Kissing a Killer

by David Carter

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ said the man.

  Lena nodded and muttered, ‘Please do,’ and they made their way around the side of the house.

  Several puddles of rainwater covered the small paved patio that lay outside the French windows, but it wasn’t the puddles that grabbed Lena’s and the neighbour’s immediate attention, but the obviously broken pane of glass.

  ‘I don’t like the look of this,’ said Lena, pointing to shards of glass inside on the carpet.

  ‘You and me both.’

  The neighbour tried the door. Locked fast.

  ‘Look!’ said Lena, ‘the key,’ and they both stared through the glass at the key, nestling in the centre of the carpet, more than half way across the room.

  ‘Bel!’ yelled Lena. ‘It’s Lena, from work, are you okay?’

  No reply, nothing at all, other than a wailing and working bin lorry somewhere in the distance, as it approached the road.

  ‘I could get my fishing rod,’ suggested the neighbour. ‘That’ll do the trick.’

  ‘Do that!’ said Lena, and the guy hurried back to his house to collect his angling gear. He was back within five minutes, but by the time he’d returned, Lena had changed her mind.

  ‘I don’t think we should go in,’ she said. ‘I don’t like this at all. I think we should call the police.’

  ‘I agree, it is more than a little odd. Have you got a phone?’

  Lena nodded and pulled out her phone and carefully prodded in 999.

  Walter gawped a Miroslav Rekatic and rippled his eyebrows as a little reminder that he was still awaiting a reply.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Rekatic. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said, when did you last visit Ellie?’

  ‘Er,’ Rekatic scratched his chin, trying hard to remember, or was that a charade he was putting on to gain thinking time. ‘Last week sometime.’

  ‘When last week?’ shot back Karen.

  ‘Friday, yes, I think it was Friday.’

  ‘Come on Miro, you can do better than that. You weren’t visiting her to drop off a letter, or say hello, or pass the time of day, or take a leisurely country walk together, none of those things were true, you were visiting her for a rough sex session, and in that moment it was the most important and exciting thing in your entire life, and therefore you would remember to the very second what time you got there. You’d probably been looking forward to it all day, all week maybe, and you would know, to the day, to the hour, to the minute.’

  Miro grimaced and said, ‘It was Friday, about six o’clock.’

  ‘A little teatime excitement session, was it?’ asked Karen.

  ‘If you want to put it that way. We’re very busy with all the expansion plans at the moment. It’s a very stressful business, top-line banking, we all need some form of release and relaxation. Some people drink, some people do drugs, I like female company, and there’s no law against it. Lots of bankers have mistresses.’

  ‘I’ll bet they do,’ said Walter. ‘How did you get down there? To Marigold Lane?’

  ‘Cab.’

  ‘And what time did you leave the caravan?’ asked Karen.

  ‘About eight.’

  ‘Cab again?’ said Walter.

  Miro nodded and said, ‘Same firm, different driver, you can check,’ and that all matched up with Michael Flanagan’s statements.

  ‘Tell me what happened at Ross-on-Wye?’ said Walter, ever eager to flummox interviewees with a sharp change in direction.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard the Inspector.’

  ‘You mean with Ellie?’

  ‘That’s who we are talking about,’ said Walter.

  ‘I took her away for the weekend once or twice. Sometimes we went to Ross. What’s your point?’

  ‘And presumably Grizzy wasn’t aware of that?’ asked Karen.

  ‘Course not,’ said Miro. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Just filling in background,’ said Karen.

  ‘Correct me if I’m wrong,’ said Miro, ‘but it’s not a crime in this country to have both a wife and a mistress, is it?’

  ‘No. Not a crime,’ said Karen, ‘just deceitful, despicable, disrespectful, and I’m sure your wife might even say, disgusting.’

  ‘But Ellie Wright wasn’t your mistress at all, was she?’ said Walter. ‘She was a paid whore, servicing any number of clients.’

  Miro pulled a face as if to say, whatever, is there a difference? And then he said, ‘It’s much easier this way, than to have an actual mistress. You can turn it on and off, as and when you please.’

  Walter repeated the words aloud. ‘Turn it on and off, as and when you please,’ and that said a lot about the guy.

  Didn’t he have any idea how cold, uncaring, and cowardly he sounded, thought Karen.

  ‘What went on in Ross?’ repeated Walter.

  Miro pulled another surprised face and said, ‘Really Inspector, do you want chapter and verse? I didn’t film it, if that’s what you think.’

  ‘I heard you went “well equipped”,’ said Walter. ‘Care to elaborate on that?’

  ‘Did Ellie say that? Stupid girl? You know how it is, just a few little sex toys, to spice things up. Nothing outrageous.’

  ‘Sex toys?’ said Karen.

  ‘What kind of toys?’ asked Walter. ‘You mean clamps, electric shock inducers, lighters, candles, what exactly?’

  ‘Certainly not! You seem to have an obsession there, my friend.’

  ‘I’m not your friend,’ said Walter, ‘and I’m still waiting for an answer to my question.’

  Miro took a deep breath and breathed out heavy and acted like he was getting tired with the whole thing, and then grinned and gurned and said, ‘She liked to be incapacitated.’

  ‘Incapacitated?’ said Karen.

  ‘Explain,’ said Walter.

  ‘It’s just a little piece of equipment I picked up in Hamburg.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Walter.

  ‘There’s not much to it, really,’ just a metal bar that goes behind her neck, her hands go over the top, black leather straps, she can’t really move, not at all, get the picture?’

  ‘Isn’t the truth of it, that you liked to incapacitate her, when she had no choice in the matter, and that you enjoyed inflicting pain on Ellie Wright,’ said Walter, ‘and that she didn’t want to participate in that sordid business at all?’

  ‘Course she did! She’s a whore, remember; she does things for money, anything you want, and was paid bloody well for it. She told me I was one of her best ever clients. Even gave me a birthday card, for fuck’s sake. Said I was her banker banker.’

  Or wanker of a banker, thought Karen.

  ‘Do you still have the card?’ asked Walter.

  ‘Nope. Got rid of it, just in case....’

  ‘In case Grizzy found it,’ said Karen.

  ‘Yeah. Something like that.’

  ‘Have you tried this incapacitator on Grizzy?’ asked Karen, suspecting that she knew the answer.

  ‘Course not, don’t be so ridiculous!’

  ‘Ellie told her best friend that she was frightened of you because you hurt her, care to comment on that?’ asked Walter.

  ‘What! Don’t be crazy. She enjoyed a bit of pain. It was all part of the whole business.’

  ‘Isn’t the truth of it that you enjoyed inflicting pain on Ellie Wright,’ said Karen. ‘That you got off on it, got a high out of it, because your wife wouldn’t entertain such a thing, and Ellie couldn’t do anything about it, because you had incapacitated her, totally, completely, and utterly.’

  ‘No! That’s not how it was at all. It was just a bit of harmless fun between friends. Look! If you don’t believe me, ask Ellie, she’ll set you straight. She’s not a fool.’

  ‘We can’t,’ said Walter, ‘she’s dead.’

  In the station, Gibbons took Lena’s call. Recognised the worry and distress in the caller’s voice straight away, and promised that someone would be there
within twenty minutes. He ran across and told Mrs West about the report of a possible break in, and a possible missing person too. She told him to take Hector with him and go and check it out PDQ. She also instructed Gibbons to tell Jenny Thompson to ring Karen and keep Walter abreast of the situation.

  In the palatial ASNB office Walter’s revelation that Eleanor Wright was deceased took the wind firmly out of Miroslav Rekatic’s sails, or at least that was the impression he gave. Neither of the officers were convinced of his performance.

  ‘So,’ said Walter, ‘as it stands, you are the last person to see Ellie Wright alive.’

  Miro breathed out heavy and shook his head.

  ‘How did she die?’

  ‘You tell us,’ said Karen.

  ‘How the fuck would I know?’

  ‘Come on, Miro,’ said Walter. ‘It’s time to clean the slate. What exactly went on down at the foot of Marigold Lane last Friday?’

  Before he could answer, Karen’s mobile rang. She glanced at the screen. Saw who it was.

  ‘Can you talk?’ asked Jenny.

  ‘Just a sec,’ and she glanced at Walter and muttered, ‘I have to take this.’

  Walter nodded and Karen stepped outside.

  Jenny said, ‘Ma’am told me to advise you and the Guv that we have a reported burglary in Chester where a missing thirty-six year woman resides. Very concerned workmates and friends and neighbours, by all accounts. Could be something. I’ll let you know when I hear more.’

  ‘Okay, Jen. Keep us up to speed.’

  While Karen was outside, Walter said, ‘Did you argue about something?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, what did you do?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know, I am waiting for you to tell me.’

  ‘I went to the caravan for sex.’

  ‘Rough sex?’

  Miro shrugged and glanced at the bear-like black man. Thought he’d better elaborate.

  ‘I gave her a good spanking.’

  ‘Spanking?’

  Karen came back in and exchanged eye contact with Walter and muttered, ‘Could be something, could be nothing.’

  Walter turned back to Miro and said, ‘And was the incapacitator used?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I forgot to take it.’

  Karen said, ‘Where does it reside, this item of torture of yours, when not in use. At your home?’

  ‘No, course not. There’s a cupboard here at work, I have the only key.’

  ‘I want to see it before we go,’ said Karen.

  ‘I want to seize it as evidence,’ said Walter.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me. So, after the spanking session, what happened then?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know. You were the only one who was there who’s still alive. You tell us.’

  ‘We had.... You know.’

  ‘Sex?’ said Karen.

  ‘Rough sex?’ said Walter.

  ‘Yeah, you could say that.’

  ‘How much did you pay for that?’ asked Karen.

  ‘Two hundred quid.’

  ‘Is that the going rate for incapacitation, and torture?’ asked Karen.

  ‘I guess. She seemed happy enough.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘Not much. I got dressed. She got dressed too. I gave her a decent tip. Said I’d see her again next Friday.’

  ‘A regular appointment, is it?’ said Karen.

  ‘Not a fixed one, but pretty regular, yeah. I have a big libido.’

  ‘You tell a lot of lies as well,’ said Karen.

  Miro shrugged as if they were little white lies, and no more.

  ‘What happened then?’ asked Walter.

  ‘I rang for a cab.’

  ‘On your mobile,’ said Walter.

  Miro nodded.

  ‘Show me your phone.’

  Miro took his phone from his trouser pocket and set it on the desk.

  ‘You rang the cab company on this phone?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Bag, Karen,’ and she produced a small clear evidence bag, and Walter dropped it in.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I am seizing this phone as potential evidence in a possible murder case.’

  ‘You can’t do that!’

  ‘I’ve already done it,’ and the bag and phone disappeared into Walter’s cavernous coat pocket.

  ‘Was she really murdered?’

  ‘You tell us,’ said Karen.

  ‘She was alive and well and as happy as I had seen her in weeks when I left her.’

  ‘And you left her at what time?’

  ‘About eight, I told you, the cab company will confirm it.’

  Karen asked, ‘Did she say if she had any further appointments that night?’

  ‘Not to me.’

  ‘Did she say anything about going out to get something to eat?’ asked Walter.

  ‘No. She had a little kitchen thing there, and a camping style gas stove. I got the impression she was going to cook something, though I could be wrong.’

  ‘She didn’t offer you anything to eat?’

  ‘No, course not. She wanted me out of there, and I wanted to get out of there too. I wanted to get home and see the wife and kids, before they went to bed.’

  ‘That’s noble of you,’ said Walter.

  ‘I’m not saying it was an ideal arrangement.’

  ‘Well, that’s a fact,’ said Karen.

  ‘So you left her around 8pm, and she was fit and well at that time?’

  Miro nodded.

  ‘Pity you can’t prove that,’ said Karen.

  ‘And you can’t prove that wasn’t the case,’ said Miro, trying to be just a little too clever.

  ‘We will,’ said Walter. ‘If we have to.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘For now.’

  ‘When can I have my phone back?’

  ‘When we have finished with it,’ said Karen. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Just one other thing,’ said Walter.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Did you, or do you, visit other good time girls, as you called them?’

  ‘In Hamburg a few times, but not here.’

  ‘Never?’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘Incapacitator?’ said Karen. ‘Show us.’

  Nineteen

  DCs Darren Gibbons and Hector Browne arrived outside Belinda Cooper’s house in quick time. Gibbons assumed the senior role through length of service, though Hector was far better qualified academically, having been fast-tracked from Uni. Lena Freeman and a man, the neighbour, were standing on the pavement outside.

  Hector flashed ID and did the introductions, as Lena said, ‘There’s no reply when we knock, she’s not answering her phone, and there’s a broken pane of glass in the French windows at the back.’

  ‘What’s the lady’s name?’ asked Gibbons.

  ‘Belinda Cooper.’

  ‘Show us the broken glass,’ said Hector, and they all hustled round to the side of the house and round the back and onto the grey patio.

  There was no glass on the patio, but plenty of broken glass on the carpet inside.

  ‘The key’s there, look,’ said Lena, pointing across the room, and they all looked and nodded.

  ‘I brought my fishing rod,’ said the neighbour. ‘I could hook the key, no problem.’

  ‘Fish away,’ said Gibbons, ‘but try not to touch the doors or the glass.’

  The neighbour bobbed his head and slipped his long rod through the door. It was lengthy enough to reach the key, and in the next second he’d slipped the end of the rod through the key ring, and with a little juggling, it was raising up and moving slowly back towards the doors.

  ‘Careful!’ said Hector, as the neighbour tilted the rod further upwards, and the key slid down toward the near end of the rod, and the hole in the door where the glass used to be, and Darre
n’s grasping hand, there ready and waiting to grab it.

  ‘Bingo!’ said Darren, key in hand, and into the keyhole it went, one quick anti-clockwise turn, and the door opened inwards.

  Darren and Hector stepped inside.

  Lena and the neighbour made to follow.

  ‘No,’ said Gibbons. ‘Rather you didn’t. We’ll go and check, and come back and tell you how we get on.’

  Lena bit her lip and nodded, half disappointed, half relieved. The neighbour was downright frustrated for he ran the local neighbourhood watch website, and already imagined he was onto the scoop of the decade.

  Darren hustled into the kitchen. Took a quick look round, including in the pantry and in the big floor to ceiling cupboards, and yelled back, ‘Kitchen clear.’

  Hector went into the other reception room and took a peek. There was nowhere there anyone could hide, alive or dead. ‘Lounge clear!’ he yelled, something they all heard, and in the next moment Darren was leading the way up the stairs, all the while calling out, ‘Belinda Cooper, it’s the police, is everything all right?’

  Gibbons pointed Hector into the large rear bedroom. He pushed the door opened and went inside. A nice double bed all made up, no one in the bed, no one in the room. ‘Back bedroom clear,’ he shouted.

  Gibbons went into the front bedroom, the main bedroom, the master bedroom; the one that had to be the favourite, if any room was going to shed any light on the mystery.

  The front bedroom was not clear.

  There was a woman, collapsed in a heap, close to the foot of the bed. On the bed was a vintage baseball bat. Gibbons rushed to the woman and felt for a pulse. He didn’t expect to find one, and he didn’t.

  ‘Fuck!’ he said. ‘She’s in here, Heck, we’re too late.’

  Hector came running.

  Took one look.

  Grimaced and turned away.

  Gibbons was already on the phone.

  Jenny answered.

  ‘We’ve found a body, Jen. Foul play looks likely. Can you rustle up the team? Doc Grayling, SOCO, a couple of uniforms to keep the place secure, and you’d better tell Mrs West PDQ, and no doubt she’ll want the Guv to know.’

  ‘I’m on it,’ and she cut off.

  Gibbons and Hector shared a look.

  ‘Murder weapon, you think?’ said Gibbons, nodding at the bat.

  ‘Could be,’ said Heck. ‘Who on earth keeps a baseball bat in the bedroom?’