Killing by Colours

by Wonny Lea

  Inwardly Martin knew that this element of the case was not going to go away, but he managed a wry smile and suggested that everyone get to wherever they were going as quickly as possible. The room emptied, with the exception of PC Lyons, who had been chosen to accompany the DCI. The constable was typically Welsh – standing at about five feet eight, with coal-black hair and a heavy accent, unsurprising given that he hailed from the ex-mining village of Treorchy in the Rhondda.

  ‘What do you think, sir? Is it likely we will find this bloke before he kills again?’ he asked Martin.

  ‘God only knows,’ was the reply. ‘If we do, I’ll start believing in divine intervention, because there must be dozens more places we could be considering. Come on, we need to get kitted out before we go.’

  Matt and Helen were in Matt’s 4x4 heading for the garden centre, and the windscreen wipers were having to work hard to push away a heavy downpour. Helen wriggled uncomfortably in the passenger seat and adjusted her jacket. ‘These things,’ she complained, pointing at her stab vest. ‘They were never designed for those of us who have boobs. This one was definitely designed by a man, and not one who had ever had any intimate knowledge of women!’

  Matt laughed and navigated the next roundabout. It was an easy route; all he had to do was follow the A4119, and after fifteen minutes they were almost at their destination.

  It was Helen who first spotted a high level of police activity, as ahead she could see two sets of blue flashing lights and then they were overtaken by an emergency rapid response vehicle heading in the same direction as they were.

  ‘Looks as if there’s been an accident,’ she volunteered, and Matt nodded. The mini ambulance turned off the road and into the side road that went past Rookwood Hospital.

  ‘That’s the road we need to take,’ said Matt. ‘It looks as if we’re indulging in a spot of ambulance-chasing.’

  Helen smiled but a moment later the smile disappeared from her face. Just past the hospital on the right-hand side was the long driveway that led to the car park of the Primrose Garden Centre. In there were only four cars in the car park, standing in puddles of water.

  It was their blue flashing lights that told Matt and Helen their chosen venue had ‘hit the jackpot’, and that they were in all probability too late to prevent a third murder …

  Chapter Eleven

  Killer’s BMW

  ‘Are you psychic?’ asked a police constable who had just got out of the squad car that had passed them a few minutes before. ‘We’ve only just got here ourselves and it’s usually a while before CID join us at the scene of a crime.’

  ‘Let me guess at the crime,’ replied Matt. ‘The victim is a man, probably in his late fifties; he’s been stabbed twice, and his body has been found in the area of the garden centre where the displays of yellow flowers are set out.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ replied the constable. ‘You are psychic! But you’re wrong about the victim having been stabbed twice – it’s more like half a dozen times from the information we’ve been given.’

  Matt phoned Martin and caught him just leaving the squad car near the The Yellow Kangaroo.

  ‘We’ve found the victim and yes, I’m afraid it is a victim, but it doesn’t sound as if our killer had it all his own way this time. We don’t have the two stab wounds as before; this time I’m told there are multiple injuries, so let’s hope he has panicked and left some bits of himself behind. Alex and the Prof have apparently been sent for, so see you here as soon as.’

  Matt and Helen made their way to the entrance of the building and walked through aisles of garden products, following wooden signs leading to the ‘Colours of Creation’ plants section.

  Matt recalled Martin’s earlier description of how the plants were displayed according to colour and he had to agree that it was very impressive to see. They walked past the red section, where dahlias, carnations, Peruvian lilies, and numerous other red flowers were artistically displayed, flooding the senses with the intensity of their combined colours. Next to the reds was a white display, and the purity of the prominently displayed roses was quite sensational. Here, though, the pleasure ended and horror struck – perhaps even more than a murder scene usually did, because it was such a beautiful place.

  As expected, the body was lying in the most mood-lifting section, where brilliant sunshine colours still tried desperately to mask what had been dumped in their midst. Undisturbed, the mini sunflowers on the upper edges of this section still held their heads towards the sun, though there was no sun today.

  Matt didn’t know if the central display was filled with pansies or viola, or even a mixture of both, but they all looked as if they had little yellow faces and he seemed to see expressions of bewilderment on each one of them.

  Spread over most of this display, with his face touching many of those tiny yellow faces, was the body of a man. His blood had spread and was in danger of upstaging the red section, so much of it had been spilled.

  Helen noticed the paramedic standing near the body. ‘No chance that he’s still alive, is there?’

  ‘No chance whatsoever,’ replied the paramedic. ‘I checked for a pulse, but I wasn’t surprised to find none and so that’s really all I have done. It’s obviously not an accident or natural causes so I was careful not to disturb anything. The officers that were here earlier have got my number and as there’s absolutely nothing I can do, I’ll be off.’

  They thanked him and moved in to get a closer look at the body. The victim’s hands had been tied behind his back with yellow cord, but not with the usual reef knot. This was a botched job in more ways than one, but unfortunately the killer’s ultimate aim had still been achieved.

  Martin had recovered very well from the over-indulgence of the previous night but was reminded of it as soon as he clapped eyes on Alex. They pulled into the garden centre car park within seconds of one another, and close on their heels was Professor Dafydd Moore.

  ‘What have we got here?’ asked the professor. ‘Is it the red and orange man or do we have another killer on the loose?’

  Martin briefed the pair of them with the information Matt had given him over the phone. He also told them about the latest poem, how yellow was the colour of murder this time and how close they had got to working out the venue for this killing.

  ‘Oh, really bad luck, old boy,’ said the Prof. ‘You were on the right track, so ten out of ten for effort and for some impressive lateral thinking.’

  Coming from the professor the words were praise indeed but they were soon followed up by his more familiar moaning. ‘Trust this brute to pick a garden centre, did someone tell him I am allergic to pollen? I took some cetirizine hydrochloride as soon as I got the call to come here, but no amount of antihistamine will stop the red, itchy eyes and runny nose that will be my fate within the next couple of hours. Come along, let’s get on with it – the sooner I get away from here the better.’

  Alex hung back and helped his team get some of their tools from the SOC van. Normally Alex would have driven the vehicle himself, but he was concerned that his blood alcohol levels could still be an issue. He had drunk more than Martin last night and hadn’t reached the point of being able to eat anything this morning. What wasn’t an issue was his ability to do the job, and like clockwork he and his team began the task that was expected of them.

  A few minutes later the ‘Colours of Creation’ section was cordoned off and all SOC personnel were clad in their white suits. It looked as if aliens had landed and were picking over the remains of a human who had been sacrificed for their scientific interest.

  Martin took in the details and then left the experts to do their job. ‘Did anyone see anything?’ he asked Matt.

  ‘The officers who were on the scene first have ensured that no one has left since their arrival. There are a handful of customers plus the staff and the manager in the coffee shop waiting to be interviewed, but I have been told that nobody actually saw the murder.’

  Calling the pl
ace they arrived at a ‘coffee shop’ was stretching it a bit. It was one corner of the main building sectioned off with some wooden trellis. There were just four round wrought-iron tables with matching chairs – and a number of very shocked faces.

  As the two detectives approached a tall young man got to his feet. ‘I’m Tim,’ he said. ‘Tim Jones, the manager, and you must be the CID men we were told to wait for.’

  Martin nodded and made the formal introductions, not just to Tim but for the benefit of everyone. ‘You must all feel shaken by what you know has happened here and we will not keep you longer than we have to. Just in case there is any doubt, I will tell you that a man has been murdered on the premises and we would like to speak to you all before you leave.’

  Martin had already scanned the group. There was nobody who even came close to resembling his vision of the killer, but hopefully someone had seen something.

  The first to speak was an elderly man who was sitting with a much younger woman and a teenage girl.

  ‘Chief Inspector,’ he addressed Martin, ‘I was with my daughter and my granddaughter and we were at the tills when the alarm was raised, so none of us saw anything. Can we go now?’

  The man’s voice was shaking slightly and Martin saw that his daughter was squeezing her father’s hand tightly.

  Matt pulled from his jacket pocket the photo-kit image of the killer that lacked facial detail but gave a reasonable overall impression.

  ‘While you were here, did you see anyone who looked like this man? He is tall and well-built and was probably wearing a dark hat with a brim, something like the baseball cap you see here.’

  The man and his companions all shook their heads. Martin told them they could leave after giving their names and contact details to the PC who had been sitting with the group in the café.

  Meanwhile, Matt had been showing the image of the killer to the remaining customers and two women had started arguing between themselves.

  ‘I definitely saw someone looking like that when we were trying to decide what weed killer to buy.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Matt.

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘No, she’s not,’ countered the other woman.

  ‘Ladies, this is very important, just think for a minute and try to decide who saw what and when.’ Matt stared at the two women. He judged that they were in their early forties. Both were good-looking women; one a blonde, the other a brunette who was greying fast.

  The blonde was the one who doubted her friend’s suggestion that she had seen such a man in the garden centre, and after thinking for a moment she thumped the table. ‘I’ve got it,’ she said. ‘We did see a man fitting that description but it wasn’t here. Don’t you remember, Laura, it was about half a mile away? You were driving and there was a car at the side of the road not far from a bend, and you said it was a stupid place to park. There was a man walking away from the car and in this direction and I would say that he fits this image perfectly.’

  ‘She’s right,’ said Laura. ‘But then she usually is – don’t let the bottle-blonde image fool you, Meg is a bit of an egghead.’

  Matt was getting excited. This MO fitted the other two murders, where it was likely that the killer had left his car some distance away and walked to meet his victim.

  ‘Can you describe the car?’ he asked Meg.

  ‘Wrong one this time, sergeant,’ said Meg. ‘I may be the brainbox in this relationship, but when it comes to cars there is nothing that Laura misses.’

  Matt prayed that she would be proven to be correct and on this occasion his prayers were answered.

  Laura grinned and gave Matt the information he wanted. ‘It was a BMW 525i SE Saloon and the manufacturers call the colour “space grey”. I couldn’t, by looking at it, tell you if it was manual or automatic or what fuel it used, but I guess it was registered in Wales sometime in the middle of 2008.’

  Impressed by the woman’s ability to rattle off that level of detail about a car she had probably only seen for a few seconds, he probed a bit further. ‘No chance you remember the numberplate?’

  Laura laughed. ‘It’s cars that interest me, not their plates, but I can tell you it was a letter C to start. As we both know, all that tells us is that it was registered in Wales, so it’s probably not much help.’

  ‘Well,’ said Matt ‘that C certainly helps us narrow it down a fair bit.’

  Martin had dismissed all the remaining customers before Matt told him the good news about the car. The two women had not been able to add any more detail to the description of the killer, as Laura had been looking at the car as well as concentrating on the bend and neither of them had seen his face.

  ‘Take Helen with you,’ said Martin to Matt. ‘Get these ladies to show you exactly where they saw that car parked, and then ask around if anyone saw him – and especially if anyone saw him going back to the vehicle. This time it’s highly unlikely that he would have got away without taking some of the victim’s blood with him.’

  With only the members of staff left to speak to, Martin made quick work of the interviews and returned to the crime scene. He had been disappointed to hear that there were no security cameras anywhere. According to the manager it was something they had talked about, but the business was not in a position to afford the initial outlay on even a modest system. None of the staff had seen or heard anything, but there were only three of them all together. The one who had discovered the body was still shaking from the experience but she swore that she had not seen the killer at any time.

  Alex was directing operations and Martin noticed that the Prof had already left.

  ‘He said he couldn’t remain any longer in this pollen-infested environment, but he’s free to do the PM just as soon as we can get the body moved. At least this time we have some things to work with, as it looks as if the victim fought back. There are defence wounds on his arms and hands, and blood on his hands and under his nails. There are also three partial shoe prints where it looks as if the killer has stepped in some of his victim’s blood and carried it towards the end of this section.’

  ‘The first one is the whole of the front part of a shoe, my guess a trainer, but the second one is just the toe section and the third one little more than a smudge. Still, it’s something, and it demonstrates that the killer walked away in the direction of the public toilet. He may even have used the toilet to wash off any obvious blood. There is only one toilet here, and some of my staff are in there now looking for any traces of our killer. This was something I could have done without this morning, but it’s certainly the best cure for a hangover – I haven’t even had time to think of my poor aching head for the past couple of hours.’

  ‘We have the victim’s wallet,’ Alex continued. ‘It was in his back pocket and stuffed full of £20 notes, several hundred pounds’ worth. He was clearly a “cash only” man, as there’s no sign of credit or debit cards to be found. His car keys led us to a black Vauxhall Corsa parked at the very edge of the car park, and I’ve given the registration number to Matt for him to check out. There is no other way of identifying the body, as there’s nothing on the man or in his car to give us a clue. I guess I was hoping for a yellow envelope but there was nothing. Come to think of it, we still don’t know how the killer got Miss Rossiter to go to her execution point, do we?’

  ‘No,’ replied Martin. ‘It could simply be that he knew both of them well enough to just pick up the phone. I don’t really see that as a possibility but we don’t actually know.

  ‘I’m making my way back to Goleudy,’ he continued. ‘At least this time we all have something to work on. We may have had some luck with the killer’s car but I’ll fill you in with all of that later. My suggestion for an initial brief is 3 p.m. Will that give you time to finish here, get the body back, and for the Prof to do the PM?’

  ‘Moving the body is our next job,’ replied Alex. ‘I know the Prof has gone to pick up Mrs Williams so no doubt they will be waiting for it. We won’t be f
inished here for some considerable time, but I’ll be able to make a three o’clock session and then come back.’

  Martin walked to the car park and instinctively looked for his Alfa Romeo, but seeing PC Lyons he remembered that the officer had been driving him to The Yellow Kangaroo when Matt had called him.

  On the way back Lyons was a useful sounding board. He said nothing and listened to Martin untangling the details of this third murder. The journey only took just over fifteen minutes, but it gave Martin the time he needed to get his thoughts in order and he was grateful for the unusual luxury of a chauffeur.

  What he was not grateful for was the presence of Superintendent Bryant, who was getting out of his car when PC Lyons pulled into the staff car park.

  The superintendent had heard the squad car coming to a halt and as soon as he saw Martin in the passenger seat he stopped and waited for him.

  ‘Good afternoon, sir,’ said Martin. ‘We must stop meeting at weekends, it can’t be doing your handicap much good.’

  Today the super was not dressed in the designer golf clothes of three weeks ago, and he was in no mood for Martin’s banter. In fact he looked more angry than Martin had ever seen him look and the DCI was about to find out why. ‘As it so happens, the rain is the reason there is no golf today, but in any case one of my golfing partners told me there has been another murder. Why is it that I have to learn about these things from friends at the club and not through the correct chain of command? Do you know how unbelievably stupid that makes me look, DCI Phelps?’

  Martin had other things to think of and was inclined to tell the super that his sensitivities were not high on the team’s agenda but he bit his lip. He was more interested in who had told his superior officer about the murder and when. He asked. ‘The murder is hardly public knowledge, so how come people at the golf club are so well-informed?’

  ‘I don’t like your tone, DCI Phelps, and if you think things like a murder can be kept quiet while you and your second-rate team chase their tails, well, think again. One of our members lives in Rookwood, and he saw all the police activity at the garden centre and rang me.’