The late shift were still working in the slaughterhouse. The red-faced supervisor with a substantial paunch informed them that Billy Kelly had finished work at four o’clock, and he had no idea where he was – probably in the pub if he had any sense.
‘What now, Dot?’ Walter said as they ambled back to the Land Rover.
A goods train rumbled by – clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack – along the steel tracks.
She looked round. ‘This is a big place, Walter.’
‘Once upon a time, there were dozens of businesses here. I recall a railway coach company, a sweet factory, a company called Bolding Molton that constructed porcelain baths and toilets, a distillery, and a welding factory that made boilers for ships . They used the railway to transport their wares all around the country, and to the ports for export abroad, but most of them went to the wall during the recession. Jenson’s Slaughterhouse used to be three times the size it is now, but they had to adapt or die like the rest.’
‘Let’s drive round. I have a feeling.’
‘You and your feelings.’
Walter crawled around the railway sidings in second gear until Dorothy told him to stop.
‘There,’ she pointed to a building with a loading bay.
‘What?’
‘The door is ajar. And there’s some cars and a blue van hidden in the shadows at the side of the building?’
‘Maybe . . .’
‘Maybe we should go in and take a look.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Bring your gun, and make sure it’s loaded.’
Walter stopped the Land Rover, put his gloves on, climbed out of the driver’s seat and retrieved the shotgun from behind the seat. He then broke the seal on the box of cartridges and loaded the weapon. ‘Okay, let’s go,’ he said, putting a handful of cartridges in one of the pockets of his khaki multi-pocketed hunting waistcoat.
It had been a while since he’d used the Yildiz .410 over-and-under double-barrelled shotgun to shoot clay-pigeons. He’d fallen in love with it when he first saw it in the shop. It was beautifully engraved with a game scene on the frame, and the stock was made from walnut that had come all the way from Turkey. Although he still cleaned and oiled it regularly, for the past eighteen months it had sat locked in the steel cabinet unused and unloved. Clay-pigeon shooting had been a hobby he’d taken up a few years ago. He’d kitted himself out like a professional clay pigeon shooter with a handicap similar to golf, but once he’d discovered that he couldn’t hit a barn door at twenty paces, his interest had waned dramatically. He’d meant to sell the gun, but a gun-owner had to dance a merry jig to comply with all the rules and regulations, and as a consequence he’d never got round to it.
They walked up the concrete steps. A fading aluminium sign – screwed to the wall next to the metal door – provided a warning:
LOADING BAY
KEEP CLEAR
‘Do you hear anything?’ Dorothy asked as they pressed their ears to the opening.
Walter shook his head. ‘Not a thing.’
The rusty metal hinges and tracks on the concertina door screeched as Dorothy pushed it open enough for the two of them to squeeze through.
Fingers of light pierced the lichen-covered glass in the skylights, and provided just enough light to see by. Now that they were fully in the building, they could hear the faint sounds of men cheering and laughing.
‘I’ll go first,’ Walter said. ‘And remember, stay beside me or behind me. Don’t, whatever you do, get between the gun and the target.’
Dorothy nodded.
***
Mrs Kelly opened the door, saw who it was and pulled a face. ‘You two again,’ she said, walking back inside. ‘My house is beginning to resemble Liverpool Street station during the rush hour.’
They followed her into the dark living room.
Xena glanced at Stick. ‘This is only the second time we’ve been here today.’
‘What do you want?’
‘We’d like to speak to your son Billy.’
‘You’re investigating the murder of Clarice Kennedy, why do you want to speak to my son?’
‘Another woman has gone missing.’
‘What’s that got to do with Billy?’
‘That’s what we’d like to know. Is he here?’
The woman crossed her arms. ‘No.’
‘Do you know where he is?’
‘No.’
‘Billy’s blue van was seen at the place where the woman went missing.’
‘Surely you can’t think Billy is involved in the woman’s disappearance?’
‘We’d simply like to talk to him.’
‘Well, I have no idea where he is.’
Xena’s eyes narrowed. ‘A young woman is missing, Mrs Andrews. The sooner we talk to Billy, the sooner we can eliminate him from our enquiries.’
‘The sooner you can fabricate evidence against my son, you mean. If you want to speak to Billy you’ll have to do it through my solicitors.’
‘You really aren’t helping your son, Mrs Andrews.’
‘I think you’d better go.’
She shepherded them back outside and said, ‘Call my solicitors.’
‘And who are they?’
The door shut in their faces and they walked back down the path to the car.
‘Call . . .’ Xena began to say, when, ‘Psst,’ came from behind them.
Charlene was standing in front of next door’s privet hedge, so that she couldn’t be seen from her own house.
They walked towards her.
‘Hello, Charlene,’ Stick said.
‘I was in the kitchen listening. You think Billy has taken that woman, don’t you?’
Xena nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘My mum’s telling the truth – she doesn’t know where he is. He would have finished work at four o’clock, but he hasn’t been home yet.’
‘No idea where he might be?’
‘No.’
‘Where does he work?’
‘Jenson’s Slaughterhouse in River Meads, next to the railway tracks at Stanstead Abbotts.’
Stick squeezed her forearm and said, ‘Thank you, Charlene.’
‘Someone else came here looking for him earlier, you know.’
‘Who?’ Xena asked.
‘Clarice Kennedy’s parents.’
Xena’s brow furrowed and she glanced at Stick. ‘Why did the Kennedys come here looking for Billy?’
‘Mrs Kennedy said she’d received a phone call from him, but that the call had ended before he said why he was calling. She wanted to ask him why he’d called.’
‘And what did you tell them?’
‘Where he worked.’
‘Did your brother know their daughter Clarice?’
‘He came to pick me up from the dance studio a couple of times. I introduced them.’
‘Thanks for your help, Charlene,’ Xena said.
They turned to go, but Stick turned back. ‘Did Billy’s van used to be white?’
‘Yes.’
‘With blue lettering on the side?’
‘That’s right. He painted it dark blue about a month . . . Oh God! You think he had something to do with Clarice’s murder, don’t you?’
‘We don’t know anything yet, we’d simply like to talk to Billy. Have you tried ringing him?’
‘Mum has. He’s not picking up.’
Stick took out his notebook. ‘What’s his number?’
Charlene told them.
They walked back to the car and Charlene went back inside.
Stick phoned forensics and asked them to trace the number.
‘Well?’ Xena said when he ended the call.
‘It’s not switched on.’
‘How the fuck are we supposed to do our jobs if people never switch their phones on?’
They climbed into the car.
‘River Meads?’
‘Where else? It doesn’t look as though we’re going to get home tonight.’
***
As Walter and Dorothy moved further and further into the disused building, the human voices became louder and louder. They could make out the small dark shapes of rats scurrying about in search of food, and smell the decay of what used to be a thriving meat-packing plant.
Eventually, they reached a door – which was open just a crack. A sliver of light and men’s laughter knifed through the gap.
Walter made sure Dot was behind him as he pushed the door open with his foot.
He stepped through the opening. A man’s hand grabbed the barrel of the gun and pulled it forwards.
His finger squeezed the trigger.
There was a deafening explosion in the confined space.
A man screamed, bounced off the far wall and crumpled into a bloody heap on the floor. ‘Oh God!’ he yelled. ‘I’ve been hit, I’ve been fucking hit. Somebody call an ambulance.’ He tried unsuccessfully to stem the flow of blood leaking from his chest.
Walter jabbed his left foot against the side of the man’s knee who was trying to wrestle the shotgun from him.
The man grunted, collapsed to the floor and let go of the gun barrel.
The smoke and stench of cordite in the room began to dissipate.
Walter shifted the barrel selector over to the second barrel.
There was a thin blonde young woman hanging in the middle of the room by her wrists from a meat hook on a rail. She was naked, bruised and bleeding. A piece of cloth was tied around her face and covered her mouth. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she was shaking uncontrollably.
A short grey-haired man was on his knees in front of her with his trousers bunched up round his ankles and his arse in the air.
‘Everybody over there,’ Walter said, herding the four remaining men against the left-hand wall with the shotgun.
As the grey-haired man began to stand he started pulling his trousers up.
‘Leave them where they are,’ Walter said.
The man left them round his ankles, covered his privates and waddled to the wall to stand with the others.
Walter signalled with the barrel. ‘The rest of you drop your trousers.’
They all complied.
‘Now kneel, and interlock your fingers behind your head.’
Dorothy went to the woman and lifted her off the S-hook. It had taken her breath away when she’d first seen her, she’d thought it was her beautiful Clarice hanging there.
‘You’re all right now, darling,’ Dot said to the woman, as she removed the gag and put an arm around her shoulders. She looked for something to cover the woman’s nakedness, but couldn’t see anything. ‘Get one of them to take a shirt off,’ she said to Walter.
‘You,’ Walter pointed at one of the men.
He took his shirt off and threw it at Walter.
Dot picked it up and put it round the girl.
‘We were just having a bit of fun,’ one of the men said.
The girl broke free of Dorothy, moved towards the man and spat on him. ‘The fucking bastards were taking turns to rape me.’
Dorothy gripped her round the waist and pulled her back. ‘What’s your name, love?’
‘Lily.’
‘I’m Dot, and the man with the gun is my husband Walter. Don’t you worry about what these men say. They’re the ones who raped and murdered our daughter Clarice. We’ve come to see that justice is served.’
Walter cracked opened the gun, the spent cartridge ejected, he replaced it and snapped the gun shut. ‘What are we going to do with them, Dot?’
‘Do you want to see them in prison leading the life of Riley when our Clarice is lying cold and butchered in the mortuary?’
‘No, I don’t think that would be right, Dot.’
‘Then you know what to do, Walter.’
‘You’re not going to kill us,’ the man who Lily had spat on said.
Walter lowered the gun and pulled the trigger.
The man’s eyes opened wide as he looked down at the gaping hole where his penis and testicles used to be. ‘Please,’ he begged as he fell forward.
Walter knew very well that if he fired both barrels and then replaced the cartridges, it would give the men a split second to rush him, so he cracked the gun open, replaced the spent cartridge, and fired at the next man.
He did that three more times.
It was all over in less than a minute.
The four men were crying and pleading for medical help as their life’s blood oozed out onto the floor.
The fifth man had already died from his wounds.
‘Come on, Lily love,’ Dot said. ‘Let’s get you to the hospital.’
Walter picked up the ejected cartridges and put them in his pocket. He was the last to leave the walk-in freezer, and on his way out he switched the light off and slammed the door shut.
***
Wednesday, July 17
Stick beeped the horn.
Xena came out of the front door from her block of flats and climbed into the car. ‘Are you fucking crazy?’
‘Why?’
‘You have no idea, do you?’
‘About what?’
‘About how normal people behave.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘It’s quarter to five in the morning.’
‘And?’
‘Normal people are still asleep. Normal people don’t beep their horns like crazy trolls. Normal people recognise that this is an ungodly hour of the day and take measures to consider the wellbeing of others.’
‘Like you?’
‘Exactly like me. I’m the most considerate person I know. Unless, of course, you know something different?’
‘I don’t know anything.’
‘We’ve already established that, numpty. Do you want to put this jalopy in gear and get going then?’
‘I suppose I could do that.’
‘Good. Wake me up when we get there.’
They’d gone to Jenson’s Slaughterhouse at River Meads, but Billy Kelly and his blue van were nowhere to be found. The shift supervisor informed them that he’d told the Kennedys the same thing an hour and a half ago.
Stick had rung Inspector Threadneedle and asked her to circulate to all officers the descriptions of Billy Kelly, his blue van, and Mr and Mrs Kennedy. Then, they drove to the Malting’s Kennels to see if the Kennedys had returned home, but they weren’t there.
Two uniformed officers were left at the kennels with instructions to detain the Kennedys when they returned home, and another two officers were stationed at the Kellys to arrest Billy if he appeared.
They then went home. Stick dropped her off, and she crawled into bed at ten-thirty feeling like a subject in a sleep deprivation study.
At quarter past four, she received a call from the Duty Sergeant saying that the Kennedys had been located, Lily Andrews had also been found, but there was still no sign of Billy Kelly.
Now, they were on their way to King George Hospital to find out what the hell was going on.
‘We’re here.’
‘Don’t talk rubbish. I’ve only just closed my eyes.’
‘It’s twenty to six.’
‘Leave me here. You know what to do.’
‘Okay.’ Stick opened the door and climbed out.
She wished she could, but she couldn’t. She opened the door, and shouted, ‘Wait.’
‘You don’t trust me?’
‘I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.’
She was struggling to undo the seat belt and put the seat in the upright position. In the end, she gave up and lay there.
‘Do you want some help with that?’
‘Be careful where you put your hands, Sticky fingers.’
‘I never would.’
They found Dorothy and Walter Kennedy sitting in the Accident and Emergency.
‘What’s been going on, Mrs Kennedy?’ Xena asked.
Dorothy took a deep breath. ‘I received a phone call from Billy Kelly. He said he was Charlene’s brother, but then the call ended. I just knew he was ringing to tell us something about Clarice, so I asked Miss Jodh at the Rhythm Stick to give me Charlene’s address.’
‘And she did?’
‘Yes, but don’t think too harshly of her. I suppose she felt sorry for me.’
‘You should have called me – that’s why I gave you a card.’
‘I know, but . . .’ She shrugged.
‘Go on.’
‘We drove to the Kellys’ address, but Billy wasn’t there and Mrs Kelly couldn’t contact him either . . .’
‘So Charlene told you where he worked?’
‘Yes. So, Walter and I drove to River Meads. The supervisor at the slaughterhouse told us that Billy had finished work at four o’clock. We didn’t know what to do then, so we decided to go home.’
‘But you didn’t, did you?’
‘No. We got a bit lost trying to get out of the sidings. And it’s a good job we did as well, because we came across that poor girl staggering around naked and confused.’
‘Lily Andrews?’
‘If you say so. She hasn’t spoken a word to us. We just brought her in here and the nurses took her away.’
‘Do you recall where you found her in the sidings?’
Dorothy turned to her husband. ‘Do you know, Walter?’
He shook his head. ‘All we were concerned about was getting the girl to the hospital.’
‘And you’ve been here since?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you call the police earlier?’
Dorothy answered again: ‘We thought the nurses would do that.’
‘And you’ve not seen Billy Kelly at all?’
‘No.’
Xena couldn’t make up her mind whether they were heroes or villains. On the face of it, they hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, they appeared to have saved Lily Andrews from being murdered, but there was something different in Mrs Kennedy’s demeanour. ‘Okay. Stay here until . . .’
‘We’ve been up all night. We need to get home to feed the dogs and get some sleep. You know where we’ll be, and I promise we won’t leave the country.’
She nodded. To Stick she said, ‘Call off the uniforms.’
Stick pulled out his phone and called the station.
‘Thanks for bringing Lily here,’ Xena said to them. ‘You did a good thing.’
Tears jumped into Dorothy’s eyes. ‘I wish I could have saved Clarice.’
‘I’m sure you do, but at least Lily’s mother won’t have to go through what you’ve gone through.’
They went in through the plastic doors and found a nurse who showed them where Lily Andrews was. She was lying on a trolley wearing a hospital gown and covered in a fern-green blanket.
‘Has she spoken?’ Xena asked the nurse.
‘Not to my knowledge. I’ll ask Beth Rees the Advanced Practitioner to come and talk to you.’
She ducked out through the curtain.
Shortly after, an attractive red-head appeared with the largest breasts Xena had ever seen.
‘Beth Rees, Advanced Practitioner. And you are?’
Xena produced her warrant card. ‘And this is DS Gilbert.’
She looked down her nose at him. ‘A man?’
‘That’s debateable. How is she?’
‘Seriously traumatised. She’s been raped, sodomised and brutalised by a number of men. She’s covered in bruises, and there’s vaginal and anal damage. I’m not saying this is the worst case I’ve dealt with, but it’s close.’
‘Has she spoken?’
‘No, and I’m not hopeful that she’ll be talking anytime soon either, or if she does, whether she’ll remember anything.’
‘Great. Have you done a rape kit?’
‘Yes.’
The Vitullo kit was colloquially known as a rape kit, and consisted of microscope slides, swabs, evidence bags, nail picks, labels and documents used by medical personnel for gathering and preserving evidence following an allegation of sexual assault, which can then be used in a rape investigation.
Xena turned to Stick and said, ‘Contact Catherine Collins – the Sexual Offences Liaison Officer (SOLO) – and tell her to get her arse here post haste. Secondly, ask the Duty Sergeant to send a couple of uniforms to tell Mrs Andrews we’ve found her daughter alive, and to bring her here to the hospital. Thirdly, speak to the Inspector in Operations – we need a thorough search of the sidings and all the disused buildings. Make sure they know what they’re looking for and what to expect.’
Stick moved out of the cubicle to make the calls.
Now, it was a matter of waiting. Hopefully, Lily would fully recover and tell them everything that had happened to her. How had she escaped from a gang of men? They had the forensic evidence from the rape kit, and if they found the walk-in freezer they should be able to collect additional forensic evidence. They also had Billy Kelly and his blue van. With some luck, it should all be wrapped up pretty soon, and the bastards who murdered Clarice Kennedy, Michaela Parsons, Joyce Lipton and raped Lily Andrews would be locked up for a very long time.