‘Mr Mayor.’ O’Dowd waited until Forster looked her way before continuing. ‘In the course of our investigations, we have received intelligence and have evidence that leads us to believe that you may have raped and murdered three women over a five-year period and that you have recently killed a fourth woman. At this time it isn’t known if this fourth victim was also raped. Out of respect for your position in the community, we’ve not come mob-handed, but there are several officers stationed around your house who’re listening to us on an open channel.’ O’Dowd tapped the radio in her hand to emphasise her point.
Beth knew O’Dowd was uneasy about the risk they were taking if Forster was the killer, and she applauded the way she’d warned him against taking any aggressive action.
‘This is preposterous. I have done no such thing.’ Forster’s head gave violent shakes as he denied the allegations. ‘I wouldn’t. I’m not a rapist, nor a killer. It’s not me you’re looking for. Look, you must know I didn’t do it. I understand you have to go through the motions, but believe me, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove my innocence.’
‘It’s not as simple as that, Mr Mayor. I have to arrest you and we will have to impound all of your computers, phones and tablets as part of our investigation. Derek Forster, I am arresting you on suspicion of…’
Beth tuned out as O’Dowd read the shocked mayor his rights. Her focus was on the second part of his denial. The mayor was under the assumption that he’d be allowed to assist in the proving of his innocence. That he’d be able to sit and explain what they found and his whereabouts at the time of the assaults. He was only half right. He’d be able to answer their questions, but not in a comfortable office or his showroom kitchen: he’d be sitting across a table from them in an interview room.
O’Dowd lifted her radio and gave the instruction to proceed.
Beth went to greet the team who’d take Forster to Durranhill Station. Once the mayor was gone, another team would collect his phone, computer and any other communication devices he possessed. Another team would enter his chambers at the council offices and remove any hardware he had there. Digital Forensics would analyse everything and find anything which might implicate or exonerate the mayor.
As Beth returned to the kitchen, O’Dowd was pulling out her handcuffs. ‘Would you like to leave via the back door, Mr Mayor?’
‘Absolutely not. I have nothing to hide and will not skulk around like a common criminal. I shall leave via the front door so the world can judge me and find me innocent. Do not worry, Inspector, I know you are doing your job; and for the thoughtful consideration you’ve shown me, I bear you no malice.’ Beth felt the mayor’s eyes bore into hers. ‘Nor you, my dear.’
Those last four words and the look in his eyes chilled Beth. In that one exchange she’d witnessed another side to the genial bonhomie the mayor presented to the world. His look had been that of a predator assessing its next meal. She had no idea how things would play out from here, but she was confident the connections she’d found between the mayor and the four victims would help them secure a conviction.
‘Right, Beth. Off you go to the hospital.’
Before leaving Carleton Hall, O’Dowd had suggested Beth bring her own car as Forster’s house was only a mile from Cumberland Infirmary, and she wanted Beth to attend the post-mortem of the unknown victim.
As she walked to her car, Beth tried to brace herself for the grisly task ahead of her.
Five
Beth marched along the hospital corridor. As she eased to a walk, seeing Hewson emerge from his office, she still had some last traces of music rattling her brain.
Pop music and the latest dance tunes weren’t something she listened to much any more, not since she discovered eighties hair metal. Bands like Poison, Def Leppard and Bon Jovi were what she listened to now when she wanted to relax her brain and give it a chance to run free. Their music was fast and upbeat, it gave her an energising buzz that left her invigorated.
When she wanted something more enduring, she’d listen to heavier rock music like AC/DC, Guns N’ Roses or Metallica. Her journey from Carleton Hall to Forster’s house then the hop to Cumberland Infirmary had seen her select Appetite for Destruction on her iPod.
Guns N’ Roses’ anger-fuelled debut album not only matched her mood, it was ideal music to crank loud and drive fast to. She’d sung alongside Axl Rose and had rejoiced in the way Slash could always make the hairs on her arms stand up with the opening riff from ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’.
Now she was out of the car and the world was silent by comparison, she was trawling her brain to see what, if anything, had been shaken loose.
There was the kernel of an idea, but it wasn’t developed yet, and she didn’t want to pursue it until she had more facts.
Hewson threw a side nod her way. ‘C’mon then. Let’s do what we have to do.’
As they walked to the pathology suite, Beth put a smear of VapoRub onto her top lip to combat the nauseous smells she knew were coming.
‘I’m going to start by giving this lady a non-invasive examination. If I’m right with my thinking, you want two key questions answered: Has she been raped? And was she strangled?’
‘As always, you’re on the same page as I am.’
Hewson gave a curt nod as he reached up and took hold of an X-ray machine on a mechanical arm that reminded Beth of the anglepoise lamp her mother used for reading. Now that the pathologist was beside
