Strange Blood (17 page)

He thought of Megan's bed, conjuring the smell of her skin; the way her hair brushed against his shoulder when she lay beside him. He wished he was there with her now.

But then it dawned on him that he would probably never lie in that bed again. How could he possibly expect her to understand? What good would it do to explain that he had not meant it to happen? That he had been the unwitting victim of emotional blackmail?

He knew how weak that was going to sound.
Oh, you poor, pathetic creature.
He could hear her now, taunting him.
Are you trying to make out you just couldn't help yourself? Whatever happened to self-control?

How would he answer that? There was no defence. And it was too late to halt the damage now. He felt the same sensation he had experienced as a child on his first ride on a rollercoaster. He was there at the apex of the arc, staring down. Suddenly sick to the stomach but completely powerless to avoid the nightmare about to engulf him.

*   *   *

The light was beginning to fade when the black Mondeo reached Stockhall. They drove past the top of Ceri's road and took the next right. Megan shuddered to think of her sister living so close to the scene of such a grisly murder.

Vicky Tomlins had composed herself enough to start talking about Joanna again. ‘She was so pretty,' she said wistfully. ‘Always had fantastic clothes. Really different, you know? Stuff she'd picked up in the Far East when she was travelling. And she was so slim.' She glanced at her stomach. ‘Not like me. She was a vegan. Never ate any of the rubbish I like.'

Megan turned her head sharply. ‘A vegan?'

‘Yes. Eating out was a nightmare. That's why we went to Beatties – not many places do vegan stuff.'

Megan's mind was racing. ‘Do you know where she did her food shopping?'

Vicky Tomlins gave her puzzled frown. ‘Not round here,' she said. ‘Why do you ask?'

‘It might be important if she went shopping the day she died.' Megan could see Dave Todd's expression in the rear view mirror. He was thinking the same thing she was. ‘Where did she go? Anywhere in particular?'

‘The supermarket at Pendleton,' the girl said. ‘She was always moaning about the shops in Stockhall not having the kind of things she needed. Pendleton was the nearest place that did.'

*   *   *

It felt good, listening to the news. Hearing people talk about it in hushed voices. Little did they know the next episode was already a wrap. Each time the performance was a little more polished; the scene a little more artistically set. What a pity the TV cameras weren't allowed inside the bedrooms. It was a waste, really. They were missing the money shot. The key action.

Against the dark blue square of sky the stars were beginning to come out. It was going to be fine again tomorrow. Would they find her then? Or would days go by, shoppers passing beneath the window, never guessing what lay rotting behind the Venetian blinds?

Chapter 12

Vicky Tomlins was sitting in Joanna Hamilton's white-painted living room clutching a mug of black coffee. Nothing would persuade her to enter her friend's bedroom and Megan could understand why. Going up there herself had been bad enough. The mattress, bedding and rugs had been taken away but the smell of rotting flesh hung in the air. The window sill and dressing table were littered with dead flies.

Megan had looked through the clothes in Joanna Hamilton's wardrobe. The shoes and boots were arranged in two neat rows in the bottom of it. They were of a variety of colours but the styles were very different from the collection at Tessa Ledbury's house. With the exception of a pair of moccasin slippers, all were high-heeled. A pair of red suede shoes caught Megan's eye. The toes tapered to a narrow point and the heels were stilettos. Dave Todd had said Joanna was wearing a red outfit when she was found. Could she have been wearing these shoes as well? There were no gaps in the rows. Nothing to suggest a pair was missing.

Megan had brought the red suede shoes downstairs. She hadn't yet shown them to Vicky. ‘Do you remember what Joanna was wearing the last time you saw her?' she asked.

Vicky glanced at the framed watercolours on the wall in front of her, blinking, as if trying to summon the image of her friend. ‘A dress, I think,' she said. ‘A blue dress with a sort of batik pattern.'

‘Hmm,' Megan pressed her lips together. ‘When she was found she was wearing a red sleeveless top and trousers. You're sure that's not what she had on?'

Vicky nodded. ‘She did sometimes wear red, but she wasn't wearing it that day.'

‘And when she wore a red outfit, would she have worn matching shoes?'

‘Definitely,' Vicky said. ‘She always liked her clothes and shoes to match.'

‘I found this pair in her wardrobe.' Megan held up the shoes in the evidence bag she had taken from the SOCOs. ‘I couldn't see any other red ones. Would she have had a second pair, do you think?'

‘I don't think so.' Vicky frowned. ‘She didn't have a lot of cash to splash around. She liked nice things and she went for quality rather than quantity.'

So much for the trophy theory, then, Megan thought. That left two possibilities. Either Joanna had taken off her shoes and replaced them in the wardrobe before being attacked or her killer had put them back there. The second scenario seemed pretty unlikely. Still, Megan thought, the fact that both Joanna and Tessa were found barefoot was a connection. Both had also shopped at Pendleton. What else might there be?

‘You said Joanna did her shopping at Pendleton supermarket,' Megan went on. ‘How would she have got there?'

‘On the bus,' Vicky replied.

‘She didn't have a bicycle or anything?'

The girl shook her head.

‘So apart from shopping, would she have gone to the precinct for any other reason? To the hairdresser's, doctor's anything like that?'

‘She wasn't registered with a doctor,' Vicky replied. ‘It was something she'd been meaning to do but hadn't got round to.'

‘And the hairdresser?'

‘She never went to a hairdresser. She had long, straight hair and if the ends needed trimming she'd do it herself.'

‘What about the church? Was she a religious person?'

Vicky shook her head. ‘She was a spiritual person, but I wouldn't call her religious. She told me she'd taken evening classes in astrology when she was out in Australia. She was really into stuff like that.'

Megan bit her lip. ‘What about the occult? Was she into that kind of thing?'

Vicky frowned. ‘Why do you ask?'

‘Oh, it's just some books the police said they found here. They got it into their heads she might belong to a witches' coven or something.' Megan held her breath.

‘Not to my knowledge. She was, like, totally anti any form of organised religion, whatever the beliefs.' Vicky swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes. ‘She was a free spirit.'

Megan was aware the girl was close to breaking down again. ‘There's just one more thing I need to ask.' Her voice was barely more than a whisper. ‘You said Joanna took evening classes when she was in Australia. Might she have signed up for something at Pendleton college?'

Vicky shook her head. ‘She wasn't taking any classes, no. But she'd talked about trying to get work there. The freelance stuff was a bit patchy, I think.'

‘Oh?' Megan's stomach churned. ‘Do you know if she'd been offered anything?'

‘She'd done odd days, I think.' Vicky sniffed. ‘She was hoping for something a bit more permanent come September.'

‘Could she have gone there that afternoon you last saw her, do you think?'

‘She didn't say so.' Vicky pulled a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at her face. ‘I … I'm sorry. I don't know.'

Dave Todd's head appeared round the door. ‘Dr Rhys? Have you got a minute?'

*   *   *

Delva was waiting for the lift when a familiar voice hailed her. Her heart sank. Sharing a lift with Des was all she needed. She had managed to avoid him all day by lying low in one of the editing suites and now she just wanted to get home.

‘How's it going?' He was panting from the effort of walking the few yards from his desk to the lift. And one of his shirt buttons was undone, revealing a pallid patch of his overstretched stomach.

‘Oh, er, fine!' Delva said in a brittle voice, ‘I've nearly finished editing the interview with Carole-Ann Beddowes.' She pressed herself against the wall of the lift to get as far away from him as possible. ‘But it's all a bit up in the air now, isn't it?'

‘How do you mean?' He moved forward slightly and Delva stiffened. Des had a horrible habit of rubbing his beer belly against female members of staff when he found himself alone in the lift with them. If anyone complained he would accuse them of being pre-menstrual or menopausal, depending on their age. And as he only ever did it in the lift, there were never any witnesses.

‘Well the police haven't confirmed that the murders are linked, have they?' Delva said. The lift doors opened and she shot out. ‘So this witchcraft thing could turn out to be a complete red herring,' she called over her shoulder.

‘Oh, I don't think so.' Des stepped out after her and smiled, revealing wet teeth which glinted in the fluorescent lights. He reminded Delva of a crocodile.

‘Word is,' he said, tapping the side of his nose, ‘there's going to a presser at Tipton Street nick. I'm sending the OB van. Might get it live on the late bully with a bit of luck.'

Delva stared at him. A press conference? Did that mean Sean Raven had been charged?

*   *   *

Megan followed Dave Todd into Joanna Hamilton's kitchen.

‘I found this in the pocket of one of her jackets.' He produced a crumpled scrap of paper. ‘It's a receipt from the supermarket at Pendleton. She was there at five-fifteen on the Wednesday evening.'

Megan took the receipt from his outstretched hand. It showed that Joanna had purchased a carton of soya milk, hair conditioner, three packets of mixed nuts and a travel adaptor plug.

‘Sounds as if she was stocking up for the trip, then?'

Todd nodded.

‘I wonder why she went to the trouble of catching a bus to Pendleton?' Megan said, waving the receipt. ‘She could have got all these things in Wolverhampton town centre when she went to meet Vicky.'

‘I know,' he shrugged. ‘Doesn't make sense, does it?'

‘Which jacket did you find this in?'

Todd pointed to a black leather one hanging on a hook on the back of the kitchen door.

‘Were there any cases or holdalls lying around the house when you first got here?' Megan asked. ‘Anything to suggest she'd started packing?'

‘No.' Todd rubbed the five o'clock shadow on his chin. ‘It's looking more and more likely she was killed on the Wednesday night, isn't it?'

Megan nodded slowly. ‘Vicky told me that when she last saw Joanna she was wearing different clothes to the ones you found her in,' Megan said. ‘So she must have come home and got changed for some reason before going out again.' She cocked her head on one side, remembering the red suede shoes. An odd choice of footwear for a trip to the supermarket, she thought. ‘Unless she changed
after
she got back from the supermarket.' She looked at Todd. ‘Why would she do that?'

‘Can't think. Unless she was going out again?'

Megan frowned. ‘I suppose there's a chance she was just trying on outfits for the holiday – you know, deciding what to pack?'

‘I suppose that might have been what happened.' Todd's face told her that this was a totally alien concept. She wondered if he was married or living with someone. Possibly not, she thought.

Half an hour later he was driving her back to the police station. ‘If it
is
the same killer,' he asked, ‘Why would he have left Joanna's clothes on but taken Tessa's off?

‘Do you remember that first briefing, when I said I thought whoever murdered Tessa had killed before?'

He nodded. ‘You said the amount of time he'd spent with the body
post mortem
suggested a level of experience.'

‘Yes. Now I'm wondering if killing Joanna is where he got that experience. Taking the clothes off could be a progression – in terms of what he gets out of it, I mean. But if Joanna was his first-ever victim he might not have had the confidence to hang around.'

Dave frowned. ‘Does that change your theory then? About him having form for sex offences?'

‘It means it's not as clear-cut as it looked,' she admitted. ‘I still think it's someone who's done time, though – someone whose DNA is on file.'

‘Because of the forensic awareness?'

‘Yes. I mean, I know Joanna's body was too badly decayed for any semen to show up, but the SOCOs have found nothing in the rest of the house, have they? Not a single print, or hair or anything?'

Todd shook his head.

‘So has Foy run those checks I asked for?'

‘Yes. We've got the lowdown on every convicted sex offender released from jail in the past six months.'

‘And?'

‘There are six living within a twenty-mile radius of Pendleton. All their alibis check out.'

‘Hmm.' Megan cast him a sideways glance. ‘Twenty miles isn't much. I'd have cast the net a bit wider than that.'

‘But what if it's the cyclist? The one Tessa's neighbour saw?'

Before Megan could reply Todd's mobile rang out. He grabbed the earpiece dangling over his shoulder and inserted it in his left ear.

‘Nothing after four thirty-five?' He spoke into the tiny microphone pinned to his lapel. ‘You'll check that number out, then? Okay. Cheers.' He turned to Megan, yanking the earpiece out. ‘Joanna's mobile,' he said. The last call she received was at four thirty-five on the Wednesday afternoon. It was from another mobile. They're checking it out now.'