chance I needed to get rid of him and good riddance.’
‘Was Forester popular?’
‘He was a bragger and towards the end he seemed to have plenty of money to spend. People will listen to your stories if you buy them enough drinks. I am not sure if he was what I would call popular though. For instance he bought this flash new motor, a big Shogun, and I think some of the lads were getting a bit jealous. He obviously hadn’t purchased the car on the money we paid him, and rubbing your mates’ noses in it doesn’t tend to endear you to people.’
‘Did you know if Forester had a girlfriend?’ Riley asked.
‘Heard him talking about one, sure. He couldn’t tell the lads enough about her. Big tits, tight pussy, liked humping doggie style. Sorry about the language, his words, not mine. I thought the girl was all in his head myself.’
Riley pulled out the picture of Kelly and showed it to Redmond.
‘Mind if I show this around, see if anyone here recognises her?’
Redmond went pale and swallowed hard.
‘Bloody hell!’
‘Mr Redmond?’
‘The girl in the movie. The one with the beer bottle. It’s her.’
‘You sure?’
‘Let’s just say I never forget a face, shall we?’
Chapter 9
Harry stopped washing the dishes and went to switch the radio off. He chewed his tongue while he mulled over the latest bulletin: the police had found Trinny. The news worried him, although Trinny wouldn’t tell them anything. She might have a loud mouth, but she would keep it shut for him. Still, it might be sensible to stay away from town. At least for a while. To let things calm down. He would cancel some of his appointments, say he was sick. Which he was. Very. Anyway, he had the new girl to deal with. He couldn’t leave her all on her own day after day. She would get lonely.
When he had got her back to his place she was already unconscious so he stripped her naked and laid her out to examine her. Perfection in a little over five feet. Beautiful. Mind you they all appeared so. At first.
Emma would be different, he knew she would. Just the name caused butterflies in his stomach.
Not her real name of course, but she wouldn’t be using that again. Emma was her special name. Harry’s name. He had written it in big letters on the first page of the luxurious black leather notebook he had bought for her. All the other pages remained blank. White, virginal and untouched. If things worked out between them he would write nice things in the book and they could look over it together. If things didn’t work out he knew he had to write down all the nasty stuff he discovered. An unpleasant task, but necessary in case anyone found out about his secrets. He would need evidence then. That’s what they used in court. Evidence.
Maybe if he did get caught he could hire the lawyer. The one with the stockings. Or was he confusing her with his doctor’s secretary? Whatever, she looked a bit dirty which meant she would understand his problems. If she looked through his notes she would be able to find material in there to exonerate him.
Hell. He was getting ahead of himself. He hadn’t been caught yet and Emma hadn’t been given a chance either. He was condemning them both without a fair trial.
Trinny had been given a fair trial. She had a chance but failed. Two whole weeks of cleaning and she had still been too desirable. Desire turned love into lust and flesh into the apple of corruption. The Bible said so and the Bible couldn’t be wrong, could it? He remembered when he had been little Trinny held him and he felt nothing but love. When he held the new Trinny he wanted her. The sensation repulsed him. If you fucked somebody you didn’t love them. He learnt that the hard way as a kid, and Mitchell showed him too. The lesson had to be applied to his search for his angel. Angels were pure. Spotless.
He walked back to the sink and plunged his hands into the foam. The water scalded, but it needed to be hot to eat away at the dirt. This was the second time he had washed the plates. Once more after this should be enough. Rinse, wash, rinse, wash, rinse, wash, rinse. Back in the flat he would simply run the dishwasher cycle a few times, but out here he had no mod cons so keeping things clean proved difficult.
Trinny hadn’t been clean from the start but it wasn’t her fault. Her boyfriend, a half-wit from the slums, contaminated her and the seed spread, decomposing her from within, spoiling her before Harry had ever met her. But Harry hadn’t known about the boyfriend so he couldn’t have guessed the trouble Trinny would cause.
The selection took longer with Lucy but it hadn’t worked out with her either. He had made copious notes, observing her before he ever went near her, but always knowing a more hands-on approach would be needed. Satisfied everything looked right he collected her. Then he used the spy hole into the little room to watch some more as she went through his detox routine. Finally he examined her properly. He hadn’t liked the procedure and neither had she. She screamed when he touched her. The problems started then.
Harry finished the plates, giving them a final rinse to make sure. Poor Lucy, she had failed. Like Trinny before her, she was not the one he wished to choose and she would have to leave as well.
Emma wouldn’t be leaving though, she would stay. And hopefully she would live.
Chapter 10
Yelverton, Devon. Wednesday 27th October. 11.30 am
Savage never liked meeting the parents. It wasn’t that she had no sympathy for their plight; quite the opposite. She found she empathised with them all too easily, and that was a problem. She was glad in this case the news about Kelly had already been broken to Mr and Mrs Donal and that a family liaison officer would be present when she and Calter arrived for their meeting.
The village of Yelverton lay some five miles north of Plymouth and the drive up there offered fine views of Dartmoor off to the right, or rather it would have if low cloud hadn’t been obscuring the tops. They reached the village early and parked in the car park on the green next to the cluster of local shops. If village life was supposed to be dying Yelverton must be the exception that proved the rule, thought Savage, since the place was buzzing. The CoOp and the delicatessen had a constant stream of people going in and out and there was a hairdressing salon, a pharmacy, a couple of estate agents and a garage as well.
‘Too much money and time, ma’am.’ Calter indicated the woman getting out of the royal blue Mercedes that had just pulled up next to them. The brand new car with white leather seats contrasted with the woman’s grubby Barbour jacket and Hunter wellies. ‘I bet she has a Doctor husband who works at the hospital.’
‘Lucky girl. Perhaps if you socialised somewhere other than Union Street you might get to meet one too.’
‘Thanks, boss. I wondered where I was going wrong. You know it’s my ambition to end up in Aga Saga country.’
‘Really?’
‘No!’ Calter said, shaking her head and laughing. ‘I couldn’t stand living out here. All those people with bits of straw sticking out of their ears. Like Mr Isaacs, for instance.’
‘I very much doubt if ninety-five per cent of the people in Yelverton know one end of a cow from another unless it is packaged up on the counter at Waitrose with a big label on top.’
‘Wot, no Lidl? On my salary anything above a Scummerfields is a complete non-starter.’
Savage looked at the dashboard clock. Time to go.
‘Come on,’ she said, and they got out of the car and walked across to the row of houses where the Donals lived.
Greenbank Terrace stood well back from the main road, the tall three storey Edwardian houses running down one side of an unmade up track. The front gardens overlooked the trim village green and several properties bore bed and breakfast signs, having taken advantage of the prime location. Dartmoor View, the Donals’ house, had a B
