Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(91)
‘It was the perfect opportunity. He was making headlines, the man in the gas mask; the public were afraid… It was around the same time that I heard people in our local shop talking about a young woman who he had attacked, late at night, on her way home from the train station.’
‘It was feasible that he could have attacked Marissa,’ said Moss. Elsa nodded.
‘To commit the perfect murder, you need the perfect cover,’ said Erika. ‘And Taro Williams was your perfect cover.’
‘It’s taken us some time to access Marissa’s mobile phone records. We now know she phoned you, Charles, shortly before she boarded the train to Brockley on Christmas Eve.’
He looked up from where he was slumped on the sofa. ‘She phoned me to say she wanted more money, or jewellery, whatever was quicker,’ said Charles, putting his head in his hands. ‘She said she was going away, she needed it fast... We had already given her the earrings and money. I didn’t have a choice. It would never have stopped; she would have gone on blackmailing us and threatening us.’
‘Where did you get the gas mask?’ asked Erika.
‘It was from a second-hand shop in Soho,’ said Charles. He hung his head and started to cry.
‘The only problem, Charles, is that you have an alibi for Christmas Eve,’ said Erika. He looked up at her. ‘We have CCTV footage of you on a petrol station forecourt in North London, eleven minutes before the CCTV images we have of Marissa’s murder. There is no way you could have been here.’
They looked back at Elsa.
‘No one will believe that a ninety-seven-year-old woman had it in her to kill a strong, young twenty-two-year-old,’ Elsa said, giving them a nasty, sly smile. A chill descended over the room.
‘Are you admitting you did it?’ asked Erika.
Elsa shook her head, still smiling.
‘The post-mortem showed that Marissa was killed by a particular kind of paring knife. An eight-inch blade, with a serrated edge at the top,’ said Erika. ‘When the police searched your house with the warrant, one of my officers took away an identical knife… It wasn’t classed as valuable, so you weren’t informed. I’m sure you washed it, but you’d be shocked to discover what tiny amounts modern forensics can work with. We found microscopic amounts of Marissa Lewis’s bone and blood on that knife…’
The smile had now been wiped from Elsa’s face and her mouth was agape in horror. Erika went on, ‘Not only that, we were also able to match the knife to the cuts and slashes on Marissa’s body. Your knife is the murder weapon. We’ve also used the latest technology to study the CCTV camera opposite Marissa’s house, which caught the murder. We can match your height with the height of the figure in the gas mask.’
‘No… No!’ cried Elsa.
‘And the last piece of the puzzle, well, it’s the best yet. On Christmas Eve, when Marissa got off the train at Brockley, she was wearing those diamond earrings,’ said Erika, indicating the box which was still open on the table. ‘Jeanette Walpole has confirmed Marissa was wearing them, and we also saw, again, on CCTV at Brockley station, that Marissa spoke to two drunken young men at the bottom of the footbridge. They were sleaze bags, and were trying to chat her up, and they asked her for a selfie, no doubt to show their mates.’
Moss took another photo from the folder. It was the selfie, in very high quality, of Marissa with the two young men. Marissa could be clearly seen wearing the earrings.
‘It was taken around fifteen minutes before she died,’ said Erika. ‘We tested the earrings for DNA, as you said we should. As well as small amounts of sweat and oil, they were covered in blood. They had been wiped clean to the naked eye, but we used a chemical called Luminol, which shows traces of blood on objects. You have probably seen it on police TV shows. It glows blue under the right light. We found that both earrings were saturated with blood. Far too much for it to have been from a simple cut. You killed Marissa, Elsa. You slashed her throat with your paring knife, and then as she lay dying, you removed the diamond earrings.’
The front door bell rang, and then it opened. Peterson came into the living room with McGorry and three uniformed officers. Erika looked over to them and nodded. Elsa sat back in the chair. Her face had sunken in on itself and she looked ashen. ‘No… No…’ she croaked, but all her bravado and confidence had evaporated.
‘Elsa Fryatt, I’m arresting you for the murder of Marissa Lewis. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence against you. I’m also informing you that a lawyer from the international war crimes court, and the German government, have requested to speak to you under caution regarding your time working as a guard at the Mathhausen-Gusen concentration camp, and the crimes you committed against humanity during the Second World War.’
Mrs Fryatt stared up at her. Then she grabbed a gold letter opener from the coffee table and lunged across at Erika, holding it in her fist. Peterson ran forward and caught her wrist, the tip of the blade inches from Erika’s face.
‘Black hands. Get those filthy black hands away from me,’ hissed Elsa, her eyes glittering with hatred. Peterson prised the letter opener out of her grip. He pinned her arms to her side, and McGorry handcuffed her hands behind her back. Elsa stared up at Erika. ‘You people will never understand. If I had my time again, I would do the same.’