The Whitby Murders (A Yorkshire Murder Mystery) Page 2

  Andrea’s body had been removed by the ambulance people who confirmed that she was dead. SOCOs had taken photographs and blue-and-white incident tape ringed the spot where she’d been stabbed. Uniformed police were mounting guard here and at the entrance while detectives were beginning the investigation.

  A young DC from the Whitby station came over and spoke to them kindly. ‘I’m DC Hampton. I’m sorry about what’s happened to your friend. We’ll need you all to come to the station to make a statement, but can you just tell me the outline of what happened?’

  The three friends looked at each other and Louise turned reluctantly to the officer. ‘The five of us came to do this escape room puzzle. Dominic and Andrea were arguing and it seemed to get more heated. We hadn’t been in the second room for very long when they started screaming at each other. Then Dominic lunged at her and stabbed her. He shouted something out like “Oh God!” and ran out of the emergency exit door. We all saw the knife in her chest and the blood on her dress. There was some blood already on her dress but that was fake; it was part of her costume.’ She paused for a moment, briefly overwhelmed by the horror of it. ‘I came back here to alert Elaine and she rang 999. Ben did his best to look after Andrea and Maggie followed Dominic out but he wasn’t there. Then we just waited until people came. We knew she was dead.’ Her voice broke a little. ‘That’s about it, isn’t it?’

  The others nodded.

  ‘Have they been together for a while?’ DC Hampton asked.

  ‘Over a year now.’

  ‘And has he been violent towards her before?’

  The group glanced at each other.

  ‘Not that any of us have seen, I think,’ said Ben, still looking at the other two for confirmation. ‘But they did argue a lot and it got very intense sometimes.’

  ‘I see. But never physical?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you all witness the attack?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Maggie. ‘We were all in that room working on the clues. They started shouting at each other, and then he got the knife out and stabbed her. We all saw the knife in her chest; it was horrible.’ She put her hands up to cover her face.

  ‘And he went out of the emergency exit?’

  ‘Yes,’ continued Maggie. ‘As Louise said, I followed him. There’s a sort of storage room and another door onto the street, which was open. I had a look outside but there was no sign of him.’

  ‘Okay, that’s all for now. I don’t see any reason to keep you here. My superior, Inspector Granger, will be investigating the case. She will no doubt want to interview you early tomorrow so you need to provide an address and you mustn’t leave the town. We’ll go to the station so you can make official statements. It shouldn’t take long. I’m sorry to say that what happened seems to be fairly straightforward. I know it’s a terrible shock.’

  ‘Will you find him?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘We’ll do our best. He’s the clear murder suspect so we’ll be pulling out all the stops to track him down.’

  Louise recoiled at the phrase ‘murder suspect’. It was appalling and unreal.

  While Hampton was talking to the three remaining friends, Elaine Pesku, the supervisor, and Philip Owen, the Dracula actor, were talking in a little room behind reception. Owen seemed very jumpy. He was taking long drafts from an e-cigarette and the fragrant smoke was billowing out into the room.

  ‘Crap! I can’t believe this has happened! Everybody has fun here; we’ve had no trouble and then some nutter stabs his girlfriend in the middle of the game. Why did he do it here? What the hell are the police going to think?’

  Elaine was sitting behind a small desk. She was calm.

  ‘What’s your problem?’ she asked in her East European accent. This was genuine and not faked for the game. ‘It’s got nothing to do with us. It’s not our fault.’ She coughed. ‘Can’t you stop using that in here?’

  Owen said nothing but put the e-cigarette into his pocket. ‘I don’t like the police being around.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Never you mind, I’ve got my reasons.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose we’re going to have to shut for a bit now. I need the money from this job. I—’

  At that moment Hampton came into the room. Owen frowned at the young DC.

  ‘Okay,’ said Hampton. ‘I just need your account of what happened, please.’

  Elaine looked at him suspiciously. ‘Everything was going fine. I am watching on the monitor. I go to the toilet and when I get back there is screaming and shouting. I think someone has been taken ill or there is an accident. One of the group came running to the desk and said to call for an ambulance as someone is badly hurt, so I did and then I went through to see what had happened. But it was too late.’

  ‘Did you have any idea that anything like this was going to happen? Were there any rows or threatening behaviour?’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘And how about you, sir?’

  Owen swallowed and looked as if it was a struggle to speak. ‘I was doing my job, which is to follow them through the rooms and scare them a bit. Suddenly I heard the shouting and one of them, a woman, came running out of the second room, saying someone was hurt so I went straight to get the first aid kit, which is just by the entrance to the first room. That’s standard procedure if there are any accidents.’

  ‘Do those happen often?’

  ‘Naw, there’s nothing dangerous in there. Someone once fell and cut their leg and that’s about it.’

  ‘Okay. So, if you can come with the rest down to the station now and make full statements.’

  Owen looked at Elaine and sighed but she only shrugged her shoulders.

  When Louise, Maggie and Ben left the police station it was getting dark and still raining. They walked disconsolately up the hill out of the town to Pannett Park still dressed in their goth outfits, which now seemed outlandish and silly. The idea of goths and dressing up was now horrible. There were bloodstains on some of the garments but these were grotesquely real. Their Airbnb was in part of a grand Victorian terrace overlooking the park, which was now dark and wet with rain dripping off the trees.

  Inside they flung themselves down on the sofas in exhaustion. While Louise was putting the kettle on, Maggie collapsed in tears again.

  ‘I just can’t believe it; it’s a bad dream.’

  Ben comforted her. ‘I know.’

  ‘Where the hell is he? Has he gone mad? Maybe he’ll do himself in. Oh God! That’ll be even worse!’

  Louise returned with mugs of tea. ‘Did either of you see him behaving strangely recently?’

  ‘No, nor her. I mean, they argued, didn’t they? But that wasn’t unusual.’

  ‘No.’ Louise looked very thoughtful. They all lapsed into silence again for a long time until Ben suggested they order some pizza.

  ‘Yeah, it’s a good idea, but I can’t eat much,’ said Maggie. ‘Shit! I should call Mark, but I can’t do it now. I’ll just break down on the phone.’

  ‘Wait until tomorrow,’ suggested Louise. ‘We’re all in shock now.’

  The pizza arrived. They attempted to eat, without any enthusiasm. Nor could they settle to watch a film or anything on television. They remained sprawled on the sofas, stunned and quiet throughout the long evening.

  Maggie went off to bed early, leaving Louise and Ben together. Ben had said the least of the three of them all evening. He was laid out on the sofa with his head facing the back.

  ‘How are you?’ asked Louise.

  He turned over to face her. ‘Just exhausted and shocked and, I don’t know.’

  ‘It was the worst for you, trying to save her life. I don’t know how you did it.’

  Ben shrugged. ‘I just did things automatically. It’s not long since I did some first aid training at work and it just kicked in. I wish it had been enough.’ He turned away from her again and sobbed. Louise went over and put her hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Ben, don’t; you did your best.’

  His m
uffled voice said, ‘Maybe.’

  ‘You did. I was proud of you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Louise sighed. ‘I think maybe we should go to bed too. Do you want a drink or anything first?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘Well, I’m off up. Don’t stay up long and try not to go over it all in your mind.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Louise left him still inert on the sofa and trudged wearily up the stairs.

  Later in the night she was tossing and turning in bed and unable to sleep. She wasn’t surprised by this as the day’s events had been so traumatic. She got up and looked out of her window. The sky was now clear and there was a full moon. Everything was a ghostly black-and-white and the street was empty. She put her hands up to her face, yawned and shook her head. Beneath the shock of what had occurred, something else was bothering her. The nice DC had said that it all seemed straightforward, and so it appeared, but she couldn’t get the idea out of her head that something was not right. Something didn’t ring true but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Eventually she decided that there was only one thing to do. Early in the morning she would ring her dad.

  One

  This ae nighte, this ae nighte,

  Every nighte and alle,

  Fire, fleet and candle light,

  And Christe receive thy saule.

  From the Lyke Wake Dirge, an ancient Yorkshire dialect song which evokes the bleak landscape of the high North York Moors

  Detective Chief Inspector Jim Oldroyd was walking to work at the HQ of the Harrogate Division of West Riding Police over the Harrogate Stray, which enclosed part of the town centre in a wide green loop. It was a bright morning and the colours around him were rich and vivid. He looked up. Against the blue sky, bright yellow and red leaves were clinging to the branches of trees or whirling down to the ground in the wind to lie in damp piles on the wet grass. He inhaled the cold air with gusto. It was very ‘bracing’, as they say in Yorkshire. This was characteristic of the air in Yorkshire generally but never more so than on an autumn morning like this. After pausing for a moment to take in the scene, he set off again, his shoes scrunching through the leaves on the path.

  Suddenly he heard his phone ringing and the contented smile left his face. Damn! Could he not be left in peace for just a little while? Surely it wasn’t work? Couldn’t they wait another twenty minutes until he was at his desk? He took his phone out of his pocket and saw that the caller was his daughter, Louise. Calls from her were comparatively rare and unknown at this time in the morning.

  ‘Hi, love, how are you?’

  He knew immediately that something was badly wrong when he heard her voice: quavering and close to tears. ‘Oh, Dad, something terrible’s happened. I need you to come over.’

  He stopped on the path. ‘Where are you? What’s going on?’

  ‘I’m in Whitby and someone’s been killed. And they’ve got it all wrong.’ She started to cry.

  ‘Hey, okay, calm down, love,’ he said gently, ‘and just tell me what’s happened. How come you’re in Whitby?’

  Louise explained how she was there with her friends for the Goth Weekend. She gave a brief and rather garbled account of what had happened, which greatly alarmed him.

  ‘That’s absolutely terrible, love. Why didn’t you ring last night?’

  ‘I don’t know. We were at the police station for a long time and then when we got back, we were all just so shocked and just not thinking clearly. Sorry.’

  ‘No, don’t be. It’s an awful thing to have gone through. Look, I’ll have to go into work and talk to Tom Walker. I’m sure he’ll give me some time off. I’ll be over as soon as I can, so text me your address. Okay? Just try to stay calm and wait for me. I’ll be there in three to four hours’ time.’

  ‘I’ll try.’ Her voice sounded weak and forlorn with none of its normal confidence.

  ‘Have you got anyone with you?’

  ‘My friend Maggie. She’s in the same state as me but we’re looking after each other. And Ben too; he tried to save her life. It was really bad for him. She died in his arms; he was holding her head.’

  ‘Just try to stay calm and I’ll be there soon, I promise.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Oldroyd pocketed his phone, picked up his pace and soon arrived at Police HQ. He went straight up to see DCS Walker. They’d known each other a long time and were on first-name terms. Walker was a moustachioed man in his sixties who didn’t really like the bureaucracy of his senior position. He looked pleased to see Oldroyd.

  ‘Mornin’, Jim. What can I do for thi? Sit down.’ Oldroyd sat at the other side of Walker’s desk. ‘You look worried. What’s up, lad?’ The two detectives liked to throw a bit of Yorkshire dialect into their conversations. It was one of the bonds between them.

  ‘Something bad’s happened, Tom, over in Whitby.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t mean that murder at one of those escape things, whatever they are? It was on the local news this morning. They showed some film of the town; it’s full of those crackpots dressed up as bloody vampires and stuff.’ He shook his head.

  ‘Yes, I do mean that, but the thing is, Tom, my daughter Louise was there; she saw it all happen. It was one of her friends who was killed. She’s very upset.’ He put a trembling hand up to his face and only then realised how agitated he was.

  ‘Good God!’ exclaimed Walker, looking genuinely shocked and concerned. ‘That’s bloody awful. You must be worried sick.’

  ‘I am, Tom, and I want to ask you a big favour.’

  ‘You don’t need to, lad. I know what you want. Get yourself over there now. I know how I’d feel if our Susan was involved in anything like that. And don’t worry about being away from here. It’s not that busy at the moment and we’ve plenty of people capable of covering for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Tom, I really appreciate it.’ He paused and took a deep breath. His heart was pounding and he felt weak. ‘There is another thing. As you can see, I’m a bit shaky myself, and I’d like to take Stephanie Johnson with me. She can drive there and also I think she’ll be useful with Louise, you know, a bit of woman to woman. I know it’s asking a lot.’

  ‘Not at all. You’re absolutely right. You shouldn’t go by yourself.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Oldroyd suddenly had to fight back tears. Whether it was because of Tom Walker’s understanding and generosity or his concern for Louise, he didn’t know.

  ‘Come on, then,’ said Walker kindly. ‘Just take a bit of time and then get over there. I’m sure everything will be fine.’ He paused. ‘She’s . . . She’s not a suspect surely?’ he said awkwardly.

  ‘No, no, Tom, but as you probably heard on that bulletin, the killer’s scarpered and he was one of her friends too, so she’s deeply involved.’

  ‘I see. Well, off you go.’ Oldroyd got up from the chair. ‘And, Jim’ – Walker looked at him meaningfully – ‘just remember: this force can never repay you for the wonderful work you’ve done over the years and the dedication you’ve shown. It owes you a few favours.’

  Oldroyd nodded; he was beyond words. He left the office and had to fight back the tears again.

  He went down to his office and saw the two young detective sergeants who normally worked with him sitting at computers in the main office. Andy Carter was a Londoner who had joined the West Riding Police from the Met. His partner Stephanie Johnson had joined the force from school and had worked with Oldroyd for many years. Andy looked up.

  ‘Mornin’, sir,’ he said, then he saw his boss’s strained face. ‘Are you all right?’ This prompted Steph to look round quickly.

  ‘Can you both come in here?’ said Oldroyd in a weak voice very unlike his normal one. He indicated his office. They both got up and followed him in, glancing at each other in alarm. They’d never seen Oldroyd this upset. He asked them to sit down, then explained what had happened.

  ‘Bloody hell, sir, I’m sorry about that,’ said Andy.

  ‘Me too,’ added Steph. ‘
How’s Louise holding up?’ Steph had met Louise briefly once or twice over the years.

  ‘She’s struggling as you can imagine and I need to get over there. Now let me explain what’s going to happen. I’ve been to see DCS Walker and he’s given me permission, very generously, to go over there and be with Louise. He’s also allowing you, Steph, to come with me. I need some support and I think you’ll be good for her too. We’ll need to call home first to pack a few things; we may be there a few days.’

  ‘Of course, sir. I’d love to help.’

  ‘So, Andy, I want you to hold the fort here. I don’t know exactly how long it will be, but report to DCS Walker directly and put yourself about, be useful. You know what I mean. That will be a big help.’

  ‘Don’t worry, sir; you can rely on me. Just get over there and be with your daughter.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Oldroyd, and he had to turn away again. Their loyalty and concern moved him a great deal in his present emotional state. He composed himself and handed the keys of his old Saab to Steph. ‘You drive. I’m afraid I might not be very good company.’

  She smiled. ‘Not to worry, sir. You just try to relax on the journey. We’ll soon get to your place and mine, then we’ll be off. I know the way.’

  Back in Whitby in a new detached house on the edge of the town, Alice Granger had discarded her light blue linen trouser suit, thinking it had a more weekend vibe, in favour of a grey, so-called ‘work suit’ from Next and was ready to leave for work.

  Granger was a detective inspector at the Whitby Police HQ and was about to start work on the strange and shocking case of the murder of a young woman at the Dracula’s Lair escape room. She was a well-organised, energetic woman in her forties, and she needed to be. She’d moved from the West Riding police in Harrogate to Whitby for promotion some years before and she was one of the station’s few women inspectors. Although she fought against it, this situation made her feel that she constantly had to prove herself in the male-dominated force. In addition to this, she had two teenage children and a husband whose job involved regular travel to London and abroad. She was frequently in the role of single parent, as she was today with her husband in Paris. Okay for some, she thought as she tried to rally her fifteen-year-old son Ian and seventeen-year-old daughter Lesley and get them off to school.