Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(17)

‘Don’t underestimate how stupid people can be. I also want to run his prints against the ones we found on the plastic film holder in the alleyway.’

‘What about all those photos of Marissa Lewis? Do you think she knew he took them?’ asked McGorry.

‘He probably bought a ticket to her show.’

‘Then why burn them?’

Erika shook her head, feeling exhausted.

‘We need to confirm the phone was registered to Marissa, and see if we can get any more information about Joseph. Has he got a record? Etc.’ She selected her coffee, and they were silent as the cup dropped out and it began to fill and steam. ‘Mandy Trent was pretty open about who Marissa associated with. She didn’t mention Joseph. I’ll get Tania, the FLO, to ask her again.’ She took her cup from the dispenser.

‘We don’t have enough to charge him with her murder. And he has an alibi,’ said McGorry.

‘From his mother.’

‘We’ve got nothing that places him at the scene last night.’

‘Yet. Nothing yet. Post-mortem, forensics, everything is still left to play.’

McGorry yawned as he put money in the machine and selected coffee. Erika studied his tired face as the machine filled his cup. ‘You should go home and get some rest. I want you here when I question him tomorrow morning.’

They both sipped their drinks, then spat them back in the cup.

‘What the bloody hell is that?’

‘Oxtail soup,’ he grimaced.

‘Did you press the coffee button?’

‘Yeah.’

They dropped their cups into the small bin by the machine. Erika pushed more change in, and selected a white coffee. When it was done she put the cup to her nose.

‘That’s bloody oxtail soup as well. They close down the canteen, and leave us with nothing but oxtail soup!’

‘They must have filled the machine up wrong,’ said McGorry.

Erika rolled her eyes and dropped the second cup in the bin.

‘What is it with this country? Potato sandwiches, and oxtail bloody soup! I’ve never met anyone who actually eats oxtail soup, yet in the world of second-rate vending machines that’s the third option after tea and coffee!’

‘You can buy it in tins…’

‘What?’

‘Oxtail soup. My Nan has a cupboard full of tins of oxtail soup. She loves it.’

Erika looked at him and grinned.

‘Go on, bugger off home, have your Christmas dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said.



* * *



Erika went up to her office on the fourth floor. It was tiny, with barely enough room for a small desk, a chair, and a bookshelf. Kay was working at a laptop with Joseph’s smartphone plugged into it.

‘Sorry, the coffee machine is buggered, and there’s nothing in the staff kitchen,’ said Erika. ‘How are you getting on?’

‘The iPhone is password protected. You’ll have to get it sent to the Cyber Crime Unit, and even then, they probably won’t have any luck. It’s virtually impossible to hack into an iPhone. I can also see from the IMEI number that this was a pay as you go phone.’

‘Which will make the phone records harder to track down. Shit.’

‘The good news is that Joseph Pitkin’s smartphone isn’t password protected.’ Kay indicated a window on the screen with all the downloaded files. ‘I’ve just pulled off a load of video files.’

Erika’s mood brightened and she pulled up a chair. Kay started to click down the list of image and video files; some were very short, of a tabby cat on a summer’s day stretching on the windowsill outside Joseph’s bedroom, another of Elspeth, red faced and taking a huge plaited loaf of bread on a tray out of the Aga, another of the tabby cat in the garden, amongst the flower pots, chasing after a red admiral butterfly in that playful-yet-lethal way cats enjoy.

‘All very charming,’ said Erika. When Kay clicked on the next video, the sound blared out from the computer, making them jump. Distorted music played, and the video was a blur of colour until it came into focus. Marissa Lewis was on a small stage in a crowded club. Behind her was a red velvet curtain. The video was taken a little further back in the audience, and some people’s heads were visible. Marissa’s dark hair was set in pin curls, and she wore bright red lipstick and huge lashes. She was slowly unbuttoning a long black coat, and then she let it drop to the floor. Underneath she wore a 1950s-style pink silk satin corset, stockings, suspenders and towering heels. The video seemed to tremble as she went through her act, stripping down to underwear and nipple tassels. Marissa took a bow to applause and sashayed off the stage.

‘Blimey, she was good,’ said Kay.

‘I thought her act would be sleazy, but this is – well, professional burlesque,’ said Erika. They clicked through photos of the same evening, of Joseph standing with Marissa among the tables in the club. They were posing for the camera; someone else must have taken the pictures.

‘Do you think it looks like Marissa knows him?’ asked Erika, as Kay clicked through six almost identical shots: Joseph with his arm slung around Marissa’s waist.

‘He looks like the creepy fan you want rid of. Why did he need six photos? By the sixth she looks like she wants to get away,’ said Kay.