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

by Carol Wyer

  ‘Couple of days?’

  ‘I’m seriously hoping to catch him before then. I can’t afford not to. Mulholland is breathing down my neck, and is going to haul me off the case soon if I can’t get a grip on it, while Shearer is hovering about in the background. I expect he’s waiting to swoop in and get the glory. He’s got an agenda, I can tell. It’s the way his eyes glitter when he’s talking to you, like he’s eyeing up a prize, or prey.’

  ‘I know him of old.’ Ross had no love for the man, having crossed paths with him on a few occasions. ‘I’ll watch Charlie for you. I haven’t got any major stuff going on here. Besides, I’m sure I still owe you some free work as thanks for our spa break. Charlie won’t know I’m there.’

  Robyn could hear the edge in his voice. He was excited to be involved in some police work again. She felt a surge of affection for her loyal cousin. ‘If the killer turns up, no heroics. I mean it, Ross. You call it in immediately.’

  ‘Scouts’ honour,’ he replied with a deep chuckle.

  ‘If anything was to happen to you…’ She left it unsaid. Ross knew how she felt. She owed him so much.

  ‘Nothing will happen. If I see anything suspicious, I’ll phone you. I won’t go in.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll text you his address. Hope there’s nothing to worry about, but I ought to cover my bases.’

  ‘I’ll cover this one for you.’

  She studied her notes and hoped she hadn’t missed anyone who could be in danger, because if she had, that person could soon be dead.

  She pulled up the information they had on Ashbrook. Where could Scott be? So far they knew he had worked in various locations in the UK, including Edinburgh, Harrogate and Devon – all too far away from Bromley Hall and Staffordshire. She was about to shut off the computer and go back to the board when she thought of Tricia and rang her.

  ‘Tricia, I want to let you know that at this stage we believe Miles’s death was suspicious. I can’t tell you much more than that. It would help me greatly if you knew of any places that Miles liked to visit – maybe for a weekend, or just the day.’

  ‘He liked the theatre and often went to London. I don’t know much about his life. No, sorry, I can’t think of anywhere he used to go, apart from the caravan in Matlock.’

  ‘He has a caravan?’

  ‘No, his parents do. Well, his mum still owns it. She hasn’t used it in years. She hasn’t got the heart to get rid of it. It holds too many memories. Miles’s dad had a fear of flying, so they bought a static caravan in Matlock and spent holidays there. Mark spent time with Miles there. It’s in the Derbyshire dales.’

  Her stomach flipped. ‘Tricia, thank you. You might have just helped out hugely. I’ll keep you informed.’ She ended the call and then dialled Mitz.

  ‘Mitz, once you’ve checked out the house Miles Ashbrook rented, I want you to head to Matlock.’ She gave out the information for the caravan park and sat back. She was back on course and it was the most exhilarating feeling.

  Sixty-One

  Dan pulled up outside Lord Bishton’s property. This was a daring plan, but he was the Lichfield Leopard, and nothing would thwart him. By now his absence at Bromley Hall would have been noted, the police would most likely have put two and two together and discovered the identity of the person responsible for killing four people. They were likely to be searching for him, so home was not an option.

  It didn’t matter to Dan. He wasn’t going home. Today was the day he’d earmarked on his calendar with the red letter X. Once he had disposed of Lord Bishton he would be joining his beloved Harriet. He patted his trouser pocket. He’d bought the suit in a charity shop, especially for this day. It was grey and had a double-breasted jacket. It would serve not only as an ideal disguise for a chauffeur, it would make an ideal wedding suit. Harriet was going to meet him at their bench. She would wait for him to swallow all his pills that made him foggy and numb, and holding his hand, they would walk into Stowe Pool and be together forever more.

  It had all been her idea. She had snuggled in his arms as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

  ‘Dan, I know how we can be together – properly.’

  He had lifted his head from the arm of the settee. He couldn’t focus on the television and the bright glare from it hurt his eyes, so he closed them again, allowing the warmth of her body to seep into his own.

  ‘You can free me from this world of not-dead, yet not alive.’

  ‘I’d do anything for you,’ he mumbled, his head swimming as he battled to stay awake and listen to her.

  ‘If you can find all those responsible for my death, and avenge me, we can spend eternity together. I’ll be with you at the end.’

  He shook his head to clear it but it didn’t help.

  ‘How, my love?’

  ‘I’ll meet you at our special place, once you have done away with them all, and show you. You’ll need to take extra pills, then I’ll show you the door to eternity. It lies in the water at Stowe Pool, but only those who have drowned once can assist the living through it.’

  His head dropped back against the arm of the settee. It was perfect. He would get a job at Bromley Hall, find out who was responsible for her death and kill each and every one of them. Then he would go with her through the watery grave doorway to paradise.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ he whispered, as the fog overtook him and he drifted into a deep slumber.

  It had taken over a year before he had got a job at the Hall, but making friends with old Charlie at the old man’s regular pub had given him the break he needed. Charlie had told him of the opening for a porter and even recommended him to the management. Since then, he had slowly been investigating Harriet’s death. No one could have suspected the quiet, invisible man – the quiet, invisible man who had since transformed into a deadly killer. He smiled at the thought.

  The police knew his name, where he worked and where he lived, but they did not know Dan. He was the Lichfield Leopard, stealthy, cunning and a survivor. However, unlike a leopard, Dan could change his spots, and had managed to alter his appearance.

  He checked his reflection in the rear-view mirror. He had pulled the cap well down on his head and the pencilled-on moustache made him look much older, as did the glasses with clear lenses. He looked nothing like Dan the porter. The real driver of the vehicle was trussed and knocked out on chloroform. He’d be dead to the world for ages, and if he did come around, he’d be unable to make any noise.

  Dan waited, heart hammering in his chest. It was time at last for next kill. This is for you, my love. The door to the large house opened and Lord Bishton came out in full regalia, including a bright-red bow tie. Dan wanted to laugh, but instead he kept a serious demeanour, more befitting a chauffeur. He opened the back door to the Mercedes and stood to attention. ‘Good evening, Lord Bishton.’

  ‘Where’s the usual chappy?’ barked Lord Bishton, sliding into the Mercedes.

  ‘He came down with flu suddenly.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘There’s a lot of it about, sir.’ He wanted to shut the door, but Bishton had one leg out, a shining black dress shoe on the gravel. ‘He phoned me and asked if I could stand in.’

  ‘So you know where we’re headed?’

  ‘Weston Hall, sir.’ Dan kept the smug look from his face. He had found out everything he needed to know from Charlie. This man wasn’t going to catch him out.

  Bishton gave him a steely look. ‘Flu?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Len’s got flu? Poor old chap. I expect that means Sarah will have to look after him.’

  ‘That’s right, sir. Len called me earlier. Sounded awful.’ He hoped Bishton would draw in his leg. He was eager to get on the road and carry out his plan. He had the claw hammer in the glove box. He was going to beat the man senseless. The thought excited him. He coughed politely. ‘I’m sure Sarah will take care of him. Ready, sir?’

  Lord Bishton patted down his pockets. ‘Blast! Forgotten my notes for t
he speech. Hang on.’ He clambered back out of the car and strode to the house, where he fumbled with his key and let himself in. Yolk-yellow light flooded the entrance. Bishton moved towards the darkened lounge.

  A soft whisper in his ear brought Dan to his senses. Harriet worked it out before him. The darkened room gave it away. Bishton wasn’t collecting his notes. He was on to him. Somehow the police had alerted him. A curtain of rage dropped in front of his eyes, momentarily blinding him. He could still follow Bishton inside the house and smash his head open. He reached for the glovebox. He would kill him, no matter the consequences.

  ‘No,’ said Harriet, her voice harsher than normal. ‘It’s too late. You will never get away with that. The police are here somewhere. You haven’t got much time. You have to save yourself.’

  He wrestled with the idea of smashing in Bishton’s skull once more before slamming the door shut and jumping back into the driver’s seat, then gunning the throttle and making good his getaway. A dark car followed him out of the drive, two men in the front. It had to be the police. They had been at Bishton’s house all the time. Dan smacked the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. ‘No, no, no.’

  There was no option now. He had to lose them. He steamed down the lane and, at the crossroads, swung a left and then pulled into a farm entrance, racing for the tin-roofed shed. He drove into it and waited, pulse thrumming in his ears. The car halted at the crossroads, then chose the right turn that led to Burton-upon-Trent. Dan let out a wheeze, only then realising he had been holding his breath for so long his lungs actually hurt. He reversed from the shed and raced off in the opposite direction.

  His heart was heavy. Harriet was nowhere to be seen or heard. It was too late. He would not be able to collect the final payment. Furious and frustrated, he drove off into the dark night.

  Sixty-Two

  Anna rather liked Matlock. She and her dog had visited a few times and enjoyed long walks in the Peak District National Park. Matlock offered numerous tourist attractions, walks, pleasure gardens and a theme park. There was an unexpected contrast between old and new in Matlock Bath, where the amusement arcades and gift shops along the main road provided a sharp contrast with the elegant Victorian villas perched above.

  Anna sighed. ‘I wish I’d brought Razzle along. He loves a good outing. Got him from the dogs’ home. I should never have walked into the place. Jackie insisted. We came out with Razzle, a scruffy mongrel with a beard and the loveliest brown eyes. I told Jackie it was madness, given my schedule and erratic hours. She insisted, saying it would be fine because she worked from home and so…’

  Her head bobbed about as if she was reasoning with herself before she said, ‘Jackie met a bloke and decided to move away – to Dubai, about as far away as she could. I was left with rent I could no longer afford, and with Razzle. To be honest, I wouldn’t be without him. Flatmates are all very well, but dogs never let you down.’

  ‘So you’re renting?’

  ‘It’s hopeless trying to get a mortgage when you’re single. Jackie’s money meant we could live in a decent semi. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to afford it on my own, and agencies are really sniffy about letting to people with dogs. I might have to move back in with my mum.’ She pulled a face. ‘Not really what I want to do at my age.’

  ‘How about at my age?’ said Mitz, laughing. ‘I’m still upstairs in the room I had when I was five.’

  ‘I don’t think I can handle being treated like a kid again. My mum doesn’t seem to recognise the fact I’m grown up.’

  They drove towards hills, verdant after recent rains. ‘It’s nice out here.’

  ‘I used to live near Buxton. I’ve been here a few times.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t know.’

  ‘I worked for a computer firm. I was a techie geek before I joined the force.’

  Mitz barked a short laugh. ‘No way. I had no idea. You’re the best-looking geek I’ve ever met.’ His face flushed at this declaration. ‘Er, sorry.’

  Her face took on a dark, serious look, then seeing him squirm, she cracked a wicked grin. ‘Don’t be – I’m flattered. Ah, there’s the caravan park entrance.’ The mood changed as both scouted the area for a glimpse of Scott.

  Tranquillity Caravan Park was fifteen minutes from Matlock in ten acres of beautifully kept grounds, with colourful floral displays of rhododendrons that gave privacy to each of the hardstanding pitches. There were large grassed areas and a sign marked ‘Woodland Walk’, which made Anna wish once more that Razzle was with her.

  They checked in at reception, housed in what was called a facility block with toilets, showers, a small kitchen and laundry, as well as a shop selling essentials and newspapers. The man on the desk had a florid complexion, a network of broken veins covering his nose, no doubt caused by walking in all weathers.

  ‘Not many people on site at the moment,’ he said. ‘Picks up just after Christmas. Lots of folk turn up, intent on walking off those extra pounds they’ve put on.’

  ‘We’re only interested in the Ashbrook caravan.’

  ‘Right-ho. It’s got a chap staying there – friend of the family. He’s been a few times with Miles. I used to see them going off down the woodland walk most days. Terrible news about the lad. I’ve known him since he was a nipper. His partner’s jolly cut up about it. I could tell when he came in to collect the keys. Looks proper awful. I knocked on the door earlier to see if he was okay. He was out. He might be back by now. That was about an hour ago. Is everything okay?’

  Anna threw Mitz a quick look of concern and said, ‘We need to chat to Scott, that’s all. You haven’t had any strangers turn up, asking for a night or two’s accommodation, have you?’

  The man shook his head. ‘As I said, not many people about at the moment, and nobody new.’

  ‘You haven’t spotted any cars, patrolling the site?’

  ‘I’m only here for a few hours each day. I haven’t noticed anything unusual while I’ve been here. We also have a keypad entry system and CCTV cameras, so it’s unlikely anyone could come in without prior booking.’ He gave them a suspicious look, his forehead lined with deep furrows. ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘Nothing to worry about, sir. Thank you for your time.’

  Once outside, Anna turned to Mitz. ‘How do you want to play this?’

  ‘You knock on the caravan door and see if Scott’s there. If he is, get inside the caravan and keep him in there. I’m going to keep a watch on the area. If there’s any sign at all of trouble and Williams appears, I’ll yell. If that happens, you stay and protect Scott and I’ll tackle Williams.’

  ‘What if Williams has a gun or a knife?’

  ‘It’s a chance we’ll have to take. I’m not sensing that Williams is about.’

  ‘Don’t forget, he’s good at hiding in the shadows. He could already be here and watching out for us.’

  Mitz exhaled noisily through his nose: a tiny huff of irritation. ‘We have to ensure Scott Dawson’s safety. We’ll exercise extreme caution. Happy with that?’

  ‘Yes, Sarge.’ She gave him a nod and a grin.

  ‘See if he’s inside the van first.’

  They headed in the direction the man had indicated on a map. The Ashbrooks’ caravan was well positioned, with superb views over surrounding hills. With Mitz observing the area from under a tree, Anna marched up to the caravan with its peeling paint and faded curtains now drawn to. Tall weeds had pushed up through small cracks in the hardstanding surface. It all required some attention. She put an ear to the door, straining to hear any sign of life inside. No radio or television. She rapped on the door. ‘Mr Dawson. Open up, sir.’

  There was no sound from within. ‘Mr Dawson. It’s the police.’

  She shrugged at Mitz who signalled to try the door. She did, and it opened immediately. She was hit by the smell of stale air mingled with perspiration. The van was in a state: drawers open, debris on the floor as if there had been a tussle. She shouted for Mi
tz, who tore over to join her.

  ‘Are we too late?’

  Bedclothes were tossed onto the floor, along with the contents of a kitchen drawer. ‘Either he was involved in a struggle or he went ballistic,’ said Mitz, surveying the chaos.

  ‘I can’t believe Williams got here before us. Scott has to be on site.’

  ‘But where?’

  ‘The man on reception said he and Miles used to take the woodland walk most days. He might have gone in that direction.’

  ‘We’ll give it a shot and see if we can find him.’

  The path led them away from the site on a shady route. It was lined with trees, the path damp, smelling of rotten vegetation. They had not walked too far into the woods when they spotted a figure sitting on a branch of a sturdy tree, head resting on his forearms.

  Anna’s mouth opened in surprise. ‘Why on earth has he clambered up a tree?’ Mitz pulled on her arm to prevent her from going forward. It was too late. Scott saw them.

  ‘Don’t come near me,’ Scott shouted, clambering to his feet on the branch on which he had been sitting. It was then Anna spotted the rope hanging from the branch above and the knotted loop around Scott’s neck.

  ‘Mr Dawson, don’t do anything hasty.’

  ‘This isn’t hasty,’ he sobbed. ‘Miles’s death is my fault. I can’t live with myself any more.’

  ‘Sir, you weren’t to blame,’ shouted Anna. ‘There was a third party. Somebody tampered with the control that heated the sauna.’

  Scott wobbled on the branch and, arms out wide, took a moment to recover his balance. ‘It doesn’t matter. I was still the reason he died, and what do I have now? Nothing. Alex wants to divorce me and I can’t face working at the Hall. I’ll think of Miles every time I drive into the place. You say I can’t do it? You can’t stop me. I want to end it all.’