Urban Myth (14 page)

G
enna’s mother had only learned about her daughter’s death a few hours before Temple and Angel arrived at the hospital to interview her.

‘Patricia Boyd has been admitted here on three previous occasions,’ her doctor told them. ‘She has a serious alcohol addiction and at the same time appears to be accident prone. I fear she’ll eventually have an accident that will be fatal.’

‘So what happened this time?’ Temple asked.

The doctor, a cadaverous man with unruly blond hair, referred to his clipboard notes.

‘She stumbled into the road and was struck by a cyclist,’ he said.

‘How badly hurt is she?’

‘Broken left ankle, two fractured ribs and various contusions to the head and face. She was lucky, though. If it had been a motorcycle or car she’d be dead.’

‘So how did she find out about her daughter?’

‘The patient in the next bed had a newspaper this morning. Miss Boyd asked to read it. The discovery of the body is on the front page.’

‘How did she react?’

The doctor shrugged. ‘She was upset for a bit and had a little cry. But she appears to have recovered amazingly well. That’s partly due to the fact that she sees everything through an alcoholic haze.’

‘I gather she wants to speak to us?’ Temple said.

‘Indeed she does, Inspector. She’s fully awake at the moment and quite lucid so now is a good time to talk to her.’

Patricia Boyd was sitting up in her hospital bed, her head swathed in bandages, her face a swollen mass of bruises and cuts. The doctor introduced Temple and Angel, then retreated, leaving the two
detectives
standing either side of her bed.

‘Thank you for getting in touch with the police, Miss Boyd,’ Temple said. ‘We came as soon as we could. And let me say at the outset that we’re very sorry for your loss. It must have come as a terrible shock.’

‘It wasn’t a shock,’ she said, her voice surprisingly strident. ‘I knew something like it would happen sooner or later. I told her enough times to find a proper job and stop doing that sex stuff, but she wouldn’t listen.’

Temple found it difficult to determine her age because of the damage to her face, but he guessed she was in her late fifties or early sixties. Her skin had a waxy pallor and her body, under the thin hospital gown, looked almost skeletal. She had a tight mouth with vertical lines above her upper lip. Her eyes were bloodshot and watery and they did not seem fully focused.

‘How much do you know about the circumstances of your daughter’s death?’ he asked.

‘Only what I read in the paper,’ she replied. ‘They said she was stabbed in the back. I knew it was her from the tattoo.’

She closed her eyes briefly and grimaced as though in pain. Temple wondered if it was the pain of grief or a reaction to her injuries.

‘Can you tell us about Genna?’ Angel said. ‘We need to build up a picture. It will hopefully help us find whoever killed her.’

Patricia Boyd opened her eyes and looked at Angel as though for the first time. ‘We always had a strained relationship,’ she said. ‘Genna was a problem child from an early age. When she was fifteen she spent several months in a secure adolescent unit because of her violent and antisocial behaviour. She couldn’t control her temper and we couldn’t control her.’

‘By that do you mean you and your husband?’ Angel asked.

‘I mean her father. We never married, thank God. He was a
worthless
piece of shit who got drunk one night and tried to rape her. That’s when I kicked him out. Three weeks later he topped himself with an overdose. One of the happiest days of my life.’

‘How did your daughter react to that?’

She shrugged her bony shoulders. ‘Genna couldn’t have cared less. She was always a cold-blooded cow. She didn’t have feelings for anyone or anything. She once attacked me during a row over the state of her room. Broke my jaw and two of my teeth.’

Temple was surprised by her description. It was at odds with what Damien Roth and Christine Faber had said about Genna.

‘How long were you living together?’ Temple asked.

She had to think about it. After a few moments, she said, ‘She left at eighteen. That’s when I started drinking and she started whoring. We stayed in touch, though. She’d call me when she wanted
something
.’

‘So had things got better between the two of you?’ Temple asked.

A wry expression touched her mouth. ‘For sure, but only because we didn’t see much of each other. She’d come over to the flat
occasionally
, but she was ashamed of me. Can you believe that? A slut who sold her body had the cheek to look down on her own mother.’

She suddenly became pensive and stared off into the distance. Temple gave thought to what she had said. It didn’t surprise him that Genna had had a troubled childhood; that was often the case with sex workers. But he hadn’t expected to be told that she had a history of violent behaviour. That was an aspect of her character that would have to be explored.

‘So when was the last time you saw your daughter?’ Temple asked.

A shadow flickered across her eyes. She said, ‘That’s why I wanted to speak to you. Genna came to see me last Thursday. She was worried about something and that wasn’t like her. In fact I’d never seen her so nervous.’

‘Did she tell you what she was worried about?’

‘No, but she told me she’d got involved in something nasty. That was the word she used. And she wanted to get out of it. She asked me to look after a package for her. Said it was her insurance in case things went wrong.’

Temple’s eyebrows shot up inquiringly. ‘Where is the package now?’

‘Somewhere at home,’ she said. ‘But for the life of me I can’t remember where I put it. I’ve been trying to think, but my memory is shot to pieces. I usually can’t recall what day it is.’

‘What does the package look like?’ Angel asked.

‘It’s just a plain brown padded envelope. Normal letter size. Thin, not bulky.’

‘Have you any idea what’s inside?’

‘She didn’t tell me and I wasn’t interested enough at the time to ask. I’d been on the bottle that afternoon.’

Temple wondered if Genna’s flat had been ransacked by someone looking for that very package. If so, then they had been looking in the wrong place.

‘The package could be important,’ Temple said. ‘Would you have any objection if we went to your home and picked it up?’

‘If you want. But it could be anywhere.’

‘If you let us have the door keys we’ll carry out a quick search and bring them back to you.’

‘Well don’t make a mess,’ she said. ‘And if you take anything other than the package, I’ll know.’

She nodded towards the bedside cabinet. ‘Check the drawer. That’s where they put the stuff from my coat pocket. The key should be in my purse. If it’s not there it’ll be in my bag. That’s lower down in the cupboard.’

Temple pulled open the drawer. The purse was there, along with her watch and spectacles.

‘The nurse said they were going to put those things in their safe, but I think she’s forgotten.’

Temple rummaged through the purse until he found a key ring with two keys attached.

‘One of them opens the entrance to the block,’ Patricia Boyd told him. ‘The other opens the door to the flat. It’s number seven. I assume you have the address.’

Forty-five minutes later Temple and Angel let themselves into Patricia Boyd’s ground floor flat in Portsmouth, a few miles east of Southampton. It had very little going for it except that it was near to the city centre and would have been as cheap as chips.

There was one small bedroom and a lounge that included a compact kitchen area. The furniture was old and faded, the wallpaper bubbled and peeled with damp.

The place looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned up in weeks. There were dirty glasses and mugs everywhere. Used plates were piled in the sink.

Temple assumed that since the flat was so small it wouldn’t take
them long to find the package that Genna had left with her mother. But after searching for an hour they still hadn’t found the damned thing.

Temple phoned the hospital and got put through to Patricia Boyd. She was still awake and adamant that the package was somewhere in the flat.

‘I would have put it in a safe place,’ she said. ‘But Lord knows where exactly.’

It was immensely frustrating and after another twenty minutes Temple decided he’d had enough. He told Angel that he was going back to the station. He needed to chase things up and front a press conference. He told her to keep looking and to get help from the uniform division.

‘Call me as soon as you find the package,’ he said. ‘It might well be the key to everything that’s happened.’

On the way back to the station Temple stopped at a Tesco Express store and bought a cheese sandwich. He ate it sitting in his car and washed it down with a diet coke. He had a lot to think about and it wasn’t easy to make sense of the various threads that were trying to weave together in his head.

He needed to find out why Genna Boyd had tried to stop the Keatons going to King’s Manor. Was it conceivable that it had
something
to do with the strange things that had allegedly happened there? And how did the landlord, Nathan Slade, fit into the equation? Was he the one who had told Genna that the Keatons were renting the house? And if so, why?

Then there was the mystery package that Genna had given to her mother for safe keeping. What had she meant by ‘insurance’? And what was the ‘something nasty’ she had got involved in?

Also, Patricia Boyd’s description of her daughter as cold-blooded and violent had added another level of intrigue to the case. Was it possible that Genna had been the victim of a revenge attack? Was the killer someone she had previously harmed in any way?

So far, all they knew for certain was that Genna Boyd had been stabbed twice in the back before being buried on Cranes Moor. And in the days before the killing she had given her mother a package and called the Keaton house in Texas. But beyond that, the dots still hadn’t been connected. Was Genna’s car dumped before or after she was
killed? If it was after then who had parked it in the street near the city centre? If the old guy who called it in was right – and it was a female driver – then was Genna’s killer a woman?

W
hen Temple got back to the incident room he confirmed that a press conference had been scheduled for that afternoon. But before then, he got the team together for a briefing.

He began with a rundown of his conversation with Jack Keaton and his wife. He told them about the call Keaton had received from Genna and about the weird incidents that had apparently taken place at King’s Manor since they arrived.

‘It’s all very far-fetched so it’s difficult to know how much of it is actually true,’ he said. ‘The couple sound convincing, but maybe there’s an element of exaggeration there. As for their daughter, well, from the text messages she’s sent it seems clear to me that she’s wandered off in a strop over something. Her dad told me she’s
threatened
to leave home in the past. I expect she’ll come back with her tail between her legs before the day is out.’

Temple then switched to Nathan Slade. What information had they gleaned? He was told that the team had not been able to track him down. It wasn’t known where he’d been living since moving out of King’s Manor.

But they had come up with some interesting stuff.

‘Let’s start with his bank account,’ DS Mark Bannerman said. ‘We struck lucky because he pays his council tax with a Barclays Bank direct debit. We discovered his account is at a branch in nearby Ringwood. And get this – over the past two months he’s been
withdrawing
cash from ATM machines at a fair rate of knots. Usually in amounts of
£
200 and
£
300. Occasionally he’s pulled out the maximum sum of
£
500. So far he’s taken out
£
6,000. There’s
£
2,000 left.’

‘When was the last withdrawal?’ Temple asked.

Bannerman consulted his notes. ‘Five days ago from a branch in Southampton. He took out five hundred then.’

‘So why not withdraw it in a lump sum?’ Temple asked.

Bannerman shrugged. ‘Who knows? But that’s not all. We ran a credit check on him and found he has a Mastercard. Two weeks ago he used it to purchase online a one-way ticket to Bangkok. He’s due to leave in eight days’ time.’

‘Sounds to me like he doesn’t plan on coming back,’ Temple said. ‘At least not in the near future.’

‘There’s more,’ Bannerman said. ‘Nathan Slade has a criminal record.’

It turned out that Slade was quite an unsavoury character. Four years ago he had been convicted of kerb crawling in an area of Southampton known to be frequented by prostitutes. He was given a fine. A year later he was convicted of indecently assaulting a young woman in a pub in Christchurch. For that offence he was given
probation
.

‘Genna was a glorified prostitute,’ Temple said. ‘So that could be the connection. He might have been one of her clients. Do we know if his number appeared on her phone records?’

‘I was coming to that, Guv,’ Bannerman said. ‘Slade’s home and mobile numbers are on the list. Until recently they were calling each other quite often. Maybe twice a week. It started to tail off three months ago and in the last eight weeks there were no calls between them. So it’s possible that Slade told Genna he was renting his house out to the Keaton family. She then decided, for whatever reason, to warn them not to come.’

‘So let’s consider what we have here,’ Temple said. ‘There’s Slade who is possibly linked to Genna by paying her for sex. He then rents out his house to a family from the States. Before the Keatons arrive here Genna tries to persuade them not to come. We need to find out why.’ He paused to look around at the assembled faces. ‘We know Genna was a prostitute and porn actress. She’s described by her mother as a cold-blooded cow with a history of antisocial behaviour.

‘Slade meanwhile has a criminal record and he’s disappeared. We know he’s been making large withdrawals from his bank account and is planning a one-way trip to the Far East. All very suspicious and it’s
tempting to draw the conclusion that he’s been preparing to flee the country for some time. So was it because he’d been planning to commit a murder?’

Bannerman spoke up. ‘Let’s say he did kill Genna, for whatever reason. Why would he not leave the country straight away? Why wait another week?’

‘Maybe he has left,’ Temple said. ‘He’s pulled out enough cash to buy another ticket to Thailand or anywhere else in the world.’

They discussed this briefly before Bannerman referred back to Slade’s phone list.

‘We came across another interesting number,’ he said. ‘It belongs to Damien Roth, the porn producer.’

‘This keeps getting better,’ Temple said. ‘Tell me more.’

Bannerman referred to his notes again. ‘Over a period of months Roth called Slade’s mobile on five separate occasions. And Slade phoned Roth three times.’

‘This needs to be checked out.’

‘There’s more,’ Bannerman said. ‘Damien Roth does not have a criminal record, but his name did raise a red flag on the police computer.’

A red flag meant that someone within the police or intelligence services wanted to be informed if an individual became the subject of official inquiries. In this case that individual was Damien Roth.

‘Have you found out who put it there?’ Temple asked.

Bannerman nodded. ‘A DCI Brian Ellroy at SCD9.’

Temple felt a tremor of excitement. SCD9 was short for Scotland Yard’s Serious Crime Directorate 9: Human Exploitation and Organized Crime Command. They were primarily tasked with
investigating
human trafficking, prostitution, obscene publications, money laundering and identity fraud.

‘Have you called him yet?’ Temple asked.

Bannerman shook his head. ‘The info only came through in the last hour.’

‘Then leave it with me. I’ll ring him myself.’

Temple went on to talk about the chat with Genna’s mother and said that Angel was still at Patricia Boyd’s flat searching for the package.

‘It could be the most promising lead so far – as long as we can find the bloody thing,’ he said. ‘The trouble is the mother can’t remember where she put it and the place is in an awful state.’

Temple was then told that detectives were still working their way through Genna’s phone list. Five of the names followed up had turned out to be guys who had used her escort services. Three of them were married and were terrified their sordid secrets would get out. The team had also started checking emails that were sent to Genna via her website. So far they had a list of over a hundred addresses.

Three detectives were out interviewing the other porn artists employed by Filthy Films. The feedback so far was unsurprising. They were shocked and saddened to hear what had happened but had no useful information to offer.

‘OK, keep up the good work,’ Temple said as he brought the meeting to a close. ‘Someone call Damien Roth and set up a meeting for after the presser. And dig deeper on Nathan Slade. I want to talk to him. Trace his friends and relatives. Is he married? Does he have a
girlfriend
? Children? Try to find out more about his relationship with Genna. And find out if he’s left the fucking country.’

Temple got DCI Ellroy’s mobile number from Bannerman and then called the detective. But Ellroy didn’t answer so he left a message for him to call back.

After that, Temple got on with typing up his report on the case so far while he waited for the call to attend the press conference.

Forty-five minutes later he was fielding questions from reporters who were hungry for the salacious details of the case, like how long the victim had been on the game and how many porn movies she had actually appeared in. Did the police think she was murdered by one of her clients? Was she tortured before her death like the women in her movies? Temple answered every question that was put to him but was more evasive with some than others. When the questions finally dried up, he thanked everyone for coming and returned to his office. Bannerman immediately poked his head in.

‘Damien Roth will be here in about fifteen minutes,’ he said. ‘He was in town when I called and said he’ll drop by to save you going to his place.’

‘What did you say to him?’

‘That we had some follow-up questions about Genna.’

‘And how did he react?’

‘He said it was no problem and he wanted to do everything he could to help.’

Temple then phoned Angel. She was still at Patricia Boyd’s flat and two uniformed officers had joined her in the search for the mystery package.

‘God only knows where she put it,’ Angel said. ‘But this is a
thankless
task. The place is filthy and full of junk.’

‘Well if you don’t find it soon go back to the hospital and see if you can prise it out of her.’

Before hanging up he briefed her quickly on what he had learned about Nathan Slade and Damien Roth.

‘I’m about to talk to Roth again,’ he said. ‘I’ll let you know what he says.’

Temple closed the door to his office and lit a cigarette. He was desperate for a smoke and reckoned there was just enough time to get one in before the porn peddler arrived.