Bad Moon Rising (#1 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series)

by Frances di Plino

  He looked down at the photograph on his desk and was amazed once again at how alike the two brothers were. The only difference he could see was that Sean had the slightest sign of a harelip on the right-hand side of his mouth. It was a pity it hadn’t been on the left, as then one of the witnesses might have spotted it, but being on the driver’s right, there was no way it could have been seen from the street. But would that have made any difference? He would still have known the witnesses had described someone who looked very like Matthew Roberts, with the exception of a harelip. Would he still have looked into Matthew’s family history? Possibly not without the DNA Matthew had supplied.

  Dave tapped on the door and came in.

  “The chief sent a message to say they need you upstairs in ten minutes, sir.”

  “Thanks, Dave. I’ve just been looking at this picture and wishing they’d found some DNA to go with it. That would have made it much neater, but I suppose we can’t have everything.”

  “I know, sir. It seems the girlfriend kept the valuable stuff in case he came back for it, but ditched all the personal goods. I can’t say I blame her. I wouldn’t have held on to someone else’s toothbrush or comb, would you?”

  “No, I wouldn’t. Apparently all she kept was the playstation, games and blu-rays. She donated his clothes to charity shops after a few months and binned everything else.” Paolo looked at his watch. “Okay, Dave, let’s go and get this over with.”

  As they left the office Dave grinned. “Are you taking the lead, or is the chief doing the talking?”

  Paolo sighed. “He wants me to do it. God knows why. I suck in front of a camera.”

  They headed for the stairs leading to the conference room where the press had set up their equipment. Paolo still held a copy of Sean’s photograph. The harelip was barely noticeable, but he wondered if it had been more so when Sean was younger.

  “Do you think his harelip might have been why he was passed over so many times and yet Matthew was adopted?” he asked Dave. “I’ve been trying to work out why a toddler was placed, but the baby wasn’t. It usually works the other way round, but maybe it was enough of a disfigurement to put off prospective parents.”

  By this time they’d reached the next floor. Dave held open the door to the conference room to allow Paolo to go in first.

  “Could be, sir. I believe people want perfection when they adopt.” He grinned. “A bit like me in my search for the perfect girlfriend.”

  Paolo decided to let the comment pass. He was almost certain that Dave said it just to see what sort of reaction he got. Maybe he was developing a sense of humour at last.

  They approached the long table set up with mikes and a few of the leaflets that were going to be passed out into the community. Paolo’s nerves got the better of him and his hands started shaking. He’d have to remember to keep them out of sight when he spoke into the cameras. He hoped the sudden onset of nausea didn’t show on his face. Dave moved to the side of the room. Paolo walked up to the table and sat on one of the two chairs that had been put out for them. Putting down his notes, he looked over to where Chief Constable Willows was chatting to one of the camera men. Paolo nodded to show he was ready to begin the ordeal and Willows came to sit next to him.

  The cameraman signalled the countdown and then called for filming to begin. Paolo took a deep breath, trying to control his rapid heartbeat. His mouth was so dry the water in his glass looked like ambrosia, but he didn’t dare reach for a drink because his hands were shaking so much he’d be sure to spill water all over the leaflets. He coughed and began, praying that his voice wouldn’t give out on him.

  “We are appealing for the public’s assistance in locating this man,” he said, raising the photograph. “His name is Sean Andrews and we believe he can help us with our enquiries into the murder of several prostitutes in the town...”

  Twenty minutes later he answered the last of the questions from the journalists, feeling as though he’d run a marathon. The cameras stopped rolling and Willows rose. Paolo remained seated. He wasn’t sure if his legs would hold him.

  “Well done, Paolo. You handled that very well. The leaflets and posters are already being circulated. I believe this will go out on the local news immediately. It will be on the national stations this evening. I’ve also arranged for you to brief the people at Crimewatch. With a bit of luck we can get this included in the next show.”

  Paolo smiled. “Great, sir,” he said. “I can’t wait.”

  And if you believe that you’ll believe anything, he thought. He watched as Willows did the rounds of thanking the television crew and the journalists, thinking how well the man handled these situations. Hoping that the wobble would now have left his legs, he stood up, gave a general thanks to everyone in the room and headed for the door. This type of thing had to be done, but he’d rather get on with hunting for Sean Andrews than talking about him on television.

  ***

  Paolo put the phone down and slammed his fist against the desk. Was Sean Andrews laughing at him? It certainly felt that way. The news footage had no sooner been shown than a member of the public had found another body.

  He got up and walked to the door of his office.

  “Dave, CC, George, I need you in here. Now”

  He went back to his desk and waited for them to arrive.

  “I’ve just had a call from uniform. Another body’s been found at a fly-tipping site on the east side of town. This bastard really likes making a point about how he sees these women, doesn’t he? From what I can make out so far, he dumped the body during the night. Forensics are already on the way. Dave, you and I are heading over to where the body was found. CC, you and George go over to the district and find out who is missing. We haven’t had a missing person’s report, but someone must know who this latest victim is.” He picked up a pile of leaflets. “Take these and dish them out to the girls on the streets. They need to know to be reminded not to get into a car with this bastard.”

  ***

  Barbara was finishing up as Paolo and Dave arrived at the scene. She looked tired and far from her usual immaculate self. Paolo wondered if she was getting enough sleep or maybe someone was keeping her up late at night. Then he wondered why he’d had that thought. It wasn’t as if he had any reason to pry into her private life. Shaking his head, he walked towards where she was waiting for him.

  “Our killer strikes again, Paolo. He’s keeping the bodies for a few days after he strangles them. He’s certainly a sick bastard, that’s for sure. These girls are beaten almost to death before he finishes them off. The last one had semen on her breasts that couldn’t have been more than a few hours old when the body was found. I think this one might be the same.”

  She sighed and pushed a stray hair from her face.

  “You’ll call me when you know more?” Paolo asked.

  Barbara smiled. “Don’t I always? Don’t hold your breath while waiting though. Yours is not the only case I’m working on.”

  Paolo nodded. “I know that, but we need to put this one away.”

  “Ah, but that’s your department, Paolo, not mine. I don’t think we’re going to learn anything new about him from this body. He seems to be a creature of habit.”

  “What’s the estimated time of death?” Paolo asked, not really expecting an answer, but Barbara surprised him.

  “Friday night some time, I would imagine. I’ll know definitely later.”

  Paolo turned to Dave. “I think we need to find out where Matthew was on Friday night. The appeal to the public only went out today. On Friday he would still have felt that Matthew was in the frame – assuming he really is trying to set Matthew up. Come on, let’s go and pay another visit to Matthew Roberts.”

  ***

  Paolo watched Matthew pacing around his office, feeling sorry for the man. From the moment they’d arrived to tell him another murder had been committed he’d been pacing up and down, unable to keep still even for a moment.

  “I’m sorry
, I just can’t take this is. Are you telling me that Sean Andrews is watching me?”

  Paolo nodded. “It certainly seems that way, Matthew. We’ve checked back on all the dates and every murder coincides with a night when you have been home alone, and so wouldn’t have an alibi if you needed one. It looks very much as if Sean Andrews is setting you up. He looks so much like you it’s uncanny and he’s made no attempt to hide his face when picking up the girls he later kills.”

  “But why? Why would he want to destroy my life? What have I ever done to him? I didn’t even know he existed until you told me about him,” he said, finally coming to rest and throwing himself down in an armchair opposite Paolo and Dave on the sofa.

  “Our theory, and we could be way off base, is that he hates you because you were chosen for adoption and he wasn’t. You were given a wonderful life in comparison with his. He had a crap time growing up. From what we have found out so far, he was in and out of foster homes, in and out of care. Possibly when he realised you were his brother he resented the fact that you’d had such an easy and somewhat luxurious life. That could be why he killed your natural mother. At this stage it’s all supposition, but it seems feasible that he’s out to ruin your life to even the score.”

  “And you have no idea where he is?” Matthew asked.

  “Not at the moment, but he has to be close by to know when to strike. If he’s setting you up then he would need to be certain you were at home for the evening. There wouldn’t be any point if you were out at a function with loads of witnesses, which means he has to be near enough to know where you are. I think the time has come to have you under surveillance, Matthew. The most likely way for us to pick up Sean is to catch him when he’s tracking your movements.”

  Matthew shook his head. “No! How many times do I have to explain to you that my clients’ privacy is paramount?”

  Paolo’s sympathy evaporated. “You can tell me as many times as you like, but are you saying that the poor girls Sean beats up and then kills don’t deserve some of your concern? If we don’t catch him he’ll kill again and again, you do realise that, don’t you? We have no intention of upsetting your clients in any way. We’ll put a discreet tail on you – hell, you wouldn’t even know anyone was following you, so your clients definitely wouldn’t know.”

  Matthew jumped up and towered over Paolo. “You’re missing the point. I don’t care about that. I care about your men gathering information on who comes to visit me and who they bring with them. I’m telling you now, Paolo, if you set someone to watch my movements after I’ve specifically said no, I’ll make sure you end up in front of the Police Complaints Commission. I’m sure the PCC would agree that I’m an innocent party in all this. My clients even more so. Go and do your job. Find Sean Andrews and take him in, but stay away from me and the people I represent.”

  Paolo got to his feet and signalled to Dave to do the same.

  “Don’t threaten me, Matthew. You know as well as I do that we aren’t trying to catch out any of your clients. We don’t need to do that. Sooner or later they do something stupid, or try one job too many and end up getting caught anyway. I can’t put a tail on you without your consent and I certainly wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of turning round and catching some poor officer who’s just doing his or her duty, so you can relax.”

  Paolo took a breath to calm down. What the hell was it about Matthew that made him want to knock him flat?

  “If Sean gets in touch, or you see someone who looks even remotely like you, contact me directly,” he said, passing Matthew a card. “All my phone numbers are on there. Call me any time, day or night. And do me a favour, please. Get your secretary to make up a list of any public engagements you have lined up over the next few weeks. If Sean is watching you then we can be fairly sure that those nights are not going to be when he goes on a killing spree.”

  Paolo nodded goodbye and left without another word. He was vaguely aware of Dave following behind him. He was still furious when they reached the car. He unlocked the doors and got in; wrenching his seatbelt into place as if the thing had done him a personal injury and it was payback time, he forced it into the slot to snap it in place. As he waited for Dave to buckle up, he drummed his fingers furiously on the steering wheel.

  He became aware of Dave’s stillness and stopped his rapid finger movements. Turning, he had to force himself not to yell at Dave for staring at him. Jesus, he had to calm down.

  “He really gets under your skin, doesn’t he?” Dave said.

  Paolo didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded.

  “Why?” Dave asked. “You deal with people like Azzopardi and don’t react the way you do with Matthew Roberts. Why does he rile you so much?”

  Forcing himself to think logically, Paolo rejected the first response that popped into his head, which was that the guy was a prick.

  “Do you know, Dave, I have no idea. I don’t know what it is about him that gets under my skin. Maybe it’s that he’s too perfect. You know, too well dressed, too well spoken, too... I don’t know, too everything. All I know is that there’s something about him that makes me want to aggravate him as much as he does me.” He laughed, feeling the tension leaving his body. “Maybe it’s my inner teenager rearing its ugly head. I hated him back then, so it might just be unresolved issues. Who knows. You hungry? Let’s go and eat.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Chief Constable Willows didn’t look as if anything Paolo might say was what he wanted to hear. If Paolo was honest, he didn’t blame the man. He had nothing to give him that would be worth listening to.

  “Paolo, this is ridiculous. It’s been a full week since the first appeal to the public. We’ve featured on Crimewatch, the news channels have been brilliant, the press have run the story for days and yet you’re telling me that not one person has called in?”

  “No, sir, I didn’t say that. In fact we’ve had more calls than we can cope with. I’ve told you about those.”

  “Don’t get funny with me, Paolo. I’m not talking about the cranks who believe Hitler is camping at the bottom of their gardens, or those who confess to every crime they hear about, I’m talking about genuine leads. You’re seriously telling me that not one call has been genuine?”

  Paolo sighed. What could he say apart from the truth?

  “Sir, we’ve had a few calls from people who saw Matthew Roberts and believed they’d spotted Sean Andrews, but other than that, we’ve had zilch. The man is keeping himself well hidden. If you’d give me permission to-”

  “Paolo, we’ve been over this again and again. You cannot put a tail on Matthew Roberts. If he could prove you’d done so we’d end up being massacred by him – and by the press who are being so helpful at the moment. You know how hot Roberts is on human rights.” Willows broke off and glared at him. “What did you say? Come on, if you’ve got something worth hearing, don’t mutter it under your breath.”

  “I said, he worries about human rights when it suits him and his clients.”

  Willows pulled a face that Paolo couldn’t quite decipher. He decided not to put his boss on the spot by asking what he meant by it.

  “Any news from Liverpool, Paolo? I suppose it’s possible that Sean Andrews might have gone back up there.”

  “We’re in constant contact with them, sir, but they haven’t had any new information. The ex-girlfriend has been out of the country for the past week. She went with a group of workmates to Spain, but was due back yesterday, so they’ll be getting in touch with her. Still, if she’s been away it’s not likely she’ll be able to add anything into the mix.”

  Paolo’s phone rang. He looked over at Willows, who nodded permission to answer it. He didn’t recognise the number on the caller display, so flipped it open and gave his name by way of greeting.

  He listened for a few moments and then scribbled down a time. Closing the phone, he smiled at Willows.

  “I do believe we might have had our first breakthrough, sir. That was the
ex-girlfriend, Lizzie Cooper. How’s that for coincidence? It’s almost as if she heard us talking about her. Anyway, she switched on her computer when she woke up this morning and saw Sean’s face plastered all over the Internet. It came as quite a shock to her, as you can imagine. Anyway, the good news is that she’s on her way down from Liverpool. She was calling from the train, which is due to pull into the station in,” he broke off to look at his watch, “twenty-three minutes from now. She says she has information that will help us.”

  For the first time that morning, Willows smiled. “I take it you’re off to meet the train?”

  Paolo nodded. “I am, sir. Let’s hope her journey was worthwhile, for all our sakes.”

  ***

  Paolo stopped at the doorway to the main office and called across to Dave who was busy typing up his reports.

  “Leave that for now, Dave. We’ve got a train to meet.”

  Dave jumped up and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.

  “Really, sir? Who’s on it?”

  Paolo filled him in on the way to the parking area.

  “You can drive this time, Dave. Your back seems to be okay again now.”

  He waited to see if Dave was going to tell him anything, but the younger man stayed silent. Paolo smiled to himself. He’d seen Dave and Rebecca talking as he’d left the station the night before and it looked as though Dave might have finally met his match. He’d certainly been nodding in agreement with Rebecca, which was a breakthrough in itself.

  Dave drove to the railway station entrance and stopped the car. Paolo jumped out.

  “Wait here, Dave. I’ll see if Ms Cooper’s train is on time.”

  He walked into the station concourse and studied the arrivals board. The Liverpool train was due in one minute from platform three, so he sprinted down the stairs and along the underground passageway to the sign pointing to another set of stairs leading up to platform three. He took a deep breath and forced himself to sprint up them. He got to the top just as the train was pulling in. He’d told Lizzie Cooper that he’d wait for her under the exit sign. He positioned himself out of the way of anyone wanting to go past and scanned the passengers as they disembarked. The only youngish looking woman to get off had a suntan that owed nothing to the weak April sunshine in the UK. Even if she hadn’t described what she was wearing, Paolo would have had a good guess that the woman was Lizzie Cooper.