Silent Suspect: A completely gripping crime thriller with edge-of-your-seat suspense (Detective Jessica Daniel thriller series Book 13)

by Kerry Wilkinson

  Jessica didn’t need to think: ‘I’d bring you in, police officer or not.’

  ‘Precisely. It doesn’t matter if I think you’re responsible. We’ve got blood on your car from one missing person; one dead body where you were the last person to see him alive. If a second body shows up, that’s it.’

  ‘What’s happening with the blood on the car?’

  ‘You know what it’s like with these things. At the moment, it’s unofficially official. I got a tip from the labs, but they have T’s to cross; I’s to dot. It’ll be confirmed later today or tomorrow. For now, nothing’s changed.’ Fordham swung his legs around and pushed himself up, standing tall on the path over Jessica. She shivered slightly as his shadow fell across her. ‘Consider this a courtesy – but the same thing stands. No holidays, no disappearing. If you’re staying in town, then fine. If you’re going home, then at least let your solicitor know. You’ve got bail to answer next week, too. Keep your phone on.’

  He offered her his hand to help her up, but Jessica shook her head. ‘I think I’ll stay here a while.’ Fordham slipped into his long coat and flapped the tails backwards. ‘When will you be back?’ Jessica asked.

  He shrugged. ‘Who knows? Tomorrow? The day after?’ He checked his watch. ‘It could be an hour.’ He offered a thin smile. ‘You’re lucky,’ he added.

  ‘I don’t feel it.’

  He stared at her, lips pressed together. ‘No, I guess not.’

  With that he was gone, striding back towards the centre, hands in pockets as ever.

  Jessica sat watching the lone sunbather. He was on his belly, phone at his side with headphones pressed into his ears. In many ways, she admired him. He was out in the open, defying the elements and not caring who saw.

  She felt alone, too, but there was hope. Bex’s blood was ‘fresh-ish’ – she’d been in the area at some point in the past week. She might’ve been forced to call Jessica as part of a trap to bring her here, but at least that meant she was in the area.

  Hurt, bleeding and used – but here.

  Jessica wiped the grit from her palms and stood, turning to face the car park. Somehow, everything was linked to the hotels – all she had to do was figure out how.

  Twenty-Six

  Jessica knew DCI Fordham would be back before her bail ran out in five days. He would either have a long list of questions about why Bex’s blood was on her car, or they’d have found Sophie Johns’ body – and then anything could happen. Jessica had seen suspects banged up in prison on remand for less. It’d be the end of her career, the end of it all. The time for sitting back and waiting for things to happen was gone.

  Brandon was behind the reception desk as Jessica entered the Prince Hotel. She threw him a pinball ding-ding smile and headed up to her room. She unlocked the door and then waited next to it, watching the clock on her new phone. The seconds flipped by agonisingly slowly, but, when two minutes were up, she headed back downstairs and waited close to the stairs until Brandon noticed her. His T-shirt was a lot tighter than the clothes she’d seen him in before. He was in good shape and he knew it.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked with a smile that he definitely wouldn’t have wasted on an elderly couple who were checking in.

  Jessica was more than prepared to play that game. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, half turning towards the stairs. ‘You’re gonna think I’m a real wimp.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m like a complete walking cliché.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘I was upstairs in my room, about to get undressed to have a shower…’ she tugged on her sleeve to make sure he got the message, ‘but there was a spider in the sink.’

  He broke into a grin. ‘Old buildings like these attract spiders, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It was huge, all legs and… teeth.’

  Brandon snorted at her. ‘You could see its teeth?’

  ‘Well, maybe not, but it was bloody big. I left the door unlocked. Can you…?’

  This time he actually winked, flexing his arm muscles as he rounded the counter. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Please make sure you get it. I’m not sure I can go back up there otherwise.’

  Brandon brushed past, treading slightly closer than he needed to. They both felt the simmering buzz between them as he continued up the stairs, turning back to look at Jessica over his shoulder. Well, that or the electrics were on the blink, which was perfectly plausible.

  ‘Be right back,’ he said.

  Jessica waited where she was, listening to his disappearing footsteps. As soon as Brandon was out of sight and sound on the floor above, she dashed for the counter, sidestepping around it in one smooth movement and entering the office. The desk next to the door was a mass of clutter, with pens scattered across the surface alongside a fearsome spike that had been used to spear hundreds of invoices. There were rubber bands, a ball of string and a click-clack office toy. Jessica was careful not to nudge anything as she slipped around it and moved to the back of the room. There were two safes, neither hidden from view. One was a small box, half a metre square at most, which was pinned high on the wall. The other was three times the size and more, underneath the counter with an old-fashioned dial on the front. Considering that guests were seemingly all offered a cash discount, Jessica guessed the larger, more secure safe was where the money ended up. There could be thousands in there if it was undeclared. Tens of thousands.

  Jessica eyed the dial before blinking back into the room – she was wasting time. She turned to the smaller safe, typing 1-2-3-4 into the push panel on the front. There was a small beep and then the door swung open. The inside was thankfully well ordered, with rows of hooks that had numbered stickers above, each containing a key. At the far end were two spaces marked with an ‘X’. One hook was empty, presumably the maid’s skeleton key. Jessica pocketed the other key and then relocked the safe before darting back to reception.

  She sat on the bottom stair, surprisingly out of breath considering she’d not done much. Her heart was racing, chest tight. It took her a couple of minutes to compose herself. She was used to tiptoeing the line of acceptable and not – but this was hurdling it, barrelling down the other side and disappearing over the horizon. She might not have been guilty of anything to do with Peter Salisbury, Sophie Johns or Bex – but she was now a definite thief, which could technically be called ‘breaking’. The ‘entering’ was just around the corner.

  After a few more minutes, she heard a door closing upstairs and then footsteps. Brandon rounded the banister and then sat himself next to Jessica on the bottom step.

  ‘Got it,’ he said.

  He’d done bloody well considering there had been no spider.

  ‘My hero,’ Jessica replied, nudging his shoulder with hers.

  ‘Are you going to be all right up there…?’

  Jessica wasn’t sure if it was a genuine question because he thought she was creeped out, or if he was asking for an invitation. It didn’t matter either way. She hauled herself up using the banister and moved up a couple of stairs as Brandon stood. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Thanks for helping.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  She continued up to the first floor and waited on the landing, listening in case there were any guests nearby, or if Brandon was going to follow her for whatever reason. She could hear movement a few floors above – probably the maid hefting the vacuum cleaner around – but it was otherwise quiet.

  Something was going on in the hotel and Jessica was determined to find out what. She headed along the corridor, looking for anything not quite right. There were the expected rows of numbered doors, some more faded than others, all looking a little tatty. Jessica hadn’t seen any guests on the same floor as her in the few days she’d been staying – though, in fairness, it was hardly a hotel in which to spend lots of time.

  Jessica reached the end of the corridor having seen nothing other than the lifts and closed bedroom doors. She checked both ways and t
hen tapped on door number thirty. There was no answer, so she tapped slightly louder, wincing as she called ‘maid’ as quietly as she could while still wanting to be heard.

  Still no reply.

  After another check behind her, Jessica slipped her stolen key into the lock and turned it. There was a satisfying click and then she was inside. She wasn’t particularly bothered about what was inside, more in testing the key. As it was, the interior of room thirty was much like the one in which she was staying, with dated furniture and a musty, ancient smell. There was a thin layer of dust on the mirror and other surfaces, meaning it had likely not been cleaned since the end of the summer. The hotel probably used only a handful of rooms off-season, perhaps spread across the floors to ensure everyone had a sea view, even if being able to see the ocean from one of the rooms was like polishing the contents of a skip.

  Jessica locked the door to room thirty and headed back the way she’d come, padding quickly across the carpeted floor and doing her best not to make any noise. She passed more numbered doors until she reached one close to the far end that was marked ‘private’. It had been open when the maid was dragging the vacuum cleaner around that morning. It took a wiggle and some silent swearing, but the key eventually fitted, with the door opening into a store cupboard. Jessica wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but it wasn’t a selection of buckets, tubs of soap and cleaning fluid, plus boxes of the small toiletries that were left in every room. There were mops, brushes and dustpans, as well as a large space for the cleaning cart. Nothing of any particular interest.

  After relocking the cleaning cupboard, Jessica continued along the corridor to the wall at the end. There was a black and white framed photograph of Blackpool in its glory days, heaving with tourists, glittering and new. Jessica stared at it for a few moments, surprised at how little had changed on the seafront. The shops might have different names, with chain restaurants, hotels and pubs elbowing their way in, but all of the main attractions remained.

  She passed the fire exit and started back the way she’d come, counting down the rooms as she passed them, ready to head up to the second floor. It was only as she passed it that Jessica realised room thirteen wasn’t room thirteen at all. It was opposite the store cupboard but there was no number on the front. Twelve and fourteen were on either side but there were no markings on the door in between. Jessica slipped in the key and it turned easily. She peeped into the dark space, fumbling along the wall for a light switch. There was a fizzing from above and then a white strip bulb dazzled, leaving Jessica blinking as she stepped through the door and pulled it behind her, not quite clicking it closed.

  The mysterious room thirteen was smaller than the room in which she was staying – but three or four times the size of the cleaning cupboard opposite. It might have been a hybrid half-room but was being put to good use. There were dozens more boxes of toiletries, plus piles of napkins, plates, cups, cutlery, notepads, pens and a seemingly infinite number of disposables that would keep the hotel up and running for years. There were even half a dozen boxes containing small packets of biscuits in the corner. In the event of a nuclear strike, assuming the hotel guests liked sugar and showering, they’d be set for a very long time.

  Jessica picked around the shelves looking for anything interesting, but it felt like browsing at a cash and carry as opposed to doing anything useful. She was about to leave when she spotted a large plastic tub stashed at the back of the space, half covered with a blanket. The top was obscured, but the bottom read ‘PROPERTY’ in black felt-tip.

  Underneath the blanket, there was a soft monkey at the top of the lost-property bin, his brown button eyes staring accusingly at Jessica as she picked him up and squished his middle. His soft fur was matted through years of love and he had a soggy bottom from years of sleepy squeezes. Someone loved and lost him. There was a baby’s dummy and various items of clothing, none of which looked that appealing. Anything valuable would likely be held for a day or two and then mysteriously disappear. This was the box of crap that guests had left behind on purpose that none of the staff could be bothered to repatriate for themselves.

  Underneath a horrific Christmas jumper with actual baubles on the front, Jessica found a soft rhino with a tusk missing. There was a small tear on its back, with fluffy white foam spilling out. Of the items in the box, it was the thing that looked most loved. There’d be a heartbroken kid somewhere, wondering where he or she had left the toy. Jessica smoothed the fur absent-mindedly with one hand as she started to repack the box. It was only as she tried to return a red top to the box when it unfurled itself, a single word staring out at her so brazenly that it might as well have said ‘look at me’.

  ‘BABYLON’.

  It was the same word from Henka’s top. With everything that had happened since she’d spoken to Maryla in the Polish deli, Jessica had almost forgotten about the fates of Henka and Jacek. The Polish couple had disappeared together and Henka’s photo had been used on the poster that had enticed Jessica to call Peter Salisbury in the first place.

  Maryla had told Jessica that Henka and Jacek were always looking for time together, a place where they could hide away from their disapproving parents and get up to the type of things that young couples in love did when they were by themselves. Five-star luxury was one thing when it came to romance, but for kids with little money, it made perfect sense that they’d find a ropey hotel away from the centre that gave discounts for cash.

  Jessica put down the rhino and held the vest top in her hands. The cotton was bobbled, well-worn, much-loved. Henka had been wearing it in many of the photographs pinned to the wall in her bedroom. She had been here, probably with Jacek. But it wasn’t the type of thing she’d leave behind on purpose.

  If Henka had gone missing from this place, did that mean Bex could have done as well? If so, why – and where on earth were they?

  Jessica believed Brandon when he told her he hadn’t seen Bex – but he’d only worked at the hotel for a fortnight. There was every chance he’d not seen her. Either that or he was a bloody good liar.

  After returning the rhino to the box, Jessica re-covered it with the blanket and slipped it back into position. She kept hold of Henka’s top, folding it down as snugly as she could and tucking it into her waistband. Jessica stood and switched the light off, opening the door and stepping back into the corridor – where she was in such a hurry to leave that she walked straight into the maid’s cart. She stepped backwards, wincing from the pain in her toe, as the woman stared at her in confusion.

  Twenty-Seven

  The door to the cleaning room opposite was open and there was no way for Jessica to pretend she hadn’t just been in the storeroom. She clicked the door closed, trying her best not to look guilty. The skeleton key was in her pocket, the door unlocked.

  ‘I, er… got a bit lost,’ Jessica said.

  The maid peered from Jessica to the door and back again, eyes narrow. Her lips were curved into an O, as if she was going to say something, but she swiftly turned back to the cleaning cart and tried to drag it into the cupboard.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Jessica asked.

  ‘No English.’

  ‘It’s just that… you looked like you understood me before.’

  ‘No. No English.’

  ‘It looked like you recognised my friend. Was she a guest here?’

  The maid ignored her, grabbing the cart and yanking it hard, bumping it over the small ridge into the cupboard. Jessica glanced quickly along the corridor, half expecting Luke Eckhart to be there, as he had been before. This time it was clear.

  ‘Was she a guest here?’ Jessica repeated.

  The maid shook her head quickly. ‘No English.’

  ‘There’s nobody to be scared of. If you’ve not seen her, that’s fine – but you have, haven’t you?’

  The maid stepped out of the cupboard and peered along the empty corridor, fussing with the pockets in her uniform.

  ‘I’ve seen you being dropped off by tha
t white van every day. Vince’s van.’

  No reaction.

  ‘Mr Waverly’s van,’ Jessica added, this time getting a response. The maid shrank back towards the doorway, arms wrapped around her stomach. Her eyebrows had joined in the centre of her forehead and she took a large gulp.

  ‘Meester Waverly…?’

  There was a hint of European accent, but nowhere near as strong as Jessica might have suspected. She was terrified.

  ‘Who is he?’ Jessica pressed. The maid tried to push past but Jessica took her arm, trying not to squeeze too hard. ‘Is he your boss?’

  ‘No English.’

  ‘Do you know Henka Blaski? Or her boyfriend, Jacek? They stayed here. They’re Polish. I don’t know if you are, or—’

  Jessica was interrupted by the dinging of the bell on the counter below in the foyer. The maid pulled her arm clear and hurried for the stairs, not looking back but not descending either. She waited at the top, turning from Jessica to the stairs. Even though she couldn’t see what was happening below, Jessica knew.

  Ding-ding-ding.

  She moved to the top of the stairs, edging around the maid and peering through the banisters to see DCI Fordham standing at the counter. Brandon was emerging from the door that led to the café, removing his earphones.

  ‘Can I help you?’ he asked the officer.

  ‘I’m looking for one of your guests,’ Fordham said. ‘Ms Daniel. Do you know if she’s here?’

  ‘She was a minute ago – she’s probably in her room.’

  That was enough for Jessica. She darted back to the landing and into room seven, heading for the window. There was a pair of marked police cars outside, with uniformed officers standing nearby.

  Shite.

  Fordham had told her he’d be back, but she’d expected a little longer than the hour or so she’d had. The response wouldn’t have been like this for the confirmed results of the blood test on her car, which meant they must have found Sophie Johns’ body. She needed more time.