‘Do snakes have green eyes?’ Ariadne asked Geraldine, who just shrugged.
This was the downside of appeals to the public. Extra officers were drafted in to cope with the calls, but Eileen’s appearance on television resulted in a mass of conflicting reports. Everyone was aware that most, if not all, of the calls were going to be a waste of time, but they persisted, knowing that in among the false allegations and trumped-up descriptions, there could be one nugget of truth that would lead them to identify the killer. He had already struck twice. They couldn’t let him claim another victim.
At lunchtime, Geraldine went to look for the long-haired woman who had been filmed walking near Pope’s Head Alley. The house where she appeared to live belonged to a landlord who let his house on six-month contracts. The woman Geraldine was looking for had been in residence for three months, and her six months’ rent had been paid in advance, directly into the landlord’s account. The tenant’s name was Lindsey Curtis, a name that wasn’t known to the police. Geraldine rang the bell but again there was no response from inside the house.
The following morning Ian listened more attentively than Eileen had done to Geraldine’s suggestion that the long-haired woman might be a witness in Grant’s murder case, and could possibly have been there when Felicity was attacked.
‘Do you think she’s working with the killer?’
Geraldine shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but we need to speak to her.’
Ian shared Geraldine’s disappointment that she had not yet managed to speak to the potential witness.
‘No matter,’ he said. ‘We’ll question her sooner or later. Hopefully sooner. Well done on tracking her down.’
At a briefing that afternoon, Eileen reiterated her belief that a group of young muggers were responsible for the two recent fatalities. It was certainly possible, but it still remained only a theory.
‘It could be coincidence,’ Ian said.
‘Stabbing isn’t that uncommon,’ Geraldine agreed.
‘Two people stabbed to death in less than a week within less than half a mile of each other? I hardly think that’s common. This isn’t London,’ Eileen said, looking pointedly at Geraldine. ‘Of course you could argue it might be coincidence, two fatal stabbings so close together, if it wasn’t for DNA evidence telling us one person was present at both attacks. It must have been the same killer. And the only lead we have so far is this gang of muggers. So come on, let’s find them.’
Geraldine didn’t point out that there was actually nothing to link the muggers to the two stabbings other than that witnesses had reported seeing the youths carrying knives. There was nothing wrong with looking for the muggers. Apprehending them would certainly be a good thing, but it wasn’t the job of the murder investigation team, and Geraldine was concerned that they were spending their limited resources hunting for the wrong criminals. She decided to sound Ian out about it but before she could raise the subject he brought it up himself.
They had gone to the pub for a quick drink after work. Geraldine had the impression Ian wanted to talk to her and she wondered if he wanted to vent his feelings about his estranged wife. But it turned out Ian only wanted to discuss work.
‘Do you think we should be spending so much time questioning all the youngsters in York?’ he asked her as soon as they sat down.
She hesitated. Her relationship with Ian was slightly complex. On the one hand they were old friends, but at the same time he was her superior officer and neither of them was yet used to that relationship. When they had first met, she had been an inspector and he had worked as her sergeant. Although their positions were now reversed, Geraldine didn’t regret her demotion. By taking the place of her identical twin in an encounter with a dangerous drug dealer, Geraldine had put her own life on the line. She had survived the incident, but had ended up being arrested in place of her twin. In exchange for Geraldine risking her career, Helena had agreed to go into rehab and so far seemed to be managing to control her cravings. They had both had to give up the lives they had known, but Geraldine knew it had been harder for Helena than for her. At least she still had a job.
In addition to their long friendship, Ian had been working in York for years and knew Eileen better than Geraldine did. So for that reason as well, she felt she had to be circumspect in her comments.
‘What do you think?’ she replied.
Ian gave her a sympathetic smile, as if to say he understood the reason for her caution.
‘It’s all right, you know,’ he said quietly. ‘We’re not on duty now. You can say what you like. No one else is going to know.’
Geraldine wondered if he was referring specifically to Eileen.
‘For what it’s worth,’ she replied, ‘I think we’re possibly barking up the wrong tree, wasting resources on a wild goose chase.’
‘Why don’t we cut out the intermediate step and just bark at the geese?’
Ignoring the flippant interruption, Geraldine pressed on, determined to make her point now that she had begun. ‘Even if we manage to find those muggers, or when we do I should say, how is that going to help us solve the murder case? There could be something that connects the two victims apart from the DNA of their killer, and that’s what we ought to be investigating. Perhaps the woman was killed because she knew something?’
‘About the first murder, you mean?’
‘Yes. What if she was a witness to the first murder, or somehow found out about it, and so the killer decided it was necessary to silence her. We know the two stabbings are related, so that would make sense, wouldn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘If these muggers are involved, perhaps she knew the members of the gang who’ve been attacking people on the street, only once someone was killed she decided to go to the police, but it was too late because the muggers got wind of her intentions and got to her first to stop her talking to us.’
‘So you’re saying you still think the muggers are our killers?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know. What exactly are you saying?’
‘This is just between us?’
He nodded.
‘I actually think these murders were carried out by someone far more skilful than some young kid with a blade would be,’ Geraldine said. ‘I could be wrong, but it’s just a feeling I have. And if you ask me, I don’t think we’ll find our murderer by tracking down the kids who’ve been carrying out all these low-level muggings. Those are crimes specifically of property. Kids snatching stuff they can sell. The murders have a different feel about them than any of the muggings.’
Ian nodded. ‘Eileen thinks the two may be related.’
‘Well, they’re certainly connected. We know that from the DNA found on the bodies.’
‘No, I mean she seems convinced the muggings and the murders are related.’
‘I know. But just because they’ve been going on at around the same time, that doesn’t mean these victims were attacked by the gang of muggers. It could be someone else entirely who’s killed them. We ought to be searching for a connection between the two victims, as well as looking for the muggers, which could turn out to be a waste of time.’
Before Ian could respond, another voice interrupted them.
‘What’s a waste of time?’
Geraldine spun round. Standing behind her, Naomi was smiling across at Ian. Geraldine wondered whether it was coincidence that the young constable always seemed to turn up at the pub whenever Ian was there.
‘Come and join us,’ he said.
Naomi pulled a chair over and sat down between him and Geraldine.
‘So what’s a waste of time?’ she repeated, leaning towards Ian ever so slightly.
He gave a dismissive shake of his head. ‘It’s nothing.’
Naomi’s laughter sounded fake. ‘You’re discussing nothing?’
For a few seconds none of t
hem spoke.
‘Am I interrupting something?’ Naomi asked.
Geraldine felt sorry for her colleague who had been chasing Ian for months without much obvious success. She always seemed to turn up wherever he was, and she hung on his words, while he appeared oblivious to her attention. But Geraldine was also irritated with the constable for interrupting her own conversations with Ian.
‘No, no,’ Geraldine assured her quickly, concealing her disappointment. ‘I was just going.’
‘You haven’t finished,’ Ian said, glancing at her glass.
‘I meant I need to push off soon, once I’ve drunk this. I’m knackered.’
Naomi smiled. ‘The night is young,’ she said.
‘Yes, and so are you, but sadly I’m not and I need to get home to my bed soon,’ Geraldine smiled.
‘OK, granny,’ Naomi grinned. She turned to Ian. ‘Are you hungry? We could grab a bite –’
‘No, I need to get going as well,’ he replied without even turning to look at Naomi.
Seeing how crestfallen the constable was, Geraldine swallowed a sigh. In many ways life was tough for a single woman in her early forties, but she didn’t remember it seeming any easier when she had been in her twenties, as Naomi was. She finished her drink and gathered up her coat and bag.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said as she stood up.
In the door she turned and saw Naomi still sitting beside Ian. She was leaning forward, her pose suggesting she was listening intently. But Ian was staring gloomily at the table, and he wasn’t saying anything.
16
The local papers the following day were full of sensational reports of a ‘crime wave’ hitting the city. It was nothing new, but the mood at the police station was tetchy and the usual banter and chat were noticeably absent despite the fact that it was Friday and the sun was shining outside.
‘It’s like working in a morgue, sitting here,’ Ariadne grumbled.
Geraldine smiled at that, because Jonah was far more cheerful than any of her colleagues at the police station that day. Her own mood darkened when she learned that Felicity’s parents were coming over from Leeds that afternoon to formally identify the body, and she was tasked with meeting them at the mortuary.
She set off in good time and arrived about twenty minutes before the Dunmores were due to arrive, but they had caught an earlier train and were already there, waiting to be shown in to view the body. The visitors’ waiting room at the mortuary was decorated in light grey and pink, and sensitively furnished. There were a few plants and several boxes of tissues placed on the tables within easy reach of all the armchairs, which were upholstered in soft grey. Mr and Mrs Dunmore were sitting together on a sofa, holding hands, their anxiety almost palpable. They both looked young to have a daughter in her late twenties.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ Mr Dunmore said to his wife when Geraldine offered to take them to see their daughter’s body. ‘I can go. You can stay here if you want to.’
With positive confirmation from her dental records, it was almost impossible the body had been wrongly identified.
‘No, no, I want to see her,’ his wife replied in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper.
Both her parents had dark hair so Geraldine guessed the dead woman’s blond hair had been dyed. It had still been streaked with mud and dirt when she had seen the body previously. Observing the corpse after it had been cleaned up, Geraldine could distinguish a few traces of dark roots under the hair. She was relieved the girl had been stabbed in the chest, because her face was virtually undamaged. Only a few skilfully concealed minor scratches and abrasions remained from her contact with the river bank. Her make-up had been restored, the redness of her lips contrasting starkly with the pallor of her cheeks.
Mrs Dunmore let out a faint yelp, like a cry of pain. Tears slid unchecked down her own pale cheeks. There was no need for words. Mr Dunmore put his arm around his wife as though to support her, and turned to nod at Geraldine.
‘Yes, that’s her. That’s our Felicity.’
His voice cracked as he spoke the name, and as though that was her cue, his wife began to wail. Geraldine led them back to the visitors’ room and waited for their initial shock to subside.
‘I’m so sorry. We’re doing everything we can to find out who did this, and rest assured we will find the person responsible. Now, we can do this another time if you prefer, but I would like to ask you a few questions.’
‘What can we do to help you find whoever did that to our daughter?’ Mr Dunmore asked, his eyes bright with emotion.
Mrs Dunmore had already collapsed on a sofa where she was sitting weeping silently, but her husband seemed to have his grief in check for the moment. Geraldine spoke to him.
‘Please, sit down. I just want to ask whether you know of anyone who might have had cause to feel angry with your daughter? A jealous ex-boyfriend perhaps?’
She hesitated to add that Felicity had clearly been a very attractive woman. Mr Dunmore was more likely to keep control of his emotions if they avoided talking about his daughter directly. From the sofa, Mrs Dunmore mumbled incoherently and her husband nodded.
‘She had an argument with someone recently,’ he said and hesitated.
Geraldine waited, deeming it wise not to hurry him.
‘They met at a club or a bar somewhere.’
His wife muttered inaudibly.
‘They were in a relationship for a while,’ he continued awkwardly. ‘But he was no good. We knew that the moment we laid eyes on him. He was a smart looking boy, but I can’t say we were impressed when he told us he was between jobs.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘Between jobs, that’s what he said. Anyway, you can probably tell where this is heading. He spun her some sob story and she ended up lending him money.’ He paused. ‘Quite a lot of money, in fact. More than she could afford. He was supposed to be paying her back monthly, but that didn’t last long. And nor did their relationship once he’d got what he wanted.’
‘So he owes her money?’
‘Not any more. She took me to see him, and I threatened him.’
‘Threatened him?’
He frowned. ‘It was very vague. I just said if he didn’t pay her back, I’d deal with him myself. That was all.’
‘And did he pay her back?’
He shook his head. ‘He said he would but now of course he can’t.’
He dropped his head in his hands and his shoulders shook with sobs. His wife pulled herself together.
‘This wasn’t your fault. I don’t think he did it, Barry. He wasn’t like that. He wasn’t violent. You said he was scared when you threatened him. He would have run off, he would never have done something like this.’ She turned and appealed to Geraldine for corroboration that her husband wasn’t responsible for what had happened to their daughter.
‘It’s extremely unlikely,’ she agreed. ‘But I would like you to give me details of where I can find this ex-boyfriend as we’d like to speak to him.’
Mr Dunmore’s voice was muffled behind his hands. ‘Of course. I can’t tell you his address right now, but I’ve got it at home.’
‘Can he email the details to you?’ his wife asked, stepping in to take control as her husband broke down sobbing at her side.
‘Yes, of course. Please email me when you get home. And I’m so sorry, once again. We’ll do everything we can to find out who did this. I know it can’t bring her back, but we might stop it from happening to someone else.’
Feeling helpless in the presence of such raw grief, Geraldine left the couple weeping silently, side by side. Beyond comfort, they were no longer holding hands.
17
Mr Dunmore was as good as his word. At nine o’clock the next morning Geraldine received an email with details of a man called Tom Parker who lived in Leeds. She drove straight there, hoping to catch hi
m before he went out. As it was Saturday, she thought he might not be up and out early. She left the young constable who had accompanied her in the car with instructions to follow her after five minutes, and wait at the gate. With that backup in place, she went and rang the bell. The girl who answered the door looked about sixteen.
‘Is Tom here?’
‘Why? What’s he to you?’
Geraldine looked younger than her forty years, but she could still have been the girl’s mother. Even so, the girl scowled and looked at her through narrowed eyes, as though she thought Geraldine might have a personal interest in Tom.
‘Why do you want to see him?’
Geraldine hesitated. The girl looked shrewd, and Tom was likely to be slippery.
‘We have a mutual friend,’ she said.
It was half true.
‘What friend?’ the girl asked sharply. ‘Who is she? What’s this “friend” called?’
Geraldine sighed. There was nothing more annoying than a potential witness who refused to co-operate. With a sigh she pulled out her identity card. But before the girl had a chance to look at it, a young man appeared in the hallway behind her. He was tall, with dark hair and pointed features.
‘Yes?’ he said. ‘What’s this about, Lily?’
Geraldine took a step forward to put one foot across the threshold. The young man’s expression darkened and he pulled the girl backwards, so that she was standing directly in front of him, like a shield.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘I’d like to talk to you about Felicity Dunmore.’
‘Oh fuck off, will you?’ He took a step back. ‘Shut the door, Lily.’
‘You can talk to me right now, or I can call for a car to come and pick you up and bring you along to the police station. Your choice.’
The young man looked startled, and he stared more closely at the card Geraldine was holding up. Understanding who Geraldine was, he cleared his throat.
‘I thought you were a debt collector. Look, I owe the girl some money. So what? I said I’d pay her back and I will. I was never not going to pay her back. I told her father I’ll give her the whole lot as soon as I get a job and in the meantime I’ll pay what I can. But I don’t see what on earth any of this has got to do with the police.’
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