SECRET CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of suspense (17 page)

Chapter 15: A Very Troubled Woman

Thursday evening

Rosemary and Ed were enjoying a meal out in one of Wareham’s pubs. Her mobile phone rang. She looked at the caller and mouthed ‘Police’ to Ed. She told the caller where they were.

‘We’re having company,’ Rosemary said. ‘She’s joining us in twenty minutes. Apparently she only lives a short distance away. She’s walking over cos she needs the fresh air and a drink. Well, that’s what she said.’

‘So much for our romantic evening out,’ Wilton replied.

Rosemary squeezed his hand. ‘Ed, we have plenty of time together. And in a strange kind of way, I rather like her company. She’s intelligent, but she doesn’t talk down to you. And don’t you think she’s a bit of a looker? I realised it when I was describing Sarah to her. She really knows how to dress too. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed?’

He laughed. ‘Yes. That first day I was quite taken aback. It was in the evening, when she called in for the long interviews. She must have had a heck of a frantic day, but she looked almost immaculate. And then her sergeant asked all the questions. She just watched and listened — and made me feel nervous. Psychology, I suppose. All planned.’

The two lovers were still talking when Sophie arrived. Rosemary noticed her two-piece, close-fitting skirt suit in mottled grey and the mid-heeled black shoes. ‘I like your outfit,’ she said.

‘Oh, thanks. Can I get you a drink?’ Sophie asked.

They shook their heads, indicating the unfinished bottle of wine on the table. Sophie went to the bar, quickly returning with a pint glass of ale, full to the brim. Rosemary watched in astonishment as Sophie swallowed half of its contents.

‘Ah. I have a thing about quality beer,’ said Sophie. ‘I’m a regular at the local branch of the real ale society and we visit this pub quite often. But don’t worry. You won’t have to carry me home.’

‘It’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I always have this vision of beer drinkers as big guys with fat bellies and beer-stained shirts. They usually have beards,’ said Rosemary.

‘I shaved mine off this morning,’ Sophie laughed. ‘I know. Lots of people have that image of ale enthusiasts. But it’s not the case nowadays. The secretary, another woman, is a friend of mine. She talked me into joining when she found out that I’ve always enjoyed a pint or two, and we go along together. And we dress up for it too.’

‘What do you mean?’ Rosemary asked.

‘Smart casual usually. You know, like what you wear to the blues gigs. Skinny jeans, ankle boots and a leather jacket. A sparkly top. It had an instant effect on most of the men too. When I first started going many of them were dressed rather like you’ve described, but they’d smartened themselves up no end by the next meeting. And for last year’s Christmas evening we both wore sequined dresses, without telling the others in advance. So there we were, knocking back pints in the town’s best pub, perched on bar stools, glammed up to the gills. The men were buzzing round us like bees around a honeypot, particularly towards the end of the evening. There were a few long faces when our husbands arrived for the last hour.’

‘Do they know you’re a senior police officer?’

‘I told them I was a nightclub singer at first but they soon realised it wasn’t true.’ She laughed again. ‘So I owned up and they still seemed to accept me.’ She grew more serious. ‘It’s my way of coping. I need to escape occasionally. From the pressures, I mean. I love my job, but sometimes what I deal with can get a bit much, and I have to let go a bit. Martin understands. He’s wonderful.’ She looked at her empty glass. ‘I’ll get another before we talk. I promise to drink it more slowly. Do you want anything?’

‘Maybe a glass of what you’re having,’ Rosemary answered. ‘A small one, please.’

Ed shook his head. They both watched the slim figure of Sophie make her way to the bar.

‘Do you believe that?’ asked Ed.

‘You know, I think I do. She probably exercises a lot and watches her diet. And her explanation makes sense. I’ve been reading about some of the cases she’s worked on. They’ve been horrific. And I found out some other stuff about her too. I’ll tell you later.’

Sophie deposited the drinks on the table.

‘Rosemary, I need to ask you another question about Sarah, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. We’ve had a tentative report from one of her neighbours that she might have married again some time in the past three years. Did she ever give any hint of it to you?’

‘No. I’d have told you if she had. Is it true?’

‘We’re still checking, which is why I’m here talking to you. What about a wedding ring? Did she ever wear one?’

‘Well, the second time we met, when we went out for a meal together, she was wearing a ring. When she saw me looking she took it off. I asked her about it and she said something about trying it on to see if it still fitted. I assumed it was from her failed marriage.’

Sophie shook her head. ‘Peter, her son, kept both his parents’ wedding rings when they divorced and he still has them. He’s adamant about it. Did it look genuine, or could it have been a bit of costume jewellery?’

‘Well I only caught a glimpse of it so I can’t be certain, but it looked real enough to me. And if it was false why would she have reacted like she did when I noticed? She’d have just laughed it off. She never seemed to take anything particularly seriously.’

‘She took her son very seriously, so he says. Did you pick up on that?’

Rosemary took a tentative sip of beer. ‘Yes, she did. We only talked about children once because I guess she was sensitive about my own situation. But it was clear she had strong feelings for him. She said she missed him. He was her rock, and after he moved to New York she felt bereft. Something like that. I can’t remember her exact words.’

Sophie thought for a while. ‘You said she was sensitive to your situation. Are you sure? Couldn’t you be reading too much into what she said and how she acted?’

‘No. That’s why I liked her. She truly was a nice person, Chief Inspector. I wouldn’t have had such a close friendship with her otherwise.’ Ed Wilton took her hand. ‘I still can’t make sense of all the other stuff she was involved in. It’s all too weird for me, but that’s my problem not hers, if you know what I mean. She was who she was. I’ve never met anyone else quite like her. I never got to the bottom of her personality, and what motivated her, and I won’t ever now, will I? Such a tragic waste of a lovely person.’ She straightened up in her chair and took another sip of her beer. ‘You’re right, this is rather nice. I’ve had lager before, but this is entirely different, isn’t it?’

Sophie nodded. ‘It’s local, brewed in Dorchester. It’s named after Dorset’s Jurassic coastline, a world heritage site. It’s one of my favourite beers. When you told me where you were, that did it. I had to have one. But there’s something else I need to ask you. The festivals you went to with Sarah, they were always blues music, right?’

Rosemary nodded.

‘Did she ever mention going to jazz events at all?’

‘No, I’m pretty sure she didn’t. I don’t think she liked jazz very much.’ Rosemary paused. ‘But Derek and Brian had been to at least one jazz weekend. Derek started talking about it soon after we first met up. That was before we came back to where you were, Ed. It was a bit strange. Brian didn’t look at all pleased that Derek had mentioned it. I saw him glare at Derek and almost shush him. That was partly why I didn’t take to him. It seemed odd, why get angry when a friend starts talking about an event you’ve both been to? I’m really sorry I didn’t mention it before. It’s only just come back to me.’

‘Did he say where this was, Rosemary?’

‘Bath, I think. It was when Derek said Bath that Brian got angry. It was really peculiar.’ She took another sip of beer.

‘Think for a bit longer. Does anything else they said seem unusual now?’

Rosemary shook her head. Sophie drained her glass and stood up. ‘I’d better be on my way. My sixteen-year-old daughter’s cooking tonight so I daren’t be late.’

‘Will you be alright? Isn’t someone collecting you or anything?’

Sophie stared at Ed. She suddenly looked angry.

‘That’s patronising. You may have meant well, but even so. Would you have said the same thing to a man?’

‘No. I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘There’s less chance of a woman being assaulted of an evening than a man of the same age. You wouldn’t dream of saying something like that to a bloke, would you? Most of the people here know me. They’d need to be mad to try anything, and if they did they’d soon be sorry, even with a couple of pints inside me.’ She smiled and gave a small bow. ‘Sophie Allen, lethal weapon, at your service,’ she said. She turned on her heel and walked out.

‘Christ.’

‘Well, you’ve been well and truly told off, haven’t you?’ Rosemary giggled. ‘She’s a woman and a half. But you did walk into it, didn’t you? Couldn’t you have been a little more subtle?’

‘Honestly, I meant well. I had no idea she’d take it like that.’

‘But that’s why she was so angry, Ed. You were patronising her without even realising it. She knew you had the best of intentions, and that’s what made her angry. That’s what women have to put up with all the time. It’s not just the deliberate or openly sexist remarks that upset us. It’s the assumption, however well meant, that we need to be looked after, as if we’re incapable of dealing with life’s little problems by ourselves. You know, the pat on the head and the “there, there, calm down dear,” attitude.’

Ed looked miserable, and Rosemary squeezed his hand. ‘She’s already forgiven you. That’s what she meant with that last remark. But please try not to patronise me, Ed. I couldn’t bear it.’

‘But if I don’t know, how do I control it?’

‘It’s not difficult. I’m my own person, just as I would be if I were a man. Treat me like a close male relative. Except for the love. And the affection. And the sex. And remind me occasionally how beautiful I am.’ Rosemary laughed.

‘If you say so. Shall we have dessert?’

As they walked back to the house the moon was so clear in the night sky that some of its craters were visible.

‘You were going to tell me some stuff you’d found out about our Chief Inspector friend,’ Ed said.

‘Apparently her last two major cases in this area have been multiple murders. The one last winter must have been particularly horrific. They found the remains of a couple of young women buried in a field. She solved it but was on sick leave for a long time afterwards. I wonder if she had some kind of nervous breakdown.’

‘Surely that means she isn’t right for the job if the crimes affect her that much?’

‘Ah, but one press report went a bit further. Apparently one of the criminals had murdered her father when she was a child, but had never been found. She was the one who discovered it and made the arrest. Imagine what scars that could leave, if it’s true. I wonder if, underneath, she’s a very troubled woman. Look at the way she knocked back those two beers. That’s not normal, is it?’

Chapter 16: Cruel Coincidence

Friday morning

Sophie Allen and Barry Marsh were having a quick chat in her office before the early morning briefing. Rae had told Marsh that she thought people suspected her of being a transsexual. But so far, no direct questions had been asked and no one had made any pointed comments, apart from Melsom’s rather vague ones.

‘I’m still not convinced that anyone’s rumbled her, ma’am. When Jimmy attempted to make a date with her, Rae hinted that she was a lesbian. Maybe that’s all it is. Jimmy isn’t the world’s most perceptive man. He probably took it literally and has been gossiping to Jen Allbright. This is a small town. It runs on gossip and scandal. When I split with Sammie, everyone knew within a couple of days. Suddenly women I hardly knew were making a beeline for me. And it wasn’t just evenings in the pubs, either. I mean, even when I was doing the shopping in the supermarket some of them would stop to chat.’

Sophie laughed. ‘Told you last year what women like in a man. You must have been paying attention. So you think we should leave it for now?’

‘Well, I could have a quiet word with Jimmy, if you think it’d be a good idea.’

‘Okay. I’ll do the same with Jen Allbright. But if they do suspect she’s a TS, then we’ll have to change our approach. They must treat her like anyone else. No compromises, okay? We’ll do it just after briefing. I’ll take Rae when I go across to Bath this morning. She seems to have an uncanny ability to unearth relevant details even if they’re hidden in a mass of information. That’s just what I need if we’re going through hotel booking records. You and Jimmy can call in on the two Shapiro families in Southampton. See what you make of them. If Rae’s right, they’re hiding something. And as for the other thing Rae picked up, I don’t know what to make of it. It might be a complete misunderstanding on the part of the neighbour, but we have to double-check. Rosemary couldn’t confirm it when I spoke to her yesterday evening, but couldn’t discount it either. Shall we put Jen onto it? Could she cope with searching through registry records?’

‘Probably. But it’s a bit strange. I mean, why haven’t we picked it up from anyone else? Surely she’d have talked about it to someone — at work or to Rosemary Corrigan? Or even to her ex, Hugh Shakespeare?’

‘Rosemary did see Sarah fiddling with what looked like a wedding ring on one occasion. That’s what she told me, although apparently Sarah wouldn’t talk about it,’ Sophie replied.

‘Hugh seemed genuinely shocked to hear about our discovery of the second body,’ Marsh added. ‘He knew another body had been found, but he seemed really taken aback when I told him who we thought it was. That was while you were talking to Peter. I asked him to keep it to himself. He didn’t seem to be listening to me, so I had to repeat what I’d said.’

* * *

Sophie and Rae walked to the first hotel on their list. A young Asian woman was waiting outside. She stepped forward as they approached, looking hesitantly at Sophie.

‘Rae, this is Lydia, your predecessor. I managed to winkle her out of her normal duties to give us some local knowledge. I’m guessing that analysing account sheets all day long can get a bit much, can’t it, Lydia? I thought you’d be glad of a day out.’

Rae extended her hand, but Lydia gave her a quick hug.

‘I don’t know how you did it, ma’am,’ Lydia said. ‘He’s never let anyone else have time away before. “Positive liaison with our Dorset colleagues,” was how he put it.’

‘Unfair use of influence, Lydia. Benny Goodall says my fame has spread far and wide. Too far and too wide, as far as I’m concerned. I had a request from the Home Office last week to head up some official inquiry or other.’

‘You turned it down of course?’ Lydia said.

‘Hah. You’re wrong. I haven’t answered yet,’ Sophie laughed.

They entered the ornate lobby of the hotel and asked to see the manager.

‘Thank God for computers,’ Sophie murmured. ‘This would take forever without them.’

Rae and Lydia spent a tedious morning going through hotel records. Sophie talked to the various managers. They were in the fourth hotel on their list when they found it. Rae sat up with a jerk and choked on her coffee, trying to speak and swallow at the same time.

‘Derek Paul,’ she squeaked. ‘Here. Booked in for the same weekend as the jazz festival. A single room for two nights, the Friday and Saturday. His name, but reversed.’

Sophie thought for a while. ‘Brenda Plant identified Shapiro as the one who paired up with her at the bar and took her back to his room. He’d booked into the hotel under the name Brian Nelson, which we know was false. So this appears to confirm that our two were the ones involved in the rape. But we’re still missing the third name. Sorry, but we need to keep looking, for the name Renton.’

The search went on. Late in the morning, in a quiet hotel away from the city centre, they found the next name.

‘It can’t be!’ gasped Sophie. But there it was, stated clearly in the computer records for the same weekend. Ed Wilton.

She immediately phoned through to Matt Silver, her boss at Dorset police headquarters.

‘Do we keep looking, ma’am?’ Rae asked.

‘Yes. I’m not making any assumptions here. We finish with this hotel’s records and continue with the others on the list. We need to see if Renton was here as well.’

Nothing else was found.

Lydia spoke. ‘We’ve only looked at the hotels, ma’am. A lot of people coming for a music festival stay in a bed and breakfast or a guest house. And there are dozens and dozens of them. It would take too long to visit them all. Why don’t you leave it with me? I’ll do some phoning around this afternoon and the next day or two. I’ll clear it with my boss, or maybe you could have a word. If I have a list of names of everyone linked to the case, there’s a good chance I’ll spot something. If I do I can easily pay a visit to check.’

‘That would be great.’ Sophie looked into Lydia’s eyes. ‘I’m very grateful for your help, Lydia. But don’t prejudice your own future here in Bath by helping me more than your current boss has agreed to. I think I can guess how you are feeling at the moment. I imagine you’re missing the intensity of these investigations. But the move here was good for you. I had a word with your boss yesterday, and he holds you in high regard. Don’t let the low-level admin work get you down. We all have to go through it. It will come good, believe me.’ She paused. ‘I’m a bit shell-shocked by this discovery of Ed Wilton’s name. I really thought he wasn’t involved.’

‘He might not be, ma’am,’ said Rae. ‘It was a jazz festival, and he’s a musician. It could just be a coincidence.’

* * *

‘What is this all about? Why did someone come to collect Rosemary? Why am I being kept in the dark?’

Sophie stood in the hallway of the police safe house in Wareham and looked at Ed Wilton. A local plain-clothes officer stood to one side.

‘Can we sit down, please?’ Sophie said. She didn’t wait for a reply, walking into the lounge with Rae behind her. Ed came after them and sat down facing Sophie. Rae remained standing by the door, beside the local detective.

‘Two years ago in September. You were in Bath for a weekend. Can you tell me why?’

He frowned and scratched his forehead. ‘There was a jazz festival. I’d composed a short suite of songs to be performed by a really talented singer from Bristol. I certainly wasn’t going to miss the première.’

Sophie nodded her head slightly. ‘Can someone verify that, Mr Wilton?’

‘Of course. The musicians could, the festival organisers, and Ella was there with me. With us, I should say. It was the last music weekend that Lizzie could get to before the cancer began to cripple her. Maybe even someone from the hotel we stayed in will remember us. I’ve still got the festival programme if you want to see it, though it’s at my house in London.’

‘Would the programme still be available online, Mr Wilton?’ asked Rae.

‘I suppose it could be.’ He opened up his laptop and typed into a search engine.

‘There we are,’ he said.

The two detectives read the details, which corroborated his story. He’d written a five-song cycle for voice and piano, performed in public for the first time at the event in Bath.

‘Could you give me Ella’s mobile number please? I’d just like to check with her.’

Ed took his phone out, and held it across for Sophie to see. She took a notebook out of her bag and compared numbers.

‘What? You already had it?’ He smiled grimly. ‘You’re too devious for words.’

Sophie left the room.

‘She verified it, of course?’ said Wilton when she returned.

‘Yes, but I don’t think you fully understand, Mr Wilton. She’s just verified the fact that you were in Bath the very weekend a woman was sexually assaulted in the same way as Sarah Sheldon. Although, luckily, the woman from Bath survived. The assault took place late on the Friday night, roughly the same time as last weekend’s attack. Ella has just told me that she didn’t arrive until the Saturday morning because the premiere of your music was on the Saturday evening.’

‘But Lizzie and I were at a gig on the Friday. We returned to our hotel room. She was tired and ill, so we went to bed. I sat reading for a while.’

‘Unfortunately we can’t verify that, given the tragic death of your wife.’ She sat looking at Ed Wilton. ‘I had to move Rosemary out. She’s gone to another location.’

Wilton looked distraught. ‘Oh, for God’s sake. You could see last night what we feel for each other. She’s in no danger. I’d never hurt her. I’ve never hurt anybody.’

‘Whatever you say is irrelevant to me, Mr Wilton. The victim in Bath has recently identified Derek and Shapiro from photographs. She wasn’t able to identify a possible third man because she didn’t get a clear view of him. Think about it. How could I possibly leave her with you? How could I gamble with her life in that way? Step out of yourself for a moment. Could I, as the senior investigating officer in a murder investigation, even consider leaving her in the care of someone who admits to being in the vicinity of a previous set of assaults?’

‘Why don’t you leave her here, under protection? I can go back to my flat in Swanage.’

‘No. I’m moving her somewhere you don’t know about. And I still have to protect you too. When a situation reaches such a critical point, I don’t believe or disbelieve what any individual says, Mr Wilton. It goes beyond that. I do what logic dictates is the only possible course of action. So there’ll be no contact of any kind between the two of you until I say so. I want your promise that you won’t phone her, otherwise I’ll insist on taking your mobile phone from you. If you want to write her a letter, then that will be fine, but I will need to check it first. I’ll get it delivered by hand later today.’

Ed put his head in his hands.

‘This will only be for a few days, I hope. Once I’m satisfied that you weren’t involved with the Bath assault, I’ll relax the conditions and maybe you can see her again. I don’t enjoy this, whatever you may think, but I can’t gamble with either of your lives. We’ve had two murders and a very serious multiple rape, and I don’t think it’s over yet. Rosemary’s safety is paramount, but I also have to plan for your own protection since the possible perpetrators are still at large. We’ll visit Rosemary as soon as we’ve left you, so get that note written now, if you want me to take it with me.’

Wilton sighed. ‘I can see your problem. Just look after her, will you? Make sure she’s safe? That’s all I want.’

He took the offered pen and started writing on a sheet of paper that Rae handed him. When Wilton had finished, Sophie took the page and read it.

Darling Rosemary,

I am trying hard to convince myself that our friendly, beer-swallowing police person has your best interests at heart. My head tells me that this is the case, but my heart feels as if it’s tearing itself apart. I can only hope that she gets to the truth quickly, so that we can be together again. I will turn to the one thing that offers me escape at times of agony like this: my music. Something good will come out of the next few days of enforced separation. The first piece is already starting to form in my head.

Do what she says. She is right to be concerned.

Of course, my presence in Bath was for the music. That, and to give my Lizzie one final experience of my own music performed live. It was a composition dedicated to her. Everything else about that weekend is just cruel coincidence.

All my love,

Ed.

‘I’m truly sorry to be doing this, Mr Wilton. I’ll see what I can do to make things easier for you both. Meanwhile, don’t go out without your escort, and clear it with me first.’ She paused and added, ‘I may see you this evening.’

* * *

Barry Marsh and Jimmy Melsom were still in Southampton. They had spent much of the day speaking to various members of the two branches of the Shapiro family — and trying to decode their answers. The two brothers ran a restaurant each, and it quickly became apparent that there was little love lost between them. The younger brother seemed open and honest, but Marsh sensed that even he was choosing his words carefully. The older brother was surly and impatient, and he gave little away. While they talked, Marsh examined a rather faded family photo on a shelf in the older brother’s office. He suddenly realised that there was a third brother, who looked suspiciously like the man they were seeking.