Deadly Secrets: An absolutely gripping crime thriller Read online

  ‘Did you hear that?’ she murmured. He nodded. They looked up at the surrounding windows, but couldn’t see anything. There was a rustle directly behind. Erika turned and looked up into the branches of a tall oak tree across the road, next to the railings of the school playground. A young man who looked to be in his early twenties was slithering down the branches. He stepped onto the top of the metal railing lining the playground, and dropped down into the alleyway. He was scruffy, with long blond hair, and had a long-lens camera around his neck on a strap. He glanced at Erika and McGorry, then bolted for it down the snowy alleyway.

  ‘Hey! Stop!’ shouted Erika. McGorry headed off in pursuit down the alleyway, and Erika followed. The young man wore a long coat, which flowed out behind him as he ran. He jumped up onto the lid of a wheelie bin, and vaulted up and over a high wall with tall trees behind it. Seconds later, McGorry reached the wheelie bin, hitched up his coat and heaved himself up shakily. Erika tottered unsteadily along and reached the bin as McGorry grabbed hold of a branch of one of the thick, snow-covered evergreens and climbed up onto the lip of the wall.

  ‘What’s over there…?’ she started, but he jumped off, and landed on the other side with a thud and a yell. The branches above the wall swayed, dislodging the snow, and then they were still. Erika heard more yelling, and instinctively reached for her radio in her pocket, but it wasn’t there. She looked back down the alleyway, but the road with the crime scene appeared a long way off.

  ‘Shit, if he’s broken something…’ she muttered, thinking how much paperwork there would be to fill in. Shaking the guilty thought away, she took off her heels and shoved them into the pockets of her long coat, before hitching the coat up to climb up onto the wheelie bin. The plastic lid creased and bent downwards with her weight. She hooked her leg up onto the brick wall, and grabbed a branch of one of the evergreens to steady herself, dislodging more snow on top of her head in the process. The ground was higher on the opposite side, and Erika dropped down softly onto a bed of soil and leaves between the wall and the thick row of trees. She slipped her shoes back on and walked out of the trees into a large, snow-covered garden. A gap in the middle was churned up with two sets of footprints, and there were two large sheds, a greenhouse, and a long polythene tunnel beyond. The garden’s high walls muffled the sounds of traffic from surrounding streets.

  McGorry was moving slowly towards the sheds. He turned to Erika and put a finger to his lips, pointing to the second shed in the row of two, closest to the house. She nodded. The house was large and crumbling. The sash windows were grimy, with peeling paint. A tall gate in one corner was blocked by overflowing rubbish bins. The back door to the house had a small roofed porch with steps down to the garden, which were covered in plant pots.

  As Erika reached McGorry, from inside the house came a cacophony of clocks chiming the hour. The blond-haired lad appeared from behind the shed, and ran back to the wall. McGorry moved faster, tackling him to the ground. Erika hurried over to them, but lost one of her shoes in the process, and fell back into the snow.

  ‘Calm down!’ said McGorry as the lad fought, throwing punches and landing one in McGorry’s face.

  ‘Get off me!’ cried the young man. He was wiry with a thin, feral face and bright blue eyes a little too far apart. Erika got up, losing her other shoe in the snow. McGorry was churning up the snow, struggling to keep hold of the young man, who kicked and flailed, and then got the upper hand, pushed McGorry’s face into the snow. McGorry flailed and reached around, managing to get hold of the camera, and tightened the strap around the boy’s neck. The boy released his grip on the back of McGorry’s head, and grabbed at the strap tightening around his neck.

  ‘Get back!’ shouted a voice. ‘Let him go!’ A large, elderly woman in an orange onesie was at the top of the porch steps, holding a shotgun. Her grey hair hung past her shoulders, and she wore huge glasses that magnified her eyes. She aimed a shotgun at them, and advanced towards them through the snow.

  Erika put up her hands. The elderly woman’s eyes looked crazed, and she felt this situation has suddenly escalated to red alert. McGorry coughed and spat out snow, still holding the strap tight. The young man was scrabbling frantically at his throat.

  ‘John. Let him go!’ shouted Erika. McGorry let go of the camera strap, and the lad fell onto the snow, coughing. ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Erika Foster of the London Metropolitan Police, and this is Detective Inspector John McGorry. We can show you our warrant cards, but you need to put the weapon down… Now.’

  The woman looked anxiously between Erika and McGorry, but she didn’t lower the gun.

  ‘That is my son you are attacking, and you are trespassing on my property!’

  ‘We are police, and your son was trespassing and photographing a crime scene,’ said Erika. She wondered what the woman was capable of.

  ‘Joseph! Come away from them!’ the woman shrilled, still training the gun at them. Joseph coughed, and staggered over, his coat covered in snow.

  ‘Elspeth!’ shouted another voice. An elderly man emerged behind her from the back door. He looked like an eccentric university professor, and was wearing a long blue cape and a tatty skull cap dotted with sequins. He had a magnifying lens fixed to his head with a band, giving him one huge, staring eye. ‘Elspeth, put that down at once!’

  ‘Sir, we are police and we can show you identification,’ said Erika, her heart beginning to race. She felt stupid for blundering into this situation, and she was aware she wasn’t wearing any shoes. Her feet were numb from the cold. The man gently took the shotgun from Elspeth, and opened the barrel.

  ‘It’s not loaded,’ he said, hooking it over his arm in the manner of a gamekeeper. ‘And we have a firearms certificate.’

  ‘My boy, my boy!’ said Elspeth, who had gathered Joseph into her arms and was checking him over, running her hands over his neck and peering into his eyes. ‘Did they hurt you? Are you okay?’

  Joseph looked a little bewildered and shell-shocked.

  ‘Why was that gun so easily to hand?’ asked Erika. McGorry leaned breathlessly on his knees and spat out snow.

  ‘If you join us inside officers, you can all get dry, and we can sort this out,’ said the man.

  Five

  Erika and McGorry stamped their feet in the porch and brushed the snow off their coats. Then they were shown through to a warm, cosy kitchen. Elspeth fussed over Joseph like he was a small child, guiding him to one of the chairs at a long wooden table. McGorry moved to stand close to a blazing fire in the corner. The room was decorated like a country farmhouse kitchen, with a Welsh dresser, and a large green Aga from which a delicious smell of turkey was filling the room.

  ‘There’s a welt coming up already!’ cried Elspeth, tilting Joseph’s head to one side. He kept hold of his camera, and scowled at Erika and McGorry.

  ‘Do take a seat, officers,’ said the man, pulling out more chairs at the table.

  ‘Can I see the certificate for your firearm,’ said Erika, ignoring the chair.

  ‘Certainly,’ he said, leaning the shotgun by the fireplace and moving to a drawer in the Welsh dresser.

  ‘It’s a legal firearm,’ insisted Elspeth, helping Joseph out of his wet coat and draping a towel around his shoulders. Erika noted he didn’t want to let go of the camera, even when she was trying to get his arms out of the coat.

  ‘What’s your full name?’

  ‘Family name is Pitkin. I’m David, this is Elspeth and Joseph. I take it you weren’t expecting to be on duty today?’ he said, looking up from rummaging in the drawer. He indicated Erika’s soaked, misshapen shoes.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Were you headed anywhere nice?’

  Erika realised she still had to tell Marsh she wouldn’t be coming for lunch. She ignored him and pushed the thought to the back of her head.

  ‘What do you do for a living?’

  ‘I’m a horologist,’ he said, tapping the magnifying lens strapped to his head by a
leather band. ‘I repair clocks and watches, although, to be honest, it’s more of a hobby since I retired from the bar. Ah, here we are,’ he said, pulling out a folded piece of paper.

  ‘You were a barrister?’ Erika said, her heart sinking.

  ‘Yes. Thirty years.’

  Erika took the licence and scanned the details.

  ‘It’s Elspeth’s gun. I have my own. We like to shoot. It’s a hobby, of course.’

  ‘That seems in order,’ said Erika, passing the licence back to him. ‘But if it’s a hobby, why was the gun so easily to hand?’

  Elspeth looked up from peering at Joseph’s neck. ‘I have it in a locked cabinet in the back office! I saw you in the garden, creeping about. This isn’t the nice area it used to be. There’s drugs, and burglaries almost every other day… Look what you did to him! He’s going to have a nasty bruise.’

  ‘I’ll also remind you, DCI Foster, of the law in Britain regarding self-defence, based on the principles of reasonable force being used?’ said David.

  ‘Does she brandish a double-barrelled shotgun, in broad daylight, to anyone she finds in the garden? Seems a bit excessive,’ said Erika.

  ‘Excuse me, I’m not going to be called “she” in my own house,’ snapped Elspeth. ‘I was going to offer you a piece of my coffee and walnut cake, to show no hard feelings, but I’m not going to now.’

  McGorry turned away, suppressing a grin, but Erika didn’t find the situation funny. What she wanted to do was to get hold of the camera Joseph was still clutching tightly, and return to the crime scene.

  ‘A court will usually take into account the fact that being threatened in or at one’s home is a frightening situation,’ said David. ‘The spirit of the law being that someone should have the right to defend themselves, their possessions, and those they are responsible for…’

  ‘At no point was your son’s or your wife’s life in danger,’ interrupted McGorry.

  ‘Really? What’s your name, young man?’

  ‘John McGorry, Detective Constable.’

  ‘Detective Constable John McGorry, why were you attempting an illegal chokehold on my son?’

  ‘I wasn’t…’

  ‘Please don’t lie. You were using Joseph’s camera strap to restrain him about the neck. It’s illegal to use chokeholds on suspects or members of the public. In years gone by, the police were trained in chokeholds, but I would think you’re a little young and inexperienced…’

  ‘I was merely…’ started McGorry, his cheeks flushing with annoyance. Erika shot him a look to stay quiet.

  ‘And your superior officer should know this too,’ added David.

  ‘I do know this,’ said Erika. ‘I can also tell you that if a police officer does use a choke hold, the officer may be able to present a justification for the use of force based on the circumstances. And based on the fact your son was attempting to suffocate my officer, by pushing his face into the snow, a choke hold in self-defence could be considered reasonable or necessary. Check online, this was detailed in a recent freedom of information act to West Mercia police.’

  David tried, but failed to hide his annoyance.

  ‘This still doesn’t explain why you were pursuing my son?’

  ‘Your son was trespassing at a crime scene.’

  ‘Which isn’t a criminal offence,’ said David.

  ‘He was taking photos of the crime scene…’

  ‘Again, not a criminal offence.’

  Erika paused and gave him a thin smile.

  ‘He was evading a police officer.’

  ‘Yes, and now we are all here and he will cooperate, within reason.’

  ‘Your son may have information on his camera which could help our investigation,’ said Erika. She felt foolish for giving chase, and now she was having to defend herself and McGorry to this retired barrister who was threatening to get the better of her.

  ‘Where is the crime scene?’ asked David.

  ‘I can’t comment on that.’

  ‘They’ve found a body, up on Coniston Road,’ said Joseph. He had a soft, cultured voice, almost speaking with received pronunciation.

  ‘You found a body?’ said Elspeth, who was still patting at his hair with the towel.

  ‘No, mother,’ he said, batting her away. ‘The police found the body.’

  ‘We’re not at liberty to speak about an ongoing murder case,’ said McGorry.

  ‘You believe it’s murder?’ said David.

  ‘Murder?’ said Elspeth.

  ‘It was Marissa Lewis; someone stabbed her to death on her doorstep,’ said Joseph.

  ‘That’s speculating…’ started Erika.

  ‘No. I was there when her body was discovered.’ Joseph pulled the camera into his lap protectively.

  ‘Did you call the police?’ asked Erika.

  ‘I didn’t have my phone.’

  ‘But you took photos of the crime scene, before the police arrived?’

  ‘You don’t have to answer that, Joseph. We bought him a new lens for his camera, as a Christmas gift.’ said David.

  ‘If anyone round here was going to come a cropper, it would be Marissa Lewis,’ said Elspeth, shaking her head.

  ‘My wife is also speculating,’ said David. ‘Which is legal, is it not?’ He was infuriatingly calm, and Erika took a deep breath.

  ‘Of course it’s legal, but could she – could you – explain?’

  Elspeth draped the towel over the back of a free chair, crossed herself, and turned to Erika.

  ‘Marissa Lewis has – had – a certain reputation, if you get my drift. A promiscuous reputation. She worked as a stripper.’

  ‘You’ve seen her at work?’ asked McGorry.

  ‘Of course I haven’t seen her at work! None of us have!’ She glanced at David and Joseph, who shook their heads and looked at the floor. ‘My hairdresser told me.’

  Erika’s eyes strayed to the loose, greasy grey hair hanging around Elspeth’s shoulders, and wondered exactly what a hairdresser did for her.

  ‘Who is your hairdresser?’

  ‘Marissa Lewis’s best friend, Sharon-Louise Braithwaite, is my hairdresser. At the Goldilocks Hair Studio by Crofton Park station. Marissa asked Sharon to put up a poster for one of her… performances, in the salon. It was a picture of her wearing nothing but stockings, suspenders and a bra!’ Elspeth shook her head at the memory. ‘I also heard from Sharon that Marissa had an affair with a married man who lived a few doors down, and she had several other blokes on the go.’

  ‘Do you have the name of the married man?’

  ‘Don Walpole. He has a wife, Jeanette. They’re still together, despite it all.’

  Erika turned her focus back to Joseph.

  ‘So, you were in the tree opposite Marissa Lewis’s house early this morning, and you took photos? What did you take photos of?’

  ‘The sunrise,’ he said, with a smarmy smile.

  ‘You were up in the tree to capture the sunrise, but you remained in the tree after you saw there was a dead body in the garden opposite, and the road was closed off by police officers?’

  ‘I only saw the body when I heard Marissa’s mother scream.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘I dunno.’

  ‘We opened our Christmas presents at ten to seven,’ said David. ‘We had breakfast, and Joseph left around seven-twenty. Sunrise today was at 8.05 a.m.’

  ‘It had just got light, so it was around that time when Marissa’s mum came out of their house,’ said Joseph. ‘I don’t wear a watch.’

  ‘Do you know why Marissa’s mother came to the front door?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘She probably had more bottles to put in the recycling bin; she’s a drinker,’ said Elspeth. ‘It’s not the nicest street.’

  ‘There’s been snow and thick cloud for the past few days. How would you expect to see the sun rise?’ asked McGorry.

  ‘If all photographers thought like that, they wouldn’t take any photos,
’ said Joseph.

  ‘You’re a professional photographer?’

  ‘The word professional is rather redundant. Would you say you are a professional police officer? Did you act professionally when you pinned me down in a chokehold?’

  ‘Listen, you little sh…’ started McGorry, taking a step towards him. Erika held up her hand.

  ‘Joseph, stop wasting time, and answer our questions.’

  ‘He doesn’t have to answer any of your questions!’ cried Elspeth.

  ‘A young woman has been brutally attacked and murdered on her doorstep. She should be with her family this morning, but instead she’s lying in the snow with her throat hacked open. The bones are broken in her face, and she may or may not have been sexually assaulted,’ said Erika. ‘Joseph doesn’t have to answer any of my questions, but he could have information that helps our investigation.’

  Joseph looked uncomfortable for the first time, and shifted in his seat.

  ‘Okay, I did watch stuff for a bit, then the police arrived really fast. Then they closed off the road. I didn’t know what to do. When I climbed up that tree, it wasn’t a crime scene, but by the time I stepped back down, it was.’

  ‘Did you photograph the body?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can I look through the photos on your camera?’

  ‘No. It’s a film camera,’ he said, holding it up. Erika moved over to him and saw that it was a vintage model, and had no digital screen. She went to take it, but before she could, Joseph flipped it over, opened the back and whipped out the roll of film. He pulled out the negative, and dumped it on the table.

  ‘There. No photos to process. All gone.’

  Erika stared at him. He had an odd face, both vulnerable and hard. He stared at her, defiantly.

  ‘I think we’ve been more than cooperative, officers,’ said David. ‘Now if that is all, we’d like to get on with celebrating Christmas.’

  * * *

  Erika and McGorry left through the front door. It had stopped snowing and the road was busy with cars. When they turned and looked back, the house looked oddly out of place: a crumbling, sagging structure, sandwiched in a gap between the smart, upright row of terraces.