Heart of the Demon (D.S.Hunter Kerr) (18 page)

-ooOoo-

DAY TWENTY-FIVE: 31
st
July.

Thunder growled and rumbled overhead, and a split second later the rain fell in streams, pelting the earth like spears. Grace Marshall cowered beneath the canopy of the rear entrance of Barnwell Police station. She had been petrified of thunder since a child and for some reason it still scared her. She would rather tackle a violent man than face thunder. Her eyes darted back and forth across the car park searching for Hunter who she knew was waiting for her in an unmarked police car. She spotted a dark blue Vauxhall whose windscreen wipers appeared to be working overtime to cope with the sudden downpour, and although she couldn’t see who was driving she guessed it would be him.

She glanced up at the thick mass of storm clouds, placed her working clip file over the top of her head and in the same instant made the decision to dash to the car. Despite the fact it had only been seconds, as she bounced into the passenger seat of the CID car
, the rain was already beginning to soak through her Italian linen trousers. She shook her work folder into the footwell and then pulled down the passenger side visor and stared into the mirror. She flicked a comb of fingers through her hair in a vain attempt to stop it frizzing like it usually did, and then brushed several stray droplets of rain from her cheeks.

Hunter
stared at her shaking his head.

She
looked back.

“What?”
She returned her eyes to the mirror. “Image is everything Hunter, and if you were a woman you’d know that,” she finished, slapping the visor back in place.

“A little rain never did anyone any harm,” he retorted.

“It does when it takes me half an hour to put my make-up on, and another half an hour to do my hair each morning. Bloody British weather.”

Shaking his head he said. “Anyway, I understand you had a good day yesterday.”

“The Paynton’s you mean?”

Hunter nodded and then turned the demister on the dashboard full-on to clear the fogged front windscreen.

Grace gave back a mischievously wicked smile. “They were really pissed off by the time we’d finished. In fact old man Paynton almost got locked up for breach of the peace when we dug up his allotment. We found the bodies of the dogs though, just like Barry suggested. Forensic have got those and we should know if we have a match with the hairs on Carol Siddons’s cardigan in a day or two. Oh, and by the way, did you know that some of the locals have graffited Steve’s house.
Paedo’s
been sprayed all over the front of it. The family are going ballistic,” she chuckled.

“Serves them all right. That family have plagued that estate for far too long. It’s nice to see them get a taste of their own medicine for a change.”

“Anyway where are we off to today?”

Hunter dropped the Claire Fisher file onto Grace’s lap. He wound down the misted over driver’s door window a fraction.

The burst of rain had halted but the skies were still rumbling and threatening overhead.

He pointed at the folder as he accelerated slowly out of the station car park. “We’re off to see a Mr and Mrs Fisher. Barry also had some success yesterday.”

As he drove, Hunter recounted Barry’s newspaper discovery and how he’d managed to confirm his findings with a dental match from Claire Fisher’s records.

“It looks as though the killer had Claire for five days at least before she was buried with that newspaper report. Is that sick or what?
I find it hard to believe this has been going on in my own district for all these years. Now I know what the detectives were going through when they were dealing with Fred and Rosemary West.” Hunter slowly shook his head.

Grace felt her skin go goosey.

“This twisted bastard seems to be taunting us Grace. He doesn’t mind us finding out who his victims are. It’s as if he knew we’d eventually find this one and he’s actually helping us to identify her. It’s almost as though he thinks he’s never going to be caught. That he’s cleverer than us. We really are up against it at the moment. I just hope we can get a breakthrough before he kills again.” He slowed the car as he met the rush hour crawl. “And another thing Barry’s unearthed. He did some further digging yesterday, going back across old local newspaper reports and then made a few phone calls to other police stations in the District. As a result of what he’s uncovered there’s at least another three local teenage girls who have disappeared without trace over the past thirteen years.”

“What.” exclaimed Grace looking up sharply from the Claire Fisher file.

“Yes, Barry’s found that there are three other cases of girls missing from this area since nineteen-ninety-three when Carol Siddons was first reported. He’s pulled all their files and found that they all disappeared with no apparent reason and more disturbingly that they all fit the same profile, especially as to age and physical appearance as our present three victims.”

* * * * *

The Fisher house was a sumptuous, four bedroom detached residence on a small exclusive estate on the edge of Barnwell. Hunter had learned that the family’s engineering business had flourished over recent years and that Mr and Mrs Fisher had moved home on two occasions since nineteen ninety nine when Claire had gone missing.

The woman who answered their knock at the door took Hunter by surprise. She appeared a lot younger than the details on file. In fact she looked not much older than him.

As if reading his puzzled expression as Hunter introduced himself and Grace, the slim raven-haired lady responded. “I’m Julia. Mrs Fisher number two. Derek’s new wife. Well not really his new wife. We’ve been married nearly three years now. Beverley, Claire’s Mum, died in two thousand and one from cancer.”

“There’s no need to explain,” replied Hunter showing his police badge.

“Derek keeps telling me the same but I could tell by the look on your face that you were surprised that I was a lot younger than you were expecting. I’m used to greeting people like this even after three years. I suppose I don’t want people to think bad of me. As though I’m jumping into a dead woman’s shoes if you know what I mean. I was his secretary you see, at the firm, and got very close to both Derek and Beverley when Claire went missing. Then of course when Beverley was diagnosed with breast cancer I took on a lot of the responsibility of the business and of course got even closer to Derek especially when Beverley died. I know there are some people who think I was having an affair with Derek whilst his wife was dying, but that’s so far from the truth.”

“You really don’t have to explain all this to us,” Hunter responded.

“But I feel better now that I have done. Anyway Derek’s expecting you. He’s in the lounge. Come through.”

Hunter and Grace followed Julia Fisher along a bright and airy hallway into a large, tastefully furnished lounge. The room was filled with sunlight; its brightness enhanced by magnolia painted walls and highly polished oak flooring. Leather furniture and bespoke light oak units containing antique ‘blue’ pottery added to its expensive look.

Hunter noticed in particular a number of impressionistic style paintings hanging around the room, which looked original and under different circumstances he would have loved to have sauntered around to view them.

French doors at the end opened up into a large hardwood orangery, which gave view over a garden festooned with a wide variety of plant colour.

Derek Fisher was standing in the centre of the room waiting to greet them and he energetically moved forward upon their entrance offering his hand to shake. Hunter immediately recognised the Masonic signal and responded accordingly.

“Which Lodge are you in?” Derek Fisher asked, pointing to a tan-coloured leather settee, one of three in the large room, inviting Hunter and Grace to be seated.

“Knights Templar,” Hunter replied. “But I don’t get so much now. To be honest it’s not really my thing. I joined because of my father. He’s from Glasgow and as you know it’s quite a Scottish tradition to be involved in The Masons. When he came down here to live he joined the Knights Templar Lodge at Barnwell and then of course sponsored me just like his Father had done for him.”

“I must invite you to mine some time. In fact I’m in the chair next year, so I’ll send you an invite.”
He paused and smiled at Grace “Enough of the funny handshake stuff eh, and down to real matters. You’re here about Claire you said on the phone.”

Grace took over. “We are Mr Fisher. We believe we’ve found her. But I’m sorry to say it’s not good news.”

“Don’t apologise dear. I guess I knew all along it would come down to this. Is this visit because of the bodies you’ve dug up on the old pit site? It’s been all over the news.”

Grace nodded. “The dental records point us towards it being your daughter and a simple DNA sample from you would make it conclusive.”

“I’m guessing you won’t be allowing me to see her. Although I suppose I won’t be able to recognise Claire after all this time.”

“I’m afraid not. She’s been buried a long time.”

Derek Fisher gave off a long sigh “The one good thing I’ve got now after all this time is closure. It’s such a shame her mum’s not around to know that you’ve found her, even though Claire is dead. She grieved right to the end you know,” he gulped and pursed his lips. “I’ll get the opportunity to lay her to rest?” he asked.

“You will, but not just yet. I’m afraid we’ll need to hang on to Claire for some time yet until the Coroner gives permission.”

“I hope you don’t find that me being not so upset about the news that Claire is dead reflects on my relationship with my daughter. I can assure you we were very close as a family. But I’m also a realist. I suppose I’ve known that Claire has been dead for a long time. Even though I never said it openly to Beverley when she was alive, I’ve always felt that Claire was lying somewhere in a grave where she shouldn’t be. She’s always been in my thoughts. Every time I saw or heard of a body being found, no matter where, I waited for the call. I’ve been waiting over ten years. The Police came back to us on many occasions at first, and her disappearance was re-investigated on a couple of occasions, and both me and Beverley used to get so excited. But then when Beverley died and there was no fresh news I just accepted the reality of it all.” Derek Fisher raised himself from his seat and went to a nearby wall unit. From the cupboard he brought out a bulging photograph album and handed it to Grace.

She opened it to find the folder crammed with yellowing newspaper cuttings and scraps of paper filled with copious notes. She leafed through the folder quickly. It had been meticulously maintained. Every milestone had been recorded from day one to the present time and was interspersed here and there with happy family photographs of the Fishers. Their past was in this book.

“I don’t know if that will be of any help to you. It’s everything we collected over the years relating to Claire. Every newspaper report. The possible leads. Every glimmer of hope. Keep it as long as you need. I hope it’ll help.”

“It’ll certainly help us. Thanks, I’ll make sure it gets back to you safely.”

“Before we leave you in peace Mr Fisher” interposed Hunter, “can you just remind us of Claire’s movements the evening she went missing.”

Derek Fisher stroked the line of his jaw and chin, cleared his throat and seesawed his eyes between Hunter and Grace.

“Do you know I don’t even need to think about what I’m going to tell you. I’ve said the same thing so many times over the years. Claire left home at just gone six. She told us she was going to her friend’s Stacy’s and would be back to finish her homework about eight o’clock. At quarter to eight she phoned us from a payphone to say she was at the youth club and asked if she could stay whilst nine. We were a bit concerned because it was dark, but at the same time we were going through a bit of a rough patch with Claire and we wanted to allow her a bit more freedom, so we told her no later than nine. That was the last time we spoke. What we subsequently found out is that she was in fact seeing a fifteen-year-old boy called Gary Martin and that they were at the fair together. She had been dating him for two months without us knowing. Police told us that the pair rowed that night because he found out she had been just stringing him along as cover. It appears she had been seeing someone older. She confessed it to him and he apparently stormed off in a huff and left her. That was about half past nine. You’ll see from our own file that Gary was interviewed many times and was a suspect on several occasions but he was alibied by quite a number of people that night. I’ve spoken with him myself many times over the years and I’m confident he wasn’t involved in Claire’s disappearance.” He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. “I’m guessing you’ll no doubt want to speak with him again. Gary’s married now with a family of his own. We still keep in touch. He’ll tell you things that are not in those folders I’ve given you.” He stared at Hunter and then Grace through unblinking eyes. “In the few months before Claire disappeared we went through some bad times with her. She seemed to have changed, and it wasn’t for the good.” He paused. “Do you have children?”

Both Hunter and Grace nodded.

“Oh I know all teenagers go through a phase, but Claire really put us through it. She came in drunk, smashed up her room once when we tried to keep her in, and we even found out from Gary that she was seeing other lads behind his back. She’d become a real rebel in her last days, and that’s what’s so sad about it. My last memories of Claire are not nice ones.”