Frozen (19 page)

‘Married!' Megan gasped. ‘My God, Patrick, I've heard of being economical with the truth but…'

‘No, wait,' he cut in, ‘I'm not engaged any more. I realised soon after I arrived here that it was a mistake. The trouble is she won't accept that it's over. She thinks that when we see each other again I'll change my mind.'

‘Do you really expect me to believe that?'

‘Why not? It's true.'

‘So why
are
you going to see her again?'

‘I can't really avoid it. She's still living in my apartment.'

‘What are you going to do?'

Patrick shrugged and shook his head. ‘I don't know. Move my stuff out, I suppose. It's only a rented place, so she can stay there if she likes. I'm not looking forward to it, though.'

‘Do you think you'll have second thoughts – when you see her again, I mean?'

‘Who knows. I expect she'll be really nice to me, which will make things even worse.'

‘Do you think she'll try persuading you not to come back here after the holidays?'

‘Probably. I feel really bad about letting her down. At the end of the day I'm just being selfish. When I started my doctorate it was like a whole new horizon suddenly opened up. I'm not even sure I want to go back to police work when I finish here. I suppose I just want to keep my options open.'

‘But she wants you to settle down?'

Patrick nodded. ‘How's your head?' he asked.

‘Oh, still throbbing a bit.' She wondered if he had deliberately changed the subject. ‘I think it's partly a hangover. Serves me right for drinking all your whisky.' She smiled in spite of herself. ‘I think I'll try and get some sleep now.' She lay her head on the pillow. ‘Goodnight, Patrick.'

‘Goodnight.' He bent over and stroked her head. She froze. What had she done? Letting this man she hardly knew into her house. Into her bedroom.

‘It's all right, I'm going.' She listened to his footsteps going down the stairs. Listened for the sound of the living room door closing. She slid out of bed, her head pounding with the effort of standing up. Tiptoeing across the carpet, she closed the door and turned the key in the lock.

*   *   *

In the grey winter dawn, the woman's skin reminded Costello of the wafer-thin smoked chicken his wife bought at Safeway. Blue veins criss-crossed the temples and her features had the gaunt look of a corpse, flesh pulled tight across the bones by the wig.

‘We going in or have I got to stay out here freezing my arse off?' she squawked.

He led her through the heavy doors of the police station, grateful for the warmth and the reassuring smell of disinfectant. A couple of drunks were leaning against the desk and a woman with a black eye was sobbing silently in a corner.

‘Is the boss in yet?' he asked the woman behind the desk. ‘I need to take Miss Bunce to an interview room.'

When they got there Leverton was already waiting. ‘Ah, Eileen! How lovely to see you,' he said, eyebrows raised at the sight of her silk shorts and thigh-length boots.

‘You can shut up, you sarky bastard.' She settled into a chair. Costello noticed the flesh at the top of her legs was puckered into purple-tipped goosepimples.

‘PC Costello tells me you have some interesting information for us.' Leverton seated himself opposite the woman.

‘I can't talk on an empty stomach,' she replied, folding her arms on the table and leaning towards Leverton. ‘I'll have a bacon butty and a cup of tea, I think.' Leverton nodded to Costello.

‘Two sugars!' she shouted as Costello disappeared behind the door.

*   *   *

The sound of the telephone invaded Megan's dreams. She fumbled for the receiver, her eyes still closed as she mumbled her name.

‘Megan? Are you there?' The voice at the other end of the phone was Martin Leverton's.

‘Martin?'

‘Yes. What can I say? You were right, and all I can do is offer you my humblest apologies and ask you to forgive me.'

‘Martin, what are you talking about?' Megan sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes and peering at the clock. It was half-past nine.

‘Tyrone Campbell – Maria Fellowes' pimp; you were right about him having nothing to do with the murders.'

‘Oh, really?'

‘Yes – I've just received some information that rules him out completely. But there's been another development. Listen, are you still in this? Because I've got a real crisis on my hands.'

Twenty minutes later Megan was driving past the university on her way to the police station. She wondered what Patrick would think when he woke up. He had seemed to be in such a deep sleep that she hadn't wanted to disturb him.

She had left a note propped up on the coffee table wishing him a happy Christmas and explaining why she'd had to go. In retrospect, it was probably the best thing. She hoped that by the time she saw him again the embarrassment of last night would have worn off.

She tried to concentrate on what Leverton had said, but the image of Patrick sitting beside her bed kept flashing into her mind. In a few hours he would be back in Holland; his girlfriend hell-bent on luring him back.

‘My God, you really know how to pick them,' she muttered to herself, simultaneously fantasizing about waking up on Christmas Day with Patrick beside her. In reality she'd be waking up in the spare room at Ceri's with Emily leaping all over her. Still, she thought, it would be better than waking up alone in her bed at home.

She pulled into the car park outside the police station, her feet crunching across the gritted snow. Leverton had a pot of coffee waiting for her in his office. Obviously anxious to make amends, he apologised again before telling her what had happened.

‘I've got this prostitute in the interview room downstairs. She swears she saw Rob Donalsen having sex with Maria Fellowes in an unmarked squad car on the night she disappeared.'

Megan raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

‘As you know, I've suspected for some time that he's been taking advantage of his job in Vice,' Leverton went on. ‘The thing is, I've just had his medical details back.' He paused, staring straight into Megan's eyes. ‘His blood group's AB.'

Megan sat in stunned silence for a moment. At last, she thought, he's decided to lay his cards on the table. Does he really expect me to swallow that bull about only just getting the medical records?

‘Have you charged him with anything yet?'

‘Not yet, no. He admits picking Maria up but he denies having sex with her. He says he'd seen her soliciting and asked her to get into the car while he gave her an informal warning.'

‘I know you think he's a bent copper.' Megan watched Leverton's face. ‘But do you really think he's capable of something like this?'

‘That's what I was going to ask you,' Leverton said with a grim smile. ‘All I can say is the longer I do this job, the less I seem to know. I used to think I was a pretty good judge of people. In fact I used to pride myself on being able to see through the flannel most villains give you. But now … I don't know … I suppose I've come to realise that some people can be so plausible, so manipulative. It's like a twisted gift, the sort of thing that could make a straight guy into an award-winning actor.'

‘But from what you've told me about Rob Donalsen, and from what I've seen, he's given himself away at almost every turn. He's hardly a Ted Bundy when it comes to pulling the wool over people's eyes, is he?'

‘You don't think he's the killer?'

‘I didn't say that. What I mean is that Donalsen doesn't appear to be the kind of charming sociopath who fools people into thinking he's a harmless, boy-next-door type. If you want me to give you an opinion on whether he's a likely candidate for these murders, I'll need a lot more information about him and I'll have to talk to this prostitute about exactly what she saw. Presumably he doesn't have an alibi for Monday night?'

‘No. He was on duty. Says he was out on the beat, driving around alone. He's not supposed to do that – there are always supposed to be two officers present when they make an arrest – I had a word with Costello about it, but he's very cagey about saying anything against his boss. It was Costello who brought Eileen Bunce, the prostitute, in. He drove round for a couple of hours after she'd told him about seeing Donalsen with Maria – couldn't decide what to do for the best.'

‘What about relationships?' Megan asked. ‘Is Donalsen married?'

‘Separated.'

‘When did they split up?'

‘Not long ago. He was off sick for a week when it happened. It was only a couple of months ago, I think.'

‘We need to check that, then. It could have been a trigger for the murders. What does the wife do?'

‘She used to be a secretary here but she left last year.'

‘I need more details about her. Is there anyone here she was close to? I mean a colleague she might have kept in touch with?'

‘I'll find out. Would you like to go and talk to Eileen Bunce while I do that?'

‘Yes, okay.' Megan drained her coffee cup and stood up. ‘Before I do –'

‘What?'

‘On the phone you said you'd received some information that cleared Tyrone Campbell of any involvement in the murders. What was it?

‘His blood group – it's B.'

Megan frowned as she looked at him. ‘So you didn't bother going to Winson Green last night, then?'

‘Yes I did. We didn't have any record of his blood group on our files, you see. When I got there I had a chat with the Governor. He's a new chap and he'd come across Tyrone Campbell before when he was Assistant Governor at Shrewsbury. Evidently Campbell was done for attempted rape on a woman in Telford. He was held at Shrewsbury jail and West Mercia Police had a record of his blood group on file. I contacted them as soon as I got back from Winson Green, and I got a call from them first thing this morning.'

Megan walked across to the window, trying to avoid Leverton's eyes. She didn't want her expression to be misconstrued as gloating. ‘Did you actually speak to Tyrone Campbell?' She glanced at the crowds of last-minute Christmas shoppers in the street below. ‘I was wondering if he might know who the killers are.'

‘He wouldn't talk,' Leverton replied. ‘Didn't want to know.'

‘So, we still have no idea who the O man is.' She turned round to face Leverton. ‘I don't want to end up arguing with you again, Martin, but have you got any further at BTV?'

‘Don't worry, I'm keeping an open mind about what you said. I spoke to the head of the security firm last night – you know, the bloke who found Maria's body – and we're checking out a staff list he gave us. We're doing the same for the catering people and the cleaning staff. Nearly all of them are casuals or part-timers and I wouldn't mind betting that a few of them will have been through the doors of this place at some time or another.'

‘Could I have a copy of the lists?' Megan asked. Catch him while he's in a good mood, she thought.

‘Yes, I don't see why not.' Leverton smiled. ‘I'll get them photocopied for you.'

Put the flags out, Megan thought. ‘Right,' she said, picking up her bag. ‘I'd better go and speak to Miss Bunce. What's she like, by the way?'

Leverton screwed up his face.

‘That bad, eh?'

*   *   *

Eileen Bunce had just lit up a cigarette when Megan was shown into the room. PC Costello introduced them and Megan sat down, trying not to stare at the crooked ginger wig.

‘I'd like you to try to remember exactly what you saw when you walked past the squad car.' Megan was looking straight into the woman's eyes, noticing the thin, veined skin and the crows' feet filled with last night's blue eye-shadow.

‘He's already had a statement off me,' the woman replied, jerking a thumb at Costello. ‘What more do you want?'

‘What you told my colleagues was that you saw Maria Fellowes and Sergeant Donalsen having sex in his car. I want you to describe exactly what you saw them doing.'

The woman turned to Costello. ‘She kinky or summat?'

Megan ignored the remark and carried on. ‘Were they in the front of the car or the back?'

‘The front.' She looked askance at Megan.

‘Could you see both of them quite clearly?'

‘I could see his head and his shoulders – I was only walking past, you know. I didn't have a ringside seat!'

‘How can you be sure they were having sex?'

‘Well, for a start I could hear him grunting and groaning – right bloody racket he was making – and I could see her boots on the dashboard.'

‘Had she taken them off?'

‘No, course not!' The woman raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Her feet was up there 'cos he was shagging her on the passenger seat and there wasn't nowhere else they could have fitted.'

‘How did you know it was Maria he was with?'

‘I saw her getting into the car. I stand just up the road from her and I saw him pick her up. I got a punter a few minutes later, but he changed his mind and dropped me off in Prole Street. That's when I saw them at it.'

‘How do you know Sergeant Donalsen hadn't let Maria out of the car and picked up someone else?'

‘Her boots,' the woman replied. ‘They're the same as mine. I had them specially made by a bloke down the market who makes cowboy gear. She asked me where I got them from and went and had a pair made exactly the same. I never spoke to her again after that.'

Megan was staring intently at the woman now. ‘This might seem a strange question to ask, but I can assure you it's vital to this inquiry: I need to know what position Maria Fellowes was in when Sergeant Donalsen was having sex with her. You say you saw her boots on the dashboard – did the position of her feet indicate that she was lying on her front or her back?'