Cut the deck, p.5
Cut The Deck, page 5
part #1 of DCI Cooper Series
“Anyway, we don’t have much in the way of forensics. The gun they used has been identified as a Smith and Wesson—”
“Really? We’re making small talk, Neil?”
Fuller recoiled, he looked genuinely hurt. Cooper might have felt sorry for him had she not remembered how things ended between them.
“I know we’re not seeing each other anymore, Erica, but I thought we could be civil, be professional.”
Fury flickered in Cooper’s eyes. “Okay, fine, have it your way. Let’s make small talk. How have you been?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I’m well. I’ve been super busy with chemotherapy, though. That was tonnes of fun. Remember? You were there holding my hand, supporting me, keeping my hair off my face while I vomited. Oh, that’s right, you weren’t there.”
People were beginning to stare but Cooper didn’t care one bit. Fuller, on the other hand, was glancing around nervously.
“You weren’t there because you dumped me less than forty-eight hours after I found the lump.”
“I… Well… Our relationship was coming to its natural end, Erica.” His face was flooding with colour.
“Save it,” she said. Cooper turned on her heel and parted the sea of onlookers so she could take the lift to CID. Only when the lift doors closed behind her did she wipe away the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes. Undeterred, Cooper powered into the briefing room just as a wave of nausea swept over her. Grabbing a window ledge, she blinked her eyes a few times and waited for her vision to come back into focus. Down on the street below a hunchbacked lady pulled a shopping cart across a zebra crossing. The elderly woman seemed to sense she was being watched and turned her gaze up to the windows of CID.
“Boss?” Keaton’s voice made Cooper jump. “Everything all right?”
“Skipped breakfast,” replied Cooper by way of an explanation. She turned back to the window but the woman and her cart had gone.
“I can nip to the vending machine—”
“Thanks, Paula, but we don’t have time. Best crack on.” Cooper was grateful that Keaton didn’t press the matter. She had more important things to worry about than Neil Fuller.
“Right, butts on seats, people,” announced Keaton with the authority of someone who used to play fullback. She patted Cooper on the arm and took her own seat beside Sutherland.
A hush fell over the room and all eyes turned to Cooper. She picked a piece of lint from her sleeve and flicked it to the floor before removing a photograph of a smiling, blonde teenager from her file and sticking it to the wall.
“Michelle Smith. Known to friends as Shelly. Fifteen years old, found dead at her home at around ten thirty this morning.”
Cooper paused and added another photograph to the wall, this time it was of Shelly’s body. Horrified murmurs rippled through CID.
“As you can see, we have many reasons to suspect this case is connected to the murder of Rachel Pearson.”
Sutherland shifted and rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “A serial killer?”
“It’s looking that way,” said Cooper as more sounds of unease spread through the room. There was no use in denying it. Cooper wasn’t one for sugar-coating things.
“We have another case of suffocation,” she continued, pointing to the photo. It depicted the blonde with a plastic bag over her head and secured to her neck with duct tape. Cooper stared at the picture silently, allowing the image to burn itself into her memory. She was never going to forget this image so there was no use in trying. The more she looked at it, the more she craved the sweet taste of justice.
“And she’s been dressed up,” added Sutherland. “Like Rachel was.”
Cooper’s eyes were still on the photograph. “Yes. As a priest, or a priestess to be precise.” Her eyes darted over the outfit: black robes, a white dog collar, a purple satin scarf with golden tassels, and a large golden crucifix. “Atkinson has already confirmed that another card was inserted into the victim. This one reads, The Empress.”
Keaton was on her feet and pacing the length of CID. The sound of her thick-soled boots thudding against the flooring echoed around the room. “The Priestess wasn’t the killer? The priestess was the killer’s next move? He’s telling us what’s next.”
“That’s my understanding,” said Cooper.
Disbelief flashed in Keaton’s eyes. “What sort of psycho are we dealing with?”
“Believe me, I’m asking myself the same question.”
Tennessee took a mouthful of water from a paper cup, crumpled it and tossed it effortlessly into the bin. “Is there any chance this is copycat?”
Cooper perched on her desk. “I doubt it. We kept the card from the press. They knew about the fancy-dress but we didn’t tell them about the calling card. Of course, we can’t rule out leaks.”
Cooper thought of Margot Swanson. Would Margot blab to some handsome journalist who offered his affections, or money? No. Margot was many things - a flirt at best and a home wrecker at worst - but she was no sellout.
“Okay,” said Tennessee. “So what’s the timeline?”
Cooper used her teeth to pull the lid from her pen. She drew a line across the board and began marking times on it as she spoke. “Shelly’s mother, Lisa Smith, left for work at six a.m. Shelly would usually get herself ready for school and make her own breakfast. She’d usually leave at eight forty and walk to school.”
“Which school?” asked Sutherland.
“Tynemouth Comp,” answered Tennessee.
Cooper already knew this, but the fact that both girls attended the local comprehensive made her blood run cold.
“At nine twenty the school called Lisa Smith to enquire about the unauthorised absence. Standard procedure. The mother picked up her voicemail during her break at ten a.m. and called her daughter immediately after. When there was no answer, Lisa drove home, assuming her daughter was skiving. When she got to the property she found Shelly’s body posed like this at their dining table.”
“Christ,” said Keaton. She scraped her chair across the floor and sat down again.
Sutherland unbuttoned his blazer and loosened his tie. He looked a little redder in the cheeks than usual. “My girl goes to Tynemouth Comp.”
Cooper met his eyes. “I didn’t know Caroline had started secondary school?”
“She’s twelve now. Started in September.”
The last time Cooper had seen Sam Sutherland’s daughter she’d been knee-high to a grasshopper and had been bawling her eyes out because little Jimmy “Poo-Head” Ashman had spilled cherry cola on her yellow dress at the department barbecue. She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. How time flies.
“If the school’s being targeted…”
“We can’t jump to conclusions. We need to find out everything that connects these girls. Who did they hang out with? What clubs did they go to? Where did they spend their free time? But Sam,” Cooper nervously tapped her pen off the edge of her desk, “my daughter goes there too. It might be worth taking some extra precautions.”
“Aye. I’ll call the missus and the grandparents. I don’t want Caroline left alone for a second. Not until we catch this sicko.”
With no parents or extended family in the region, Cooper realised she was going to have to put some faith in Kenny. She wasn’t used to relying on anyone else, especially not him.
“Right,” she said. “Now where are we with Will Harper? Keaton?”
“We called by the school to pick him up. The admin told us he wasn’t at school today.”
“The Pearson’s told us he was taking the day off and had a GP appointment,” said Tennessee.
“Yeah,” said Keaton. “We assumed something like that. We were on our way to his home address when we got the call about Shelly.”
“Okay,” said Cooper. “I want you and Sutherland to find him and bring him in. Don’t mention Shelly. It’s not public knowledge yet. See if he incriminates himself. He’ll need a juvenile cell and an appropriate adult.”
Keaton tapped her pen to her temple then pointed it at Cooper. “Gotcha.”
“Now, back to Rachel Pearson. How are we getting on with the yoga ladies?”
Sutherland opened a spiral bound notepad. “It’s not just women. There were two men at the class on Tuesday.”
“Really? New, or regulars?” asked Cooper.
“Regulars. Neither of them even knew Rachel’s name, which goes for a fair few of the group. She seemed to keep herself to herself. Almost everyone in the class parked their cars by the sailing club and drove up the bank and through Tynemouth village to get home. A few reported seeing Rachel walking up the bank but no one saw anyone else. No one noticed if there were any cars in Haven car park.”
“They all went straight home after the class?” asked Cooper.
“Mostly,” confirmed Sutherland. “But one of the gents stopped for a takeaway in the village and one of the ladies called by her sister’s to pick up her dog. They all have people who can confirm what time they got home.”
“Okay. And what about the instructor?”
“She left after the rest of the group. Takes her around fifteen minutes to tidy the mats away and secure the building. CCTV has her leaving the club at nineteen forty-five. All the other cars had left at that point. She didn’t see Rachel but she did see a man walking two Siberian huskies on the Spanish Battery.”
Cooper turned to a trainee detective sat at the back of the room. Oliver Martin was only five-eight but he added at least three inches to this by gelling his hair into an impressive quiff. Despite his best denials, the team were also convinced he liked to wear make-up. L’Oréal to be precise. This led to Sutherland and Keaton telling the youngster he was worth it, whenever they brought him a coffee or helped him on a case.
“Oliver, put out an appeal. Our dog walker’s a potential witness. Find him.”
“I’m on it,” he replied. “I’ve been following the white rabbit,” he added, “though that’s a line I never thought I’d say. No reports of stolen or missing pets. I’ve been to the local pet stores and asked them to check their records for sales of white rabbits over the last week or so. I’m keeping an eye out for sales where a customer bought a rabbit without a hutch, or much in the way of bedding, or food. I figure, why would our man buy a whole set up if he knows the rabbit won’t be around for long? I’ll let you know if anything comes from it.”
“Thanks, Oliver, and good thinking.” Cooper began to pull on her coat. “Keaton, Sutherland, once you’ve found Will Harper, find out who the FLO with Lisa Smith is and get someone over for a statement. Find out if Shelly was friends with Rachel and check in with Atkinson, see what else he’s found. Tennessee and I will head to the school. It’s time to speak to some of Rachel and Shelly’s friends and teachers. Let’s find out what or who connects these girls.”
- CHAPTER 10 -
Tynemouth Comprehensive was a modern school having been rebuilt three years ago. The building resembled a large cube and was red brick with black and grey cladding. Surrounded by sports fields, bike sheds and an impressive sports hall, it was clear the students of Tynemouth Comp were keen athletes. The school motto: in omnia paratus, was emblazoned across the school gates. It had been many moons since Cooper had studied Latin, but Tennessee’s mumble of, “Ready for anything,” confirmed her suspicions. Sadly, she didn’t think there was a school in the country that could be ready for losing two students in a manner such as this.
“DCI Erica Cooper and DS Jack Daniel, here to see Linda Webb.”
Both detectives held up their warrant cards for inspection by an eagle-eyed school administrator with a pinched face and a sniffly nose. The admin officer sneezed into tissue and led them to a small office just off the foyer.
“Erica,” greeted the headteacher, who had never dealt with Cooper in a professional capacity before, only as Tina’s mother.
Linda Webb looked like she hadn’t slept for a week. Was it the stress of the job? Or, was it Kenny - Tina’s father and Cooper’s ex - who was keeping her awake until the early hours? Cooper put the thought from her mind. It was none of her business what Kenny Roberts and Linda Webb did behind closed doors.
Cooper and Tennessee sat down opposite Linda’s desk. It was piled high with paperwork and management manuals.
“You’re here about Rachel,” she said, taking deep breaths. Her shoulder pads rose and fell in time to her breathing. “Terrible, terrible business.”
“Yes,” answered Tennessee. He folded one long leg over the other and stared at the headteacher with dark, serious eyes. “And, we’re here about Michelle Smith.”
Linda’s brow lowered. “Shelly? Don’t tell me she’s somehow caught up in this. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“No, Ms Webb, that’s not what we’re saying—”
Cooper cut in. “Linda, I’m sorry to have to tell you this but Shelly Smith was found dead this morning.”
Linda’s hand flew to her mouth. “No!”
“She was killed in the same manner as Rachel Pearson. We have reason to believe it was at the hands of the same person, but we’re not ruling anything out at this stage.”
“I don’t… I don’t believe this…” Linda’s voice trailed off and she got to her feet to open a window. It was barely above freezing but Cooper understood how trauma could make you feel as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.
“This is going to be a very stressful time for students and staff,” began Cooper.
“Stress? Stress doesn’t come close.” Linda was shaking her head, causing her long, chestnut bob to swish back and forth across the collar of her blouse. “I’ve had parents on the phone every five minutes. The press too. Kids asking questions I don’t have the answers to. Rumours spreading like wildfire. The governors won’t get off my back, the art department are pissed I cut their funding for science. I didn’t have a choice given our latest OFSTED inspection. And now Michelle. It’s going to be twice as bad.”
Cooper shot a sideways glance at Tennessee. He was masking his revulsion well but the way his eyes wrinkled at the corners let her know that he was thinking the same thing as she was. Linda Webb was more concerned about how this affected herself than about the safety of her students.
“I think,” said Cooper, bringing Linda’s attention back into the room, “that the safety of students should be paramount. I’m going to arrange for a police presence at the school gates to act as a deterrent. We don’t know yet if the school is a target but it certainly connects Rachel and Shelly.”
“We’ll also arrange for an officer to address the students tomorrow morning,” said Tennessee. He uncrossed his legs. “They can speak to the whole school or go class to class, but either way, they’ll need access to the entire student body. They’ll recommend students walk to and from school in groups, that sort of thing.”
“And I can recommend agencies to deliver workshops on online safety,” added Cooper. “It’s imperative that the children aren’t giving any personal details out online. It might also be a good idea to bring in some professional counsellors.”
Linda Webb was still pacing and shaking her head but she’d had the good grace to close her mouth and listen to what the detectives had to say up until that last comment.
“Professional counsellors? We don’t have the budget for that. We have an excellent peer-to-peer student counselling system. I set it up last year and the feedback from the parent and teacher association has been very positive. It’ll do for now and then perhaps in the future—”
“No, Linda. It won’t do for now.” Cooper’s voice had hardened. “Two girls have been murdered. There’s going to be a lot of grief and a lot of fear. Peer-to-peer is all well and good when someone doesn’t get the grade they wanted, or someone’s crush hasn’t called them back, but this is different and your counsellors are going to need counselling.”
The headteacher took on the look of someone who was used to dishing out scoldings rather than taking them. She pouted - actually pouted - and folded her arms.
“Well, we’ll see what we can do.”
“Make sure you do,” said Cooper, getting to her feet and wishing for the love of God that Linda would close the window again. “For now, we need a room. Somewhere we can chat to Rachel and Shelly’s teachers, as well as their friends.”
“The staffroom is up the stairs and on the left,” said Linda. “There’s tea and coffee if you want to help yourselves. I’ll send a few of Rachel’s friends along once the bell goes for the next class.”
Cooper thanked Linda before following her directions to the staffroom. Once out of sight, Tennessee ran his fingers through his curls and shook his head at Cooper.
“Talk about a face like a smacked arse.”
“Tell me about it. Two dead girls and she’s talking about budgets, and governors, and funding.”
“Mum!”
Tina Cooper walked hand-in-hand with a lanky, bespectacled boy who hastily pulled his hand away and tucked it into the pocket of his green school blazer.
“Tina. Nice to see you again, Josh.”
Josh turned a deep shade of beetroot. “Ms Cooper,” he said with half a bow.
“Are you here because of Rachel?” asked Tina, looking over both shoulders.
“Yes,” answered Cooper, though she couldn’t tell her daughter about Shelly Smith just yet. “Listen, Tina. I’m going to have your father pick you up from netball tonight.”
Tina frowned and then raised an eyebrow. “Why? I’m not supposed to see him until the weekend.”
“I just don’t want you walking home alone in the dark.”
“But…” Tina stopped herself and surveyed her mother’s face for a good five seconds. “Fine.”
Cooper’s insides relaxed. She didn’t want to argue with Tina given everything else that was going on.
“Thank you,” said Cooper. “I’ll see you at home. Text me later and let me know what you want for dinner. Right, off to class. You too, Josh.”
