The Black Widow (14 page)

Mike felt the words as a pang in the pit of his stomach and pity along with a small tug of pride rose within him for the girl. Apparently, Laura's arrest 6 weeks earlier had shamed her since she was so drunk and high that she couldn't remember a thing about it. It had created the urge within her to better herself.

The girl had been on the wrong path for years. She had assaulted her young body with drugs and alcohol and put herself in danger by selling herself to strangers. That she would be brutally murdered and discarded like last night's rubbish mere weeks after getting her life on track was cruel and heart-wrenching.

Their visit to the girl's workplace had yielded no clues and no suspects, although one young man had certainly seemed to know a lot about Laura's comings and goings.

He was awkward and jerky when talking to the detectives, and he constantly glanced around him with a wide-eyed nervous look, as if he were seeking the fastest way to escape.

Within 5 minutes of talking to him, however, Mike was fairly certain that he was gay. He took his name and address to be sure and should they ever need to find him again.

The man paled when asked his name, though he gave it with no quarrel. “Alex Mines,” he mumbled. “Me and Laura...well...we were friends.”

“We'll catch whoever did this to her,” Mike told him, then wondered why he was making promises that he couldn't keep.

Of the other staff working there, each had seem shocked by the news of Laura's murder, but not saddened. He got the impression that many found the news interesting gossip, and nothing more. Everybody that Laura worked with denied knowing anything about the love letters that Laura had received.

It seemed that Laura may not have been particularly distressed by them. They bothered Mike though.

Although the letters were non-threatening; in not one had the author expressed an interest in hurting Laura, the sheer volume of them in such a short space of time disturbed Mike.

Laura had clearly been on this man's mind a lot over the last couple of weeks.

Had the man's obsession gone to far? Had desire turned to hate? Or was Laura the victim of an unknown, a psycho that stalked the streets and happened upon Laura in the wrong place at the wrong time?

That Laura had given up prostitution would help the investigation some, but not by much. Not unless they found a suspect or a credible witness. Plus, Laura had worked as a prostitute for some time. What if she was offered a lift from an ex-client, a man she thought she knew and could trust, a man now unhappy with being unable to have Laura, whether he paid for her services or not.

There was also the possibility that Laura had slipped into her old ways and started prostituting again. She was unlikely to tell everyone after making a point of telling everyone that she was going straight.

If Laura hadn't been working the streets, then they needed to find out if she was seeing someone. Information had reached Mike and Lee before they entered the bar where Laura had worked—semen had been found inside the victim.

The way that Mike saw it, there were 3 possibilities: Laura had a boyfriend that she had been intimate with the night of her murder, that she was working the streets and had a client the night of her murder, or, her murderer has sexually assaulted her before killing her.

If the semen belonged to her murderer, they had strong DNA evidence if a suspect could ever be found. Mike hated this job for so many reasons, this being one of them. A young woman is cut up, strangled and dumped by the roadside. A horrific way for anyone to die. On top of that, they had to hope that her killer raped her before killing her so they could use his semen as evidence.

Mike hoped the girl had been spared a rape before her murder, but he had to hope the semen belonged to her killer to catch him.

Mike sighed as a heavy darkness swamped him.

He followed Lee from the bar after thanking everyone and handing out their cards should anyone remember anything of importance or hear anything and need to contact the detectives.

Mike and Lee headed outside and into their car.

“A big fat nothing,” Lee muttered.

Mike nodded. “I got a bad feeling about this case.”

“Me too. Unless something turns up soon, I'm afraid we won't catch this bastard.” Lee looked at Mike. “The envelopes the anonymous letters came in and the letters themselves are being examined. Let's hope the bastard licked the envelope and left his fingerprints all over the goddamn paper.”

Mike nodded.

“In the meantime,” Lee continued. “I think we both should get home and get some sleep. We'll crack on early in the morning.”

Lee drove Mike back to the station where they each said their goodnight's and Mike climbed into his own car.

All the drive home the same thoughts that had been plaguing him on a daily basis began to surface.

There was no doubt the job was getting to him and had been for some time now. He had been considering taking his dad's offer of taking over the garage. The business was doing well, but his father wasn't getting any younger. Mike thought about running the garage every day, fixing up cars and not dealing with killers.

The idea was appealing.

The only problem though, he would have to quit, and he'd never quit at anything.

The thought of rising to work at the same time every day, of finishing at the same time every night and only having to view the broken bodies of vehicles, not people, greatly appealed.

It had been a constant battle that raged within Mike from the day his father had brought the subject up; around 9 months now. He felt an overwhelming lack of control over his own life, yet he alone had the power to change it.

He pulled up outside his house and took a deep breath.

I
t stays in the car,
he told himself as he did most nights.
Work stays in the car, it does not cross the threshold.

He mentally disconnected from his traumatic day, got out and eagerly walked up his garden path. The smell of chicken greeted him as he opened his front door.

“I'm home,” he yelled.

The clicking of eager paws on hardwood floors made him smile and he stooped down to greet his golden retriever, Honey, as she came bounding down the hallway.

As normal and with complete indifference to her size and strength, Honey dived onto Mike as if she were a Chihuahua and knocked him backwards on his ass. He greeted her and tried to hold her back as she proceeded to show him just how much she'd missed him that day via volumes of drool and shedded hair.

“Hiya, babe,” Mandy called from the kitchen.

At the sound of her voice, Honey scrambled off Mike and hurried up the hallway and back into the kitchen, probably hoping that a morsel off food was on offer.

Mike followed the dog whilst brushing long hairs from his trousers. “Look at the state of me,” he said as he entered the kitchen. He looked at Honey who looked back at him and wagged her tail. “Gonna shave you bald, girl.”

He stepped up behind Mandy and snuggled into her neck as she stooped over the cooker. She wiggled against him in response, then grabbed his hands away from her rear with her left hand as she continued to prod some boiling potatoes with her right hand. “Behave,” she said, her tone light. “Alfie's still here.”

Immediately, Mike stepped away and glanced behind him, half expecting Alfie to be standing there watching them. “Liz working late again?”

“Yeah. I'm expecting a phone call any minute actually, she said she'd ring before she sets off.”

Mike grinned.

Little Alfie, 5 years old going on 50 years old, was one of the kids that Mandy looked after as a child minder. He was also Mike's favourite. Cute as a button, Mike could spend hours talking with him, purely because the boy was so random.

You just never knew what to expect from him next.

Mike turned away from Mandy, intending to go and spend some time with the lad before his mother arrived, when the telephone rang.

“Hello,” he said into the receiver.

“Hello,” Alfie's mum Liz said. “Is Mandy there?”

Mike glanced at Mandy who was still tending to the boiling potatoes. “She's busy torturing spuds at the moment. Could I take a message?”

Liz huffed out a laugh as Mandy turned around, holding out her hand. “Gimme,” she said, smiling. He handed her the receiver, then held his hand up in mock surrender. She jabbed the air with her fork, pretending to stab him before greeting Liz. The conversation flowing between the two women, Mike headed into the living room with Honey at his side.

“Hey, Alfie,” he greeted the boy who was sat on the sofa watching cartoons.

“Uncle Mike,” Alfie chirped, his clear blue eyes sparkling. “Catch any baddies today?”

“Nope,” Mike replied, ignoring the unpleasant flutter in his stomach as he sat next to Alfie. “How about you?”

Since Mandy had been child minding Alfie, about five months, he had decided that he too wanted to be a policeman when he grew up and told Mike he'd protect the house and Mandy while he was working.

“Nah, I don't need to.” Alfie answered and jerked his head towards Honey. “Honey keeps them away.” Mike regarded Honey who sat watching Alfie with a look of pure adoration, though somewhat dim-witted expression. “Yeah,” he said dryly, “she's a regular devil-dog.” He settled back on the sofa and sighed, the action making him realise just how tired he was.

“So, you're here late again, all the other kids have gone. You get bored when they go?”

“No, coz I'm hardcore,” Alfie replied seriously, his gaze fixed on the TV.

“Hardcore?” Mike asked with a grin.

“Yeah,” Alfie replied seriously, never taking his gaze off the cartoons that showed Wile-e-coyote getting outdone by the roadrunner yet again. “They all have to leave early for bedtime, see. But my mum knows I can stay later and still be good in the morning. Their all wusses', but I'm hardcore.”

Mike laughed and Alfie grinned, finally tearing his eyes away from cartoon. “Is your tea ready yet, Uncle Mike?”

“Nearly, I think.”

Alfie nodded. “You're having the same as what we had : chicken and potatoes.” Alfie frowned thoughtfully. “Where do chickens come from?”

“A farm,” Mike replied.

“But who put them there?”

“A farmer.”

“But where'd he get them from to put them there?”

“A shop.”

“And where did they get them from to put them there?”

Admitting defeat Mike said “I don't know.”

Alfie looked at him, openly surprised. “They get them from eggs, Uncle Mike.”

“Ah. But who put the eggs there then?”

Alfie's surprise gone, he now regarded Mike as if he thought him rather dense. “Mummy and Daddy chickens put them there of course.”

“So who put the Mummy and Daddy chickens there then?”

“No-one put them there, Uncle Mike. It's where they live, like a a-dress. I've got a a-dress, you've got a a-dress. Mummy and Daddy chickens have a a-dress too.”

Alfie frowned at Mike. “Didn't you know that?”

“Of course I knew, I just wanted to see if you knew.”

Mandy poked her head around the corner. “Mike, your tea is ready and Alfie, your mum is on the way.”

“Uncle Mike didn't know that chickens come from eggs,” Alfie blurted then squealed with laughter.

Mandy raised her eyebrows and Mike shook his head at her as he grinned. “I'm off to get my tea, kiddo,” he told Alfie, who still chuckled. “Okay Uncle Mike.”

Mike nearly made it out of the living room.

“Uncle Mike?” Alfie asked.

“Yes Alfie?”

“Why are clouds white?”

Mike grinned and groaned at the same time.

Chapter Sixteen

Mike began the next day at work with hope. Fingerprints had been found on the anonymous letters found in Laura Melling's flat and a DNA profile extracted from the envelope flap.

They would have to wait for the DNA results of course, but they could get cracking with the fingerprints. Mike was aware that this person wasn't necessarily their killer, but it was the only lead they had. Plus, what were the chances of Laura attracting a secret admirer two weeks before she's murdered?

The autopsy report confirmed strangulation as the cause of her death and semen had been removed from her body and DNA extracted for a complete profile.

The semen may or may not belong to her murderer, but best case scenario it did and it'd also match the envelopes and the fingerprints to the same suspect. As Mike liked to call it, it would be a slam dunk case. He knew though that it was rarely that easy. The had to consider that Laura had gotten back into the game and the semen came from a client, a client who left Laura alive and well before she then fell into the hands of her murderer.

As Mike sat staring at the report on his desk, Lee appeared beside him. “I have something,” he said excitedly. “It may or may not be anything to do with our case, but I think it's worth looking into.”

Lee pulled a chair over, sat down and handed a piece of paper over to Mike. Mike saw the scribbled address and raised his eyes to Lee. “I was over by the front desk when this call came in. A woman making a complaint about a series of anonymous letters sent to her home and work address. She says they're non-threatening in nature, just intense. And the writer makes it clear that he's been following her around. What do you think?”

“We have a murder victim who received similar letters prior to her death. I'd say it's a massive coincidence otherwise.”

Lee nodded. “Let's go.”

***

At first, Mike had felt optimistic, almost downright excited of a possible strong lead. Although the thought of another victim so soon after Laura's murder was worrying, they were in a position now where they may be able to establish a link between Laura and the woman who was now being targeted.

This hope, however, fell apart in tatters when he and Lee reached the address scribbled down by Lee's excited hand.

The house was large, expensive and in a high class area in the suburbs The flat that Laura had lived in was in a bad area of town, run down and used frequently as a crack house.

This house and area could not be anymore different.