A Little Death Read online

  ‘Tell us about the car at the field,’ said Watts, enunciating each word.

  Myers gazed at him. ‘You want to watch that, you know. Stress is a killer for the over-sixties.’

  Hanson cut in. ‘Can you describe the car please, Mr Myers?’

  Myers looking at the ceiling. ‘No. I didn’t get a good look at it.’

  Anticipating that Watts was near to losing whatever cool he still possessed, she gave Myers an encouraging look. ‘Nothing at all that you remember?’

  ‘I can tell you what it sounded like: throaty, big. Bbbrrrmm!’

  ‘What kind of car do you think it was?’

  ‘One of them big jobs. Four-by-four. I had one of them once.’

  Ellen showed them out. ‘Was he any help?’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Hanson in the absence of a response from Watts. For all Ellen’s championing of Myers she came across as a truthful person.

  ‘Since you’ve known him has he ever been suspected of harassing or following women?’ she asked, feeling Watts’s interest rise.

  Ellen looked irritated. ‘Who’s been talking? That was all a misunderstanding by a couple of women who live around here. They said as much at the time.’ She looked from Hanson to Watts and back.

  ‘It was about eighteen months ago. They came in to say that Michael had followed and pestered them the day before.’ She had Watts’s full attention.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked.

  Ellen shrugged. ‘The manager here phoned the local police. They came and spoke to Michael. He told them he was trying to talk to the women about a newspaper article he had with him about whales or dolphins or something. The two women confirmed that he kept trying to show it to them.’

  She looked at Watts. ‘I can see it from their point of view. He probably was being a pest but that’s all there was to it. They and the police went away happy and that was the end of it. In fact, one of the women dropped off a book on sea animals here for him. He was all for calling round to her house to thank her but I talked him out of it and helped him write a thank you note instead. Sea life was one of his passing fads. He never mentions it now.’

  Inside his vehicle, Watts looked up from his note-taking. ‘There’s nothing in the information we’ve got about him following women. How did you know?’

  ‘I didn’t. I thought it was possible. He’s clearly very lonely, very naïve and not very aware of how he comes across. It’s easy to see how that might lead to misunderstandings.’ She gave him a searching look. ‘Can you really see Myers abducting a strong, healthy, young woman like Elizabeth Williams, murdering her, then moving her body to that field? He doesn’t even have his own transport.’

  ‘Does your opinion of him being harmless carry a guarantee?’ He gave her a close look. ‘No. I didn’t think so. I hear what you’re saying, doc but the fact is he lied to us about being in hospital last June and he’s got that worker right where he wants her so she won’t hear a word against him. You know as well as me how devious some types can be.’

  Right now, she couldn’t endorse his view of Myers but neither could she say he was totally wrong about him. She knew of cases where the revelation of a murderer’s identity was met with utter incredulity.

  ‘So, what’s your plan for him?’ she asked.

  ‘Like I said, he’s our first person of interest. Nuttall’s all for getting him in under caution.’

  She pulled at her seatbelt as he started the engine. ‘We’re looking for a killer. To me, he’s merely inadequate.’

  Watts grinned. ‘I know he is but what about Myers?’

  They drove back to headquarters, Hanson conceding to herself that Myers probably did merit further interest. She thought of various research studies on non-contact offenders such as voyeurs and exhibitionists which indicated that a proportion progressed to committing direct, ‘hands-on’ sexual offences. Workers at The Sanctuary were free to choose what they believed but the police couldn’t do the same. Watts had said it himself: convictions were facts. Those had to be UCU’s starting point.

  FIVE

  Still discussing Myers, they walked into the hubbub of headquarters reception and on to the Unsolved Crime Unit. Inside it was warm and deserted. Dumping her bag and jacket on the big worktable, Hanson opened a couple of windows then looked at the photographs of Elizabeth Williams on the Smartboard, tiredness now stealing up on her. It wasn’t necessary to be young and attractive to become a victim but they were an added vulnerability. The murderous offenders she’d met in the course of her work came into her head. She could hear their words, their attempted rationalisations for their actions: ‘They all had nice hair.’ ‘It was obvious she wanted me to do it.’ ‘She was there.’ ‘It was the way they looked at me, you know.’ And even: ‘Search me.’ ‘It just happened.’ ‘I just did it.’ She put a hand over her eyes. Depravity and risk.

  The violent men she’d known included one who had worked in this very building. One of their own who had slain several young women and who’d managed to fool them for longer than he should have. Her eyes strayed to the quote in black, scripted letters above one of the windows which she and her colleagues had requested at the end of that case: Let Justice Roll Down.

  Watts was at the Smartboard, adding the words ‘Person of Interest’ next to Myers’ name. He turned to her.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, doc, but he has to be considered.’

  ‘I know. What I don’t want to happen is for Myers to tick all the boxes and be on a fast track to guilty before we know what this case is about.’

  ‘Come on, doc. Give us some credit.’

  She looked at him, then away. ‘Sorry, but in my experience it happens.’

  ‘Not here.’

  ‘No.’

  He shook his head. ‘The way Myers acts, I realise he could be a complete time-waster but we can’t gamble on it. Plus, there’s his record. If he’s a person of interest, we can focus on him a bit more.’

  He pointed to one of several names he had taken from the case file. ‘We’ll be visiting this lot, starting with tomorrow with Lawrence Vickers. He was one of Elizabeth Williams’ tutors.’

  The door opened and Corrigan came inside. He looked at each of them. ‘This a face-off or can anybody join in?’ He came to the board and read what was there.

  ‘How did it go with the aunt?’ asked Watts.

  ‘Difficult,’ he said – starting to add the information he’d obtained. Hanson absorbed it all, including that Elizabeth had had a boyfriend named Chris Turner and had appeared distracted in the few days preceding her disappearance. The aunt had confirmed that she last saw Elizabeth on Sunday, the twenty-third of June when she left at six, possibly to see Turner.

  I’ll take a copy of the case file home tonight. Get the background of the original investigation into my head.

  She saw Corrigan place a small plastic bag on the work table. ‘This is all the aunt has of Elizabeth’s belongings. I told her we’d get whatever else we have returned to her as soon as we can.’

  As Watts related the details of their visit to The Sanctuary, Hanson reached inside the bag, drew out the few items and laid them on the table: a single, close-printed sheet of lecture notes entitled ‘BSc Year 2 Sports Technology: Biomechanics of Sport’. She skimmed it and put it to one side. There were two cash register receipts, one from a supermarket itemising bread and a few other staples, the other from a dry-cleaners, both dated 22 June the previous year. The last item was an application form. It was headed ‘Internship Placement’. It hadn’t been completed. She reached for the laptop and entered the meagre details onto the screen.

  Checking her watch she pushed the laptop to one side and picked up her jacket. ‘Let me know if Vickers has anything interesting to offer.’

  Inside her warm kitchen, Hanson passed the plate across the table. ‘I thought you had an after-school club today? What time did you get home?’

  Maisie took the plate and slathered mayonnaise over the salad. ‘Chelsey�
��s mum dropped me here at four. Mr Hornbeam our biology teacher came into double maths this afternoon to tell us that science club was cancelled. He’s having a baby any minute so he’s like really jumpy and disorganised.’

  Hanson kept her tone light. ‘You should have texted me. I need to know about any changes to your school day.’

  Maisie rolled cornflower blue eyes. ‘I was here, like less than an hour and then you arrived. I’m thirteen. It’s not a big deal, Mum.’

  It was a ‘big deal’ for Hanson. Like any mother, her child’s safety was all, but intensified by her professional knowledge and experience. Maisie was wrong. It was a massive deal.

  She pushed food around her plate. ‘Text me next time there’s any change, please.’

  ‘Soz.’

  ‘In fact, ring me and I’ll organise things so that I can pick you up.’

  Maisie’s well-defined brows lowered. ‘Hashtag boring, Mum. I get it.’

  Hanson chose to ignore the attitude. Her hyper-vigilance wasn’t Maisie’s problem. Unless she herself made it one. It came with the work she did and what she knew about depravity as well as risk.

  Maisie was eyeing her. ‘Shall I stack the dishwasher?’

  Recognising a verbal olive branch when she heard one, Hanson nodded. ‘Please. Did you have a good time at your father’s?’ She got an enthusiastic nod.

  ‘We went to see Epic. Stella came with us.’

  ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  ‘It was brilliant. It’s about this girl who has to save the world. Stella thought it was great but Daddy just scoffed until she told him to zip it.’

  Hearing a steady tapping on one of the ceiling to floor glass doors at the end of the kitchen, Hanson said, ‘Let Mugger in please while I clear the table.’

  Maisie scooted across the kitchen, unlocked the door and pushed them wide. The small black and white cat bounded inside.

  She swooped on him, lifting him in her arms. ‘Hey, Muggsie Malone. What have you been doing? Chasing cute little meece and ambushing birds? You’re misnamed. You’re not a mugger. You’re a killer kitty!’

  Hanson flinched. ‘He’s probably hungry. That’s the main reason he comes home.’

  ‘Me, too.’ Maisie laughed as she headed for the dishwasher. ‘Can we play cards again later?’

  Maths-savvy Maisie with a memory like a steel trap had recently taught Hanson the basics of poker. They played for M&Ms. Maisie had won every game to date.

  Hanson cleared the table, her thoughts on the Williams case. Myers knows the area where Elizabeth was buried. He appears to come and go as he pleases. He has two non-contact sexual offences against females. Watts has a point where he’s concerned. Am I taking a gamble in doubting his involvement in her murder?

  She looked up and smiled. ‘Yes, after you’ve finished your homework.’

  Hanson was in her study reading the copy case file, an image of the lonely field inside her head. Despite the shallow burial, she regarded the field as a ‘dump site’. She’d first heard the term during a training course in London she’d attended on repeat offenders run by visiting FBI investigators. She disliked the term but it exactly described what that lonely field represented to Elizabeth Williams’ killer. He’d wanted rid of her. He’d wanted to stay rid.

  She turned file pages, skimming the shorthand hieroglyphics she’d written so far, two basic questions firing inside her head: was Elizabeth’s killer someone she knew? Or was he totally unknown to her? To have a chance of identifying him they had to know what motivated him. The reason he’d killed her. The why. She looked at the list of possible causes of male anger towards females she’d written down: Jealousy. Sexual frustration. The need to silence. She crossed out the word ‘causes’. It conveyed justification. She read the words again. Jealousy suggested an acquaintanceship with Elizabeth. She blinked, shook her head. Not necessarily. Dropping her pen on the desk she massaged her eyes, wanting sleep.

  The study door opened and Maisie came in. ‘I’ve finished, Mum.’

  Pushing file and notebook inside her briefcase, Hanson left her desk. Putting her arm around Maisie’s shoulders they walked into the sitting room. Is it my imagination or is she taller than she was a month or so ago? She’s catching up with me fast.

  In the sitting room Maisie swiftly and expertly dealt the cards.

  ‘Come on, Mum. Remember what I told you about keeping a “poker face” and go for it.’

  Hanson adopted an inscrutable expression as she examined her cards, not spotting anything promising. ‘Ooo-k, honey-bun. Prepare to say bye-bye to every single M&M you own.’

  ‘Ha!’ said Maisie. ‘As if.’

  SIX

  Watts eyed the students already waiting for their morning lecture and those now coming out of the office followed by an adult male. He stood.

  ‘Dr Vickers? I phoned you yesterday afternoon. Detective Sergeant Watts,’ he said to the man ushering them out. He glanced at Watts’s identification.

  ‘Come in, come in. Laurie’s the name. How can I help?’

  Taking out his notebook, Watts gave Vickers a covert once-over: hair to his collar, probably late thirties, soft around the middle, looking like he could do with some exercise. He tensed his own midsection. He’d keep it brief.

  ‘You’ve heard about Elizabeth Williams’ remains being found?’

  Vickers looked subdued. ‘Yes. Sad business.’

  ‘You were her tutor.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, I was. Not the only one, of course.’

  Watts felt his usual unease whenever he was inside places like this. He didn’t know how they worked. He’d never really felt at home at his daughter’s Oxford college. Before she started there he’d assumed there was only one.

  ‘Of course,’ he echoed. ‘When did you last see her?’

  ‘I was asked the same question by police at the time but it’s a while ago so I’d better check.’

  Vickers opened a desk drawer, took out a stiff-bound desk-diary and leafed through it to around its mid-point. He tapped the page. ‘Found it. It was the Friday prior to the weekend she went missing.’ He held out the diary to Watts, pointing. ‘There, see? The twenty-first of June.’

  Watts examined what was written under the date but didn’t see Williams’s name. ‘Why did you see her?’

  Vickers looked momentarily fazed. Sudden understanding arrived on his face. ‘Oh, I see what you mean. She didn’t come here to my office. She attended my lecture.’ He tapped the diary again and pointed. ‘Two thirty: Fitness Science.’

  Watts made a note. ‘Did you see her after that?’

  ‘No.’ Vickers dropped the diary back into the drawer then turned to him. ‘What a shocking business. Gone for a whole year and then she’s found in that lonely place.’ He shook his head.

  Hearing a knock on the door, Vickers stood with an apologetic look. ‘My next tutorial. Should I tell the student to wait?’

  Watts also stood. He’d seen Vickers face-to-face, got the basic information he’d wanted confirmed. ‘No. Thanks for your time, Dr Vickers. We’ll be in touch if we need to check anything else with you.’

  Sitting on the edge of her desk Hanson eyed the semi-circle of first year students. ‘How would you go about identifying possible linkage between murder cases?’

  She waited out the silence then stood and crossed the room to push the window wide. Cool air on her face, her eyes skimmed the terracotta grotesque straining from the outside wall into second-floor space, its dragon-wings folded, horns curved, fangs exposed. She gave its head a light pat. You think you’ve got problems?

  She turned back into the room. ‘Come on. Being hot and tired doesn’t preclude thinking and I’m at the point where any ideas are welcome.’ She saw a tentative hand rise.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Find a link?’

  A few of the students laughed as Hanson considered the suggestion in a parody of thoughtfulness.

  ‘I think that’s been established as the general idea unde
r discussion. The question is how?’

  Another student spoke. ‘See if there’s any connection between the victims. Look for anything which connects the victims to a potential suspect. Look for similarities of MO and physical evidence.’

  ‘Glad you came,’ she said dryly.

  She gave them each a direct look, tapping her hand against her palm. ‘Links between victims. Links between victims and killer. Links between MO and physical evidence.’

  She flicked pages of her diary, hearing a faint knock on the door.

  ‘Next tutorial, each of you brings details of two cases. One where linkage provided the solution and another where it failed. Be prepared to explain both to the rest of the group. In the meantime, cut down the end-of-year partying.’

  She watched as they gathered their belongings and headed out of the door, passing Watts on his way inside. She waited until the last of the students had gone before addressing him.

  ‘Tell me what’s brought you here and do it in an erudite way. Amusing would be a bonus.’

  ‘I was passing. What’s up with you now?’

  She reached for some papers on her desk. ‘Absolutely nothing. What have you been doing?’

  ‘I’ve been to see Laurence “Call-me-Laurie” Vickers.’ He caught her frown. ‘Elizabeth Williams’ tutor. According to him, he last saw her on Friday twenty-first of June in one of his lectures. I’ll run a check on him.’

  ‘The college would have done that when he was first employed, surely?’

  He looked dismissive. ‘I’ll still do another. If we can establish that that Friday was the last time he saw her and she was at her aunt’s place, alive and well on the Sunday, he slips down the list. Hang on.’ He searched his pockets.

  ‘I’ve got a phone message somewhere from the aunt. She’s remembered the full name of Elizabeth’s friend at the college and her housemate.’ He held it out to her. ‘Here it is: Jessica Simmonds. There’s a phone number as well. Will you ring her and see what she’s got to say?’