The Wages of Sin (P&R2)

by Tim Ellis

  ‘What about the Tetragrammaton that you found, Sir?’

  ‘Well, if he has two sides to his personality, it could be that he falls under the classification of a visionary killer. That is, he is being told to kill by God.’

  ‘So he could be a schizophrenic?’

  ‘Amanda Sprinkles thought he had a schizoid personality because he has no interest in social relationships, he probably lives alone, he’s secretive and emotionally cold.’

  Richards sighed. ‘What we really need is his address, isn’t it, Sir?’

  ‘That would be good, Richards.’

  ‘We know he lives locally, but where?’

  Parish moved to the map and put a dot in the middle of Grove Lane, and then began to draw concentric circles around the dot with approximately an inch between each circle. ‘He lives somewhere here, but as I said in the Chief’s office, we have no idea who we’re looking for.’

  ‘I have an idea, Sir.’

  ‘All ideas gratefully received, Richards?’

  ‘What about asking one of the Clerical staff to find all of the single male households in the Electoral Roll database. If you believe the killer lives somewhere near Grove Lane, then we could start with the roads around there, and there’s not that many roads in the middle circles.’ She stood up to point at the map, reading off the names in a clockwise direction. ‘There’s Pudding Lane, Gravel Lane, Orchard Way, Chase Lane, Lodge Close, Lambourne Road…’

  ‘Okay, I get the idea.’ He looked at the map and smiled. ‘I blame myself, you know?’

  She scrunched up her eyes. ‘What do you mean, Sir?’

  ‘That I made you my partner, Richards. It was a stroke of genius on my part.’

  She slapped him on the arm. ‘Well, of course, it would be. I don’t come into it at all.’

  ‘On very rare occasions you surprise me by seeing through the clutter, but… let’s say we identify twenty men who live alone, what then? Do we knock on their door and say, ‘Hey, are you the killer we’ve been looking for?’

  ‘Now I know you’re teasing me. We wouldn’t do that, we’ve got the shoe size, the height, the diabetes, and we’d also look at their backgrounds, find out about their childhood, and read their school reports, their medical reports. See where they work…’

  ‘I’m glad I brought you into work today, Richards. I think you might have opened up a crack of light in an otherwise long dark tunnel. Well done.’

  She turned coy. ‘Thank you, Sir.’

  ‘As a reward, you can go and ask Cheryl in administration to input the database query, and then make me a four-sugared coffee on your way back. Don’t forget to bring whatever Dan drinks, he’ll be here soon.’

  ‘You treat me like a slave, Sir,’ she said opening the door. ‘You’re so mean.’

  ***

  Dan Jeffers arrived at twenty past ten with a satisfied grin on his face. ‘I have the content of the first two messages, Inspector.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  As Dan put his laptop down on the table, Richards came through the incident room door with a tray.

  ‘Come on, Richards,’ Parish hurried her, ‘we’ve been waiting ages for you.’

  ‘I’ve been wondering if the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg can help me, Sir.’

  ‘It’s no good going there. Apart from the fact that you don’t speak French, Strasbourg is a cold and unwelcoming place, and they already know what a wonderful boss I am. Now sit down and stop whining.’

  When Dan had helped himself to coffee and biscuits, he opened up his laptop and turned it towards them. ‘Working backwards from the Meroitic-Demotic script::

  This was the second layer:

  YROMHRQDYVOYDKWZQVBKVPQHUKYRUOZQVBKVPKYKHQJOZKVQYKOV

  And this was the third layer:

  VLRAXLKZVYRVZCQOCVLNKYPCYFKXOCVLORNKYPCYFCVCXKTRNCYKVCRY

  Finally, the plaintext message:’

  THOU SHALT NOT LIE WITH MANKIND AS WITH WOMANKIND IT IS ABOMINATION

  Richards said, ‘What does it mean, Sir?’

  Dan coughed and said, ‘I can tell you where it came from, if that’s any help?

  ‘By all means, Dan?’ Parish encouraged him.

  ‘It’s from the Bible, Leviticus 18:22.’

  ‘I told you there was more to these killings than revenge against women, Richards. Well done, Dan. What about the second message?’

  ‘I felt so wide-awake after my full body coarse sea salt, oil, and Juniper berry scrub, and deep body and scalp massage with the hot and cold stones that I decided to decipher the second message as well. Here is the original Sanskrit script:

  The second level:

  YRWQPMDYFWHHHRQDDHNFWDTJWLMYYOPWQYR

  Third level:

  PYNJXEQPLNBBBYJQQBELNQKCNWEPPGXNJPY

  And the plaintext:’

  THE ADULTRESS SHALL SURELY BE PUT TO DEATH

  Which is also from the Bible, Leviticus 20:10: If a man commits adultery with the wife of his neighbour, both the adulterer and the adulteress shall surely be put to death.’

  ‘Brilliant Dan, well done,’ Parish said.

  Dan beamed.

  Richards said, ‘He’s punishing women for their sins, isn’t he, Sir?’

  ‘It certainly looks that way.’

  ‘Why not men?’

  ‘Don’t start asking rational questions, Richards.’

  ‘Sorry, Sir.’

  ‘We knew Tanya Mathews was a lesbian, but we didn’t know Susan Reeves was seeing another man.’

  ‘I assume neither did her husband or her Mother, but maybe her work colleagues knew.’

  ‘We can’t tell the press what the messages say can we, Sir?’

  ‘Apart from the grief it would cause, I don’t see any point in doing that. Its not as if women who have sinned could stay inside out of his way, is it? That would probably account for 99.9% of women.’

  ‘And 110% of men,’ Richards said. ‘I’m not a sinner, Sir.’

  Parish grunted. ‘But it’s not through the want of trying is it, Richards?’

  ‘What about the third message, Inspector?’ Dan interrupted.

  ‘Yes, we don’t want you sat here twiddling your thumbs when we’re paying you for your time.’ Parish rang Toadstone again. ‘Have you retrieved the message from the body yet?’

  ‘Just.’

  ‘Take a photograph of it, and send it to me.’

  ‘On it’s way, Inspector.’

  ‘Thanks, Toadstone. Is Doc Michelin still there?’

  ‘He’s just taking the body to King George Hospital.’

  ‘Tell him Richards and I will meet him in the cafeteria for lunch at one o’clock, he’s paying?’ He heard Toadstone relay the message.

  ‘The Doc says he’ll see you there.’

  ‘Thanks Toadstone, and hurry up with the message will you?’

  After five minutes Parish nearly rang Toadstone again and told him to pull his finger out of his arse, but just as he picked up his mobile it pinged with a message. ‘About bloody time,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I wonder what planet Toadstone is on.’

  ‘Stop being mean, Sir, Paul does a good job.’

  He thrust his mobile at her. ‘Take this, plug it into my computer. You’ll find the lead dangling out of a USB port at the back, save the image to the hard drive, and print it off.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Do I have to do it myself?’

  ‘Well, no…’

  ‘Good. Hurry up then, I’ve got a press briefing in ten minutes.’

  ‘I could…’

  ‘You could do as I’ve asked you before Dan gets so bored he wanders off for another massage.’

  Richards left and returned within five minutes with his mobile, and a printed copy of the third message.

  ‘Wonderful,’ Dan said. ‘Now that I’ve got a handle on his method of encryption, this message should be ready by the end of the day.’

  Parish wondered whether he should get a Priest or some other religious person in
to give him a different perspective on the messages. Both he and Richards had jumped to the conclusion that a religious nut was punishing women for their sins, but was that all there was to it? How in hell did the killer know that these women were committing sins? Was he following them? Did he know the victims, and therefore know what they were doing? It wouldn’t be hard to work out that Tanya Mathews had been a lesbian, but how did he know Susan Reeves was committing adultery when her husband didn’t know? And if Marie Langley was having sex with animals, how in Hell did he find that out?

  ‘What sin do you think Marie Langley committed, Richards?’ Parish said.

  She shivered. ‘I don’t want to think about it.’

  ‘Trainee detectives sometimes have to think the unthinkable, you know?’

  ‘We both know what she was doing.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not.’

  ‘What do you want me to do while you’re at the press conference?’

  ‘Find me a Priest for nine o’clock tomorrow morning, I feel a confession coming on.’

  ‘You could be gone for a very long time, Sir.’

  ‘You’re treading a very thin line, Richards.’

  ***

  Looking reasonably presentable in a light blue shirt and dark blue and white tie underneath a worn dark grey suit, he sat in the press briefing room behind the blue-cloth draped over the table feeling colour co-ordinated, and waited for the noise to die down.

  ‘As you know, one of your own went missing late on Wednesday night, and I’m sorry to have to tell you that Marie Langley was found dead this morning at the disused Valentine Lido in Chigwell.’

  A wraith-like woman with long dark hair and hollow eyes that he had seen before stood up. ‘Pansy Lupin from the Epping and Redbridge Independent, Inspector. Is it the same killer?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid it is.’

  ‘Have you discovered why there was a gap of seven years between the first two murders yet?’

  ‘No, not yet, Miss Lupin. What we have been able to do is eliminate a number of possibilities, but we are still pursuing this lead.’ The released prisoner angle hadn’t led anywhere. He’d now have to get Richards to look at released mental health patients, which was as difficult as deciphering the messages.

  He remembered the pretty young woman with glasses in the second row as Emma Potter from the Redbridge Times and pointed at her. ‘Yes, Miss Potter?’

  ‘You must have found out what the messages say by now, Inspector, are you willing to share the content with us?’

  ‘Yes, we have deciphered the messages, and no, I am not willing to share the content with you. What I can tell you is that they are religious in nature, but what they say is not relevant to the investigation.’

  As the noise level increased a tall man in his late twenties with a pointed chin, and glasses perched on the end of his nose, stood up. ‘Joel Metcalfe from the Epping Guardian, Inspector. I was the one who suggested that there might be a religious aspect to the murders at the last press conference…’

  ‘As I recall, Mr Metcalfe, you asked a question, and I said it was an avenue of enquiry we were pursuing. Well, I can now tell you that there is a religious aspect to the murders, and we are still following this line of enquiry. In future though, please don’t try to make it appear as though you’re the brains behind this investigation.’

  There were howls of laughter and shouts of, “Yeah, Joel.”

  ‘Miss Cox?’ Parish said to the red-haired Catherine Cox from the Chigwell Herald, once the hilarity had subsided.

  ‘At the last briefing you were still accumulating and sifting through the evidence from the first two murders. One assumes you’ve now completed that task. Have you now been able to identify any suspects?’

  ‘Your assumption is correct, Miss Cox, and yes, we now have a pool of suspects that are being eliminated from our enquiries.’

  He took a sip of water from the plastic cup on the table, and wished he’d brought a mug of coffee in with him. He hated water, and always imagined it teaming with bacterial micro-organisms, corrosive metals, and harmful poisons. Maybe he had a form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder… Were there other things besides water he didn’t he like?

  ‘Inspector…?’

  ‘Yes, Mizz Sandland?’ He wondered why a pretty young woman with a blonde bob and sparkling grey eyes would like women instead of men. Maybe it was just him she didn’t like.

  ‘He’s killed three times now. You said last time that you weren’t a clairvoyant, but have you any idea when you might catch him and make the streets safe for women again?’

  He thought she was a right bitch. She made a point of showing him up at every press briefing, as if the job wasn’t hard enough as it was without her turning up like a bad penny. ‘What I can tell you, Mizz Sandland, is that all of Hoddesdon’s resources are being used to find the killer.’ The Chief would be pleased with that answer, he thought.

  ‘That would be you, and a new recruit who isn’t even a detective?’

  He wondered whether he should leap over the table and throw her out by the scruff of the neck. ‘Supported by a multitude of backroom staff, Mizz Sandland. Let’s not forget the people behind the scenes.’

  ‘Steve Benedict from Hainult Locallife. What’s happened to Constable Richards, Inspector?’

  ‘Nothing has happened to her, Mr Benedict, she’s fully occupied as a trainee detective.’ He stood up. ‘The next briefing will be at ten o’clock on Saturday morning. Thank you all for coming’

  ***

  Before he went to find Richards, he called in on the Chief’s secretary, Debbie Shinwell, who had worked for the Chief for fifteen years – she was his work-wife. Like a football manager moving between teams, he had brought his Number Two with him from Fraud.

  ‘Good morning, Debbie. I need a Court Order to access the records of mental health patients released in the past month, and may I say how stunningly beautiful you look this morning.’

  ‘Flattery will get you your heart’s desire today, Inspector.’

  ‘I’m glad about that, Debbie, I thought I might have to do some grovelling in my best suit.’

  ‘Country-wide?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Access to the Department of Health database for you and Constable Richards?’

  ‘Yes, but mostly for Constable Richards. You wouldn’t want me to get Repetitive Strain Injury, would you?’

  ‘I suppose you want it yesterday?’

  ‘The day before would be better.’

  ‘Leave it with me.’

  ‘Have I ever told you that you’re the most beautiful woman this side of the Aurora Borealis, Debbie.’

  ‘On numerous occasions, but you’re a snake in the grass who steals the hearts of lonely women, Jed Parish.’

  He kissed her hand. ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.’

  ‘Stop flirting with my secretary, Parish,’ the Chief said at the open door to his office. ‘Get out there and catch this madman.’

  ‘I was just on my way, Chief.’

  As he walked back to the squad room he heard the Chief say, ‘Are you trying to make me jealous?’ He didn’t hear Debbie’s reply, but he could imagine what it was. It was well known that the Chief and Debbie had been an item for at least five years, but Debbie had a husband with Multiple Sclerosis who she refused to leave.

  ‘Come on, Richards, Doc Michelin is waiting for us in the hospital cafeteria with a bulging wallet, and my stomach thinks there’s a food shortage.’

  She stood up and put her coat on. ‘Cheryl says she’s got a million things to do for Kowalski, but she’ll make room to query the Electoral Roll for you this afternoon.’

  ‘I can only imagine what she’s doing for Kowalski.’

  ‘Sirrr.’

  ‘What about the Priest?’

  ‘You’ve got Father Rosario from Our Lady of Sorrows Church coming to see you at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I feel better already.’

 
‘He asked what it concerned, so I told him about the first two messages.’

  ‘Let’s hope for your sake that he doesn’t run to the press for money to repair his church roof.’

  ‘Priests aren’t like that.’

  ‘That’s what they said about Ronnie Biggs, and looked what happened to the Great Train.’

  ‘Ronnie Biggs wasn’t a Priest, Sir.’

  ‘Stop splitting hairs, Richards.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was ten to one when they arrived at King George Hospital, which was under threat from Government cost-saving measures. Redbridge Primary Care Trust were proposing to cut the Accident & Emergency facility, and make other changes which would seriously undermine medical provision within the borough, and put people’s lives at risk. A small protest group wielding placards, wearing Grim Reaper masks, and poking a fully functioning brazier stuffed with potatoes cooking in the red-hot coals had taken up residence opposite the main entrance. Parish and Richards both signed their ‘Save King George Hospital’ petition.

  ‘Are you in danger, Doc?’ Parish said when they reached the cafeteria.

  ‘Can you imagine what would happen if they killed off the mortuary, Parish?’

  ‘Good one, Doc,’ Parish said.

  ‘Thank you. Lovely to see you, Constable Richards.’

  ‘A return to the bad old days?’ Parish speculated.

  ‘Most definitely, Parish. Bubonic plague would make a thrilling comeback.’

  Doc Michelin went last in the food queue so that he could pay. Parish chose the Wild and Button Mushroom Stroganoff on a bed of Basmati Rice, and the Sticky Toffee pudding with Vanilla Ice Cream for after. Richards had some leaves and a wholemeal roll, and the Doc chose the Steak, Ale and Mushroom Pie with chips and peas, and for pudding he had the Rhubarb Crumble and Custard.