The Killer's Girl: A completely nail-biting crime thriller (Detective Morgan Brookes Book 2)

by Helen Phifer

  ‘At the moment, I have Amy and PCSOs conducting house-to-house enquiries. I want a full search team to go in now the body has been removed. Her mum gave us a limited list of friends to speak to; she worked at The Golden Ball, so myself and Morgan will go and speak to staff there until Declan is ready to start the post-mortem, which we will also attend.’

  ‘What about the area in the bushes where someone could have hidden and been watching the house?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Morgan. There is an area which the local kids have turned into a bit of a den, but Gabby Stevens’s bedroom window is visible from inside of there, just. I want that searching as well, just in case the killer has been stalking her and that is his hiding place. I don’t want to rule anything out.’

  Ben shut his laptop, gathered his papers and stood up. The officers, search team and Wendy all filed out of the room. Morgan followed, leaving Ben and Tom behind. She didn’t want to know what they said about her. It was their decision whether they took her input on board, but she wouldn’t be silenced when she might be right, regardless of what they thought. Gabby Stevens didn’t deserve to die this way, no one did, and if he did take a trophy then he was more than likely going to do it again. If this was a sexually motivated killing, he would want to repeat it; he wouldn’t stop after Gabby. Who was going to be his next victim? They had to find him and stop him before he had the chance to strike again. There was no telling what chain of events this murder could have set in place.

  EIGHT

  Morgan waited back in the office for Ben. She opened the bottom drawer and dropped the gift bag inside. She’d give it back to Dan when she had the time; she was far too busy today. Her stomach let out a loud groan. Despite feeling queasy earlier, she was hungry now and desperate for coffee. It was lunchtime and she always felt tired by this time of day: waking up at 04.25 every morning meant she was ready to have an afternoon nap by lunchtime. The days she was on a late shift was fine, but today was going to be one long day. There was so much to do still and they hadn’t even got to the mortuary.

  Ben walked in.

  ‘Come on, we need to go to The Golden Ball. I need food first though; otherwise I’ll flake out at the post-mortem later.’

  She smiled at him, relieved they were both thinking the same thing. Walking out to the car, he didn’t speak until they were outside of the station. The sun was peeking through the clouds, a cool breeze was blowing and Morgan felt refreshed as it blew away the suffocating stuffiness of the last thirty minutes.

  ‘That was a pretty impressive speech about serial killers.’

  ‘Yeah, you think so? I don’t think the DCI was too impressed with it.’

  Ben laughed. ‘No, he did look a bit shocked at your suggestions. He’s okay, Tom, you just have to remember he’s been doing this job longer than you’ve been alive and probably never come across a sexually motivated killer. The Potters were the closest thing to something so serious in a very long time. It’s almost unheard of around here for someone to be murdered by a complete stranger; you know what it’s like, almost everybody knows everyone else. There isn’t much you can get away with without someone seeing you or gossiping about your business.’

  ‘I get that, but it doesn’t mean that it couldn’t happen. People have access to much more information through social media, television, Netflix shows about all kinds of killers. It only takes someone who is a borderline psychopath with too much information overload to make them think they can live out their wildest fantasies, regardless of whether they live in London or here. It happens, Ben, and we can’t decide it’s not possible just because it’s never happened before.’

  ‘I don’t; I’m not small-minded. I’m trying to explain why Tom and probably most of the officers in this station would think like that. I’m willing to explore every available avenue to catch whoever did this to Gabby Stevens.’

  He threw the car keys in her direction and she caught them in one hand.

  ‘You never fail to impress me, Brookes. Drive me somewhere to get coffee and cake before I pass out.’

  She laughed. ‘Thanks, Sarge. I’m glad you’re so easily pleased.’

  She drove them to her favourite café, The Coffee Co., and waited outside, letting Ben go in and buy his lunch. When he returned with an assortment of paper bags and two large lattes, she nodded with approval.

  She drove the short distance to a small lay-by with a view of Lake Thirlmere.

  ‘Tuna or cheese savoury? You can have first pick because I’m that impressed with you.’

  ‘Cheese, please.’ She didn’t tell him she didn’t think she’d be able to stomach tuna, which might repeat on her whilst watching the post-mortem. As fast as the thought entered her mind she blocked it off. She needed to eat; they both did if they wanted to keep going for as long as this would take. They ate in silence. Morgan was trying to recall as much information about the kind of offender she had read so much about as she could.

  There was a group of kids messing about in canoes on the lake and Ben asked: ‘Didn’t you used to work at an outdoor education centre? Or did I imagine that?’

  She laughed. ‘You have a good memory. Yes, I did.’

  ‘Did you like it? I mean I don’t mind a bit of exercise, but spending all day with noisy kids whilst canoeing, ghyll scrambling and whatever else, is not exactly a pleasurable job to have.’

  ‘I liked it. I’m not particularly sporty. I love being outdoors though, and I worked with primary school kids who were pretty cool. They’re just the right age to not care about life and enjoy everything you throw at them.’

  ‘That’s a big change to what you’re doing now, why this?’

  She looked at him. He was far more relaxed around her now than when she’d first started working for him and she realised he was asking a general question because he was interested in her life. He had lost weight in the last few months. Not lots, but enough to be noticeable, and he looked better in himself. At one point, she’d been worried he was going to have a heart attack or kill himself, but he seemed different now. She’d have to congratulate him: it wasn’t easy dieting with the stress of this job. She knew how easy it was to put on a few pounds with all the takeaways and coffees, which was part of the reason she was trying to do the stupid running a few times a week.

  ‘You already know.’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘I thought you did. I’ve always been fascinated with serial killers ever since I read The Silence of the Lambs when I was fifteen and realised that these kind of people existed. I then began to read every true crime book I could get my hands on. How their minds work. I realised that I’d like to be a detective one day. Actually, I wanted to move to the US and work homicide there, but I realised you need to be American to do that. I was pretty devastated about that. I quite fancied walking around in a bomber jacket with FBI on the back.’

  ‘So here you are.’

  ‘Yes, here I am.’

  ‘In rural Cumbria with possibly the lowest murder rate in the country. But you do get to work with me, so that’s kind of a bonus.’

  Morgan laughed. ‘Hmm, I suppose it is. I don’t know, maybe I’ll get some experience and transfer to a city.’

  ‘Maybe, why not a definite plan because you’re young and keen enough?’

  ‘I like living here. I love the beauty of the lakes. I also kind of like working for you. Are you trying to get rid of me after giving the DCI a heart attack at the briefing?’

  He grinned. ‘Not yet and I’m glad to hear it. I think you’ll end up running rings around us all one day; maybe you’ll end up being my DCI. Don’t let anyone hold you back, Morgan. If you get the chance of promotion, take it. I spent too long being a DC before deciding to become a DS.’

  ‘Why don’t you go for your inspector’s board? It’s not as if you’re ancient, Ben.’

  ‘I might, but I like being here. Working the cases hands on, not from behind the desk. I’d hate to be stuck in the station all day attending meetings. It wou
ld drive me insane.’

  ‘Yeah, I understand that. It’s much nicer being able to eat your lunch staring at this than the flaking walls in the canteen.’ She winked at him, brushed the crumbs from her trousers and pressed the engine start button.

  The Golden Ball was in walking distance from the station, they could have walked there, but then they’d have had nowhere to catch a bite to eat and it was nice chatting to Ben about stuff other than the cases they worked on. Despite the tragedy and horror surrounding Gabby Stevens’s murder, they were only human.

  NINE

  Morgan knew The Golden Ball had been one of Stan’s drinking spots, and she looked around with interest at the place her dad had spent so many hours of his life. It looked as if it had been involved in a floral explosion, there were so many hanging baskets and planters outside the front. Morgan parked the car. The tired picnic benches which shared the car park could do with a lick of paint and tidying up, she thought.

  ‘I bet those plants are a nightmare for the customers. They’ll attract every bee and wasp in a ten-mile radius. Imagine sitting there spending your whole time wafting them away.’

  Ben laughed. ‘I wonder what it’s like inside. I haven’t been in here for years. It used to serve a half decent pint.’

  He pushed open the door and she followed him in. It was very green inside. Almost everything was painted a different shade of green. The bar area was empty, and a large man appeared. He had the build of a rugby player, with a fading black eye, which Morgan thought he’d either got fighting with drunken customers or playing sport.

  ‘We’re not open yet.’

  Ben answered. ‘Police, can we have a word?’

  He looked up from the glass he was polishing, stared at them both and nodded. They crossed towards the bar, perching on stools.

  ‘What’s wrong now? I did what the licensing officer advised me to do; I can’t do anymore.’

  Morgan glanced at Ben. She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about and judging by the expression on his face neither did he.

  ‘We’re not from licensing. I’m Detective Sergeant Ben Matthews and this is Detective Constable Morgan Brookes. Are you the licensee?’

  ‘I am, John Walden.’

  ‘John, we’re here about your employee, Gabby Stevens.’

  ‘Oh, that’s okay then. What’s Gabby done? I can’t see her getting into much trouble. She’s one of my best workers, lovely girl.’

  Morgan let Ben talk and wondered how many lives were about to be changed because of Gabby’s murder.

  ‘I have some bad news. I’m afraid Gabby was found dead by her parents this morning.’

  The barman, who moments earlier had ruddy cheeks and seemed larger than life, deflated in front of them both. He put the glass on the bar and leant forward, closing his eyes. Opening them seconds later, blinking away tears that were threatening to fall.

  ‘Had she been in an accident?’

  ‘No, she was murdered at home.’

  The man gasped. ‘What are you saying?’

  Morgan knew he was in shock, but it was pretty obvious what Ben had just said.

  ‘Her parents came home from holiday and found her dead. Can you tell us the last time you saw or spoke to Gabby?’

  He turned to Morgan, nodding. ‘I can’t… it’s just hard to imagine.’

  She gave him a few moments to process the devastating news and tried again.

  ‘I’m very sorry, I know this must be really difficult and a terrible shock, but can you tell us when Gabby was last at work?’

  ‘What day is it, Monday?’ He began counting backwards on his nicotine-stained fingers. ‘Thursday evening. She finished her shift around eight but stayed on for a few drinks with her friends.’

  ‘How was she? Did she leave with anyone?’

  ‘In good spirits, although that might have been the bottle of wine and vodka shots. Those girls can drink me under the table and I drink a lot, especially after a match on a Sunday. I didn’t see her leave, to be honest, it was fairly busy. I remember her shouting “see you next week, John”; I don’t think I even looked her way. I just waved. Oh God. I didn’t even say goodbye to her. But you don’t expect that to be the last time you see someone, do you? I mean you don’t think about stuff like that. How did she die?’

  Ben took over. ‘I’m afraid we can’t say at the moment but it was under suspicious circumstances.’

  ‘No, no, no. Was she was murdered? By who? Have you got the bastard? I’ll kill them.’ He placed his elbows on the bar and rested his face in the palm of his hands. He was rocking, and Morgan wanted to reach out to comfort him but stopped herself.

  Ben’s voice softened as he spoke. ‘No, we haven’t got anyone in custody yet. It’s very early days but it’s only a matter of time before we do. Gabby was only discovered this morning when her parents returned from holiday in the early hours. Did she have any trouble with anyone, a boyfriend, an ex?’

  Morgan asked. ‘Did you see anyone hanging around her? Did any of the customers like her a lot more than they should have?’

  John shrugged. ‘Not that I know of. She had a boyfriend but he went off to uni a couple of years ago and they drifted apart. I don’t think he even comes back to visit his parents; you know what lads are like when they get the chance to escape from here. We didn’t really talk about that kind of stuff, you know. Her friends would be able to tell you a lot more about her personal life.’ He reached behind him, ripping some paper towels off a roll and blew his nose.

  ‘Do you know which friends she was with on Thursday night?’

  He nodded. ‘Becky and Kate. I don’t know where they live though.’

  ‘That’s fine, thank you. Could we have the CCTV footage from Thursday? From when Gabby started her shift until she leaves. And can you confirm your whereabouts Thursday evening through to early hours Friday morning?’

  ‘Yes, I can. I was here all night, and then after I locked up I went upstairs to eat supper with my girlfriend. After that we watched a couple of episodes of Mindhunter on Netflix and went to bed. What are you saying?’

  ‘That’s great; we just have to rule everyone out. It’s not personal, like you say. If you didn’t leave there’s nothing to worry about. These are routine enquiries in a murder investigation; we have to eliminate everyone. Is your girlfriend here?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, she’s gone to meet a friend for coffee, and I suppose so. As to the CCTV, I’ll get it downloaded for you. The system is a bit slow or you could have taken it with you. Would you like to take a quick look at it now?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Ben glanced at Morgan, who opened her notebook. She’d written down ‘Mindhunter’ and underlined it. Above it were the names on the list Gabby’s mum had given her. Becky and Kate were cousins who went to school with Gabby. They both worked at the nail bar in town.

  John lifted a part of the bar up so they could come behind. He led them to a small room.

  ‘Excuse the mess, but I like it this way. I know where everything is.’

  Morgan couldn’t stop herself. ‘I loved Mindhunter; I binge-watched them all one weekend when it was first released. I wish they’d do another series. Those guys were unbelievable. Where are you up to?’

  He shrugged. ‘Not really my thing. I only watch it because Saffie likes that sort of stuff. I think we’re on the one where they accuse the school principal of doing inappropriate stuff.’

  She smiled at him.

  There was a monitor on what she assumed was a desk. She couldn’t tell because it was littered with pieces of paper, beer mats, pens and empty mugs. John began to type Thursday’s date onto the hard drive and then waited for the footage to load. After a few minutes of cursing and trying different date formats, images finally filled the screen.

  ‘Do you know what time she left? Could we look at that to see whether she was alone?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ll go to ten and see if she’s still here, then work my way back.’

&nbs
p; Finally, he pressed play and the screen was filled with black and white images from the bar area nearest the front doors. John pointed a stubby finger on the screen to a table in the corner with three women sitting around it.

  ‘There she is: that’s Gabby. She’s the one with the bun on the top of her head, her back to the camera. I think she always chose to sit that way. She told me she hated knowing there were cameras watching her. I told her there was nothing I could do about it: they’re part of my licence condition.’

  A heavy ball lodged itself in Morgan’s stomach. Knowing what had happened to her, she couldn’t bear to see Gabby alive, having fun with her friends. Ben was looking at the other customers in the pub. If he recognised anyone, he never said. Morgan forced herself to watch as Gabby and her friends stood up and they both took it in turn to hug her. When she turned so she was facing the camera, Morgan sucked in a breath. She looked so happy, so pretty, and now it was hard to associate the body from earlier with the girl on the screen. She threw her small bag over her shoulder, waved at her friends and walked towards the exit. Pausing, she turned and shouted something, which must have been to John because he lifted an arm and waved at her, all the time continuing to serve two men at the bar.

  Ben pointed to a man on his own, sitting nursing a drink. He was facing the table of girls.

  ‘Stop, who’s that?’

  John rewound it a little. He shook his head. ‘I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know everyone that comes in for a pint. I don’t exactly ask them to sign in. There’s been a lot of contractors lately with the Armadale Hotel being refurbished.’

  They watched, the man was turned away from the camera but he kept glancing over his shoulder to look over at Gabby and her friends. As Gabby left, he watched. A minute later, he downed his pint and stood up to leave, following her outside.