modus operandi, although, the attack would seem to have taken place through the window of the car, meaning wounds to the lower parts of the victim’s body were less likely. This should be taken into account.
Kite and Summers had a look around and under the car, with the small hope that the murderer had amateurishly discarded his weapon before fleeing. This proved a fruitless waste of time. They approached each other and Kite summed up the situation.
‘No weapon, no CCTV, no witnesses, style of the murder would indicate our guy to be the primary suspect,’ he said.
Summers nodded, commending his brevity, but asked why The Phantom would be here in this car park for the killing. Was it not random this time?
‘Let’s hope forensics pull a rabbit out of the hat,’ she said.
‘Or a hair?’ joked Kite.
A small smile from Summers let him know that he got away with a bad joke in a sad moment, as two journalists walked around the corner but were blocked by some uniformed officers. Summers saw them and indicated to Kite that it was time to go, so they climbed into his car, reversed to the far end of the car park, and pulled out of the exit.
‘How were you getting on with the census details?’ Summers asked.
‘In fact,’ he replied, ‘the ONS were more helpful than I thought they would be. They’ve got a pretty organised system up there. With any luck, we should have a list of names and address’ when we get back to the station.’
Summers gave a small sigh of relief. Even when all you’ve got is a long shot, it’s better than nothing, and for once they’d a few things to go on. The list from the ONS should have a number of names that fit the profile of the killer, and live in the right part of town.
Also, the employees of the recently deceased Charlie Peacock meant a new line of enquiries had arisen, and if this was The Phantom, something had changed, he was working out of his comfort zone, this meant he was more likely to mess up.
And then there was the hair that ‘looked out of place,’ what did that mean? She kicked herself for not pushing for an explanation at the time, but trusted forensics to pass along any valuable information as and when it arrived.
They headed back to the station to set out a plan of action.
33
Ben and Natalie sat on the sofa.
The sofa had been the first thing that they’d bought together, a joint decision they’d made within days of her moving into his home, in an effort to make the place more suitable for both of them, instead of the bachelor pad that it was before she arrived.
Slowly, over the years, she had put her distinct feminine touch on most of the rooms of the house, using Ben’s money of course, but he didn’t mind. It kept her happy and occupied, which was easier than living with a woman who was unhappy and bored.
Ben held the pregnancy test in his hands, twiddling it round, not knowing that this piece of equipment had, months ago, been placed in the path of another woman’s urine, none other than the wife of his disloyal friend, David.
He couldn’t believe how complicated his life had become in less than forty-eight hours. What was he to do now? Just this afternoon, he had resigned himself to the fact that he was born to be a murderer, to follow in the footsteps of his father. But now there was a further complication, a baby.
He had always wanted to be a father, he knew that. He recognised the special bond that he and his father had always had between them, and believed that that was what life was about. He truly hoped that having a son, or a daughter, would make his life complete; that it would fill the void that he often felt in his life.
It wasn’t the job that would sometimes get him down, although he knew that some of the business that he had done was not always as ethical as he would have liked. It wasn’t even the fact that Natalie could be a difficult bitch when she didn’t get her own way. He just wanted a family, to replicate his father’s greatest achievement, a happy home.
Yet now he knew, everything he had once thought he understood about his father, his home, his family, was false.
So how important was a baby?
Natalie had put on a great show, tears, screaming, pleading, and Ben had fallen hook, line and sinker for it all.
He believed her when she said she had been with David just three times. She said three times because once or twice wouldn’t have been believable. In truth, she had met David over twenty times.
He believed her when she said it was always safe sex, which was false, after David was given a clean bill of health by the clinic, and Natalie took the pill religiously, and preferred sex without condoms anyway.
But the big one, was the one that made Ben think he was at fault for this recent blip in their relationship, with his bout of depression, the neglect of his girlfriend, the way he spurned her sexual advances and left her needing and seeking that special attention from elsewhere.
She apologised for using David to satisfy her needs, but knew that David and Ben no longer saw each other, and thought that it would just be until Ben got his life back together, pulled his socks up and got on with things.
Then she asked him to marry her.
Natalie had gotten on her knees in front of him, pulled out a small jewellery box and said that it was time to do things correctly, in the proper manner.
‘I chose it myself,’ she said, smiling cheekily, as she opened the box and gave it to Ben.
He took out the ring, inspected the shining diamond set on a platinum ring and nodded his head, then slid off of the sofa, down onto his knees and there they were, kneeling in front of one each other, staring into each other’s eyes.
He slipped the jewellery onto her ring finger.
‘No more cheating,’ he said.
‘I promise,’ she replied. ‘And let’s do it soon, before I start to show. I don’t want a big bump ruining the wedding photos.’
Typical Natalie, thought Ben.
They hugged for a brief moment, then Natalie, wanting to seal the deal, gently pushed Ben down onto his back, undone his trousers, and pleasured him orally.
An hour later, Natalie had prepared herself some food and sat alone in the kitchen, eating, after Ben had declined the invitation to join her. She knew he was still a million miles away from the Ben that she first fell in lust with, but she didn’t care. At this point, he had forgiven her, on the surface at least, for her infidelity, he believed she was pregnant and he was the father, and accepted the marriage proposal without too much fuss at all.
Was she really that good at manipulating? Was he just too weak and confused over the whole affair and just agreed so as to not rock the boat further? Did he just want the easy life?
Natalie preferred to think that she could keep him wrapped around her little finger, like most men. It pleased her to think like this, that she was all powerful, almost as much as the thought of marrying him and getting her filthy little hands on his inheritance.
His inheritance…
Natalie had to make a decision about the letter that she’d opened, it was dated, so she knew she had to do something fast. Could she just get rid of the letter, hope that the solicitors send another one without phoning Ben about the first one, thus arousing his suspicion as to where the first letter went, or just give the Ben the letter, say that she opened it by mistake, and be done with it.
She figured that with the pregnancy story going down so well, that it wouldn’t matter too much if he was sceptical about her change of heart about children and marriage, the decision had been taken out of his hands as
