Authors: JJ Franklin
Urge to Kill (1) (25 page)
From the stricken look on her face, Matt felt like he was abandoning her to a firing squad, so he tried to lighten the mood with humour as he opened the door. ‘Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.’ As soon as he had said it he knew it was wrong. This wasn’t a colleague he could joke with, but a member of the public who had just been told of a death. To try to make up for it, he gave a big ‘I’m sorry’ grimace and closed the door behind him.
E
ppie watched the door shut behind Matt, feeling lost and trapped. It was illogical, she knew, as she wasn’t in a police station and could probably leave at any time. Her mind turned back to who would want to murder Sandi? Then memories of her kindness yesterday came flooding back, and Eppie couldn’t stop the tears.
It was only when a fair-haired woman handed her a tissue that Eppie realised that anyone had come into the room. The man with her announced that he was Detective Sergeant Withers and indicated the woman as Detective Constable Meadows. He paused and waited for her to blow her nose and wipe at her eyes.
‘Sorry. I hadn’t known her long but she was such a lovely person. Getting married soon…’
‘Mrs Turrell, since you worked with Miss Tomlinson during the afternoon, you could have specific information that could help us catch this killer.’
Eppie liked the young man with his earnest face. The woman had remained silent, but Eppie was certain she was the one Matt referred to as Fluff, the one who had rung her the other night. ‘I’ll give you all the help I can.’
‘We’d like you to think about yesterday afternoon. Did Sandi react to anyone who came to the desk? Was there anyone she seemed to have a relationship with, both good and bad?’
‘No.’
‘Or was there anyone who Sandi seemed unhappy or afraid to see?’
‘No. But Sandi wouldn’t let it show. She would smile and be kind to everyone.’
‘And nothing else happened during the afternoon that caused you concern, that seemed out of place in any way?’
Eppie thought. They had been busy, yes, but it had been fun, and they had laughed together so much. Now someone had brutally killed Sandi. It didn’t make sense. ‘No we got on well, had a laugh. Will you catch who did this?’
‘We are doing everything we can. But we need the help of people like you who may have seen the killer.’
‘I’ll do anything.’
Finally, Fluff spoke, her voice confirming that she was the person who rang Thursday evening. The night that Matt hadn’t come home.
‘Think really hard, and if there is the slightest thing, please give us a call. It may not seem much to you, but it could just be the one piece of information that completes the jigsaw and helps us put this murderer where he belongs.’
She sounded quite passionate about catching Sandi’s murderer, and Eppie warmed to her. Eppie felt that she wasn’t much help at all and apologised. The Sergeant, Sam, reassured her and gave her a card to call him if she remembered anything. Eppie wanted to say she could just tell Matt, but it didn’t seem right somehow.
Afterwards, Eppie was glad that the interview had been conducted in a formal way. Her mind was racing, trying hard to remember, so by the time she was let out of the room, she felt weak and sick.
Matt was talking to a bald-headed gentleman in Reception. He put his arm out to stop the man in full flow and came towards her. ‘Eppie. I’m so sorry. Are you alright?’
Matt touched her arm, and it was almost a stroke. Eppie wanted more than anything to feel safe in his strong arms, but she wouldn’t do that to him, not here where he was the one in charge of trying to find out who killed Sandi. Eppie thought suddenly of Tom, Sandi’s fiancé.
‘I’m fine. What about Tom? Have you told him yet?’
‘That comes next.’
Eppie could tell from his face that he wasn’t looking forward to being the one to tell Tom that he wouldn’t be getting married, and he would never see Sandi alive again. She wanted to hug him, to let him know she understood. Instead, she said lamely, ‘Poor Tom. Poor you.’
Then Mrs Trowbridge bustled up and led her away to have a restoring cup of tea. Eppie always thought tea was overrated but guessed the very act of preparing and drinking it gave one something to do in times of emergency. She guessed that Mrs Trowbridge needed the anchor more than she. Although the girls talked about how strict she was, they also acknowledged that she was like a surrogate mother with genuine concern for each of them. The death of Sandi must have really upset her.
Eppie was sure anyone who had known Sandi would find it hard to think of her life being taken in such a callous way. She couldn’t bear to think of how Tom would feel. Eppie hoped she hadn’t suffered or been too afraid in those last few minutes, and she shivered at the thought.
If Sandi and Tom’s last words towards each other had been angry ones, it would make it so much harder to bear. She resolved to try harder not to row with Matt. He was under great pressure right now.
Mrs Trowbridge insisted on sending Eppie home, although she would have much preferred to stay and work. That way, at least she could feel she was doing something and could be near Matt for a little longer. Also, being behind the desk might help her to recall something. Instead, she would go over each minute of the time she had spent with Sandi yesterday.
S
ince Fluff had elected to take on the task of informing Sandi’s parents of their loss, Matt took Sam with him to interview Tom Graham.
According to Wendy, Tom was a fireman currently working a shift at Leamington fire station. This meant that he would be surrounded by a tight circle of friends used to helping each other through any situation. They would be there to pick up the pieces if Tom broke down.
Ordinarily, Tom would be top of the suspect list, but in this case, unless of course Tom was playing a very clever game, Matt was pretty sure he wouldn’t be the man they were looking for.
The fire station was a fairly modern brick building with the familiar glass folding doors behind which stood two gleaming fire engines. Matt felt a surge of excitement as he looked at the red giants. They brought back memories of clambering aboard one as an eight-year-old, and the thrill had never quite left him.
As they went through the small side door, Matt was surprised in what he had perceived to be a masculine reserve, to be met by a stern looking young woman in uniform who demanded to know their business. Matt left Sam to give their details and identity and simply held up his warrant card at the required moment. It wasn’t long before the young woman led them upstairs to the common room where several men had just finished a meal. Two were clearing the table while others lounged in front of the television.
‘Big fellow—going bald, although I didn’t say that, mind.’ The woman indicated the two men playing pool at the far end of the room.
Although no one looked directly at them, Matt could feel that everyone in the room was noting their progress as they moved towards the pool table. The players continued with their game, until Sam coughed to gain their attention and asked for Tom Graham. Before he could continue the smaller man spoke.
‘What’s he done this time, then, run off with the Mayor’s wife or dented the boss’s car again?’ he joked.
It was obvious that the whole room was aware that they were the police and although everyone appeared relaxed, an air of wary anticipation hovered like a cloud among them. Sam gave the spiel and Matt felt the cloud thicken, as one or two of the men stood ready to protect their own. This was good, since Tom Graham was going to need all the support he could get when they had done their job and devastated his world with their vile news.
Matt stepped forward. ‘Could we have a word in private, please, Mr. Graham? It concerns Miss Tomlinson.’ Whatever Tom was expecting it certainly wasn’t this. Matt watched the big man look from him to Sam searching for some evidence that this wasn’t as serious as Matt’s voice suggested and mentally crossed him off the suspect list. Fear replaced the hope in Tom as he nodded, holding onto the pool table for support, his strong, tall body seemingly withered into itself in the dread of what was to come.
The smaller man was the first to react, as he placed a hand firmly on Tom’s shoulder before moving to herd the other men from the room. Matt and Sam moved around the pool table and indicated some chairs nearby.
Tom allowed them to lead him. ‘What has happened? Has there been an accident?’ he blurted out unable to wait any longer.
Sam looked at Matt almost willing him to be the one to break the bad news.
‘I’m very sorry to say that Miss Tomlinson has died, Mr Graham.’ Matt always found it best to give out bad news in stages.
Tom was looking at them incredulously. ‘But we had lunch together, just yesterday. And she called me from work,’ he said, as if Matt must be wrong.
Matt found this a common reaction as the person tried to cling onto the vivid memories of their loved one alive and well with no hint or reason for them to be now beyond their touch and protection.
‘She didn’t suffer at all.’
Tom looked at him uncomprehending. ‘Then how…why?’ Tom broke off and Matt was aware that the truth was now hitting home. However, worse was to come, and Matt steeled himself to carry on.
‘I’m so sorry to say she was murdered, Mr Graham.’
Tom glared at Matt, as if he had personally killed Sandi and moved forward in his seat. Matt didn’t move but was aware that Sam had readied himself for action.
‘We believe she may have been the second victim of a murderer who killed earlier this week at the health spa,’ Matt continued, bracing himself for the anger that sometimes follows such news. It didn’t come immediately, but then Tom sprang to his feet with his fists clenched.
‘My God, you’ve let that bugger run around free. Free to kill again. You did nothing to stop him killing my Sandi…my Sandi.’
Matt had put a hand out to keep Sam seated, aware that this anger would be quick to play itself out, and he was proved right as Tom collapsed back onto his seat with his head in his hands.
Matt knew that there was important information they must gain from Tom, and they couldn’t yet let him have the luxury of descent into despair.
‘Tom, you could help us catch this murderer before he kills again.’ Matt waited a moment for Tom’s head to rise and he was sure Tom was listening before continuing. ‘Anything you can tell us may help, no matter how small. Right now, we need to know what time Sandi called you last night. And it would really help if we could analyse the call.’
Matt waited for what seemed a long time before Tom rose like a very old man to get a jacket from the back of one of the dining room chairs. Fishing in one of the pockets, he brought out his mobile phone but held onto it for a moment, aware that this was his last precious contact with Sandi.
‘I’ll personally guarantee that you will get your mobile back and that the phone call will be intact, Mr Graham,’ Matt promised.
Tom moved forward slowly and placed the phone in Matt’s hands. ‘I usually call Sandi at about eight thirty, but we were on a shout. She called me—left a message.’
‘Thank you.’ Matt handed the phone to Sam who had the evidence bag waiting. ‘We also need to know where you went to lunch yesterday and at what time.’ Since Tom looked somewhat baffled at this request, Matt clarified. ‘In case anyone followed Sandi from there.’
Tom nodded before replying, ‘About twelve. Penny’s Pizza’s two doors down. Sandi was working the one to ten shift. She often did on a Saturday, and we’d both try to rota off for Sunday night, so we could go out—pictures or the like. Sunday is our night.’ Tom stopped, as the awful emptiness of his life without Sandi began to evolve into reality.
Matt was thinking that it might be a good time to stop for the moment, since they had some leads to follow. He nodded to Sam to present the card with their phone numbers to Tom and explain that he was to call them day or night if he thought of anything else that would help. Also that they would want to see him again.
As they stood, the door opened as if by radar, and the smaller man who had been playing pool with Tom came through, followed by the woman in uniform. The woman came to sit at Tom’s side, while the man reached into a cupboard to get a bottle of whisky and a glass. Matt moved away, knowing that Tom would be in safe hands.
It was as they drew away from the fire station that Sam echoed Matt’s thoughts. ‘Phew, that was hard going. Poor bugger didn’t know what had hit him.’
Matt nodded, aware that the interview had affected him more than usual. He had had to face many families and tell them their loved one wouldn’t be coming home, but Tom Graham’s pain had channelled into his worries about Eppie and his need to keep her from danger. He couldn’t begin to imagine how he would feel if he were ever placed in Tom’s position, and so pushed the idea to the back of his mind before it stopped him concentrating.
T
he ringing of the doorbell set off shivers of excitement, and Clive paused to take a sip of wine to fortify himself before moving to let Ben in.
He opened the door to Ben’s back as he clicked his key towards his old hatchback parked in the circular driveway. Ben turned with that now familiar smile.
Almost shaking, Clive stood aside to usher him in. ‘Please come in,’ he said. The words sounded so formal, and he sought to add something lighter. ‘It’s great to have you.’ Then, realising that the words had accurately stated his desire, he blushed in embarrassment and tried to retrace. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean—’
Ben interrupted him by putting a hand on his arm. ‘I know. Don’t stress.’ Then he moved into the hallway, looking around to the carefully selected and placed modern art statue and the Perry Wellman picture that graced the wall.
‘Wow.’
Clive wasn’t sure this was the reaction he expected, but it would do for now. At last he was here.
‘This is some place,’ Ben said, moving forward into the lounge.
Clive moved after him, anxious that Ben like his home.
‘Love the uncluttered look. However, remind me never to invite you to my place,’ he added with a laugh.