There was a knock on the door and an officer entered. Rodgers’ phone and a file were in a tray which was placed in front of Lucy.
‘Your phone, Mr Rodgers.’ She opened the file and scanned through the text messages for the date prior to Carla’s disappearance. ‘Here we are. Confirms just what you’ve told us about receiving the message. You see, evidence is a two-way street. Before we let you go, is there anything else you should tell us under oath?’
Rodgers collected his phone and checked it. ‘No doubt you’ll be able to track me to all corners of the fucking globe now. No, nothing. What do they say, ‘If you control someone’s SIM card, you control their life.’ I wonder what you’ve done to mine?’
‘Thank you for your co-operation. When you get outside you will in the next hour or so hear that we’ve found Carla’s body. I offer you our condolences.’
Lucy watched his expression carefully. Fred had ensured Bill’s face was turned directly to one of the ceiling cameras when the news was given.
‘You knew that the moment I stepped foot in here.’ His voice raised. ‘Bastards! Fucking condolences my arse. You don’t give a fuck, either of you and don’t tell me you’re just doing your job. Anything I say may be used … add that!’ He turned away and was escorted from the building.
Skeeter Warlock leaned on her desk, elbows planted, her palms to either side of her face. She stared at the photograph of the black cap believed to be that belonging to Jennings. It was sitting within the grey-beige sandy soil that had powdered the peak. It was there, she could clearly make out the swoosh, the upward rising tick embroidered in black. It was subtle and almost invisible.
‘Was I right?’ Tony’s call disturbing her concentration.
‘You most certainly were.’
‘Just do it! If you recall that’s what they told us in the advertising campaign,’ Tony remarked as if auditioning for a part.
Skeeter was immediately reminded of the advertising campaign. ‘Just do it! What was written on Carla’s lounge wall in that copperplate type script? Her friends said it was her mantra.’
Tony stopped what he was doing. ‘Give me a minute.’ He brought up the forensic images of her flat and flicked through. ‘Got it. Life is for living – just live it! Bugger me would you believe that!’
‘Tell me that’s not just a coincidence, Tony. Print it off and add it to the board with the two images of the caps.’
‘Am I still ringing Gaskell? If you pass that brush, I’ll sweep the office too whilst I’m at it.’
As Tony moved away, Kasum dropped Carla Sharpe’s pathology results on her desk. ‘They’re on the system but there’s nothing like the real thing, paper. Interesting reading. A cruel way to die – to bleed out knowing there’s no one there other than the person who’s just ripped your neck and throat out.’ She tapped the file, turned and left. For Kasum, known for her poise and dignity, those words were in total contradiction. Reading the report, the results clearly pointed to the same type of weapon – a small piece of the tip found in part of the sternocleidomastoid muscle was being analysed. As the cut was performed on the identical side of the neck, the evidence indicated a strong likelihood it was executed by the same killer.
She quickly flicked through the results and saw the cervicovaginal smears had identified four separate male epithelial cells. It would take some time to identify the DNA and match it with friends of both victims. She read the details. Rodgers, however, was named. As she had thought, there was no evidence of the body being dragged pre- or post-death. Only superficial bruising identified on the wrists and ankles was consistent with tight binding pre mortem and shoulder damage perimortem. How they could interpret the time line was always a mystery.
‘She co-operated,’ Skeeter mumbled out loud as she tapped the file. The killer did nothing to the body once she was killed. ‘Who else were you shagging that week, Carla Sharpe?’
Tony returned and continued in his quest to contact Gaskell. The phone was answered on the second attempt.
‘Mr Gaskell? DC Price, Merseyside Police. One moment please as I transfer you to DS Warlock.’
Skeeter’s phone rang and she saw Tony waving frantically. She raised her hand and then her thumb.
‘Mr Gaskell, I’m investigating Carla Sharpe’s disappearance and we’ve received information that when she and Callum Smith split, she tried to continue her occupancy of the flat. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, I mentioned it to the charming officer with the lovely name. She couldn’t afford to stay and to be honest, at that stage, I really wasn’t prepared to be charitable. An agreement after all is an agreement whether it’s written or verbal.’
‘That’s in her report. However, you failed to mention that you were approached by a Mr Cameron Jennings who offered to stand as guarantor.’
‘Indeed he did, but the request was only for one month and at a reduced rate. If you read your report, you’ll also see I was fortunate enough to have a prospective tenant call at my door not long after they left, who incidentally wanted neither discount nor favours. It wasn’t for long, four months but then beggars can’t be choosers. Strangely, Mr Taylor left early from the contract too but he paid for the term in full. Moved into a beautiful apartment he’d been waiting to become vacant.’
‘Did you meet with Jennings?’
‘I did, yes. I met with Mr Jennings at the Costa coffee house on Lord Street. Seemed like a nice enough chap with good intentions. Were his actions dishonourable? You can never tell what motivates kindness these days.’
‘I believe you work on occasion with Mr Taylor?’
‘It will be in the report that he gave to the police, he mentioned you’d interviewed him. The answers will not change if the truth is being told, that only occurs when statements
