Cut Short (8 page)

14

Facts

There was a buzz of activity in the Incident Room as Geraldine went to her desk the following morning. She paused by the Incident Board to see what information had been added overnight. The board was tidy, everything presented in neat lists below the pictures, with arrows to indicate connections.

  Carter came over and stood beside her. 'The Chief's a stickler for neatness,' he said and Geraldine murmured in agreement. 'And punctuality,' he added. Before Geraldine could reply, Kathryn Gordon swept into the room. Geraldine propped herself against her desk and focused on the DCI. Geraldine imagined the hardiest of villains might quake before Gordon's penetrating gaze. The genial woman of the previous evening had retreated once more behind a rigid mask, her hair a grey helmet, her eyes harsh slits. Geraldine felt immensely reassured that the investigation was in safe hands, but her optimism faded as Kathryn Gordon began to speak.

  'We've got a series of negatives so far,' she said. 'Forensics haven't come up with anything new. The initial post-mortem report reiterates what we already know. We've found nothing at the site. No one's seen anything, and no one unusual's been spotted loitering in the park.' Geraldine glanced around. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the DCI apart from a constable who was busily making notes. 'We're probably looking for someone with a record. So far no one local seems to fit the bill but according to one of the neighbours the boyfriend, John Drew, has a history of violence.' She pointed to his name on the board and Carter related what Brian Burrows had told them over a pie and a pint.

  'I hear him knocking her about,' Carter read aloud, in a passable imitation of a local accent. Someone giggled and instantly fell silent. If the accent was amusing, the statement wasn't. 'He gave her a black eye. She said she fell over but I never believed it. Before that it was a broken arm. They said she was accident prone.' Carter looked up. 'When we told him Angela Waters was dead, he said he was convinced John Drew had killed her.' A muted murmur hummed around the room although no one appeared to be talking.

  'This is all hearsay from a neighbour, quite possibly with a grudge. We've had no other reports of Drew being violent towards the victim.' As Kathryn Gordon spoke, the room fell instantly silent. 'But for now John Drew is our main suspect. Our only suspect so far.' She tapped at his weaselly face on the board. 'The boyfriend. What about his alibi?' Carter nodded at Black.

  'He was at work,' Black said. 'No one saw him leaving but no one saw him not leaving.' There were a few stifled sniggers.

  'Don't waste our time, Sergeant,' the DCI barked.

  Unperturbed, the DS tried again. 'They didn't see him leave and thought he was there the whole morning. But they wouldn't swear to it.'

  'What about the suspect?' Kathryn Gordon asked, turning to Geraldine.

  'He said he was at work all morning.'

  'What was your impression? What did you think of him?'

  'He's nasty enough, but I think he was telling the truth. I don't think he killed her.' Kathryn Gordon nodded, studying Geraldine's face.

  After the briefing, tasks were allocated for the day. They were spreading the net, looking for someone with a record, burrowing into John Drew's past, and finding out what they could about Angela Waters' short life. As Geraldine went over to check her schedule for the day, Merton approached her.

  'Boss wants a word,' he said. Geraldine nodded to show she'd heard and made her way over to the DCI's office. Having been summoned, Geraldine tapped at the closed door and went straight in.

  'Knock and wait for an answer before you come barging in,' Kathryn Gordon snapped. Geraldine hurried to comply. She wondered how Kathryn Gordon would react to a serious oversight and resolved to tread very carefully.

  'John Drew,' Kathryn Gordon said when she'd summoned Geraldine back in. 'You don't think he's our killer, do you?' She leaned forward on her desk and listened intently as Geraldine explained her reasoning. 'It seems highly likely that he was responsible for some, or all, of the physical abuse the victim suffered before she died,' the DCI pointed out when Geraldine had finished.

  'But we shouldn't assume—' Geraldine began.

  'We should never assume,' Kathryn Gordon interrupted her. The two women's eyes met in a brief flicker of under standing. Under pressure to achieve results, it was all too easy to jump to conclusions, as Peterson seemed to have done. 'Close the door on your way out, will you?' the DCI dismissed Geraldine.

  'Yes ma'am.'

  It was only a matter of hours since the media had begun to report Angela Waters' death but members of the public had already started phoning in. Additional clerical staff were being drafted in to take the calls. The majority would be spurious but they all had to be checked, all the cranks, the self-proclaimed guilty and the weirdo psychics who could hunt down villains in their dreams. Geraldine applauded Kathryn Gordon's thoroughness but wished she hadn't been given the job of monitoring messages, while they were waiting for more clerical staff to arrive.

  The weekly
Woolsmarsh Chronicle
had come out that morning. Angela Waters' murder dominated the front page, which meant there would be a spate of calls. There was a small article in the nationals, briefly stating that a woman's body had been found. The local paper was more sensational. 'STRANGLER STALKS THE STREETS' the headline screamed on the front page, with several striking subheadings, including: 'CHILD FINDS BODY'. Geraldine scanned the article, frowning.

The police have launched a massive manhunt for the killer of blonde 22-year-old Angela Waters whose body was discovered in Lyceum Park by 4-year-old Sophie (
pictured below
). Emergency services were immediately alerted following a 999 call made by the children's mother. The park is still cordoned off this morning with officers in attendance. A post-mortem examination is expected to confirm that the victim was attacked in the park in broad daylight. Detective Chief Inspector Catherine Gordon, who is leading the investigation, said: 'This was a vicious assault and my team are working tirelessly to discover the identity of the killer as quickly as possible. We are currently following several leads.'

Geraldine turned from the pile of newspaper reports and picked up a tape. She knew that the smallest of details might prove crucial and was determined to be vigilant, but her heart sank as she listened to a woman's pathetic attempt to implicate her neighbour. The next caller accused his estranged wife.

My wife Jeanie hates blondes. I like blondes, see? The point is, Jeanie hates my girlfriend because she's a natural blonde. And that girl who was murdered, she was blonde too. You thinking what I'm thinking? Only I wouldn't put anything past Jeanie.

There were several messages from worried parents, and a call from a landlady whose tenant had disappeared.

I'm worried about my lodger. He's such a nice quiet man, on account of his speech impediment. He's not been back since Wednesday, so I thought the Woolsmarsh Strangler might've got him. Do you think I should let the room to someone else?

Then came a Mr Jack Ripper.

You'll never catch me. I'm Jack the Ripper. You didn't catch me last time and you won't catch me this time. Jack the Ripper. Remember the name.

Geraldine spent most of the morning listening to messages. For a break, she tried to read through statements from people who knew John Drew, but she couldn't settle. With an impatient sigh, she gathered up all her paperwork and deposited it in her drawer, which she closed with a bang. Turning to a new page in her notebook, she tried to think logically. Facts, she told herself, frustrated at having spent most of the morning listening to phone calls. Facts. She wrote the word in capitals at the top of the page, stared at it for a second then tore the page out, screwed it up and chucked it at the bin. Facts weren't enough. What was the point of listing what she already knew? It was all there in her head. She'd seen investigations held up by a colleague getting a fixed idea, which turned out to be a blind alley. The important thing was to keep an open mind and be prepared to change her internal account of events in an instant. But she had to have that inner vision directing her search.

  The facts needed to solve a case might be staring them all in the face, but that was useless if no one had the wit to put them together so they pointed in the right direction. Geraldine was as dedicated to gathering information as anyone else, but she was driven by intuition. Not everyone appreciated that one didn't exclude the other. In her previous case, she'd spent hours trawling through reports. Only by memorising all the statements about a suspect who'd been cleared, and returning to question him again, had she picked up one possible inconsistency in his account.

  'You did well to spot that,' her DCI had admitted with grudging admiration. 'What made you go back and interview him again?'

  Geraldine had shrugged, embarrassed by the praise and the question. 'I just had a feeling something wasn't right, sir.'

  The DCI had scowled at her reply. 'Don't waste time on airy-fairy hunches. The key to success is sheer slog, Geraldine, sheer slog and hard evidence. Fancy ideas can lead you up the garden path. You can waste a lot of valuable time following hunches, Geraldine,' he'd warned her adding, more gently, 'and they can get you into hot water if you're wrong.'

  Geraldine sighed, opened her notebook, and began again. Everything pointed to John Drew. The report from Carter and Black had been interesting, alleging that Drew had been violent towards his girlfriend. The post-mortem confirmed the victim had sustained severe injuries in the past. The waitress at Bella Café hadn't mentioned anything about a black eye, but Angela had only been working there for just over six months. It was feasible that Drew had slipped away from the Honda show room, driven into town, killed his girlfriend, and returned to work without anyone noticing. A DC had driven from the Honda showroom to Lyceum Park and back again in just over forty minutes. The whole exercise could have been accomplished in less than an hour. But she found it difficult to believe Drew had dreamed up such a farfetched plan, and even less likely that he'd met Angela by chance in the park in the middle of a working day.

  Geraldine sighed and stared at her notes. It still struck her as improbable that Drew would have attacked his girlfriend in a public place when there was considerable risk of discovery. People often walked their dogs in the park, or jogged there, even in the rain. The body had been dragged into the bushes which afforded some cover, but the initial assault on the path would have been visible from several directions.

  'In any case,' she argued with Peterson as they sat over a coffee in the canteen, 'how would Drew have known where she was at the precise time he arrived back in Woolsmarsh?'

  'He might've followed her.'

  'Not if he was driving back from Honda's. And why follow her to the park and kill her there? It's a risky place. Someone might've seen them. He could've taken her anywhere.'

  'He would have wanted to kill her away from their flat, somewhere anyone could've done it,' Peterson said, but he agreed the exposed location suggested an unpremeditated attack. However, if John Drew had driven all the way back from work to kill Angela Waters, he must have had a plan in mind.

  Drew remained their only suspect. They'd ruled out Umberto. Christina confirmed he'd been in the café all morning.

  'Unless they're providing an alibi for each other,' Geraldine suggested, but neither she nor Peterson believed Angela Waters had discovered Umberto's irregular tax records, threatened to expose him, and been strangled by her boss to keep her quiet. To make sure, Geraldine had asked Sarah Mellor to check their bank statements. No money had unaccountably left Umberto's account and his lifestyle hadn't changed. Maybe his books
had
been fiddled, but no one had been blackmailing him.

  The DCI had Merton and Carter checking hostels, looking for someone with a record, but the boyfriend remained the most likely suspect. If he was guilty, Geraldine was confident they would wear him down, but she felt uneasy. She couldn't overlook his anguished protest, when they'd interviewed him the day after Angela Waters' death. That was the main problem: there seemed no obvious motive for John Drew to have planned to kill his girlfriend.

  Back at her desk, Geraldine took out her notebook, then closed it with a sigh and shoved it angrily back into her bag. She knew they had to be patient, but it was hard to relax with Angela Waters' killer loose on the streets. She could have driven behind him that morning on her way to work, caught a glimpse of him standing at a bus stop, or walked past him on her way to the pub the previous evening. They didn't know who he was. He could be anywhere.

15

Suspect

By lunchtime they had made no progress. There were more inane calls from the public, including several from concerned mothers.

My daughter's gone out and she should've been home over an hour ago. Do you think something's happened to her? Oh, hold on, I can hear her now.

Nonetheless, Geraldine listened to the whole tape of messages, afraid she might miss a clue to the killer's identity.

  That afternoon, the DCI decided to bring John Drew in and 'have another go', as Peterson put it. Pleased to leave her desk, Geraldine led the way up the stale smelling concrete stairs. This time they didn't find the suspect alone. He peered round the door wearing nothing but a crumpled T shirt and boxers and protested loudly when they pushed past him to see the dark-haired girl from the flower shop lying sleepy-eyed on the sofa, naked above the waist, her short denim skirt hitched up her thighs. Angela Waters' boyfriend hadn't wasted any time finding comfort in his loss.