“Thank you. Sadly, it does not get us any closer to our murderer, but I did not really believe Oliver Hollingsworth to have anything to do with it. I am convinced it was something to do with that maths program, it was not a personal situation. The man is a creep, that is certain, but he remains a creep who has likely not broken any laws in this particular instance, and he certainly did not murder Amelia.”
“So, what do we do now?”
“We should go home. I need to think about this case. I need to figure out why someone would want the algorithm the four students were working on, and why they wanted it so badly they committed three murders to get it.”
Violet hailed a cab and her brow furrowed as soon as we got in; she was obviously deep in thought.
As soon as the cab stopped in front of Violet’s house, I hopped out of the car, Violet close behind me.
“Mind if I come in and use your computer?” I asked. After all, I wanted to look into that man Charles Dartmouth had told me about, and I figured using Violet’s huge mac would be more comfortable than trying to get information on my iPad. Plus, I didn’t want to be left out if Violet made any big breakthroughs this afternoon.
“Of course, come in,” Violet replied, motioning toward the door. She unlocked it and stepped through the entrance, but as soon as she did, she stopped.
“Wait,” she said to me, holding up a hand. “Do not come in, someone has been here.”
I instinctively took a step back to find myself outside on the stoop. “Are you sure?” I asked, peering into the house, already knowing the answer. Violet was always right about these things, and she didn’t bother answering me. Instead, she stepped inside the house carefully while I waited outside with bated breath. I was half expecting the house to be booby trapped Indiana Jones-style, and was prepared to duck if a giant fireball or something came through the front door.
“Ah, I found it,” Violet said after about five minutes.
“Does that mean I won’t die if I come in?” I called into the house.
“There are never any guarantees in life, but so far as I can tell, it is safe,” Violet replied, and I stepped gingerly over the threshold and into the house, closing the door behind me.
Violet was sitting at the top of the stairs, looking carefully at the third step from the top. The stairs in her home were fairly modern: mahogany stained open risers with white closed stringers that gave the stairs a very open feel. I began to climb them to see what Violet was looking at, and she turned toward me, a small smile on her face.
“This is perhaps the best stroke of luck we have had all day.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Someone is trying to kill me.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not the reaction normal people have in that sort of situation.”
“Yes, well, normal people are boring.”
“Normal people also tend to live longer.”
“Only when they are not as good at my job as I am,” Violet proudly announced. “Look under there, under that step. Be careful,” she said, motioning to the step I’d been looking at. I bent down and contorted my body awkwardly to have a look. The underside of the step had a large crack in it. The next person to walk up the stairs would have fallen through the stair and fallen a good twelve feet onto the floor below, likely hitting their head on one of the adjacent steps on the way down as well.
“That wouldn’t have ended well,” I said.
“No, it would not,” Violet replied. “It appears that somebody would like us to stop investigating the three deaths of the maths students.”
“I’ll call the police,” I said, unlocking my phone, but Violet shook her head.
“Why bother? They will not do anything we cannot do better. It would just be a waste of time. Come. We will look at my security footage.”
“How did you know something was wrong when we came in?” I asked as we walked down the stairs.
“One of my shoes by the door was a little bit sideways,” Violet replied. “I am certain that they were straight when I left. Not only did I specifically notice it, but I would never leave my shoes tilted sideways.”
“Who knew being incredibly neurotic would come in handy one day?” I teased as Violet turned on the computer.
She turned on the computer and the screen flashed to life; a minute later Violet opened a program and about six different security cameras popped up onto the screen, both from the interior and exterior of the house. One of them was pointed directly at us and I turned around, trying to see where it was hidden.
Eventually, through some trial and error, I found the camera hidden inside a vase sitting on a bookshelf. If I hadn’t explicitly been looking for it, and didn’t have a very, very good idea as to where it was, I never would have picked it as being a camera, I would have thought the small round lens was just part of the vase design.
“You should work for the NSA, they would love you,” I told Violet.
“With the work that I do, it is both a good precaution to have such security, and it also comes in handy in situations like this, where we will be able to learn something about a potential murderer.”
“If we’re really lucky, he’ll have had his home address printed on his shirt,” I said.
“You would be surprised at how often people do wear clothes that absolutely gives them away,” Violet replied as she moved the slider on the screen back to rewind the video. Everything was blank for a while until just after eleven in the morning, right around when we arrived at the Athenaeum Club, when a figure suddenly appeared on the tapes.
Violet slowed the video back down to real time and rewound it to the man’s entrance and the two of us watched in silence.
The man first appeared in the video out the front of Violet’s building, in the bottom right hand corner of the screen. He wore a baseball cap, with his head down that covered most of his face, along with a uniform–the kind a cable TV repairman would wear and a thin pair of black gloves which carried a small toolbox. It took him less than twenty seconds to pick the lock to Violet’s front door, and I noticed her eyebrows raise just slightly. As he walked in our focus turned to the top center camera, pointing just inside the doorway. As soon as the man slipped into the door he turned away from the camera and replaced his cap with a balaclava; evidently, he was expecting Violet to have interior security cameras as well as exterior ones.
“Why don’t you have some sort of security service here?” I asked Violet as the man turned back around to face us. His foot glanced against one of Violet’s shoes as he made his way toward the stairs, knocking it askance.
“I get more information from people entering my home if they stay here for a little while,” Violet replied. “A security system would simply scare them off.”
“I think that’s the whole point, discouraging the person who’s heading up your stairs to tamper with them.”
“Well this way, we not only see what he is doing, we are learning more and more about him. For example, he is obviously a professional. He expected the security camera, and once inside, he replaced his cap with a balaclava. It is obvious from the way that he moves that he has done this before. He moves quickly, and confidently. He is not constantly looking over his shoulder. He is trained in carpentry, that much is obvious from the way he removed the step, tampered with it, and then replaced it. He has also injured his left shoulder at some point in the past. It appears to be quite stiff, and he makes a concerted effort to avoid using it when replacing the step.”
As soon as the man finished tampering with the step, he made his way back down, then left out the front door the way he came. He replaced his balaclava with the baseball cap in the corner once again, ensuring we couldn’t see his face from the camera angles, while at the same time making sure there would be no suspicion aroused by the neighbors.
“Wait,” Violet said, pausing the video and looking intently at the screen.
“What?”
“What is that, do you think?” she
said, pointing at the man’s neck. I squinted to look at where she was pointing. A part of the man’s neck looked as though it was discolored.
“Birthmark?” I asked. “Unless he wanted a tattoo of an abstract blob for some reason.”
Violet nodded. “Yes, I believe you are right. Give me one moment.” She tapped away at the computer for a minute and the photo’s quality enhanced. “Unlike some, I do not believe in half-rate security cameras,” she said. Sure enough, my hypothesis was confirmed: the man had a small, port wine birthmark on his neck, about the size of a dime.
A small smile crept onto Violet’s lips. “As soon as we find our killer, it will be very easy to confirm.”
I nodded. This was definitely one of the best breaks we’d gotten in the case. “Did Peter Alcott make it onto his flight?” I asked, reminded of the man who was almost certainly a target now.
“Yes,” Violet nodded. “I received an email from him a few moments ago, he is currently on a bus going from Venice to Ljubljana.”
“Good. After all, I think this proves it: someone has been killing the people involved in this case, and they’ve been doing it in ways that make it look like an accident.” Suddenly, my eyes widened. “Wait! That means that we’re still not safe. Until we catch whoever did this, he’s going to keep trying to come after us.”
“Yes, he is,” Violet nodded. “It would be a good idea if we were to fetch your cat from your flat, and have you stay here until this case is solved. After all, my house is much better prepared to handle attempts on our lives than yours.”
I felt the blood draining from my face. People trying to kill me–whether on purpose or not–was getting really old.
Chapter 11
An hour later, Violet had come with me to get Biscuit. She was careful upon opening the door in case it was booby trapped, and insisted on doing a thorough search of my flat before we made our way back to her apartment, Biscuit, all of his necessary gear, and a quick bag packed with all my essentials and a few days’ worth of clothes in hand.
“I will phone Mrs. Michaels sometime tomorrow,” Violet said. “After all, if someone is trying to kill her tenant, she should be made aware of it.”
“It’ll give her time to advertise my apartment in the paper, at least,” I deadpanned, and Violet cracked a smile.
“Do not be so pessimistic, our deaths would mean we were outsmarted by a criminal,” she replied.
I couldn’t think of anything witty to reply, but luckily was saved from having to do so by the doorbell, whose dulcet tones rang through the house.
“Well, I really hope that’s not the murderer,” I said glibly as Violet got up to answer the door. A moment later I heard a familiar voice at the door; DI Carlson was here.
“Right, I’ve been told you’ve been tampering with evidence.”
“I recommend not taking everything you hear at face value,” Violet replied.
“So, you deny that you took Amelia Waters’ laptop from her apartment?”
“Of course not. I did that, yes. I asked her roommate’s permission.”
“Well, that laptop was evidence in a criminal investigation. I need it.”
“Well, you will have to say–how do you say in English–the magic word.”
I snickered as I got up and made my way to the door. DI Carlson’s face was already doing a great imitation of a ripe tomato, and he’d only been here for a few minutes.
“I should have you arrested!” he shouted, spittle flying from his lips.
“I would love to hear what crimes you believe I have committed.”
“Impeding in a police investigation.”
“Really? Because as I recall you telling me, Amelia Waters’ death was not suspicious. So yes, I went to her apartment, and I took her laptop, but I made certain her roommate was aware of what I had done, so that it would not be difficult to find. None of that is a crime.”
“Yes, well, it turns out the pathologist agreed with your incorrect assessment of what happened, and so now I’m being forced to investigate this suicide as though it were a murder.”
A smile tickled my lips. “Oh no, you poor thing,” I couldn’t help but reply.
“Not you too,” DI Carlson snarled my way. “Anyway, get me the laptop.”
“I still haven’t heard the magic word,” Violet replied.
“I’m the police, I don’t have to say please,” he growled at her.
“I’m sorry, I did not realize your job title exempted you from the basic tenets of politeness,” Violet replied. “As I am a private citizen, I also do not have to give you the laptop, I am perfectly within my rights to refuse, and have you get a warrant to retrieve it from my home.”
I masked the peal of laughter that escaped me with a cough, and DI Carlson glared at me, then back at Violet. I knew she was being difficult because she found DI Carlson both lazy and annoying, and sure enough, eventually his lazy side won out.
“Please get me Amelia Waters’ laptop,” he snarled.
“Of course, it is just over here,” Violet replied, making her way the ten feet to the desk where Amelia’s closed laptop sat, grabbing the power cord as well and handing it to DI Carlson as though it was the easiest thing in the world. I kind of hoped he didn’t have any heart troubles, because if he did I felt there was a good chance we were going to have to call an ambulance before he left.
“Stay the hell out of my investigation,” he shouted at the two of us before turning on his heel and leaving without another word.
“He certainly made that more difficult than it had to be,” I said to Violet, who laughed.
“Yes, the ones who think themselves to be so much smarter than the reality are the worst of the police inspectors. Detective Inspector Carlson would be a much better policeman if he learned a little bit of humility.”
“So really you’re just doing your part to improve his policing skills when you torment him like that.”
“Of course,” Violet replied. “Although I do not deny his quickness to anger is rather entertaining.”
Biscuit wrapped himself around my feet just then, purring up a storm. I looked at the clock, it was three minutes after five.
“I’m sorry, am I three whole minutes late in giving you dinner?” I asked my kitty, who meowed as he walked to the kitchen, and I followed behind.
“So, what do we do about the case?” I asked Violet as I opened up a can of cat food.
“I do not know yet,” Violet replied slowly. “We have some information about the murderer, but not enough to determine his identity. This case will not be as easy as that. I will spend tonight thinking about it. The mathematical algorithm Amelia and her group were working on is the key, I am certain of that.”
I put some kibble out for Biscuit, who quickly began to eat it up, before sitting down at Violet’s dining room table. She wandered back out toward the study to work on the case and I pulled out my phone. After all, I should at the very least let Jake know that I was going to spend the next few days at Violet’s.
After a few false starts when it came to writing the text–how are you supposed to text your boyfriend that you’re going to spend a few days at your friend’s house because a homicidal maniac is trying to kill you?–I eventually settled on bluntness.
Amelia Waters’ killer tried to kill us this afternoon, I’m going to spend a few days with Violet just to be safe, since her house is better set up to ward off killers than mine is.
I raided the fridge while waiting for a reply, eventually taking some nitrate free bacon, free-range eggs, fresh cheese, a red pepper and some spring onion–all organic, of course–and called out to Violet.
“Do you want an omelette for dinner?”
“That sounds delightful, thank you,” she called back.
“Is anything in your fridge likely to send either one of us to the hospital?” I couldn’t resist shouting back, and I heard Violet laughing from the couch in the study.
My phone pinged to indicate I’d gotten a
reply text just as I was putting the strips of bacon in the frying pan. Once they were on the heat, I made my way back to my phone.
Ok, sounds good, was all Jake replied. I furrowed my brow and re-read my original text. “Sounds good”? What kind of reaction was that to the fact that I had just told Jake there was a killer after me and Violet?
Really? You’re not worried? I texted back. I chopped up the red pepper, perhaps with a bit more enthusiasm than I otherwise would have. Of course I didn’t want Jake to panic or anything like that, but a little bit of concern would have been nice.
Sorry, he replied a minute later. Rushed off my feet at the lab. Going to be here late again tonight. Please take care of yourself, Cass, and let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. If there’s a killer after you, honestly, I think being at Violet’s is the best place for you.
Thanks, I replied a moment later. I think you’re right. Things should be fine, hopefully Violet solves this case soon. Don’t work too hard!
When I didn’t get a reply to that text I was a little bit disappointed, but I also completely understood. Although I never graduated to become a fully-fledged doctor, I had gone through medical school. I knew the hours could be ridiculous.
Still, as I piled the egg mixtures onto some plates along with bread I found in the cupboard that I was fairly certain was comprised entirely from bird seed, I couldn’t help but feel a bit like Jake was pulling away from me right now. I wondered what was going on with him. Could he really just be super busy at work, or was there something else?
Unfortunately, right now, I had more pressing things to worry about than my budding relationship, like finding a murderer before he succeeded in killing us both.
Chapter 12
“Cassie, wake up,” I heard Violet hiss.
“Urrgh, go away,” I muttered back sleepily, grabbing my pillow and shoving it over my face.
“It is important, wake up,” Violet insisted, and as the previous day’s events came flooding back to me I forced myself awake. What if the murderer was back?
Strangled in Soho Page 7