by Faith Martin
Tom laughed and nodded. ‘Damn, you noticed. I was hoping to sound smooth.’
‘Play your cards right, and I might even give you coffee afterwards,’ she said, this time doing the nudging with her foot under the table.
Tom tensed, and reminded himself it was all for Hillary. But this stupid, fatuous girl was seriously beginning to get on his nerves.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could put up with her. He wanted it to be Hillary sitting opposite him, laughing, talking, sharing wine, with that look of promise in her eyes.
She had to hurry up and solve her case soon or he would go mad. He could feel the frustration building up inside him. He just had to hold her in his arms soon. The moment, the very moment, her case was over, he’d make his move.
His heart pounded the more he thought of it. How would she react, their first time together? Would she be scared? Would she struggle? Or would she know, would she understand, and be sweet to him? He felt himself break out in a cold sweat.
‘So how’s the case going?’ he asked, hoping that the desperation he felt wasn’t too apparent in his voice. ‘I bet she’ll make an arrest any time soon, right?’
Their lunch finished, Hillary drove them back towards HQ. ‘I’m going to have another word with Wanda Landau, see if she had any idea about Dwayne Cox being Rowan’s go-to man for his highs.’
Jimmy nodded. ‘If she was aware of there being drugs in the house, she might have had something to say about it. Specially with her fighting for custody of the kiddie, like.’
‘That’s what I was thinking,’ Hillary agreed. She couldn’t seriously see it, though. From what she remembered of the set-up, the landlady lived a fairly separate life from the students, being down in the basement and out of the way. Besides, surely Rowan and Dwayne would have been careful to be discreet. Still, at this point, she couldn’t afford to overlook even the remotest leads.
‘But first, something interesting might have come up. Want to take a brief trip to Traffic?’ she asked.
Jimmy didn’t, particularly, but knew she must have her reasons, so nodded contentedly. Besides, the pie and pint had gone down well.
Her reason for dropping in on the Traffic Division had just been seen to by a bored officer, and they were just in time to hear Darla de Lancie get a fine and several points added to her driving licence for driving without due care and attention.
Her telephone message had been from Sam, who’d picked up on the motoring offence thanks to a red-flag being sent down to CRT. She guessed that he’d fed the names of the main players in the Rowan Thompson case to Handley, and asked that a computer watch be put out, so that anything interesting on their suspect pool came to their notice straight away.
‘Darla, hello again,’ Hillary said, as Rowan Thompson’s one-time girlfriend began to trudge down the steps towards them. She skidded to a somewhat comical stop, and a brief look of dismay crossed her face as she spotted the two of them.
Her eyes flickered from Hillary to Jimmy again, then restlessly, to the space behind them, and lingered longingly on the door and the freedom it promised.
Like a well-oiled machine, and in perfect silence, Hillary and Jimmy each took a tiny step towards each other, blocking the other woman’s egress.
‘I heard about the motoring thing,’ Hillary said, making her voice sound both sympathetic and soothing. ‘I hope it wasn’t anything serious? No one was hurt?’
‘What? Oh, no, nothing like that, thank… No. I just reversed into one of those bollard things. I wasn’t drunk or anything. I blew into the bag and all that.’ Darla tried for a nonchalant laugh, but didn’t quite bring it off. ‘I was just unlucky that a policeman was there and saw…. Oh, well, what’s it matter? I’m normally a very careful driver. This is the first time I’ve ever had anything like this happen, so….’
She paused for breath, and Hillary smiled. Darla looked tired and pale and was acting very jittery. She might not have been drinking, but she could see why the traffic officer had been suspicious of her manner. She seemed to be all over the place. Not to mention, incapable of finishing a sentence properly.
‘Do you want to go somewhere for a cup of tea? Sorry to mention it, but you seem a little stressed out,’ Hillary said. ‘I imagine things have been preying on your mind a bit just lately?’
‘Yes. Well, obviously this thing with Rowan, to be honest. I still haven’t told my husband about it, and I don’t want to, but I keep thinking … oh well, it doesn’t matter.’
Her inability to focus for more than a moment or two made Hillary wonder just how stressed she was. And why.
‘Is there something you wanted to tell me, perhaps? About Rowan, or what happened back then?’ she coaxed gently.
‘What?’ Darla went, if anything, even paler than before. ‘No. No, of course not, there’s nothing to tell. I mean, I told you everything before. It’s just … the baby’s teething, and now this stupid thing with the car, and I’ve got to get the tail light fixed and I’m just tired, that’s all. It’s not that I’m feeling guilty. About Rowan, I mean. I mean, I have nothing to feel guilty about.’ Darla took a deep breath, and then made a determined move to walk around Hillary and Jimmy on the steps in front of her. ‘Anyway, I have to get back. I can still drive, can’t I?’
‘Of course, you can,’ Hillary agreed. ‘You weren’t banned from driving or anything.’
‘Right. I’ve got the car outside. I mean, it’s not as if I’ve been banned or anything, is it. Sorry— that’s what you just said, isn’t it? Really, I don’t know what made me say something so silly. Please, forget I said that, will you?’ she asked, all in one breathless rush, then turned and all but ran for the door.
Hillary and Jimmy watched her go, both of them somewhat bemused.
‘She’s heading for a nervous breakdown at the rate she’s going, guv.’ Jimmy wasn’t above stating the obvious.
‘Yes,’ Hillary agreed. But was it just down to sleepless nights, a teething baby, and the stress of keeping her past from catching up with her and her new husband? Or was something else troubling the woman?
‘Could be a guilty conscience maybe?’ Jimmy unerringly mirrored her thoughts. ‘Not all killers are the cold-blooded type. If she did off her boyfriend, and now the chickens are coming home to roost, she might be up for a bit of confessing, if we press a bit?’
Hillary thought about it. ‘Maybe. But we need something to press with, don’t we? And so far, we’ve got nothing new. Best leave it for now.’
Tom Warrington was parked well back from Wanda Landau’s house in Kebler Road, but he saw Hillary’s old Volkswagen the moment it turned into the road. It was as if he was somehow attuned to her. He seemed to spend his every moment looking out for her, hoping for a glimpse. His heart beat faster and he leaned forward eagerly in the seat, anxious to see her.
He loved this part of the courtship. It was all so new and exciting. He felt like one of those lovers in the poems he’d started reading about recently. Hillary had been right to take a BA in English Literature. Keats had been a revelation to him.
It was yet another thing he had to thank her for.
Now he was looking forward to watching her find her next gift. He’d gone to some trouble to set the stage for it this time. Wouldn’t she be surprised?
He watched her park and get out of the car, his heart falling to see the grey-haired figure of Jimmy Jessop emerge from the passenger seat. Damn. He’d rather she’d been on her own.
He watched them walk towards 8 Kebler Road, and wished he could have parked closer to get a better view. He’d have liked to have seen her face when she realized how clever he’d been. He briefly contemplated getting out of the car and walking casually down the road. He could easily cast a quick look into the garden as he went by the gate, and if she’d been alone, he might have done it.
But not now.
Still, he could imagine the scene, and he smiled, his green eyes flashing with glee. Then he quickly turned on the engine of
his car and drove away. Once she’d found his present, she’d be clever enough and quick enough to scan the street for anyone watching, and a lone male in a parked car would be bound to draw her eye. She’d take down his licence plate and that would move things on to the next level much too quickly.
No, he would never underestimate her. It would be an insult to her.
Besides, they were having so much fun, weren’t they? He didn’t want it to end just yet, and he was sure she didn’t, either. And the growing pressure he could feel to finally consummate their courtship was exquisite as well as painful. Already he was dreaming of the scenario every night. He’d even bought a black ski mask and gloves in preparation.
Tomorrow, he’d take a good look around Thrupp and scope out the best place to grab her.
As Tom Warrington drove away, banging his hands against the steering wheel in a frenzy of frustration and anticipation, Hillary pushed open the gate to number 8 and started to head towards the place where Rowan Thompson had lost his life.
Her eyes went from the path, to the steps leading down to the basement flat, and stopped there. She didn’t even lower her eyes any further.
Because, there on the first step, was a wooden cross.
She stopped dead on the path, so abruptly, that Jimmy actually walked into the back of her.
‘Oops, sorry, guv.’
Hillary said nothing.
Jimmy, wondering what the hold-up was, followed her line of sight, and saw the two pieces of carved wood. He swore softly.
Over their pie and pint, she’d bought him fully up to date on what had been happening, so he knew just what the strange offering meant.
Slowly, Hillary removed a plastic evidence bag from her pocket and walked forward. The cross was the same as the others, save for the initials.
This time, in black poker-work, she found herself looking at the initials GGT.
Another missing girl.
Maybe another dead girl.
Beside her, Jimmy watched her retrieve the cross, using the bag to pick it up and store it, and swore softly again. Although he hadn’t blamed Simon for not nabbing the stalker when he had the chance, he wouldn’t be human if he didn’t find himself suddenly wishing that it was all over already.
This was the first time Jimmy had seen one of the crosses for himself, and it was giving him a very unpleasant feeling deep inside his gut.
This was nasty. And getting nastier.
‘We’d better take this straight back to Steven,’ Hillary said. ‘We’ll talk to Wanda another day.’
‘Right, guv,’ Jimmy said quietly. He looked at her anxiously, but she looked merely grim-faced and a little pale. It made him admire her quiet stoicism, but he was under no illusions as to how she must really be feeling about this latest episode. If it was making him feel churned up inside, it must be so much worse for her.
One thing was for sure: she was going to need someone to start watching her back on a round-the-clock basis from now on.
And he was sure that Steven Crayle was going to agree with him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
They were called to gather together in Steven’s office the moment Sergeant Handley had done his computer magic. Luckily it didn’t take long, now that he knew what he was looking for.
The moment Jimmy and Hillary walked through his door, they could tell by the look on the superintendent’s face that GGT wasn’t a bluff on the killer’s part.
‘Her name,’ Steven began tersely, the moment they were seated, ‘is Gillian Gale Tinkerton. She’s been missing for nearly two years.’ He tossed the computer printout to Hillary, who scanned it, even as Steven summed up the findings. ‘He seems to be taking them roughly every two years or so.’
‘At least there’s no escalation yet, then,’ Hillary said. Which was some comfort. Serial killers – if that’s what they were dealing with – sometimes followed a pattern, whereby their killings started out few and far between, but then gained pace.
Steven nodded. ‘There is that. As you can see, Gillian was twenty-nine when she went missing.’
Hillary glanced at the attached photograph and saw a slightly plump, pretty redhead with attractive freckles and big blue eyes.
‘He doesn’t seem to have a set physical type,’ Hillary offered, for what that was worth. ‘Age range is fairly consistent, though, until you get to me. Geographically they’re all local to the area, but otherwise, don’t seem to belong to the same demographic.’
‘I agree. Gillian comes from a middle-class background, but seems to have always considered herself to be a bit of a dropout,’ Steven continued, mainly for Jimmy’s benefit now, as Hillary quickly scanned the initial report. ‘She was always trying out alternative lifestyles, according to those who knew her best, and even did a stint with some New Age travellers. She stuck with them for a while, apparently, but evidently couldn’t hack it. She returned home to her parents a year or so later, who, by all accounts, were beginning to get thoroughly fed-up with her lifestyle choices by then.’
‘So when she went missing, they thought she’d just got itchy feet again,’ Hillary said, noticing that it had taken them six months before they’d reported her missing. It explained the delay.
‘Right,’ Steven agreed. ‘They just assumed she’d turn up sometime with her tail between her legs and a story about running away to join a circus,’ he confirmed.
‘Except she never did turn up again,’ Hillary said quietly, handing him back the file.
‘No,’ he agreed flatly. And met her eyes. One of them was going to have to say it, and it might as well be him. ‘We now have three missing women, who for various reasons might have wanted to run away under their own steam, and might have succeeded in starting a new life for themselves somewhere. Or they might be dead.’
The last sentence lay flat and heavy in the room.
‘And if they’re dead, it’s a pretty good bet that my stalker is the one responsible for it,’ Hillary added calmly, determined to match his matter-of-fact professionalism. And there was no point in flinching away from it. She was potentially in big trouble, and they both knew it.
‘And if he is, then he’s playing games with you,’ Steven carried on heavily. ‘He wants you to know what’s been happening and he’s inviting you to take part. He’s offering to play cat-and-mouse with you.’
‘Either that, or he’s just following his usual pattern,’ Hillary pointed out. ‘Perhaps all the other girls had gifts and texts to begin with. Then, when they didn’t respond, the gifts turned to threats of one kind or another. In my case, the crosses. Who knows what the others received.’
‘In that case, you’re his next target,’ Steven said grimly. ‘I’ve set up an appointment with Commander Donleavy for four-thirty this afternoon. I’ve put together a file. For a start, we need to get you some round-the-clock protection, starting today.’
Hillary nodded. She didn’t like it, but he was right. ‘OK.’
Steven nodded, pleased but not particularly surprised that she was being so sensible and so calm about it, and then glanced across at Jimmy. ‘So, how’s the Thompson case coming on?’ he asked. As a change of subject, it wasn’t inspired, but he could sense that Hillary needed a little breathing space, and he knew that work was the best cure there was for her at the moment.
‘We’re plugging away, sir,’ Jimmy said. ‘Trouble is, we don’t seem to be getting anywhere. As Inspector Gorman’s investigation showed, there were plenty of people with a grievance against Rowan, with his girlfriend and Barry Hargreaves being the leading contenders, but so far we haven’t come up with anything new.’
Steven nodded. ‘Well, don’t get too downhearted. It was only to be expected – this case was hindered by lack of evidence when it was fresh, so it’s hardly surprising if we don’t crack it this time round. Your success with your first case has probably given you a false sense of what can and can’t be done. Believe me, I’ve never been holding my breath on this one. Sometimes you just have to adm
it defeat and move on. There are other cases to be looked at.’
‘We’re not finished here yet,’ Hillary said stubbornly. ‘The sticking point seems to be finding a motive that really makes sense. Nobody has an alibi, nobody seems to know anything, anybody might have done it. I felt it before, and I feel it even more strongly now: we’ve somehow missed something. Something weighty. Something with some proper meat on it.’
Hillary could hear the frustration in her voice as she spoke, but there was little she could do about it. The case was going nowhere fast. If only she could find just one person who had a real, solid reason for wanting the feckless, charming, predatory Rowan dead.
But she could find nobody around him who had anything to lose, important enough to be worth killing over. Would Barry Hargreaves really kill because his teenage daughters were starting to experiment sexually? Would Darla finally snap at all his infidelities, when she’d lived with them right from the start? Would Dwayne Cox really be scared into committing murder if Rowan had threatened to tell anyone about the drugs? After all, why would he? And it would have to be proved, and Cox would have been careful. And would Marcie get into a murderous rage just because Rowan kept trying to entice her lover away?
It all seemed too petty or nebulous. Not one of her suspects had any powerful, emotional, human, gut-wrenching reason to kill. That was the problem.
And then it hit her. Right there and then, as they sat in Steven’s office, trying not to think about three missing and maybe murdered girls, and about the man who was stalking her so expertly.
Perhaps because she’d been thinking of something totally different, giving her subconscious a chance to work unhindered, she suddenly knew exactly who must have murdered Rowan, and why.
‘I need my arse kicking,’ Hillary said angrily.
Steven and Jimmy looked at her. ‘Any particular reason?’ Steven finally asked, amused.
‘Because I should have known right from the start, and I mean the very start, who killed Rowan, and why,’ she said flatly.
