by BIBA PEARCE
But first, his morning appointment. It was an impromptu visit by an old colleague who’d started his own dental supply company, mostly online sales from what he could gather, but that’s the way things were going these days. He’d said on the phone that he was looking for a competent sales director with excellent product knowledge to join the business. While Dennis wasn’t particularly interested in leaving his current job — he loved the freedom it gave him — he was curious about the proposal. It wasn’t every day a man got headhunted. And who knew? If the money was good, he might just be tempted.
He showered and shaved, then, humming a Garth Brooks tune, put on his work suit and a freshly ironed shirt. He liked to make a good impression. When he was ready, he made the bed and straightened up the room. Again, first impressions were everything. He couldn’t do business in a messy hotel suite.
When the knock on the door came, Dennis was prepared. He’d revised his CV, just in case, and had practised the answer to the inevitable “Tell me about yourself” question that was a staple, if predictable, part of all interviews. Confidence, that’s what he was going for — the key component in any winning sales pitch.
“Hello,” he said, opening the door. The smiled faded on his lips and he frowned. “Where’s Kevin?”
Kevin Mundy was his colleague and the man who was to be interviewing him this morning, although he’d called it an “informal discussion” on the phone.
“Who the fuck’s Kevin?” said the stranger at the door.
“He’s . . . Never mind. Who are you?”
“I’m an avenging angel,” came the reply, followed by a penetrating punch to the stomach.
Dennis doubled over, gasping. “Hey!” He glanced down and his eyes widened with disbelief. A knife was sticking out of his abdomen. “What?”
Confusion descended, then a slow, burning heat, then — Oh, God! — the pain. Gulping, he clutched his stomach to pull out the knife, but it was already gone. The next jab was to the chest, close to his heart. It felt like he’d been hit by a sledgehammer, and suddenly it was hard to breathe.
“No,” he panted, gazing at his attacker with wild, terrified eyes. “What are you doing?”
He fell to his knees and tried to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. The knife fell again, this time slicing through his torso, just below the shoulder blade. Tears sprung to his eyes as blood gushed from his wounds, but he couldn’t stanch the flow. He collapsed forward on to his stomach and fought to keep from blacking out. His breath was coming in loud rasps, and it felt like he was drooling, but he suspected it was blood. He coughed, spurting frothy red foam on to the carpet.
Excruciating pain burst between his shoulder blades as the attacker, who wasn’t done yet, stabbed him in the back. He cried out, but it was only a gurgle. The knife fell again and again until Dennis couldn’t hold on anymore. It hurt too much and he wasn’t getting enough air. The world was blurring at the edges now. It wouldn’t be long before it faded completely.
Why are you doing this to me? he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t speak. Strangely enough, his last thoughts weren’t about his wife or his kids, but the football match he’d been looking forward to watching this afternoon. Now he’d never know whether Sheffield United, a team he’d supported since boyhood, would make it through to the next round of the FA Cup.
It was dark all around him, like the lights had gone out. He couldn’t make out a thing, couldn’t see through the pain. Yet there was no respite. The blows kept on coming.
Chapter 10
It was around noon the following day when they got the call. Mallory, who’d been on the first floor with the uniformed police, rushed into the squad room panting. “Guv, you’re going to want to hear this.”
Rob swivelled around in his desk chair. “What?”
“Dispatch just called it in. A body’s been found at a hotel in Hammersmith with multiple stab wounds.”
Rob stared at him for a moment. “Like our victim?”
“Same. The first responder counted at least six puncture wounds, maybe more. The guy didn’t stand a chance. He said it’s a bloodbath.”
Rob leaped up. “We’d better get down there.”
“I’m coming too,” cut in Jo, who’d emerged from the Superintendent’s office and overheard the tail end of the conversation.
Rob frowned. “We don’t know if this is drug-related. It might have nothing to do with the NCA’s operation.”
She fixed her blue eyes on him. “It’s the same MO, isn’t it?”
Rob relented. He didn’t have time to argue, and she was right, there was a chance it was related to the county lines gang. This guy could be a link in the supply chain, another distributor or a courier of some sort. If he were her, he’d want to check it out too. “Okay, fine, but we’re leaving now.”
“I’m ready.” She grabbed her bag and jacket and followed them out of the room. That was one of the things he liked about Jo. She didn’t fuss. Yvette always took at least an hour to get ready before she left the house, back in the days when she went out. Jo, on the other hand, could get up and go at a moment’s notice and look fantastic doing it.
“Where was the body found?” she enquired as they marched downstairs and out into the car park.
“Hammersmith,” Mallory told her. “At the Pear Tree Hotel, but we don’t know much more than that.”
“Pear Tree Hotel?” She wrinkled her forehead. “Never heard of it.”
“Me neither.”
Traffic was scarce and the drive took them less than twenty minutes via Hammersmith Bridge. As they parked, Jo glanced up at the four-storey Victorian terrace. “It’s more of an exclusive bed and breakfast than a hotel.”
Yet the metallic plaque on the wall beside the door read Pear Tree Hotel, and beneath it was a silhouette of a tree.
“I see SOCO is already here.” Rob nodded to the forensic van parked outside the building. The entrance had been taped off and a police officer armed with a clipboard was stationed outside.
“Names, please.”
They showed him their warrant cards and he wrote down their details. “He’s on the third floor. Make sure you kit up, it’s messy.”
They went into the foyer and were immediately handed a set of protective coveralls. They pulled them on before proceeding up the stairs.
The hotel was quite nice inside. The carpeting was new and clean, the walls freshly painted — the acrid tang was still evident in the air — and the inset lighting created a stylish, sophisticated effect.
“I don’t think this is the type of establishment that rents rooms by the hour,” Rob said to Mallory.
They reached the third floor. Another police officer directed them to room eleven. He looked pale and his mouth was set in a grim line.
There was a crooked Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the door, despite it being ajar. Heart pounding, Rob entered the room, followed by Mallory and Jo. He mentally prepared for the worst. Even though he’d seen his fair share of dead bodies, the initial shock never lessened. There was something about the loss of a life that was so profound that he couldn’t get used to it.
The victim lay just inside the doorway. A crime scene photographer circled him, bending forward as he honed in for close-ups, then backward to get a wider-angle shot.
“Could you give us a minute?” Rob asked. The space between the bed and the door was too small for all of them at the same time. The photographer straightened up and took a step back.
They crowded around the body, careful not to disturb anything. The officer downstairs was right — it was a mess. The victim’s shirt was drenched with blood and, as with Yousef, it had pooled beneath his body in a sticky puddle. He lay on his stomach — that was different — with multiple stab wounds visible on his back. The puncture wounds looked to be the same size as those inflicted on Yousef. Could it be the same weapon?
Jo looked from the body to Rob. “Is it like the last one?” she whispered.
“Similar,” he replie
d. “Yousef was found on his back, and was stabbed in his chest and abdomen. This guy has been stabbed several times in the back, as you can see.”
“So not the same, then?”
Was that a twinge of disappointment in her voice? Jo must have been hoping for a connection, for more clues as to who was involved in the county lines drug network.
Mallory bent down. “It looks like he’s bleeding from the front, too. It could just be the way he fell that made the attacker continue stabbing him in the back.”
“Can we get a pathologist in here?” called Rob.
At that moment, Liz Kramer marched into the room carrying her metal case. “Hello, Rob. We have to stop meeting like this.”
“Liz.” He gave her a small smile.
She bent down beside the body. “Have we finished taking the photos in situ?” she asked. The photographer shook his head.
“I told him to wait,” said Rob.
Liz gave him a sideways glance. “Okay, proceed please, Michael.”
The photographer got back to work. He seemed to be taking an awful lot of photos.
“Liz, we need to know if he was stabbed in the stomach or chest as well as the back.” Rob crouched down beside her. Mallory and Jo backed out of the room to give them more space.
“Give me a chance,” she said without looking up. “I’ve just got here.”
Rob sighed. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues. He stood up and surveyed the hotel room, walking slowly around it. It was clean, the bed was made and there were no clothes sprawled on the floor. A purple suitcase stood on the far side of the bed. He lifted it up. It was empty.
Rob inspected the items on the dresser. Standard-issue notepad and pen alongside the hotel telephone. No personal items. “There’s no sign of a scuffle,” he said. Just like with Yousef, it looked like this guy had been surprised by his attacker.
“Do we know who he is?” Mallory asked from the doorway.
“There’s nothing on the body,” said Liz.
“Not even a phone?” asked Rob.
Liz shook her head.
Rob opened the closet opposite the bed and peered inside. Two suits hung on hotel hangers, along with two pressed shirts, and at the bottom, a pair of trainers. This guy was a damn sight neater than Yousef, that was for sure. He felt around in the suit pockets and pulled out a leather wallet. “Ah, we have an ID.”
Both Mallory and Jo turned to him expectantly.
He opened it and studied the driver’s licence. “Allow me to introduce Dennis Patterson from Harrogate.”
“Harrogate?” said Mallory. “He’s a bit far from home, isn’t he?”
Rob pulled another card from the wallet and showed them it.
Dennis Patterson. Sales Representative. Avar Dental Technologies.
“He’s a sales rep,” said Jo. “Must be down here on business.”
“And he’s got a family.” Rob held up a worn photograph of a smiling brunette holding by the hands two identical little girls with pigtails. Twins. He didn’t want to think what effect this would have on them. It was just as well the family were far away so they wouldn’t see him like this.
Rob slipped the photo back into the wallet and handed it to a forensic officer, who put it in an evidence bag and sealed it up.
“Any sign of a laptop?” asked Mallory, who was still standing outside the door.
Rob poked his head right into the closet and felt around. Nothing at the bottom. Then he reached up and felt on the top shelf above his head. His fingers closed around a flat, rectangular device.
“Bingo.” He lifted it down. The cord, weighted by the plug on the end, snaked off the shelf after the laptop and nearly hit him on the head, but he managed to dodge it in time.
“I’ll take that,” said the scene-of-crime officer, and promptly bagged it too. Every item had to be logged and recorded before being taken into evidence. There, they would be inspected and photographed, and a detailed report sent to the senior investigating officer. Failure to follow protocol could result in a mistrial, especially if that piece of evidence was something the prosecution relied on in court.
“Definitely no mobile phone,” said Rob.
“Who doesn’t carry a phone with them?” asked Mallory.
Rob tensed his jaw. “The killer must have taken it. Dennis Patterson would have had one to call his family.”
“It was the same scenario with Yousef,” said Jo. “You found several burner phones at the scene, but not a personal device. None of the phones we analysed had his daughter’s or father’s numbers on them.”
Rob pursed his lips. “Maybe the killer’s number is on the phone, that’s why he takes them. To slow us down.”
“He must know we’d access the records eventually,” said Jo.
“Yes, but not if it’s a burner. We’d have no way of knowing what the number was.” He thought about what Jo had said about Yousef. “And let’s face it, no self-respecting drug dealer is going to have a mobile phone registered in his name, not even for personal use.”
Mallory leaned against the door frame. “So, the killer contacts the victim by phone, or vice versa, presuming it’s the same person. They come over and attack their target, unleashing all this pent-up rage, before calmly washing the murder weapon in the sink and taking off.”
“Was there blood in the sink?” Rob asked a forensic guy.
“A small amount,” he confirmed. “I had to use the UV light to find it, but we took samples and photographed it. You’ll get the report in due course.”
Rob felt his pulse rate accelerate. “It’s definitely the same person.” He went into the small bathroom to see for himself, but like the crime scene officer had said, the blood wasn’t visible to the naked eye. The killer must have rinsed the sink afterwards.
“What about sexual activity?” asked Jo.
The forensic guy shook his head. “The bed doesn’t look slept in, but we’ll check all the same.”
Rob nodded. They couldn’t leave anything to chance. They watched as two forensic officers pulled back the sheets and shone the UV light on the bed.
“Can we turn the lights off for a moment?”
Jo flicked the switch and the hotel room was bathed in darkness.
“Don’t mind me,” called Liz from the floor.
All eyes were on the bed. It was illuminated under an eerie purple glow. Since all bodily fluids are fluorescent, they can be picked up much easier using an ultraviolet light source.
“Nothing,” the technician said. “The sheets are clean.” The lights went back on.
“Right, do you want to help me roll him over?” Liz glanced up at Rob.
Rob crouched down and they gently rolled the victim on to his back.
Liz leaned forward and inspected his torso. “Yes, there are also puncture wounds on the chest and abdomen. They appear to be the same size and shape as your last victim. Also non-serrated, about three centimetres in diameter. Is that what you wanted to know?”
Rob nodded gravely. “So, it’s the same killer?”
Liz nodded. “I’d say so. I’ll have specifics for you after the post-mortem.”
Jo and Mallory stared at Rob. Now they had confirmation, they weren’t quite sure what to make of it.
“Do you know how long he’s been dead?” asked Rob.
Liz hesitated. “Well, the body’s at room temperature, hypostasis is developed and rigor mortis is fully completed, so I’d say roughly twenty-four hours ago, give or take.”
Rob glanced at his watch. “That makes the time he was killed yesterday, around midday.” Jo took out her phone to check the time. “Where is the receptionist?” Rob asked no one in particular. “I didn’t see anyone downstairs when we came in.”
Jo swivelled on her heel. “Let’s go find out.”
“Can we bag the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign and check it for prints?” Rob asked.
The scene-of-crime officer nodded. “I was getting there.”
With the crime scene u
nder control, Jo led the way back down to a small lounge opposite the check-in desk. It was empty. The guests had been told to leave for the day and no one was allowed back in until the police were finished processing the scene. Mallory found the receptionist in the back office, crying. She’d also discovered the body. In her mid-thirties with shoulder-length brown hair and red-rimmed eyes, she spoke with a soft Eastern European accent.
“He was supposed to check out at ten o’clock” she told them, her voice quivering. “When he didn’t come down, I went up to see if he was okay. Sometimes our customers sleep late and forget they have to check out.”
This was obviously a common occurrence.
“I called to him but there was no answer. I was worried he might have left without settling his bill, so I opened the door with my key card and—” She gave a little gasp — “That’s when I found him lying on the floor.” She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears again. “There was so much blood.”
Jo leaned forward and squeezed her arm. “It’s okay. What did you do then? Did you touch the body at all?”
“Oh, no. I ran out of the room and called the police.”
“Good. You did the right thing.”
“Had he stayed in the hotel before?” Rob asked.
She shook her head. “I didn’t recognize him.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Five years.” She sniffed and rubbed her nose on her sleeve. “I never thought anything like this would happen.”
“Were you on duty yesterday?” asked Rob.
“Yes, I work five days a week. There is another girl that comes in on the weekends, and we also have a night manager.”
Rob leaned forward in his chair and gazed directly at her. “Did you notice anyone come into the hotel yesterday morning?”
“You mean a guest?”
“Anyone. A guest or a visitor of a guest, maybe even a stranger.”
She thought for a moment, gnawing at the edge of her lip. “Most of our guests go out after breakfast. I don’t remember anyone coming in.”
“Were you at your post all morning?”