by Sarah Flint
To Charlie it leant weight to Angie’s information, although not adding any meat to the bones. The itch was still there, unable to be scratched and nullified, or its origin detected and formalised. She was no further forward. Redz could have come into contact with the same man. She may even have been picked up by him, but without anything further, it would remain just a rumour. All the actual evidence pointed to Razor.
She logged off, noticing that the rest of the team had filtered in, unbeknown to her, and were discussing the developments in Dimitri’s case. Their delight at the continuing progress was obvious, but today was another day. It was Redz’ day and in the next few hours they would all have to switch their concentration to the hazards faced daily by every sex worker on the streets of London… and the desolation of a graveyard on the banks of the Liffey.
*
The team fell silent as Charlie walked to the front of the office and pinned a copy of the same photo as had been displayed on Redz’ coffin to the whiteboard for them all to see. Gerald Flaherty had been insistent.
‘Wow, is that Redz?’ Naz shook her head in disbelief. ‘She was a beautiful child.’
‘I’m sure she would have been a beautiful woman too, if drugs and the likes of Razor had not got to her.’ Sabira came across and repositioned the photo next to one of Redz at the crime scene, the contrast bringing a collective lump to each of their throats. ‘But it’s not what’s on the outside that matters.’
Charlie was about to agree when Hunter walked through, his eyes flicking over the photos of Redz and coming to rest instead on the custody image of Razor.
‘Razor returns in an hour’s time,’ he said. ‘Do we have enough to charge him, bail him again, or release him completely? Hopefully we’re looking at the first option. Naz, Sab, is there anything else that’s come in during the last few days while we were in Ireland?’
Naz jumped up first. ‘Well, the phone data on Razor’s mobile confirms his sightings on CCTV. He was using his phone within the area of the alleyway just before Maria Simpson’s call to police and afterwards several masts show that he headed towards Brixton and Viv’s bar. In fact, several of his earlier calls were made to Redz’ number, but they were unanswered.’
‘So he found her and beat her to death for ignoring his calls?’ Hunter threw out the question. ‘Anything more on the alibis?’
‘Well, Viv’s is as it is. She can only confirm Razor’s presence after Redz was killed.’ Sabira dipped her head to one side. ‘And, of course, she gives a possible motive that Redz needed to be “sorted out” and her impression that Razor already knew what had happened.’
‘Which is her opinion,’ Charlie pursed her lips. ‘It isn’t exactly evidence.’
‘But she also says he stayed in the bar for some time afterwards!’ Bet came across and threw a pile of goodies down on to the table, a habit of hers when they all needed a boost. ‘You’d have thought that he’d have been straight out looking for whoever had killed his girl.’
‘He wasn’t, because there wasn’t anyone else! And he knew that. He was obviously just cultivating his alibi.’ Hunter selected a packet of nuts and pulled the wrapping open, tipping a few out on to the table. ‘How about Caz?’
‘She says she was with him at the flat and then for a short time while they searched for Redz in his car, until he dropped her off and went into Viv’s.’ Charlie selected a Crunchie and ripped the top off the wrapper with her teeth.
‘Even though CCTV shows only one occupant in the car?’ Sabira ignored the temptation.
‘I asked her about that. She said she was lying down on the back seat.’
‘Well, she wasn’t anywhere near Razor actually and we can prove it.’ Sabira grinned. ‘There was a robbery nearby around the same time and some vice officers dealing with it recognised Caz walking past them. We’ve checked CCTV and you can clearly see it’s her, so her alibi for Razor is blown out the window.’
‘I knew she wasn’t telling the truth,’ Charlie shook her head, sadly. ‘But she’s like Hanna and the other girls were yesterday; too terrified to risk the repercussions. She’d rather go to prison for perverting the course of justice instead. Still, at least it helps our case. We can prove Razor was on his own when Redz was killed.’
‘And the other piece of good news is that the forensic results on Razor’s Vauxhall Astra confirm what we were hoping.’ Naz took a deep breath as if to keep them in suspense. ‘The blood and hair samples taken from the front passenger seat came back to Redz.’
She passed a file to Hunter, who spread it out across the desk, enabling Charlie to also read its contents.
The report stated that, as Naz had said, the blood and hair samples did indeed belong to Grace Flaherty. The pattern of the blood corroborated the fact that her face had impacted with the dashboard facia on the passenger side of the vehicle, most of the spray pattern indicating her head was turned slightly towards the left-hand side, as if she had been looking away from her attacker positioned in the driver’s seat.
Cracks and dents to the dashboard facia were consistent with a heavy object, such as her head having hit it, though, it was pointed out that the amount of damage was not overly extensive. Charlie knew that the defence would concentrate on whether the damage bore out the massive injuries Redz had sustained, but Dr Crane had suggested this was how her injuries had been caused… and this is what they had.
She scanned down to details of the hair samples. The report stated that most of the strands still had their roots attached and had therefore been pulled out forcibly.
‘So we’re missing the cut hair?’ Charlie grimaced and turned to Naz. ‘Not that that excludes Razor. He could have cut the hair off outside the car. Was any hair found at his flat?’
Naz shook her head. ‘No hair. But there was a pair of jeans and a jacket with blood spots predominantly down the left-hand side. Razor’s DNA is all over the clothing and the blood belongs to Redz. It’ll be the clothing he was wearing when the bastard pulled her hair out and smashed her head against the dashboard.’
‘Bloody animal,’ Hunter joined in, standing up and walking towards the window.
‘Anything further to confirm Dutch’s cause of death?’ Charlie noticed the smaller photos of both Dutch and Caz stuck underneath the ones of Redz on the whiteboard. ‘The post-mortem results are in now, aren’t they?’
‘Drug overdose, like we thought.’ Paul raised his eyebrows and frowned. ‘She had no significant injuries, other than the normal for a user, and there was nothing suspicious of note. Dr Crane did some initial tests, which have come up positive for both opiates and cocaine. She’d taken a cocktail of cocaine and heroin. The full tox’ report will tell us the exact amounts of each drug, but suffice to say, Dr Crane is happy that it was a straightforward OD.’
‘I thought as much,’ Charlie sighed heavily. ‘It’s a shame nobody could get Dutch away from Razor sooner. What a waste!’
The sight of Caz brought Angie’s information to mind. If Caz was indeed her informant then it may well have been she who had passed on the description of the violent punter from the King’s Cross girls. Word spread easily from one patch to another. Maybe she had hoped it would muddy the waters, and help Razor further, especially in light of the now discredited alibi statement.
‘Oh, and this morning I checked out Angie’s information about Redz being killed by a punter.’ Charlie was careful not to mention the link with Caz. ‘There is one report of a similar nature in King’s Cross, with an almost identical description of the male, but it’s anonymous and uncorroborated. It came in months ago, before Redz’ murder, so it could be legitimate.’ Charlie spelt out her thoughts. ‘But our girls might have just repeated what they’d heard from the girls uptown. None of them is willing to put their name to the information so, as far as evidence goes, it’s little more than a rumour and won’t hold any weight at court. You’d think if there was a violent punter doing the rounds who has killed one of their mates, one of them might actually
stand up and be counted.’
She ran her fingers through her hair, as a shiver of apprehension caught her off guard. Hadn’t their experience in the last two days shown how hard it was for vulnerable women to make a stand, but at the same time, they had a solid amount of circumstantial evidence against Razor, backed up with some useful forensics.
For once though she didn’t know if it was enough. She shrugged the feeling away at the memory of Razor’s sneering words at the end of his last interview. Do you want a piece of me too? The thought repulsed her, yet very soon she would be listening to the same voice and staring into those same cold eyes. Whatever her doubts, Hunter had to be right. It had to be him. He had the eyes of a killer; they just had to get the CPS to agree…
The office had fallen silent, everyone staring, mesmerised, as Hunter returned to the table on which he’d tipped the peanuts. He positioned a ruler on its side halfway across the desk, mounted three of the nuts on to a small stack of books and flicked two of them in turn, watching triumphantly as they shot over the upturned ruler. ‘Well done, team,’ he said. ‘Razor’s going to have a hard time explaining all our evidence away, and with his long history of violence, we should be home and dry.’ Charlie watched as he took aim and flicked the third nut, sending it flying over the ruler and out across the floor, before standing up and grinning towards them all. ‘Game, set and match, as it were.’
*
Razor rolled himself a cigarette and stood idly watching the shoppers flitting from one shop to another. With Christmas now only a few days away, panic had set in, the rush to find the perfect presents negating all common sense. They would be easy pickings, with wallets hanging out of their back pockets, purses lying on top of shopping bags and handbags left open for ease of purchase.
He finished the last drag and threw the butt down angrily, grinding it into the paving with a heavy boot. There were far better things to be doing amongst the shopping arcades than wasting his time returning to the police station.
His solicitor was waiting for him, his hand outstretched. ‘Remember,’ the man said. ‘Just make no comment to everything they throw at you. Stay calm and don’t react to any of their questions. If anything awkward comes up, we’ll request a further consultation.’
Razor nodded. This wouldn’t take long. He would soon be waving the bastards goodbye and then he could get back out to play.
DC Charlie Stafford and DI Hunter were eager to start, ushering him into an interview room once the preliminaries were complete in the custody office.
Razor sat back in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him, knees wide apart, arms crossed. He looked across at the two detectives going through the well-versed preparations for the interview, assured and confident, and for no apparent reason he suddenly felt unnerved.
DC Stafford was to be the main interviewer, as before. She looked across at him. ‘You have been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Grace Evelyn Flaherty, known to you as Redz,’ she spoke calmly, enunciating every word of the caution clearly before getting started. ‘We spoke about Redz last time. She worked as a prostitute around Streatham, didn’t she?’
‘No comment.’
‘And you were her pimp? You protected and looked after her, didn’t you?’
‘No comment.’
‘You controlled her? You told her what she should and shouldn’t do?’
‘No comment.’
‘And you didn’t like it if she didn’t do what you told her, did you?’
‘No comment.’
‘You really didn’t like it if she disrespected you, did you, Razor?’ The woman officer stared straight at him.
‘No comment,’ he said the words with deliberation. The bitch was getting on his nerves.
‘In fact, if she didn’t do what you said, you hit her, didn’t you?’
‘No comment.’
‘You hit her so hard that you made her bleed? You pulled her hair and assaulted her, didn’t you?’
He shook his head. ‘No comment.’
‘So why are blood and hair samples belonging to Redz all over the dashboard and front passenger footwell of your vehicle?’
‘No comment.’
Razor stiffened subconsciously. He tried to relax, fixing a smile on his lips. The woman detective leant towards him, her eyes drilling into his.
‘They got there because you put them there. You smashed her head against the dashboard, didn’t you? You beat Redz so badly that she died. That’s why her blood is also all over the jacket and jeans we found at your address, your jacket and jeans. You killed her, Razor, didn’t you?’
He swallowed hard as he suddenly remembered the events of the night before Redz’ death.
The police officer was speaking again.
‘Had Redz been a bit disobedient, Razor? Did you need to put her back in her place? Give her a bit of a slap? Sort her out? Did you lose your temper with Redz? Go a bit too far this time?’
The questions were coming thick and fast and he couldn’t think. He heard her voice, talking to him, at him, asking him about Redz, and as he heard her name, repeated again and again, the same burning anger as always, raged through his head. He had to keep calm. He had to keep control, but all he could think about was the humiliation, how Redz had made him look foolish and weak in front of his competitors. And then the memory took over; how he’d grabbed her long red hair, dragging her from the crack house and down the path to his car. How she’d screamed as he’d opened the passenger door and shoved her in. How, when he’d smashed her face against the dashboard, her nose had erupted blood, all over the carpet and glove compartment. How he’d seen the clumps of hair in his hand and had wiped them against her as she leant as far from him as she could.
It was over as quickly as it started. By the time they’d reached his flat she had calmed and was full of apologies. It had happened before, and it would happen again. He’d thought no more about it. The blood and hair had dried and in the darkness and hubbub of the following night its existence had been totally forgotten.
Now though its presence was going to be harder to explain away. Damn Redz and her disrespect. He looked at the detectives as a bead of sweat formed on his top lip. A thin smile was playing on the lips of DC Stafford. She was a bitch. He longed to wipe the smugness from her face. The silence lengthened and his solicitor shifted in his seat, a frown flickering on his brow as he awaited an answer.
‘No comment,’ Razor said throatily, forcing a cough.
His solicitor took the hint, setting his pen down on the desk directly in line with his pad and talking stiffly. ‘My client needs a drink of water and requests a further consultation with his solicitor.’
Razor coughed again. ‘Yeah, that’s right. I need what he says. I’m not feeling well.’
He watched as the two police officers glanced across at one another and the senior one nodded. Denying him what he requested could potentially render any further questioning inadmissible should the case ever go to court. They wouldn’t risk it.
‘Interview suspended at 11.36 hours for legal consultations and refreshments,’ DC Stafford said through gritted teeth. She removed the two CDs, sealed one and left the room, followed closely by DI Hunter.
His solicitor turned towards him, his face ripe with displeasure. ‘You’d better tell me everything you know about the circumstances surrounding Redz’ murder, and I mean everything.’
*
‘Damn it,’ Charlie grumbled as the door swung shut. ‘Just when we had him on the ropes.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Hunter pulled a pen from his top pocket and chewed on the end of it. ‘But the look on his face was priceless. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.’
‘Maybe he had… and it wouldn’t have been a pretty sight.’
She turned away in frustration. As far as she was concerned, any person who exercised their right to silence had something to hide, and Razor was no exception. Right now he would be concocting an excuse for the presence of Redz’ blood an
d hair in his car, knowing full well that a court could use his failure to answer as an inference of guilt. The more he lied and sought to hide the truth though, the more any doubts of her own were laid to rest.
It was half an hour before the interview recommenced, a fact that irritated her further. Before she could speak, Razor’s solicitor placed a piece of paper on the desk in front of her, with barely legible writing scrawled across it. It was like déjà vu.
‘My client would like to read out a prepared statement.’ He sniffed and leant back in his chair. ‘After that, he will be making no further comment.’
Razor picked up the sheet of paper and started to read, ‘I am making this statement of my own free will and with advice from my solicitor. Redz was my girlfriend and has been in my car lots of times. The night before her murder, she was at a friend’s house in Brixton. When I went to get her, she had been drinking and taking crack and was very excitable. She did not want to come with me, but I was concerned for her welfare. We argued and I admit that I forced her to leave as I did not want her to remain there in the state she was. She was unsteady on her feet and as she was getting into the car, she stumbled and fell forward, hitting her face on the dashboard. Her nose started to bleed and she became hysterical and started to thrash around. I took hold of her by the hair to stop her throwing her head back and hurting herself further. I had to hold her for a few minutes until she calmed and some of her hair must have come out.
‘The next night Redz wanted to go out again. I dropped her off in Streatham Hill and spent the evening at home with Caz. I stayed in my flat until it was time to pick Redz up. She wasn’t where we had arranged to meet. Then lots of police cars and an ambulance arrived and I decided to leave. Caz was with me and I drove straight to Viv’s bar in Brixton and stayed there for a few hours, returning home at about 3 a.m. I thought that Redz would make her own way home or phone me if she needed picking up.
‘I know nothing of Redz’ murder and completely deny any involvement in it. Further to this I have spoken to some of the other girls in Streatham and they have told me that Redz was picked up by a large Asian man with lots of jewellery. He usually wears a long leather coat and drives a small car. I suggest that he is the man who killed Redz.’
