by Clare Revell
“Civil service.”
Isabel studied him. Reading between the lines that meant MI5 or MI6. Probably why Zander had taken such an instant dislike to the man. “OK.”
“Sara said that the painting was commissioned, and that she had to send it here. She was sent a photograph of you.”
Isabel nodded. “I’m assuming it’s my stalker or the…another person of interest.” She wasn’t about to say Slayer, because that theory had to stay in her head for now. “I bought the dress in the photo over a year ago to wear to a wedding. But I didn’t go in the end.”
“You must have worn the dress at some point. Can you remember where?”
Isabel sipped the water. She’d spent a while thinking and finally worked it out. “Yes. Farrell took me to The Folly. It’s a theatre-restaurant on the banks of the Thames. You eat first, and then watch the play. The theatre only seats around a hundred, so it’s a pretty intimate setting. You have to dress for it, and that was the best dress I owned. Even then I felt underdressed and out of place. Everyone else was in tuxes, bow ties, and evening gowns.”
“Farrell? Vixen, the owner of the art gallery?”
“Yeah. He’s my ex-boyfriend.”
“And he didn’t take the photo?”
Isabel shook her head. “No. I’d have remembered that.” Her mind whirled. “Are you thinking that someone local commissioned the painting?”
“It makes sense,” Mrs. Nemec said. “They wanted it sent here.”
“But why not keep it if they wanted it…” She broke off. The same thing had happened with the Ten Commandment paintings. They’d been commissioned, bought, and then just hung for resale. Another connection. It had to be the same person.
She took several sips of water, gathering her thoughts. “And you received the picture and request last May. How long did it take to paint?”
“About eleven months. Normally it would have been faster, but things kept cropping up.”
Isabel glanced at Zander. “I’m not sure why you couldn’t have said any of this in front of my partner. We’re working the case together.”
“How well do you know him?” Mr. Page asked.
“Well enough,” she replied evasively. “Why?”
“His name crossed my desk in connection to a case. I’m not at liberty to discuss what.”
“Such as? You can’t just drop something like that in my lap and not elaborate.” And that definitely made him MI5.
“All I can say is tread carefully. He’s not who he appears to be.”
Isabel scowled back at Zander who was shooting her daggers across the café. “If you are able to, please give me or my boss, DI Holmes, a call.”
“I will. I know Nate well.”
“While I think of it,” Mrs. Nemec said. “Is the painting still hanging in the gallery?”
Isabel nodded. “Yes. With a pretty hefty price tag on it. You’ll want to ensure you get your share when it sells.”
“Daddy!” A small child ran across the room and jumped onto Mr. Page’s lap.
Mr. Page ruffled her hair. “Hi, Lolly. Where’s Mummy?”
“Buying me juice. She’s getting the others some, too.” She pointed to the four kids with Zander and DI Nemec.
“I’ll let you get on.”
“There was one other thing.” Mrs. Nemec produced an envelope. “This was in with the original request. It must have fallen out at some point. I found it in my suitcase.”
Isabel opened it and took out the sheet of paper. She unfolded it. “Four corners to my bed, four angels round my head. One to watch and one to pray and two to bear my soul away,” she read.
“I’ve never come across it before, but I did some online research. It’s a childhood prayer or nursery rhyme.”
“The black paternoster,” Isabel said. “It usually starts with Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, bless the bed I lie upon.” She frowned as alarm bells rang in her head.
“Is there a problem?”
She shook her head. “No, just something I need to get back to the office and chase up. Can I keep hold of this for now?”
“Sure.”
“If this bloke contacts you again, please let me know.” She rose.
Zander met her at the door. “So?”
She held up the envelope. “Need this fingerprinted and photographed.”
He took it before she could stop him. “What is it?”
“It’s part of a nursery rhyme. It came with the original instructions on the painting.”
Zander scanned the page and handed it back. “I’ve never heard of it. Should probably bag it before we get accused of contaminating the evidence again.” He checked his watch. “Ack, home time. Leave it in your bag for now and do it tomorrow.”
She raised an eyebrow. “In case you’d forgotten, your car is at the station. So, I may as well run this up to the lab whilst we’re there.”
“Don’t be long. I need to finish decorating and sorting out the room for Gramps tonight.”
“I won’t be. Just out of interest, what colour is the carpet in your car?”
He shrugged. “No idea. Probably blue if Arend reckons they all are. Why?”
“Just wondered.” She dropped it, not wanting to anger him further. Whatever mood he was in would most likely continue until morning.
~*~
Zander parked outside his house and exited the car quickly. He jogged around the boot and opened it to retrieve his gym bag. “Need to wash the kit,” he explained before Isabel asked. Lately she’d asked way too many questions. As he closed the boot, the blue carpet glared at him. If carpet could glare incriminatingly, this one was. It was time for a new one.
His phone beeped. Glancing at it, he smiled. “Will’s home.”
“Finally.” Isabel beamed. “It’ll be hard for him without his wife there. Her loss will really hit him hard now.”
Zander nodded. “His parents are staying a little longer until he’s off the crutches. He’s in no state to run after the kids. Besides, he still has to arrange his wife’s funeral. Problem is we’re still no closer to catching the bloke who hit them.”
His partner nodded. “Traffic is helping, but we’ll get him eventually. So, dinner and painting tonight?”
“Yes. And it’s your turn to cook.” He unlocked the front door.
“I knew you had an ulterior motive for me moving in. Will your grandfather have to cook as well?”
Zander laughed. “Yes. I’ll do a rota. I have a few things to sort while you make a start on dinner. I need to make a tip run tonight. It shuts at eight, but the sooner I do this, the better.”
“That’s late.”
“Closes at dusk.” He headed into the spare room and opened the cupboard. He removed a black bin liner. Then he opened his kit bag and removed the bloodied clothing. He shoved them into the black sack and carried it through to the garden. Dumping the contents into the incinerator, he then set it alight. He added lighter fuel to ensure it all burnt properly. He watched the shirt and other items of clothing burn.
“What are you doing?”
Zander jumped. “Don’t creep up on me like that.”
“Not sorry.” She nodded to the fire. “You know there’s a clothing bank up the precinct. You wash stuff you don’t want and shove it in there. It then goes to a charitable foundation to be used in hostels and homeless shelters. It also gets sent to disaster areas.”
“I’ll do that with the rest.” He poked the stuff down with a stick.
She frowned. “Isn’t that your new shirt?”
He bit his lip. Trust her to notice. “Nosebleed. Couldn’t get the blood out.”
She shook her head. “Wash it in cold water to get the blood out, then a normal wash. Hot water will set the stain. There’s no need to just throw it away.”
“I’ll bear that in mind for next time.” Zander put the lid firmly on the incinerator. “I’ll go put the rest in the car.” He picked up one of the boxes and carried it to the parked vehicle. He looked at the paint
tin and loosened the lid before dropping it into the boot.
“That was silly.” Isabel dumped a box by his feet and looked at the mess.
“It was rather.” Zander desperately hoped she hadn’t noticed him do it on purpose. “I’ll leave the carpet at the tip and get a new one. Red, to match the red paintwork, perhaps. I’ll go get the last box.” He headed back inside. Darn that woman. She almost caught him again. He’d have to be a lot more careful with her living here.
He trotted back inside the house and picked up the last box of rubbish. As he headed outside, Isabel came back in.
“Dinner will be in twenty minutes. Are you going to the tip now?”
“Yeah. I won’t be long, if that’s all right with you?”
She nodded. “I can cover yours if you’re not back.”
“Thanks.” He got in the car and shut the door. Hopefully, this was everything, and he wouldn’t have to make another trip. Winding down the window he glanced at her. “Keep an eye on the fire. Don’t want the grass catching. Won’t be long.”
~*~
Isabel walked back inside as the car drove away, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out the tissue and opened it slowly. A small piece of blue carpet lay there. She hurried to her room and laid it on the bed. Finding an evidence bag, she enclosed the tissue and carpet fragment and hid it at the bottom of her handbag. She scribbled a note and shoved it into the pocket of the shirt she had out for the next day.
Sitting on the bed, she opened the laptop and stuck the SD card into the disc drive to watch the footage. Zander appeared to check her in-tray several times a day, at one point putting a brown envelope into it.
The smoke alarm went off. Isabel shut the laptop and ran down to the kitchen. She flung open the window. There was no fire, and the incinerator was fine outside. The sausages in the oven, however, were slightly charcoaled. She dished up two meals and covered them both. She tugged her phone from her back pocket and texted the Guv.
I need to speak with you alone tomorrow.
Is everything all right?
No. It's not.
I can come over now if that's easier.
She thought quickly before replying. That would make things less complicated as she could show him the footage and then send it to his email if he wanted a copy.
Zander is out right now, doing a tip run. He's due back soon.
I'll be five minutes.
Isabel ran upstairs for her laptop and then sat on the doorstep waiting. Just under five minutes later, the Guv pulled up outside Zander’s house. Isabel jogged up the path and got into the passenger seat. “Thanks for this.”
“No worries. What’s up?”
“This. I bugged my desk. Should have asked, I know, but figured it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission.” Isabel ran the footage from the zebra cam.
As it finished, Zander pulled up behind them. He got out and walked over.
Isabel minimised the screen quickly. She wound down the window. “You’re back.”
Zander nodded. “Everything OK?”
“Yup. Emailing the Guv some stuff he needs. I forgot which files it was, so he’s just showing me. This way I can bounce off your Wi-Fi still. I’ll be inside in a sec. Dinner is dished up on the side in the kitchen.” She closed the window as Zander headed into the house. “I don’t like doing this.”
“You’re not doing anything wrong, Isabel. You’re trying to clear him, nothing more. I’ll get him out of the office tomorrow and let you follow up this angle of inquiry.”
“OK. Right, the file is sent. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She got out of the car and went back inside the house.
“I figured we go out to dinner tomorrow,” Zander said.
“Is that in case I burn it again?”
He smirked. “Nah. Celebrate the fact neither of us are working the weekend and we have two days off.”
“It’s only Tuesday, but OK. I’ll just put this away and I’ll be down.” She ran upstairs and shut the bedroom door. She quickly changed the password on her laptop and shut it down. I want to be wrong about you Zander. So very, very much.
14
Isabel sat quietly during the morning briefing. She hadn’t slept much, worrying about how much trouble she was getting Zander into because of her hair-brained theory. The only good news was that Mrs. Philips had come through the surgery and was making a good recovery. She and the baby were expected home after the weekend.
At the end of the briefing, DI Holmes turned to Zander. “Zander, I’d like you and Jason to speak with Yasmin’s husband, Rob Bowery, again this morning. Ask about the necklace, get a description and a photograph if he has one. Also find out if they had a break in or robbery between January and March.”
Zander frowned. “I though Isabel was doing that.”
“Isabel is way behind on her paperwork. She isn’t going anywhere until it’s all signed and on my desk.”
Austin laughed. “Isabel’s in trouble,” he sing-songed.
“And yours is even more backlogged. You can clear it before lunch.” DI Holmes turned back to Zander. “So, show Jason the ropes. How we do things on the street here. Plus, he already interviewed Mr. Bowery, so it’ll be some form of continuity.”
“But…”
The shutters came down on the DI’s face. “Sergeant, I asked you to do something. Do I need to repeat myself a third time?”
“No, sir.”
“And your service car has a flat. You’ll have to book another car out.”
“A flat?” Zander repeated. “I didn’t drive it yesterday.”
“It was booked out last night and got into an altercation with a bollard. The tyre is flat.”
Austin grinned. “Maybe it was Zander. We all know about him and bollards.”
Zander scowled. “It was one time,” he muttered, shoving to his feet. “Come on, Jason. Let’s go do grown up policing and leave the children to redo their homework.”
Isabel stuck her foot out as he passed, laughing as he tripped over it.
Zander regained his balanced and glared at her.
She poked her tongue out and swung her chair onto two legs. “Am I being childish enough for you…Sarge?”
He shook his head. “Grow up.”
“Someone got out the wrong side of the bed.” She rose. “I’ll make a start on my paperwork. If anyone wants me, I shall be chained to my desk for the foreseeable future.” She crossed the room, making a show of pulling a face at the massive stack of files. “Start at the top and work down, Isabel,” she told herself.
Zander and Jason headed out of the squad room.
DI Holmes glanced in her direction and held up five fingers.
Figuring he meant to give him five minutes, Isabel pulled the top file off the in-tray. She really was catching up on paperwork. But only the top file was hers. The rest were there for show.
“So what car is Zander getting this morning, Guv?” Austin asked.
“The yellow mini.”
Austin roared with laughter. “Watching him squash himself into that will be amusing.” He moved over to the window and watched. “He’ll be easy to spot. Isabel, want coffee?”
“Please. He’ll hate that car before too long. Especially if Jason plays the yellow car game.”
“Vianne plays that all the time,” DI Holmes commented. “I’ve finally convinced her that point scoring is far more fun than thumping people.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Austin said.
Isabel turned back to her file and tuned the men out. She had five sheets to review and sign. Wouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes.
Coffee clunked onto the desk beside her. “He’s gone.”
“Thank you.” Isabel signed the sheets and stuck the paper back in the file. “Done.”
“Aren’t you doing the rest?” Austin asked.
DI Holmes shook his head. “No, she isn’t. Isabel’s on special assignment for me this morning. Go do your paperwork. Chief Superinte
ndent Clydesdale wants the backlog cleared by noon or we’re all for the high jump.”
“Yes, Guv.” Austin retreated to his desk.
Isabel winked at him as he sat heavily. “You’ll be fine since you can jump higher than a lamppost.”
“Huh?” Austin grumped. “Don’t get it.”
“Lampposts can’t jump so of course you can jump higher than one,” she explained.
DI Holmes groaned. “That is terrible. I shall have to remember it to tell Vianne.”
“She seems like a great kid.”
“She is. My mother has finally agreed that I did a good job of raising her.”
“Why wouldn’t you have?”
“She’s my niece. Mother felt that she should have been granted custody after my brother, Pete, and his wife died, not me. But Pete left instructions for me to raise her. Bring your laptop into my office.” He winked. “Yes, you can bring the zebra as well.”
Isabel grinned. “Can I? Oh, yay.” She grabbed the zebra. “Come on Zander, we’re going on an adventure.”
“You can take this childish thing too far, you know.” He pointed at her. “And don’t even consider poking your tongue out and waggling your fingers at me.”
She grinned, then let her face fall in mock disappointment. This work was too serious without some joking. “Ohhhh. OK, then.” She put her folders, pink paper, and zebra onto the laptop.
Austin smirked from across the room. “You’re not going to push it?”
She shook her head. “I have it on good authority that he takes away your phone charger for days and days and days when you push him too far.” Scooping up her things, she followed DI Holmes across the squad room to his office.
He cleared a space on his desk. “Have a seat. I’ve asked a colleague to come and join us. He works in the professional standards department, or PDS for short. I’d like you to tell him what you told me.”
Her heart sank as she sat, and she felt physically sick. She studied her shoes, wishing for a sink hole to open right now and swallow her.
“And there he is. Come in.”
The door opened. “Morning, Nate.”
“Morning, sir. Isabel, this is DCI Justin Fairweather. Sir, this is DC Isabel York.”
“Sir.” Isabel stood and shook his hand, desperately hoping her phone would ring and she’d be called away to an emergency someplace else. Somewhere far, far, far away from here. She shouldn’t have said anything. Then she mentally slapped herself. Of course, she should. Yes, whistle-blowers often got sacked or ostracised a dozen other ways, but she had to clear her partner’s name one way or the other. She glanced at the Guv who was pouring coffee. “Sir, is this really necessary? I’m probably wrong and this is all coincidental and circumstantial. There isn’t enough here to convict anyone, never mind my partner.”