by Sally Rigby
‘I’m still not convinced they can help. I’d rather just have the files. Did they tell you anything of use?’
‘He said to expect a second murder within a few days, a third a few days after that, and a fourth exactly two weeks after the first.’
‘We could’ve worked that out for ourselves, based on what has happened in the past. I’m guessing it’s because they have very little to go on.’
‘Walker, you have to realise you’re not a one-man-band.’
‘I think you mean one-person-band, sir.’ He was always going on about how she needed to be current. So should he.
‘You know what I mean. If the RF is prepared to send two of their officers to help, then we should welcome the assistance.’
She was fighting a losing battle, but she wouldn’t give up without him knowing her feelings on the matter.
‘Just because they’re the RF, doesn’t make them any better than we are at our jobs.’
She hated the elitism implicit in any discussions surrounding the Regional Force. She’d worked with them on a case in the past, and it hadn’t ended well. They might be the most far-reaching force in the country, but that didn’t mean they were the best. Far from it.
‘Walker, it’s no longer up for discussion. You will work with them when they’re here, for the good of the case. This is not all about you.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Do we know when they’ll be arriving?’
‘The Detective Super didn’t know. The officers he wants to send are currently involved in another case, so it might not be until next week.’
At last, something she wanted to hear. She’d have solved it by then, without their interference.
‘Okay.’ She forced back the smug smile threatening to cross her face.
‘And while I have you here, I understand you left the firearms training early yesterday, missing the afternoon session.’
It didn’t take long for her absence to get back to her boss. Did the tutor have a hotline to him? What was it about those people? All they wanted to do was conspire to get her in trouble. It wasn’t like she’d disappeared to meet a friend or go to the cinema. She did actually have something more pressing to deal with.
‘The only reason I left was because I had a message regarding the murder. I accept we’re taught to delegate, but this was one instance when I thought you’d want me to be there and take charge. Especially as we needed someone senior there to ensure we had no issues with the BTP trying to muscle in. Am I wrong?’ she challenged.
‘You should have sought my permission first.’
‘You’d already told me you weren’t contactable yesterday, so that wouldn’t have been possible. I made the decision and stand by it. I have a good team, but when there’s a young boy who’s been murdered, that’s where my priority lies. The only thing I missed was part of the final assessment, and I’ve arranged to do it another time.’
‘That’s really not the point, Walker. You have a history of ducking out of things you don’t want to do. Under normal circumstances, you leaving wouldn’t be an issue, but this is more of the same. In addition, I went out on a limb to get you a place on the course, as you well know. You can go now, as I have other things to do. I want you to get everything ready for when the RF officers arrive.’ He dismissed her with a flick of his hand.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And don’t let me hear you’ve been anything other than cooperative. Otherwise, you’ll have me to answer to. I need you to be on top of the investigation.’
Whitney seethed all the way back to the incident room. How dare he treat her like that? He was happy enough when she solved cases and he had the results he wanted. But he had to realise that getting results can conflict with conforming to the rules. Good policing sometimes involved going out on a limb, within the law of course, and she wasn’t going to change the way she operated. She just had to pray he’d soon get promoted.
The incident room was buzzing when she got back, as most of the team had returned.
She went to the board. ‘Listen up, everyone. I’ve just come from the press conference, which means we’ll soon be receiving calls from the public. Make sure someone is by the phone at all times. Right, where are we so far? Ellie?’
‘I’ve run the victim’s phone through the self-service kiosk and found he sent two texts to a friend saying what time he’d be arriving and confirming their plans for the evening. There was no mention of anything out of the ordinary on the train. I’ve also got lists of credit card payments from the different stations, for those who had bought tickets. What we don’t know yet is whether the purchasers were the ones who actually got on board. In the case of the victim, his ticket was bought by his father, Mr Holmes-Reed. I’m going to contact all of the buyers.’
‘Well done. Where are we with the CCTV footage, Frank?’
The older detective always enjoyed CCTV work. It meant he could stay in the warmth of the office and be close to the facilities.
‘As you know, there’s none on the actual train, so at the moment we’re looking through footage from Lenchester station. People getting off the train, and those waiting on the platform. With the exception of an adult with two young children, all travellers getting off here were on their own. Once we track them down, we can interview them.’
‘What about the other stations?’
‘We’re still waiting for the footage to be sent. They’re going to email it to me,’ Frank said.
‘Let me know when it arrives. Sue, who did you speak to at the school?’ she asked, directing her question to the officer sitting next to Ellie.
‘Matt and I spoke to the head teacher, Hugo’s housemaster, and several of his friends. They were devastated but had nothing to add to the enquiry. He was a popular boy, good at sport, worked hard, and didn’t cause any problems.’
‘We asked them not to mention anything to the press, as we haven’t yet released Hugo’s name,’ Matt added. ‘But I don’t know how long before it’s public knowledge.’
‘I agree, especially as at the press conference reporters were asking if it was the work of the Carriage Killer. They’d already made the link.’ She shook her head. ‘Doug, where are you on the background checks?’
‘Nothing on Stanley Crabtree, guv. He’s worked on the railway for twenty years. I’ve received a list of employees from the station manager, and I’m going through it now.’
‘We also need background checks on the employees at all the stations on yesterday’s route. Newcastle, Leeds, Coventry, and Banbury. You’ll need help.’ Her phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was George. ‘Okay, good job, everyone. We’ll meet again in the morning.’ She answered her phone and walked into her office, closing the door behind her. ‘George?’ She’d only left an hour ago, what did she want?
‘Just thought I’d ring to see how the press conference went, before I go home.’
‘Do you fancy a drink, and I can fill you in on everything so far? I could do with offloading, as Jamieson’s being his usual self. What is it about that man? I’ve been trying so hard not to let him rub me up the wrong way.’
‘I’ve told you before, it’s all about mindset. You go into his office expecting the worst, and that’s what you get.’
‘Since when have you become my therapist?’ She laughed.
‘Someone has to, or you’ll drive yourself mad.’
‘So, what time for this drink? We could meet at the Crown and Anchor.’ It was nice and quiet, and they wouldn’t bump into anyone they knew.
‘Sorry, I can’t tonight. I’ve already made arrangements, which I can’t cancel,’ George said.
Damn. It looked like a night in on her own, unless she popped to the pub near the station. There would be plenty of people there to speak to. But not to confide in. ‘Okay, no problem. Are you coming in tomorrow?’
‘Yes. I can be with you all day.’
‘Great. Where are you going tonight? Somewhere nice?’<
br />
‘Umm ...’ There was a pause. Why was George being to secretive?
‘What do you mean “umm”? Don’t you want to tell me?’ Whitney asked, intrigued by the doctor’s out of character behaviour.
‘If I tell you, don’t read anything into it.’
‘I knew it. You’re going out with someone, aren’t you? I could tell before from the way you were acting. You’ve got yourself a new boyfriend.’
‘He’s not a new boyfriend, and I didn’t tell you because I knew this was how you’d react. Jumping to unjustified conclusions.’
‘Are you, or are you not, going on a date?’
‘It depends on your definition of date.’
Whitney let out a sigh. ‘Talking to you can be so difficult. Are you going out with a man? Someone you haven’t been out with before?’
‘Yes. I’m going out to dinner with someone I’ve met.’
‘A date. So, I was right. What can you tell me about him? Does he work at the university?’
Knowing George seldom did anything other than work, go for drives in her car, or occasionally see arty films with subtitles, which Whitney didn’t understand, she thought she was right in assuming he was a colleague. George didn’t mind the lack of social life. She said she preferred it that way.
‘No, it’s not someone from work.’
‘Well, who is it? You don’t go anywhere to meet potential dates. It’s not someone from here, is it?’ Not that she could think of any single guy in the Lenchester police force George would be remotely interested in.
‘No, it’s not.’
‘Why are you being so secretive? I don’t understand.’
‘Okay, I’ll tell you. And maybe we can put this issue to rest. I’m seeing a man I met when I was out with my parents. He works at the restaurant where we had lunch yesterday.’
‘A chef?’ Whitney’s cooking was ridiculously bad. She’d love to have someone cook for her.
Of course, George was excellent at cooking, as she was at everything.
‘No, he’s not a chef. He was our waiter.’
Whitney’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re going out with the waiter?’
She didn’t see that one coming. Not that she had anything against waiters, but George was so smart, and such a high-powered academic, she couldn’t imagine her with someone who had an ordinary job. She should stop being so stereotypical. Maybe this man was what George needed. Someone who was in the real world and not full of long words and pompousness.
‘I know what you’re thinking, but he seemed nice. My father was rude to him. That was one of the reasons I agreed to see him.’
‘To get back at your dad? That’s not like you at all.’ The one thing about George was she didn’t allow her emotions to get the better of her.
‘I know, but sometimes my parents frustrate me so much it makes me want to do things I wouldn’t normally do.’
‘That makes you human.’
‘Are you saying I’m not otherwise?’
‘You know I’m not. Anyway, he must be nice, otherwise you wouldn’t have said yes, irrespective of what your father said to him.’
‘I’ll know more after this evening.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Out for a pub meal.’
‘I want to know everything about it when you come in tomorrow. This is the first date you’ve had since splitting up from what’s-his-name.’
Whitney knew George hadn’t been out with anyone since the ex. Mind you, she could talk, as she rarely dated. There just wasn’t enough time in the day for her to do everything.
‘Yes, this is my first date since Stephen. From what I’ve seen so far, Ross is very different.’
‘I look forward to hearing every little detail tomorrow. Enjoy yourself, and I’ll see you first thing in morning.’
Chapter Eight
Monday, 10 June
George pulled open the wardrobe door and stared at the row of clothes, all in order, ranging from smart to casual. What should she wear? Something dressy? Or would she be better in jeans and a shirt? It would have been good to ask Whitney, but it was too late now, as she had to leave to meet Ross in twenty minutes. She’d already done her make-up; nothing heavy, just light, natural coverage.
There was a frisson of excitement in her stomach, which was weird. She’d never experienced that before. Thinking back to Stephen, they had worked together, and it wasn’t until many months after they’d first met that he asked her out to the theatre. It was a gradual thing, and the first time they’d gone out had seemed perfectly fine and easy to navigate.
It was the same with others she’d dated. She’d only ever gone out with people she’d known as a friend first, while at university and work, and there hadn’t been many. She didn’t like meeting new people, and didn’t manage social situations well, often saying things which caused upset without even realising she’d done it.
Glancing at the rail of clothes again, she decided to go casual, and pulled out a pair of navy jeans and a pale pink-and-white striped shirt, which she paired with some flat, dark blue sandals.
After going into the garden for a calming cigarette, she cleaned her teeth and left the house. She drove out of the city, enjoying the scenery once she’d reached the countryside. The light evenings made it her favourite time of year. She arrived at the pub early so stayed in her car for ten minutes, as she’d no idea whether Ross was inside. He certainly hadn’t come into the car park since she’d been there.
Feeling a little apprehensive, she stepped out of the car and made her way to the entrance.
‘George.’ She heard her name as soon as she was inside. She hadn’t been there before, but it was a typical country pub and restaurant, with low beams and a convivial atmosphere.
Ross walked over to where she was standing. He looked different out of his uniform. She’d forgotten how tall he was. Definitely over six foot, which meant he wouldn’t feel intimidated by her height, as many men did.
‘Hello, Ross.’ She held out her hand to shake his, and he looked at it and laughed.
‘I don’t think we need to be that formal,’ he said, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek. ‘I’ve booked us a table. The restaurant’s through there.’ He pointed to a room off the main bar.
Once in there, they were shown to a table. It was already busy, which she assumed meant they’d made a good choice of venue.
‘Would you like to sit here?’ Ross asked, pointing to the chair facing outwards, so she could see what was going on. Stephen wouldn’t have done that, as he always wanted to face the action. She hadn’t minded, but the fact was he’d never given her a choice of where to sit. He’d just assumed she’d be fine where she’d ended up.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘I’ll get us a drink while we’re waiting to be served. What would you like?’
‘A beer would be good, especially if they have any real ale.’ Should she have asked for wine? Something more appropriate. No. That was a ridiculous thought. She wasn’t trying to impress.
His eyes widened. ‘You like real ale?’
His reaction was so typical.
‘It’s my favourite.’
‘Mine, too. Not many women drink it.’
‘Agreed. Most people are surprised when they find out I like it.’ She smiled at him. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be too bad. At least they could talk about beer.
‘Right, I’ll go grab us a pint. I assume it’s a pint you want.’
‘Yes, please. But only one, as I’m driving.’
‘Me, too.’
She scrutinised him as he headed towards the bar. He wasn’t too skinny, which suited her, as she much preferred well-built men. She also loved the way his fair hair curled so attractively around his ears.
While sitting alone, she reflected on the case, hoping they’d be able to make some progress before a second murder occurred. She’d had a little time to research what had been reported about the earlier cases. It seemed the murd
erer had no specific type of victim. In fact, in terms of victimology, there was no pattern at all. It really was just happenstance the young boy had been chosen.
The fact the killer was prepared to murder a child made her sick to the stomach. Hugo was the youngest victim so far. The rest had been a mix, ranging from people in their twenties to people in their sixties and seventies. To murder a child took it to a different level.
Ross came back to the table holding two pints, and he placed one in front of her.
‘No real ale, I’m afraid, but this is the next best thing. I thought you wouldn’t mind.’
She took a sip. ‘Hmmm. Not too bad.’
‘So, Dr Georgina Cavendish. All I know about you is what I’ve learned from your business card. You’re a senior lecturer at Lenchester University in the forensic psychology department. What else can you tell me?’ He smiled, lighting up his clear, blue eyes.
She hated when people wanted to know all about her, as she never knew what to say or how much to tell them. Once they found out who her parents were, they inevitably made a judgement. In his favour, he’d already met her parents, but she didn’t know whether he’d been told who they were. But seeing as the owner was such a huge fan of her father, she guessed that he probably had been.
‘You go first, as you already know something about me. All I know about you is at the weekend you work as a waiter. Is that your full-time job?’
‘I only work there sometimes, as a favour to the owner.’
He knew the owner, and the owner knew her father. That answered her question.
‘How do you know him?’
‘I know his wife better, as she bought a piece from me. She happened to find out I’d been trained in silver service while I was at university, so I help them out when they’re short staffed.’
‘A piece?’ Did he make jewellery? Paint?
‘I’m a sculptor.’
‘Fascinating. Apart from the most famous examples, I’m not familiar with many sculptures. What led you into sculpting?’
‘I started when I was at school. I also enjoyed art and couldn’t make up my mind what to study. Eventually, I decided to go to Edinburgh University, as it had the best sculpting course.’
