Murder by the Minster

by Helen Cox

  Deon offered a weak smile and took another sip of her water.

  Halloran placed a gentle hand on Kitt’s shoulder. ‘Follow me,’ he said.

  Kitt looked at Halloran’s hand and then followed him as he headed out into the kitchen.

  She was quite taken aback by how narrow the kitchen was, especially given the popularity of the restaurant. It wasn’t so bad lengthways. There was enough space for an industrial oven, two sinks, and a dishwasher. Not to mention a couple of worktops for chopping ingredients and lining up plates to be delivered to the tables. Widthways however, it was a touch too narrow to stand face-to-face with anyone without invading their personal space. Kitt and Halloran tried it for a moment. In this position, Kitt could almost feel his breath on her skin and it was at once clear to her that this set-up was not going to make it easy to concentrate on the details of the latest victim. She sidled back towards the doorway, leaning against a cupboard next to one of the sinks.

  ‘Tim Diallo,’ said Halloran. ‘That name mean anything to you?’

  ‘Tim Diallo,’ Kitt repeated. ‘No, sorry, it doesn’t. Third victim?’

  Halloran put away his notebook, pulled out his phone, and swiped across the screen. ‘This . . . it’s not a pretty picture, but it will save you from having to look at the body in the flesh, as it were.’

  Kitt offered a polite nod. She didn’t have the heart to tell the inspector that she had had the misfortune of seeing a dead body in the flesh once before. Still, she braced herself before looking at Halloran’s phone. On the screen was an image of a thin, bespectacled man with black hair cut very close to his head. His green-grey eyes were opened wide, but there was no life in them. His arms had been crossed over his body like the other victims, and there was a patch of blood around his chest.

  Kitt cleared her throat. ‘I don’t recognize him, but it looks like the same MO, right?’

  Halloran nodded. ‘Diallo was poisoned. All signs point to the same chemicals used for the first two murders, but we haven’t confirmed that yet. He had a note pinned to his chest, with a fountain pen just like the first two victims.’

  ‘What did the note say this time?’

  ‘“We’ll always have Paris.”’

  Kitt frowned and took a deep breath. ‘So, we’ve narrowed our suspects down to Humphrey Bogart fans with a sick sense of humour.’

  Halloran’s jaw tightened. ‘And someone who wears nail polish, let’s not forget that oh-so-important fact.’

  ‘What about the fountain pens? Are they all the same brand?’

  ‘This hasn’t been released to the press, so you need to keep it quiet, but the killer is using Stanwyck fountain pens. It’s a defunct brand, so it’s only possible to get hold of them second-hand. We’ve been running down leads in local stockists and online stockists. We’ve interviewed everyone who lives in the district and has bought more than one of them, but the list is short and so far no one has any connection to this case.’

  Kitt stared at the inspector. Unlike Banks, he wasn’t standing straight and tall. His head had a noticeable bow to it and some dark circles under his eyes told the story of a sleepless night. Perhaps several. Though Kitt didn’t have dark circles of her own, she felt them. Had it really been only a week since this nightmare had begun?

  ‘I know this is a stupid question,’ she said, ‘but are you all right?’

  ‘I don’t have any choice but to be,’ said Halloran.

  ‘That’s not true,’ said Kitt, taking a step towards the inspector. ‘At least, not when it comes to me. I’m not an official police employee. I’m not going to feed anything back to your superiors.’

  ‘I appreciate the concern,’ said Halloran, his eyes wandering across the kitchen surfaces until they met with hers, ‘truth is, I don’t have time to wallow. The first two killings happened four days apart. The gap between the second and the third was just three days.’

  ‘He . . . might be escalating,’ Kitt said.

  ‘Seems to be. I need to stay active. Pursue every lead.’

  Instinct took over then. Kitt put her hand on the inspector’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘Don’t lose hope. We’ll work this out, we will,’ she said.

  He looked down at her from his six-foot-something vantage point and put his hand on top of hers.

  For a moment, all Kitt could focus on was the pressure, the pleasing weight and the warmth of his skin. His hands were large and firm and strong . . .

  ‘So,’ Kitt continued, withdrawing her hand. ‘Given the nature of the other murders, the links to their past relationships, we’re assuming that this guy did something excruciatingly cruel to an ex-girlfriend during a mini-break in Paris?’

  ‘Something like that,’ said Halloran. ‘As soon as a PC gets here to relieve Banks, she’ll be off trying to locate his latest ex-girlfriend. You’d think I’d get more resources on a case like this, but not a chance. It’s clear by now that it’s unlikely the ex-girlfriend will be the killer. But there might be another clue somewhere in her statement.’

  ‘And I take it you still have Turner in custody?’

  ‘Don’t even say it,’ said Halloran. ‘Yes, the crime was committed while he was in custody, which makes pinning any of this on him even harder.’

  ‘Still going with the accomplice theory?’

  ‘The more elaborate this thing gets, the less likely it is that the killer is acting solo.’

  Kitt paused. ‘And if you really think about it, if there is an accomplice, this was the perfect time for them to commit another murder. It proves his innocence, or near as damn it.’

  ‘We might be able to use that line of argument. But it’s still circumstantial, and we’re running out of time to hold him,’ Halloran admitted. ‘The tests came back from his house, we found nail polish remover, but not in large quantities, and no peroxide or diazepam. We’re still waiting on the forensics from his locker at work though.’

  ‘And what about this crime scene? There weren’t any clues left behind? Forensic or otherwise?’ said Kitt. ‘At some point whoever is doing this has to have made a mistake and missed something.’

  ‘Well, the paper the note was written on was the same as the other murders. We might find something in that, but it’s thin. There is one other glimmer of hope though,’ said Halloran.

  ‘Hope? You mean I was dishing out sympathy for no good reason?’ Kitt said with a faint smile. Halloran had the same gleam in his eyes she had noticed back on Evie’s doorstep on Friday.

  Kitt swallowed hard, wondering. What was going on in that mind of his? And then, yet again, she checked herself. Curiosity like that only caused trouble. She had taken Grace’s advice and ignored Theo’s friend request, so at least that was the end of that. But she couldn’t risk developing an attachment to the inspector when there was so much at stake. If this case, and her general experience, had taught Kitt anything, it was that romantic entanglements rarely led anywhere good.

  ‘There’s a camera in that alleyway and the strong likelihood of CCTV footage.’

  ‘You might have mentioned that earlier,’ said Kitt.

  ‘Sorry. Tired.’

  Kitt raised both eyebrows. ‘You think the killer is on tape?’

  ‘Not by accident.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They’ve been so careful up until now. No traces of forensic evidence. Few clues. It’s out of character.’

  ‘Mmm. Patrick Bateman.’

  Halloran frowned at her. ‘American Psycho?’

  Kitt’s smile broadened. She wagered a police detective might have read that book, or at least seen the film, which, much to Grace’s amusement when they had discussed it, scared Kitt more than she’d expected. It wasn’t the blood or the gore. It was the idea that someone who seemed so charming could in fact be the end of you. Who wouldn’t think it was a good idea to go home with Christi
an Bale? He scrubbed up well enough.

  ‘Patrick Bateman was playing a sort of game, to see what he could get away with. See how close he could get to being caught.’

  ‘It’s part of the thrill.’

  ‘This is good news,’ said Kitt.

  ‘How?’

  ‘It means they’re going to go a step too far at some point. It means we’re going to catch them.’

  ‘I was always going to catch them,’ said Halloran. ‘The problem with cases like this is, it isn’t about catching them. It’s about catching them before they kill anyone else.’

  ‘I could text Evie that name, Tim Diallo, and ask if she knows him. Maybe there’s a link there?’

  Halloran lowered his eyes. ‘That makes sense. I’m going to the Owl and Star tonight.’

  Kitt nodded. ‘You know, there must be a way the killer is finding out about all these break-ups. Maybe they’re overhearing them in the Owl and Star – people do talk about that kind of thing down the pub.’

  ‘It’s more likely that the killer is directly connected to the victims in some way, but definitely something to consider. And given the rate of escalation, the odds are strong the killer will show their face there tonight.’

  ‘Most things that concern Yorkshire people are settled down the pub, don’t see why a murder case should be any different,’ said Kitt.

  ‘You should join me,’ said Halloran, meeting Kitt’s eyes again.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It will look more natural if I’m not sitting alone, but I don’t have the resources to take another officer.’

  ‘Oh . . . I see. W-well . . .’

  ‘What do you say? Want to come along and help me look less conspicuous?’

  Kitt searched for an excuse. But the truth was she didn’t want to make one.

  Instead, she narrowed her eyes at the inspector and put her hand on her hip. ‘I’ll do my best, but I’m not a miracle worker.’

  Halloran smiled.

  Twenty-six

  ‘Walls?’ said Evie.

  Kitt looked askance at Evie. ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘Do you want to walk the walls?’ Evie pointed up at the iron gateway, complete with the county’s white rose emblem, which led up to the Roman city walls at Victoria Bar.

  ‘Howay then, less tourist traffic up there than there is in the streets at this time of day.’

  On their way to lunch on the other side of town, the pair hopped up the stone staircase and at once their hair was caught in the gusts of wind ripping through the battlements at the top. Kitt held onto her trilby for a moment until they moved to a less exposed portion of wall. From their new vantage point, it was possible to look out over the rooftops of the red-bricked suburbia below. A weak sun cowered behind the gauze of grey cloud, making the buildings look duller in colour than they might have on a clearer day. But there was still some serenity to be had, looking down at the world like that. A reminder of how good a shift in point of view could be for the soul.

  ‘Have you asked Zoe if she knows Tim Diallo?’ asked Evie, while Kitt tried to ignore the outline of the old chocolate factory, looming in the distance over the cul-de-sacs and cottages. She instead turned her gaze towards the Minster. From almost anywhere in the city centre, it was possible to get a glimpse of those thirteenth-century gothic spires that seemed to cut through any amount of fog.

  ‘The police are dealing with that bit, I just had to check in with you,’ Kitt replied, squinting into the middle distance in case it was possible she could pick out the sails of Holgate Windmill through the haze. It was, just about. The sight of that old mill, restored to working order by loving local residents, usually brought a smile to her face. But she hadn’t been so quick to smile over the last week, and she wasn’t the only one. Even in somewhere like London or Manchester, this killer would still have left their mark, but in a place the size of York this kind of tragedy had cast a shadow over the whole community, its ugliness lurking in all the nooks and corners that were once thought safe.

  Evie sighed. ‘I wish I did have some nugget of information to unravel this whole case. To stop everyone thinking I am a murderer, and to stop any more people dying. When will it end?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Kitt, patting her friend on the shoulder. ‘And not everyone thinks you’re the killer. I don’t, and neither does Grace, or Banks.’ Kitt wished she could have added Halloran to that list, but she still wasn’t sure about that.

  ‘Banks thinks I’m innocent?’

  ‘That’s what I heard her say,’ said Kitt. As the conversation had been overheard it didn’t seem right to reveal the context, but she felt it important for her friend to know there was hope.

  ‘Well, that’s something at least. Maybe she knows what it’s like to have a boyfriend break up with you the way Owen did me, maybe she sympathizes.’

  ‘It would be a girlfriend in her case, from what I understand, but maybe she does know what it’s like to go through a bad break-up. Whatever her reasoning, she doesn’t believe you’re guilty.’

  Evie offered a frail smile and went quiet for a moment. She stepped aside so that a young couple could pass on a narrow part of the path. Kitt did the same and watched the lovers squeeze by, secretly hoping the young man didn’t take it upon himself to break up with the young woman in some cowardly way. Right now such a move could prove very bad for his health indeed.

  With the couple out of their way, Kitt and Evie started walking again.

  ‘Sorry about not being able to give you a lead on Diallo,’ said Evie.

  ‘It’s all right, it’s just eliminating lines of enquiry at this stage. I already texted Halloran, so he can rule that out.’

  Evie swung her head around at this and a knowing smile came over her full lips, which she’d painted deep red. ‘Been texting the inspector a lot, have you?’

  ‘About the case, a bit,’ said Kitt, trying to keep her tone casual.

  ‘Just about the case?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘You haven’t talked about anything else?’

  ‘No,’ Kitt said, a bit too quickly. ‘Well, a bit about how the case is affecting him, but that still technically counts as the case.’

  ‘So he’s opening up to you? Letting you in on what he’s thinking?’

  ‘A bit.’

  Evie giggled to herself.

  ‘Whatever just ran through your mind,’ Kitt said, ‘don’t say it.’

  ‘There must be some big perks to dating a detective.’

  ‘Evie, stop teasing.’

  ‘I’m not teasing. I’m just talking generally about the pluses of having a man of the law on your arm. No more parking tickets.’

  ‘I doubt that’s true.’

  ‘You’d get the inside scoop on all the most dramatic happenings about town.’

  ‘According to Ruby I could achieve that by taking the 59 bus.’

  ‘Not the same,’ Evie said. ‘Besides, it’s never a terrible thing to date someone who owns a pair of handcuffs.’

  Kitt sighed at her friend. ‘The only thing I’m in the market for right now is a gag.’

  ‘Oooh,’ Evie said with another giggle. ‘Kinky.’

  ‘With the right person, I’m sure,’ said Kitt, determined not to give Evie the satisfaction of rising to this. Or give her friend any indication about the thoughts racing through her mind just now. They were centred on Halloran’s large, strong hands. A feature that would probably give him little use for handcuffs in an intimate situation . . .

  ‘Do you know if the killer was caught on CCTV, like Halloran thought? Or which Belle’s Ball attendee might be leaking information to the press?’ said Evie, seemingly understanding that she wasn’t going to draw Kitt any further on the topic of Halloran.

  ‘Haven’t heard back on either of those things yet. Hopefu
lly, I’ll find out tonight.’

  ‘What’s happening tonight?’ Evie asked, raising her eyebrows.

  So, she had just pretended to drop the subject.

  ‘I’m meeting Halloran at the Owl and Star for some undercover work. And before you say something you consider clever, yes, that was undercover work, not work under the covers.’

  Evie chuckled. ‘So you say . . . So the third victim was picked up there too?’

  ‘It was on the police agenda even before the third killing, but Halloran texted to say the financials suggested he’d been there last night, yes.’

  ‘Just the two of you, tonight?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Bet you a hundred pounds it is.’

  ‘Halloran has got enough on his plate, don’t you think, without concocting excuses to get me alone.’

  ‘When you’re that busy you have to be efficient. Do you really think the killer is going to show there, tonight?’

  ‘Halloran says the murderer is escalating. That they’ll try to kill someone else soon, so it could very well happen.’

  ‘I’d love to be there when you get him,’ said Evie. ‘I’m going out for a few drinks with Jazz and Heather tonight.’

  ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea to be going out at the moment? With people being picked off by an unknown killer?’

  ‘Not people,’ said Evie, ‘men.’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s true,’ said Kitt. ‘For once it’s relatively safe to be a woman out after dark.’

  ‘Maybe we should swing around to the Owl and Star when we’re finished at The Maltings?’

  ‘Much as I’d love to see you, that’s probably not a good idea.’ Kitt put her hand on her friend’s arm. ‘If the killer is there, your presence might tip them off or make them alter their plan in some way, and we need to draw them out.’

  ‘Hmm. Good thinking. Though it could be an excuse just to keep Halloran to yourself . . .’

  ‘Would you cool your heels on that? Nothing is going on between me and Halloran.’