Wrong Place: A gripping serial killer crime thriller. (9 page)

“You’ll get there. All three of you will come through this. I have no doubt about that. One last question, and then we’ll have to head off.”

“What about the boyfriend? Is he intending to stick around?”

“As far as we know. We’ve got the daunting task of meeting his parents at the weekend to discuss the matter. Should be fun—not!”

“That’ll be good. Not every family would take those steps in this situation, Jack. They sound like pretty reasonable people to me.”

“We’ll see. The meeting was their suggestion, so they can’t be that bad.”

“Keep me informed. In the meantime, keep taking the chill pills. Got that?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it. You’ll have to excuse me if I go off on a tangent now and again, okay?”

“Sure. I guess I’ll have to give you a bit of leeway in repayment to the slack you’ve given me over the past few months, if not years. Hey, we’re partners, ain’t we? And partners stick together through thick and thin, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Yadda, yadda! Do you think we should be going now?”

She winked at him. “On my way. Now quiet. I need to psych myself up to break the bad news.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you always take the lead on that one.”

The mid-terraced home on a small development in Drydon Close was a new construction. As she brought the car to a halt outside the property, Sally noted several other houses in the road were in different stages of development. “Hopefully, if she shares the house, the occupant is still around and hasn’t left for work yet.”

Sally knocked on the front door, and a few seconds later, a young woman opened the door. “Hello. I’m DI Sally Parker, and this is my partner, DS Jack Blackman of the Norfolk Constabulary.” Sally cast her eyes over the woman’s silk robe, which left very little to the imagination. “Is it all right if we come in and have a word with you for a few moments?”

The woman frowned and pulled her robe tight around her, clasping it with her clenched fist at the front. “About what? I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Does Alexina Graham live here?”

“Yes, she does. Has Alex done something wrong?”

“No. Please, it would be better if we come inside to talk,” Sally persisted.

The woman walked back into the house, looking quizzically over her shoulder as Sally and Jack followed. Two large, comfortable leather sofas dwarfed the tiny lounge.

“Take a seat.” The woman gestured to one of the sofas.

Sally and Jack sat while the woman sat on the other sofa across from them.

“It is with regret that I need to inform you about the death of your friend, Alexina Graham.”

The woman’s clutched hand left her robe and covered her mouth. She dropped her hand to ask, “Where? When?”

“Her body was found in a warehouse close to the town this morning. I know this must be a shock, but anything you can tell us about Alexina’s last known whereabouts will help us a great deal in catching the murderer quickly.”

“Of course. Just let me get a glass of water.”

“My partner can get that for you. Jack, will you please?”

“What can I tell you? My God, this is unbelievable. We had dinner together last night, an early dinner, before she had to leave to start her shift.”

“Can you tell me where she worked?”

“Just round the corner, at the Royal Oak. Do you think one of the customers did this to her?”

“What makes you say that? Has she told you about anything specific that has occurred at work recently? Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

The young woman shook her head. “It’s Lisa Cook. No, not that I can think of.”

“Nothing untoward… no accounts of either her work colleagues or customers pestering her, maybe following her home? Anything of that ilk?” Sally asked more out of hope than expectation.

The bewildered Lisa stared at a stain on the carpet and shook her head slowly. When she glanced up at Sally, tears were pooling in her eyes. “No. She would have told me if anything like that was going on. I’m all she has.”

Sally cringed. “Her mother and father are no longer with us, I take it?”

“No, they both died when she was sixteen. She was living on the streets for a while, got into bad company, and started selling her body to support her drug habit. She’s been clean for three years now. Finally getting her life together when something dreadful like this happens. Why?”

Sally smiled at the woman. “I don’t know why. It’s something we need to find out. Do you think someone from her old life might have contacted her recently? Would she tell you something like that?”

“Yes. I mean, yes, she would tell me, and no, she hasn’t. She never spoke about what her life was like back then. She was always too ashamed to revisit those times. I doubt she would have anything to do with the people she mixed with back then, given the choice.” She buried her head in her hands and started crying.

Sally crossed the divide between them and placed a comforting arm around Lisa’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. We hope to have a positive outcome to the case soon for you and the other victims’ families.”

Puzzled, Lisa turned to face her, pouncing on Sally’s slip of the tongue. “There are others?”

“I’m afraid so,” Sally reluctantly agreed.

“That’s awful. Why haven’t you caught the person yet?”

Feeling an affinity to the woman, Sally told her more than she should have about the case. “We’re doing our best to remedy that. These things take time to process.”

Lisa frowned. “I’m sure you know your job.”

Sally nodded.

Lisa’s eyes widened as if a thought had just occurred to her. “Was Alexina raped?”

“It would appear so, yes. I’m sorry, Lisa. You can see why we’re eager to catch the culprit ASAP.”

“Will you be asking the people for their help? You know, on TV and in the newspapers?”

“We’re hanging fire on that at the moment. In our experience, suspects often take flight once the case is aired through the different media channels. The longer we keep quiet about this, at least until the DNA results come through, the better.”

“I see. And when is that likely to be? How many more women will have to lose their lives or be raped in the meantime, Inspector? Sorry for being so frank.”

“I completely understand your concerns. The DNA results are imminent. That’s all I can tell you. One last question before we leave, if I may?”

“Of course.”

“Did Alexina have a boyfriend?”

Lisa shook her head. “No. She was a free spirit in that respect. I don’t mean that she slept around—she just didn’t relish the idea of being at someone’s beck and call.”

“Thanks, that helps.” Sally rose from the sofa, and Jack followed suit. “We’ll head over to her place of work and see if anyone can tell us what went on at the pub last night. Will you be okay? Can I call a member of your family to come and sit with you?”

“No. I’ll get through this by myself. Just promise me you’ll catch the bastard who did this to Alexina.”

“That’s the aim. We’re certainly going to do our best, Lisa.”

Sally and Jack left the property and headed off to the Royal Oak pub.

“Do you think the fact that Alexina used to be a prostitute could be a contributing factor?” Jack asked after a few minutes of silence.

“I don’t think so. The link remains the same to me: the fact that the women were all barmaids. Let’s hope we get some joy from staff on duty last night at the Royal Oak, because this case is getting to be more than a tad frustrating.”

“Yeah, it’s as though this guy just swoops in, sets his sights on the girl behind the bar, and swoops out again without anyone ever seeing him.”

Sally pondered her partner’s suggestion for a minute or two. “Maybe we’re missing something really important here. What’s the possibility of the murderer using some form of disguise?”

“Perhaps. But that doesn’t alter the fact that no one remembers either of the first two victims talking to anyone in particular, whether wearing a disguise or not.”

“You have a point there. Let’s hope some good news lies ahead of us then.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

After questioning the staff at the Royal Oak, they had the same outcome as they had at the first two pubs. No one had noticed anything out of the ordinary the previous evening. Driving back to the station, Sally said, “So, if there were no strangers at the pub last night, does that imply that we’re possibly looking for a regular, a local in the area?”

“It would certainly suggest that to me. All three crimes are located within a ten-mile radius, give or take a few miles, of each other. Someone knows the area well enough to take these girls to places off the beaten track. Would you do that if you were a stranger in the area?”

“No, I wouldn’t. If that’s the case, then why hasn’t anyone recognised who the girls were talking to at three separate pubs? Is it possible that we’re dealing with some kind of stalker? Maybe the guy didn’t go into the pubs at all.”

“Then we’re up shit creek if that’s the case, with no CCTV footage to trawl through.”

“Indeed. Right, we’re going to the lab and not leaving there until we get those bloody results. It’s the only positive lead we have, and someone is screwing with us by deliberately sitting on the results.”

“You think?” Jack asked, looking shocked.

She chuckled. “No, I didn’t mean it. Although it does feel like that at times. I was just venting. You’re my partner. It’s in the rules for you to listen when I vent, right?”

“Yeah. I must say, you seem to vent rather a lot.”

“Cheeky sod! I’ll pay you back for that uncalled-for remark.”

They arrived at the lab, and after Sally’s conversation with the lab technician handling the sample became heated, his superior finally intervened. “What’s going on here, Inspector? Can’t you see the amount of stress my people are under? Look around you. No one is sipping copious amounts of coffee, wasting valuable time.”

Are you insinuating that’s what coppers do?
Sally smiled sweetly at the man, who was in his late fifties. “I can see that, Doctor. We’re also under a huge amount of stress at our end. The quicker we get those results and act upon them, the quicker we’ll get a murderer off the streets. He’s now killed three women to our knowledge. That doesn’t sit well in my conscience. Not sure if it would in yours, either.”

“You’re right—it doesn’t. You have my word that the results will be with you by the end of the day, five o’clock at the latest. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a vast backlog of samples to work our way through.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Sally and Jack left the lab. Sally kicked out at a waste bin in the car park. “Damn. That didn’t exactly go according to plan, did it?”

“What now?” Jack asked, looking as pissed off as she felt.

“Lunch, I guess, and plenty of it. I’ll treat us to fish and chips. How’s that sound to you?”

“Like you want me to fall asleep at my desk this afternoon.”

“Maybe a little excessive then, given the time of day. Okay, we’ll settle for a pasty from the baker’s. How’s that?”

“Better.”

They stopped off at the baker’s closest to the station, where Sally, feeling in one of her more generous moods, bought all the team lunches consisting of a pasty and a can of pop.

Once they’d eaten, Sally called the team around the whiteboard, and they spent the next hour recapping what little information they’d dug up, adding into the mix Alexina’s former choice of career. “We need to check to see if the other two girls ever went down that route, too, discreetly, of course.”

“How do you suggest we do that? We don’t have many family members available to question.” Jack frowned.

Sally knew he had a point—all the victims had few family members. “Let’s use our research capabilities on that one, Jack, okay? See if either woman has been arrested in the past for prostitution or, for that matter, reported anyone stalking them.”

He shrugged. “I’ll get onto it now.”

Sally smiled tautly at her partner. “Anyone else have any suggestions as to what we should be delving into next?”

The team all looked at her blankly. She’d never worked such a frustrating case in all her years on the force. Having vital evidence to hand but being unable to access or use it had never really fallen into her lap before. That underlying fact was torturing her the most. She left the team to go over everything they had dealt with during the last week and walked into her office to tackle paperwork relating to the cases she’d successfully brought to a conclusion in the past month. Lost in her work late into the afternoon, Sally jumped when the phone on her desk rang.

“DI Parker.”

“Inspector, this is the technician at the lab. I have the results ready for you.”

Sally’s heart began to gallop. “That’s excellent news. Can you fax it through to me?”

“Of course. Do you have the number? I’m sorry for the delay. Too many cases piled in at the same time.”

She gave him the fax number then said, “Not to worry. We have it now. I’m looking forward to seeing the results.”

“Sending it through now. Goodbye, Inspector.”

Sally pushed back her chair and rushed over to the fax machine. A lifetime passed before the sheet of paper appeared from the slot in the machine. She snatched it up and read the name aloud. “Les Dorling.”

She rushed into the incident room, waving the sheet of paper in her hand. “We’ve got it. I want everyone on this ASAP. Get me anything and everything you can find on a Les Dorling. According to this, the reason we were able to match a name to the DNA found on the victims is because he’s a convicted rapist. I want to know when he came out of prison, where he lives, what car he drives. If he’s got a job, I want to know where he works. And I want all that by the end of our shift.”

“Are we going to pick him up tonight?” Jack asked.

Sally nodded. “That’s the plan, partner. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No. Just asking. I thought it would be better to grab him tonight rather than risk him going out on the prowl again, on the lookout for his next victim.”

“That’s what I thought, too. Get me his address first, and we’ll shoot off and pick him up, Jack, while the rest of the team try to find any other info that links him to our case.”

Twenty minutes later, Sally and Jack arrived at the suspect’s address. He was staying at a small bed and breakfast in a less-salubrious part of Norwich. Sally asked the rough-looking woman behind the reception desk if Dorling was in.

“He is. Who wants to know?” she responded tartly.

Sally flashed her warrant card. “DI Sally Parker and DS Jack Blackman. What room is he in?”

“You can’t just barge in here and pester my guests.”

“We’re hardly barging in, and unless your guests have something to hide, we’re entitled to talk to anyone we care to speak to. Now, what room is he in?”

“Number ten,” the woman responded with a scowl.

“Thanks. Don’t bother trying to warn him we’re on our way, either. We have this place surrounded.” Sally had gone up against dubious guesthouse owners in the past. The woman looked beyond Sally at the street through the glazed door, no doubt trying to see if more officers were outside the B&B.

“I don’t want no trouble. What’s he done?”

“Nothing yet. We just want a friendly chat with him. Is it this way?” Sally pointed up the flight of stairs in front of them.

“Yep, the only stairs we have. Go to the top and turn right. It’s the door at the end you want.”

“Thanks.” Sally walked casually up the stairs with Jack behind her. Once they got to the top, they walked briskly past the rest of the rooms. She knocked lightly on the door to Dorling’s room.

The door swung open, and the man eyed the detectives cautiously. “Yeah?”

“Les Dorling?”

“That’s right.”

Sally stepped aside and let Jack barge into the room. He knocked the man to the floor, pulled his hands behind his back, and slapped on the cuffs. Jack read the man his rights. “We’re arresting you for the murder of Brenda Fisher. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” the man asked, jostling against Jack.

“Let’s go.” Rather than argue, Sally walked out of the room, leaving Jack to force the man to his feet. She could hear Dorling still trying to resist arrest, but she turned a blind eye to Jack’s manhandling him through the building and out to the car. “Give it a rest, Dorling.”

Jack opened the back door, urged the suspect into his seat, then squashed in beside him.

“I ain’t done nothin’ wrong. I’m telling you—you’ve made a mistake.”

“We’ll see about that. Now sit still and shut up,” Sally warned, pulling away from the guesthouse.

At the station, Jack and Sally left the suspect with the duty sergeant and a couple of constables.

“Let me know when you’ve booked him in, Sergeant. I’ll be upstairs,” Sally said.

Sally and Jack ran upstairs to the incident room.

“We’ve got him,” she announced as soon as she burst through the door to the office. “What have you found out about him?”

Joanna was the first to speak. “He’s been out of prison since February this year, boss. Served four years for raping an eighteen-year-old girl. He swore he was innocent, but the DNA proved he was lying.”

“Why am I not surprised about that? He’s just denied he didn’t know Brenda Fisher in the car. I haven’t tackled him about Maddie Webster yet, as we’re still awaiting clarification on the results on that, although the pathologist’s initial findings have already linked the two crimes. It doesn’t really matter, because we have enough against him already. What about his car? Does he have one?”

“Yep. An old Ford Escort registered to him at a different address.”

“Naughty boy. Something else we can fling at him. Okay, at least we can try and place him at the scenes for further evidence. Let’s see what else we can throw at him.”

“Yes, boss,” the team replied in unison.

“Coffee, Jack? We’ll stay up here for half an hour or so, give him a chance to get worked up about what’s going on.”

“Why not? I’ll get these, boss, as you forked out for lunch.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll be in the office, preparing my questions for the suspect. Hey, is everyone up for a celebratory drink after work?”

Every member of the team either nodded or gave her the thumbs-up in reply.

At five thirty, Sally and Jack made their way back downstairs. “Has the brief turned up, Sergeant?”

“Yes, she’s waiting in Interview Room Two, Inspector.”

“Thanks. Leave it five minutes and then bring the prisoner in, will you?”

“Yes, boss. When you went upstairs, he put up a bit of a struggle, and one of the constables ended up elbowing him in the eye by mistake. So don’t be surprised if he’s sporting a shiner when you see him.”

Sally shook her head but smiled at the sergeant. “Shit happens!”

Jack sniggered. “I almost did the same thing myself back at the B&B, Sergeant.”

Sally walked along the corridor to where the appointed solicitor was waiting for them. She introduced herself and Jack to the woman then sat down opposite.

“Hello, Inspector. Is my client about to join us?”

“He is, Miss Cornwell. He should be with us any time soon. You’re aware of the charge brought against him, I believe.”

“I am. I hope you haven’t picked him up just because he has a past record for a similar offence, Inspector?”

“No. That would be totally unprofessional. We picked him up through the DNA we recovered at the first scene.”

“I see.”

The door opened, interrupting their conversation, and in walked Les Dorling, sporting a discoloured right eye, which Sally feared was only going to intensify in colour during their questioning.

“Take a seat, Mr. Dorling.” Sally noted the shocked expression on the solicitor’s face and asked, “Has the doctor seen you?”

“Not yet. He’s busy, so they tell me. I’m going to sue you for this. Mark my words, I will.” He turned to his solicitor and pointed at his eye. “They did this to me when I came in. I want compo, right?”

“I’m sorry about that, Mr. Dorling. I’ll see what I can do for you. Did you resist arrest or come to the station willingly?” Miss Cornwell asked her client.

“I might have had a little tussle out there, but there was no call for them to give me this.” Dorling pointed to his eye again.

“Okay, let’s begin.” Sally said the necessary blurb into the tape to begin the interview then asked the suspect, “Mr. Dorling, where were you on Sunday night of last week? That would be the eighth of March.”

Dorling shrugged. “How the fuck should I know?”

“That’s not helpful to your case. Try harder,” Sally suggested.

Dorling scratched his head and seemed pensive for a moment or two. “At home, if you can call that shithole a home.”

“So, you were at the B&B all night? Can anyone confirm that?”

Dorling shrugged again. “I have no idea.”

“Can you remember talking to anyone that night?” Sally asked.

“Lady, I’ve got no idea. Once I’m in my room, that’s it.”

“Okay, and when you’re not in your room? What are you doing then?”

“I’ve got a part-time job valeting cars.” He looked up at Sally and sneered. “It’s the only job I can get since your lot banged me up.”

“So, the fact that you were convicted of rape had nothing to do with your imprisonment, then?”

Dorling fidgeted in his seat. “Like I told the judge, me and that bitch had consensual sex. Juries always come down heavy on the guys. They always believe the bitches when they lie about spreading their legs.”

“Mr. Dorling, we’re not here to go over your previous convictions. That has already been successfully dealt with, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Has it, though? Aren’t you here accusing me of doing something to this woman only because of what’s gone on in my past?” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Not exactly, no. And as I told you back at the B&B,
this
woman,
Brenda Fisher, was murdered.”

“And I told you that I have no idea who she is. It didn’t stop you dragging me in here and beating me up. I ain’t no
murderer
, lady.” Defiance blazed in his large, brown eyes.