Vital Signs

by Candy Denman

  “And was planning a spot of blackmail.”

  “Well, they said he saw it as a reason to put his prices up.”

  “But if the client refused?”

  “He might find himself talking to a journalist.”

  “That is definitely blackmail in my book.” Callie thought for a moment. “Did they know who this client was?”

  “No, unfortunately no one is admitting to being one of the boys that Daniel took with him when he went to meet this particular john.”

  “More than one?”

  “Yes. It seems the client often liked more than two or three of them to go along at a time, so he could watch as well as join in, have a bit of a sex and drugs orgy.”

  “He sounds a right charmer.”

  “Mmm, it’s not that uncommon, apparently, but not cheap either. The Met have the boys, some of whom are barely legal, I might add, looking at photographs in the hope someone can identify the man, but it’s not looking hopeful.”

  “Well if they never met him−”

  Miller looked at her as if she was being naive.

  “I just hope none of them are planning on carrying on where Daniel left off,” he told her.

  Callie could understand his worry. If the man had been willing to kill twice to protect his secret, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

  “I certainly hope they find out who it is quickly, but why the visit to me?”

  Miller cleared his throat.

  “We know this client must have a place in London, as that is where Daniel and his mates went for the parties,” he told her. “And we’ve been investigating anyone who has homes both in London and down here.”

  “Makes sense. If he was coming down here to confront his client, there must be some connection.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “There aren’t that many people who live here, have a place in London as well and who might find it embarrassing if it came out they were having sex and drug parties with young men. We’re trying to find out more about all of them, without ruffling any feathers. I could do without any more complaints to the Superintendent.”

  “I’m sure. You think it’s a businessman, or someone like that? A family man, maybe, or a religious leader?”

  “Yes.” He hesitated. “Or an MP?”

  “Oh!” Callie suddenly realised how well he fitted the description. “Ted Savage.”

  “Yes. Our local MP has a house at Pett Level. It’s on the security register, in case it’s attacked by terrorists or nutters.”

  Pett Level was where the migrants first came to shore, and was close to where both body number nine, or Daniel as she now knew him to be, and Michelle had been found. It all fitted so well.

  “Does he have a boat?” she asked.

  “We don’t know. He lives on the beach, though, so it would seem likely. That’s why I’m here, I wondered if you might know, seeing as you are such good buddies.”

  “Buddies? I hardly know the man.”

  “That’s not what Councillor Claybourne says. He says you and Mr Savage are ‘close friends’.” Miller did the irritating bunny ears gesture as he said the words.

  “Judging by what you’ve told me, if he is our man, I’m the wrong sex for that.”

  “Maybe Claybourne doesn’t know that.”

  “No. I can’t imagine him keeping quiet about it if he did. Have there been any rumours about Savage’s sexuality?”

  Callie firmly believed that such matters were entirely personal, but the tabloid press disagreed and if there had been any hint, she would have expected them to pick up on it.

  “No. And the MP does of course have a wife, which might put people off the scent.”

  Callie gave that some thought and realised that it fitted quite well with her impression of Mrs Savage as more an assistant or manager than a partner.

  “Anyway, I have no idea if Ted, Mr Savage, has a boat or not. I’ve not been to his home and I didn’t even know he had a house at Pett Level.”

  “That’s a shame.” Miller was disappointed.

  “And I’ve no idea about his sexuality, contrary to Claybourne’s insinuations,” she added for good measure. “Can’t you just ask him? About the boat, that is.”

  “I may have to, but at the moment I want to keep it low key. I don’t have enough to get a warrant, for anyone on my short list of possible suspects, let alone an MP. I’m just going to have to wait and see if they manage to get anything more definite in London.” He didn’t seem all that hopeful.

  After he had left, Callie gave it some more thought. She had no reason to visit Savage at his home, but she could drop into his surgery, after all, he had invited her. She could ask him about a boat, perhaps invent a love of sailing, fishing or some such, so long as he didn’t actually invite her out on it. She couldn’t actually go with him anyway, she told herself, not when he might have used the boat to dispose of two bodies. That would be both dangerous and silly, particularly as she was so prone to seasickness. He’d know immediately that she wasn’t really keen on sailing if she was leaning over the side throwing up the whole trip.

  * * *

  When Callie got to the MP’s office building, she had half-expected to find no one there. The politician’s routine surgery wasn’t meant to start for another hour and she had hoped to find Mrs Savage alone, preparing for it. The red car was certainly there, but she was surprised to see workmen busy carrying in boxes of carpet tiles from a panel van parked nearby.

  She almost bumped into one of the men hurrying out of the door as she went to enter the building.

  “Can’t go in there, love,” he told her. “Just laying the new floor and we have to get it finished before they open later this afternoon.”

  She stood at the door and looked in. The smell of new paint and other chemicals used in the refurbishment, struck her immediately.

  The walls were now an elegant dove grey and darker grey carpet tiles were being laid along the short corridor. She could see the theme continued into the waiting room and she leaned in to get a better look inside. A quick glance to her left suggested that even the little kitchenette hadn’t escaped the decorating with a shiny new vinyl floor. It looked as though the entire office suite had been given a complete make-over.

  “We’re not open yet. You’ll have to come back later.”

  Callie jumped back guiltily and turned to face Mrs Savage. She was dressed in her usual style, cream cotton shirt, dark blue skirt, pearl stud earrings, and flat blue pumps; plain and understated, very professional, nothing flashy. Nothing to get her noticed at all.

  “Dr Hughes!” The MP’s wife couldn’t hide her surprise, or her disapproval at seeing Callie. “What are you doing here?”

  “I, um, wanted a word with Ted, about the migrants.” Callie smiled and tried to look innocent, taken aback by the rudeness. “I didn’t realise you were planning to redecorate.” She indicated inside and moved back as another workman hurried in with more carpet tiles.

  “You must have seen how tired and grubby it was, when you came before.”

  “Well, yes,” Callie agreed, she had noticed it, but she couldn’t help feeling the timing of this refurbishment was suspicious.

  Mrs Savage looked at her watch pointedly and spoke to the carpet tile layer on his knees in the corridor.

  “You have fifteen minutes to finish.”

  She got nothing but a grunt in reply as the man carried on working. Callie thought the woman looked stressed; perhaps the fact that the workmen were behind and the office might not be ready for when the constituents arrived was enough to cause it.

  “Ted is running a bit late, so he won’t have time to talk to you.”

  “Oh, right, well, I’ll drop in another day, perhaps. Thank you.” Callie started towards her car.

  “A word of advice, Dr Hughes?”

  Callie turned back.

  “My husband flirts with everybody. It’s just the way he is. It doesn’t make you something special.”

  Callie c
ould feel a blush rising up her neck at this put-down, but Mrs Savage had already turned back to oversee the workmen.

  * * *

  “You must see that the timing is a bit coincidental, to put it mildly,” Callie told Miller. She had rushed to see him as soon as she had left the MP’s office to tell him about the decorators.

  Jeffries didn’t seem convinced.

  “Yes, but that’s exactly what it could be, Doc, a coincidence. Could have been planned months ago.”

  “Well, that’s something you could check, isn’t it?” She tried to conceal her irritation, but failed.

  “Given that the bodies were found on the beach, I was more interested in his house than the office,” Miller added.

  “Yes, but they could have been moved. If they were killed in the office, he could have taken them to his house or wherever he keeps his boat.”

  “If he has a boat.”

  “He’s trying to cover up the evidence. Why else would he redecorate now?” Callie was more than a little exasperated, she had been so sure they would be interested.

  “If he’s the killer, and that’s a big if.”

  “And even if he is getting rid of the forensic evidence, he’s done it, hasn’t he? We’re too late,” Jeffries chipped in.

  “But you could get hold of the carpet tiles before they’re dumped. If you are quick enough.”

  Miller did at least seem to consider this.

  “I took down the name and phone number of the company doing the work. It was on the van.”

  She held out her phone to show him the photograph she had taken of it before leaving. Miller ignored it.

  “Look, have you got any other people who fit the bill?” she pushed him. “You seemed pretty sure it was him.”

  “We’ve got about twenty on the list.” Jeffries was still openly dismissive. “And much as I have a low opinion of politicians−”

  “Very low,” Miller chipped in.

  “Like Councillor Claybourne, I have a hard time thinking of him as a murderer,” Jeffries continued.

  “Are any of these other suspects really viable?” Callie wasn’t about to give up, not just yet.

  “None as good as Savage,” Miller conceded. He was thoughtful. “I just don’t see how I can get a warrant on the evidence I have.”

  “Do you need one for a carpet that’s been taken away? Can’t you check with the CPS? I mean, Michelle Carlisle had a head injury, what if it happened there? In his office? He could be getting rid of the flooring because of a blood stain.”

  “Or he could just be redecorating.” Jeffries clearly wasn’t convinced.

  “If you don’t move to get the discarded carpet tiles now, before they go to the tip or are destroyed in some way, it will be too late, or will involve sifting through tons of rubbish.”

  Miller could see the sense in this argument and he certainly wouldn’t want the cost of having to pay for a large-scale search of the council landfill site at a later date if Callie was proved right, but still he hesitated.

  “I take it none of Daniel’s friends have identified Savage as the client?” Callie really wasn’t going to let it rest.

  “No, that would be too easy.” Miller washed his face with his hands as he thought about what he could do. Callie crossed her fingers and willed him to agree to it.

  “Sod it,” he said and reached for the phone.

  Chapter 31

  Callie was on tenterhooks as she waited at home to hear the result of Miller’s phone call. Or phone calls. When she had finally given up and left the incident room, he was still trying to persuade the CPS that he had enough cause for a warrant to seize the discarded carpet. They clearly did not agree, and she understood that, but meanwhile, the evidence, if there was any, could have been lost. She just hoped Miller got permission to prevent the carpet’s destruction, even if they weren’t allowed to actually take it away or examine it for evidence at this point. What always seemed so easy in television dramas, was clearly not so in real life. Miller’s argument that the carpet had already been discarded and was therefore no longer the property of the MP, seemed logical to Callie but she knew the CPS and the Superintendent both needed to give their blessing to any action, and then Miller also had to persuade the company to hand it over, which they could quite rightly refuse to do, if he didn’t have a warrant.

  She finally got a quick phone call from Jayne to tell her the outcome at seven o’clock in the evening.

  “Hi, Doc, thought you might want to know what was going on.”

  That was an understatement.

  “A couple of us went to the firm and found out that the rubbish from the job was still in the back of the van, thank goodness. They were just about to take it to the landfill site. There was a bit of a wrangle about stopping them. The warrant hadn’t come through, they wanted to do it straight away because they needed the van first thing, yada, yada, yada.”

  “But you managed to stop them?”

  “Yes, eventually they agreed to unload it into a pile at the back of their yard and we covered it with a tarpaulin, while we wait to find out if we can take it.”

  “You mean it’s still there?”

  “Yup.”

  “Is anyone guarding it?”

  “No, but the yard is locked and covered by CCTV. I think we’ve put the fear of God into them enough to ensure they don’t do anything stupid while we wait for the powers that be to pull their collective fingers out.”

  “Do you reckon you’ll get a warrant?”

  Jayne hesitated before answering.

  “It’s not looking hopeful, if I’m honest. It’s not like we have any evidence linking your man with the crimes. I think the boss is just hoping we turn something up that gives us grounds for one.”

  Callie chose to ignore the “your man” comment. It just made her even more angry about the lies Claybourne was spreading, apparently very successfully.

  “Meanwhile, the carpet is lying in a yard, and any evidence on it gets degraded?”

  “Yes.” Jayne didn’t sound any happier than Callie did at the situation. “But less so than if it was at the tip, at least it’s under a tarpaulin and we will just have to hope it doesn’t rain too much, or overheats, or−”

  “Gets eaten by rats,” Callie interrupted.

  “Indeed. I hadn’t thought of that one, but you’re right, I will have to add rats to my list of worries now.”

  Callie thanked Jayne for letting her know the situation, frustrating as it was.

  * * *

  Next morning, Callie got a text from Lisa, telling her to watch the local news on television and that it would make her very happy. Callie hurriedly switched it on, as she made herself tea and toast for breakfast.

  She had to wait a frustrating few minutes listening to lots of celebrity gossip before the news headlines came on and, sure enough, it did make her happy.

  The picture changed to the street outside the council offices.

  “This morning, there were simultaneous raids on a shop thought to be suspected of selling illegal cigarettes and also the home and offices of a local councillor.”

  The picture changed to a large detached house where two or three men could be seen carrying boxes out of the garage and placing them in a van.

  “A large number of items have been seized at the shop and home of the local councillor, and we understand he is now being questioned in relation to suspected avoidance of duty, selling contraband goods, and a number of other charges.”

  Callie felt like cheering. If he had boxes of cigarettes stored at his home, there was no way he would get away completely clean, which should put paid to his fledgling political career. If Claybourne had only known he didn’t really need to try and goad Savage, and Callie, he might have got away with it, at least for a while longer, but she was delighted that she had managed to play a part in his downfall, however small.

  The next item on the local news was less pleasing. Pictures of a fire at a builders’ yard.


  “The fire started in a pile of rubbish in a corner of the Truman’s site and fortunately the fire services were able to extinguish the blaze before it spread to nearby offices,” the presenter said and Callie watched as she saw a man she knew to be the fire investigator kicking over the few, still smoking remains of the carpet tiles from Ted Savage’s constituency office.

  Chapter 32

  Miller was in his office with the fire investigator, Chris Butterworth, when Callie marched into the incident room. Callie knew Butterworth from an arson case he had worked in the past and she was pleased to see that he was there, and already on this case.

  Miller moved back slightly, preparing himself for the onslaught she had prepared all the way to see him, and held up a hand to stop her launching into her complaint.

  “I know, I know!” he said quickly. “We should have got the carpet out of there before this happened.”

  “Or at least posted someone outside the yard.”

  “I organised extra patrols but didn’t have the resources for a twenty-four-hour guard.” He stopped. It was clear this wasn’t going to wash with Callie. To say she was angry was very much an understatement. “The good news is that it does raise our level of suspicion,” he added lamely.

  “Even if it lowers your level of available evidence,” she hissed. “Did Savage know you had stopped the firm from disposing of the carpet?”

  “Not as far as we know. The owner denies telling him, but any one of the workers could have said something, and the yard is easily visible from the road.”

  Butterworth cleared his throat and she turned to hear what he had to say.

  “There was a positive reading for accelerant at the site, so we know the fire was probably started deliberately.”

  “Of course, it was started deliberately!” She was fuming. “Carpets don’t spontaneously catch fire.” She knew she was being unfair. “Sorry,” she said and Butterworth smiled.

  “It’s okay, I know how it feels when all the evidence goes up in flames.”

  It was, after all, his job.

  “Was there anything left that could be tested for DNA?”