by Joy Ellis
Joseph glanced across at Nikki and raised an eyebrow. Nikki nodded back. She knew what Joseph was asking her.
‘Sir? If we brought you a photograph of someone, would you be prepared to see if you recognised him? And before you say yes, I have to warn you that it is a post-mortem photograph of a man who had been in water for some time.’
‘Oh I see. But if it’s important, of course I’ll take a look.’
‘Thank you, sir. We’ll be in touch tomorrow.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Back at the station they found Cat waiting for them in the foyer. She looked worried.
‘Saw you drive in, ma’am. We’ve hit some real snags regarding Mr Gregory’s statement. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he’s being pretty frugal with the truth.’
‘About what?’ Nikki pulled off her coat and they walked up the stairs to her office.
‘Mainly his job and this supposed trip abroad. Everyone is so damned cagey. No one wants to talk to me or Dave.’
Nikki hung the coat on the back of the door. ‘Well, did they tell him to cancel, or not?’
‘He was due to go to Zurich, that I know, but only one woman was prepared to admit that they may have asked him to postpone the trip. Even getting that out of her was like getting blood from a stone.’
‘Was that the person he said to speak to?’
‘No, I couldn’t get hold of her. The number he gave us was unreachable, and when I went through the normal channels, I was informed that she was no longer employed by the company.’
Nikki sat down heavily. ‘But they were clients of his? Of Seymour Kramer Systems?’
‘Oh yes, ma’am. And you’ve hit the nail right on the head there. Were is the operative word. They closed their account this morning, and Seymour Kramer are in uproar over it.’
‘So surely that confirms it? That’s why they stopped Andrew going out there.’
Cat looked at Nikki. ‘Andrew Gregory went apeshit when we told him about it. You might think that’s understandable, given they were his biggest client, but this was way out of all proportion, ma’am. You should have seen him. We were waiting for the sergeant to finish the paperwork, and he went berserk.’
Nikki stared at her. ‘Is he all right now?’
‘Dunno, guv. He demanded to be allowed to leave. He didn’t wait for me to be taxi-driver, he just took off like a rat out of a trap. Anyway, I thought I’d wait around until you came back to tell you personally what happened. Oh, and ma’am, Eric checked out that place Gregory is supposed to have stayed at, and there’s no hotel called the Brunswick in Victoria. Doesn’t sound too good, does it?’
‘So, he has no alibi for where he was at the time of Helen’s death. Nice one, Andrew. You really are helping your cause no end! We’d better get him back in, Cat, and quickly. The super is not going to like this.’
‘I knew you’d say that, so I’ve already asked uniform to get out to Fentoft Quay.’
A young officer knocked and entered. ‘Sorry, ma’am, but we’ve just had a call from the crew we sent out to Gregory’s place. He’s not there, ma’am, and the place has been done over. Taken apart, by the sound of it, and Andrew Gregory’s car has gone.’
‘Oh shit! I should have hung on to him while I had him.’ Nikki’s jaw jutted out. What the hell was the stupid bastard doing? She was still sure that Andrew hadn’t killed the woman he claimed to love, but she still needed answers, and there was only one way to get them.
She stood up, and with a voice as steely as her eyes, said, ‘Okay, put out a call for his arrest. On suspicion of the murder of Helen Brook.’
* * *
‘Got him, guv! Look. The wall is just visible to the left-hand side of the picture.’
Jessie Nightingale had been watching the footage from the Willows Clinic.
Nikki leaned over Jessie’s shoulder. ‘Rewind a bit.’
The film flew backwards, then they watched as the hooded figure approached the wall, and sat with his back to the camera. He was exactly as Sam Welland had described.
‘What would you say was his age?’
‘Hard to tell. His clothes are rubbish, but they are fairly modern. His build and way of walking are not very young, though.’ Jess shrugged. ‘Twenty-five plus?’
‘Mmm, maybe even a little older. Look, that’s Helen coming out of the building!’
‘And guess who’s getting up and walking after her, ma’am? She was right, wasn’t she? About everything. This bloke is definitely following her.’
Nikki felt sick. Just because they had picked up that love-sick moron watching his bird’s house near to Helen’s home, they had chalked it up as problem solved! They should have looked further. ‘Jess, if we’ve got the footage from the Café Printemps, would you fancy some overtime this evening?’
‘They’ve just arrived, guv.’ She pointed to a large polythene bag. ‘And the CCTV ones taken from the town bridge as well. I’ve got no plans, so I’ll get started, shall I?’
‘Please. I want a better shot of this man. Face on. I know he has a hood, but maybe one of the cameras will give us something that the IT guys can enhance.’
‘Show me committed, ma’am.’ Jess undid the bag, selected a cassette and pushed it into the player. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find the bugger, if it kills me.’
* * *
Nikki went back to her office and sat down. She had sent Joseph out to Andrew’s place to get a first-hand report of what had happened. Now all she could do was wait for his call. She sat back and closed her eyes for a few moments. It felt as if everything was suddenly escalating, getting ahead of her. There was so much to do, but it was getting late. She would need to pace herself. Tired detectives didn’t work to their full capacity. As soon as Joseph was back, she would shut up shop for the night and they could start fresh in the morning.
The phone made her jump. ‘Joseph? Anything to report?’
The line was crackly. ‘I’d say this place has been professionally trashed, ma’am.’
‘No sign of Andrew?’
‘No, and it’s hard to tell whether it was done before or after he got here.’
‘What if he went somewhere else, not home?’
‘He was here, ma’am. The jacket he wore to the station is over the back of a chair.’
‘His passport?’
‘No sign of it, but that could mean he already left before the heavy mob arrived, or they took it, along with him.’
Nikki winced. Andrew Gregory was either knowingly involved in something he shouldn’t be, or he was in deep, deep trouble. Either way, he was probably in grave danger.’
‘Okay, Joseph. Pick up every scrap of paperwork you can find there. Bank statements, credit card stuff, telephone bills, letters, anything you can lay your hands on. And bring his computer. I need to know exactly what Andrew was really doing with his amazing computer skills.’
Joseph said softly, ‘Nikki? Do you think Helen’s death is connected to whatever Andrew has got himself involved in?’
‘I’m not convinced, but Rory Wilkinson said that all that stuff done to Helen could be a cover to make it look like a weird psycho attack.’
‘When all the while it was a carefully planned execution?’
‘Joseph, until we have some solid evidence, I’m ruling nothing out.’ Nikki hung up the phone and shouted for Eric Barnes to come to her office.
He came in, brushing droplets of water from his overcoat. ‘Just got back from interviewing Mr Titus Whipp, ma’am.’
‘And?’
‘One serious screwball in my opinion.’
‘How so, Detective?’
‘For a start, he collects stuffed birds. Has a house full of them. They give you the screaming habdabs, ma’am, all those beady eyes watching you. And the house itself is a museum. Walls covered in paintings, dusty old books lying everywhere, and, oh yes, even a human skull on his coffee table.’
‘And the man himself, DC Barnes? What’s his connection with Helen Broo
k?’
‘He went to her for help about something that he prefers not to talk about. That was some time before her accident. Whatever the problem was, she helped him get over it, and I get the feeling he developed a bit of an attraction to her. He was outraged when she was injured. It seems he actually went as far as threatening the family of the lorry driver who caused the Blackmoor Cross crash. Said her blood was on their hands.’
Nikki raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? Good work digging that up, Eric. So what about his feelings now? Uniform said he was abusive and aggressive outside Helen’s house.’
‘He’s well pissed off, guv. He gave me a right ear-bashing. Said I should be out looking for her killer, rather than interfering in the lives of those that loved her.’
‘He used that particular word, love?’
Eric Barnes nodded. ‘And adored, and worshipped, all in one very long sentence.’
‘Dangerous, would you say?’
‘Possibly, although I suspect he’s all mouth and trousers.’
Nikki was curious to know what someone named Titus Whipp looked like.
‘He’s forty-nine, fairly short, stocky build, receding hair, but he keeps what’s left of it long and straggly. Wears Buddy Holly style glasses with thick, dark frames, and his dress sense was not present at the time of my interview, ma’am.’
Nikki wanted to smile, but didn’t like to give him too much praise in one sitting. His massive ego needed no help from her to inflate itself.
‘Right. Now, having spoken to him, would you consider him a possible suspect?’
Barnes shifted in his seat. After a moment’s consideration, he said, ‘I suppose we can’t afford to disregard anyone who has a clear and present hang-up about the deceased. So, yes, I’d put him on the list, but a very long way beneath Andrew Gregory. He’s the one we should be concentrating on.’
Nikki calculated that it had taken sixteen words and a fraction of a second for Eric Barnes to neatly undo a very impressive day’s work. ‘Thank you, Detective. Please add Whipp’s details to the board. That will be all. Get yourself home now.’
Thankfully the phone rang, so she could legitimately look away and allow Barnes to leave before he could give her any more of his unwanted opinions.
‘Rory?’ She listened for a moment then said, ‘Sure. I’m closing up here anyway. I’ll meet you in twenty minutes. Give me the address and I’ll be there.’
* * *
Blackstone Fen was about fifteen minutes out of Greenborough town, and Nikki was glad of the drive. Soon the sprawl of houses was left behind, and she found herself on the long straight road that led across acres of farmland to the marshes.
Rory had asked if she would meet him at a remote spot called Malford Farm. The name was familiar to her, but it wasn’t until she carefully guided the big car along the bank of a wide dyke, lined with willow trees, that she realised that this was not her first trip to the place.
As she pulled into the parking area, she immediately recognised the ivy-clad Queen Anne farmhouse, and the immaculate gardens leading down to a boating lake. Rory’s ancient Citroen Dolly was already there, and as she pressed the central-locking system on her car, she heard a friendly voice call out her name.
‘DI Galena! How are you? Your superintendent conned you into manning the tombola for our garden party last summer, didn’t he?’
Nikki smiled when she saw Jenny Jackson’s petite form. ‘For my sins. It’s not my forte, to put it mildly. You’d have probably made more money if you’d employed a three-toed sloth, but you don’t say no to my superintendent, especially when it comes to raising money for the local hospital.’
‘I’ll second that. But come on in. Professor Wilkinson’s in my studio waiting for us.’
Jenny led the way through a series of corridors, then out through French windows into a floodlit courtyard. On the far side was a large barn conversion, with window panels in the roof, all finished off with a small whitewashed clock tower.
‘Very nice! I didn’t see this before.’
‘Yes, well, you were chained to the tombola, weren’t you?’ Jenny’s voice had a sing-song quality. She sounded as if she were about to laugh, whatever the conversation was about. ‘Come on in. I’ll make some coffee, and then I’ll try to help you with your mandala.’
Jenny Jackson’s artwork covered the walls. It was all bold photographs and mixed-media designs. Nikki looked around, amazed at the massive colourful impressions.
‘This is my favourite, Inspector. What do you think?’ Rory stood, hands on hips staring up at a fantastic explosion of scarlet, fiery orange and vivid green.
‘Wow! What is it?’
Jenny’s voice echoed from the other side of the studio. ‘It’s based on Kirlian photography. Computer enhanced and enlarged, but it started life showing the changes in the energy fields around a tomato plant leaf when it’s cut with a knife.’
Nikki gave Rory an “Is it me?” look.
Rory laughed. ‘My friend Jenny has an interesting and very colourful take on life. Luckily she also knows something about mandalas, so with your permission, I’d like to show her the design that we took from the house on Westland Waterway.’ He whispered, ‘Don’t worry, the copies I’ve brought are images of the design, not forensic photographs, and I’ve known Jenny since university.’
Nikki smiled. ‘No problem. Any help we can get is much appreciated.’
They accepted the coffee and sat down at Jenny Jackson’s design bench. Rory produced a laminated sheet of paper bearing an image of the complicated green circles.
‘Interesting! And by no means typical. If there is such a thing with mandalas. What do you know about them, Inspector?’
‘Not a lot. A friend told me they were used as a method of concentration, in meditation. Other than that, nothing. Are they Buddhist in origin?’
‘Oh no, they are universal images. They’re not attached to any particular belief system, and they are used by Buddhists, Hindus, Native Americans, and yes, Christians too. Some of the most mystical designs are Celtic.’
‘They don’t look Christian,’ said Rory.
‘Ever been to Paris?’
Rory nodded emphatically. ‘Many times.’
‘Then you’ve no doubt seen the rose windows in the Notre Dame?’
His eyes widened behind his spectacles. ‘They are mandalas?’
‘Perfectly exquisite ones. You’ll find them in churches, temples, all sorts of sacred places. The word comes from the Sanskrit, meaning circle. They are — how can I put it? Energetic spiritual doorways. Connections from us to the world about us.’ Jenny stood up and went across to a long bookshelf. ‘I think I’ve got a picture book here somewhere. It will give you an idea of how they are constructed. Ah, yes.’ She withdrew a slim volume and brought it back to the desk.
Nikki and Rory looked at the pages of brightly coloured geometric forms. All made up of or within circles, they had names like Spiral Rain, Electric Harmony and Lotus Spirit.
Nikki sighed. ‘I admit that these are beautiful, but it’s really not my thing. I can’t imagine how all these designs can mean anything. They remind me of being a kid and looking into a kaleidoscope.’
‘That’s exactly how you begin to understand them, Inspector. They are a primal pattern based on the circle. They emanate from the core, expand, grow, then return to the centre to begin again.
‘Sorry. I’m totally lost.’
‘Me too,’ added Rory.
Jenny Jackson took a deep breath. ‘Well, rather than try to explain sacred geometry to you two philistines, I’ll tell you this. If you leave it with me, I think I can decipher it, or some of it.’ She looked serious. ‘But I really need to know its purpose. What is the significance of this particular design?’
Nikki thought for a moment, then said, ‘Mrs Jackson, all I can tell you is that this was found at the scene of a murder.’
‘Oh dear. Well, that explains the sudden visit from my friend the forensic scienti
st along with a detective inspector.’ She looked at the paper again, this time almost suspiciously. ‘Okay, I’ll spend some time with this when you’ve gone. I can already see that there are astrological signs and some particular runic symbols that may well help your enquiry.’ She looked at Nikki. ‘I guess you want this yesterday?’
‘I’ll appreciate anything you can give me, just as soon as you can, Mrs Jackson. And please, don’t show this to anyone, and don’t mention that you are helping us. It is an integral part of our investigation, and a part that no one is privy to. Do you understand?’
Jenny Jackson nodded. For once the laugh had left her voice. ‘For a change, I’m alone here for the next couple of days. My husband is in Ireland looking at some breeding stock for the farm, so there will be no one else here to see this. I’ll ring as soon as I have something for you.’
Outside, Nikki leaned against the side of Rory’s aging motor and looked at him. ‘How does she know all that stuff? I’d never even heard of sacred geometry.’
‘And she couldn’t quote you the Road Traffic Act of 1988, dear heart.’ He grinned at her over his glasses. ‘Horses for courses. She studied art in all sorts of forms — tribal art, ritual stuff. She was always interested in symbolism, because she uses it in her designs.’
‘Well, I can certainly use whatever she comes up with, even if I do need an interpreter to understand it.’
‘Got any suspects in your sights yet?’
‘Not really. We are looking at a few odd ones — a creepy client with the hots for her, and another who’s determined to canonise her.’ Nikki stretched. She was beginning to feel the strain. ‘Which reminds me, I mustn’t forget to make some enquiries about that particular man. Strangely, I knew his uncle. He was a superintendent when I worked in Peterborough, a real bastard.’
Rory’s brow creased. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Kirton, Oliver Kirton. Why?’
‘Well, I’m blowed! Ollie Kirton! Must be my day for encountering old college chums. Although Ollie wasn’t exactly a chum. Bit too fond of the ganja for my taste.’
Nikki slipped an arm through his. ‘Rory, you are the answer to a maiden’s prayer! Come sit in my car and tell me everything you know about him!’