Danny nodded as Ruby checked his understanding of the murder charge she had just recited at the custody desk. His shoulders slumped, his head hung low, he was wearing the expression of a man who knew when he was banged to rights. The last twenty-four hours had been one result after another, and the small swell of pride she felt for her team was only marred by the pointless loss of a young life.
Thanks to her visit to Buster Turner, he had positively identified Danny Smedley as the person who sold him the stolen jewellery. As well as the positive fingerprint, Danny’s bow-legged gait also proved to be his downfall. It was more than a coincidence that his clothing description along with his gait matched that of the person on CCTV, putting him at the scene moments after Lisa took a shortcut through the park. He could have used the excuse that he found the jewellery, just as DI Downes had warned, but the fact that Ruby had questioned Danny’s whereabouts so early in the interview meant she had given him the perfect opportunity to lie. Had she provided full pre-interview disclosure about the evidence they had gathered it might have been a different story. Ruby had inhaled the stale smell of accelerant as his clothes were seized in custody and requested the helicopter go up a second time, confident they would discover the remains of a fire, where he disposed of Lisa’s clothes. Because yes, Danny was that stupid, and stupid people usually got caught.
But Danny Smedley was not the only one to blame; the authorities deeming him at no risk to the public would be forced to take responsibility. Whatever happened now would only provide a droplet of comfort to Lisa Caldwell’s mother as she fought for breath in a tide of grief.
Ruby’s satisfaction with her team’s efforts was short-lived as DI Downes approached her outside his office door. Bar of chocolate in hand, he was looking a lot better these days and seemed to have got over the worse of his grief since his wife’s death the year before. For once, his steel grey suit was neatly pressed, the silver-flecked tie appeared new, and instead of whiskey lacing his breath, his skin carried the hint of Safari, a fragrance fitting for a man of his maturity.
‘That helicopter we sent up, they’ve found something,’ he said, as they both slid into his office.
But she knew by his expression that this was not good news. Biting off a chunk of chocolate, he clicked on his mouse and brought his computer screen to life. The image was streaming live, and Ruby inhaled a sharp intake of breath. For there, as they flew over a graveyard close to the original murder scene, was the body of a young woman laid out on what appeared to be a tomb. For a few seconds, the scene took on a surreal tone. Ghostly pale, the corpse had an ethereal quality as it lay over the cold unforgiving stone. Unlike Lisa Caldwell, she was fully dressed, wearing a full-length gown which flared in the violent wind.
‘That’s St Thomas’s recreation ground,’ Ruby said, rooting in her pocket for car keys. ‘It’s no distance from Lisa’s dump site.’
Eyebrows raised, they shared a glance. She knew they were both thinking the same thing. Depending on the time of death, their suspect may have killed more than one girl.