Nine Lives by Anita Waller (best english books to read .txt) 📗

Frannie stopped loading her fork. ‘What? Have I missed something? It was only last night that you were using the phrase headless chickens. Has something happened?’

‘It has. We know how she moves the bodies now, she was caught on CCTV last night.’

Erica stood and carried her plate and cutlery to the dishwasher. ‘But let’s not talk about it tonight. I go over it all day long, and it’s not fair if I bring it home.’

Frannie said nothing, picked up her plate and rinsed it before stacking it in the dishwasher. Just for a second Erica wondered if she had upset Frannie by not telling her everything about the CCTV footage, but dismissed it from her mind. It was enough that it was constantly in her own head, without it being in Frannie’s as well.

‘Coffee?’ Erica asked.

Frannie hesitated for a moment. ‘No, I think I’ll have another wine after I’ve caught up with these notes.’

Ouch, Erica thought, So she’s not too happy with me.

They were in bed a few minutes after ten, although neither woman felt settled. With stressful jobs and a caseload that wouldn’t stay at work because it buried deep into the brain, sleeping wasn’t always easy.

‘You awake?’ Erica asked, and Frannie mumbled that she was.

‘How often do you go to the gym?’

‘Once or twice a week.’

Erica sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. ‘Ever been to the Starlite?’

‘I had a look at it in a flurry of getting fit after our Christmas pig-out, went once at the beginning of January, wasn’t impressed so haven’t been back. Why?’

‘Just asking, really. So it’s not a good gym?’

‘It wasn’t what I wanted. The one near my office is heaps better. I don’t go often, but it’s quite good. Better than the Starlite, anyway.’

‘So you wouldn’t know anybody who was acting suspicious at the Starlite?’

Frannie laughed. ‘No, my love, I wouldn’t. I don’t know anybody at all, full stop.’

‘Then you’re rubbish, Frannie Johnson,’ Erica grumbled, switching off the lamp and snuggling under the duvet. ‘How can I send you in as my mole if you don’t know anybody and aren’t even a member?’

The Porter was losing the power it had showed at the height of the flooding. Named Porter because of its brackish colour it picked up from the hillsides of Derbyshire before pulsating out of the ground in Sheffield’s hills, it was still a force to be reckoned with, and clearly a magnet for the woman who was currently putting the fear of the Almighty into Sheffield’s residents.

Three officers had been left on duty for the night at various points on the river, and all had instructions to check in with each other hourly. They did so, working their way through the flasks of coffee they had brought with them, and the packs of sandwiches.

It was a long night, but not one of them dared to relax for even a second. There would be no more dead women on their watch. Fortunately, it was also a dry night, although cold, and they kept moving as much as they could. They were relieved at six o’clock and a second group of three officers took over. The first group had nothing to report, the second felt thankful.

A team from Forensics arrived at ten and searched the track leading from the newsagent’s shop to the body-dump site, but found nothing. Slowly most of the crime scene tape was removed, leaving a small circular area around the body space. It would probably remain there until the winter gales took it, trailing it like a flag across the Ringinglow moors.

Erica arrived early and switched on her computer before removing her jacket. She grabbed a coffee and headed back to her desk, hearing the ping of an incoming email as she sat down. The email from the Tech people with the polished CCTV from the newsagent’s shop arrived almost without fanfare until she saw the final sentence. Watch it through to the end!

She felt a small surge of anticipation and knew what had been bothering her. In the rush to get the grainy and inefficient film downloaded safely they had watched the arrival of the Fiesta, the removal of the suitcase and its disappearance over the grassed area, pulled by the killer. The woman. They hadn’t watched her return.

Now there was no longer the fear they might lose the precious pictures by incorrect handling of such old equipment, the whole episode would be seen. She sat down at her desk, glancing around the main office to see who was in. Nobody. Had she really expected anybody to be in at six?

Her door opened and Flick said, ‘Morning, boss.’

‘Flick! Take your coat off, grab a coffee and come and watch this with me.’

They sat side by side and Erica clicked her mouse. The film opened two minutes before the arrival of the car, and they watched it through to where the killer dragged the suitcase up the grass incline. A second car pulled up behind the Fiesta after five minutes twenty seconds, but nobody got out. It remained for three minutes sixteen seconds, then pulled away and disappeared.

‘I don’t think that’s connected,’ Erica said slowly. ‘They probably needed to answer the phone or something. If it was connected all we know is that it’s a Corsa, I think, and we have no idea of its registration, although no doubt we can find it using ANPR. We’ll check it out, I’ll put the request in after we’ve finished watching this.’

They were sipping second cups of coffee by the time the killer returned with the suitcase.

‘It’s definitely a woman,’ Flick said. ‘She has a woman’s walk. I know that sounds sexist, but it’s true. We do walk differently. She’s stepping carefully down from the edge of that grass onto the pavement. A man wouldn’t do that.’

They watched as she opened the boot and stashed the suitcase inside it, then she took a cigarette from a packet in the top pocket of the black jacket she was wearing, lit it