Death Marks (The Symbolist) (5 page)

Frustrated, Redd pushed the file to one side. They were getting nowhere, not even a clue to the identity of Baker's girlfriend. He looked up, as Dove in a fresh blue top matching the denim skirt, entered the office. His voice tense, he said, 'It's nearly four days now. Forensics are taking their bloody time. Any news from the teams?'

Tiredness painted violet shadows beneath her eyes. 'They're searching the hills around the forest boss - got the Bognor and Chichester stations on it as well; then there are volunteers going over every blade of grass.'

'Anything?'

'Nope - zilch.'

'What about house to house?'

'No; they've questioned everyone in the village and the outlying farms - no joy.'

'The Bakers?'

'Green and Crosby were on it - but they found bugger all. They've got the uniforms out there again, checking the outbuildings and sheds, there could be cellars underneath.'

'Tyre threads?'

'Nothing boss, just a bunch of village kids revving it up, night riding.'

'What about O'Connell and Owen?'

'They've covered all the dives -massage parlours - brothels - the surrounding districts - Brighton, Littlehampton, Bognor, Chichester - bugger all. It seems we're dealing with ghosts.'

'People are zipping up. Don't want to draw attention - these are vicious killers.'

'Yeah even the snitches don't wanna know.'

'Christ, you'd think with such grisly murders, there'd be someone with a conscience.'

'Everyone's scared stiff Sir. I mean entrails? Sounds like a voodoo sacrifice. People don't want to be seen talking to the Plod.'

'Yeah - it isn't in the papers yet, but everyone knows; you can't keep something like this under wraps. At least we've managed to keep the decapitations under wraps. Jack's checking out the mobsters and gang leaders. He speaks the language.'

'Prossies just button up when you go near them. Uniforms say they're frightened; they don't want their knee caps broken.'

Gesturing to the coffee machine, Redd said, 'Help yourself - I could do with another cuppa- make it strong.'

As Dove handed him a steaming cup, he said, 'Chase toxicology - they promised they'd rush it through - what the fuck's wrong with them - got their heads up their arses.'

Dove remained silent; now used to the boss's flare-ups. 'It's as silent as a graveyard out there - something's gotta break.'

'Yeah. Four days and nothing. I thought with the Baker boy we might be getting somewhere.'

The internal phone buzzed. 'Huh - Michele. Yes?'

Dove listened on the intercom. 'Guv. Desk has a woman on the line. Says she knows the Baker boy met a new girl.'

Redd glanced over to Dove, giving a thumbs up, his eyes brightening. 'Put her on.'

The girl's voice held a tremor, as she spoke over the intercom. 'You the dick in charge of the murder case?'

'Yes, speaking.'

'Well I knew the guy who got done in - my friend went to a night-club with him. I ain't seen her around for about a week or so, you know. I'm getting worried.'

'Have you her name and address?'

'Trevelyan Heights. Delle Woodhouse, Flat 6. St. George's Block.'

Redd grabbed a pen, scribbling it down. 'Okay, thank you and your name and address please.'

The girl's voice rose, her fear evident. 'I told the plod on the desk I ain't giving out my name and stuff. I'm only trying to help. I don't want to get noticed like.'

'We'll only contact you, if it's necessary okay?

'Alright - Tracy Thomas. 12 Coxgrove Street, Brighton.'

'We'll need your phone, and mobile numbers please.' The phone went dead. 'Damn. She's put the phone down on me.' Dialling through to the desk, he said, 'Trace that call I just had Sergeant.'

Looking at Dove, he said, '
Bet her address was fictitious. Fuck. Let's get going.' Pushing his chair back, Redd reached for his jacket.

'I expect her cell was a throwaway.
Well at least she gave us a name and address Sir.'

Trevelyan Heights was the product of a nanny government scheme. Once the Town Council's joy, it was the dream of some anal-retentive architect from the seventies. His idea of outré design being a rectangular box wrapped in concrete. The trailblazing squares and angles now jutted out stark and grey, the cracked plaster like barnacles on a dead whale.

Getting out of the car, Redd looked over the sleek lines of his pride and joy, an Audi A6 Coupe - Brilliant Black. He wanted it to remain Brilliant Black, so he sauntered over to a couple of teenagers sitting on the kerb, their hands swiftly disappearing into pockets, faces contorted, as they tried to swallow the smoke. Redd smiled, his expression bland, as he smelt the cannabis. 'Hey want to earn a fiver - just watch the wheels okay?'

The kid with a number-one haircut and bum fluff goatee, screwed up his eyes, the obligatory peaked cap pulled down to his eyes. 'You having a laugh? Tenner more like it.'

Raising his eyebrows, Redd held out the fiver. 'Last chance.'

The kid stood up, hand outstretched, the fiver disappearing into his top pocket. As Redd turned, he swiftly whipped off the boy's cap, and grabbed his wrist looking at the tattoo that marked him as a member of the Red Cut Gang. 'Just for insurance.'

As they walked away, Dove heard the boy say, 'Fucking filth - do his fucking car in.'

Dove muttered, '
Should have given the little bastards a tenner.'

Redd shook his head, waving the cap. 'Nah; they know we're police; they won't chance me hauling them in.'

After ringing the bell twice, the door peeling blue paint remained closed. Dove looked through the small window covered with a grimy net curtain. 'Someone's just turned down the sound on the TV.'

Ringing again, Redd flicked open the letterbox. 'Open up - police.'

Silence reigned. Irritated Redd shouted again, 'Look we know you're in there. Come on, open up.'

Hearing shuffling footsteps, they stood back, as the door opened. A woman in her late thirties, with thinning brown hair dragged back into an exploding ponytail, peered at them, her tone belligerent. 'Yeah?'

'Chief Inspector Redd and Detective Sergeant Dove. We need to speak to you.'

'You wanna ask about that slag of a daughter of mine, doncha?'

Keeping his face composed, Redd nodded. 'May we come in?'

Opening the door wider, the lined face grim, she led them through to the lounge. Her morbidly obese body brushed the sides of the narrow walls of the hall, the ridiculous mini skirt barely covering thunderous thighs, with skin mottled red, deeply pitted from cellulite. Dove wrinkled her nose at the stench of unflushed toilets, cigarettes and fragmented joints, let alone clumps of dirty clothes strewn over chairs. They stepped around plates with the remains of last night's takeaway.

'Sorry about the mess, ain't got around to cleaning yet.'

Not wanting to sit down, Dove hovered by the door, whilst Redd sat on a wooden dining chair.

Fumbling in her cardigan pocket, the woman pulled out a packet of cigarettes. 'Want one?'

Redd smiled, '
No thanks.'

Grunting, her chin digging into her enormous breasts, she tried to lever herself up in the chair to reach the cigarette lighter. Dove's eyes widened, as Regina's short skirt rode up to reveal a naked crotch. Oh, God, couldn't the woman cover herself up. Redd seemed unaware of the monstrous thighs opening. 'Want a cuppa?'

Dove glanced through to the kitchen, at the sink piled high with dirty dishes, 'No thank you; I've only just had one.' Shaking his head, Redd muttered something about not being thirsty.

Dragging deeply on a cigarette, the woman appeared disinterested, as to why they wanted to question her daughter. Sucking the smoke down, she directed out a stream of it to the ceiling.

Redd steepled his fingers, as he leant forward. 'Regina, can I call you Regina?'

The woman busy sucking down the smoke, nodded.

'We actually want to talk to your daughter Delle.'

'She ain't my daughter no more - little slag.'

Redd frowned, 'I see. Do you know where Delle is?

'Nah, ain't seen her in months. Don't want to either.'

'Can I ask why?'

'Yeah, she only went and did it with my partner. Egging him on all the time - letting him see her tits. Little slut. She thought I couldn't see it. But, I've got eyes ain't I? I've got ears.'

'So your partner?'

'Kicked him out and her - both of them. Caught them at it, you know. They thought I was working the late shift, but I knew you see - I knew, and I just pretended to go work. Fooled them didn't I. Silly twats.' Regina puffed furiously. 'Caught them in the noddy, fucking - fucking in my bed no less. Gave them a bloody good hiding. Threw them out didn't I?'

'So you have no idea where she might be?'

'No and don't want to - the little fucker.'

'Regina, have you any photos of Delle?'

'Yeah, I stashed them away. Couldn't bear the sight of her or him.'

Turning, she pointed to a sideboard drawer. 'Save me getting up, just get one out of the sideboard over there. Pick any you want. '

Dove, rose, and walked over, pulling open the top drawer, to see piles of paper, cards, keys, cigarette packets and photos. Sorting through the muddle, she picked out a photo of a young girl, her pretty face tanned, long black hair waving over her shoulders. As she brought it back, Regina said, '
Yeah that was in Lanzarote - the ungrateful little shit.'

Examining the photo, Redd said, 'Pretty girl, how old is she now?'

'Twenty-one. Why?'

Redd evaded the question. 'Can I borrow this?'

'Yeah, I ain't got no use for it.'

'Did Delle have any boyfriends her own age?'

'Nah, she was too busy fucking my partner.'

'Regina, do you mind if we have a look at her room?'

'Look me friends call me Reggie. Don't like Regina, it rhymes with you know what?' She winked at him, her hand going to her hair, the piggy eyes flirtatious. 'It's just across the hall, wait a moment; I'll show yer.'

As she struggled again to rise from the chair, Dove watched the humungous breasts wobble over a huge stomach, the legs opening. She rushed forward putting a hand on the woman's arm. 'No, you sit there now Reggie; we'll manage thank you.'

Smiling, Reggie collapsed back in the chair. 'Thanks - yer a mate you are.'

Redd managed a smile. 'Thanks Reggie.'

Disgusted, Dove followed him to the bedroom. Once there, they gazed up at posters of heavy-metal bands. Looking at the black duvet with scarlet lace frills and black lace pillows, she noticed a large mirror on the far wall, facing the bed. Moving to the dressing table top, small and white with gilt handles, they searched through potions and lotions, perfumes and make up. Picking up a bright crimson lipstick, Redd pocketed it, whilst Dove plucked at black hairs on the hairbrush. 'Hair roots guv.' Reaching for her handbag, she pulled out a plastic exhibits bag. Sealing it, she said, 'These should really help with the DNA.'

Redd's eyes scoured the small bedroom. 'Let's hope she's left us some leads. A photo or DNA of Dave Baker would be handy.' Going to a chest of drawers, he pulled out the top drawer, and carrying it to the bed, emptied out the contents onto the duvet. Together they searched through combs, hairgrips, scrunchies, bits of paper, a couple of packets of tampons and a half used packet of birth pills.

Holding them up, Dove murmured, 'She really did leave in a hurry.'

Shaking his head, Redd went to the second drawer, emptying the contents out onto the bed.

Sorting through panties, thongs, bras and tights, Dove said, 'Some of these things are new, look - not been used, the price tickets are still on these three tops. Mahoney was right, if the victim is Delle, she was petite. These are a size eight.'

Redd held up a thong, a slip of red lace
. 'Shame, too small for Reggie, not that she would wear them anyway.'

Dove felt her face flushing, but on seeing his broad grin, giggled realizing he'd seen it all. They searched through more sweaters and nightwear consisting of flimsy tops and knickers - again no sign of a lead. Lifting out the last pair of tights, Dove picked up a frayed pink ticket. 'Look Guv - might be something here.' Reading the small print, she said, 'It's "Saturdays", a nightclub on the pier. I know the place. You have to be a member to get in.'

Redd's jaw bunched. 'If this is our girl, then we've got a lead.'

Dove began re-filling the drawers. 'Better put these back tidily.'

Walking back into the smoke filled lounge, Redd sat down on the chair looking steadily at Regina. 'I wonder if you could help us a bit further Reggie. Do you know of any distinguishing marks on Delle's body?'

The colour drained from the woman's face. 'Wot d'you mean?'

'Well any marks that might help us to possibly—'

'You're talking about the couple in the papers ain't yer?'

'Your daughter may be able to help us in our enquiries.'

The woman's eyes narrowed. 'You'd better be telling me the truth mate.' She lit up another cigarette, her hand slightly shaking. 'Well she ain't got a mark on her, she has lovely skin - little minx.'

Dove noticed a tone of protection creeping into Reggie's voice.

Walking to the car, she said, '
That was difficult.'

Redd nodded, 'You can't drag every possible witness in to view a headless body. If it is Delle's body, then we know she's only recently had the tattoos.'

'You think the unsubs did those?'

Dove said, 'I think Reggie loves that girl.'

Redd frowned. 'Did you notice how tidy Delle's bedroom was? Neat, the carpet pristine clean, not a mark on the dressing table or chest of drawers.'

'Yes, she'd kept everything too. However, the rest of the flat was a pit.'

'Just shows doesn't it, for all Reggie's hate talk, that room is ready for Delle to return.'

'Let's hope it doesn't become a shrine.'

Seeing the boys still sitting on the kerb near to the car, Redd took out the peaked cap from his pocket. 'Here - thanks.'

Seeing another five-pound note in the cap, the boy grinned. 'Thanks Guv - that's sick.'

The other boy beamed. 'Cool - just cool.'

Once seated, Dove said, '
That was good of you. Trouble is, it will most probably pay for their next fix.'

'It's insurance. I might have to park the car here again.'

Redd listened to the engine purr into life. 'The ticket to "Saturdays", get DC Green and DC Crosby on that - check out the night club - the photo will help.'

As the car pulled out of the estate Dove said, 'Shame we can't take Reggie to the mortuary - might be something to identify her.'

'We haven't got enough evidence for that. We can't subject the woman to viewing a headless corpse until we're more sure.'