Dead to Me: A serial killer thriller (Detective Kate Matthews Crime Thriller Series Book 1)

by Stephen Edger

  ‘Watson’s daughter confirmed he’s missing.’ She studied the printed report he handed her. ‘This means we’ve been looking at this thing the wrong way round.’

  ‘The lab boys said initially the computer threw out half a dozen possible matches, but after they reviewed the list, Harold Watson is the most likely candidate. The pathologist is trying to get hold of Watson’s medical records to compare against his findings from the autopsy. The age range fits.’

  ‘Does anyone else know yet?’

  ‘No, I came to tell you first.’

  ‘Good.’ She passed him her notes from the interview with Watson’s daughter. ‘Do me a favour: tell Laura to write up the statement and get Miss Vyner to validate and sign it.’

  ‘What did she have to say?’

  ‘She confirmed her father was at the warehouse hours before the fire started. She also confirmed seeing Fenton’s car in the vicinity.’

  ‘You think he did it?’

  ‘It gives us a place to start. Let’s regroup upstairs in a bit and we’ll work out where to go from here. I need to update the supe.’

  Kate moved quickly along the corridor and up the stairs to the supe’s office. She knocked twice, but didn’t wait to be called in. ‘Sir, I need to speak to you about…’ Her words trailed off when she saw Hendrix sitting across from him.

  DSI Williams glared at her. ‘And speak of the devil; I’m so glad you could join us, Matthews.’

  Kate tried to hide her frustration. Hendrix must have caught wind that Nicola Vyner had come to the station, and now she was bending the supe’s ear about her lack of professional courtesy.

  ‘Sir, I know what you’re going to say—’

  ‘Good! Well, that should speed up the bollocking you’re about to get!’

  ‘With respect, sir, hear me out first. Please?’

  He huffed. ‘You have sixty seconds.’

  ‘I know who died at the warehouse; I have a prime suspect, and thanks to Hendrix I have a likely motive.’ She handed him the report on the thumbprint.

  The supe studied the report, the red in his cheeks dissipating. ‘Okay, thanks.’ He passed the printout to Hendrix. ‘You can pick things up from here.’

  Kate wanted to scream, but tried to remain calm. ‘Wait, sir, you can’t just hand my investigation over like that.’

  Hendrix stood and shook his hand. ‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate your understanding.’ She turned on her heel, flashing a smug smile at Kate, before closing the door behind her and leaving the two of them.

  ‘There’s no point in arguing with me, Kate. Hendrix heads up investigations relating to organised crime. She’s been tracking Fenton’s and Watson’s feud for months, if not years. It’s only right for her to take this on now. You should have handed it over as soon as Watson’s daughter turned up.’

  ‘But, sir, a murder investigation is different to chasing intelligence on known gang activity. It requires a different kind of thinking.’

  ‘Oh please! You said yourself you’ve got a suspect with a vendetta against the victim: he killed him in his own warehouse. It’s as cut and dried a case as you’re ever likely to see. The only thing it’s missing is a confession.’

  ‘We don’t have the murder weapon yet either, sir.’

  ‘I’m sure Hendrix won’t struggle to get a warrant to search Fenton’s premises until she discovers it. Let it go, Kate. You’ll receive credit for your part in the investigation. You need to be a team player on this.’

  ‘Sir. You told me I need to prove to you I have what it takes to secure a conviction. You said the team need to see I can do it. How’s it going to look if you take this off me and give it to a less-experienced DI? It’s going to totally undermine what little respect the team have left for me. Don’t do this. Let me finish what I started. Look how quickly we got an ID on the victim and a witness placing the suspect at the scene. I could have Fenton on remand, awaiting trial, by the weekend. Let me prove it to you. I don’t want to beg, sir, but I need this.’

  ‘Is this about London?’

  Kate’s face reddened. ‘That’s all behind me now, sir. This is about seeing justice done.’

  He removed his glasses and swivelled his chair to face the view of the sea from his window, chewing pensively on the thin plastic leg.

  Kate remained standing, legs apart, arms crossed behind her back with her head bowed slightly and her eyes fixed on the back of his head. His receding ginger hair was fading to grey, but was still carefully sculpted into a side-parting. Now was not the time to speak. She crossed the fingers of her right hand and waited.

  He spoke without turning. ‘If – and it’s a big if – but if I leave you in charge, and things don’t transpire as we expect, serious questions will be raised about your ability. I won’t be able to protect you. Do you understand what I’m saying, Kate? If you really want this investigation, it’s yours, but if you fuck it up, you might as well hand over your badge. Am I making myself clear?’

  She didn’t like his tone, nor the threat to the only job she’d ever loved, but what choice did she have? If she backed down now, she might as well leave her badge on the desk before leaving his office.

  ‘I won’t let you down, sir. You’ll see you were right to trust me.’

  He swivelled back around and put on his glasses. ‘You need to be all over this; find Fenton and get that warrant. And you’d better steer clear of Hendrix; the last thing she’s going to want is to provide you with any more support.’

  Kate resisted the urge to punch the air as she closed the door behind her and set off back down to the Soft Interview Room to break the news to Nicola Vyner. She hadn’t made it far when her mobile started vibrating again.

  ‘Ma’am, it’s Laura. I’m downstairs at the front desk.’

  ‘Have you typed Nicola’s statement already?’

  ‘Not yet, ma’am, I was about to when the PC from the front desk knocked on the door. It’s Danny Fenton, ma’am. He’s here and he’s brought his solicitor with him.’

  ‘What? Why? Who authorised his arrest?’

  ‘Nobody, ma’am. He’s here voluntarily. His brief says Fenton’s aware of the fire at the warehouse and wants to clear his name before he’s accused of doing something he hasn’t.’

  ‘Okay. Put him in an interview room, and I’ll be down in a minute.’

  Kate stifled a yawn as she saw Hendrix marching back towards the supe’s office, pointing an accusatory finger at her. ‘You think you can steal my investigation and there won’t be any reprisal? You’d better watch your back, Matthews.’

  Kate waited, stunned, until Hendrix was inside the office, before exhaling and walking back to the Incident Room. It wouldn’t hurt to leave Fenton stewing a little longer, and she needed caffeine and a moment to get her head straight. Fenton was going to do whatever he could to weasel out of the incident, but because he wasn’t under arrest, she wasn’t at liberty to disclose any of their findings to him. She had a free swing here, and she had to make the most of it.

  13

  Kate burst into the interview room, hoping she’d catch Fenton and his solicitor conspiring, but both were silent and hardly flinched as the door swung wide. She dragged the chair from under the table, deliberately allowing the front legs to scrape across the tiled floor, sat down and motioned for Patel to do the same.

  Fenton had a sickening cocksure grin on his face. He was wearing a tailor-made navy-blue suit, pale-blue shirt, and striped tie. He may have dressed himself that morning, but the whole ensemble had been put together by someone else; someone with very expensive taste.

  Fenton’s right wrist had a fresh bandage around it, but the other carried a watch and some very heavy-looking rings. There was a rugged handsomeness to his features, but his general demeanour and the way he was slouched in the plastic chair, smirking, was off-putting. This was a man used to getting his own way, more than happy to rub it in others’ faces when he did. Kate could sense he probably received plenty of female attenti
on, but she wouldn’t look twice at him.

  Fenton clapped his hands together. ‘I’m honoured. I figured they’d send in a couple of fresh recruits to deal with me, but unless I’m very much mistaken, at least one of you is a sergeant.’ He focused his attention on Kate. ‘I’m guessing you’re the one in charge?’

  Kate made sure he was watching when she rolled her eyes. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Matthews and this is Detective Sergeant Patel. What can we do for you, Mr Fenton?’

  He flattened his palms on the tabletop and nodded at Patel. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are, mate. Having a female boss… there’s nothing sexier in this world.’

  Patel didn’t answer. His role was to remain silent and write notes. Kate had made that clear to him upstairs.

  She made a show of looking at her watch. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, Mr Fenton, I’m incredibly busy and don’t have time to waste.’

  ‘Of course you don’t; you’ve got to investigate who started a fire at my warehouse. I take it you’re the one in charge? I did ask at the desk to speak to whoever was heading up the investigation.’

  ‘We work as a team, Mr Fenton, but yes I’m involved in the enquiry about the fire at the docks yesterday morning.’

  ‘Good, good, well, I want you to know that I had nothing to do with starting that fire.’

  She frowned. ‘I’m sorry, what makes you think we suspected you might be involved somehow?’

  His grin spread wider. ‘Pull the other one. I know how your minds work. I’ve been dragged to rooms like this on plenty of occasions. I’ve spent more than the odd night in the cells in this very nick as well. By now you’ll have learned that the warehouse belongs to me, and you’ll have been formulating theories that I started the fire deliberately.’

  ‘And why would we think that?’

  ‘Because you’re cynical buggers who always look for the easiest way out of a problem.’

  Kate calmly folded her hands in front of her. ‘Often the clearest explanation is the correct one.’

  He snorted. ‘Well, not on this occasion. I was nowhere near the warehouse when the fire started, and I had no reason to see it go up in smoke.’

  ‘Yet you still felt obliged to come here and tell us. And you’re wrong, Mr Fenton, we’re not cynical, we’re just suspicious.’

  ‘You say potato…’

  ‘So, you can imagine how suspicious I would be when the owner of a property recently involved in a serious fire comes to my station to declare his innocence, when no formal accusations have been made.’

  The smirk spread wider. ‘Yeah, but it’s only a matter of time before you do. You’ll dress it up as an insurance job, or some bollocks, but for once, you’d be wrong.’

  ‘Out of interest, did you have an insurance policy on the warehouse?’

  He nodded at the solicitor, who produced a single sheet of paper from his briefcase and slid it across the table to Kate.

  She picked it up and skim read. ‘This policy is lapsed.’

  ‘Exactly! So, I had nothing to gain from the place going up in smoke.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And, what? I don’t have a motive for torching the place. It’s gonna cost me a ton of money to replace the lost stock and renovate the building. It’s been a real pain in the arse, I can tell you.’

  ‘And I presume you have an alibi for where you were when the fire started?’

  He clicked his fingers. ‘I do, as it goes. I was at a party in the New Forest. There are at least half a dozen people who will confirm I was there.’

  It was her turn to grin. ‘And of those witnesses, how many are employed by you?’

  The question threw him. ‘Well, I guess two or three, but there’s one who isn’t. He’s a surgeon. He’ll tell you I was there; it was his party.’

  It was tempting to read Nicola Vyner’s statement to him, just to see the look on his face when the lie backfired, but now wasn’t the time. ‘Can you write down the doctor’s name and address for us, so we can pay him a visit?’

  Patel passed a fresh sheet of paper and the pen across the table.

  Fenton eagerly scribbled the details. ‘There you go. He’ll tell you.’

  ‘What will he tell me, Mr Fenton?’

  ‘He’ll tell you he hired one of my companies to undertake some work at his home. I run a construction company, you see, and he needed an extension. It’s a fancy place out near Lymington, where they’ve got more money than sense. He called us after seeing our website. He’s rich; could probably afford to pay double what I quoted him, but still haggled for every penny.

  ‘We finished building the conservatory on his house, and he wanted to do this grand unveiling. He invited a load of his snobby friends along to celebrate, with a ribbon and scissors, and everything. That’s where I was when the fire was started.’

  Kate pretended to yawn and made a show of looking at her watch.

  Fenton sat forward. ‘As the party was ending the doctor suggested we stick around and play cards. He pulled out these Cuban cigars, which he reckoned he got imported special, like. We played until the early hours.

  ‘When I woke up I saw the story on the news. I consulted my brief here, and he said we should come down and clear up any doubt in your minds.’

  She nodded for Patel to stop writing. ‘Well, that’s a fascinating story, Mr Fenton, and I appreciate you taking the time to come down here and tell us.’

  ‘Is that it? Am I free to go?’

  ‘You’ve always been free to leave, Mr Fenton. You’re not under arrest. If you were, I’d have recorded this conversation and read you your rights.’

  ‘Terrific! When will your lot be out of the warehouse so I can get it fixed up again?’

  ‘It might be several weeks yet.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘That’s how a murder investigation works, Mr Fenton. We need to make sure we gather all the available evidence.’

  ‘Murder investigation? What are you talking about?’

  She watched his reaction carefully as Patel picked up his pen again. ‘Oh, didn’t you know? We found a body in the warehouse once the fire was extinguished.’

  He glanced nervously at his solicitor. ‘What body? What you banging on about? There’s no body.’

  ‘Oh there is, Mr Fenton. I’m interested to know whether you can help us identify the man who was decapitated on your property before the fire was started.’

  Fenton leaned across and whispered something into his solicitor’s ear. Kate couldn’t help but smile at the sudden change in his temperament.

  He looked back at her, no trace of a smile. ‘How could I know? I wasn’t anywhere near there.’

  ‘That’s interesting. Tell me, Mr Fenton, who has access to your warehouse late at night?’

  ‘Nobody.’

  ‘And yet at least one person managed to gain access while a fire was started. That strikes me as very strange.’

  ‘Who died?’

  ‘We’re still investigating that: unless you can shed any light on who had reason to be there?’

  Another whispered conversation with the solicitor. ‘No idea.’

  ‘And can you think of anyone who would have cause to want to burn down your warehouse, Mr Fenton?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘No comment? You’re not under caution, Mr Fenton. We’re not formally recording this conversation, unless you want us to record it as a formal statement in writing?’

  The solicitor shook his head. ‘My client has nothing further to say at this time.’

  Kate nodded her understanding and nudged Patel to finish scribbling. ‘Well, I appreciate your candour, Mr Fenton. I’m sure we’ll speak again in the future.’

  Kate left the room and waited for Patel to join her. ‘What do you think?’

  He looked exhausted. ‘It’s certainly a first for me. You believe him?’

  ‘Not as far as I could throw him. He seemed genuinely surprised when I mentioned the body, but if Nicola Vyner is to
be believed, he knows a lot more than he’s letting on.’

  ‘You want to arrest him now?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, we’re not prepared for that yet. We need to be ready. Write up your notes, and see if he’ll sign them. I doubt he will, but hang on to them anyway. We need a warrant to search his premises for the murder weapon.’

  ‘I’ll get one of the DCs to do the paperwork. What are you going to do?’

  ‘Visit that surgeon he mentioned.’

  ‘You think he’ll back up the story about the party?’

  ‘I have to assume he will, but I want to see his face when he lies to me.’

  14

  Raymond Nicholson lived in one of those character homes so often associated with Lymington. With views over the Solent towards the Isle of Wight, and a generous landscaped plot, the cottage reminded Kate of somewhere she had once stayed on holiday as a child. The gravel driveway crunched underfoot as she approached the detached property. One of the two garage doors was open, revealing a small European sports car with a fresh lick of polish. She had no idea how much such a home would cost, but she wouldn’t have expected much change from a million.

  At the large black front door, having failed to locate a doorbell, she used the large knocker to sound her arrival. The door was opened a moment later, by a tall man with a slight frame. She guessed he was probably older than he looked; his white hair was thin and cropped.

  ‘Dr Nicholson?’

  He tutted with no trace of a smile. ‘It’s Mr Nicholson. I’m a consultant, not a GP.’

  The stern look threw her for a moment. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon. You are Raymond Nicholson though, correct?’

  He looked at his watch and sighed. ‘Yes.’

  Kate passed him a business card. ‘My name is—’

  ‘I was on my way out, as it happens. My wife deals with our charitable donations. Perhaps you could call back when she is here.’

  ‘Oh no, I’m not collecting money, Mr Nicholson. I’m here because—’

  He sighed again, and didn’t seem to care that she could see his frustration. ‘I really don’t have time for this. I’m a very busy man. Perhaps you could ring to make an appointment.’