Daisy in Chains (30 page)

‘True, but this was a nasty one. He lost his wife, his daughter, his home, and he has to see the bloke who took them away every day and he has to call him sir. That kind of shit would mess with anyone’s head.’

It would, wouldn’t it? ‘I still don’t—’

‘I’ve got a theory on how the bodies got into the caves, by the way. Are you interested?’

She holds up her hands in mock despair. ‘Oh, please.’

‘Everyone more or less believes the girls must have gone into the caves voluntarily, while they were still alive. Agreed?’

‘Because it would be next to impossible to carry dead bodies that size up the gorge cliffs and into caves?’

Wolfe points an index finger at her. ‘Exactly. But only if the bodies were moved as fresh corpses.’

She is conscious of her body tensing up. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I don’t think the bodies were taken to the caves until some time after the girls died. I think they were kept somewhere and left to decompose.’

He stops, lets her think about it. She nods for him to go on.

‘Body tissue breaks down very quickly,’ he says. ‘Especially in summer, or in hot rooms. Insect activity starts to eat away at flesh, at the same time the internal decomposition kicks in. Give it a few months, and you’d be left with not much more than skin and bones.’

‘Which anyone could bundle into a big bag and carry to the caves quite easily.’

He leans back, stretches his legs. ‘And if that’s the way it was done, I’m in the clear, because I was taken into custody days after Myrtle went missing. Her body was still quite sizeable when I was taken out of the picture.’

‘If we can prove that—’

‘If you can prove that, Maggie Rose, I will be forever in your debt.’

There is a look in his eye that she doesn’t want to dwell upon. ‘I can look at the pathology reports again. See if there’s anything at all that would fit that theory.’

‘Thank you. And let’s get back to Detective Pete. Odi may have
recognized him. She may have been too frightened to say something because who would take the word of a homeless woman against that of a . . .’ He pauses, waiting for her to finish his sentence.

‘Of a detective sergeant.’

‘Once she’d said something, once she’d accused him, it would have been all over for her. A detective, especially a senior one, could track her down. She’d be looking over her shoulder the rest of her life. What would have frightened Odi more than knowing the killer she’d witnessed was a police officer?’

‘If this is true, her death is my fault. I’m the one who told Pete Weston about Odi and the possible sighting at Rill Cavern.’

‘Weston lives a hundred yards away from where Odi and Broon were killed. He knew they were there, knew they’d spoken to you. His windows probably overlook that Town Hall entrance. He could have sat quietly in his room for hours, waiting for his chance.’

She has no idea which of the Crown windows is Pete’s. It could easily overlook the Town Hall.

‘And if he left any trace behind, well, he was first detective on the scene, there’d been a bit of accidental site contamination. Maggie, do you really believe the murders of Odi and Broon were coincidence?’

She doesn’t. Of course, she doesn’t. ‘Hamish, I know how desperate you are for another credible suspect – and I really think you could be on to something with the decomposition idea – but I know this man—’

‘I’d tell you to ask him for a photograph of his wife, but if I’m right, that could be a dangerous thing to do. You should try and see her, though, discreetly.’

The door opens.

‘Sorry to interrupt, Miss Rose. We’re having some trouble on the wing. We need to get Hamish back to his cell.’

Hamish stands as the officers move to handcuff him.

‘Find a photograph of Weston’s wife, Maggie, will you do that?’

‘Why, what on—’

‘You need to look at Annabelle.’

Email

Sent via the emailaprisoner service

From: Maggie Rose

To: Hamish Wolfe

Date: 28.12.2015

OK, I’ve had a look at Annabelle Weston. I found her on Facebook. Her privacy settings are tight but there is a publicly available photograph. She’s a little overweight, I grant you, but really?

I don’t see it, to be honest, but we can keep it in the armoury. I’m going to be on the road for the next few days, looking up a few of your old college friends. I’ll keep you posted, of course. Take care of yourself.

M

Email

From: Avon and Somerset Police, Detective Sergeant Peter Weston

To: Maggie Rose

Date: 29.12.2015

Dear Maggie,

Sorry about Xmas Day. Probably is a good idea if we give each other some space. Just until you stop flogging the dead horse that is Hamish Wolfe, then I’d love to take you out to dinner. LOL as the youngsters say!☺

I’m going to be out of circulation for a few days. DCI Latimer is on at me to ‘tie up every loophole in the Wolfe case’. The poor lamb is seriously rattled (be flattered). I don’t share his anxiety, obvs, but I’m going to have to do something to keep his blood pressure at manageable levels.

So – wait for it – I’m going to track down Daisy Baron, Wolfe’s girlfriend from college. I’m banking on her not giving up on her medical degree completely, so I’ve been checking medical school admissions in 1997 and 1998. Got a couple of possibles, both up north.

I’m sure it goes without saying I’m not exactly expecting to find a shallow grave with a bag of old bones in it, but it would open up a whole new dimension on the case if I did, don’t you think?

Speaking of dead horses, Latimer has agreed to put some resources into finding that computer you and Wolfe are fixated on. If you send over that list you drew up, with an update on where you got with it, we might be able to help out. I still think it’s a very long shot, but you never know.

A couple of other things. I’ve spoken to Sarah Smith, aka Sirocco
Silverwood. Talk about mad as a box of frogs! She denies going anywhere near your house and declined to submit fingerprints. She could have been the one to leak your personal details to Facebook but, without good reason, we can’t haul her computer off for examination. Tricky one, but we’ll keep an eye on her.

Oh, and I found the flowers by your bin. Daisies? What’s going on, Maggie? When and how did they arrive? They’re currently rotting slowly in the back of my car, just in case you go looking for them.

I’ll be in touch. Dare I say, Happy New Year?

Pete

Guardian
, Saturday, 13 September 2014

HAMISH WOLFE TRIAL: DAY 5

A dramatic development in the Hamish Wolfe trial yesterday saw the judge ruling the evidence of a key prosecution witness as inadmissible and instructing the jury to disregard his entire testimony. Legal experts described it as a severe blow to the prosecution’s case, as the witness had been expected to testify that Wolfe’s dangerous, predatory tendencies could be traced back over two decades.

James Laurence, 39, a GP in Rawtenstall in Lancashire, and a university contemporary of Wolfe, had been giving evidence for nearly an hour when the judge, Mr Justice Peters, intervened and called into question the relevance and reliability of everything Laurence had told the court. Under UK law, he reminded the jury, evidence presented in criminal cases must be ‘relevant, without being prejudicial, and reliable’.

‘Your testimony is based on half-remembered anecdotes and groundless rumours,’ the judge said to Laurence. ‘Your memory of the facts, by your own admission and the testimony of others, is vague and unsubstantiated. The defence has been right to call your evidence repeatedly into question. It adds nothing to the prosecution’s case, it would be dangerous to rely upon it further and I hereby instruct the jury to disregard it.’

Like Wolfe, Laurence studied medicine at Oxford and was a member, albeit on the periphery, of Wolfe’s social circle. He’d been called as a prosecution witness to give the court an insight into the character of his former friend and, in particular, Wolfe’s predilection for a certain type of female.

During questioning by the Crown prosecution barrister, Miles Richardson QC, Laurence spoke of an inner circle of five of the brightest medical students, all of them white men from professional or upper-class backgrounds, with Wolfe as their acknowledged leader. The five men, three of
whom we are not permitted to name for legal reasons, studied together, socialized and, crucially, formed a secret club that was to lead, in the opinion of the police investigating team, to the death of at least one young woman.

‘I knew something had gone on that night,’ Laurence said from the witness box, referring to the death of young Oxford woman Ellie Holmes. ‘The others all clammed up, but I knew it was something very serious. When we heard that a girl had died, I knew there was more to it than we were being told.’

The judge gave it as his opinion that, although Ellie Holmes had died whilst in the company of one of Wolfe’s friends, there was no reason to challenge the Coroner’s verdict of death by misadventure, and no reason to suppose that Wolfe had been involved in any way. As such, he said, it was not relevant to the current case.

‘Eighteen years ago, the Coroner went out of his way to praise the efforts of medical student Warwick Hespe,’ Mr Justice Peters said, ‘whose vigorous efforts at resuscitation, sadly, failed to have the desired result and save Miss Holmes’s life. There is no reason to think this was anything other than the unfortunate death of a young woman following her own reckless behaviour. Most significantly, though, the prosecution have presented no evidence to link Mr Wolfe to the incident.’

Nor, the judge went on to say, did he attach any credence to the rumours of a soft-porn mail order company which, according to the prosecution, the five men had set up to sell illicitly shot videos of young women having sex.

‘There is no evidence that this business ever existed,’ he remarked. ‘It seems highly unlikely that a group of students would have found the wherewithal to set up such a company. Even its supposed name, which I will not test the court’s patience by repeating again, strikes me as highly unlikely for a group of Oxford University students. The police have several times interviewed the five men in question, including Mr Wolfe, and each has claimed to have no knowledge of it. None of the footage supposedly shot still exists. We have the testimony of no women who were filmed against their will and made into unwitting porn stars. The prosecution have not thought fit to call any of the other men whom you claim were involved.

‘Your evidence, Mr Laurence,’ the judge concluded, ‘strikes me as nothing more than envious rumour-mongering and poorly remembered
tittle-tattle. Given that nearly twenty years have passed between the alleged events that you describe, and the murders that we are now dealing with, I cannot suppose them relevant in any way. Furthermore, your testimony, hostile as it is to Mr Wolfe, could be seen as unfairly prejudicial. I therefore instruct the jury to disregard your entire testimony as evidence. You may stand down.’

None of the detectives on the case were prepared to comment. The case continues on Monday.

(
Maggie Rose: case file 00326/8 Hamish Wolfe
)

DRAFT

THE BIG, BAD WOLFE?

By Maggie Rose

CHAPTER 5, IS HE BANGED UP? OR DID HE SMARTEN UP?

One cast-iron test of whether the right man has been imprisoned bang to rights in cases of serial murder is whether or not the killings cease after conviction. Anyone daring to suggest Hamish Wolfe was wrongly convicted is met with the rapid retort that no other plus-sized young woman has been found in a Somerset cave since Wolfe’s arrest.

Maybe not. But is it equally true to say that no other women have vanished? A quick search on the site of the UK Missing Persons Bureau throws up some serious concerns.

Lynsey Osbourne, twenty-two, last seen at her bedsit in the Filton area of Bristol on 12 February 2014.

Kelsey Benson, fifteen, vanished from local authority care in Honiton, Devon in May 2013.

(
NB: Actually, Benson wasn’t that big, will probably need to find an alternative
)

Janice Robinson, forty-six, of Stroud, left her council house on the night of 16 September 2014 and hasn’t been seen since.

These are only three. There are others.

Of course it would be fanciful to suggest that all these women fell victim to the same killer who ended the lives of Jessie Tout, Chloe Wood and Myrtle Reid, but even the most cursory glance at the list of our missing casts serious doubt on the assurance that the killer who targets large women is no longer at liberty.

He may just have got smarter.

(
Will need updating just before going to press.
)

THE SMALL, BLACK-FRONTED
establishment, just off the main road through Rawtenstall in Lancashire, is perhaps a little too cheerful in its demeanour to be a magic shop from a fairy story, but its draughts, elixirs and cordials give something of the same impression. There are tinctures, restoratives and stimulants in here that are not of the commonplace. Blackbeer and raisin? Blood beer? Sarsaparilla?

The rows of jars stacked high on wooden shelves have colourfully intriguing contents and mysterious-sounding labels. The packets on the counter rustle with dark promise. The oak floor is highly polished, but stained in places where substances, too powerful ever to be properly cleaned away, have spilled over the years. There are three small tables, each spread with an embroidered linen cloth. This is Fitzpatrick’s, the last remaining temperance bar in England, and Maggie is being asked to choose between a rhubarb and rosehip cordial and an iron brew tonic.