DARK CRIMES a gripping detective thriller full of suspense (23 page)

She decided to visit her father in Poole. She needed comforting, and her dad was the perfect person for this. He lived in a flat near the quayside. It would be peaceful there at this time of year.

* * *

Lauren took a fast train from Southampton to Poole and walked to her father’s flat near the quay. He hadn’t answered the doorbell, so she’d let herself in with her key. She’d just poured herself a glass of water when he arrived back from an early morning walk with his dog. His face lit up when he saw his daughter.

‘Lauren, sweetheart! You’re a sight to gladden an old man’s heart.’

She ran over and flung her arms around him.

‘Oh, I’m glad to see you, Dad!’

‘Something wrong?’

‘Well, sort of. But I think I’m okay.’

‘Let’s sit down and you can tell me about it if you feel like it. But I don’t want to pry. Is it trouble with that new man of yours?’

She burst into tears. ‘I thought he was so lovely when we met at the weekend. But he was really foul just now. I feel like I’ve met some kind of monster. Something happened to him early this week, and it’s almost as if it’s turned his mind.’

‘Best to leave it, Lauren. I’ve met men like that on the docks. Cheerful and chatty one day, vile and moody the next. They never change.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, Dad.’ She wiped some tears from her cheeks. ‘I’ve already decided. He was so abusive on the phone this morning, and I don’t even think he knew it was me that had called him. I’ve been so upset. I needed someone to talk to.’

‘Have you had anything to eat?’

She shook her head.

‘I haven’t had much either. Why don’t we walk to the café on the corner and get some comfort food? A big breakfast is just what we both need. I’ll treat you.’

She gave her father another hug. They left the flat and walked towards the quayside. They were halfway across the local green when Lauren saw him. He was sitting on a bench, reading a newspaper. She stopped dead, about five yards away from him. She stared at him, still holding tightly onto her father’s arm. The man looked up and the spell was broken.

‘Are you following me?’ she shouted. ‘You evil bastard. What are you doing here? Why are you doing this?’

She held her father’s arm more firmly, and almost pulled him along as she walked away, fast, turning once to scream back at him.

‘Andy Riley, leave me alone! Don’t you ever come near me again. I don’t want to see you and I don’t want to hear from you. I wish I’d never set eyes on you. You’re sick!’

* * *

It was mid-morning and Sophie was beginning to feel stiff from sitting in the car.

‘I’ll go for a wander and get some coffee for us from one of those cafés,’ she said. ‘Keep your eyes open while I’m out. Here’s the binoculars.’

She walked along the quayside. The local detectives were being discreet in their enquiries, and none could be seen. She opened the door to the warm, steamy interior of one of the cafés. It was a homely place, where several groups of locals were enjoying coffee, or a plateful of bacon and eggs. She bought two coffees to take out, and backed out of the door. Her mobile phone rang just as the door closed behind her. She stood the coffees on a nearby wall and took the call. It came from the local DS, in charge of the team working their way through the warehouses along the quayside. They had just been to a cold-storage unit, where a repair engineer had been booked in the afternoon before to fix a faulty cooling unit. The repairman had apparently been irritable, moody and full of complaints. His last comment before leaving had been that he needed a drink.

‘Have you got a name?’ Sophie asked.

‘The foreman is chasing up the paperwork now, but he thinks his surname might have been Riley. But there’s more. He thinks that he passed the bloke’s van just twenty minutes ago on the quayside. He was out collecting some goods and reckons he saw it parked about a quarter of a mile along from where you are.’

Sophie picked up the coffees and set off back to the car. She took a shorter route, across a small grassy area, dotted with bushes and shrubs, opposite the hotel.

She was halfway across when a young woman walking towards her, with her hand through the arm of an older man, suddenly froze with a look of horror on her face. She seemed to be staring at a figure sitting on a seat beside the path, his face half-hidden by the newspaper he’d been reading. Sophie kept walking. The woman suddenly began to haul her companion past the seated figure, almost at a run.

Sophie heard her scream out, ‘Andy Riley, leave me alone! Don’t you ever come near me again. I don’t want to see you and I don’t want to hear from you. I wish I’d never set eyes on you. You’re sick!’

By now the young woman was sobbing and shaking. The man on the seat had been looking east towards the hotel. Now he rose and stared at the couple, with a look of astonishment. It slowly changed into one of venom. He started to move towards them, then he saw Sophie. Their eyes locked. Sophie’s mind whirled, adrenaline began to flow, and she broke into a run.

She passed the two walkers, shouting, ‘Police! Stop. Now.’

The tall man began to slide his left hand inside his coat. By now Sophie was only three yards away from him, running at full speed. She hurled the hot coffees towards his face, then launched herself at him. The first carton hit him on the shoulder, the second full in the face, followed by Sophie crashing shoulder-first into his chest. He fell back, groaning from the pain of the scalding liquid. Sophie landed on top of him. She hit him as hard as she could in the middle of his face, using both gloved fists together as a club. She then rolled over onto her knees away from him and pulled out her Taser from its holster beneath her coat. She pointed the weapon directly at his torso.

‘Police. Taser. Don’t move!’ she shouted.

Andy Riley opened his eyes and pulled a knife from inside his coat. Then he caught the look on Sophie's face and slowly dropped it. Sophie’s shoulder felt as if it had been in a collision with a tree trunk. Her knuckles were grazed and bleeding, and her left knee was starting to ache. But she was filled with total and overwhelming exultation.

‘Got you, you fucker,’ she said.

CHAPTER 22: Snapshots

Friday Afternoon

They were in the corridor outside the interview room. ‘He’s still not talking, ma’am,’ said Marsh.

Sophie sipped her tea. ‘So I heard. He’s playing a waiting game. Seeing what we have on him. At the moment he knows we can charge him for possession of the knife, but that’s all. He’s obviously aware that we know about the three murders, but he may still think he’s in the clear for them. What he doesn’t know is that we have the two bodies from the water, and that we also have his car. He thinks he’s been playing with us, but we know different. I think it’s time to rattle him a little, don’t you? I’ve got everything ready. Let’s go.’

Sophie and Pillay had spent the morning in Walsall. They were back by early afternoon, and Sophie had asked Marsh for a summary of the morning’s events. It had been a hectic time.

She put her cup down on a shelf, collected a large brown envelope from her desk and followed Marsh back into the interview room. This was the first time she’d been in Riley’s presence since he’d been arrested at Poole Quay the previous day. The rest of Thursday had been spent reassuring Lauren and her father, tracing the warehouse where he’d worked on Wednesday and getting statements from the foreman and manager. Information had also started to come in from the forensics department, as they began to inspect the material from a bag dumped in the pool beside the car. Riley’s van had been taken apart and meticulously inspected, as had the car. Lauren had spent an hour with Sophie and Pillay, gradually calming down in the warmth of the hotel lounge as she'd made her statement. Marsh had returned to the station with the squad car taking Riley to the cells.

* * *

Sophie saw a slight flicker in Riley’s eyes as she entered the room behind Marsh. It was impossible to guess what it meant.

Marsh spoke into the microphone. ‘This is Detective Sergeant Marsh resuming the interview with Mr Andrew Riley after the allocated twenty minute break. Also still present is the duty solicitor, Mr Charles Murray. We have been joined by Detective Chief Inspector Allen.’

Sophie spread a set of documents on the table. ‘These are all yours, Mr Riley. Some are in the name of Renshaw, but they still clearly relate to you. We also have witnesses to the fact that you have sometimes used the names Rule and Ridgway. I wonder why someone would see the need to for multiple identities? Anyway, let’s move on.’

She opened the envelope and pulled out a pile of photos, all face down.

Marsh spoke. ‘For the benefit of the tape, DCI Allen is about to show Mr Riley a sequence of photographs relating to a series of violent crimes that have occurred recently. We believe that Mr Riley knows a great deal about these crimes.’

Sophie turned over the first photo. It showed the body of Donna Goodenough, lying face up on the damp surface of Spring Hill. It had been taken by the forensic photographer on arrival at the scene.

‘Is there anything you want to tell us about this murder, Mr Riley, that of Donna Goodenough?’ Sophie asked.

Riley glanced at the photo, then looked at Sophie. He shook his head.

She turned over the second print. This one showed Brenda Goodenough, lying dead in her bed. The livid marks around her throat were clearly visible.

‘And this one?’ Again, a slight shake of the head.

The third photo showed the slender body of the almost childlike Susie Pater, pale-faced against the dark, satin sheets and pillows of her bed. Sophie raised her eyebrows questioningly. Riley’s response was the same. It was impossible to read anything from his expression.

She turned over the next picture. It showed a kitchen knife.

‘This knife was found in the flat used by Susie Pater, the third victim. Traces of Donna’s blood were found on the blade. We believe it to be the weapon used to kill her.’

No reaction from Riley. Sophie sat silently, watching his face. She sat without moving, one hand resting on the pile of inverted photos, the other resting on the edge of the table. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock and the regular breathing of the people inside. She continued to sit without speaking and without moving for almost a minute. All the time she was looking directly into Riley’s eyes. Slowly her right hand slid the next photo from the pile, and turned it over in front of him. Riley glanced down at the image. It showed the corpse of Shaz Fellows, still lying on the black, plastic sheeting that had just been cut open at the waterside. Marsh looked quickly at the image, and then watched for a reaction from Riley. Sophie never took her eyes from Riley’s face.

The next set of photos followed more swiftly. The first showed a view of Riley’s van, the rear doors open wide. The second was a still from a low-quality video camera, but it clearly showed a traffic policeman talking to Riley by the roadside in the dark, at the rear of the mud-splattered van. The image was imprinted with the time, date and location — Tuesday night, three days previously. The following photos each showed a set of tyre prints, the first in the soil that had spilled across the paving outside Shaz Fellows’s flat. The second marks were in the mud near the bank of the pool in Wareham Forest, and the third in the damp soil of Spider Lane, near Sophie's house. They were followed by a shot of the tyres on the van.

‘The tyre prints match exactly, Mr Riley. There is little doubt that they are from that van.’

Riley looked down at the set of pictures, this time taking a little longer.

‘How long is this game going on for?’ he finally said.

‘We’re not there yet, Mr Riley.’

She turned over the next image. It was a still from the CCTV camera at the Sandbanks ferry crossing. It showed the red Ford Fiesta with a bearded Riley in the driving seat, the time stamped at midday on the previous Friday. The vehicle’s registration was just discernible through the dirt that was smeared across it.

Sophie paused again. When it appeared, the photo showed a similarly coloured Fiesta with its number plates missing, gushing water as it dangled from a crane above the dark water of the pool in Wareham Forest. It was swiftly followed by an image of a number on the underside of the engine. The subsequent image showed an extract from a database, linking that engine number to the vehicle registration.

Riley’s eyes shifted from the most recent image to the remaining photos, as yet unrevealed. He looked back at Sophie, who returned his gaze without moving. The room almost hummed with tension. Sophie waited again, her hand resting on the diminished pile of images.

Slowly Sophie turned the next image over. It showed the decayed corpse found in the pool beside the car. It still hadn’t been incontrovertibly identified, but evidence was pointing more and more towards it being the body of Debbie Martinez. Riley stared at the image for longer than the previous photos. His eyes returned to Sophie’s.

‘We believe that the body is that of Debbie Martinez. Only another two to go, Mr Riley.’

The next photo was identical to the first. It showed Donna’s body sprawled across the sodden surface of Spring Hill. Riley looked puzzled. Sophie turned the final image. It was of the same scene, but with the body removed. The photo was focussed on the wall, which was illuminated with ultraviolet light to show up the bloodstains. Blotchy marks and streaks showed up brightly on the treated surface, and low down, just above ground level, faint lettering could be made out, traced as if by a young child. The characters spelling ‘andy’ could just be discerned in the mess of blood splashes and stains.

‘She didn’t die straight away, Mr Riley. She died slowly over fifteen minutes or so, from severe blood loss, and was probably drifting in and out of consciousness. But she still had time to nail you.’

Sophie nodded slightly, a signal to Marsh. He cleared his throat before speaking.

‘Andrew Riley, we are charging you with the murders of Donna Goodenough, Brenda Goodenough, Susan Pater, Sharon Fellows and Deborah Martinez. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you.’

Sophie hadn’t taken her eyes from Riley’s face. Now she spoke to him for the last time. ‘Remember what I said to you yesterday, Mr Riley. Did you think I was bluffing?’

She got up and walked out.

Marsh joined Sophie later in her office. She was standing near the printer, leafing through a batch of documents that had been emailed to her.

‘How’s his latest girlfriend taking it all, ma’am?’

‘Lauren? She’ll be fine, I think, but it will take a while. She’s coming back in later with her father to make a written statement. She doesn’t know what we’ve hauled Riley in for, so it will come as a shock. It’s always going to be a problem for her, that she had a short, intense relationship with a mass-murderer, but no doubt she’ll survive. That’s one of the problems with this totally casual approach to sex. Who exactly are you sleeping with? The charming guy who picks you up at the nightclub could be evil incarnate, as he was on this occasion. Another few months and things could have been so much worse for her.’

She looked at Marsh. ‘It’s not all over yet, Barry. We turned up some interesting stuff in Walsall this morning that probably explains why Riley isn’t talking. He hasn’t thought everything through yet. It’s proving to be a real can of worms. I’ve left Jimmy and Lydia ploughing through piles of documents and cross-checking the details.’

She looked at the paper she’d just picked up and glanced at her watch.

‘It’s just after two. Can you and Jimmy shoot across to Southampton as fast as you can? I want you to visit his old school and check something out for me. Take this with you. I need to know if it’s true, and if so whether they knew each other. I’ll phone ahead and ask them to find some staff who were there at the time.’

She handed over a second sheet.

‘Then call in at the city’s adoption agency and the fostering agency. They’re both together in the City Chambers in the Guildhall. Check to see if both these reports are true. Again, I’ll phone through first to tell them that you are on your way. Then visit this street here.’ She pointed to an address on the top of the page. ‘Speak to neighbours and see if anyone remembers them, particularly the youngsters. All of them. You can imagine what we need to know. Get Jimmy to drive and you stay handy with your mobile. I’ll probably need to contact you to update you during the drive. And phone me with any information. Okay?’

Marsh stood with his mouth open, skimming through the content of the papers in his hand.

‘Get a move on, Barry. Don’t stand there like a goldfish. It’s Friday afternoon. If we don’t get it all checked now we may have to wait until Monday and our friend may well have left the area by then.’

Marsh suddenly came to and hurried away to collect Melsom. As he reached the door of Sophie’s office, she called after him. ‘If you want to swear then feel free, but please wait till I can’t hear you.’

Sophie finished her tea and walked through to Pillay in the main incident room. ‘Any luck with forensics?’

‘Yes. There are some scrapes on the nearside front wing that are consistent with a body collision. Liz Angel has just emailed a forensics report on the paint fragments found on his clothes. Should be here in a minute or two. But the description of the colour seems to match.’

‘Can we just double-check everything, Lydia? I want to be sure that we have all the statements and details, and that it is all consistent. Okay?’

The young detective spread the pile of documents out in front of her, picking up each paper as Sophie listed it.

‘GP statements about parents. GP statement about Donna. GP statement about David Goodenough. School admission dates from Walsall. Three statements from neighbours. Statement from Mr Goodenough senior’s employer. Statement from Relate counsellor.’

Lydia’s computer pinged, indicating an incoming email message. She read it carefully.

‘Yes. Confirmation. The paint matches the colour code on the van. Shall I print it?’

Sophie nodded. Pillay added the new page to the sheaf.

‘Copy of section from Donna’s grandmother’s will. Copy of ownership transfer documents for the flat. Statement from solicitor.’ She paused. ‘That should be it. Have I forgotten anything?’

‘No, ma’am. We just need whatever Barry and Jimmy find this afternoon.’

‘And the West Midlands team are on their way?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Liz Angel said they were just leaving.’

‘Good. In that case I’ll phone him now.’

Sophie sat down and dialled. ‘Hello, Mr Goodenough. Is the flat okay?’ She listened. ‘We finished with it as a crime scene a couple of days ago, so it’s no problem. It’s probably a lot more convenient for you than staying in the guest house. And more comfortable?’ Pause. ‘That’s good. I’ve phoned because some more information has come to light that I need to check with you. Could you call in to the station this evening? Maybe about seven if it’s convenient? That’s great. Bye.’

She replaced the handset.

‘That was very smooth, ma’am. I can see where your daughter gets her acting talents from,’ said Pillay.

Sophie laughed. ‘Time for me to stir up some people in Southampton, I think. I want Barry to have as smooth a ride as possible. I think I might ask Tom Rose to allocate someone to keep an eye on Gilbert Road. Just in case our friend smells a rat.’