Coming, Ready or Not (D.S. Hunter Kerr Book 4) (17 page)

Hunter tugged at the collar of his shirt.
He responded, ‘She rang me just after ten, but unfortunately I’d agreed to meet up with a couple of mates, so I told her I’d see her that afternoon.’ He paused as he explored Peter and Lynda’s faces. There didn’t appear to be any blame in their looks. Continuing, he said, ‘Did she normally go out walking with anyone else?’

‘
Varied. If she wasn’t with either of us two, or yourself, she’d sometimes go out with Lucy Stringer, or Amy Parker. Remember them?’

‘
Yes, I do.’ An image flashed inside Hunter’s head. The four of them listening to cassette tapes in Polly’s bedroom. They’d take it in turns to record the top twenty pop charts every Sunday evening and then play them when they got together.

Lynda disturbed his daydream.
‘But they were both on holiday that week.’

‘
So she would have gone up to the woods alone.’ It was a rhetorical question. Hunter already knew from the police statements he had read that there were half a dozen sightings of her that morning during her journey up to Barnwell Woods. They even had a sighting of her in the woods itself. A female dog walker had stopped and exchanged pleasantries with Polly before going her separate way. The last time she was seen was at 11.15 a.m. ‘And she was found just after three p.m. the same day?’

Grim-
faced, Lynda Hayes nodded. ‘She was found the other side of the woods, lying in a ditch by the edge of a field. Two women out jogging heard Mollie barking. She’d stayed with her. Looking after her.’ Lynda’s eyes started to glass over.

Hunter watched her wipe her eyes. He gave her a couple of seconds.
‘I’ve seen in your statement that you called the police at roughly two o’clock that Thursday.’

‘
Yeah. Once she hadn’t come in by twelve thirty I started to panic. It wasn’t like her. I first rang Peter at work, to see if he’d heard from her, then I rang her gran. Then I rang you.’

‘
Yes, I remember. I came straight round and we went out looking for her. We stopped a few people in the woods and asked them if they’d seen her. No one had. Then we came back here and you phoned the police.’

Tight-lipped, Linda
made a sharp sucking noise, as if holding back a sob.

Hunter gave her
some more time to gather her composure. ‘I know you’ll have been asked this already. And probably dozens of times. But I need to ask you again. That cloak. You said in your statement that you’d never seen it before?’

Peter
leaned forward, clasping his hands. ‘We hadn’t. As you know Lynda reported her missing and gave the police her description. They said they normally didn’t bother doing anything until someone of her age had been missing for twenty-four hours, but I insisted this was way out of character for her and so they promised to send an officer. Two detectives came round at tea time, and I thought it was to take my report, but it wasn’t. It was to break the news that they’d found Polly. They kept asking us about the clothing she’d gone out in. At first we couldn’t fathom out why and then a couple of days later they told us that when they’d found her she had this dark green cloak wrapped around her. They showed it to us and asked us if we’d seen it before. Neither of us had. We don’t know where it came from.’

Lynda interposed,
‘The other thing was that it was far too big for Polly. Polly was only size ten.’

‘
And you still have no thoughts of where it could have come from.’

Lynda shook her head.
‘Polly wouldn’t have been seen dead in it.’ She pulled herself up and gulped. ‘That was a wrong turn of phrase wasn’t it, but you know what I mean. Polly was very fashion conscious, as you know, Hunter. It looked like the type of cloak a monk would wear.’

Hunter interlaced his fingers. With a steadying voice he said,
‘I’m sure you might have been asked this before as well, but a long time has passed now, and I just wonder if you ever heard a whisper that she might have been seeing someone else?’ He paused and added, ‘Other than me.’

Lynda shook her head vigorously.
‘Definitely not, Hunter. You could read our Polly like a book. She thought the world of you. You recall, we took her camping in Cornwall, with Lucy, in July that year. Well, halfway into the holiday they got chatting to a couple of lads, who took it the wrong way, and kept chatting them up at every opportune moment, but Polly sent them packing. Told them where to get off, in no uncertain terms. Me and Peter had a good laugh about it. No, you were the only one for her.’

‘
Just one other question. I know it’s such a long time ago now but did anything unusual happen leading up to Polly’s death. It could be days, even weeks. Anything out of the ordinary?’

Peter crooked his head to one side. Thought for a couple of seconds and then said,
‘Do you mean the nuisance phone calls?’

‘
Phone calls?’ Hunter glanced at Grace. She shrugged her shoulders. He returned his gaze. ‘I don’t recall anything about nuisance phone calls in your statements.’

Peter exchanged a look with his wife.
‘Well, we told the detectives about it. They said they’d look into them.’

‘
Unless I’ve missed something when I’ve read through the file, I can’t recall any mention of nuisance phone calls. Tell me about them.’

‘
Well, I suppose on the face of it they were nothing. There were only a couple. Maybe three or four at most.’

‘
What was the nature of them?’

‘
It was Polly who brought it to our attention. She told us she’d had a couple of crank calls one day. I asked her what she meant by that and she said, “just crank calls.” She joked about it and said she’d shouted perv down the phone and then hung up. She didn’t elaborate on the nature of them. Then one night I answered and I just got silence. I think I shouted down the phone. Told them, whoever it was to stop it, otherwise I was going to the police. Then Lynda got one.’ He shot a sideways look.

Prompted by her husband
’s glance Lynda said, ‘Mine was a silent one as well. I didn’t hang up straight away, I listened for a good couple of seconds. I tried to hear if there was anything I could recognise. I could hear whoever it was breathing. Not deeply or anything, just breathing. I eventually told them it wasn’t funny, and to grow up and then hung up.’

Peter interjected,
‘And then Polly took one, one evening. She shouted to me that it was him on the phone. I told her to give it to me, but by the time I’d got there, they’d hung up. Polly said he’d spoken to her.’

‘
Did she recognise who it was?’

Peter shook his head.
‘Well, when I say he’d spoken to her. It wasn’t exactly that. She said, and these were her words, the weirdo was whispering. It sounded like he was counting backwards.’

‘
She said it was a “he?”’

‘
Definitely. I asked her what she meant, when she said the weirdo was counting backwards. And she said, “you know, counting down Dad, like when we used to play hide and seek.” That was it.’

‘
Counting down. That was all? No threats or anything?’

‘
No threats. That was it. We got no more calls after that one.’

‘
What time span was this before what happened to Polly?’

Peter screwed up his face, thought for a few seconds and responded with,
‘Week, maybe ten days.’

‘
And you told detectives about them.’

Peter nodded,
‘Yes, they said they were going to check them up.’

‘
Okay, that’s great. I’ll follow that up. We’ve got someone on the team who was involved in her case. I’ll have a word with him.’ Hunter met his partner’s gaze, gave her an enquiring look, as if to say, ‘is there anything you want to ask.’ She shook her head.

He settled his eyes back upon Peter and Lynda and smiled.
‘Okay, that’s great. Except for the information about the phone calls I think that’s confirmed everything that was in your statement.’ He started to push himself up and then caught himself. ‘Oh, there is one thing. Again, I know it’s a long time ago, but did detectives search Polly’s room. Go through her things.’

‘
Yes, they took a few of her belongings away. Some photos of her with her friends, a couple of letters. I think some were from you. And a diary and address book.’

‘
Were those ever handed back?’

‘
No. We never got them back. Why, haven’t you got them?’

‘
To be honest I don’t know. I’ve only read Polly’s file. The statements etcetera. I’ll chase up where they are so that we can go through them again.’ Hunter straightened himself. ‘In the meantime if you bear in mind what I said earlier. We have opened up Polly’s case. If anything else springs to mind, no matter how small or inconsequential you think it might be, you know where I am.’

Hunter reached out and offered Peter his hand. He caught sight of his eyes welling up.

On a brittle note Peter said, ‘Catch the bastard, Hunter. For Polly. For us.’

Unable to get hold of Barry Newstead, who was out on enquiries, Hunter spent the rest of the afternoon chasing up the exhibits from Polly’s case. He tracked down the cloak, she had been found wrapped in, to the Forensics Laboratory at Wetherby. It had been archived with other samples from the case. He made a request for them to be examined and spent an hour completing the paperwork. Then, he made further phone calls to determine the whereabouts of the personal things detectives had removed from Polly’s room. He had a breakthrough with those as well. He discovered that her diary, address book, photographs and letters had all been packed away in a storage box, and were held in a warehouse facility, amongst other exhibits from all unsolved cases investigated by South Yorkshire Police. He arranged for them to be delivered.

At evening
debrief Hunter fed in his and Grace’s visit to Polly’s parents and reported on his success at finding all the original exhibits from the investigation. He didn’t raise the matter of the nuisance telephone calls because he hadn’t been able to quiz Barry about them. He had a doctor’s appointment and had booked off duty without coming back to the station. Hunter had decided to speak with him first, and determine if the calls issue had been resolved during the original investigation, before introducing them.

No one else brought anything new to the proceedings.

That night, before going home,
Hunter stopped off at the churchyard. He felt the need to visit Polly’s grave. It had been a long time since he’d done so. Negotiating the criss-cross of paths around the sides of the church he discovered, that aside from him, the graveyard was empty. Eerily silent. The light was starting to go; dusk had descended, throwing everything into shadow, confusing his bearings, and he found himself doubling-back on more than one occasion as he searched out her headstone. He eventually found it. The grave site was still pin-neat tidy; an obvious sign that it was being regularly visited and maintained. A rose bowl containing a bunch of fake flowers had been placed in front of the dark grey marble headstone. It gave colour to the drab backdrop. He stared at the carved inscription. It read,
‘Polly Ann Hayes, 16 years, 25th July 1972, 1st September 1988. Taken from us’.
He dipped his head and a kaleidoscope of happy images tumbled inside his head; things they had done during the ten months they had been together. Kindred spirits. For a moment he wondered how it might be if she hadn’t died that day. His spine tingled and he shook himself. Beth and the boys were his life now. He said a silent goodbye, turned and made his way back down the path to where he had left his car.

He didn
’t drive immediately home, instead he stopped off at his parents’ house, and over a cup of tea, told them about the investigation. He also wanted to check out their garage, and see if the box, he had tucked away all those years ago, was still there.

It was.
He found it hidden away amongst cans of old paint, high up on a shelf. He picked it down and brushed away the years of dust. The lid was still Sellotaped. He knew he should have binned the box ages ago, but he’d never been able to bring himself to do it.

He
took it to his car, put it to the back of the boot and drove home.

- ooOoo –

Day Twelve: 29th March.

Detective Superintendent Dawn Leggate added a quick signature to the last of her urgent paperwork, placed the cap back on her pen and checked her watch – briefing in ten minutes. Her timing was perfect. She would even have time to grab a quick coffee she told herself. As she pushed back her chair, her personal mobile rang. Not recognising the number, and thinking about having that coffee before briefing, she was in two minds whether to answer. She decided she had enough time and took the call.

‘
Hi, Dawn.’

As soon as she heard the voice she regretted her decision.

Taking a deep breath she said, ‘What do you want, Jack?’

‘
Just to talk.’

‘
We’ve done talking.’

‘
Just hear me out please.’

Clenching her teeth together she said,
‘You’ve got two minutes.’

‘
I just want to apologise. I know you’re angry with me, but I realise now what a stupid mistake I’ve made.’ There was a couple of seconds pause and then he said, ‘I realise just how much I miss you. I can’t live without you.’

‘
Well you should have thought about that before you decided to shag that bimbo secretary of yours.’

‘
We’ve finished. I’ve ended it. It’s you I really love.’

‘
I don’t love you anymore.’

‘
Please, Dawn.’

‘
No. I’m happy now.’ She paused. She could feel her heart fluttering. She took a deep breath. ‘Jack, I want you to leave me alone. I’ve moved on.’

‘
That’s not the Dawn I once knew talking. The job’s changed you.’

Suddenly, the anger welled up. She bit down on her lip.
‘Don’t you dare blame the job, Jack. This is your fault.’ She took another deep breath. ‘This conversation is over. I don’t want you ever ringing me again.’

‘
Please, Dawn, you don’t mean this.’

‘
Yes I do, Jack. I’m hanging up.’

‘
Don’t.’

She ended the call and glanced at the screen. Suddenly, her chest tightened. She could hear the blood rushing be
tween her ears. Gripping the edge of her desk she steadied herself. Then, saving the number, so she could ignore it the next time it rang, she switched off her mobile and slung it across her desk.

For a few seconds she stared
aimlessly around the room, trying to pull herself together. She could feel the start of a panic attack. She caught herself and steadied her breathing.

I
’m not going to let that bastard ruin my day.

She forced herself out of her chair,
picked up her briefing notes and walked out of the office.

‘Heads up everyone, lot to get through this morning,’ she shouted, weaving between the desks, to the front of the room.

Upon reaching DC Carol Ragen’s desk, she offered her a quick smile, moved aside some of her paperwork and deposited herself gracefully on a corner. Hitching up her dark blue pencil skirt she shuffled into a comfortable position. Dawn could feel her composure returning. ‘Okay, just a quick reminder.’ She did a quick recce around the room – checked that she had everyone’s attention. ‘We’re now linking the murder of Polly Hayes, in nineteen eighty-eight, to the murder of Elisabeth Bertolutti, four days ago, by the fact that Polly’s T-shirt has turned up on Elisabeth’s body. And we’re linking Elisabeth’s murder to that of Gemma Cooke, eleven days ago, by the fact that a masked man was identified as being responsible for killing Elisabeth, and a masked man, as we have seen on CCTV, was seen following Gemma only hours before her body was found. Our main suspects to date are, as you know, Adam Fields and DC Tom Hagan. Both have been interviewed and neither of them have solid alibis for the time period in which we believe she was killed. And, so to that end, although I’m not completely dismissing them yet...’ she swung out an arm, and aimed it at an A4 size still CCTV image of the grotesque masked head, Blu Tacked to Gemma Cooke’s incident board. ‘…my feelings are that whoever that masked man is, is the person we need to be focussed upon.’ Dawn glanced down at her lap, flicked away a piece of fluff, crossed one shapely leg over the other and raised her eyes. ‘As you know, for now, I’m running on the theory that what we have here is a serial killer, who is a trophy taker and who is then transferring his trophies between his victims. And with that in mind, I want us to focus on several things. Firstly, the green cloak, which Polly Hayes was found wrapped in. That is currently with Forensics and is being fast-tracked for DNA etcetera. I want it photographed and sent out to all Forces. See if any of them have any outstanding murders or attacks where the victim had a similar cloak taken. Remember we’re looking at a time-period during the nineteen eighties, maybe even earlier.’ She directed a pointed finger at Gemma Cooke’s board. ‘The second item of interest is the locket found on Gemma’s body. Again I want the same doing with that and see if anything comes back.’

She returned her eyes into the room.
‘One more thing before we move on. While we’re still on the subject of trophy taking, who had the assignment of seeing if anything was missing from Gemma’s?’

‘
That was me, boss,’ the call came from the room. Mike Sampson had his hand raised. He put it down when the SIO looked his way. ‘I learned that Mrs Cooke cleaned the house occasionally for Gemma, when she was pulled out with work, so I took Gemma’s mum up to the house yesterday, and we checked each room and went through her things together. I asked her to see if anything was missing from its normal place. I have to say, it was actually Tom Hagan who gave me the clue of what to look out for. In interview, if you recall, he mentioned that Gemma had been wearing a watch, which caught him, and so she took it off and left it on the coffee table. We searched the whole house but we couldn’t find a watch anywhere. I asked her mum if she knew what it looked like. Although she was vague she can remember Gemma wearing a certain type of watch on a regular basis. She described it to me as having a white face, with crystals around the glass and it had a white leather strap. I’ve asked her to have a look on the internet to see if she can come up with a possible make and style.’

‘
Good. Well done, Mike,’ Dawn interjected. ‘Let me know the minute you get a result. We’ll circulate that to all Forces as well, just in case another body turns up. And while we’re at it, let’s not forget the blouse Elisabeth was wearing.’ She pointed towards Tony Bullars. ‘See if Linane can give us a better description of it, or if she has any photos of Elisabeth wearing it, which would be a bonus and get that circulated as well.’ She paused and shuffled her gaze between the faces of her team. ‘There was another task I asked to be done. Following my theory that Gemma and Tom Hagan were followed from Sheffield, I want someone to visit the guy, on Manvers Terrace, who revved up Adam Fields with the phone call, on the night of her murder, telling him that he’d seen Tom Hagan go into Gemma’s house. Also, the neighbour, Valerie Bryce. To see if either had them had seen anyone hanging around on the street.’

‘
That was me,’ called out DC Paula Clarke. ‘I drew a blank with Valerie. It’s as per her statement. She can only recall seeing Adam running off towards the industrial estate. But I did have a stroke of luck speaking with Paul Rose, the mate who rang up Adam. He wasn’t forthcoming at first. Said he didn’t want to get involved. However, after a little gentle persuasion, he did remember seeing someone on the street. He told me, he saw someone hanging back in one of the alleyways opposite Gemma’s house. He said, he thought at first it was Adam, waiting for Tom Hagan to come out of the house, but then just like Valerie Bryce, he also saw Adam running off down the street towards the industrial estate and when he looked back there was no sign of the person.’

From a slouched position, Dawn Leggate straightened.
‘Any description?’

DC Clarke shook her head,
‘No, boss. He says that whoever it was, was mostly in shadow. He describes the person as being half-in, half-out of the alleyway and they were too far away for him to get a good view.’

‘
That’s a shame. But it takes us a step further. It puts someone else in that location at around the time of Gemma’s murder. And it strengthens my theory.’ The Detective Superintendent tapped the palm of a hand. ‘Let’s get this Paul Rose to point out exactly where he saw this person, and get SOCO back to check out the alleyway. Then I want some more house-to-house nearby.’ She supported herself on her hands and launched herself off the edge of the desk. ‘Right, I need everyone’s undivided attention for the next bit.’ She stepped toward a laptop that was set up on a trolley, close by and hit the touchpad mouse. The screen lit up, displaying the Force crest. She addressed the room, ‘I’m going to play you something which was brought to my attention yesterday evening. As you know the technicians have been going through Elisabeth Bertolutti’s mobile to see who was in her contacts and what was in her calls list. Well, as a result, they found that at three forty on the afternoon of the day she was killed, she had made a three-nines call to West Midlands Police.’ She watched the expectant expressions appear on the faces of her team. ‘We got on to them yesterday and they’ve sent us a disc with a recording of that call.’ With the tip of her forefinger Dawn scrolled across to an icon on the screen and tapped the touchpad. The screen format changed. She selected a folder, opened it and tapped again. After several seconds a female voice broke the hush.

‘
Emergency Helpline, which service do you require?’

Elisabeth Bertolutti
’s anxious voice replied, ‘Police, please.’

Following
a short ringing tone, signifying the transfer of the call, a male voice answered, ‘West Midlands Police, can I help you?’

‘
I think I’m being followed.’

‘
Who am I talking with?’

‘
Elisabeth Bertolutti.’

‘
How do you spell that?’

She spelled out her name slowly.

‘And is this number you’re calling from your own number?’

‘
Yes, it’s my mobile.’

‘
And what is your address?’

She gave the Call Handler the address in Street.

‘And where are you calling from?’

‘
Leicester Forest Service Station.’

‘
And you say you’re being followed?’

‘
Yes. Well, I think I am.’

‘
What makes you sure you’re being followed. Has this happened before?’

‘
No, it’s not happened before. It’s just that I almost bumped into this man I know. Well, I briefly know. He surprised me because I didn’t expect to see him up here. He lives in London, you see, or I think he does.’

‘
So it’s someone you know?’

‘
Not exactly. I think it’s someone I’ve had hassle with recently. I’m not being helpful am I? It’s just that it’s unnerved me.’

‘
I can tell that. Just calm yourself down, Miss Bertolutti. You’re talking to the police. Are there people around you? Are you still inside the service station?’

‘
Yes. I’m in the ladies toilets.’

‘
So you’re safe then?’

‘
Yes.’

‘
Good. So take your time. Do you know the name of this man, who you say is following you?’

‘
I think his name’s Dale. I don’t know him that well.’

‘
Do you know where he lives?’

‘
No. Only that he’s from London. I think. I don’t know him that well.’

‘
And you say this has never happened before?’

‘
No.’

‘
So, what makes you think you’re being followed by this man?’

‘
Well, there’s no reason for him to be here, is there?’

‘
I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Miss Bertolutti.’

‘
Do you think I’m overreacting?’

‘
I’m not saying that. If you’re saying this has not happened before, what makes you certain you’re being followed now?’

‘
Just that he shouldn’t be here.’

‘
Do you think it might be a coincidence?’

There was a pause, then Elisabeth said,
‘Do you think it might be a coincidence?’

‘
Well has this man said anything to you, or done anything?’

‘
No, we just almost bumped into one another, that’s all. Then I’ve come into the toilets to phone you.’

‘
Can I make a suggestion, Miss Bertolutti?’

‘
Yes.’

‘
When you leave the toilets, have a good look around, and if you feel unsafe, or you’re unsure, and you see this man hanging around, then don’t hesitate to call us and I’ll send out a police officer straight away. Does that sound okay?’