Killer Plan Read online

  ‘You did remember to log this visit with the CAD, didn’t you?’ Geraldine asked, with sudden misgiving.

  Max’s youthful enthusiasm was making her nervous. If he was right about Greg, they might need to use a link via Computer Aided Despatch to enable the local station to locate them immediately from a radio signal and send the nearest car straight there.

  ‘I mentioned it to Billy,’ Max replied airily, naming the newest recruit who was in his first week and still learning his way around.

  Geraldine’s unease increased. When they had first met, she had assumed her colleague’s self-assurance was a front. Now she was afraid his youthful arrogance might cause him to act impetuously, but this was not the time to challenge him. When they were back at the station she would take him to task over his slapdash approach. He must learn that it was never a mistake to be careful.

  Greg’s girlfriend came to the door again. She looked as though she had been drinking. Her slack jaw tensed when she recognised Geraldine.

  ‘You again! Well he’s not here, so you can bugger off.’

  Swaying slightly, she started to close the door. As she did so, a man’s voice called out and Greg appeared behind her. Catching sight of Geraldine, he swore and ran into one of the rooms off the hall. Stacey tried to shut the door but her reactions were too slow. It wouldn’t have achieved anything anyway. They were on the fifth floor. As long as Geraldine could stop him leaving the flat, he was trapped. It wasn’t worth the risk of going after him without backup. Concerned that he might have gone to fetch a weapon, she flicked on her phone to summon help.

  ‘Where are you?’

  Geraldine hesitated, realising the visit had not yet been logged. Either the new recruit had registered it incorrectly, or it was on his To Do list. Before she could say anything, Max darted past her into the flat. Shoving Stacey aside, he dashed across the hall after Greg. Geraldine was so startled she almost called out. There was no time for her to start reeling off the address. Max might already have put himself in danger. Stacey let out a yell and blocked Geraldine’s way, shouting over her shoulder to Greg to watch out.

  ‘We only want to ask him about his workmate who was murdered,’ Geraldine snapped. ‘What’s your problem? Is there a reason you don’t want us to speak to him?’

  Muttering under her breath, Stacey let her pass. Following her colleague through a door at the far end of the narrow hall, she found the sergeant had pinned Greg up against the wall. One of Max’s forearms was pressed against his throat, the other held one of his wrists against the wall. Greg’s other arm was trapped behind his back, pressed against the wall. He looked terrified.

  ‘Max, let him go. We only want to ask you a few more questions,’ Geraldine explained, keeping her voice low and steady. ‘There’s nothing to be alarmed about. Let him go, Max. There’s no need to restrain him. You can see he’s not going to run off.’

  ‘He was reaching for a weapon,’ Max growled between clenched teeth.

  ‘I was getting my keys,’ Greg protested. ‘I was just getting my keys, you crazy fucker. There was no need to attack me.’ He looked helplessly at Geraldine. ‘He’s a maniac. He fucking attacked me. You should be sacked for that. He could lose his fucking job over what he done to me, couldn’t he? I’m going to complain to your boss. Get you sacked for what you just done to an innocent man.’

  ‘You can talk,’ Max retorted. ‘A man who attacks his own girlfriend.’ He glared contemptuously at Greg.

  Greg hung his head, rubbing his wrist and muttering about police brutality. Max put a hand on his shoulder and guided him towards the front door. They escorted him out of the flat. Stacey glowered at them hustling him past her in the hall. She appeared to be having difficulty focusing her eyes. As they stepped into the hall Greg darted off, racing towards the lift. With a cry of frustration, Max sprinted after him. Greg must have known the lift was waiting because the door opened as soon as he hit the button. Tall and long-legged, he moved fast, with an ungainly stride, but Max was fit. Geraldine’s voice echoed down the grey corridor as she yelled at Greg not to be an idiot, while Max sprang forward and stuck his leg out. The lift door slid across. Desperately Greg hit the button again and again. Meeting an obstruction, the door slid inexorably back open and Max flung himself inside, slamming Greg against the side of the lift. It shuddered at the impact. Geraldine joined them and nodded when Max snapped handcuffs on him.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ Max said.

  Geraldine didn’t answer.

  Greg was cowed but sober enough to answer questions. Max was pumped up and ready to make a formal arrest, but Geraldine hung back. She wanted to hear what Greg had to say, under the pressure of a police interview. He was miserable and sulked like a teenager for most of the session. Nevertheless he stuck to his story which tied in with what Stacey had told Geraldine, that he had been looking after her children at the time of Dave’s death.

  ‘Our problem is that we can’t expect the children to be reliable about dates and times,’ Geraldine told him. ‘And Stacey might be lying to protect you.’

  The colour deepened on Greg’s cheeks.

  ‘She wouldn’t lie,’ he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably on his chair.

  ‘Well, we’ll leave you to sleep on it until tomorrow,’ Geraldine said brightly at last.

  ‘What do you mean? You can’t keep me here!’

  Geraldine stood up and left the room. Max followed her. Neither of them said another word to Greg. They knew he was right. They could keep him locked up for the rest of the weekend but then they would have to let him go. They couldn’t hold him without any evidence of his guilt, and right now all they had was supposition. If they failed to find any evidence soon, they would be right back to square one. A week had passed since Dave had been brutally battered to death, and they still weren’t sure who had killed him. While they were hoping Greg would confess, the real murderer might be walking the streets, free to kill again.

  22

  Driving along Ballards Lane, Brian passed Caroline’s street. Leaving his car at the end of her road, he walked rapidly along the pavement, slowing down as he approached her house. At intervals, the roots of an occasional ageing tree had pushed against the paving stones around it, making the ground uneven. Beside the dusty kerbside packed with cars, the front yards were generally well tended. It was a pleasant enough road for London, with a suburban feel to it. There was nothing to gain from lingering there, but somehow staying within reach of Caroline seemed to bring the fruition of his plan closer. At first it had seemed no more than coincidence, his seeing her again after so long. But as soon as she had told him about her husband’s adultery, he had known what to do. Her confidence had shown him the way to fulfil his dream of killing his own intended victim without fear of discovery. The idea had come to him in a flash. He couldn’t have planned it better.

  From that moment their lives had been inextricably linked. However much she tried to distance herself from Brian, they would never be free of one another until she paid her debt. He had played his part straight away. It was time for her to do the same. That was only fair. It was worrying that, after he had given her all the information she needed, she had made no effort to fulfil her side of the agreement. Perhaps he had been naive to trust her. But if she wasn’t prepared to honour her obligation voluntarily, he would find a way to force her. When all was said and done, it wasn’t that much to ask. It wasn’t as though she even knew the man she was going to kill, so she could have no emotional bar to carrying out her side of the bargain. Having put his own liberty at risk, there was no way he was going to walk away now. If he had come too far to back out, so had she.

  Walking back along the main road, he passed the entrance to the park near Caroline’s house and wandered in for a stroll to try and clear his head. He needed to think clearly. The park was mainly grass, bordered by a wide tarmac path in turn surrounded by a screen of tall trees and shrubs. The earth beneath the trees was mostly concealed beneath a mess of br
ambles and bracken. Two young boys were playing football, running around, laughing and calling out to each other. One of them tripped. His companion collapsed on the grass in peals of laughter. The first boy scrambled to his feet and launched himself at the other boy, pummelling him. Both of them rolled on the ground, shouting with glee.

  As they scuffled, a woman stepped forward, calling out to the boys to stop fighting. Brian nearly cried out in surprise. He had been thinking about Caroline, and suddenly there she was, standing just a few feet away from him. It was like a sign. Preoccupied with shouting at the two boys, Caroline didn’t notice him as he slipped out of sight behind a massive tree trunk.

  Noiselessly he shuffled sideways into the shrubbery, feeling the rough corrugated surface of the bark through his glove. Concealed behind overhanging branches thick with glossy leaves, he squatted in the shrubbery, an idea forming in his mind. Even if she had to be coerced, Caroline was going to do what he wanted. Smiling to himself, he turned his attention back to the two boys. Upright again, they were kicking their football backwards and forwards. All he had to do was wait. The grassy plot wasn’t large and the boys were energetic. Every few minutes one or other of them kicked the ball into the bushes and went haring after it. Seeing them together, Brian realised they were identical. That made the task much easier, because they were both Caroline’s sons. Either one of them would serve his purpose.

  He waited. His legs grew stiff but he didn’t dare move in case they noticed him hiding in the bushes. In spite of the discomfort, he began to enjoy a sense of power as he watched them, unobserved. They had no idea what was going to happen. Time passed slowly until impatience threatened to overwhelm him. Crouching in the shrubbery, watching and waiting, was a waste of time, not to mention painful. He might as well give up and go home. But a knot of hatred in his stomach kept him skulking there.

  His attention wandered from the playing children. He watched a small fat shiny beetle crawl steadily along an overhanging branch, oblivious to its precarious position. He waited for it to fall but it carried on its steady progress. At last the tiny creature disappeared behind a leaf. Without thinking, he shifted position and felt a shooting pain in his leg, stiff from staying in one position for so long. Cautiously he stood up and stretched his back, and moved his legs, taking care not to disturb the branches around him.

  There was a rustling in the bushes ahead of him. He froze as a football bounced out of the bushes and rolled past him. He could hear someone crashing about, chasing after it. This was his chance. He tensed, alert to every sound, every shiver in the leaves. He hardly dared move for fear of betraying his presence. The boy had no inkling he was lurking in the shrubbery nearby. Through the leaves he saw the boy bending forward, kicking at the undergrowth, scanning the ground for his ball, unaware to his watcher.

  Brian held his breath. As he took a cautious step forward, he heard more crashing in the foliage. Boys’ voices erupted in a noisy squabble as one of them seized the ball. They dashed off together while he remained, motionless, scarcely daring to breathe. His plan depended on finding one solitary boy. It would be impossible to overpower two of them at once. Cursing softly, he turned and crept away. There would be other opportunities. Next time he wouldn’t fail.

  23

  Greg was arrested and charged with murder. To begin with he made a dreadful racket, cursing and complaining, and threatening to sue the police for wrongful arrest.

  ‘You can’t keep me here,’ he ranted. ‘I’m a law abiding citizen. I got kids at home. I got rights.’

  After an initial tantrum he sat quietly on his bunk, staring miserably at the floor. Stacey didn’t show up, and he only became animated when his solicitor arrived to speak to him.

  ‘You get me out of here now! I got to see to my kids!’ Geraldine heard him shouting as she walked away.

  Greg’s vociferous anxiety over what was going on at home was surprising. They weren’t even his children. Recalling how unsteady Stacey had been on her feet, Geraldine guessed that Greg thought she was an unfit mother. Considering the two adults involved, the odds were stacked against her children enjoying a happy childhood. With a sigh, Geraldine turned back to her expenses claims. Sometimes she wondered if she had made a mistake, joining the force. She had wanted to make a difference to other people’s lives. She might have served her fellow man better if she had become a social worker. In the meantime, all her training and experience lay in another area. It was too late for a career change. But she shared Greg’s anxiety about the children he had been forced to abandon. Stacey didn’t seem capable of taking care of them by herself.

  A team was hard at work gathering information on Greg. They suspected him of subjecting his girlfriend to physical abuse, and there was an eye witness account of his altercation with Dave the day before he was murdered. In preparation for interviewing him again, Geraldine wanted to know as much as possible about him, every conviction, every charge, every caution. No detail was too insignificant to interest her. She wasn’t convinced he was guilty, but if he was, it would be up to her to convince a violent killer to confess to his crime. So far all the evidence remained circumstantial. They needed more. She had to be able to say with complete conviction, ‘There’s no point in lying, Greg. I know all about you.’ Only then might she manage to persuade him to confess. She wished she was feeling more confident.

  Dave’s body had not yielded anything that might secure a conviction. Scene of crime officers were still searching the shed for traces of Greg’s DNA. A confession would make life easier all round. First thing Monday morning, Geraldine and Reg would begin the process of convincing Greg it would be in his interests to co-operate with them. If he realised they didn’t have sufficient evidence to put him away without a confession, he would be a fool not to take his chances with a jury. He wasn’t bright, but a lawyer would be there to advise him. While Reg was bullish about the outcome, Geraldine was worried. She had read everything they had on Greg. He had no previous convictions or charges of violence of any kind, nothing more damaging than the odd speeding fine, and one caution for being drunk and disorderly. On the latter occasion he hadn’t even been involved in a brawl, but had been caught urinating in the street.

  There was nothing more she could do. She could have taken advantage of her day off to have a lie-in, but luxuriating in the soft warmth of her empty bed reminded her of Nick. He had been pursuing her since they had first met but, after spending the night with her on Friday, he had made no effort to see her on Saturday. The entire evening she had kept her phone on the table in case he called. She hadn’t felt so needy since her teens. He didn’t ring, his silence calling into question his claim to be estranged from his wife. At last she had watched a film on television in an attempt to distract herself. It hadn’t worked.

  Brewing a Sunday morning cafetière, it was impossible not to think of Nick, standing with her in her tiny kitchen on Friday evening. Sipping her coffee, she considered calling him. There was no reason why she should wait for him to contact her. They were both adults. If she wanted to see him again, she was entitled to say so. He might make her feel like a hesitant teenager, but she was in her prime, a professional woman accustomed to making weighty decisions that affected the lives of other people. She was entitled to make important decisions for herself. At the same time, she acknowledged there was very little point in calling him just then. Leaving late morning, she was going to spend the afternoon with her sister’s family. No doubt she would allow Celia to talk her into staying for supper. She sighed, conscious that she ought to be pleased her sister wanted to see her.

  ‘You can’t go yet,’ Celia would say. ‘We hardly ever see you. Now you’re here we want to make the most of it, don’t we, Chloe?’

  Excited, Geraldine’s niece would cry out happily as she seized the gift Geraldine always brought her.

  ‘Geraldine, you shouldn’t have,’ Celia would scold, watching Chloe tear the wrapping paper off Geraldine’s latest peace offering. ‘You don’t
need to bring anything. We’re just happy to see you. I just wish you’d come more often.’

  Geraldine would launch into her habitual apology. She would love to see them more often but her work kept her busy. It had been impossible to get away. They replayed the conversation at every visit. Thinking about it, Geraldine sighed. At the last minute, she picked up the phone. If Nick wanted to see her that evening, she would have to leave Celia early, so she told herself it was for the best when Nick didn’t answer her call before she set off. That way she didn’t have to hurry away early from Celia’s. She would see Nick in the morning anyway. There was no rush. If Nick wanted to take things slowly, that was sensible.

  There were no hold ups on the road. Her sister was pleased to see her. Geraldine felt a stab of guilt that she had been prepared to leave early to see Nick.

  As she closed the door, Celia whispered to her. ‘We haven’t told her about the baby yet.’ Her eyes were shining with suppressed excitement.

  Before either of them could say anything else, Chloe came charging into the hall. ‘Aunty Geraldine! Aunty Geraldine!’ She flung her arms around Geraldine who hugged her back, laughing.

  They spent a relaxed afternoon, chatting and playing with her young niece. Geraldine had bought her a bright pink leather satchel. Chloe loved it and danced around the room, with the bag swinging from her shoulder. Celia scolded Geraldine for spoiling her niece, but it was obvious she was pleased. Celia’s husband was out for most of the afternoon but came home in time to sit down for supper with them. Once Chloe had gone to bed, and her brother-in-law was in the sitting room dozing in front of the television, Geraldine sat in the kitchen with her sister over a coffee before setting off home. Quietly Celia talked about her excitement at finding herself pregnant again.

  ‘I thought it was never going to happen,’ she said. ‘We’ve been trying for so long. I don’t want to tell Chloe until she really needs to know. To be honest, I was afraid I was going to turn out to be like mum, only we wouldn’t have adopted…’ She broke off abruptly. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean…’