by Clare Revell
“That would be good. I’d like to get an officer to come over, and you could help him draw this man as well. Does the school know about him?”
“No,” Sebastian answered. “Ashlyn said not to tell anyone.”
“That’s fine. Which school do you go to?”
“Newgate Primary.”
Isabel shuddered. The same school that Iona had worked in. The same road, the same school…could the stalker be the killer? “Would you like me to get rid of this man?”
The boys nodded.
Zander tapped on the door. “How are you doing?”
“Haven’t started yet.” Isabel studied him. “I’m talking to the boys. Can you get a sketch artist to come over?”
“Sure. Any particular reason?”
“Thank you. The boys just told me that there’s a man hanging around the school gates. He’s been following them to school as well and watches the house sometimes.”
“We can’t have that.” He pulled out his phone.
“That’s what I said.” She smiled at the boys. “Could you go and draw me that picture? Then when the officer comes over you can help him as well. One more thing. Did Ashlyn ever say something she shouldn’t have?”
“Like what?” Oscar asked.
“I don’t know. A bad word or something.”
“Once…on Monday after school when that man was following us. But she could have been praying out loud which wouldn’t make it a bad word, would it?”
Isabel shook her head. “Thank you.”
The boys scampered to the door.
Isabel turned her attention to Zander. “He’s been watching the house. I’m beginning to think that the stalker could be our killer.”
Zander held her gaze and nodded. He made the call.
~*~
Zander leaned back in the chair and eyed DI Holmes across the desk. “So that’s where we are now,” he concluded. “Uniform are going to patrol outside the school for a couple of weeks. We’ve requested all the CCTV footage from the school and from the Deerwood Estate. We’re still not sure how this bloke managed to get past security to watch the house.”
“You think it’s all connected?” DI Holmes asked.
“It’s too much of a coincidence not to be. It’s the same school that Iona Kevane, our first victim worked in. If this bloke was outside on Monday, he could have heard Ashlyn say something she shouldn’t have done. Or he got it from her social media.”
“Speaking of which,” Isabel said, “all I can see on yours is your profile and cover picture. Don’t you ever post?”
“It’s friends only,” Zander said. “Locked down tight.”
“Can you show me how to do that?”
Zander nodded. “Sure.”
“Off topic,” DI Holmes said.
“Not really, sir.” Isabel glanced at him. “Every photo you upload from anywhere, not just your phone, along with every post you make is geo-tagged. Whether you want it or not. And once it’s online it’s there forever.”
Zander uncrossed his legs, straightening them out. “I thought you’d deleted your account.”
“I have, but I want to know how to change the settings anyway.”
“I’ll show you later.”
Robert knocked on the open door and leaned in. “Sorry to disturb you, Guv, but there’s someone at the front desk for Isabel. Says it’s urgent.”
DI Holmes nodded. “Go.”
Isabel left, closing the door behind her.
DI Holmes turned back to Zander. “So, you still have no suspect?”
Zander shook his head. “Nope. And I hate it as much as you and the press. All three victims have blue fibres on them, most likely from a carpet, probably one from a car or van. All attend church, but not the same one, or the same denomination. All were booked to attend week two of New Wine this year. Speaking of which, Isabel is due to go. She’d got the leave approved from her previous nick but hasn’t gotten around to asking here yet.”
DI Holmes pulled the diary over. “Which week?”
“Third week of July. Which is week two of the convention.”
The DI scribbled on the paper. “There, booked.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell her in a bit.” Zander sighed. “All three girls are in the same age bracket; all have brown or black hair.” He shrugged. “Other than that, and being branded guilty and left with the paintings, they all have different jobs, from different walks of life. However, Iona and Ashlyn did live next door to each other and frequented the same school during the week.”
“As do hundreds of other women up and down the whole country,” DI Holmes quipped. Someone knocked on the door and he growled. “What? Come in!”
The door opened and a tall officer in dress uniform breezed into the room as if he owned the place. “Nathaniel. Is this a bad time?”
DI Holmes jumped to his feet. “Not at all, sir. This is DC Zander Ellery. Zander, Chief Superintendent Ashford.”
Zander stood and held out a hand. “Sir.”
The handshake was firm. “I understand that’s Alezander with a Zed. Were your ancestors Russian?”
“No, sir. My father did it as a joke when he registered me.” He looked at the DI. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ll find Isabel, and we’ll get back to it.”
DI Holmes shook his head. “I know it’s early, but take her home, make sure she rests. Come at this fresh in the morning.”
“Yes, Guv.”
“Why does one of your detectives need rest?” CS Ashford asked. “Is she sick? Or can she just not keep up with your male officers?”
“Close call earlier.” Zander wasn’t about to go into details. “She’s been cleared by the hospital.” He turned to the DI. “You know how stubborn she is, so we’ll follow up a couple of lines of enquiry on the way home. See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll need an update at the morning briefing.”
“You’ll have one.” Zander headed into the main squad room, shutting the door behind him.
Isabel sat at her desk, head in her hands.
He strode over to her. “Guv said to get you home. Don’t argue with me either.”
She didn’t look up or move. Her shoulders shook and something that sounded suspiciously like a sob erupted from her.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Isabel? Are you OK?”
She shook her head.
Zander perched on the corner of her desk. “Talk to me. What’s happened?”
“Need a lift to the hospital,” she whispered.
A dozen scenarios ran through his mind, ranging from a positive HIV result to something else. “Sure. What’s wrong? Are the test results back already?”
“No. The bloke at the desk was a uniform officer from Fleet Street. There was a fire at Gran’s. She’s in the ED. They said I need to hurry.”
Zander hugged her, not caring how it looked. “Then let’s go.” He glanced over at DS Philips. “Sarge, we’ll be at the ED, then off until tomorrow. Family emergency.”
~*~
Isabel sat on the edge of the orange plastic chair. Around her people sat, chatting, waiting, and holding various limbs in obvious distress. She’d given her name at reception and been told to take a seat and wait.
Zander held out a cup. “Here, drink this.”
Isabel glanced up, reluctantly taking the cup as he pressed it into her hand. “I’m not thirsty.”
“Drink. It’s hot chocolate from a vending machine; the tea and coffee aren’t drinkable from those things.”
She took one sip before setting it down on the floor beside her chair. “How much longer? They said get here quickly and now they keep me waiting.”
“They’ll be busy but will come find you as soon as they can.” Zander nodded to two firefighters as they came into the busy reception area of the ED. “Hey, Jared.”
Jared Harkin strode over to him. “Hi, Zander. This is Kacie. It’s her first week with us.”
Zander held out a hand. “Zander, this is my partner,
Isabel.” He glanced at Jared. “Not hurt, are you?”
Jared shook his head. “No, been at a shout most of the afternoon. Pulled an old lady out of a house fire. We’re seeing how she is on our way back to the fire station.”
A nurse came out into reception. “Isabel York?”
“That’s me.” Isabel stood and crossed over to her.
The nurse didn’t smile. “Can you come with me?”
“How’s Gran?” Isabel managed, the sick feeling she’d tamped down since she first received word rising again.
“The doctor will explain everything.”
“Don’t give me that,” Isabel said. “Please, just tell me. How’s Gran?”
“I’m very sorry,” the nurse said. “There was nothing we could do. Smoke inhalation…”
The words went over the top of Isabel’s head. Everything swam and a loud cry worked up and out of her body. She fell to her knees.
Zander instantly appeared at her side, arms going around her. “I’m here. I’m so sorry, Isabel.”
“She’s gone…” Isabel managed, clinging onto Zander like a ship held to its anchor in a storm.
18
Isabel stared out of the car as Zander drove her home. Tears still pricked her eyes and her heart was broken in two. Blue flashing lights spun in the distance as Zander turned into her road. Were the firefighters still there? She’d assumed when a couple of them turned up at the hospital that they’d finished.
Zander pulled onto Isabel’s drive. The house opposite was destroyed. Roof gone, smoke rising from what remained. It looked gutted. “Maybe you should come to mine tonight,” he said quietly. “Kip on the couch or in my spare room.”
She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. She could smell the wretched burnt scent from inside the car. “No. I hope Mr. T is all right.”
“Who’s Mr. T?”
“My cat. Well more of a shared cat. He’s a wanderer and spends as much time over at Gran’s as he does here with me, if not more. She joked she should go for joint custody. Farrell hated him almost as much as Mr. T hated Farrell.”
Zander angled his head. “What can I say? Your cat has good taste in men. You want me to come in for a bit?”
Isabel nodded. She opened the car and stepped outside. The stench was far worse here. She gagged and swallowed hard. Her eyes stung and tears fell as she stared at the remains of the house opposite her own.
“Isabel,” Zander touched her arm. “Let’s get you inside.”
She fumbled for her keys and dropped them.
He bent and retrieved them before leading her gently to the front door.
“How did it start?”
“I’ll go and see if they know yet. You get inside.” He unlocked the door and gave her the keys. “Leave it on the latch for me.”
She nodded. The smell wasn’t as bad inside as the maisonette had been closed up all day. It was like an oven however, but she really didn’t want to open any of the front windows. Isabel headed into the kitchen and threw open the tiny window above the sink. She filled the kettle. Next she cleaned out the cat bowl and put down fresh food, just in case Mr. T. decided to grace her with his presence. Was he all right? Had he been here during the fire? Was he outside hiding somewhere? Or had he been with Gran?
The front door closed. “Isabel?”
“In the kitchen.”
Zander came in. “They don’t know yet. Fire investigation will start work in the morning. I asked them to let me know as soon as possible.”
Isabel pulled down the coffee. The same thought ran though her mind over and over. Stupid, really. Dead is dead. Does it matter how? Her hands shook. It did matter, else why was she bothering to find out why those girls died?
Zander’s hands covered hers. “Let me do that.”
“Hmmm? I can do it.”
“You just put ten spoons of coffee in one cup and then six spoons in the other.”
“You like it strong.”
“I also like to sleep. Please, let me.”
“’K.” She relinquished the jar of coffee and leaned against the worktop. “I can’t believe she’s gone. Only saw her this morning when I left for work. She was making dinner for me. She often did and would leave it in the fridge for me to reheat. I…”
She’d have to cook and there was no food in the house. She’d planned on eating with Gran tonight. Grocery shopping was something she hated. Never easy on the bus either. She had to take the fabric trolley with her. Some people called them granny trolleys since only old ladies used them, but since the government brought in the plastic bag charge in supermarkets, more and more people were using them.
“—instead?”
Isabel looked blankly at her partner. She had absolutely no idea what he’d just proposed. “Sorry. I didn’t catch that. Can you repeat it?”
“It’s OK. I asked if you had something else. I could cook for you instead.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s a bit like Old Mother Hubbard’s house here. I hate shopping. I don’t cook much as it’s only me. Don’t see the point.”
Zander raised an eyebrow. “That’s what Gramps says, and I don’t listen to him either. It can’t be easy without a car.”
“It isn’t. I have a trolley hanging behind the door.” She caught the expression on his face. “And don’t call it a granny trolley. Mine’s a dolly trolley and has shoes on it. Besides, how else would I get milk and stuff home? It’s a right pain on the bus though.”
“I bet. How about I drive you over to the grocery store in a bit.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. Can’t have my partner starve to death in the middle of a murder inquiry.” He held out a mug of coffee. “Go sit down and drink this.”
“Thanks.” Isabel took the mug to the lounge. She sank into a chair and curled her legs underneath her. Glancing over at Zander she sighed. “Maybe tomorrow. It’s been a long day. Not really hungry anyway.”
“It has been. How’s your hand?”
She frowned. Her hand? Oh…the needle stick. “It’s fine.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’d forgotten about it. Seems like over a week ago.”
“Just this morning…” His voice faded.
Isabel’s eyes shut all by themselves. She hadn’t been tired, but now she’d actually stopped, exhaustion set in. She didn’t want to doze; she needed to get up and… But maybe a minute wouldn’t hurt. It had been such a horrid day. Images flickered through her mind, like one of those flick books she’d loved as a child. The postcard, the body, two visits to the ED, having to identify Gran. Now she really did have no one. She was alone.
A faint meow woke her. A warm, furry body leapt onto her lap, and purred loudly in her ear. Isabel opened her eyes. Relief flooded her. “Kitty, you’re all right.” She hugged and petted the cat, blinking back the tears. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“You’re awake.” Zander’s amused voice echoed from behind her.
She glanced up, realising the curtains were drawn and the lights were on. “What time is it?”
“Half past eight.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” She inhaled deeply, the unmistakable scent of cooking filling the air. “Is that shepherd’s pie I can smell?”
Zander grinned. “I popped out and did some shopping. I found the jar marked food money in your top cupboard and used that. Hope you don’t mind.”
She shook her head, not sure what to say.
“Just as well. I figured it was easier to ask forgiveness when you woke, than disturb you and ask permission.”
“How long did I sleep?”
“About three hours, maybe just under.” He reached down and stroked the cat. “Hello. Aren’t you a handsome kitty?”
Mr. T nudged Zander’s hand and purred loudly.
“He likes you,” Isabel said.
Zander chuckled. “He has good taste in men. Anyway, I’ve been busy. Come and see.”
The cat jumped off Isab
el’s lap as she pushed to her feet. She followed Zander to the kitchen. “Wow,” she said, looking around. “It’s spotless.”
“I cleaned up after myself,” he said. He nodded to a pile of containers on the side. “You have several individual portions of shepherd’s pie and macaroni cheese. I’ve also bagged up single servings of chicken or pork and prepared veg which are already in the freezer. That way you just have to throw it in a pot in the oven and cook it.”
“You didn’t have to.” Isabel looked at him, in awe of what he’d done.
“Yes. I did.” Zander put a plate in the microwave to reheat. “It’s what family does. Mum is forever cooking meals for church folks who’ve had a baby or lost someone or who is ill. There are also plenty of pies, chips, and so on in the freezer. So, you’ve no excuse not to cook now.” He winked. “I know for a fact the oven works.”
“Did you have something?”
He nodded. “Shepherd’s pie.” He took the plate from the microwave. “Here, eat up while I finish putting this lot away.”
Isabel took the plate and fork. She leaned against the worktop, taking a bite. It was lovely. So much better than anything she could have created.
“Did Gran—Mrs. Kowalski— have any family you know of?”
She shook her head. “No. They didn’t have kids. Her husband died three years ago.” She paused, taking another bite. “I don’t know anything about funerals or anything. She went to Headley Baptist and kept asking me to try it.”
“That’s my church,” Zander said. He closed the freezer door and stood upright. “I’ll give Pastor Carson a call. He’ll know what to do.”
Isabel nodded, putting the plate down. “When’s Ashlyn’s post-mortem?”
“Tomorrow at ten. I said we’d be there. Now, finish your meal and stop talking.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She picked up the plate again. She ate obediently, pulling faces at him.
Zander laughed. “I like this new you.”
She tilted her head. “New me? What do you mean?”
“You’re more relaxed around me for a start. You answer back for another.”
“You told me to.” Isabel waved her fork at him. “I’m not sure when the change happened either. But since I let Jesus take His proper place in my life at the weekend, it’s…” She broke off, unsure of what word to use.