by Carla Kovach
‘Thank you for your help. We’ll send someone to take more thorough statements from your staff at a more convenient time, maybe earlier tomorrow morning, before service begins.’ Gina glanced around the room. The woman was still tending to the tables and a young man wearing chef’s whites popped out from the kitchen. He glanced over, catching sight of Amber Slater’s photo.
‘Hey. Excuse me,’ Gina called as he turned to leave. ‘Do you know this woman?’
He shook his head and wiped his sweaty brow with his sleeve. ‘No. I’ve never seen her before. I best get back to prepping the aubergine.’
Whatever he’d come out for he’d swiftly forgotten. Gina glanced through the little circular window that divided bar and kitchen. The chef caught her line of sight and quickly turned away. ‘What’s his name?’
‘The chef?’ Lennie wiped a few crumbs from the bar.
‘Yes.’
Wyre stood poised with her pen.
‘Jake Goodman. Is there a problem?’
Gina smiled. ‘No, and thank you. As I said, someone will be here to take statements from the staff soon.’ She glanced back. A whoosh of steam filled the air as Jake deglazed a pan. Something about his demeanour told Gina that he knew exactly who Amber was but why would he lie about knowing her?
8
New day, new dating profile! Time to become someone else.
I flick through the collection of online photos that I’ve saved and settle on a square-jawed male who claims to be six feet tall. Dark hair and coffee-coloured skin. He’s the epitome of perfection, everything I aspire to be. He’s shiny, sculptured and just the bait I need on the end of my line. This physique was mine a few years ago but life drains a person. I’m not that person any more.
Profile – add. Hmm, what do I put as a job? Doctor or paramedic. Paediatrician – loves children and animals. Vet, maybe?
Ooh, I recognise her but why wouldn’t I? Cleevesford is a small town. Is she the right woman? I’m not sure. She’s helped me to choose a profession though, I’ll go with doctor. I wanted to be a doctor, but then again, I wanted to be a solicitor then an architect and then a writer. I’m a person of many faces.
I can be anything, I always did think that until life presented me with a plan of its own, one that I hadn’t chosen. But I’m free now, free to make my own destiny and it feels like I can breathe again. All my baggage is finally in the past where it belonged. I’ve taken care of it.
Only last week, I thought I’d found what I was looking for, but she wasn’t right. The one I choose has to be perfect.
Today was a new day and it was as if by magic, you’ve returned to me. There’s someone else I can’t get out of my mind, only she would be difficult with her being in the police, but she’s an even closer match.
I’d do anything to feel close to you again and hold you again. I didn’t think that was possible but it is, I know it is.
A shiver of excitement travels through my body as I think of the woman I saw at the lake. What’s life without risk?
Shaking my head, I continue with the doctor profile. I’ll go with sporty. Women like a sporty man. I begin to type. I play squash with my friend Jed every week. I really feel as though my character would have a friend called Jed so I add that detail in. He’d be a handsome high-flyer, like me. Maybe we have drinks at the clubhouse after. I type in squash. I like books too. I know the stories of a few classics from seeing films like Oliver and 1984, I can blag that if the conversation takes us there. Of course, that’s if we chat online. Thank goodness for Wikipedia.
I scratch my stubble and flick back to random profiles, then I place my hand inside my track bottoms. ‘Let’s have some you and me time.’ Wait, I have to finish my profile. I hit the smiley icon that tells this woman that I’m interested. I click on a couple of other profiles and hit more smileys. Might as well cast the net widely amongst the women who fitted my criteria.
Tonight I’m going to do me a bit of following, get out there and do my research. So many options and so little time. My fingers itch for a real, breathing version of you.
I glance back at the woman’s profile and frown. This site doesn’t promote love, it promotes lust. Not what I want, but, hey, it’s a start. I’ll quite happily arrange to meet this one for a hook-up.
I just need to get her here with me. Once she’s here, she’ll never want to leave.
‘Why are you looking at her?’ You stand above me, a tear running down your face, haunting me.
‘You know why.’
You shake your head slowly in a disapproving way before fading into the darkness of the hallway.
‘I’m doing this for us,’ I shout as I hit the wooden arm of the chair, bruising my knuckles.
‘You’re doing this for you,’ you whisper.
I want to storm out of the room and pin you against the wall but I know I can’t, it’s impossible. Then my phone pings, grabbing my attention. A smiley lights up in front of a photo. Women love a muscly man. It pings again and again.
‘Don’t do this.’ Your shaky cries fill the room.
I head over to the record player to drown you out as I always do. Cranking up the volume, I let the music take me away to another place. A place where the memories are still raw. A place you and I go to together.
It’s two in the afternoon. I know where a certain girl will be right now and I need to be close to her. Close but so far away. The smell of her perfume will tantalise my nostrils and I may even feel warmth emanating from her skin. That would be perfect. I grab my coat, leaving the record running.
‘I’m coming with you.’ You wipe your eyes as you step out of the darkness.
‘No you’re not.’ I hate that you want to follow me everywhere. You never leave me alone.
You barge past me and you’re already out the door. The record still plays as the back gate slams.
‘Am.’ You stick your tongue out and laugh, having the last word. A raindrop hits your cheek and resembles a tear. ‘You don’t need to do this.’
Shaking my head, I move you aside. I do need to do this and I will do this because I don’t have you in my life any more. I pull my phone out of my pocket and press the app one more time. The smileys keep on coming.
‘I’m here. I’m always with you. Stay, please.’ You hold out your arms trying to lure me back home but I’m not going. I’m on a mission now.
‘Shut up and go home.’
‘Or you’ll…?’
I point to my lips and then to you. ‘You know.’ I will shut you up and you know it. You sit cross-legged on the wet path that leads to our home as I walk away. For once, I’ve had the last word. Changes are happening around here, in fact, they’ve happened.
I’m in control now.
9
‘Okay. Guv said we’re heading back to the station after speaking with the bus company and she said can you find out who teaches Amber Slater’s course and get back to us?’ Wyre paused. ‘Yes, we’re here now, just pulling up outside the bus garage. Speak later.’
Gina parked alongside the chemist opposite the large open garage. Several buses were lined up and one stood over a large hole in the ground as a mechanic worked underneath it. The smell of diesel caught her nostrils as she stepped out of the car reminding her of Terry’s oily clothes when he used to come home after working as a tyre fitter – one of his many jobs. The memory of him almost turned her stomach. ‘I think I got the gist of that phone conversation. The appeal for witnesses is about to go out on radio and will be on the local news, and our victim’s father has been informed by uniform.’
‘Yes, Mr Slater is driving down from Tamworth in Staffordshire now. He’s desperate to be here. Jacob and O’Connor are heading to the morgue where they will meet him.’
Gina didn’t envy DS Jacob Driscoll and DC Harry O’Connor. Witnessing the heartbreak on a parent’s face when they saw their dead child always haunted her for a long time afterwards. As a mother and a grandmother, she couldn’t imagine how that must hurt.
They stepped over a couple of oily patches and headed across the vast space full of echoing voices and people in blue overalls covered in grease.
Wyre checked her notepad. ‘Can we speak with a Mr Sale? He’s expecting us.’
The man raised one eyebrow as he wiped a dark streak from his cheek. ‘And who are you?’
‘DI Harte.’
‘DS Wyre.’
They held up their identification.
‘Okay. Follow me.’ He ruffled a few flecks of dirt from his hair with his grimy hands and pulled a rag out of his pocket to wipe them on. ‘Just through there.’ He pointed a dirty fingernail to a Perspex box of an office.
‘Thank you.’
The man behind the glass looked to be in his sixties and stared at a screen with a pencil in his mouth. His jumper didn’t quite reach over the bottom of his belly, exposing a thick line of hairy skin. Gina knocked.
The man’s seat creaked as he stood and walked over to the door. ‘Ah, are you from the police?’
Gina nodded as she held her identification up. ‘Yes. Mr Sale, we spoke to you earlier about the CCTV from the bus.’
‘Call me Ted. No one calls me Mr Sale.’ His bulbous nose shone red in the strip light. A faint smell of smoke wafted from his clothing as he moved back to his chair, which creaked again as he sat. ‘Take a seat.’
‘Thank you.’ Gina pulled out her notes. ‘We need footage of all routes running past Bulmore Drive from seven on Friday evening to the last bus. The same for the stop outside the Fish and Anchor.’ Although Amber was meant to be on the seven-twenty bus, there was a chance that she changed her mind, got sidetracked; even got on a bus going the opposite way. No one saw her arrive at the Fish and Anchor but that doesn’t mean she didn’t get off the bus on the road outside and go missing from there. All angles had to be covered. She made a mental note to task someone with looking into other methods of transport. Maybe Amber decided to get a taxi. It was cold that night.
‘Several routes pass that road. We had the bus that leads from Bulmore Drive to the Fish and Anchor at seven twenty. From our footage, I can see that was on time. The bus was quite busy. Then there was the bus to Stratford and another smaller bus that goes through the estates. They pull up at that stop too. It goes without saying the buses on the opposite side of the road were also running. They go to Cleevesford Town Centre, Redditch, and through the industrial estates. All the footage is on here and all routes finish up at the main bus station at the far end of Cleevesford on the Headley Road.’ He passed a portable hard drive across the table. ‘It hasn’t been chopped down. So for route 227, the cameras run all evening but are switched off when the bus is parked up. That particular bus was stationery for forty minutes for driver changeovers but was running from seven until eleven that night. It’s the same for all routes.’
She placed the hard drive in her bag. ‘Thank you. You’ve been really helpful.’
The man cleared his throat and scrunched his eyes as he read something on his computer screen. ‘Is this something to do with the woman who was found at the park this morning?’
‘We can’t say at the moment as the investigation is ongoing.’
‘Poor girl. I just heard the news on the radio before you came. I have a granddaughter just a bit younger. It’s a horrid world out there. I hope you catch whoever did this.’ Mr Sale pulled his jumper down.
Gina’s phone beeped. Both she and Wyre looked at the message from Jacob as Gina opened it.
Mr Collins, the accountancy lecturer, has information about the case. He’s with students until about three thirty but can see you after that. O’Connor and I are heading to the morgue. He said he really needs to speak to someone about a confidential talk between him and Amber Slater.
‘Thank you for everything… Ted. We’re really grateful for the footage.’ Gina headed towards the door as Wyre packed her pad into her bag and followed.
‘You’re more than welcome. If there’s anything else you need, you know where I am.’
Gina smiled and Wyre re-tucked her white shirt into her trousers where it had ridden out.
As they headed out into the misty day, a few snowflakes began to fall. Just a light flurry as the weather forecast had predicted. If it was accurate, it was set to freeze again overnight.
‘I wonder what he has to say.’ Wyre’s boots clicked on the road until they reached the car.
‘And me. I was hoping to call a briefing before we carried on but this is good, the leads are coming to us. Let’s get over there now. You never know, this may be a first. We could have this case solved by teatime.’
Back in the car Wyre pulled a salad pot from her bag and began scooping tuna up with a plastic fork. ‘Want some?’ She held a forkful up. ‘Sorry, I only have one pot and I’m famished. You’re welcome to half.’
Gina shook her head. ‘No, you enjoy your tuna. I’ll save myself for later. I have a date with a packet of dried noodles.’ That was a far cry from the fish and chips that Briggs had brought over for her the evening before so they could just chat, as friends.
As they pulled off, thicker snowflakes hit the screen. Gina was eager to hear what Mr Collins had to say.
10
The car park at The Hive in Worcester was as busy as the one at the university campus just down the road. Its golden honeycomb exterior was a landmark that everyone around these parts knew. A central hub, the library, a place for people to meet and where students worked. ‘We’ve come at a busy time. Everyone isn’t quite leaving for the day.’ Gina drove around, tailing another car, competing for the first space that becomes vacant.
‘What do you think so far, guv? The killer didn’t try to hide the body.’
Gina stared out of the window through the few snowflakes that began to settle. The wipers automatically activated, swiping them away. ‘No, she was easy to find. Face down on the bank of the lake, her face immersed in water. Looking at the stab wound, I don’t think she was drowned but I’m waiting for that to be confirmed. No time has been confirmed for the post-mortem yet; we’ll hear about that later. I think it will be tomorrow.’ She paused as the car in front nabbed the first space. A woman was packing her shopping bags in the boot as she took them from underneath a pram. ‘We’re having that space. Why don’t you use the app to pay for parking?’
Wyre smiled. ‘Will do.’
While Wyre tapped away on her phone, Gina’s thoughts went back to the lake. She shivered as she imagined their victim, Amber, trying to speak through torn lips and a pond weed-filled mouth.
‘Her body wasn’t placed with much thought. Whoever put Amber there wanted her to be found, or should I rephrase that, they didn’t care if she was found. There was no attempt to disguise her body, no trying to immerse her in deeper waters, no attempt to weigh her body down. The killer didn’t try to cover her up using branches or twigs. She wasn’t wearing the same clothing as when she left her apartment on Friday evening. Lauren said she’d left in a pink jumpsuit and heels but when we found Amber, it looked more like she was wearing a nightshirt. I wonder if she took a change of clothing with her, knowing she was going to be out all night or if this is the outfit the killer had chosen for her. So many ifs.’
‘Let’s hope some of those ifs are narrowed down by the post-mortem.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
‘What stands out the most is Amber Slater’s lips. Bernard seemed to think they might have been glued. It’s like she was being silenced. Quiet, unable to speak – that’s how the killer wanted her.’ A horn made Gina jump. The space had become free. ‘Whoops.’ She held her hand up so that the person behind could see and drove into the space. ‘Let’s see what our Mr Collins has to say. He’s her lecturer, isn’t he?’
‘One of them. He specialises in management accounting.’
‘Sounds riveting.’
11
Darkness was beginning to fall. Gina clenched her hands to ease the cold numbness of her fingertips.
A couple of couches filled t
he university reception and led to a stairwell and a small café. The smell of coffee made Gina’s mouth water. It had been a while since she’d had a drink and her throat was drying quickly. A few minutes after checking in, a man appeared through a door and smiled. ‘Are you from the police?’
Gina walked over to him. ‘Yes, and you’re Mr Collins?’
The man nodded.
‘DI Harte and DC Wyre.’
‘Follow me. Oh, I forgot my manners, it’s been a long day. Can I get you both a drink?’
Gina checked her watch. After speaking to so many people, time was racing away and they really needed to get back to the station for a briefing and to tie up with O’Connor and Jacob. ‘We might have to pass on that one.’ That statement was a painful one. She’d just turned down a coffee.
They followed him up the stairs until they reached a small room with a couple of tables in it. ‘We can talk here. Come through, take a seat.’ He grabbed a couple of crisp wrappers and an open can of pop and threw them into the bin.
‘Thank you for seeing us at such short notice.’ Wyre opened her notebook as they sat.
‘When your officer called me and said what had happened… well, it floored me. Amber was so well liked. She was popular, funny and really clever. Such a waste. I can’t begin to understand how her family must be feeling.’
