Shades of Evil

by Shirley Wells

  ‘Murdered? A cat?’

  ‘Yup. It was hanged.’

  ‘What sort of sick bastard would do that?’

  ‘The same sort of sick bastard who’d rape young women, I suppose.’

  Percy, the cat tight in his arms, stepped forward until he was inches from Max’s face.

  ‘It wasn’t rape. She was asking for it.’

  ‘Begging for your body, Percy? Then crying rape? Ending up in A&E? I don’t think so.’

  ‘Bitch!’

  ‘Do you remember Jill Kennedy?’ Max asked.

  ‘I remember her. Smells of pig, like you lot. She was on the telly the other night. Full of herself.’

  Jill had been on a programme to promote the self-help books she wrote.

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ Max lied. ‘What was she doing on the telly?’

  ‘Saying how great she was. Saying everyone should buy her books.’

  ‘You watching book programmes, Percy? I wouldn’t have thought that was quite your thing.’

  ‘There was nowt else on.’

  ‘Have you seen her lately?’

  ‘Who? That Kennedy woman? No.’

  Percy was still stroking the cat. It was a well-fed animal and more than content to lie in Percy’s arms.

  ‘Where were you at the weekend?’ Fletch asked him.

  ‘Clitheroe.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Camping. I have a tent and go there a lot, mostly weekends.’

  ‘At this time of year?’ Max scoffed.

  ‘Any time of year.’

  ‘What do you do with your cat?’

  He looked at Max as if he were raving. ‘Take her with me, of course. What do you think I do with her?’

  Max wasn’t a cat person. Dogs, yes. Cats, no. He couldn’t see the sense in them. All they did was bring dead things into the house. He very much doubted, however, that anyone daft enough to take a cat camping for the weekend would hang one as an act of revenge.

  ‘Any witnesses?’ he asked Percy.

  ‘Plenty. They all know me there. And they’ve got cameras on the gates. The bloody tents would go walkabout if they didn’t.’

  ‘Have you got the address for this campsite?’ Fletch asked.

  ‘I’ve got their leaflet.’ Still holding the cat, he went to the kitchen and came back with a leaflet giving prices and details of the facilities for the campsite.

  ‘We’ll get it checked,’ Fletch told him, adding a grim, ‘and if we find out you’ve been telling porkies, Jacobs, I’ll be back in person to remind you about that busted rib you gave me, OK?’

  ‘Yes, well …’

  They left Percy and his cat, and made the long descent to the car park.

  ‘I don’t think he’s your man,’ Fletch said.

  ‘Me neither. Pity.’

  So who the hell was hanging cats? And why?

  ‘You said a tenner,’ the young lad told him when they reached Max’s car.

  ‘I said a fiver or a belt round the ear. So, which will it be?’

  The lad stuck his hand out and Max put a five-pound note in it.

  ‘You a copper?’ the lad asked.

  ‘I am. So watch it.’

  ‘Thought I could smell pig,’ he muttered.

  ‘And I think I can smell illegal substances,’ Max retorted. ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘Nope.’ The kid shuffled off.

  ‘What a place,’ Fletch muttered once they were in the car.

  It was the sort of place that made Max shudder. He always experienced a sense of there but for the Grace of God. Birth was a lottery. You could either be born to decent, hard-working parents, or you could be born into a hell-hole like this. If it was the latter, your fate was sealed.

  ‘Even the mother-in-law should look appealing now,’ he said, and Fletch groaned.

  ‘I’ve been put on a diet, too,’ he complained, but then, brightening, added, ‘Still, the morning briefing’s nice and early. I’ll stop for a decent breakfast on my way in.’

  Mention of the briefing brought with it a reminder of just how little they’d come up with. The identity of Lauren Cole’s killer remained a complete mystery.

  The whereabouts of Yasmin Smith was another puzzle. Max hoped to God that, while her father was tramping the streets, searching every dark corner, she wasn’t lying in the snow with an axe in her head.

  Chapter Ten

  When Jill’s bedside phone rang out, she was instantly awake. The clock was reading 2.14 a.m. No prizes for guessing who was calling then.

  She grabbed the instrument, all set to tell her caller that middle-of-the-night chats weren’t an option.

  ‘So you’ve sent your boyfriend running to Percy Jacobs?’ the voice said. ‘A waste of time, sweetheart. I’m out to get you.’ The connection was cut mid-laugh.

  Even if she’d been given the opportunity to speak, Jill couldn’t have come up with anything suitable. She was too taken aback.

  Percy Jacobs? The name sounded familiar but she couldn’t place it.

  She was about to settle down again when it clicked into place. Percy Jacobs was brother to Bill Jacobs, a vicious killer, a man she’d helped the police bring to justice. From what she remembered, Percy wasn’t much better. He’d spent time behind bars for something, she was sure of it.

  Had Max really visited Jacobs? Surely not. He would have told her. More important, if he had, how did her crank caller know about it?

  She wasn’t the only one to resent early morning phone calls. Sam had been sleeping peacefully on her bed. Now, he was restless and pawing at the cover.

  Jill got out of bed, put on a shirt and went downstairs. Rabble was curled up on the kitchen chair and didn’t even look up. Tojo was nudging the cat flap and trying to figure out why it wasn’t opening.

  This was madness. She shouldn’t be deprived of sleep, and her cats shouldn’t be confined to the cottage just because some tosser wanted to play games with her.

  She paced around her kitchen, anger mounting with every step. Three o’clock came and went. Then four o’clock.

  Banishing all thoughts of going back to bed, she showered, dressed and then, only when she could supervise them, let out the cats. Breakfast consisted of a strong coffee and four chocolate biscuits which she ate while sitting in the chair by the window. It gave her a chance to watch the cats playing in the snow. It was still thick, offering a scene from a Christmas card, but it was expected to thaw later.

  With the cats locked in again, she promised to return at lunchtime and then set off for headquarters.

  She was there soon after seven o’clock and realized there were advantages to that, the main one being that the car park was almost empty and she could grab a space at the back. That way, she didn’t run the risk of getting blocked in.

  Guessing Max would be in early, she went straight to his office. He was staring at his computer, tapping a pen against his teeth.

  ‘Percy Jacobs,’ she said, getting straight to the point.

  ‘Good morning, my love. Wonderful to see you, too.’

  ‘Percy Jacobs,’ she said again. ‘What’s going on, Max?’

  ‘Fletch wasn’t supposed to tell you.’

  ‘He didn’t. My friendly, early morning caller told me.’

  ‘He did what?’ The smile had gone. ‘I had a chat with Jacobs, that’s all. Fletch came with me, but he knew it was strictly off the record. So how the hell…? Either we were followed by your man or Jacobs tipped him off.’

  Both options were unsettling to say the least.

  ‘What did he say?’ Max asked.

  ‘He said, “So you’ve sent your boyfriend running to Percy Jacobs.” He said it was a waste of time because he was out to get me.’

  ‘Who would know we were a couple?’ Max mused, the pen tapping against his teeth again. He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I don’t like this, Jill. Why not spend the weekend at our place?’

  She shrugged that off. ‘I can take care of myself.’

>   ‘You can’t even keep a door locked!’ he retorted. ‘And don’t think a few boxing lessons will protect you from a psychopath with an axe.’

  ‘My caller isn’t the same person who killed Lauren Cole. He’s far too much of a coward. And even if he is, he left his axe at the scene. He’s unlikely to have a supply of the damn things.’

  Jill wasn’t worried exactly, but she had been a lot happier when she could dismiss the calls as the actions of children having a laugh. That was impossible now.

  Max’s phone rang and he snapped his name into it. He listened to his caller then, on a sigh, said, ‘OK, thanks, show her in.’

  As he was expecting company, Jill turned for the door.

  ‘I could do with some moral support if you feel like hanging around for a few minutes,’ he said. ‘Vivienne Smith,’ he added as explanation.

  Before she had chance to agree or decline, a knock on the door preceded Mrs Smith’s arrival. Jill, who had only seen her once before, was shocked by her appearance. Just as the weight had dropped off Adam Smith, so it had from his wife. She was shapeless, like a stick, whereas before she’d been curvy and attractive.

  ‘You remember Jill Kennedy, don’t you?’

  Vivienne Smith nodded.

  ‘Please, sit down, Mrs Smith.’

  She sat, stiff and erect, a black leather handbag clasped tight on her lap.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ Max asked.

  Jill heard the awkwardness in his voice. They all knew what he could do for her; find Yasmin. But that was too much to ask of anyone. Yasmin had left home for school one morning and vanished. She’d been last seen on CCTV waiting for the bus. A lot of people claimed to have seen her since, but no firm leads had come from those sightings.

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ she said quietly, ‘especially at this early hour, but I haven’t been able to sleep. I want to know if you think the person who killed Lauren Cole has killed my Yasmin.’ Her unwavering gaze demanded the truth.

  ‘There’s nothing to suggest that,’ Max replied.

  ‘But what do you think?’ she insisted. ‘What’s your feeling?’

  ‘I truly believe it’s highly unlikely,’ Max said.

  ‘The profiles of the girls are very different, Mrs Smith,’ Jill said gently. ‘Lauren was twenty whereas Yasmin is only fifteen. Those five years are vital. The difference between twenty and twenty-five is nothing. The difference between fifteen, a schoolgirl, and twenty, a grown woman, is vast. The girls are totally different, too. Lauren was involved with …’ she hesitated, trying to choose the right words – ‘what parents would call a bad crowd, I suppose. She was taking drugs. Yasmin, as far as any of us are aware, has no such problems. She’s a happy girl who enjoys school and wants to do well.’

  ‘I see,’ Vivienne Smith said at last. ‘Tell me, was Lauren Cole – raped?’

  ‘No,’ Max said immediately.

  She looked at Max for a long time.

  ‘What would you do if your child was missing?’ she asked him.

  Jill’s heart went out to the poor woman. Many years ago, one of Jill’s cats had gone missing. She’d hunted everywhere, checked with all neighbours and asked them to look in sheds and garages. She’d put notices in local shops, on telegraph poles, in the vet’s surgery – everywhere she could think of. Yet still she’d thought there must be more she could be doing. Every waking moment was spent wondering what she hadn’t done and believing she’d failed her pet. After all that, the cat had wandered through the back door as if nothing had happened. Jill never did know where it had spent that fortnight. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the heartache of having a child lost in the world.

  ‘I would do all in my power to find that child,’ Max said carefully. ‘And believe me, Mrs Smith, we are doing all we can. We’re following up every new lead, every possible sighting. We’re keeping details in the media.’

  ‘They’ve lost interest now, haven’t they?’ She spoke without emotion. ‘They’re just waiting for a body to be found.’

  The awful thing was that she was right.

  ‘What I wouldn’t do,’ Max went on, ignoring that, ‘was give up hope. I would never give up hope. Never.’

  ‘I won’t do that,’ she said. ‘Adam won’t either.’ At mention of her husband’s name, she flushed slightly. ‘I’m sorry Adam’s being a bit difficult at the moment, but it’s so hard for him. He has to be doing something, you see. To look at him, you’d think it was killing him, but if you saw him at home, trying to sit still for five minutes, you’d know it was for the best. But I’m sorry he’s behaving as he is. He doesn’t blame you, he knows you’re doing all you can. It’s just very hard for him.’

  ‘I understand,’ Max assured her.

  She rose to her feet.

  ‘Thank you for your time. I’m sorry to have bothered you, especially at this hour.’

  ‘You can call me anytime, you know that,’ Max reminded her. ‘And as soon as we hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She nodded at them both, a despairing pain in her eyes as if they couldn’t be expected to understand what she was going through. And she was right, they couldn’t. ‘Goodbye, both.’

  When the door closed behind her, it was as if Vivienne Smith had left a coldness behind her.

  ‘What do you think happened to Yasmin?’ Jill asked Max.

  ‘I think she met up with someone she found on the internet. She was – is – a naive, trusting, outgoing girl. We know she used chat rooms from her home computer. But all that seemed to stop about a year or more ago.’

  ‘You think she was using another computer?’

  Max nodded. ‘But we’ve checked everywhere we can – the library, local internet cafes—’ He sighed. ‘If she’d had the chance, though, she would have let her parents know she was safe. She was – is,’ he corrected himself again, ‘that kind of girl.’

  ‘God, what a bloody depressing job this is.’

  His look was sharp. ‘Watch it or we’ll have to deem you unfit for the job.’

  She smiled at that.

  ‘Clive’s made his peace,’ she told him. ‘Mind you, I suspect that was probably only because he wanted sponsorship from me. Still, at least he’s not looking daggers every time he sees me so that’s an improvement. It’s worth the money for that alone.’

  ‘He’s a good copper. We could do with him right now.’

  ‘No one’s said he isn’t a good copper. At the moment, he needs a rest from it, that’s all.’ She wasn’t getting drawn on that one. ‘Right, I have work to do …’

  Jill was glad to get home to the peace of her cottage that night. Her day had been no better or worse than usual, but she knew that witnessing the pain on Vivienne Smith’s face and then looking at photos of a brutal killing wasn’t particularly healthy. Still, it was Friday night and she didn’t have to think about work until Monday.

  When the cats had been fed and logs were crackling cheerfully in the stove, she curled up on the sofa, picked up the phone and called Max’s mother-in-law.

  ‘Kate, it’s been ages. How are you?’

  ‘What a lovely surprise, Jill. I’m good, thanks. Well, I’m in a bit of a mess wondering what to pack, but I’m good apart from that. What about you?’

  ‘I’m fine. But what do you mean? Pack for what?’

  There was a brief pause.

  ‘Hasn’t Max told you?’

  Jill wondered how many times she’d been asked that particular question. As far as the job went, Max was judged to have marvellous communication skills. Away from the job, he was hopeless.

  ‘Max tell me anything?’ she scoffed. ‘That’ll be the day.’

  ‘I’m spending Christmas in the States with Carol.’

  ‘Oh, my!’ Jill couldn’t believe that Max hadn’t mentioned it. He really was the limit. ‘But that’s wonderful. How exciting. It’s ages since you’ve seen her.’

  ‘I know, and I can’t wait.’

 
‘What about Harry and Ben? Is Judy taking over?’ On the rare occasions Kate wasn’t available, Judy, long-time family friend, volunteered to move in and take over Kate’s role of spoiling Max and his sons.

  ‘Until Christmas Eve, yes. That’s if I ever get packed. I’ve no idea what to pack. I don’t suppose you fancy a day round the shops, do you, Jill?’

  ‘I’d love one. Tomorrow any good to you? We could hit the Trafford Centre.’

  ‘Really? Yes, that suits me.’

  Usually, Jill wasn’t a fan of shopping, but she knew she’d have a good time with Kate. It was months since they’d spent the day together, too.

  They chatted for almost an hour, mainly about Kate’s forthcoming visit to her daughter, and Jill still couldn’t believe that Max hadn’t mentioned it.

  She made a mental note to make sure her gift for Kate was small enough to go in a suitcase.

  When she finished the call, she hit the button for her parents’ number.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, Mum!’

  ‘Well, good God. Who are you? No, don’t tell me. Your voice sounds familiar, but it’s been such a long time—’

  ‘Ha, ha. Very funny. I was going to ask how you are but I can tell you’re in fine fettle.’

  ‘It’s just as well I am,’ her mum retorted. ‘So what have you been up to? Planning a wedding? Realizing it’s high time you had kids? Making an honest man of Max? Giving those poor boys a mother?’

  Jill, well used to her mother’s preoccupation with marrying her off, simply laughed.

  ‘I’ve been working, Mum.’

  ‘Well, who’d have thought it?’

  ‘My, you’re hot with the sarcasm tonight. No gossip for me?’

  ‘Not really. Oh my God, yes. Have you spoken to Prue?

  ‘Not since Monday, no. Why?’

  ‘She only walked into a door. Can you believe that? You know how these battered women always claim they’ve walked into doors? Well, that’s exactly what Prue did. It’s a good job I saw her do it, otherwise I’d have thought that lovely man of hers was knocking her about.’ Her mother cackled with laughter. ‘Anyway, you won’t believe this, but she’s got a black eye. I never thought it was possible, did you?’

  Smiling, Jill thought of the whirlwind that was her sister. ‘With Prue, anything is possible.’