Frozen Grave

Chapter 13

Zoe phoned Carter as she was on her way home to get some rest.

‘Does Smith think Toffee could have been clever, sober enough to fool Olivia Grantham into meeting him?’ Carter asked her.

‘I don’t know. He’s fond of Toffee and that must mean he can talk to him. He says Toffee’s a clever man but off his face a lot of the time.’

‘Could he have afforded the fees on a dating site?’

‘That’s what Smith said when I mentioned it. He said there was no way, but then…’

‘Someone else in the hostel might have paid for him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Does he have any more thoughts on the murder?’

‘He thinks the gangs are responsible for all the trouble around that area.’

‘It’s true that they tend to know about it at least.’

‘Have they managed to find Balik yet, sir?’

‘No. We have increased patrols around the estate and neighbouring streets. It’s time we picked a few people up and brought them in for questioning. Smith must know where we can find Toffee’s friends.’

‘He says he hasn’t seen them in a few days.’

‘We need to get in there and talk to Sheila and Lyndsey, the volunteers. They know the people better than he does.’

‘I’m working on getting someone inside the hostel for us.’

‘Good. What about medical opinion on Toffee? What’s the chance of him pulling through?’ Carter asked.

‘The doctors have put him in an induced coma – apparently there was some swelling on his brain. It will be a slow process – but there’s hope.’

Carter came off the phone.

Willis was sitting on the chair opposite him. He studied her face. It looked like she hadn’t slept for days and she had a drawn look that he didn’t associate with her. She must have been the only person he knew who had lost weight over Christmas, not gained it. He wondered if she was pushing herself too hard and if the problems with her mother were getting to her.

‘He’s still unconscious,’ he said, to interrupt her thoughts. ‘They’ve put him in a coma. Damn…’ Carter stood and picked up his phone from the desktop. ‘Let’s see how far they’ve got with Olivia’s PC. Then we’ll grab a drink – talk things through over a beer.’

‘Can we leave it tonight, guv? I’d rather go and see Olivia Grantham’s body again. I want to get more of an idea of the attack on her and the kind of person we are looking for.’

Carter nodded. He was used to Willis’s ways. He enjoyed working with her. They made a good team. If they were a jigsaw puzzle – then he was all the middle bits, whilst she was the edge pieces.

‘No wonder you’re single.’ He smiled.

She shrugged and gave him a look that said: ‘What can I say?’

‘We’ll have to find you a nice pathologist to hook up with. You could talk bodies way into the night.’

‘Don’t seem to be many of those that are the right side of forty,’ she said as they walked along the corridor towards Robbo’s office. Willis walked with her hands in the pockets of her black work trousers.

‘Don’t forget Mark.’

‘Yeah… don’t think that will work. Mark doesn’t know it yet but he’s gay.’ Willis smiled.

‘Oh, Mark knows it; he’s just keeping his options open.’

As they reached Robbo’s office, Robbo was busy whizzing from one desk to the other on his expensive Italian blue-leather chair. Pam was sorting the papers on her desk – she was getting ready to leave for the night.

‘Let’s go through it again, Hector,’ Robbo was saying as they walked in. ‘Carter? Willis? Come in, have a seat. We’re going through Olivia Grantham’s last twenty-four hours.’ Robbo began drawing a timeline on the board behind him. ‘Olivia went out Saturday for the evening with one of her girlfriends – Marcia Adams. An old schoolfriend. We have her statement. She said she met Olivia for drinks at 8.30 in a wine bar in Covent Garden. They parted at eleven and, so far as she knew, Olivia went straight home. There was no mention of what Olivia intended to do the next day, beyond catch up on household chores at home. She didn’t think Olivia was seeing anyone. She was aware that Olivia was on dating sites, but she didn’t know which ones. She knew she met men from them sometimes.’

Robbo continued with his timeline: ‘We know that at eleven o’clock Sunday morning, she took a call from an unknown number and that lasted thirty-two minutes. She made a call to the same number at three in the afternoon, which lasted only five minutes.’

Carter spoke: ‘I would think that was the call that reassured her enough to go to Parade Street. Maybe she was having second thoughts before that. After the call she made at three, did she make any more, or did she get any?’

‘None,’ answered Hector.

‘But she didn’t put a name to this number – why was that?’ said Willis.

‘He could have been someone she knew well – he could have told her he was on a temporary number, told her his phone wasn’t working – something like that?’ Hector said. ‘We know he’s phoned her a couple of times on it. She must have thought it wasn’t worth adding to a contact.’

‘My feeling is she knew him.’

‘Or…’ Carter began, ‘… she might have been getting braver. This could have been a very convincing person on the other end of the phone – well-spoken, professional; maybe she thought: “How dangerous can it be?” Was she pushing her own boundaries?’

‘Could it really have been Toffee?’ Robbo asked.

‘On the phone he could get away with it – he’s articulate. He’s definitely well-spoken. He might have been able to fool her,’ Carter answered. He looked at what Hector was working on – Olivia’s bank statements.

‘Found anything interesting? asked Carter.

‘Just looking into the sites she subscribed to.’

‘Sign yourself up to all of the ones she was on, Hector. Ask Intel for a cover.’ He turned to Robbo. ‘Could it have been some gang-rites thing? If so, the rough sleepers must have been in on it. Toffee said it went wrong. What was the plan? To lure her in there, rape, kill. What did they steal from her? Toffee had her phone. I can’t imagine she took her bag in there, but it’s gone – probably from the car. No money was withdrawn from her bank account. Did they get paid to do it? Did someone pay Toffee to organize it?’

Carter nodded to Willis that he was ready if she was. She stood up and picked up her coat.

‘We’re going to take another look at Olivia Grantham’s body and talk to Harding, if she’s there.’

‘Pam, have you got any photos of the men Hector’s been phoning?’ Carter asked before leaving.

‘Yes… some.’ She pulled out a file from her desk and handed it to him.’

When they got outside, Willis went towards where the BMW was parked.

‘Let’s walk.’ Carter started along the main road. She stayed where she was for a second. ‘Yeah – I know, but I want to talk things through with you,’ he added, then waited for her to walk alongside him.

‘Any news about your mum? The lovely Bella Donna?’

Willis shook her head and looked at her feet. The pavement was saturated, but her new Chelsea boots, which her housemate Tina had got her for Christmas, were keeping her feet dry. The socks Carter gave her for her birthday were keeping them toasty warm. It was the kind of luxury that Willis could never have afforded herself. All her money went into savings accounts. She planned to buy a flat next year.

‘I’ll go tomorrow.’

‘Is she still in bad shape?’

‘She’s still on a drip. Not sure what else. Have to see when I get there. They say she nearly bled to death.’

‘Nearly, huh? Bad luck.’

‘Yeah.’ She smiled at the same time as she sighed heavily.

She carried on looking at the wet tarmac.

‘You take as long as you need tomorrow, Eb. Get it done and then get back to the job – focus.’ Willis looked across at him; she looked confused, hurt. ‘You’re just quiet, that’s all. I need participation, verbal. I need you on the same planet as the rest of us.’

‘Yes, guv.’

She looked away; he knew it was to hide her hurt. But a jolt back to the real world wouldn’t hurt. Carter also knew that Willis was used to tough love and she knew he cared.

They reached the Whittington Hospital and rang the bell to let them into the mortuary. They were answered by Mark.

‘The doctor’s not here, I’m afraid.’

They stepped under the fluorescent striplights of the corridor.

‘No problem. Can we take another look at Olivia Grantham?’

‘Sure.’ Mark led them through to the storage area and opened up the fridge. He wheeled out the body.

Carter stood back to observe as Willis walked around the body.

‘Good job in making her look good for her family,’ Carter said.

Mark nodded, pleased. ‘Thanks. It took me ages to cover the bruises.’

‘What was he like, the dad?’

‘He didn’t really speak much. He looked numb.’

‘Did you take casts from these bites yet?’ asked Willis.

‘Not yet. We’re waiting for the specialist to come over tomorrow and do it.’

Willis took the latex gloves now being offered to her by Mark as she examined the bite wounds on Olivia’s breast.

She pressed the wounds with her hand, to see the depth of bite. ‘These are from a dog. A dog first bites then tears.’

‘Can you take a cast from a dog?’ Carter looked at Mark for a reply.

‘Yes, I don’t see why not.’

‘Balik’s dog, maybe?’ Carter said to Willis’s back as she disposed of her gloves in the bin. ‘Or that lad with the hat had a dog. We need to find him. He should be easy to spot with half his face hanging off. What happens if he doesn’t get that fixed?’

‘It will get infected,’ Mark answered.

‘And?’

‘And it’s serious – life-threatening. Infection kills people on the streets every day,’ he added.

Harding walked in as they were finishing up and Mark was zipping the body bag back up.

‘Evening, Dr Harding,’ Carter greeted her.

She had on civvies: animal-print skirt tastefully stopping just on the knee, black boots stopping just below, a dark brown turtleneck sweater, and black-leather coat to mid-calf.

‘Must be difficult,’ Carter said, as he pointed to Olivia Grantham’s body, more to see how she reacted than with sincerity.

‘Not difficult. More strange than sad.’

‘Can we have a word?’

‘I suppose so.’ They followed Harding into her office. She opened a bottle of wine. ‘Pull up a chair. How’s the investigation going? What’s happened to the man you chased under a train, Carter?’ She passed him a glass. Willis declined.

He smiled. ‘Not quite how I remember it, Doctor. But he’s now in an induced coma. His name is Michael Hitchens, aka Toffee – he’s a former whizz kid in the City, now a homeless alcoholic. He’s our only real lead so far. He said it went wrong with Olivia – I’m not so sure it did.’

‘If he’s in an induced coma, you can forget him for at least ten days. Plus, you have no idea whether there is permanent brain damage. He may never be able to answer your questions. What do you need from me? How can I help?’

‘We need a little more background on Olivia Grantham, if we can.’ Willis took out her notebook.

‘I told you where she worked.’

Willis looked up from the notebook. ‘If we tell you what we found when we went to Miss Grantham’s flat, maybe you can think about the kind of info we are looking for,’ Willis said. She was one of the few women who liked Harding. She had no husband or boyfriend to lose. They were alike in some ways – both used to being alone. Both found it difficult to relate to and trust others.

Willis opened her notebook.

‘Not in a relationship – no couple photos. Corporate, neat – very tidy. Didn’t get to know neighbours. The caretaker said she was polite, reserved.’

‘That’s right. I would say she was quiet, thoughtful. She wasn’t a big party girl – she was private, discreet, boring really. Boringly average.’

‘Average but with a dark side?’ suggested Carter.

‘There were a few specialist sex toys in her bedroom; not sure they are average,’ Willis clarified, spoiling Carter’s fun.

Harding tried not to smirk. ‘Tell me.’

Willis read from her notebook: ‘Bondage harnesses, an assortment of weapons: whips, spikes, hot-wax dispenser, clamps, needles.’

Harding raised an eyebrow. ‘Not weapons, those are toys.’

‘Does it ring a bell with you, Doctor?’ asked Carter.

She fixed Carter with a look of contempt.

‘Your point? What am I supposed to know about it?’

‘Did you know that side of her life? The side that may have led to 22 Parade Street?’

‘Okay. I will tell you what you seem so desperate to hear but none of it goes beyond this room. None of it gets written down,’ she said, looking at Willis. Willis looked at Carter; he nodded. Willis closed her notebook. ‘I tell you two and then it’s forgotten.’

‘We can’t promise you that, Doctor,’ said Willis. ‘I may not write it down but I can’t just forget it.’

Carter held up his hand.

‘We understand. Carry on.’ Willis was about to object again. Carter stopped her. ‘If we use the information then it came from an informant who can’t be named.’ He looked at Willis. She nodded reluctantly.

Harding sighed and sat back in her seat.

‘Don’t get too excited, Carter. It isn’t that sensational. I met her through an Internet site. I didn’t set out to meet her. I met a man and he introduced me to her, one thing led to another.’ She looked at Carter and waited for a reaction.

‘Swingers?’Carter asked.

‘Crudely put, yes; I suppose so. It’s a website called Naughties.’

‘We’re looking into it,’ answered Carter. ‘We know Olivia Grantham had a subscription to it. It’s a site for casual sex – is that it?’ he added.

‘Just a way of setting out your stall, that’s all. It’s an honest approach – no ties, no hang-ups. No harm done,’ Harding said with a defensive, dismissive shrug of her shoulders.

‘Sure… Do you still have the number for the person who introduced you to Olivia?’

‘No. It was just a man. We got on well – we met a few times after that.’

‘For sex?’

Harding took a deep breath. She had fixed her eyes on Carter throughout the conversation.

‘No, for tea… what do you think?’

‘What can you tell us about her?’

‘Her life was mundane on a daily basis. So, she invented an alter-ego. That one enjoyed meeting strangers for sex.’

‘Did you see her often?’

‘Not often. She soon lost her appeal. There was a lot of bravado involved. She was quite the baby inside.’ She paused. ‘Anyway – it doesn’t do to see the same person too often – you become overfamiliar with them. They start to mean something to you beyond a pleasure vehicle.’

Harding sat back in her chair.

‘How does the site work? asked Willis.

‘You pay and you get a service like everything else. You subscribe and get to study the profiles of other subscribers. What you do then is up to you. The site is a host. It’s simple. I like sex with strangers. I like as many new partners as possible.’

‘So if you like the look of someone you email them?’ asked Willis.

‘Yes. If I like someone on the site then we usually meet that same evening.’

‘Where?’

‘A hotel usually, their house or mine perhaps. A car park, anywhere you want. Whatever floats your boat.’

‘Dangerous thing to do,’ said Carter.

She shrugged. ‘That’s the point. If I met them in a bar, they would bore me within seconds. This way it lasts an evening – at least I’ve never had a problem.’

‘What would have made Olivia go into that building on Parade Street? Do you know?’

‘Because some risks are worth taking. What is it you want me to do? What do you think I can help with?’

‘We need to see how it works first; will you show me?’ Willis asked. ‘We have two bogus profiles on there now – a man and a woman. We need to know how they look to the experienced eye. We have several hits already on the female.’

Harding took her laptop out of her bag and opened it up.

‘You will have. Let me tell you – the women are few, the men are plenty,’ she said as she put in her passcode. ‘I’ll log in and show you who’s looking at who.’ She looked across at Willis and paused, finger over the keyboard. Willis drew her chair nearer. Carter stayed where he was.

‘Password. Okay – so once I’m in, I get onto my home page and see what activity there has been on it.’

‘When was the last time you logged in?’ asked Willis.

‘Last night. I looked at Olivia Grantham’s profile. She’s still up on the site.’ Harding turned and looked questioningly at Carter.

‘I know, but it’s not our business to inform them,’ he said. ‘We need to see if anyone has been looking at her profile.’

Harding turned back to her laptop. ‘That would mean you would have to admit to breaking into it – which you are obviously trying your hardest to do.’

Carter didn’t answer.

Willis was leaning in to read what Harding had put on her profile. She stopped and looked at Harding. ‘You’re not worried about putting all this detail online?’

‘No, because I go through a vetting process before I meet them and this site isn’t cheap. It’s thirty pounds a month – that puts it out of the ordinary weirdo’s price bracket. No one can look at my profile unless they pay, and I am in control as to who sees what. If I “favourite” them then they can see more intimate pictures.’

Harding was about to click on the link to profile pictures that were hidden.

Willis stopped her.

‘It’s okay. I don’t need to see.’

Harding shrugged. ‘Please yourself. This section here shows the last twenty-four hours. I’ve had five views and I’ve got an email.’ She clicked on the link to read it. ‘Okay, well this is from a guy I’ve been talking to for a week or so. We’ve exchanged about three messages. I’ll give him my mobile number now and we’ll talk. If he sounds like someone I want to meet then we meet for a drink. If he passes that test then – bingo. It’s not really that different from any other dating site. Some people vet scrupulously – some people never even talk on the phone, they just want to meet straight away.’ She looked at Willis. ‘Have you never tried Internet dating?’

‘I look at it sometimes but I don’t have the time for it. Is anyone on there that you think Olivia Grantham might have been interested in?’

‘Yes. I think I could pick out a few.’

Harding clicked on a profile of a man. His erect cock filled the screen.

‘Hardly anyone shows their face. They are married or at least they are in a relationship that doesn’t quite do it for them sexually and they think this way is cleaner, safer, no one gets hurt and it’s free. Free sex is always a man’s goal.’

‘Do people who are one site tend to be on others?’ Carter asked.

‘Of course. Some people are on every single site.’

‘Are you?’

‘No, I find the right sort of people on this.’

Willis pointed to the cock onscreen. ‘Do you know that man? Have you met him?’

Harding leant forward to look at the name on the account.

‘No.’

‘Are you willing to talk to us about any of the men you’ve met?’ asked Willis.

‘Yes. Bring me details of someone you’re interested in and I’ll tell you if I’ve had sex with them.’

‘We have some photos to show you now,’ Carter said.

‘Shoot.’ He took out the file Pam had given him.

‘We’re giving you all the info we have on them so far. These are the men who definitely contacted Olivia Grantham. They are from her phone. They have been given the surname Naughties by Olivia, which we presume means she knows them from there, so we’re hoping you might recognize one or two.’

Carter handed Harding the first man’s details.

‘This is a man named Peter Hill; he lives in Kent but works in the City.’

She took the photo, studied it and shook her head.

‘No. Don’t know him.’ She pushed the picture aside.

‘This one is Malcolm Roberts – accountant.’

‘No.’

‘John James Ellerman – JJ – high-roller. He lives in—’

Harding held up her hand to stop Willis. ‘Yes. Definitely.’

‘When? With Olivia?’

‘Once with her. I met him a few times on my own.’

‘When was that?’

‘Must be two years ago. But he still looks at my profile online. I still get the odd text from him. He’s on this site all the time.’

‘Why didn’t you keep meeting him?’ asked Willis.

‘He didn’t want to. I wasn’t what he was looking for.’

‘What were your impressions?’

‘He was a bullshitter. He tried to impress with his car, his talk of going all over the world. I remember thinking: “Can we just cut the crap and get on with it?”’

Carter smiled.

‘You think it’s not just the sex with him?’ he asked.

‘That’s right – he wanted to take me for dinner. He wanted to take me on holiday.’

‘You weren’t keen?’ asked Carter.

‘I made it plain I just wanted sex. That’s what the site is for – not for relationships.’

‘Of course…’ Willis said. ‘Did you know he was married? Did he tell you?’

‘Yes, he did, even though I wasn’t interested in hearing it. He said he had a son, couldn’t leave his wife — all that bullshit.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ asked Harding.

Carter answered: ‘Nothing.’

‘Okay, but I know it will take you weeks to get permission to access the dating site’s private info. Let me help then.’

‘How? We can’t put you at risk.’

‘I can go on the hunt if it’s useful. I can contact him – it will be easy.’

‘We appreciate it,’ said Carter. ‘Can we think about it, please?’

‘Sure.’