Stalker on the Fens

by Joy Ellis

‘What about medical ethics, ma’am? Does the Hippocratic oath extend to complementary medicine?’ Cat looked dubiously at her.

  ‘You are asking them about Helen the person, and how they felt about her. I’m sure there is a code of practice, but you are not persuading them to share the details of their haemorrhoids, or their dose of the clap. This is a murder enquiry, and I doubt that massaging toes with fragrant oil requires a great degree of confidentiality. Just because they are paying clients does not make them immune from questioning. Diplomacy, okay? So, let’s make today count. Go to it and back here at four, please, hopefully with some leads.’

  As the room cleared, her phone warbled at her from her jacket pocket.

  ‘Inspector? I’ve got a favour to ask.’ Rory sounded almost as tired as she was.

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘Two things really. One, are you coming back to Westland Waterway this morning? There’s something I need to talk to you about, plus a few things I need to know about Helen and this apartment. I’m sorry to say this, but other than her killer, you were most likely the last person to be in touch with her.’

  Nikki shivered. She was very aware of that fact. ‘Yes. As soon as I see that the team is clear on how to proceed, I’ll be with you.’ She paused for a moment, unsure how to ask whether her friend had been taken to the morgue.

  ‘It’s okay. She went back to my place in the early hours, if that helps.’

  ‘You’re amazing, Wilkinson. I never knew mindreading was one of your skills.’

  ‘Heaven forbid! And you really don’t want to know about my hobbies! Oh, I should warn you that we are not alone out here.’

  ‘Press?’

  ‘Flocks! Hordes! I’m not sure what the collective noun is for journalists? A “nastiness” maybe?’

  ‘An “intrusion” might be appropriate.’

  ‘Perfect! I like that. See you soon.’

  * * *

  Nikki drew her coat collar up to her face as she walked across the car park. A bitterly cold wind was sweeping in from the Wash, chilling everything in its path. She really did not want to go back to the Newlands clinic and the Westland Waterway.

  As she flopped into her car and turned on the ignition, she shook her head and angrily growled to herself. Time to get professional, Nikki, and start treating Helen’s death like any other murder enquiry, and not some deeply meaningful crusade — even if that’s exactly what it is. This was work, her world, one she’d fought harder than most to make the grade in. She knew the names that the mess room had given her over the years. They all referred to her as a ball-breaker. She had a reputation as a tough one, and she didn’t plan on losing it.

  ‘Ma’am!’ A loud rap on her window drew her sharply back from her reverie. Eric stood beside her car. ‘Glad I caught you, guv. Got some news you really need to know.’

  She wound down the window. Looking at those bright, ratty eyes, she found herself sincerely hoping that if there was a breakthrough, it hadn’t come from him. ‘Come on then, I haven’t got all day.’

  ‘Andrew Gregory never made his flight, ma’am, or any other one for that matter.’

  ‘What?’ Her mouth dropped open slightly. Then she regained her composure and said, ‘So do you know where he is, then?’

  ‘No, ma’am, but he sure as hell isn’t where he said he’d be.’

  ‘Then find him, DC Barnes. And ring me when you do. I’ll be at Helen Brook’s house for an hour or so, then back here.’ She flipped the switch for the electric window and turned the ignition key. As she pulled out onto the main road, she cursed out loud: ‘Damn you, Andrew! What the fuck are you up to?’

  * * *

  Nikki had been prepared for her “intrusion” of journalists, but the carpet of flowers that covered the front garden took her breath away.

  The area had been duly cordoned off and an officer stood with his hands behind his back at the entrance to the drive. A WPC seemed to be permanently deployed accepting bunches of flowers and small cellophane-wrapped plants from a steady stream of men, women and children.

  ‘It’s been like this since dawn, ma’am. They say bad news travels fast, but this, well . . .’ The constable spread her arms and pointed to a sea of colour that stretched from the roadway to the front door steps. ‘And look at the messages.’ As Nikki ignored the press cameras and surveyed the cards that accompanied the flowers, she noticed that the young woman’s eyes were brimming with tears.

  ‘What’s your name, Constable?’

  ‘Natalie Bryson, ma’am.’

  ‘Okay, Natalie. I know this is a pretty hard call, but I want you to switch off the emotion. There’s a very real chance that the killer might be somewhere in that crowd. It’s well known that a murderer can be drawn back to the scene of the crime, okay? It’s all about control, a massive ego-trip. So I want you to watch these people really carefully.’

  The young woman’s eyes had widened. ‘You mean I could have taken a bunch of flowers from him? He’d have that much nerve?’

  ‘The person who did this is capable of anything.’

  Nikki scanned the messages. “Thank you for all your help and kindness.” “A beautiful woman, sadly taken from us.” “With all our love, sleep peacefully, Helen.” “Why take an angel?” She felt a wave of nausea. This was her friend that all these strangers were talking about.

  ‘Just keep your eyes open, Constable, and if anyone worries you, speak to one of the detectives immediately.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. Oh, but before you go in, would you have a word with that woman over there? She arrived a few minutes ago. She brought some flowers, but was asking to speak to someone in charge.’

  Nikki glanced around and one woman stood out immediately. ‘Tall, well-dressed, wearing a long black coat and a Burberry scarf? That the one?’

  Natalie nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  Nikki walked over to the cordon and lifted the blue-and-white striped tape. ‘I’m DI Galena. Can I help you?’

  ‘I’m so sorry to bother you at a time like this,’ the woman stammered. Her voice was choked with emotion. ‘But I don’t quite know what to do. It’s this, you see.’ She handed Nikki a long, white envelope. ‘My name is Duchene, Carla Duchene. Miss Brook cared for my mother. She had cancer, and for the last six months of her life, Helen helped her. Even when she was so badly hurt herself, she found time for my mother. If she couldn’t get to her, or see her, she would ring and talk to her.’

  Nikki wondered how many more of these touching stories would surface over the coming weeks.

  ‘The thing is, my mother passed away recently and . . . I was bringing this for Helen. Mother wanted her to have it. Then I heard the news and now I don’t know what to do.’ The sob finally broke from the woman’s lips.

  Nikki looked at the envelope. ‘Do you want me to open it?’

  The woman nodded and Nikki lifted the unsealed flap. Inside was a cheque for ten thousand pounds.

  She bit her lip. ‘Oh dear. I see your problem. What about a charity? Maybe even the local hospice?’

  Carla Duchene shook her head slowly, and wiped away a tear with a freshly ironed handkerchief. ‘Mother gave plenty while she was alive. Our family is not without money, Detective Inspector. This was specifically for Helen.’ For a moment or two the woman seemed lost for words. Then she looked long and hard into Nikki’s eyes. ‘Would you take it? Keep it for me? Maybe there will be some kind of fund set up in Helen’s name. You would know about it before me. Please?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t accept it, Miss . . . is it Miss Duchene? It would not be right. It could be misconstrued in some way, so I’m afraid I can’t take it from you. But leave me your address and if I hear of something, I promise I will let you know. It’s the best I can do, I’m afraid.’

  Carla tore the flap from the envelope and scribbled her name and address on it. ‘Thank you anyway. I’m sorry to have been a nuisance.’

  Nikki stood by the cordon and watched as the tall figure moved slowly thr
ough the crowd and disappeared.

  At the door to Helen’s once pristine home, Nikki donned an all-in-one protective suit and pulled the hood up over her hair.

  ‘Ah, my favourite inspector! Made it through the barrage of cameras and those cute fluffy mikes?’

  ‘It was the flowers that surprised me.’

  Rory pulled a face. ‘Well, if I should happen to wrap my Citroen Dolly around a tree on the A52, please don’t erect a roadside memorial with my name spelled out on a yellow registration plate and a bunch of fading plastic roses tied to it. It’s just so tacky, darling!’

  Nikki was forced to smile. ‘I promise. Now, what can I do to help you here?’

  Rory Wilkinson rubbed thoughtfully at his unshaven chin. ‘I think I know what that body art on your friend’s torso was.’

  Nikki looked at him, alert.

  ‘When Matthew, my assistant, arrived last night to help me with her, he said it was the weirdest mandala he’d ever seen. Just a throwaway comment on his part, but he was absolutely correct.’

  Mandala? She’d heard that word before, and it was Helen who had mentioned it. ‘It’s a design to help you meditate, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a circular visual representation that’s generally used as a focal point for concentration. And Matthew says he’s heard about them being used in psychotherapy.’

  ‘Oh great! Mind you, who besides a nutter would do something like this anyway?’

  ‘Well, you know better than I. But some killers go to a lot of trouble to point suspicion away from their clever and calculating selves, and make it look like the work of some “nutter.”’

  ‘Maybe so. But in this case?’

  ‘Oh, definitely a nutter. But if I were you, I’d start doing some research into mandalas. I’m sure those symbols, correctly interpreted, will lead you straight to the killer.’

  ‘Just like that!’

  ‘Well, maybe not quite that easily. But why go to the trouble of doing that incredible artwork if it isn’t a clue of some kind? It has to have a reason.’ His tone suddenly grew serious. ‘Inspector, there’s one last thing I have to ask, before you run screaming from my company. Are you up to doing a walk round? As you were the last one here, apart from whoever killed Helen, I’m hoping you may spot any anomalies. I’m looking at this from a strictly forensic point of view. The slightest thing that the killer may have moved or touched could hold a print or the minutest trace of evidence in a fibre or a single hair. We’ve already photographed and documented the whole initial scene, now we’re ready to move on to specifics. If you are up to it?’

  ‘Of course. It’s got to be done, hasn’t it? Let’s get it over with. Although she or her partner could have moved anything since I was here last.’

  ‘We will eliminate them, and see what’s left.’

  Everything seemed as she remembered it, and after some twenty minutes of checking each room, she returned to the conservatory and slowly made her way around it for a second time. She tried to recall the place as it had been when she had sat with her friend, drinking coffee and trying to analyse her strange and frightening recall of memory. ‘She never used the blinds at night, but they were closed when I found her.’

  ‘We’ve taken great care there. The controls had been carefully wiped clean, but some trace might have been missed. And if it has, we will find it. I’m heading back to my eerie shortly. I’ve done everything I need to here, and my little band of workers are very capable of finishing this off.’

  At the conservatory steps, she was interrupted by her mobile. ‘Inspector Galena?’ The voice on the other end was crackly, the line breaking up and making the caller sound like staccato gun fire.

  ‘Andrew?’ She moved around the room, looking for a place with better reception. ‘Andrew, is that you?’

  ‘I’ve just heard the news on the radio! Nikki, please, say it’s not true. Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Andrew, where the hell are you?’

  ‘London.’ His voice cracked up again and Nikki was not sure if it was the line or his voice. ‘Is she . . . ? Please, is Helen . . . ?’

  Nikki took a deep breath. ‘Now listen to me. You have to come home, immediately. I need to speak to you urgently. And you also need to know that the police are looking for you, so either get yourself to the nearest police station, or preferably come straight to Greenborough. If you are stopped on the way, get the officers to ring me directly, then they will bring you in.’

  ‘Then it’s true.’

  ‘Yes. I’m so sorry, Andrew. Helen is dead. Would you like me to come and get you? Perhaps you shouldn’t drive right now.’

  There was a small sound, something like a cough, then he said, ‘No. I just need to get my head round it. Then I’ll come back.’

  Nikki wanted to say more, but the empty howling noise told her that the phone had gone dead.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Joseph met her in the CID office. ‘Are you okay? I wish I’d gone with you,’ he said to Nikki.

  ‘I’m fine, honestly. The going back for the first time is over and done with now. And I have some news.’ She told him about Andrew’s call.

  ‘But you’ve heard no more since?’

  ‘No, and he was in a right state. He says he knew nothing about what happened until he caught the TV news. I’ve tried the number he rang on and it’s switched off, so until he either gets here or makes contact again, we’re stuffed.’

  Joseph opened his office door and ushered her inside. ‘Well, I have some good news too.’ He grimaced. ‘Actually there’s good news and bad.’

  ‘Let’s have the good first.’

  ‘Our Cat has confirmed that Helen had company in that cellar.’

  Nikki gasped. ‘Already? That’s brilliant!’

  ‘Yes, she and Dave managed to locate some of the personnel involved in the accident, and one in particular was more than informative.’ Joseph looked down at Cat’s report. ‘Here we are, Nigel Casey, a structural engineer. He had been in the area by chance, looking for a café to grab a snack before driving back to Alford, where his company was based. Like us, he rushed to help the injured. He was the first to find two dead teenagers pinned beneath fallen masonry close to the alley. He checked that they were both beyond help, then tried to get down the alleyway. He told Cat that for some reason, maybe shock, he wasn’t sure, but he had completely forgotten seeing a young man limping towards him, from the direction of the cellar that Helen had pitched into.’

  ‘This is getting better and better!’ Nikki exclaimed.

  Joseph’s eyes lit up. ‘Even better to come. Cat asked him if he spoke to the man. And I quote his reply:

  “It’s strange, I think I did, I must have done, but he was walking unaided, and heading for where the emergency services were treating the minor injuries, so I kind of disregarded him. To be honest, I’d just seen those two dead kids, and I wasn’t exactly oblivious to the state of the damaged buildings. It’s my job, isn’t it? I’ve seen too much one way or another. Someone only had to sneeze, and the whole lot would have come down! I did see two other helpers with a fire officer, and they were heading towards the alley. A tall, smart-looking bloke who although it was filthy in there, would still have looked good on the cover of GQ.”

  Joseph grinned broadly, then continued, “. . . and a good-looking woman with a determined expression, the sort you felt was well in charge of things, you know? And as soon as I saw them I knew the cavalry had arrived so I decided to get back to safety.”

  Joseph laughed. ‘Good description of you, don’t you think?’

  Nikki rolled her eyes.

  Joseph read on, “I believe the lone man to be in his thirties, very slim built, with black hair. I recall that specifically because the plaster dust adhering to it made him look quite theatrical, like a white-faced Halloween vampire. And there was blood on his trousers, across both of his shins. Other than that he seemed unhurt. I’m sure I would have spent time with him if I’d been concerned abou
t his injuries.” And here comes the bombshell. “If it helps, I can tell you his name.”’

  Nikki’s jaw dropped. ‘He named him?’

  ‘Yes, and he remembered why. Listen to this: “It’s just thinking about it all again after so long, and talking about his black, dust-covered hair. As he walked past me, he was brushing dirt and dust from his face and his clothes. As he brushed his jacket collar, I briefly saw a badge. The kind they wear in supermarkets, the ones with just their first names on. The letters were quite big. I remember now as clear as daylight. The name was Paul.”’

  Nikki let out a long sigh. ‘Amazing!’

  Joseph nodded. ‘Good, isn’t it? I mean, I know it’s not definitive proof that he was in the cellar, but Dave and Cat are checking out all the stores, shops and businesses in the area to try to track down this man.’

  ‘And it all ties in. His legs were bleeding, so probably he was trapped, as Helen told me. He got free, saw Helen, who had probably drifted out of consciousness, thought she was dead, and got out fast. And we missed him by seconds.’

  Joseph agreed, then said, ‘And now for the bad news. While Dave and Cat were working their line of enquiry, Niall went out to pick up the boy from the river walk. Turns out he lives on the Carborough Estate.’

  Nikki shrugged. She might have guessed that was where the rough-looking young man came from. After considerable refurbishment, the Carborough was better than it used to be, but it was still a place where you didn’t walk alone after dark. ‘And?’

  ‘Niall said there is an odd feeling there at the moment.’

  ‘Odd in what way?’

  Joseph threw her an amused smile. ‘He reckons it feels like suppressed anger. I think our Niall is starting to turn into another Yvonne Collins. He’s suddenly developed “policeman’s nose” by the bucketful.’

  Nikki smiled back. ‘I know what you mean. There was a time when the only two words he knew were, gung and ho. Now he’s as astute as his mentor, and she takes some beating.’ Yvonne and Niall were uniformed crew-mates. Yvonne was streetwise, an oracle when it came to knowing her patch, and Niall was a hero straight out of the comics, but with all the right ethics and a big heart. Together, the older woman and the younger officer made an excellent team, and Nikki trusted their judgement. ‘Did he get any idea of what the problem was?’