She was not sure at what point Helena had hung up.
26
Distressed about her twin sister, Geraldine slept little. Sam’s comment bothered her. She should have been more sympathetic towards her sister at the funeral. Because Geraldine had never had an opportunity to get to know their mother herself, somehow she had underestimated her sister’s grief. Helena’s experience in losing their mother had been very different to her own. Although Geraldine hadn’t been deliberately insensitive, she couldn’t help feeling guilty.
Disturbed by the hostility that had sprung up between them, she resolved to continue making friendly overtures. It was going to take time to develop a relationship with her sister, who seemed as wary of entering into a relationship as Geraldine was. If an unknown sibling had treated her as coldly as she had treated Helena at the cremation, Geraldine might also have rejected any subsequent approach. No longer suspecting her sister of wanting to take advantage of her, she was keen to gain Helena’s trust.
Saturday morning brought a setback when a member of the Visual Images, Identification and Detections team assured them that the bearded man who had met Louise at Euston station was under six feet. The officer passing on the information had very straight fair hair cut in a neat bob, with a long fringe. Peering at them with bright blue eyes, she looked no more than twenty, but she spoke with an air of authority that suggested she was considerably older. For most of the film it was impossible to be precise about the bearded man’s measurements as he was leaning forward or moving around, but there were three or four frames where he was clearly standing up straight. In addition, it had apparently been possible to work out his shoe size.
‘Are you sure?’ Geraldine asked. ‘His shoe size? Really? I mean, there’s no room for error, is there? This isn’t just informed guesswork?’
The officer explained that, by measuring the length of the bearded man’s feet when he was standing beside objects whose dimensions were known, they were able to ascertain that his shoes were size eleven. Geraldine was surprised it was possible to gauge the measurement so exactly. It was also frustrating. Chris was five foot nine, but his shoes were size ten. Tom wore size eleven shoes, but he was over six foot tall. The evidence seemed to rule them both out.
‘Are you quite sure the man Louise met at Euston station was under six foot?’ Adam asked.
‘Yes. He’s standing upright in several frames so we were able to measure his height to within an inch. He’s about five ten.’
‘About?’ Geraldine repeated, exasperated. ‘How can you be more specific about his shoe size than his height?’
The blond woman gave a tolerant smile. ‘He’s no more than five eleven, and no less than five nine. That’s as specific as we can be on the basis of the information we’ve been able to gather from enhancing the images. But he’s definitely not six foot. We viewed several shots of him standing upright.’
‘So you’re quite sure he’s under six foot?’
‘Yes, quite sure.’
‘Chris wears size ten shoes,’ Adam said gloomily.
‘Oh, the man in this CCTV film isn’t the one you’ve been questioning,’ the blond officer officer replied cheerfully. ‘We’re sure of that. We compared the films of them walking. It’s possible to match walking patterns very reliably these days, and gait has become a really useful clue to identity. An advantage of gait recognition is that we can ascertain identity from a distance, so it’s useful even where the image resolution is quite low, like you have here. We took the walking pattern from the CCTV film and mapped it onto your suspect’s walking pattern. The mapping’s done electronically so there’s no room for error. We’re able to examine standard measures like stride length and speed, and any distinctive elements relating to the physiology of the individual, slightly unequal limb lengths or a turned-out femur, individual characteristics like that. You’d be surprised how many different features distinguish people when they walk. It’s not just stride, but the way the head is held, the slope of the shoulders, the hand movements, there are multiple permutations that make everyone distinctive. When you factor in posture, it’s really not that difficult to identify gait, especially in summer. If the man we were watching had been wearing a long raincoat, for example, his posture might have been more difficult to observe. As it is, we can be certain your suspect and the man you filmed at Euston station are different people.’
‘How sure are you?’
‘Enough to testify in court that it’s not a match. From the gait alone the recognition software’s well over ninety per cent accurate, but taking the suspect’s height into account as well, I’d say it’s an absolute certainty.’
‘Bugger,’ Adam muttered.
‘Are we really going to have to start all over again, looking for someone else?’ Sam asked.
Adam scowled.
After some discussion, they agreed that they would have to rethink their suspicions of the victim’s husband. It made very little sense that Chris would have taken Louise and hidden her away anyway, because she was the only person who seemed able to provide him with an alibi. If he had picked her up, he would have brought her straight to the police to confirm his alibi.
Before they could say anything else, a constable came in to tell Geraldine someone was asking to see her. Going to the entry hall she was surprised to see Helena perched at one end of the row of plastic chairs, her legs tightly crossed, her arms wrapped round her chest.
‘You’ve come to find me?’ Geraldine tried to sound pleased, although she was nervous about seeing her sister while she was at work.
Helena stood up. She looked no healthier than the first time Geraldine had seen her. When she removed her scarf, Geraldine saw she had cut her straggly hair. Her make-up failed to conceal her bad complexion, which was pockmarked with acne scars. Only her eyes were attractive, as large and dark as Geraldine’s own, their expression impenetrable. Where Geraldine was tall and slim, but strongly built, Helena was skinny, but there was no mistaking the similarity between them.
‘You told me you was filth so I went in my local station and showed them a photo so’s I could find you.’ She stood in front of Geraldine, her face split in a grin. ‘So, this is where you hang out.’
Concealing her unease, Geraldine returned her sister’s smile. ‘This is where I work, yes.’
It was five to one. Geraldine looked at Helena’s arresting eyes, plastered in heavy make-up, and hesitated. She could hardly return to her desk and leave her sister standing there. It was time for lunch anyway.
‘Come on, there’s a nice little place not far from here where we can get lunch, and it’s not expensive.’
Quickly Geraldine led the way out of the police station before anyone noticed them.
27
Louise hadn’t slept for long. Too groggy to feel scared when she first opened her eyes, awareness of her situation hit her like a blow to the head as she woke up fully. The room was spinning. She fell back on the mattress, trembling and crying. Closing her eyes, she waited for the giddiness to pass. She wasn’t sure how long she had been trapped in this room, lying on a hard mattress. For a while she lay still, gazing upwards, waiting for her nausea to pass. She knew the position of every crack and cobweb on the ceiling.
After a while she leaned over the side of the bed and threw up. The pattern on the threadbare carpet had become so familiar she could picture it with her eyes shut, red and beige, with a stylised floral design repeated at intervals, interspersed with patterns that seemed to twirl and writhe under her gaze. The window in the white wall was covered in a mesh of criss-crossing metal bars. The door didn’t even shudder when she kicked it as hard as she could. She had tried rattling the handle but nothing happened.
Since she had been locked in the room, her kidnapper hadn’t uttered a single word. His silence unnerved her even more than the humiliation of squatting over a stinking metal bucket.
When he returned, she shuddered at the cheap white plastic mask he wore over his face. It made him look inhuman.
Trying to ignore the stench from the bucket, she considered her situation. She tried to feel encouraged that he was hiding his face. If he didn’t want her to be able to identify him, that must surely mean he was planning to release her. The thought of leaving her fetid prison made her tremble.
Escape was impossible with the door and window firmly secured. All she could do was wait for him to return. Dreadful though his presence was, the fear that he might never come back was worse. If anything happened to him and no one came and found her, she would starve to death, or die of dehydration.
Her situation was all the more difficult to bear because she had no idea what was going on. She struggled to remember how she had come to be there. Her captor had addressed her by name when he had approached her at Euston station. He seemed to have known when her train was due to arrive. Although her incarceration felt like a terrible mistake, it did actually seem to have been the result of a deliberate plot. But she had no idea why it had happened. She wracked her brains to work out what could have led to her being targeted in this way.
At first she had been petrified. But as the hours crawled by, she stopped caring that he might be going to kill her. Too desperate to feel afraid any longer, her fear turned to fury. As soon as she heard the key turn in the lock, she sprang from the bed and stood facing the door, knees bent, poised to leap at him. Catching him off guard, she was determined to barge past him and race down the stairs. If she was fast enough, he might not catch her.
Slowly the door swung open to reveal a figure dressed in black. He was wearing black leather gloves and, as before, his face was concealed behind a white mask. With a screech, she hurled herself at him. Instead of staggering aside, he grabbed both her wrists in one of his hands and pushed her back into the room. Detaining her with one hand, he turned and locked the door.
‘I don’t know why you’re keeping me here,’ she panted, seething with disappointment and rage. ‘What do you want with me? I’ll tell you whatever you want to know if you’ll just let me go. Please, please, let me go. I can’t bear to stay here like this any longer. It’s disgusting. It’s making me sick. It stinks in here.’
The man could have been deaf for all the response he gave. Slowly he put a fresh bottle of water on the floor, and a brown paper bag of food. As he turned to leave, she reached out and clutched his sleeve.
‘Don’t leave me here alone,’ she cried out. ‘Please, don’t leave me here alone. I can’t bear it.’
Pulling away from her grasping fingers, he spun round to look at her. Through narrow slits in his plastic mask she caught a glimpse of light reflected off his eyes. They glittered coldly as he spoke for the first time since he had brought her there.
‘You’re not alone,’ he whispered. ‘You’ll never be alone again. You’re with me now. You’re going to stay here, and I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let anyone frighten you.’
‘You’re frightening me.’
‘You know that’s not true.’
‘Why are keeping me locked up in here? Why won’t you let me go?’
‘I have to protect you.’
‘What do you mean? Who are you protecting me from?’
‘From yourself. Don’t be frightened. Not any more. I won’t let anyone take you away from me. You’re safe here. This is where you belong, here with me.’
‘What are you talking about? I don’t even know you.’
Without warning he raised his arm and hit her a stinging blow on the side of her head. Shocked, she fell back onto the bed.
‘Don’t say that!’ he hissed. ‘Don’t ever say that again. You’re staying here, where you’re safe. With me.’
Terrified, she cowered against the wall. The hard mattress quivered as the door closed. A few seconds later she heard footsteps pounding down the stairs. With a groan, she rolled over onto her side and gave way to hysterical weeping. When she recovered from her crying fit, she tried to make sense of what was happening, but the whole situation was crazy.
Clearly her kidnapper was insane. He claimed to know her, but there was nothing familiar about him. She was sure she had never met him before. He had brought her there in a case of mistaken identity, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Now he had gone, she tried to think about her situation. Either this was all a dreadful mistake or her kidnap must be connected to Chris and the telephone call she had received from the police inspector. She tried to remember the conversation. The inspector had wanted to know whether she had seen Chris the previous Thursday. Louise remembered little of their ensuing conversation, apart from the inspector asking to see her on her return to London. The following morning Louise had received a call to say she would be picked up at Euston by a police driver.
With hindsight she realised it was odd that the driver had neither been in uniform nor driving a police vehicle, but she had thought nothing of it at the time. The police often used unmarked cars. They didn’t all wear uniform. It had been a mistake not to ask to see the driver’s identity card, but she had been expecting someone to meet her, so it hadn’t seemed necessary to challenge him at the time. She should have been more careful, but it was too late to change that now. In any case, he could have shown her his membership card of a local gym and she would have been none the wiser. They had met in a busy station, and he had been in a hurry to leave, on the pretext that they shouldn’t keep the detective inspector waiting. Of course, Louise understood now that the reason for their rushed departure had been very different. He hadn’t wanted to be seen, or picked up on a surveillance camera.
There was no point in going over and over her mistake in her mind. The man who had kidnapped her was violent. She had no idea what his rambling threats meant. Either he was on drugs or else he was insane. Either way it came to the same thing. Somehow she had to get away from him before he really hurt her, but that wasn’t going to be easy. Struggling to maintain her composure, she broke down in tears again, and cried until her head hurt and her eyes were so swollen she could barely see.
28
Helena seemed reassuringly docile. Even so, at the last minute Geraldine changed her mind. Instead of taking her sister to the local café, where a few of her colleagues might be having lunch, she drove her to a small restaurant not far away. Geraldine had been there once before with Sam. The food was reasonable, and cheap. Without wishing to be stingy, she didn’t think Helena would appreciate a sophisticated menu.
The place wasn’t as pleasant as Geraldine remembered it.
‘This is nice,’ Helena said, looking around and smiling, as they sat down on plastic chairs.
She removed her scarf. Her eyes no longer inflamed, with her greying hair dyed black she looked almost exactly like her twin. Geraldine breathed a silent sigh of relief that she hadn’t taken Helena to the café nearest to the police station. Anyone seeing them together could be in no doubt they were twins, virtually identical. If Helena gained a stone in weight, it might be difficult to tell them apart.
After studying the menu, Helena ordered the all-day full English breakfast. Then she leaned forward and stared intently at Geraldine.
‘Now, first things first, we got to talk about mum’s will.’
It was strange hearing Helena talking about their ‘mum’, when Geraldine had only really spoken to her birth mother once. She wasn’t sure how to respond. It was more than simple caution when dealing with an unknown sibling. She had spent years interrogating liars and criminals, ferreting out their secrets when they were doing their best to hide the truth. She had developed an instinct about people. Now her intuition screamed at her to be wary of Helena. But it was hard to disentangle her professional savvy from her troubled emotions. She nodded uneasily, perturbed by gazing into eyes that could have been staring out of her own face, her own yet not her own.<
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‘I heard from the lawyer,’ Helena said briskly, her expression sharp. ‘Has he contacted you?’
‘No. I haven’t heard from anyone about her will. I didn’t know she’d left one.’
Helena’s face flushed with anger. ‘What do you mean you don’t know she’d left one? Didn’t she…’ she broke off, biting her lip. Then her frown cleared. ‘I don’t have to tell you nothing. And if the lawyer don’t know where to find you, there’s nothing you can do about it, because you don’t know who he is, or where he is. It’s all meant to be for me anyway. Not for you. There’s nothing for you. You never even knew her, did you? So I don’t know what makes you think you can just turn up and get your hands on a share of what’s mine. It’s all supposed to be mine. That’s what she wanted. You can’t go against her wishes, not now she’s dead.’
With a sigh, Geraldine understood that Helena had been expecting to keep all of their mother’s property for herself. Right at the last minute Geraldine had appeared, and Helena was afraid she would be entitled to inherit half of their mother’s estate.
‘Helena, I’m not interested in anything she had. Like you said, I never even knew her. I only met her once. Although that was her choice, not mine.’
‘So you keep saying,’ Helena muttered.
‘It’s true. But I don’t suppose she had much to leave anyway,’ Geraldine went on.
‘It may not be much to you, but it’s a lot to someone who’s got nothing.’
‘Well, you can have it all. I don’t want anything. Helena, I never even knew her. Why would I want anything of hers? It’s not like it would have sentimental value for me, is it? Although I would like a few photos if that’s all right with you.’
‘What do you want them for?’
Geraldine shrugged. She didn’t admit that she had kept a photograph of her mother hidden in her beside cabinet ever since she had discovered she was adopted. If Helena didn’t understand why she might want to have a few pictures of her mother, there was no point in trying to explain. Right now she was trying to convince Helena that she wasn’t trying to take a share of their mother’s estate.
Deadly Alibi Page 13
