by L M Krier
'Tomorrow morning, boss, first thing,' Jo told him. 'I spoke to Professor Nelson. Apparently they need to make some special arrangements to handle it, given his size and weight.'
Ted nodded his understanding. 'I imagine so. I'll do that one. I'll be glad of my weekend away afterwards, but it's the least I can do for John.
'Right, you know what you need to be working on, let's get to it. Maurice, my office. Now.'
Maurice was fully expecting the kick-trick and a thorough bollocking. When the boss simply closed the door quietly behind them, he knew he was deep in the shit. Maurice was one of the few who had ever seen Ted close to losing it so he knew that when he reached ice-cold near-silent mode, things did not bode well.
Unusually, Ted didn't ask Maurice to sit down, nor did he put the kettle on. He didn't even sit down himself, he was so angry. He stood behind his chair, gripping the back of it, his knuckles whitening.
'Tell me that what I think happened didn't in fact happen,' he began.
'Boss, it's not like you think, honestly. Steve just got hold of the wrong end of the stick.'
'You're all adults. What you do in your private lives is none of my business. Once it starts spilling over into work, it becomes my business. And I don't like what I've seen this morning. You're old enough to be her father…'
Ted pulled himself up short, aware that he was about to betray a confidence, if he wasn't careful about what he said.
They were interrupted by a knock on the door, which then opened before Ted said anything and Jezza marched in, wearing her determined expression.
'Please go back to your desk, DC Vine,' Ted told her sharply.
'No, boss, I won't. Sorry, but if you're talking about me, I want to be in here, putting my side of things. I really appreciate you and Steve looking out for me, but I'm a grown-up, I make my own decisions. What happened last night was great. It was two close friends getting closer. But that's all it was. Nobody's business but ours. Just a wonderful one-off that's not going anywhere.'
Ted caught the fleeting look of sadness on Maurice's face and realised that he had held higher hopes and expectations.
'Boss, seriously, it's sweet of you and Steve to worry, but this has nothing to do with work. I'm sorry it spilled over into the nick this morning. I'll talk to Steve again when he's calmed down a bit, and smooth it all over. But it won't happen again. None of it will happen again.'
Ted looked sternly from one to the other. 'It better not,' he warned. 'Now get out, the pair of you, and do some work, and for goodness sake make it right with Steve. It takes something to fire him up to the point of violence. And don't bring your domestic disputes into work again.'
Chapter Twenty-four
'Morning, Edwin. I believe this is someone you knew, so I imagine it's not going to be easy for you,' Professor Nelson greeted Ted as he arrived for the post-mortem on Honest John on Friday morning.
'Morning Bizzie. Yes, this is our Honest John, our local confessor. John Jacobs. A very nice, highly intelligent man with a lot of sadness in his life,' Ted told her. 'He's confessed to every sudden death on our patch for as long as I can remember. It was the fact that he hadn't claimed the last couple that made us send someone round to check on him and they found him dead.'
'Dead for three days when he was found. And I'm assuming, given the degree of his clinical obesity, that he was diabetic? We've had to make quite a few special arrangements for the post-mortem. It's comparatively rare to have to work on someone of this size.'
'Yes, diabetic and on insulin. Very good at managing his condition, too. Just not good at controlling his weight.'
'And I'm assuming, from your interest in the case, that this is something other than a straightforward case of natural causes?'
'We have a theory, linked to the other deaths at the same address,' Ted told her. 'It's vague, at the moment, but I'm hoping your findings today might take it further in the right direction.'
Ted disliked post-mortems at the best of times. Watching the Professor work on Honest John was particularly hard and he was greedily sucking his Fisherman's Friends the whole time to help him get through it. He kept thinking what a sad waste it was of an intelligent man, and how cynical a way to dispose of him, if his theory was correct.
As usual, between being her usual brisk and efficient self, Bizzie found time to make small talk, of sorts, with Ted. The two had become somewhat unlikely friends. He asked after her mother.
'Mummy's had another fall, and sacked yet more home carers. I fear we're rapidly approaching the time when I will have to think about putting her in a home, and I'm dreading it. She is so independent. She likes to do everything her own way. But I can't see an alternative. I couldn't possibly cope with her at my house and I'm not yet ready to give up work to be her full-time carer. Nor would she let me.
'By the way, Edwin, I should have warned you, this is going to take considerably longer than usual, because of the practicalities. We've even had to call in special implements. I don't want to be indelicate but there's a lot more of him to get through before we reach the revealing bits.'
One of the other pathologists, James Barrington, was assisting her with this one, because of the sheer size of the body they were working on, with one of the mortuary assistants on hand as well.
'It's fine, I've set the whole morning aside. In fact, I'm trying to keep my workload light all day. I'm supposed to be going to Somerset with Trev later on. His kid sister is competing in some horsey event or other at her school. Trev says if I don't go with him, he says he's leaving me.'
'Then I'd better make sure I work as quickly as possible, so I don't delay you. We've already made a start on blood analysis, as a diabetic coma had been suggested as the likely cause of death.'
'While I'm here, I wanted to ask you about the knife wounds to our murder victims. I know you saw the wound inflicted by Danny Boy on the victim of our last case, and you commented on its precision. That was confirmed by him being a trained soldier. What about the knife wounds on our three hotel victims?'
'Different kettle of fish altogether,' she said briskly. 'Very haphazard, just a case of slash and stab anywhere that was handy, I would say. There were several potentially fatal stab wounds, but there were also a great many that didn't serve a lot of purpose, other than wanting to inflict pain and injury. I would say a completely different type of attacker. Your soldier was very precise and accurate. He knew exactly where to use a blade for lethal effect. This was much more frenzied, no degree of control or precision at all. Does that help?'
'Enormously, thank you. We're a long way off catching this killer, so I'm trying to form as much of a picture about him as I can. Neither Maurice nor I are keen on being the wrong side of an expert knife-wielder again for quite some time.'
'I can see that Mr Jacobs did take reasonably good care of himself, apart from his weight issues,' she said, turning her concentration back to the task in hand. 'His legs and feet are in particularly good condition, given his weight and his diabetes. In fact, other than the sheer size of him, he's in better shape than I would have expected.'
'His flat was always immaculate, too. It cost him an enormous effort to do any tidying up at all, but he did it. Almost obsessively so.'
'I'm approaching the bit I know you possibly dislike the most, so you might need another lozenge,' she warned him. 'I'm just about to examine the stomach contents.'
She was right. It was the point at which, if he didn't exercise extreme self-control, Ted always risked losing his own stomach contents. He could never get over the smell. He wondered how Bizzie and the other pathologists seemed to have grown immune to it. Unsurprisingly, with a cadaver the size of Honest John, there was rather a lot to come out.
'Interesting,' Bizzie said, peering closely at the dark and noxious liquid with the overpowering smell. 'I'll spare you having to get too close, but I can immediately identify two factors. One is chocolate and the other, unless I am very much mistaken, is some sort of sweet desser
t wine.'
Ted was impressed, and had no idea how she could tell that from the foul substance under her nose.
'That confirms our findings at the scene. Someone had sent John a fancy hamper, and it looked as if he'd tucked into the wine and the chocolates, as well as various cakes and pastries. And I should just mention that John's insulin and the rest of his kit were missing from the flat, if that makes a difference.'
'Oh, good gracious, yes,' she said emphatically. 'If he downed that lot with no means of bringing his blood sugars back under control fairly rapidly, I would expect us to be looking at Hyperosmolar Hyperglycaemic State. It's a potentially life-threatening medical emergency, with a high mortality rate.'
'John was always careful with his medication. He ordered all his food in, as he couldn't get out to go shopping. He was well aware that he ate far too many pizzas and crisps, but I've never known him drink alcohol, and certainly not binge on chocolate. He knew the risks.'
'Sometimes if someone is very low for some reason, they do unexpected things,' she suggested.
Ted nodded. 'Agreed. But it doesn't explain the absence of insulin in the flat. He should have had plenty; I checked with the pharmacy which supplied him.'
'Then that would make an extremely cynical and rather effective way of disposing of someone with his medical history, I would imagine. We should get the blood results through quickly. One of the advantages of being based here in the hospital is that I can get such things prioritised when I need to, and I told them you would be waiting for them.'
She carried on working, then said, 'I can certainly tell you that he suffered a myocardial infarction. A massive heart attack. Hardly surprising, given the strain on his system. I'll still be very interested in the blood results as I'm certain there will be something there to explain what precipitated it.'
True to her word, the results appeared rapidly. Bizzie scanned them through then turned back to Ted.
'As I thought. His blood sugar level was catastrophically high. With Type 2 diabetes, his body would produce some insulin of its own, but barely enough for everyday life, and certainly not remotely enough for a sugar overload of this intensity. Based on these results, and the background information you've provided, I will certainly be reporting this to the coroner as suspicious. A heart attack is a natural cause of death, but what led to it in this case raises questions. There will need to be an inquest, of course, and I'm imagining you may well be investigating it as a possible murder?'
'We certainly will. The drugs overdoses could so easily have been just a factor of their lifestyle. Even the alcohol-related death may have been innocent enough. But this? Finding John dead with no trace of insulin anywhere in his flat? That's not right. It's just not right.'
Ted was keen to be back at the station to get Jo and Sal started on the Sabden House case, now armed with the post-mortem findings on Honest John. He paused to pick up his lunch on the way back, to eat at his desk while he caught up. He wanted everything as under control as it could be before he took his short weekend off. He fully intended to be back in work well within forty-eight hours. After a tough morning, he decided it was definitely a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel kind of day again, especially as he was not sure where or what time he and Trev would be eating that evening.
At least the atmosphere in the office was slightly better when Ted got back. Maurice was working away slowly but methodically at his desk, trawling through old reports. Steve and Océane had their heads together over the computers, but at least Steve no longer looked intent on killing Maurice. Just as well, since he lodged with him and Maurice had always been kind to him.
Rob and Virgil were over at South Manchester, keeping an eye on Foster's remaining team, checking witnesses there, still hoping to find more details of the third victim, George Gildyke's, last hours. Mike Hallam, Jezza and Megan were out somewhere, working the case, or possibly taking their lunch break, as the team staggered their hours so that someone was always available.
Jo and Sal had already started a file on Sabden House. Ted suggested they all get together in Jo's office, as there was more room there than in his own. He told them about the findings of the morning's post-mortem, and the likely conclusion to be drawn that someone had deliberately and cynically set out to kill Honest John, or at least to cause his death.
'Pocket Billiards gave me some good leads for the whole Sabden House saga. He's itching to make a big scoop out of it, so I promised him first dibs on anything we get about the deaths. I hope that was all right, boss?'
'Exactly what I would have done,' Ted agreed. 'It's the best way to use him. I hope watching him eat didn't rob you of your appetite?'
'Yeah, thanks for that, boss,' Jo laughed good-naturedly. 'Are there any more of these initiation tests heading my way shortly?'
'With the prospect of forty-eight hours off in the middle of two big cases, I'm not going to do anything to rock the boat,' Ted assured him. 'Right, let's see what our computer experts have for us. I'm hoping our Linda Lovelace will have the decency to behave while I'm away, but I'm interested to know if there's been any chat from him, suggesting he's gearing up to kill again. There has to be a way we can get the jump on him.'
'Boss, Steve and I are monitoring every likely chat group, every possible hang-out, looking for Linda Lovelace,' Océane told Ted, when he went back out to the main office. 'Even where we find a trace of him, we can't go any further as he just seems to make direct contact with anyone interesting, then they switch to email. We've no way yet of tracing him via email, because the only addresses we have are the throwaway kind.'
'So he's going on to these dating sites, targeting men mentioning being involved in financial investments, then setting up meetings with ones who fit his personal profile?'
'Boss, these are mostly not dating sites,' Océane told him patiently. 'They're blatant shagging sites. The kind where anyone looking for a bit of action, purely a one-off, can find some. Ideal for men, and women, like our travelling salesmen, who are going to be in a strange town and looking for a bit of no-strings nooky. I suspect our first lady, Mrs Angus, wasn't quite aware of the site she had enrolled herself in. She, like you, might have thought it was for dating, not just shagging.'
Steve went pink at her choice of words while Ted shook his head in bewilderment. He'd never been much for one-night stands, even before he got together with Trev.
'If, as is looking likely, you decide that we may need to draw him out by baiting him, one thing's for certain. Any mention of investment seems to be a magnet to him. All the people we've found that he's contacted so far have hinted, or even claimed outright, to have a finger on various financial pulses,' Océane continued.
'So if we can't yet trace him, can we contact anyone he's been in touch with and warn them?' Ted asked.
'Theoretically possible, at a pinch, but seriously, boss? The kind of people hanging out on some of these sites would think it was an even bigger turn-on that the supposed woman they think they're going to meet, named after one of the most famous porn stars ever, might actually be out to kill them. I will try, but I wouldn't hold your breath. And I really am starting to think that you will need to be looking at a carefully planned and managed entrapment operation as the best way forward.'
Ted took himself off back to his office to eat his bagel and make sure his paperwork was up to date. He didn't want any nasty surprises at the last minute, preventing him from getting away on time. His instructions from Trev had been clear. He made himself a note to speak to both the Ice Queen and Jim Baker again about trying to bring Linda Lovelace to them, as they weren't having any success to date in tracing him.
He was interrupted in his eating by a knock at the door and Maurice coming hesitantly in when told to do so, looking more than a little wary.
'Come in and sit down, Maurice,' Ted told him. 'Is everything sorted now, between you and Steve? All friends once more?'
'More or less, boss. And it really wasn't like he, or you, thought…'
Ted waved him to silence. 'Water under the bridge now. Let's keep it that way. We have work to do. So, what have you got for me?'
'The suicide inquest, boss. A woman called Elaine Cummings. She lost everything on a dodgy investment deal that went tits up. She was divorced, she'd kept the house, and had a bit of money. Someone she met online persuaded her to do some sort of equity release scheme, safely insured, can't possibly go wrong. You know the sort of spiel these people use. Anyway, it did go wrong. Disastrously so. It was some complicated pyramid-type scheme, and her money wasn't going into the safe as houses investments she thought it was. She lost absolutely everything. The house was repossessed. Of course, none of the insurance policies were worth Jack-shit so no recourse there either. She finished up in a grotty bedsit with a shared bathroom with a wonky electric heater. She sat in the bath and pulled it in with her.'
Ted put his bagel to one side, suddenly robbed of his appetite. He couldn't begin to imagine the level of despair which would bring someone to an action like that.
'Next of kin?'
'Still the ex-husband. He gave evidence to the inquest. He was a maintenance worker on the oil rigs up in Scotland, but they got divorced some time before all this. It seems like he still cared for his wife, stayed in touch, tried to support her as much as he could. When it all went wrong, she broke off contact with him, maybe ashamed of how she'd been conned.'
'So now make my day and tell me you know exactly who this man is and where, because if that's not a motive for murdering anyone selling dodgy investments, I don't know what is.'
Maurice shook his head. 'No can do at the moment, boss. I have his name, from the inquest reports, but they only mention him working on the rigs, no local address. I've been on to the coroner's office for the address where they sent the witness summons, but that was the rigs too. The wife's has was repossessed so no trace there. I've rung the company he worked for but they say he left when his wife killed herself. Had some sort of total breakdown, dropped off the radar altogether.''Please tell me there is some good news, so I can go off for the weekend happy?'