by Graham Smith
‘Good. Go find me a sheet to wrap this lady in. A clean one if you can find such a thing in here.’
Beth released the first of the woman’s wrists. ‘My name is Beth. Are you Willow?’
The head turned her way and nodded.
As she looked into Willow’s face and saw the emptiness in her eyes, Beth felt her anger start to grow.
She could see first-hand the damage that Cooper’s actions had wrought. Gone was the woman she’d seen on Facebook who’d been joyfully partying with friends and eating cheesy chips. In her place was a woman who would remember this horror for the rest of her days. When Beth moved to untie Willow’s ankles, she had to resist aiming a kick at Cooper’s genitals. The idea of burying her foot a few times was appealing but she didn’t want to do anything that may contaminate evidence or give him a legal loophole to exploit.
He was on his side and his shirt had ridden up onto his stomach.
As much as she didn’t want to look at his crotch, she knew it could hold vital evidence.
She took a quick look.
A condom hung off a penis that was no longer than the first knuckle of her thumb.
The urge to assault Cooper vanished as she realised she had confirmation that Andrew Cooper was definitely the killer and rapist they called the Lakeland Ripper.
‘Here.’ Kieran handed her an orange sheet. Its colours were washed out, but it looked clean and didn’t carry any nasty smells.
‘Cheers.’ Beth draped the sheet over Willow and bent to untie the final knots securing her to the bed. ‘Go outside and call in for an ambulance and a CSI team. Tell them we’ll need someone to do a rape examination when Willow gets to hospital.’
Willow’s head slewed from side to side. ‘No. No rape.’ A shudder that shook Willow’s whole body was followed by a stream of tears. ‘Not yet. He was about to. He’d told me what he was going to do. How he was going to rape me.’
Kieran hovered, unwilling to leave, but not sure what to do.
Beth nodded at the door. ‘Go on, out with you. It’s ladies only in here from now on.’
With the sheet covering Willow, Beth tried to find the right words to soothe her. She kept her voice soft as she repeatedly told Willow that she was safe now, that Cooper would go to jail for a long time and that he’d never bother her again.
Even as she was speaking, she knew her words were trite, meaningless. She wasn’t trained to deal with this kind of thing. Instinct made her want to rub Willow’s back while giving her a great big reassuring hug, but something else inside her was telling her not to make any physical contact until Willow reached for her.
Beth knew that if Forster could get his charity set up in the right way it would be invaluable to people in Willow’s position.
Sixty-Eight
Beth fidgeted in her seat as she waited for O’Dowd to instigate the interview. The struggle with Cooper had torn three buttons from her blouse. She’d managed to borrow a T-shirt from a female PC when they’d got back to Workington police station, but the PC was a size smaller than her, which left her feeling suffocated by the tight top.
O’Dowd switched on the recording equipment and read out the charges after naming all those present.
‘So, Mr Cooper. It would appear that you have, quite literally, been caught with your pants down. As we speak, an officer trained to deal with rape victims is taking a statement from the woman you abducted and attempted to rape. She’s also been examined by a doctor who specialises in sexual trauma. Whether or not your victim testifies against you doesn’t matter. You were caught in the act. End of. You’re going to jail for what you did; the only real questions I have are: For how long? And for how many crimes?’ O’Dowd fixed him with a stare.
‘No comment.’
‘I don’t blame you for saying that. Let’s face it, your lawyer has probably told you to say nothing until they’ve had a chance to study all the evidence against you. Trust me, that’ll take a while because there’s lots of it. Tell me, do you honestly think you’re going to get away with what you’ve done?’
‘No comment.’
The lawyer laid his pen on the table with a deliberate precision. ‘I think you’re on the point of crossing a line, DI O’Dowd. What Mr Cooper has said is that he was making love to his… girlfriend when two of your officers broke into his home, assaulted him and then arrested him. He tells me he is innocent of the charges laid against him.’
Beth noticed the lawyer’s particular turn of phrase, and also the way he’d physically positioned himself to put as much space between him and his client as possible. It was everyone’s right to be defended and duty lawyers didn’t get a choice on who they were representing, but they didn’t have to like it.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Irving, but I don’t believe that’s the case at all. And, I’m sad to say, I don’t think even you believe that version of events.’ Beth shot a look at the lawyer. ‘I was there, I saw what your client was doing. I spent an hour comforting her. That wasn’t going to be consensual sex, not even close to it. His victim was traumatised. When she finally stopped crying long enough to tell me what happened, she told me your client had told her several times over that he intended to rape her. Her wrists and ankles were chafed bloody from where she’d been struggling against the ropes binding her.’ Beth held up a hand to stall Irving’s protests. ‘I know you have a job to do, but please, credit us with a little intelligence while you do it; otherwise you’re going to end up making yourself look foolish when you peddle his lies for him. So, Mr Cooper, Mr Irving, you might want to have a think about your options, because from where I’m sitting, pleading guilty is the only thing that can lessen your sentence.’
‘No comment.’
Irving looked at his client, who sat back in his chair and folded his arms, so Beth did the same until she felt a tap on her ankle from O’Dowd.
‘Tell me, Mr Cooper, do the names Christine Peterson, Joanne Armstrong, Harriet Quantrell and Felicia Evans mean anything to you?’
‘No comment.’
Beth put a puzzled expression on her face. ‘That’s odd. Either you’re going to say no comment to everything we ask you, or you’ve just made a serious mistake. You see, those four women were all murdered after being raped. What you should have said instead of no comment, was no. But you didn’t, did you? That makes me wonder if you said no comment because you don’t want to comment on those women.’
Without waiting for an answer, Beth pulled open a folder and removed four pictures which she put on the table. As she laid each one down she named the victim, said a little bit about them and stated the date and location of where they were found.
O’Dowd’s hand slapped onto the table. ‘Cat got your tongue, Mr Cooper? Are you not going to say no comment again?’
‘Please, DI O’Dowd. There’s no need to be rude.’ Beth laid a hand on O’Dowd’s wrist as she gave the prearranged admonishment. It was one of the routines they’d developed. Sometimes Beth would play good cop, and at others, she’d ramp things up past O’Dowd’s level. The inclusion of the word rude was a signal to O’Dowd that she was about to really turn the screw on Cooper and that O’Dowd should back off a little.
O’Dowd gave a curt nod and a mumbled apology.
‘Those women were all sexually assaulted and strangled. One of them was assaulted further after she died and one was only assaulted after she’d been strangled.’ Beth gave her head a tiny shake. ‘That’s the kind of monster we’re looking for. A man who’d satisfy his lusts on a woman he’d just killed. Can you imagine what a criminal psychologist would make of such a man?’
‘No comment.’
Beth was just getting started; she’d only tossed a question in so Cooper would become part of the conversation.
‘My guess is they’d say the killer was a single man, between twenty-five and fifty-five, but then, they always say that. They’d also say the rapist and killer was someone who harboured a lot of resentment towards women. That he’d been repeate
dly scorned or spurned by women. They might suggest that he was a virgin until he raped his first victim, or that the only success he’d had with the opposite sex had been with prostitutes. Does any of this sound familiar to you, Mr Cooper?’
‘No comment.’
‘I reckon the criminal psychologist would speak of the killer’s anger, their resentment. He may purport to a sexual inadequacy, such as erectile dysfunction, as a major reason the killer has had to force himself on women and then kill them to ensure their silence. Another thing he may well suggest is that the killer was unattractive to the opposite sex, perhaps on a visual level and maybe on a personality basis. I’m not going to shy away from it, Mr Cooper. We have statements from Miss Brown and another lady that state that your personality was best described as predatory. But I need you to tell me if what I’m saying is true. Can you do that? Can you admit that you had to resort to rape because woman after woman spurned your advances?’
‘No comment.’
Beth leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. She wanted to close the gap between her and Cooper, both physically and psychologically. When she started speaking again, she made sure her tone was soft.
‘You do know you’re in a lot of trouble, right? I caught you, remember? You were caught by a woman. I bet that doesn’t sit well with your opinion of women, does it? You probably see us all as bitches for rejecting you. You probably hate all women because of the ones who’ve spurned your advances.’ Beth pointed to her cheek. ‘I hated all men for a while after I picked this up. I get why you feel that way. I understand that you probably hate me as well. That goes with the job; I caught you, I’m the reason you’re going to prison. It’s natural for you to hate me. In a way I’m your nemesis. Tell me, Mr Cooper, how does it feel to have been caught by a woman? You couldn’t beat me when you tried to escape, you’re not going to beat me now. I have you, I have the evidence against you and I’m going to hand you over to the CPS in a gift-wrapped box tied up with a pretty pink ribbon. Would you like to know how I’m so sure you raped and murdered four women and were about to rape a fifth that you also planned to kill?’
Irving gave a dry cough. ‘I would.’
‘When we searched your client’s home, we found clothes in his wardrobe. Nothing unusual in that. Clothes are supposed to be in a wardrobe. It’s just that Mr Cooper lives alone.’ Beth made sure she had eye contact with Cooper before she dropped the piece of evidence that would seal his conviction for murder. ‘And the items of clothing were women’s. Specifically, they were an exact match for the clothing worn by Christine, Joanne and Harriet. They are, of course, being tested for skin flakes, hairs, etcetera, so they can be verified as belonging to the victims, but let’s face it, they were in a bag on the floor of the wardrobe, so trying to tell us they are his sister’s or girlfriend’s is a waste of everyone’s time, as they were the only items of women’s clothing in the house. Something else we found was a bag containing a digital camera and its accessories. The camera is a match for the make and model of the one Christine Peterson had with her when she was taken, and her husband has identified the bag as hers. Willow’s dress and underwear were found in a corner of the room where she’d been tied to the bed.’
‘Fuck.’ Cooper’s head tilted back so he was looking at the ceiling. Beside him, Irving’s face was grey.
‘Also, and perhaps this may seem spurious or circumstantial to you, Mr Irving, but when I caught your client about to rape his fifth victim, he was naked from the waist down and I couldn’t help seeing his genitalia. Please understand me when I tell you this, I’m speaking objectively as a police officer. The pathologist’s reports state that the first three women were raped by a man with a micropenis. My colleagues also found a number of devices, creams and pills that all purport to increase penis size.’
Irving’s eyes closed in defeat. When they opened, he looked at O’Dowd. ‘If it’s agreeable with you, Inspector, I’d like to request that this interview is suspended so that I can consult with my client.’
O’Dowd gave a short nod and suspended the interview.
As Beth walked out of the interview suite she wanted to punch the air. The interview was done for the time being and they had more than enough to charge Cooper, which meant they didn’t have to worry about releasing him when his twenty-four hours were up.
She also knew the real reason Irving had requested the interview be suspended. He’d want to point out the hopelessness of Cooper continuing to plead his innocence. They had him on five counts, plus the usual resisting arrest and assault of a police officer. When the interview resumed, it would be confession time.
‘Ma’am, when are you planning to resume the interview?’
O’Dowd shrugged. ‘Whenever his poor lawyer persuades him to sing. Why?’
‘You know that the mayor and I have been looking at setting up a charity to help victims of serious sexual assault?’ O’Dowd nodded. ‘Well he’s going to some party today and he’s invited me along because the host is someone who’s set up charities before. Do you think you could get someone else to finish off for me? After all, he’s going to plead guilty, isn’t he?’
‘Jesus, Beth. Do you never stop trying to do good? You need a hobby, or better still, a man in your life! Not the mayor though, he’s too old for you. Go on then, get yourself off.’
Sixty-Nine
When Beth parked her car, she felt out of place before she even opened the door. The car park of the Lakes and Fells Hotel was littered with flash vehicles. There were Mercedes, BMWs and a couple of Bentleys.
The hotel itself was a tall building with three main storeys and dormer windows indicating a loft conversion at some point in the building’s history. The gardens were manicured to the point where there wasn’t so much as a blade of grass out of place and the bushes and shrubs were trimmed into perfect spheres.
A small marquee was visible to the left of the hotel, so rather than going directly inside when she got to the top of the steps leading to the entrance, Beth followed the path round towards the marquee.
The feelings of unworthiness she’d had when parking returned when she took in the guests at the garden party. There was an air of money and class emanating from every person her eyes landed on. The women were dressed in designer summer wear and the men wore either linen suits or corduroys topped with a striped blazer.
It was a different world than she was used to, and she had to battle the temptation to turn around and go home.
Beth quashed her nerves and stepped forward before she changed her mind. She’d been pleased with how she looked when she’d checked herself in the mirror. The calf-length pleated skirt she’d pulled from her wardrobe suited her. Its powder blue colour was a perfect contrast for her black strappy top. She was glad she’d chosen to wear heels rather than the ballet pumps she’d first chosen. Not only were they a bit smarter, but she was happy to have a little extra height. Her entire outfit had cost less than fifty pounds and she doubted that any of the other women present had ever spent that little on any single item of their clothing.
Beth’s eyes picked out the mayor as she accepted a glass of orange juice from a sweating waiter. Forster was holding court with a group of five men. Two had cigars in their hands and they were all laughing at something.
Beth hovered at the edge of the marquee; the evening sun was still strong and she was glad to find a little shade.
She waited until Forster’s group splintered a little and walked over to him.
He greeted her with a hug, and flashed a smile at her that held traces of brandy and Cuban leaves. Try as Beth might, she couldn’t stop the instinctive stiffening of her body when his hug got that little bit too tight.
The next hour passed her by in a blur as Forster introduced her to various people. The most interesting of these was the host. A rotund man, he had a sharp mind and a quick wit. She only had a brief conversation with him, but in less than five minutes, he imparted a lot of wisdom about establishing a charity.
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Despite herself, Beth was enjoying the experience. Forster was bigging her up more than she cared for, but he was selling the concept of the charity to everyone he spoke to.
What amazed Beth more than anything, was the way people were offering patronage to the charity before it was even established. This was an element of society she neither knew nor understood. They had their reservations about her, she could see that and she didn’t mind. It was natural for them to be wary.
The only downside to the day so far had been Forster’s hands. They hadn’t wandered or anything crass like that, it was just that every time he touched her back, either the tips of his fingers or the ball of his thumb landed on the clasp of her bra.
She was standing with Forster when a familiar face approached her. It took Beth a moment to place him because he was out of uniform, but there was no doubt it was the chief super.
Her first thought was panic. He was expecting her to be working not mingling in the same social group as him.
‘I hear you had something of a result today.’ Hilton’s inscrutable face cracked into a tight smile. ‘In fact, I do believe you deserve praise for your actions. Well done, DC Young.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘I also hear that you’re working with Mayor Forster to set up a charity for rape victims. And that you’re insistent on helping the victims to report their ordeal.’ Hilton gave a sharp nod. ‘That is something I can only applaud. Should you run into any issues dealing with members of Cumbria Constabulary, my door will always be open.’
‘Thank you, sir, I appreciate your support and endorsement.’
A wry smile caressed Hilton’s mouth. ‘Careful now, you’re starting to talk like a politician. Be yourself at all times. Show your determination and that fine mind of yours and you’ll do well. Become another corporate drone and you’ll end up being ignored.’ Hilton gave her an exaggerated wink as he turned to leave. ‘Oh, and well done again for catching “Justin”.’
