by Sally Rigby
‘Look at this.’
‘What?’ Whitney headed over.
She showed her the entry.
‘Hmm. Interesting. When did she write that?’
‘October the fourteenth. Not long ago.’ She flicked through, looking for similar entries. ‘Here’s another: He makes my skin crawl. I want to tell Sean, but he won’t believe me. It’s his best friend, after all.’
‘We need to speak to Sean and his best friend,’ Whitney said as she pulled out her phone and keyed in a number. ‘Matt, it’s me. Ask Ellie to look in Lydia’s phone for her boyfriend Sean’s number. You need to speak to him. Find out if he has an alibi. He might not know about Lydia, unless her family have been in touch, so you’ll need to tell him. We also want to know the name and number of his best friend. Take Ellie and Frank, and then go straight to George’s house.’ Whitney ended the call.
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit of a long shot?’ she asked.
‘Not at all. If he’s a student at the uni, then he could know all the girls. Even if it is, I can’t begin to tell you how many long shots have ended up in me solving cases. Is there anything else of note in the room?’
George frowned. It was a typical student bedroom. Messy. Photos around the mirror. She peered in closer. Some were with Harriet and Henry. Some with a guy she assumed must be Sean. Others wearing silly hats. There was a photo in a frame on her dressing table of Lydia wearing riding gear, standing next to a horse.
‘Nothing strikes me as out of the ordinary. Anything you can see?’
‘No. I’m finding it hard to concentrate. I keep thinking about Tiffany. How’s she going to cope? I’d told her everything was okay.’
‘It was a shock to all of them, but she’s in good hands with Henry and Harriet. I’m sure they’ll take care of her,’ she said, trying to placate her. Not being a mother herself, she’d no idea whether she’d been successful.
It was times like these when she was glad she didn’t have children to worry about. She couldn’t begin to imagine how the dead girls’ parents coped.
‘Yes. You’re right. I’ll see her tonight. Come on. We need to get back to your place and get cracking before the day gets away from us.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
The best of Whitney’s team sat around George’s dining table. Matt, Ellie, and Frank. Yes. Even Frank. They’d given her nothing but loyalty her whole career. Even when the drug debacle blew up in her face, they stood by her. Okay, they might have given her stick for it, but it was good natured, and nothing she didn’t deserve or couldn’t take. She was dreading breaking it to them Masters was taking over. She’d no idea how he was going to use their skills, if he was going to use them at all.
‘Thanks for meeting here,’ she said. ‘I know you’re wondering what’s going on, and rightly so. There’s no easy way to say this. The DSI has taken me off the campus murders.’
‘It makes no sense,’ Matt said, shaking his head.
‘Just what I was thinking,’ Ellie added.
‘Fucking idiot,’ Frank said.
‘He doesn’t think I’m up to it. Not helped by the other case I fucked up.’
‘You haven’t fucked this one up,’ Matt said. ‘We’re making progress.’
‘Thanks, Matt. But we haven’t got very far. We took our eye off the ball by arresting Vaughan and then letting it be known we’re not looking for anyone else.’
‘Who’s taking over?’ Frank asked.
‘DCI Masters,’ she replied.
‘You’re shitting me,’ Frank said. ‘That arse-licking wanker. My two-year-old granddaughter would do a better job.’
They all laughed at Frank’s description, which was so apt.
‘At the moment he’s on holiday. Jamieson gave me forty-eight hours to get things in order for a handover. But as far as I’m concerned, we use the time to solve the case. That’s why we’re working out of Dr Cavendish’s house, so we’re not spotted working on it. Questions?’
As one by one, her team shook their heads, determination glittering their gazes, her eyes began to well up, and she hurriedly blinked the tears away. She couldn’t let them see how emotional their reactions made her.
‘We’ll nail him, guv.’ Matt said.
She flashed him a grin. ‘Too right we will. Did you speak to Sean, Lydia’s boyfriend?’
‘Yes. He’d been away at a research conference, in Manchester, and had only just got back. I confirmed with the conference organisers he was there. I asked him about his best friend. His name’s Hamish. He dropped out of university a few weeks ago and is currently somewhere in Bali.’
Her heart sank. Another lead bit the dust.
‘Thanks. That rules him out. Have you gone through the phone contacts in Poppy’s phone?’
‘Yes. Kevin Vaughan’s number is in there. But we know Poppy is part of Godwin, so that explains it.’
‘His number would be given to new students during Fresher’s week,’ George said. ‘But even though he’s excluded, it doesn’t stop him from being sleazy. Those images on his PC should be sufficient for him to lose his job.’
She couldn’t agree more. But at the moment that was the least of her worries.
‘Unfortunately, we can’t pass them on to the university,’ she said.
She went over to the board. ‘Let’s think about the common themes between the four murders.’
‘His cooling off period between each killing is getting shorter,’ George said. ‘That means the high he’s on from each murder isn’t lasting as long. It’s a classic symptom of many serial killers.’
Whitney drew up a time line on the board. ‘Okay. Millie Carter was first, on the third. Two weeks later, Olivia Griffin. One week after that, he murdered Poppy Brooks, and only four days later, we now have Lydia Parker. The time is decreasing drastically.’
‘It could go in our favour. The less time between murders, means less time planning. And that’s when mistakes are made,’ George said.
‘So he could be out there now with his next victim,’ she said.
‘It’s a possibility,’ George replied. ‘More. A probability.’
‘Then we don’t have time to debate this. Let’s get back to the common themes. Water being one of them,’ she said.
‘Yes, water features in every place the bodies are left. Millie Carter beside the river. Olivia Griffin next to the water feature. Poppy Brooks alongside the lake. Lydia Parker under the bridge going over the stream,’ George said.
‘What does that tell us?’ she asked.
‘The murderer’s a fish,’ Frank said, laughing.
The others joined in and she shot them a glare, then thought better of it and gave a small laugh.
‘You might be closer to the truth than you think,’ George said, looking thoughtful.
‘I hope this isn’t one of your crazy academic theories,’ she quipped.
‘No. Hear me out. What if the killer is like the anglerfish?’
‘What the fuck’s an anglerfish?’ She shook her head.
‘The anglerfish has a small luminous lure, which resembles a juicy worm. The other fish come over and then it pounces. What if our killer is a charismatic man, who lures his victims in, and when they let down their defences and are least expecting it, he strikes?’
‘How do you know this stuff?’ she asked.
‘My father’s a fisherman. I picked it up from him.’
‘I’ve never been able to go fishing. Seeing those poor fish with the hooks in their mouths. Even when people throw them back in, it’s still creeps me out,’ she said.
‘We’re getting distracted,’ George replied. ‘I don’t go fishing myself, but many in my family do. It’s just how it is. Back to the water. As I’ve previously mentioned, water is definitely significant to our killer. My guess is it’s related to something in his past.’
‘Do you think the way he poses the bodies is also to do with the water?’ she asked.
‘Everything is connected; we jus
t don’t know exactly how at the moment,’ George replied.
‘We need something concrete. Time’s running out.’ She tried to hide her frustration.
‘Don’t get hung up on it,’ George said. ‘We’ll get there. Let’s get the other themes up on the board.’
‘Stomach contents are interesting. He fed them all different things,’ Matt said.
‘True,’ she replied as she wrote on the board. ‘According to Dr Dexter, Millie had jelly and ice cream with sprinkles. Olivia had pizza. Poppy had sushi, and Lydia … we don’t know yet. Why all different things? What does it mean?’
‘What if the foods he fed them were their favourite? Or, alternatively, food they hated,’ George said.
‘How would he know?’ Frank asked.
‘The killer knows what he’s doing. Everything is planned and controlled. He could have found out in his research. Especially if he already had a connection to the victims,’ George replied.
‘Ellie, get in touch with the victims’ friends or family, and find out if the choice of food means anything,’ she ordered.
‘Yes, guv. I’ll go into the kitchen, if that’s okay.’ Ellie looked at George, who nodded, and then took her laptop and left the room.
‘Next theme,’ she said.
‘The phone in the lap, with photos of the victims. It’s all part of his signature,’ Matt replied.
She wrote up phone. ‘They’re all in Godwin College,’ she added. ‘So we have: water, food, rape, posed like they’re begging, and a photo of them tied up on the bed.’
‘It’s all to do with control,’ George said. ‘The killer has the urge to be in control because he either lacks control in his life presently, or at some impressionable time in his past. Especially the rape. It could be he has sexual problems, and his libido can only be satisfied by having control over the person he’s having sex with.’
‘But how is that going to help us catch him?’ she asked, unable to hide the exasperation in her voice.
‘It helps us eliminate suspects,’ George replied.
‘Great, if we actually had any suspects. Because right now we have jack shit.’
‘Don’t forget the party they were all at,’ Frank said.
‘We don’t know if Poppy went,’ Matt said.
‘Why not?’ George asked.
‘We didn’t ask Poppy’s friends because we’d already got Vaughan in custody.’ She wrote party on the board.
‘That’s what we should focus on. We need to go back to Poppy’s friends and find out.’ George insisted.
‘If they all went to Henry and Harriet’s party, it means our killer might be a student. Is that likely?’ Matt asked.
‘Anything is likely. Though it could be the killer staked out the party, checking on who came and went,’ George replied.
‘Wouldn’t someone have seen a strange man hanging outside the party?’ Frank asked.
‘There were so many people there, they might not have noticed,’ she said.
‘Depending on the age of the man, he could’ve blended in. The other students might have thought he was a mature student,’ George said.
‘What about Henry Spencer? It was his party. Lydia was his flatmate. He’s central to everything,’ Matt asked.
‘I don’t see how it could be him, as his arm’s in plaster. He injured it in a football match last week.’ She wrote his name on the board but immediately wanted to erase it. How could she think her daughter’s boyfriend would be a suspect? She’d get the team to investigate him, anyway. Just to put her mind at ease.
‘Guv, I’ve got something,’ Ellie said as she walked back into the dining room.
‘What?’
‘Pizza was Olivia’s favourite food, according to Hannah. And Nathan Harris said jelly, ice cream, and sprinkles was Millie’s. Dr Cavendish was right about their last meals being their favourite.’
‘Good work. We need to confirm with Poppy and Lydia’s friends or family.’ She added the word favourite next to food on the board. ‘Matt, you get onto that.’
‘If you think he might strike again, should we hang around the campus and look for anything suspicious? Especially near water?’ Frank asked.
‘That would work, if we want to be too late to stop him from murdering his next victim. Frank, pop back to the incident room and note any information the rest of the team have. Meet us back here later. Ellie, I want a background check into Henry Spencer. See what you can dig up. George and I will go to see Poppy Brooks’ friends.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘I hate to say this, but I can’t see us having a break on the case in time. I’ll be letting everyone down,’ Whitney said as she parked her car outside the block of student flats where Poppy Brooks lived. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so down about everything. It wasn’t just her career going down the toilet. She had a responsibility to those who worked for her. Knowing Masters, he’d bring in his own team and relegate hers to the most menial duties he could find. Just to get one up on her.
‘If you think like that, it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy,’ George said as she looked at her. ‘We still have time.’
‘Is that one of your fancy academic things that has no bearing at all to real life? Because if so, I don’t buy it.’
‘Pull your head in, Whitney. You need to stop being so emotional, or you won’t be able to do your work.’
Whitney scowled at her. Except she knew George was speaking the truth. Why couldn’t she be rational and clear headed like George, never allowing her emotions to get in the way? She blew hot and cold, depending on what was happening. The thing was, part of her success in cracking cases in the past was because of her gut. Aka, her emotions.
‘You’re right. I need to be calm and rational. Come on, let’s go. Her flat is on the sixth floor, number 611. She shared with three others.’
They got out of the car and went into the recently built student accommodation. Everything was modern and sleek. She was impressed. They took the lift up to the sixth floor and went to the flat. She knocked on the door.
‘Leave the talking to me,’ she said.
‘I think you’ve told me enough times in the past for me to take it as read,’ George replied, arching an eyebrow.
The door was opened by a young woman. ‘Yes?’
‘DCI Walker and Dr Cavendish. We’d like to talk to you about Poppy.’
The girl’s face dropped at the mention of Poppy’s name and her eyes welled up.
‘Come in,’ she said, sniffing. ‘We were wondering if you’d want to talk to us. We haven’t been to college since it happened. We couldn’t face it.’
They walked into the flat and followed the student into the living room.
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ she said. ‘What’s your name?’
‘I’m Rachel. I’ll fetch the others. They’re in their bedrooms.’
She glanced around the room, her fingers itching to tidy up. There were dirty plates on the dining table in the corner of the room. Books were lying on the floor. Clothes strewn over the furniture.
‘The state of this place,’ she muttered.
‘I’ve seen much worse.’
‘I don’t know how they could live like that. I’m not a tidy person, but this.’ She waved her arm around. ‘It’s disgusting. I swear there’s mould growing on those dishes. Were you the same as a student?’
She’d bet a month’s wages on the answer.
‘Not exactly.’
‘You mean, not at all. Maybe I should be a forensic psychologist, because I’ve got you pegged. I think you were born with a list in your hand. You—’ She paused as she noticed the expression on George’s face. ‘Sorry. I was only joking. I didn’t mean anything by it.’
George shrugged. ‘No offence taken. I like things planned and organised. But some people think my lack of spontaneity makes me boring and predictable.’
She didn’t know what to say. She sort of agreed, but on the other hand
George wasn’t so boring she didn’t enjoy being in her company. They hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time together, but George was interesting and different from the usual people she hung out with.
She smothered a laugh. Tiffany was mixing with posh people, like the twins, and Whitney now knew George. They were certainly moving up in the world.
Her thoughts were distracted by voices coming down the stairs.
The three girls walked into the living room and stood in front of them.
‘Please sit down,’ she said gently.
The three of them sat on a dark green sofa, and she sat opposite on a matching easy chair. George walked over to the dining table and drew out one of the chairs, sitting away from the rest of them. Whitney assumed it was so she could watch the body language and make a better assessment of the situation.
‘Please tell me your names,’ she asked the two she hadn’t met.
‘I’m Becky,’ the one with curly red hair said.
‘And I’m Gemma.’
‘I’m DCI Whitney Walker. I’m leading the investigation into the campus murders. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Poppy, if you’re up to it.’ She wanted to take it steady, as not one of them appeared strong.
She glanced over at George, who nodded.
‘We’ve talked about it non-stop but can’t think of anything,’ Rachel said.
‘That’s okay. My questions might prompt something you hadn’t thought of.’
‘Okay,’ Rachel said.
Clearly, she was going to speak on the others’ behalf.
‘There was a party a few weeks ago at the house belonging to Henry and Harriet Spencer. It was their birthday. Do you know if Poppy went?’ she asked.
The girls looked at each other. Hmm. What was that about?
