The Guilty Secret: A London Crime Thriller (A Detective Chief Inspector Arla Baker Series Book 7)

A woman's body hangs from the disused Battersea Power Station...

When Detective Arla Baker investigates, she discovers a cold case that has puzzled detectives for almost ten years. The Battersea Strangler was the nickname given to the killer who abducted three women. Their bodies were never found, and although a man was arrested, there was never sufficient evidence to convict him.


Meanwhile, someone is leaving strange photos of a baby at the door of Arla's partner, Inspector Harry Mehta's mother's house. The messages grow, and Harry suspects his mother, Rita, is in danger, but from whom?


Then another girl disappears, very similar in appearance to the women abducted by the Battersea Strangler. When she appears dead, Arla knows she is up against a seasoned and bloodthirsty killer who will stop at nothing till his vicious desires are quenched.
And for some reason, his attention has now turned to Arla.


As another girl vanishes, and the danger to Harry's mother grows, Arla has to work and look after her own baby daughter, Nicole. Arla knows she is fighting a battle on multiple fronts.

A fight that might just overcome her this time...

CHAPTER 1


Detective Inspector Harry Mehta stared at his phone in confusion. He held the phone in his left hand, his right hand still clutching the shaving razor. Harry wore nothing but a blue towel tied at the waist, his toned, athletic 40-year-old body bearing drops of moisture from the shower he’d just taken. His coiled, rope like forearm muscles flexed as he gripped the phone.
His mother had sent him a text.
Can you call me please? I'm worried about something.
Harry was halfway through shaving. He muttered a curse under his breath and put the phone down. He angled his chin towards the mirror and ran the razor down the white shaving foam on his cheek. He wasn't completely happy when he observed his face after washing, and Harry took pride in his appearance.
He ignored the tiredness in his eyes and the flecks of white that it appeared on the sides of his hair. Nicole, his one year old precious daughter, didn't sleep well last night and both parents had taken turns comforting her. Detective chief inspector Arla Baker, Harry's partner, was still working part-time, and was soundly asleep, with baby Nicole curled next to her. Harry was on his way to work, but the text from his mother was unexpected and worried him.
Harry shrugged into his shirt and tie and suit as quickly as it could, then called his mother. Rita Mehta answered on the first ring.
"Mum it's me," Hallie said. "What's going on?"
Rita breathed for a few seconds down the line, making Harry's unease grow further. Eventually, Rita spoke, her calm her normally calm, measured tone faster, more disturbed.
"Someone left an envelope for me by the door last night."
"You mean the envelope was addressed to you?" Harry asked.
"Yes."
"And did you open it?"
"Yes I did." Rita paused and there was a finality, and abruptness to a voice that made Harry pause. His mother sounded both scared and angry, and it wasn't like her. Rita was a strong woman. She looked after Harry's father after his stroke for more than a decade. Before he passed away, she had taken over the running of the family. From his late teenage years, Harry had known only one parent, as his father had mostly been bedridden.

Rita said, "I found a picture of a baby inside. A Polaroid photo. It looks old. And there were there was also a syringe inside."
A frown creased Harry's face. "Why would anyone send you that?"
His mother hesitated, which made Harry feel oddly suspicious. "I… I don't know. It's all very strange."
Harry sighed. "I guess it's too much to ask if you wore gloves when you opened the envelope?"
"Yes it is. You know the neighbours sometimes leave letters for me, asking to join their events. Not everyone is on WhatsApp. So, I had to open it."
"Okay mum. Please don't touch again. I want to come and have a look at it, on my way to work." Harry paused. "You sure you don't know anything about this?"
"No, I don't." The old firmness in Rita's tone was back. "But I do find it very odd. It can't be a mistake, because the envelope was addressed to my name."
Harry bid his mother goodbye and hung up. As he tied his shoelaces, he shook his head. It was probably a prank, by their boys in his neighbourhood. Harry had lived in the neighbourhood of terraced houses in Battersea all his life. Growing up, he remembered playing harmless pranks on the elderly people who lived on the streets. Maybe this was something similar.
Harry stood, stretching to his full height of 6'4". He detected movement to his left, and from the bedroom, out stumbled his boss and lover, Arla Baker.
Harry reached out an arm and Arla stepped into the hug. Harry kissed the top of her head, inhaling her smell.
"Hello sleepyhead. How are you?" Harry murmured.
"Just woke up. Who were you speaking to on the phone?" Arla mumbled.
Harry told Arla briefly what his mother had said. Arla lifted her face and they kissed lightly.
"Photo of a baby and a syringe?" Arla asked. "That's really odd."
"Yes, I know. I'm hoping it's just a prank by some silly kids. I told her I drop by on my way into work, so I better go. How's Nicole?" Hallie asked as he moved towards their bedroom door. It had become his habit to look at his daughters sleeping face before he left for work.
Arla walked in behind him. Baby Nicole was curled up in soft repose, her podgy fists tucked in under her chin. She was covered by a cashmere blanket. Harry knelt by the bed, his chestnut brown eyes opening wide, swelling with affection as he stared at his daughter's face.
Nicole had the same black hair as him, and she was born with lots of it. In fact, sometimes the air spiked up straight after she'd had a bath and been dried, giving her the appearance of a very cute hedgehog.
Harry reached out a finger and caressed the side of Nicole's cheek gently, careful not to awaken her. He stood and hugged Arla. She walked him out down the hallway, to the front door of her ground floor apartment in tooting Broadway.
"I'll be in by 11 o'clock, after I have dropped her at the childminders," Arla said. "Say hello to Rita from me."
Harry grinned. "She will also want to know what time she can come round." Rita had been a hands on grandmother, much to both their relief. Smita, Harry's sister, helped out when she could, but she had on career as an actress. Timothy, Arla's dad, visited often. But Rita’s daily help with Nicole had made a major difference to their lives and it filled Harry's heart with happiness to see how close Arla had grown to his mother.
Arla smiled back, well aware that Rita would move in with them if she could. She was obsessed with the new baby. "Tell her she can come this evening after I have picked Nicole up from the childminders. 6 PM."
"And you know she's going to bring dinner as well." Harry waved as he left.

















CHAPTER 2

The first glimmer of sunlight had loosened the shackles of quietness that shrouded the dense vegetation of Clapham common. The murmurs of early summer wafted over the green grass, mingling with the shouts of footballers in the park and excited children in the playgrounds. The slow drawl of a sunny afternoon had moved across the mauve hued sky, and the setting sun burned the horizon with red and gold corpuscles of colour.
The Clapham Manor was a large gastropub situated at the north eastern end of the Common. It was flanked by the traffic of the ring road, where cars stood in a line at the traffic lights, headlights glowing like a row of two staring eyes. It was protected from the roads by heavy oaks and birches, and once the sounds of traffic faded, in the warm, early evening air, the pub seemed to be in the country, in a bucolic atmosphere. That was the magic of the Common, where city life seeped away like dewdrops in sunlight, and the sounds and smells of the country emerged.
Paul watched the entrance of the pub from his hidden place in the dense clump of trees. He knew it was the disco night for the sixth form girls from the local school. It was a girl’s school, but there was a boy’s secondary school nearby. They boys would be joining them at the school hall. Paul liked to know about these things. He liked following the sixteen, seventeen year old girls around. He had worked as a traffic warden in front of the girl’s school, and ogled the girls, picking out the ones he really liked. When school finished, Paul would follow his chosen one back home. He would watch them from afar, knowing his chance would come one day.
It helped if the girls came from a disadvantaged family. Single mother, multiple children. The mother had little or no time for the growing teenager. But Paul did. He would begin by buying them gifts. Be careful to stay away from the school, and her home. Then one day, he would lure her back to his apartment.
His breath quickened as he saw Laura walking in with her best friend, Rachel. Laura was dressed in a golden dress that fell halfway to her thighs, bare shoulders covered by a light brown cardigan. She wore matching brown high heels that made her smoothly shaven legs look longer. Paul’s mouth opened as he stared at her. A surge of heated desire pooled low in his belly. He needed her. He had been working for this moment over the last 4 weeks.
Tonight was the night.
Laura’s friend Rachel wore a short skirt and blouse, and the two teenagers giggled as they tottered on their high heels. Paul hoped they had some drinks already, which would make his job easier. When the girls entered the pub, Paul slipped out from behind the trees.
The pub was cosy, warm and beginning to get boisterous. There weren’t many teenagers, and Paul knew Laura and Rachel were only there because of the fake ID’s he had got for them.
He knew which table the girls would be at, because he had told Laura. In the right corner, at the far back. It was quieter here, and Paul had placed a rose strategically on the table. As he approached, he raised his hand and waved. The girls giggled and waved back.
Paul looked debonair in his blue shirt and jeans, and black dress shoes. He had gelled his hair back and wore a nice after shave. He stopped at the table, his dark blue eyes focused on Laura. She smiled back at him.
“You look stunning,” he whispered. He turned to her friend. “And you too, Rachel.” He shifted his attention back to Laura quickly.
“So, what would you like to drink?”