Locked In (2 page)

‘Oh indeed,’ DI Cole replied behind her.

Jessica had seen bodies in all types of horrific situations - people beaten so badly you didn’t know if they were male or female, limbs contorted at almost incomprehensible angles and worse. Parts of the training programme had been pretty grim but it was something that came with the job. While you were working in uniform, you also saw plenty of things most people wouldn’t want to but some could handle it better than others.

The detective hadn’t seen too many bodies in a state like the victim’s though and it looked as if the dead woman had been there for a day or two. The deep, vicious choke gouges in her neck had almost certainly been caused by some kind of thick wire and the colour of her skin made the cause of death pretty clear, even before the Scene of Crime team arrived.

Jessica knew that, being a Saturday morning, the SOCOs would have their hands full. Scene of Crime officers were a mix of civilians and serving officers and worked citywide, meaning the hours and travelling distances were awful. Saturday and Sunday mornings were by far the worst times, cleaning up the mess of various revellers’ nights out and the inevitable alcohol-related carnage that came with it.

Various television shows made investigating crime scenes seem like a glamorous occupation but Jessica doubted whether darting around Manchester, usually in the rain, and tidying up one drunken mess after another would quite reach the same heights.

She didn’t enter the room any further as she could see all she needed to from the doorway and didn’t want to risk contaminating anything. She turned back around to face her DI, who was still looking away. ‘That’s pretty nasty. Do we know who she is?’ Jessica asked.

‘Probably. House is owned by a Yvonne Christensen. One of her friends called in two days ago saying she’d not seen her in a couple of days and that no one seemed to be home, even though her car was still parked outside. Uniform were round yesterday and couldn’t get any type of response. They came back this morning with the tactical entry lot.’

‘Bit early for them isn’t it?’

‘They had already been out at another job raiding some place for drugs. You know what everyone’s like with budgets. I guess someone figured they’d get two jobs done for the price of one.’

Jessica let his answer hang for a few moments, before replying. ‘Does anyone else live here?’

‘Not sure yet. It looks like the body has been there for a couple of days so probably not.’

DI Cole didn’t turn around the whole time he talked. He was leaning with both hands on the banisters at the top of the stairs. ‘This one’s going to be ours,’ he said quietly.

It was only a few words but Jessica understood it was more what he implied than what he explicitly said. She knew he wouldn’t really want too much to do with the grim details but would help out in his own way and direct operations from the station. The ground work would be hers to do. ‘So who’s the friend?’ Jessica asked.

‘Someone she goes to one of those weight clubs with. They live a few doors down. Uniform are with her now but she doesn’t know yet. DC Rowlands has her name.’

That was his second implication: “Go tell her”.

Jessica walked around him back down the stairs. The interior design seemed far gloomier than it had moments before and she met DC Rowlands by the front door. ‘Do you have the details of the friend who called this in?’ Jessica asked.

He ummed as he pulled a notebook out from his pocket and flicked through the pages. ‘Stephanie Wilson,’ he said, folding the book back up and putting it away. ‘She lives just down the road.’

‘You ready to go talk to her?’

‘Yep.’

‘Let’s hope she’s not too traumatised or your hair’s going to tip her over the edge.’

Despite their joking, they both knew it was time to be serious. The two of them ducked back under the police tape outside the house and he pointed for them to turn right. Mrs Wilson lived on the same street but on the other side of the road around a hundred yards away. Jessica thought the sun was surprisingly warm considering the time of the day and the fact it was still only May. She noticed there were a few obvious curtain-twitches as they walked down the road, which was little surprise considering the patrol cars outside the victim’s house and the obvious police presence. The ones hoping for a show would be sadly disappointed when the body was removed under a cover later on.

Perhaps it was because she was so used to actually attending crime scenes but Jessica never really understood the interest that came when police attended an incident. She didn’t get the types of people who slowed down for motorway accidents just in case there was blood or something else to get excited about, or those who crowded around vicious fight scenes. When you had seen some of the sights police officers had to each day, and dealt with the aftermath, Jessica didn’t believe most people would be so keen to get in line for a good view.

DC Rowlands rang the doorbell of Stephanie Wilson’s house, which set off an overly-cheery Greensleeves chime not really appropriate for the moment. The door was answered by a uniformed officer, who led them through to the kitchen.

The basic layout of the house seemed to be identical to that of the victim’s home. There was a stairway just inside the front door with a hallway running alongside it straight to the kitchen. A couple were sitting at a small round dining table in the kitchen with mugs of tea in front of them. There wasn’t an awful lot of room but the two detectives were offered the remaining two seats around the table, while the officer picked up a third mug from the side and went through to the living room.

Mrs Wilson was a lot larger than her husband, with short shoulder-length greying hair. Jessica would have guessed she was in her early-fifties but she was never that great with ages. The woman wasn’t massively overweight but, compared to her short unimposing partner, she seemed a lot larger than she was.

It was the man who stood up to shake each of their hands and introduce himself. He was clearly nervous as he spoke. He kept one hand on his wife’s shoulder to reassure her and talked quickly, barely pausing to breathe, while his wife didn’t even look up from the table. ‘Hi, I’m Ray and this is Steph. It was Steph’s idea to call you, wasn’t it dear?’

He looked down towards her but she didn’t respond. He continued speaking as he sat back down. ‘I wasn’t sure whether we should dial 999 or not. I didn’t want to waste your time. You always see those articles about people phoning up because they’ve lost their slippers or whatever.’

Jessica took a deep breath herself, perhaps subconsciously affected by Ray’s non-stop opening. ‘I’m afraid we have some bad news for you.’

She paused but Stephanie didn’t give her a chance to add any more. She looked up for the first time from the table, directly at Jessica. ‘Yvonne is dead, isn’t she?’

There wasn’t too much point in trying to tone things down. ‘Yes, she is.’ The woman let out a little sob that seemed to have been building, while her husband reached to put his arm around her, making soothing noises as he did so. ‘I’m afraid we are going to have to ask you about anything you might have seen and why you contacted us,’ Jessica added.

They had to be careful in moments such as this with balancing someone’s grief but needing to act as quickly as possible. Given the state of the body it looked as if they had already lost a day or two. Jessica let the words hang as the woman blew her nose on a tissue offered by DC Rowlands and took a sip of tea. ‘We always go to this slimming club at the local school on a Wednesday. We started going together at the start of the year. Yvonne had split from her husband at the end of last year and I… well I could do with losing a few pounds.’

DC Rowlands had his notebook out and was writing while Jessica just listened as the woman continued. ‘She’d lost around eight pounds but I’d lost over a stone. I couldn’t believe it. We usually have a brew and a natter, then go to get weighed. I had texted her Tuesday morning, just some stupid joke, and she replied to say: “See you tomorrow”.’

Stephanie paused for another sip of tea. ‘But the next day she just didn’t seem to be around. I’d texted her in the afternoon, just to check times, but I’d not heard back. Then I went round at five o’clock anyway, like usual, but there was no answer. Her car was on the road outside; it still is, so I didn’t think she’d gone anywhere. No one was answering the door though and, when I called her phone, I could hear it going off inside. I tried calling through the letterbox in case she’d hurt herself or anything but there was just no answer. I looked through the windows but couldn’t see anything, then tried the front door but it was locked.’

‘Does she live on her own then?’ Jessica asked.

‘Yes. Her husband Eric moved out not long before Christmas. He’s shacked up with some other woman somewhere and James is off at university. I’ve tried to be there for her but yeah, she’s on her own.’

‘Is James her son?’

‘Yes, only child. You should’ve seen her on the day he first went off to university. Crying ’cos her little baby had grown up.’

‘I don’t suppose you have any contact details for Eric, do you? We’ll need them if you do.’

Stephanie slid her chair backwards with a screech, stretching towards a handbag on one of the counters. She reached in and took out a mobile phone. ‘Yeah, erm, I have a mobile number for him. I don’t know where he lives though. I texted him on Thursday before I called you, just to see if he’d seen her.’

‘Had he?’

‘I only got a one-word reply.’

Stephanie held up the phone for the detectives to see the simple answer: “No”. ‘I was surprised I got that to be honest. That’s when I called you. I didn’t really know what else to do. It wasn’t like her to say nothing if she was going away and… I just felt something was wrong. You do, don’t you?’

Jessica nodded while DC Rowlands took down the number for Eric Christensen then handed the page to her.

‘I guess I’m just glad it wasn’t me that found her…’ Stephanie tailed off tearfully.

Jessica went to say something hopefully reassuring but stopped herself and thought for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, can you repeat that?’

The woman breathed in and her sobs slowed for a moment. She took a second to compose herself then made eye contact with the police officer in front of her. ‘It’s just that, if Yvonne’s front door hadn’t have been locked, it may have been me that found her the other day.’

Jessica narrowed her eyes slightly and leant back into her chair, feeling a slight tingle down her spine. ‘So, you don’t have a key then?’ she asked to make sure.

‘No. She would leave me one to watch the house if she was off on holiday but that was it.’

Jessica offered her thanks and sympathy and told DC Rowlands to hang around to make sure Mr and Mrs Wilson were okay. She walked as quickly as she could back down the street to the victim’s house, weaving in between the parked squad cars and ducked back under the police tape, striding towards the busted front door.

The Scene of Crime team had arrived. Usually it was only one person who attended but, on this occasion, word had obviously gone out that it wouldn’t be so straightforward. Someone Jessica didn’t recognise was wearing a white paper suit just inside the hallway, while a second person was disappearing up the stairs. The one in the hall went to say something but Jessica ignored them, nudging past and pushing on towards the door at the back of the hall that led towards the rest of the house.

DI Cole came out of the kitchen just as she reached the already-open hallway door. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked but she didn’t react.

She looked at the wall to the right of the doorway, wanting to make sure she had been right about what she thought she had seen when she was going up the stairs earlier. At the time, it hadn’t registered fully but she could now see what was in front of her; a row of hooks with keys hanging from them. On the right one was a set of car keys attached to a fob but it was what was hanging next to it she was interested in.

DI Cole looked at her bemused as Jessica went to the paper-suited person still by the doorway and asked for a rubber glove. She returned to the rack and carefully took the key ring hanging on the left hook. It had two keys on it. ‘What are you…?’ DI Cole started to say before tailing off.

Jessica took the key to the front door, still just about hanging on to the frame after being smashed through by the police. It was a big, heavy double-glazed door, the type that needed the handle pulling up so it would lock. She crouched down and wiggled the key into the lock, turning it just to make sure it was the right one.

She then quickly hopped up, striding back past the paper-suited officer and DI Cole into the kitchen. She walked purposefully past the immaculately clean stove and worktops to the back door before trying the handle. It was locked but the second key on the key ring fitted and turned. DI Cole was now behind her next to the door and spoke more forcefully this time. ‘What are you doing?’

Jessica paused for a moment before replying. ‘Well, Sir, if the front door had to be broken down because it was locked but the key was hanging in the hallway the whole time, then how did the killer get in – or back out?’

It hadn’t taken long to establish that every window in the house was also secured from the inside. There was no sign of forced entry, none of the locks had been damaged, nothing was broken and no obvious items had been stolen. There was still a flatscreen television on the wall and a laptop computer on a desk in the living room. Jessica knew that didn’t mean other things hadn’t been taken but, with a standard burglary, something like a laptop – light, mobile and worth a few quid – would have been one of the first things out the door. Yvonne Christensen’s mobile phone, which had been heard ringing, was on the nightstand next to the bed as well. It wasn’t a top-of-the-range model but she knew some scroat somewhere would have paid a tenner for it.

Jessica left DI Cole, who said he was going to have to phone his wife, and walked back to the Wilsons’ house, asking DC Rowlands to come outside. ‘Why did you dash off like that?’ he asked.