Follow the Leader (13 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Early Saturday morning, Allie was sitting in the car park of
Trentham
Country Club, hoping that Rhian Jamieson was a creature of habit and would be on time. During her visit to interview Joe Tranter, she’d noticed the logo that Tom Shaw had splashed across his T-shirt was the same as the one on the bag that she had seen in his living room. She’d checked their register for the gym to find out that Rhian came in most afternoons, but at around nine thirty in the morning at weekends. Allie guessed that she wouldn’t let a simple thing like the murder of her partner’s ex-wife stop her from working out. Idly, she wondered if she was one of the women who would gossip about Suzi Porter or if it would annoy her because she wouldn’t be the centre of attention.

Five minutes later, she spotted the white Focus she’d seen parked in the driveway of the house in Smallwood Close coming into the car park. Allie waited for Rhian to park and get out of the car. Rhian had her head down, checking her mobile phone as she walked.

‘Hi, Rhian, might I have a word?’

Startled, Rhian looked up.

Allie pointed to the building in front of them. ‘I’ve just been checking something out and spotted you here. I didn’t realise that Suzi Porter was a regular too. Did you see her often?’

Rhian shook her head. ‘I told you – I never saw her much. She made sure she went at different times to me.’

‘Right. So, how are you?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘And Mr Tranter . . . how is he doing now?’

‘He’s fine.’

‘That’s good to hear. I imagine it must have been quite a shock for him on Thursday morning.’

‘As if!’ Rhian barked. ‘They’ve hated each other for years. That’s why he was with me.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything.’ Allie moved to one side a little as another car came into the car park. ‘It’s just with them having a son together, I thought –’

‘You thought they were still close.’

‘Not at all . . . it’s just the way you reacted made me wonder.’

Rhian’s shoulders rose as she stood taller.

‘What do you mean?’ The young woman shook her head. ‘Absolutely not. They split for a reason. He hardly saw her. I would know.’ She added, almost as an afterthought.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean they were seeing each other in
that
respect.’ Allie pretended to be embarrassed, as if she had put her foot into it. ‘I just wondered if
you
thought they were.’

Rhian watched the occupants of the car get out and walk past before speaking again.

‘No, he wouldn’t,’ she said quite firmly.

‘He was seeing her regularly, though – he must have been because of Jayden.’

‘He only picked him up! And Kelvin brought him round mostly because she didn’t want to see Joe. So, whatever you’re trying to imply, there was nothing going on between the two of them. Okay?’

Allie nodded. ‘So you’re still saying that Joe was with you at seven p.m. on Wednesday evening?’

Rhian paused for a split second, but it was enough for Allie.

‘Yes, I told you so.’

‘And there was nothing different about that night?’ Allie probed further.

‘No . . .’ Rhian faltered.

‘Remember, anything at all,’ Allie placed her hand gently on Rhian’s forearm. ‘Even the tiniest thing could help us.’

‘There’s nothing!’ Rhian moved from her touch and began to walk away. ‘Stop hassling me or I’ll report you!’

Allie went back to her car feeling satisfied. She was one step closer to breaking Rhian and finding out exactly what they were hiding.

The third murder came through while Allie was on her way out of the station with Perry. A woman had rung in after seeing her next door neighbour’s front door ajar for several hours. She’d knocked twice before pushing the door open a little more, only to find him lying, bloated and bleary-eyed, in a puddle of blood.

Nick had been on his way to an annual general meeting in Liverpool when he’d been informed. He’d turned around and had asked Allie to visit the crime scene and then start house-to-house enquiries until he arrived. DCI Barrow was also heading over. Either Nick had received a bollocking or there had been another letter left behind.

‘Wonder if this is another one, Sarge?’ Perry laughed, nervously as they went out into the car park.

‘I hope it isn’t.’ Allie threw a bunch of keys at him as she went round to the passenger side of the pool car. ‘If this one can be connected to Mickey Taylor or Suzi Porter, it’s going to mean having a serial killer in the city. I can’t even begin to imagine that.’

A sense of unease settled over them as they drove onto
Potteries
Way. Sneyd Green was two miles from their station. Once there, they turned off Milton Road and into a small cul-de-sac. A few specialist vehicles were already there blocking their way.

Allie looked up at the skies as she got out of the car, ignoring the black clouds flitting quickly across it. ‘CCTV won’t cover this far back from the city centre, I’m assuming?’

Perry shook his head. ‘I doubt it.’

‘I’ll get Sam on to it, just in case it caught anything while it panned around. I doubt any of these houses will have CCTV installed but you never know. We’ll get the house-to-house uniforms to check it out.’

After they’d been logged in and suited up, they stepped into the hallway. Allie could see an elderly man lying on his side, his face turned to her, dead eyes staring straight ahead. He wore a white vest mottled with flecks of scarlet; there was a pool of blood by his neck.

‘Three times in one week?’ Dave said as he spotted them standing behind him. ‘We must stop meeting like this.’

‘Is there –’

Allie held her breath as he handed her an exhibit bag. Inside, it was a red letter this time. E.

‘What happened?’ she wanted to know.

Dave pointed to the side of the victim’s neck and they stepped closer. ‘One stab wound this time. Went straight through the
jugular
and the carotid artery, hence the blood pattern on the wall before he fell. He wouldn’t have known much about it.’

‘Who is he? Do we know his age?’

‘According to his electricity bill in amongst the mess in the kitchen, he’s called Frank Dwyer. His passport says he’s six
ty-s
even. Date of birth fourth of September 1947. Lived here for a number of years, so the neighbour who found him informed us before we came in. Kept himself to himself. A regular at The Sneyd Arms pub most evenings.’

Perry nudged Allie and beckoned for her to go outside. She held up a hand indicating he should wait for a moment. ‘The front door was open – no signs of forced entry elsewhere?’

‘No.’

‘Again.’

‘Indeed.’

‘So he knew his killer, or at least felt comfortable letting this person in.’ Allie glanced around, not needing an answer. The hallway was dingy; she would go so far as to say dirty – there was a layer of dust on top of the small table by the door and mirror frame above it. The threadbare cream carpet was covered in pieces of fluff and what looked like crumbs.

‘Or he brought someone home for pizza.’

Allie frowned, turning her attention back to Dave. He nodded at the discarded box cordoned off at his feet. ‘Not sure why it ended up in his face.’

‘Come again?’

‘It was smeared all over him.’ He pointed at the body. ‘That’s not all blood you see around his face. It’s tomato puree.’

‘Weird.’

‘Boss?’ Perry said again. ‘A word.’

Allie followed him outside this time. For relative privacy, they moved to the side of the house. When she looked up at Perry, all colour had drained from his face.

‘What is it?’

‘He was the P.E. teacher at Reginald Junior School.’ Perry leaned a hand on the wall to steady himself.

‘You’re kidding!’ Allie’s mouth dropped open.

‘I wish I was. And we all hated him. He picked on all the lads who weren’t good at sports. Rumour had it that he was always looking at the boys when they were in the changing rooms. There was tittle-tattle about a spy-hole in the walls where he could look straight in.’

‘Perry, there were rumours like that when I moved from primary school to Reginald High School,’ Allie responded. ‘Like if any fifth-years caught any second-years when the teachers weren’t looking, they’d shove their heads down the toilet and flush it.’

Perry scoffed. ‘And you believed that?’

‘Well, not now, obviously. But when I was twelve, of course I did. Children can be really cruel. Do you think it was rumours or was he gay?’

‘He used to be known for hanging around the showers too, but if you’re asking if he did anything to me, then the answer is no. He might have wanted to touch boys or he might have dreamt about touching them but, as far as I was concerned, he didn’t actually do any of that. It was all things made up by the kids. There was one about a spy-hole in the boys’ changing rooms to look through into the girls’ changing rooms but I’ll be damned if I could ever find it.’

Allie raised her eyebrows, although she knew he was trying to make light of the situation.

‘Wait a minute.’ Perry frowned. ‘There
was
an incident. I think Dwyer supposed to have groped someone – God, what was his name?’ He paused for a moment. ‘Charlie Lewis. I think that was him.’

Allie paused. ‘I suppose he might be looking to pay Dwyer back – even after all these years? Think about it – three murders, three magnetic letters and three people who might be connected? This is looking more like vengeance. Let’s call him in and find out if he has a connection to the other two.’ She walked back towards the house. ‘Start talking to the neighbours, see what else we can find out. And not a word about this as we leave, right? The press will have a field day if they find out about these letters. I – I wonder if he’s not spelling out a word but telling us a name.’

Perry nodded. ‘You mean EVE?’

‘Yes. I’ll talk to Nick once he gets here. There’ll have to be another press conference, and we’ll ask anyone name Eve to come forward.’

Allie put Perry on organising house-to-house enquiries while she went to interview Frank Dwyer’s neighbour. She walked up the path to a tidy semi-detached house that adjoined Dwyer’s
property
. In amongst several council-owned properties, this one was privately owned but with no airs and graces to make it stick out too much from the rest. An elderly, brindle-coloured Staffordshire bull terrier came waddling over to greet her as she was ushered into the hall. Allie put out a hand for him to sniff before stroking him, recognising his easy-going nature.

‘It’s not true what they say about Staffies.’ Mrs Green smiled when she saw Allie petting him. ‘My Freddie wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

Allie followed her into a room with heavily patterned carpeting and a deep pink dralon three-piece suite. A cream shaggy rug lay in front of a coal-effect gas fire; there was a pine-coloured coffee table with a crocheted mat and a bowl of rose potpourri on top. After the dire surroundings next door, Allie felt instant warmth at the homeliness and order here.

‘Have you lived in Queens Road for long, Mrs Green?’ she asked.

‘Yes, just over twenty years now. I was widowed at thirty-five and brought up four boys. I never found anyone to marry after
Harold
had gone.’

‘That’s such a shame. I bet you would have stolen someone’s heart.’

Mrs Green smiled and patted the silver curls in her hair.

‘What about Mr Dwyer? How long had Frank been living there?’

‘He came not long after me, I think.’

‘Did you get on with him?’

‘Mostly.’ Mrs Green moved to sit on the armchair in the
window
. ‘I’ve never had any trouble with him, but he kept himself to
himself
.’ Freddie followed and flopped down at her feet.

‘Was he married? Did you ever see any family visiting?’

Mrs Green leaned in closer to Allie, who had sat on the settee near to her. ‘I never saw him with a woman.’ She nodded knowingly. ‘At first, I thought he was a loner. But then he moved a man in with him.’

‘And is he still living there now?’

‘No, he left.’ Mrs Green paused for a moment, eyes flicked to the ceiling. ‘It was about ten years ago now. Shame, he was such a lovely man. Used to tend to my garden and hedges for me without any asking.’