by Clare Revell
“I can assure you, I’ll be making a complete report to my superior officer, and all of it will be reported. Not just DC Easton’s actions, but everything said and done by all of us. In the meantime, I need a photograph of your nose for my records.”
Farrell scowled as Zander took the photo.
“Now, this painting. That was the reason we came over this morning.”
“So why didn’t Izzy come with you?”
Zander hissed in frustration. “Mr. Vixen, did you or did you not report a theft and demand we turn up? Because if not, then I have a dozen other cases I could be getting on with, which is precisely what DC York is doing.”
Farrell pointed to a large, open space on the wall. “It’s gone.”
“When did you last see it?”
“When I locked up at eight-thirty last night. I was doing inventory and Lost Love was hanging there as it usually does. I came in this morning, and the door was unlocked.”
“And you definitely locked up last night?”
“And set the alarm. The alarm was cut. The side window is smashed, as you can clearly see, and the door forced from the inside. Now you need to get someone over here to dust for prints and take photographs and…”
“I will do so in one moment.” Zander was sorely tempted to tell the annoying man not to do his job for him. “Was your CCTV working?”
“Of course, it was. I imagine you’ll need the footage. The artist was coming in this morning. I don’t know what I’ll tell her.”
“The truth.” As he finished, the door opened and Mrs. Nemec walked in accompanied by her husband. “And now’s your chance. Mrs. Nemec, so lovely to see you again.” He nodded to her husband. “And you, sir.”
“Can I help you?” Farrell asked, his expression indicating he didn’t like the way Zander had taken over.
“Mr. Vixen, meet the artist of Lost Love, and her husband, DI Nemec.” He had to admit it was worth it just for the look of horror on Farrell’s face. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to give SOCO and my senior officer a call.” He moved to one side
Farrell’s voice took on a whiny conciliatory tone as he began to explain.
Zander called SOCO then texted Isabel.
And it just got worse. How's it going?
Let Mrs. D and the daughter go. Charged Mr. D with as much as we can. About to interview BT. All go here. You?
Oh, the fur is about to fly. Again. Got a shield?
Zander changed message boxes.
Guv. It's me. Call me ASAP.
He put his phone away and moved back across to where Farrell stood, even more flustered than he had been.
“So, what’s happening, Sergeant?” DI Nemec asked.
“I’ve arranged for SOCO to come and take prints and so on. They’ll be here within the hour. Mr. Vixen will give me his CCTV footage now. I’ll make sure this is dealt with as quickly as possible, though it may get handed to another set of detectives. As you’re aware I’m in the middle of a complicated murder investigation.” His phone rang, playing the Guv’s ring tone. Saved by the bell, literally in this case. He held up a hand. “Excuse me a moment. DS Ellery.”
“It’s me. I’ve had Frank on the phone, plus your text. What’s going on?”
“It’s a little complicated, sir.”
“I get that you can’t talk. Just answer yes or no. Did Frank hit Farrell Vixen?”
“Yes.”
“Was it provoked?”
“Yes. I’ll fill you in properly when I get back.” He glanced at Farrell. “I’m just waiting on the CCTV footage which will be everything from the gallery closing last night, up to and including our arrival here this morning.”
“Good. Bring Frank back here now.”
Zander tried not to smirk. “Is he grounded?”
DI Holmes growled. “Just get back here now.” The line went dead.
Zander put his phone away. “I’m needed back at the station.”
Farrell looked dismissively at him. “Ask at the desk for the footage. Inspector and Mrs. Nemec, if you wouldn’t mind coming through to my office.”
Zander strode over to the desk. “I need copies of all the CCTV for the past twenty-four hours, including the incident when I arrived. With sound, if you have it.”
“Sure. Give me five minutes.”
His phone beeped. He chuckled as he read Austin’s text.
Where's the computer copy of the cake act? Need to add to it.
Naff off the CO, by any chance?
LOL. Can hear him ranting halfway down the corridor and you two aren't even back yet. It should be on Isabel’s computer, but we can’t find it.
Will be there in 15 mins. Actually, I'll email it to Is and you can add to it then print off the new copy.
Zander sent the email, and then collected the footage. He headed out to the car and climbed into the passenger side. “Got to take this back to the station.”
Frank hissed. “Good. I spoke to the Guv.”
“So I did. Drive.”
Back at the station Isabel sat at her desk. She glanced at them as they came in. “Guv wants to see you both in his office with the CCTV footage now. He’s not on his own.”
“Oh, joy.” Zander headed to DI Holmes office. He wasn’t surprised to see DCI Fairweather from the PSD there. Or DCI Britton. The latter was the Guv’s boss, who overlooked all the CID units and only usually appeared when there was trouble.
Zander nodded and shut the door. “Guv. Sirs.”
“Have a seat, both of you.” DI Holmes pointed to the two free chairs. “Is that the CCTV, DS Ellery?”
Zander held out the envelope. “She put this morning’s incident on disc B. The overnight stuff for our investigation is on disc A.”
“Thank you. So, DC Easton. Mind telling me in your own words what happened this morning?”
“Has that jerk made a complaint?”
“I assume you mean Farrell Vixen,” DCI Britton said.
“We all know what he did to Isabel and then he starts bad mouthing her. I merely did what the Sarge should have done. She’s his partner, after all.”
“You hit him?”
“He asked for it. Not in so many words obviously. He didn’t say ‘please hit me’ because he’s not that stupid.”
DI Holmes fixed a stern gaze onto Zander. “And your version?”
“He asked where Isabel was and how she was. Then Frank hit him.”
“He made several hand gestures. You might not have seen them, Sarge, but I did.”
DI Holmes raised a hand. “Enough. Let’s play the disc and see. Solve this matter once and for all.”
Zander folded his arms as the disc began to play.
The door opened and Zander and Frank entered the art gallery. They walked over to the desk. “DS Ellery to see Farrell Vixen.”
Farrell appeared immediately. “DS Ellery. Thank you for coming and at such short notice.”
“You said it was important.”
“It is…” He looked around. “Who’s this?”
“DC Frank Easton.”
“No Izzy today? I hope she’s not sick.”
“She’s busy on another case.” Zander raised an eyebrow. “But you know very well why she isn’t here.”
“The PIN she took out against me. Yes, I am fully aware of that. Please pass on my regards when you see her. Despite the way things ended between us, I’d hate for something to happen to her.” He turned to Zander, first making several obscene gestures before sliding his hands into his pockets. “We’ve had another break-in.”
Frank swung his left arm, sending Farrell to the ground, clutching his face.
DI Holmes stopped the recording. “Zander leave us. Fill in an incident report and have it ready for me in half an hour.”
“Guv.” He rose, headed out and shut the door behind him. He glanced over at the others as he walked, and mimed slitting his throat. “Umm, everyone to the briefing room for a bit, I think.”
Austin whispered. “We
could finalise the Cake Act.” He held up the box. “We popped out and picked some up especially.”
Zander grabbed his report book and a pen. “Sure. I need to write up a report, but I can multitask. Let’s go.” He left the squad room just as the Guv began yelling.
~*~
Isabel held up the sheet. “So this is the Cake Act. It states that cakes are to be provided by the offender each time a section is breached. It will be on the notice board and needs strictly adhering to. Cakes must be provided on the following occasions. Promotion gained or lost, or you know someone who does. Joins or leaves the department. Arrest made. Crashes a marked police car or an unmarked police car. Gets locked out of your service car—bonus cakes if the keys are still in the ignition. Late for duty, wife gets pregnant or has a baby, you get married, divorced, or engaged. You’re off sick. Someone dies, or you save a life. You go on leave. You return from leave. You use the emergency assist code without due need. It’s your/husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/dog’s birthday. Someone makes a complaint against you…”
Zander laughed. “I’m assuming that was a recent addition.”
“Yeah. So you cry on duty. You make the Guv shout and lose his cool. Hurt on duty. Just because.”
Austin smirked. “Well, Frank just broke two of those so that’s double cakes.”
Isabel waved the paper. “This is the official list. It can be added to at any time.” She held up another sheet. “This is the sticker chart. When you break a section, mark it off. Just to see who provides the most cakes in a month.”
Zander scribbled on a sheet of paper. He signed it and glanced up. “So, what’s happened with the other cases?”
“Karen and Doris Darley released without charge. Frederick Darley on his way to court to be remanded. The CPS is throwing the book at him and tossing away the key. Doris was nine when he started. He made her have an abortion at twelve—a mate of his took care of it.”
“All in all, a really nice bloke,” Austin muttered.
“Barney Terrance admitted killing Susan Higgins so he’s off to court to be remanded as well. Rev. Eke is denying everything. The Guv got an extended hold for him. George Harmon is also off to court to be remanded. So, all in all, a productive morning.”
A door slammed, and DI Holmes voice echoed.
“Do what you want I don’t care. I quit!” Frank yelled.
Silence filled the briefing room.
Then Austin grinned. “Section twenty-five. Someone quits and we all go for a pub lunch. With cakes.”
“Sounds good to me,” Zander said. “But now, before we all get caught sneaking out.”
An hour later, they came back to find DI Holmes with his office door open. He appeared immediately. “Where were you all?”
“Lunch. I left that form for you before we went,” Zander said. “Where’s Frank?”
“Gone. His choice. No doubt he’ll try coming back, but,” he shook his head, “anyway Isabel, you have mail.”
She sighed. “You know this really isn’t funny anymore.” She went through it. “So, this afternoon I have more stair lifts, garden centre vouchers, a catalogue for outsized clothing, pizza leaflets, shoes, oh, and yes, I’ve always wanted a lingerie catalogue. No gift catalogue? I’m truly hurt, because I wanted to circle everything I want for Christmas in it.” She reached the bottom of the pile and froze at the A5 brown envelope. “Umm, Guv?”
DI Holmes turned around. “OK, put gloves on now. Zander get two evidence bags. I want them bagged as soon as they are opened before anyone else touches them.”
“It’s too soon,” Isabel said.
“Maybe he knows he messed up, and he’s trying to distract us,” Zander suggested.
“Or he’s escalating.” She pulled gloves on and picked up the envelope. “Posted yesterday. Croydon postmark. Same writing. Same pen by the looks of it. The picture is a coal bunker. Not something you see in most gardens these days.” She turned the card around.
I AM THE LORD YOUR GOD. YOU SHALL NOT GIVE FALSE TESTIMONY AGAINST YOUR NEIGHBOUR. 5-20
20
Silence descended as Isabel read the verse. She was convinced she could hear her heart pounding. No one spoke. She took a deep breath. “Can I make a suggestion?”
“Go on.” DI Holmes studied her.
“We split the list between the eight of us here.” She glanced around at the Guv, Zander, Austin, Jason, Tony, Harry, and Steve. “We ring every single woman on it. Make sure they are OK and not missing. Warn them to stay inside for the next two days. It’s the weekend so shouldn’t be hard. There are one hundred and forty of them. Well, one hundred and thirty-nine because I’m here. Divided by eight that’s around seventeen calls each.”
“Good thinking. Give me five to print off a list and divide it up. I’ll also arrange for a patrol car to swing past their houses a few times. Once you’ve made the calls, hit the search engines for coal bunkers.”
“Every house in my street still has one,” Zander said.
“Newer builds like mine don’t. Should cut it down a bit.” Austin pointed out.
“Good point. Tony, I want you and Jason to partner up. Jason, there’s a permanent spot on the team if you’d like it.”
“Yes, please.”
“Welcome aboard.”
Austin cheered. “New person joins the team…cakes.”
DI Holmes shook his head. “Isabel you have unleashed a monster with your Cake Act. OK, people, the clock is ticking. Let’s get to work.”
“Guv,” Zander began, “it’s the weekend.”
“Good point, Sergeant, and thank you for reminding me. I want you and Isabel on call tomorrow—”
“And we’re on call on Monday!”
“Zander and Isabel tomorrow,” DI Holmes repeated, “and Tony and Jason on call on Sunday. We are not getting caught napping again.”
Five minutes later with the squad settled at the desks, DI Holmes dished out a section of the list to all of them. “Try not to scare these women too much but make them aware of the risk. If they want to leave town, they need to let us know where they are going, and they need to check in with local forces when they arrive.”
Isabel slowly worked down her list, painstakingly explaining over and over the need to remain indoors and safe to one woman who didn’t seem to care. Finally, she hung up, deciding it was a losing battle and one she didn’t have time to win.
Her mobile rang. “DC York.”
“Hi, this is DS Ellery from Thames Valley Police.”
Isabel shook her head and shot Zander a withering look to where he was sitting on the other side of her desk. “Can I help you?”
Zander smirked. “It’s regarding the Slayer. He’d like you to know that you’re on the top of his list, and he’s coming to get you.”
“Well, you tell the Slayer from me that I have plans for this weekend, and they don’t include him, his creepy letters, or cryptic postcards.”
“Really? Because he’s desperate to get you into matching…”
Isabel threw a notebook at him. “Thank you for calling.” She hung up.
Zander laughed. “I can cross you off my list now.”
“Such a child.”
Zander’s phone rang. “DS Ellery…one moment. Is, it’s for you.”
Isabel reached over and took the handset. “DC York.”
“Hi, this is Simon Gardener from New Wine. We’ve had five late sign-ups for New Wine week two. All of them are from your area, and I thought I should let you know.”
Isabel picked up her pen. “Please.”
“Staci Daniels, Jacqueline Dupers, Jayne Baker, Liz Philips, and Rosa Shipman.”
She froze. “Can you repeat that last name for me?”
“Rosa Shipman. I’ve emailed all the details over to you.”
Isabel pulled up her email. “When did she book?”
“That’s the interesting thing. She said it was February. She paid the deposit, the money left her bank, but there was no record of us
receiving it or of her original booking. She tried to pay the balance and was unable to. We rebooked her at the discounted rate she would have received.”
“Thank you. I got your email.” She put the phone down and frowned.
“What’s up?” Zander asked.
“Five more women just signed up for week two. There was one abnormality. Apparently, she signed up in February, but her booking was lost along with her deposit.”
“OK. Who?”
“Rosa Shipman.”
Zander started, almost jerking from his chair. “Rosa?”
“Yeah. There’s also Staci Daniels, Jacqueline Dupers, Jayne Baker, and Liz Philips.”
“I’ll ring Rosa,” Zander reached for his phone.
“Or I can. She might take it the wrong way if you call.”
“Same applies to you but have at it. She should be around. The judge was in a good mood when she went to court. She got an overnight in a cell and a stiff warning.” He stretched, and then eased his hands against his back. “I need to take a walk anyway.” He stood and headed to the door.
“Maybe cut down on the amount of coffee you drink.” She called to him as she dialled, sighing as the phone went to voicemail. “Hi, this is DC York from Thames Valley Police calling for Rosa Shipman. Could you please give me a call back on this number as soon as possible?”
Half an hour later, with Zander finally back at his desk, the DI came in. “How are we all doing?”
“I had three that I had to leave messages for,” Austin said.
“I had five,” Harry added.
“Two,” Isabel concluded.
“OK. I will get uniform to pay them a visit. It’s possible they couldn’t answer the phone at work. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“What about all the coal bunkers?” Harry asked. “I didn’t get a chance to look. We can’t just do a house to house all over town. It’d take longer than we probably have.”
“We already discussed this,” Zander said brusquely. “We check aerial photos. Disregard the new builds, probably since the eighties. They are most likely only in pre-war homes.”
“I’d go back as far as the sixties,” Isabel said. “Your house has one. Gran’s place did. My old place had the remains of one.”