Copycat Read online

  ‘I don’t think I want to talk,’ she eventually replied, letting her head drop against the seat behind her. ‘Is that okay?’

  ‘Of course it is. Dinner’s nearly ready, so I’ll go and dish up, but I won’t say a word,’ Joe said before ending their call. He disappeared from the doorway, leaving the door open enough for a small crack of light to fall through.

  Chris stayed in the car for a minute or two longer.

  7

  DC Chris Burton entered the incident room with a nervous stomach the following morning. She walked past her back-row colleagues and positioned herself on a seat at the front of the room. The DI had sent round an early message asking people to attend a team meeting, and Chris was grateful that she’d managed to get to the office on time – earlier than others, by the looks of things too.

  As the latecomers filtered in, accompanied by one or two uniformed officers, Chris took a look around the room for DS Edd Carter. He wasn’t at his desk or loitering by the coffee machine, and after checking these places, Chris found herself hard pushed for somewhere else to look.

  Behind Chris, DI Melanie Watton’s door swung open with a force and out came the DI herself, closely followed by Carter who gave Chris a quick smile before taking a seat next to her.

  ‘Did I miss something?’ she whispered.

  ‘Not here,’ he replied.

  Melanie called attention to the room of bodies before her. ‘Eyes front, folks. We’ve got some news.’

  ‘Good news?’ DC David Read leapt on Melanie’s opening remark and she answered him with a stern expression. Read held both hands flat and facing forward in a pose of surrender until his superior had swung round to face the whiteboard behind her.

  In large letters above the victim shot, Melanie wrote: JENNI GRANTHAM. Beneath this she wrote the victim’s age, her parents’ names, the name of her college, and the two friends that were known associates of hers. Capping the pen, Melanie turned to face her team.

  ‘This is what we know.’ She allowed a second for her colleagues to process the information. ‘Where we go next is the big question. A retrieval crew will be going to the Grantham home at some point today to collect together various items belonging to the victim: laptop, tablet, her mobile phone if anyone can find the thing, although to date it seems that’s a washout.’

  ‘Might the killer have it?’ Read interrupted. ‘A kind of souvenir?’

  ‘It’s a thought,’ Melanie agreed. ‘But until we know more about the case, we can’t make that kind of assumption, so keep your eyes out where you can; it may still be in the public sphere somewhere, it’s just a case of finding it. Alongside the retrieval team, DC Morris…’ Melanie raised her voice to pull in the young officer’s attention. ‘I want you to chase up CCTV. There aren’t loads of cameras around the playing fields area, but she got there from one route or another and I want a better idea of which route she was taking and who she was taking it with, assuming the field is our murder scene. Failing that, look out for footage of anyone acting suspicious, carrying anything suspicious.’

  Morris looked up from her notebook. ‘Suspicious?’

  ‘You know, like someone carrying a body for instance,’ DC Brian Fairer bit back, to the amusement of several of his teammates, and the young woman dropped her head toward her notebook. Melanie hoped she wasn’t writing down what Fairer had just said.

  ‘Another area that we need covered is the college itself,’ Melanie picked up. ‘DS Carter, I want you and DC Burton to head over there and make the principal aware of the situation. Rumours are already flying and we’re just about managing to keep Jenni’s name from the press, so we need to get information out there officially before we lose control over it. My advice would be to pin him down on some interviews, starting with the kids that Evie Grantham told us about. If there’s a problem, have their parents called in.’ Carter and Burton nodded in unison, and Melanie switched her attention to the back of the room.

  ‘I believe we have two visitors to address the room now?’ The DI spoke to the uniformed officers at the back of the crowd. One of them looked delighted to have been called upon by a superior officer, while the other looked as though he might vomit over the evidence box that occupied his lap. ‘You’re welcome to come up to the front to address the team,’ Melanie invited, and the more enthusiastic of the two bounded through the room and stood proudly in front of the whiteboard. He was already addressing the team as a whole when his less-confident colleague joined him, evidence box in tow.

  ‘We were part of the team left to search the fields after the… after Jenni’s body.’ He paused here and looked to Melanie for approval before starting again. ‘It was a bit out of the way, but we spotted something that caught our eye.’ Giving the nod to his nervous associate, the other uniformed officer pulled evidence bags out of the box and spread them across the table in front of the whiteboard. ‘It’s a set of clothes, some of which shows the logo of Jenni’s college. But it doesn’t have a name or anything in it.’ He paused, as though this were his big punchline, but laughed lightly as he realised something. ‘Sorry, it did have a name in it, that’s the point. There are signs of a clothing tag that have been snipped out, but someone left behind the ends that were sewn in.’ The young officer shrugged lightly and held out his hands in a there-you-have-it gesture and Melanie thanked them for their contribution to the case; although she wasn’t quite sure how they’d spotted the missing name tag on their brief look over the items. Either way, it was good information to have – as long as it hadn’t led to any contaminated evidence along the way.

  Melanie waited until the two junior officers had exited the room before she continued her address of the team. ‘While we still can’t jump to conclusions, this might be the beginning of an answer for why Jenni was dressed to look much older than she was. Either she dressed like this voluntarily for some reason; Evie Grantham did say that Jenni and her friends were having a Halloween run-through, which begs the question of what her costume was. However, there is the other option which is that our killer changed her into these clothes, either before or after the murder, presumably to make her look older, or even to make her look like someone else.’ Melanie rubbed hard at her temples; she was beginning to drown in her own variables and, for a case that was still in its infancy, she felt frustrated by how little they had to go on in order to get this investigation off the ground.

  ‘What chance do we stand of working out which of those options is right, boss?’ Carter intervened, sounding much more sceptical than he’d intended.

  Melanie shrugged. ‘George might be able to tell if there’s been heavy manipulation of the body post-mortem; if she was dead when the killer dressed her, it won’t have been an easy feat. But asking around at the college is another good place to start with this too; if they were doing a Halloween test-run, start by asking Jenni’s friends what she was planning to dress up as. Until then, does everyone know what they’re doing for the day ahead?’

  A chorus of non-committed grunts arose from her tired audience, and Melanie dismissed them shortly after. She was heading back towards her own office when she crossed paths with Burton.

  ‘Got a second?’ the DI asked her junior and Chris nodded, following her boss into the private office space. ‘Shut the door, would you?’ Melanie asked. While Chris tended to this, Melanie walked to one of several filing cabinets that stood tall at the back of the room, taking over much of the wall. She retrieved a dark green shirt, creased but fresh smelling, and laid it out on her desk. The gesture was met with a frown from Chris so Melanie leaned forward with an outstretched index finger, pointing to a thumbprint of grease on her colleague’s shirt.

  Chris smiled. ‘Joe insisted on breakfast. Crumpets.’

  ‘You’ve got a good one there,’ Melanie said. ‘I’m just going to turn around while you put the shirt on, and then you can head out.’ She smiled and faced away from her junior, allowing her some privacy.

  Within a minute or two, the office door c
reaked open again and Chris stepped outside, but she leaned back into the room and added, ‘Thanks, boss.’

  ‘Any time,’ Melanie replied, but Chris had already gone.

  8

  The building looked like a lovechild between a school and a prison; despite the Welcome sign that sat outside the gates, there was something unfriendly about the college’s exterior. DS Edd Carter shuddered at the sight of the place and DC Chris Burton nodded in silent agreement.

  Unable to drive straight into the grounds, they had parked their unmarked vehicle down the street and walked the rest of the way. They found that the entrance gates, including the walkway entrance, were locked, and the only way to gain access was to buzz through the intercom fixed to a squat pillar alongside the steel railings. These seemed like desperate measures for a well-to-do college to take, Chris thought, but she kept quiet while her partner held his thumb down on the intercom button and waited for it to connect.

  ‘What do you think of the place?’ Carter asked, nodding to the building. ‘It doesn’t look too bright and cheery, does it.’

  ‘Does school ever?’ Burton replied.

  ‘Fair point.’ Edd buzzed again. ‘Aren’t there supposed to be people–?’

  ‘Hello!’ The sound startled both officers and, for the first time that day, they managed to crack a slight smile. ‘Hello, sorry for the wait, how may I help you?’

  ‘We’re DS Carter and DC Burton; we called ahead to speak to Mr…’ Carter hesitated.

  ‘Gibbons,’ Chris filled the blank.

  The intercom clicked and the gates behind the officers slowly opened, as though laden with hesitation at letting them inside. Burton tried not to be offended by the curt dismissal of the intercom’s operative, but as first impressions went, the college wasn’t doing much for her so far. She treaded up the drive toward the front entrance, walking level with Carter.

  When they reached the door, it opened before either had the chance to reach for the handle, and they were greeted by the sight of a tall older gentleman, respectable looking, and obviously expecting them. Without a word, he stepped aside for the two officers to join him inside the building, and only when the door was shut did he extend a hand and an introduction.

  ‘Mr Gibbons, pleased to meet you both.’ He shook Carter’s hand firmly, assertively, and gave a curt nod to Burton, which she matched; she couldn’t help but be put out by not getting her own handshake, although it was something she should have gotten used to. ‘Terrible circumstances, of course, but nevertheless. The students are aware that you’re here, but might we step inside my office first, before we bring them into the discussion?’ The officers agreed but Burton didn’t go easily; there was something unsettling about the man, and it wasn’t just his misplaced old-boy façade that was throwing her. As the college principal stepped ahead of them to guide them to the correct room, Carter and Burton shot each other a look that confirmed they were on the same page in their thinking.

  ‘Is this a private college, Mr Gibbons?’ Burton asked as the office door closed behind her. She took a seat next to her partner, opposite the principal with the healthy span of an oversized desk between them.

  Gibbons considered the question. ‘No, I wouldn’t say so. We’re government funded, but we have a reputation for turning out good apples from bad seeds.’ He followed this with a picture-perfect smile that left Burton wondering whether he’d ripped this line straight from one of the college’s brochures.

  ‘You have some troublesome students?’ she pushed.

  ‘Not for long,’ Gibbons replied, with a hint of that same too-wide smile.

  ‘And you mentioned that you had students ready for us,’ Carter picked up.

  ‘Yes, after your superior, DI Watton, was it?’ Gibbons clarified. The DI had called ahead to discuss arrangements for speaking to the students before sending her best DS and DC over for this chat. There were rumours in the local newspapers already and, with a missing college girl and a newly discovered body both occupying front pages, it didn’t take long for the two stories to become intertwined. ‘She explained that you’re investigating the death of one of our students.’

  The DI hadn’t had the time to tell her colleagues how much Gibbons knew, but Burton was grateful they didn’t have to break the news of Jenni Grantham’s passing.

  Gibbons continued. ‘Naturally, I’ve made the students in her year aware of the situation and they’re all deeply saddened, but also very eager to help.’

  Chris made a note of something and nodded for Edd to continue.

  ‘Might we ask you one or two questions about Jenni first?’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘What sort of student was she? Attentive, reliable?’ Edd fired the question and Chris remained poised to capture any answers they were given. Jenni’s parents had said nothing but good things about their daughter, naturally, and while the team understood that, it didn’t exactly help them to build their case. ‘Was she a troublemaker?’ Edd added, noting Gibbons’ hesitation.

  ‘No,’ the man admitted slowly. ‘But she certainly didn’t mind spending her time with troublemakers, particularly in the last two or three weeks, I’d say.’

  ‘Any names jump out at you that might be worth us talking to?’ Edd pushed again.

  Gibbons considered for a moment. ‘Eleanor Gregory is a name to listen out for, I’d say. Where you find her, you’ll usually find quite a gaggle, including some of our male students too.’ He paused and held the silence until Chris stopped writing. ‘You’ll have the chance to meet these students for yourselves, of course, but Caroline Smith is another name to write down, as is Patrick Nelson. While you’re at it, listen out for Alistair House.’

  ‘Are these all associates of Jenni Grantham’s?’ Carter asked.

  ‘Largely. Alistair is a bit of an outcast in the class, but it had come to my attention recently that he had something of a thing for the Grantham girl.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ Chris asked, pausing her writing to pick at this new thread.

  ‘Generally speaking, our students pick their subjects and they stick to them. Jenni was having a hard time working out university choices though, which meant that she was sampling a number of classes. It could well be a coincidence,’ he said, using a tone that suggested it was no coincidence at all. ‘But Alistair has logged and retracted three course change forms in the last five weeks, and they coincide with when Jenni would have been trying different classes.’ Gibbons rubbed at his temples and gave a short, sharp laugh. ‘He was following her around the college in many ways, or trying to at least.’

  ‘Did Jenni speak with you directly about this, or any other members of staff?’ Chris asked, still making notes from Gibbons’ most recent admission.

  ‘Not me, no, and not to any other teachers that I’m aware of.’

  ‘No official reports were made then?’ Edd tried to clarify but Gibbons broke through the question with another curt laugh.

  ‘Detectives, good grief. I’m sure there’s nothing to be concerned about, it just seemed like something you should know. Boys will be boys after all, won’t they.’

  Edd and Chris exchanged a look; yes, boys will be boys, and that’s precisely what both detectives were concerned about.

  9

  The desk was a mess of faded photographs, printed transcripts and handwritten notes; accompanied by the documents that had somehow made it onto the digital system midway through the Michael Richards case, which were lined up in open tabs on DI Melanie Watton’s aging desktop monitor. She had been reading for nearly two hours and she was yet to find something that could explain the arrival of a copycat killer. The murders had all been heavily reported and Richards had made the most of this catapult into fame, offering various newspapers a number of exclusives long after he was sentenced to life in prison. But what had happened now to trigger this new killer?

  Melanie pulled up a fresh search window and typed in Richards’ full name. As she’d suspected, the local newspap
ers had been quiet, especially around the news of Richards’ death. But the national newspapers were a different story. There was an influx of headlines centred around the killer’s recent demise, with some even going as far to state that he deserved what had happened to him. “What goes around…” seemed to be the gist of many articles and, while Melanie might agree off the record, she shook her head in disapproval at the sight of so many bloodthirsty civilians. Curiosity alone pulled her into the online comments attached to the articles, and here public opinion only worsened.

  Thestateofthings:

  I’d have done the same myself given half the chance

  Murdermostfoul:

  Who can blame them i’d murder someone for killing my sister

  Britainbornanbread:

  Thank fuck I’m not wasting my taxes keepin him any longer

  The comments went on and on until Melanie couldn’t stand to look at them any longer. She back-clicked to the search engine’s homepage and tried to clear her mind of the online vitriol. It made no sense, seeing so much unashamed hate towards a man that someone was imitating. Unless the new killer wasn’t imitating Richards at all. The frustration of these new ideas built and built until Melanie dropped her fist against the desk with a mighty thump. She needed George Waller’s findings from the post-mortem of the victim, but she knew from experience that calling George before he was good and ready to talk would only delay matters further in the long run.

  Perfectly timed, her mobile phone vibrated across the desk causing a burst of noise inside her small office. Melanie snatched at the handset without even checking the caller’s ID.