Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(42)

‘Do you know exactly when and where this was?’ asked Erika.

‘I don’t know the exact date, perhaps early November. She told me she’d got the last train home, so the station was quiet. It was after midnight. She walked home from Crofton Park station, and just by the entrance to the cemetery on Brockley Road a tall, dark figure appeared from nowhere. He was dressed all in black – a long black coat, black gloves – and he wore a gas mask. Terrifying, it was, she said. He tried to pull her into the cemetery.’

‘Did he assault her?’ asked Moss.

‘Yes. He tried to, but she managed to escape. A car came along, and the headlights scared him off. She ran for it, all the way home. She was very, very lucky, but that was Marissa. I always thought she had a guardian angel,’ said Mrs Fryatt. ‘Well,’ she added, her face clouding over. ‘Until now.’





Twenty-Seven





Erika and Moss grabbed some lunch on the way back to the station. It had been a morning of revelations: Sharon telling them that Marissa had planned to leave the country, Ivan’s suicide attempt, Marissa blackmailing Don, and now Mrs Fryatt saying that Marissa was attacked by a man in a gas mask.

Along with all of these thoughts and questions running through her mind, Erika could feel a headache looming ominously at the back of her head. When they arrived back at Lewisham Row, they went down to the incident room. A large poster of Marissa Lewis in her burlesque gear had been added to the whiteboard. McGorry, Peterson and a couple of other male officers were grouped in front of it next to the desk.

‘I really fancy some of that,’ Peterson was saying.

‘What’s going on?’ snapped Erika, feeling anger rise in her. Peterson went to speak, but she cut him off: ‘I get that Marissa was a sexy burlesque dancer, but she’s a murder victim. Do you all need to hang around photos of her dressed provocatively in her underwear?’

There was an awkward silence.

‘The reason that’s up there is because the poster shows the brand name on her costume, and the embroidery work which has been added,’ said Peterson. ‘You see the pink corset with the embroidered diamond?’

‘Yes. I’m aware of that. Her stage name was Honey Diamond,’ said Erika. The bright lights in the incident room had sharpened the dull thumping at the back of her head.

‘We’ve been in touch with the shop where the costume was bought. It’s called Stand Up and Tease, and based in Soho. I found out they also offer an alteration and embroidery service, and they’ve given us the name of the man who did this embroidery work on her costumes…’

‘Okay, so why are you standing around making comments?’

‘We’re standing around because lunch just arrived,’ said McGorry, indicating a box of Pret sandwiches on the table in front of the whiteboard.

‘I was just saying I really fancy some of that cheese and pickle,’ said Peterson. He stared at her. The other officers looked away, and Moss looked uncomfortable.

‘Okay. Good work. I’d like a print-out of all the shows Marissa has been performing in over the past month. And send me the contact for this person who does the customisation of the costumes.’

‘Of course,’ said Peterson.

‘Moss, can you fill everyone in on what happened this morning, and update the whiteboard?’

‘Sure thing, Boss.’

Erika left the incident room. Moss reached over and grabbed a sandwich.

‘What’s up with her?’ asked McGorry.

‘It’s been an eventful morning,’ she said.

‘No need to take it out on us,’ said Peterson. Moss gave him a look and then she started to tell them what had happened.



* * *



Erika left the incident room feeling foolish. She saw how the other officers had looked at her while she ticked Peterson off. Did they know the two of them used to be together?

She stopped at the coffee machine, seeing it was now fixed, and grabbed herself an espresso. She thought of Peterson being back, and how they would have to work together. He was a good officer, and a valuable part of the team, but if it was going to be like this, perhaps she would have to have him reassigned.

‘You should never shit where you eat, stupid idiot,’ she muttered as she waited for the machine to fill her cup. She took the stairs up to her office. Sitting at her desk, she booted her computer up and logged into Holmes. She input the phrase ‘gas mask attack’ and a list of results came up.

In the past three months, there had been four cases – two women and two men – assaulted by a large male wearing a gas mask. The assaults had all taken place around train stations late at night or early in the morning. The first victim was a twenty-year-old woman called Rachel Elder, who had been walking to Gipsy Hill station to work as a nurse at Lewisham Hospital. She was pulled into an alleyway, where a male exposed himself and then grabbed her by the throat. The attack went on for a long time, as she was asphyxiated to the point of passing out, then allowed to breathe for a moment, before being asphyxiated again. She reported passing out, and when she came back to consciousness the attacker was gone.

The second incident happened close to East Dulwich station. This time the victim was a Kelvin Price aged twenty-three – an actor who was appearing in a West End play. He’d been for drinks after work and got the last train home. Just after midnight he had been pulled into an alleyway close to the station by a man wearing a long flowing black coat and a gas mask with glass eye holes. Again, he had been asphyxiated to the point of unconsciousness several times. He said that the man had been masturbating, and had exposed himself.