Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(18)

‘When are these dated?’

‘Almost a year ago. Last January.’

Kay clicked through more photos of the same evening, of Marissa talking to other guests and posing for photos, then a couple of blurred ones as she went to the bar. Then the background changed. The next few photos were dark, and illuminated with a flash.

‘When is this?’ asked Erika.

‘The time stamp shows the same day, same time.’

‘Looks like backstage.’ There were photos of what looked like a dressing room. It was empty, with a large mirror surrounded by lights. There were close-ups of a rack of burlesque clothes; a pair of lacy black knickers discarded on the floor. A hand holding them up to the camera. There was a diamond symbol sewn into the fabric.

‘Honey Diamond,’ said Erika. ‘That diamond symbol was embroidered on Marissa’s burlesque costumes.’

Abruptly, the photos then changed to a video of Marissa Lewis’s house. It was taken high up, at night, looking down into the window of Marissa’s bedroom. It started off shakily, and they could hear wind distorting the phone’s microphone. Marissa came into focus, walking around the bedroom in a towel. She went to the dressing table and picked up a brush, dragging it through her wet hair. Then Marissa dropped her towel, and was naked. The video zoomed in closer and lost focus. When it came back into focus, Marissa was staring out of the window, directly at the camera.

‘Shit,’ came Joseph’s voice, above the wind distorting the microphone. He kept the camera trained on her. She stood, very still, watching. Then she cupped her breasts, and ran her hands down the front of her body. She stopped above her pubic hair, and waggled a finger and pulled the curtains together. The camera stayed on the glowing curtains for a moment, then the video ended.

‘She knew Joseph was watching her?’ said Kay.

‘She knew someone was watching her,’ said Erika. Kay clicked on another video, which showed the same view, at night. This time, Marissa’s bedroom was brightly lit, and she entered the room with a tall, older man. Marissa made sure they both came close to the window, and the camera caught his face. Kay ran the video forward, as they moved to the bed, starting to kiss and undress each other. The video was the longest on the phone, ten minutes in total, and it zoomed in as the couple had sex on Marissa’s bed. ‘We need to get a clear image of that man’s face, and find out who he is. When was this taken?’

‘December 14th, this year. Do you think she knew they were being filmed?’

‘Or she asked Joseph to film,’ said Erika. She rubbed her tired eyes and sat back in her chair. ‘What did you make of him?’

‘In the short space of time I was there? He seemed scared, but clingy with his mother.’

‘He’s ticking all the boxes so far. He was obsessed with Marissa. He stalked her, and spied on her. He stole Marissa’s mobile phone, and photographed her dead body. But I need forensics. I need DNA if I want to really nail him and make an arrest.’



* * *



In the basement of Lewisham Row, all was quiet in the custody suite. The long line of cell doors was propped open, ready and waiting for any offenders Christmas night had yet to offer. Only the cell door at the far end was closed. Ray, the custody sergeant, got up from his desk, and went to do his fifteen-minute check, his polished shoes squeaking on the floor. He opened the metal hatch on the closed door, and shone his torch inside. Joseph Pitkin lay on a bed in the corner.

‘You alright, lad?’ he said.

Joseph shrank away, and turned to the wall.

‘Yeah, great,’ he murmured. He flinched as the metal hatch slammed shut. He shifted on the bare bed in the darkness, trying to get comfortable, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.





Eleven





Four miles away in Sydenham, a cold wind screamed down Walpole Road, pushing the snow in drifts up against the walls of the terraced houses. Diana Crow left her friend Fiona’s house just after 11 p.m., wincing at the cold. She’d stayed longer than she’d intended, but Fiona had insisted that she saw the end of the Christmas film.

Diana put her head down, and hurried along the dark snowy street to the main road. Despite the cold, her face felt hot after four glasses of sweet sherry. She waited for a small Fiat to drive past before she crossed. Snow had been falling heavily all day, and the pavement and road had merged into one. She carefully picked her way across, and slowed, feeling around in the snow for where the kerb began on the other side. She stepped up onto the pavement and shivered. It was so quiet. Every window was lit, but the curtains were clamped shut. It was only a few minutes’ walk home. Fiona had told her to call a taxi, but Diana thought it a ridiculous extravagance to pay good money for a thirty-second taxi ride, three streets away.

As she passed by the train station, the streetlight was out, and the short station approach was shrouded in darkness. There were no cars on the road now, and she picked up the pace as she approached the railway underpass. The air was damp, with a nasty smell of urine. She pulled the lapels of her coat up over her mouth. The pavement was dry in the underpass, and her footsteps echoed, breaking the silence. The pavement on the other side, lit up by the orange streetlight, seemed far away. She hurried on, and had almost reached the light, when one of the dark walls seemed to bulge out. A tall figure moved out from the shadows and blocked her path.