Wrong Place: A gripping serial killer crime thriller. (14 page)

“What about her?”

“I have some bad news. She was found dead this morning.”

Jill’s eyes widened, and she fell back against the counter behind her. “What? No, that can’t be right.”

“I’m afraid Tracy’s handbag was found at the scene. Of course, a formal ID has yet to be confirmed, but it’s important that we get our investigation started immediately, if we have any chance of finding the perpetrator.”

“I don’t understand. Are you saying her death was intentional?”

“Exactly. Her body was found in a motel room out at Great Plumstead.”

Confusion clouded the woman’s expression again. “I don’t understand. Why would John take her to a hotel room?”

Sally glanced at Jack and raised an eyebrow, then she turned back to the woman. “It was a motel, not a hotel. Who is John? Do you mean Tracy had a boyfriend?”

“Yes, John Hartman. Look, I had my own fella stay over last night. Tracy said she would give us some space and spend the night at John’s place. Not sure where the motel comes into it, though. John owns his own property.”

“Interesting. I don’t suppose you can give us his address?”

“Not off the top of my head, no. I can tell you where he works if that would help?”

“It would.”

The woman dipped her head and placed her hand over her eyes as if the news of her friend had just hit her.

“Are you all right, Jill?”

“Sorry, it’s such a shock. Not something you have to contend with every day. Let me think. Ah yes, he works in a restaurant down by the river. The Friendly Trout, I believe it’s called.”

“Okay, I know the place. Can you give us an insight into their relationship? Have they been dating long? Any trouble between them?”

“Gosh, doesn’t every relationship have problems from time to time? I don’t think theirs was any different. They’ve been dating a few years, off and on. There were no plans on them settling down and having a baby, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s the type of information I was after. Any major bust-ups lately that you know of?”

“No. I doubt she would have made arrangements to stay with him last night if that were the case.”

“Thanks for your help. I’m sorry for your loss. One last thing, do you have an address where we can contact Tracy’s parents?”

“No. All I know is they’re both seriously ill.”

“Okay, we’ll look into that. Do you know their names?”

“Not their first names. I only know them as Mr. and Mrs. Brand or Mum and Dad.” She smiled weakly. “The nursing home is in the area, if that helps any.”

“Thanks, it does. Does she have any siblings?”

“No. She’s an only child. Dealing with her parents’ care alone has been a nightmare for her.”

“Okay, thanks again. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll survive. I’ll call my boss and let him know. Tracy was due to work the evening shift. He’ll be pissed off about the inconvenience, I’m sure. Well, screw him.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sally and Jack left the petrol station and drove to the restaurant. “It’s getting on for eleven. They should be open by now,” Sally said.

“Do you really think the boyfriend could be the killer?”

“No, but we still need to question him, Jack. You know that. They obviously met up last night. The burning question is why they went their separate ways during the course of the evening.”

“Maybe the killer witnessed them having an argument or something along those lines and pounced on the opportunity to comfort her.”

Sally turned to look at him. “I’m impressed with your feasible assumption. Let’s see what John’s take is on the evening before we start thinking along those lines, eh?”

The manager of the restaurant greeted them in jeans and a T-shirt. “Sorry about the dress code. We’re just getting set up, not due to open for another hour or so. Police, you say?”

“That’s right.” Sally showed the man her ID. “We’d like to chat with John Hartman if that’s possible.”

“He’s busy preparing for a group party we have booked in at lunchtime. Can this wait until after his shift has ended?”

“No, sorry, it can’t. Is there somewhere private we can have a chat with him?”

“If you must. My office, I suppose. I’ll go and get him for you.” The man stomped off, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. He returned a few seconds later with a man dressed in chef’s whites. Sally immediately thought of the victim’s knife wounds. Knives were a chef’s tools of the trade.

The manager introduced them then showed the group into his office. He closed the door behind him, leaving Sally and Jack alone with a perplexed chef.

“What’s this about? The kitchen is really busy preparing for a long day ahead.”

Sally invited the man to take a seat and perched her backside on the desk in front of him. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her thighs. “We have reason to believe that you know Tracy Brand. Can you confirm that?”

“I can. Why?”

She smiled. “When did the pair of you last meet?”

“Last night. Why?”

“Where did you go?” Sally asked, ignoring the man’s question for the second time.

“Out to the pub, as usual.” Hartman shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Did something happen between you last night?”

“Depends what you mean. If you’re talking about sex, no.”

“I’m not, but thanks for the clarification all the same. That fact might come in handy later on in our enquiries.”

“What are you on about? What enquiries?”

“What happened after you left the pub?” Sally continued to ignore his questions. All her interviews took place on her terms, never on anyone else’s. The sooner this confrontational young man realised that, the better.

“Me and the lads went to the nightclub. Why?”

“Did Tracy join you there?”

“No.”

Sally raised an eyebrow. “Why do I sense that there is something you aren’t telling me?”

“Like what?” His eyes drifted off to the left.

“I don’t know. You tell me. You venture out for the evening with your girlfriend and end up going to the nightclub with a group of lads. Where did Tracy go?”

He shrugged again. “If you must know, I dumped her halfway through the evening.”

“
What
? Why?”

“That’s my business, not yours.”

Sally’s eyes narrowed into a warning glare. “Less of the crappy attitude, Hartman. What transpired with Tracy?”

“She left the pub about thirty minutes before us. What’s the frigging problem? Couples fall out all the time. Is that an arrestable offence? I got bored with her.”

“Bored enough to kill her?” Sally shot back at him.

His gaze drifted between Sally and Jack as his brow furrowed deeply. “Of course not, what a dumb bloody question.”

“Guilty as charged! I tend to ask a stream of
dumb
questions during a murder enquiry. It’s usually how I obtain the truth.”

“What murder enqu…” Panic appeared in his eyes as the realisation dawned. “You’re kidding me! She’s dead?”

Sally nodded and folded her arms. “Yes. And as you were the last known person to see her alive, the onus is on you to tell us why we shouldn’t arrest you for her murder. After all, you wouldn’t be the first boyfriend to ‘get bored’ with his girlfriend and kill her.”

Hartman took a step towards Sally, a menacing look in his eye, as if he meant to strike her, but Jack jumped in between him and Sally. “Not advisable, pal. You’re in enough trouble already.”

“For what? I didn’t kill her.” He seemed confused one minute and annoyed the next. His hand scratched at the stubble covering his chin, and he turned his back on them. “I swear. Anyway, I have a bunch of witnesses who’ll vouch for me.”

“Ah, your loyal friends. Yes, don’t worry, we’ll be questioning them all. Maybe they were all there at the scene. Someone is sure to slip up. The truth usually comes out in the end.”

“Get lost. I’m innocent. Jesus, what a way to bloody tell me my girlfriend is dead. You’re sick.”

Sally grunted. “I’ve been called far worse, I can assure you. Sorry to correct you, but I think you’ll find that Tracy was your former girlfriend, which means that our interest in you went up several notches. Now, here’s how we are going to deal with this: first, you’re going to accompany us to the station to give us a full statement. After you’ll give us a list of the friends you were out with last night. Then, depending on how much you cooperate with our investigation, we’ll either let you go or charge you with your girlfriend’s murder.”

He shook his head vehemently. “I ain’t done nothing. How many more times do I have to tell you? She left the pub before we did, ages before we headed for the nightclub. I never saw her after she left. I swear.”

“So you said. Okay, did you see anyone suspicious hanging around the bar? Is the pub a regular haunt of yours?” Sally asked.

“Yes. I don’t know about anyone suspicious lurking. I was having too much of a good time to notice.”

“What? Dumping your girlfriend?” Sally asked, her temper rising.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“I know nothing of the sort. From now, I think it would be sensible of you to choose your words more carefully.”

“Okay. I didn’t notice anyone, either inside the pub or outside. My mind was on other things. How’s that?” he said, his response dripping with sarcasm.

“It’ll do for starters. Well, would Tracy be likely to go off with a stranger?”

His lip curled up at the side, and his right shoulder hitched a little. “How the hell should I know? You women are a law unto yourselves most of the time. There’s no point us men trying to fathom you out.”

“Oh, right! And you men are so easy to read, of course. Let’s not go down the battle-of-the-sexes route, shall we? I’m asking you to really think. Close your eyes and cast your mind back to yesterday evening.” Hartman did as she requested. “Now, can you see anyone sitting in the pub, either at the bar or at a table? Alone perhaps?” Sally often referred to the training course on cognitive thinking she’d attended a few years back when someone had trouble recalling.

Slowly, he nodded. “Yes! There’s a man at the bar.”

“Keep your eyes closed. Can you describe him?”

“Not his height obviously, because he’s sitting down. Quite broad, not fat, mousy brown hair.”

“Long or short?”

“About my length, I guess.”

“Okay, open your eyes. Do you remember that man leaving the pub?”

“Can’t say I do. Come to think of it, he did keep looking over at me and Tracy when we were… er… arguing. I just assumed it was because we were shouting at each other. By the way, she always gave as good as she got. How did she die?”

Sally skirted the man’s question. “So if we go back to the pub, perhaps the barmaid would know this man?”

“Couldn’t tell you. Depends how observant she was, I guess. Did Tracy suffer at all?”

“Let’s put it this way, anyone who is killed, I’d suggest their suffering rate would be at the max, wouldn’t you?”

“I was only asking. Mind if I get back to work now?”

“Okay, I’m satisfied with what you have told me, but I still need you and your friends to come down the station later today to give us a formal statement. Can I count on you showing up?”

“Does this mean that I’m no longer regarded as a suspect?”

Sally smiled tautly. “Did I ever say you were a suspect?”

He glared at her. “I’ll be there. Can we all show up together?”

“Why not? As long as we get the facts, why should I care? Can I ask you to sit down with one of our sketch artists, too?”

“If I must. Not sure I’ll be any good at sharing any further details with you about the man, though. I’m willing to do anything I can to help catch the sick shit, because whether you believe me or not, Inspector, I did care about Tracy. I no longer wanted to be her boyfriend, but she didn’t deserve to die.”

“On that, we agree. One last question. I know her parents are incapacitated, shall we say. Do you know if she had any other relatives close by? Only we’ll need someone to identify the body and make the arrangements for her funeral.”

“Shit! I don’t think there was anyone.”

Sally tutted; she couldn’t believe she was about to ask the question teetering on her tongue. “Would you be willing to ID her?”

“Me?” His hand slapped against his chest. “Crap, do I have to?”

“No, but if I asked you nicely, would you do it? I hate the thought of her being stuck in the mortuary as a Jane Doe.”

After a few seconds of thinking, he reluctantly agreed, “Okay. When?”

“We’ll ring you. I’ll let the pathologist know. That’s a big help. Thank you.”

They left the office together. Sally thanked the manager, and she and Jack headed back to the station.

Sally decided to send two members of the team, Jordan and Stuart, to question people at the pub where Tracy and John had argued. The rest of the day consisted of going over all four cases and revisiting the facts they had obtained, hoping that some kind of link would emerge. When the two team members returned, they informed Sally that the barmaid was eager to help and thought she might be able to give a good description of the man who’d occupied the stool for a few hours that night.

At last, Sally felt they were finally getting somewhere. She just hoped that momentum continued. On the way home, she asked the duty sergeant to be on the lookout for John and his friends to make their statements that evening. She hoped he wouldn’t let her down.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Feeling drained, Sally pulled into her parents’ road. Instinctively, her foot pressed down hard on the accelerator, then she screeched to a halt barely inches from the tall, tattooed skinhead whose hefty frame cast a shadow over her father. The brute was threatening her dad with a metal bar, while two more men, slightly smaller in stature, were cheering on the skinhead.

“What the heck is going on here?” she screamed at the offender intent on hurting her father.

The man slowly turned his head to look at her. Still chewing his gum, he said, “Who the fuck wants to know?”

Sally fished out her ID and marched up to him, shoving it in his face. “Back off. Or I’ll arrest you. Dad, what’s going on?”

“This lout just kicked Dex.”

Sally glanced at the gate to her parents’ house and saw her dog lying on the ground. She ran to him and knelt beside him. “Dex? Dex, are you all right, boy?” Sally’s mother was on the other side of the gate. “Sally, he needs the vet, love. I was just about to take him.”

“Shit. Okay, I’ll do it, Mum. I’m going to call for backup before I go. Can you try and get Dad in the house, away from that yob?”

“Lord knows I’ve tried, love. He won’t listen. Sally, I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. Nothing will happen while I’m here,” she assured her mother in spite of the apprehension gnawing at her gut.

She heard a commotion behind her and twisted just in time to see her father put his head down and ram it into the neighbour’s midriff. The brute and her father ended up on the ground, shouting and striking each other.

“Shit! Mum, call the station, tell them who you are and say I asked for immediate backup. Go!” She stroked her beloved dog and ordered him to stay, not that he looked as though he would be able to go anywhere soon. He whimpered as if sensing the imminent danger as she got to her feet and sprinted towards the fighting men. “Cut it out. Dad, get off him.” As she tugged at her father’s arm, the thug took the opportunity to punch her father on the jaw. “Do that again, shithead, and I’ll make sure you never get out of prison. Now, get to your feet.”

Sally managed to help her father stand but had to restrain him from surging at the thug again. The man bared his teeth, and when his two mates stepped forward to help him stand, he cursed and shrugged them off.

Within seconds, Sally was relieved to hear the sound of approaching sirens. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing next, buster, I’d reconsider that thought quickly.”

Ignoring her, he lunged at her father. Sally was quick enough to pull her father behind her. The man’s fist caught her good eye and her cheek. She heard a deafening crack before she ended up in a heap on the ground. Her father crouched beside her as two panda cars arrived at the scene.

“Arrest this goon for assaulting a member of the public and a police officer,” she ordered as four constables rushed to assist them.

“Yes, ma’am. Are you all right?” The female constable helped Sally to her feet.

“I will be. I need to take my injured dog to the vet. Add a count of animal abuse to the charges, too.” Holding a hand over her sore eye, she turned back to look at her wounded pet. “Dad, I need you to drive me and Dex to the vet.”

“All right. Sally, I’m sorry. I couldn’t let him get away with kicking poor Dex. Christ, I’ve gone and made things a thousand times worse now. Are you all right?”

“Busted cheek, I suspect. Sod me; I’m more concerned about the boy. Let’s go.”

“What about your mother? I don’t fancy her being left here alone with this mob.”

Sally nodded and asked the constable, “Would you mind staying here until we get back?”

“Of course not. You go. I’ll keep an eye on things here. Try to restore a little peace.”

“Good luck with that,” Sally replied, observing three uniformed officers as they wrestled with the man shouting abuse, his arms flailing around impersonating the sails of a windmill. She walked towards the house with her father. “We’re going to have to lift him into the back of the car, Dad.”

Her father stroked Dex. “It’s all right, boy. We’ll get you sorted.”

Between them, they carried the whimpering dog to her car, where the female PC held the back door open for them. Carefully, they placed the injured Dex on the backseat, and Sally and her father jumped in the front. She sped along the main road and pulled up outside the clinic of the vet who had cared for a number of their other animals over the years. Dr. Munroe agreed to see Dex straight away, and after assessing him, he came to the conclusion that the dog had two or three broken ribs. He rushed Dex through to another room to carry out the X-rays that would confirm his diagnosis. He returned about fifteen minutes later. “Three broken ribs. Can I ask how this happened?”

“We live opposite some thugs. I’d taken Dex for his evening walk when this goon drove like a maniac towards us, missing us by inches. When he got out of his car, I had a go at him about driving more carefully. He ran at me aggressively. Dex lunged at him, trying to protect me, and the bastard—sorry, excuse my French—well, he kicked the poor dog in the side. It was terrible. The force raised Dex off his feet.” Tears trickled from her father’s eyes.

Sally placed a comforting arm around his shoulders. “It’s all right, Dad. He’s safe now. Isn’t he, doc?”

Dr. Munroe inhaled a large breath. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. It’s too early to tell. Depends if the fractured ribs have caused any internal damage. I’m going to have to keep him in for a few days to monitor his recovery. Are you insured?”

“Yes, but even if we weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. Just do what you can for him please.” Sally gently wiped tears from under her painful eyes.

“You look as though you’ve been in the wars, too, Sally,” Dr. Munroe said.

“This one I had already, and this was courtesy of the same man who struck Dex. Don’t worry, he’s been arrested. We’ll make sure we throw the bloody book at him, too. People with such violent tendencies shouldn’t be allowed to roam the streets.”

“Quite right, too. I hope you and Dex heal quickly. I’ll keep you updated daily. Hopefully, he should be able to come home at the weekend, all being well.”

“Thanks, doc. Just do your best; that’s all we ask. He’s our special dog.”

“I will. I must get on with my surgery appointments now. People will be cursing me for keeping them waiting.”

“Thanks for squeezing us in,” Sally’s father said, shaking hands with Dr. Munroe before they left his consulting room.

Sally glanced around the room at the sea of angry faces staring at them. “I’m sorry for the hold-up. It was an emergency. I’m sure as pet lovers, you will totally understand our concerns.”

She was greeted by nods and a number of embarrassed smiles. The evening was filled with her father voicing his recriminations over and over and threatening what he planned to do to the thug if the police failed in their duties.

“It ain’t going to happen, Dad. I’ll make sure of that. I’m even going to go one step further and try and get them moved. You’ve dealt with enough of their shit over the past year. I have a friend on the council. I’ll urge them to look at relocating the family, in light of what went on today. I’ll make sure it’s treated as a priority.”

“But I wouldn’t feel right about another group of people being lumbered with such an out-of-control family, Sally,” her mother said meekly.

“They won’t just plant them anywhere, Mum. They’ll read them the riot act and caution them about their future behaviour before finding a suitable home for them. They might even tell them to take a hike and refuse to rehouse them. Here’s hoping, eh?” Sally said, hopefully putting her mother’s mind at rest.

Her father grunted. “Transfer them to a desert island. That should do the bloody trick. Trouble runs through their veins. They’re not likely to change their ways, sweetheart.”

Sally chuckled. “We’ll see what we can come up with between us. I’m positive they’ll be out of your hair soon, Dad. I’ll emphasise the need for peace and normality in the neighbourhood.”

Her father nodded then sighed heavily. “Fingers crossed. Poor Dexter.”

“He’ll be fine. Dr. Munroe has never let us down in the past. Will you ring the insurance company in the morning, or do you want me to do it?”

“You better do it, as he’s your dog, and the policy is in your name, love,” her father replied.

“Okay, I’ll have to nip back home on the way into work to pick up the policy. Now, let’s eat, confident that Dex is in safe hands.”

“What about you going to the hospital, love?” her mother asked.

“I’ll pop in after I’ve been home. I doubt they can do anything. The cheek will need to heal itself.”

She set off earlier than usual and took a detour to the hospital’s A&E department, where she was seen quickly. The doctor X-rayed her cheek and told her what she’d already suspected—she had suffered a slight fracture that would heal itself within a few weeks. Back at her flat, Sally shook her head as she studied her reflection in the mirror, then she started the arduous task of trying to disguise her newest shiner. She could just imagine Jack’s reaction when he saw her first thing. She dreaded that meeting as she finished dressing. She scooped up the pet insurance document and left.

Twenty minutes later, she entered the incident room wearing sunglasses. The second Jack spotted her, he crossed his arms. He refused Sally access to her office by blocking her path. “Don’t make a big deal out of this, Jack. It’s not what it seems.”

Before she could stop him, he whipped the sunglasses off and stared down at her open-mouthed. His face reddened in anger, and he marched towards the door. Sally ran after him and caught up with him in the hallway. “Bullet, stop! I told you it’s not what it seems. I’m not making excuses. Check with the desk sergeant if you don’t believe me. Ask him about the incident I called in last night.”

His steps faltered, and he swung around to face her. “What are you talking about? Darryl did this, didn’t he?”

“No, he didn’t. I wouldn’t lie to you, Jack. My folks had a major problem with a neighbour, and my dog is receiving emergency medical care because of the distasteful incident.”

He frowned. “So what’s with the black eye?”

Sally shrugged. “Maybe the bloke thought I would look better with a matching pair.”

Neither of them laughed.

“Jesus, he clobbered you? Did he know you were a copper?”

“Not before today. He does now, though. He’s probably cursing about the fact down in the cells right now.”

“What’s wrong with your dog? Are your folks all right?”

“I need a coffee. I’ll tell you in the office. At least I can work without having to wear these things now that the truth is out.”

They strode through the incident room. Jack stopped at the machine and insisted on paying for the coffee, then they settled into the two chairs in her office, where she detailed the previous night’s events.

“Jeez, what a sicko to take it out on a dog and a woman like that. You do tend to attract cowards. Maybe I’ll pay Dickhead a visit in his cell later, see if he wants to vent his frustration out on me.”

“You will
not
. It’s in hand, my
hands
—have you got that?”

He held up his finger and thumb, a small distance apart. “Just a tiny bit of retribution?”

“No! Right, I have to ring the insurance company at nine. Then I want to call a meeting, recap yet again what we’ve discovered. One thing you can do for me in the meantime, and to prevent you from sneaking downstairs to the cells, is to ring Simon, and see if the DNA results are through yet. If not, remind him of the urgency behind getting the results back promptly.”

“Will do. What if they come back with Dorling’s DNA?”

“Then we’re screwed.”

Jack left the office, and Sally rang the insurance company, whose representative was sympathetic and assured her that all the vet’s bills would be covered without fail.

Sally took her coffee and returned to the incident room. “Gather around, folks. Let’s bounce some ideas around. I have a feeling the super will be eager for us to come up with answers to all the cases soon.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t been in here shouting the odds already,” Jack replied under his breath.

“I think there are a lot of changes afoot that he’s trawling through at the moment. I’m not complaining; at least it’s giving us the chance to work the cases out without any unnecessary extra aggro in that respect. Yesterday’s murder has definitely made a mockery of our congratulatory drinks the other night—that’s for sure. Right, where do we stand with Dorling’s vehicle? Showing up on CCTV anywhere?”

Joanna raised her hand. “I’ve had a couple of sightings, but I’d like a few more hours of searching just to ensure we’re chasing the right vehicle, if that’s okay, boss?”

“Of course. That sounds hopeful anyway. What about the statements from the latest victim’s boyfriend? Has anyone checked that he and his friends turned up?”

“I followed up on it when I arrived this morning, boss,” Jordan admitted. “He and his friends made their statements about eight last night. The artist has made a preliminary sketch. I’ve got to call in to see her this morning to obtain a copy.”

“Excellent news. Do you know if the boyfriend and his friends agreed on the likeness in the sketch?”

“I believe so.”

Sally contemplated his answer for a moment or two. “Okay, once you’ve chased that up, I want you and Stuart to revisit all the victims’ places of work and see if any of the staff or customers recognise the man in the sketch.”

“Yes, boss. Umm… what about the media? Is it worth sharing the details with them now?” Jordan asked.

“I’m still inclined to wait until the DNA result of the latest victim is back before we involve them.”

“Fair enough,” Jordan replied.

“I know it seems like we’re caught in a loop, re-examining all the information we’ve gathered already, but it’s out of necessity, folks. I have a feeling something isn’t quite adding up, and I’ll be buggered if I know what. Okay, let’s get to it. Jack, I’ll be sifting through the latest shit that has landed on my desk this morning. I also need to ring the council about my parents’ situation. Give me a shout the second the DNA results turn up, all right?”