Urge to Kill (1) (6 page)

‘Sorry, Eppie, but I won’t be able to make it home very early or even at all.’

‘I heard about your case. Look don’t worry, I’ll leave something out in case you make it.’

Her reply puzzled him. He could hear the excitement in her voice and several questions arose. Where had she heard about the case? Had the news hounds got hold of the details already? Why did she sound excited? And where was she? Matt reviewed them all and came up with the limp, ‘It sounds noisy your end?’ in the hopes that she would fill him in. He was disappointed and her reply only added to the questions.

‘Everyone is talking about the murder. Must go. Tell you all my news when you get home. Oh, and love you.’

Matt could hardly give a return assurance in front of the team and had to make do with a pathetic, ‘Same here,’ before ending the call.

Still puzzled, he sent a uniformed PC to communicate with headquarters to check if there was a press release. It would be unusual for this to happen without the officer in charge being consulted, but McRay was turning into a liability and could have contravened this rule.

Jason, Head of Forensics, brought Matt out of his reverie.

‘The bastard almost certainly wore gloves, Matt.’

Matt strained to hear what Jason had to say through the wad of chewing gum moving rhythmically about his mouth. Jason said it helped him concentrate, but Matt always found it a distraction.

‘Too careful for his own good. I don’t think we’ll get anything in there, but we’ll have a go anyway.’ Jason paused to chew while Matt waited. ‘Someone’s been at the heating panel recently so that’s where he could have stored his props. We might get lucky. Best I can do.’

Matt agreed. This wasn’t a suddenly impulsive crime of passion, where the perpetrator got carried away and careless, but one of careful planning. Matt was sure this killer wanted to say something, to make a statement. He didn’t need profiler Professor Derek Meredith to tell him that this killer would kill again and again, unless they stopped him, or her, although his instinct told him that he was looking for a man. Of course, given that the premises had more than a few female massagers who would need strong hands for their work, he thought he had better keep an open mind.

‘Thanks, Jason.’

Before he had time to move, Fluff came up.

‘Young Katie has calmed down a bit. Handled right she might be able to string two words together.’

Matt guessed this was Fluff’s way of saying she wanted to conduct the interview, and he was happy to leave the questioning to her.

‘OK. Let’s do it.’

Passing the crime scene tape Sam had optimistically put in place, he followed Fluff along another airy, light corridor. It was lined with a multitude of green plants all in white containers with pebble arrangements neatly interspaced with glass cases showing the enticing, must have, wares of the gift shop.

As they entered the manager’s office, a pretty, dark-haired young woman, who looked as if she had been crying, jumped up as if desperate to escape. Her white uniform looked crumpled and had a tea stain down the left side. Several used cups, a bottle of water, and a wine glass littered the small table beside her.

As Matt held the door open for the older woman to leave, he learnt she was Mrs Trowbridge, the head receptionist. Matt thanked her and said they would catch up with her later. She gave a gracious nod of her elegantly coiffured head and left. Here was someone who took murder in her stride, Matt thought.

Matt realised he would be accused of being sexist, but he had to admit that this was the time when Fluff came into her own, and he was more than glad that she was on his team. He didn’t think it was just because she was female, more that she had, and he tried recalling some past police lecture,
empathy
—that was the word.

Fluff moved forward, taking a seat and encouraging Katie to sit beside her.

Matt took a seat to the side, content to let Fluff handle the whole interview.

‘Katie, I know how awful this must be for you. However, if we are going to catch the person who did this to Miss Metcalfe, then we need you to tell us exactly what you saw. It could give us a vital clue.’

Katie cleared her throat. ‘I went to the Atrium—to collect Miss Metcalfe. I called her name about three times, but no one answered. So I went to Reception just to check it was right. Sandi said…said…’

Fluff broke in to stop Katie from breaking down again. ‘Katie. Look at me, Katie.’ She waited until Katie looked up. ‘You are doing so well. What you have to say could really help us.’

Matt watched as Katie fought back her tears.

‘Sandi remembered her especially because…because the massage had been booked by her mother—for a birthday treat.’

The last words came out in a sudden rush, as if Katie didn’t want to think about the people involved. Not Amy or her mother who lived in Leeds. Matt thought grimly that Amy’s mother would just about now be hearing how her birthday treat had ended.

‘How many people were waiting in the Atrium, Katie?’

‘It was fairly quiet being Monday. I would think about eight, maybe ten.’

‘So what did you do then?’

‘I went to…to the storeroom, to get some oils and things. I thought I would give her five minutes, then check again.’ Katie’s voice was beginning to quiver and she looked down into her lap.

‘Katie, I know this next bit is going to be difficult for you, but I need you to be brave for just a little longer. Do you think you can do that?’

Katie looked up at Fluff. ‘I’ll try.’

‘Great. Now, as you left the Atrium and walked along the corridor to the storeroom, did you see anyone?’

There was silence in the room as Katie tried to recall her walk towards making her gruesome discovery. Matt knew that a witness could become amnesic around such horror.

‘Just think about the first few steps,’ Fluff prompted her.

‘After I passed the guests who were waiting, I turned left into the corridor. Moira was just going into her room with a client. She does heated stones. Then I passed the end of my corridor…The storeroom is on the right…just a bit farther up.’

Katie tapered off and Matt couldn’t help injecting. ‘And?’

Fluff gave him a sharp look and flapped her hand at him warning him not to interfere before turning back to Katie.

‘You passed your corridor?’

‘Someone passed me. Oh God, what if it was him?’

‘So the person you passed was a man?’

Matt felt like shaking Katie but stayed still. Katie nodded.

‘Would you recognise this person again, Katie?’

‘No. I wasn’t really looking.’

‘But you’re sure it was a man. What was he wearing?’

‘White. A white robe.’

Another white robe, just like all the others. He would be free to mingle in amongst all the other guests. The murderer had chosen well, Matt thought.

‘I know you weren’t looking, Katie, but did you get an impression that this man was tall or short?’

‘Tall, about that much taller than me.’ Katie indicated the difference with her hand.

Matt estimated that Katie was five-one, which meant that the man was around the six-foot mark. Matt stood. ‘So about my height?’

Katie, now much quieter, looked at Fluff almost as if she was asking permission to answer his question. Fluff nodded encouragement.

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you, Katie.’ It was a shame that Katie hadn’t been able to give them any specific information. Once she had opened the door to the horror inside, she had run straight to Mrs Trowbridge who, unable to make out what Katie was saying, had sent for the manager.

Before Katie could begin to deteriorate back into a tearful helplessness, Matt suggested that it might be a good idea if he return her to Mrs Trowbridge’s care with the suggestion that the good lady arrange for a taxi home.

Glad at the thought of getting out of the room, Katie dried her eyes and allowed Matt to lead her to the front desk where Mrs Trowbridge gathered her in behind the reception desk like a mother duck collecting one of her wayward chicks.

As Matt left the desk, Sam caught up with him

‘OK to let the day guests leave, Guv? One or two are becoming a right pain. I’ve checked all the addresses and re-interviewed those we highlighted. Sam referred to his notes. ‘Clive Draper,’ he read, flipping over the pages of his notebook. ‘If you remember he was noted because he had mentioned the word
murder
. Well, he says the old lady next to him told him, and I think it’s possible or highly likely that such a rumour would spread through the crowd. What with all us lot clomping about, the police tape, et cetera. It’s what they see on
Midsomer Murders
, and they put two and two together and make five pretty fast, or in this case four.’

‘Let them go, Sam, but make sure they know we might need to see them again. And impress on them to ring us if they remember anything, no matter how small.’

‘Will do.’

‘What about the others who were highlighted?’

‘Well, Miss Belcott, who gave the wrong area code, has only just moved here from Norwich, so I think I’m inclined to believe her.’

‘And she’s very pretty,’ Matt teased.

‘Well, yes. She does have a lovely smile and those sky blue eyes—wow. But of course that wouldn’t affect me at all. You know me, Guv, not at all.’

Matt grinned, glad that they were able to relieve the grim realities of dealing with the murder case with some harmless banter. That was all it was, harmless banter, and although it might seem cruel and uncaring to anyone from the outside, it helped the team keep the victim and those affected one step away, essential if they weren’t to be dragged down into the agony of feelings that shut out the details and clouded the facts.

Before Sam left to tell the anxious knot of day guests they were free to go, he turned back to Matt. ‘Oh, and I’ve put Mr Williams in Mrs Trowbridge’s office. Something right dodgy going on there.’

‘Right, we’ll see him together. Give me a minute.’

As Matt turned to head back to the manager’s office, he was shocked to see Eppie sitting and talking to two of the guests they had interviewed in the café. What was she doing here? The phone call made sense now. He was overwhelmed with a rush of fear. The murderer could still be on the scene. Eppie, his Eppie, could be sitting there talking to the killer. Anger took over, leaving him so shaken that for a moment he couldn’t move. It was then that Eppie looked up and saw him.

‘Matt,’ she called jumping up and moving towards him before he could stop her.

Matt knew that he needed to keep all his concentration on the job. He couldn’t have Eppie on the scene. This was an entirely new feeling worrying about another person, and he didn’t like it at all. He grasped her arm roughly and led her to a quiet corner.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ he demanded. ‘I can’t have and don’t want you around while I’m working on a case.’ As she shook her arm free, Matt could see that his words were like a blow to Eppie. She was quick to recover, moving a step backwards before replying with dignity.

‘I’m here for a job interview. What did you think? That I’m following you around like a lost kitten?’

Matt felt embarrassed and stupid but pride kept him from admitting this. ‘Well, go home. You might compromise my investigation.’

‘That’s downright stupid. How could I possibly do that?’

Matt could now see the same fiery glint in Eppie’s eyes that had been there on the day they first met and realised he would have to calm things down quickly. ‘Because with a murderer running around, I don’t need to worry about you.’ He was relieved when Eppie smiled and thought she had seen the sense of what he was saying until she reached up to kiss him on the cheek.

‘That’s OK then because I can look after myself,’ she replied over her shoulder as she walked away. ‘And besides, it might be good to have someone on the inside.’

Touching the side of her nose with the tip of her finger, she gave him a grin before walking back to Reception, leaving Matt angry and undecided. Should he go after her and demand that she obey him? He couldn’t recall there had been anything in the wedding ceremony about
obeying
, but wasn’t it what a wife was supposed to do? However, even if he had the right, it was obvious that Eppie would just laugh at him, and he could hardly march into Reception and cause a domestic scene.

While he stood in a quandary his mind was made up for him by the arrival of Fluff who had finished writing up her notes from the therapist’s interview and then of Jason who also wanted a word with him. He gave in and tried to concentrate his mind on the job.

CHAPTER 10

I
t was sheer luck that, when the skinny young detective came to tell the group of day guests they could leave, Clive was chatting to Sandi, the receptionist, filling her in on what had been going on. He watched the other guests scurry away, no doubt to seek solace from loved ones and friends for the dreadful ordeal they had been through, while he remained.

It was then that he noticed the bossy Inspector Turrell with a young woman. At first, they appeared to be arguing, and although he couldn’t hear what they were saying, the Inspector looked angry, even when the girl reached up to kiss him.

Intrigued, he decided to take his time glancing through the treatment brochure while at the same time taking it all in. Was she a girlfriend or his significant other? It was obvious he didn’t want her here, and Clive guessed a working detective wouldn’t want his love life clogging up a murder scene. She, however, seemed perfectly happy and was now chatting to three of the guests interviewed with him in the café, including the old lady.

Realising that it might be to his advantage to learn a little more about the girl, he decided that Mother could wait for her shopping trip and ordered a cappuccino at the small coffee bar. He made sure he chose a table by the door so that he could observe her while he decided how to use the knowledge to his advantage.

Clive watched her as she chatted with the guests. She seemed to have an easy rapport with all ages. The guests would be talking of their experience, and he guessed they would feel better for having unloaded their feelings.
Maybe I should stroll across and join them
, he thought.