Urge to Kill (1) (7 page)

But, if this woman knew his name, was able to recognise him, would that be a good thing? It might not be to his advantage, depending of course on what use he found for her. She could be a very potent weapon against DI Turrell and would be a suitable subject for his next statement. The thought excited him and he began to imagine how it would devastate the Inspector.

However, she might be more useful to him alive, at least for a while. If he found out more about her, then he would learn more about the Inspector. Having made his decision, he finished his cappuccino and strode across the foyer towards the group.

The old lady offered an easy introduction and he bent towards her putting his hand solicitously on her arm.

‘How are you feeling now?’

‘Oh fine, thank you. It certainly wasn’t a pleasant experience. But the police were very kind weren’t they?’

This gave Clive the opening he needed and he nodded towards the young woman. ‘Not to everyone.’ She seemed upset that anyone had witnessed her interaction so he allowed concern for committing a possible social faux pas to cross his face. ‘Oh, so sorry. I couldn’t help noticing.’

The group were all looking towards the woman, who seemed a little embarrassed by their attention.

‘He is just someone I know.’

‘So you’re not the chief suspect then?’

‘Not guilty. I’m hoping to get a job here.’

This was interesting. Clive needed to know more.

‘What job will you be doing, my dear?’ the old lady asked.

Clive could have kissed her for asking the exact question he had in mind.

‘Receptionist. They need someone urgently, due to sickness.’

‘Well, they have the kindest receptionists here and I’m sure you will just fit right in,’ the old lady said and patted the woman’s hand.

‘She’s right.’ He decided to be bold and offered his hand to the old lady. ‘Clive Draper. Mrs…?’

‘Mrs Cox.’

‘I wondered if you needed a lift home. I know how Mother would feel if she been caught up in something like this.’ Although giving his full attention to Mrs Cox, from the corner of his eye he saw the Inspector’s woman smile. He had established his kindness and had moved a step towards earning her trust.

‘That’s very kind of you, Dear, but I’ve called my daughter. She should be here shortly.’

Clive’s smile was genuine. ‘If you are sure?’ Mrs Cox nodded and smiled. For a moment he felt at a loss on how to prolong the conversation so he stood as if to leave, then he leant towards the Inspector’s woman holding out his hand. ‘Good luck with the job…Miss?’

‘Featherstone, Eppie. Oh no…it’s Turrell. I’ve just got married.’

‘How lovely. I wish you so much happiness, my dear.’

He let Mrs Cox gush before carrying on, deciding to ignore the obvious connection to DI Turrell. That maiden name was ringing bells with him. ‘Featherstone? Seems familiar.’ He looked suitably puzzled hoping that she would enlighten him.

‘Probably Pete Featherstone, my dad. He’s a yachtsman and always in the news, usually for getting blown off course or capsizing.’

‘That’s it. I used to follow all the news bulletins.’ Clive sat down next to her trying to think of something intelligent to say about yachting. ‘It always seems very dangerous.’

‘It is unless you know what you are doing, and even then…’

‘Wasn’t he in that race where everyone had to be rescued? The big storm?’ He sought to remember the news reports of a few years back.

‘Yes. But he was one of the lucky ones and ended up helping to bring in some of the other boats.’

‘You must be very proud of him.’

‘I am.’

He noticed a sense of sadness. ‘But you miss him?’

‘Sometimes. But I’m with Matt now.’

‘For better or for worse?’

Eppie smiled at that and the sadness lifted. ‘Probably worse for a few days until all of this is wrapped up. He’s upset just because I’m here.’

‘It will just be the stress of the case.’

‘I would give him something nice to eat when he gets home, my dear,’ Mrs Cox interjected, ‘and it will all be forgotten. That’s what I used to do when my Alf was out of sorts.’

‘I’ll give that a try,’ Eppie laughed.

Mrs Cox had served her usefulness and Clive wished her daughter would come and whisk her away so he could have Eppie to himself. However, he smiled at her to keep up his caring persona. Eppie was quiet and he guessed she was wondering what meal she could prepare to ease her husband’s anger. He needed to get back into conversation with her, so he ventured a question. ‘What are his favourites?’

‘I haven’t really cooked for him yet, but we both enjoyed the Italian food we had on holiday.’

Fate was indeed handing him Mrs Turrell on a plate. It couldn’t be more perfect. ‘Then you need Rossini’s delicatessen. You are sure to find everything he likes there.’

She jumped at the idea, and so he began giving directions before pausing, as if struck by an idea. ‘Look, why don’t you follow me? I’ve been promising Mother for ages that I would pick up some of the ham she likes.’

‘Well, I haven’t been interviewed yet. Plus, I don’t want to take you out of your way.’

‘You won’t be and I was about to have a light lunch, so you don’t need to worry about the time.’

‘Well, if you are sure?’

‘It will be my pleasure.’ Even as he said it, he realised what a stroke of luck this was. It felt as if the gods were supporting him. He couldn’t lose.

Clive left Eppie and Mrs Cox and went back to the coffee bar, knowing he had better look at the early lunch menu, otherwise he couldn’t justify remaining at the small table while the other tables around him were beginning to fill up. Ordering a salad from the lite bite section and another cappuccino, he settled back to wait.

Mrs Cox went off with her daughter, giving a friendly wave as she did. Then it wasn’t long before the head receptionist, who reminded him of a stately galleon, came to collect Eppie. The two of them disappeared into the offices behind the reception desk.

While he was idly picking at the boring salad, the Inspector strode up to the reception desk. Clive watched as his eyes went to where Eppie had been sitting and saw him turn away as he realised she wasn’t there. Neither relief nor disappointment registered on the DI’s face, but Clive guessed he would always try to keep his feelings under control in a work situation. It said something for the extent of his anger that he had lost his temper before.

Well, the inspector was going to have a lot more to contend with by the time Clive had finished with him.

CHAPTER 11

M
att forced himself to concentrate on what Jason was saying although his mind kept slipping back to Eppie. Jason handed Matt an evidence bag and inside was something Matt would have never expected, a small toy soldier in what at first glance appeared to be a uniform from around the Napoleon period. He glanced up in surprise at Jason.

‘Where?’ Matt asked. Jason didn’t seem shocked at the find, but then he had been in forensics for nearly thirty years and had seen everything a few times over.

‘Folds of the dress,’ he replied laconically, chewing.

‘Doll, lollypop, and now a toy soldier. What the hell is going on here?’

‘Damned if I know. The professor is bound to have a theory though,’ Jason grinned.

‘I’ll bet he will.’ Matt nodded, fully aware that he would be forced to listen to the team’s profiler. Everyone knew he disliked working with the man, who always acted as if he was superior and cleverer than anyone else.

‘I would say, looking at the dust pattern, that the murderer hid his props behind the heating panel at least two days ago.’

‘So he’s a planner.’

‘With access.’

‘And almost certainly wore gloves.’ Matt sighed thinking of the difficulties this gave the team. ‘What about the door?’

‘Don’t think he is the sort to slip up, but we’ve dusted, just in case.’

‘We’ll have to eliminate the staff.’

Jason shifted his gum to one side. ‘Already started with the maintenance department. Surprising how many men it takes to keep these places going.’

‘Good. Let me know how it goes. I can spare a constable or two if necessary.’

Jason shook his head. Matt knew he much preferred to work with his own team whenever possible. ‘Got that lady…’

Matt raised his eyebrows in question.

‘Big lady, posh hair do—head receptionist or something. She’s checking if they’ve had any outside company doing work in the therapy rooms recently.’

Matt handed the evidence bag back to Jason. He would find out everything he could about the soldier down to the last detail of where and when it was made.

‘I’ll let you have the details as soon as I can, Matt.’

‘Thanks.’ Matt left Jason to make his way back to Reception intending to speak to Mrs Trowbridge.

There was no sign of Eppie or Mrs Trowbridge, although that estimable lady had left him a sealed envelope. He opened it as he walked back to her office where Sam was waiting with the therapist, Stuart Williams, who couldn’t seem to remember where he had worked before.

There was silence as Matt entered the room. Sam had his sheepdog-cornering look fixed on a young man, who was good looking except for his intense sullen look. Sam kept his gaze fixed as Matt sat down beside him, while the young man hitched himself up like a condemned man hoping for a lenient judge.

Sam spoke without looking at Matt, his eyes on the therapist. ‘This is Stuart Williams, Guv. Employed one week and can’t seem to remember where he last worked. My guess is that he has been a bad boy back there and doesn’t want his reputation to catch up with him.’

Matt took a moment to read the contents of the envelope before he looked up and spoke to Stuart. ‘Well, Mr Williams, does Fairfield Health and Sports club ring any bells?’ For a moment, Stuart’s eyes flickered as he realised he couldn’t hide any more, and that he would have to tell the truth. Matt watched the turmoil in him and saw the change, as he had seen many times before, when the suspect becomes almost aggressive in their own defence and quite willing to send their own Grandma down the line if it would save their skins.

‘OK, OK, I’ll tell you what happened.’ Stuart held up his hands almost like a supplicant.

Matt waited, watching as Stuart formed the best way to present the story in his head.

‘She was a client, and well, you’re not supposed, supposed to fancy them, are you?’

Matt nodded for him to continue, making sure that his face showed none of the disgust he was feeling.

‘Except that it’s bloody difficult sometimes, when they act like that,’ Stuart continued.

Matt refused to give him the encouragement he was looking for and instead waited. Stuart looked from Matt to Sam before stumbling on.

‘They…she…are always flirting and acting…you know. And it was damned hard at times not to want to…well, you know.’

‘So you couldn’t control yourself with the clients?’ Matt asked.

‘Not all of them. I mean more than half are old bags you wouldn’t want to touch. Unless you were getting paid to of course.’

‘So it was just the young, pretty ones,’ Sam threw in.

Stuart did not seem to realise that he was backing himself into a corner. ‘They were up for it. Said I was fit.’ Stuart flexed his muscles as he enjoyed the memory.

‘Until?’ Matt questioned.

There was silence from Stuart. He knew he was going down a one-way alley. ‘Till this silly cow starts making a fuss, saying I molested her. I reckon she makes a habit of it. Probably wanted money. Anyhow, I wasn’t stopping around there to be taken for a ride.’

Matt sighed and stood up. ‘Take a full statement, Sam. Then check with Sussex Police; see if they need Mr Williams to answer any other charges. I’ve got more important things to do.’ Matt turned at the door. ‘Oh, and you may want to come clean with the management here before we have to do it for you.’ Matt was pleased to see that trapped look had returned to Stuart’s face before he closed the door behind him.

CHAPTER 12

T
he timing was perfect. Having just finished his uninteresting salad, Clive was contemplating investing in an unaccustomed dessert, when he saw Mrs Turrell come from behind Reception accompanied by the matron-like woman. Both women seemed pleased and shook hands, as if they were sealing a deal. It looked good.

The thought excited him, and he began to imagine all sorts of possibilities. With the DI’s wife working on reception, it would give him the chance to build up some sort of rapport with her, as he had done with Sandi.

Clive already had Sandi eating out of his hand, so he saw no reason why this spirited young lady would be immune. He would become her confidant and friend, only while she was at work of course. She would be lonely with her new husband tied up in this dreadful murder case. And Clive planned to keep him busy for a long time yet. If he played his cards right, this girl would provide him with valuable information about DI Turrell. ‘Know your enemy’ would be his motto, and the DI’s wife would become his special agent.

Having perfected the role of a caring, almost saintly son, women trusted Clive; they saw him as a ‘new man.’ They liked to feel they understood his burden, and he patiently listened to their advice.

He practised his charm on the women in the office, and he knew any of the single girls would jump at the chance to go out with him, if asked, but he was adept at keeping them at bay, apart that is from dear Anne.

He watched as Eppie took a quick detour to glance down the corridor to the right, guessing she wanted to tell her good news to the DI. There was only minor disappointment on her face as she came towards him. Clive stood, as trained, as she approached.

‘Good news?’

‘Yes. I start tomorrow.’

‘That’s quick.’

‘Yes. One on sick leave and another on maternity.’

‘Well done. Would you like lunch or a coffee to celebrate?’

‘No. But thank you. I have a lot to do if I’m going to appease the angry husband.’

So the DI would arrive home to her news, and Clive was sure he wouldn’t be happy. ‘Ah yes, the delicatessen. It’s not far.’

As he led the way out of the building towards the car park, he realised having Mrs Turrell follow him meant that she would know his car. This would put him at a disadvantage for the next part of his plan. But there again, Clive reasoned, if Mother and Margaret were anything to go by, women hardly noticed cars as long as they were clean and in working order.