A Violent Heart, page 25
‘Nice kitty,’ he says gently, edging quickly past the animal.
‘I think she likes you.’
‘I think she might like to tear my face off and wear it for fun.’
They make their way up the path, stopping at the buildings – and the sound of shuffling noises from inside the first one. The door is ajar.
‘Mr Cooper,’ Archer calls.
The noises stop. Seconds later the door opens. Simon Cooper appears from behind it, a puzzled expression on his face. ‘Detective Inspector Archer. This is a surprise.’ He’s wiping unclean hands with a rag.
‘We were passing and thought we’d check in.’
‘I see.’ A concerned expression clouds his face. ‘Is there news about Lily?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
He sighs, sadly.
‘This is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Harry Quinn.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Cooper says. ‘I’d shake but my hands are a bit grubby,’ he adds apologetically.
‘No worries. Have we disturbed you?’
‘Is that a Belfast accent?’ Cooper asks.
‘One hundred per cent.’
‘I spent some time there when I was younger.’
‘Nice.’
Archer peers through the crack in the doorway. There’s a bicycle inside, leaning against the wall. It looks clean and almost brand new. ‘You like bikes?’ she asks.
Cooper peers behind him. He smiles and pushes the door open. There are more bicycles inside. Around half a dozen in various states of repair. ‘I’m the local bicycle repair man. It’s my side hustle.’
‘What’s your main hustle?’ Quinn asks.
‘Being retired.’ He gestures to the bike leaning against the wall. ‘This one belonged to Gemma. Her mum asked me to fix it before . . . before the murder. I was just cleaning it up, although I’m not sure what to do with it. I can’t take it back. Not yet anyway.’
‘No. I suppose not,’ Archer replies. ‘Did you know Gemma well?’
‘I suppose as well as any of the other young people around town. I knew her parents better. Although I would occasionally talk to Gemma with Lily.’
‘They were good friends.’
‘Yes. Opposites, though.’
‘In what way?’
‘Gemma was more confident and outgoing. Lily would like to be but that doesn’t come naturally to her.’
They look at the bike for a moment before Cooper breaks the silence. ‘Come down to the house. I’ll make us some tea. Or do you prefer coffee?’
‘Tea for me,’ Archer says.
‘I’ll have a coffee, thanks,’ says Quinn.
They walk together back down to the cottage.
‘Another beautiful day today. Unusual temperatures we’re having. Warmer than we’re use to up here. A consequence of us destroying our planet, it seems.’
‘You believe in all that?’ Quinn asks.
‘Don’t you?’
‘Aye. I’m not far off believing the planet will burn in flames in the next few decades.’
‘Then we are on the same page, detective. That’s refreshing, is it not?’
Quinn raises an eyebrow at Archer. Her phone rings. It’s Klara. She answers.
‘Hi, Grace, I found some interesting info on the Mercers.’
Archer holds back and lets Cooper and Quinn walk on. ‘We’re with Simon Cooper at the moment. Can I call you back?’
‘You might want to ask him what he and the Mercers were doing in London the same time Elena was murdered.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘I was looking through Isla Mercer’s Facebook and found photos of Lily, Barry and Simon Cooper outside Buckingham Palace and various other tourist spots.’
The Mercers. In London.
‘I have other info, too. Let’s meet up when you’re done.’
‘I’ll set a meeting for 2 p.m. with Stu Vickers and Andy Ball. Does that work for you?’
‘I’ll make it work,’ Klara replies.
Archer ends the call and catches up with Quinn and Cooper, who is unlocking the front door of the cottage.
‘How long have you lived here?’ Archer asks, following him inside and into the kitchen. Quinn hangs back furtively, checking out the living room. The kitchen is small, sparsely furnished, devoid of any feminine touches.
‘Around eighteen years,’ replies Cooper, filling the kettle.
‘Just before Lily was born?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You two are close.’
‘Lily and I? Yes, we are.’ Cooper arranges three brown mugs. One is in the shape of an owl and chipped around the rim. ‘Lily bought me this for Christmas a long time back.’ He smiles.
Quinn enters the kitchen. ‘You’re an army man,’ he says.
‘Was,’ Cooper replies.
‘I noticed a picture in the living room. Black and white. Andy Town. That’s how you know Belfast.’
‘I served there for a few years during the mid-1980s.’
The kettle boils.
‘That was a tough decade,’ Quinn says.
‘Indeed it was.’ Cooper pours the hot water, finishes making the drinks, and offers milk and sugar. ‘I’m all out of biscuits.’ He leads them into the living room. Like the kitchen, it is sparsely furnished, with the exception of a few pictures, an old TV and some books. It’s neat and tidy but seems a purely functional space for one man and his cat. Archer notices Quinn’s lip curling. The cat is at his feet.
‘You don’t mind cats, do you?’ Cooper asks.
‘Nope, not me,’ says Quinn, unconvincingly.
They sit at a small dinner table by the front window with views over the fields.
‘Did you know Chris Townsend?’ Archer asks.
‘He’s the photographer fella?’
Archer nods.
The cat jumps into Cooper’s lap and purrs as the man strokes its fur.
‘Not too well. He’s not been here long, I understand. I knew him and Gemma were dating. I also knew Lily didn’t like him much.’
‘Oh, why was that?’ Archer asks.
‘She thought he was sly, and a bit full of himself.’
‘Did you know what he was up to with Gemma?’
‘How’d you mean?’
‘Did you know they were making porn movies together at the cottage in Spittal?’
Cooper flinches. ‘Making porn?’ He shifts in his chair. ‘Lily was right to be wary of him.’
‘Indeed she was.’
Archer says, ‘There was an altercation at the train station when your brother-in-law was being interviewed for TV. You were there, I understand.’
‘That’s right.’
‘What can you tell us about it?’
‘It was very odd. A man just barged through and began flinging accusations at Barry. He looked a little unwell. We didn’t know what to make of it.’
‘Unwell in what way?’
‘Unhinged.’
‘Did you recognise him?’
‘No. I gave a description to Stuart and Andy.’
Archer nods. ‘We appreciate that, thank you. As you’re aware, he’s a suspect.’
‘The papers seem to think he’s the prime suspect.’
‘I don’t know why they think that. Can I ask where you were the night Gemma McFadden was murdered?’
He smiles thinly. ‘Ah. Am I also a suspect?’
‘We have to ask everyone. It’s routine.’
He places his mug on the table. ‘I was here at home. Just me and Edwina.’
‘Edwina?’ Quinn asks.
Cooper nods at the cat. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have much of an alibi.’
‘You were in London last week, with your sister and brother-in-law. Lily, too.’
‘That’s correct.’
‘What took you to London?’
‘Barry was invited to meet the TV production company. Isla decided it would be a good idea for us all to go for a few days.’
‘Where did you stay?’
‘We were in a hotel in Paddington. It was cheap. Not exactly three stars but it served its purpose.’
‘Can I ask where you were on the evening of the twenty-third of July?’
He rubs his chin as he considers his answer. ‘I’m not great with dates. My old man brain, you see. Let me just check my diary.’ He lifts the cat from his lap, drops it to the floor and exits the living room. A few moments later he returns with a pocket diary. Sitting at the table he opens the calendar at the date and points. ‘Ah, dinner at the Argentinian Steak House in Paddington. We had a table for four.’
‘What time did you leave?’
‘I can’t remember exactly. Around nine thirty.’
He closes the diary.
Archer takes out her phone and shows him a photo of Elena. ‘Ever seen this woman before?’
He regards the picture curiously for a moment. ‘I don’t think so.’
Archer pockets her phone. ‘OK. Thank you, Mr Cooper.’
‘Anything to help find my niece.’
‘We’ll be in touch.’
Chapter 52
M
ALLORY WAKES. SHE IS COLD despite a mugginess in the air. She can smell a musty odour like mould. What the hell? Her head spins and throbs but she takes a moment to gather herself. She is lying on her side on a hard slippery surface, her arms stiff and aching. What happened? She groans as her eyes blink open. It’s gloomy wherever she is. Does she have a hangover? Her mind races and then the full horror sucker punches her. Tom!
She tries to get up, but her hands are tied behind her back. Her feet are also bound. In her mouth is a filthy cloth, taped to her face. Oh shit! Her eyes adjust to gloom. She winces at the stabbing pain in her head as she pushes herself up and takes in her surroundings. She’s in a vast empty space with rows of tall, dirty windows obscuring the view outside, and in. At first, she thinks it’s some sort of abandoned barn, but the walls are covered in filthy, broken tiles, the floor is stone and heavily stained. There are rusted animal pens lining the walls. Mallory feels nauseous. It’s an old slaughterhouse. Her mind races. Tom’s the killer? He murdered all those women, and his daughter, too? Mallory has spent so much time with him listening to his story, believing his lies. How did she not see through him? She had met him briefly in London around the time Elena Zoric had been murdered. He had not seemed himself. How could she be so blind, so . . . stupid.
‘Fuck!’ she cries, wincing as the pain pierces her brain.
She tugs her wrists to try and free them from the ropes, but they are too tight. Nearby is a stainless-steel table. She hauls herself into a kneeling position. Her head spins. Narrowing her gaze at the tabletop she sees a roll of duct tape, a hunting knife with a serrated edge, a little box containing bullet cartridges and what looks like a handheld power drill. But it’s not a drill. Mallory feels her spine icing over. It’s a captive bolt gun. A device used for penetrating and zombifying the brains of cattle before slaughter, or in this case, a weapon used to murder women. Terror grips Mallory, her pulse races, sweat rolls down her forehead and into her eyes. She needs to get out of here and fast or else she’ll end up dead, murdered by a cold-blooded killer just like the other victims. Just like her beloved Zach. The thought makes her want to weep, yet a fury ignites inside her. If it’s somehow within her power, she will not let that happen.
She shuffles across the floor on her knees, ignoring the blinding pain in her head. It takes all her strength, and she sweats with the exertion. At the table, she notices a screw sticking out from the leg. An idea. Leaning across, she pushes the tape covering her mouth over it and hooks the flat end of the screw below the tape covering her chin. Carefully she pushes her head up and down until the tape begins to loosen. The screw is thankfully stable and after a painstaking ten minutes of uncharacteristic patience, Mallory has caught enough of the tape to slowly tear it from her hot, damp face. With a blessed relief, she spits out the filthy rag and takes in several glorious gulps of air.
She listens for signs of anyone nearby but hears nothing. The quiet is unnerving. This place, this filthy former abattoir is like something from a horror movie. The thought of all those animals, cows and pigs, being herded into this place to be killed and butchered for meat is terrifying. She swears if she gets out of this she’ll become a vegetarian. The thought of dying here makes her pulse race and increases her determination to get away. Could she scream out and cry for help? Yes is the answer but Tom could be close by. Is it worth the risk? She can’t have been out for more than five or ten minutes which means she must still be at the farmhouse and far from town. Maybe ramblers could stroll by. It’s a fifty–fifty chance that someone could come to her rescue if she screamed. The likelihood is Tom would come and properly finish her off. That said, she’s surprised he hasn’t done it already.
Her eyes narrow at the knife on the tabletop. If only she can get it. She grits her teeth. She throws herself onto her back. It’s painful with her arms tied behind her but needs must. Drawing back her legs she kicks out at the table dislodging the contents on top. Her head spins with the effort. She needs the knife but it’s no good to her on the table. She takes a breath and kicks harder this time. The tape, the knife and the captive bolt gun fall to the stone floor with an echoing clatter. Not ideal. Mallory begins the arduous task of crawling towards the knife. Her head throbs. As she draws close, she spins her body around and uses her fingers to search for the blade but stops, gasping at the sound of a door opening. She turns to look in its direction. The missing girl, Lily Mercer, is sitting in a wheelchair, her hands and legs taped to it. Her mouth is also taped. Her eyes are red and puffy and widen when they see Mallory. Tom is wheeling her inside. He sees Mallory and her vain attempts to free herself. Parking the wheelchair, he makes his way towards her and lifts the bolt gun and knife.
‘Tom, don’t do this. Please. Let us go.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why kill us? What have we done?’
He is not listening.
‘Tom, please . . .’
He sets takes the knife and slips it into the pocket of his trousers. ‘You were always so resourceful,’ he says. ‘I liked that about you, Mallory. Truly, I did.’
His voice seems so cold. Not the Tom she is used to. She wants to kick herself. She was always such a good judge of character.
Mallory feels the tears coming. ‘She’s just a child, Tom.’
He closes his eyes, clenches his jaw and shakes his head.
Mallory feels a surge of anger and courage, too. ‘I believed in you. I really did!’
‘Shut up!’ he cries.
‘You can’t face it, can you? You’re a coward and a murderer!’
Tom swallows. ‘It’s time,’ he says, lifting the bolt gun from the floor.
Chapter 53
A
RCHER GLANCES AT THE CLOCK on the Berwick-Upon-Tweed police incident room wall. ‘It’s 2 p.m. Let’s get Klara on the line.’
Quinn leans across and dials Klara’s number on the video conference software. It answers within two rings. Klara appears on the screen, her orange hair almost glowing in the dimly lit room.
‘Klara, it’s Harry and Grace. We’re with DCs Andy Bell and Stu Vickers,’ says Quinn.
‘Hi, everyone. I’m in my office with DC Marian Phillips.’
Phillips leans closer to the camera and smiles.
‘Let’s get started,’ says Archer, says nodding at Stu.
‘Townsend’s alibi checks out,’ he says as he pages through ANPR shots of the suspect displayed on a flatscreen monitor. ‘This is footage of him in Edinburgh at the same time Lily went missing. And the rest are shots of him driving Lily home the night Gemma was murdered.’
Archer is not surprised. There was the slim possibility of him being a copycat killer but even then she was not convinced of that. ‘The person we’re looking for is older. Probably in their fifties or older,’ she tells them. ‘Someone unassuming, normal, an everyday person who you would not look twice at.’
‘You think it’s a Berwick resident?’ Stu asks.
‘Possibly. Or the man who levelled the “death” accusation at Barry Mercer. He’s the right age bracket and is a stranger in town.’
‘We have a name for you,’ says Stu. ‘He’s just moved to town in the last month and has rented the old Strother Farm. He’s called Thomas Elston. He’s retired, is all we know.’
‘Good work. Harry and I can pay him a visit later.’
‘Townsend is no longer a suspect, although he will face charges of underage pornography and a spell on the sex register,’ says Stu.
‘Tragic,’ says Ball.
Stu continues, ‘We managed to access Lily Mercer’s phone. Seems she been sexting with an anonymous ripped dude. We tracked the number down to a skinny, spotty kid at her school who looks nothing like his alter-ego.’
‘He practically shat himself when we showed him what we had from Lily’s phone,’ Ball laughs. ‘His alibis check out, so nothing to follow up on there.’
‘OK, thank you,’ says Archer, keen to move on. ‘So, to summarise, we have a string of murders dating back to the 1980s: Sally McGowan, murdered in London, 1987; Star Royale, AKA Kelvin Glover, murdered in Bridgwater, 1988; Angela Bailey, murdered in Warfield, 1989; Hannah Daysy, London, 1991; Elena Zoric, London, 2022 and Gemma McFadden 2022, Berwick-Upon-Tweed. Lily Mercer remains missing. There is a chasm of a time gap between Hannah’s and Elena’s murder. However, I believe we have barely scratched the surface. So many people – women on the fringes of society, like our victims – have gone missing over the years. I expect our killer has chalked up many more names that we have not found yet.
