Wrong Place: A gripping serial killer crime thriller. (2 page)

“That’s great. Can I ask what?” Mr. Wheeler asked as they walked back through the church, where their voices echoed.

“I’d rather not say at this point, Mr. Wheeler. We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.” Sally and Jack shook the vicar’s hand and headed for the car.

“You still think he’s the culprit, Jack?”

Her partner pulled a face at her over the roof of the car before they got in. “It was my initial findings. A guy can be wrong now and again.”

“Yeah, and that’s why you’re still a sergeant after seven years on the force.”

“Remind me not to stick up for you in the future, if this is the thanks I get for watching your back.”

“Oops, have I upset you again?” Sally teased.

“Not in the slightest. Want me to punch the address into the sat nav?” he replied, changing the subject.

“No. I know the way.”

Ten minutes later, Sally parked the car in a space opposite Brenda’s home. “Looks like the house has been made into two flats.”

“You could be right.”

Sally rang the doorbell to the upper flat and waited for a response. Jack stepped back and watched the window above for any sign of life.

“Yep, someone’s in. The curtain just twitched. Ring it again.”

Before she could ring again, loud footsteps descended the stairs on the other side of the door.

A young woman with mascara-streaked cheeks greeted them with her eyes screwed up against the sun’s glare. “Yes?”

Sally flashed her ID for the second time that morning. “DI Sally Parker and DS Jack Blackman. Is this the residence of Brenda Fisher?”

The woman frowned and nodded. “It is. Although she’s not here right now. Dirty mare must have got off with a punter last night and didn’t come home.”

“Punter? As in a client?”

“She ain’t no prossie, love. She’s a barmaid down at the Old Fox. I meant punter as in customer. It’s not unheard of for her to get picked up and end up sharing someone’s bed for the night. Good on her, I say. If it’s all right for men to get their leg over with a stranger, then why shouldn’t we?”

Sally inhaled deeply, saddened by the woman’s words.
Is that really how women think these days?
“I’m sorry to have to tell you, but Brenda was found murdered this morning.”

The woman’s hand covered her gaping mouth, and she collapsed against the door with a thud.

“Are you all right? Maybe we should continue this conversation inside.”

The woman turned and walked slowly back up the stairs. Sally and Jack followed. Once they were inside the untidy, open-plan living room, the woman dropped onto the sofa, still in a daze.

Sally sat next to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No. Why? Why Brenda?”

“We’ve yet to ascertain the reason behind the attack, Miss…?”

“It’s Darla, Darla Fisher.”

Sally cringed. “Are you Brenda’s sister?”

“Yes, at least I was.” Darla broke down in tears.

Sally and Jack glanced at each other and shook their heads. It was never easy telling a person that a loved one had passed over, let alone been murdered. Sally waited for a few minutes before she placed a hand over the woman’s and asked if she was okay.

“Not really. Would you be? What happened?”

“It’s difficult to tell right now. We were called out to Acle Church this morning, to the crime scene, and discovered your sister’s body.”

“In a church?” Darla frowned.

“Actually, she was found outside, in the graveyard.”

“Shit! How did she die?”

Sally swallowed hard. “I’m not going to lie to you. Her naked body was found propped up against a gravestone.”

Darla stared at her open-mouthed for a few seconds, then she found her voice again. “Was she raped?”

Sally nodded. “I’m sorry. There’s just no other way to say it. If it’s any consolation, the suspect left valuable DNA at the scene. We’re hopeful that will lead to his capture soon.”

“He did? Then why aren’t you out there, going after him? Sorry, dumb question.”

“Not at all. A logical one under the circumstances. We have to inform the next of kin first before we can begin our investigation.”

“I see. Do you have a suspect in mind? Any witnesses?”

Sally shook her head. “Not yet. Can I ask when you last saw your sister?”

“Just before her shift last night. I came home from the office at five thirty. We passed on the stairs, as she had to get to work before her shift started at six.”

“Does your sister have a boyfriend?”

“No. She’s not the type to settle down with one person. Umm… that sounded bad, didn’t it?”

“Not at all.” Given Sally’s own experiences with men, she totally understood why women wouldn’t want to start a permanent relationship with a man in today’s world.

“She was happy not being tied down. Her former boyfriend loved nothing more than beating seven bells of shit out of her. He broke her arm the last time they were together. I persuaded her to leave him. We bought this place together so we could look after each other. I’ve had my fair share of shitty relationships, too.”

Me, three!
“This former boyfriend, has he pestered your sister since? Hounded her to get back with him, perhaps?”

“No. He left the country when I threatened to dob him in to your lot.”

“Where’s he living now?” Sally asked.

“The last I heard, in Spain.”

“We’ll need his name. We can check if he’s returned to the country without your knowledge. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened.”

“It’s Laurence… not sure on his surname. I think it’s Kronan.”

“That doesn’t sound like an English name. What nationality is he?”

“I think he’s Croatian. Although, I can’t be totally sure on that. I hope it helps.” Darla shrugged apologetically.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to track him down. Can you tell me roughly when he left the UK?”

“Let me think… I suppose about three months ago. Yes, around Christmas time.”

“That should help us a lot. Has he been in touch since? By letter, text, or a phone call?”

Darla shook her head. “Not that I know of. Brenda would have told me. I still can’t believe I’ll never see her again.”

“Ah, about that… we’ll need someone to formally identify your sister’s body.”

“Oh, crap. Really?” Tears dripped down her cheeks again. “I’m not sure I can see her again, not if she’s dead.”

Sally squeezed Darla’s hand. “I understand. What about another family member? Your parents, perhaps?”

“No. They’re both dead. They died a few years back in a car accident. There was only Brenda and me left.”

“I’m so sorry. Then the task falls to you, I’m afraid. I can lend my support by attending the viewing with you, if that will help.”

Darla wiped her tears with her sleeve and smiled weakly. “Would you?”

“Of course. I’ll make the arrangements and get back to you later, if you like. Although there will have to be a post-mortem first.”

“Oh no. Why? Does she have to be cut open? You said there was DNA left at the scene. Won’t that be enough to convict the culprit, without having to cut her open?”

“It’s the law. I’m sorry. I know it’s hard, but look at it this way: the more evidence we can find to throw at the suspect, the more chance we have of putting him away for years. So many suspects get off through lack of evidence these days.”

Darla sighed. “Okay, I get it. When will the post-mortem be done?”

“Soon. I’ll check and get back to you this afternoon, I promise. One last question before we go. Apart from the ex-boyfriend, is there anyone who has been pestering your sister recently? Any of the staff members at the pub or a possible customer maybe?”

Darla thought the question over before replying, “Not that I can think of. No.”

Sally patted the woman’s hand and stood up. “Okay. We’ll check at the pub to make sure, and I’ll ring you later on this afternoon if you give me your mobile number.”

Jack jotted down the phone number when Darla shared it, then the detectives left the flat.

“That was tough,” Jack said when they set off in the car.

“They’re all tough, Jack. Our job is definitely not getting any easier. That’s for sure. Right, let’s get to the pub and see what we can glean from the manager.”

CHAPTER TWO

By the time Sally and Jack pulled into the Old Fox’s car park, the customers were already starting to enter the front door. “Let’s hope the manager has staff arranged to cover the bar early doors. Otherwise, I sense we could be in for a long wait,” Sally grumbled, switched off the engine, and climbed out of the car.

Jack licked his lips. “A long pint would go down a treat right about now.”

“When wouldn’t it with you? You know what’s always amazed me?”

Jack frowned and shook his head. “No, what?”

“How the devil you manage to stay so slim, considering the amount of booze you throw down your neck.”

“Christ, hark at you. From what I can remember, you’re not averse to the odd tipple yourself.”

“Hmm… that was before. Let’s not go down that route. Are you ready?” Sally pushed open the door to the lounge bar of the Old Fox.

“I’m right behind you,” Jack said.

Sally dipped her hand into her jacket pocket and produced her warrant card. When she approached the bar, the rotund barman smiled and walked their way.

“What can I get you nice folks?”

Sally held up her ID. “DI Sally Parker and my partner, DS Jack Blackman. Are you the manager?”

He peered at her identification then leaned against the shelf behind him and crossed his arms. “I am. Greg Jones. What’s this about?”

“We’d rather have a word in private, if it’s all the same to you. Can you call on a member of staff to relieve you for ten minutes or so?”

“Nope. The first bar staff member is due to start her shift in thirty minutes. Can you hang on until then?”

“We’re going to have to. You better give us two orange juices while we wait.”

He popped the tops off two small bottles and placed them on the counter, along with two glasses. “Wait over there, and I’ll join you when I can.” He pointed at a small table in the corner near the window overlooking the children’s play area at the back of the pub.

Sally and Jack picked up their drinks and left the bar. “That’s funny,” Sally said.

“What is?” Jack took his seat, eyeing the manager behind the bar.

“The fact that he didn’t press us on why we’re here. Wouldn’t you if you were in his shoes?”

“I suppose so.” Jack continued watching the man.

The manager went back to his regular customers and carried on laughing with them as if Sally and Jack weren’t there. The more Sally observed his demeanour, the more her suspicions grew.

Finally, an older lady in the process of removing her jacket entered the bar. “Sorry I’m late, boss. The traffic was bad.”

“I’m used to it. You lot seem to treat this place as a joke when it suits you. What with that Brenda dipping out of her shift early last night! You lot should start showing me more respect and begin valuing your jobs, or I’ll sack the bloody lot of you.”

“Brenda was ill. There was no harm done. I covered for her—without pay, I hasten to add. Have you heard from her this morning?”

“Why should I? Hurry up and stop nattering. I’ve got a couple of folks waiting to see me over there.” Greg nodded in Sally and Jack’s direction.

“Oops, you’ve got it. I’ll be two ticks.”

Once the woman had returned and installed herself behind the bar, the manager poured himself half a pint of beer and joined them at the table. “Right, what’s this all about?”

Sally smiled tightly at the man. “Brenda Fisher. I heard you mention her name just a moment ago.”

“That’s right. She ducked out of her shift early last night; complained about a stomach ache or something along those lines. What about her?”

Sally inhaled then exhaled a large breath. “She’s dead, and we’re trying to ascertain why.”

“What?” Greg’s voice rose, making the other people in the pub turn their way.

“Can you tell us how Brenda usually travelled home after her shift? Did she bring a car to work?”

“How the heck should I know?” Greg queried, clearly traumatised by the news.

“Would the lady behind the bar know?”

“Denise, did Brenda usually bring a car to work?”

The woman behind the bar left the customers and came over to Sally’s table. “I’m not sure. Why?”

Greg lowered his voice and told Denise, “Brenda’s dead. These two are coppers investigating her death.”

Denise gasped and stumbled against the table when her legs wobbled beneath her. Jack leapt out of his seat to support the woman. “Are you all right?”

She flashed a smile heavy with grief and patted his hand gripping her arm. “I’ll be fine. It’s such a shock. I knew she was ill last night, but I didn’t realise it was
that
serious. Damn, I should have called her a taxi to take her home.”

Sally’s gaze drifted between Greg and Denise. “The thing is, she was found murdered. Her death had nothing to do with her illness.”

“What?” Greg said almost before Sally had finished talking. “Why? Where?”

“
Why
, I can’t answer that yet, but the ‘
where’
I can. Her naked body was found in a graveyard in Acle. What I’d like to know is if she was talking to anyone in particular last night? A stranger perhaps?”

Denise rubbed her head in thought. “There was a man, but he left a good ten to fifteen minutes before she did.”

“Can you give us a hint to his identity?” Sally asked.

“Crap, can’t say I took that much notice really. We were all busy here last night. There was a large party in the restaurant, a birthday bash for an eighty-year-old. I was tidying away their glasses when I noticed Brenda looking ill.”

Sally nodded. “Had she been ill long? I mean, at the beginning of her shift?”

“I didn’t really notice.”

Sally turned to Jack. “Maybe someone laced her drink with something.”

“Poison?” Jack replied.

“Who knows? Are your staff allowed to drink while serving customers, Greg?”

“The odd one, only an orange juice or something similar. Definitely nothing alcoholic, that’s for sure. I’m telling you, none of my customers would poison her.”

“It’s just a suspicion at this point, nothing concrete.”

A man at the bar tapped his glass on the glossy wood, eager for service. Denise excused herself and ran back behind the bar to serve the impatient customer.

“We’ll need to ask the other members of staff on duty last night if they saw this customer. It’s vital we get a description as soon as possible, if only to discount him from our enquiries.”

“We run a skeleton staff during the day. Most of our trade takes place after seven in the evening, when you’ve finished for the day, I’m guessing,” Greg said.

“Then we can either send uniformed police in to ask the staff to give us a statement, or you can give us everyone’s address and we’ll conduct our enquiries off the premises.”

“That would suit me better. I’ll go to the office and sort out the details for you.” The manager left the table and slipped behind the bar again.

“Is he legit?” Jack asked, “Or could he have committed the crime?”

“What are you basing that assumption on, Jack?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. He seemed a bit off with us. That’s all.”

Sally shook her head in frustration. “Going by your logic, seventy percent of the bloody country would be sat behind bars. Coppers are hardly on everyone’s Christmas card list, are we?”

“Granted. Is there anything we can do while we wait?”

Sally pondered his question for a second or two then snapped her fingers. “Get on to the station. Ask Joanna to look into the boyfriend’s travel itinerary. See if he’s returned to the country lately. I’ll go and question the barmaid a bit more in between her serving the customers.”

“I’ll get on it right away.”

The barmaid continued to shake her head periodically as she served the three men sitting at the bar. One of them asked what was wrong, but she didn’t tell them. Sally was pleased to see that—it proved the woman could be trusted. Maybe Brenda had confided in the woman.

“Sorry to interrupt again,” Sally said, hopping up onto one of the barstools, letting her legs dangle freely.

“Anything I can do to help, I will. I still can’t believe she won’t be walking through those doors again.”

“Was Brenda popular amongst the punters?” Sally asked.

“Most of the time, yes. She had a run-in with one or two of the men when they tried to get fresh with her, but in this game, that type of thing tends to come with the territory.”

“Anyone get
fresh
with her lately?”

“Not that I can think of. I wish I could give you more on this guy who was chatting to her.”

“Do you think anyone else could remember what he looks like? Another member of staff or a customer sitting at the bar perhaps?”

“I’m sorry to be so hopeless. I was rushed off my feet last night and didn’t really have time to take in my surroundings like I usually do.” She struck a clenched fist against her denim-clad thigh. “Why didn’t I pay more attention? Why?”

“Please don’t punish yourself like that. Maybe if someone is able to give us an idea of this man’s description, I can run it past you, see if it jolts your memory.”

“Sure. Although I’m not certain who will be able to supply you with the information you need. All I can do is check the rota to see who was on duty last night.”

“That would be a great help. Your boss is getting the staff’s names and addresses. I could put those who were on duty last night at the top of the list.”

The barmaid walked to the end of the bar and came back holding a rota. She placed it on the bar in front of Sally just as Jack joined her. “Here you go.”

“Get these names down in your notebook, Jack.”

“Will do, boss. Joanna is getting onto the airlines and relevant departments now about the boyfriend.” Jack jotted down the names of the people on duty the previous evening at the pub.

Sally looked at the extensive list and inwardly groaned. The day ahead would turn out to be longer than either of them had anticipated.

The manager appeared and handed Sally the staff names and addresses. “Here’s the information you need. Hope you find it useful.”

“Thanks, that’s a big help. Here’s my card, in case either of you think of anything that might help our investigation. We’ll work our way through the list today. You might be in for a bit of aggro from your staff when they come on duty later. Providing nobody has anything to hide, all should go well.”

“Okay. I can’t see you getting anything out of the staff. I don’t allow them to fraternise with each other, but who’s to say what goes on after their shift ends, right?” Greg added a shrug at the end of his statement.

“True enough. We’ll be in touch soon.” Sally and Jack left the pub. Once outside in the fresh air, Sally said, “I think we’re in for at least six or seven hours of mind-numbing repeated questions that I doubt will throw up much insight into what happened to Brenda Fisher.”

“Maybe we should grab a sandwich before we begin.”

“Food and drink, is that all you think about?” Sally saw the glint appear in his eye. “Jeez, don’t bloody bother answering that. Men… cut your dicks off, and you wouldn’t be able to think.”

Jack roared with laughter. “You do have a certain way with words at times. I suppose you women never think about sex.”

“Not as often as you men. Come on, we’re wasting time. I think I spotted a baker’s up the road on the way here.”

“Lunch is on you, I take it?”

“DIs aren’t on that much more than a DS, you know. Especially ones who have just had to stump up for a new flat.”

“Violins at the ready. Crap, I walked into that one. All right, I’ll get these, but you owe me.”

The rest of the day consisted of working through the list of employees from the pub, though Sally and Jack’s efforts provided them with little useful information regarding what had happened the night before at the pub.

“If only there hadn’t been that function taking place,” Sally complained wearily, walking out of the final member of staff’s house.

“What now?”

Sally unlocked the car, and they both got in. She started up the engine before she spoke again. “The thing is, I really wanted to see what the customers sitting in the public bar had to say, but not one person could tell us who the regulars were that night because of that damn function. Why is it that people only tend to focus on one thing at a time these days?”

Jack shook his head. “Not everyone out there wants to, or needs to, think like a copper, boss.”

She hit the steering wheel with the heel of her hand before pulling away from the kerb. “Maybe if folks opened their eyes a bit more, our job would be less stressful.”

“Like that’s going to happen any day soon.”

“Okay, let’s get back to the station. See what the others have managed to find out, if anything, in our absence, then we’ll call it a day.”

The team were still all hard at it when they arrived. Sally made a beeline for Joanna’s desk while Jack headed for the board to fill in all the negative results they’d achieved during the afternoon.

“Any luck, Joanna?” Sally asked.

“Absolutely nothing on the boyfriend. I’ve tracked him down to working in a hotel in Malaga, but he hasn’t left the country in months. Apparently, he has neither the intention nor inclination to leave there, either.”

“Okay, that’s a pity. On the other hand, he’s one we can conclusively cross off our list. That’s always a nice position to be in.”

“How did you get on? By the looks of things, not very well,” Joanna said.

“You’d be right there. We’re just about to wrap everything up before we set off for the day.”

The team gathered around, and each of them summarised what their investigations had uncovered—which amounted to very little. Sally exhaled a large breath. “Okay, guys. Let’s all go home and get some rest and start afresh in the morning. Frustrating as it is, that’s about the only option left open to us this early on in the case.”

“Looks that way until forensics can give us a name to go on.” Jack placed the lid on the marker pen.

Sally had tidied up her desk and was just about to leave the office when her phone rang. The ominous nerves struck and constricted her stomach. She thought about leaving it to ring and closing the door, but ever the professional, she pushed her uneasiness aside and said confidently, “Hello, DI Parker. Can I help?”