The Stranger You Know (3 page)

‘DI Derwent wants to interview her again, but he doesn’t think she was involved.’

‘Unless she’s a fuckwit.’ Derwent crossed the room, folding his stolen newspaper as he approached, and sat down at a desk that was currently unoccupied. He started casually, carelessly ransacking the desk, opening and closing drawers. ‘Who sits here?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. I did know, in fact, but I didn’t want to tell him. The desk belonged to DCI Una Burt, his superior and emphatically not a member of the very select group of colleagues that Derwent could stand. Nor was she one of the even smaller group who liked him. ‘I know they don’t want you to go through their things.’

‘That’s a nice stapler.’ He clicked it a couple of times, very fast. ‘That’s better than the one I’ve got.’

‘Josh. Concentrate.’ Godley’s tone was mild but Derwent dropped the stapler and turned around to face the boss.

‘The CPS were happy for us to charge Olesugwe but they agreed with me that we need to know more about Blessed before we decide what to do about her. I think Olesugwe will plead eventually but at the moment he’s still hoping for a miracle. Which he’s not going to get, because he’s fucked. Did Kerrigan tell you about the keys?’

‘What about them?’

‘Kerrigan had a look through his personal effects before we interviewed him. She spotted that he had the key to the shed and the car, and she just happened to ask him if there was a spare set of car keys anywhere.’

‘The car was fifteen years old,’ I explained. ‘I thought it was probably second-hand or third-hand and there was a good chance it was down to one set of keys.’

‘Well done,’ Godley said, without enthusiasm, and I blushed, wishing that Derwent had just said nothing.

Apparently oblivious, he grinned at me. ‘You see, you look vague, but you’re actually not all that stupid when you try.’

‘Thanks.’
For nothing
, I added silently.

‘Makes me wonder why you’re being left out of the big investigation.’

‘What investigation?’ I looked at Godley, whose face was like stone.

‘Josh. That’s enough.’

‘It just doesn’t seem fair of you to shut out Kerrigan. She hasn’t done anything wrong.’

‘That’s not what’s going on and you know it.’ Godley stepped back into his office. ‘Come in here and shut the door, Josh.’

Derwent was flipping through the newspaper again. He flattened it out on a double-page spread near the centre and with a flick of his wrist sent it spinning towards me. It landed by my feet. ‘Have a read of that, Kerrigan. It’s as close as you’re going to get.’

I picked it up. The headline screamed: S
ERIAL
K
ILLER
T
ARGETING
L
ONDON
’
S
S
INGLES
. Most of the space below was taken up with pictures of two young women. One had red hair to her shoulders; the other was dark and had short hair. She was huge-eyed and delicate, while the redhead was a stunner with a full mouth and slanting green eyes. Both were slim, both attractive. And dead. My eye fell on a pull quote in bold type: ‘They lived alone. No one heard their cries for help.’ And then, on the opposite page: ‘Mutilated and murdered’.

‘It’s not our case,’ Godley said, to me. ‘I’ve been asked to put together a task force in case they turn out to be connected, but I’m working with the local murder teams and they’re still officially investigating them. The victims didn’t know one another. They lived in different areas. The first woman died in January. The second was two months ago. This article is just speculation.’

I appreciated the explanation but it wasn’t really aimed at me. Nor was Derwent really complaining about me being left out. He wasn’t the type to care. He was absolutely the type to make use of a subordinate to get at his boss, though, and he wasn’t finished.

‘Oh, come on. Of course they’re connected.’ Derwent leaned over and snatched the paper back, flattening it out so he could read aloud: ‘“Both Kirsty Campbell and Maxine Willoughby lived alone. They worked within two miles of one another in central London. Friends describe both of them as bubbly and outgoing, but unlucky in love – Maxine had never found the right person, while Kirsty had recently broken off her engagement to her fiancé, Stephen Reeves (28). He describes himself as ‘heartbroken’ on the Facebook page set up in memory of Kirsty, but declined to comment for this article. Police have cleared Mr Reeves of any involvement in Kirsty’s death.”’

‘He declined to comment but they scavenged a quote from him anyway,’ I said. ‘I bet the lawyers made them put in the bit about him not being a suspect.’

Derwent read on, this time with more emphasis.

‘“And the similarities don’t end with how they lived. Kirsty and Maxine were strangled in their homes. There was no sign of a break-in at either address, suggesting that in each case they may have known their killer. Most shocking of all is the anonymous tip-off we received that both women were horribly mutilated, their bodies desecrated, their eyes gouged out. Police had not revealed this grisly detail to the public, but more than anything else it seems to suggest that Kirsty and Maxine were killed by the same person.”’

I shuddered. ‘That’s horrible. I’m not surprised they didn’t want that detail revealed. But if no one knew, it can’t be a copycat.’

‘It’s not proof of any connection between the two deaths,’ Godley said. Derwent slammed his hands down on the desk.

‘Like
fuck
it isn’t.’

‘I wanted to talk to you about that article, but not out here, Josh.’

‘Nothing to do with me.’

‘Someone tipped them off. Someone who wants there to be a connection between the murders. Someone not particularly well informed. I don’t have to look too far to find someone who fits the bill.’ I’d never heard Godley sound so stern. He turned and walked around his desk. Derwent jumped up and followed him. He didn’t even glance in my direction as he went past, his face set and pale, his hands clenched. He slammed the door after him, to make it absolutely clear, as if I hadn’t known it already, that my presence wasn’t required. The newspaper had fallen to the floor, forgotten, and I picked it up. Back at my desk, with one eye on Godley’s door to watch for Derwent’s return, I read through the rest of the article, and discovered two things. One: I knew the senior investigating officer in the Maxine Willoughby investigation all too well. Two: I had no idea whatsoever why Derwent was so angry.

But I would make it my business to find out.

Chapter 3

‘What are you doing tonight?’

I didn’t even look up. ‘Going home early.’

‘Wrong answer.’ Liv began tidying my desk around me, humming under her breath.

‘Can you stop doing that?’

‘It’s so untidy.’ Liv was the only other female detective constable on Godley’s team. She was as elegant and lovely as a Japanese ink drawing; I had never seen a strand of her long dark hair out of place. Her own desk was arranged as neatly as if she’d used a ruler to organise it.

I was basically her exact opposite in every way.

‘It’s creative mess. I work best like this.’ I slammed my hand down on a pile of papers that was beginning to slide sideways. ‘That was fine before you started messing with it.’

‘If they ever bring in a clean-desk policy—’

‘I’ll change jobs.’ I took the file she was holding and stuck it back in the middle of the muddle.

‘It hurts me,’ she said.

‘Don’t look, then.’

‘I can’t stop myself.’

‘It’s not that bad.’ I rolled back a few inches so I could see what she was talking about. ‘Okay. It looks like an explosion in an origami exhibition.’

‘Worse than that.’ She picked up my pen pot and tipped the contents out over the desk. ‘There. I think that’s how it was when I found it.’

I brushed paperclips off the page I had been reading. ‘Thanks, that’s much better. Why were you asking me about my plans?’

‘Come for a drink.’

‘I shouldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Rob’s going away tomorrow morning. Two weeks in the good old US of A.’

Her eyebrows went up. ‘Holiday?’

‘An FBI course in Virginia. His boss arranged it.’ His predatory, female boss, who had almost caused me to break up with him over the summer, so heavily had she been leaning on him to sleep with her. I’d known he was hiding something and assumed the worst. I’d been absolutely sure he was cheating on me, when the opposite was true. It was like that, with Rob. I kept waiting for everything to go wrong because no one was that perfect, and I couldn’t believe he felt the way he said he did about me. To my constant surprise, we were far beyond my usual cut-off for relationships. Most of mine had lasted weeks, not months, but here we were, still together after almost a year.

The course was too good an opportunity for him to turn down, as I’d told him when I encouraged him to go. But I hated that he was going to be gone for so long, and so far away. And I hated that DI Deborah Ormond was going too.

‘Two weeks in the States. Nice work if you can get it.’ Liv settled down on the chair next to mine, getting comfortable. ‘And how do you feel about that?’

‘Stop using your relationship-counsellor voice. I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘No, I am. I’ll be able to do whatever I want, when I want. It’ll be like being on my own again. Being free.’

Liv raised an eyebrow. ‘Still working on the commitment issues?’

‘No, because I don’t see them as a problem.’ I shuffled pages, trying to look busy. ‘I just like having options, that’s all.’

‘How does Rob feel about it?’

‘Oh, who knows. He acts as if we’ve mated for life.’

‘What a bastard.’

I glared at her. ‘We can’t all settle down and get a dog on the second date.’

‘It was our fourth,’ Liv said, ultra-dignified. ‘And not a dog. Goldie is a goldfish.’

‘Well, that’s totally different.’

She grinned. ‘Seriously, though. Is two weeks the longest the two of you have spent apart?’

‘Yes, but I haven’t seen all that much of him since he left the team.’ That was another sore point. He’d had to leave a job he loved because of me. Godley had a rule about relationships within the team and we’d been found out. One of us had had to go. Being Rob, he’d netted a promotion and a slot on the Flying Squad, but it had complicated his life and I knew he missed the old team. I sighed. ‘We just never seem to be on the same schedule.’

‘It gets a bit like that, doesn’t it? Especially in the job.’

‘So it seems. If they’re not job, they don’t understand the hours and stress and bad pay. If they are, you don’t get to see them. What’s the point?’

‘There isn’t one. You have to become a nun.’

‘I would, but the veil wouldn’t suit me.’ I checked the time, suddenly aware of the ache in my shoulders and neck from hunching over my desk. ‘Where are you going for this drink and who else has signed up?’

‘The local, and it’s just me and Joanne, and Christine. Please note, I’m not offended by you wanting to know who else is going.’

‘Joanne as in your girlfriend? I haven’t seen her in ages.’ I’d only met her a couple of times but I liked her a lot. ‘Okay, I’m in. Who is Christine?’

Liv shushed me, leaning across so she could mutter. ‘Civilian analyst. She’s been working for Godley since before I joined the team. Please don’t tell me you didn’t know who she was.’

‘Oh, her. I’d forgotten her name.’ I was aware of her, but I hadn’t paid much attention. She was young and giggly, addicted to shopping for clothes in her lunch hour and flirting with the male detectives.

Liv tilted her head to one side, like a bird about to peck. ‘Don’t judge her. You don’t know her.’

‘Okay. I don’t know her. But I don’t think we’re going to get on.’

‘She’s sweet. And she’s terrified of you.’

‘Of
me
?’ I glanced over to where she was working, facing away from me so all I could see was light brown hair in a messy up-do and a narrow back. ‘But I’m not scary at all. How is that possible?’

Liv sighed. ‘You have no idea, do you?’ She counted her points off on her fingers. ‘You never speak to her. You aren’t afraid to snap at the boys if they get out of line with sexist remarks. You’re a workaholic and you take your job very seriously. Plus you have a habit of solving our shittiest cases. Most of the team think you’re the mutt’s nuts and would sacrifice a body part for the chance to sleep with you, which you don’t seem to care about. Then again, you do have the finest bloke ever to work here warming your bed, so why would you? She worships you from afar. I made her day by telling her I’d ask you to come with us.’

‘You are kidding.’ I was feeling deeply uncomfortable.

‘Not in the least.’

‘She’ll be so disappointed when she finds out the truth.’

‘What did I say that wasn’t true?’ Liv patted my head. ‘Especially the part about being a workaholic. You really need to have a break now and then.’

I considered that for a moment. By the evening I was usually exhausted, fit for nothing but half an hour in front of the television and then bed. That was on ordinary days, when I wasn’t in the middle of a nightmare, headline-grabbing case. I’d been tired for so long, it passed for normal. I only really noticed when I was so fatigued I could neither eat nor sleep.

Now that I thought about it, none of that sounded healthy.

‘All right. You’ve persuaded me.’ Liv looked triumphant and I held up my hand to forestall her. ‘But just for one drink. Then I really have to go home.’

It was simply amazing how quickly one drink turned to three when you were having fun. I beamed across the table at Liv and Joanne, who were holding hands. Joanne was tall and dark-haired, with clear, freckled skin and high cheekbones. She looked like a model, spoke with a Scouse lilt, and had a high-flying job in the Counter Terrorism Command. Liv had met her when they both worked in Special Branch. The contrast between them was striking. Both were exceedingly attractive, but in very different ways. And they were obviously, transparently in love.

The gin loosened my tongue. ‘You know, you two make a lovely couple.’