Secrets of the Dead: A serial killer thriller that will have you hooked (Detective Robyn Carter crime thriller series Book 2)

by Carol Wyer

  ‘There are no relatives, people he used to live with?’

  ‘No. He lived with me once and that didn’t work out. He gets these really bad headaches and they make him scream and cry out. It’s really horrible. Then he gets in filthy moods because of the headaches. There’s no one who’d take that on, believe me. Is Dan in trouble?’

  Robyn could see concern on her face. She may have found it hard living with her brother but she cared about him all the same. ‘We have to track him down.’ Stacey shrugged, a defeated gesture.

  Mitz gave the woman a kindly smile and moved away while Robyn questioned her further. She made little headway. Stacey really knew very little about Dan’s life or his habits.

  Stacey glanced at her phone and stood up suddenly. ‘I have to get to work. I can’t be late. We get points if we’re late, and if we get too many points we get an official warning.’

  Robyn also rose and spotted Mitz standing in front of the photograph of Stacey, Dan and their late mother.

  ‘Stacey, this is you with Dan, isn’t it?’

  Her voice softened for a moment, the big sister emerging. She picked up the photograph. ‘Yes, he was an ugly little sod. He was born with one ear bigger than the other. He used to get ribbed something awful about it.’

  ‘Can I borrow this photo?’

  Stacey shrugged. ‘Go ahead. I don’t know why I’ve kept it all these years. I suppose it was because it was the only picture I had of her.’

  Robyn gazed at the sad little family, Dan wearing a baseball cap and shorts, barely old enough for school, his hand in his sister’s. Stacey with large front teeth that she had yet to grow into, a skinny child with knobbly knees, and their mother, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, a faraway look on her tired face. She squinted at the scene. Just to the side was a shimmer of water. ‘Where was it taken?’

  ‘It’s near Lichfield Cathedral, at a lake called Stowe Pool. We used to go that way to school every day. Sometimes, in the summer, we’d have a picnic there. That was before Mum really got into drugs and things went wrong. Look, I really have to go. Take the photo. Bring it back when you’ve finished.’

  Robyn marched out to the squad car, talking rapidly to Mitz, ‘The photograph, it’s the clue we needed.’

  Mitz nodded. ‘You spotted it too?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was Dan’s ear. If you close your eyes and think about it, it resembles that shadow Anna spotted on the CCTV footage. It’s always struck me as peculiar. At first I thought it was the way the light had distorted the shadow, but now I think it might look like Dan’s head. It’s like someone’s got a very large ear.’

  She stopped dead and stared at him, mind whirring. Her head bobbed up and down. ‘Mitz, you could be right. I was looking at their mother. She and Harriet Worth could be sisters. They look very similar.’

  ‘Back to the station?’

  She waved the photograph at him. ‘Not yet, I want to check out a theory first. Stowe Pool holds a great significance for Dan. I want to check it out.’

  Fifty-Eight

  David sounded as laid-back as usual as Robyn spoke to him from the squad car. ‘We’ve had confirmation that Dan’s not shown up for work today. And Lord Bishton arrived at his house late yesterday. He’s not answering his phone yet. As soon as he does, we’ll bring him up to date with events.

  ‘Keep the house under watch until Lord Bishton leaves again for Thailand. He is not to attend any functions without a police escort. I want you and Matt to keep him under surveillance at all times.’

  ‘Roger that. Matt’s there now. Anna has compared the photograph you emailed across of Dan against the still she took from the CCTV footage and they match. The shadow looks a lot like Dan’s head. It appears he was near the control box outside the sauna the night Miles Ashbrook died. I checked with the maintenance guy at Bromley Hall and he confirmed there were two keys to the control box and one has disappeared. He last checked the key safe on Monday the fourteenth, two days before Miles Ashbrook died.’

  ‘Any news on Scott Dawson?’

  ‘No sightings of him or his car, and he hasn’t contacted family or friends.’

  ‘I hope he hasn’t done anything stupid, given his state of mind. Okay, we’re almost at Lichfield. Talk later.’

  Mitz pulled up by the cathedral. The drizzle and rain from the last few days had gone, to be replaced by a perfect winter’s day, and as Robyn emerged from the car she heard the distant honking of geese on the reservoir. The three spires of the cathedral rose into the limitless cobalt sky, criss-crossed by several fat vapour trails. She had little idea where to begin her search, although she sensed she was in the right place.

  They cut past the cathedral and into Dam Street with its historic buildings. No doubt David would have known the history of each of them, but Mitz was more intent on spotting possible hiding places rather than exploring the history of the city. In the car they had thrown around ideas, and decided Dan had a strong connection to Stowe Pool that might bring him here and even provide him with a hideout.

  They separated at the entrance to the reservoir, Mitz heading left, and stopping at the various paths that led to winding streets to explore the backyards and alleyways behind them. Robyn stuck to Stowe Pool itself. Gaggles of geese waddled along the path in front of her, chattering noisily as they went. A sharp wind blew from behind her, forcing her to quicken her pace. She turned away from the water, ripples blowing along its surface, and scouted along the hedge that surrounded the grassed playing field. It was open space and afforded few hiding places. A group of toddlers with mothers were running about on the grass. Apart from the children’s squeals of delight carried by the wind, there was nothing else to be heard.

  Robyn passed the empty playground and returned to the path around the reservoir, now bordered by denser foliage. She crouched and searched under soggy-leaved bushes for signs that someone had slept under them, and found nothing other than a pile of dog excrement. Aged trees flanked the bushes, none of them viable places for someone to spend a night. She walked with deliberate steps, methodically checking every bush. She hoped, with every fibre of her being, that this wasn’t going to be fruitless. As the path curved left, a bench came into view. There were several more ahead, each offering a place for someone to spend a night. She paused at the first. It was impossible to know if it had been used. Damp splodges of water stood proud on the wood where earlier rain had fallen. Her limbs felt heavy and her brain sluggish with exhaustion. Although there were no signs of him, she knew he had been here. He was like his wretched moniker – a leopard.

  For an hour, Robyn and Mitz combed the site for any sign of Dan. Neither of them found anything.

  She was silent on their return to the squad car, disappointment oozing from every pore. Mitz remained optimistic. ‘Dan lived close to Derby railway station. What if he caught a train from Derby to Lichfield?’ She pondered his idea. It was feasible.

  ‘Drop me back at the station and check that out. Good work.’

  ‘Guv, I should really drop you back home. You look like you’re going to keel over at any moment. I’ve never seen you look so tired.’

  She smiled at him. ‘Rubbish. I always look like this when I’m working on a difficult case. I won’t be able to sleep. This all feels like it’s coming to a head and I want to be in position when it does.’ She shut her eyes for a moment. ‘Thanks for your concern though.’

  ‘Granny Manju wouldn’t want you to be ill,’ he replied with a smile. Robyn acknowledged it with a smile of her own. ‘But she would want this villain apprehended and brought to justice.’

  ‘And we want to do right by Granny Manju, don’t we?’

  Fifty-Nine

  Dan sniffed his armpits and squirted them with deodorant. Leopards had their own particular smell, but he didn’t want to alert anyone to his intentions by stinking like a tramp. He washed his face and drew the disposable razor down his cheek, removing the growth from the last couple of days. The station toile
ts were empty apart from him, and he savoured the moment as he prepared for his final day.

  Overnight, he had caught the train from Derby to Lichfield. It had been a circuitous route, taking him first to Tamworth and on to Lichfield Trent Valley, some distance from the city centre. Sitting on the platform at Lichfield Trent Valley, drinking hot chocolate from a vending machine, he had come up with another perfect plan to catch his quarry.

  He telephoned the chauffeur service that Lord Bishton always used. This valuable nugget of information had, like all the other information he had accrued over his time at Bromley Hall, been doled out by Charlie. Dear old Charlie, who gossiped for England and who felt sorry for his colleague – the quiet, shy, polite porter.

  It was thanks to Charlie that he’d learned that Scott Dawson always took a sauna after his class on a Wednesday, and where to find the key to the box that regulated the temperature in the sauna. He felt a surge of annoyance. That part had been so well orchestrated, and Scott Dawson would have died in the sauna had Miles Ashbrook not suddenly turned up. Dan had heard him coming and hidden in a locker in the changing room, his plan to keep Scott shut in the sauna until he passed out from the heat in jeopardy. He crunched up his paper cup and threw it onto the railway line. Stupid Miles Ashbrook with his swaggering stance and superior ways. He was no loss to society. Still, it should have been Scott’s body they discovered in the sauna, not Ashbrook’s. Scott Dawson had more lives than a cat. Twice he had escaped Dan’s clutches. Dan’s vision blurred and he felt himself being pulled into a black mood. He reminded himself to breathe deeply and stay calm. He had to be in control.

  He had called Bromley Chauffeurs as soon as he arrived in Lichfield, and, imitating one of the posh folk who visited Bromley Hall, he’d said, ‘Sorry to trouble you at such short notice, I need to be collected from Lichfield Trent Valley at six thirty this afternoon to go to Bromley Hall. Is that possible? Thank you so much.’

  He had hunkered down on the bench in the waiting room overnight, a coat over his body. It was freezing, yet with the adrenalin and excitement coursing through his veins he didn’t feel the cold. Daytime was easier, as he wandered across to the flats where his sister and he had once lived. He didn’t dare go to Stowe Pool yet. It wasn’t time. Instead, he hung around shops and cafés, mingling with the shoppers, biding his time until evening fell.

  Now he waited for the chauffeur-driven Mercedes to appear so he could put the plan into action. He could see headlights approaching the station and he held up a hand. The car drew to a halt and a man in a peaked cap got out. ‘Mr Asquith?’ he asked.

  Dan smiled genially. ‘That’s me.’

  The man held the door open and Dan slid in, the length of rope he intended using hidden in his hands.

  ‘Right, sir,’ said the driver, hopping into his seat. ‘Bromley Hall it is. Have you been there before?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ replied Dan. ‘I’m very familiar with it.’

  Sixty

  ‘I’ve been thinking about Scott Dawson.’ Shearer swigged his coffee and scowled at the liquid in his paper cup. ‘This stuff doesn’t improve. Or possibly my taste buds haven’t yet recovered.’

  Robyn rubbed the back of her aching neck, trying to rub out the knots that had formed there.

  ‘He kept one big secret from everyone – his affair with Miles Ashbrook. If he was going to hide out, could it not be somewhere he and Ashbrook both knew? They must have had somewhere they met up for their affair. It can’t all have been conducted in rooms in Bromley Hall.’

  ‘They spent a night in London.’

  ‘I doubt he’d go back there – it’d be too expensive to hole up at a London hotel indefinitely,’ scoffed Shearer, his eyebrows dancing. ‘Where did Ashbrook live?’

  ‘In a village, three miles away from Bromley Hall. It’s really close to the Hall. Surely he wouldn’t be there?’

  ‘You won’t know until you look.’

  ‘I’ll check it out.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘I didn’t say thanks.’

  ‘You were going to.’ He winked, waved and wandered off.

  Back in her office, she moved towards the whiteboard. She placed the photograph of Dan Williams in the middle of the board, next to a photograph of Harriet Worth, and connected them with a red line. Around the pair, in a circle, she put photographs of all the victims so far, including Alan Worth, then added a picture of Scott and one of Lord Bishton.

  She crossed her arms and closed her eyes. The puzzle was falling into place at last. They had victims, a perp and a reason for the killings, and they all hinged on Harriet Worth’s death. She gathered Anna and Mitz into the office.

  ‘I’m concerned that Dan Williams will strike again. He has become emboldened by his killings and knows we are on to him. I don’t think that will deter him from his killing spree. He is without doubt on a mission, and will attempt to kill these two men.’ She pointed out Scott Dawson and Adrian Bishton. ‘It’s imperative we protect these individuals while at the same time trying to track down our murderer before he strikes again. Our problem is, we don’t know where one of them is. I want you both to try the house where Miles Ashbrook lived. He rented it and it’s vacant at the moment. There’s a possibility Scott is there, given he is not at his own house or with any of his known friends. I’ll try and locate other places he might have holed up. And, I don’t need to tell you, if Dan Williams is in the vicinity, he’s a dangerous man, so exercise caution.’

  ‘Okay, guv.’ The pair went immediately, leaving Robyn with her board and Post-its. She laid the yellow pieces out on her large desk this time, with Harriet’s name written on the first note, and placed in the centre of the desk. Alan Worth had accepted one and a half million pounds to stay quiet about the incident. Dan had taken that amount and shared it among the people he blamed most for Harriet’s death. Those people included Alan himself. Not only had Dan attempted to murder the man, he had stuffed wads of money into his mouth. Robyn wrote:

  Alan Worth

  Received £1,500,000 compensation.

  Money in mouth symbolic of greed.

  Invoice for £250,000.

  She moved on to Linda Upton, who had invited Harriet to the spa, had not prevented her from getting drunk on champagne, nor realised Harriet had left their shared room for a swim, and therefore had been deemed partly culpable for Harriet’s death. Dan had undressed Linda before drowning her. Was this so she suffered a similar fate to her friend? She wrote:

  Linda Upton

  Guilty for inviting and not looking after Harriet.

  Wearing only underwear. Like Harriet, who died wearing hers?

  Invoice for £250,000.

  Rory Wallis had served the champagne that had made Harriet drunk. In Dan’s mind, this had played a significant part in her death, hence he had not only murdered Rory Wallis, he had first made him drink a bottle of champagne. She scribbled, faster now:

  Rory Wallis

  Served champagne that made Harriet drunk.

  Forced to drink champagne before death.

  Invoice for £250,000.

  Jakub Woźniak had not cleared up the water from the dripping shower head that caused Harriet to slip. He had also failed to lock the door to the spa.

  Jakub Woźniak

  Left spa open. Failed to clean up water that Harriet slipped on.

  Invoice for £250,000.

  She was left with the problem of those still likely to be attacked. Who would Dan go after next? She couldn’t be certain about Scott. He wasn’t to blame for the spa being left open, because Jakub had been there that night, yet Dan had a list of people he held responsible. He had worked at the Hall and spoken to colleagues. He would certainly have learned that Scott was duty manager on the night of the accident, and therefore the locking of the spa fell to him. She crossed out Left spa open on Jakub’s note and made a new one for Scott:

  Scott Dawson

  Left spa open.

  No invoice yet.

&n
bsp; And finally there was Lord Bishton, who had offered Alan Worth the one and a half million pounds not to take Bromley Hall to court. It was logical Bishton would be targeted. If he was, that would take the total of the invoices to the one and a half million paid out for Harriet’s accident. She stared at her notes, now arranged in a circle like the ones on the whiteboard. She jotted down the names of everyone working at the Hall who might have been there on that disastrous night. Charlie had been on duty. Surely Dan would not go after his colleague? How could he hold Charlie responsible for anything? Or Lorna, who had been in the beauty salon? Robyn nibbled at her bottom lip and wrote Charlie? It wasn’t possible. How could Charlie be implicated in any way?

  She pulled up the information on Charlie and called her cousin.

  ‘I wondered when you’d call again,’ he said. ‘I figured you’d need me sooner or later.’

  ‘How well you know me.’

  ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘That’s the reason for the call. I actually do need you. You got along very well with Charlie, the porter at Bromley Hall. As I recall, he was the source of much of the information you gave me.’

  ‘He’s a lovely old chap. Took a shine to Jeanette.’

  ‘We’ve identified our killer. It’s Dan Williams, one of the porters at Bromley Hall. He’s disappeared off the radar for the moment and, although I can’t be certain, I think Charlie may be at risk. Mulholland is not giving me any extra manpower and I could do with someone going to keep an eye on him for a couple of days, until we catch Williams.’