The Ladykiller (41 page)

‘I see.’

George could hardly suppress the laughter. He was a sly old fox. He was as clever as a bag of monkeys. He could talk his way out of anything. He was the man.

‘I’m so sorry, dear. I know you’ll think it’s another failure on my part. I always wanted to give you the best, you know I did. Things just never worked out right, no matter how hard I tried.’

Elaine sat very still. Her face was closed to George through years of habit. One tiny part of her felt that she should go to him, put her arms around him and commiserate with him. But she could not. Years of avoiding physical contact with him had made such a simple act impossible.

Poor George had received the ultimate insult. At fifty-one he was on the scrap heap. He would never work again and she, his wife, was relieved that that was all that was wrong. That he was not a murderer. That he was not a rapist. She knew she shouldn’t have thought such terrible things about him, but after what had happened before . . .

She pushed the thought from her mind. She would not think about that now. She had a duty to George if nothing else.

‘I’m sorry, but we’ll get by somehow. I expect the redundancy money will be quite a bit. The house is paid for. I’m working. We’ll get by.’

He smiled at her sadly.

‘That’s why I said at Christmas that we would go to see Edith in Florida. I knew I would have the redundancy money and I wanted you to have something to look forward to, you see. I wanted at least to have given you that. A trip to America with no expense spared. The trip of a lifetime.’

George was warming to his theme. He had killed two birds with one stone. He knew what Elaine had thought and she had been right. Oh, so right. But he, George Markham, had sneaked in and extricated himself from a very dangerous situation. Because if push ever came to shove, he would cut Elaine’s throat without a second thought. Now he had told her the thing that he was most scared of and instead of the recriminations and the upset, he had her sympathy. He had told her about the redundancy. He was on top.

‘I don’t know whether a trip to America would be a good idea now, George, what with losing your job like that.’

‘We’re going, Elaine. We are going. I want to give you that. God knows, I’ve never made you happy and I always wanted to, you know.’

Elaine stared into his lifeless grey eyes. The faint gleam had gone now and he was once more the George she knew.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

Elaine nodded at him.

George got up from his seat and went to the kitchen. The clock said five past one. He had better hurry and get to bed or he would be tired in the morning. He was humming again as he put the kettle on.

Dorothy Smith knocked on Leonora’s door as usual. They travelled to work together. Her fat face, under a dark brown wig, was homely and friendly. When her knock was not answered, she frowned. She banged on the door again, harder this time. Still no answer.

Surely Leonora had not gone already? They had travelled to work together for over two years and they were on the ten till six shift. She looked at her watch. Nine thirty-five. She was early, so where was Leonora? Maybe she’d popped up to the shops. She sat on the flight of stairs that led down to the first floor and ground level, her heavy bag on her knees. She smoked a cigarette and checked her watch again. Nearly ten to ten. Leonora was cutting it a bit fine, they’d be late. She ground the cigarette stub with her boot. Then she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She stood up, a half smile on her face to greet her friend, but it was Leonora’s next-door neighbour.

‘Hello, love. Have you seen Leonora this morning?’

The other woman shrugged. ‘No.’

‘I wonder what could have happened to her? I’ve been waiting here for ages.’

‘Maybe she overslept?’

The woman was opening her front door.

‘No. I banged the door down.’

‘Sure it’s not her day off?’

‘We always have the same days off. I don’t like it. If Leonora was called away sudden like, she would have rung me. She knows I come out of me way to walk to work with her.’

The neighbour put her shopping bags down heavily in her hall and pulled the keys from the door.

‘I’ve got a key. She gave it to me when she got locked out that time. Just in case it happened again. Cost her over forty quid to get all new locks. Bloody scandalous, I say.’

Dorothy nodded in agreement.

‘Do you think we should let ourselves in like? In case she’s had an accident or she’s ill or something.’

‘I’ll knock one more time.’

Neither woman liked the thought of letting themselves into Leonora’s house unless they had to.

Dorothy banged on the front door again, the sound echoing through the block of flats.

Nothing.

She opened the letter box and called through it. Then listened in case Leonora was in bed ill or something.

She straightened up.

‘The telly’s on.’

The neighbour slowly opened the front door. Inside, the hall was quite dark. All the doors in the flat led off it and as they were closed there was no light from the windows. Dorothy switched on the light. Both sniffed and stared at one another. There was a slightly pungent smell beneath the heavier smell of lavender polish. The two women felt uneasy as they walked to Leonora’s bedroom. Dorothy opened the door.

‘The bed’s made.’ Her voice was puzzled.

Leonora’s neighbour stood by the front door. She had a terrible feeling.

The door to the lounge was shut tight, and Dorothy felt a prickle of apprehension as she put her hand on the handle. She walked into the lounge.

The gas fire was on full and the television was showing a children’s puppet programme. Her mind registered these facts. Her eyes, though, were on her friend.

Dorothy just stood and stared at the remains of Leonora Davidson.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she screamed - a high-pitched, animal scream that bounced around the tiny room, filling it with her fear and outrage.

As a parting shot, George had stuck the breadknife through Leonora’s left eye socket.

Her naked legs were sprawled in front of the fire, and had been gradually singed during the course of the night. Somewhere in the back of her mind Dorothy realised that that was the funny smell.

Burnt meat.

Caitlin and Kate were elated. The killer had once again changed tack. He had gone into someone’s home. That meant one thing: the victim knew him.

The door-to-door was trying to establish not only people’s whereabouts, but also whether or not they had seen anybody either in or near the block of flats.

Kate’s elation soon dissipated when she saw the woman’s body. What kind of man would do that to another human being?

‘There’s semen on the mouth, breasts, and in and around the vagina. I’d hazard a guess our man went on rather a spree last night. She’s been buggered, I’d lay money on that one.’ The pathologist shook his head.

Caitlin was staring at the woman as if committing her to memory. She still had the breadknife jutting from her eye, like a grotesque statue. At least someone had turned off the gas fire and opened the windows.

All around people were getting on with their jobs. Scenes of Crime were taking photographs. Taking fibres from the carpet and furniture. Picking up individual hairs. Taking samples of blood from the body, the chair and the carpet. Kate saw one pop the two coffee cups into plastic bags for fingerprinting and knew immediately that would get them nowhere. He always wore gloves. Always. He was as shrewd as they come.

Caitlin pulled his gaze from Leonora’s body and his eyes burned into Kate’s.

‘There’s got to be something this time. He’s not the Invisible Man, for God’s sake. Someone must have seen him.’

Kate wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

‘The two women who discovered the body are both in hospital. Shock.’

‘Well, I should think they are, Katie. Look at what they stumbled on. But this time we’ve got him. I just know it. I feel it.’

She hoped that Caitlin was right.

‘Are you coming with me to watch the post mortem?’

He nodded.

‘Yes. I’ll be there, Katie. I want to know everything. Something is going to lead us to that bastard. I just know it.’

DS Spencer came into the tiny room and stared at Leonora’s body. She was rapidly greying. He stared at her hard, like Caitlin before him.

‘I expect the time of death will be difficult to determine. If the fire was on full all night it would delay rigor mortis.’ Spencer’s voice was smug.

‘Once we get all the statements in we’ll have an idea, don’t you worry.’

Kate disliked Spencer, and knew that he knew that, and somehow it gave him an edge.

‘You hang around here and book the body, Spencer. Sir, I’m going to see how the uniforms are doing on the door-to-door. I want to speak to a couple of the neighbours myself before I interview the two who found the body. Maybe one of them will know where her exhusband is. From what I gather she had no children or immediate family. Do you want to come with me?’

‘You go, Katie, I’ll meet you at the hospital for the PM.’

‘OK.’

She was glad to leave the flat. The picture of the woman’s body was still in her mind.

At the first flat she visited, she was offered a cup of coffee and accepted gratefully. She needed something after the scene downstairs. The woman though, friendly as she was, knew nothing. Kate was sure of that within five minutes. She gave them a lead on the missing husband. He’d run off with Leonora’s friend and was now living in Canada. Kate thanked the woman and left.

She walked to the door opposite and knocked. It was opened by a large man in a string vest. Fred Borrings brought Kate into his little flat and sat her down ceremoniously. It was obvious she had been expected.

‘Now then, Miss . . .’

‘DI Burrows, sir.’ Kate smiled at him.

‘I popped down the pub just before ten last night. You get to know all the sounds in the flats like. It becomes part of your hearing, if you get what I mean; I even know what time people pull their lavatories in the evening. I can time them.

‘Anyway, I left here last night at about ten, and as I walked down the stairs I heard a door closing. It was Leonora’s. I assumed she had a visitor, ’cos I remember thinking it was unusual. She very rarely had any visitors did Leonora. Very nice woman, you know, but always kept herself to herself. No men calling, if you get my drift. Some of the women in these flates! My God, it’s like a knocking shop. But Leonora was a good woman.’

‘She never had any men friends at all?’

‘No. Used to work all the time. Scared of going out at night she was, because of the muggings around this area. We seem to get all the glue sniffers here, I don’t know why. Have to step over the little sods some nights to get up the stairs. They come in the lobbies to get out of the cold, I expect. Poor Leonora. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

‘You didn’t actually see anyone then?’

Fred shook his head. ‘Nah. I know what I heard though. I wish I’d knocked now. I do sometimes. See if she wants a packet of fags or anything from the offie. I know she don’t go out at night, see. Whoever went into her house knew her. When I knocked there on me way out she’d call out to me “Who is it?” or “Is that you, Fred?” You know the kind of thing. She never opened the door without establishing who was there first.

‘That’s what makes me think she knew him. I’ve been thinking about it all morning. When I heard all the hubbub going on I went down, see. Two bloody old biddies screaming their heads off. It was me who phoned you and the ambulance. I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Leonora knew her attacker, my girl, I’m convinced of it.’

Kate let the man talk. What he said made sense. If she lived alone, and was not the type to socialise very much, Leonora would be aware of the dangers. Women who had no social life were always more wary of people knocking on their doors than those who got about a bit.

‘Did you notice any strange cars parked outside when you went to the . . . ?’

‘I went to the Hoy and Helmet. And, no, I didn’t see any unusual cars parked outside. My friend gave me a lift back at about eleven fifteen and I noticed that Leonora’s lights were still on. I could see them through the chinks in the curtains. It’s like I said before - you get to know everything about everyone. Living on top of one another like we do.’

‘Have you ever seen Leonora with a man? Maybe a man from work who might have given her a lift home?’

‘She always went to and from work with her friend Dorothy. I’ve never known either of them go to work alone. They even have the same days off.’

Kate smiled to take the edge off her next sentence.

‘You seem to know an awful lot about Leonora Davidson, Mr Borrings.’

He watched her grimly.

‘I happened to like her, missis. I liked her a lot. There’s no law against that, is there? I’m trying to help you so you can find the person responsible. That’s all. You can check out my story. Plenty of people saw me in the Hoy, I use the pub a lot.’

‘That won’t be necessary, Mr Borrings.’ It would be checked out as a matter of course but Kate was too wise to mention this. ‘It’s just that normally people are undecided about a lot of things that they see or hear. You know, like after a bank robbery, every witness has the robber in a different coloured sweater with different coloured hair.’

‘I understand exactly what you’re getting at, missis.’ His voice was hard. ‘But I am not like that. I don’t waste words. I say what I think and I think about what I say. Be a damn sight better world if more people were like it.’

‘Quite. Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time, Mr Borrings. Thank you very much, you’ve been very helpful.’

The man stood up and nodded at her but his friendliness had gone. Kate knew that he was the kind who normally overpowered people. From the little she had gleaned about Leonora Davidson, he had probably overpowered her. He was like a child who knew the right answer, jumping around in his chair, hand up in the air, quivering with excitement. Only he was the child the teacher normally overlooked.