Valentine Read online

  “Well, I don’t know for sure. As you can see, he’s set up a new profile. But it made me recall something that happened about a week before I got the – the heart.” Caroline was definitely blushing now.

  “Go on,” prompted Kate.

  “Well, I’d arranged to meet up with this guy from the site. He was seriously gorgeous, I mean, model-material, and he sounded nice enough.” Caroline stopped speaking for a moment. Kate raised her eyebrows, urging her to continue. “Well, we arranged to meet and when I got there, it wasn’t the guy from the picture at all. I mean, nothing like him! He’d obviously used a fake photograph.”

  “Right,” said Kate. “I understand that can happen. So what did you do?”

  Caroline looked down. “Well – and I know it wasn’t very kind – I said I was going to the toilets and I – I made a run for it.”

  Kate fought back a grin. “You didn’t tell him you were going?”

  Caroline smiled reluctantly. “Well, no. I thought, if he can’t even be honest enough to use his own photograph, then why the hell should I be polite enough to let him know I was going?” Her gaze flickered. “I know it was rather rude. I didn’t want to get into some sort of big argument, though, to be honest.”

  “So, what did he look like?” asked Kate. “The real life man, I mean?”

  Caroline made a sort of half-grimace. “Nothing memorable about him at all. He looked totally ordinary. A bit overweight, not particularly tall.”

  “Was he white?”

  Caroline looked slightly startled. “Yes.”

  “Can you give me any other description? Hair colour? Eyes?”

  Kate watched the other woman turn inward a little, obviously thinking. “He had brown hair, receding a little. Um, I don’t know what colour his eyes were.”

  Kate was thinking. “Forgive me, Ms Spendler, but have you met a lot of people through this site? I mean, what makes you think it could have been this man?”

  Caroline’s gaze met hers. “Well, I have met a few people through here but – but he’s the only one I’ve ever stood up. I thought it must be him because he was obviously, well, pissed off.”

  “It seems likely,” agreed Kate. “But nothing is definite. I’ll need you to come down to the station, Ms Spendler, and give an official statement. We’ll also need you to sit down with one of our visual composite artists and try and build up an accurate picture of this man.” She hesitated and added, “You’re aware that there were other women targeted as well as you?”

  Caroline nodded. “Yes, the liaison officer told me that. Obviously she didn’t go into details but I did know.”

  Kate leant forward. “If you can work with us to get an accurate picture of this man, we can show it to the other women and see if they recognise him too.”

  “Yes, I see that.” Caroline hesitated and then asked “You’ll presumably be able to trace him through the website?”

  Kate smiled. “Yes, Ms Spendler, but don’t you worry about that – you can leave that with us. Now, if I could just get a time from you when you’ll be able to come in and make a statement?

  Driving away from the apartment building, Kate felt another piece of the puzzle click satisfyingly into place. If it were true that this man was present on the 4Adults website, and that was the missing connection between the women, then no wonder Valerie Houghton had looked so disturbed at the thought of any further investigation into the crime. Had she, Valerie, been meeting other men illicitly through the site? Kate thought that was probably exactly what had happened. It was strange that Kiki Dee hadn’t mentioned it though, sexually aware and confident as she seemed to be. Something to ask her about, anyway. Kate drove home, her thoughts moving from the case to her boyfriend.

  What was Tin doing right now, over in New York? Did he miss her? Was he thinking about her right this second? I’ll try and call him when I get home, Kate promised herself and put her foot down just a little harder on the accelerator.

  Chapter Seven

  “Well, well,” said Anderton, as Kate and Olbeck convened in his office the next morning. “He should be easy enough to find, anyway. I presume IT are already on it?”

  Kate nodded. “Yes, Sam’s got his team working on it right now. It won’t take long anyway, I could probably do it myself. This guy, whoever he is, might have hidden his identity but you need a credit card to register at that site and we can get his address from that.”

  Olbeck was looking troubled. “I can’t believe that Valerie…” He broke off and then resumed. “Well, she doesn’t seem like the kind of person to be into that sort of thing.”

  “What did I tell you?” Kate said, grinning. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

  Olbeck didn’t look as though he got the joke. “I know, but…”

  He trailed away just as there was a knock on the door and Sam Hollington, the head of the IT department, poked his head around the door. He waved a sheet of paper. “Got him,” he said, with some satisfaction. “Ian Neely, thirty-six, of 15A, Rackham Avenue, Charlock.”

  “Brilliant,” said Kate. She looked across at Anderton who inclined his head.

  “Go on, then,” was all that he said but with a grin of approval. “Go and bring him in.”

  Olbeck got to his feet. “We’ll both go,” he said.

  “Come on, then,” said Kate. “I’m driving.”

  Several hours later, Kate regarded Ian Neely from across the table of Interview Room Three. He was almost exactly as Caroline Spendler had described him: mid thirties, slightly overweight, beginning to bald. Short, brown hair, brown eyes. Nothing memorable about him whatsoever.

  The duty solicitor, Katy Watson, sat next to him. Kate had seen her here before – to be frank, the young woman was quite hard to forget, being quite improbably gorgeous with long, auburn hair and equally long, shapely legs. Ian Neely seemed oblivious to her beauty. He was staring at the surface of the table, looking white and ill.

  “So, Mister Neely,” Olbeck said, leaning forward a little. “Do you want to tell us about the pig hearts?”

  Silence from Neely. Kate, looking at him, wondered why he’d done something quite so stupid as to use a fake photograph on his dating profile. How could he have thought that he would get away with it, once he’d met up with women in real life? But perhaps that was why – he was so insecure, so full of self-loathing, that he engineered reality so as to have his paranoia confirmed. Kate had spoken to Valerie Houghton and had shown her the photo-fit that Caroline Spendler had assisted in putting together. For the second time, Valerie had gone white. “Yes, that’s him,” she said faintly and then burst into tears and pleaded with Kate not to tell her husband. “I didn’t even wait to meet him,” she’d cried. “I saw he wasn’t – he wasn’t who I thought he’d be – and then I’d just left, without even waiting to meet him. Oh, God, please don’t tell John—“

  Thinking back on that scene, Kate felt a vicarious embarrassment rushing through her. It wasn’t often she felt so awkward, but there was so much pain and humiliation in the woman’s voice that it was difficult not to feel a queasy pity. Her thoughts went from Valerie to Kiki Dee, who she hadn’t yet been able to get hold of…

  “Why did you give those three women the pigs’ hearts?” Olbeck asked Ian Neely, who so far had remained silent or muttered ‘no comment’, clearly on the advice of Katy Watson. Kate observed him. He looked so unmemorable, so forgettable. But did that mean that he wasn’t dangerous?

  “What about the death threat, Ian?” Kate knew that when Olbeck dropped the ‘Mister’ in addressing a subject, he was losing patience. “What do you say about that?”

  Something in Ian Neely’s dull face sparked to life. “It wasn’t a death threat,” he said, surprising them all. His voice was rather soft and reedy. “I was just – just pissed off, that’s all.”

  “Come on, now,” said Olbeck. He read, rather theatrically, from his notebook. “You wrote on Kiki Dee’s Facebook page, ‘You’ll end up the same way as your cat, bitch�
�. Do you deny that?”

  Ian Neely didn’t protest. He merely blinked. “What?”

  Olbeck repeated the sentence. Kate saw his solicitor shoot Ian Neely an anxious glance but one look at his face, creased in confusion, told its own story.

  Kate found herself interjecting, sharply. “Are you saying you didn’t write that on Kiki Dee’s Facebook page?”

  Ian Neely was still blinking. “What cat? What are you talking about?”

  The confusion in his voice was palpable. Kate thought, with a sudden rush of coldness through her, he didn’t write that. He didn’t kill the cat. Which meant…

  She and Olbeck convened outside the interview room, Olbeck having hastily adjourned the interview and brought it to a temporary close.

  Kate found she was hugging her arms across her body. “He’s telling the truth, isn’t he? He sent the hearts but he didn’t do anything else. Nothing else except write that message to Caroline Spendler.”

  Olbeck squeezed his eyes shut temporarily, as if he had a headache. “So if Neely hasn’t been stalking Kiki Dee, then who has?”

  They both stared at each other. Kate said, slowly, “I’ve been trying to get in touch with her, to tell her we’d made an arrest. I’ve left messages on her mobile—“

  Olbeck cut across her. “You’ll need to go and try and find her. Try the college, try the house. If Neely isn’t the one who’s been threatening her, then she might still be in danger.” Kate nodded and began to hurry away down the corridor, feeling the rush of blood in her ears as her heart began to thump.

  Just before she started her car, Kate tried Kiki’s mobile again. It was fully dark by now, past six o’clock, and cold, with a sharp wind that laid a blade of ice against her cheek. The night sky above was ragged with rushing clouds that blotted out the thin crescent moon. Kate could see her breath steaming, even in the interior of the car, and reached to turn the heater up to full.

  Kiki’s phone was switched off and went straight to voicemail. Kate left another message, this time allowing some urgency to infuse her tone. Then she turned the key in the ignition and set off, making for Kiki Dee’s house.

  No one answered the door to Kate’s knock, when she arrived. Frustrated, Kate peered up at the blank windows. The curtains weren’t drawn but there definitely didn’t seem to be anyone at home. Baulked for a moment, Kate stood on the windy pavement, tapping her foot. Should she try the college? But there were hundreds of students there, the chances of tracking Kiki down seemed increasingly unlikely. After a moment, she used her phone to search for the address of the Decadence bar and club and then keyed the postcode into the sat nav.

  Decadence was situated in Arbuthon Green, just down the road from the pub where Kate had once listened to a band with her younger brother, Jay, and met the violinist, who was later to be found murdered. Kate found a parking space along the road from The Black Horse and walked past it quickly. The Decadence bar and club was situated in the basement of a four storey Georgian townhouse, a remnant of elegance now sadly decayed. Kate was surprised to see a short queue of people waiting to get in, even at this early hour. She walked to the front of the queue and flashed her warrant card in the doorman’s face, causing a sudden tide of tautness and whispering in the waiting crowd.

  Frowning, the doorman let Kate through. She walked through a small, dark reception area, showing her card to the woman taking the money at the entrance, and moved on through a pair of red velvet curtains which brought her out to the main area of the bar and stage.

  Now, Kate could see why people were waiting to get in. There was a swing band playing and the dance floor in front of the stage was packed with couples, most of whom were dressed in vintage and retro styles. Other people sat around the edge of the dance floor at the delicate little gold-painted tables, drinking cocktails and laughing and talking loudly over the music. There were a lot of Victory rolls, plenty of red-painted lips, tea-dresses and frothy petticoats. Kate, blinking against the flash of the stage lights, thought for a moment she’d been transported back in time to the late nineteen forties.

  It was less sordid than she’d imagined. A lot less. The stage backdrop was a glittering curtain of gold threads and there was a giant stiletto shoe over by the side of the stage, big enough for a person to climb into. Kate recollected herself and made for the bar. She couldn’t see Kiki anywhere but this was a long shot anyway, she could very well not be here…

  Kate reached the bar, a long curving shape with a mirrored surface and located the most senior looking member of staff. “I’m looking for the manager,” she shouted, over the noise from the band.

  “That’s me,” said the man with a silver ring through his eyebrow and dark brown hair combed into a greased DA. “I’m Jack. How can I help?”

  Kate showed him her credentials and watched the silver ring in his eyebrow move sharply upwards. “I’m looking for Kiki Dee,” she added.

  “Kiki? What’s she done?” Jack the bar manager looked serious. “She’s just finished up her set. I think I saw her go outside for a smoke.”

  “She’s definitely here then?” checked Kate.

  “Yes, she was on stage about half an hour ago. You can go backstage, the door’s over there.”

  Kate walked towards where he had gestured. Stepping through to the backstage area was like entering another world, oddly reminiscent of Kiki Dee’s house, with its plethora of female inhabitants. There were girls everywhere, in various states of undress, some with feathery wings strapped about them, some with glittery nipple tassels firmly in place. There was even a young man wearing the top half of a pinstripe suit and a leather G-string, stockings and suspenders on his lower half. Kate blinked and averted her eyes.

  “Can I help you?” asked a girl with pink hair, who was dressed in nothing but a bunch of pink balloons that bobbed around her.

  “Erm—“ said Kate, distracted by the balloons. “Sorry, I’m looking for Kiki Dee. I was told she’s here?”

  “Kiki? She went outside for a ciggie,” the girl said. Then she frowned. “Actually, that was ages ago. She can’t still be out there, she’ll be freezing. She must have gone home.” She turned to the girl next to her who was pulling on a skin-tight black cat suit. “Zoe, have you seen Kiki? Did she leave?”

  Zoe shrugged. “I haven’t seen her,” she said without interest and turned to observe herself in the big mirror. Kate could see her own reflection over Zoe’s shoulder. She looked worried.

  “Where do you girls go for a smoke?” she asked.

  The pink-haired girl showed her and then bustled away, balloons bobbing and bouncing in her wake. Giving her head a mental shake, Kate stepped outside and back into the freezing night air. She was beginning to think this was something of a wild goose chase. Kiki had obviously finished her set and decided to go home. Why hadn’t she responded to Kate’s numerous voicemails? As Kate thought this, the answer came to her – because Kiki had been on stage and unable to answer her calls.

  The area Kate stepped out into was the neglected courtyard of the original building, a dank, dark hole of bare concrete and crumbling walls. A large flowerpot stood by the back door, choked to the brim with cigarette butts. Kate stood for a moment, uncertainly, looking about her. The unshaded light above the back door cast a harsh rectangle of light for about ten feet. Beyond that was darkness. There was nobody here, and Kate turned to go back inside before realising the door had swung shut behind her. She was locked out here.

  Cursing, she drew out her keyring, on which she kept a little torch. It had come in handy on more than one occasion. Could she walk back to the main street by going around the back of the building? Only one way to find out… Kate stepped cautiously forward into the darkness, following the feeble line of light cast by her torch. Then she stopped dead.

  There was a foot in front of her, pale in the torchlight. A foot attached to a leg, attached to a body that was crouched hunched and shivering on the dirty concrete. Kate gasped and ran forward. The girl on the grou
nd was curled into a foetal position, her dress ripped open, dirt on her knees. Kate could see blood, black in the semi-darkness, spattered across the girl’s neck. She trained the torch directly on the girl’s face, wincing as the light made the girl recoil and throw one dirty hand up to shield her eyes. It was Kiki Dee.

  Chapter Eight

  “What happened?”

  Kate stood back to let the doctor through into the room where Kiki Dee was lying on a bed, wrapped in a hospital blanket. Then she took Olbeck by the arm and propelled him away into the corridor.

  “I think she was raped,” Kate said, in a tone that made much of the grim news. Olbeck’s face tightened.

  “My God.” He looked back at the door to the room, as if he could see through it. “Does she know who?”

  Kate nodded. “I think so. She didn’t want to tell me though, and she wasn’t in any fit state for me to push her. We’ll wait until the doctor gives us the go ahead, and then we can ask again.”

  Olbeck was looking very troubled. “It can’t have been Ian Neely. He’s been with us all day.”

  “I know that. It wasn’t him who killed the cat and made that death threat anyway.”

  “So who is it?”

  Kate raised her shoulders. “We can’t do anything unless we get a name from Kiki.” A though struck her. “Actually, hang on. Let me call Theo. He can see if he can pull anything from CCTV. There’s bound to have been some on that street. Perhaps he can get a sighting or something.”

  “She didn’t give you a name or anything?”

  “No, Mark. She could barely speak when I brought her in here—“ Kate broke off as the door to the room opened and a harassed looking doctor stepped out.

  “DS Redman?” she asked, looking from Kate to Olbeck.

  “That’s me.” Kate stepped forward.