Authors: C.J. Johnson
Lee looked at him and sighed. “She was a prostitute, Mike.”
Mike exhaled and shook his head.
A prostitute.
Damn it.
Chapter Fourteen
Mike stared at the picture on his computer screen, the noise of the chaotic office around him a mere hum as he concentrated on the face before him.
The hair was different; the victim's hair had been a dark red colour as it fanned around her head, in this picture it was bleached blond with about 3 inches of dark root growth. The hair draped the girls shoulders in oily coils, completely washing out her already pale complexion.
Dark circles shadowed the scowling eyes that flashed anger and defiance at her arrest. Although angry, the victim was very much alive in this picture, taken just 6 weeks earlier.
She had been arrested for accosting men outside a busy supermarket in broad daylight, offering them cheap sex. Young, old, alone or with their families, she had offered all cheap quick sex in their vehicles right then and there. Clearly drunk, the store manager had called the police.
Mike sighed and looked at her name.
Laura Melling.
Their murder victim's name was Laura Melling and she was a prostitute.
Shaking his head, Mike wrote the victim's address and the address of her parents' house down. Once he had informed the parents of their daughter's death, they would then search the victim's flat for any clues that may lead to her killer.
Mike knew that this was going to be a very difficult case. Most murders were committed by someone known to the victim. Tracing their last moments, checking mobile phone records, bank statements and investigating those closest to them could produce a suspect or rule out the innocent very quickly. Most people lived rather unspectacular lives and followed the same routine on a daily basis.
Investigating the murder of a prostitute was not as simple.
Tracking down all the people that Laura had come into contact with in the hours leading up to her death was near impossible. Learning what cars she had gotten into the evening she was murdered would take nothing short of a miracle.
People that worked, or cruised those streets very seldom talked with police officers; they would be too concerned about the consequences that may fall back on them.
Unless a credible witness came forward with information stating that they saw Laura getting into a vehicle with a description of the car, licence plate and driver, then the chances of finding this killer were slim.
But, before the hunt for Laura Melling's killer could begin, Mike would have to deliver the news of her brutal torture and murder to her parents.
Laura had a considerable police record with a variety of crimes, one in particular concerning theft, filed by her own parents.
The couple must have gone through hell with their daughter and they were about to hear the worst news any parents could hear.
God, I hate this.
Lee appeared by Mike's desk and the men shared a look. No words needed, Mike stood, put on his jacket and followed Lee out of the door.
***
Derrick and Theresa Melling lived in what was considered the 'nice' part of town. The houses, though neither large nor terribly expensive, were attractive and well-kept on a nice quiet estate.
Not the sort of place Mike expected to find Laura's parents.
Mike observed the front lawn; spotless and decorated with colourful flowers. Even the pathway itself appeared to have been scrubbed. The house and garden were well-kept, giving Mike the impression that Mr and Mrs Melling would be just as immaculate.
Mike ran his speech through his mind as Lee knocked on the door. This time it was Mike's turn to drop the death news. No matter how many times he had to do this, it never got any easier. He was unable to completely detach himself from the situation and he knew as he delivered the speech to the Melling's he himself would feel the blow of his own words.
Within seconds the front door opened and a man stared out at them. Tall and broad with a full head of grey hair and a beard the same colour, the man scowled and narrowed his eyes.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Mr Melling?”
He looked at Mike, then nodded, though his frown deepened.
“I'm detective Mike Jamison and this is detective Lee Morris. May we come in?”
“This is about Laura, isn't it?” Mr Melling said, his features set in anger and his voice clipped.
“It is,” Mike answered softly. “May we come in?”
“Look, whatever trouble that girl is in, we don't want to know. We are
not
bailing her out, we will
not
be going to see her and we want
nothing
to do with her.”
Mike gaped in shock as Lee lowered his head and shuffled his feet. Usually when they appeared on someone's doorstep, people were immediately afraid, their eyes first going wide with shock, then dread as they stood aside to let the officers inside their home.
Mike had never experienced this kind of reaction before. Obviously, Laura Melling had caused her parents a lot of grief and trouble over the years, so much so that the appearance of two officers on his doorstep had immediately put the father on the defence.
“Derrick?” A woman's voice called. She suddenly appeared by his side and Mr Melling put a protective arm around her.
Mike stared at her, temporarily stunned. A very small thin woman with dark hair and dark eyes, she was an older version of her daughter.
In spite of living on the streets and existing on alcohol, booze or both, the girl had still maintained her looks to a certain degree and the resemblance to her mother was shocking.
“What has Laura done?”Mrs Melling asked, her eyes on Mike as she wrapped her arms around her husband's torso and leaned into him. In response, Mr Melling tightened his grip on her and they both stared at Mike.
“May we please come in?” Mike asked again, extremely reluctant to give them life-changing devastating news on their front doorstep.
“Whatever she's done, you can tell us here,” Mr Melling told him, his expression hard and set. Lost for words, Mike looked at Mrs Melling. Immediately, her eyes widened in horror, realisation of the truth evident. “Oh God,” she murmured. “How.”
“I'm very sorry. Laura's body was found early this morning. She was murdered.”
Mrs Melling sagged and leaned into her husband. "Oh God," she muttered, then began to cry. Mr Melling looked stunned at first, but his face went grim once again. “Our daughter has been dead to us for some time, officer. Around the time she started stealing from us and selling her body. Indeed, we have been waiting for this, for it was only a matter of time.”
Easing his crying wife against him, Mr Melling closed his front door with a loud slam.
Chapter Fourteen
“I hope you're not gonna go through my stuff. I ain't done nothin'”
The young woman, though you wouldn't know she was young just from looking at her, stared defiantly at Lee, her hard expression clouding as she glanced around the room at the other officers.
The girl was Rachel Watkins, Laura Melling's roommate and fellow prostitute. She was only 26 years old, but she looked more like 47. Her face was haggard and deeply lined with bright blotches patterning her face.
Completely unmoved by Laura's murder, the girl had been on the offensive since the officers had arrived.
Mike left Lee with the girl and wandered slowly through the living room and into the hallway. There was no carpet on the floor and no décor throughout the small dark flat. It smelled as though it hadn't had a good clean in sometime.
Rubbish littered the floor, though it was minimal. Passing the tiny kitchen, Mike paused briefly, then moved on after seeing the mess in there. He wasn't keen to have to search in there for any evidence.
Laura's bedroom lay at the end of the hall and Mike hoped her room wasn't in the same sorry state as the rest of the flat. They needed evidence of any kind that may lead to a suspect. It would be difficult to find any in this mess.
Bracing himself. Mike opened her bedroom door, then paused in surprise.
Laura's room was not only decorated and carpeted, it was spotlessly clean. Apart from a few make-up items scattered atop the dressing table and one or two outfits laid out on the neatly made bed, it was also tidy.
Painted a soft pink colour with a carpet to match, the room looked more suited to a nine year old girl rather than that of a young woman.
A half-burnt incense stick still rested in its oblong holder, long burnt out but still leaving its smell within the room.
Sandalwood.
Mike walked into the room and looked around, a lump in his throat. He tried not to think of her body as he looked around, imagining the girl getting herself ready in here the night she was killed. He looked at the clothes on the bed.
Had she tried numerous outfits on, looking at herself in the full-length mirror before deciding on one that didn't make her ass look big? Had she tried various looks with her make-up before deciding on one that went with her outfit?
A panic attack uncoiled within his gut like a vicious venomous snake that was awakening to the smell of warm-bloodied meal. Mike didn't fight the anxiety that surged within him, for he found these sort of attacks easier to control. He knew the reason for this attack, it was the ones that snuck up on him for no reason that he struggled with.
This girl had sold her body for drugs and alcohol and lived in a dump of a flat with a fellow prostitute, yet she styled her room like that of a little girl fascinated with princess'. She had been butchered and strangled then dumped by the roadside, a young life cut tragically short, yet not one person seemed affected by her horrific murder. Not her roommate, her parents—no-one.
Mike took a deep breath and straightened up, glad he'd entered this room alone. A shelf floated above the girl's bed and Mike leaned in to look at the framed pictures that were lined up neatly upon it. His throat tightened again as he saw a picture of Laura with her parents. Appearing about 12 years old, she sat between her mother and father, a huge floppy Santa hat on her head and a large Christmas tree in the background.
All 3 grinned happily at the camera, their arms around one another.
How had this girl strayed so far from the right path? He didn't have any children of his own so he supposed his opinion was void, but one thing he did know with absolute certainty is that he'd allow no daughter of his to leave the house if he knew she was selling her body or using drugs. If he had to lock her up in her room, so be it.
And even if that failed, he could not picture washing his hands of his own child to the degree that Laura's parents had.
But that was just him.
“Whoa,” came Lee's voice from behind him. Mike turned and faced him, seeing the same shocked expression on his face that he supposed his own had portrayed when entering the clean tidy bedroom. “So it's that one that's the pig,” Lee said, jerking his head towards the open door.
The roommate Rachel's voice reached then, becoming more and more aggressive as she voiced her disapproval at the officers' intrusion.
Again, Mike felt a pang of sadness. Did no-one care that Laura had been murdered? Even if Rachel had liked or cared for Laura, Mike expected some sort of a reaction to the girl's brutal murder, even if it was selfish one in regards to her own safety. Was there not one person who could find it in themselves to feel some sorrow at the girl's murder?
Shoving the thoughts out of his mind and concentrating on the job at hand, Mike joined Lee in searching the girl's room after they had both put on their gloves. They needed something, anything that may give them a lead to someone who may have wanted Laura Melling dead.
Five minutes into the search as Mike was looking through the single wardrobe, Lee called him over and pointed to a stack of letters he'd found in Laura's dresser drawer.
Picking the first one up and quickly scanning the first few lines, Mike raised his eyebrows. “Love letters.”
“
Anonymous
love letters,” Lee told him. “There's at least 8 in there, all dated and she received them all in the last fortnight.”
“There's no evidence of a steady boyfriend that may have stayed with Laura on a regular basis,” Mike said, eyeing the room for any tell-tale piece of male clothing or man's toiletries that may have escaped his earlier observation.
“According to the roommate,” Lee said, “she didn't really know Laura, has in fact been avoiding her these past few weeks. Said Laura had decided to kick the drugs and she's been difficult to be around. That said, she's also stated that Laura spent most of her time in this room, only coming out to fix herself something to eat or to use the bathroom.”
“Can you blame her,” Mike muttered.
Lee fluttered the letters at Mike. “We need to find out who sent these; he just might be our man. I'll go ask the roommate if she knows anything about these letters.”
Both men strode towards the door. Before leaving, Mike glanced back into the room. He vowed he'd get the man responsible for this.
After one last look, he gently closed the door behind him.
Chapter Fifteen
Mike glanced at the wall clock and groaned.
6.30pm.
He'd been working for 14 hours straight and he was utterly done in. Not so much physically, but emotionally.
After finding out where Laura had worked a regular job; a bar in an undesirable area known for drugs and prostitution, he and Lee had hotfooted it over there to learn what they could.
The pub manager and his wife had been shocked and upset to learn of Laura's murder, the wife's tears one of genuine grief. Usually, Mike found the tears of the grief-stricken distressing, but today he felt a morbid satisfaction in the couple's reaction.
There were people who cared for the girl after all.
The manager's wife had stubbornly insisted that Laura had not only kicked the drugs, but prostitution too. Laura had vowed that she was going straight and was intending to enrol on a college course to become a person her parents' could be proud of.