Frozen (16 page)

The constable scratched his head, glancing again at Donalsen before replying. Donalsen sat slumped in a chair, his head down.

‘Perhaps I should be asking
you
that question, Rob,' Leverton said.

‘I've told you, I haven't got a clue who she is. Sir.' The words were spoken in a monotone and he added Leverton's title almost as an afterthought.

‘Is that right?' Leverton went on with the same biting sarcasm. ‘In that case it probably won't interest you to know that we've just found her lying in a skip with her feet hacked off.'

With three pairs of eyes fixed on him, Donalsen rose from his seat. His face was puce. He mumbled an excuse to leave the room and made for the door without waiting for a reply.

Leverton looked at Megan. His face said it all. She raised her eyebrows, but her expression was noncommittal. Apart from his weakness for the women he was supposed to be arresting, everything about Donalsen was wrong. His reactions were so predictable, his feelings so transparent.

‘Right!' Leverton turned to Costello. ‘I want to speak to Maria Fellowes's relatives – if she's got any, that is. Can you get on to it? I don't think we'll get much mileage out of him…' He gesticulated in the direction Donalsen had taken when he left the room.

Megan watched Leverton as he barked instructions at Costello. She felt angry, frustrated. He should be concentrating his resources on interviewing people at BTV. Tracking down the people who were in the building the night Delva got that photograph. She frowned. If he really suspected Donalsen he should be questioning him, doing a DNA test. Surely that was more crucial than interviewing members of the dead woman's family?

Once again she got the feeling she was being used as a pawn in some game she couldn't fathom. Donna, Natalie, Tina and now Maria. How many more women were going to die before Leverton started taking her seriously?

*   *   *

It was beginning to get dark when Megan returned to the mortuary. As she walked up the steps she saw a police patrol car pull into the car park. A woman with blonde permed hair climbed out. She looked about fifty and she was carrying a small black child in her arms.

Megan carried on through the lobby. Leverton was waiting and he beckoned Megan through another door. At the end of a corridor she could see an office where the pathologist sat writing at his desk.

‘Doctor Jefferson's got a progress report for us before the mother arrives,' he said.

‘She's already here, I think,' Megan replied. ‘Did you know she had a child with her?'

Leverton groaned. ‘Poor little sod! I suppose it's Maria's. How old is it?'

‘Only a toddler, I think. It was in her arms, fast asleep.'

‘Let's hope it stays that way. This is no place for a kid.'

Doctor Jefferson looked up when he heard them approaching the office.

‘Right, let me fill you in on what we've been up to since this morning.' He pulled a sheet of paper from the file in front of him. ‘The deceased is of mixed African and Caucasian race, aged between 25 and 30 years. Cause of death appears to be manual strangulation, and she was attacked from behind. The abrasions on the wrist you know about. Er … time of death … all we can say at this stage is that she's been dead for more than 48 hours. We need to carry out tests on the internal organs to get a more accurate assessment.'

‘Have you been able to take any swabs yet?' Leverton asked.

‘Yes. We've taken samples from all the orifices and we can get them tested for blood group tomorrow. I suppose you know about the log-jam at the DNA lab?'

Leverton nodded.

‘I think you'll have to wait until the end of next week for anything conclusive on that front.'

The sound of footsteps in the corridor made Leverton and Megan turn their heads. A uniformed policewoman was approaching and Leverton motioned her to come in.

‘Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Mrs Fellowes is here to identify the body.'

‘Yes, I'd heard she'd arrived,' Leverton replied. ‘There's a child with her?'

‘Yes sir. It's her grandson. He's asleep at the moment. I suggested to her that I could take him while she goes in to look at the body.'

‘Right. We'd better get it over with, then.'

The little boy was wrapped up against the cold in a quilted snowsuit with fake fur around the hood. Tight black curls framed his face and long black eyelashes swept his cheeks. Megan couldn't help thinking of Emily. The last time she had seen her she was in exactly the same state as this child: oblivious to any impending disaster life might have in store.

‘Mrs Fellowes?' Leverton walked up to the woman and put a hand on her shoulder. At close quarters Megan could see the dark roots of her hair beneath the perm. The deep lines etched around her mouth suggested a lifetime of cigarettes and there was a faraway look in her faded blue eyes. She rose to her feet, handing the sleeping child to the policewoman. Without a word she allowed herself to be guided to the door beyond which her dead daughter lay.

When it was over Leverton sat her down with tea and a cigarette.

‘Mrs Fellowes, I need to ask you a few questions. I can do it here if you feel up to it, or if you prefer I can get you back home and we can do it there.'

‘You're all right, love,' she whispered, blowing out a veil of smoke. ‘I'd sooner get it over while the babby's asleep.' Tears welled in her eyes at the mention of the boy. Mingling with mascara, they ran in two black rivers down her cheeks.

‘Can you remember the last time you saw your daughter?'

The woman took another drag on her cigarette. ‘It was last Monday afternoon. I took Wesley up town to see Father Christmas. Maria was working, you see.' She paused, glancing down at the floor. When she looked up again her expression had changed to one of resignation. ‘You know what I mean.'

Leverton nodded. ‘Maria lived at your house, didn't she?'

‘Yes.'

‘So weren't you worried when she failed to come home that night?'

‘No, not really. She sometimes had to, you know, disappear.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, if there was a crackdown on the beat, she might get arrested a couple of times in the same week, and that would have meant a hundred quid in fines, so if that happened she used to get the train to Bristol. She could work in a massage parlour down there for a few days at a stretch and earn enough money to cover the fine plus a bit extra. There was no danger of her getting arrested because the police down there turn a blind eye to the massage parlours.'

‘Wouldn't she have left a note when she did something like that?'

‘Not always, no. One time she had to walk straight to the railway station with nothing but the clothes she stood up in. That time her fella was after her and she was doing it to get away from him.'

Leverton's eyebrows arched. ‘She had a boyfriend?'

‘If you want to call him that, yes, she did. Bastard used to come round and take all her money off her.'

‘What do you mean,
used to
?'

The woman stubbed out her cigarette and immediately lit another. ‘We haven't seen him for a couple of weeks. I was hoping he was inside.'

‘Why? Had Maria reported him?'

‘You must be joking! He'd have kicked the shit out of her if she had! Anyway, she said she loved him. He's Wesley's dad, see.'

Leverton paused for a moment before changing tack. ‘So, last Sunday when you saw her – what time would you normally have expected her to get back?'

‘Depends on how much she took. The weather affects it a lot. If it's cold, you don't get so many punters.'

‘Well, let me put it this way: what was the latest she would normally come back?'

‘It varied. Never before midnight. Her fella used to come round about two o'clock in the morning to get the money off her. He used to knock her about if she hadn't earned enough. I heard them shouting some nights. Next morning she'd have a black eye or summat.'

‘Didn't you ever try phoning us – to stop him, I mean?'

The woman turned her head sideways, blowing out a plume of smoke. ‘You don't know what he's like. He's got mates everywhere. He once told our Maria that if she ever tried taking Wesley away from him, he'd track her down.'

‘Had they argued recently?'

‘Not that I know of. Like I said, he hasn't been to the house for a couple of weeks.'

‘Did Maria say why she thought he'd stopped coming?'

‘No. He was always on the move. I reckon he was involved in drugs. I gave up asking about him in the end.'

‘What was his name?' Leverton asked. The woman looked at him with frightened eyes. ‘Don't worry, Mrs Fellowes, we'll make sure he doesn't get anywhere near you and Wesley.'

She wasn't convinced. ‘How can you be so sure? Like I said, he's got all these mates…'

‘We can move you and the boy into a safe house until he's been arrested. We can move you to another part of the country if you want. Start a new life. There are organisations that help women in your position to escape from violent men.'

‘You said you were going to arrest him? You think it was him did that to Maria?'

‘We don't know yet, Mrs Fellowes, but on the evidence you've just given me we can arrest him for living off immoral earnings. Once we've got him behind bars, we can find out what else he might have done.'

The woman blinked, tears threatening in the corners of her eyes. Still she said nothing.

Leverton tried again. ‘Mrs Fellowes, is there anyone else you can think of who might have wanted to harm your daughter?'

‘No.'

‘Then for Maria's sake, please tell us her boyfriend's name.'

There was a moment of silence in the smoke-filled room before the woman finally spoke.

‘Tyrone.'

‘Tyrone,' Leverton repeated, sounding relieved. ‘Now is that his first name or his second name?'

‘His first name. I don't know his second name. Wesley's got Fellowes on his birth certificate like his mum.'

‘Have you got a photograph of him?'

‘Maria's got one in her bedroom.' Yellow-stained fingers flew up to the woman's eyes and her whole body began to shake. Her sobs echoed along the corridor, waking the baby who screamed when he saw the unfamiliar face of the policewoman inches from his own.

He was still sobbing when his grandmother carried him out to the patrol car. Leverton stood on the steps outside the mortuary watching the red tail lights disappear into the darkness.

‘What did you make of all that, then?'

Megan shivered in the cold draught that followed him through the door. ‘It could be the pimp we're looking for, but I don't think he killed Maria.'

‘Because she was strangled and handcuffed?'

‘Yes.'

Leverton looked at her intently. When he spoke it was as if he was thinking aloud. ‘But Maria could have been one of a stable of women he had working for him: including Donna Fieldhouse and Natalie Bailey…'

*   *   *

Megan was sitting in Leverton's office when PC Costello arrived with the photograph.

‘Come in – sit down.' Leverton sounded tired. They had been scanning the list of pimps provided by Sergeant Donalsen, but there was no one by the name of Tyrone.

‘Any joy, sir?' Costello handed Leverton the photograph.

‘No. Do you recognise him?'

‘No, sir.

‘Right, I'd like you to go and show this to the lads in the Drug Squad.'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Do you mind if I have a look before he goes?'

Megan took the photograph from Leverton's outstretched hand, frowning as she studied the smiling faces of Maria Fellowes and her lover. She handed it to Costello, who disappeared through the door.

Leverton noticed her puzzled expression. ‘What is it?'

‘He's too young.'

‘What do you mean, too young?'

‘I think Donna and Natalie's pimp was between 35 and 45. Maria Fellowes' boyfriend doesn't look as if he's long out of his teens.'

‘Could be an old photograph,' Leverton replied. He stood up. ‘Come on, Megan, I'll buy you a coffee and we'll take one down for Costello. I can't wait to find out who this bastard is!'

Chapter 11

Leverton caught the pensive look on Megan's face as they walked up the stairs to the police canteen.

‘I can almost hear the cogs whirring,' he laughed. ‘What are you thinking about now?'

‘Well,' Megan paused as they reached a set of double doors, ‘let's assume for now that this Tyrone is the O man. He would have to be operating with someone who works at BTV…' Megan glanced at Leverton. She couldn't tell him what she was really thinking. Not until that blood group result on the photo of Maria came through.

Leverton nodded. ‘And –?'

‘And they have the audacity to dump their latest victim right outside the building. They must have known the effect that would have. I mean, the one that works there must realise that eventually he's going to end up being questioned.'
Eventually
being the operative word, she thought grimly.

‘So you're wondering why they did it?'

‘It just doesn't add up,' Megan said, ‘unless they've fallen out.'

Leverton looked at her. ‘You mean one's decided to drop the other in it?'

She nodded. Leverton pushed open the doors to the canteen. It was deserted apart from the woman behind the servery. He fetched three coffees on a tray and Megan held the door open for him.

‘There's something else that doesn't add up,' she said. ‘Why would Tyrone allow AB to do that to Maria? I'm not suggesting there was any sort of affection on his part, but she was bringing him a regular income and she was the mother of his child.'