‘So, this guy, this Ghost, he attacks three women in the space of a few months, and then stops? Does that make sense?’
‘I think the third one might have freaked him out. The first two, he kills them. Then for whatever reason he messes it up with victim number three. She survives. And knowing she was out there, knowing there was a living witness, he just wanted to crawl back under his rock. That’s my theory, anyway.’
‘Didn’t the police ever make any arrests?’
He takes another swallow of his pint of bitter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘They pulled a few guys in. But the investigation had a weird feel to it, like it never really got off the ground, you know? Like they were late to the party and never caught up. Zoe’s estranged husband was arrested and it seemed like they were pretty sure he was their man. I mean, ninety per cent of the time it’s the partner, right? Or the ex.’
‘So what happened with him?’
‘He looked guilty as sin – at least on the circumstantial evidence – but they never charged him.’ Simms grins at me. ‘Poor old Dominic had the media camped on his front lawn for a fortnight, lost his job into the bargain. Then his house. Ruined the bloke.’
My glass is frozen in mid-air, an inch from my lips. Very slowly, I put it back down on the table.
‘Say that again.’
‘He lost his job, he was freelance and all his clients dropped him when he was linked to—’
‘Not that bit.’ I hold a hand up, unsure whether I’ve misheard him. ‘Dominic Church?’
He nods.
‘The police thought he was the Ghost?’
‘Still do, I think. They had a theory that he wanted revenge on his ex, but to cover his tracks he made it look like she’d been the victim of some random serial attacker. The cops couldn’t make it stick, though – some sort of balls-up with the evidence, a technicality. They never had enough to charge him.’
I sit back on the bench seat, staring at a point over his shoulder. ‘My God.’
‘Are you OK?’ he says.
‘Dominic Church was Zoe Clifton’s estranged husband?’
‘They’d split up about six months before she was attacked. There was another theory that Zoe was in a relationship with the Ghost – that he was a new boyfriend – and when she found out what he’d done, he tried to kill her. That in fact the Ghost knew all three victims personally, and they weren’t random at all. But the police never found any new boyfriend and we couldn’t stand that line up.’
‘Where did the boyfriend theory come from?’
‘A few of the cops. The family.’
I sit for a moment, trying to process what this means, taking a gulp of the tonic water and wishing there was gin in the glass too.
‘What about Leon Markovitz?’ I say. ‘You know he was arrested too?’
Simms gives me a twisted smile. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Someone who knows. You’ve heard of him, though?’
‘Everyone in the industry’s heard of him: Leon’s a walking, talking cautionary tale. Total fruit loop.’ He took another pull on his beer, index finger raised in admonition. ‘You want to staywellaway from him.’
‘You’re not the first person to tell me that. Did you work with him?’
Simms frowns in mock offence. ‘Him? God no. Heard some pretty scary stories about him on the grapevine. We never crossed paths though, he wasNews of the World, thenSunday People. Went off the deep end when he got banged up.’ He tapped a finger against his temple. ‘Several screws loose, that bloke.’
I indicate his almost-empty pint glass. ‘Can I get you another?’
‘Anyone would think you were trying to get me drunk.’ He raises an eyebrow, reaches into his jacket and hands over a business card embossed with the black and white crest of theDaily Mail, just a mobile number and email, no landline.Matthew Simms, Crime Correspondent. ‘Unfortunately, I have to get back to the grindstone before my news editor starts jumping up and down. Give me your number and I’ll drop you a message if anything else comes up.’
We both stand up and I type his number into my phone to send him a blank message. I get the feeling he’s about to lean in for a peck on the cheek, Parisian style. But I pocket his business card and hold out a hand instead.
