Hearing him talk of new life reminded Geraldine that his estranged wife was pregnant, but she didn’t like to ask whether she had given birth yet. She tried to tell herself that she was glad about the divorce solely for Ian’s sake, and not in any way for herself. Bev had never made him happy and he was better off without her. He might even have a chance of finding happiness with someone else now. In the meantime, she was careful to remain appropriate in her response.
‘I’m sorry to hear about the divorce,’ she lied.
‘Well, it’s for the best,’ he replied, curt again. ‘Did you want something?’
He seemed vexed, although she couldn’t imagine how her words could have caused him any offence. Impassively she told him about the latest victim of the three muggers.
‘Which confirms there are three kids,’ she concluded. ‘Admittedly one of them is fair-haired, but I still have my doubts about whether they could really be the murderer we’re looking for.’
‘Is that all?’
Geraldine hesitated. There was so much more she could have said, but none of it had anything to do with the case.
‘Yes, that’s all.’
Spurred on by Ian’s dismissal of her views, she read through the reports received so far. Thinking about her own adoption, she wondered whether they had been hasty in concluding the apparent match to the DNA found at the crime scenes had been an error, and went to see Eileen.
‘So, one of our gang is blond,’ Eileen greeted her, with a smile, ‘and we know he carries a knife. The net is closing in.’
Geraldine nodded. ‘I had another thought.’
‘What’s that?’ Eileen asked, expansive in her good mood.
‘What if Peter Drury had another brother no one knows about?’
The detective chief inspector’s smile vanished. ‘Yes, I suppose it’s possible.’
‘His father might be able to tell us.’
‘Edward Drury’s already been questioned.’
‘But a local constable might not have realised the importance of getting to the truth.’
Eileen gave Geraldine a hard stare. ‘I take it you’re suggesting you go and speak to Mr Drury yourself?’
‘This could be important,’ Geraldine said. ‘Too important to be left to a local officer who’s not even working on the case. He could easily have missed something. What do we even know about the officer who went to speak to Edward Drury? He could have been incompetent.’
‘I’m sure he was thorough,’ Eileen retorted frostily.
‘I just mean it might be as well for an experienced officer to question him. The constable who went might not have appreciated the significance of his errand.’
But it was too late for Geraldine to retract her implied criticism of Eileen for delegating the task to an unknown officer, just as it was too late to recall the constable who had already spoken to Mr Drury. The detective chief inspector looked at her screen for a moment as though signalling it was time for Geraldine to leave. But as Geraldine turned to go, Eileen spoke.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I think you had better go and talk to Peter’s father, just on the off chance that you might be able to get more out of him than a young constable managed to do.’
It was tantamount to an admission from Eileen that she had made an error.
‘I’ll get onto it right away,’ Geraldine replied.
‘Geraldine –’
‘Yes?’
Eileen hesitated. ‘Nothing.’
They both knew that Geraldine could easily have been in Eileen’s position if circumstances hadn’t dictated otherwise. Had their roles been reversed, Geraldine liked to think that she would have been willing to acknowledge her mistakes. As it was, she could only nod and leave the room without comment.
It took Geraldine all afternoon to reach Edward Drury’s house on the outskirts of Oxford. He sighed when Geraldine introduced herself, but he invited her in and offered to put the kettle on.
‘I hardly ever have any visitors, and now this makes two in less than two weeks. But I don’t know how I can help you. I’ve already told your constable what little I know. I’m sorry I have nothing more to say.’
Edward confirmed that he had only had two sons, and that neither was still alive.
‘Jamie left home soon after my other son, Peter, was taken away.’
‘Do you mean when he died or –’
‘I mean when he left home,’ Edward replied sharply.
‘That was nearly ten years ago. And what happened to Jamie after that?’
Edward shook his head. ‘Peter’s prison sentence wrecked all our lives. We were a family before that. My poor wife didn’t survive the shock. She took her own life.’
‘I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.’
‘She said she’d raised a monster and couldn’t live with herself. She did, she kept on for another ten years, but she was never the same. None of us were. The family was finished. Peter was never violent before he started taking drugs, and that only started when our daughter died. After that, he changed completely. He behaved monstrously.’
He let out an involuntary sound, like a whimper.
‘What happened to your daughter?’ Geraldine asked gently.
‘She fell into the weir and drowned. Poor thing, she didn’t stand a chance. She was only eight and could hardly swim. They fished her out, but she was past help by then. My wife never got over it. None of us did. It was an accident, but the boys never recovered from seeing her fall off the bridge. They were both there when it happened. Peter couldn’t cope with the guilt so he blamed his brother. Peter was the oldest, you see, so I think he felt responsible for what happened, and that’s why he lashed out at Jamie. Then he turned to drugs, and ended up dying behind bars.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘My Norma kept going as long as she could but in the end she took an overdose. And after that Jamie left, without a word, and I never heard from him again. To be honest, if you told me you were bringing his body home it would leave me cold. Too much has happened. I can’t feel anything anymore.’
‘So your wife died ten years ago? I’m so sorry.’
He nodded. ‘Jamie and me, we were the only ones left. I don’t think he could take it. And soon after that, he upped and left, and that’s the last I saw of him.’
‘Didn’t you try to find him?’
The old man shrugged. ‘What was the point? I suppose I could have made an effort to look for him, but he knew where I was. He could have got in touch if he’d wanted to. But he never did. The last I heard from him was a phone call telling me he was in Australia and intended to stay there. I thought he was probably better off, making a clean break, you know, putting it all behind him. We –’ he hesitated. ‘My wife and I, we were never close to him. He always kept himself to himself, you know. Even as a teenager he was out to all hours, and we never knew where he was or what he was doing. He never told us anything. And then I had a phone call from Thailand informing me Jamie had died of a respiratory infection and I could fly out and get his body if I wanted it. I told them they could dispose of him however they wanted. I hadn’t seen or heard from him for years by then.’ He shook his head. ‘That was two years ago. And that was the last I heard of him.’
Geraldine pumped the old man gently, but he was adamant that was all he knew.
‘He could be buried anywhere on the other side of the world,’ he said sadly. ‘I like to think he found some happiness before he died, was making a life for himself away from all this. I would have liked to see him again. Until I heard he was dead, I used to hope he would come back and see me, one day. But he never will now.’
Geraldine wondered what it was like to live without any hope for the future, and whether he had finally been able to find a kind of peace.
As though he could read her thoughts, he said, ‘At least now I don’t have anyone to worry about or
fret over. I live very quietly, with no disturbance.’
Once again they had been pursuing a lead that went nowhere.
25
Alexa threw a rapid glance around, taking in all the aisles within sight. Signs flashed by her: FROZEN FOOD, STATIONERY, FRESH PRODUCE. She slowed down beside two middle-aged women who were deep in conversation. They didn’t even glance at her.
‘He never did,’ she overheard one of them say as they passed her.
Hovering by a stand of glossy magazines, she gazed at a row of models taunting her with their unblemished skin, sleek hair, and flawless bodies barely concealed in gorgeous clothes, a million miles from her own scrawny figure dressed in faded jeans, baggy sweatshirt and dirty plimsoles.
‘It was way past time,’ Alexa heard one of the women say.
‘Yes, I’ve told her and told her,’ the other replied. ‘It had been going on for long enough.’
‘Too long.’
The women moved out of earshot. Neither of them paid any attention to a skinny fifteen-year-old loitering in front of the magazines. As soon as the two women disappeared around the end of the aisle, Alexa approached the shelf. In contrast to her shuffling feet, her hand moved swiftly, before anyone else came along. Clutching her bag under her arm, she walked to the next aisle where several young women were sifting through hangers of brightly coloured clothes. Alexa strolled along the aisle, her eyes darting from side to side, assessing what was in stock. Having picked out what she wanted, she took up her position and waited while another woman rummaged through the rail. At last the woman moved away. In a flash, the embroidered shirt in Alexa’s hand was stowed away out of sight, along with the magazine, several bars of chocolate, and a bottle of rum. She struggled to close the zip of her bag after cramming so much inside it.
No one paid her any attention as she bypassed the row of cashiers and headed for the exit with her bag over her shoulder. Too late she spotted a fat security guard near the doorway. She swore under her breath, but she couldn’t turn back. His eyes moved lazily towards her, and on without a pause. She let out a silent sigh of relief. If he tried to interfere with her, she would have no trouble outrunning him, even with her heavy bag over her shoulder. It was gorgeous, real leather, with a leather tassel and ‘Burberry’ written in gold letters on the front. One strap went over her shoulder, and there was a second shorter strap so she could carry it over her arm.
‘I didn’t know if you’d like it, because it’s so plain,’ Daryl had said when he showed it to her.
‘Are you having a laugh?’ She had been unable to take her eyes off the bag. ‘It’s bloody beautiful. It’s the most beautiful bag I’ve ever seen.’
‘Really? I mean, yes, it’s a nice bag, it’s real leather and everything. I only meant you might not like it because it’s brown, so I thought you might think it’s boring. I wanted to get you a nicer one. I thought you might’ve liked a red one better because it would be, well, brighter.’
She shook her head, laughing at his stupidity.
‘What the fuck would I do with a red bag? It would be like, hey, everyone, look what I got. And then someone would want to know where I got such an expensive bag, and then what would I say? No, this is just perfect. No one’s going to take any notice of a bag like this. Really, it’s perfect and I love it. And it’s got a strong zip. Bags like this, they make them properly, not like them shitty ones in the market.’
She was so pleased with her new bag, she let him kiss her and touch her where she’d never let his hands go before. She touched him too, until he wet his pants with excitement. It had been worth it, for her at least. His thrill was over in a minute but she walked away with a new bag that was going to last for ages, it was so strong and well made.
What with the bottle of booze and the magazine and everything, the bag was heavier now than when she had first set out with it over her shoulder. Without watching the fat security guard, she was conscious of his presence. Some sixth sense warned her that he was on to her, but she ignored it. As long as he didn’t move, she only needed to keep walking steadily towards the door. Logically, there was no way he could suspect what she was up to. He hadn’t even been watching her while she was lifting things from the shelves. It wasn’t as if she had taken a lot, anyway. Only the bottle cost more than a tenner. Altogether she had probably helped herself to less than forty quid’s worth of gear, but she knew she could be in trouble for nicking even a fiver’s worth of goods. It was so unfair. What the fuck difference did it make to a supermarket if it lost out on a few quid now and again? As for the store detectives, they were a bloody menace, poking their noses into other people’s business. Nobody wanted them around.
The fat security guard fixed his eyes on her as she approached. When she drew near him he shifted position, so he was standing between her and the door. Without looking at him, she concentrated on keeping her pace steady and her expression blank as she changed course slightly to walk past him. Without looking round, she made for the door that was further away from her. Having bypassed the guard, she didn’t dare look round to check whether he was following her. Her heart was racing and she felt breathless although she was still walking quite slowly. As soon as she was through the door, she would run, knowing he wouldn’t be able to catch her.
The automatic door slid open. She stepped through it and glanced over her shoulder, tensed to run, but there was no sign of the guard pursuing her. With a grin, she relaxed and walked right out of the store. The fat guard was standing in front of her, blocking her path. His face was damp with sweat and she realised he must have run along the outside of the store to reach the far door before her. If she had moved faster, he might not have got there in time to grab her.
He took a step towards her and seized her by the arm. She caught a whiff of his sweat.
‘Please come with me,’ he growled.
His eyes were nearly hidden in creases of skin, as though he was half asleep, but his grin was triumphant. The grip on her arm tightened.
‘Let go!’ she shrieked. ‘Get off me! Help! Help! I’m being attacked!’
A few passersby looked round in surprise. One or two people smiled at her performance, but no one was taken in by her protestations. Unable to wriggle free of the vicelike hold on her arm, she was nicked.
‘I’m only fifteen,’ she told the guard.
They stared at one another for a second, sizing each other up. The weight of her bag on her shoulder reminded her of Daryl and his desperate gratitude. The guard was fat and sweaty and unattractive. He wouldn’t be getting any, that was for sure.
‘I’ll give you anything you want,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I know what men like. You got a fantasy? Something that could be our secret?’ She licked her lips. ‘You know I could really go for a strong man like you.’
He listened to her with an expression of growing disgust. ‘You just told me you’re fifteen. So, what would my wife and kids say if I was caught playing around with an underage tart? First thing anyone would want to know is what the hell I was thinking of, messing with a scraggy little whore. Come on, let’s get this over with so I don’t need to touch you for any longer than I have to.’ He gave a cold, cruel smile, and tugged at her arm. ‘Now come on, I’d like you to accompany me to the office. You can tell your story there, to the police.’
There was nothing more she could say, so she spat at him. A round globule of spit clung to his uniform, a tiny bubble of hatred. She watched it as he marched her back into the supermarket, down the first aisle, and through a door at the back of the store. Facing Alexa across a desk that was too large for his tiny office, the store manager scowled. He was a small balding man, with a face that looked squashed, as though sitting in the cramped office day after day had made him shrink. In front of Alexa the contents of her bag were spread out on the desk. Behind her, the security guard had taken up his position at the door, blocking her escape. There was n
o other way out of the room.
‘It’s a bloody lie,’ she blustered. ‘I never took them things. He put them in there.’ She pointed at the fat guard standing imperviously in the doorway. ‘And anyway, that bag’s mine. He had no right to take it off me. He’s a bloody thieving bastard. Give it back. You can keep your fucking crap, I don’t want any of it. It’s all shit anyway. But you’ve got no right to nick my bag. Give it back!’
She was devastated at the prospect of losing her bag. She had only owned it for a day, and it was one of the few presents she had ever received.
‘Sit down and stop screeching,’ the manager snapped. ‘Now, let’s get this sorted.’ He pulled out a form. ‘First of all, what’s your name and where do you live?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘Listen, kid, we need an adult to come here and take responsibility for you.’
‘I don’t need anyone to be responsible for me. And don’t call me a kid.’
‘Who do you live with?’
‘That’s none of your business either.’
‘Where do you live?’
Alexa crossed her arms and shut her mouth.
‘All right then,’ the manager said wearily. ‘Have it your way. The police can deal with you.’
‘Good,’ she replied, hiding her fear. ‘They can deal with you as well, because from where I’m sitting, you just nicked my bag.’
Muttering about wasting his time, the manager picked up his phone.
Alexa wasn’t bothered. If the manager was narked, it was his own stupid fault. If she had her way, she would be out of there already, and no one’s time would need to be wasted at all. The manager was welcome to his things: the magazine, the shirt and the bottle. That was all it came down to. He was the one making a stupid fuss about it, so it served him right if his time was wasted. But what about her time? She had been through crap like this before when she was younger. For a while she had been scared off, but the temptation had proved too strong, and it was easy to help herself. It was a long time since she had been caught, and lately she had grown careless. Still, there was nothing the police could do to her. They might lock her in a cell for a few hours, and give her a warning, but then they would let her go again. Her mother would be cool about it. If anything, she hated the police even more than Alexa did. As for her father, it was so long since Alexa had seen him he wouldn’t even recognise her if he passed her in the street.
Rogue Killer Page 12
