he tell her more?
‘This is not for public hearing, Viviane. What I’m about to tell you now I don’t want to see reported in the papers.’ She nodded. ‘She was throttled and then the poor kid was choked to death on her panties. Literally. They were stuffed down her throat cutting off the poor kid’s air supply.’
Viviane closed her eyes, and sucked in her breath. It was much worse than she’d imagined it could be.
‘I’m telling you this, Viviane, because you were married to a copper. And I hope I can trust you not to say anything of this outside these four walls. Not even to your children.’
‘It has to be a local man, Jon. Someone she knew. Not a stranger - someone she liked and trusted even. She wouldn’t have been out so late unless she’d arranged to meet that person.’
He nodded, picked up his cup and finished his tea. ‘I thought that too. I’m glad you agree. This investigation is not going to be easy, that girl was adept at keeping her assignations secret from everyone including her best friend Susan Flitch and her previous boyfriend Raymond Perkins.’
‘So the killer could do the same to another girl, couldn’t he? Couldn’t he, Jon? Unless you find him soon.’
9
In the living room, a can of beer in his hand, Kent relaxed back into the chair. Memories were hitting him once again, bad memories he had tried to bury for so long in the dark recesses of his mind. Today had brought back the terrible time he’d lived through with his own family. The long night hours waiting for news when his sister had gone missing after a visit to a friend’s house. It was thirty two years now since the police had come to their house early one summer morning to tell his mum that her pretty, loving fifteen year old daughter, Briony, had been found lying under the swings in the local playground, her clothes and her young life taken from her. Today he had seen his sister, Briony, again when he looked down at Maureen Carey’s lifeless body lying on the cliff top.
‘A penny for them, Jon?’
He grimaced. ‘You wouldn’t want to know.’
He was twelve years old like Maureen’s young brother, when Margaret Kent, his mum, a staff nurse working on night shifts in the local hospital, had to identify her daughter. The year before, his dad had had an unexpected yet fatal heart attack, like Bill Sherlborne, that left Margaret Kent the sole provider for her young family.
He took a long drink of the fridge cold beer as he recalled that they had nailed his sister’s murderer after he was caught in the attempt of attacking another young girl. Terry Bolton, a nineteen-year -old youth of diminished responsibility, was a middle-aged man now who would be most likely out of prison. He would need to check up on him. Essex was not so far away.
‘Sorry, Viviane, I’m not good company tonight. And you’ve had a long day too. Thanks for being so understanding and the meal.’ His smile was tired but genuine.
‘My pleasure.’
Upstairs, he looked at his family photographs distributed around the flat. His mother had remarried fifteen years ago, and was content and happy with Don Palmer, his stepfather but the anniversary of Briony’s death still hurt and upset her even now. And he knew he could never forget his sister. Today’s experience had proved that so emotionally for him.
How much his sister Briony’s death had affected his decision to take on a police career, he wasn’t sure. But he was determined that he would get Maureen’s killer sooner than later. This past crime, he was reluctant to discuss with Viviane or anyone else, in case it was thought that it might affect his police work. It wasn’t likely then, that anyone would be curious when he looked up Terry Bolton’s release date and living area.
Raymond Perkins could possibly become a suspect. He would have to proceed carefully there must be no preconceived suspicion of the youth because Perkins was of an age and similarity in appearance to
‘This is not for public hearing, Viviane. What I’m about to tell you now I don’t want to see reported in the papers.’ She nodded. ‘She was throttled and then the poor kid was choked to death on her panties. Literally. They were stuffed down her throat cutting off the poor kid’s air supply.’
Viviane closed her eyes, and sucked in her breath. It was much worse than she’d imagined it could be.
‘I’m telling you this, Viviane, because you were married to a copper. And I hope I can trust you not to say anything of this outside these four walls. Not even to your children.’
‘It has to be a local man, Jon. Someone she knew. Not a stranger - someone she liked and trusted even. She wouldn’t have been out so late unless she’d arranged to meet that person.’
He nodded, picked up his cup and finished his tea. ‘I thought that too. I’m glad you agree. This investigation is not going to be easy, that girl was adept at keeping her assignations secret from everyone including her best friend Susan Flitch and her previous boyfriend Raymond Perkins.’
‘So the killer could do the same to another girl, couldn’t he? Couldn’t he, Jon? Unless you find him soon.’
9
In the living room, a can of beer in his hand, Kent relaxed back into the chair. Memories were hitting him once again, bad memories he had tried to bury for so long in the dark recesses of his mind. Today had brought back the terrible time he’d lived through with his own family. The long night hours waiting for news when his sister had gone missing after a visit to a friend’s house. It was thirty two years now since the police had come to their house early one summer morning to tell his mum that her pretty, loving fifteen year old daughter, Briony, had been found lying under the swings in the local playground, her clothes and her young life taken from her. Today he had seen his sister, Briony, again when he looked down at Maureen Carey’s lifeless body lying on the cliff top.
‘A penny for them, Jon?’
He grimaced. ‘You wouldn’t want to know.’
He was twelve years old like Maureen’s young brother, when Margaret Kent, his mum, a staff nurse working on night shifts in the local hospital, had to identify her daughter. The year before, his dad had had an unexpected yet fatal heart attack, like Bill Sherlborne, that left Margaret Kent the sole provider for her young family.
He took a long drink of the fridge cold beer as he recalled that they had nailed his sister’s murderer after he was caught in the attempt of attacking another young girl. Terry Bolton, a nineteen-year -old youth of diminished responsibility, was a middle-aged man now who would be most likely out of prison. He would need to check up on him. Essex was not so far away.
‘Sorry, Viviane, I’m not good company tonight. And you’ve had a long day too. Thanks for being so understanding and the meal.’ His smile was tired but genuine.
‘My pleasure.’
Upstairs, he looked at his family photographs distributed around the flat. His mother had remarried fifteen years ago, and was content and happy with Don Palmer, his stepfather but the anniversary of Briony’s death still hurt and upset her even now. And he knew he could never forget his sister. Today’s experience had proved that so emotionally for him.
How much his sister Briony’s death had affected his decision to take on a police career, he wasn’t sure. But he was determined that he would get Maureen’s killer sooner than later. This past crime, he was reluctant to discuss with Viviane or anyone else, in case it was thought that it might affect his police work. It wasn’t likely then, that anyone would be curious when he looked up Terry Bolton’s release date and living area.
Raymond Perkins could possibly become a suspect. He would have to proceed carefully there must be no preconceived suspicion of the youth because Perkins was of an age and similarity in appearance to
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