DEAD GONE

by Luca Veste

  Rossi turned to look at Murphy. ‘That’s a bit deep for you, sir.’

  ‘Yeah, well … I’m like an onion, Laura. I have hidden layers.’ Murphy replied.

  ‘I guess so.’

  The library was at the end of the side street Rossi had pointed out before their visit with Professor Garner. It stood proudly, sprawling over a large area. Glass fronted, lit up in the late afternoon dusk.

  Colin Woodland was sitting proudly behind the front desk, smiling as they approached, then quickly becoming serious when they announced who they were.

  He took them into a room off the vast open space of the ground floor, explaining that books were kept on separate floors. Various computers were dotted around.

  There were a few students about, but Colin explained it would be quiet for the next week or so.

  He didn’t stop talking. Murphy was getting even more exhausted just by listening to him. On the walk to the staff room, he’d more or less given them the entire layout for the university, and the university schedule. Rossi looked to be revelling in it, interjecting with questions every now and again.

  They sat down on comfortable chairs in a small kitchenette area. A low coffee table separated Murphy and Rossi from Colin Woodland. He was a small man, late forties, Murphy guessed. The wisps of hair which had been missed when he’d shaved that morning, stood out on his little round face. A faint mix of Lynx bodyspray and sweat oozed off him.

  ‘Would you like a drink or something?’ Colin said, starting to stand up again.

  They both said no, eager to move on. They explained why they were there, receiving a shocked gasp when they told him the name of the second victim.

  ‘We take it you knew her then?’

  Colin took his hands away from his face. ‘Yes. She was a mature student. Used to do quite a bit of studying in the evenings when it was quiet. Nice woman. Intelligent too.’

  ‘Do you remember seeing her last Thursday evening?’

  Colin thought on that, his tongue sliding forward to lick his bottom lip. ‘I think so. I was working that night.’

  ‘Did you see anyone hanging around, anything suspicious?’

  ‘No. I’d have called security if so. We have CCTV covering the entrance. I’ll get you the tapes. Such a shame. And so soon after the other girl. What is going on?’

  ‘We’re looking into a number of possibilities, Mr Woodland,’ Rossi answered.

  ‘Wait. There was something. A couple of nights before that Thursday. Stephanie was here studying, but she seemed distracted. She came to the entrance a few times, looked out, but then went straight back up. Like she was waiting for someone.’

  Rossi wrote the information down. ‘Thanks. That could come in handy.’

  ‘Such nice girls here. So fresh faced and pure. Cherries waiting to be picked.’ He looked past their shoulders, god knows what images going through his mind.

  Murphy looked towards Rossi, knowing the look he was going to get. He started talking before she had a chance to say anything. ‘Well, that’s … erm … an interesting way of putting it.’ He stood. ‘We’ll leave you to it.’

  Rossi started to say something, but Murphy shot her a look.

  It was almost six p.m. when they made it back to the car. The day was turning to darkness. February was just around the corner; spring would be upon them before they knew it.

  ‘I don’t like him,’ Rossi said, getting into the car and pulling the seat forward.

  ‘Really?’ Murphy said, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

  ‘Yeah. Very creepy. The way he started talking about the students.’

  Murphy went over the end of the conversation. What he’d listened to anyway. He’d tuned out most of the rest once they’d moved on. Probably a mistake, but he was glad Rossi was paying attention. ‘We’ll be having a meeting when we get back. We’ll mention his name, see if anyone can come up with anything on him.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying, sir, you look a little tired. Maybe you should …’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Murphy snapped. ‘Stop babying me, Laura. I’m your superior remember. Keep going, and that fat bastard will be walking next to me quicker than you can say fuck all.’

  ‘Of course.’ Rossi replied. An uncomfortable silence followed, which Rossi once again cut off. ‘So, we go back the station then?’

  ‘No. Let’s get something to eat first. My treat.’

  Rossi smiled, Murphy’s snap at her forgotten, or so he hoped.

  DCI Stephens held court in the meeting room, sitting at the only desk in there. Keeping an eye on Murphy, probably. She was looking more anxious by the hour, biting her manicured fingernails every now and again. Probably regretting her decision as this case grew into more of a mess, Murphy thought.

  He was standing off to her side, bringing everyone up to date on what was happening on both murder cases. He listened as the other officers detailed their own work that day, the house-to-house enquiries coming to nothing. Various interviews with family members, possible witness sightings.

  All nothing.

  Next, the preliminary results of the phone calls which had been coming in since the TV appeal earlier that day. He delegated a few of the more interesting leads to the DCs who were coming on shift. Every now and again he’d pause, take a deep breath before carrying on. The pressure was increasing; he could feel it in every sideways look from his DCI, every whispered conversation between the other detectives.

  He wrapped up the meeting within half an hour, sending home the team who had been working all day. Stephens then told him to do the same.

  Murphy thanked his lucky stars and got the hell out of there.

  Rossi remembered about the girlfriend five minutes after Murphy had left. Flatmate of the first victim, her boyfriend had argued with Donna McMahon but the girlfriend had given him an alibi.

  Rossi didn’t think that would stick. Something wasn’t right and she had to make sure they weren’t screwing up.

  She scribbled down the mobile number they’d been given by Rebecca and tried calling it on her way out of the station. Switched off. She could swing by the flat on the way home. The packet of instant noodles could wait another half an hour or so.

  Rossi thought about ringing Murphy and letting him know what she was doing, but decided against it. He needed the time away, even if it was just a few hours. She was fresher than he was. He could do with her showing a bit more ambition, relieving the pressure a little.

  She drove the short distance through the city centre and arrived at the students’ flat within minutes of leaving the station. She parked up on a quiet side street and tried to call Rebecca again. No answer.

  Rossi reached the flat and pressed the buzzer for entry. Waited for thirty seconds and then tried again. She took a step back, peering upwards to see if she could work out which flat was Rebecca’s. Most of the windows were in darkness. She tried the buzzer, pulling her phone out as she did so, waited another couple of minutes, and turned to leave.

  The door opened behind her. A young girl, looking impossibly fresh faced and small in the large doorway appeared. Rossi took out her ID and introduced herself.

  That was how she found herself on Matthew Street, music pounding in her ears, as she searched three different clubs for Rebecca. In for a penny, in for a pound as they say. Although it’d cost her six quid to get in the current one. The nightclub was on three levels, different types of music on each, although in Rossi’s sober state, they all blended into one thumping bassline.

  She found Rebecca on the second floor, ensconced in a corner booth, talking in another girl’s ear. Rossi waited to be noticed, and Rebecca didn’t disappoint. The look of surprise, which was then followed quickly by nervousness, set Rossi on alert.

  She had to shout above the din. ‘We need to talk,’ she said and pointed to the stairway which led out of the main dancefloor. Rebecca gave a quick glance to the girl she was sitting with, but Rossi was already turning.

  Once out in the re
latively quieter area, Rossi made sure Rebecca positioned herself against the wall. ‘Just wanted a quick chat,’ Laura told her, getting in close so she could hear every word.

  ‘Now … here?’

  ‘No time like the present.’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  Rossi moved slightly so someone could get past her. ‘It’s about your boyfriend. I want to know where he was that night.’

  Rebecca’s eyes shifted away. ‘What night?’

  Rossi gave her the best ‘don’t mess with me’ look she could come up with. Wasn’t sure if it came out right, but it seemed to have some effect.

  ‘He was with me.’

  ‘I think you’re lying. This is serious, Rebecca. If you’re found to be covering for him, you’re going to be in trouble as well you know.’

  ‘I know …’

  ‘So tell me.’

  Rebecca sighed, still not meeting Rossi’s eyes. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know what?’

  Finally, she faced her. ‘I don’t know where he was. But he wouldn’t hurt Donna. I know he wouldn’t.’

  ‘I should arrest you right now. You should have told us straight away.’

  ‘I know, I know, but he told me you’d all think he did it. I swear he didn’t though. I didn’t see him that night, but he left his mates in town around eleven. He was going home, he was really tired and he had some work to do for the next day. He was texting me the whole time, I promise. He’s not like that at all.’

  Rossi’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out, checking the display. Murphy. ‘I’ve got to take this, stay right there.’

  ‘I’ve got to go, you can’t make me stay.’

  Shit. ‘Listen, I’m going to take a full statement from you tomorrow. Be at your flat at eleven. Okay?’

  Rebecca nodded, and slipped away as Rossi answered the phone.

  19

  Tuesday 29th January 2013 – Day Three

  Murphy didn’t go back there very often, but sitting in his car outside the house sometimes set his mind at ease. Knowing she was there, just out of reach, gave him a strange sense of comfort. He looked at his watch, seeing it was almost 10 p.m. A solitary light shining from behind the drawn curtains in the living room suggested someone was still awake.

  The house which was once so familiar to him now seemed alien. Murphy looked from the side window, trying to decide what to do. He wanted to walk up the path, open the front door as if nothing had ever happened. Murphy sighed to himself and shook his head.

  He wanted to know what happened. How had it come to this point?

  The man’s face kept appearing easily to him as it always did. It was burned on his memory like a brand on cattle, and just as painful. He closed his eyes, trying to shake it free, knowing it wouldn’t go easily. The night stretched out in front of him, weariness bearing down on him.

  She was only yards away. Murphy imagined getting out of the car, walking up the short path, the door opening and that warm welcome he’d receive. Or the slap in his face, maybe. Whichever it was, he wanted to feel it.

  He wanted to feel anything other than the pain which had shadowed him for the past year.

  Murphy looked back at the house once more, happier memories replacing the horror of that face. He didn’t know which he preferred. Sadness or anger.

  He turned the car back on, deciding to leave and not go any further.

  He didn’t see the curtain twitch in the house. Sarah, his wife, looking out of the window at him as he drove away.

  Murphy arrived home, his stomach growling from hunger. It was late. He sat in his car for a few moments, his street quiet, a few houses with lights on. Not even eleven p.m. and people were already going to bed.

  He really was a long way from home. Over the water, as they say, referring to the Wirral. Separated from Liverpool by the River Mersey. Scousers were nothing if not imaginative.

  He entered his house, hanging the keys on the board of hooks on the wall. A housewarming gift from Jess. He checked for any messages from her. Nothing. Which probably meant she was going to turn up any second.

  He felt uneasy. Had been for a few hours. It took a while before he realised what it was.

  Guilt. For the way he’d spoken to Rossi earlier. Tiredness had affected the way he reacted to her concern and he’d overreacted. He needed her on his side. Especially now. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts.

  ‘Laura?’ There was loud music in the background, dance, from the sound of the bass over the phone speaker. Murphy held the phone a little way from his ear. ‘Can you hear me?’

  ‘Hang on a sec, sir.’

  Murphy waited as Rossi moved away from the noise.

  ‘Can you hear me now?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Murphy replied. ‘Is it a bad time?’

  ‘No. Not at all. What’s happened?’

  Murphy stroked his beard with his free hand, moving through to his living room. ‘Nothing. I just wanted to say sorry about today. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You’re doing a good job.’

  ‘Oh. Thanks.’

  ‘Listen, we need to start going through the list of people at the university tomorrow morning. So we should concentrate there,’ Murphy continued.

  Murphy could hear loud voices over the phone. ‘Definitely, sir.’

  ‘Where are you, Laura?’

  ‘Nowhere. Listen, I’ve got to go. Speak to you later.’

  Murphy stared at his phone, the call ending before he had chance to say anything more.

  Strange.

  He shook it off. He needed to eat, but couldn’t be bothered even to go through the freezer. He grabbed a takeaway menu from the kitchen and rang through and sat in front of the TV as the minutes passed by.

  His mind wouldn’t shut off, a constant array of images mixing into each other. Possibilities, questions.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the door bell.

  ‘Hello, Bear.’

  ‘Oh, Jess. Wasn’t expecting you.’ Jess bounced on her heels, her bright auburn hair hanging loose on her shoulders.

  ‘Thought you could do with some company. Plus you’ve got Sky and I haven’t.’

  She got on her tiptoes and threw her right arm around him in a quick hug. Murphy let Jess past him, following in her path as she shed her hat, scarf, gloves and coat seemingly at once. She put her hands on the radiator in the living room, as Murphy hung up her coat and accessories properly. ‘You know, you could at least attempt to be tidy,’ Murphy said.

  ‘Fuck off. It’s freezing out there. Not that you’d notice with all that fat behind you. Can you at least turn the heating up a bit?’

  Murphy sighed. ‘It’s not fat, I’m just naturally big,’ and went to turn up the thermostat, trying to remember a time when Jess had called ahead before a visit, failing to recall one. He looked through to the living room, where she’d already made herself comfortable, kicking off her high heels and stretching out on the couch, her feet tucked underneath her. ‘Where’s your Peter?’ he said, raising his voice so she could hear him from the kitchen.

  ‘Staying at a mate’s or something. I tell you, that kid is getting worse by the day.’

  ‘That’s teenagers for you. Remember what we were like?’

  ‘God, I hope he’s not that bad.’

  No one understood their relationship. She was attractive in her own unique way. Her natural confidence shone. Bright auburn shoulder-length hair, which only Murphy knew came from a bottle. Just the right amount of curves, dark smooth skin.

  And he’d never in almost twenty years of knowing her, wanted anything more than what they had. He knew she felt the same way.

  She’d been a single parent for almost all of her son’s life. Never really getting involved with anyone else. She’d told Murphy she just wasn’t interested in making things more complicated, but he wasn’t so sure it was just about that. Fear probably played as much a part of it as anything else.

  ‘There,
you moaning bint,’ Murphy said, walking back into the living room. ‘What brings you anyway? I’d just ordered pizza.’

  ‘Meat feast?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good, I’m starving.’

  The pizza arrived and Murphy was forcing a second slice down, his appetite not as strong as he’d thought.

  ‘I’ve got this case this week, you won’t believe it,’ Jess said, taking the pepperoni from the box where Murphy had taken it off his slice. ‘Some lad tried to rob a bookies. Went with a balaclava over his head, and pretended to have something under his jacket.’

  ‘Go on,’ Murphy said, taking a bite. Savouring it, trying to jump start his hunger.

  ‘Well, as it happens, his mum worked at a bookies.’

  ‘No way …’

  Jess started laughing. ‘Yeah. He only tried to rob the same shop she works in. He gets to the counter, demands money, and she just goes “Our Mark, what are ya doin’”. He says “sorry Mum”, and runs out. Ton of witnesses, and he pleads not guilty. And I get to defend him. Sometimes I wonder why I do this job.’

  Jess had gone to university late, studied hard and become a lawyer at age thirty. Murphy had been at her graduation, proud as punch of his friend. They were two success stories from an estate which didn’t have all that many.

  ‘So why’d you come around?’ he said between mouthfuls.

  ‘Worried about you again.’

  ‘I’m okay. Doing better.’

  ‘How long have we known each other? Since we were sixteen, both hanging around Speke parade, getting pissed on cheap cider. I know you. You’re not okay. You look knackered. I bet you haven’t been sleeping. Ever since the first murder.’

  ‘Just getting back into the swing of things, that’s all. It’s been a while since the last one.’

  ‘Since last year?’

  Murphy stood up and went through to the kitchen, giving a quiet confirmatory nod to Jess on the way past. He pulled a glass from the cupboard and ran himself a glass of water.

  ‘I heard about what happened today. With the press.’