by Clare Revell
“And nothing in the tox screens.” Zander leafed through the file to double check. “But, yeah, it may well have worn off.” He ogled her desk. “You might want to tidy that a bit.”
She grazed a finger over the overflowing inbox. “Yeah, might be an idea. Hadn’t realised it was so cluttered.” She made a grab for it but knocked it onto the floor. “At least it’s no longer on the desk.”
“That isn’t helping.” Zander groaned and got down to help pick up everything. “When did you last clear this?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She took the pile of envelopes, colour vanishing from her face as she leafed through them. “Zander…” She held out a brown A5 envelope.
His eyes widened, and he stared at the item in her trembling hands. “Gloves, now.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Don’t move.” He pushed upright and yanked open his desk drawer. Finding a box of gloves, he removed four and tossed her two. “Put them on.”
He put on his own.
She carefully opened the envelope and removed a postcard. “Grass and trees. Not very helpful, though it is pretty.”
“Hmmm. It could be anywhere.” Zander moved towards her.
She nodded and turned over the postcard. She swallowed hard. “The wording is printed in thick, black capital letters. Computer printed by the looks of it. Again, there are three small numbers on the bottom right corner.”
She turned the card around to show him. “It’s the third commandment.”
The breath whooshed from his chest and refused to come back as he stared at the lettering.
I AM THE LORD YOUR GOD. YOU SHALL NOT MISUSE THE NAME OF THE LORD YOUR GOD, FOR THE LORD WILL NOT HOLD ANYONE GUILTLESS WHO MISUSES HIS NAME. 5-11
Zander held out an evidence bag, and Isabel slid the card into it. “Did we ever work out how they were getting here?” he asked.
“Royal Mail. Then the internal mail from the front desk, I imagine, or wherever the post comes from once it arrives here.” She studied the envelope. “Prepaid postage as before done on the computer. Can the tech blokes find out what printer was used?”
“Probably.” He jerked his head. “You need to bag that as well.”
Isabel did so. “I guess we should tell the Guv.”
“Yup.” He didn’t move.
“Zander?”
“Your mail. You tell him.”
She shot him a strange look. “You all right? Whatever happened to the ‘we’re partners and we’re in this together’ thing we had going?”
Zander stood, shaking off the uneasy feeling. “Nothing. I’m coming. Just make sure you take photos of them first. Then seal the bags.”
Isabel slid the photograph out of the bag and did as he instructed. She sealed both bags and stood. “I feel sick.”
“You and me both,” he muttered. “Let’s get this over with.” He led the way across the squad room to the DI’s office. His knock echoed, sounding like a death knell.
“Come.”
Isabel opened the door. “Guv…we’ve got another one.”
~*~
Back at her desk, Isabel heaved a sigh. She still felt sick, but not as much as before. “Well, that could have gone better.”
Zander dropped into his chair. “Oh, yeah. Especially as we have no idea how long it’s been sitting on your desk.”
“Postage was dated two days ago. We’d have heard if there was another death.”
“True. But if you were a little tidier, we’d have...”
She scowled at him. One hormonal man under her feet was bad enough, but two of them? OK, she got grotty on certain days, but Zander and the Guv didn’t have the same excuse she did. “We’d have what? We still have nothing. Are we looking at a park, or a lake, or another river?”
“No idea.”
“You really are grumpy,” she complained. “Just because your girlfriend put you in a bad mood, doesn’t mean you can take it out on me. Go get coffee or something.”
Zander glanced over at the office. From behind the glass panelling, DI Holmes was giving them the evil eye. He pushed to his feet. “Let’s get out of here. See if we can find this place on our own before something bad happens. Coming?”
“Shouldn’t we be checking missing persons?” she asked. “See if there’s a link…”
“No.” Zander cut her off. “The Guv is on the war path, and you don’t want to be around him when he’s like this.” He snapped a photo on his phone of the two bags. “Shove those in your drawer and lock it for now.” He raised a hand as she drew breath. “Don’t question me again. Just do it.”
“Yes, boss.” She did as she was told and followed him to the door.
“You driving?” he asked.
Isabel shook her head. “Stop asking. No.”
“So much for equal partners.”
“Give it a rest. I have my reasons.” Isabel snapped, tired of being polite when he wasn’t being civil in return. See how he liked it.
Zander scowled and stormed to the stairs. He threw the door back and hurtled through, not bothering to wait.
Isabel hit the lift button and counted to ten. Whatever his problem was, he needed to get over it. Fast. Otherwise the afternoon would drag. She found Zander waiting for her in the lobby and followed him out to the car.
He climbed in, slammed the door, and started the car almost as soon as she was in her seat. She’d barely shut the door before he pulled from the space.
“Killing us won’t help any,” she muttered, reaching for her seatbelt. He didn’t respond, and an uneasy silence filled the car. She shook her head and turned to face the window. Maybe if she just ignored him and hung on to the door handle, he might get the hint and slow down.
His phone rang.
Zander grabbed it from the slot behind the gear stick.
Isabel snatched it from his hand. “You don’t want to get points on your licence for breaking the law by touching your phone whilst driving! The papers would have a field day with you. And the entire department.” She answered it. “DC Ellery’s phone. DC York speaking as Zander is driving right now.”
“This is DI Holmes.” The Guv sounded terser than usual. “There’s been another one. Victoria Park. Get over there now.” The phone went quiet.
Isabel looked at the phone. “That was the boss. He hung up on me. We need to get to Victoria Park. There’s a body. Guv wants us there like yesterday. He ain’t happy.”
Zander gave a low, annoyed whistle, and muttered something under his breath. Checking the mirror, he did a handbrake turn.
Isabel clutched the door even tighter. “What are you doing?”
“Responding the way they always do on cop shows on TV. Call us in as attending.”
She grabbed the radio. “Control, this is Echo Yankee Seven, attending the body in Victoria Park.”
“Roger Echo Yankee Seven.”
She glanced over at Zander. “I’m sorry, all right? I’ll leave the wretched in-tray empty in future.”
“You do that.”
Isabel wrapped her free hand securely around her middle and pushed back into the seat. One simple mistake and the world ended. It was best she just shut up for a few minutes, until Zander worked through whatever was bothering him. She kept quiet the rest of the drive, biting her lip as Zander took every corner so tight, they seemed almost on two wheels. She didn’t even comment on the camera that flashed him. The speeding fine would probably be her fault as well.
He swung into the one remaining parking space. Flinging the door open, he jumped out and banged the door shut.
She barely had time to exit the vehicle before Zander locked it. Scampering to catch up, she pulled out her ID, showing it to the officer standing by the crime scene tape.
“DCs Ellery and York.”
“The body is around the other side of the big hill,” the officer said.
Zander nodded, ducked under the tape, and stormed off, not waiting for Isabel.
Half tempted to t
urn around and go back to the nick, Isabel stood there. He didn’t want her there. Everything she did was wrong. Why did she bother? When would anyone accept a woman could do this job just as well as a bloke?
“You going after him?” the uniformed officer asked.
She took a deep breath. She went back now or stayed put and she’d prove all these men right. She was better than that. “Yes.” She stooped underneath the tape and headed around the edge of the hill to a large grassy area surrounded by willow trees. The long branches brushed the ground, moving gently in the breeze. Not only did the tree look as if it were crying, it sounded like it, too.
The body of a young woman in white knelt under the tree, posed exactly as the previous two. The word guilty was written in red rather than black. That was different. Leaving Zander talking to the two uniformed officers, Isabel carefully moved around the victim, trying to piece this together.
“Need to get some screens up here,” she called.
“Soon as SOCO arrives,” someone called back.
“Then make sure you keep people away!” She pointed to the onlookers on top of the hill. “Last thing we need is photos in the paper or on the Internet.”
Zander appeared at her side. “Who rattled your cage?”
She scowled at him. He was complaining about her being short tempered? “Pot, kettle, black!”
“Whatever. The body was found by a group of kids on their way to school.” He pointed.
“I’ll go talk to them.”
“You do that.”
Isabel took two steps and then glanced back. If she’d learnt one thing in recent days, it was that Zander wanted her to speak her mind. “Look. If you’d rather work with someone else, I suggest you do something about it. I’m more than happy to change departments or quit if that’s what you want.”
Zander glanced heavenward quickly. “You hold that thought,” he said quietly. “And we will discuss it later. Right now, we both have a job to do, so I suggest we concentrate on that.”
She jerked her head. “Fine. I can be civil so long as you can.” She spun and strode across to the picnic bench where four scared looking children sat with a couple of uniformed officers standing guard. Isabel swallowed her anger, irritation, whatever it was, and pulled out her ID. She flashed it at the officer and sat opposite the kids. “Hi there, boys. I’m Isabel, one of the detectives. Mind if I talk to you for a few minutes?”
“I—we didn’t do it,” the oldest kid muttered. “We just found her and called you lot.”
“I know.” She smiled, keeping her voice gentle and low. “It’s fine. None of you are in any trouble, in fact the complete opposite. I just need you to tell me what happened, and then we can get you all home. I don’t think anyone’s going to school today. Can we start with your names?” She paused. “Though I’m sure your mum told you never to tell strangers your name. But I’m the police, so it’ll be fine.”
The kids looked at each other before the older one cleared his throat. “I guess that’s all right. I’m Peter Strange. This is Julian, Ricky, and Timmy. They’re my younger brothers. I’m the one who found her.”
Isabel made a note. “How old are you?”
“Fourteen, twelve, ten, and eight.”
“And do you always cycle across the park on your way to school?”
Timmy shook his head. “Peter and Julian were taking us. Mummy had to go shopping and Daddy is working.”
Isabel smiled. “Shopping is fun.”
“Yeah, but she said I had to go to school instead.”
“I expect she’ll take you next time.” She paused. “Are you boys thirsty?” As the boys nodded, she pulled out her purse and held out a tenner. “Officer, could you take Julian, Ricky, and Timmy to the café? Get them a drink and bag of crisps. They can bring one back for Peter.”
The uniformed officer nodded. “Sure.”
“What about my bike?” Ricky asked. “Mum’ll kill me if I lose it.”
“I’ll watch the bikes for you,” Isabel said. She waited until the younger boys had left before turning to face Peter.
“I didn’t let them go down to where the lady is. I told Julian to dial nine nine nine on my phone. I tried calling Mum, but she didn’t answer.”
Zander dropped onto the bench beside Isabel. “Hi.”
Isabel glanced at him. “Peter, this is my partner, Zander. Zander, this is Peter. He found the lady in the woods. He was just saying he tried ringing his Mum but didn’t get an answer.”
“Would you like me to try while you finish talking to Isabel?” Zander asked.
“OK.” Peter handed over his phone. “Dad’s number is in there as well, only we’re not meant to disturb him at work.”
“I’ll only try him if your Mum doesn’t pick up.” Zander took the handset and stood.
“So, tell me what happened from the beginning.” Isabel hovered her pen over her notebook.
“Julian and I were taking the others to primary school. It’s a five-minute bike ride from the one we go to. We rode our bikes to the crossing on the main road. The lollipop lady stopped all the cars, and we all went over. Then we cycled to the park. Mum doesn’t like us cutting through here, but it’s quicker and safer than going round the long way on the roads. I have a history essay due this morning so needed to finish that in form time.”
“Homework is important. Probably best not to leave it until the last minute.”
Peter nodded. “Timmy wanted to go up the big hill, so I waited at the bottom with the bikes whilst the others raced each other to the top. That’s when I saw the lady. She was all in white and kneeling by the big tree. I figured she was praying or something, but then this black bug walked over her bare feet and she didn’t move. So, I went to see if she was OK…”
Isabel put a comforting hand on the child’s shaking arm. She handed him a tissue, pretending not to notice the tears.
“Then I told Julian to call the police.”
“Did you or the others touch anything?”
Peter shook his head. “No.”
Zander came back over and sat beside Peter. “I couldn’t get an answer from your Mum, but your Dad is on his way. I said we’d take you guys home and meet him there.”
“We live just the other side of the park. Is he mad at being disturbed at work?”
“No.” Zander shot the kid a smile. “I told him what happened, and that you’d done the right thing and were helping us.”
Timmy ran over. “Peter, we got you soda and salt and vinegar crips…crisps,” he corrected, setting them on the bench beside his brother. “We drank ours in the beer garden.”
Zander grinned. “Sounds like fun. Where’s mine?”
Isabel poked her tongue at him. “You can buy your own soda and crisps.”
“Thank you,” Peter said, sliding the can and packet into his school rucksack. “How will we get the bikes home?”
“You said it’s not far from here, so we’ll walk you back.”
“Better than having a cop car out the front again,” Ricky muttered. “That was dead embarrassing. Neighbours will think we’re in trouble again.”
Isabel exchanged a glance with Zander. “What happened?”
“Mum and Dad had a fight the other night. Mrs. Maxwell from next door called the cops on them.”
“It happens,” Zander said in a low conspirator tone. “My sister got brought home in a police car once.”
The boys gasped. “What did she do?”
“She was running away. Walked into the village, got lost, then asked a policeman for directions to Grandma’s house as she was running away. He brought her home instead. See, we’re not just here for when bad things happen, like fights or when ladies get hurt in the woods, but for all kinds of things. So, if you’re ever in trouble or scared, or need advice or help, just give us a call, or ask a uniformed officer on the street. We’ll do all we can to help.”
“What if it turns out to be nothing? Don’t want to get in trouble for making a
fuss.”
“We’d rather come out and it be nothing, than have someone not call and get really hurt.”
“Like superheroes,” Timmy said.
Zander chuckled and lowered his voice further. “You just discovered our secret identities. We are real life superheroes.”
“Cool. Do you have names?”
Isabel nodded. “I’m Superbell and he’s Pinktieman on account of the fact he always wears a pink tie. But you can’t tell anyone.”
Timmy crossed his heart. “I promise.”
Isabel smiled. “Peter, before we head home, can you show us where you were standing when you saw the lady in white?”
Peter nodded and led Zander and Isabel around the base of the hill. “I was right here.”
“View isn’t right.” Zander looked around. “I wonder. Come on, Superbell, last one up the top of the hill is a loser.”
Slightly out of breath, Isabel came second in the race up the steep slope to the top. She looked at Zander, and then back down at the bank of willow trees. The view was the same as the postcard.
16
Zander glanced sideways at Isabel as they walked back to the crime scene having dropped the children at home and left them with their father. The nickname Isabel had given him rang in his mind. It wasn’t the superhero moniker he’d choose for himself, and he had a feeling he’d never, ever live it down. “Pinktieman, huh?”
Isabel nodded almost shyly. “It was the first thing I thought of.” She jerked her head to the crime scene. “So?”
“It’s the same as before.” He sighed. “Duct tape, white dress, bound and gagged in a kneeling position. I would assume the post-mortem will be first thing in the morning.”
“Does she have a name yet?”
“No. There was no ID anywhere near her.”
Isabel frowned. “What about the painting?”
“No sign of it…or so they reckon.”
“Hah! Really? Maybe we should go and look properly.”
“Agreed.” He turned and strode to where the crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze. He suited up and waited for his partner to do the same. Partner. He liked the word. All his doubts and concerns had been blown away like the chaff. Terrible nicknames aside.