victim, but all of the previous killings? Surely one of the men she had killed could have gotten the better of her. Summers didn’t mention her father, but she certainly thought of him when she made that statement.
Finally, she talked of the possibility of either a copycat, or ‘The Phantom’ actually being two people working together.
She also explained about the interview with Ben Green, and that she felt he was the closest they had come to a real suspect, with his strange behaviour, the fact he knew two of the deceased and that he also refused a DNA test.
Watts interjected, saying that the murder they’d brought him in to question him about was likely committed by a woman, and while he was in the interview room, the other murder had taken place.
‘As I said from the start of my investigations on this case, or these cases,’ replied Summers, ‘there is more than one person out there killing people.’
Kite looked down his list and saw Ben Green’s name. He’d been left off the list given to the officers making the house calls, after his refusal of the DNA test last night, there was no point badgering him again just yet.
‘I’d like a warrant to search Ben Green’s home,’ said Summers.
Watts shook his head.
‘No, I can’t give you that,’ replied Watts, ‘He had the right to refuse the DNA test, which proves nothing. He was here during one of the murders, which makes his previous friendships or working relationships with the victims less relevant. And his ‘odd’ behaviour could just be down to hearing a colleague had just been murdered, or the fact his wife, or girlfriend rather, had broken to him the news of her pregnancy.’
‘He is definitely involved in this, sir,’ she retorted. ‘That man, at the very least, knows something regarding the last two murders, maybe more if we keep digging.’
‘Then keep digging,’ said Watts. ‘Give me something solid, and I’ll give you a warrant to search his home, his car, and even his bloody underwear if need be. But, bring me something.’
Summers knew that Watts had reason behind his stance. They had already had Ben into the station for questioning and hadn’t learnt anything of any use, certainly nothing that would stand up in court; ‘he looked guilty’ doesn’t cut it these days. If Ben was behind one or more of these murders, and not leaving any evidence behind when he did so, then the best thing to do was catch him red-handed.
Walking to Kite’s car, he made his point about it being a long shot, catching The Phantom with blood on his hands after all these years, but he conceded that Green certainly looked like a guy on edge, hiding something, and any good detective should be able to see that. What he didn’t like, again, like most detectives, was Summers plan of action, a stakeout.
They stopped at a garage on the way and Kite stocked up on snacks and drinks. He had no idea how well Summers would handle the mundane task of sitting in a car and watching nothing happen for long periods of time, but he assumed the worst.
Whilst Kite was spending money on junk food and factory made sandwiches, Summers wound down her window, took out the hip-flask of whiskey from her inside jacket pocket. She took off the lid then poured out the liquid onto the ground outside. She smiled to herself as she calmly screwed the lid back on and slipped the hip- flask back into her pocket.
It was the first honest smile she could remember since a long time. She knew she was getting close to solving this case, or at least part of it, and she no longer needed to hide or dilute her emotions with alcohol.
43
The delivery man climbed back into his van, slightly confused over the latest delivery he had just made to a weary, elderly lady. An old woman, who dressed enthusiastically in red, even wore red make up that matched her red hair, but seemed to lack basic hygiene, with her wine-stained teeth and morning-breath.
Mrs Green loved her online shopping, and her most recent purchases had both been delivered to her satisfaction. Sat on the kitchen floor, were two new crates of her favourite red wine, and two large cartons of rat poison.
First things first, she opened a bottle of ‘vin rouge’ and poured into the same dirty glass she had been using for the last bottle of wine she’d been through. She took a large gulp, felt the warmth move down her throat, into her chest and finally settle in the pit of her stomach.
She walked over to the mirror, picked up her lipstick from the shelf and repainted her lips, then stared at her reflection, the woman in red that she had created when left on her own for too long, with no one to take care of her, no one to say no more wine, no one to sneak her medication into the small amount of food she would eat as when her late husband was still around to fend for her.
She blew a kiss towards the mirror, then rolled up her sleeves and grabbed the two cartons of poison, ripped open the lids, then used a kitchen knife to cut into the plastic bags that held the toxic product.
An open bag of poison in each hand, Mrs Green walked around the perimeter of her garden, laughing out loud as she sprinkled the white powder onto the lawn, onto the flowers, anywhere she had ever seen that pesky cat come and invade her territory.
Today was the first day she had hoped the cat would come back, so she could watch as the cat investigated its play area, the place it came to relax, not knowing that it’d be inhaling and rolling around in a chemical that would cause it pain, maybe make it vomit, maybe go blind. Mrs Green didn’t know what effect the rat poison would have on a cat, but she couldn’t wait to find out.
She went back inside, half-heartedly washed her hands then moved the chair to the open back door. She took her glass of wine, sat down then began the wait for her day’s entertainment. She felt good, excited even, until she was interrupted by the phone ringing.
‘Fuck off,’ she snapped, sounding almost as toxic as the poison she had laid in wait of her feline enemy.
She begrudgingly pulled herself up and out of the seat and made her way to the phone.
It was Ben. He explained that he and Natalie had some important news to share, that she needed to be home when they arrived in the next half hour or so. Mrs Green had mumbled something about a cat then said she had to go, and hung up the phone.
Natalie took her time getting ready to go and see her soon-to-be mother-in-law. She hated Mrs Green, and the feeling was reciprocated, but this needed to be done, apparently.
Ben had insisted that they give the news of the baby and the marriage to his mother together, in person, and as Natalie wanted things to go smoothly, at least until she had taken Ben’s last name, she forced a smile and agreed to go with him.
It may sound strange, but Ben knew of the awkward nature of the relationship between these women, and usually let Natalie stay home when he visited his parents. But today, he was adamant that she be there.
Natalie knew that for no unexpected complications disrupting the wedding, she needed to be on her game in front of Mrs Green, and showing a strong, united front with Ben, after all the recent troubles was a good tactic.
Ben had told Natalie that his mother knew about her fling with David, which made her nervous, but she was ballsy enough to deal with it, and thought the news of an expectant baby would soften even the hardest of hearts.
Ben sat at the table, and slid a cheque and a letter into an envelope and sealed it shut. He placed the envelope, along with another and the card of Detective Summers into his jacket pocket.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and stood.
‘Natalie,’ he called out, ‘it’s time to go.’
44
‘What are we doing here?’ asked Natalie, as Ben parked the car outside a hardware store.
