The Yorkshire Dipper Page 9

  “No way would Mark ever not come after me, no matter how bad a row might be.”

  Amanda brushes some colour onto my hair. “I think that could be said of most men. Becky talked to Caroline about it on the phone. She said she couldn’t stay with someone she didn’t trust. He was always distant with her and never put any effort in.”

  “It’s got to be a two-way street, hasn’t it?”

  “I agree. It was the last straw for her when he changed his mind about the holiday and moving in together. And thankfully she knew nothing about the money as far as anyone knows.”

  “So what happened next?” I’m trying not to sound too interested. “Obviously I won’t betray a confidence, but knowledge is power and if knowing more helps me to get to the truth of these deaths, then I need to know as much as possible.

  Amanda rummages around in her trolley for some hair clips, and pins them to her tabard. “Caroline woke the next morning and at first thought nothing of not having got a text from Becky. But then she saw on the news they’d pulled another body out, right next to the pub Becky had been in.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “She said she just knew. I’ve told her that even if she’d raised the alarm that same night, there was probably nothing she could have done to change things. She’d kept in touch with her. They were texting and had a brief chat. Some bloke was trying to hit on her and Becky had wanted to try and deter him by speaking to someone on the phone. To look busy.”

  “What do you think happened?” I watch as Amanda clips sections of foil away from each other on my head. “Do you reckon these women are just falling in?”

  “Who knows?” She picks up my empty coffee cup. “I’ll get you another. I wouldn’t be hanging around there on a Saturday night, let’s put it that way. Aww, look at your little girl. Isn’t she good?” We both look at Alysha, who is still firmly entrenched in a land of princesses. I then spend a luxurious forty minutes flicking through Prima whilst my highlights take effect. Amanda does a dry cut on another customer and Alysha barely looks up from her tablet. I’ll spend some proper time with her when we leave. Right now I’m enjoying the me-time.

  “How are the wedding plans coming along?” Amanda asks a short time later as she turns the shower spray on.

  “Pretty well. I’ve had my first dress fitting. Ouch, that’s a bit hot.”

  “Sorry. These showers can be so unpredictable. Your highlights have taken well.”

  “Will you be long Mummy?” It’s the first peep we’ve had from Alysha.

  “Get a packet of sweets from my bag and if you carry on being such a good girl, we’ll go somewhere for hot chocolate and cake when I’m done.”

  “Yesss.”

  “That sounds nice.” I can hear the smile in Amanda’s voice as she washes my hair. “It’s a shame I’ve got to stay at work instead of coming with you.”

  I close my eyes against the splashing water and try to ignore the crick in my neck. One day they’ll invent a salon sink which doesn’t half dismember you!

  “He’s giving me the creeps,” Amanda says with a dark edge to her voice. “There’s a man the other side of the road. I’ve been watching him for half an hour. He’s staring right in here.”

  “What man?” I try to sit up but the sink, the soap and the spray conspire against me.

  “Now that it’s getting dark, it’s harder to spot him.” She lathers conditioner into my hair. “He’s kind of slipping in and out of the shadows. I might lock the door. I’ve got the panic button if he comes any closer.”

  “Are you expecting any more customers after me?”

  “No, you’re my last one – I’ve just had a cancellation. I try to have an early finish on a Saturday, if I can, so it’s worked out well as I’m going out tonight.”

  “I’ll wait with you whilst you lock up,” I say. “If there’s someone hanging about, neither of us should be leaving alone in the dark.”

  “He’s there again. Maybe we should call the police.”

  Amanda stops lathering, so I prop myself up in the seat on my elbows. “I can’t see anyone.” I turn to look at her. “I have felt someone watching me a few times over the last few weeks.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes. It’s a creepy feeling, though I’d forgotten about it, until now. Someone was hanging around my car outside the bridal shop last month. Then there was another time I was in a café with my friend. Oh, and there was someone watching me when I was in the pub with Mark, and I went outside on my own.”

  “You need to be careful.” She rinses off the conditioner. The water is the perfect temperature now. “Especially with the articles you’re writing.”

  “I know. I will be.”

  As I return to my chair to have my hair cut, she locks the door.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lauren

  By the time Amanda has dried my hair, there is no sign of anyone outside.

  “Do you still think we should call the police? At least report it,” she says. “Or are you sure he’s gone?”

  “With the time they’d take to get here…” I begin. “They didn’t do a lot last time, when the man was hanging around the bridal shop. Mark just came and collected me and the DCI he reports to had a drive around. That was it. Anyway, if you’re going out tonight – you don’t want to be waiting around here for the police.”

  Her car is parked right outside the salon, so I accept a lift to the end of the road where my car is. I am taking no chances if someone is hanging around, especially as I’ve got Alysha with me. There doesn’t seem to be any sign of him, but that does not stop my heart from beating ten to the dozen as Amanda sets the alarm and locks the door. I look around us, then we dash to her car.

  I feel resentful that I am having to change my behaviour because of a perceived threat, and vow to do anything I can to stop what’s going on. Perhaps I really am being stalked by the person responsible for the river deaths. The thought sends a chill up my spine. I’ve only just allowed myself to really start believing it.

  “Hi honey, I’m home,” Mark calls from the hallway.

  I laugh at his clichéd behaviour. “In here,” I call back. “Just serving up your dinner, playing at being your wife.” I smile to myself at the thought. “You timed that well. I thought I was going to have to put yours in the microwave.”

  Mark walks towards me, kisses me then bends down and plants a kiss in the middle of Alysha’s forehead. He always kisses me when we part, and when we greet each other again. I like that about him.

  “Daddy, do you like my hair?” Alysha points a fork laden with mashed potato towards her head.

  “It’s beautiful,” Mark replies. “But if you’re not careful, we’ll be scraping potato out of it. Mummy’s hair looks lovely too.”

  “Why thank you.” I feel myself blush. I love it when he compliments me. “It’s not like you to notice my hair.”

  “You never notice when I’ve been to the barbers.” He takes a sip from his glass of water, then grins at me.

  “That’s different. You’re a man.”

  “We still like to get compliments, you know.”

  It’s nice to sit down together to eat. I often eat with Alysha when Mark’s on a late, or sometimes I wait for Mark and eat with him after Alysha has gone to bed. But as I sit with my family in our warm kitchen, having shut out the world outside, I know this is how it should be. The three of us. I feel safe in here, with them.

  Mark carries Alysha to bed after she falls asleep on him watching Paddington 2. When he comes back downstairs, he says, “we can put something more grown up on now.”

  “Or,” I wink at him. “We can practice for baby number two.”

  “Practice?”

  “Yep. That’s what’s on offer. Until after the wedding.”

  He takes my hand. “What are we waiting for?”

  I’ve laid awake for nearly an hour, listening to the rain at the window. Mark was out like a light. He always is after we’ve made lo
ve. It’s only half-past eleven and I really can’t sleep. I lift Mark’s arm that’s laying heavy over my stomach. I can’t put the light on and read as I’ll wake him. Even if I read on my Kindle, he usually moans that the backlight disturbs him. Yet he doesn’t move as I swing my legs out of bed, tug on my gym bottoms and a jumper before heading downstairs. As I turn on the lounge light, my gaze falls on a newspaper headline I wrote last month, poking out from under the coffee table. It made it to the Daily Mail, so of course I’ve saved it - Local Police Fail River Death Victims.

  I glance at the clock. 11:43 pm. It’s Saturday night. A seed of an idea starts to germinate in my mind. I sit on the sofa, half trying to talk myself out of it. But deep down, I know what I must do. The police have taken little responsibility for anything that has happened so far. They’re full of half-promises, without following through on any of them.

  I tell myself I’m not going to put myself in any danger; I am just going to inconspicuously park up and watch. If there’s no police patrol there tonight after all that has happened, and all that has been promised, I will take photographs of the entire area and date stamp the photos, showing the police absence, ready to go in my next piece. And who knows, I might see if anyone is hanging around, lying in wait.

  Deep down, I know it’s utter madness but I pull on socks, boots and my coat before I can change my mind. Mark would have an absolute fit if he knew what I was doing. I would tell him that if the police did their jobs properly, I wouldn’t have to do this. Besides, I’ll keep my car door locked and ready to drive off if need be. One thing I’ve learnt over the years is that journalists don’t get anywhere without some risk-taking.

  I ease into the clearing between the Yorkshire Arms and the unused building next door. My vision is obscured by overgrown foliage, but there’s still more than enough space for me to park. I turn my headlights off before I’ve even brought the car to a stop. As I do, I quickly turn off the engine and allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. There’s been some extra lighting installed nearby, but it’s not good enough. I realise it’s controlled by motion sensor rather than being on continuously, as it flicks on when someone walks by, then off again, plunging the area into blackness, apart from the weak moonlight.

  From where I’m parked, I can’t see the entrance of the Yorkshire Arms but I’ve got a reasonable view of both sides of the river. I’m sure I will see the faces of anyone who walks past on either side, especially as it has stopped raining. I am somewhat concealed by the bushes, so hopefully I won’t get noticed. I haven’t got the nerve to go any further forwards. My car doors are locked, and I can be out of here in three seconds flat if I need to be. What I can’t see, however, is any police. Perhaps they are keeping out of sight to catch someone in the act. But what was assured was a police presence, to deter further incidents in the first place.

  My heart is pounding in my chest. This is what journalists do, I tell myself. Mark’s department has done the bare minimum as far as policing is concerned. I want to see if anyone is hanging around here, like I thought I saw not so long ago. If there is anything to be seen, then it will be me who will see it. And I will break the story. I take photos for something to do whilst I wait for something to happen.

  If I have to, I will come back next Saturday night and every Saturday thereafter. I know how to make sure Mark goes straight off to sleep and Mum is always happy to come and stay with me if he’s on nights – I’d tell her I want the company and then sneak out after she’s gone to bed. They would both slaughter me if they knew where I was.

  The inky-black river is lit up beneath the moonlight. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck to think of the poor souls who have slipped in there, pushed, thrown or having fallen to the most dreadful of deaths. They haven’t been assaulted before going in, that much has been proven, but they have all been alive when they have. It must have been terrifying. And someone knows something.

  I sit for about half an hour like this, my car thermometer registering three degrees. God knows how cold it must be in that water. I tug my coat more tightly around me and keep my gaze fixed forward, scanning left and right occasionally for any movement. I resist the urge to check my phone and continue to grip onto my camera. The glow of the backlight could draw attention to my presence. My eyes are starting to feel droopy. I rotate my shoulders and my head, then slap the sides of my face to keep myself awake. Even though I am too cold to fall asleep, I’m certainly tired enough to now.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gemma

  Gemma flicked her hair over her shoulder and laughed when her work colleague Sue offered her another drink. “Well, it would be rude not to, wouldn’t it? Especially when Mike is paying.”

  “I can’t believe he’s set up a tab.” Sue nodded towards their boss. “We’re normally lucky to get one drink out of him. I reckon he feels guilty for delaying our works do at Christmas. Just because he’s got a sad, lonely life,” she went on, “he thought he’d cancel everyone else’s fun too.”

  “At least we got that order out.” Gemma thought about the extra money she’d made at Christmas and how she’d been able to treat her husband, Darren, to the Fitbit he’d wanted. “Get me – I’m holding a coherent conversation whilst I feel totally plastered!”

  “Well, you don’t sound coherent.” Sue laughed.

  “You neither!” They both dissolved in fits of laughter.

  “The thing is,” Sue went on. “That the more co-here-ent we try to be, the more pissed we sound.”

  Gemma noticed their boss looking over at them. As she looked away, she saw he was making his way over to their table. She nudged Sue, “Uh-oh, here he comes. Act sober.”

  “At least you’ve got tomorrow to recover ladies.” He sat in the vacant chair, placed his glass before him and grinned inanely- like he fancied his chances.

  Gemma attempted to straighten herself up. She’d vowed to alternate each drink with a non-alcoholic one. However, the temptation of a free bar, paid for by her normally miserable boss, had proved too irresistible.

  Mike had already started talking shop to Sue. Go away, Gemma wanted to say to him. “Excuse me,” she said to both of them as her phone screen flashed on the table. She picked up her phone and saw it was Darren.

  You’re late back. You ok?

  She stared at the screen on her phone, trying to take in the time display. She’d drunk so much vodka and coke she could hardly focus. She would go and get a pint of water in a minute – try to sober up a bit. Glancing up at the wall clock, she saw it was half past midnight.

  Yeah I’m fine, she typed back. Slightly drunk. Hic. Free bar and all that. xx

  He responded with a laughing emoji. Where are you? x

  Just in the Yorkshire Arms. There’s loads of us. x

  I can’t believe you’re in there. Are you alright for getting home? x

  I guess so. Unless you can come for me? Weather is awful. Xx

  Sorry love, I’ve had a drink. xxx

  No worries. I’ll get a taxi soon xx

  Not on your own Gem. Don’t leave that place alone. Not after what’s been happening. xx

  Gemma stared at the screen again. That was a sobering thought. She shot Sue a sympathetic look. “Just getting some water,” she said as she stood. She didn’t think Sue had heard, as Mike had her well and truly cornered, looking like he had moved on from talking about work. He had, what Gemma thought, was a very lecherous expression on his face. By now, the group of work colleagues had dwindled, and those remaining were in much the same state as Gemma. The table was stacked with glasses.

  Gemma lurched towards the bar. “Same again?” asked the barman.

  “No, just a pint of water. I need to sober up. What’s the best taxi firm to get around here?”

  “The black and whites are good,” he replied. “But obviously they can only pick you up around the corner, on the bridge.” He tilted his head in the direction he was referring to. “Don’t be leaving on your own though.” />
  Before Gemma had got married, she’d have probably said is that an offer, but she kept her mouth shut and realised that she needed to text Darren back.

  Getting a taxi shortly, she typed. I’m going to try to get Sue to get in it with me. If not, there’s a few others left.

  But nobody was ready to leave. Not even Sue. Gemma was dismayed to realise that she and Mike were flirting with one another. She would give her some right stick for it on Monday.

  Feeling slightly panicked at the thought of leaving the pub alone, she momentarily thought of asking the barman to walk with her, just to the taxi. But then indignance took over. What was the world coming to if a grown woman couldn’t leave a pub without worrying about getting murdered? Besides, there would be police all over the place out there. She’d seen them passing by the windows all evening.

  “I’ve got a taxi coming in a minute,” she said to Sue, who finally came up for air after snogging with Mike.

  “Going so soon?” he said.

  Gemma nodded her head before bending down to whisper into Sue’s ear. “You just wait until Monday morning! I hope you know what you’re doing!” Then in a louder voice, she said, “are you sure you won’t come with me Sue? I can drop you off on the way.”

  “Nah. I’m alright here. I’ll see you Monday.”

  “You sure will.” Gemma grinned as she grabbed her coat, then waved to a few of the others as she walked towards the door.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lauren

  My gut somersaults as I become aware of a presence next to the car. I can see a shadow to my left and hear the snap of what could be a twig. Just as I reach for the keys in the ignition, I’m jolted by a thumping on the passenger side window.