Three Little Maids (14 page)

‘Yes, I think so too.’

‘The old boy’s raring to go this morning, isn’t he?’ Simon remarked cheerfully as he came down for breakfast. ‘It must be the sea air here agreeing with him.’

She frowned. ‘I expect he’s got to keep well on top of things.’

He laughed. ‘I know, Mum. I can still remember how fraught and edgy Dad used to get when he was on a case.’

‘Well, I’m glad you do then. So don’t hassle Jon when you see him. And not so much of the old boy. You’ll wish you were in such good nick when you’re his age. ‘

‘Jon is it now?’ He grinned. But shut up when he saw her frown.

*

Viviane groaned when she saw Esmeralda’s tall, imposing figure advancing towards her. She was working on the book reservations at her desk. She put down her pen and waited with a wary smile for her old friend.

‘Good morning, Viviane. How are you? You usually take off round the countryside today. But I felt sure that you were working here at base. And here you are,’ she declared triumphantly. ‘So I haven’t wasted my time in coming in.’

‘No. Joan is having a turn this week instead. It does us all good to have a change of routine.’

What was it Esmeralda wanted to say? Viviane wondered. She felt sure that it was to do with the death of the French girl. And she was right.

‘You know that what I said last Friday came true,’ Esmeralda said. ‘The Tarot cards cannot lie.’

Viviane heard and made no comment. It would be a waste of time anyway. Esmeralda was prepared to enlarge on it readily. ‘That young French girl came to consult me in my booth on Friday. She wanted advice from the Tarot. And I told her she was treading on dangerous ground with the two men she was involved with - ’

‘Two
men?’

‘Yes. One of them was the chef at my hotel. Cliff Jones. A volatile, angry young man. I saw them together afterwards on the sea front. They were arguing in a public place. Such a pretty young girl she was. She wouldn’t listen to my advice.’ She shook her head and the amber beads clinked around her thin neck like temple bells.

‘Do the young ever listen? You warned her obviously.’

‘Of course.’ Esmeralda drew herself up imperiously. ‘I have to say what I see. But I never mention death even if I see it in the cards. Just a warning of the danger surrounding her. She wouldn’t listen. Instead I got some choice French words from her that I wouldn’t choose to interpret,’ she said with a look of disdain on her strong features.

‘It is possible, then, she was playing a difficult game if Cliff Jones is so jealous natured.’

‘Yes. Oh, yes. She most definitely was. And she could have paid for it with her life.’ Esmeralda tossed her turbaned head again. ‘Your Police Inspector should speak to him. He could be the killer. They should investigate his movements that night. And find out too who else she was meeting. She didn’t deny that there was someone else.’

Viviane grimaced. ‘My Police Inspector! Steady on. He’s my tenant, Esmeralda. That is all. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. Please be careful what you’re saying. Gossip spreads quickly here. And you of all people should know that.’

Esmeralda grinned. ‘Just as you say, Viviane. I’m sure you are a model landlady and very circumspect.’

Viviane sighed heavily, and drummed the desk top lightly with her fingers. She doubted she could control Esmeralda’s mischievous tongue. ‘Have you got a book you want renewed, Esmeralda? You’ll have to go to the counter for that. Or have you just come in for a chat?’

‘Viviane! I’m merely passing on what I know about the girl because I’m sure you must have the Inspector’s ear. And he’d take it much better from you instead of from a nosy gossipy old woman.’ She grinned wickedly. ‘That foolish girl had two men strung out on a barbed wire line. If I was her father, I’d have her paddled her bottom when she was small. You could say she got her just deserts. But I wouldn’t be so unkind. Tell that Police Inspector that he has to find the evil man who killed her. Or I’ll make it my business to seek him out myself. If I have to call on the spirit world to help me.’

And with a wide sweep of her long purple skirt she swept out of the library glass door majestically.

Oh dear! Perhaps she should have been more grateful for the information, Viviane thought afterwards. If Esmeralda was so certain that there were two men involved with Yvette than there was. But who was the other man?

She had more time to think of this when she took her lunch out onto the sea front. It must be a local man to have had the time to impress himself on the girl. He’d have to be plausible to persuade her to have a date with him.

She eased herself back into the warm shelter seat which she now shared with a couple of pensioners enjoying the sunshine. She took a bite out of her tuna sandwich, chewed it, and wondered how Yvette’s parents were feeling right now. They’d sent her over with their blessing. And she would be sent back to them in a coffin. How could she have borne it if Jill had been the victim? She was glad for the moment that she was studying in London. And hoped she wasn’t tempted to make a trip down to see her. Not yet. Not while the killer stalked the streets.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the girl she’d met up with on the Friday lunch time. She was walking along the seafront swinging her canvas tote bag off her shoulder as she talked animatedly to Raymond Perkins. He was listening intently and laughing. Viviane sat back in her seat to observe the young couple as they passed the shelter.

The girl’s thin face was pink and glowing. She looked as if she’d had a shower recently. Her dark hair was shining. Where had she met Raymond? He looked as if he’d found a gold coin with a metal detector on the beach. Viviane hoped he wasn’t about to be let down again. She had her own doubts about the girl, remembering the stolen purse.

But she was young, only a child still. What was she doing here, living rough and so hard up that she was reduced to stealing? What was she running away from? Who was she running away from? Perhaps she deserved to have a good turn done for her. And it seemed as if Raymond was doing his best to make it come true.

They strolled leisurely along the front to the pier. He must have taken the day off. Or maybe he didn’t work on
Mondays? Did his grandmother approve of this new girlfriend? It was funny, but she looked quite a bit like Pam. June Perkins had shown her a picture of her daughter once.

*

Yvette had been identified by her distraught parents. And all the formalities gone through. Stolid, thin moustached M’sieur Marceau was distressed, angry and bewildered. His smartly dressed, wife Jeanne, wept, her tears making mascara rivers down her thin rouged cheeks. It was obvious to Kent that their student daughter had kept a great deal from her parents. Yes, they knew that she had been working part-time behind the bar in the Nag’s Head. But had no idea that she was dating Cliff Jones when his name was mentioned to them by Kent.

Madame Marceau asked, ‘Where is the gold anklet? Her Papa gave it to Yvette for her birthday? This Cliff, does he know about it?’ she said vehemently when Yvette’s personal things were shown to her. It was obvious it had gone missing as it had not been found in her room amongst her other trinkets. Some of them, when examined, were valuable. Presents from her doting parents or from someone else? Kent wondered.

Kent promised that they would be on the lookout for it. He didn’t add that the killer was a trophy taker and more than likely had taken it. Her mother already obviously thought that the motive for her daughter’s killing was robbery. Possibly, but unlikely Kent thought. Better she thought that for the moment than to know the truth that Yvette was killed by a psycho. They arranged to stay on for a few days longer till the inquest was held and made arrangements for their daughter’s body to be sent home.

The Medical Examiner gave his verdict shortly afterwards. He scowled as he announced it to the waiting detectives.

‘She hadn’t eaten for some hours. She’s well nourished. Would have been a pretty girl. Older than the other one by a couple of years, I would say.’ He sighed. ‘Not a virgin. But no sign of sexual activity or penetration before death, which would have taken place about one o`clock. Or shortly before. And was moved I would say an hour or so later.’ Kent nodded in agreement.

‘The poor girl suffered the same fate as her young predecessor, Inspector. A neat tidy job. A craftsman almost. Or practice makes perfect. I hoped I wouldn’t be seeing anything like this again,’ he said, gently pushing back the thick raven black hair from the swollen bruised face.

‘Look, chaps. He follows through the same template every time. An earring snatched from the left ear lobe. There are traces of dried blood here. Taken shortly after death. A nasty business. By a cold blooded killer.’

Turner stifled a gasp as the medical man showed them the cream silk panties he was holding
up. ‘He used the same method to finish her off. Choked her with these,’ he said, handing them over to his assistant to put them in the waiting plastic envelope.

Turner looked at Kent now studying the body in front of them thoughtfully. One forefinger and thumb stroked the bridge of his nose. They could forget about robbery as a motive. Or could they?

‘There was a gold stud earring taken from Maureen Carey’s ear, wasn’t there?’ Turner said, checking in his notebook.

The examiner standing back from the table nodded. ‘That’s right there was. Could be he likes to keep his mementos of the crime. Look for those and perhaps you’ll find your killer.’

So he was a trophy collector. That at least was something to go on. Perhaps he had done other killings like this elsewhere in a different patch. They would have to check around. Kent listened grimly to the pathological details from the medical man which matched up with those from Maureen Carey, with a deadly thought haunting him. Would what he had feared from the beginning be confirmed? They could be looking for a serial killer. One that would prey on other young girls like this again and again.

‘Lock up your daughters,’ he murmured softly under his breath as he moved away from the table and its sad occupant.

Turner heard and was afraid. Emma would need to be grounded from now on from going out. The Youth club would be out of bounds for her. Unless he was there to see she arrived home safely. And the way this case was going there wasn’t much chance of that.

26

‘If this isn’t cleared up soon this is going to spell disaster for the Carnival celebrations this week,’ Shannon said when he listened to Kent’s rundown on the case later in his office. ‘Two young girls killed within a week! What’s going on here? Have we got a serial killer in our town?’

‘I wouldn’t like to say that. Not yet. But it’s not good, sir. It’s bloody disastrous. We’ve been knocking on doors. Asking neighbours. The usual. Not much luck so far. The French girl didn’t mix much with the other tenants in the house. Cliff Jones has closed up like a clam. Give him a day or so and he might tell us more about her movements. Mrs Flitch seems to be more helpful. She worked with the girl. And we’re going to interview some of the students Yvette worked with daily at the college to see if we can get any fresh leads from them.’

‘Good. The papers will be on to it now. Have you got anything decent that we can give the media yet? A lead of some kind. Just to keep ‘em sweet. We can’t afford to have rumours sweeping through the town at the height of the season, and with the Carnival starting. Is there anything else I should know that you’re working on?’

‘We won’t release the news of how the panties were used or the stolen
jewellery to them. It’s taboo. We don’t want any crazy creep trying a copycat killing.’

‘Right. Let me know how it goes with the students.’

‘Dealing with it this morning, sir. I phoned the Principal. He’s lined up a couple of Yvette’s fellow students. We’re in luck; they haven’t gone home for the holiday break. Both have got part time jobs here locally in hotels to help pay for the college fees. We’ll have to take it from there.’

27

The two girls who waited to speak to Kent and Turner were Ilse Weisbaum, a young Austrian girl, and Marie Vallette, another French student. Ilse with smiling, rosy cheeks like apples and short fuzzy brown curls wore tight black Bermuda shorts and a loose terra-cotta coloured shirt over her plump rounded figure. Marie, a tall slim blonde, wearing a short, blue cotton dress was making a visible attempt at looking bored. Or could it have been apprehension that veiled the alert expression in her full lidded green eyes?

‘Young ladies, I suggest that Sergeant Turner and I escort you to the Canteen?’ he said with a pleasant smile. ‘And ask you some questions about Yvette over some light refreshment. So if you could lead the way please.’

Seated at a table in the canteen the girls sat down and asked for some canned drinks. Turner brought those and some tea over to the table. The canteen was fairly empty as most of the students who hadn’t gone home for the summer vacation were out sunbathing on the campus lawns.

‘So young ladies, who’s going to give me the gen on Yvette? Were you on good terms with her generally speaking? Both of you? But don’t rush to speak at once.’ And they relaxed back in their chairs.

‘Yvette - ’ Ilse shrugged her plump shoulders. ‘She was okay. A bit spoilt. But we got on during class time. Afterwards.’ She glanced at her friend. ‘She didn’t hang around here. She had extra funds. And she rented a room up town. On the hill.’