by Helen Phifer
‘Do you have external cameras?’
‘Well yes and no. They’re rubbish; I’m waiting on new ones to be installed.’ He switched camera view and Ben swore. The images were too grainy; you couldn’t see anything on them.
Ben stood up. ‘Thank you, John. I’m sorry we had to be the bearers of such bad news. I’ll ask a PCSO to pop in and collect the CCTV in an hour if that’s okay.’
He stared at them both. ‘What do I do now? I don’t know what to do. Should I go and see her parents?’
‘I wouldn’t, not yet. Give them some space.’
‘Okay, if they need anything at all I’m willing to help. Can you tell them that?’
Morgan smiled. ‘Yes, of course. Thank you, the camera footage is more than enough at the moment. If you do think of any incidents with customers, or anyone who may have been hanging around Gabby, you can ring me anytime.’ She passed him a small blue and white business card with ‘Cumbria Constabulary’ stamped across it. He tucked it into his pocket.
They walked back into the bar area and he turned, pouring himself a large whisky. Morgan didn’t blame him. His hands had been shaking when he took the card from her.
Outside in the car park, Ben asked: ‘What did you think of him?’
‘He seemed genuine, but he admitted to watching a programme about serial killers the night she was murdered. Why?’
‘Just wondering if he might have a bit of a crush on Gabby. But I don’t think we can lock him up because of his viewing taste. You’ve already watched it though. Is there anything on it similar to Gabby’s murder?’
She shook her head. ‘He also has a girlfriend, and an alibi. I didn’t get the impression he was the kind of bloke to be able to sneak into a house and murder a woman in cold blood. For one thing, I think he’s too big to be discreet. She would have heard him coming in and maybe had time to phone the cops.’
‘Why, what’s his size got to do with it? If anything, it would give him an advantage. He would be able to overpower her easily.’
‘Just a hunch. I didn’t get any bad vibes from him at all.’
‘We can’t arrest people on whether they give off bad vibes or not. It wouldn’t hold up in court, would it? We need concrete evidence, and until we’ve spoken to his girlfriend and confirmed he didn’t leave, then I’m not ruling him out. It’s up to us to find the evidence to eliminate him. Once that’s ticked off we’ll move on. What about the guy who was watching Gabby and her friends?’
Morgan realised Ben was right: she shouldn’t be so easily swayed. Point taken. She would ensure John’s girlfriend was spoken to and his alibi corroborated. It should be easy enough to prove his innocence, and if the pub CCTV didn’t show him leaving the premises, he was off the hook.
‘I think we need to locate him as soon as possible. He was taking a keen interest in them and then he left a minute after she did. It could be a coincidence, but it’s strange.’
Ben nodded. ‘You’re right, he is definitely someone we need to be speaking to. Hopefully, Gabby’s friends might know who he was or be able to give us a description. I don’t like the way he never once faced the camera, not even when he was leaving.’
‘How did he get his drink at the bar?’
Ben shrugged. ‘There’s another room to the pub, maybe he came in that way, bought his drink and then went to sit down by the girls.’ His phone began to ring.
‘Hello, yeah right, that’s great. Thank you, Declan, we’re on our way. We should be with you in the next hour depending on traffic.’
He ended the call, and Morgan felt tiny butterflies in her stomach at the thought of seeing Gabby Stevens’s dead body again so soon, and under the harsh mortuary spotlights. It was even worse now she’d watched her on the television screen so full of laughter and life, with only a few hours left before someone would come into her home and kill her so cruelly. A cold shiver ran the full length of her spine as a chill settled over her shoulders, which was only going to get worse under the air conditioning at the mortuary.
TEN
Stan Brookes waited until the others had left the building, before he began a final check of the toilets and kitchen in the community centre where the local AA meeting had just been held. He was six weeks into the programme this time, but it was six weeks longer than he’d ever lasted before. This time he had a reason: he’d almost lost his daughter to a killer and had never felt so helpless in his life. Thankfully, he’d managed to stop him and almost severed an artery in his leg in the process, but he was here to tell the story, and so was Morgan. He’d spent the last five years since his wife, Sylvia, had died on a downward spiral and he knew he’d been a lousy father. He had been so focused on his own feelings of guilt and remorse that he’d stopped seeing and talking to the one person who meant the most to him. She had hated him so much, but she couldn’t blame him anymore than he blamed himself for Sylvia’s death and the spectacular way he’d ruined all of their lives.
He stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink. Deep lines and grooves filled his forehead. What was left of his grey hair was thinning; the one thing that had improved was his skin tone. It had been a dirty, jaundiced colour due to the damage to his liver. Six weeks without a drop of alcohol, though, and he looked a little less yellow; his blue eyes were much clearer too. He missed Sylvia. He’d been a terrible husband then he’d turned into an even worse father. He leant his too-hot forehead against the cold glass. Tonight’s session had brought up a lot of raw memories; most of them he’d rather forget. He’d usually find the answer and relief to his sadness in a bottle of cheap cider, or Jack Daniel’s on the day his benefits got paid into his bank account.
He heard a loud crash from inside the hall and jumped; it startled him and his heart was racing. He threw open the bathroom door.
‘Who’s there? What you doing?’
The lights were still on. His voice echoed around the empty hall. He walked out to the front door.
‘Oh, shit.’ Shattered glass covered the floor and a broken piece of breeze block lay on top of it. He rushed outside, the glass crunching underneath his shoes. This time he was extra careful; he had no one’s life to save. There was no one outside; in fact, he’d never seen the street so empty. He turned around and sighed. He was going to have to phone the cops, and he hated them. Not quite as much as he did before he realised Morgan meant more to him than her job, but still, he didn’t like them.
He went back inside and took his phone out of his jacket pocket. This would be the third time he’d ever called them in sixty years: the first was when he found his wife’s dead body; the second when he saw a madman trying to murder Morgan, and now this. He listened to the automated voice until he finally heard a man’s voice. Stan gave him the address and told him someone had caused criminal damage. The call handler told him an officer would be with him in the next hour and hung up. He wondered if it would be Morgan, then realised that she was working in the offices now and not out on patrol. Already training to be a detective after such a short time, she’d probably be too busy to attend broken windows.
He phoned the number pinned to the wall in the kitchen for the centre manager and relayed to her what had happened. She sounded annoyed and he had to stop himself from telling her it had ruined his morning.
‘How long will it take you to get here?’
‘An hour; I’m in Kendal, shopping.’
‘I guess I’ll wait for the cops then, should I?’
‘Thanks, Stan. I’ll come as soon I’ve finished up here.’
He wasn’t angry, he quite liked Joan. She was feisty and took no messing around. She reminded him of Sylvia.
‘Hello, police.’ A voice echoed around the entrance.
‘I have to go; cops are here already.’
He hung up and walked towards the entrance, where a copper not much older than Morgan was standing. They all looked so young these days, or was it because he was getting old?
‘Hi, I see someone kindly put t
he window through. Did they steal anything?’
Stan shook his head. ‘I’m Stan, and not that I’m aware of. I was checking the toilets were empty when I heard the glass smash. I came out and found the mess; no one was here.’
‘This is the second report of smashed windows this week in this area. We think it’s the group of teenagers who seem to be running riot at the moment, but I’m sure the cameras will help us to identify them. Are you the caretaker now? Has Joan left?’
‘No, I just help out with the AA meetings. I offered to lock up; kind of wishing I hadn’t now. I could have been home now making my lunch.’
The cop laughed. ‘Sorry, being a Good Samaritan can really suck at times.’
‘Hey, do you know my daughter? She’s in the police?’
‘I may do, but there are quite a lot of us. What’s she called?’
‘Morgan Brookes.’
The cop smiled. ‘I do know her very well; in fact, I was her tutor. I trained her.’
Stan felt his guard slip a little. If he knew Morgan he must be okay. ‘What’s your name then, fella? I’ll tell her you came to my rescue next time I see her.’
‘Dan. Do you know how much the door is worth?’
He shrugged. ‘No idea. Joan is shopping in Kendal and will be here soon. She might be able to tell you. I’d just be guessing.’
‘I guess she’ll be able to sort out a joiner then. It’s expensive if we call one out. They charge a call-out fee before fixing the problem. I’ll give you my number. Can you ask her to call me? I can take the details for the damage over the phone from her, then I can go start an area search and see if I can find this group of pain-in-the-arse teenagers.’
Stan took the card from him. ‘Cheers, I’ll give her this. If you see Morgan, tell her I said hi. Can you let her know where I was? I’d like her to know I’m still sober, even though it’s early days.’
‘If I see her, I will. She’s tied up with a murder investigation so I might not.’
‘Another murder; dear God what is the town coming to.’
‘We’re certainly having a run of bad luck at the moment, Stan. You can clean that up. CSI won’t be able to get here today and they wouldn’t be able to get prints off the block anyway. Best hope of catching the little sods is from CCTV footage.’
Stan nodded. ‘Thanks, I’ll do that.’
Dan smiled at him then turned and walked back to the patrol car. As Stan began to sweep up the broken glass, he wondered who had been murdered and if Morgan was okay. For someone so early in her career with the police, she seemed to be in the middle of some of the worst cases the county had had in the last ten years. He would phone her later and see how she was holding up. Things weren’t perfect between them, but they were much better than they had been in a long time, and he’d take that any day over never seeing her.
ELEVEN
The mortuary was always a pleasant surprise to Morgan. She’d been here several times in the last couple of months and the thought of it was always much worse than actually being here. It didn’t smell of anything bad at the moment, just the clinical disinfectant smell that hospitals smelt of, but they weren’t inside the actual room where the post-mortems were carried out yet. They were about to get gowned up. She could hear Declan’s voice from inside, giving orders to Susie, his assistant. She walked into the small changing room and took a gown from the basket, along with a pair of gloves. Not that she was going to be touching anything. The door opened and Wendy rushed in.
‘Phew, that was a panic to get here. Traffic is terrible this time of day.’
Morgan smiled at her. Wendy dressed in protective clothing because she was going to be in close proximity to the body, photographing and possibly taking wet and dry samples to send off to the forensic lab.
‘How do you do it?’
Wendy turned to her. ‘What, this?’
She nodded.
‘I guess I want to catch the bad guys as much as you do.’
‘Then why didn’t you become an officer?’
‘Ah, I don’t mean I actually want to catch them like go after them and arrest them. God, no, I don’t think I could do it. In fact, I’d be really crap at that part. I like being a part of the team that catches them; I’ve always loved forensic science. I grew up watching shows like Silent Witness and CSI Vegas; they do make it look far more glamorous than it actually is though, don’t they? I think they should come with a warning label which says, not at all like real life. I can’t tell you what a shock to the system it was at the first sudden death I attended when I couldn’t see the corpse for flies and maggots. I still feel like vomiting in my mask when there’s insects. I flipping hate them. But it’s like anything. You get used to it, even the bad stuff, and if what I do helps you to go and find the person responsible then that makes me happy.’
Morgan laughed. ‘I grew up watching every serial killer documentary and reading all the books; anything ever written by an FBI profiler, I have on my bookshelves. The Silence of the Lambs was the catalyst though.’
‘Social media and television have a lot to answer to, don’t they? Rydal Falls wasn’t really the murder capital of the world until this year though – do you think it’s something to with the fact that you wanted to work murders so bad that they’re dropping in your lap like some gift from the Universe, or is it just an unlucky coincidence?’
‘Gosh, I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it like that. I hope they’re not happening because I’m subconsciously wishing for them. What a terrible thought that is.’
‘Are you two ready? Declan is having a shit fit; said he can hear you gossiping and he wants to crack on.’ Susie, whose hair was jade green today, smiled at them both, then lowered her voice. ‘He’s been a miserable sod all day. I’m sick of listening to him.’
‘Susie.’ Declan’s voice bellowed from inside the mortuary and she shrugged. ‘See.’
Morgan and Wendy laughed, but followed her into the mortuary where Declan and Ben were waiting for them.
‘Glad you could join us. Can I begin?’
Susie did the smallest eye roll Morgan had ever seen then turned to Declan.
‘Yes, sorry.’
He smiled at her and his face softened. ‘That’s okay. Is everyone ready to rock and roll?’ Every head in the room nodded at the same time.
‘Good. Susie why did you turn the radio on to this bloody awful station? If I have to listen to one more song by a spotty boy strumming a guitar who can’t sing, I’m going to lose my shit.’
She crossed to the shelf where the radio was balanced, its antenna extended all the way out because the walls were so thick, and turned the dial until Smooth FM began to play.
‘That’s better. This is what you call music. Real music you can actually dance to, by singers who can actually sing.’
Morgan loved Declan but wondered why he was so mean to Susie. She seemed to always try her best and he still told her off; but it was nothing to do with her. Susie must not mind because if Ben was like that with her she’d tell him to bugger off. With the soft sounds of the Four Tops in the background, Declan began to unwrap the sheet from Gabby Stevens’s body. Without needing to be asked, Susie was by his side and they worked in perfect harmony.
Once Gabby was on show for them all to see, they stepped back to let Wendy take some photographs. Under the harsh lighting, the discolouration on her skin looked even worse and the smell was too. Morgan wished she wasn’t here, wished that Gabby had stayed in the pub longer or gone home with her friends. Wished that her parents hadn’t left her and gone on holiday. But all the wishing in the world couldn’t change what had happened to the once-beautiful young woman lying on the steel table in front of them. And she owed it to Gabby to be here for her until the very end. She was going to see this through and then she was going to hunt down the sick bastard who had brought them all here to witness this final intrusion into an innocent woman’s life.
TWELVE
By the time they arrived
back at the police station it was late. Morgan looked at her watch: up to now, she’d worked a fourteen-hour shift. They went up to the office, where Amy was going through the pile of clipboards returned by the PCSOs, looking for any relevant information the neighbours may have seen.
‘Anything decent, like a positive ID of the killer and a lovely piece of camera footage showing him leaving the house?’ Ben asked.
She shook her head. ‘Not really. The woman next door but one was on her way home from work when she saw Gabby going through her front gate around twenty-two hundred hours. She was alone; she didn’t see anyone following her. Said by the time she’d got her bag from the back seat of her car, Gabby’s front door had slammed shut. She didn’t see her after that.’
‘We still need to speak to her friends, but Declan thinks time of death was sometime around the early hours of Friday morning, so that fits. Amy, do you want to come visit her friends with me? Morgan you can go home. You’ve been working this since the early hours.’
Morgan didn’t want to go home despite being exhausted. ‘What about you? You were there before I arrived at the scene.’
‘I get paid more than you. Amy can make herself useful. You can come in early tomorrow to continue with the enquiries.’
She wasn’t going to argue. She’d seen enough sadness for one day. Watching Gabby’s friends’ lives fall apart in front of her eyes was a good reason to call it a day and let Amy deal with it. She nodded, too tired to argue any further. Grabbing her bag, she headed out of the door, ready for a long, hot shower and a glass of something strong to help her sleep.
At home, she took a bottle of wine from the rack in the fridge. Filling the glass, she sat down in her one oversized armchair, looking out into the blackness of the communal gardens. Standing up again, she drew the curtains shut. She couldn’t bear the thought that someone had spent time watching her. How naïve she had been, living her life without ever thinking the nightmare stuff she loved to watch and read would ever come to haunt her in reality. Her phone began to vibrate and she wondered if Ben had changed his mind. Picking it up from the small, circular coffee table she saw Stan’s name flashing across the screen.
