And today Flick and Beth were coming to see her. They said they were coming for fish and chips, but she knew they were only going to be there to check on her.
And then she saw them, walking and then running towards her. She stood, Flick held open her arms, and said, ‘Group hug.’
They talked and talked, amidst copious amounts of vinegar and salt, and ate their fish and chips. Flick told her Becky Charlesworth and Katie Davids were back at uni, chastened by the experience but determined to do well in exams. It was as if the previous two months had blurred into non-existence, until the subject drifted to Frannie.
‘When are you coming home?’ Beth asked.
‘I don’t know. It’s been the quietest Christmas I’ve ever had, but I bought a tiny foot-high tree to give a nod to the occasion, and sent myself a card. And read. Thank God I remembered to include my Kindle in the desperate bout of packing to get away. I’m off work until the end of March, as per the Super’s orders, so I’ll probably head back in a couple of weeks. Is all the paperwork completed on the case?’ The question was thrown into the discussion with a degree of nonchalance.
‘It’s all wrapped up. In the end it’s not even been that difficult. She’s confessed to every murder, all nine of them. We don’t have a definite date yet, but the Super seems to think it will be the end of March, so bear that in mind when you’re setting your return-to-work date.’
‘Did they find anything when they searched my house?’
‘Not a thing. It seems that garage held everything they needed. She’d bagged up the clothes of each victim, and obviously we got the finger ends straight away from that freezer. She labelled everything – it was almost as if she’d planned for the day when she would be captured, almost as if she wanted that to happen so she could be stopped.’
‘She’s mentally fit for sentencing?’
‘They haven’t said she isn’t. That’s as much as we know.’ Beth leaned back in her chair, and surveyed her empty plate. ‘I’m stuffed. That’s the biggest piece of cod I’ve ever had. It would have been enough without the chips and mushy peas.’
Erica looked at her sergeant’s plate and smiled. ‘You managed though. It’s the Whitby air. Puts hairs on your chest.’
‘I don’t want hairs on my chest, thanks. Shall we order another cup of tea?’
‘No, I’ll get the bill and we’ll go back to the cottage. It’s really cosy, we can relax there and you can tell me how you two are getting on. And the rest of the team.’
It was only when they walked out to get in their car for the long journey back to Sheffield that Erica asked the question.
‘Did Frannie say at any point why she stopped killing for five years?’
Beth and Flick shot a glance at each other and Flick answered. ‘It was virtually the last thing I asked her. She said, “I fell in love with intended victim number five.” I’m sorry, Erica, I wouldn’t have told you that if you hadn’t asked. We don’t know who it was she fell in love with, but it certainly stopped her.’
Erica drew in a breath. ‘It was me. I was intended victim number five.’
‘But your name begins with E.’ Beth frowned. ‘We’ve been working on the assumption it was somebody else whose name began with L, and then she met you.’
‘No, I met her through work. I had to talk to her about a case, and we fell in love instantly. I had to give my full name for a form we had to fill in, that first time we met. She knew my first name wasn’t Erica, but she always called me that because I asked her to, told her everybody else did.’
‘So what is your real first name?’ Beth was frantically trying to work out if this information needed adding to the paperwork they had already signed off.
‘If either of you laugh, I will personally see to it that you are sent back on traffic duty. Is that understood?’
They both nodded.
‘My mother was a gardener. She loved shrubs. Erica is the genus for heather. I don’t mind Erica. It’s pretty. She also liked Lupinus. I refused to be called Lupin from the age of four.’
‘Lupin?’ both women echoed, staring at their boss.
They held in the laughter for five miles of their journey, and then Beth giggled. Flick knew why, and immediately pulled over, knowing this bit of information would never find its way onto the court papers.
Their laughter filled the night air, and they finally felt the words were right: case solved.
THE END
Acknowledgements
There are many people to thank for this book coming to fruition, and I have to start with Erica Cheetham, Beth Machin and Rebecca Charlesworth for the loan of their names. Thank you, ladies. Hope I did you proud.
When the idea for the book came to me, I didn’t want any old nameless river, I wanted a Sheffield one, and believe me, we have plenty to pick from. I settled on the Porter because I knew nothing about it. On YouTube there are lots of videos by Patrick Dickenson who tracks our rivers, goes under the culverts, and generally spends most of his life wet through. I watched his two videos on the Porter and was hooked. I have since contacted him and he has sent me information about the best places to put dead bodies, and information about the access places. The
