Flawed Beauty Page 5

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  DCI Blake takes her place in front of the ops board. The noisy chatter in the room gradually drops to a low murmur before stopping completely when she acknowledges the presence of Chief Superintendent Anderson with a smile and a polite “good morning.”

  “Thank you for coming, sir. Is it okay if I make a start?”

  Anderson returns the smile and nods his approval. “Yes, of course. Please go ahead, DCI Blake.”

  As is her style, Erin dispenses with any long-winded introduction and dives straight in with the most salient facts. She starts by pointing to an enlarged color photograph of Shreya in the center of the board. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is our victim. Shreya Singh, twenty-three years old. Born and raised here on Merseyside with a home address in Bootle, close to where her body was discovered in Rushcroft Lane. She was positively identified by her uncle and cousin just over an hour ago.”

  Next, she passes around some photographs of Shreya’s injuries and the markings on her breasts to illustrate exactly what they are up against. She waits patiently for the pictures to fully do the rounds before asking Marchetti and Bolton to gather them in.

  Before speaking again, Erin intentionally pauses to gauge the reaction of her audience and to let the enormity of the images they’ve just seen sink in. The sickened expressions on the faces in front of her say it all.

  “Ladies and gents, I think it is safe to assume from what you’ve just seen that we are dealing with a highly dangerous individual, and that this crime was not for financial gain, nor was it purely sexual in its motivation. At this time, there is no evidence of sexual assault or rape, and the victim’s purse and handbag were left untouched at the scene.”

  She points to the ops board and the first word on a list that has been underlined. “So, we need to ask ourselves what then was the motivation for this horrific crime? We also need to ask ourselves if this was the first time for our killer. Or if there have been others.”

  CS Anderson looks like he is about to say something, but in the end, he remains silent and Blake continues.

  “Okay, so we know from the victim’s cousin that they were celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with friends in The Starry Plough pub yesterday evening until chucking-out time. From there, they spent somewhere between twenty and thirty minutes in a kebab shop before our victim left her cousin to make her way home at just after one in the morning.

  “The body was discovered at just after six this morning, so we have a primary five-to-six-hour window on which to focus our efforts. Not much to go on, I know, but any questions so far?”

  DC Thorne raises her hand and asks, “Do we have a confirmed cause of death yet, ma’am?”

  “Not confirmed, Alice. But death was almost certainly the result of a hammer blow to the right temple. I’m expecting this to be confirmed after the preliminary assessment of the body later today.”

  Erin looks around the room expectantly and asks, “Anything else before I continue?”

  Those on the front row shake their heads and the rest of the room stays silent. “Okay, we all know how this works. We need to move quickly and efficiently to cover all our bases before the trail goes cold. DI Marchetti, DS Bolton, I want you to form two teams of six for the interviews. Pull in anybody and everybody who could have had contact with Shreya last night, including her friends and anyone from the pub and the kebab shop. After that, start on the family, ex-boyfriends, workmates and anyone else you can think of. We need a motive. Clear?”

  Both officers nod and affirm, “Clear, boss.”

  “Good. DC Thorne, I want you to get straight back to Rushcroft Lane. Take half a dozen of our uniformed colleagues with you and do a house-to-house to see if anybody saw or heard anything suspicious in the early hours of this morning. When you’re done with that, drop in on DI Gladwell to see if he has turned up anything new or significant.”

  DC Thorne leaves, and Erin turns to Mike Potter. “DC Potter, you’re on CCTV with Detectives Brown and O’Keefe. Start with The Starry Plough and work your way up to Rushcroft Lane by all possible routes. Pull any and all footage from businesses, traffic cams and home CCTV. Leave no stone unturned. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Potter says with a nod.

  “Right – get going then. Everyone else pair off and see what you can dig up on Shreya’s personal life.”

  Erin checks her watch. “Okay, updates on my desk by six this evening please for an 8 pm regroup. Now get to it, guys. Our killer has at least a six-hour start on us.”

  While the rest of the team leave, Erin asks Terri and Tony Bolton to stay behind. Chief Superintendent Anderson also remains seated, patiently waiting for her to finish.

  “Tony, once you’ve got your team set up, bring Praneeta Singh in for an interview. Considering that she’s likely to be one of the last people to have seen Shreya alive, I’d like all three of us to be present for that one. Let’s make that happen ASAP please.”

  “Of course. Consider it done, boss.”

  Freshly shaved and in a clean suit, Bolton’s appearance is a marked improvement from a few hours earlier. Feeling slightly guilty for being so short with him, Erin smiles and nods. “Thanks, Tony. Call me when she gets here.”

  Then Erin turns to Terri. “Straight after her interview, check in on your team. Then get to work cross-referencing all the open murder cases across Merseyside for the last five years for anything similar.”

  “You’re thinking about what the journo said, boss?”

  Erin nods. “Yes, I am. He had ‘smug asshole’ written all over his face. And if there is something in it, I don’t want to end up with egg all over mine. If you don’t find anything in the Merseyside files, extend your search to the whole of the North West.”

  CS Anderson is now hovering expectantly just to the side of them. “When you’re ready please, DCI Blake.”

  “Yes, of course, sir. I’m done here.”

  Smiling, Anderson dismisses Bolton and Marchetti with a nod. He waits until they are gone and then says, “Let’s walk and talk on the way to my office, Erin.”

  Just a few years away from retirement, Anderson still sports the bushy mustache he first started wearing in his early twenties. His general health and fitness, however, have seen better days and his steps are deliberate and unhurried. As are his words. In fact, it is almost thirty seconds after leaving the briefing room before he says anything.

  “Nasty bloody business this, Erin. You know you have an out-and-out psychopath on your hands, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.” Erin nods. “I believe we have.”

  Anderson stops and turns to face her. “This would be your first, am I right?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve had my share of murder and manslaughter cases, but nothing like this up to now. I’ve a damn good team, though, and I’m confident that, with the right breaks, we can find the person that did this.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Anderson says with a slight nod. “Because if you don’t, he will kill again. That’s a statistical certainty. He has the taste for blood now.” He pauses and then adds, “How long is it since your secondment to the behavioral science unit at Quantico?”

  “Just over four years, sir. It was just before my appointment to this role, in fact.” Concerned that Anderson might be doubting her suitability for this case, Erin seeks to reassure him. “I’ve been keeping up with all the latest developments, though, sir. And I’m in touch with the guys at Quantico regularly to brainstorm new techniques and innovations.”

  Anderson lightly touches Erin’s arm. “That’s good, and I have no doubt that you’re the right person to lead this case. The only reason I mentioned Quantico was because if we are, in fact, dealing with a serial killer, you may need to fall back on that training and your contacts. Tell me again what that journalist said to you this morning.”

  “Yes, sir. He asked if this was the work of a serial killer and if there was a serial killer stalking Merseyside.”

  “That co
uld have just been pure speculation,” Anderson says.

  “That’s a possibility, sir. It was his comment about the disfigurement to our victim’s face that really got my attention, though. He seemed so certain. But there is no way he could have known that without some prior knowledge.”

  “Could he have overheard one of the officers on the cordon talking or been passed some information by anyone at the scene?”

  Erin nods. “Again, that’s a possibility. I’d actually really like to speak to him to find out for myself, though.”

  Anderson frowns and shakes his head. “That’s not the best idea. Pulling journalists in for questioning is always like opening a huge can of worms. Freedom of the press and all that. What did this guy look like?”

  “Maybe forty-five, sir, but could be older. Scruffy appearance, five-ten, greasy dark hair, slightly overweight.”

  “Thick Scouse accent?” Anderson asks.

  “Yes, sir. You know him?”

  Anderson nods. “If it is who I think it is, then I know of him. It sounds a lot like Edgar somebody or other. I can’t quite recall the surname, but if it is him, then he’s an investigative journalist for the Liverpool Echo. He looks like a total down-and-out, but the man is a Rottweiler when he’s on to a story. He’s ended more than one career in his time. Tread carefully with him, Erin.”

  “You don’t think I should speak to him?”

  “I don’t think you should speak to him directly,” Anderson says. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat, though,” he adds with a knowing look.

  Looking puzzled, Erin asks, “Sorry, sir, I’m not quite following you.”

  “Call a press conference, DCI Blake. If it is him, you can be damn sure he will be up there in the front row asking questions. A press conference with a public appeal for information is perfectly normal in these cases anyway. Use it as an opportunity to get in the same room without singling him out.”

  Erin nods her approval and asks, “Do you think today would be too soon?”

  “Better tomorrow morning,” Anderson replies. “You know from previous conferences how brutal the press can be if you go in guns blazing and unprepared. Let your team see what they can come up with today.”

  “Thank you, sir. For the support and the advice, I mean.”

  “Think nothing of it. It’s what I’m here for, and my door is always open, DCI Blake.”

  They part company, and Erin heads back to her own office to gather her thoughts. Twenty minutes later, she takes a call from Tony Bolton. “Hey, boss. I thought you would like to know Praneeta Singh has just arrived. She’s in interview suite four when you’re ready.”

  . . . . . . . .

  Before going in, Erin asks Tony if Praneeta has brought anyone with her.

  “She’s brought her father for support, boss. But he looks even more cut up than she does. DI Marchetti is with them and has explained what is going to happen, but I’m not sure they’ve really taken it in. They’ve also asked a couple of times if they should have a lawyer present.”

  Erin considers what he’s just said before taking a deep breath. “Okay, let’s get on with it.”

  Inside the interview suite, the uncomfortable silence is palpable. Praneeta and her father look as devastated as you would expect under the circumstances. They both politely acknowledge Erin’s arrival, and she starts the meeting by offering her condolences for their loss.

  “I really am very sorry, and I’m also sorry for asking you to speak to us at a time when you most need your family around you.”

  The next part of her statement is directed toward Praneeta only. “It’s extremely important, though, for you to tell us as much as you can about what happened yesterday and about what type of a girl Shreya was. Anything you can tell us might help in finding the person that did this to her.”

  Wiping her eyes and nose, Praneeta sobs, “Yes, I understand.”

  “That’s good,” Erin says reassuringly. “Now, I understand that you’ve been asking if you should have a lawyer present to represent you. Is that correct?”

  “I think we should,” Mr. Singh replies softly.

  Prepared for this response, Erin nods sympathetically. “It’s your right, of course, to have a lawyer present, but that would take some time to arrange and what we don’t have at the moment is time. The person that did this to Shreya is out there somewhere and we need to catch him before he does this again. This is not a formal interview anyway, and you are both free to leave at any time if you feel uncomfortable.”

  Then addressing just Praneeta again, Erin says, “It is extremely important that we speak to you, though. It’s possible that you were the last person to see your cousin alive, and I understand from my colleagues that you were also Shreya’s best friend? If that’s true, then you may just be our best hope of finding whoever did this to her.”

  Erin knows from long experience that by tugging at their heartstrings, she will get what she needs. As expected, Praneeta turns to her father and whispers, “I’m okay if you are?”

  Although torn, he understands the necessity for the police to speak to his daughter as soon as possible. Tightly clutching her hand, he nods and gives permission for Erin to continue.

  “Thank you, Mr. Singh. DS Bolton, start the tape, please.”

  The video recording starts, and Erin commences with the required formalities. “Voluntary interview with Praneeta Singh on Monday, the 18th of March 2019. The time is 1.04 pm and present in the room are Ms. Praneeta Singh, her father, Mr. Jagdeep Singh, Detective Chief Inspector Erin Blake, Detective Inspector Teresa Marchetti and Detective Sergeant Tony Bolton.

  “Now, Praneeta, I’d like you to tell us in your own words exactly what happened between leaving home yesterday and getting home this morning. Tell us where you went, who you met and anything else you think might be important.”

  Praneeta looks hesitant to speak and knowing already from DI Marchetti that some of the details of the previous night may be hard to talk about in front of her father, Erin doesn’t push too hard. “That’s okay. In your own time, please.”

  Taking a deep breath, Praneeta begins, and for the most part, Erin and the team allow her to continue uninterrupted. When she reaches the part about Shreya leaving her in the kebab shop to go home, her resolve crumbles and the tears come in a wave of grief. “If only I’d gone with her. I should have gone with her.”

  Mr. Singh does his best to comfort his daughter, but it’s clear that he is also struggling to hold back the tears. Erin tactfully allows a minute for them to regain their composure and then softly asks, “I know how hard this is, but what happened next, Praneeta? How much longer did you stay before leaving yourself?”

  This is the question that Praneeta had been hoping wouldn’t be asked. Avoiding her father’s gaze, she stumbles over her reply. “I… well, I mean…”

  Although unsure but suspecting what his daughter is about to say, Mr. Singh reassuringly squeezes her hand. “It’s okay, darling. It doesn’t matter. Just answer the question.”

  Erin looks to her in expectation of an answer. “Praneeta?”

  Still hesitant, she looks to her father for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, papa. I didn’t go home. I went upstairs with one of the Turkish lads and stayed with him until just after five this morning. I’m sorry. I should have gone with her. If only I had gone with her. I should have—”

  Her words falter under a renewed torrent of tears, and although utterly broken himself, Jagdeep tenderly wraps his arms around his daughter and gently kisses the top of her head. “It’s okay, baby. It wasn’t your fault. None of this is down to you.”

  After another uncomfortable pause, Erin continues as tactfully as the situation will allow. “Thank you. You’ve done brilliantly so far. We do need to ask you some more questions, though. Is that okay?”

  Wiping her eyes again, Praneeta quietly says yes, and Erin asks, “Is there anybody that you can think of that might have had a reason to hurt your cousin. Maybe an ex-boyf
riend or somebody that might recently have been paying her some unwanted attention?”

  Praneeta shakes her head. “No. I would have known if there had been anything like that, and she hasn’t had a proper boyfriend since our school days.”

  “What about last night in the pub or the kebab shop?” Terri asks. “Anyone flirting with her or someone that particularly stood out to you?”

  Again, Praneeta shakes her head. “Nobody. It was a girls’ night, and Shreya was not the flirty type.”

  Erin pushes a picture of Shreya across the table. “She was a very good-looking girl, though. Good-looking enough to turn heads, I think?”

  Praneeta picks up the photograph and smiles through her pain. “She was beautiful. Her dream growing up was to be a fashion model, but she was smart enough to know that she needed a real qualification to fall back on if she didn’t make it as a model.”

  Terri checks her notes. “She was an accountant. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Praneeta replies. “We studied together, and we both work— Well, I mean, we both worked for the same practice in Bootle.”

  Smiling, Terri thanks her and continues, “You said that Shreya wanted a real qualification to fall back on if she didn’t make it as a model. Does that mean she still aspired to a career in modeling?”

  Praneeta looks nervous and avoids her father’s gaze. Terri asks her again. “Praneeta, it’s really important that you answer our questions. Did Shreya still have aspirations for a career in modeling?”

  Mr. Singh squeezes her hand again and assures her that whatever she wants to say will be okay. Reassured, Praneeta nods. “She recently got herself an agent and had a new portfolio done.”

  This is clearly news to Jagdeep, and this time, he struggles to hide his obvious disapproval. He remains quiet, though, and Erin asks, “Do you know the name of the agent?”

  Praneeta reaches into her handbag and hands Erin a glossy business card. “For the benefit of the tape,” says Erin, “Praneeta has just handed me a business card for Derek Bannister, Entertainment and Talent Services.”