Page 49 of Dying Breath
‘Why, was she a serial killer?’ Lucy was staring at her phone wondering if she was going to have to ring for back-up to come and section Toby, because right now he sounded like a close relative of Norman Bates.
He started to laugh. ‘God, definitely not. She was a very kind, amazing woman, although her morbid fascination with serial killers was even weirder than mine. She read lots of true crime books. She used to bring them home every week and I was intrigued by them. I didn’t actually understand much at the time I started to read them – I was only about twelve. I found them so horrible, yet absolutely addictive.’
‘That’s great, but I’m a bit confused.’
‘Sorry, I digress without even realising it. Well, I’ve been thinking about these murders a lot. In fact, if I’m honest with you, I can’t get them out of my head.’
‘I know – it’s tough. They get under your skin and stay there. Buried for a little while…then they rear their heads every now and again. It’s even tougher for you, this is your first week and it’s been nothing but carnage. Honestly, it does get better. It might not seem that way now, but it will.’
He nodded. ‘Good, I hope so. Although there’s a lot to be said for being thrown in at the deep end; I’m learning a lot more than I ever expected. Well, the more I think about it the more it seems possible. I know it doesn’t look like these murders are connected, but I think they are. It’s not so obvious because of the different modus operandi. You wouldn’t really connect Melanie Benson and Stacey Green to the Martin family because they’re all so different. But that’s exactly what he wants you to think. This killer is good; in fact he’s excellent. He’s playing a game of cat and mouse with you all and at the moment he’s winning hands down.’
She wanted to laugh at him and tell him to stop being so ridiculous, to brush it off, but she couldn’t. Deep down something had been bothering her about them and she’d been wondering just what the connection could be. Catherine had found similar blue fibres during the post-mortems on Melanie Benson, Stacey Green and now Michelle Martin too. They were all being fast-tracked through the trace evidence examination process to determine whether they were definite matches.
‘Why do you think this? I need more than your fascination with serial killers, Toby. I’m sorry to sound so harsh, but you know how it works in the police force. It’s our job to find cold, hard evidence that will stand up in a court of law.’
He pulled a crumpled plastic poly pocket from the inside of his jacket and spread out the contents on the side in front of her. She looked down at the grainy black-and-white copies of old newspaper reports; she didn’t recognise the men in them but she’d heard of the names.
‘The Beast of Birkenshaw was Scotland’s worst serial killer – his real name was Peter Manuel.’
She picked up the printout and stared at it.
Toby continued. ‘The remains of a meal are cold on the table whilst the bodies of three members of the same family are all lying dead in their beds. Pete, Doris and eleven-year-old Michael were all shot in the head at close range.’
Lucy looked up at Toby. It was far too similar to the scene of the Martin family’s murder, except for Craig. He hadn’t been in bed, but his body was close enough to it. ‘Where did you find this?’
‘Google – you can find out anything you want if you know what to look for.’
She didn’t know what to think of the man standing in front of her. He passed her another sheet of paper.
‘Bible John, the notorious serial killer whose identity has baffled the police for over forty years. He was a strangler who quoted Bible scriptures as he killed. He left his victim in a backstreet; she was strangled with her own stockings after leaving a nightclub. Here’s the weird part: a sanitary towel was tucked under her left arm.’
He handed her yet another piece of paper, this time with an article about Peter Sutcliffe. She stared at it.
‘The Yorkshire Ripper hit his victims over the head with a hammer to render them unconscious, then stabbed them, leaving them in public areas to be found. His first victim, Wilma McCann, was discovered lying on her back, her trousers down by her knees and her bra lifted up to expose her breasts. She was also under the influence of alcohol when she was attacked.’
Lucy felt her blood run cold as goose bumps broke out along her arms. ‘Melanie Benson’s murder was almost identical, but she wasn’t stabbed. Why?’
Toby shrugged. ‘Maybe he doesn’t like to get too messy – blood is a hard thing to wash away if you get it everywhere.’
‘But the Martins were shot; that involved a lot of blood.’
‘Not as much as stabbing someone multiple times would have, and there would have been minimal back spatter from such close-range gunshot wounds, if any. Look, this could all be a complete coincidence, Lucy, but I thought it was too important not to bring to your attention.’
He stood up. ‘I’d better get going now and let you finish your dinner; I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Thank you for the drink.’
Lucy looked up at him. ‘Oh, you’re welcome. Thanks for this, Toby. I’ll look into it.’
He walked towards her front door, opened it and stepped outside. ‘You’re not mad at me for coming here?’
She smiled. ‘No, I’m not; you just caught me by surprise. I really appreciate you working on this on your day off.’
He grinned back at her. ‘You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.’
He jogged off to his car and she shut and bolted the front door behind him. That had been strange and she still wasn’t sure what to make of Toby, but she was convinced he was right. She shivered as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end – the thought of a killer who was so clever and calculating terrified her.
Chapter Forty-Five
Mattie was sprawled across his sofa, about to make history onFIFA 17, when his phone began to ring. He let out a huge yawn and thought about ignoring it; surely there hadn’t been another murder. He looked at the screen and saw Lucy’s name flashing across it. Pausing his game, he leant over and grabbed it straight away.
