by Graham Smith
Steph had laid herself bare to Beth and it had been heartbreaking to hear how her friend had felt violated, not just physically, but mentally. That the boyfriend had disregarded her protestations, and had held her down just to satisfy his own drunken needs, had scarred her as much as the forced penetration. Steph had loved him; she’d previously confided to Beth that if he’d proposed to her she’d have said yes in a flash.
That had all been blown away by a gutful of lager and a refusal to take no for an answer.
What had infuriated Beth most of all was the way the boyfriend had moved on without being punished for his actions. A week after the rape, Beth had been driving home after a late shift and had seen him leaving one of Penrith’s livelier pubs with his arm round another girl.
With Steph unwilling to put herself through the ordeal of pressing charges, and the subsequent interviews and possible court case, there was nothing Beth could do to make the boyfriend pay for his crime without resorting to vigilante action. As much as she believed the boyfriend deserved to be punished, she had a greater belief that it was her duty to uphold laws rather than break them.
Beth had been strong for her friend and had kept her own emotions private as she listened to the horrors of Steph’s ordeal. The one time she’d cried in front of Steph was when her friend had told her that she might have forgiven her boyfriend, had he not blackened one of her eyes and broken her nose when punching her into submission.
Steph’s rationalisations betrayed all Beth held dear, as, to her mind, Steph had given the punch greater importance than the rape. Beth was convinced that had Steph’s boyfriend not punched her, she would have forgiven him.
To Beth, neither action was forgivable, but the scars from the beating would always fade quicker than the ones from the rape.
Eleven
Beth followed the woman who O’Dowd was leading towards the room where witness statements were taken. This room wasn’t as sterile as the interview rooms and had once been decorated in a way that suggested it was intended to offer calmness and reassurance to witnesses.
The decor had faded with time. Lies and mistruths had polluted the room along with tears of despair and shock.
Unlike the interview rooms, the door to this room had no lock and there was a small table with dog-eared magazines that were flicked through without ever being read.
‘Thank you for coming in to see us, Miss Dereham.’
‘Please, call me Eleanor.’
Beth had only been half-listening when Eleanor had been introduced to them, but she paid the woman proper attention now.
Eleanor Dereham was a good-looking woman who had poise and style – evident in her clothes and the traces of make-up on her face. The perfume she wore wasn’t one Beth was familiar with, although if Eleanor’s clothes were anything to go by, the perfume wouldn’t be one a DC could afford on a regular basis.
‘So, Eleanor.’ To Beth, O’Dowd’s smile was obviously false. ‘You say you have come in to attest to the innocence of someone we arrested this morning. I’d be very interested to hear what you have to say.’
‘Shall I start the story at the beginning or would you like me to jump to the key point?’
‘The key point works for me. We can hear the whole thing afterwards if necessary.’
‘Fair enough. I know Derek Forster didn’t rape and murder those women because I used to date him and can tell you that sexually the man is as vanilla as they come. He wasn’t remotely interested in anything kinky, and specifically he wouldn’t have anal sex with me.’
Of all the things Beth had heard during her police career, none had flabbergasted her the way Eleanor’s statement had. She planted her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her fists. The action as much to ensure her mouth didn’t hang open as to give her time to think. From the corner of her eye, she could see O’Dowd having the same struggle she was.
Eleanor’s well-to-do appearance and the obvious class she exuded was at odds with her bold statement. Beth tried not to make predisposed opinions of people based on their appearance, but she’d experienced contact with people from all walks of life and had found that in a majority of cases, her first impressions were rarely far wrong.
Still, she’d had Eleanor down as the kind of woman who’d keep her business private and probably wouldn’t discuss sex with anyone. She’d been wrong; the brazen admission proved that, as did the amused look in Eleanor’s eyes.
‘You both seem a little shocked by what I’ve said.’ A twist of her lips added a wryness to Eleanor’s smile. ‘Well you don’t need to be. I’m a grown woman and I have needs. I like sex and from time to time, I like to have anal sex, among other… things. Derek wouldn’t hear of any of it, so eventually I finished with him. It wasn’t an acrimonious split; we just had different tastes.’ She gave a shrug. ‘I think I disgusted him a little.’
Beth lifted her chin off her fists and hoped her voice wouldn’t betray her amazement at Eleanor’s frankness. ‘How did you know he was here? We only arrested him this morning and the only person we are aware he’s spoken to is his lawyer.’
‘His lawyer is my cousin. He knows we used to date so he called me an hour ago.’ Eleanor scratched at her shoulder causing the fine material of her blouse to rustle at her touch. ‘I told him the truth about me and Derek, and when he asked if I’d come down and make a statement to you, I agreed.’
With that last sentence, Beth realised how the lawyer had played them. Everything that was said in the formal interview was nothing more than a stalling tactic until his star witness came forward. Forster must have told him about the anal aspect to the rapes when calling to hire him.
What Beth had to find out now would waste her time as well as delaying the investigation into the mayor.
First of all, they would have to establish if Eleanor really was Vaughan’s cousin and whether or not she was lying to help out Forster’s case.
Second, they’d need to see how eager to help Eleanor really was. Telling her tale to two women in the privacy of the witness suite was one thing. Testifying in court was another.
‘Your revelation is very damning to our case. I’m sure that when it goes to court your testimony may well swing the jury’s opinion. However, just because he didn’t want anal sex with you doesn’t mean he didn’t desire it with other women.’
‘We both know that’s not true. Vanilla is vanilla. The case won’t go to court. You’ll not get enough evidence for that to happen.’ Eleanor shifted her eyes from Beth to O’Dowd. ‘Your DC seems to think I’m afraid of testifying in court. That I’m ashamed of my appetites. I can follow her logic, but I have to tell you, I’m not worried about my reputation.’
Beth kept her mouth closed as Eleanor rooted in her handbag and produced her phone. After unlocking it and scrolling through the apps for a few seconds, she slid the phone across the table until it was sitting between Beth and O’Dowd.
‘What’s this?’ O’Dowd made no effort to keep the anger from her tone.
‘It’s the first in a series of pictures that were taken at a wedding. Specifically, my niece’s wedding. You’ll see the bride being given away by her father. You’ll also see a family photo where Neville and I are with my mother and his father. He looks like his father and I’m like my mother. His father and my mother are twins.’ A smugness crept into Eleanor’s tone. ‘I’m sure you’re wondering if I’m really Neville’s cousin or someone who’s been hired to lie Derek’s way out of jail. I am his cousin, and yes I did have a relationship with the mayor. If you keep scrolling through the pictures, you’ll see several of me and the mayor at civic functions back in May. There are also some selfies of the two of us.’
O’Dowd lifted the mobile and swiped her way through the hundreds of pictures on the phone. Her eyes narrowed further with each swipe and when she passed the phone back to Eleanor, she almost threw it at her.
Beth got why her boss was that way. She felt the same emotions. Not only had they been outmanoeuvred by th
e lawyer, his cousin’s testimony was destroying their case.
The mayor may well be innocent of the charges against him, but the way he’d looked at Beth at his house had revealed his truer nature. Whether or not he’d killed and raped the four women, he was still a predator. Worse than that, he was a predator with funds at his disposal, powerful friends and enough charisma, influence and popularity to make any allegation against him seem like a witch hunt.
As Beth watched Eleanor walk out of the building all confident air and pocking heels, she heard O’Dowd’s mobile ring.
She turned to watch her boss. Maybe she’d be able to interpret what the conversation was about from the side that she heard.
O’Dowd was listening rather than talking and from what Beth could see of her face, the DI wasn’t liking what she was hearing.
Twelve
Beth watched as Forster climbed into the passenger seat of his lawyer’s Jaguar, and cursed the world in general.
Digital Forensics had checked Forster’s diary and found that he was engaged in a series of civic events around the county when two of the women had been raped and murdered. There was no way he could have attended all the various events and still have found enough time to identify, abduct and then rape and kill his victims. Yes, he may have been at the nature reserve around the same time as Christine Peterson was suspected of being taken, and he was in the vicinity of Keswick when Joanne Armstrong was abducted, but unless his support staff were in on the rapes and murders, it just couldn’t have been him. Plus he was at the same function as the chief super last night – a quick word with the chief super had not just verified this, but backed up the mayor’s claim he was too tipsy to drive – which meant that he couldn’t have killed Felicia Evans either. The final clincher was the call she’d put in to American Express. It had taken a bit of wrangling, but she’d managed to speak to someone who’d confirmed the mayor had reported his card as stolen last week.
The good news was that this meant that FMIT had proven beyond doubt that the mayor was innocent and, as such, they were freed from the toxic aspects of the case.
The bad news was now that they’d established the mayor’s innocence, they had no clues as to who was behind the murders. A dozen and one questions burned in Beth: Was the mayor’s presence at two sites a coincidence or was it something that linked the killer as well? Was the killer part of the mayor’s entourage? Now that the mayor was off the suspect list, who should be on it? The invitation and the mayor’s credit card being found at the site where Felicia’s body was dumped, along with the anonymous letter that was sent to the chief constable, made Beth think that someone was trying to frame the mayor.
The thing which troubled Beth the most was that she couldn’t work out if the mayor was being framed as part of a vendetta or as a way to deflect attention from the real killer.
She planned to pore over the reports of those who’d investigated each murder, memorise the details and compile her spreadsheets until she had every fact and detail at her disposal for cross-referencing. There had been no other credible suspects and after the fiasco in the interview rooms, she realised just how tenuous the mayor’s involvement now looked.
Beth couldn’t help but feel frustrated and aggrieved at the way they’d wasted their time investigating the mayor when they should have been following normal procedure for the murder of Felicia Evans.
As much as Beth was sure the mayor was a major player in the dating field, she couldn’t stop herself admiring his drive. Even as he’d been leaving, he’d repeated his request that she get involved when he managed to set up his charity.
As much as she’d wanted to tell him where to get off, she’d stayed her tongue and had accepted the card he’d given her. If he was true to his word, he might well do some good and, if she did get involved, she would make sure the charity also focussed on helping to bring rapists to justice.
Beth joined O’Dowd once she had finished her phone call and set off back towards Carleton Hall. The DI was silent and Beth could feel the waves of fury emanating from her boss. It was an anger she shared, but Beth could also feel a pulse of excitement acting as a breakwater.
The FMIT had four murder cases to investigate and, because of this, she’d be given a chance to deliver some closure to the victims and their families. Above anything else, it was the desire to see wrongs righted that had compelled Beth to join the police. Now that she had a chance to tackle three unsolved cases plus the murder of Felicia Evans, she knew that she’d do whatever it took to find the killer and stop him before he killed again.
‘See when we get back to Carleton, Beth, you and I need to have a not-so-little chat about how to conduct yourself in a professional manner.’
Thirteen
Beth kept her mouth shut and her eyes on the floor as O’Dowd raged at her. On a deeper level, she knew that half of the DI’s anger was directed at the hopelessness of the case they’d been landed with, the fact that they had to deal with the political hot potato of the evidence against the mayor, and that they’d picked up three incredibly cold cases.
‘Answer me, Beth. Tell me what made you think it was appropriate to give the mayor such a hard time when the evidence against him was so circumstantial?’ O’Dowd flumped herself into her seat and scowled at the world in general. ‘Well?’
‘Maybe I could have chosen my words with more care, but come off it, ma’am.’ Beth knew she may be digging herself deeper into O’Dowd’s bad books, but she couldn’t help but speak her mind. ‘Just because he’s got a fancy title that comes with a red shawl and a blingy chain, it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be questioned with the same thoroughness that any other suspect gets. I was trying to get under his skin. Okay, I failed, but I don’t think I was harder on him than other suspects I’ve interviewed.’
‘That’s enough. In a perfect world, all people would be created equal. Tell me, do you think we’d have jobs if we lived in a perfect world? Like it or not, some people are more equal than others.’ O’Dowd stood and flashed a hand at the papers strewn across Beth’s desk. ‘You’re on the cold cases. Get your head down and find me a lead to pursue on who did rape and murder those poor women. I’m going to go update the DCI, and forewarn him of the complaint that may very well come from the mayor’s lawyer.’
As O’Dowd stomped her way out of the office, Beth reached for the files on her desk. So far she’d made some notes, but she hadn’t yet found the time to create one of her spreadsheets. She knew that different things worked for different people and her preference was to see all the relevant information in one place. For her, neat columns and ordered rows were the key to aligning similarities and matching known facts across different elements of a case.
DI O’Dowd had an artist’s pad on her desk that she filled with haphazard scribbles as thoughts and ideas came to her. The two other members of FMIT – Thomson and Unthank – both tended to rely on memory and, while Beth knew it was sexist of her to do so, a part of her wondered if the reason they leafed through the files and trusted their brains had more to do with male arrogance than anything else.
They’d be leading on the murder of Felicia Evans and, if the truth was told, Beth would rather be investigating a current case than a bunch of cold ones, but she supposed this was O’Dowd’s way of rapping her knuckles.
As she bent to her task, she was spurred on by the desire to not just solve the cases, but to beat Thompson and Unthank to the result.
Another thing that was bothering Beth was O’Dowd’s deference to Forster. The mayor had a certain standing among the community as befit his station, but to her, he was just another person who’d come into their sights and been dismissed when the evidence had backed up protestations of innocence. Whatever political office Forster held, or might go on to hold in the future, had no place in their reckoning: he must be judged as all other suspects were, and that’s what she’d done.
Rather than give in to her frustrations and rant or rage, Beth turned back to the reports and t
he notes she had on the three cold cases.
As with any investigation, the starting point was the first thing to happen to the victim. While there may have been previous unknown events such as stalking or even surveillance, they could be backtracked to, once the first point of contact between victim and attacker had been established. In the cases of the three murdered women, that point was the one where they’d been abducted.
Christine Peterson had left her husband to look after the grandchildren they’d taken on holiday while she’d headed off to Sandscale Haws National Nature Reserve with her camera. Beth didn’t know the area well, and what she found online showed her an isolated beach, with a myriad of sand dunes festooned with the tough grass synonymous with much of Cumbria’s coastline.
Christine’s Mazda had been parked in the reserve’s car park and the CCTV footage from the lone camera fixed to the wall of the gift-shop-cum-tearoom had shown Christine leaving her car and wandering off into the dunes with her camera slung around her neck.
To Beth it looked as if Christine was serious about her photography, as when she’d googled the make and model of Christine’s camera, she’d learned that it was a larger professional one and that Christine had also carried the kind of equipment bag professional wedding photographers use.
That was the last time anyone had seen her alive. To be fair to the investigating officers, they’d tracked down everyone else who’d used the car park and spoken to them. All had been holidaying families, apart from a group of students from Lancaster University who’d been there to study the newts which could be found in the dunes.
Joanne Armstrong had been staying in Keswick. Her purpose in the Lakes was hillwalking, as it was for so many visitors to the area. Rather than following the normal protocol of walking in a group, Joanne had travelled to the Lakes by herself and she walked alone.
