by Clare Revell
“Yeah. Should take about fifteen, twenty minutes to get there. Are you all right?”
“Yes, fine. We should check it out.”
Twenty-five minutes later, due to temporary traffic lights, Austin parked in a layby outside a small parade of shops.
“There isn’t much here,” Isabel said, glancing up and down the row.
“There wouldn’t be. It’s just local ones for the houses in the surrounding area. Chemist, food store, off license, newsagent, hairdresser. About all that they’d need.”
Isabel headed into the chemist. It was like the one by the children’s home she’d grown up in. The shelves were stacked high; the smell was the same, the tall counter at the back with loads of glass bottles behind.
“Good morning,” the assistant said, a huge beam covering her face.
Isabel showed her ID. “DC York, TVP. I’m enquiring about poison hemlock. I believe you stock it here.”
The assistant nodded. “We do. Actually, a colleague of yours enquired a while ago.”
Isabel smiled wryly. “Yes, he did. I’m just following up. Do you have a copy of the information you gave him?”
“I should still have it somewhere. One moment.” The assistant headed out the back.
Isabel wandered across to the perfume counter and studied it. She found one she liked and took it to the till to pay for it. Noticing a zebra keyring, she added it to the perfume.
The assistant came back. “Here you go. I’m afraid we no longer have the CCTV footage.”
Isabel and Austin exchanged a long glance. “There was CCTV footage?” she repeated.
“Yes, of the bloke who came in and bought the stuff. He came in back in March and bought all we had. Then he came in two weeks ago and again bought all that we had. He said he was killing rats with it.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall, dark hair, beard, kind of good looking.”
Isabel paid for her purchases. “Thank you. If we send a composite artist over, could you work with him?”
The assistant nodded. “Sure.”
“Thank you. We’ll be in touch.” As they left the shop, Isabel’s phone rang. “DC York.”
“Izzy, it’s Farrell. I need to see you. I’m at the gallery. Can you come now?”
She scowled at the handset and put it on speaker. “Not really. You have to call someone else. You know that. I suggest you dial 101 and they’ll send someone out to you. Unless this is a personal issue, in which case, I repeat, I can’t deal with it.”
“It’s a professional issue. It has to be you and it has to be now.” He hung up before she could say another word.
Isabel looked up at Austin. “I guess we have to go to Abbey Gate Gallery. I know he said it has to be me and now, but I’d like back up if I have to go at all.”
Austin grinned. “So I’ll be the cop attending and you just come along for the ride. How does that sound?”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
13
Zander stood before the huge board that he and DI Holmes had found in the basement. Having cleared it of cobwebs and no occupants, which was a good thing, they’d taken it to the lift to discover it wouldn’t fit. There followed an hilarious twenty minutes of attempting to get it up the stairs, which hadn’t worked either.
In the end, Zander had taken it apart with his penknife, shoved it into the lift in five pieces and reassembled it on their floor. Finally, they’d wheeled it down the corridor to the squad room. They’d decided it was now theirs so no one could nick it, and the DI used a bike lock to chain it to the radiator.
Zander looked at DI Holmes. “So I was thinking ten rows and six columns.”
“Only ten rows?”
Zander nodded. “I want the information going horizontally for each victim this time. Well, eleven including the headings.” He picked up the pen and drew the table. “So we have name, occupation, sin, commandment, location, and finally painting. That way we can see any links immediately.”
“OK. And is this your idea or Isabel’s?” DI Holmes sat on a chair by the board.
“Mine. But Is agrees with me. She pointed out the similarity between all the victims and her, and I hate to agree, but she does have a point. We ought to take notice of it.”
“Hence her dramatic hair style change the other day.”
Zander nodded. “Yes, but it’s not just the hair and eye colour. Her bank account was hacked. Her home targeted. Her work life—he’s writing to her. No one is taking her concerns seriously. Apart from me.”
DI Holmes frowned. “Her home life?”
“Yeah. Her cat was killed with hemlock. Her gran was also killed the same way. Is’s home was broken into, although nothing was taken. She was stalked.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But with everything else that’s been going on, that’s all been pushed to one side. We assumed it was her ex-boyfriend. But perhaps it’s the Slayer. Plus, after she moved into my house, it was bugged, and someone was watching her.” He pulled the lid off another pen. “So if you can read off those boards for me, I’ll fill this one in.”
DI Holmes sat there. “There is so much information, that is something I hadn’t correlated to this case, because we had attributed all of the early break ins and such to the Slayer.”
“She’ll be fine, sir. She just needed someone to listen to her, which I did. And to be fair, your wife was also on the list, so you’ve had other things on your mind. OK, first name… Oh and we also need to go back through all these women and see who was dating a cop. A tall, dark, pretty good-looking cop, with a beard. Who isn’t me, by the way.”
DI Holmes raised an eyebrow. “Or me. We’ll do that once we’re done. OK. First row. Iona Kevane, cleaner at Music Box and the museum and a dinner lady…”
~*~
Isabel climbed out of the car. As Austin locked it, she took a deep breath and gave the art gallery an evil look. “I don’t want to do this. So, let’s get it over with.”
“If he tries anything, I have your back.” Somehow Austin’s reassurance didn’t fill her with as much confidence as if Zander was here.
“Thanks. I really shouldn’t be here because of the PIN. And he knows it. I wish I knew what he was playing at. Maybe he wants to be arrested.”
“We can arrange that.” Austin opened the door. “Beauty before age.”
“Hah.” She snorted and preceded him into the art gallery. She stopped short, seeing Farrell behind the desk talking to Chief Superintendent Clydesdale. “I guess he doesn’t need us after all. The top brass is here to deal with it.” She turned. “Let’s go.”
“Izzy, I asked you here for a reason.” Farrell’s voice cut across the room.
“You evidently don’t need me. You have a far senior officer here who can deal with whatever your issue is.”
“There is no need for that insolent attitude, DC York,” Chief Superintendent Clydesdale said harshly. “The PIN you had issued against Mr. Farrell was revoked by court order yesterday. Therefore, there is no reason you can’t deal with this yourself.”
Her stomach plummeted as her blood boiled. “I beg your pardon? Why was it revoked?”
“It was a misunderstanding between the two of you. A lover’s tiff. He’s a nice bloke. Any action by him was entirely misconstrued by you, and you acted out in a fit of emotion and hormones.”
“How dare you!”
“Izzy,” Farrell rounded the counter and held out a hand. “I wouldn’t have called if it weren’t an emergency.”
Isabel glanced around the room. “I don’t see anyone in a life-threatening situation. No guns or knives or anyone bleeding to death on the floor. Therefore, this is not an emergency.”
“Another painting has been stolen,” Farrell protested.
Isabel hissed in annoyance. “And I’ve told you a dozen times I am not dealing with that case any longer. You need to dial 101 to report a non-emergency crime. That connects you to your local police station. Then you ask for either DS Painter or D
I Holmes. If neither of them are there then someone else will be able to help. Not me. And especially don’t call me directly on my mobile.”
Chief Superintendent Clydesdale frowned. “Isabel, don’t be rude.”
She bristled. “That’s DC York, sir. I’m on duty.”
“Fine. Then, DC York, as you’re on duty and here, you can take the details of the crime.”
Isabel wanted to stamp her foot but didn’t. Were these men deaf or just plain ignorant? “I already said, I can’t do that. I can’t even be in the same room as him.”
Austin put a hand on her shoulder. “Take a breath, Isabel. It’s fine. I’ll take the statement. Here, take the keys and wait in the car.”
“With pleasure.” Isabel took the keys and stormed outside. She walked towards the car, sucking in what was intended to be a deep, calming breath.
“DC York!”
Isabel froze on the pathway as Chief Superintendent Clydesdale appeared in front of her.
“How dare you disobey a direct order,” he barked.
Somewhat taken aback, she managed to stand her ground and not yell back. “Are you really doing this here, in public?”
“I told you to take the statement.”
“And I told you, and him, that it isn’t my case. He can’t call me, drag me over here and abuse…” She sucked in a deep breath. “And speaking of abuse, the PIN was in place for a reason.”
“No. The PIN was a mistake on your part.”
She shook her head, longing to deck the bloke, but knowing that would only make things so much worse. “Actually, sir, I have evidence of abuse. DI Holmes put the PIN in place. You have no right to rescind it.”
Chief Superintendent Clydesdale towered over her. “You need to learn to play nice and get along with people. Have dinner with us tonight. Sort all this out amicably.”
She took several paces backwards, her hand going for her phone in her bag. “Us? Who are us?”
“Farrell and myself. I’ll even cook.”
Isabel shuddered. She couldn’t think of anything worse. “I’m busy tonight. We have a lot on at work. But have a good evening.” She turned to go, to sidestep the man.
“It wasn’t a request. You want to go on report?”
She laughed. “For what? Refusing to spend what little free time I have with my boss and ex-boyfriend?” She tugged her phone free and glanced at the screen as if reading a text. “I don’t think so.” She shoved the door to the gallery open. “Austin, we have to go, now. We’ll send uniform to finish up if need be.”
“All done.” Austin walked towards her. “Are you all right?”
“No I’m not. Let’s go.”
“Is it true the Slayer is a cop?” Farrell called.
“So the news reports say,” she replied.
Farrell smirked. “Not Zander though, is it?”
Isabel wisely spun on her heel and let the door slam shut. She strode to the car, stopping short as she found Chief Superintendent Clydesdale leaning against it. “Move.”
“Move what?” he asked, folding his arms, staring at her.
“Get out of my way. Sir.”
He refused to move.
Isabel tossed the car keys to Austin. “I’m going for a walk.” She pulled her phone out. The time said 13:21. She dialled DI Holmes, but it went straight to voice mail. “Guv, it’s me. Call me if you don’t see me before you get this message. It’s urgent.”
“You see, DC Lexington, this is why women should not be allowed on the force. They are just too irrational.”
Isabel shoved her phone into her bag and walked away rapidly. Behind her a car started up. She half expected the Chief Super to catch her and force her to eat lunch with him and Farrell as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But for some reason she couldn’t fathom, the idea terrified her.
What was wrong with the man? Talk about being two faced. One minute he was as nice as pie, the next he was yelling at her, for refusing to do something he had no reason to insist she did. And as for rescinding the PIN? Who gave him the right to make that decision? The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Taking a sharp left, she cut through the footpath, under the gates and into the park. She slowed down as she reached the Abbey Ruins.
The huge stone walls towered above her. The sun beat down, giving the place a calm, serene atmosphere. The feel of the ruins varied so much, depending on the weather and time of day. By night, they could be downright spooky. Which was crazy. The whole area was hallowed ground. Even if the prison was right next to it, built on Abbey ground.
Walking quickly, Isabel went through the Abbey and down to the canal. From there she could walk past the prison to the site of the old biscuit factory, now flats, to catch the bus back to the nick. She’d barely reached the bus stop, when Austin’s car pulled up beside her.
He opened the window. “Get in, Isabel.”
She shook her head. “I have errands to run before I go back and type up the report.”
“I said, get in.”
She shook her head but did so. The central locking clicked on as soon as the door was shut. “What are you…?” She broke off, realising either Austin had changed his cologne or someone else was in the car. She glanced over her shoulder, and then glared at Austin. “You are kidding me?”
“The Chief Super offered to buy us lunch. It’d be rude to refuse.”
“I’m not hungry. I also need to get this information back to the Guv. It’s important.”
“What information?” Chief Superintendent Clydesdale asked.
“A possible lead on the Slayer investigation,” Austin said.
“You can do that after lunch.”
“Not hungry,” Isabel repeated. She tugged on the door handle. “Let me out.”
Austin pulled away. “Belt up. You can sit and watch us eat. It’s not often the top brass offers a free lunch. He’s interested in the case and what we found out.”
Isabel pulled the seat belt on, not wanting to end up through the windscreen in the event Austin crashed. “And you know as well as I do, we can’t discuss work out of the office,” she hissed. The bad feeling she’d had all morning grew. She hoped the Guv would pick up her message and call her. At which point, she’d make an excuse and leave. Or, even better, she’d send Zander a text and ask him to call. She pulled out her phone. Strange, it was dead. She’d had almost a full battery a few minutes ago. Oh, well, she’d borrow Austin’s once they stopped.
“My phone is dead,” she said. “Can I borrow yours?”
“Out of credit,” Austin replied. “’Sides, you’ll be back at the station soon enough. Just take an hour off. You know what they say, all work and no play makes Izzy a dull girl.”
She scowled. “It’s Isabel,” she said. “No one calls me Izzy.”
“Farrell does. And it suits you.”
“And I hate it.” She folded her arms. Soon as they arrived wherever it was, she was making an excuse to go the ladies. From there she’d go out another way and go back to work.
~*~
Zander put the last piece of information on the incident board. “There.” He studied it. He wasn’t expecting a miracle or alarm bells or anything, but maybe a slight ping, this-is-it would have been nice. “Oh, well.” He put the pen down. “It was worth a try.”
“It’s not a complete waste of time.” DI Holmes pushed the other boards back against the wall. “It is more organised now.”
“I guess so.” Zander glanced at his watch. “Where’s Is got to?”
“She’s probably still trawling chemists. It could take them a couple of days.”
He frowned. “Or we could just ring Frank and ask him. Or ring around the chemists from the safety of the office.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and speed dialled Isabel. All he got was a long, monotone beep. “Hmm. No signal.” He tried the landline but got the same result. “Did the fraud squad ever get back to you about her banking issues?”
“They did, but it’s not
for me to tell you.”
“OK.” Concerned, Zander tried ringing Austin, but didn’t get a reply. Figuring Austin was most likely driving, Zander left a note on Isabel’s desk and headed down to the canteen to grab some lunch. After three weeks of prison food, the canteen equated five-star fine dining.
And it didn’t disappoint. Wednesday was roast day. And today was his favourite—pork with the most amazing crackling ever known to man, with beef dripping roast spuds, parsnips, carrots, and beans, followed by treacle sponge and custard for dessert. He sat by the window, eating and watching the view below.
DS Painter joined him. “No Isabel?”
“She’s not back yet. The Guv said she might be hours yet. How was London? You made good time.”
DS Painter nodded. “I met our mutual friend in a park not far from Paddington.” He reached into his pocket. “And speaking of Paddington, this is for you.” He set a small bear wearing a blue duffle coat and red wellies on the table. “I took a leaf out of Isabel’s book.”
Zander looked at him, confused.
“Her zebra.”
The penny dropped. “Ah, yes. That goes most places with her.”
DS Painter nodded. He slid the bear away. “You can have him after lunch.”
Zander laughed. “Don’t want to get custard over him. Might ruin him. Want to try the short story?”
DS Painter shook his head. “Not here. Finish your lunch then we’ll talk. I’ll see you there.”
Zander ate and then headed back to the squad room.
Austin sat at his desk. “Hello.”
Zander looked towards Isabel’s empty desk, and then turned to Austin. “Where’s Is?”
“She’s got a headache, so she asked me to take her home so she could sleep it off. She said her vision was funny.”
“OK. Where did you take her?”
“Back to your place.”
A shiver ran the length of Zander’s spine. He looked over at DS Painter. “That errand you wanted to run. I think now would be a good time.”
DS Painter got the hint and rose. “Checking a lead if anyone wants me. Austin, did you get that hemlock info?”