Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
“Justine Bellamy, also known as Kelly-Anne Marsh, has been arrested on five accounts of murder and one count of abduction,” Wrigley was holding court, all of the office-based brass joining us.
“We’ll be giving a statement to the press this evening.
She’s remanded in custody pending an assessment from a healthcare professional and we are treating her as a vulnerable adult, given her previous mental health difficulties, although I am expecting her to have capacity and be fit to interview tomorrow morning.
As of yet, she’s said nothing, apart from to ask for Mac over there. ”
I sat up a little straighter. I hadn’t been expecting to interview her, but that opportunity wasn’t one I was going to miss.
“Mac, you’ll get your chance to speak to her, but myself and Nick are going to go in first. You can watch.
” He foisted his gaze on me. “She’s on suicide watch over night and I’ll point out that she’s refused all food and water we’ve offered so far.
Mia, can you give us an account of what happened and how you ended up at the halls of residence? ”
“I’d put two and two together that Justine was Kelly-Anne Marsh – the timings worked and Kelly-Anne had disappeared saying she wanted a new life.
Taking someone else’s identity was part of her plan.
I knew Kelly-Anne had been badly bullied at Aberwyn, and her mental health history suggested psychosis, so a revenge plan could’ve been a fantasy that she decided to bring to life.
Justine was Professor Daniel Fletcher’s assistant, and when he provided the addresses, it had the other places she’d lived since being in Manchester.
I knew the halls where she’d stayed for several years were now empty, and we’d been looking for a place where she’d taken Sophie and probably killed Evelyn and maybe Morgan. ”
“Just in from Jenna,” Nick interrupted. “The garage where you found Sophie is covered with blood stains. They’ve already sent a sample for DNA testing.”
A murmur went across the office.
“Does Daniel Fletcher have anything to do with this?” Wrigley stared at me; keen eyes set to analyse my response.
“We’ll need to take a statement. I believe he knew she’d been someone else before she came to Manchester, and he may have known she was a patient at the same time as Charlie Mason, who he treated when Charlie was first sectioned.
” I relaxed my shoulders, preparing to tell one of the biggest lies of my life.
“I don’t believe he knew Justine was a killer.
If he’d suspected it, he would’ve informed the police.
He’d have got a couple of books out of that. ”
“And a lot of TV appearances,” Wrigley said.
“Which he will do now anyway. I’m going to interview him tomorrow.
He’ll need to give a statement.” He took a long inhale.
“Well, team, it’s been a long few weeks and we have a result, and we’ve saved a life, so go and have a few drinks.
I’ll stick my card behind the bar at the Crescent.
But remember, the graft starts with tying up loose ends. ”
A cheer went up round the room, the sound of chairs rolling into desks, jackets being put on.
“You coming, Mac?” Lachy hovered over me. “I’d say I’d buy you a drink, but it looks like Wrigley’s doing it.”
“I’ll come for a couple. He’ll only get the first round – and don’t think he’s being generous, he wants to herd us all in somewhere like sheep in a pen, and he knows buying us alcohol is the equivalent of a sheepdog.” It was a good tactic, because it always worked.
We all drifted over to the pub, apart from Verity, who’d drawn the short straw along with one of the other DCs to take Sophie Linwood’s statement. There was chatter and banter about football, and someone mentioned Dr Miz to Vinny, which stirred him up royally.
My phone vibrated with a text as we walked in, so I gave Vinny instructions to get me a glass of prosecco while I checked it.
Atlas.
I was unsurprised.
Congrats. You caught your killer. You did well.
Nothing more. I wondered how he knew, that maybe it was out online already. I didn’t reply, he’d know I’d seen the message and there was no need for anymore. I wondered if I’d hear from him again or ever find out his real identity, or why he’d picked me.
I dropped Darcy a quick message, giving her the head’s up that the killer had been caught, and it was a woman. That would be known by the morning, if not already, because journalists were often the best detectives.
Numbness began to fade, the buzz of the win filling the bar and a United game on the screen, meaning one half of my colleagues were happy.
“You okay, Mac?” Nick sat down next to me, a whisky in his hand. “Not too much bruising?”
“Nothing a bit of arnica won’t sort. My jaw’s going to be a pretty colour tomorrow. Have you pulled anything up linking Justine and Kelly-Anne?” This was the bit we needed.
“News just in – we’ve ran her fingerprints from when she was booked in, and they’re tied with ones we have on file for Kelly-Anne Marsh.
She was arrested for shoplifting when she was nineteen, just before she left Leeds.
I don’t think we’ll need more than that.
” He looked pleased with himself. “But we have it. We’ve had her phone as well, and she had social media accounts that followed all of the Aberwyn girls apart from Sophie.
She never posted anything, just lurked. Tomorrow I’ll start trying to link her to buying the knife. ”
“And then we might be able to link her to Charlie Mason.”
“Exactly.” He looked me over again. “You must be happy. You were right, not fully jumping down the incel theory.”
“There are still things I want to know. But I might never find them out.”
“You might not. And maybe they’re better not being known. Another drink?” He pointed to my empty glass.
“One more.”
One more became two more, which became a taxi to the curry house near Vinny’s and a meal where I had the good sense to stop drinking alcohol and moved to lime and sodas.
Vinny lived in a three bedroomed semi-detached with a huge TV and several gaming systems. It was the dictionary definition of a bachelor pad, if that bachelor was an overgrown boy-child.
It would’ve been an automatic red flag if I’d ever been one of the lucky ladies that Vinny had brought back, but thankfully, I’d only ever been there as a colleague.
And maybe a friend.
“Where shall I sleep? I’m good on the sofa.” The sofa was huge and plump, designed for falling asleep on. I’d crashed on it a couple of times in the past, and it was looking pretty inviting right now.
Exhaustion was hitting me right in my bruises, the adrenaline completely gone. Even my brain had stopped over processing, thinking about Daniel and the role he’d played in all of this.
“My bed?” Vinny wriggled his eyebrows.
“Hell no.”
“One day you’ll say yes.”
“When hell’s in its fifth ice age. I’m good with the sofa.”
“The spare bedroom’s made up. You can sleep in there. Do you want a brew?” He walked into the kitchen area, the space a large open plan living area. It was actually quite nice, I supposed.
“That would be lovely.” I sat on the sofa, sprawling out my shoes off before I came in because Vinny had strict rules around that.
I heard him fill the kettle, then the clang of a couple of mugs. “Are you okay about that dick of a boyfriend?”
I sat up, looking over at him. He was opening a tin of biscuits, just wearing a black T-shirt and sweats, having gotten changed at the speed of light when we came in.
I could see how he fooled women into hooking up with him.
“It wasn’t going anywhere. He was attractive and decent in bed.”
Vinny scoffed. Or maybe choked. “You must have low standards.”
“How would you know what he was like in bed? Have you slept with him?”
“I can just tell.”
I shook my head and lay back down. I was okay about Cavan and Lucy.
I didn’t care I was moving out of the flat, albeit nowhere of my own to go, although a phone call had sorted out where I’d be staying for the next few months.
Lucy wasn’t a friend, and my relationship with her had felt forced and strained recently.
“I can show you where your standards should be in you want?” Vinny sat down next to me heavily, almost making me rocket off the cushions. “Want a biscuit?”
“No.”
“No to the biscuit, coz I’m sure you were saying no to me.”
“No to both.” I kicked him lightly in the side of his thigh. “It would be like sleeping with my brother.”
“I’m not your brother, so it wouldn’t.” He stuffed another biscuit in his mouth in a really non-attractive manner.
“Stop being a dick, Vin. I’ve had a long day.” I kicked him again, not actually hard enough to hurt.
“You think I’m joking, don’t you?” At least his mouth was free from biscuit.
“Yep. Like you have been for the last five years.” Vinny lived for making a pass at me every so often.
“Maybe one day you’ll get the hint. Anyway, do you want sugar in your tea?”
“Half a teaspoonful. Thank you.” I only put sugar in tea when I was like this, on a come down from a wild day. It was something that only Vinny and a couple of other knew.
Vinny had remembered. He always did.
I sat back up and looked over at him, stirring the tea, adding milk, taking out the tea bags, which he should’ve done before pouring the milk, which we’d argued about dozens of times.
Did he mean what he said?
I didn’t want to think about that right now. I just needed to sleep so I could get through tomorrow.