First things first.
He got to his feet and walked unsteadily through to the kitchen, turning on the cold tap with his dry hand and rinsing the blood off his arm. Satisfied, he thought about turning the water off but decided to leave it running – less chance of any traces remaining in the sink trap. Turning, he went back into the hallway and knelt beside the body, bowing his head for a moment as though in prayer, calming himself.
There was still something he had to do.
Gazing down at her, his eyes settled on the heart-shaped silver pendant at her throat – a delicate piece of jewellery, the sort of gift that lovers exchanged. Nodding to himself, he leaned forward and pushed the dead woman’s hair aside, finding the clasp and undoing it. Cradling the back of her head in one gloved hand, he lifted it so that he could slide the pendant free before jamming it down into his pocket, making sure it was deep enough not to slip out.
Reaching up to his own neck, he located the fastener on the gold chain he wore and loosened it. Looping the chain around her throat was difficult, but after a couple of moments it was in place and he briefly lifted her head once more, ensuring her hair wasn’t caught anywhere, that there were no inexplicable tangles.
He stood and surveyed his handiwork. The gold chain didn’t look out of place on her. Smiling, he stooped to retrieve the steel wrench handle, then forced himself to check the floor for anything he might have dropped, anything amiss. Finally, he inspected his clothing for any telltale signs before moving carefully around the body and reaching for the door latch. Outside, everything was quiet – just another sleepy lunchtime in the suburbs. He drew the door closed behind him and went to his bike.
Balancing the wrench across the handlebars again, he mounted and coasted quietly out into the street, turning down the hill. Only now, as he turned into another road, did he allow the euphoria to claim him, feeling it surge up like an explosion of energy. The pedals were light beneath his feet as he powered back up the side roads that would take him away from the scene, and the awesome sensation of power made him want to shout. He controlled life itself! There was nothing he couldn’t do.
And one day, quite soon, Kim would know what he was capable of – she would see him as he truly was – and she would worship him. Grinning to himself, he crested the hilltop and began freewheeling back down into Bristol.
He had timed it perfectly. Slipping into Temple Meads Station via the side entrance, he merged into a group of other passengers. Holding his ticket aloft, he was waved through the barriers without question, and wheeled his bike along the main platform, scanning the overhead monitors for departures from behind his tinted glasses.
His train was on time.
Descending to the underpass, he made his way across to platform 12, where he found a quiet spot away from the scrutiny of the cameras, and waited for his train to arrive. This was where it became an art form. Anyone could lash out, even extinguish a life if they were brutal enough, but the skill lay in going undetected. He could drift in and vanish away again without leaving a trail. And if his timings went to plan, even Kim wouldn’t be able to guess how he’d managed it.
The journey to Avoncliff took half an hour. One other passenger got off there – a rustic old man with unruly white hair and hearing aids in his prominent ears – but Naysmith hung back on the platform, allowing him to labour up the steps to the aqueduct before climbing them himself. Fortunately, his timetable was a little more forgiving on the return journey. He waited long enough for the old man to cross the river and turn down towards the pub before getting onto his bike and riding back along the towpath.
The backpack was exactly where he’d left it. Unzipping the main compartment, Naysmith drew out his clothing, then gratefully peeled off the Lycra top and shorts, enjoying the shiver of cool air on his bare skin as he located the stolen pendant and held it up to admire.
Once dressed, he double-bagged the cycle gear in a pair of black plastic bin liners and stowed them in the backpack, ready to go to the charity bins at a not-so-local supermarket. Transformation complete, he climbed back up to the towpath and set off for Bradford on Avon.
The train got into Salisbury a little late, but he still made his connection. It wouldn’t have been a disaster if he’d had to cycle back from there, but just in case anyone ever managed to trace his route, he wanted the trail to end somewhere hopelessly rural, rather than the busy city so close to where he lived. As it was, he enjoyed a pleasant ride home, following quiet country lanes through the rolling Wiltshire landscape. Nobody saw him slip in through the back gate, and he had the kettle boiling when he heard Kim’s key in the front door.
He smiled as she walked into the kitchen. ‘Coffee’s on.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, putting her bag down on the counter. ‘Did you hear anything from the garage?’
‘Not yet,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ll take you round there in the morning. By the way, remind me to check the boot of my car – I think I left my jacket in there, and my mobile’s in the pocket.’
‘A whole day without your phone …’ She sat down at the table and stifled a yawn. ‘Did you manage to get anything done?’
Naysmith poured the hot water. And smiled.
26
Tuesday, 22 July
It rained all the next day. Midway through the afternoon, there were a few brief rumbles of thunder and the office lights dimmed momentarily.
‘Uh-oh.’ Marcus appeared at the door with a concerned expression. ‘Everyone make sure to save your work, just in case there’s a power cut.’
In her cubicle, Kim moved her mouse and clicked ‘Save’, then leaned back, allowing her chair to turn gently away from her desk. She gazed out through the droplets of water trickling down the window and looked across the neighbouring rooftops. Salisbury could be lovely in the summer but it was a depressing place in the wet – an unwelcoming huddle of old bricks and concrete, like a bleak Northern town transplanted to the South, complete with its weather.
She turned back to her screen and sighed.
Only six more sets of figures to prepare.
Her hand strayed to the heart-shaped silver pendant Rob had bought her as she glanced up at the clock. Ten past three. She really didn’t want to stay late again tonight. He had phoned and surprised her with cinema tickets. The film didn’t start until eight, but she wanted to go home and change before they went out.
She leaned forward and began working through the next set of numbers.
‘Kim?’
She glanced up to see Jane, who had got to her feet and was peering over the cubicle wall that divided them.
‘Yes?’ Kim frowned, annoyed at the interruption. She would need to start again from the top of the page. ‘What is it?’
‘I can’t find the files for the third quarter.’ The new girl was young and quiet, with short blonde hair. She was supposed to be a replacement for Dennis but, without his experience or work ethic, her principal contribution to the firm seemed to be that she was cheap. She certainly wasn’t carrying Dennis’ share of the workload.
‘Why do you need the quarter-three files?’ Kim asked. ‘I thought you were supposed to be going through quarter-two?’
‘I was,’ she shrugged, ‘but Marcus asked me to update all the linked sheets, and I need to reference the third-quarter files for that, don’t I?’
‘You do, but …’ Kim pushed her chair back from her desk and took a deep breath, ‘the quarter-three files aren’t actually complete yet. Marcus …’
She tailed off.
Marcus should have checked with her first before wasting Jane’s time.
‘So what should I do?’ Jane asked her.
Kim sighed and started to get to her feet.
‘We need to go through and check for any files that haven’t been updated since …’ She hesitated, then shook her head and sat down again. ‘Actually, no. You need to go back to Marcus and ask him to help you update the files. I have to get on and finish these figures.’
&nbs
p; She couldn’t allow herself to be taken for a ride again.
‘Sorry,’ she added, concentrating determinedly on her screen.
‘No problem,’ Jane shrugged, turning and moving away. She had that special sort of calm that you only found in people who simply didn’t care.
Kim frowned and began working through the numbers again. She’d had just about enough of people taking her for granted.
Outside, the skies stayed dark. Kim worked hard and was just finishing the last set of numbers as the clock hit five thirty. Saving the last of her work to the server, she raised a hand, sliding it under her hair to massage the back of her neck, smiling as her fingertips touched the delicate silver chain. It had been a long afternoon, but the figures were done. She switched off her computer and gazed out at the rain for a moment before getting to her feet. Then, gathering up her bag and jacket, she walked out of her cubicle.
Marcus had pulled up a chair by Jane’s desk and the pair of them were working through a large set of spreadsheets.
Served him right.
She waved to them as she walked towards the door. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘Er, Kim?’ Marcus was looking at her wretchedly.
Trying to summon the courage to ask her to stay behind and help.
‘Don’t worry, Marcus,’ she smiled brightly. ‘I got all the figures done for you.’
Wrong-footed, he blinked at her for a moment, then nodded.
‘Yes, of course.’ A resigned smile. ‘Thanks for doing that.’
‘No problem,’ she replied, moving towards the exit. ‘Bye.’
Marcus looked crestfallen as she turned away, but there had been no uncomfortable confrontation and she knew she’d done the right thing.
Hurrying down the stairs, she paused to dig out her umbrella before pushing the door open to look out at the rain. It was still quite heavy. Bracing herself, she stepped outside and raised the umbrella, hurrying to the car and watching her feet to avoid the puddles.
Rob’s car wasn’t there when she got back to the house. She scampered round to the front door, keys in hand, and shook the rain from her jacket as soon as she got inside. Gathering up the post from the mat, she pushed a hand through her hair and walked into the front room, where she picked up the remote control and switched on the TV. She was going to sit down, but the rain had left her feeling cold, so she turned and went back through to the kitchen and filled the kettle. A hot drink would warm her up.
As she waited for the water to boil, she sifted through the envelopes but there was nothing with her name on it – everything was for him.
She left the post on the kitchen table, made her coffee and went into the hallway to go upstairs and change.
‘… have launched a murder investigation following the discovery of a woman’s body in Bristol yesterday.’
The voice came from the TV. Kim paused and glanced through into the front room, where the picture changed from the newsreader to a view of a solid-looking man in a grey suit, his serious face lit by the flicker of photographers’ flashguns. He cleared his throat and spoke with a strong London accent.
‘Officers were called to an address in Redland at half past six yesterday evening by the husband of a woman who was discovered at their house in Alexandra Park. Officers attended with an ambulance but unfortunately the woman – Lesley Vaughn, aged forty-six – was pronounced dead at the scene.’
A caption at the bottom of the screen read: DCI Raymond Pearce, Avon and Somerset Police.
‘Upon attending the scene, a murder enquiry was immediately launched. It was obvious that the woman had been assaulted and most likely died of her injuries. However, a forensic post-mortem is taking place at the moment, and the results of that will confirm the actual cause of death.’
The man paused and glanced up from his notes. He had a no-nonsense look about him, with dark grey hair worn short, and a faint scar down his left cheek.
‘We currently have a number of detectives working on this case, and we’re drafting in additional resources from other parts of the Avon and Somerset area. The team are working round the clock to catch whoever is responsible for this appalling crime and bring them to justice.’
Another pause, another barrage of camera flashes.
‘We’re appealing for witnesses or anybody with any information. We believe that Lesley spent much of yesterday at home, where her body was discovered at approximately six thirty p.m. We’re appealing for anyone who may have seen anything suspicious in the Redland area of Bristol to come forward with any information they might have …’
Kim leaned against the door frame. She was annoyed at herself for even considering the idea, but she couldn’t help it.
He couldn’t have done something like this, could he?
No, thank goodness – Rob had been here all day yesterday. She’d taken his car and left him to work from home. Her body unknotted itself a little. It couldn’t have been him.
Behind her, the metallic rasp of a key in the lock made her jump.
Rob!
She gasped and turned towards the front door, then hesitated. Stepping quickly into the front room, she snatched up the remote control and changed the channel. It was stupid, but somehow the thought of him coming in to find her watching a police press conference made her deeply uncomfortable. She dropped the remote on the sofa and hurried back into the hallway.
‘It’s really coming down out there.’ Rob was standing there by the front door, dark hair dripping, shaking the water from his jacket.
‘You’re soaked. Let me get you a towel.’ Kim turned away from him quickly, walking into the kitchen, not trusting herself to make eye contact. Behind her, she heard him chuckling appreciatively.
‘Always thinking of me, aren’t you?’
She stopped in the middle of the kitchen floor and bit her lip.
Yes, she told herself. And that was the problem.
27
Wednesday, 23 July
The afternoon sunlight was streaming in through the windows, throwing long shadows across the upstairs office. Mendel leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
‘Alexandra Park,’ he muttered. ‘Just round the corner from Redland Station, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, a couple of streets away.’ Harland stood with his back to the wall, staring down into his coffee cup. ‘Nice area – last place you’d expect something like this to happen.’
Mendel shook his head.
‘Not good,’ he mused.
‘I know.’ Harland looked up from his coffee. ‘Apparently she was stabbed six times.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Mendel looked at him. ‘And they don’t fancy the husband for it?’
Harland shrugged. ‘Early days, I suppose.’
He pushed himself away from the wall and walked across the room to gaze out of the window. Things were too quiet just now, and he was suddenly restless.
‘Did they find the weapon?’ Mendel asked.
Harland frowned, trying to recall what Jamieson had told him.
‘I think it was at the scene,’ he replied, turning back to face into the room. ‘They’ve found a knife, anyway.’
There were footsteps in the corridor outside, and Josh leaned around the open door.
‘Ah, there you are,’ he called to Harland. ‘The Superintendent wants you, sir.’
Blake’s door was closed and Harland stood outside for a moment, taking a calming breath before knocking.
‘Enter.’
Grasping the handle, he assumed a neutral expression and opened the door.
‘Graham.’ Blake looked up from his desk and his face brightened. ‘Come in and sit down.’
‘Sir.’
Harland stepped into the scrupulously tidy room and pulled the door closed behind him. Blake seemed happy enough, but he knew to his cost just how deceptive the old man could be. Lowering himself into one of the chairs that faced the Superintendent’s desk, he tried to work out what he’d been summoned for.
>
‘I was hoping to have a chat with you, Graham.’ Blake spoke as though things had just occurred to him, as though he hadn’t prepared every word in advance. That was why it was so important not to let your guard down. ‘How are things with you?’
‘Er … fine thanks.’ Harland wasn’t sure what he was being asked.
‘I’m glad to hear that.’ Blake settled back into his chair and folded his arms. ‘I’ve always believed that maintaining good officer morale is terribly important.’
Ha! Harland suppressed an ironic smile.
The Superintendent studied him for a moment, then continued.
‘I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Graham. Ever since last year, with that poor woman they found on the beach.’
Where was this going? What had he done wrong?
‘I appreciate how frustrating it must have been for you to relinquish that case to the Met – for your whole team, in fact – but as more senior officers it’s our job to lead by example, and deal with the workload we’re given in a professional manner.’
Harland stared at him, waiting for the rebuke that must surely follow. But Blake was still smiling.
‘I’ve been impressed with your efforts on some of the recent cases, Graham.’ He sat forward to lean his elbows on the desk. ‘And most importantly, you’ve managed to get some really good results. The arson attacks along St Andrews Road, for example – things like that can make such a difference.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Harland said warily. Had he really been called in for a pat on the head?
‘Yes, a few arrests like that really take some of the heat off the Portishead division,’ Blake mused. ‘Of course, everyone’s preoccupied with the stabbing in Redland at the moment …’
He paused, and glanced at Harland.
Knife Edge Page 17