Читать книгу The Perfect Couple - Jackie Kabler - Страница 6

‘Holy cow. It’s like looking at brothers. Coincidence, or not? What do you make of that, guv?’

Detective Sergeant Devon Clarke glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, Detective Chief Inspector Helena Dickens nodded slowly, indigo eyes fixed on the two photos on the board.

‘I dunno. Not yet, anyway. But yes, they do look spookily similar. Weird, eh?’

She looked at her watch. Just after seven. She sighed and turned to the room, wincing slightly as she felt a twinge in her lower back. Last night’s run had been too long and too fast, she thought.

‘OK, gather round everyone. I’m sorry to do this to you all on a Friday evening, but with a second murder on our hands now I’m going to have to ask you to work right through the weekend, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed. Let’s just go through what we’ve got so far, so it’s all clear in everyone’s minds, and then I’ll distribute jobs.’

She waited, turning back to scan the board as chairs scraped and feet shuffled; then the room fell silent, the rain which had started to fall an hour ago beating an urgent tattoo against the windows, the air thick with the smell of stale coffee.

‘Thanks. Right, well I know some of you have just been brought into Bristol today to swell our numbers, so thank you for that. I’m DCI Helena Dickens, senior investigating officer. This is DS Devon Clarke.’

She waved a hand towards Devon, who dipped his head.

‘It’s been a while since Avon Police has had two murders on its hands in such a short time frame, so we’re about to get very busy. There’s nothing at the moment to suggest that the two killings are linked, although we’re still waiting on the forensics report on the latest. But …’ she paused and exchanged glances with Devon, ‘well, let’s start at the beginning. Devon, can you take us through what we know about Mervin Elliott?’

‘Sure.’

Devon nodded, and cleared his throat.

‘OK. This is Mervin Elliott.’

He pointed to the photograph on the top left corner of the board.

‘Thirty-two years old, men’s clothing shop manager – one of those trendy places in Cabot Circus. Single, heterosexual, no children, lived alone in an apartment down at the harbourside. His body was found on Clifton Down by a dog walker just over two weeks ago, early on the morning of Wednesday, the thirteenth of February. Here, just off Ladies Mile, near Stoke Road.’ He pointed at a map of The Downs, the vast public open space to the north of the affluent suburb of Clifton. ‘His body was half hidden by shrubs, a bush, something like that. Time of death estimated to be about ten or eleven hours earlier, so between seven and eight the night before, Tuesday, the twelfth. Cause of death, blow to the head. No other significant injuries. No murder weapon found.’

He paused, rubbed his nose and continued.

‘According to everyone we’ve spoken to so far, he was a nice, normal guy. Worked hard, single as I said; his mates said he’d been on the odd date recently, usually women he met online, but hadn’t found anyone he wanted to get serious with. Sociable bloke though, liked a night out by all accounts, but wasn’t a drug user or even a particularly big drinker. He was big into fitness, member of a gym – that big 24-hour one at the harbour, near his flat. Looked after himself. No criminal record. No obvious motive at all for his murder. Looked like he’d been out running the night he was killed – he was wearing trainers and exercise gear when his body was found. But he had a pretty nice sports watch on, and a decent phone in his pocket, and they weren’t touched. Parts of The Downs get their share of doggers and so on at night, people cruising for action, but there was no sign of recent sexual activity on the body, no evidence he was there for anything like that. And so far, we’ve not found any witnesses to the attack. It would have been dark at that time of course. But so far, we have very little to go on. No forensics of any use. Nada.’

A phone suddenly trilled on a desk at the back of the room, and Devon waited while one of the young detective constables sprinted to grab it, answering it in hushed tones then grimacing at Devon.

‘Nothing major,’ she mouthed.

Devon nodded and turned back to the board.

‘OK, so that’s Mervin Elliott. This …’ he gestured at the photograph to the right of the first, ‘is Ryan Jones. His body was found yesterday morning, Thursday, the twenty-eighth of February, in a lane between two houses on Berkeley Rise. That’s here, just off Saville Road.’

He ran his finger across the map.

‘Saville Road borders Durdham Down to the east. And, for those unfamiliar with The Downs, Durdham Down is the northern part, north of Stoke Road. Clifton Down is the southern bit. About four hundred acres in total.’

‘So … the two bodies were found, what? Less than a mile apart?’

The question came from somewhere at the back of the assembled group of officers. Devon nodded.

‘About that, yes. Again, cause of death was probably head injuries but we’re waiting for the results of the post mortem – should be with us any minute; they’ve had a bit of a backlog down there, couple of nasty car accidents got in ahead of us. He also had a couple of minor injuries elsewhere but nothing significant. His head injury was again consistent with being attacked with a heavy weapon of some sort. Again though no sign of that murder weapon. Early days on this one though, as he was only found yesterday. At the scene time of death was again estimated to have been about ten hours earlier, so sometime on Wednesday evening. He was found by a local resident who was out for an early morning cycle and took a shortcut down the lane. We got an ID from the victim’s wallet, which was still in his pocket with about fifty quid in it. Ryan was thirty-one and also single, no kids, dated a bit but again no serious girlfriend as far as we know at this early stage. Worked as an accountant for a firm in Queen Square. Again, early days but so far he sounds a bit like our first victim – nice, normal guy, no record.’

He paused and turned to look at Helena.

‘No CCTV in the area he was found, I assume?’ she asked.

Devon shook his head.

‘No cameras in that area at all. It’s a lot more built up than where Mervin was found though, obviously, so we started doing house to house yesterday afternoon, but so far nobody seems to have seen or heard anything.’

Helena sighed.

‘Remind us what he was wearing? Ryan, I mean.’

Devon turned back to the board.

‘Normal clothes. As in, not running gear or anything. Jeans, trainers, a navy jumper, big black puffa coat. It was cold on Wednesday night. And no, we haven’t worked out yet what he was doing in the area. He lived at an address in …’ he frowned, eyes searching the board, ‘in Redcliffe. So two, three miles away from where he was found.’

‘Thanks, Devon.’

Helena cleared her throat and turned to the room.

‘OK, so that’s the basics. Two dead men, both with head injuries, both murdered in The Downs area within a couple of weeks of each other. Both successful and hardworking, both in their early thirties. Two men whom, as far as we know at the moment, had no involvement in any sort of criminal activity. And, two men who look …’ she turned back to the board again, tapping first the photo of Mervin and then Ryan’s image, ‘who look, quite frankly, like bloody twins. The same dark curly hair, dark eyes, thick eyebrows. Similar height and build. Might mean nothing but …’she shrugged and turned back to face the assembled officers, ‘kind of weird, eh? OK, listen. Let’s not get too hung up on their appearances for now. And of course, there may be no connection between these two murders whatsoever. But we can’t rule it out, not at this stage, considering the similarities between the two cases. Let’s keep an open mind and let the facts guide us.

‘Forensics on Ryan might help when we get them, if we’re lucky. But in the meantime, let’s talk to as many of their friends and family members as possible, and see if there are any common factors – Redcliffe and the harbour aren’t that far apart, so did these two hang out in the same bars, did they know each other, did they have any mutual friends or common interests? And why were they both on – or, in Ryan’s case, very close to – The Downs, on the nights they died? OK, so Mervin was there running, and it’s a nice place to run, I run there myself now and again. But he’s a member of a gym and, even if he preferred running outdoors, there are plenty of routes to choose from around Bristol. So why there, specifically? Was it something he did regularly? And why was Ryan in the area? Was he visiting a friend, a relative? We need to know everything about these two, and fast.’

She stopped talking, watching as her colleagues scribbled notes on their pads, many of them exchanging glances. She knew instantly what they were thinking. It was something she’d thought herself, immediately and with a sudden sick, sinking feeling in her stomach, when Ryan Jones’s photograph had been stuck on the board yesterday next to Mervin Elliott’s. If these two murders were connected, if they’d been carried out by the same person, well …

She swallowed hard. It needed to be three, though, officially. Three murders, to fit the most widely used UK definition. And so far it was only two. Please God, she thought, let it stay that way.

Two was bad enough.

But three …

Three, and she might just have a serial killer on her hands.