Текст книги "Time to Die"

Автор книги: Caroline Mitchell

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The tall electric gates parted to allow Jennifer and Will’s unmarked Ford Focus inside. Will gave a low whistle as they drove past the beautifully manicured garden bordering the long gravel driveway to Christian Bowe’s impressive six-bedroom home.

‘We’re in the wrong jobs,’ Will said as the three-storey house came into view. The large bay windows and solar panels fed from the generous morning sunlight, which beamed down on the English country home. Expansive green fields flanked the gravel driveway, maintaining the privacy of the residents within.

Jennifer glanced up at the old fashioned street lamps that disguised the CCTV domes discreetly hidden within. Several burglar alarms flashed on the outside of the building and all exits appeared to be securely fenced. Christian certainly wasn’t taking any chances with security. Their old Ford Focus appeared sorely out of place next to the red Jaguar as they parked in the driveway. Jennifer ran her fingertips over the shiny paintwork as she walked to the door, knowing it was the nearest she’d ever come to having one.

She was half expecting a butler to answer the glossy red wooden door, but instead she got Christian, red-eyed and gaunt, a sharp contrast to the publicity images splashed across the tabloid magazines.

‘Oh Jenny it’s awful, isn’t it,’ Christian said, before wrapping his arms around her and dropping his head into her shoulder.

Although taken aback by the sudden display of affection, she reciprocated by rubbing his back, allowing him time to catch his breath before breaking away.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I’m a mess, I know. I … I just don’t know what to do with myself. Please, come inside.’

Jennifer ran her eyes over his baggy clothes. He had lost weight, and his shoulders appeared to have dropped a couple of inches since she had seen him last. His slow lifeless feet dragged across the oak floor as he led her through the double doors to the vast living room. Jennifer wondered if their visit would make things better or worse.

The delicate fragrance of white lilies greeted them as they entered the bright but stuffy room, and Jennifer’s eyes danced over the overflowing vases decorating the window ledge and mahogany sideboards. Her eyes drifted to a portrait hanging over the wide traditional fireplace. Felicity Baron looked stunning in a full-length white gown, her face framed by her wavy blonde hair. Christian was standing behind her, one hand around her slender waist, the other holding her left hand, which was showing off an engagement ring the queen mother would have been proud of.

‘Beautiful, wasn’t she,’ Christian said, his eyes misting over. ‘It was taken at our engagement party last year.’

‘I’m so very sorry,’ Jennifer said, usually one to shy from such acts of grandeur. ‘Thank you for seeing me, I understand your need for privacy at this time.’

Christian waved a hand over the leather sofa. ‘I could do with a friendly face. At the moment, all I get are paparazzi calling me day and night. I didn’t need friends when I had Felicity. But now …’ The words caught in his throat and he gestured towards the sofa. ‘Please, take a seat. I take it this is police business?’

Jennifer nodded solemnly. She glanced around the room as Will tinkered with framed photographs on the sideboard. ‘Are the children about?’

Christian stared into space for several seconds before responding. ‘The children? Oh … they’re with their mother. She’s been cleared by the police, but I expect you know that.’

Jennifer undid her jacket. The room was stifling, and she wondered when was the last time he had opened a window. ‘Yes I was aware. Right now we’re looking into every aspect of Felicity’s case. Part of the investigation involves interviewing family members.’

‘I was recording a live television show when Felicity …’

‘I know that, Christian, and this isn’t about you, so please don’t worry. I want to ask you about your cousin, Bert.’

Christian’s head snapped up, and he hastily daubed away the tears welling in his eyes. ‘Bert? Do you finally believe me that he had something to do with this?’

Jennifer squared her shoulders. ‘I’m afraid that’s a very distinct possibility, and he may be involved in a lot more.’

Christian gasped, cupping a hand to his mouth. ‘There was a murder on the news … a young woman, found dead in her bed. Was that him?’

‘I can’t say either way,’ Jennifer said, leaning her notebook on her crossed legs. ‘That’s why it’s important that we know everything there is about his background. The police are doing everything they can to find him. Teams of officers are scouring local areas, dog handlers are searching the woodlands, and the police helicopter has made several trips overhead to search for his van.’

Christian blew his nose and replaced his sodden tissue with a fresh one from the box on the coffee table. ‘Bert’s spent half his life in and out of mental institutions. Why do they keep letting him out? Don’t they ever learn?’

‘We’ve got your earlier statement, but can you tell me a bit more about the last time you saw him?’ Jennifer said, trying to obtain the information before he broke down. She felt like a vulture, feeding off him for answers when he was in so much pain. But that was often the way in the police. You saw people at their worst, and all you could do to help was apprehend the people responsible for their pain. Her eyes flicked to Will, who was now staring out the window. He was in his comfort zone when he was on foot chases, or struggling with suspects as he locked his cuffs in place. Grief unsettled him, and he was happy to leave such interviews to her.

Christian took a sip of water from a glass on the table and coughed to clear his throat. ‘Bert used to visit our house when I was young. He made mum nervous, so she told him to stay away. Then when I was on TV, he managed to get a hold of my mobile number and began calling me night and day. He even got to a phone when he was in the institution. It carried on long after he left. That’s when I reported him for harassment.’

‘Why the fascination with you?’

Christian shrugged. ‘He’s plagued me half my life. Mother thinks I remind him of his brother, the one that died when he was a child. Can I get you a drink?’

Will opened his mouth to respond but Jennifer cut him off. ‘No thanks. What sort of things would he say or do when he came to visit? Did he give any readings?’

‘Readings? No. Sometimes he’d talk about his mother as if she was still alive.’ Christian sighed, recalling the memory. ‘When I was young, he’d ramble on about his blackbirds and how he used to save them from traps. Sometimes the farmers would hang out dead jackdaws on their land to keep the birds from their crops. I remember Bert telling me once that he was up all night cutting them down. He’d save a few of their feathers as keepsakes then bury their bodies in the woods. In the early days, he used to tell me his stories. He’d sit there, scratching his arms and legs until they bled. He had terrible eczema, but I was young and I felt sorry for him. To me, he was a fragile old man.’

‘Did you ever speak to his mother?’ Jennifer said, scribbling his answers in her pocket notebook.

‘Aunty Grace? God no. After her husband died she isolated herself from the world, wouldn’t even allow mother to visit. God only knows what used to go on in that big old house, with just the two of them rattling around up there. She was dead for weeks before anyone found her.’

‘How did she die?’ Jennifer said, nodding at Will to join her on the sofa.

‘They said it was her heart but her body wasn’t discovered for several weeks. Bert had left, and was sleeping rough in his father’s old van. You don’t think he had anything to do with it, do you? I mean, Bert was creepy, but this all still seems a bit beyond him.’

Jennifer was non-committal. ‘I’m just trying to get a feel for what your cousin is like, and your relationship with him.’

‘What should I do if he comes back?’

‘You’ve got excellent security. Be alert, and carry your phone with you at all times. If you hear from him, call us straight away.’

Christian pulled a tissue from his pocket and blew his nose. He glanced up at the picture one more time before speaking. ‘Felicity would hate to see me like this. She loved the kids, you know, she’d tell me to be strong for them.’

The mention of Felicity’s name brought a fresh question to Jennifer’s mind. ‘Can I ask … did Felicity ever mention a group called “The Reborners” to you?’

‘No. What’s that?’

‘It’s like a self-help group for people who want to forget their past and begin again. Does that sound like something she could have been interested in at some point in her life?’ Jennifer would have liked to mention the Facebook group they discovered, but Zoe had given her strict instructions not to breathe a word. Besides, she had already seen Felicity’s very public Facebook profile and she wasn’t a member of any groups.

Christian shook his head. ‘Felicity told me everything. She was a very happy young lady, and had no regrets in life.’ He stared back up at the picture as fresh tears began to fall. ‘Oh Fliss, why did you have to leave me?’

Jennifer gave him the only crumb of hope she could think of. ‘Christian, you know better than anyone that there’s life after death. You have to take comfort in that.’

‘I know. But I want her here with me, now. I miss her so much.’ Christian’s face crumpled and he folded his arms tightly around his stomach, leaning forward in the chair.

Jennifer’s eyes met Will’s, and he mouthed the words ‘Let’s go’. She felt uncomfortable invading Christian’s grief when it was still so raw, but she was a professional, and finding the person who tampered with Felicity’s car would at least provide him with a grain of comfort. ‘It’s very early days. Give yourself time.’

Will interjected as he stood behind them. ‘Have you spoken to any of Felicity’s friends since the funeral?’

Christian stared at him, as if he had only just realised he was there. ‘No. I know it sounds selfish but I just don’t have time for anyone else’s grief right now.’

Jennifer understood the sentiment, and it made her all the more determined to get her hands on the Raven before he could kill again.

Chapter Forty

Bert

Bert wrapped his fingers around the chipped mug, slowly draining the scotch and allowing it to warm the pit of his stomach. Branches tapped the roof of the van like long bony fingertips, tap tap tapping into his psyche, the pitch-black night causing him to awake disorientated and confused. But camping out in the depths of the forest was better than going home to mother, or whatever was left of her. He imagined her still sitting in her rocking chair, just as she did when he was a boy. He tried to recall a time when he felt kindness. There had been a woman … Bert gasped as the name came to him through the mists of his mind. Rosa. That was her name.

Bert had celebrated his fortieth birthday. Rosa was older than he was, but he liked the way she cared for him because she wasn’t afraid to touch his red itchy skin. He wasn’t at home, although it smelt like home – antiseptic and clinical. Memories of a hospital building … sometimes he would sit with the others and watch television, his tartan slipper dangling off one foot as he bobbed his leg in time to the theme tune. Crime programmes were his favourite, although it was hard to hear them over the spasmodic moans and shouts in the background. Rosa always made sure he had a seat at the front, and extra biscuits with his tea. Sometimes she would stand behind him and watch too, her hand resting on the back of his neck. She stretched onto her toes and kissed him on the cheek once, when nobody was looking. She said that everybody deserved a kiss on their birthday. Bert had never had a girlfriend before, and wondered what it would have been like. Rosa was small and podgy, with big bosoms that moved when she walked. He liked that.

The minute Rosa entered his room he noticed the unshed tears in her eyes.

‘What’s the matter?’ Bert asked.

‘I need some guidance,’ Rosa said. ‘I think my husband is having an affair. I don’t know how much more I can take.’

‘Why don’t you talk to him?’ Bert said. It seemed pretty straightforward to him.

‘I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘I need some advice about what to do first. I’ve been left a big inheritance and he wants me to put it in our joint account. I need to know if he’s just staying with me for the money.’

Bert shrugged. He was the last person to give advice on affairs of the heart. ‘I wish I could help you.’

Rosa sat beside him on the bed and grasped his hand. ‘You can. You know how we talked about your gift of divination? Well, my grandmother didn’t just give me money … she left me these. They’ve been in our family for years.’

Rosa undid the first two buttons of her tunic and plunged her hand down her top.

Bert’s eyes were drawn to the pinkness of her cleavage, hemmed in by the taut white bra. He felt himself redden as she caught his stare.

Rosa hunched her shoulders, screwing up her nose in mouse-like fashion as she squeaked a giggle. ‘Oops, sorry. This was the only place I could think of hiding these.’ She pressed the warm deck of cards into his hands then quickly buttoned up her top. ‘Don’t let anyone see them, will you? I’ll be back tonight for my reading.’ Rosa straightened up her tunic and patted her hair before planting a kiss on his cheek. ‘I know you won’t let me down,’ she whispered, leaving him heady in the wake of her perfume, and hotly aroused.

Shift changeover was a good time to meet as the staff had a half-hourly meeting to discuss events of the evening before going home. Rosa slid into the darkness of Bert’s room, clicking on the side lamp as she pulled up a chair next to his bed. It was after nine pm and most of the patients were drugged and asleep. Bert had decided to forgo his medication to see Rosa, hoping if he played coy she would give him more than a peck on the cheek.

‘Well?’ Rosa said, pulling a chair to the side of his bed. ‘Can you work with those cards?’

‘I don’t know,’ Bert said. ‘I’m not supposed to …’

Rosa scowled, jumping up from her chair and extending a pudgy hand. ‘Well in that case I’ll have them back. I should have known you wouldn’t do it.’

‘No, wait,’ Bert said, aghast. ‘I didn’t say I couldn’t. Sit down. I can do a three card reading, past, present and future.’

Rosa threw her arms around him, pressing her bosoms into his chest. ‘Oh thank you, Bert, I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’ She released her grip and relaxed back into her chair, her mouth upturned in a congenial smile.

Bert felt his pyjamas tighten with his arousal; relieved his modesty was preserved under the hospital blankets. Taking a few short breaths, he focused on the cards. Rosa had a short temper, and they did not have much time. He shuffled the deck before laying the three cards face down on the bed. Working with a different deck was like wearing someone else’s clothes. He wondered how he had forgotten about his own deck of cards, buried underneath the roots of the tree. He scratched his neck, and turned over the first card.

‘This is your past. Life has not been kind to you. I see a man, an uncle. He’s much older than you. He is entering your room. You are pretending to be asleep but he doesn’t care …’

Rosa’s eyes grew wide and she reached out to snatch the card. Bert batted her hand away. ‘Don’t be upset. It’s over now. I’ll move on to the present. You mustn’t dwell on the past.’

Rosa glanced back at the room door and frowned. ‘Can you hurry up? We haven’t got much time.’

Bert turned over the card. ‘I see a bald man, with a black moustache. He is kissing you goodbye and leaving your home.’

‘Yes that’s him,’ Rosa said, leaning forward in her chair.

‘I see him again, sitting in his car with a tall, thin, red-haired woman. They’re planning what to do with your money. He’s kissing her, telling her she’s the only one he’s ever loved.’ Bert knew that each word was a dagger into Rosa’s heart. But he had little sympathy for her when she treated him so abruptly.

‘I knew it,’ she whispered, her eyes narrowing as she spat the words. ‘The bastard. He said he was visiting his father.’

But the reading had not finished, and Bert felt his blood boil as he watched images of Rosa stealing from her patients on a daily basis. The more disabled they were, the more she took. Trinkets from home, soap, jewellery, even socks. No wonder she waddled when she walked; her bra held a lot more than her breasts alone. Like a magpie she would fish through her trinkets, some of them never seeing the light of day. But it gave her a certain satisfaction, stealing from people who could not answer back.

Rosa blew her nose before standing up to leave. ‘All this time I’ve been wondering what’s going on and you gave it to me straight. Thank you.’

‘The reading’s not over yet. Wouldn’t you like to know your future?’

Rosa sneered. ‘I already know. I’m kicking that bastard out, then I’m going to book a cruise. That’s the last you’ll see of me.’

Bert set his mouth into a thin line. He could hear voices down the corridor as the meeting broke up. Rosa put out her hand for the cards. ‘I’ve got to go. Give me back the cards. You’ll have no use for them now.’

Bert quickly shoved the cards under his pillow. ‘Wait, I have news of your future. It’s very important. Meet me on the fourth floor tomorrow night at nine, room 113.’

‘But that floor’s taped off for renovation. You won’t get in,’ Rosa whispered.

‘Leave it to me, I’m good at sneaking out. This is important, Rosa. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Rosa nodded before hastily making her way out the door.

It was just like the old days for Bert when he escaped outside under the cover of darkness. The floor had been cordoned off due to renovations so only pass holders could gain access. PVC was replacing the rotted sash windows, and room 113 was windowless, because they had ordered the wrong size. But Rosa didn’t know that. She rubbed her arms as she entered, squinting in the darkness. The electricity for that part of the building had been turned off, and as Bert stepped out of the shadows, he relayed the rest of her reading. She was going to die after falling out of the fourth-floor window at three minutes past nine. Rose had barely enough time to scream before she realised what was going on. Bert’s push sent her falling into the arms of the cold night air, screaming and flailing like a wingless bird.

As Rosa’s bloodied corpse lay on the concrete ground below, Bert ran to the other end of the building and climbed down the piping into his own room. As he gripped the cold metal chutes, he was reminded of the old oak tree from which Callum fell. He would have loved to have seen Rosa fall for himself, but he had to make do with pretending to wake from his sleep, acting groggy and confused as he asked the other staff what was going on. A later search revealed many stolen items in her locker, and Bert played his audience as he told them how Rosa used to sneak into his room at night, desperate to talk about her childhood abuse. Bert was lucid enough to explain how she had kissed him on the cheek and left, saying goodbye one last time. Like before, Bert had given a very good performance, and her death provided him with respite from his ills. His story was backed up by the CCTV, which only covered the inside of the building. All they could see was Rosa making her way through the corridor alone.

Killing Rosa made him long for the forest, and he vowed to do whatever it took to be free. His cards awaited him, and they would afford him the power to do so much more.

Chapter Forty-One

Briefing brought with it the usual workload of jobs that had trickled in from the night before. Jennifer’s sergeant apologised as she handed the jobs out to her small team. She looked slightly harried, her curly black hair springing up from the crown of her head, reminding Jennifer of a jack-in-the-box toy she had as a child.

‘I’m sorry, guys, but today we’ve got to mop up some plain old domestic incidents to help CID. They’re quite nasty so don’t rush, but if you happen to get any downtime I recommend sorting out whatever outstanding paperwork you have. Jennifer, you’re down to attend briefing in Lexton MIT. See if there’re any updates on the Raven case. Zoe’s written up a report of her dealings with the Facebook group to date, you can bring that with you.’

Jennifer nodded. Zoe had been keeping Jennifer updated by text. She was slowly winning the group members’ trust, particularly a member known as Geoff. She was playing the persona of a teenage girl who had turned to drugs because her parents fed her money instead of love. Each word she typed on the group’s page was carefully constructed, and she expected to be invited to a meeting very soon. Jennifer sipped her coffee as her sergeant continued doling out jobs, and none of them were to her liking.

‘Will, there’s a domestic here for the Cravens. As usual, it’s resulted in a counter allegation, and both parties are in custody. You work with the husband and Zoe can interview the wife. Collate the paperwork and send it to CPS. They’re one of our regulars so you should be able to get a decision today.’

[#]

Briefing in Lexton failed to turn up any new leads. The general consensus was that the Raven had abandoned his van in favour of other means of transport. He was not claiming benefits, and it wasn’t possible to track his spending habits without bank account details. They were at a loss as to how he was sustaining himself. Jennifer wondered if his mother had been one of those mistrusting people who kept her money in a mattress instead of in a bank like everyone else. Her thoughts returned to Emily’s little boy. Her nightmares were filled with his sorrow – she could not get him out of her mind. She turned to Will, his head bowed as he pored over his paperwork. The couple he was working on must have had the police on speed dial, as not a weekend passed without the police being called to their address.

‘The Cravens, they’ve got kids haven’t they?’ Jennifer asked.

‘Five, God help them, and a menagerie of animals.’

‘Mmm,’ Jennifer said, ‘I take it you’ll be giving social services a call to update them on the progress of the case. Would you like me to do that for you?’

‘What are you up to? It sounds like you’ve enough work of your own to be getting on with.’

‘No, that’s OK, I’ll do it. What’s the number of that social worker you’re friendly with, Sally something, isn’t it?’

‘Why are you so keen to call social care all of a sudden?’ Will lifted his gaze from the page and his face broke into a smile. ‘Hold on, you’re after an update on Emily Clarke’s kid, aren’t you?’

‘I might be,’ Jennifer said. She had gotten used to never knowing the outcome of many of the jobs she attended. It was part of the job. You turned up when all hell was breaking loose, and if you were lucky, you found out how it went. Most of the time, you never heard anything, and you had to let it go. Being able to show empathy without becoming emotionally attached became a skill to master. But this time she had to know.

Will handed her a slip of paper. ‘Here’s her direct line. Don’t abuse it.’

‘Thanks,’ Jennifer said, before punching in her number. ‘Hi Sally, it’s DC Jennifer Knight from Haven CID. Sorry to call on your direct line but Will and I are working on a case involving the Craven family and I just wanted to check if you’ve received a social services referral.’

Sally was a children’s advisor, and all referrals in Haven passed through her. Will had gotten to know her over the years, and she was happy to update her that a social worker had already been assigned. Just as she was about to finish her call, Jennifer caught her attention.

‘Oh Sally, before you go, do you have any updates on the little boy who was taken into care the other day? His mother was Emily Clarke. She was murdered.’

‘Oh of course I know about that one, very sad wasn’t it? Let me see … why do you need this information again?’

Her fingers busily clacked on the keyboard as Sally typed in the background.

Jennifer twisted the phone cord between her fingers. Saying she felt a pang of guilt for his mother’s death would not provide her with the information she needed. ‘It’s relevant to the case,’ Jennifer heard herself say. ‘We need to ascertain if the child has said anything about his mother’s killer, if he’s settling in, things like that.’

Jennifer could hear the thud of a cup being placed on a desk. ‘Hmm, well it says here a DC Hardwick has already called with a view to interviewing him. Nothing’s been arranged yet, but the key worker has said in her notes he is showing no adverse signs so far. I imagine it’ll come out in his assessment but there doesn’t appear to be any lasting damage.’

Jennifer warmed to the idea of that. ‘That’s good, so he’s in care, I take it?’

‘He’s been fostered already. It’s early days but he’s doing really well, poor mite.’

It was the best news Jennifer had received all day. ‘Great! Thanks for that, Sally, I should have checked with DC Hardwick first. Sounds like a case of the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing.’

‘Are you any nearer to catching the killer or are you not allowed to say?’ Sally said.

Jennifer squirmed. She thought of the whiteboard in the MIT briefing room, and the wall covered with photos of the unfortunate victims, followed by pins dotting destinations, forensics, names, and places. She decided to go for the politician-style answer, and sidestepped the question completely. ‘We’re throwing everything at this case. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.’

‘Aye, well good luck with it, and don’t forget to give me the update on the Cravens.’

Jennifer would hand the responsibility for the updates over to Will and Zoe. They were welcome to them as far as she was concerned. One parent was as bad as the other, and neither thought of their children when they were tearing strips off each other during booze-fuelled arguments.

Jennifer was in the middle of Tesco’s when she received the call from Ethan. The hum of a car told her he was going somewhere, and the urgency in his voice made her hurry as she scanned her sandwich through the self-service checkout. There was no time for small talk as he relayed the news.

‘We’ve had word, there’s a raid going ahead. They’ve found The Reborners’ location.’

‘Really? I’m just grabbing a sandwich. What time is kick-off?’

Ethan mumbled something about turning left and Jennifer guessed he was being driven. ‘No, you don’t understand. Lexton MIT have been hacking into Zoe’s Facebook account and monitoring her conversations in the Second Chance group. While she was in interview, one of the group members invited her to a meeting.’

Jennifer swore under her breath. They were giving their full cooperation, there was no need for underhand tactics. ‘So when is the meeting? Is it today?’

‘It’s now. They’ve planned the raid without us. Zoe and I are on our way. Get yourself down to the quarry now.’