Touch (11 page)

Savage had known pain like that when Clarissa had died, but she didn’t think telling Donal about it would do much good. Instead she started off with the usual stuff about how sorry the whole force was and offered their condolences and sympathies. The standard spiel sounded like crap and she found herself faltering halfway through. She felt Farrell’s hand on her arm.

‘They know all that, ma’am,’ he whispered. ‘They–’

‘We just want you to catch the bastard who did this to our Kelly,’ Mrs Donal blurted out, before the tears came and her head went down into her hands.

Farrell moved over and crouched by the chair and said something Savage didn’t catch. He then stood and helped Mrs Donal to her feet and led her from the room.

‘Sorry about that,’ Mr Donal said. ‘The wife has taken it bad. Kelly was our youngest, our little girl if you like, and well, the wife is... I mean she’s... well, I... she didn’t much like–’

‘She blames you, Mr Donal, is that what you are getting at?’ Savage said, indicating the pictures on the walls. ‘I am not surprised. I mean, Kelly was a beautiful girl, but there is more to her modelling career than this stuff, isn’t there? The porn? Your daughter wrapped around that pole with a group of sad men baying for her to get her tits out. Can’t say it is what I would want for my daughter, but each to their own, I suppose.’

‘Boss,’ Calter hissed. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for Luke–’

‘That sort of thing doesn’t leave much to the imagination does it?’ Savage continued. ‘And the trouble is for some of these men imagination is not enough. Jerking off to some image on their computer screens is OK for a bit, but in the end they always end up wanting what they can’t have. Isn’t that right, Mr Donal?’

‘Ma’am!’ Calter was louder now, urging Savage to stop. ‘I really need to ask you to consider what–’

‘Isn’t that fucking right, Mr Donal? Does your wife know about the porn? Does she know about the videos? The stuff on the internet? What will she say if we ask her?’

‘Of course she doesn’t! For God’s sake shut up, will you?’ Mr Donal collapsed on the sofa, hands to his face.

Savage drew breath, aware of Calter staring at her open mouthed.

‘Detective Constable? Was there something you wanted to say?’

‘Er, no, ma’am.’

‘Mr Donal,’ Savage went over to the sofa and sat down beside him. Her voice quieter now she had said her piece. ‘I don’t like any of that stuff. I don’t like seeing girls draped over cars. I don’t like seeing female celebrities thinking that showing half their bodies off is necessary when all it does is show how thick they are. When I think of my own daughter, I don’t like the fact I can count female role models who deign not to get their kit off for some men’s mag on the fingers of one hand. However, I never forget that whatever we, as girls and women, do, the men do the looking and in the end the men commit the crimes. All of which means I am going to try my hardest to get Kelly’s killer. Whatever it takes.’

Mr Donal looked up, drew in a large breath and let it out, pursing his lips as if about to whistle, but instead making a long, tuneless hiss.

‘It started so young,’ he said, unburdening himself without prompting. ‘Just family pictures, family snaps. But even years back we could see she was different. Then she was the carnival queen one year and a local photographer asked if she would pose for him. Of course I went along too, and that’s how I began to get interested.’

‘You took up photography?’

‘I had dabbled before, but I bought a better camera and some studio equipment and joined the Plymouth Snappers. They saw my pictures of Kelly and wanted her for a shoot. For the first couple of years it was innocent enough stuff, fashion shots and the like. But she was growing up, filling out and soon some of the members were asking for more. Trouble was Kelly loved it, loved the attention, loved the fawning. When she was around fifteen there was a night where she was dressed in club gear, nothing outrageous, the sort of thing all young girls wear. Anyway, one member jokingly asked her to take off her top and she did. Just like that, bra and all. I should have stepped in and called a halt, but I didn’t. As soon as she was sixteen she went topless legitimately and they couldn’t get enough. We had glamour shoots with clubs visiting from all over the South West.’

Donal stopped and Savage heard the clock in the hall tick-tocking, marking the silence. She struggled for what to say to a man who was happy to have other men leer at his daughter, but could think of nothing. After a moment Donal continued.

‘I suppose you wonder at how I could stand it? Well, I can’t explain. She was happy doing it and earning money. Plus it was tasteful at first, nothing you don’t see in magazines or on the television. Trouble was they soon wanted more and Kelly wouldn’t say no. You might think it odd me being there at the shoots, but by going along I knew she was safe and nothing untoward was taking place. At least that was how it was before she met Forester.’

‘Which was at the Metropolis?’

‘Yes. Back in the spring. An all-day shoot. Kelly was getting a couple of hundred quid net for it after we had paid a sum to the club management and something for equipment hire. The money worried me because Kelly was beginning to get used to it. She had already moved out and rented the place in Plymouth. She said it made it easier to get to college and to her work placement, but I thought she might drop her studies if too many rewards came her way. I think that was how Forester got to her.’

‘Because you were not around?’

‘Yes.’ Donal’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘And he promised her more money and other stuff too.’

‘Drugs?’

‘Yes.’

‘For doing the videos?’

‘Yes.’

‘Which from what we have seen weren’t quite so tasteful.’

‘No.’ Donal lowered his head and looked down at the floor and Savage let him brood for a moment.

‘Was there anybody else she saw, apart from Forester?’ She asked.

‘What, you mean at the shoots?’

‘No, I mean generally. Other men interested in her.’

‘Oh, there were lots. If you are a woman who takes her clothes off for money you get interest. After a shoot my phone would ring red hot for the next few days. “Does Kelly do girl-on-girl, Mr Donal?”’ Donal put on a weasel-like voice. ‘“Can she use her fingers for me, Mr Donal? For an extra couple of hundred?” They wanted to get as much flesh into their cameras as possible. You were right in what you said earlier, Inspector. It had got out of control, it had gone too far. Her innocence had gone.’

Donal glanced up at the big picture of Kelly and bit his lip. Savage wondered whether he thought it was all his fault the innocence had slipped away along with Kelly’s clothing.

‘What about other boyfriends?’

‘I wish there had been, Inspector, but no, Forester would have killed them.’

‘But he didn’t seem to mind other men getting off on pictures or videos of her, did he?’

‘Some men like that, owning something others can’t have. Anyway, with Forester I reckon it was the money. Kelly was his way out. His way up.’

‘He was hardly the next Mario Testino.’

‘Forester wouldn’t see it like that. You know how these estate kids are, they think they are the best at everything. Stupid, because he was an all round loser, a right scrote. Poor Kelly got hooked on whatever crap he was peddling and look where she’s ended up.’

At that point the living room door opened and Farrell came in with some cups on a tray.

‘Mrs Donal has gone to have a lie down so I thought I would do the honours. Have I missed anything of importance?’

Calter opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but Donal got there first.

‘No, Luke, not really.’ Donal was half-smiling now, but shaking his head at the same time. ‘Only the sound of some birds flapping their wings.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Chickens. Coming home to roost.’ The smile vanished from Donal’s face and a tear rolled down the man’s cheek.

North Prospect, Plymouth. Wednesday 27th October. 2.20 pm

They drove back from Yelverton in silence. Calter stared out of the window, arms folded across her chest. Savage just let her stew. The girl had to learn that real life situations differed from those encountered during training. Donal needed to be told. Maybe now the truth had been knocked home he might come to his senses and realise what he had done had, at least in part, led to Kelly’s death. It wasn’t going to be easy for him, but better to face up to the facts now than let them stew for the rest of his life.

Back in town Savage drove them through Beacon Park, where Kelly had lived, and then into the adjoining area of North Prospect. The place had a reputation for being rough and crime-ridden, filled with youths who liked nothing better of an evening than indulging their passion for a bit of anti-social behaviour. Thanks to the efforts of community workers and the police the reputation diminished a little every year. Nevertheless, the council had plans to transform the neighbourhood, despite the protestations of many of the residents, by demolishing half the properties and refurbishing the rest. In Savage’s eyes it didn’t seem too bad; you would feel far more nervous walking through so-called good areas in London, and in the summer the place had an aura nearer to that of a leafy suburb than a location associated with high deprivation.

Appearances could be deceptive though, and in the mile or so distance from his parents’ house in St Budeaux to his flat in North Prospect David Forester had moved down the social scale, hitting rock-bottom with a grotty place on the ground floor of half an old council semi. Cracks in the pebbledash, metal window frames crusty with corrosion and a pile of junk in the minuscule front garden didn’t make it inviting, and inside was worse. Officers were trooping in and out with plastic boxes filled with what looked to Savage like rubbish.

‘Evidence,’ a member of the search team assured her. ‘Mind you, the place is a complete tip. Cigarette butts ground into the floor, empty cans of coke, Stella, half-eaten Indians, McDonald’s, pizza, you name it. And the whole thing nicely festering since it has all been sitting for a few months.’

‘Lovely.’

‘There’s worse. Dog shit everywhere as well and a thousand flies swarming around. We couldn’t figure out where they were coming from until the neighbour told us about Forester’s dog.’

‘Oh no.’

‘Oh yes! A staffy, as if you couldn’t have guessed. We found the corpse in the spare room under the bed. It was mostly maggots. A neighbour said she heard barking but was too scared of Forester to do much.’

‘Couldn’t have happened to a nicer breed of dog,’ Savage said.

‘My gran kept staffies,’ Calter said. ‘Me and my brother played with them when we were kids.’

‘Well, if they get anywhere near my kids I kick first and ask questions later.’

Calter shut up and went even deeper into her sulk while Savage asked the team leader if they had found anything linking Forester to Kelly. He stood at the edge of the garden and sparked up a fag, leaning over the wall to ensure any ash dropped outside his search cordon.

‘He’s got a couple of computer screens and a keyboard in his bedroom, but no computer. There must be a base unit or laptop somewhere, but we haven’t found it yet.’

‘Anything else of interest?’ Savage asked.

‘A hundred grams of smack and some small bottles of liquid that could be GHB.’

‘Really? Confirms he was a serious dealer then.’

‘Looks that way. We also found his mobile phone and there are a hell of a lot of contacts. We’ll download the address book and call logs and let you have them. Last call was made on the seventh of August.’

‘A good number of days after Kelly was last seen.’

‘Yup. And we found a
Mirror
dated the eighth on the kitchen table.’

‘So they didn’t disappear together then, we now know that at least. Let’s see if his parents can shed any light on where he might be.’

*

Alice Nash came round in pitch black, a cloying darkness smelling of damp, mould and mildew. Her head hurt like crazy and she felt groggy.

That would be the alcohol then, idiot.

She remembered having drunk too much,
way
too much. After work? With a friend? The memory flickered somewhere in her mind but she couldn’t quite grasp it. She reached out for the bedside clock to try and find out the time and her hand fumbled in the air. Nothing. No bedside table either, and as she groped farther –
ouch
– a wall. Now she realised she was lying on the floor. In her bedroom?

No, my room has a nice soft carpet with a couple of big sheepskins.

She felt the hard, wooden surface beneath her body, an uneven floorboard digging into her back. She shivered and hugged herself, touching the goose bumps on her arms and realising at the same time she was naked.

Naked!

An uncontrollable spasm shook through her whole body and she began to retch. Almost without thinking she put her hand down between her legs, but no, she hadn’t been raped and she hadn’t had sex.

She sat up and turned and saw a thin, horizontal glare of light at floor level. She blinked. The light came from a gap under a door perhaps two metres away and gave her some perspective. The slit cast a weak ray that fanned out across the floor and illuminated a space no bigger than a box room. The walls appeared to be rough plastered. An old house perhaps? That would explain the damp. But when she breathed in she detected a pungent aroma as well, a smell of something rotten. Next to her a mattress lay on the floor with no bed frame or anything.

Was I on that? Did I roll off in my sleep?

She eased herself across the floor and onto the mattress. Now she could see something on the mattress, a bulky, formless shape. She put out a hand and discovered a duvet. She pulled it nearer and gathered the soft material around her, grateful for the warmth and the privacy.

Privacy from what? From who?

She let out a little cry, involuntary; her instincts told her she should scream, scream at the top of her voice until someone heard, but she didn’t.