Dead Alone

by Gay Longworth

  Next the cold-blooded killer forced her inside and proceeded to strangle her. ‘As my life flashed past me, all I could think of was my family, friends and fans. Just then I heard my grandmother’s voice shouting at me, “The clock, the clock!” She’d left it to me in her will, it was on the hall table. I was on the verge of blacking out, but she gave me the strength to pick it up …’

  Jessie put the paper down. ‘This is bollocks. The killer has never left a mark before. Why start now?’

  ‘Why would she lie?’

  ‘Oh, Colin, bless you. I’ve met her, she is some piece of work, she would do anything to get a headline. She’s manufactured this, and she’s not going to get away with it. This time I’m going to get her on wasting police time, when I’ve finished with her, she’ll wish she never left her fucking tap-dancing class.’

  Colin let the swear word slide. ‘Does this mean you won’t stay for lunch?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have stayed for dinner.’

  ‘But you’re glad you did?’

  Jessie smiled. ‘Yes, I’m glad I did.’

  He poked Jessie in the ribs. ‘Thought you might be.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Let’s just say too much red wine makes me sleep badly.’

  Jessie’s stomach lurched. ‘I told you, I found Ty in the corridor …’ She retreated into the kitchen and started running the cold tap.

  ‘Yes, you told me about Ty, you told me about the story, but you didn’t tell me about –’

  ‘Shh,’ said Jessie, turning the tap off. ‘I think that’s my phone.’ She followed the noise to the sitting room, where her phone lay charging on a side table. It was Jones. He must have seen the Sunday papers.

  ‘I tried you at home,’ said Jones, sounding terse.

  ‘I’m still at my brother’s house. It was too late to leave last night, they’d already cooked supper. I’m coming back today.’ She didn’t want to feel guilty, she was entitled to a break. But she did feel guilty. She hadn’t come away for a break.

  ‘Tell me Mr Dean and his children did not stay with you.’

  She could have lied. They hadn’t, after all, stayed with her. They’d stayed with her brother and sister-in-law.

  ‘Jesus, Jessie, this is too complicated a case for you to –’

  ‘It’s all right, sir. I’ve got it under control.’

  ‘Got what under control, Detective?’

  She thought about him touching her. Him leaning forward. Pressing his face against hers. His hands moving over her skin.

  ‘I’ll be in first thing tomorrow morning,’ she said.

  ‘I want you in earlier than that.’

  ‘Do you want me to do something about Jami Talbot?’

  ‘What about Jami Talbot?’

  ‘You haven’t seen the papers?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘That’s not why you called?’

  ‘No, Jessie, I called because you asked me to discover who Craig’s father was. Or do you already know the answer?’

  Jessie’s chest hollowed, remembering last night’s close conversation in the dark. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘I still trust your judgement, Jessie, and I’m sure P.J.’s explanation was convincing, but right now I’m focusing on Craig.’

  ‘Craig?’

  ‘I agree that it doesn’t make P.J. more or less of a suspect. The set-up probably suited him quite well. I guess that P.J. is more concerned with the younger boys than Craig.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, I’m not with you.’

  ‘Craig wants that kind of attention for himself. Think about it. He had a key to the house on the river, he’s implied that he was sleeping with Verity, he says he was trying to help her, but Verity isn’t alive to corroborate any of that. What if he isn’t the brooding love-sick teenager? What if it’s part of the act, and his trips up and down the drainpipe weren’t to help Verity but to harm her?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why? I would’ve thought that was perfectly obvious. Verity stood in the way of his mother and father. Craig wanted his family back together again, out in the open, like normal people. With Verity dead, Craig could have a proper dad, not just one on paper. Anyone can get hold of a birth certificate. Craig has probably known for years, or maybe Bernie told him – either way, it’s natural for a boy to want to know who his father is. P.J. wasn’t going to solve the situation. A divorce meant losing the boys, so Craig took charge. He’s young, I know, but he has an obsessive personality. It takes one to plan a murder like this. Time and money and opportunity, he had all three and he knew Eve Wirrel. She was the perfect way to take the limelight off the family. She even lived on his cycle route. You must agree, the fact that Craig is P. J. Dean’s son changes things?’ Jones waited for Jessie to respond. ‘Jessie, are you still there?’

  There was still no response from Jessie.

  ‘Jessie, I know you like the boy, but put your personal feelings aside. No more special treatment for that family, not even P. J. Dean – especially not P. J. Dean. He got a fifteen-year-old girl pregnant. It’s no different from the shit we have to deal with day in, day out. Dress it up, dress it down, it’s still the same old shit. Jessie? Hello, can you hear me? Jessie? Damn these mobile phones.’

  Jessie threw her dress and high heels in a bag, left P.J.’s clothes with Colin and was racing past the cooling towers of Sheffield when P.J. appeared, crumpled and disorientated, for breakfast at ten.

  CHAPTER 65

  Taking a deep breath, Jessie pushed open the door to the incident room. Her team were waiting for her, alert, expectant. The room smelt of caffeine and gossip. For a split second conversation stopped, mouths hung open, then everyone moved at once, trying to resume an air of normality and failing. Attack, the best form of defence.

  ‘I know that you’re all thinking P. J. Dean is involved in these murders. And you may be right. It is now common knowledge that he and Bernie have the motive, the means and, if it weren’t for a watertight alibi, he’d be our number one suspect.’ Someone put their hand up. Jessie ignored it. ‘However,’ she said loudly, ‘there are aspects of Verity’s death that could be seen as clues pointing to Eve Wirrel.’ Group puzzlement. ‘Firstly, the remains of Verity Shore were found below a stretch of bank frequented by an art club. Secondly, the body had no hands, head or feet, the extremities that Eve Wirrel never painted. There were rumours of a lesbian affair between the two women. Both women were bled to death. Bled dry. Like the public have been by them. It could be a message. As irresponsible as it was of me to move P. J. Dean and his stepchildren to another safe house, it would be equally irresponsible of us not to look into the clues left at the scene of Eve Wirrel’s death. So, we keep our minds open. This is what I want you to do.’ She pointed to a DC. ‘Search the internet for any information on Richmond. The name, the park, the area, the Isabella Plantation especially. We now know that Eve Wirrel was bisexual, let’s find out who else she saw. I’m told it’s a long list. Remember, despite her anarchic protestations, she was the daughter of a baronet. Examine all avenues.’

  ‘What about the Cary Conrad investigation?’

  ‘I’m on top of that.’

  ‘And what about P. J. Dean?’ asked Burrows.

  ‘You on top of that too?’ said Fry, grinning.

  Jessie didn’t miss a beat. ‘We bring him in for questioning.’ Reaction oscillated through her audience.

  ‘I’ll get on to it right away,’ said Burrows.

  Jessie poured herself a glass of water and drank it, drowning out the nausea.

  ‘Any forensics on that boat?’

  ‘Niaz is still investigating that.’

  ‘Taking a bit of a punt, aren’t you, boss?’

  Jessie had an overwhelming desire to slap Fry across the face. But rising to him would only make it worse. ‘I want every single photograph of Verity Shore in one pile, Eve Wirrel in another, and Cary Conrad a third, I want the parties they went to and the guest lists of those partie
s entered into a computer. Cross-reference them. Are you getting my drift?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Fry. ‘You’re looking for a serial killer who is culling celebrities he or she doesn’t think deserve their status.’ His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  ‘It’s a possibility.’

  ‘But not a probability.’

  ‘No, Fry. Probability is what has got the Force into the mess it’s in today.’ Tense laughter scattered through the room. ‘And you can tell DI Ward I said that.’ Jessie picked up her notes and left the room. Bastards.

  Burrows caught up with her on the way to her office. ‘Dean won’t be back until tomorrow. He wants to know if you can go to his house for the interview. Apparently his housekeeper isn’t there and he doesn’t want to bring the boys here.’

  ‘No.’ She carried on walking. ‘He’s taking the piss.’

  ‘He implied we would sneak to the press, guv. He doesn’t want the boys to be scared by the cameras.’

  ‘What about using a nanny?’

  ‘He doesn’t want to leave the kids with a stranger.’

  ‘How very convenient.’ She was too angry to think effectively.

  ‘What do you want to do, boss? If he isn’t under arrest, we can’t force him to come here.’

  ‘Send a WPC and social services there tomorrow. Jones can interview him.’

  ‘Won’t he be expecting you to give him a going over, ma’am?’

  Jessie stopped walking and looked at Burrows. ‘I thought those children were in danger,’ she said. ‘Someone had left a skull at their gate. It wasn’t public information, Burrows. What was I supposed to think?’

  Burrows shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m not passing judgement.’

  ‘Like hell you’re not.’

  ‘All right, boss, I’m sorry about the facetious comment.’

  Jessie suddenly felt as if she’d been in a boxing ring. ‘I made a mistake,’ she said quietly.

  Burrows spoke in a soft, consoling tone. ‘Yes, you did. Don’t make another. If you hide from this now, Mark and his lot will eat you for breakfast. You’re right, it could have been Verity’s skull. Continue to put that message across. And for God’s sake, don’t act like you can’t face P. J. Dean.’ Jessie closed her eyes, embarrassed but grateful that a lower-ranking officer was putting her straight. ‘Go to the house, boss. There are bound to be a few things you need to look at again. I’ll bring Dean back here.’

  She looked at Burrows. ‘I’m sorry I let you down.’

  ‘You haven’t. Yet.’

  Jessie closed the door of her office and leant against it. She’d done herself years of harm by falling for the neatly orchestrated package that is P. J. Dean. The spin. The fluff. The image. He’d lied to her, that was all she could think about. He’d lied to her in the middle of the night, and as a result she’d –

  ‘Hard weekend?’

  Jessie swung round. Mark sat in her chair, his feet on her desk, his arms stretched out behind his head. Jessie stared at the sweat patches on his shirt. He was loving this.

  ‘What are you doing in here?’

  ‘You have to do something for me.’

  Jessie laughed sarcastically. ‘Good thing you didn’t join the diplomatic corps.’

  ‘I always wanted to be a groupie, actually.’ He smiled, baring yellow teeth and a gloating mind. ‘And you are in no position to refuse, since it was you who stormed in on St Giles and got him all rankled.’

  ‘I had reason to –’

  ‘I don’t give a shit, Driver. Because of you I can’t go and speak to the leech myself. Your snitch – I need to talk to him.’

  ‘This is my case. Jones has no right telling you.’

  Mark shrugged. ‘First of all, this isn’t to do with your case. Second of all, don’t be so sure it will be your case for much longer.’

  Jessie swallowed her furious retort and kept her arms firmly by her sides. Her brothers had taught her how to fight. Mark wouldn’t stand a chance. The idea of him flat on the floor with a broken nose was too tempting. He must have read it on her face because he pushed himself back against the wall. ‘Still, I’m not really interested in your extracurricular activities. It’s Ray St Giles I’m interested in. Trust me, I wouldn’t ask for your help unless it was absolutely necessary. We can’t all go running off with pop stars, some of us have real cases to solve. Some of us actually care about the victims –’

  ‘Get to the fucking point.’

  ‘Oh dear, lovers’ tiff, was it?’

  ‘Simply a natural response to bores. So, if you wouldn’t mind …’

  He sat up. ‘Fine. Ray St Giles was fucking Veronica Mills. It went on for years – five years. Eventually she got pregnant and gave birth to Frank. Poor sad Trevor Mills had no idea, thought the baby was a miracle. Some fucking miracle. Anyway, Ray was a man possessed. He wanted Veronica and Frank for himself. He expected Veronica to leave her daughter behind with Trevor. But Veronica wouldn’t leave Clare. Then Trevor got shot. Veronica couldn’t live with the guilt and what the truth would do to her children, so she hung herself.’

  The strength in Jessie’s legs left her. She sat down abruptly. ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘This guy who works for St Giles, call him, find out if there is a St Giles junior lurking about. A prodigy. A son and heir. You didn’t come across one by any chance, did you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Didn’t come across much, did you?’

  The fight left her. Poor Clare. She leant over and picked up the phone on her desk. ‘So that’s why social services changed the names of those children. It was to protect them, after all.’

  ‘Not necessarily. No one except Irene knew that Frank was Ray’s son.’

  ‘But if no one knew, why change the names?’

  Mark Ward tapped the side of his head three times. ‘Now you’re catching on.’

  CHAPTER 66

  ‘Come on in, Tarek. You’ve been avoiding me.’ Ray St Giles pulled out a chair.

  ‘Things have been busy since your meteoric rise.’

  Ray smiled to himself. ‘Flattery. That’s good. Clever. But you’re not as clever as you think, are you, Tarek my boy? Always been told I shouldn’t trust your type.’

  Tarek stood up. It was time to leave. Alistair pushed him back down again. He was strong for a thin guy.

  ‘Did you really believe I was involved with these murders? Don’t you think I spent enough time in the fucking clink? Eh? And even if I were involved, do you think I’d be so stupid as to leave files lying around for a nosy little rat to read?’

  ‘Why are you so sure it was me?’

  Ray clicked his fingers. Alistair swiped the back of his hand across Tarek’s face.

  ‘Alistair wouldn’t betray me. That’s how I know.’

  And finally it dawned on Tarek. Alistair Gunner was not any old creep. He was Ray St Giles’ creep.

  ‘Information, boy. That’s all I had. It turns out Alistair is an exceptional researcher, got a real knack for it. Anyway, the point is, I know you went to that copper. Nice tight arse she’s got, don’t you think?’

  Alistair gripped Tarek’s shoulder harder.

  ‘I can almost understand why. Perhaps it did look strange, all that info on Verity Shore and the rest.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘But I didn’t know someone was going to kill the stupid whore. I just wanted her on the show. Remember what I said to you? No more fat birds bleating on about their unfaithful boyfriends. She was this close to coming on, that Verity Shore, then she fucking died. It would have been fatuous, don’t you think, not to use the information we had? Especially since Danny Knight knew before anyone else. It was news, Tarek. It was stuff people deserved to know about. They were being conned.’

  He walked round the desk and leant close to Tarek’s face. ‘I could defend myself, if I had to. Find alibis, jump through the hoops. But I don’t want to. Look around you. This new office is just the beginning. I would be very unhappy if your misplaced sense of civic duty got those lov
ely headlines we’ve had recently turned against me. You do understand, don’t you?’

  Tarek’s mobile started to ring. He looked at the name. He began to sweat.

  ‘Answer it, then. You’re not a prisoner.’

  ‘Hello, Karima,’ he said in a stilted voice.

  ‘You can’t talk,’ said Jessie.

  ‘I’m in a meeting.’

  ‘One question. Has Ray got a son?’

  ‘Possibly. What time?’

  ‘Aged about twenty-eight?’

  ‘About that. I’ll be there.’

  ‘Ring me later with a name?’

  ‘Is Muhammad coming?’

  ‘Muhammad?’ asked Jessie.

  ‘No. That’s a pity.’

  ‘Muhammad … Ali?’ It rolled off her tongue unconsciously.

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Ali?’

  ‘A bit longer than that, we’re still at work.’

  ‘Alistair? Alistair Gunner?’

  ‘Yes, sure. Got to go. See you later then.’

  ‘The research assistant?’

  ‘Bye.’ He pressed ‘end’.

  Ray smiled. ‘That’s nice. Good to keep to your own. So? Do we understand each other?’

  Tarek nodded.

  ‘Right. Now fuck off and make me some coffee. I’m going for a piss.’

  Tarek stood up and faced Alistair. The family resemblance was not obvious. But it was there. In the eyes. It explained everything. Why Alistair stuck so close to Ray. Why the closet conversations. Why he had access to Ray’s personal files.

  ‘I suggest you look for another job,’ said Alistair. ‘Can’t have you ruining plans.’

  ‘Like father, like son –’

  Alistair hit him low, fast and hard. Tarek doubled over and fell to the floor.

  ‘Go. If you know what’s good for you.’

  CHAPTER 67

  Mark and Jessie stared at each other. The idea that Frank had been by Ray St Giles’ side all along was monumentally depressing. Could all that goodness be swallowed up by one man?