Don't Turn Around (22 page)

DI Allison frowned, huffing his words. ‘With all due respect …’

‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. There is no respect. I was a good copper in Westlea. What did I get for taking that serial rapist off the streets? Shafted, that’s what. I’ve a good mind to leave this department and join a neighbouring force where my intuition is valued.’

‘Steady on Jennifer, what’s got into you?’

‘I’ll tell you what’s got into me. When I come to you for help, all you do is ask me about my counsellor, who I haven’t seen in months, by the way. Look at any team of coppers and you’ll see they’re all messed up in their own way. It goes with the territory. So why do I get singled out as some sort of crazy woman?’

‘I’m sorry if you feel that way but …’

Jennifer silenced her DI with her hand. ‘I know you think I’m out of order speaking to you like this, but how would you feel if it was you? I know you got my dad the sack, and I’m guessing it’s because you held a torch for my mum. I don’t hold it against you because I respect you as my boss. Why can’t you give me the same courtesy? If I was a bloke would you treat me the same way?’

DI Allison leaned forward in his chair as he intertwined his fingers. ‘Just exactly what do you want from me, Jennifer?’

‘Either you start using me effectively or I’m putting in for a transfer to another force.’

A ghost of a smile crossed DI Allison’s lips. ‘Seeing you like this, with fire in your belly; you remind me of your mother.’

Jennifer took a seat. ‘It’s been a long time coming.’

‘In that case, yes. And I think I owe you an apology …’

Jennifer exhaled in relief, ‘Sir, after the way I’ve just lunged at you I’d say we’re even.’

‘No, it’s only fair you know why I’ve been so off lately. It’s my son, he’s come back into my life ... I’ve had some concerns.’

Jennifer had known for some time of DI Allison’s estranged son, the one his wife had not yet discovered. ‘Oh. Have you told your wife?’

‘No, not yet. The thing is, you know him … it’s Ethan.’

Jennifer’s mouth fell open. Why hadn’t she seen it before? The same confident stride, the same strong jawline. Was that why he was so fascinated with her? Because she got more attention from his father than he did? ‘Oh. I see.’

‘Anyway it’s all sorted out now.’

Jennifer nodded, wondering if he had heard the rumours about them. If he had, she didn’t want to talk about it.

‘I know I’ve been a jack the lad in the past, but your mother … I genuinely cared about her …’ The DI said, his voice breaking off as he swallowed back his regret.

‘I promised her I’d look out for you, but I’ve taken that too far.’ He glanced out the window before bringing his attention back to her.

‘Anyway, no more excuses. I’ll tell you everything you need to know about Frank Foster.’

S
ergeant Elizabeth Knight
nodded to her colleagues as she stood outside the interview room. The mention of Frank Foster brought with it the chilling memory of her visit to his flat, and she wished she had been allowed to bring a colleague to make up the numbers. His cold stare weighed heavy on her mind, and their encounter disturbed her sleep as unresolved questions whispered in the darkness.

Detective Sergeant Scott stroked his greying moustache as he briefed Elizabeth prior to the interview. It was a mannerism she recognised, one that meant he had a slippery fish in his grip; one he could not afford to lose. His cockney accent came in soft tones in the narrow hall leading to the pokey interview room. ‘The ‘softly softly’ approach won’t work with this geezer. There’s no point in stroking his ego either. He thinks he’s too good for the like of us. You go in there and act like you don’t give a toss, then get under his skin. I’ll be sitting out here, so any problems just shout, OK girl?’

Elizabeth nodded. As a uniformed sergeant it meant a lot to be entrusted with such an interview, although it was not as if they had much choice, given that Frank had insisted he would only speak to her. She peered through the open doorway at him. He was dressed more like a solicitor than a suspect. His blue shirt stretched over his broad shoulders as he sat with a face set in grim determination. Elizabeth took in the silver cufflinks, the polished black shoes. Even his thick black hair looked as if it had recently been cut. Frank had been ready for this day. Ready and waiting. Taking a deep breath, she entered the room.

‘Mr Foster, I’m going to launch straight into interview so we can record everything on tape, OK?’

Frank’s eyes lit up in recognition, and he cocked his head to one side. ‘Ah El-iza-beth, so good to meet you again. Please, call me Frank.’

‘As you wish.’ Elizabeth dragged the chair against the cigarette-cratered carpet, resting her notebook on the desk across from him. Frank’s presence filled the room, and the grimy fluorescent bulbs cast his skin in a yellowish tinge. Elizabeth cleared her throat. They were sitting too close together for her liking and she mentally worked out her exit strategy should things turn nasty. From the things Sam Beswick had said in his interviews, Frank Foster was not a man to be trifled with.

E
lizabeth unwrapped
a fresh set of tapes from their clear plastic packaging and activated the tape machine. She would get Frank to sign them at the end of interview and they would be sealed and exhibited for court. But only if there was a successful case to attach them to.

Introductions out of the way, Elizabeth spoke in cool authoritative tones, driven by the heartbeat racing in her chest.

‘Tell me everything you know about the death of Martina Jackson, also known as Tina Jackson.’

Frank cracked his knuckles as his face creased in a macabre smile. ‘She’s a whore and she’s dead. Is that enough?’

Elizabeth locked eyes, refusing to be stared down. ‘No, it’s not. I want you to start from the first encounter you had with Tina, right up until the last.’

‘Sure. The first time I met her I was just a kid. She had a real mouth. I remember her saying to me once, “come back when you know what to do with it.” I guess I did, because the next time I met her I fucked her good.’ He paused, taking in Elizabeth’s nonplussed expression. ‘I didn’t see her again until recently, when Sam brought her back to his place. I had a key to his flat and I let myself in, thinking he’d be coming back with some beers. I was surprised when I heard Tina’s voice when he got back. I didn’t want to spoil his fun so I hid in the bathroom. You know what it’s like when you’re that age, horny all the time.’ His face broke into a salacious smile.

‘And what happened next?’ Elizabeth said, dropping her gaze to the notepad.

‘They went to the bedroom, but Tina started mocking him, saying he wasn’t up to the job. Like I said, she had a big mouth. Next thing I know she comes into the bathroom effing and blinding about having a split lip. That’s when she saw me. Well, the old girl went crazy, screaming the house down. Sam grabbed her, there was a scuffle and somehow we got caught up in the shower curtain. Sam dragged her onto the bed, wrapping the curtain around her head. I told him to stop, but he wasn’t listening. He stuffed a pillow over her head and suffocated her. I didn’t think he had the balls.’

‘And what were you doing during all of this?’

Frank shrugged. ‘It wasn’t any of my business so I left him to it. He pulled a suitcase from the top of his wardrobe and said he was going to hide the body. That’s about the time the enormity of his actions hit him, because he started throwing up. I felt sorry for the kid, so I helped him get rid of her.’

‘How?’ Elizabeth said, inwardly thrilled with the admission.

‘We put her in the suitcase and I dragged it to my car. I drove to the Blakewater River and threw her over the bridge. It means Black Water. Apparently it’s a popular suicide spot.’

Elizabeth leaned forward to clarify the point. ‘So you’re telling me you weren’t responsible for Tina’s murder, but you did help dispose of the body?’

Frank nodded. ‘That is correct.’

‘Were you under any duress to do so?’ Elizabeth said, in order to negate any defences he might come up with later on.

Frank snickered. ‘From Sam? Don’t be stupid, he’s just a kid.’

Elizabeth frantically scribbled notes to help her keep track. She needed to get through as much as she could with him before examining his story for more detail. ‘What can you tell me about a Mr Michael Osborne?’

‘What do you want to know?’ Frank said.

‘What do you know about his death?’

Frank leaned forward onto the table and unconsciously Elizabeth leaned in to listen. Like a spider drawing in his prey, his eyes rolled upwards to greet hers, the corners of his mouth set in a ghoulish smile. ‘I killed the bastard,’ he whispered, drawing out his tongue and licking his lips.

Elizabeth’s felt the adrenalin rush as she sped through the caution. ‘You … you seem very calm about your admission, Frank. Why don’t you start by telling me everything you know?’

‘I knew this day would come. I just didn’t expect it so soon.’ Frank said, now rocking slightly in the chair. Pent up energy radiated from every pore and he seemed unable to keep still, even for a second. Hardly the type of person that could cope in the confines of prison.

‘Why did you kill Michael Osborne?’

‘He had it coming. Lots of people do. But you know that, don’t you?’ Frank said.

Elizabeth remembered DC Scott’s words and she reminded herself to play it cool. ‘I don’t know any such thing.’

‘Oh, I think you do. You deal with the dirty leeches every day of the week. Rapists, robbers, people that prey on the weak and vulnerable. It must grind in your gut when you see them get off. And let’s face it, most of them do, because the police aren’t very good at their jobs. What if you had the power to give them a little restorative justice? I’m only doing what the rest of you fantasise about.’

‘And what are you?’ Elizabeth said.

Frank narrowed his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You mentioned the criminals I deal with. The rapists, the muggers and the murderers. What are you?’ Elizabeth said, the words dripping with sarcasm.

Frank smiled. ‘I’m the Grim Reaper. I tap these people on the shoulder when their time is up. I could have done so much more if Sam hadn’t chickened out. Still, his time will come and one day the old Grim Reaper will be tapping on your shoulder too.’

Elizabeth’s guard dropped as her face fell.

A smile played on Frank’s lips. ‘What? Don’t look so alarmed. I’m only stating the obvious. You planning on living forever, darling?’

Elizabeth took a slow cool breath. ‘Who else have you killed?’

‘You’re the detective. You tell me,’ Frank said, cracking his knuckles.

‘Why don’t we talk about how you killed Mr Osborne and move on from there.’

Frank leaned forward in his chair. ‘Ah, look at your face. Have I rattled you? Sorry, it was not my intention. You know, if you took your hair down and dressed a bit more feminine, you’d be a real knock out.’

Elizabeth glared at her suspect, hating that her voice had risen an octave. ‘It’s Sergeant Knight to you. I asked you a question, how did you kill Michael Osborne?’

Frank tutted. ‘There you go again, spoiling the party. Just when we were getting so well. Let me tell you something. I run this interview, not you. You want to know why that is? Because all the cards are in my hands.’

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, and Frank waved a finger to stop her.

‘Ah ah ah, now don’t interrupt. I’ve just done your career the biggest favour. I’m going to make you famous. This interview will be played all over the country. You’ll be able to write a book about it. So you listen while I talk.’

‘Focus on the criminal offences and it’s a deal.’

Frank nodded. ‘I like that. You remind me of someone. She had a smart mouth too. Unfortunately, she’s not with us anymore.’

Elizabeth bit her lip as she thought of the police officers searching Frank’s flat. She still needed physical evidence, as he could easily backtrack on his confession later. ‘I need specifics; dates, times. When did this all start?’

Frank leaned into the tape recorder. ‘I have harboured my feelings for some time. It’s the natural order, the way things should be. I expect one day the rest of the world will catch up with my thinking. It’s not just criminals that deserve to die. People that abuse their position of power are villains in disguise and the truth is closing in. How is your truth Eli-za-beth? Is your conscience clear?’

Elizabeth was painfully aware of the ticking clock on the wall. She needed a reaction, and purposely stifled a yawn in response to Frank’s grand speech. ‘Let’s say we start from the beginning and work your way through the people you
claim
to have killed.’

A flicker of annoyance crossed Frank’s face. ‘Claimed! You really have no idea who you’re talking to, do you? I killed them all right. Mr Michael Osborne – a drug-dealing pimp. I smashed his face in before kicking the chair out from his legs as he whimpered for mercy. He couldn’t even die with dignity. Your pathetic investigation failed to even recognise the fact that he was murdered.’ Frank said, spittle gathering in the corners of his lips as the words poured out. ‘Then there was Stanley, the kiddie fiddler and retired school teacher. Everyone knew he was a child molester, but nobody had the guts to do anything – until I came along that is, and smoked him to hell. Somebody had to take a stand, and it certainly wasn’t going to be you.’

Elizabeth nodded, not wanting to break the momentum. ‘Please carry on.’

Frank shifted in his chair. ‘Yes, I can see I’ve got your attention now. I got Mrs Harris’s attention too. What a waste of life that was, flapping around on her back for her inhaler, those big pudgy jaws opening and closing like a fish out of water. Quite funny really.’ Frank paused and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I think that’s enough for you to go on for now.’

Concealing her shaking hands under the table, Elizabeth sighed, as if she was talking to a naughty school child. ‘Frank. Everything you’ve told me so far is hearsay. You’ve not given me any times or dates, nothing definitive. I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve made the whole thing up.’

Frank response came in a low grumble. ‘That’s what Sam thought until Tina.’

Elizabeth stared coldly. ‘Are you talking about Tina Jackson? Because we’ve never found a body.’

Frank clenched his jaw. ‘I really don’t like your tone. I told you that I would be in command of this interview, not you. You want me to give it to you on a plate? Well hard luck. You’re certainly not competent to investigate murders, none of you are.’

‘Then why did you ask for me?

Frank wiped his mouth again in disgust. ‘Because I had plans for you. You were my pièce de résistance.’

Elizabeth responded with a blank look.

‘Don’t you remember our little meeting?’ Frank said, ‘I believe we have some unfinished business.’

Elizabeth’s fingers bit into her palms as she span another lie, reassuring herself that DS Scott was sitting outside. Goading suspects was not a tactic she used often, but it occasionally yielded results. ‘I have no recollection of meeting you, Mr Foster. Are you sure it was me?’

Frank cracked his knuckles again, ‘You think you’re so smart, don’t you, playing games. I know you remember that day, so don’t try to pretend.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t, but please explain if it is relevant.’

Frank banged the table with his fists, his face twisted in a scowl. ‘You must remember! You came so close that day, snooping uninvited in my room. The sketchpad on my bed, you must remember.’

‘So where is this sketchpad?’ Elizabeth asked, her thoughts returning to the search team at the flat, hunting for evidence.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know? Shame you’re not going to see it,’ Frank said.

Elizabeth gave a condescending smirk. ‘Frank, I think it’s time you step into the real world and be honest with me.’

‘Honest! You’re a fine one to talk about being honest. When you interviewed me about Mrs Harris, you lied to try to catch me out, saying she was found right away, and then you lied about not being alone. You deserved to be taught a lesson that day. But I was ready to play the long game. I had it all planned out.’

‘Perhaps you would like to enlighten me.’

Frank’s gave a low growl. ‘Believe me, there’s nothing I’d like better.’

Elizabeth felt every sense sharpen as the adrenalin began to flow. She was about to light the keg and she prayed she would come away unscathed. ‘You know what I think, Frank? I think you’re a fantasist. You met this vulnerable young boy named Sam and compared stories in order to impress each other. But both your stories were built on lies. You lied about your family, your background, and your father being the Chief Constable. In fact, he is a downtrodden used car salesman who left you to start another family half way across the world. Is your real life so terrible Frank, that you would make up this persona of being a serial killer to escape it?’