Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller Page 22

  ‘Why did it fall apart?’

  ‘There simply wasn’t enough evidence to convict him.’

  ‘So what are we looking at here?’ said Jung.

  ‘The way Victoria Redman was found is almost like a tribute to Hirsch,’ said Simone. ‘Did he have a partner?’

  ‘There’s no mention of one in the case files,’ said Jackson.

  ‘Could it be coincidence?’

  ‘I don’t trust coincidence.’

  ‘It was what twenty-five years ago?’ said Jung. ‘That’s a hell of a long time for a copycat or tribute killer come out of the shadows. It’s also a long time for his partner – if he had one to be dormant.’

  Jackson said, ‘He may have been banged up for something else, or plied his trade in another country.’

  ‘Or tried to stop and couldn’t,’ said Simone. ‘Can we send our case file to the German authorities; maybe get them to lean on him? He may admit to having a partner or maybe he’s been receiving fan mail from someone with a mind just as twisted as his own.’

  ‘It’s worth a shot,’ said Jackson. ‘I’ll see what I can do but in the meantime it’s just another piece of the puzzle and we won’t get to the bottom of it until we catch our man.’

  Jung gathered his stuff and made to leave.

  ‘Keep me posted if you get anything,’ said Simone as he crossed the room.

  ‘You know I will. See you later.’

  Simone checked her watch and knew she had time before the funeral to try and resolve one of the many things that had been playing on her mind.

  She took the opportunity to get Lucy’s attention from across the room. ‘Can we have a quick chat?’ she said and invited her into her vacant office. Simone closed the door behind them and leant against it to make sure no one else could come in.

  ‘What’s up?’ said Lucy. She was smiling but her face was a mask.

  ‘To start with, I wanted to thank you for letting me stay at your place,’ said Simone.

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘I really appreciate it.’

  ‘Why are you leaning on the door like that Simone?’

  ‘I don’t want anyone to disturb us.’

  ‘Okay, this is getting a bit strange.’

  ‘You’ll appreciate it in a minute. Take a seat.’

  Lucy sat down; she looked nervous but not confused.

  ‘Something has been bugging me and I’ve got to say something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The study isn’t the best place to leave uncashed cheques lying around while you have someone sleeping in there.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she said but she knew where this was going and sounded like a ham actor.

  ‘Do you really want me to say?’

  Lucy swallowed. ‘No, don’t say it.’

  ‘What if that maniac gets away and keeps on killing because of something you told the press?’

  ‘I didn’t tell them much.’

  ‘You told them enough for the papers to sensationalise it, plus we looked like idiots at the press conference.’

  ‘I never imagined anything like that would happen.’

  ‘What was his name; that reporter, the one that called West out?’

  Lucy looked at her shoes.

  ‘I remember,’ said Simone. ‘Shaun Franco. It was him wasn’t it?’

  She nodded. ‘The money was too good to turn down.’

  ‘I’m sure it was, but you haven’t seen what that madman has done. I have and it’s fucking horrifying.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I have a lot of shit going on in my life right now and I don’t need any more. I just don’t have the energy to make a big thing out of this.’

  ‘So you’re not going to tell anyone?’

  ‘I’m not a squealer Lucy and if I was, I’m simply too tired to say anything but please Lucy you have to think.’

  ‘It was a one off I promise.’

  ‘I hope that’s true because I hate being in this situation and I hate what you’ve done.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation I’ve been feeling shitty ever since.’

  ‘I bet you’ll still cash the cheque though.’

  ‘It won’t happen again Simone, you have my word.’

  ‘It better not Luce, because I just can’t take anymore bullshit in my life.’

  23

  Simone received a call from the station just moments before the service began. It was the news they had been waiting for but it couldn’t have come at a worse time.

  She was standing with West outside the church waiting for his father’s coffin to arrive when she felt her phone vibrate. She discreetly pulled it from her handbag and saw that the station was calling but as she debated whether or not to answer it the screen went dark and the call went to voicemail.

  West noticed what she was doing and she mouthed, ‘Station,’ to him as she put her phone back into her bag. They both knew the call could be important but Simone’s simple act of putting her phone away let him know that the next hour was his.

  Simone sat with West at the front of the church while the vicar stood in front of his father’s coffin and calmly delivered his eulogy. West hunched forward and stared into space, elbows on thighs, fingers tightly laced. Simone didn’t mean to catch his attention when she put her hand softly on the small of his back but when she did, he looked around at her and gave a weak smile but it was little more than a token gesture and did nothing to change the fact that she had never seen him look so sad and lost. She summoned the most comforting smile she could muster and moved her hand back to her lap.

  The vicar looked tired and drawn as the service progressed; and she thought that maybe he always looked that way but then she considered how busy he must have been over the past few weeks. Sunday service, funerals and christenings were a constant, but this was wedding season too. The vicar must be a busy man at the moment.

  Being in church reminded her of her wedding day and she remembered how during the weeks leading up to the ceremony the vicar at the time asked them to attend the Sunday service as part of their dedication to each other. Simone used to go occasionally as a child but neither of them had been for years and they had to admit that religion wasn’t a big part of their lives. And now, sitting in church all those years later Simone considered whether she and Martin would have had their children christened had they ever got round to having them, but it was a redundant thought, they had never had children and now they never would.

  Martin pretended to be keen on the idea and had frequently mentioned it, but she soon noticed that the subject usually came up during his apologetic moments while she nursed her bruises hours after one of their altercations and it was obvious to Simone that Martin didn’t really want kids; he was too selfish to change his life and the upheaval of a child would have been too damaging to the world he had created for himself.

  Simone knew his motives for wanting children were not borne from the need to procreate, Martin was too selfish and devious and saw children as a way of projecting the image of normality to the outside world while at the same time tying the pair of them together forever. Sometimes she feared getting pregnant for that very reason; if she did he would be forever in her life and what if he began to raise his hand to the child?

  Simone learnt to avoid the subject and used her job as an excuse for not being ready for children, and so nothing was ever planned, but if there had been a little accident then she would have loved the child with all her heart and done everything in her power to protect it from harm. She thought about Kate and the way she looked at Melody when Simone asked her if her husband was kind. She thought back to the interview with Hannah Zaragoza and her sister’s baby Ethan and how she said he nearly brought the church down with the volume of his crying.

  Something clicked in her mind and a sudden strand of thought formed and started to grow, but its growth was prematurely stunted by distraction when the organ burst into life and the congregation stood with hy
mn sheets in hand. Simone looked at Nathan, he was utterly devastated and she wanted to be with him but as the music reverberated through the building she couldn’t help but be somewhere else as her mind whirled like a gyroscope. At the back of the building behind the alter, candles burned, she remembered the forensic report and the comment regarding the wax found on the back of Victoria Redman’s hand: generic candles made from white wax; like the ones used in a church? The small kernel of thought continued to form in her subconscious and when she grabbed hold of it ideas and answers washed over her in waves and her body tingled with excitement. They sat down for the final part of the short service. She had to make a phone call but she couldn’t leave just yet and she reasoned that there were only minutes remaining.

  She stole a glance at her watch when they stood to leave but she didn’t forget Nathan and put a comforting hand on his shoulder as they made their way outside.

  After the shortest possible time she caught Nathan’s attention and motioned to him that she had to make a call. She left him talking to a relative and pulled her phone from her handbag. The icon on the screen reminded her about the missed call she received just before the service started. She dialled the station while she made her way to the side of the church.

  ‘I need to know where baby Ethan was christened. What church was it?’ she said and then explained who baby Ethan was and his tenuous connection to the case. ‘I also want you to find out which church was used for the funeral of Sylvia Croucher’s partner Russ.’ Again she had to do some explaining. ‘Croucher was recently bereaved, she had a funeral for her partner Russ Wilkins where was it?’

  She agreed to let them call her back with the information and the added, ‘Someone called me about an hour ago was it important?’

  ‘I’ll have to ask around.’

  ‘Forget about it I’ll check my voicemail, just find the name of the church and get back to me.’

  She dialled her voicemail and listened to the message. Gary Stevens was awake. The identity of his attacker could be the information that would end the case. She paced around while her mind raced. She looked at the small gathering of dark suited relatives and acquaintances by the front of the building, located Nathan and walked towards him while she tried to make the pieces fit.

  The Shelter, the place where Victoria Redman did her volunteer work was connected to this very church. If she moved to the other side of the building she would be able to see the roof of the community centre over the trees. Was this church the connection they had been looking for?

  West caught her eye as she approached and when she got close enough she quietly told him the news that Stevens was awake.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘you go back to work.’

  ‘Will you be okay? I can stay if you want,’ she said and put a gentle hand on his arm.

  ‘I’ll be fine. Call me later when you have news.’

  ‘I’ll get a cab, you take the car,’ she said and made to leave.

  ‘Hey, Simone?’

  She turned back.

  ‘Thanks for coming with me.’

  She smiled. ‘I wouldn’t have been anywhere else Nathan. See you later.’

  Her phone rang moments later. She answered it and as she listened she walked the short distance down the path and out to the front entrance. She asked the officer on the phone to repeat what he just said and as he spoke Simone looked at the sign next to the gate and he may as well have been reading it verbatim. ‘The church you were asking about is called the St Peter and Paul Church of England,’ he said.

  She hung up and considered her next move. Was the killer here? Now? Was he here for the funeral of Sylvia’s partner Russ, the funeral she had attended only days before? Was he here for baby Ethan’s christening? Is this where he first saw Victoria Redman? This church was the common denominator they had been searching for, it had to be. It was the one thing that connected everything. She was bursting to tell Nathan but she wasn’t going to disturb him again. She would tell him later after she had spoken to Stevens and by then all the pieces might have slipped into place.

  She decided to use the opportunity while she was there to have a quick look around and made a mental note to organise a thorough search of the church and the questioning of all associated with it when she got back.

  She headed back towards the main building via a gravel pathway that swept the perimeter of the grounds and avoided both the West funeral party and another funeral party that had gathered by the side of the building waiting to go inside.

  She followed the pathway through a stone archway that opened into an immaculate churchyard of perfectly cut grass, hedgerows and rose bushes. Roses, she thought and another piece fell into place.

  She followed the border until she reached a maintenance area at the far end of the grounds that housed a series of woodsheds and workshops.

  The ground around the maintenance area was worn and uneven underfoot and she could hear a high abrasive grinding noise as she passed a stockpile of chopped wood piled in a wooden shelter, protected from the elements by a makeshift corrugated roof.

  The grinding sound that came from one of the sheds whined over and over like cries of a dying animal. The door was open and Simone could see a man sharpening one of the many gardening implements that hung from hooks on the walls. Sparks flew across the floor as the man repeatedly pushed the metallic edge into the abrasive surface of the grinding wheel. He was sitting side-on to the doorway and too lost in concentration to notice her as she passed the shed towards a large compost heap that baked in the heat of the day by a hedgerow. She noted that beyond the hedge lay the outskirts of Bishop’s Thorpe Wood. There was a break in the hedge; an opening to a dirt track that was clearly a route for vehicles and another way into the church grounds that Simone couldn’t have known about. The answers were so close she could feel it. She wanted the entire task force here en-mass to tear the place to pieces.

  ‘You here for the funeral, or just having a look around?’ said a voice from behind her.

  Simone was so lost in her thoughts she only noticed the grinding had stopped when the man spoke to her. She turned to face him and was immediately sure she knew him from somewhere. He was shaven headed and muscular, and dressed in a grubby vest and jeans. His skin was shiny from the heat of the day and he used a rag to wipe grease from his fingers as he walked closer towards her.

  ‘Both. Who are you?’ she said, still trying to place his face. He looked so familiar to her but she couldn’t work out where she had seen him before.

  He furrowed his brow and glanced towards the church. Simone followed his gaze and realised she was completely alone with him. ‘You’re that copper aren’t you?’ he said.

  ‘Police officer. Where do I know you from?’

  ‘I knew I’d seen you before.’

  Simone was searching her mind. Who the hell was he? She wanted to stand her ground but she also wanted to keep her distance from him and his advances were forcing her back step by step. Then it hit her. ‘You were there when we arrested Gary Stevens.’

  ‘Well done. People rarely remember me,’ he said as he charged at her like a bull. ‘But I always remember them.’

  Simone had her back close to the hedgerow and as he bore down on her there was only one direction for her to turn but he punched her in the side of the head and knocked her to the ground before she had time to move. When she was down he punched her again and knocked her unconscious.

  24

  ‘You’re awake. I’m surprised.’

  The confusion that fogged Simone’s mind cleared quickly after she came to and when she did she was faced with the man who had attacked her in the churchyard standing over her, looking down. The side of her head hurt where he had punched her and it throbbed when she tried to sit up.

  ‘Don’t move,’ he said softly.

  She did as she was told and lay back down. She was on the floor and the ground was cool and damp beneath her. The room was dark save for a few candles nearby and the air sme
lt earthy like a freshly dug grave. It didn’t take long for her to understand her surroundings and realise she was underground.

  She looked back at him, wanting to look into the eyes of the man who may take her life and noticed how huge he looked and how he appeared black and gold in the candlelight.

  ‘Where am I?’ she said, simply trying to buy some time and not expecting an answer.

  ‘Be quiet and don’t move.’

  ‘My name is Simone Connolly and I am a police officer. People will be looking for me.’

  ‘What did I just say?’

  She knew she had to talk about herself; the more she said the more she could humanise herself and hopefully he would see her as a person and not an object; something to kill. ‘I’m thirty-eight years old.’

  ‘I won’t ask you again.’

  ‘I have a daughter, she’s called Melody; she’s eigh…’ Simone’s lies where silenced when he bent down closer to her and, seemingly from nowhere, produced a knife. He held it in front of her face and turned the curved blade silently in front of her. ‘Did you see what I did to the other one?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Good, then you know what to expect.’ He tossed the knife to one side and tilted forwards in one smooth movement, pressing both knees into her chest and knocking the air out of her lungs. She gasped for breath and tried to struggle but she knew her attempts were futile when she saw him pull a rag from the back pocket of his jeans. She thrashed her head from side to side in an attempt to avoid it but he easily smothered her face. He relaxed his weight on her chest and she instinctively drew a full breath of stinking, sour ether.

  25

  Jung pulled his phone from his pocket and answered it.

  ‘Jung, it’s West, Simone is missing. We need information and we need it now. Talk to me and talk fast. I’ve been out of the loop for a couple of days so I need you to fill me in with what’s been going on.