Animal Instinct (12 page)

Secondly, we have established that she was en route to have the pregnancy terminated, but as far as we know, Fiona Wilson, her best friend, was the only person privy to that information. What motive would she have to commit murder? She did admit that she was against the termination, but she had still offered her support. Additionally, if Lara was raped prior to her death, it suggests that we should be focussing our efforts on a male suspect.

Thirdly, there is Donald Kimberley, her boss at the boutique. Motive? Based on my interview with him, jealousy would be a logical assumption, but why kill off his greatest asset? Her good looks attracted custom and sales were buoyant because of her presence in the shop. She also generated goodwill for the business by her involvement in the frequent fashion shows organised by Chic-Chat. Why kill the goose that laid the golden egg?

Finally, but not least, is the possibility that this was an opportunist rapist. However, nine o'clock in the morning, in broad daylight, in the town centre is perhaps not a logical assumption. There is no evidence of a struggle, but even that remote possibility cannot be ruled out entirely.”

Massey paused and regarded other key words that he had added to the wipe board. “Other factors to take into account are that the crime was most likely to have been committed locally, since the body was discovered on the town's landfill site. Evidence from the site is limited apart from a strange chemical smell found on both the body and the bin liners that concealed Lara and items of her clothing.

Considering that she was on her way to a clinic at Northwich, it would be fair to assume that she would have carried money, personal items, make-up, et cetera and possibly information on the clinic itself. None of this paraphernalia has been discovered, nor any bag which may have contained these items. Could it have just been a mugging that went wrong? If a bag and its contents were stolen, why was the expensive Swatch-style watch left on her wrist? Additionally, why rape her if the motive was financial gain?”

Massey turned to the board again and circled the issues, which he had just analysed. “From current information, none of these facts sustain any depth or provide any link to resolving the case. However, if we ignore them and focus on the lesser-known aspects of Lara's lifestyle, a more composite picture starts to evolve. Yesterday, I and other officers followed a different line of enquiry, based on an observation by a member of the forensic team and the reactions of her immediate family. D.S. Roker will talk you through their discussion with the housekeeper of the renovated mill by the river and the results of a further visit to the Crawford residence.”

The inspector moved to one side as Roker stepped forward to update the team with details of the mill owner, together with the property's access and proximity to the landfill site. He also outlined the main points regarding their visit to Moulton. Massey followed up the briefing with an outline of his conversations at the Beacon and at Kam-A-O. He omitted any reference to photographs of Lara naked. He concluded by stating that the enquiry would concentrate on these latest revelations, since Charles Howard, because of his mysterious connection with Lara Crawford, could now be considered a possible suspect.

“These related facts should be sufficient to issue a search warrant and to bring him in for questioning following his imminent return home. If, by the end of the day, he hasn't shown his face, a warrant for his detention to assist in our enquiries will go out on a national basis. Following this briefing, the mill and its immediate surroundings will become our focus. In addition, I intend to transfer door-to-door activities from the town centre to that specific area between the square, the river, the mill and the landfill site. D.S. Roker will formulate a game plan for the team before making enquiries with the adoption agency. I believe that to be a separate issue, but it may yield further information. In the meantime I will bring the D.C.I. up to speed and apply for the appropriate authorisations.”

Massey left the incident room as an enthusiastic buzz from the team reached a crescendo.

*****

Whilst Massey was briefing D.C.I. Wainwright, the housekeeper from the mill called D.S. Roker with the news that her employer was due back later that same evening. On receiving the information, a hastily convened meeting was arranged to formulate a plan of action to ensure that a reception committee would be in place to greet Charles Howard on his return. Wainwright managed to secure a search warrant later in the day. The whole of the local police force was now on standby.

Roker had also contacted the intermediary service, which provided him with detailed information about Lara's birth mother. D.S. Bill Kingdom, an older experienced detective was despatched with D.C. Jones to interview her.

At precisely seven p.m. the remainder of the murder squad, supported by uniformed officers set off to surround the mill. The heavy rain clouds had finally drifted off in a north-easterly direction to be replaced by a fine drizzle, which hung over the area like an ominous misty shroud.

A police van parked up amongst the horse chestnut trees in the picnic area on the far bank of the river. The rear doors opened to disgorge a group of uniformed officers, who crossed the river via an ornamental footbridge leading to a towpath and open pastureland. Unprepared for the rain-soaked terrain, which they encountered, they squelched their way across the marshy field towards the rear of the mill.

“Bloody C.I.D.,” muttered one constable as he kicked off mud from his boots against a low stone wall. “I bet they're sat in their soddin’ cars with the heaters on full blast.”

“Probably with flasks of coffee and sarnies,” added his colleague. “They reckon this guy's not due back until after eight o'clock, so why such an early start?”

“We'll be like bloody drowned rats by that time.”

A sergeant intervened. “There's every chance that he might return earlier, so we have to be on station just in case he decides to do a runner.”

“Well, if he shoots off in this direction, he won't go far. He'll be stuck all night in this bloody quagmire, sarge. We could pick him off in the morning.”

“Maybe you should call the D.C.I. and offer him your alternative game plan,” replied the sergeant.

They plodded on in silence apart from the rhythmic squelch from their boots. The drizzle prolonged their misery as the officers spread out into a line stretching from the river up the slope towards the far reaches of the landfill site.

At the front entrance to the mill, Massey and his team were indeed enjoying the comfort of the warm, dry protection of their vehicles. Three unmarked cars had parked unobtrusively at intervals along the lane leading to the mill. Roker had ascertained from the housekeeper that Charles Howard drove a Mercedes… ‘a big silver one’ was her precise description.

Massey glanced at his watch. “Eight forty.” He breathed a deep sigh. “He's late.”

“Perhaps he's changed his mind because of the shit weather,” said Turner who was in the driver's seat. “It could even be tomorrow.”

“I'll give him until midnight before I call it off,” replied Massey. “Any more overtime for this lot and the Super will chew my balls off.”

“We have the search warrant. Could we not just pile in?”

“I want to see his reaction when we confront him. Initial signals are important to me. Forget all this psychological profiling crap. There's nothing better than looking a person in the eye.”

“The uniform bods won't be happy, standing around in this downpour,” said Turner, looking up at the dark sky as veils of droplets slithered incessantly down the car's windscreen. He froze momentarily as the lane became illuminated by bright light. A sleek, metallic silver Mercedes 320 coupé glided gently past their vehicle towards the wrought iron gates of the mill. The milky yellow glow changed to deep red as the driver applied the brakes.

The electric gates swung open allowing the vehicle to enter the curved driveway before disappearing from view round the building towards the front entrance. Turner was the first to react, accelerating through the gates as they started to swing back. He stopped at the head of the path leading to the door where they had met the housekeeper. As he switched off the engine and lights, Roker followed close behind in his car, but scraped the metal gates as he drove through the narrowing gap. The rear nearside wing received a deep gash. The third vehicle was too late; the gates clanged shut barring its entry. A large white police van containing the forensic team drew alongside, having emerged from the darkness. Summoned by Massey, it had been parked out of sight further along the road leading to the landfill site.

The detectives waited until lights began to appear in some rooms within the house. Massey stepped from his vehicle into the rain and walked down the short path towards the rear door of the mill. He rang the doorbell and waited. No response. He rang again. Seconds later lights appeared in lanterns on both sides of the doorway, bolts were withdrawn, a lock clicked and the door opened.

Charles Devlin Howard stood in the open doorway, dressed in dark casual trousers and a beige lamb's wool sweater. The collar of a check shirt protruded from the crew neck. He was of medium build, sun-tanned with brown hair greying at the temples. He sported a thin moustache. Massey put his age at fifty plus.

“What the dickens…!” protested Howard, startled by the unexpected intrusion.

Massey examined the man's expression as he thrust his warrant card towards him. Howard looked up at the inspector, stared beyond him and spotted the uniformed police sergeant alongside Roker. A realisation of what was happening replaced his initial fears.

“Open the main gates to allow access for my team please, Mr. Howard.” Massey thrust a sheet of paper towards him. “We have a search warrant for your property.”

Initially, the mill owner protested, but accepted the inevitable after a brief explanation of his rights. He ignored the various questions put to him by Massey and Roker, refusing any form of cooperation until he had called his solicitor. In the meantime, the forensic team had gained entry and were conducting a systematic search of the property.

“What did you reckon to his initial reaction?” asked Turner, referring to Massey's remarks made whilst they were waiting in the car.

The inspector turned to face him. “Have you ever been the recipient of what was meant to be a surprise party, but which you knew about all the time, so you act surprised so as not to disappoint anyone?”

“Not really, but I think that I know what you mean.”

“That's how he reacted,” said Massey and walked away, leaving the young detective to ponder over his comment.

After discussing the situation with his solicitor, Howard elected to be formally interviewed in the presence of his brief at police headquarters. Within the hour, he sat, seemingly quite bewildered, in interview room one. Alongside him sat his solicitor. Facing him were D.I. Massey and D.S. Roker.

During the interview, they established that Howard did have strong connections in the fashion industry. He had started his career in his father's clothing manufacturing business, learning basic skills on band cutters and industrial sewing machines. He had also studied dress design and pattern grading at college. His father had grown the business from a small factory producing children's wear for mail order companies. During the early sixties funding had been available in the form of government grants for new factories in depressed areas. By taking advantage of these generous financial packages in the form of two new outlets, production had increased, satisfying the huge demands during that boom period.

When cheap imports began to flood the market, a decision was taken to close the two establishments at Runcorn and Skelmersdale. Following his father's retirement, Charles Howard opted to convert both outlets into luxury apartments, thereby jumping onto the property ladder as the Thatcher enterprise ‘bandwagon’ was gathering momentum. Eventually selling his property investments at a great profit, he returned to his ‘rag trade’ roots by channelling the proceeds into fashion houses where he could financially support new designers.

An impromptu visit to a local fashion show had sparked Howard's interest in Lara Crawford's career. She was almost certainly the star attraction and Howard, realising her potential, saw her as just another investment opportunity. An associate suggested using Kam-A-O studios based on their faultless reputation. Yes, she had visited the mill on several occasions to receive advice, guidance and to discuss her career prospects. He had last seen his protégée the week before Easter and was completely unaware of her death until the police confronted him on his return from London.

“Who funded the photo sessions?” asked Massey.

“As I explained previously, she was an investment, so naturally I financed all her requirements.”

“Why the nude photos?”

“It was her suggestion,” replied Howard. “She was proud of her body, she had a perfect figure. She was young and vibrant with this relentless zest for life. I warned her that, in the wrong hands, they could potentially harm her career. She insisted and I gave in on the proviso that the poses must not be erotic but more artistically based.”

“How was that communicated to her?” asked the inspector. “I, for example, would not be aware of the difference.”

Howard looked across at his solicitor before answering, knowing that what he was about to say could be misconstrued. “We held a ‘dummy run’ at the mill.”

“She was naked, alone with you?”

“We used various parts of the house to suggest an appropriate pose for a specific style of setting. She was only naked for the actual photos. She made notes to take with her to the studio.”

“What did you do, besides direct her?”

“More or less that…advised her, discussed certain details, sometimes we argued until we could agree. Apart from that, I just admired her. She looked fantastic.”

“Did you have sex with her?”

Howard's solicitor leaned across the table. “Where is this leading, Inspector?”

“It's okay,” said Howard. “I don't mind answering the question. I'll admit that I was tempted, but the relationship was purely business. I'm afraid that money excites and motivates me more than sexual dalliances.”