Blood Axe

by Leigh Russell

  ‘Yes, he’s waiting for you to come and see for yourself.’

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  He had wanted to go home, but the pathologist was waiting. Reluctantly, he called Bev. To his relief, she didn’t remonstrate too much.

  ‘Oh Ian, you said you were coming home.’

  It was a half-hearted protest. He was relieved, but slightly disappointed that she accepted his change of plan so readily. If she had remonstrated strongly enough he might have been tempted to send Ted to the mortuary instead of going himself. Instead, she merely mumbled that she hoped she would see him later. With a sigh Ian heaved himself off his chair and set off.

  Avril wasn’t there. Jonah himself let Ian in when he buzzed.

  ‘See how dedicated I am?’ the pathologist greeted him with a smile. ‘It’s getting on for eight o’clock and here I am, doing your bidding. I just hope you appreciate how lucky you are.’

  ‘I do, I do,’ Ian grinned. ‘Now, what have you got for us?’

  Returning Ian’s smile, Jonah led him inside.

  ‘Where’s Avril?’ Ian asked.

  ‘Alas, Avril has deserted us for a hot date. She seems to cherish the illusion that she’s entitled to some sort of life away from this place. You and I both know that’s not possible, of course. Not when we’re dealing with something like this,’ he added, as he opened the door to the room where Andrea’s cadaver lay waiting for them. ‘The only date we have right now is with this young lady.’

  Jonah smiled ruefully at Ian. Thinking about Bev at home, Ian didn’t answer. He stared past Jonah to the body lying flat on her back on the table, her body scored with more incisions than the killer had made.

  ‘What can you tell us?’

  ‘Injuries are consistent with those sustained by the other three victims,’ Jonah replied.

  ‘So the same weapon was used in all four attacks?’

  ‘I’d say that’s possible. Yes.’

  ‘Is that a definite?’

  Jonah hesitated. ‘It was the same weapon, as far as we can tell. If it wasn’t the same, it was one exactly like it.’

  Jonah ran through Andrea’s injuries. She had been killed with one impact from a sharp blade that had cracked her skull.

  ‘Does that tell us anything about the killer? I mean, would it have required much strength to do that?’

  Jonah shook his head. ‘Not necessarily. If the axe was swung with enough speed and momentum it might not have taken a particularly powerful person to strike the blow. Don’t forget the killer uses an axe, so all the force is concentrated on one sharp edge.’

  Ian nodded despondently. They were gathering so much information, but none of it had so far led them to the killer. Ian tried to hide his dejection as he thanked the pathologist.

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything more,’ Jonah replied. Usually cheery, he seemed to share Ian’s dejection. ‘I’m sure you’ll catch up with him after this. You’ve got the weapon now, haven’t you?’

  Ian nodded. The axe should give them the owner’s DNA. Even if there was no match on the database, a DNA sample would offer information about the killer, maybe enough for them to make an arrest. It was hardly likely that the killer had never touched the axe with his bare skin, or even breathed on it. All they needed was for him to have coughed or sneezed just once, one brush with his hand, one scrape of skin as he was sharpening the blade, and they would have the evidence they needed. But first they had to find a sample they could use. Eileen was fuming with impatience. Ian was too tired to care that it was taking so long to find the killer’s DNA. Evidently he had been careful to wear gloves when handling all his equipment, from the axe itself to the bucket, tins and files. Even the bloodstained rags had only yielded up DNA from the victims. The forensic team would find what they were looking for, but it was taking longer than any of them had anticipated. They had the murder weapon, but not the murderer. Not yet.

  Wearily Ian drove home. It was late. Expecting Bev to be in bed he went straight upstairs, but she wasn’t there. He went back downstairs. The light was on in the hall but the rest of the house was in darkness. He opened the door to the living room but she wasn’t asleep on the sofa. He switched on the light and glanced around. The room was empty. With a growing sense of unease, he checked the kitchen. She wasn’t there. He was frightened now. He put the light on and saw an envelope on the table, addressed to him, propped up against the salt and pepper pots

  There was no greeting, just a simple message to let him know she had gone to stay with her parents again. He wasn’t sure whether to feel guilty at having left her on her own so much, or angry that she had gone away without letting him know first. He had no idea what time she had left, but it must have been hours earlier. It was too late to call her. They would have to speak in the morning. He felt slightly sick and his legs ached. He went to bed and fell asleep almost at once.

  61

  The forensic team were making slow progress, partly because the killer’s hiding place was out of doors in a waterlogged ditch at the bottom of a muddy slope, and partly because the axe itself had been smothered in Andrea’s blood. There had been a flurry of excitement when a trace of someone else’s blood had been discovered on the handle. It had turned out to be Beryl’s. The axe had evidently been thoroughly cleaned after each murder and sharpened as well, removing most of the earlier blood stains. Ian sat at his desk fiddling around with files, rereading statements, thinking about his pregnant wife. It was tempting to jump on a train down to Kent. He would have to change in London but he could be in Tunbridge Wells in under four hours. The trouble was, if anything new came up it could take him a lot longer to get back, depending on the times of the trains. If he was needed after the last train had gone, he would have to drive home and that could take up to six hours, depending on the traffic. He couldn’t really afford to be so far away in the middle of a case. Far better to persuade Bev to come home. He wanted her with him. He picked up his phone.

  ‘Bev, it’s me. Please call me when you get this.’

  He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her when she called back. He was excited at the idea of becoming a father, if scared, and prepared to cut her as much slack as possible. In spite of his determination to be tolerant, he didn’t relish the prospect of a hormonal wife dragging him along on an emotional roller coaster. Bev could be difficult to deal with at the best of times. He wasn’t thinking about her any more when she rang later that afternoon.

  ‘Ian, it’s me. We need to talk, face to face. That’s why I’ve come home. But I’m not staying.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m at home. Can you come home and talk? I’m not staying long.’

  It was hardly an encouraging start, but at least she was home. He promised to be there within the hour.

  ‘My wife’s not feeling too well,’ he explained to Ted. It wasn’t too far from the truth. ‘She’s pregnant,’ he added, feeling he needed to excuse his absence at such a critical time.

  ‘Congratulations! Why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘It’s early days so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone just yet.’

  ‘Sure. It’s not my news to tell anyway.’

  ‘So can you and Naomi hold the fort while I’m away? I know Eileen’s off at a meeting all afternoon and won’t be back until tomorrow, but I’ll just be at home if you need me.’

  ‘Naomi went to talk to Sophie. It was Eileen’s suggestion. Sophie might know something without realising it, and Eileen thought she’d be more likely to talk to Naomi than any of us. Both being young women and all that. But don’t worry. It’s not as if there’s a lot going on right now. Apart from the waiting.’

  Ian thanked his sergeant and dashed off home. Bev was waiting for him in the kitchen. She was pale and there were grey pouches under her eyes. He could tell she had been crying. At the same time, he reg
istered her raised chin, and the determined expression on her face. Despite her miserable expression, she had lost the hangdog air he had grown accustomed to since their relocation. Before he had a chance to greet her, she blurted out that she was leaving him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m leaving you.’

  ‘You’ve only just got back.’

  ‘No, I’m leaving you. For good. I’m not coming back. It’s over between us.’

  ‘Bev, what’s got into you? Sit down. We need to talk about how you’re feeling right now.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about. I just came back to tell you that I’m leaving you.’ She dropped her head in her hands and began to cry. ‘I couldn’t tell you over the phone, could I?’

  ‘Sit down.’

  She sat, and he drew a chair up to the table beside her.

  ‘Bev, I don’t know why you’re talking like this. Whatever’s making you unhappy, we can sort it out. We’ve had difficult times before but we’ve always worked things out. You can’t talk about leaving me, not now, not ever.’

  He leaned to put his arm round her shoulders but she drew back.

  ‘It’s not yours.’

  ‘What?’

  She looked at the floor, her hands fidgeting in her lap. ‘The baby. It’s not yours.’

  Ian sat up and stared at her in disbelief. Close up he could see her cheeks and lips were unhealthily pale, and her eyes were bloodshot. She must have been crying a lot. Pushing the thought from his mind he spoke very calmly and quietly. Only his years of training enabled him to retain his self-control.

  ‘What do you mean, it’s not mine?’

  Her words cut like a razor. ‘I’ve been having an affair. The baby’s not yours. That’s why I’m leaving. I can’t make it any clearer. I don’t know what more I can say. I’m really sorry it’s worked out like this. I never meant for it to end like this. Please don’t make it any harder for me than it already is.’

  ‘Hard for you…?’

  He turned away to hide his bitterness. Just a few seconds ago he had been looking forward to becoming a father, now he had lost not only the prospect of fatherhood, but his wife as well. He could quite cheerfully have strangled the life out of the man who had been screwing Bev.

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘You don’t know him.’

  ‘It’s the manager where you used to work, isn’t it?’

  ‘What difference does it make?’

  While he was struggling for words, his phone rang. Bev laughed, her eyes bright with fury.

  ‘Go on, answer it. You know you want to.’

  He shook his head, pleading. ‘Bev, don’t do this. We can work it out.’

  She stood up. ‘It’s too late, Ian. I’m leaving.’ She was crying so hard he could barely understand what she was saying. ‘Let’s not have a scene. We can be civilised about this.’

  ‘No!’

  He tried to take her arm but she shook herself free. Helplessly, he watched her walk out of the room.

  62

  As Bev disappeared, Ian jumped to his feet. He flung open the kitchen door. Ignoring the muffled ringing of the phone in his pocket, he ran after her and caught up with her at the front door.

  ‘Bev! Wait! We can work this out.’

  He put his hand against the door to prevent her from opening it. In his pocket his phone kept ringing.

  ‘It’s too late, Ian. I don’t want to stay here any more. It’s over. I’m sorry.’

  Sobbing, she ducked under his arm, wrenched the door open and shot past him. Stopping only to grab his keys, he ran after her in time to see her opening the door of a taxi that was waiting for her. As though paralysed, he watched her through the taxi window, gliding away from him. He ran to his car, intent on following her to the station. His phone rang again.

  ‘I can’t talk now,’ he gabbled, before he realised it wasn’t Ted but someone from the forensic lab.

  ‘You wanted us to call you with any updates. Well, first of all, the axe head is made of iron, with an edge welded on made of EN42 steel that has been sharpened more than once. But that’s not all. We discovered female DNA at the crime scene. To begin with we assumed it belonged to the victim. Well, we’ve tested it, and it’s definitely not hers. We found the exact same DNA on the axe-sharpening materials, the file and the rags and the polish and so on that you found in a ditch by the river. It’s identical, so we think we have the killer’s DNA. We’ll be sending a report, but you said you wanted to be notified straight away if we found anything.’

  Ian felt his spirits lift. At last they had come up with something. Even if they didn’t have a match yet, finding the DNA was certainly a move in the right direction. It could only be a matter of time now before they had the killer behind bars.

  ‘That’s great. Thanks for letting me know.’

  ‘It’s certainly a step forward.’

  ‘You say you haven’t found a match?’

  ‘No, we’re working on it but there’s nothing yet. We’d love to be able to give you the killer’s identity, but we just don’t have it.’

  ‘So what can you tell us about the killer?’

  ‘Other than that she’s a woman, you mean?’

  ‘A woman?’

  The scientist had mentioned finding female DNA at the crime scene. Distracted by Bev’s departure, he hadn’t realised the significance of the information straight away. The killer was a woman. Ian’s thoughts raced. One woman had appeared fascinated by the case all along. Sophie had deliberately lied about Frank to lead the investigating team astray. Ian had thought she was affecting an interest in the case as an excuse to see him. It now appeared that her interest might have had a different motive. She had been checking on his progress to find out if he suspected her. He needed to report his suspicions to Eileen urgently. But first he had to get to the station before Bev and persuade her not to leave York. As he pulled away from the kerb, he remembered something Ted had said.

  Naomi had gone to talk to Sophie on the off chance that Sophie might know more about the killer without realising it. Only now it seemed that Sophie not only knew a lot more about the elusive killer than anyone else, she could be the axe murderer herself. Although it was hard to believe that such a delicate-looking girl could be responsible for so many brutal murders, at the same time it made sense. Jonah had told them a woman could have slashed the victims, given a sharp enough blade. The murder weapon had been regularly sharpened. The more Ian thought about it, the more convinced he became that Sophie was the killer they had been looking for.

  He tried Naomi’s number. There was no response. He called Ted who answered straight away.

  ‘Where’s Naomi?’

  ‘I thought I already told you she went to question Sophie. She went a while ago but she’s not back so she must have gone home after seeing the witness. I think she did mention she wanted to get to the shops later. Something about friends coming for dinner at the weekend.’

  ‘Has she called in a report?’

  ‘No, not yet, but I’m sure she’s working on it.’

  Ted was evidently anxious to cover up for his colleague who had gone off without phoning in to say where she was. Ian had a far more serious worry concerning the constable’s whereabouts.

  ‘Did she go to speak to her at Jorvik?’ he asked.

  Nothing too drastic could happen to Naomi at the museum in front of other people. If there had been an incident, a report would have reached Ian by now. Ted said he would check, and Ian set off in pursuit of Bev. Before he reached the station, Ted called back. It seemed Naomi had gone to the museum but Sophie wasn’t at work that day. After turning up and asking for her, Naomi had left Jorvik without telling anyone where she was going. Ted supposed she had gone to Sophie’s home address.

  This was no time for talk. Ian spun his wheel.

&nbs
p; ‘Meet me at Sophie’s flat,’ he told Ted. ‘I’m going there now. I think Sophie’s the killer.’

  ‘What?’

  As briefly as he could, Ian explained what he had learned from the forensic lab. It would be easy enough to check whether the DNA found at the crime scene matched Sophie’s. She could be quickly eliminated, if Ian had jumped to the wrong conclusion. But first they had to find her, and check that Naomi was all right.

  ‘She knows how to take care of herself,’ Ted said.

  He didn’t sound very confident. The best trained officer could be overpowered if they were taken completely unawares. Naomi was going to question Sophie as a potential witness, not a suspect. There was no reason why the constable would enter the property prepared to defend herself against a violent attack. Although she no longer had an axe, if Sophie was the killer, she might have other potential weapons to hand, kitchen knives and scissors, if nothing else. In the wrong hands, ordinary household items could become lethal weapons.

  ‘I’ll be there in five minutes,’ Ian barked. ‘Join me as soon as you can, and alert any patrol cars in the vicinity. We need to get there as quickly as possible. Go now!’

  Ian put his foot down.

  63

  With Biter he had been in control of his life. Without his trusted weapon, he was vulnerable. He struggled to know what was happening. He needed to understand why the police woman had come to see him. She was only a woman, but she looked strong enough to put up a fight. He was nervous. This was not his normal way of working, not least because she had come to him. He didn’t like that. Out on the street, in the dark, he had the benefit of surprise on his side. Here, the police woman was watching him. There was no way he could creep up on her unawares.

  He smiled at her standing on his doorstep. He didn’t want her to suspect he was afraid. Hiding his fear, he smiled and allowed her to enter. There wasn’t much else he could do after she had invited herself in. At the same time he was wondering what she was really doing there. She couldn’t possibly have seen through his disguise. He had been so careful. The police had been to Jorvik several times, and he had seen this detective constable before so he knew who she was, even before she introduced herself. He wanted to yell at her to get the fuck out of his home. Instead he led her into the kitchen and invited her to sit down.