She sat down and thumbed through the notes, choosing to do some research instead. There was nothing else to do, the farm shop was closed and the cheese production was on hold indefinitely.
Based on what they knew, which wasn’t much, she did a psychological assessment, digging deep into her nursing training. A phone call to an old colleague now working at a psychiatric clinic in Auckland confirmed that she was on the right track. She did a Google search and found out everything she could about the now-defunct vineyard. She even tracked down the winemaker who had worked for the family and was now in Central Otago. On a whim she dialled the listed mobile number. There was no answer but she left a message, hoping he would call back.
Using Google again she found the vineyards around Stott’s Landing and made a few phone calls to see if anyone remembered the family. The first call turned up nothing — the people were new to the area. The second call was more helpful. The man remembered the family well. They had sold the vineyard, he said, not long after Maurice’s tragic death.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did he die?” Lexi asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Old Maurice killed himself. The boy found him in the study. It was a terrible thing really.”
“That’s awful,” Lexi said, her heart going out to the adolescent son.
“Jenny and Benjamin stayed on in the house, even though they sold the vineyard. Last I heard, might be a year or two ago, Jenny suffered some major health issues and moved to a care home.”
“What about the son, Benjamin? What happened to him?”
“I’m not sure. I know he finished his schooling in the district, then moved to Australia, he might still be there.”
Lexi thanked him, giving him her number should he think of anything else. When Avery came back inside, she relayed the information she had compiled.
“Outstanding work, he said. “I’m sure Bill will be happy to get some help with the investigation.”
“I hope so. As soon as I have a few more things sorted out I’ll pass it over to him,” she said, feeling rather pleased with her effort.
Lexi’s stomach growled. “How about we get some lunch and pick up some groceries in Matakana?”
“Sounds like an excellent idea,” Avery said.
They took Lexi’s car, Avery was driving. Biggs and Green followed behind in their own car. Lexi switched between radio stations until she found a song that she liked. The Pub was the obvious choice. Sitting down outside in the courtyard, the sun on their backs, she felt at ease. The air at home had seemed suffocating. The two cops sat a few tables over, which she was grateful for. It was tiring to be under constant observation like a goldfish in a bowl.
“What do you remember about the owners at Stott’s landing?” Lexi asked, putting her fork down. Avery wiped his chin, the juices from his burger going everywhere. “They were a pleasant couple, hardworking folks. I felt the wife might have been the long-suffering woman. I don’t think Maurice was that easy to live with. If she wasn’t looking after the workers at the vineyard, she was out cleaning houses, from memory. I don’t think he involved her in the vineyard’s running, more the logistics of cooking and feeding workers and things. A full-time job in its own right, really. She always looked exhausted, poor woman.”
“What about the son?”
“His name was Benjamin. He might have been about ten or eleven, I suppose. I remember thinking it was strange him spending every day of his summer holidays working in the vineyard, never having a friend around. He was a peculiar boy, introverted, almost morose.”
They paid the bill and Lexi went into the Four Square supermarket to pick up a few groceries while Avery got takeaway coffees from Plume across the way. When they met back at the car, Lexi stopped dead in her tracks. There was a piece of paper tucked under the windscreen wiper like a parking ticket:
YOU THINK YOU ARE SAFE — I CAN STILL GET TO YOU
They dropped the note off at the police station and by the time they were home again, Lexi had regained some colour in her cheeks. “Why don’t you have a rest?” Avery said. “Neither of us got much sleep last night.”
“No, I’ll be fine, thanks. I might have another look at those notes again, see if I can spot something new.” She went upstairs to the bedroom, spreading the papers out in front of her. She decided to try phoning the winemaker again. Robert answered this time and was more than happy to help. Thinking on her feet, Lexi made up a story about writing an article on the founding wineries in Martinborough.
Robert didn’t wait for her to ask, told her he’d been at Stott’s Landing for nearly ten years. Maurice and Jenny were lovely and he got on well with them. Unfortunately, after Maurice died, Jenny didn’t have the skills or the money to keep it going. Robert had stayed on as new owners took over, but it got quite run down and there wasn’t much money about. He left, and the business folded shortly after. “It was a real shame. The land produced superb wine. It’s what in the industry we call terroir, the perfect growing conditions.”
“Where did the wife and son go?” Lexi asked.
“Benjamin went to high school in town and as far as I know Jenny continued to work as a cleaner until she fell ill with a severe stroke two years ago.”
“What about Benjamin now?”
“He went to Australia as soon as he was old enough, but as far as I’m aware is back in Auckland since a couple of years,” Robert said. He didn’t have an address, but suggested she’d try the care home where his mother was living. What a lovely man, Lexi thought, as she hung up after having asked a few more questions about the neighbouring vineyards to not arouse suspicions.
If the son was living in Auckland, that was an excellent start. She called Bill to tell him what she had found out. “Not sure if it’s of any use to you, but the son of Maurice Stott apparently lives in Auckland.”
“That’s interesting.” Bill sounded intrigued and impressed. “How did you find that out?”
“Oh, I just did some googling and thought I’d pass it on to you.” She wasn’t sure he believed her story, but he promised he’d look into it. She looked at the Stott family photo again and pondered their fates.
52
Annika had some errands to run in the village and went past the police station. Bill was busy reading the autopsy report on James Smith. Annika went in to the lunchroom and glanced at the wall in the Incident Room on the way. She listened to Bill and Niko discussing the report, comparing it to the previous one. “Had they injected him with the same drug as Peter Evans?”
Bill didn’t flinch. He was used to discussing cases with Annika. She was a great sounding board and more often than not came with up with brilliant solutions, making him see things from a fresh angle. She would have made an excellent investigator.
“Yes, they did,” he said.
“Most killings are crimes of passion, violent and swift,” Niko put in. “This feels different. The killer is cold and calculated, and wants his victims to suffer. It doesn’t fit the normal profile. It’s like the killer has a different genetic makeup. No remorse, seemingly.”
“Any DNA found at the crime scenes?” she asked. “Or perhaps any viable prints?”
Bill thought for a moment, then decided it wouldn’t hurt if she knew more. “Orewa might pull some prints off the knife we found on the neighbouring property. They may compare with the ones found on the overalls in the sports bag.”
“I think it’s the same killer,” Niko said. Bill nodded in agreement. “Good to see you boys. I’m heading over to Lexi’s,” she said.
Her mind was working overtime. What did all this mean? She stopped at Ravish on the way and picked up some raspberry and white chocolate muffins. As she pulled into Matakana Valley Wines she missed Beau’s friendly welcome. An officer greeted her on the path.
“Hi, I’m Annika Granger. I’m here to see Lexi,” she said.
A smile replaced his suspicious look as he realised she was Bill’s wife, one of their own.
Annik
a called out to Lexi who came downstairs, her pale face and loosely tied-up hair a far cry from her usual tidy self. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said and threw her arms around Annika.
Annika held up a brown paper bag. “I brought afternoon tea.”
“You are the best,” Lexi said. They sat down at the kitchen table and Lexi recounted what she had dug up.
“Have you googled the son, Benjamin, yet?” Annika asked.
“No, I haven’t had a chance. Let’s have a look now.” Lexi went upstairs to get her laptop. Annika cleared the table and made room for the notes that Lexi brought with her.
“Wow, you have been busy,” Annika laughed. Lexi typed the name Benjamin Stott in, but there weren’t many hits.
“Has he been living under a rock?” she said. “It’s virtually impossible to live without a digital footprint being created.”
“Let’s try Facebook. Everyone’s there,” Annika said. There were two hits on that name, one in Europe and one in Auckland. It was a public account so Lexi clicked on it. Minimal information, nothing current; the last post was three years ago.
“Shame there’s no photo of the guy,” Annika said.
Lexi closed the lid to the laptop and sighed. “This is impossible. There must be another way. Let me call Zac. He’s a whizz on social media. Perhaps he’ll have some ideas,” Annika said, pushing speed dial on her phone.
“It’s worth a try, I guess,” Lexi said but didn’t sound convinced. Perhaps they could help Bill.
Lexi could hear some of the conversation, but was eager to get the entire story when Annika had finished.“What did he say?” Lexi said. Annika smiled. “Facial recognition.”
“What, like in the spy movies?” Annika nodded. “Precisely.” She searched the App Store on her phone for the software Zac had suggested. “Oh, come on. Why is the Internet so damn slow when you want something?” she said impatiently obvious. Going through the steps was fairly easy, you had to scan an existing photo, input it, and the program would do the rest, searching the Internet for a match.
“Look at you, Mrs Technology,” Lexi said. She scanned the photo from the vineyard they had, editing out the people they didn’t need, just leaving Benjamin Stott, loaded it and pressed Enter. The nervous tension buzzing in the room.
Then just as Avery walked in with the officers the program dinged — it had found a match. Annika quickly closed the lid of the laptop while Lexi collected up the pieces of paper spread across the table. Annika wasn’t ready to admit they had been doing some investigating.
“Annika bought some delicious muffins,” Lexi announced to deflect the slightly uncomfortable situation in the room.
“Thank you,” Avery said and turned to Annika. “I could get used to all this lovely baking turning up at our house.”
Lexi and Annika looked at each other and burst into giggles like naughty schoolgirls. “I feel sneaky digging around like this, but we’re only trying to help, really,” Annika sighed. “I’m not sure that Bill would appreciate us sticking our noses in.”
Lexi opened the laptop and gasped. It was eerily like him. It wasn’t a great photo, perhaps a few years old. He had longer hair and a slightly fuller face, but the piercing eyes were the same. It can’t be. Fear spread through her body.
Annika stared at the screen, her eyes wide. She had to call Bill.
53
He had lain low all day. There had only been two calls from numbers he didn’t know and he let them go to voicemail. He was in no mood to talk to anyone. His arm was swollen and aching and definitely infected. He couldn’t go to the medical centre; they would ask too many questions. He had to be strong and push through, even though his plan had gone awry.
Walking to the bench he held his arm for support, as at every step a sharp pain radiated up through his shoulder. He found some antiseptic under the sink and rolled the sleeve of his T-shirt up as far as he could. At least the bullet had gone clean through his triceps and not hit the bone. The seeping through the dirty bandage had stuck to the burns and he had to yank it off, causing unbearable pain in the process. He cleaned up as best he could, but the astringent antiseptic smell made him queasy. Being right-handed didn’t help the situation either. Clearing up the mess on the bench, he knocked one of the ceramic cups which shattered all over the floor.
“Fuck!” he shouted and kicked the cupboard door in frustration, his heel sending waves of pain through his battered body. Holding on to the bench, he forced himself to calm down and splashed cold water on his face. He paced across the floor. He needed to think. Get his head out of the fog that had taken a firm hold of him like a cold, wet winter’s day. He had to get away from the cottage. It was just a matter of time before they put two and two together and came looking for him. He knew just where to go.
54
Bill looked weary. “Any security footage at all?” he asked.
“I spoke to Bob from the Business Association,” Niko said. He looked remarkably fresh, having youth on his side. “Unfortunately the block of shops in and around the pharmacy doesn’t have cameras up. It’s been on the agenda for years but nothing has happened. But he did say that the pub is the only place with cameras that are working.”
“Hopefully Matt from the pub has got something we can use.” Bill stifled a yawn. His eyes were heavy and full of grit. “I’ll walk down to see how Harry is getting on.
The builder had repaired the door frame and the glazier and his assistant were changing the broken glass pane. Harry and the two female staff were inside trying to get on with business as usual. The glazier looked annoyed when Bill squeezed through the half-open door.
“Hi, Bill,” Harry said. “Trying to get everything back to normal.” He looked exhausted. The women were a little younger than Harry, perhaps in their early sixties. Pamela wore mint-green slacks with a crisp crease and a green-and-white short-sleeve jumper, showing she still had a nice figure. A single string of pearls hung around her neck. She would have been a beauty in her youth, Bill thought, and still was. Lindsay was more like a little grey mouse. Her blonde hair was cut short, a practical style flattering her face. She wore a simple summer frock with a short sleeved cardigan to match.
“Have you got an idea of what they took?” Bill asked.
“Yes. It’s rather curious. It seems that all they have taken is one drug, Heparin,” Harry said.
Bill’s ears pricked up. “You’d think if someone took the risk of breaking in, they’d grab handfuls of different prescription medication.”
Harry nodded.
“Heparin, that’s the blood thinner isn’t it?”
Harry nodded again.
“How much did they take?”
“We only had four vials, all on pre-order for a customer.”
It was late afternoon when Bill walked back to the station. He was hoping something would show on the security tapes and was feeling better for the walk. It had got his brain into gear and he could think again.
Niko put the phone down as he came through the door. “That was Rudd. Even though we don’t have a DNA match yet, looking at the stab wounds, calculating the angle and force, it’s likely its the same killer.”
“The question is, when is the killer going to strike next?” Bill sank into his chair, groaning as it dug into his back. Before he could fill Niko in on the conversation at the pharmacy, Matt the publican walked through the door. He was a tall man in his late forties with broad shoulders and sandy hair.
“Bob said you were looking for footage from last night,” he said, putting an iPad on Bill’s desk.
“That’s right. Please tell me the cameras are in working order and you have something recorded.” Bill was always exasperated with businesses that put dummy cameras up as a deterrent.
“We have got the footage all right,” Matt said. “I’ve had a look at the recording, and something’s strange about it.”
“What do you mean?” Bill asked, gesturing for him to take a seat.
“We
ll, you look at this sequence and see what you think.” Matt pressed Play. A grainy image showed a person walking towards the pharmacy on the opposite side of the street. He — assuming it was a he, Bill thought — wore a hoodie which disguised his face, and a long overcoat, far too warm for this time of the year. Work boots with heavy socks on a pair of stocky legs showed. It was difficult to distinguish any other details as the camera was a good thirty or forty metres away across the road. The person looked around before tapping in the security code and opening the door, quickly closing it behind him.
“What! That means he knew the code,” Niko said.
“Just watch on,” Matt said. Less than two minutes passed with minimal movement in the dark pharmacy before the person came out, closed the door and keyed in the code again to reset the alarm. Suddenly, from under the large coat he pulled out a hammer and smashed the glass and lock in the door frame, which would have activated the alarm and strobe light. As quickly as the person appeared, he sprinted down the road towards the wharf. The tape kept running another thirty seconds before Niko burst out on the pavement in shorts and T-shirt.
“Strange to first use the code to get in, then lock the door and smash it when he could have just left,” Bill said.
“Could it be an inside job, someone connected to an employee?” Niko said.
“Yes, it might be worth investigating who might have access to the keys and entry code, other than the employees.”
“I’d better get back to work,” Matt said. “We have a function on tonight, and tons to do. Hope this was helpful.”
“Can you email me this?” Bill asked.
“Sure thing.”
As Matt was walking towards the door Niko said, “The question remains, if the offender already had the code, why go to the effort of smashing the front of the shop. Seems unnecessary.”
Blood On Vines Page 19