by Sally Rigby
‘Me? The thorn in his side. The person who won’t put up with his ridiculous idiosyncrasies.’
‘Yes, exactly. He knows you’ll tell it as you see it. Maybe it’s what he needed,’ George said.
‘Maybe,’ she said, not totally convinced.
She picked up a pen. On the map, she marked where Tony Adams’s body had been found, and also where they’d located his car. She had more important things to worry about than Jamieson.
‘Okay, the body was found about a mile from his car, and when we look at where the other two bodies were located, they’re all within a three-mile radius of each other. What does it tell us?’ she asked George.
‘It confirms the murderer is a local or has an extensive knowledge of the area. They know the places to leave the bodies where they’ll be found fairly quickly, but not where they’d be caught depositing them. As for the car, if Tony Adams had arranged to meet the killer, thinking he was meeting a teen girl, we need to look at areas close by. Potential meeting places. We should also ask ourselves how the murderer accosted and sedated him without anyone seeing.’
‘That’s what bothers me. How would the perp move a sedated body?’ Whitney said.
‘Injected sedatives can start working within a few minutes. While the victims were half sedated, the murderer might have managed to move them,’ George suggested.
‘Alternatively, what if Adams didn’t want a scene, so he agreed to get in the car to talk? Assuming he knew how vigilante groups operate once they’d found a paedophile, he’d want to persuade them not to expose him by filming him for social media. He also wouldn’t want them to inform the police. And if our murderer is a woman, he wouldn’t have felt so threatened. Once she’d got him in the car, it would be easy for her to stick a needle in him.’
George was silent for a moment. ‘It seems a more likely scenario,’ she agreed.
‘Guv,’ Ellie said, coming up to them. ‘I’ve gone through the phone contacts and got into his texts. He had a meeting arranged with someone called Vi at three o’clock on Sussex Street, by the telephone box.’
‘Around the corner from Wessex Street, where he parked his car.’ Whitney pointed at the street on the map. ‘Does it say where exactly they were going to go? A café maybe?’ she asked Ellie.
‘No. Vi suggested the meeting place and said they could go somewhere to talk but didn’t say where. I know the street, and there aren’t any cafés close by. It’s secluded and backs onto Springford Park. There are no houses on the Sussex Street side, as it leads into an industrial estate.’
‘An ideal place to lure someone. What else did they say about the meeting?’
‘Nothing, apart from how much he was looking forward to seeing her and how lovely she looked in her photo.’ Ellie grimaced.
‘Is her photo on his phone?’ George asked.
‘Yes. Nothing intimate, just a picture of a young girl with long blonde hair, who looks about thirteen or fourteen,’ Ellie said.
‘Was Vi’s photo on either of the other two victims’ phones, by any chance?’
‘No. I checked both of them. There’s no crossover.’
‘Damn. That would’ve made things too easy,’ George said.
‘Back to Tony Adams. Is there anything else from the texts?’ Whitney asked, sensing they were beginning to put the pieces together.
‘He’d been messaging with Vi every day for several weeks,’ Ellie said. ‘More so during the week, rather than weekends.’
‘That makes sense. If he was with his family, he wouldn’t be able to text so freely,’ George said.
‘What were their conversations about?’ Whitney asked.
‘She told him all the problems she had at home. How her parents were treating her like a child and she was fed up of them not letting her grow up. He told her he wouldn’t be like that. He could tell how mature she was for her age, and he wished he could do something to help her.’ Ellie grimaced again. ‘The sick pervert. It makes my skin crawl.’
‘Mine, too. But we have to put our feelings to one side and concentrate on catching the murderer.’ She sympathised with the young officer. When Whitney had been her age, she’d have felt the exact same way. But they couldn’t cherry-pick which laws to uphold.
‘Who actually suggested the meeting?’ George asked.
‘She did.’
‘Interesting,’ George said, nodding. ‘It would have confirmed to him he’d done a good job.’
‘Wouldn’t he suspect anything was wrong?’ Whitney said.
‘Why? He thought he was talking to a young girl. Remember, people believe what they want to believe. The thought he was being duped probably didn’t even enter his head. He’s a respectable man with a good job and young family. He was no doubt convinced he was invincible. Ellie, how long has he been a member of the site, and what other girls has he been talking to?’ George asked.
‘I got into his account directly from his phone. According to his status, he’s been a member for twelve months. I’ll look back into all of his chats and see what I can find,’ Ellie said.
‘Good. I want details of anyone he’s met up with,’ Whitney said.
‘Yes, guv.’
‘Were you able to track down Bea, the girl who Keane had arranged to meet?’
‘No. I asked Mac to take a look, and I’m still waiting to hear back.’
‘Okay, carry on checking out Tony Adams’ past messages and look at the conversations Keane had with Bea so we can compare them with conversations Atkins had. See if we can pull anything together which might help.’
‘Can Ellie manage all that?’ George asked.
‘Of course she can. She’s the best researcher this force has ever had.’ Whitney smiled at the blushing young officer.
‘It won’t take me long to extract the information you need,’ Ellie said. ‘What would you like first?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Whitney said as she went over to the board and wrote the name Vi under Tony Adams’ name.
Her phone rang.
‘Walker.’
‘It’s Frank. O’Brien’s sitting in Diablos café in Wood Street with a young girl and an older woman.’
‘How long’s he been there?’ she asked.
‘We tailed him here from his house. He went in about twenty minutes ago, the woman arrived five minutes later, and the girl has just joined them. They’re sitting by the window, and I can see them from where we’re parked on the other side of the road.’
‘Describe the older woman.’
‘Short grey hair, in her early sixties, small.’
‘Sounds like Vera Smith. Keep an eye on them. We’ll be there shortly. If they leave, tail the girl so we can find out who she is.’
‘Okay, guv.’
She ended the call and turned to George.
‘Jimmy O’Brien and Vera are meeting with a young girl in a local café. Let’s go and see what they’re up to.’
The café was situated next to the bus station, and she parked in a side street out of sight. They walked around the corner, keeping on the side of the café. She spotted Frank in his black Vauxhall Astra but didn’t go over in case they were seen by Jimmy and he attempted to scarper.
‘What’s the plan?’ George asked. ‘Do you want them back at the station?’
‘We’ll go into the café and sit with them. I think we’ll get more from them if we keep it low key. We’ll pretend to be surprised to see them in there.’
George pushed open the door and they headed inside. Whitney glanced to the right and saw the three of them engrossed in conversation. Vera was sitting on one bench next to the young girl, who was next to the window, and Jimmy sat opposite.
She turned and made her way towards them, with George following.
‘Jimmy. Vera,’ she said as she approached.
The shocked expressions on their faces were almost comical. They couldn’t have looked guiltier if they’d tried.
‘DCI Walker,’ Vera said. ‘What brings you
here?’
‘I could ask you the same thing.’
‘We…we…’ Vera glanced furtively at the young girl beside her.
‘Vigilante work?’ Whitney suggested. ‘I’m sure you won’t mind if we join you.’ She slid in next to Jimmy, and George sat next to Vera.
‘Would it matter if we did?’ Jimmy growled.
‘We can always do this at the station.’
‘Do what? We’re not doing anything.’ Jimmy’s body stiffened. ‘We’re out having a coffee. Is it about the murders? Because, if so, I’ve already given you my alibis. So stop hounding me just because I’ve got a record.’
‘Jimmy, calm down.’ Vera leaned over and rested her hand over his clenched fist. ‘What do you want to know, Chief Inspector?’
Whitney glanced at the young girl next to Vera, who’d kept her head lowered and had avoided looking in her direction.
‘Perhaps you could introduce me to your friend.’ She nodded at the girl.
‘This is Polly; she’s my goddaughter. Polly, say hello to the Chief Inspector and Dr Cavendish.’
The girl glanced up. ‘Hello,’ she muttered.
‘How old are you, Polly?’ George asked.
‘Sixteen.’
That surprised Whitney. She’d have put money on her only being thirteen or fourteen.
‘Do you often hang out with Vera and Jimmy?’ George asked.
The girl flushed a deep shade of red. ‘No.’
‘So why today? Are you doing some vigilante work for them?’ Whitney said.
Polly turned her head and stared out of the window.
‘We’re not doing anything illegal,’ Vera said.
‘Then enlighten me; what are you doing? Actually, let me guess. You’re using Polly as a decoy.’
‘We haven’t got anything planned. We’re talking to her about it, to see if she’d be interested in helping us,’ Vera said.
‘And are you, Polly?’ she asked.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she muttered.
Whitney let out an exasperated sigh. No good could come from getting youngsters involved in this sort of work.
‘Jimmy. Vera. What were you doing Tuesday just gone, between eight and midnight?’
‘I was at home alone, watching telly until nine, and then I went to bed,’ Vera said.
‘Jimmy?’ she asked after a few seconds, as he clearly wasn’t going to answer.
‘At the pub,’ he grunted.
‘Can anyone vouch for you?’ she asked.
He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms tightly across his chest. ‘Ask Len. We went out for a drink together,’ he finally said.
‘To discuss Justice Hunters work?’ She tried to make eye contact, but he stared straight ahead.
‘Maybe.’
‘Which pub?’
‘The Red Lion.’
‘What time did you leave?’
‘I don’t remember. I had a skinful. It was late.’
‘How did you get home?’
‘Taxi.’
‘Do you have the name of the taxi firm?’
He turned his head and glared at her, his eyes bulging. ‘No, I fucking don’t. Go to the pub and ask them, and stop trying to trip me up. I didn’t kill anyone. Leave me alone and start looking for the real culprit.’
Whitney stared right back into his eyes. She’d faced off against much worse than him. His size and aggression didn’t intimidate her. ‘That’s exactly what we’re doing. And by the way, your alibi for the first murder didn’t check out. According to your supervisor at Hamilton’s, you left early.’
‘Well, I was there for some of the time,’ Jimmy said, his tone not so aggressive now.
‘Where did you go after you left Hamilton’s?’ she asked.
‘Home. And before you ask, no one can back up my story.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us the truth before?’
‘Why do you think?’ Jimmy retorted.
‘Has there been another murder?’ Vera asked, interrupting.
‘Yes, there has,’ she said.
‘Good,’ Jimmy snapped. ‘We don’t want filth like that on our streets.’
Whitney caught George’s eye. It was time to leave. They were getting nowhere fast. Jimmy would continually proclaim his innocence, and at the moment, they had nothing to tie him to the crimes.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
On the way back to the car, after meeting with Jimmy, Vera and Polly, Whitney’s phone rang. It was Becky from Radio Lenchester. Crap. She probably wanted permission to use the letter. But she couldn’t. Not yet.
‘Hello.’
‘I’ve got another one,’ the head of news said, dispensing with any formalities.
‘A letter?’
‘Yes. It arrived in the post today. I’ve only just got to my desk, so I’m not sure what time it arrived.’
‘Have you opened it?’
‘No, because I recognised the way my name and address were typed and thought it was from the murderer. Plus, I don’t get many personal letters, as everything comes via email. Do you want me to open it?’ Becky asked.
‘No. Don’t do anything. I’m coming over. I should be there within twenty minutes.’
‘Okay. I’ll see you then.’
George frowned. ‘What’s that about?’ she asked as Whitney ended the call.
‘Becky from the radio station. There’s another letter from the murderer. She didn’t open it because she recognised the typing on the envelope.’
‘Do you want me to come with?’ George asked.
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll go on my own. I’ll drop you back at the station.’
‘Okay. Let me know if you need me. If not, I’ll pop in tomorrow morning. Now the students are on Easter break, it’s easier to come and go as I please.’
‘I’ll text and let you know one way or the other.’
‘How’s it going at work, now?’ Whitney asked once they were in the car and driving towards the station.
‘Fine. I’m keeping my head down, so you don’t have to keep asking me all the time. Nothing’s going to change, and when the new associate professor arrives, I’ll treat him exactly the same way as I treat everybody else.’
‘In other words, you won’t be speaking much to him.’ Whitney grinned.
George scowled in her direction, and then the muscles around her face relaxed. ‘You’re so funny,’ she said, rolling her eyes towards the sky.
When they got to the police station, George got out and Whitney carried on to meet with Becky. There was a small car park at the back of the radio station, and she managed to find a space. She walked in the front door and up to reception.
‘DCI Walker to see Becky Ellis.’
She waited while the receptionist called, and after a few minutes Becky came downstairs to greet her.
‘You got here quickly,’ Becky said.
‘I had the siren on.’
They hurried up the stairs into the sales area and through to the newsroom where there were five people sitting at desks working. Becky led Whitney into her office, closing the door behind them.
‘I need permission to release the first letter soon. I can’t hang onto it for much longer. Management will go ballistic if they find out.’
‘Let’s have a look at this latest one and we’ll discuss it,’ Whitney said as she looked at the type written envelope sitting face up on the desk.
Becky pointed to it. ‘Look at the way this person has put my name. Ms R Ellis c/o Lenchester Radio Station, and the address. It’s so formal and very different from the way most people send a letter.’
‘You’re right.’ She’d discuss with George what the formality meant.
After pulling on some gloves, she picked up the envelope from the desk and turned it over in her hands, looking to see if there was anything suspicious about it. It was the same as the last one. An innocuous white envelope.
She slid her finger under the seal and opened it as carefully as she co
uld. The sheet of white A4 paper had been neatly folded.
Dear Rebecca Ellis,
I am writing to you again because you seem to have disregarded my first letter. This was either because you didn’t receive it, or you chose to ignore it.
If it is the latter, you obviously have no sense of what’s important in life and you don’t deem my mission newsworthy. If that is the case, shame on you. You don’t deserve to be in the position you are. It is important for people to know the ineptness of our legal system and our police force, for allowing men like Russell Atkins, Kelvin Keane, and Tony Adams to go free. Yes, I’m telling you the name of my latest conquest, so you know for sure I’m the one who is ridding the world of these monsters. Action is eloquence.
I have attached a copy of my original letter and expect to hear an item on the radio outlining exactly what I’ve done and why I did it. I will give you until the end of the week. If nothing is aired, I will go to one of the newspapers, and you will have lost your scoop, as they say in the media world.
‘A third victim?’ Becky asked. She’d been reading over Whitney’s shoulder.
‘Yes, we’re announcing it later.’
‘What now?’
‘Leave it with me while I discuss with my DSI how much we can let you release as a news item.’
‘At the moment, you’re in control because I’ve agreed not to say anything, but the papers won’t be so accommodating. If they get hold of it, you won’t have any choice in the matter. The news will be spread across the pages. What I’d like to do is to read out both letters on air or release extracts from them,’ Becky said.
‘That’s why I’m going to talk to DSI Jamieson,’ Whitney said. ‘As soon as I know anything, I’ll be in touch. I appreciate you not opening it before I arrived.’
Whitney folded the letter and envelope into separate evidence bags.
‘Have you got time to look at one of the studios this time?’ Becky asked.
She didn’t want to appear too keen, like a radio station groupie. Or “anorak” as they were known in radio land, according to Becky.
‘Yes, I think so. Who’s on at the moment?’ She actually knew Steve Evans was presenting. He was one of her favourites. She always listened when she was in the car.
