‘The poor girl suffered the same fate as her young predecessor, Inspector. A neat tidy job. A craftsman almost. Or practice makes perfect. I hoped I wouldn’t be seeing anything like this again,’ he said, gently pushing back the thick raven black hair from the swollen bruised face.
‘Look, chaps. He follows through the same template every time. An earring snatched from the left ear lobe. There are traces of dried blood here. Taken shortly after death. A nasty business. By a cold blooded killer.’
Turner stifled a gasp as the medical man showed them the cream silk panties he was holding up. ‘He used the same method to finish her off. Choked her with these,’ he said, handing them over to his assistant to put them in the waiting plastic envelope.
Turner looked at Kent now studying the body in front of them thoughtfully. One forefinger and thumb stroked the bridge of his nose. They could forget about robbery as a motive. Or could they?
‘There was a gold stud earring taken from Maureen Carey’s ear, wasn’t there?’ Turner said, checking in his notebook.
The examiner standing back from the table nodded. ‘That’s right there was. Could be he likes to keep his mementos of the crime. Look for those and perhaps you’ll find your killer.’
So he was a trophy collector. That at least was something to go on. Perhaps he had done other killings like this elsewhere in a different patch. They would have to check around. Kent listened grimly to the pathological details from the medical man which matched up with those from Maureen Carey, with a deadly thought haunting him. Would what he had feared from the beginning be confirmed? They could be looking for a serial killer. One that would prey on other young girls like this again and again.
‘Lock up your daughters,’ he murmured softly under his breath as he moved away from the table and its sad occupant.
Turner heard and was afraid. Emma would need to be grounded from now on from going out. The Youth club would be out of bounds for her. Unless he was there to see she arrived home safely. And the way this case was going there wasn’t much chance of that.
26
‘If this isn’t cleared up soon this is going to spell disaster for the Carnival celebrations this week,’ Shannon said when he listened to Kent’s rundown on the case later in his office. ‘Two young girls killed within a week! What’s going on here? Have we got a serial killer in our town?’
‘I wouldn’t like to say that. Not yet. But it’s not good, sir. It’s bloody disastrous. We’ve been knocking on doors. Asking neighbours. The usual. Not much luck so far. The French girl didn’t mix much with the other tenants in the house. Cliff Jones has closed up like a clam. Give him a day or so and he might tell us more about her movements. Mrs Flitch seems to be more helpful. She worked with the girl. And we’re going to interview some of the students Yvette worked with daily at the college to see if we can get any fresh leads from them.’
‘Good. The papers will be on to it now. Have you got anything decent that we can give the media yet? A lead of some kind. Just to keep ‘em sweet. We can’t afford to have rumours sweeping through the town at the height of the season, and with the Carnival starting. Is there anything else I should know that you’re working on?’
‘We won’t release the news of how the panties were used or the stolen jewellery to them. It’s taboo. We don’t want any crazy creep trying a copycat killing.’
‘Right. Let me know how it goes with the students.’
‘Dealing with it this morning, sir. I phoned the Principal. He’s lined up a couple of Yvette’s fellow students. We’re in luck; they haven’t gone home for the holiday break. Both have got part time jobs here locally in hotels to help pay for the college fees. We’ll have to take it from there.’
27
The two girls who waited to speak to Kent and Turner were Ilse Weisbaum, a young Austrian girl, and Marie Vallette, another French student. Ilse with smiling, rosy cheeks like apples and short fuzzy brown curls wore tight black Bermuda shorts and a loose terra-cotta coloured shirt over her plump rounded figure. Marie, a tall slim blonde, wearing a short, blue cotton dress was making a visible attempt at looking bored. Or could it have been apprehension that veiled the alert expression in her full lidded green eyes?
‘Young ladies, I suggest that Sergeant Turner and I escort you to the Canteen?’ he said with a pleasant smile. ‘And ask you some questions about Yvette over some light refreshment. So if you could lead the way please.’
Seated at a table in the canteen the girls sat down and asked for some canned drinks. Turner brought those and some tea over to the table. The canteen was fairly empty as most of the students who hadn’t gone home for the summer vacation were out sunbathing on the campus lawns.