by J J Marsh
“Don’t touch it!” shouted Karoliina.
He jumped and whirled around. “Touch what?”
She didn’t answer him, instead donning her rubber gloves, picking up the envelope and taking it back into her study. She slid a gloved finger underneath the flap and looked inside. The content was a folded sheet of paper, no powder or signs of any other toxic substance. Placing the envelope on top of the plastic bag she withdrew the letter and unfolded it.
The message was printed in a large font and across the page there was a splatter of red.
You have blood on your hands. Today, the blood of three people. From Saturday, the blood of millions.
You must be stopped. You must be killed.
For our country. For our planet.
Karoliina rolled her eyes and laid the letter on top of the envelope. She was so very tired of this posturing.
Heikki was at her shoulder, the cat in his arms, reading the message. His eyes widened. “Is that a death threat?”
She quelled a temptation to say ‘No, it’s a shopping list’ and moved towards the telephone. “Certainly looks that way.”
He stood there, watching as she called the police and reported the incident. She paced to look out of the window at the sea while talking, keeping her husband in her peripheral vision. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. Her concern was more that her impulsive husband might easily pick up the letter for a closer look. At least while he was petting the cat, his hands were full. She replaced the receiver.
“The police are coming to collect the letter and take it for analysis. Their opinion is that it’s simply designed to frighten us. No need to panic, but we should ensure we keep ourselves safe.” As she spoke, she refolded the letter, placed it in the envelope and sealed it in the plastic bag.
“Easy for them to say. Someone came here, to our house, to Kulosaari in order to hand deliver a personal threat. This isn’t a practical joke! Someone went to a lot of trouble to frighten us. Was that…?”
Karoliina removed the rubber gloves. “Was what what?”
“On the letter. Was that… blood?”
She exhaled something short of a snort. “I doubt it. I’m no expert, but blood tends to dry dark, more brown than scarlet. That bright red splatter probably came from food colouring or an ink cartridge. Look, Heikki, why don’t you go and check our security system? See what the cameras picked up. It’s possible whoever sent this delivered it by drone, but if it was delivered by hand, we might get a clue from the footage. Would you check?”
He put down the cat and was already halfway out of the room, muttering. “Yes, you bastards. We’ve got you on camera. It will not be difficult to find out who is threatening my wife.”
Karoliina closed the door behind him and returned to the phone. She had another call to make.
“Björnsson?”
“Hello, Roman, this is Karoliina Nurmi calling, from Helsinki. I’m sorry to disturb you on a Sunday evening.”
“Karoliina. I haven’t heard from you in months. Are you well?”
His relaxed, unflappable tones drew an involuntary smile from her. “I’m the picture of health, thank you. How about you?”
“Healthy, happy and enjoying the summer sunshine. So what’s up? Why are you calling me out of the blue on a Sunday?”
“Well, while my personal life is smooth sailing, I’m having a few difficulties at work. It crossed my mind to hire a private investigator. When we were at that conference in Oslo, I recall you saying you had a connection in the business. I know I could find someone online with some diligent research but this is the kind of situation where I would prefer a personal recommendation.”
Roman was quiet for a moment, prompting Karoliina to worry if she had offended him in some way. She should have known better. The Icelandic detective rarely took anything personally, but it was in his nature, like hers, to think before he spoke.
“Yes, I could personally recommend a PI who used to hold a senior position in the London Metropolitan Police. Since retiring, she’s established quite a name for herself in the private detective sphere, in more ways than one. She’s based in Britain, but I know she’s keen on international jobs.” He made a noise which sounded like a laugh. “It’s funny, you know, you remind me of her. I can’t even say why, but you do. I have a feeling you two would get along. Do you want me to email you her address?”
A long sigh of relief escaped Karoliina. “Yes, please, that would be great. And as I’m under time pressure, could have a telephone number? Just to speed things up a bit.”
“Sure.” Roman dictated the number and Karoliina scribbled the digits onto a notepad.
“Thank you, Roman. I owe you one. Seriously, any time I can do you a favour, just say the word. Oh, by the way, what’s this woman’s name?”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “I will hold you to that, Karoliina Nurmi. The detective’s name is Stubbs, Beatrice Stubbs. Give her my love.”
Chapter 4
Beatrice hated being in the back seat. She could not sit still, peering through the rear windscreen at the street behind them. She twisted round in her seat and folded her arms, gazing at the passers-by pottering up and down Hollybridge High Street. Then she checked her phone, leaned forward once again to look past DS Perowne at the coffee shop and above his head at the rear view mirror. If she crouched a little, she could just see the entrance to the church. Her companion, in contrast, sat still as one of the stone angels in the graveyard.
“I don’t think he’s going to show. He is onto us; he knows it’s a trap. He should have been here by now. What if he gets into the churchyard by some other route? We might miss him altogether. I think he’s around here somewhere, watching us and deciding to back off. Too risky with the cops around.” She leaned forward once again, scanning the population of Hollybridge, but spying nothing more sinister than two women with toddlers in pushchairs, an elderly couple wheeling their shopping home from the Spar and three teenage girls sitting on the churchyard wall, poring over their phones.
DS Perowne met her eyes in the mirror. “Ms Stubbs, with all due respect, if anyone is watching the vehicles on the street, the only one likely to attract attention is this one because of the fidgety female in the back seat. Sit still, keep your eyes peeled, watch the mirrors and wait. If he comes, he comes. If he doesn’t, there’ll be another time. As for entering the churchyard via another route, it would have to be over the wall and DS Gage has got that covered.”
“Has he though? Can you see him from where you’re sitting?”
“Yes, he’s at the bend in the street, looking at the estate agent’s window. He’s ready, we’re ready and all we need do is sit tight. The one thing we cannot risk is alerting him to our presence.”
He was right, Beatrice acknowledged. That a detective sergeant should have to remind her of the importance of stillness on a stakeout was rather embarrassing. She’d spent more nights on surveillance than she cared to remember while she had been a detective inspector, hissing at her own team for scratching, shifting, whispering and shuffling with impatience.
“Sorry, detective sergeant. I really should know better. I will practise some deep breathing,” she announced.
She did try. She inhaled, expanding her lungs to the maximum before exhaling a long steady breath. She tried again but her mind whirred into activity, checking each item off the list. Everyone was in position; Wendy in the café, wearing a big hat so as not to be recognised. She and DS Perowne in an unmarked car parked no more than one hundred yards from the entrance to the graveyard. DS Gage in plainclothes at the other end of the street. Her assistant, Theo Wolfe, dressed in costume, ready to spring his surprise. The stage was set and all they needed now was the key player. Beatrice gave up on the breathing and turned back to DS Perowne.
“What if he doesn’t turn up? What if he gets away? The Devon and Cornwall police force will never trust me again and henceforth regard me and my assistant as poisoned cellos.”
&nb
sp; Perowne kept his gaze forward, checking all three mirrors intermittently as he replied. “If he gets away this time, there’ll be another occasion. We have a lot more information on him and his organisation thanks to the efforts of you and your assistant. We will apprehend this man. Most importantly, Mrs Wendy Carys is not about to lose her life savings to some romance fraudster. If nothing else comes out of today, I consider that to be a major ... ah now, let’s have a look at this.”
Beatrice’s spine stiffened and she looked into the wing mirror. A taxi pulled up in front of the church and the driver got out to help his passenger from the back seat, a well-dressed gentleman carrying a red umbrella. Once the cab had pulled away, Beatrice had a clearer view of the suspect.
“Bingo!” she whispered.
Beside her, DS Perowne spoke into his police radio, informing his colleague their operation was about to commence. Beatrice twisted around in her seat, her impatience and anticipation barely controlled. DS Perowne lifted a hand to still her as he signed off.
“Sorry, sorry.”
“It’s all right. The minute he goes through the gateway, we get out of the car and stroll along this side of the street, looking in shop windows and taking our time. Once opposite the graveyard, we cross the street and wait either side of the hedge until he approaches Mr Wolfe. This fella will be on high alert for anyone watching. Do not scare him off.”
Beatrice unclipped her seatbelt and with a glance over a shoulder to see if there was any approaching traffic, got out into the street. She joined DS Perowne on the pavement and they strolled casually past the café, the supermarket and the craft shop. The detective looped his arm around hers and guided her across the street towards the church.
Peering above the yew hedge, Beatrice spotted their quarry, moving with a slight limp towards the church door, leaning on his umbrella for support. He stopped and took out a handkerchief to mop his brow, surveying the churchyard as if looking for something. In that instant, a movement caught Beatrice’s eye. From the far end of the church, a figure emerged, its upper half concealed by a bright red parasol. The lower half, dressed in a long summer skirt, tiptoed along the path towards a line of gravestones. The figure’s back was to the church, so that neither Beatrice, DS Perowne nor the new arrival could see the person’s face.
As if alerted by a signal, the man with the handkerchief focused on the figure with an intense stare. He replaced his handkerchief and his hat, and began walking in the direction of the red parasol. Beatrice and DS Perowne, both keeping low and out of his sight line, entered the churchyard and crouched behind a large family sarcophagus. When Beatrice had got her breathing under control, she raised her head just enough to see above the mossy stone.
The parasol-holder had stopped to kneel on the grass, apparently paying respects to a gravestone. The man approached, his limp less noticeable now. He came to a halt several paces behind the stationary figure and cleared his throat.
“Hello, my dear. I’m sorry I’m late.” His voice was smooth as melted chocolate. Even at this distance, it was immediately recognisable from all the recordings Beatrice had heard. “Have you been waiting long?”
The person with the parasol straightened. DS Perowne moved from a kneeling position into a runner’s crouch. Beatrice held her breath. The figure turned, revealing a tall black man in a dress.
“Bleeding ages, mate. Where the hell have you been?”
The older man stumbled backwards several paces, then turned and broke into a run. DS Perowne leaped into action to cut him off and the man attempted to duck inside the church in order to escape. But Theo was too quick for him, even in a full-length skirt. He jumped over two rows of gravestones and caught the tail of the man’s jacket, dragging him backwards onto his behind. DS Gage skidded to a halt beside them, ready with a pair of handcuffs.
A small crowd gathered to watch the officers guide the arrested man across the road and into the police car. Beatrice and Theo stood at the gates of the graveyard, watching them depart. Beatrice lifted her eyes to the window of the Hollybridge Café and met those of Wendy Carys. The two women exchanged a smile and a cheerful wink.
Beatrice turned to Theo and shook his hand. “Well done! That’s one more romance fraudster off the streets. I think we’ve earned ourselves a slap-up tea with extra custard. Do you want to come back to Upton St Nicholas for a slice of pie with me and Matthew or are you heading straight back to London?”
“I’m coming back for tea. Because if I don’t, you’ll tell Matthew you were the hero of the hour and I want my moment of glory.”
“As if I would cast myself in the starring role! Although I will say, catching someone with their pants down like this is largely down to administrative ground work.” Beatrice laughed at his outraged expression. “No, seriously, you did a brilliant job and I just wish I’d been a tiny bit closer. I badly wanted to see his face when you turned around.”
“It was priceless!” said Theo. “If I never do another investigative job in my life, that was a career high. ‘Hello, my dear. I’m sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting long?’ How could I resist a cue like that?” He let out a loud hoot, setting Beatrice off again.
“Oh dear,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “Here’s my car. Where’s yours?”
“I parked the Mini behind the Co-op. Meet you back at the cottage?”
“See you there. Are you going to keep your dress on?”
He grinned. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” said Beatrice. “It rather suits you.”
Chapter 5
Theo accepted another slice of blackberry and apple pie after his third rendition of the afternoon’s events. The three of them sat at the garden table, under the shade of the horse chestnut tree, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. Having already heard the story from Beatrice, Matthew seemed no less fascinated by Theo’s retelling.
“How marvellous! It must be enormously satisfying to see all your efforts come to fruition. Are the police pleased with the operation?”
Beatrice offered Theo the jug of custard and brushed a fly away from the remaining pie. “They had jolly well better be. They should hand out gold stars after all we’ve done. Apart from the actual arrest, the fact this man is now in custody is 100% down to Stubbs and Wolfe. And while today was all action and excitement with a few belly laughs, the vast majority of the job has been a tedious paper trail.”
“Paid off, though, didn’t it? We got our man. Cheers, Beatrice!” Theo raised his teacup.
“Cheers! We most certainly did and earned ourselves a decent bonus to boot. Wendy Carys is a very generous woman.”
“I offer you both my heartiest congratulations.” Matthew poured himself more tea. “You obviously make quite the team.”
Theo’s grin spilt his face as he replaced his spoon in his empty bowl and reached down to tickle Huggy Bear behind the ears. The Border Terrier’s teeth stuck out as if she was smiling. “Yeah, it looks like I finally found a job I’m good at. Crap translator, useless barman but detective-cum-female impersonator? I’m a natural! What’s next on the agenda, boss?”
“Ah, that reminds me,” said Matthew. “There’s a message on the answering machine for you, Old Thing. You might want to listen to that in the office. Judging by the approaching commotion, it sounds like the girls have arrived.”
Beatrice grabbed her chance and ducked into the conservatory just as the garden gate opened, the dog started barking and Luke, Matthew’s grandson, came charging up the path like a pint-sized American football player. She trotted into the study and closed the door behind her. For a moment, she sat at the desk, relaxing into the silence before her curiosity prodded her into pressing the flashing red button on the machine.
This is a message for Beatrice Stubbs. My name is Karoliina Nurmi and I am CEO of LokiEn, one of Finland’s top energy suppliers. I am seeking a private investigator as a matter of some urgency. Roman Björnsson of the Vikingasveitin recommended you. I would prefer not to leave details on an
answering machine for obvious reasons. I am sending you an email with an outline of the situation and I would be most grateful if you would call me back at your earliest convenience. My mobile phone number is as follows ...
Beatrice jotted down the numbers with one hand while opening up her laptop with another. She skim-read the promised email and rested her cheek on her fist.
It was an interesting situation. Two missing youngsters, a CEO receiving death threats and an imminent showdown at the new facility opening on Saturday. Plus it would be well paid and an opportunity to visit Finland, a country she had never seen.
But, and it was a very big but, there was another major event next Saturday – Tanya’s wedding. The big day had been seven months in the planning, ever since Matthew’s youngest daughter and her ridiculously handsome boyfriend had made the announcement last November. With less than a week to go, anticipation and tension were nearing a peak. It would be unthinkable to take off to a foreign country for a few days at this late stage.
Then again, if she left tomorrow, she could be back on Thursday. Plenty of time to do the wedding rehearsal, get her hair done and lend a hand with last-minute emergencies. And, she thought with a guilty smile, she could get out of the whole splicing hysteria and hide behind work.
She adored Matthew’s daughters, she really did. But she was not their mother, so when it came to planning the wedding dress, flower arrangements, favours, table placements, bridesmaids, photographers, the wedding breakfast, a band for the reception and all the thousand and one other things to be fretted over, Beatrice was happy to leave it to Pam. It made perfect sense. As Tanya’s mother, as a hotel events manager and as a great enthusiast for weddings generally, Pam was the obvious choice.
Except it wasn’t that easy. Tanya wanted Beatrice to have an official role. She was determined that Beatrice and Matthew should be involved in every stage of the planning process. No matter how often Beatrice told her she was far more comfortable in the background, it was not to be. The final week before the shindig was always going to be utter murder. Yet this case had unexpectedly fallen into her lap and she could see a way out.