Playing with Bones

by Kate Ellis

  Click, click, click. He could almost hear them again. He could almost smell their fear. He had to find that hook.

  CHAPTER 18

  In Joe’s opinion his visit to Karen Strange with Jamilla had been a complete waste of time. She’d denied knowing anything about Natalie’s activities at the Stallion Club and when they asked about Natalie’s relationship with Benjamin Cassidy, the answer had been a terse denial. Natalie had never mentioned anything like that.

  Jamilla said afterwards that Natalie must have been an exceptional teenage girl not to confide such a major secret to her supposedly best friend.

  Joe pondered this for a while. ‘What if she confided in someone else?’

  Jamilla looked sceptical. ‘Nobody at school admitted knowing about it and I can’t see her having a heart to heart with her brother. They hardly seem like a close family,’ she added with what sounded like disapproval. Coming from a close-knit family, she found the Parkes clan hard to understand.

  ‘You’re right,’ Joe conceded. ‘Maybe she just kept it to herself. She thought she was above her fellow students – making money out of sex parties with older men.’

  He noticed Jamilla give a shudder of disgust. ‘That Cassidy should be locked up. Think he’s got anything to do with the murders, sir?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure that Abigail Emson didn’t go to any of the Stallion Club parties. She doesn’t appear in any of the Derby amateur movies.’

  ‘How can a girl from a wealthy family lower herself like that?’

  Joe said nothing. He didn’t know the answer.

  They had arrived at Brett Bluit’s house. But Joe wasn’t sure whether they’d learn anything new. It might be another waste of time and effort like the visit to Karen Strange.

  Brett’s house was a good deal smaller than the homes of his classmates, a small terraced house south of the city centre near Picklegate Bar and the city walls. Brett’s mother let them in, saying that her son was working in his room. She was a nervous, birdlike woman in a velour tracksuit with greying hair scraped back into a limp pony tail. It was coming up to six-thirty but there was no sign of a father and no photographs of any man who might fit the bill anywhere on display. The place was quiet and Joe guessed that Brett was an only child. Siblings tended to make a noise.

  Mrs Bluit called Brett down and Joe watched his face as he descended the stairs. He looked cool and confident … like a young man with nothing to hide. Or a young man who wished to give that impression. He shook Joe’s and Jamilla’s hands firmly and invited them to sit while his mother bustled out to make a cup of tea.

  ‘Have you made any progress yet?’ Brett asked politely. ‘I heard about that other girl. It’s terrible,’ he added with a frown.

  ‘We’re following a number of leads,’ Joe replied, omitting to mention that so far all their leads had led precisely nowhere.

  ‘I hope you catch him soon. The girls at school are getting jumpy.’

  Joe decided a change of subject might be wise. He noticed a pile of university prospectuses, neatly stacked on the sideboard. ‘Which university do you fancy?’

  Brett nodded. ‘Cambridge … natural sciences. Cassidy reckons there should be no problem. He said he’d be surprised if I don’t get in.’

  This mention of Cassidy gave Joe the perfect opening. ‘Did you know that Natalie Parkes had been going to sex parties with Benjamin Cassidy?’ He said the words bluntly, intending to shock. They’d trodden carefully with Karen and now he reckoned that coming straight to the point would produce better results.

  Brett’s face was a picture of amazement. The boy probably didn’t realise that his mouth had fallen open and that he was gaping at Joe like a caveman confronted with an aeroplane.

  ‘I take it she didn’t mention it to you, then.’

  Brett shook his head. ‘I’m sure you’re wrong.’ He spoke as though he suspected Joe of making it up for his own amusement.

  ‘It’s not just gossip … I’ve seen the evidence.’

  ‘Surely Cassidy wouldn’t be stupid enough to piss in his own back yard. This’ll finish him.’ His eyes widened. ‘What about my reference for Cambridge?’ he added in a small, desperate voice.

  Joe gave him an apologetic smile. He wasn’t sure what a university would make of a reference from a disgraced head teacher. There was a slim chance that they might care. On the other hand, they probably wouldn’t. ‘I hardly think Mr Cassidy’s sex life would be considered relevant to your application,’ he said, trying to sound reassuring.

  Brett leaned forward, his eyes flickering to and fro. Joe could tell the news had shaken him. ‘You think that could have something to do with why Nat was killed?’

  Joe ignored the question. ‘You were Natalie’s friend. She never mentioned …?’

  Brett shook his head vigorously. ‘She never said anything about screwing Cassidy, honest. She never let on.’

  ‘Exactly how friendly were you and Natalie? Did you sleep with her or …?’

  Brett’s cheeks reddened but before he could say anything, his mother came in with a tray. She had brought out the best china – cups and saucers of the fussy, floral kind, the sort Joe more readily associated with old ladies. And Brett Bluit’s mother couldn’t have been more than fifty.

  ‘Thanks, mum,’ Brett said and waited politely for her to leave the room, like a chief executive dismissing the tea lady from a confidential meeting. There was definitely something subservient about Mrs Bluit. Almost as though she was overawed by the academically brilliant son she had brought into the world.

  Joe thought carefully about how to phrase the next question. ‘I expect your mother makes a lot of sacrifices to pay your school fees,’ he said, trying to sound casual and hide his curiosity about how Mrs Bluit managed to get her hands on the nine grand a year charged by Hicklethorpe Manor.

  ‘She doesn’t. I won a scholarship. I’m a charity case.’

  Joe sensed a hint of bitterness behind the words, quickly concealed with a confident smile.

  ‘What did Natalie think about that?’

  ‘She had problems of her own. The poor don’t have the monopoly on dysfunctional families, you know. And, boy, were Nat’s lot dysfunctional. Have you met the mother?’

  Joe glanced at Jamilla and nodded.

  ‘And someone said her dad can’t even be arsed to come back from the States. I don’t think even my father could top that one,’ he added. The bitterness was bubbling nearer the surface now. Brett’s father was a painful subject.

  ‘Where is your father?’

  ‘Leeds. He’s got himself a new family. I’ve got two half sisters, can you believe. Not that I’m allowed anywhere near them. He likes to keep his past life separate so I hardly ever see him these days.’ He looked away. ‘Not that I’m particularly bothered.’ The last words were spat out. Brett, so controlled at first, was finally showing his true emotions. And Joe, against all his professional instincts, found himself feeling sorry for him.

  ‘You never answered my question, Brett. Did you sleep with Natalie?’

  There was a slight hesitation before Brett shook his head. ‘She said she just wanted us to be friends and now you’ve told me what she was up to with Cassidy, I can see why. Look, I wasn’t the only lad in our year to fancy her. With looks like hers there were quite a few queuing up, if you know what I mean. Not that anyone hit the jackpot. She said she preferred older men.’

  ‘But you were still friends?’

  ‘I always thought so. But she kept this thing with Cassidy quiet.’ Joe thought that he sounded hurt that she hadn’t taken him into her confidence.

  He looked the boy in the eye and gave him an encouraging smile. ‘Have you been friends since you first went to Hicklethorpe Manor?’

  Brett thought for a moment. ‘I’ve known her since the first year but we really started hanging around together when we reached the sixth form.’

  ‘But she never talked to you about any of her relationships?’ Joe
suspected the answer would be no. If she hadn’t confided in Karen Strange, it was unlikely that she’d have shared her secrets with Brett. Unless she enjoyed shocking him … tantalising him with details of her sexual adventures.

  Brett thought for a few moments then he raised a hand as though he’d just remembered something. ‘She said she’d met someone who’d written a book but I don’t know if it was true. She used to say things just to impress people. She’d tell you something but when you asked for the details she’d just give you an enigmatic smile and shut up. The Mona Lisa had nothing on Nat. I thought she was making it up half the time, saying she’d gone for rides in sports cars and gone to parties and taken cocaine and all that crap. But she never mentioned Cassidy. You sure you got that right?’

  The boy was looking more confident now. ‘I’m afraid so. If you can remember any details about those parties she talked about – names or places – that’d be very useful.’

  But Brett shook his head. ‘Sorry, like I said she kept it vague. I thought she was making half of it up so I didn’t pay that much attention.’

  ‘Did you like Natalie?’

  ‘Suppose so,’ was the quick reply.

  ‘What about Karen?’ It was the first time Jamilla had spoken and Brett studied her with interest before answering.

  ‘What did she say?’

  Joe’s eyes met Jamilla’s. They weren’t falling for that one. ‘You tell me what you think she said.’

  He watched as Brett gave an enigmatic smile and shook his head. ‘Nat thought Karen was immature. She called her a silly kid.’

  Joe nodded. His mental picture of the dead girl seemed to be coming into clearer focus. The secretive fantasist who couldn’t resist boasting about the parties she went to and the money she made, but who’d still been too embarrassed about what she actually got up to with their headmaster to mention it to her closest friends. Perhaps Cassidy had pressured her into it. Perhaps she hadn’t been the willing participant he’d claimed she’d been. He suddenly felt desperately sorry for Natalie Parkes: behind the brash, sophisticated exterior he guessed there’d been an insecure, attention-seeking young girl. An easy victim.

  He decided to change the subject. ‘How well do you know Michele Carden?’

  ‘I don’t know her but I heard she’d gone missing; everyone at school’s talking about it, but I can’t say I’ve ever had anything to do with her. She’s a couple of years below us and …’ He frowned. ‘You don’t think she’s been murdered too, do you?’

  ‘We’re keeping an open mind. You do know there’s been a second murder in Singmass Close where Natalie was found? Girl called Abigail Emson. She was a student at the university.’

  ‘I heard,’ he said quietly. ‘Maybe she was involved with old Cassidy too. Could that be the link?’ His eyes lit up and Joe suspected that secretly he was rather enjoying the situation.

  ‘Like I said, we’re keeping an open mind.’ Joe produced his card. ‘If you remember anything … anything at all … call me.’

  Brett took the card and studied it. ‘Plantagenet, eh,’ he said with a grin. ‘Should I bow or what?’

  ‘If you do happen to remember anything, a phone call to my mobile will do,’ Joe answered. There were times when he wished his name was Smith.

  Emily had had a bad afternoon. First of all the super’s insistence that it was more important to reassure the trembling public than to busy themselves trying to apprehend the killer had irritated her. She needed his support and his approval of her overtime budget, not another press conference.

  And the hour she’d just spent with Abigail Emson’s family bringing them up to date with developments confirmed her belief that she was in the right. The killer who had targeted the young student when she’d been on her way home from her bar job had to be caught before he deprived another family of their daughter.

  She’d just telephoned Jeff to tell him she’d be late again and remind him that he had to drop Matthew off at Cubs, then take Daniel to his swimming lesson while Sarah’s friend’s mother took her to ballet. There were times when organising the family required the strategic ability of an army general. Compared to that, Emily thought to herself, running a full-scale murder inquiry seemed relatively straightforward.

  Grabbing a precious spare moment to herself, she studied the names written on the white board that filled one wall of the incident room. The two victims and all the names that had cropped up during the investigation.

  Then there was the name of the escaped murderer, Gordon Pledge. Alice – Gordon Pledge’s grandmother – had been the victim of the Doll Strangler’s first murder attempt and the current murders had started soon after Pledge’s escape. He could easily have guessed at the Doll Strangler’s MO from seeing Alice’s injuries. Gordon Pledge was right up there in the frame. He’d killed once – strangled a child – and they said that murder was easier the second time around.

  Of course, Emily had to acknowledge that the killer might not be on their list. The team was still trying to trace all the officers who worked on the original case in the 1950s – anyone who might know about the unpublished details.

  She was deep in thought when a voice made her jump. She turned to see Jenny Ripon waving frantically, trying to catch her attention.

  ‘Ma’am, there’s a lady down in Reception.’ She paused for effect. ‘She’s heard we’ve been looking for her and she wants to talk to someone.’

  Emily took a deep breath, wishing Jenny would come to the point. ‘Who does?’

  ‘It’s Bridget Jervis. She’s back.’

  CHAPTER 19

  Joe returned from his visit to Brett Bluit at seven-thirty, just as Emily was making her way down to the interview room. As soon as he heard about Bridget’s reappearance, he couldn’t resist seeing the woman for himself.

  He sat beside Emily looking at Bridget Jervis. She was a big woman with hips that would send the health police reaching for their calorie counters. And it seemed to Joe that she had spent so much of her life with dolls that she had begun to resemble one. She had a small, rosebud mouth, a pretty turned-up nose and bright-blue eyes; in spite of the fact that she had passed her half century, her skin was clear and unlined.

  ‘You know why we’ve been looking for you?’ Emily said.

  ‘Something about my dolls. Simone, my assistant, said you’d spoken to her a couple of times.’ She looked at Joe accusingly. ‘You scared the bloody life out of her. You know that?’

  Joe shifted in his seat. There was something vaguely alarming about being scolded by a fearsome oversized doll.

  ‘We need to know whether any of the dolls in your shop are missing.’

  She shook her head. ‘I took a look at the stock today as soon as I got back. Simone’s fairly reliable but record keeping isn’t really her thing, if you know what I mean.’

  Emily had brought down the evidence bags containing the two dolls left by the bodies of Natalie Parkes and Abigail Emson. She put them on the table in front of her and pushed them over towards Bridget whose eyes lit up with recognition.

  ‘This one’s Perault Freres – French, about eighteen ninety-six. And this one’s German – Hoffmann.’ She began to examine the dolls closely and when she noticed the feet she frowned. ‘They’re both damaged in the same way.’ She looked up at Emily. ‘Is that significant?’

  Emily didn’t answer.

  ‘Do you recognise them?’ Joe asked.

  Bridget shook her head. ‘No. I’m sure these haven’t been through my shop.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ asked Emily sharply.

  ‘I just know.’ She paused and gave Joe a shy half smile. ‘I love my dolls. They’re like my children, I suppose. And I don’t recognise these two.’

  Joe and Emily looked at each other. It certainly sounded as if Bridget was telling the truth.

  ‘Where have you been, by the way?’ Joe asked.

  Bridget began to wind a strand of hair around her fingers and her lips turned upwards in anot
her coy smile. ‘If you must know I was with a man. I met him on the Internet and we spent a few days at a hotel in Scarborough.’ One look at her face told Joe that the sojourn in Scarborough had been a successful one.

  ‘And you didn’t think to tell your assistant where you were?’

  ‘I told her I was going away for a while and to look after the shop. That’s all she needed to know. I don’t like all and sundry knowing my business.’

  Joe nodded. ‘Did your, er … gentleman friend take an interest in the dolls you stock or …’ It was a long shot but it was worth asking. Some malevolent person could have befriended Bridget over the Internet because of her tenuous connection with the old murders. Unlikely but possible.

  ‘Dolls?’ She snorted. ‘Do me a favour. He’s a lorry driver.’

  ‘We went up to Whitby to have a chat with your father,’ said Joe thinking a change of subject was probably advisable. ‘He told us about a man who used to work for him … a Caleb Selly.’ He watched her face for a reaction to the name … some sign of recognition. And he wasn’t disappointed.

  She leaned forward. ‘I remember Caleb Selly. He worked for Dad for a few years.’

  Something in the way she said it made Joe suspect that there was more to tell.

  ‘Selly – or Mr Selly as I called him back then – never used to talk to me – but I could see him watching me. He had this birthmark covering his cheek – I remember that all right. Dad never said anything but I think I sensed there was something not quite right. I remember him saying to come to him if Selly said anything to me. I didn’t really know what he meant then but …’

  ‘Your dad thought he might have been a paedophile?’ This was something Jervis hadn’t mentioned. And Joe wondered why. He looked at Emily and saw that she was listening intently.

  ‘Well they never used that word in those days but …’

  ‘Strange that your dad gave him the job then. He must have come into contact with children at the dolls’ hospital.’