Strangled in Soho

by Samantha Summers

  “You’re impossible!” I replied, laughing.

  “Well you’re really going to hate this then, but I have to call off our date for tonight if that’s ok. I’m going to have to work some overtime tonight.”

  “That’s all right,” I replied. “I’m not entirely sure my mind would be in a date anyway, right now.”

  “All right, I’ll talk to you soon. Don’t get into too much trouble. After all, you did almost die twenty-four hours ago.”

  “With Violet, that’s pretty much a guarantee.”

  “Well, if you get arrested let me know and I’ll come bail you out.”

  “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I teased. “Talk to you soon.”

  I hung up the phone just as Violet walked out of the office. “Professor Knightly did not have much more to offer us. I assume that was Jake?”

  I nodded. “You’re not going to like what he has to say.”

  Chapter 6

  Unfortunately for Violet, we couldn’t go back to London to yell at one of the pathologists at the morgue until after we met with Layla Chen. As we still had a couple of hours before we had to meet with her, Violet and I decided to grab a quick lunch. It seemed Violet’s knowledge of where to eat wasn’t limited to London alone; she immediately led me toward a cute café in a red-brick building with a wooden sign above white square windows announcing “Organic Deli Café.”

  While I was initially apprehensive–this seemed like the sort of place that made their chips with kale instead of potatoes–I was pleasantly surprised to find a full menu board, and eagerly ordered a sourdough BLT. Violet ordered a tofu scramble, which I did my best not to scrunch my nose at. We sat at a cute round table and discussed the case.

  “I do not like that three of the students in that group are now gone. I believe we should find Peter Alcott–after all, he is the only one of the four students working on that project who is still in the area.”

  “You think we should warn him to take a holiday far away from here for a while, or something?” I asked.

  “That, but also we should investigate him as a suspect.”

  “True,” I conceded. After all, maybe he was knocking off his group mates for fun. “Though maybe it is just a coincidence. Maybe Jeremy Claridge did just die in a car crash, and Amir Nader really did go back to Egypt.”

  “Perhaps,” Violet said. “We need to investigate further. If we are lucky Layla Chen will be able to enlighten us. We also need to look at the alibi of the Professor Knightly, he says he was at the school teaching when Amelia Waters was murdered.”

  “You don’t seriously think a professor here could have done it!” I exclaimed.

  Violet turned to me with a smile. “You would be surprised at the number of respectable people I have had arrested in the past. Heads of state, business leaders, doctors, professors–the allure of crime does not avoid certain careers completely. I had to ask. After all, the professor is the unique link between the four students, as far as we are aware.”

  “Fair enough,” I replied. “I think you’re right though. Three of the four people in the group disappearing in one way or another is a pretty big coincidence. So we talk to Layla Chen, what then?”

  “Well, hopefully she will be able to tell us about Amelia’s romantic life. It is always good to keep all avenues of investigation open, as we may be incorrect about the maths students being killed or disappearing being linked to Amelia’s death. I would also like to know more about this algorithm the students were working on. We will have to find Peter Alcott. Professor Knightly was able to give me his mobile number. And of course, there is a certain medical examiner who needs a lesson in basic anatomy back in London. I hope you did not have any plans for the rest of the day, Cassie. Murder investigation tends to be rather intensive.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “As long as you promise not to poison me again.”

  “I also cured you,” Violet protested. “I believe you are undervaluing my contribution to science and to your former chosen profession, for which I am well aware you still have a significant passion. After all, my discovery did save your life.”

  “Which wouldn’t have needed saving in the first place if you hadn’t left freshly baked poisoned brownies out on the table,” I pointed out.

  “All the same, I am happy that my antidote worked, and that you are not dead.”

  “So am I,” I replied, smiling at Violet. I meant it, and I still didn’t take that feeling for granted. After all, for a long time after my accident, I found myself wondering what the point of living at all was. And now, here in London, I was finally discovering that there was life after losing 5 percent use in my hand, that it was possible for me to have a life outside of the medical field and still be happy.

  I had applied for medical school here, although I still wasn’t sure if I was going to register if I was accepted. Right now, it was just a potential plan. But it was a plan that had me thinking about the future, which was a good thing.

  I picked up my sandwich and bit into it. “Just think, if it wasn’t for your antidote I wouldn’t get to eat the best sourdough sandwich I’ve had in weeks.”

  “Perhaps if your life did not seemingly revolve entirely around food–and mainly junk food, to make it worse–then you would not have found yourself in that situation in the first place.”

  “Enjoying the finer things in life is one of the pleasures of living, and quinoa does not qualify as a ‘finer thing’,” I replied with my mouth full, and Violet rolled her eyes before pulling out her phone and beginning to type.

  “Trying to find Peter Alcott?”

  “Exactly,” Violet nodded. “If what we suspect is correct, he is either a murderer, or his life is in danger. Either way, we must get into contact with him.”

  Checking my phone, I noticed it was time for us to go and meet with Layla Chen, so I scarfed down the last bite of my sandwich and we made our way to the door.

  We met Layla Chen at what Violet informed me was known as the New Building Lawns. She was tall, with shoulder-length black hair and almond-shaped eyes. Her bag was slung casually over her shoulder, her smile came fairly easily despite the circumstances, and I had a sense that she was normally a very outgoing and friendly person. The lawns were gorgeously manicured, with a few stone paths running between the lawns. In the far corner, on the opposite side of the lawns from the New Building, was a huge tree whose leaves blew gently in the early autumn breeze. The three of us sat down on a bench by the corner of the new building and Violet began to ask Layla, whose eyes were red from tears, about her murdered friend.

  “Is there anyone you can think of who would have wanted to hurt Amelia?” Violet asked, and Layla shook her head.

  “God, no. If you’d met Amelia, you’d know she was the type of person who could befriend anyone. I always told her she should be a judge or something, because criminals would thank her for sentencing them to jail. That was the kind of effect she had on people.”

  “So, there were no disagreements with anyone lately?”

  “Well, she was going to move out of her flat with Jessie when the lease came up in December. She decided that after a year of living in London she wanted to be closer to Oxford. Amelia liked to think she was the partying city-girl type, but she really wasn’t.”

  “She was more the type to stay in and read her books?”

  “Yeah, definitely.” Layla laughed, which mingled in with a sob at one point. “Although I’ll never forget the first time she tried Indian food. You know, she had never had anything other than English fare and the occasional Chinese meal down in Nottingham? The first time she ate butter chicken it was like her whole life had changed completely. I remember, we’d had a few drinks first, and she asked the waiter if there were any flats for let nearby so she could live close enough to the restaurant to eat there three times a day.” Amelia giggled, which quickly caused a few errant tears to fall from her eyes, which she quickly wiped away. Violet gave her a moment t
o collect herself before continuing.

  “Was Jessie upset about the fact she was leaving?”

  Amelia shrugged. “Not especially. It’s London, finding a new flatmate isn’t exactly difficult these days.”

  “And it wasn’t like he wanted to be more than roommates and she didn’t?” I asked, and Layla gave me a small smile.

  “No, there was absolutely no chance of that. Jessie’s gay.”

  Well, there went the jealous roommate theory.

  “What do you know about the project Amelia was working on with the other people in her group?” Violet asked.

  “Not a huge amount, really. I’m studying chemistry, not maths, so we didn’t really chat that much about our classes. I do know it was an algorithm they were working on; it was designed to take multiple pieces of data and figure out the original equation that would give out all those figures.”

  “Really? You are certain that is what they were working on?”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure. That was how Amelia described it. I’m really not that good at maths though, so I could have got it wrong.” Layla shrugged.

  “And what about her boyfriend? Jessie said she was seeing someone?”

  Layla smiled. “She was. They’d only been seeing each other for about a week, maybe two. I had a bad feeling about him though.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well for one thing, he gave her a pair of beautiful sapphire earrings on their first date. What kind of guy does that? Amelia said he made her feel like a princess, but I think that was what he liked about her. After all, Amelia was still very much a country girl; any man who spoke to her for more than thirty seconds could figure that out. I’m pretty sure he was going to take advantage of her, keeping her hooked by buying her pretty things. I definitely don’t begrudge her having her fun, so I pretended to be supportive, but I knew it was never going to be a long-term sort of thing.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  “Only a first name: Oliver. He was into horse racing though, since they met at her work, and she mentioned once that he planned on taking her to the Champion Stakes later this month. I never met him, but she showed me a picture of the two of them together.”

  “Oliver. And you say he was rich?”

  “Oh, definitely. It wasn’t just the earrings, he bought her a Balenciaga handbag as well. Do you know how much those cost? It was adorable seeing how happy Amelia was with the bag–I mean, I would be too if I had a handbag worth fifteen hundred pounds, but I don’t think Amelia quite understood what was expected of her in exchange for those sorts of gifts.”

  “You mean that Oliver gave her that stuff so she’d sleep with him,” I replied, as Violet was busy typing away on her phone. Layla gave me a knowing smile.

  “Exactly. Amelia was pretty naïve when it came to men. Although I don’t think their relationship got quite that far. You know, I’ve spent the last fortnight wishing their relationship would end quickly, for Amelia’s sake.” Tears welled up in Layla’s eyes and she brushed them away. “Now, now I wish…”

  Her voice trailed off as her eyes grew distant, the grief overtaking her for a moment.

  “Layla,” Violet said softly, holding up her phone. “Is this Oliver, the man Amelia was dating?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “That’s definitely him.”

  I took the phone from Violet and had a look at the image she had opened. Smiling at me was a thin man who looked to be in his late thirties, with brown hair that was just starting to grey around the edges. He was holding a glass of champagne and laughing in the photo; I could see just from this still that he was charismatic.

  “Thank you, Layla,” Violet said. “And I am sorry about your friend. I will do my best to find whoever killed her.”

  “Thank you,” Layla replied. “Amelia was a precious human being. She didn’t deserve to die. I don’t care what the police think, she never would have killed herself. Thanks for believing that.”

  Layla got up and walked off; I noticed her wiping away at her eyes once more. It had to be a difficult day for her, for sure.

  “Well, that was an illuminating conversation. Now, we go back to London.”

  “Are we going to the morgue?”

  “No. A man who is an idiot today will almost certainly still be an idiot tomorrow. I can yell at that imbécile of a pathologist any time. Right now, finding the murderer who may have Peter Alcott in his sights–and who may have already struck given the lack of a response to my texts–is the bigger priority.”

  Chapter 7

  Ninety minutes later we were back in London. Violet spent almost the entire train ride texting, and when we arrived back at Paddington Station we walked the couple of meters to Paddington Green Police Station.

  DCI Williams was sitting at his desk on the third floor–the second in UK terms, a mix-up that led to me meeting Violet in the first place—the brow under his short red hair furrowed in concentration; he didn’t notice us until Violet and I each sat down in the visitors’ chairs across from him.

  “Violet!” he said as he looked up. “You’re just the woman I want to see! Don’t tell me you’ve added mind reading to your list of abilities.”

  “My powers remain firmly in the realm of what is realistically possible,” Violet replied. “I am after information on a fatal accident that occurred on the A40 in March.” Now I knew what Violet had been doing on her phone on the train ride home.

  DCI Williams sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Is that your way of telling me you’re not here to work on my diamond theft case?”

  “Is that the “Terrible Trio” thing I saw as the headline on The London Post-Tribune this morning?” I asked.

  “Yes, that’s them. This is the third robbery they’ve pulled off in as many months, and as much as we keep denying this to the press, we have nothing.”

  “As precious as the diamonds that were stolen may have been, they are nothing compared to a human life, which is the theft we are currently attempting to prevent.”

  “You’re looking for data for someone who’s dead though?”

  “Yes, and if I am correct, someone killed that person, and has killed two others as well.”

  “Recently?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “I haven’t heard of any new murders in London.”

  “That is because the pack of imbéciles who make up a large portion of the Metropolitan Police force as well as the staff at the Westminster Public Mortuary are happier to chalk obvious murders up as a suicide so that they are able to eat their lunch sooner.”

  “Which particular imbecile are you referring to this time?” DCI Williams asked, leaning back in his chair.

  “Detective Inspector Carlson,” Violet replied, and I saw the corners of DCI Williams’ lips twitch with a smile.

  “Oh, he must have loved you,” he replied. “Even I will admit that my esteemed colleague is perhaps one sandwich short of a picnic.”

  “Well that is a nicer way of putting it than I would have done,” Violet replied. “Now, can you get me the file?”

  “I suppose so. Let me go down to the storage room and find what I have.”

  DCI Williams got up and made his way toward the lifts. As he entered, Violet grabbed the file already on his desk and pulled it toward us.

  “If you actually manage to solve the big jewellery heist before DCI Williams gets back here, I will only eat smoothie bowls and quinoa salads for a week,” I teased, and Violet grinned at me.

  “I suspect that even I will not be able to solve the case so quickly. However, it is interesting all the same. Perhaps when we have solved this case I will turn my attentions to this one.”

  “I’ll make sure to clear my calendar,” I joked.

  “It is interesting, though,” Violet noted. “Not interesting enough to stop investigating a murder, mind you, but interesting all the same. Three men, it took them four minutes to get in and out of a diamond store on Oxford Street, and the police have no l
eads. That, however, is not saying very much.”

  I looked through the pictures when Violet was finished with them, but had to admit, I didn’t blame the police at all. It just looked like a pilfered safe, and three masked men on the CCTV footage. Not exactly a lot to go by.

  About five minutes later DCI Williams returned, holding a folder in his hands and looking a little bit more annoyed than he had when he went down. I couldn’t help but notice the right shoulder of his suit now had a significant amount of dust on it.

  “Please make this worth it for me,” he said, flopping back down into his chair. “I had four evidence boxes fall on me. Thank goodness they were all sealed.”

  “You should take the stairs rather than the lift,” Violet replied, never taking her eyes off the file she’d blatantly taken off DCI Williams’ desk. “It is healthier.”

  “Thanks for the tip. Now, what do you have?”

  Violet handed the file back to DCI Williams and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. “You are looking for three men. One is one hundred and eighty-three centimeters tall, the second is one hundred and eighty-five, and the third only one hundred and seventy-seven, possibly one hundred and seventy-eight. The first man is the ringleader. Going by the contents that they stole they knew exactly what was worth the most money. They immediately stole the diamonds, and a few watches and left the other precious stones. In fact it is rather strange how much they left. There is not much else to be told from the photos.”

  “Is that it?” DCI Williams said, and I could tell he was slightly disappointed. Violet shrugged.

  “You give me three grainy, still photographs of men in masks. Even I am not a miracle worker.”

  “I have video footage as well, of both the interior during the robbery and of the outside of the building.”

  “Email it to me, I will look at it when I have a chance,” Violet said. “Now, I need my file. I have an actual murder to solve.”

  DCI Williams passed it over to her, and Violet stood up. “Is there a room where we can look at this?”