Wednesday, May 9th
Cleo wondered if Jessie knew Coppins had been
arrested. Had she seen him again? Where? Had she been to the crypt? Had she
supplied him with food? After questioning Coppins, Cleo would drive straight to
the school armed with the information she hoped Coppins would provide.. She
would not tell Gary about her plan.
Cleo left early for HQ. She had made a list of
questions she wanted to ask Coppins. She thought she was on the verge of a
breakthrough with Jessie, but only Coppins could know the story. It remained to
be seen whether he would be cooperative.
***
Coppins was a tall, thin guy. He had fortunately
taken a shower, so the foul body odour of the previous night had gone. Prison
warders had supplied him with fresh garments from their emergency store and
(wearing latex gloves) incinerated his discarded stuff after making sure
nothing was concealed in pockets or
linings. Even the prison garb was preferable to the rags and tatters he had
been wearing when he was arrested. Would Jessie get some of his own clothes
from home? Were there any, or had Mrs Coppins sold them all or taken them to
the next best charity shop. That would be a good way of getting into
conversation with the girl, Cleo reflected.
***
If Coppins refused to answer questions, what would
Gary put on the charge sheet? He could not let him go free. Coppins had not actively
resisted arrest, but he had been stalking Gary, though he claimed he had only
been hiding, so he could be detained on that charge while evidence of other
felonies were collected. But if he was hiding, what was he hiding from? The father
of the girl he had run away with? Surely he would not have been wandering
around Monkton Woods after dark looking for a fight.
***
A police guard accompanied Coppins from the arrest
cell where he had spent the night to Gary’s office on the second floor. He had
been supplied with a packet of wholemeal biscuits and a plastic bottle of coke
for the night, and a decent breakfast, and was relatively amenable.
“I should warn you that everything will be recorded
and could be used as evidence against you,” Gary told Coppins as a matter of
routine. To demonstrate his warning, he switched on a tape recorder. “There is
also a digital camera up there in the corner,” he said, pointing to the device,
“and a microphone on my desk.”
Coppins said nothing except to ask why the black
woman had to be in on the interview.
“The coloured lady is assisting me,” said Gary.
“She will no doubt have questions to ask you and you will refrain from
insulting comments or rudeness.”
“I ain’t gonna bloody say anything,” said Coppins.
“You might want to talk about your daughter,” said
Cleo.
“Do you mean Jessie?” Coppins said, jeering. “Don’t
make me laugh.”
“She is legally your daughter, so you will be held
responsible for anything you have done to her,” said Cleo.
“Why did you leave her in the crypt on her own?”
Gary asked.
“When was that supposed to be?”
“After she had written that blackmail note and
pushed it through my front door. Or did you write it yourself, Mr Coppins?”
said Cleo.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do,” said Cleo.
“Get this woman out of here,” Coppins demanded.
“Why should I do that?” said Gary.
“She’s getting on my nerves.”
“Miss Hartley is staying,” said Gary. “Would you
like a cigarette?”
“If there’s one going.”
“I’d like one, too, but the fire regulations don’t
allow it, Mr Coppins. And the law does not approve of blackmail, either.”
It amused Cleo that Gary was taunting this nasty
individual. She would let him asked a few more questions like that.
“I want a lawyer,” said Coppins.
“All in good time. Tell us first what you were
doing in Monkton Wood last night,” said Gary. “Not meeting a lady, surely.”
“Goin’ for a walk.”
“A fitness drive, Mr Coppins?” said Gary.
“Where were you going to sleep after your constitutional?”
said Cleo.
“Mind your own business.”
“It is our business. Make no mistake about that!”
said Gary.
Coppins shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s your problem,” he said.
***
“We sent a patrol to the crypt early this morning,”
Gary informed him. “They didn’t find much. I expect your daughter had been
there and removed as much of it as she could carry. But they did find a sock,
Mr Coppins.”
“Everyone wears socks.”
“But this sock is a special one, Mr Coppins. We are
very interested in this sock. The DNA is being checked and then we’ll know if
it is yours. It’s drenched in the same body perfume, Mr Coppins.”
Cleo grinned at the euphemism. Coppins was becoming
more uncomfortable by the second.
"Bloody cheek."
“Did you keep in touch with Jessie on your mobile,
Mr Coppins?” Cleo asked.
“I ain’t got one.”
“Of course you have,” said Gary.” The warders found
one on you when they searched you last night.”
“I found it,” Coppins said.
“Do you really expect me to believe that?” said
Gary.
“It’s the truth.”
“We can track it back to you if it’s yours, Mr
Coppins,” said Cleo.
“It’s off. Battery empty.”
“We’ll charge it,” said Gary.
“What else would you like to tell us, Mr Coppins?” Cleo
asked. “That you are the father of Jessie’s two kids, for instance?”
“I never bloody touched the silly tart.”
“What if we prove you did?” said Gary, disturbing
Coppins’ comfort zone by dragging a chair to exactly opposite him, sitting
straight and looking him squarely in the eye.
Coppins showed signs of actual fear. Up to now he
had been nervous, but not fearful.
“Did Jessie say something?” he asked.
“Not in so many words, Mr Coppins,” said Cleo. “But
others have said so.
“She’s a bloody liar. And brainless. She tells lies
all the time.”
“Thanks for telling us that,” said Cleo.
“Be careful what you say, Coppins” said Gary. “The
DNA check will tell us if you are lying.”
Coppins looked away. Gary got up and removed the
chair.
It was time to move on.
***
After walking round the office for minute or two, Gary said “Why did you run off
with an underage girl, Mr Coppins?”
Coppins realised that he was being cornered
efficiently. How much had Jessie talked? Or was it Molly? She had been
extremely angry about him running off with her precious barmaid.
“I didn’t know she was underage.”
“You must have known. She was fourth grade at
school,” said Cleo.
“My wife told me to go,” said Coppins. He realised
that saying nothing would be a red rag to a bull.
“Why?” said Gary.
“We didn’t get on.”
“You got on well enough to have six kids, or was
that rape, too?” said Cleo.
Coppins ignored that provocation.
“For a start, Jessie is not mine and neither are
the two kids she gave birth to.”
“So who is Jessie’s father?”
“Ask Mrs Coppins.”
“We will.”
“Can I go now?”
“If you are not Jessie’s father, at least you will
not face a charge of incest, Mr Coppins,” said Cleo.”
“I don’t bloody know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ll find out.”
Cleo gestured to Gary that she had no more
questions for the moment.
“I’d like to talk to this guy tomorrow,” she said.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mr Coppins?”
“He’ll be our guest for some days to come,” Gary
said to Cleo.
“And I bloody want a lawyer,” said Coppins
forcefully.
“You’ll get one, Mr Coppins. Take him back to his
cell, please,” he said to the police guard, and Coppins was led away.
***
“What are you going to ask him tomorrow, Cleo?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to think about it
first.”
“You’re up to something.”
“Nothing more than usual, Gary. I have to go now. A
different case is waiting to be solved.”
“Do you need me for that?”
“No. Just a woman breaking out of her marriage,”
Cleo invented.
“Lucky for her boyfriend ,” Gary countered. “Is her
husband’s name Robert, by any chance?”
“Is there anything more on Sybil’s killer?” Cleo
asked, ignoring Gary’s bitter remark.
“I questioned the suspect this morning. He’s
guilty. I think we’ve reined in a serial killer.”
“Congratulations.”
“There have been several similar cases in various
hotels, some of them in France. The killer left no traces anywhere, but the
method was the same, including the cupboard storage, and his schedule as a
carpetbagger tells its own story.”
“So the killer always hid the women after
strangling them.”
“Yes. In cupboards, wardrobes and in one case on a balcony,
but with the identical assault features .”
“The guy must have booked rooms and checked in
though, and surely the French police had distributed a photo of someone they
should look out for.”
“He never booked online, so there was no email
address. He just phoned and reserved a room, supressed his phone number, and
never stayed twice in the same hotel. In fact, the victims are strewn all over
northern France.”
“What was he selling?”
“Vacuum cleaners.”
“What about hidden cameras in reception areas?”
“Useless. Dyed hair, a wig, moustache, beard,
different clothes, accent, even a padded stomach .You name it.... Videos don’t
show up similarities to guests staying at other hotels. You wouldn’t know a
murder was about to happen until it was too late.”
“But he specialized in hookers, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but a hooker would wear a coat over her
explicit raiment, so that she would not be recognized as such and would be
picked up after the guy had been to his room. She would be smuggled in long
after registration hours. The assassin was practised, Cleo. He made a habit of
what he was doing and part of the women’s disguises was so that no other incidental
guest would be able to describe either of them accurately.”
“How do you know that?”
“He said so.”
“That’s as good as a confession, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose the hotels were chosen at random from
the yellow pages of wherever he was going.”
“I expect so. He confessed as if he was glad it was
all over. He’ll be charged with at least five murders in the UK, and he had
lost count of how many he had committed altogether. Europol can deal with the
French killings, but I expect they’ll be contented with the sentence he’s bound
to receive here. They won’t want him cluttering up a French prison.”
“He must hate women,” said Cleo.
“Or his mother.”
“Were the women all hookers?”
“I don’t know yet. The investigation will be
reopened for each of the murders and all the parallels will be documented, but
a detailed confession is the best evidence we could have wished for.”
“On a plate, Gary! I’ll leave now. I expect Sybil’s
murder will occupy you even if the case is more or less wound up.”
“I’m afraid so. I’m glad I can talk to you about
it, Cleo. Do you have time to stay a bit longer?”
***
Cleo looked at Gary. Sometimes she wondered how
anyone coped with deep-seated problems in their life, or even how she had coped
and come out of it all. Some became depressed, some had burnout, some killed
themselves. She had been near to that final solution when her ex-husband had
kicked her in the stomach till she lost her baby, but she had survived and she
wanted Gary to get over the nightmare situation in which he now found himself.
“Yes. I’d like that, Gary. My other client can wait.”
“Romano’s?”
“Why not?”
***
They left HQ separately and met up again in
Romano’s guestroom, threw off their clothes and made love as though it was
going to be the last time.
“I’ll wait for you as long as we can still meet
like this until you finally come to your senses and leave that dolt you’ve
married,” said Gary “I’ve stopped looking for a substitute, by the way.”
“I understood today that you are still as
vulnerable as a child. I want to protect you from yourself, but I don’t really
know how.”
Gary was sitting on the edge of the bed. Tears were
rolling down his cheeks. He did not want
Cleo to see his emotional turmoil. He buried his face in his hands.
“You are still in shock, Gary. You have to free
yourself from the horror of Sybil’s fate, whatever it takes,” said Cleo, kneeling
in front of him and prising his hands free, holding them tightly. “You don’t
need to hide your feelings from me, even if they are sad and you are confused
or lost.”
Cleo sat herself next to Gary and cradled him in
her arms as though he were the baby that had had to die before it was even born.
After a while Gary relaxed and comforted Cleo instead. The bitter memory of her
lost child had made her weep.
“We are a soppy pair,” Gary finally managed to say.
An hour later they showered together and dressed.
“Thank you,” Gary said solemnly.
“Thank you,” she replied, then smiled broadly and told
him that Jessie had asked her if he was a good lover. She had said yes upon
which the girl had asked if she could have a go.
Gary looked at her in horror.
“Weren’t you attending?” Cleo asked. “You were
there.”
“I may have been trying to divert Dorothy,” he
said.
“I told Jessie that she’d have to invite you if she
wanted to get you into her bed,” said Cleo.
“Good God, Cleo. You can’t pass me on to someone.”
“I’m not going to,” said Cleo, “but it was a funny situation
and it’s a sure sign of how promiscuous the girl really is. I’m going to get
her to tell me if she had a hand in Mrs Oldfield’s death.
“You don’t need to be promiscuous to commit murder,
Cleo!”
“No, but it help us to understand her frustration.”
“With men? I hope you don’t need me for that
confessional.”
“That’s why you won’t be there. She might think
you’re in the queue for her attentions.”
“So that’s where you’re going now, is it?”
“Can we just have a parting hug?” said Cleo.
***
Before driving off, Cleo phoned Dorothy on her
mobile to ask her to accompany her to the school.
“I’ll call for you at about three o’clock, shall I,
Dorothy?”
Dorothy was delighted to be included in Cleo’s
plan, though in fact it was Cleo who felt that Dorothy would be an asset when
dealing with Jessie.
“Don’t you want Gary around?”
“No. The girl will make a pass at him. He needs protection
from that kind of woman.”
“All men do,” said Dorothy. “But some men don’t
look where they’re going.”
***
On the way to Huddlecourt Manor School, Cleo told
Dorothy about the morning’s interrogation of Joseph Coppins.
“He didn’t say much, but he gave himself away a
couple of time.”
“Over what?”
“He said Jessie is not his daughter.”
“We suspected that.”
“In that case he’s not guilty of incest, which in
his mind means he is innocent.”
“But there isn’t much difference if you believe
someone is your father and then he molests you.”
“Exactly. I never even met my father and I don’t
know what my mother went through apart from humiliation and victimization from
my father’s rotten family, but no one should molest anyone and it should not be
kept a secret. Some families have a fetish about staying together however much
violence there is. Coppins is guilty of abuse and he’s liable for prosecution.
End of story.”
“But surely only if there is enough evidence and
the victim is prepared to speak out after such a long time.”
“Not necessarily, since it can be proved through
DNA and the age of the children when Coppins molested the girl. Quite apart
from that, Mrs Coppins knows the truth and will tell it, and he has admitted
that the two kids that are Jessie’s are his. If that isn’t evidence enough,
then I don’t know what is. And don’t forget, Dorothy, that Coppins forced child on that barmaid, and working out how
old the boy is now will provide evidence for a further case f child abuse.”
“She might have wanted sex with the man,” said
Dorothy.
“It’s still abuse, Dorothy. She was only 15.”
“You don’t think Jessie’s brothers might be
involved, do you, Cleo?”
“No. But we can only find out what really happened
to her by questioning her intensively until she tells the truth.”
“Third degree, in fact,” said Dorothy, whose
memories of that type of questioning in dark rooms with a light focussed on the
person presumed guilty were strong. “Better than water-boarding, I suppose.”
“Of course, Dorothy. We aren’t criminal ourselves! I’m
glad we’re going to interview Jessie together. Gary would be useless,
especially as she has set her sights on him.”
“What a hussy she is, Cleo. Is there anything else
I should know?” Dorothy asked as Cleo parked the car outside the main entrance
to the school.”
“Yes, Dorothy. I want to tell you before you start
speculating.”
“You and Gary kissed and made up, I assume.”
“That does not quite describe what we did, but yes,
and I don’t regret it,” said Cleo. “Gary was in shock and devastated and I
behaved atrociously.”
“How are you going to go on living with Robert,
Cleo?”
“I’m probably having his baby. That should take
care of things.”
“Unless it’s Gary’s,” said Dorothy.
“It can’t be,” said Cleo.
“Whatever….Let’s hope the new baby will help your
marriage if you insist on hanging on to it.”
“Time will tell.”
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