we called you.’
‘What time was it when he found the body?’
‘About twelve. No, it must have been later than that because we didn’t have breakfast – lunch – until twelve. Then he went out to get some fags and that’s when he found it – her. So it must have been about one or one thirty. I don’t know exactly.’
‘Had either of you been outside at all earlier that morning?’
‘No. We’d only just got up. We’d had a late night.’
‘Were you together all the time on Saturday night?’
‘What? You think he nipped out to knock off some woman in the middle of the night?’
She gave a nervous laugh.
‘Just answer the question, please.’
‘Yes, we were together.’
‘Did you go out on Saturday evening?’
‘Yes. We went to the pub on the corner – you can ask them, they know us. On the way home we got a takeaway from the Indian. And then we came home, watched a film on the box and went to bed.’
‘What time did you arrive home?’
Liz shrugged.
‘It must’ve been around eleven when we left the pub, so I guess we were home about half past. We watched a film and went to bed.’
‘What time was that?’
Liz shook her head.
‘I don’t know. I was a bit tanked-up. I think it was about two.’
‘Think carefully, Liz. Is it possible you heard anything after you’d gone to bed?’
‘Apart from Dave snoring?’
Liz laughed and shook her head.
‘Did you hear any cars pulling up in the street?’
‘There’s always cars. I didn’t notice anything in particular.’
Dave’s story matched his girlfriend’s. Beyond having stumbled upon her body he knew nothing about the dead woman.
Geraldine scowled as they drove off.
‘She was chucked in a dustbin bag and dumped like so much rubbish.’
‘It made no difference to her. She was already dead when she was left there.’
‘Even so,’ Geraldine remonstrated, ‘it makes a difference. To begin with it tells us the killer had no respect for the body - ’
‘Respect? He killed her. What sort of respect was that? If he could beat the crap out of her while she was alive why would he care how he treated her when she was dead?’
‘But to dispose of her like he was putting out rubbish in a dustbin bag, was that an expression of anger towards his victim, something personal, or perhaps a racist attack, or does he value all human life so little?’
Sam shrugged as she turned the wheel.
‘Maybe he just wanted to get rid of the body. It seems a practical enough way of doing it.’
Geraldine nodded but she had a feeling this killer was not so straightforward.
‘And we don’t know we’re looking for just one man,’ Sam added. ‘There could be more than one person involved.’
‘It’s usually a man though, isn’t it? A man working on his own. Murder’s not a sociable activity as a rule.’
Geraldine sighed. All they could do was speculate about the killer; they didn’t even know the dead girl’s name.
12
CAUGHT OFF GUARD
D ouggie turned off the main road. As he reached the next corner a black car pulled into the kerb just ahead of him. Out of the corner of his eye he took in the shining bodywork of a well-maintained BMW. He’d barely registered the door opening before the driver sprang out and seized him by the throat. The man spun him round, at the same time grabbing his left wrist and twisting his arm up behind his back until Douggie felt as though his shoulder was being ripped apart. He had a confused impression of polished brown leather shoes and a long dark coat. He would have yelped in pain, but the man was clutching his throat so tightly he could hardly breathe. Caught off guard, he lost his footing and only the man’s vice-like grip beneath his chin stopped him pitching forwards and crashing into the side of the car. He gagged, struggling to breathe, and the man loosened his hold slightly.
‘Nice car,’ Douggie wheezed.
The driver’s window was open and he detected a whiff of vomit.
‘Douggie
‘What time was it when he found the body?’
‘About twelve. No, it must have been later than that because we didn’t have breakfast – lunch – until twelve. Then he went out to get some fags and that’s when he found it – her. So it must have been about one or one thirty. I don’t know exactly.’
‘Had either of you been outside at all earlier that morning?’
‘No. We’d only just got up. We’d had a late night.’
‘Were you together all the time on Saturday night?’
‘What? You think he nipped out to knock off some woman in the middle of the night?’
She gave a nervous laugh.
‘Just answer the question, please.’
‘Yes, we were together.’
‘Did you go out on Saturday evening?’
‘Yes. We went to the pub on the corner – you can ask them, they know us. On the way home we got a takeaway from the Indian. And then we came home, watched a film on the box and went to bed.’
‘What time did you arrive home?’
Liz shrugged.
‘It must’ve been around eleven when we left the pub, so I guess we were home about half past. We watched a film and went to bed.’
‘What time was that?’
Liz shook her head.
‘I don’t know. I was a bit tanked-up. I think it was about two.’
‘Think carefully, Liz. Is it possible you heard anything after you’d gone to bed?’
‘Apart from Dave snoring?’
Liz laughed and shook her head.
‘Did you hear any cars pulling up in the street?’
‘There’s always cars. I didn’t notice anything in particular.’
Dave’s story matched his girlfriend’s. Beyond having stumbled upon her body he knew nothing about the dead woman.
Geraldine scowled as they drove off.
‘She was chucked in a dustbin bag and dumped like so much rubbish.’
‘It made no difference to her. She was already dead when she was left there.’
‘Even so,’ Geraldine remonstrated, ‘it makes a difference. To begin with it tells us the killer had no respect for the body - ’
‘Respect? He killed her. What sort of respect was that? If he could beat the crap out of her while she was alive why would he care how he treated her when she was dead?’
‘But to dispose of her like he was putting out rubbish in a dustbin bag, was that an expression of anger towards his victim, something personal, or perhaps a racist attack, or does he value all human life so little?’
Sam shrugged as she turned the wheel.
‘Maybe he just wanted to get rid of the body. It seems a practical enough way of doing it.’
Geraldine nodded but she had a feeling this killer was not so straightforward.
‘And we don’t know we’re looking for just one man,’ Sam added. ‘There could be more than one person involved.’
‘It’s usually a man though, isn’t it? A man working on his own. Murder’s not a sociable activity as a rule.’
Geraldine sighed. All they could do was speculate about the killer; they didn’t even know the dead girl’s name.
12
CAUGHT OFF GUARD
D ouggie turned off the main road. As he reached the next corner a black car pulled into the kerb just ahead of him. Out of the corner of his eye he took in the shining bodywork of a well-maintained BMW. He’d barely registered the door opening before the driver sprang out and seized him by the throat. The man spun him round, at the same time grabbing his left wrist and twisting his arm up behind his back until Douggie felt as though his shoulder was being ripped apart. He had a confused impression of polished brown leather shoes and a long dark coat. He would have yelped in pain, but the man was clutching his throat so tightly he could hardly breathe. Caught off guard, he lost his footing and only the man’s vice-like grip beneath his chin stopped him pitching forwards and crashing into the side of the car. He gagged, struggling to breathe, and the man loosened his hold slightly.
‘Nice car,’ Douggie wheezed.
The driver’s window was open and he detected a whiff of vomit.
‘Douggie
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