The Doll's House - [67]

Did Helen see the lawyer’s grim smile wobble a little? She hoped so.

‘So the bottom line is that they will begin drawing up charges this afternoon, unless I can give them a compelling reason not to do so.’

‘Meaning?’ Finally the lawyer spoke.

‘Meaning cooperation. I want to go over every file, every video, every detail of these girls’ lives with you. I want chapter and verse on their activities, as well as yours. Obviously you don’t have to decide right this minute. You’ll need to confer with your legal tea-’

‘Ok.’ It was said quietly but firmly.

‘Louder, please, Mr Simpson. For the tape.’

‘Ok, I’ll cooperate,’ he said, wearily. Helen was pleased to see his defiance ebbing away. Perhaps a night in the cells had had the desired effect after all. She turned to Sanderson and gave her the nod to begin. Her junior had also had a sleepless night but had spent it more profitably, poring over the details of Simpson’s decade of snooping and stalking.

‘Do you like novelty, Mr Simpson? Or are you a creature of habit?’

Simpson looked at Sanderson quizzically, before finally replying:

‘Both I suppose.’

‘But when it comes to the girls?’

‘Novelty I suppose.’

‘Why?’

‘I get bored.’

‘Of seeing the same girls?’

He shrugged, but didn’t deny it.

‘So you have varied viewing habits. And always plenty of tenants moving out and new ones moving in.’

‘Sure.’

‘Do you have a type, Andrew?’

It was offered casually, but Helen could tell that Sanderson was 100 per cent focused on his answer – as was she.

‘There are all sorts of girls on your tapes. Large, small, white, black, dark hair, blondes. Do you favour any particular type of girl?’

‘I’m not fussy… but probably blondes. Especially if it’s dyed, so the rest of their hair is, well…’

He petered out, suddenly aware of the two women looking at him. For the first time in all their dealings, he blushed.

Helen rose.

‘For the purposes of the tape, DI Grace is leaving the room. DC Sanderson will continue and remember the pact we’ve made, Mr Simpson. Chapter and verse.’

She stared at him intently and he met her gaze, nodding gently. Sanderson resumed the questioning before Helen had even quitted the room, but Helen’s mind was already elsewhere. Sanderson’s burning of the midnight oil had thrown up one unpleasant but undeniable truth – Simpson didn’t have a type. The killer they were hunting was compelled to abduct women with black hair and blue eyes, but Simpson by contrast seemed to crave novelty, rather than specific body shapes, eye colour or hair type. It was almost as if the look of his subjects wasn’t important to him – just the fact that he could watch them undetected. Which meant that her nagging fears were probably true – Andrew Simpson was innocent of the beach murders. And of Ruby Sprackling’s abduction.

108

‘I have made the decision to release Andrew Simpson on bail, once he’s finished assisting us.’

The assembled team reacted with surprise and unease. They had heard rumours to this effect but Helen’s statement still took them aback.

‘He will be tailed of course and other charges are still pending. If he cooperates fully and helps us conclude the investigation, we may review those charges. But,’ Helen carried on, ignoring the dirty looks crossing the faces of some of the female officers, ‘unless you hear otherwise from me, Andrew Simpson is no longer our prime suspect.’

There was a brief buzz of chatter and reaction as her words sunk in. Helen found her eyes drifting to Lloyd Fortune. As her DS, he should have been by her side, spearheading the investigation with her, but he had been strangely absent of late – both physically and mentally. Like her, he also looked exhausted.

‘Andrew Simpson wasn’t fussy in the girls he targeted and both DC Sanderson and I believe that he no longer fits our offender profile.’

‘So we’re back to square one,’ DC Lucas chipped in unhelpfully.

‘Not quite,’ Helen countered quickly, alive to the effect that dead ends can have on team morale. ‘We know the killer’s type. And we know he abducts these girls with practised ease, which suggests he had access to their properties or had the girls’ confidence.’

‘Which is unlikely as they were all so different,’ DC McAndrew contributed.

‘Let’s test that theory,’ Helen continued. ‘Pippa Briers was a young professional. Roisin a single mum on benefits. Ruby Sprackling was a wild child. Isobel Lansley seems to be an introverted student who seldom left the flat. How are we getting on with her parents?’

‘They’re flying in this morning. Should be here by the afternoon,’ DC Edwards replied.

‘Good. So we’ve got four very different women, who lived miles apart, but shared a look and lived alone. How does he get to them? Let’s start with Pippa.’

‘Lived in Merry Oak, worked in Sun First Travel in the WestQuay. Liked to socialize in Bedford Place,’ Lucas shot back.

‘Find out who her doctor was. Her dentist. Friends, colleagues, book groups, start from the ground and work up. What about Roisin?’

‘Lived alone in a council flat in Brokenford. A number of boyfriends, some of whom seemed to overlap. Roisin liked the attention. Never had a job, attended a few free baby groups, went to the post office once a week to get her benefits. Spent the rest of her time window shopping, drinking and dreaming of being elsewhere.’