Follow the Leader (4 page)

‘Derek Taylor, Mickey’s father,’ he told them. ‘This is my
son,
Martin
.’

‘We’re so sorry for your loss,’ Perry told him.

‘It’s just a job to you.’

‘I know it’s hard to deal with, but –’

‘I’m sick of waiting around here while his killer is on the loose. You should be chasing him down, not questioning the people he worked with.’

‘Martin.’ Doris laid a hand on Martin’s arm, but he shrugged it off.

‘You’ve every right to feel angry, we get that,’ Allie spoke firmly. ‘But,’ she looked at him for a moment, needing to gain his trust, ‘please, any tiny detail you may remember could help us find the person responsible.’

‘I need some fresh air.’ Martin walked off.

Perry stopped Doris from going after him. ‘Give him some space,’ he said. ‘He’ll talk when he’s ready.’

‘Sorry about that.’ Derek flinched as a door slammed. ‘I lost his mother only last year and now, well,’ he paused, looking away for a moment, ‘I can’t believe this has happened too. Mickey was a great support to us both.’

‘How was business, Mr Taylor?’ she asked, changing the subject in the hope of distracting the obviously upset man.

‘It was good. Mickey’s life couldn’t have been better. Well, perhaps a little less stress once in a while, but with orders piling in, having to recruit extra staff brought along more headaches. Still, Mickey had the last laugh.’ Derek smiled faintly. ‘His teachers at Reginald High School had been certain he’d make nothing of himself but he’d proved them all wrong. Taylor Made Pottery Factory has been going strong for twenty years now.’ Then his demeanour changed. ‘Why would anyone kill my boy?’ His voice broke and he held back a sob before he spoke again. ‘He didn’t do anyone any harm. He was kind and gentle and a – a gentle giant.’

‘We often called him that,’ Doris confirmed. ‘Come and sit in the office for a moment, Derek. I’m sure the police will come back before they leave.’

‘Let’s get this over with,’ Allie said quietly as she and Perry were left alone. ‘We can interview the family at the end.’

Chapter Five

Just after half past ten that evening, Perry let himself into his house, closing the front door as quietly as possible. It had been a long, busy day and he was exhausted. Finding the living room empty, he went upstairs and opened the bedroom door to see his wife asleep with the light on, her Kindle on his pillow. He gazed at her, half-expecting her to be wide awake and fooling around, to break down in giggles if he stayed watching much longer. But after a few seconds, she still didn’t move.

Not wanting to wake her straightaway, he switched the light off and showered in the main bathroom. But after a quick bite to eat and a hot drink, he climbed into bed beside her, the warmth of her body instantly comforting. Normality, he sighed, that’s what he wanted. Mundane, day-to-day normality.

Lisa snuffled in her sleep and he pulled her close. Half-sitting, half-lying, he waited for his mind to rest after the events of the day. Mickey Taylor – he’d been glad he hadn’t had to go and tell his wife what had happened. Allie had told him about the daughter, too, how hard it had been for her to watch her fall apart.

Lisa wrapped an arm around his chest and pressed her body along the side of his. ‘Hey,’ she said sleepily.

‘Hey yourself. You’re to bed early.’

‘Yes, felt knackered when I came in from work – again. How about you? Was it a bad one?’

‘Nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Did he have a family?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, that’s so sad. Did you have to visit his wife?’

‘No, Allie went with Nick. Then we went to his factory. There were lots of staff who thought highly of the guy. Took us a while to get through them all. They were all upset too – not a one unaffected by it. We have to go back in the morning to question the early shift. I doubt anything will come of it, but you never know.’

Lisa lifted her head and gazed at him, trying to focus in the dim light through half-closed eyes. ‘Ouch.’

He ran a hand over her hair. ‘I’m a big boy, Lees. I can cope with it.’

‘I still worry for you. Was it tough?’

‘I wouldn’t be human if I said it wasn’t.’ Perry thought back to the moment when Mickey Taylor’s father had finally been unable to contain his grief. ‘Or good at my job. I want to nail the bastard who did this though. I . . . I knew him.’

Lisa propped herself up on her elbow. ‘Oh. Are you okay?’

Perry nodded to reassure her, knowing he needed to hide his distress. But even though he had dealt with a few murders over the years he’d been in the force, nothing could have prepared him for it being someone he knew. Even though he hadn’t seen Mickey Taylor in years, it had come as quite a shock.

‘Mickey was a piss-taker, one of the jokers,’ he explained. ‘I had some good times growing up with him, having a laugh. If I’m not asked to attend the funeral, I might go anyway. Show my respect.’

Seeing Lisa stifle a yawn, he realised it wasn’t fair to keep them both awake. He pulled her further into his arms, enjoying the feel of her skin against his. It made him realise that he was alive, able to face another day. Not like Mickey Taylor. He wondered how his wife and daughters were doing. Would they be coping? Sleeping? Crying? Unable to go to bed because they didn’t want to wake up in the morning and realise their nightmare wasn’t a nightmare but was in fact a reality, that they had lost a husband, a father and a friend because some heartless idiot had taken him away from them?

Maybe the team would get a break tomorrow, realise that it was just some random act of violence – a druggie after a quick hit or something. Something simple yet, if so, bloody tragic.

He reached across and turned out the light. Exhausted and emotional, Perry hoped sleep would wear him down soon.

Allie parked her car in the driveway of her home and killed the engine. She let herself in, hoping to remove the heaviness of th
e d
ay along with her coat as she left it in the hallway. In the
living
room, she found Mark sprawled along the length of the settee.

‘Hey.’ Allie ruffled his hair. ‘How was your first day back?’

‘It seemed to go on forever. But not as long as yours.’ Mark yawned and stretched his arms in the air. ‘You got anything
concrete
?’

‘Not yet.’ Allie perched beside him and relayed the details that she could.

‘I can’t believe this is someone else you know,’ Mark said afterwards. ‘I hope this isn’t going to become a habit.’

‘I knew him vaguely!’ Allie nudged his shoulder, thankful that he was joking. But she did pause for a moment, recalling her last murder investigation. Both she and Mark had met Steph Ryder, although neither of them could claim to have known her all that well. It was a good thing, really, Allie deduced, considering the circumstances leading up to the arrest of her killer.

‘Mickey Taylor.’ Allie shook her head slowly. ‘I still can’t believe it. Perry knew both him and his wife. He reckons he was a right lad at school.’

‘We were all right lads at school. Most of us grew up, though, when we walked out of the gates for the final time and joined the real world.’

‘I suppose. Most of the time I can distance myself from my work, but it was really sad. Gorgeous house, one of the large detached ones on Holly Lane. And, do you know, apart from the obvious signs of grief, Kath’s really looked after herself. Makes a refreshing change.’

‘You mean she still looks good for our age group?’

‘
Your
age group, old man,’ Allie mocked. ‘I’m younger than you.’

‘And, boy, will you never let me forget it.’

‘No, I never will.’ She bent down to kiss his forehead, so grateful that they still got on so well after fifteen years of marriage. She watched him for a moment longer, letting his familiarity stabilise her. It made her feel peaceful, lucky to have him to come home to.

She went through to the kitchen. Despite the lateness of the hour, she was hungry after grabbing what she could throughout the day. The first hours of any murder enquiry were manic, with hardly a moment to breathe. There were no properties near to the scene of this one, but house-to-house enquiries had started around the surrounding streets, which meant setting up the enquiry, rounding up extra bodies, appealing for witnesses and dealing with them – although there hadn’t been any so far – scouring CCTV to see if it had panned over the area at the right time and caught anything, waiting for forensics coming in, getting the Financial
Forensic
Unit to check Mickey’s position, obtaining the family’s phone records. If it weren’t for the fact that everyone they wished to speak to, or anyone who could give them information, would be asleep now, most of the team would still be at their desks.

Mark padded into the room, barefoot, dressed in navy pyjama bottoms and a white T-shirt. Allie’s stomach flipped over at the sight. She felt blessed that he could still do that to her, that he still warmed her heart, still made her insides tingle. She reached up as he drew near, running a hand over his late-in-the-day stubble.

‘You hungry?’ she asked as he pulled her towards him, squeezing her tightly around the waist.

‘For you?’ He kissed her. ‘Not at all. But I’ll have whatever you’re having food-wise.’

She pushed him away playfully.

‘How was Karen?’ she asked. Mark had said he’d visit when she’d rung him earlier, knowing that she’d be late home. Despite Karen’s brain condition, she was aware of happy and sad. If Allie didn’t visit for more than three days in a row, she would sulk. It made Allie feel even guiltier.

‘She was good.’ Mark yawned. ‘I said you’d be by tomorrow. You will be able to sneak a few minutes with her?’

‘You know I’ll do my best.’

‘Yeah, I do know that.’

‘Meaning?’ she frowned.

‘You know what I mean. Family first and all that.’

Before she could defend herself, Mark left the room. Allie groaned quietly. Despite his protestations, sometimes it would be good to come home without the worry of being chastised for working long hours. She knew only too well that she needed to keep work and play separate, and there was a fine line to tread.

But he was wrong when he said she didn’t think of her
family
. It was at times like these that she did nothing but. That’s why she often needed to distance herself from Karen, to stop the raw pain from seeping in again. Of course, it had deadened somewhat over the years since the attack. But often in cases such as Mickey
Taylor’s
, when she had to spend time with victims’ families, it brought her own feelings to the forefront again. She couldn’t help that.

But it was what made her do her job well, and she didn’t want to change that at all.

Chapter Six

Rhian Jamieson let out an impatient sigh as she waited her turn in the queue at the Co-op. The woman standing in front of her packed her shopping slowly while her toddler wrecked the display of cheese and onion crisps at her side. Rhian clocked her cheap jeans and sweater underneath a denim jacket that must have been fashionable at some time or other. Lank hair, several strands coming loose from a ponytail, was scraped severely away from her face. Dark circles under her eyes and a spotty chin, face devoid of any make-up.

Rhian twirled a strand of her own freshly washed hair around a finger, unable to understand how someone could let herself go that much. The woman seemed barely older than her, yet at twen
ty-si
x, Rhian probably looked better now than she ever had in her life. Slim waist, blonde hair, glamour model figure and pouting lips, designer coat, leather-look skinny trousers and stiletto ankle boots – she knew she looked amazing.

‘That’s eighteen pounds forty-seven pence, please,’ said the checkout assistant as she waited for the customer to finish. There were several people in the queue behind Rhian now, some starting to roll their eyes and check their watches. Rhian gnawed at her bottom lip to stop herself from screaming out as the woman thrust a note into the cashier’s hand. Why couldn’t she hurry up!

Fifteen minutes later, Rhian was out of the shop and rushing to her car. It was her own fault, really – she hadn’t planned on being out so late the night before but she’d bumped into friends while out shopping. Her confession that her fella was working away for the night had led to an impromptu evening doing manicures for several women. It had been lucrative at least – and pleasing that her new business venture was taking off. She’d forgotten all about getting some food in so would have to tell Joe she’d been to M&S – she was sure he’d never know.

A few minutes into her journey, she had to slow for a red light. While she was stationary, she glanced into the black people-
carrier
stopped at her side. The woman driving it pushed neat blonde hair behind her ear and checked her eyes in the rear-view
mirror
,
rubbing
a finger under each one before she was satisfied with he
r r
eflection. Behind her, a young child was sleeping in a car seat. Rhian’s heart melted at the sight of a pink hat and matching coat. Recently, she’d begun to feel a maternal tug towards babies, which shocked her completely. She’d always thought she’d never have children so it was a strange feeling – although she wondered if she would cope with a small being relying on her twenty-four-seven.

As the lights changed to green and they both drove off in opposite directions, Rhian imagined what it would be like to pull into the drive at home and pick up a baby rather than a bag of ready-made food from the back seat. But then again, an afternoon
lounging
in a luxurious bath with a glass of something chilled before Joe was due back was pretty tempting too.

She turned into a small estate of newly built houses off Victoria Road. A minute later, she was in Smallwood Avenue and parking her car in the drive of number four only to find that Joe was home before her. Frowning, she wondered what had brought him back so early.

Rhian had been living with Joe for the past two years. Joe owned the property, a four-bedroom house in a row of almost
identical
ones. It was tidy, although lacking charisma, but Rhia
n lo
ved living there. It still gave her a buzz to let herself in, walk the length of the long hall. Off it was a living room equivalent to the size of the downstairs of her parents’ home, and after that was the kitchen with its conservatory that opened out onto a garden with a hot tub that she made the most of whenever the weather was fit.

‘Only me, babe,’ she said as she opened the front door and pulled her key from the lock. She hung up her coat and went through into the kitchen.

Joe was sitting forward in a chair, watching Sky News. All hunched up, looking intense – it didn’t do anything for him.
Rhian’s
friends often teased her, knowing she was only after a sugar daddy, always asking what it was like to wake up next to someone sixteen years older. But she did enjoy the status of dating an older guy, and the perks that came with being with this one. Was it worth it just for the money he gave to her? Hell, yes. But even though everyone assumed he was rolling in money because of his ex-wife, Rhian knew differently. Joe had money of his own stashed away too. He’d told her he’d never go short, having come away from a bad
marriage
with a good pay-out. It was one of the reasons she was still with him. That, and his broody look and sex appeal. Even at forty-two, he was certainly eye candy.

‘You’re home earlier than planned.’ She went to sit in his lap but he pushed her aside, intent on watching the screen. ‘What’
s up?’

‘Job finished early,’ he said. ‘There was a bloke murdered
yesterday.’

‘What – you mean here in Stoke?’ Rhian gasped.

‘Yes, haven’t you heard? It’s been all over the news.’

‘No, I must have missed the bulletins.’ Rhian omitted to tell him she hadn’t heard a thing because she’d been gossiping with friends. She turned to focus on the screen a little better, watching a clip of a white tent over the side of a canal bank. She leaned a bit closer. ‘Ooh, that’s Etruria, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, poor bastard was attacked while he walked the dog. I know him, too. We went to school together.’

Rhian turned back to him sharply. ‘Please don’t tell me the dog is dead too.’

Joe shook his head. ‘No, it made its own way home.’

‘Oh, the poor thing.’

‘We’re talking about a bloke who’s been murdered.’ Joe’s pitch was one of exasperation. ‘Out for a walk with his dog, stabbed and left for dead. I can’t believe it’s Mickey.’

‘When did you last see him?’

‘We didn’t keep in touch after school, but –’

‘Well, you hardly know him then.’

‘Doesn’t make it any better.’

‘I suppose.’ Rhian paused. ‘Anyway, what do you fancy to eat for lunch? I got a piece of gammon at half-price – needs to be eaten today, really. Or a couple of ready-meals.’

‘I’m not hungry, and I have to go out again soon. That’s why I’m back a little earlier.’

‘Do you have to?’ Rhian pouted. ‘I thought we could have some afternoon delight, so to speak.’ She waggled her eyebrows comically, waiting for him to acknowledge her, but he said nothing, just kept his eyes on the screen.

A few moments later, knowing she wasn’t going to get his attention, Rhian moved away with another sigh. He was good at that – ignoring her, making her feel invisible when he had more pressing things on his mind. Still, taking the rough with the smooth was something she was used to. With Joe, the rough was bad but the smooth was always worth waiting for.

Day two of the enquiry had been frustrating for Allie. So far there were no leads. No witnesses, no ID from forensics that could put anyone else on the scene. Any CCTV cameras that would have been on the area didn’t reach down and underneath the bridge to show what had happened on the towpath. Finally, she’d tasked Sam with trawling through the ones that panned around the city to see if there was a chance they had been in range, but again, there had been nothing. Despite media coverage on the local radio stations and front-page coverage of the story in
The Sentinel
, no witnesses had come forward with any further details. They were at a loss at the moment until more forensics came back.

As her hands flew over her keyboard, her mind went back to the letter E that had been found in Mickey Taylor’s pocket. It wasn’t even the beginning of Mickey’s name: the worst scenario they had been going over in that evening’s briefing was that it might be the beginning of a word. If so, it could be a sign of more to come – which was a horrible thought in itself. Everyone was
certainly
stumped as to why it was there. Without the magnetic letter, no one would have been any the wiser – the murder would have been taken for a random attack, a robbery gone wrong. But the letter changed everything.

She finally left the station just before nine that evening. Before heading home, she popped over to Riverdale Residential Home on the off chance that her sister might still be awake. At the main doors, she pressed her key fob to the monitor to allow her access. Walking through the now-darkened reception area and along the brightly lit corridor to Karen’s room always reminded Allie of how long she had been coming there, how seventeen years of her sister’s life had been taken away from them both. Still, it was pleasant, and the staff and the facilities were second to none, and it was only a mile from where she and Mark lived in Werrington. Her sister had the best they could offer her.

Karen was propped up in bed when she walked into her room. Her dark hair was washed, her fringe held back with a purple cli
p. H
er face seemed a little more puffy than usual but that was because Doctor Merchant had tried a different cream on her psoriasis and it had caused a slight reaction. She noted that the patches looked better than the last time she’d visited, though.

Allie wiped a bit of dribble from Karen’s chin and bent to kiss her forehead. ‘Hey, Sis. How are you doing?’

Karen groaned, an angry response, her eyes firmly set on the small television screen behind her.

‘Not sulking, are you?’ Allie’s shoulders drooped. ‘I’m sorry; I’ve been busy with a case.’

Karen groaned, louder this time. Allie breathed a sigh of relief: it was a frustrated groan, not one of annoyance. She turned to look at the television, catching Bradley Walsh walking across it in a crumpled flasher-mac–type coat. She stepped to one side with a smile, realising that she was blocking her sister’s view.

‘Well, well, now,’ she teased. ‘I can’t have you missing
Law and Order.
’

She drew up a chair and sat down beside the bed, concentrating on her own murder case as Detective Sergeant Ronnie Brooks tried to solve his. Allie hoped Mickey Taylor’s murder wouldn’t be one that remained unsolved – a random attack that hadn’t been witnessed by anyone, with no camera evidence to follow up, a
silhouette
of a person perhaps disappearing into the distance. This was always the frustrating time on any investigation: either waiting for someone to confess because they couldn’t sleep with their guilt or eventually realising that someone was going to their grave never telling a soul of the wrong deed they’d done. But she and her team wouldn’t give up until all angles were covered. It was early days yet.

She sighed, got out her phone and sent a message to Mark. She wouldn’t be long but she wanted him to know that she had left work. He’d probably be expecting her to be at the station all evening.

‘I can’t believe the Christmas break is over already, Kaz,’ she said, sitting forward to rest a hand on her sister’s arm. ‘It was good to just catch up with Mark – and do normal things, you know. Watch TV, do a bit of shopping in the sales, go for a pub lunch or two. I swear we must have eaten our weight in chocolate, though.’ She patted her stomach with her other hand. ‘I need to get back to the gym.’

She stretched her aching neck from side to side, her eyes catching a group of framed photos on the opposite wall. They’d found most of them when clearing out Karen’s flat after the attack. They were of family and friends, happier times. Allie wondered if Mickey Taylor would be in any of these photos. There was one with a group of teens; she got up and moved closer to check it out,
looking
for the flash of red hair. Yes, over on the left side: three boys. The middle one looked like Mickey. Over on the right stood three girls, arms round each other’s shoulders – one of them was Karen. Allie ran a finger over her image. She’d recognise that smile anywhere, even though she hadn’t seen it in such a long time.

She peered closer. Was one of the girls Kath Clamortie?
Removing
the frame from the wall, she took out the photo.
Written
on the back in blue ink were the date and the school name:
Reginald
High School – 1989. Under that was a list of names: Me, Sandy, Mickey, Gray, Kath and Nath. She looked at the boys again. One of the others looked familiar too, but she couldn’t place him.

Allie put the photo back on the wall and sat down, giving
Karen’s
hand a squeeze. She’d give anything to have one last chat with her sister, even if only to make sure everything was okay for her. It was such a sad existence to be in the home all day, every day, for the rest of her life.

‘I miss talking to you so much, Sis,’ she said quietly.

Noticing that Karen’s eyes were closing, Allie watched her for a moment before pushing herself forcefully to her feet. Sometimes, seeing her lying there, unable to respond, felt just as bad as if she had been taken away altogether. Just like someone had taken Mickey Taylor from his family.