Ella thought for a few moments. ‘Pass it on, Jill. It’s probably nothing at all, but you never know. Right/ she went on briskly, ‘you’d better have a lift home with me.
We’ve chatted so long, we’ll be in the dark in a minute.’
‘The exercise would do me far more good, but hey, I’d love a lift, thanks.’
They left their bench and walked back to the picnic area’s car park. Only Ella’s car was there, a small yellow one, and Jill had to laugh as she got in.
‘Are you prepared for every known emergency, Ella?’
‘Pretty much,’ Ella replied with a chuckle. ‘I’ve maps, water, sweets, a change of clothes, tissues, at least three umbrellas, a first aid kit, a couple of books in case I get stuck in a jam, binoculars in case I see some rare bird, a flask - empty, sadly …’
Ella was a slow, careful and very courteous driver. No one could have felt less than safe with her.
“I hear on the grapevine that you’ve been out with Bob Murphy,’ Ella remarked.
‘Out? I have not. Oh, I called at The Weaver’s Retreat for a drink at the same time Bob called in. We didn’t arrive or leave together,’ Jill replied, amazed at how effective the grapevine was.
‘Nice chap,’ Ella said.
‘Yes.’ They’d spent a pleasant hour talking about horses.
Ella was right; as she pulled up outside Lilac Cottage it was quite dark.
‘Will you come in for a tea or coffee, Ella?’ Jill hated going inside on her own when it was dark. She dreaded seeing another envelope lying on her doormat. Who was she kidding? She was dreading far worse than that. Envelopes she could cope with.
‘Thanks, but I’d better make it another time. I need to get home and see how Tom is.’
‘Oh? Isn’t he well?’
Ella hesitated. ‘He’s been a bit under the weather, that’s all, love. We’ll save that cuppa for another time.’
Jill left the warm car and shivered. The temperature had dropped during the short drive. She took her keys from her pocket as she walked up the driveway - then dropped them when a shadow suddenly moved.
‘Bloody hell, Don! What in God’s name are you doing creeping around? You nearly gave me a heart attack.’
‘Sorry, sorry’
Don Cornwall, wearing a smart suit as always, stood beneath the security light looking very sheepish indeed.
“I was driving past and thought I saw someone lurking around. I left my car at the end of the lane and walked back to have a look.’ He put his hand on her arm. ‘Sorry.’
‘And did you see anyone?’ Jill’s heart was pounding.
‘No.’
She unlocked her door and pushed it open, pausing only to straighten the holly wreath. There was nothing lying on her doormat.
‘Do you fancy a coffee now you’re here?’ she asked.
‘Well, yes, that would be good if it’s no trouble. And I’m really sorry I scared you.’
‘Forget it. I’m a bit jumpy at the moment, that’s all.’
A bit jumpy was putting it mildly.
‘Hey, this looks good - very tasteful.’ Cornwall admired the festive decorations. ‘You’ve been busy’
She had. Determined to make her first Christmas in Kelton Bridge a good one, she’d bought new decorations, all in a red and green theme, and decked the place in holly sprigs and fir cones …
Jill hadn’t even had time to put the kettle on when there was a hammering on her door that set her heartbeat off even faster.
Cornwall looked at her, and must have seen how she’d jumped at the sound. ‘Do you want me to get it?’ he asked curiously.
‘No.’ She smiled at her own stupidity. ‘I’m a little paranoid at the moment. You’ll have to bear with me.’
When she opened the door, it was Bob Murphy who was bathed in the orange glow given off by her security light.
“I thought I’d drop these prices in for you/ he said.
‘Gosh, that was quick. Thanks, Bob. Are you coming in?’
‘Thanks, but I’m in a rush. Another time perhaps. Have a look through those.’ He gestured at the large white envelope in her hand. ‘Give me a ring sometime.’
“I will, and thanks again.’
He was halfway along her drive, heading back to his white van, when he suddenly turned. ‘What do you think of Sundown’s chances? He’s running at Wolverhampton tomorrow.’
“I know he is. Not a hope in hell.’
‘You’re probably right,’ he agreed with a laugh, giving her a wave as he carried on his way.
Feeling all kinds of an idiot, Jill returned to the kitchen to make coffee for herself and Don Cornwall.
He hit the button and the car’s window purred open.
‘How much?’ he asked, when she leaned on the roof and peered inside.
‘Depends what you want.’
This one looked uninterested, as if it were her choice and not his.
He took his wallet from his top shirt pocket, flicked it open so she’d see the wad of notes, then returned it to his pocket. “I want the best.’
She was interested now. Bitches. They’d do anything for money. They would even die for it.
“I can give you an hour you’ll never forget,’ she promised.
Likewise, sweetheart, he thought, suppressing the urge to laugh.
‘Get in then.’
She opened the door, threw a well-worn brown handbag in the passenger footwell and was about to get in when she suddenly changed her mind.
“I need a pee,’ she gasped, pulling a face. ‘Give me two minutes. “I’ll nip round the corner there. No one will see me.’
Before he could argue, she dashed off towards a block of flats where the walls were covered in graffiti and the doorways probably stank of urine.
‘Don’t drive off she yelled after her. ‘You’ve got my handbag.’
Bitch. Stupid fucking bitch!
He couldn’t hang around here like a sitting target.
The seconds ticked away. What was she doing?
‘Tuck! Tuck! Tuck!’ He wasn’t taking this shit. He slammed the car into first gear and drove off fast.
‘Don’t panic,’ he told himself as he drove. ‘Don’t panic’
He slowed the car and drove at a steady thirty miles per hour.
There was nothing to worry about. The silly bitch would be standing on the pavement wondering where he - and her handbag - had gone. She’d be thinking about the cash she’d missed out on. The thought made him smile.
He was still smiling when he saw the police car in his rearview mirror.
The incident room was like something from the forthcoming Burnley versus Blackburn Rovers cup-tie. Everyone was shouting at everyone else and Max swore that violence was only a breath away. He should have calmed things down, but he felt far from calm himself and was having to shout to stand even a slim chance of being heard.
‘If Hutchinson so much as looks at a double yellow,’ he shouted, “I want him hauled in. OK?’
‘But, boss, we’ve got enough to do without wasting our time on him,’ someone argued.
‘We’ve got nothing on him/ someone else complained.
‘Stop arguing,’ he yelled at them. “I don’t like the fucking creep, and that’s reason enough. You want more reasons? His gun’s been stolen, he’s already lied to us Jesus!
How much more do you want? You’re supposed to
be detectives. Now get out there and fucking detect.’
The door opened and Jill stood there, reeling slightly at the din that met her.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ Max snapped at her.
She went out, closing the door quietly behind her.
‘Right, you lot,’ Max went on, ‘we’ve got dead bodies turning up like Reader’s Digest prize draws, we’re getting bollocked left, right and centre from above, and the press are making us look like Miss Marple on Valium. We need a soddin’ result.’
Before they could argue any more, Max marched out of the room, gave the door a satisfactory slam, and left them to call him unspeakable things at their leisure.
He had a million things to do, including yet another bollocking from the powers that sat behind executive desks all day, but he went off to find Jill first.
When he eventually spotted her, she was outside in the car park, and he ran to catch up with her. ‘Did you want me?’
She nodded at the second floor of the building. ‘What was all that about?’
‘Tempers are running high. We’re getting nowhere with anything and frustration is beginning to show.’
“I only wanted a quick word, Max, and it’s probably nothing.’ She told him of her meeting with Ella, and Ella’s description of Tony Hutchinson’s behaviour on the train.
‘The thing is,’ she warned him, ‘it’s a bit tricky. He spotted Ella so if you go questioning him about it, he’ll know where it’s come from. She doesn’t strike me as the type to be easily scared but she admitted it made her nervous.’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll tread carefully.’ She was right; it was probably nothing. All the same, it was still coming back to Hutchinson. ‘Could the woman in question have been a prostitute?’
‘That’s what I wondered,’ Jill said with a sigh. ‘The way Ella described her, she could have been. She said she wore lots of make-up, had plenty of cleavage, and was showing off her assets. Yes, she might have been.’
God, he’d nail Hutchinson for something, even if it were only driving without due care and attention.
‘I’m glad I caught you,’ he said. ‘I’m just off to see a working girl, and I wish you’d come along.’
‘Oh?’
‘She lives in Burnley with her husband and a couple of kids and, apparently, works the streets of Preston.’
‘Uh? That’s a long way to go.’
‘It is. Her husband knows nothing about it. She’s told him she’s got an overnight job at one of the supermarkets.
She reckons selling her body pays better than stacking shelves. Anyway, on Monday night, she was about to get in a bloke’s car when she spotted what she thought was a silk scarf in his jacket pocket. His jacket was lying on the back seat. It gave her a funny feeling and she ran off.’
Jill’s eyes widened. ‘And you think it was Valentine?’
“I don’t know. Probably not/ he admitted.
‘But you’re not ‘
“I know, I know, but Cornwall reckons it’s nothing.
They’ve spoken to her and dismissed her. I want to talk to her - unofficial. I don’t know, Jill, call it a hunch.’
She nodded. ‘OK.’
‘So what exactly spooked her?’ Jill asked as Max drove them to Janie Fisher’s address.
‘Just a scarf she saw. If it was a scarf. She said it gave her a funny feeling. Oh, and she’s as mad as hell at us apparently because she ran off and left her handbag in his car.’
‘You what?’
‘Our fault, she reckons. We should make the streets safer.’
‘Ah, right.’ Jill shook her head, bemused.
Janie Fisher lived on a sprawling estate that was mainly local authority housing. Jill had seen better places to live, but she’d also seen a lot worse. In fact, the houses were almost identical to the one Jill had been brought up in.
Some of the cars parked outside the houses looked roadworthy.
Most didn’t.
They got out of the car and Max was about to open the gate to number 27 - even the house number was the same as the one from Jill’s childhood - when an angry-looking German shepherd appeared from nowhere. It was barking and snapping with teeth bared.
‘Shit!’ Jill backed away in fright.
‘OK, Lennox,’ Max muttered, ‘you win. We’ll stand here and look like a pair of prats for a minute.’
After what seemed an age, with Jill convinced her eardrums would never recover, a woman appeared at the
front door.
‘Yes?’ Her snap was as intimidating as the dog’s.
‘Janie Fisher?’ Max had to yell to make himself heard over the dog’s noise.
‘Who’s asking?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector ‘
‘I’ve already seen you lot/ she cut him off, coming to the gate.
This wasn’t going to be easy, Jill realized.
‘Yes, I know, but we wanted to ask you a couple of questions.’ He looked at the dog, then looked at her.
‘Can we come in for a minute, please?’ She hesitated.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘if we piss you off, you can set the dog on us. Right?’
There was a moment’s hesitation. ‘Tyson, get in the back,’ she said, resigned.
Tyson didn’t budge. He did quieten down though, content now to make the odd deep-throated growl, and they managed to get to the front door and then inside the hall with their limbs intact.
‘You’d better come in,’ Janie Fisher muttered, pushing open the door to the sitting room.
She looked as if she’d just got out of bed. Perhaps she had. Long blonde hair was tied back in a blue band. She wore shapeless black leggings, a dark blue sweatshirt and worn suede slippers.
The room looked like Santa’s grotto, but it was clean and tidy. Kids’ toys had been put neatly in a corner. A huge television set dominated most of one wall. It must have cost more than the rest of the furniture put together. Paper chains criss-crossed the ceiling, a huge tree was covered in baubles and flashing lights, and Christmas cards had been stuck to the walls.
‘What do you want to know?’ Janie Fisher demanded impatiently.
Tyson had wandered off into the kitchen and Jill began to breathe more easily.
‘I’m Jill Kennedy’ Well, Max hadn’t bothered to introduce her. ‘And we’d like to hear anything you can tell us.
Anything at all - no matter how insignificant it sounds.
The man you saw might have been responsible for a number of murders.’ Janie Fisher shuddered at that. ‘The truth is,’ Jill went on, ‘we haven’t got a lot to go on. We want him caught and quick. So do you. If it was him, you’re the first person to get away alive.’
Jill waited for that to sink in.
‘If things had been different, we could have been calling here to tell your kids that their mum was dead,’ she pointed out. ‘Not the Christmas present you’d want for them, I’m sure.’
She waited for that to sink in, too, and watched her mull over it.
‘We believe,’ Max explained, ‘that our man lures prostitutes into his car, drives them off to some deserted spot and strangles them. We know nothing else about him. So anything you can tell us will be a step forward.’
‘If it was him,’ Janie Fisher pointed out. “I feel a bit daft about it now. It was probably nothing. The thing was, a couple of us had been talking about this killer, even having a laugh about it, and we’d spooked ourselves. Daft really.