Kissing the Demons (25 page)

It was Jason who spoke first. ‘So who was our unwelcome housemate?'

‘We can't say for sure yet,' Joe replied. ‘But whoever it is, she's been up there quite a while.'

Matt had been staring at his mug but he suddenly looked up. ‘She?'

‘According to our doctor it's a female. Probably an adolescent girl.' Emily caught Joe's eye. It was only a matter of time before the body was identified officially by dental records and what was left of the ragged clothing. But in the meantime, they were pretty sure of the dead girl's identity.

Caro brought the tea in on a stained plastic tray and Joe watched her, waiting for a suitable moment to begin the questioning.

‘What can you tell us about your next door neighbours?' Joe asked once they had the steaming mugs in front of them.

‘Not much,' said Caro. ‘We called a couple of times to ask when to put the bins out and that sort of thing.'

‘And we took a parcel in for them once,' Jason chipped in. ‘They seemed quite . . . Well, I don't know if normal's the word. There was something a bit weird about them.'

Joe nodded. But he doubted if Jason would have delivered that verdict if the Quillans had proved to be upright citizens who didn't keep mummified corpses in attics. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

‘Well at least I know what the noises up in the loft were now,' said Matt quietly. ‘I feel a bit stupid now . . . thinking it was . . .'

‘The ghost of old Obediah Shrowton,' said Jason with a sneer. ‘Really, Matt, you're so easy to wind up. Hang on, maybe the body belongs to one of his victims . . . one that was never found,' he added, his eyes glowing with mischievous enjoyment.

Matt took a sip from the mug Caro had just placed in front of him. ‘Well he did kill those people in here. You can't deny that.'

Joe stood up. If the students wanted to start an argument, that was none of his concern. He looked at Emily who was listening in silence. She gave a slight nod. ‘Right. We'll take a look upstairs,' he said. ‘Has anybody told Cassidy about this? He'll need to know about the damage to his property.'

‘We thought we'd tell him tomorrow,' said Caro.

Matt looked at Joe. ‘That person dressed as the Grim Reaper . . . could it have been Quillan from next door?'

‘We'll ask him,' Joe said before leaving the room and making his way upstairs. Emily followed him, hanging back as though she was afraid of what she'd see there.

When they reached the top of the stairs they saw Matt's door standing open and the unnaturally bright temporary lighting gave the scene inside the look of a stage filled with actors. The crime scene team were going about their business with quiet efficiency and in the calm centre of the action Sally Sharpe was bending over something on the bed. When she heard Joe's voice she swung round.

‘Come and have a look.'

When Joe and Emily entered the room Joe noticed an aluminium ladder stretched upwards to a large jagged hole in the ceiling. The room was blanketed with dust and debris and a pair of dusty suitcases lay at a drunken angle on the floor at the end of the bed. They must have come down with the body, Joe thought as he stared at the thing on the bed.

He had seen mummified bodies from ancient Egypt in various museums during the course of his life but this one was different. Parchment skin and scraps of grey clothing clung to bones but the worst thing was the head, the empty eyes and the drawn back lips below the matted mess of hair. If it weren't for the head, the body would have looked like a bundle of rags. The head made it human.

‘Any idea of the cause of death?' Emily asked.

Sally considered her answer while the police photographer began to ascend the ladder to get a few shots of the attic. ‘My first impression is that she probably died of a head injury. Here.' She pushed aside some of the matted hair with a gloved hand. There was certainly a wound there. ‘The conditions up there in the attic caused the mummification. Dry heat. She was probably near the hot water tank.'

‘In a bin bag?'

‘No. She's been put in that very recently. I'll do the post-mortem tomorrow. You're keeping me busy, Joe,' she added, with what could have been a wink. But he was too tired and preoccupied to notice for sure.

He felt Emily nudge his arm. ‘Let's go and see what the Quillans have to say for themselves.'

They left number thirteen and made for next door, still wearing their crime scene suits. Emily had always claimed that she resembled a snowman in hers and Joe wondered whether she'd have made a more imposing chief investigating officer if she took it off. But he said nothing.

The Quillans had been separated on Emily's orders and they found Rory Quillan in the lounge perched on the edge of the sofa, looking far from comfortable. He wore jeans and an old, torn T-shirt and his clothes were covered in dust.'

‘The woman's in the kitchen,' Emily whispered as they peeped round the door. ‘Who do you want to start with?'

‘Ladies first, I think.'

They made their way to the kitchen where Jackie Quillan was sitting at the glass breakfast table. Like Rory, she was fully dressed in what Joe's father would have described as ‘gardening clothes'; torn jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. Her clothes too were covered in a layer of dust and debris, as was her hair.

‘You look as if you could do with a bath,' said Emily as she sat down on one of the neighbouring chairs. ‘Been up in the attic, have you?'

Jackie looked away. ‘That attic hasn't been cleaned out since Rory's uncle lived here. We'd no idea what was up there.'

Emily leaned forward and put her face close to the woman's. ‘Liar. You knew exactly what was up there. That's why you've been searching up there for the past week or so. The students next door have told us about the noises from the loft. There's a big gap in the party wall between the two loft spaces and you used next door's attic to hide the body. Handy that it was sealed off from the students' side so they couldn't take it into their heads to have a nose about.'

‘We didn't do that. It was Rory's uncle Norman. He owned both houses at one time. You ask Rory.'

‘Rory spent a lot of time here in Uncle Norman's day, didn't he?'

‘So?' Jackie pushed her hair back from her face with a grubby hand.

‘Tell us what happened tonight?'

‘We decided it was time we cleared out the loft and when we moved a load of cases we saw it there in a bin bag. Rory must have stepped back with the shock and then the whole lot went through the ceiling. It's got nothing to do with us. We're as shocked as anybody.'

‘Funny time to clear out a loft.'

‘We're both at work during the day and neither of us go to bed early so . . .'

Her story seemed to make sense but Joe suspected that it was a lie. ‘Only our pathologist reckons the body's only just been put in that bin bag. Hoping to get rid of it, were you?' He didn't wait for a reply. ‘Mind if I have a look upstairs?'

Jackie looked at him. ‘We haven't got any other bodies hidden around the place if that's what you're thinking.'

Emily gave him a nod and he marched out of the room and made his way upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. He had a quick look in each room, flicking through wardrobes and opening drawers and by the time he'd finished he reckoned he'd seen everything he needed to see.

When he returned to the landing his eyes were drawn to the loft entrance. The hatch was open and Joe mounted the ladder and poked his head up into the roof space. The light was on and he could see that the loft of number fifteen was filled with neatly stacked boxes, suitcases and small items of unwanted furniture.

Through a gaping hole in the wall separating number fifteen's loft from next door's he could see a couple of crime scene officers working carefully under the lights they'd set up. The neighbouring loft looked dirty and cluttered. And it seemed odd that anybody in the Quillans' position should take any interest in it. Surely the sensible thing to do would be to block up the party wall again. Unless there was a good reason not to. Unless the Quillans knew there was something in there that had to be disposed of.

He returned to the kitchen and sat beside Emily, giving Jackie Quillan a businesslike smile. ‘I see you and Rory don't share a bedroom.'

‘So?' She was suddenly on the defensive. But if she thought he was prying into her private life that was hardly surprising.

‘Rory's not your husband, is he?'

‘He's my partner. We're not married.'

He saw Emily give him a questioning look. ‘An arrangement of convenience, is it?'

‘No. I . . .'

‘What is it you do, Jackie?'

‘I work in Nebula. It's a boutique near Coopergate.'

‘And Rory?'

‘He works for the local council. Housing office. Why?'

‘How long have you been together?'

She suddenly looked wary. ‘Must be about twelve years.'

‘You must have been very young when you got together.'

‘Childhood sweethearts, that's us. Now if you've finished, I need a shower.'

‘We won't keep you much longer. I've seen you recently on CCTV.'

There was no mistaking it, she looked uncomfortable.

‘A man thought he'd seen his long-lost daughter in Coopergate and he called us. We found CCTV footage of the area at the time he said he saw her and you were on it. Why did you change your name, Jade?'

He glanced at Emily and saw her mouth open and close as though she was about to say something then thought better of it.

‘My name's Jackie.'

‘Then you wouldn't mind doing a DNA test. Just a mouth swab. It doesn't hurt.'

As Jackie stood up the chair legs scraped loudly on the floor. ‘No. Piss off. I'm not going on any DNA register.'

‘What happened to Nerys, Jade?'

‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘Did you kill her?'

‘No.'

‘Why is Rory's wardrobe full of women's clothes?'

She suddenly looked shocked, then she rearranged her features into a bored expression. ‘They're mine. I need more wardrobe space than him so I've taken over some of his.'

‘So how come they're three sizes bigger than the ones in your wardrobe?'

There was a pause while she considered her reply. ‘I've lost weight,' she said, gnawing at her fingernails. ‘I was ill and I lost weight.'

‘They're too long for you as well. I'd say they belong to someone a lot taller.'

Emily caught on quickly. She cautioned the woman and told her they were going to take her in for questioning.

Joe only hoped he had it right. If not he would probably make an almighty fool of himself. As Jackie was being led away by a policewoman, he began to walk towards the lounge. It was about time they heard what Rory Quillan had to say for himself.

Quillan stood up as he entered the room, Emily hovering behind him. She was leaving this one to him and he knew if he was wrong he'd have to take the flak.

‘Hello, Jasmine,' he said as he sat down in the leather armchair.

Rory Quillan put his head in his hands and began to cry.

Emily arrived home at three in the morning, knowing that if she didn't get a few hours of sleep she wouldn't be in any fit state to sort out the Dead Man's Wood case the next day. And she'd need all her wits about her if she was to get Barrington Jenks to tell the truth.

Jeff had been asleep when she'd got in and, as it was Saturday, she left him in bed and got dressed as quietly as possible. As she looked at him lying there, hiding his head beneath the duvet, she felt a pang of guilt at abandoning him to see to the kids single handed again. Maybe Joe had it right and police work demanded a semi-monastic existence. But something told her that Joe too longed for the comfort of what passed for domestic bliss in the twenty-first century. Only for some reason it always seemed to elude him.

At eight thirty she arrived at the police station and gathered the team in the incident room for the morning briefing. The big news was that Jackie and Rory Quillan were waiting in the cells to be questioned about the body found at Torland Place. But, to her disappointment, there was no more news concerning the more urgent matter – the deaths she had started to refer to as the Grim Reaper murders for want of any better label. The killer was out there and there was every reason to suspect that he would strike again.

Sharon Bell had died years before, as had Roni Jasper. And Joe was convinced that Cassidy's sister, Grace, was killed by the same person. Cassidy had been convicted of that particular murder and he had known Sharon, Pet and Anna. All they needed now was solid evidence to put him away again. Surely it would only be a matter of time.

She looked around for Joe but he wasn't there and she was relieved when he appeared, creeping into the incident room with his coat over his arm like a naughty schoolboy trying to creep past the teacher to avoid a late mark.

He saw her and smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry, boss. I overslept. Anything new come in?'

But before she could speak she was interrupted by Sunny.

‘News, ma'am. Traffic camera picked up a black BMW speeding away from Bearsley at twelve forty-five last night and it's registered to one Barrington Jenks. Want me to pick him up?' he asked with a grin that verged on the wicked.

‘No,' said Emily quickly. ‘I'd better deal with it.'

Sunny strode off muttering something about friends in high places just as the phone rang on Emily's desk.