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Chapter 28
Tuesday 2nd March
Cheltenham Central Police Station
‘David Howells. Forty-six years of age. Single. Owner of The Fit Joint, a company that supplies fitness equipment – treadmills, weights, exercise bikes, that kind of thing – mainly for domestic use. The company’s based at Parc Llawndy business park in Llanishen, which is in north Cardiff.’
DCI Bryn Lewis sighs heavily and rubs a meaty hand across his forehead. He looks, Steph thinks, as if he hasn’t slept in two days, which is probably quite likely. It’s just after eleven o’clock on Tuesday morning, nearly thirty hours since the body of David Howells was found sprawled on the wet ground in the car park to the rear of his business, and the Operation Shearwater team has convened for a briefing. All the faces are sombre, but Bryn looks distraught, his eyes blood-shot, his shirt crumpled.
‘The victim is single, so in that way he fits the profile of the two previous victims,’ he says. ‘But, well, that’s it. We got it wrong, guys. We bloody got it wrong. David Howells is the son of Paul, a Tesco check-out assistant, and Angela, an office cleaner. He was an only child, and they’re devastated. But no high-profile parent. No crime connection whatsoever, either by profession or when it comes to a criminal record. Not so much as a parking ticket amongst them. So all those people we warned, all the bloody Davids we told to get out of town …’
He shakes his head.
‘But you weren’t to know that,’ says DCI Priya Thomson gently. ‘It was worth a try, wasn’t it? We knew the crime connection link was only a hunch, but itcouldhave been right, and wemighthave saved the next victim. It was better than doing nothing, surely?’
Bryn shrugs his broad shoulders.
‘I suppose so,’ he says. ‘It’s still gutting though.’
He sighs again, then picks up a piece of paper and waves it at the group.
‘There is one thing though. Although as I said there’s nocrimelink we can find here, Paul Howells did hit the newspapers a couple of years back. He had a lottery win – not millions but a decent whack, around three hundred thousand. He’s in his late sixties so he could have retired and had a nice time of it with the money, but he loves his supermarket job so much he decided to carry on with it and the Tesco bosses made a thing of it, and got the local paper in. Not sure if that qualifies him as a well-known orprominentparent, but he’s certainly well-known in his local community. Well-loved too. And he told us he used some of the cash to help set up his son’s business. David had been a personal trainer at a small gym before, not earning much money; his dad invested a chunk of his lottery money to get The Fit Joint up and running.’
There’s silence as the assembled officers digest this piece of news. Then DCI Linda Lake says, ‘OK, interesting. And you know what, Istillthink the killer’s motive could be related to the victim’s parents for some reason, even if we got the crime element wrong. I mean, look at what we’ve got: a judge, a wealthy and of dubious character business owner, a lottery winner … and next up, a famous author. It stillfits, doesn’t it? None of these are what you’d call ordinary people. They all stand out in some way. Except, well, we still have no idea aboutwhy. What on earth is this killer gaining from targeting them? It’s absolutely not financial, is it? I mean, I’m assuming that no money was stolen from David Howells?’
Bryn shakes his head.
‘No. It’s just like the others. Just a fast, clean, efficient murder. Nothing whatsoever stolen. It looks like he’d just got out of his car when he was attacked – and the car was a very classy, almost new black Range Rover Evoque, by the way. Still sitting there, keys in the ignition. Cause of death just like the others, a vicious blow to the head, from the front this time. No weapon at the scene. The car park is poorly lit so if our killer was dressed all in black again he was probably lurking there nicely concealed in the shadows waiting for David to arrive. He wouldn’t have stood a chance really, poor bugger, fit as he was. He was likely jumped on as soon as he opened his car door.’
‘Can we assume still little in the way of forensics, yet again?’ asks Steph. Jess, who’s sitting next to her as usual, has just opened a packet of chocolate finger biscuits, and she pushes the packet along the table.
‘Thanks,’ Steph mouths, and takes one. She was too busy yesterday to eat much, and she’s suddenly feeling ravenous.
‘You assume correctly,’ says Bryn. ‘Absolutely diddly squat. And nothing on CCTV either. The access roads to the business park and the buildings are all well covered by cameras, but there’s no sign of anyone suspicious entering either in a vehicle or on foot in the hours before David arrived for work. Everyone who does appear in the security footage has been identified and has a valid reason for being there, and there’s no sign of anyone who was there in the early hours of the morning leaving their own buildings and making their way over to The Fit Joint,nothing like that. David arrived at around the same time every day, according to security. Creature of habit. So if someone was planning this in advance and watching him, it wouldn’t be hard to decide on the best time to grab him. Early morning, quiet spot, still dark. Boom.’
‘So how did he get into the car park, then?’ asks Jess. There’s a biscuit crumb on her bottom lip, and she wipes it off, frowning at Bryn’s image on the screen.
‘Well, our victim’s building doesn’t have a camera to the rear, just the front,’ says Bryn. ‘And the car park backs onto an area of wasteland. There was an old chemicals factory there for years, but it was demolished a while back and there are rumours of the land being bought by a developer, possibly for some new fancy apartments, but nothing definite yet. Anyway, our best guess is that the killer came in from there. There’s a five-foot fence, very climbable, especially if he’s pretty fit, as he seems to be. There’s not much in the way of security on that old factory site – there are cameras on the main road at the front, but plenty of access points out of sight of them around the boundary. While it’s lying empty all sorts of people have been getting in there: fly-tippers, druggies, you name it. He could have slipped in and out that way in the dark easily as anything. We’re checking all the nearby roads for any sightings of an early morning runner in dark clothing but nothing of any use so far. And as we’ve long known, this killer is smart. Good at evading the cameras. I’m not holding my breath.’
There’s silence again, broken only by a sigh from Priya and a muttered ‘buggeringhell’ from Linda.
Then Jess says, ‘So nothing was stolen – but this guy sounds pretty well off. A nice little business, courtesy of his lottery-winning parents. Who inherits that, now he’s dead? Any motive there?’
Bryn shakes his head.
‘Don’t think so. David Howells was single as I said, no kids. He was a gay man and had had a few long-term relationships but the last one ended a year ago and he’d only had the odd casual date since then, according to his parents, who say they were close and that they knew pretty much everything that was going on in his life. He’d been concentrating on building up the business recently and didn’t have much time for romance. We’re speaking to his most recent long-term partner, a guy called Darren Edge, to see if there’s anything there that might help, but by all accounts the relationship ended amicably and they were still good friends. And sorry, you asked who inherits the business? It’ll just go back to his parents, as his closest relatives. At the moment we can find no reason whatsoever why anyone might want him dead.’
‘Just like Lisa Turner. And Jane Holland,’ says Linda morosely.
‘And Mary Ellis,’ says Jess quietly. ‘She’s next now, isn’t she?’
‘How is she?’ asks Priya.
Jess picks up her mug, takes a sip of coffee, and puts the mug down again.
‘She’s OK,’ she says. ‘I spoke to her a couple of times yesterday. We’re going to get together later this week to make some concrete plans for the 1st of April and the run-up to it. But she’s bearing up.’
‘It’s such a weird one,’ says Priya, rubbing her nose. ‘This killer must know that by pre-warning Mary that he’s coming for her, he’s scuppering his own chances of killing her. He’s not going to be able to get to her, is he? Unless, as we’ve discussed before, he does something really drastic. So what was the point? Is it all a double bluff? Is someone else the real victim on the 1st of April, and Mary’s being used as a distraction, maybe?’
