Playing with Bones

by Kate Ellis

  CHAPTER 14

  Joe asked Jenny to discover all she could about Polly Myers. He had too much on his plate to do it himself and besides, he felt the matter needed some professional detachment. He’d also called Hicklethorpe Manor School and been told that Benjamin Cassidy was out at a meeting and wouldn’t be back till later. Joe felt frustrated that Derby’s story couldn’t be confirmed but he knew he’d have to be patient.

  He opened his drawer and fingered the DVD he’d taken from Derby’s flat. The AV room was already occupied by someone examining CCTV footage from the shops on Gallowgate. Besides, he had a mountain of paperwork to catch up on. He closed the drawer and began to sift through his files. But after a couple of minutes he heard Sunny’s unmistakable voice.

  ‘There’s been a sighting of our escaped prisoner in Scarborough. Someone saw him eating fish and chips on the beach.’

  Joe sat back, glad of the distraction. With two murders to deal with, he’d almost forgotten about Gordon Pledge. ‘Reliable sighting?’

  ‘Who knows? Uniform’s following it up.’

  Joe looked down at the pile of witness statements and decided he could do with a short break. And Sunny looked as if he was eager to pass the time of day.

  ‘Pledge killed someone just outside Harrogate, didn’t he?’

  ‘Aye. He killed a twelve-year-old girl three years back. Francesca Putney her name was. Got life. Swore he was innocent.’

  ‘Don’t they all.’ Joe rolled his eyes upwards.

  ‘Oh, Pledge made a big song and dance about it – got himself the best lawyers. Said he was going to appeal but he’s not managed it yet. He also reckoned he knew who did it but he had no proof.’

  ‘I presume he let the police in on the secret.’

  ‘Aye. He accused one of his neighbours but the bloke had an alibi and all the evidence pointed to Pledge. They even found the kid’s shoe in his shed. He was clutching at bloody straws if you ask me.’ Sunny scratched his head.

  ‘I presume uniform have checked out his known associates and his family.’

  Sunny grunted. ‘That’s the first thing they did. Only when they arrived at the parents’ address they found they’d done a vanishing act and now there’s no bloody sign of ’em. Same goes for Pledge’s missus. She buggered off after the trial and now there’s no sign of her either.’

  Before Joe could say anything the door opened and Emily swept into the incident room, walking through quickly as though she didn’t want to talk to anybody. It wasn’t like her, Joe thought as he watched her disappearing back. Normally she’d be doing the rounds of the desks checking on what developments there’d been in her absence. Joe stood up and waited a few seconds before following her into her office.

  She was on the phone but as soon as he opened the door she put the receiver down and looked up at him. Her face was solemn and there seemed to be a glassy film on her blue eyes … as though she was fighting back half-formed tears.

  ‘I’ve just taken Abigail Emson’s parents to see their daughter in the morgue. It was bloody awful.’ She sighed. ‘I was just trying to ring Jeff to see how the kids are. But there’s no answer. He must be out.’ She picked up her handbag, rummaged inside then dumped it back on the floor … a pointless activity just to give her something to do with her hands. ‘Sometimes I wish I still bloody smoked,’ she said under her breath.

  ‘You’d only get arrested by the health police,’ said Joe as he sat down. ‘They’re keener on getting a conviction than we are.’

  She tried to smile at his weak joke but didn’t quite manage it.

  Joe reached across the desk and touched her fingers. He knew how she felt: he’d felt like that himself in similar situations – helpless and angry. Emily withdrew her fingers quickly as though she’d had an electric shock and Joe suspected that his impetuous gesture of sympathy had been misinterpreted. He decided to say nothing, to let the incident pass.

  ‘We need to see Polly Myers again and ask her about her real name. Apparently Polly Myers doesn’t officially exist.’

  Emily frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Jenny couldn’t find anyone of that name in any official records.’

  Emily rolled her eyes. ‘Are you sure you’re not getting a bit obsessed with Polly Myers? She might have just fancied a change of name – or she’s changed it to get away from an abusive boyfriend or something. I can hardly see her strangling those women, can you?’

  Joe shook his head. ‘I just get the feeling she’s hiding something. Her neighbours told Jenny that she’s gone to stay with a friend for a few days.’

  ‘Not unreasonable in the circumstances,’ Emily said. ‘Any forwarding address?’

  Joe shook his head.

  ‘Like I said, I can’t see her as our strangler.’

  ‘But she might know who it is,’ Joe observed.

  Emily had to acknowledge that he could have a point.

  ‘Any word on Bridget Jervis yet?’

  Joe shook his head again. ‘You’d think with a shop to run, she’d have been back by now. I wouldn’t like to leave my livelihood in the hands of that assistant. She’s not much more than a kid.’

  Emily checked her watch. ‘The Emsons have been booked into a hotel and I said I’d pop round there and see them later. We’ve got people talking to everyone who was interviewed regarding Natalie Parkes.’

  ‘And we’d better see what Abigail’s colleagues at the pub and her university friends have to say for themselves.’

  ‘Already being dealt with,’ Emily said. Her natural efficiency was gradually returning.

  Joe stood up. ‘We need to confirm Philip Derby’s alibi with Benjamin Cassidy – that story about them being together at the time of Natalie’s murder.’

  He saw Emily put her hand up to her forehead.

  ‘You OK, boss?’

  Emily straightened her back. ‘Just a bit of a headache. I’m fine … honestly.’ She stood up. ‘I’d better go and bring the super up to date.’

  Joe watched her as she left the office, walking confidently past the desks of her underlings, stopping for the odd encouraging word. No sign of the tiredness he’d seen a couple of minutes before. But he knew her mind was on the Emsons and what they were going through.

  Michele had been told to go to her room and Sylvia had locked the door behind her as she always did now when there were no chores to be done. But Michele suspected that something was going on. She had caught a glimpse of the man now and she couldn’t help wondering whether he knew she was there. Or whether he knew about the girl in the freezer.

  She turned over the possibilities in her mind as she lay there on the mattress. Was the man potential friend or foe?

  When she heard the door being unlocked again she sat up, flattening her back against the headboard. The door opened and for a few moments Sylvia stood silhouetted in the doorway, watching her with those sharp eyes of hers.

  ‘You’re to come downstairs,’ Sylvia said, an order rather than a request.

  Michele obeyed without a murmur. The more she got out of that small attic room, the more likely it was that one day she’d find a possible means of escape.

  She followed Sylvia down the stairs and when she reached the hall Barry emerged from the living room, followed by the man Michele had seen in the hall. She saw now that his face was pallid as though he’d spent a lot of time indoors in artificial light. But he looked strong, towering over Michele like a predatory beast.

  He turned to Sylvia. ‘Well, Mum, I think it’s about time you introduced us, don’t you?’

  The AV room was free at last. But as Joe headed for the door, Emily spotted him and beckoned him into her office.

  She looked more strained and weary than she had done earlier. What she needed was to get home early and spend time with Jeff and the children, a bit of family normality. But that was one thing she wouldn’t be getting until this killer was caught.

  She looked at her watch before she spoke. ‘I’m doing a TV a
ppeal with Abigail’s parents later, in time for the evening news.’ She sighed. ‘At least it makes them feel as if they’re doing something constructive. I asked Natalie’s mother to join us but she refused. Said it was like picking your sores in public.’

  Joe could see both points of view. However, Natalie Parkes’s mother’s apparent indifference to her daughter’s death – not to mention her father who was still refusing to budge from his office in the States until the funeral – struck him as cold and heartless, even a little odd.

  He sat down, making himself comfortable. ‘I’m pretty sure the killings are random, don’t you agree?’

  Emily pondered the question for a while. ‘He targets young women who are walking alone at night so yes, I’d say he’s an opportunistic predator.’

  ‘One girl blonde, the other dark – both late teens early twenties.’

  ‘And available. They come to him. Unless he follows them.’

  ‘And then there’s the copycat element. Singmass Close … where the nineteen-fifties murders took place. And the dolls. Why does he mutilate the feet?’

  ‘He’s reliving the Doll Strangler murders in the nineteen fifties. We’re looking for someone who has an obsession with that particular case. Or maybe it is the Doll Strangler himself. He could be a sprightly seventy. Still strong enough to kill.’

  ‘But if that’s the case, why did he give up so suddenly after four and why hasn’t there been a peep out of him till now?’

  ‘I’ve got someone checking whether anyone who’s been in a mental institution or prison since the fifties has just been released. But there can’t be many who’d fit that particular bill.’

  Joe thought for a few moments. ‘I can’t help feeling there’s some connection to those stories about the children who died in Singmass Close. Could that have inspired the killer in some way? The dolls … children?’

  Emily said nothing.

  ‘I want to see everyone who was involved in the original case.’

  ‘Those that are still alive,’ Emily muttered.

  ‘We’re seeing Albert Jervis in Whitby tomorrow and we can’t rule out Peter Crawthwaite. He was the first victim’s boyfriend. Mind you, he had an alibi for Marion Grant’s murder back in 1956. He was with Jervis’s assistant, Caleb Selly.’

  ‘Got an address for Selly?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Emily sighed. ‘After all this time he could have died or moved out of the area. It might be a wild goose chase.’

  ‘Look, Emily, if you’re busy I could go to Whitby with Jamilla or Sunny.’

  ‘No, Joe, I want to talk to Jervis myself.’

  ‘And we mustn’t forget about his daughter, Bridget … the doll lady. She still hasn’t turned up.’

  Emily stood up. She wore an expression of fearful resignation on her face. ‘Once more unto the breach …’ she said, clutching her handbag close to her chest like a shield.

  ‘You’ll be fine, boss,’ Joe said softly and watched her disappear out of the office door. He didn’t envy her. Having to sit there with the grieving parents while the press gave you a good grilling wasn’t his idea of a perfect way to spend an afternoon. ‘Fancy a drink tonight after work?’ he called out when she was halfway out of the door.

  She turned round and smiled gratefully. ‘It’ll have to be a quick one. Jeff ’s cooking.’

  When she’d gone Joe remembered he had Derby’s DVD in his inside pocket. It was a long shot but Philip Derby had concealed his knowledge of the Doll Strangler murders.

  He smiled at Jamilla Dal as he passed her desk on the way to the small, windowless room that contained the audio visual equipment. In this room, officers pored over hours of CCTV footage and home videos but now, to Joe’s relief, it happened to be empty.

  It was about time he found out what Philip Derby regarded as entertainment. As he settled down to watch, already considering the best way of returning the disc to Derby’s flat without the embarrassment of being discovered, he was willing to bet that he was barking up the wrong tree altogether. It would be something dull and worthy – a recording of some BBC2 documentary perhaps or maybe an opera.

  Images began to appear on the screen. There was no sound as the figures moved in silent rhythm. Two men and four young women writhing on what looked like a bed of furs.

  Joe recognised the two men. He’d met them both before.

  He watched the action on the screen for a while, as a naturalist might observe the mating habits of a group of rare animals. Philip Derby and Benjamin Cassidy certainly looked as if they were enjoying themselves, which was more than could be said for the four girls whose faces were masks of boredom … or was it endurance? But Joe’s heart began to beat a little faster when he recognised the face of the blonde girl sitting astride Cassidy.

  It was a pity Emily had gone out. He would have liked her to be the first to share his discovery. The discovery that Natalie Parkes had been making pornographic films with her headmaster.

  CHAPTER 15

  Emily viewed the DVD in silence with a slight smile on her newly painted lips. ‘So that’s what Derby and Cassidy have been getting up to in their spare time. There’s one thing I hate more than a hypocrite and that’s a smug hypocrite. No wonder Derby wanted to give us the impression that him and Cassidy were an item.’

  ‘He never actually said they were; he just let us assume. I’ve rung the school. Cassidy’s back from his meeting.’

  ‘Are you ready to go round and tell him his career’s in ruins then?’ she asked, her smile becoming a wicked grin. ‘No, let’s send someone to bring him to us. He lied about his relationship with a murder victim. I think that deserves a patrol car sweeping up the drive of his school with all sirens blazing, don’t you? Preferably at home time when all the kids and their parents are milling about.’

  ‘I think we can assume that this is the money-making secret that Natalie teased her mates with. Some secret. I can’t help wondering why Philip Derby drew attention to himself by sending me that book,’ said Joe as he prepared to make the phone call that would bring Cassidy’s cosy world tumbling down. ‘I suppose it was ego. Pure arrogance. Some people just can’t help themselves.’

  She knew Joe was right. Derby was just the type who’d enjoy playing dangerous games to relieve the tedium of his life. She saw Joe looking at his watch. With this new development, their trip to Whitby would have to wait. If Albert Jervis was confined to a nursing home, he wasn’t likely to make his escape.

  An hour later Benjamin Cassidy was sitting in the interview room, bristling like a nervous hedgehog. He blustered a lot, claiming that he knew nothing about the matter, except for the fact that Natalie Parkes and the missing girl, Michele Carden, were both students at his school. What they got up to out of school hours was no concern of his and something over which he had no control.

  He was good, Emily had to give him that. If she hadn’t seen the DVD with their own eyes, she’d probably have believed him.

  Of course, there was the little problem of Joe obtaining the evidence without any sort of search warrant, something she’d rectified swiftly by obtaining one of the precious documents and sending a brace of DCs over to Philip Derby’s place to seize the rest of the discs. They would enjoy going through them, Emily thought. It would be an unexpected treat for them … something to brighten their day.

  Benjamin Cassidy sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the windowless interview room, sipping hot liquid from a plastic cup. He was trying to look casual, unconcerned, but the eyes gave him away. Emily knew that he could see his neat little world disintegrating around him.

  His solicitor sat by his side, dapper in his pinstriped suit with a white rose in his buttonhole to show he was a patriotic Yorkshireman. Joe had told her that he was acquainted with Harry Lightly – known throughout CID as ‘Let ’em off Lightly’. But to Emily, a relative newcomer to Eborby, Let ’em Off was an unknown quantity.

  ‘My client does not deny knowing the girl, Natalie Parkes,’ L
ightly began. ‘But he can account for his whereabouts on the night of her death and that of the other victim, Abigail Emson. And as far as any other charges are concerned, Natalie Parkes was over eighteen when the alleged liaison took place. There is no case to answer other than a moral one and this is neither the time nor the place.’ Lightly sat back in his seat, looking from Joe to Emily with a self-satisfied expression on his face.

  Emily took a deep breath. Now she knew how Lightly had earned his nickname. But that wasn’t going to stop her. She’d eaten his sort for breakfast in Leeds.

  She leaned forward. ‘You lied to us, Mr Cassidy. You’re finished at Hicklethorpe Manor now, so you might as well tell us everything you know about Natalie Parkes. You did, after all, know her rather intimately.’ She glanced at Lightly and gave him a sweet smile. ‘And we’ll need the names and addresses of those other girls, too.’

  Cassidy nodded meekly and the story came pouring out, as if a valve had suddenly been released. Natalie had met Philip Derby in a pub and Derby had got her involved in the ‘little parties’ as he called them. When Cassidy had recognised her as one of his students, he’d been horrified. But Natalie had found the situation amusing: she’d been a bit of a wild child, he said, always pushing the boundaries.

  ‘You say you were horrified … but clearly not too horrified to screw her,’ Emily observed with studied innocence, enjoying the crimson blush that spread across the man’s face.

  ‘We’d had a lot to drink and … I was terrified afterwards that she’d tell someone but she never did. She kept it hanging over me like the sword of Damocles.’

  ‘But you still went to the parties,’ she said, catching Joe’s eye.

  ‘You’re not Stallion by any chance?’ she heard him ask casually.

  When Cassidy’s cheeks blushed bright crimson, she knew Joe had hit the jackpot.

  ‘That was Phil’s idea. He called it the, er … Stallion Club.’

  ‘You were with Derby on the night Natalie died?’