the mess.’ She tottered down the hall, her recently repaired hip aching with every step. She needed to sit down and rest for a few minutes.

  ‘In here,’ she said, leading the way into the kitchen and collapsing thankfully onto one of the wooden chairs that flanked the table. She saw the journalist’s eyes flicking round and sensed her judgement. So what if she still had tins and packets everywhere? And she hadn’t had the home help in for a few days so there was a bit of muck on the floor and the sink could do with a scrub.

  ‘You look worn out,’ Stacey observed with a smile. ‘Shall I make you a cup of tea?’

  She was forward, this one. But it was tempting. Linda had been planning on putting her feet up with a cuppa for an hour or so and she was parched after trying to sort out the shopping and then having to attend to this young woman. How bad could it be to allow somebody else to take care of her for five minutes?

  ‘Go on then,’ she said. ‘Teabags are in the cupboard next to the sink, mugs are in the next one along and, well, you can see where the kettle is. Milk’s in the fridge. Use the one on the left – it’s older.’

  Linda watched carefully as the woman made the tea, nodding her approval as she removed the teabag before adding the milk. Nothing worse than leaving the bag in with the milk, it made the tea weak and creamy-tasting.

  ‘Right then,’ Stacey said, passing a mug across the table and taking a seat as though this were her home and Linda was the guest. ‘Let’s have a little chat.’

  Linda took a sip of her tea. She couldn’t work out what this was about, but she wasn’t entirely sure that the journalist could be trusted.

  ‘How long has David Wallace lived upstairs?’

  That took a bit of thinking about. It had been since Ian had died because Linda remembered hammering on the door of her upstairs neighbour when she’d found her husband slumped over the bed. Tony and Sheila had been up there then. They’d been good neighbours, quiet and friendly. Ian had been gone for four years in February.

  ‘Three years or so,’ Linda decided.

  ‘And how have you found him as a neighbour?’

  ‘Quiet,’ she answered, truthfully. She barely knew he was there most of the time. She’d hear his footsteps or the occasional flush of the toilet but that was it. No loud music. No telly turned up full.

  ‘So, you were shocked when you heard he’d been arrested?’

  The honest answer was yes but Linda didn’t want to give the impression that she’d been taken in by one of that sort. ‘Not really,
’ she said. ‘It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it? I must admit I was a bit shocked that it was kiddies though. I could tell that he was a bit secretive. Shifty he was. Never really made eye contact. I thought there might have been something dodgy about him. Glad he’s been put away.’

  ‘So, you’re aware of his offences?’

  Linda nodded.

  ‘Are you also aware that he’s due for release?’

  ‘That can’t be right!’ Ever since David Wallace had been arrested, Linda couldn’t help but think about her grandchildren. Her son, Mark, didn’t bring them round often but at least now there was nothing to worry about. She hated to think of them being here with that monster upstairs, but she was certain that they’d never been alone with him. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if they’d met Wallace. But now that was a possibility that she couldn’t even contemplate. ‘How long has he been in jail?’ she asked.

  ‘Nearly six months.’

  That didn’t seem like long enough. Linda thought that they threw away the key with kiddie fiddlers these days. ‘Are you sure? That can’t be right after what he did.’

  The journalist just nodded, her mouth a thin line as though she didn’t trust herself to speak.

  ‘When?’ Linda asked.

  ‘Not long. Couple of weeks.’

  Linda drained her teacup. Two weeks and then he’d be free. ‘Is that why you’ve come? To warn me?’

  Stacey nodded. ‘And to ask for your help.’

  ‘Help?’

  The woman leaned across the table and lowered her voice. ‘We can’t get access to a release date. The authorities won’t allow it. Rehabilitation of offenders and all that.’

  Linda nodded, even though she wasn’t quite sure what the woman meant.

  ‘So, I thought you might be willing to let us – me – know when he gets back. You could listen out for him. It’s in the public interest for us to let people know that he’s at large again as soon as possible. God knows what could happen if he got his hands on a child. If we expose his whereabouts the council will probably have to move him.’ Stacey sat back again, looking at Linda as though daring her to disagree.

  ‘I could do that,’ Linda said, a thought creeping into her mind. Information could be valuable. ‘But what’s in it for me.’

  Stacey smiled broadly. ‘The newspaper would see that you were appropriately remunerated,’ she said. Linda translated the statement as money. She’d get paid for keeping people safe. And he might get moved away from the area if others kicked up a fuss.

  ‘Of course I’ll help,’ she said. ‘It’d be a pleasure to get rid of a monster like that.’

  Stacey stood up and placed a business card on the table. ‘There’s my mobile number. Call any time, day or night. I want to know as soon as he’s back.’

  Linda picked up the card.

  ‘Will do,’ she said. ‘The minute I hear anything.’

  ‘You won’t regret it,’ Stacey said. ‘I’ll see myself out. Hope to be in touch soon.’

  Linda listened to the woman’s footsteps receding down the hallway and then the opening and closing of the front door. Humming to herself, she ran a finger across the glossy surface of Stacey’s card.

  She’d be ready.

  23

  ‘Right, we’ve got a name,’ Kate said, securing her seat belt and tapping the screen of her phone. ‘I’m going to task Sam with finding Angela Fox as well. If Vicky really did have it in for her thirty years ago it’s possible that she might be in danger.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Hollis’s tone was sceptical. ‘It’s a long time ago and kids fall out over anything. I threatened to kill my best mate at least twice a week when I was that age.’

  ‘But we’re dealing with a potential murder suspect, not a child.’

  Hollis nodded. Point taken.

  As they drove through the estate, Kate contemplated the grey streets. Dan was right, November was awful, and it was especially awful in the north of England on a drizzly morning. They passed the house where Kate had grown up, one more red-brick box in a row of red-brick boxes. She remembered days like this when she was a child. She’d look out of her bedroom window to see if it was raining before deciding what to wear for the day. She had a fool-proof method for assessing the weather. The roof of the house behind theirs was tiled, like the rest of the houses, with shiny, red clay tiles. On a wet day the chimney was reflected in the slick surface. The tiles dried erratically so on a less wet day the roof was a patchwork, and on a sunny day there was no reflection at all. Every house they passed on their way off the estate had a roof that showed a reflection of the chimney.

  ‘Kate, you’re going to want to see this,’ Cooper said as soon as Kate stepped back into the office. She’d sent Hollis up to the canteen for refreshments to give her a chance to check her text messages. She’d had one from Nick on the drive back to Doncaster, but she hadn’t wanted to open it in case the DC saw it and asked about the relationship. It was short – trite, almost: we need to talk. She’d ignored it, deciding to deal with it later, and now Cooper was about to distract her.

  ‘What’ve you found?’ she asked, pulling a chair up to Sam’s desk and sitting next to her. On the screen was a black-and-white image which was clearly a still from CCTV footage. It showed a wide view of a car park at night, probably from a camera placed high up on a telegraph pole or lamp post.

  ‘Charlton’s car,’ Cooper said. ‘It was found this morning in a car park just off Thorne Road, near the hospital. Unlocked but no keys.’

  ‘The keys were on the body,’ Kate said.

  Sam ignored her. ‘So, I requested CCTV and it must be my lucky day because I got the files ten minutes ago. I’ve only just started but I’ve found Charlton pulling into the car park at around 7.30pm. He then just seems to be waiting.’

  ‘Meeting somebody?’

  ‘Could be. As I said, this is as far as I’ve got. He’s in the dark hatchback, bottom left.’ Cooper tapped a key, but the image remained the same.

  ‘Is it playing?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Yep. Not much happening though. Oh, here’s a cat.’

  They watched as a black feline eased itself off the wall at the back of the car park and slowly wandered out of the range of the camera. Charlton’s car still hadn’t moved.

  Cooper sighed and sped up the image until a figure appeared at the top of the screen.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  Cooper shook her head. ‘No idea. Can’t make out any features but it looks like a woman and, not being one for stereotypes, it’s pushing a buggy, so odds are it’s female.’

  The figure approached a saloon car two rows behind Charlton’s, removed the child from the buggy and bent over, presumably strapping it into a car seat. She then opened the car’s boot and appeared to be grappling with the buggy which looked like it didn’t want to fold up.

  ‘Here we go,’ Cooper whispered as, on the screen, Charlton got out of his car and approached the struggling woman. It was impossible to tell if anything was said but he took the buggy from her and turned his back as he tried to collapse it.

  ‘Whoa!’ Cooper exclaimed as Charlton collapsed, with the buggy, onto the ground. They watched as he struggled to his feet only to be met with an outstretched arm from his attacker. He went down again, this time half inside the open car boot. The woman calmly tipped him in and threw the buggy into the back seat before getting in the car and driving off.

  Kate checked the time code. The whole encounter had taken just over two minutes.

  ‘Taser?’

  ‘Taser,’ Cooper confirmed, rewinding and freezing on the outstretched arm. ‘You can just about make out the wires. And here, she scoops it all up with him when she stuffs him in the boot. It looks like she might have had two, but it’s a bit hard to make out. One shock probably wouldn’t have been enough to subdue him completely but if she got him twice and left the electrodes in him, he’d have been helpless for about half a minute. Plenty of time to stuff him in the boot.
And combine that with the first shock – his muscles would have been like jelly for a good twenty minutes or so.’

  That tied in with the marks that Kailisa had found on the body. But Charlton would have recovered from the electric shock reasonably quickly. If Kailisa was right about time of death, what happened between Charlton being put in the car and him being killed in the playground?

  ‘Can we see the car’s reg plate?’

  Sam rewound and watched the footage again.

  ‘Nope. It’s in shadow when she’s parked and blurred when she leaves. I’ll try to enhance it but it’s doubtful. Makes me wonder if she’d smeared something on it to make it hard for the camera to pick up. Can’t make out what type of car it is either. Could be an Audi or a Toyota maybe. Saloon cars aren’t as popular as hatchbacks so I might be able to work out what model it is if I look on a few car makers’ websites. Trouble is, it’s hard to tell if it’s a new model or something older.’

  ‘What about CCTV near the school?’

  ‘There’s nothing close – I checked. The nearest is on Doncaster Road. I can have a look but there are a lot of smaller roads into Thorpe. If I was intending to kill somebody I’d want to avoid being seen for as long as possible.’

  ‘But she had to know there were cameras in the car park. It’s a huge risk.’

  ‘What’s a huge risk?’ Hollis had arrived with coffees and, while Sam filled him in and showed him the footage, Kate tried to make sense of what they’d discovered. If this was the woman who had kidnapped and killed Margaret Whitaker, she seemed supremely confident, arrogant almost. There were other cars in the car park. Somebody could have turned up at any point during her encounter with Charlton. And then what?

  ‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘What about the baby? Who’d kidnap somebody when they’ve got a kid in the car?’

  ‘There was no baby,’ Sam said. ‘Look’

  She played a two second clip of the footage. ‘Look at its head when she gets it out of the buggy.’