JM06 - Deadly Payback

by DS Butler

  Just because he knew it would annoy Dr. Green, Tyler treated him to a broad grin. “What’s up, Doc?”

  The doctor gave Tyler a cold appraising look and replied with a single nod. He was already gowned up and ready to make a start. On the stainless steel table in front of him was the bloated body of Beverley Madison.

  “You’re late,” Dr. Greene commented. “I’m just about to get started.”

  Tyler shrugged. He wasn’t bothered. He wanted answers, but he didn’t really want to watch the doctor carve through Beverley Madison’s body in order to get them.

  Dr. Green peered down his nose disapprovingly at Tyler.

  “Kits hanging up,” the doctor said, nodding to the pegs on the wall by the door.

  Tyler took a light green cover-up from the peg and selected a clean mask. He put on the silly green hat last. He hated them. He didn’t bother tying the mask at the back of his head, but instead, just held it against his mouth. He walked across to the doctor, but kept himself at least a foot away from the body.

  “What have we got?” Tyler asked.

  “The toxicology screen indicated a high level of alcohol in her blood, but there are other signs to make me think that she would be tolerant to that level of alcohol.”

  “Do we have a time of death yet, Doc?” Tyler asked. He kept calling him Doc purely because he knew it annoyed him.

  Dr. Green frowned and then a small smile played over his lips. “Well,” he said, “why don’t you take a closer look here? I think you might find it interesting.”

  Tyler hesitated then leaned in close to the body. The smell of the mortuary made his stomach churn. Some officers put Vicks vapour rub beneath their noses to try and mask the smell, but to Tyler it only seemed to make it worse so he used nothing.

  Beverley Madison’s body looked even more bloated and bruised than it had done at the hotel when he’d first seen her body.

  Tyler felt a bubbling sensation in his stomach and wished he hadn’t eaten that bacon butty earlier this morning. He leaned against the cold, stainless steel bench.

  “So what am I looking for exactly?” He had his suspicions that Dr. Greene was enjoying his discomfort.

  But Tyler wasn’t green. Post-mortems were a necessary part of the job, and as much as he didn’t like it, he knew it was necessary. He wasn’t about to run out of the room and throw up like some kind of newbie.

  Dr. Green placed his latex glove covered hands on the deceased’s head and left shoulder and pried apart the bloated folds of flesh on her neck.

  “Just here,” Dr. Green said. “Can you see it?”

  Tyler couldn’t really see much of anything apart from a blotchy area of skin, but most of the rest of her was blotchy anyway.

  He leaned over and looked a little closer, and then he saw it.

  A tiny speck of blood at the centre of a localised bruise.

  Tyler looked up at Dr. Green, feeling a rush of excitement. “Injection mark?”

  Dr. Green stared at Tyler. “The cause of death is an odd one,” he said. “Snake venom.”

  Tyler straightened up. “Snake venom,” he repeated.

  The doctor nodded slowly.

  Tyler let out a low whistle. “Well, I didn’t see that one coming. Any idea what type of snake?” he said leaning over again to peer at the mark on Beverley Madison’s neck.

  “Not yet,” Dr. Green said. “But I’m hopeful we will have some answers soon. We are running tests, which should give us a clue, at least help us identify the species.”

  Tyler nodded, and then looked up at the doctor with a grin. “I can only see one puncture wound in her neck. Are you telling me we’ve got a one-fanged snake slithering its way around London?”

  Tyler smiled widely at his own joke, but the doctor didn’t.

  Dr. Green replied, deadpan, “That puncture wound is from a hypodermic syringe.”

  “So someone injected her with snake venom, and it caused her to bloat up like this.”

  The doctor tilted his head to one side. “It did. It’s not the reaction you might expect. I’ll be very interested in the type of snake they used.”

  “So will I,” Tyler said. “It will give us something to go on.”

  Tyler stood by, feeling sick, as the doctor examined the stomach contents. He tried to keep his breathing shallow as the doctor got to work on Beverley Madison’s body. This was easily the worst part of the job.

  Finally when the doctor had almost finished, Tyler started to walk away. “If that’s it then, Doc, I’ll leave you to finish up.”

  Near the door, Tyler shrugged off the green coverall and stuffed it in the basket beside the stainless steel bench. The smell was really getting to him now, and he couldn’t wait to get out of there. “I’ll expect your report later today?”

  “My preliminary report,” Dr. Green said. “Yes, although it will take longer to identify the species of snake.”

  “Fine,” Tyler said, tearing off the silly green hat and shoving it in the same basket as the coverall.

  “Thanks, Doc,” Tyler said cheerfully and pushed open the door. He breathed in the semi-fresh air as he left the mortuary. That had to rank as one of the worst post-mortems he had ever attended. They were always unpleasant. When the body was distorted like Beverley Madison’s, it was pretty horrific. But the worst ones were the children. They were the ones that left him wanting a stiff drink immediately afterwards.

  10

  DC COLLINS GAVE A weary sigh and looked at his empty coffee cup. He picked it up and headed out into the lobby area of the hotel to ask for a refill. Coffee was just about the only thing keeping him going right now. Coordinating the canvassing of a hotel this size wasn’t easy. Thankfully, the team had been allocated a number of uniforms to help with the questioning. But in a hotel where guests were constantly coming in and going out, it wasn’t easy to keep track of everyone.

  Collins smiled as one of the hotel staff came up and held out her hand for his empty coffee cup.

  “I’ll get you another,” she said, anticipating his request, before he’d even opened his mouth.

  The staff at the hotel had been brilliant. Considering how awful this must be for them and how worried they had to be about the murder hurting the hotel’s reputation, Collins had been expecting some resistance, but so far they’d done everything they could to help.

  His phone beeped with an incoming email from Charlotte. Collins quickly skimmed the contents and then focused on the images attached to the message.

  He sat down on one of the comfortable, well-cushioned chairs in the lobby, staring at the first CCTV image on his phone.

  Most of the guests and staff travelling up to the forty-fourth floor had been identified and traced. The team were now in the process of interviewing and eliminating people from their list of potential suspects. However, Charlotte had sent a still from the CCTV, showing an unidentified hooded figure travelling in the elevator only fifteen minutes after Beverley Madison had retired to her room. It fitted the window of opportunity. Was this Beverley Madison’s killer?

  Collins scanned the text of the email again. According to Charlotte, the person had got out on the forty-fourth floor and headed in the direction of Beverley Madison’s room. Although they didn’t have a close-up image of the suspect’s face, Collins couldn’t help feeling hopeful.

  Due to the dark corridors, the CCTV outside Beverley Madison’s room was worse than useless, but they still had a chance to identify this unknown person.

  The hooded figure had not been alone in the elevator.

  Collins studied the image. There was a man, with a mobile phone clamped to his ear, standing next to the hooded figure. What were the chances the man on the phone would be able to identify this potential suspect?

  He scrolled down to another still image from the CCTV. The man was looking directly at their unknown subject.

  Charlotte had written that they had exchanged words in the elevator. There was no sound on the recording from the CCTV, but e
ven so, Collins felt a rush of excitement. If they could identify this man, they might be able to get a description of their suspect.

  The young Asian woman returned with Collins’ coffee and set it down on the low glass table in front of him. Collins smiled, thanked her and then dialled Charlotte’s number.

  “We need to identify the other passenger in the lift,” Collins said, without preamble.

  “Agreed. You might have already questioned him. He had a key card, which operated the lift. So we think he is a guest on the same floor as Beverley Madison. From the CCTV, we can see him put his key card in and select the forty-fourth floor. The person in the navy hooded coat doesn’t use a key, but exits the elevator at the same floor as our mystery man and heads straight to Beverley Madison’s room.

  “We’ve got the same person, wearing the navy coat, travelling back down in the elevator just ten minutes later. Then at the exit, leaving the hotel.”

  “So we don’t think that the guy in the hooded coat was a guest at the hotel? Did he use a key card to travel down in the lift?”

  “No, but you only need a key card if you want to access guest floors. The elevator will travel to the lobby and bar areas without guest keys.

  “We’re looking back through the rest of the footage now to see if we can identify him coming into the hotel itself. We need a shot of his face.”

  “It’s possible that they are working together.” Collins said.

  “I don’t think so,” Charlotte said. “They don’t look at each other until they are in the lift and the contact between them is brief.”

  “But if they were aware of the cameras that might be how they wanted it to look.”

  “True. I guess we can’t rule it out.”

  Collins reached out for his coffee and took a sip. “Okay, I should have more luck identifying the second passenger. At least we can see his face. Keep me in the loop.”

  “Will do.”

  After Collins hung up, he drained the steaming cup of coffee and headed for the bar area.

  The bar wasn’t open yet, but there were some hotel staff milling about, putting lunch menus on tables, setting out chairs and polishing the bar.

  Collins walked straight up to the bar and introduced himself. “I’d like to speak to whoever was in charge of the bar last night at around eleven pm.”

  The man behind the bar ran a hand through his spiky hair and nodded. “I was working last night, managing the bar. You’re asking questions about the woman who was killed, aren’t you?”

  Collins nodded.

  “I saw her.” He had a pained expression. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “What’s your name, please, sir?” Collins asked.

  “Lennie,” the barman said. “Lennie Newton. I’ve already spoken to the police officers. I told them I saw her briefly last night. She came in for about forty minutes.”

  Collins nodded and made a mental note to go over Lennie Newton’s statement as soon as he finished here. Collins took a look around the bar and took in the stunning view over London. There were a huge number of tables and chairs in the bar, and Collins guessed the capacity would be over one hundred.

  “It’s a big place. You must have had lots of customers last night,” Collins said. “Why did you remember Beverley Madison in particular?”

  Lennie shrugged. “I’m good with faces, I suppose, and she ordered one of the most expensive champagnes on the menu. I did tell her the price. I know that most of the people that come here have quite enough money to buy it without a second thought. But it always shocks me that people are prepared to pay that much for a drink.” Lennie shrugged. “So I remembered her. She laughed when I told her the price. Said her friend was paying.”

  Collins nodded. “Did she say anything else to you?”

  “She just joked that her friend would put it on his expense account.” Lennie shrugged again. “I don’t know if she was serious. She seemed nice enough. Between you and me, I think she’d had quite a bit to drink before she got here.”

  Collins nodded. “What about the friend she was with?”

  “Uh, yes. She was with an American gentleman. They came in together, but left separately, I think. I don’t remember her leaving, but I do remember him paying the bill. It was just after eleven, I think.”

  “If he paid for the expensive Champagne, would you be able to locate the bill and perhaps tell me his name and his room number if he was a guest here?”

  Lennie nodded. “Sure. It will just take a moment. You can take a seat if you want.”

  Collins walked away from the bar and sat on one of the chairs close to the window. He gazed out at the stunning skyline. It was surprising anyone had noticed anything last night with a view like that to look at. He opened up his email app and again studied the still from the CCTV. He didn’t want to get his hopes up.

  “Here we go,” Lenny said cheerfully, coming towards Collins with a slip of paper.

  “This was his bill. See there.” Lennie pointed to the bill. “He paid for the champagne.”

  The figure on the bill made Collins’ eyes water. After wincing at the exorbitant cost, he focused on the name at the bottom of the receipt.

  Barry Henderson.

  Room 4423.

  Collins stood up. “Thank you very much. You’ve been a great help.”

  Lenny smiled. “Pleased to help.”

  Collins held out his phone with the image of the CCTV still on the screen. “Is this the man you saw last night with Beverley Madison?”

  Lennie nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. Definitely.”

  11

  COLLINS HEADED BACK TO the incident room, just off the lobby area. The hotel had given them the use of one of the meeting rooms in the business centre to use as the control centre for the investigation.

  The team had all their equipment and computers set up in there. Collins smiled at PC Mary Dowd as he walked in.

  “I’m going up to see a Mr. Barry Henderson,” Collins said. “I think he’s on our list. Has he been interviewed yet?”

  Mary tapped a couple of keys on her keyboard and stared at the computer screen. “Not yet. He’s on the list, but he wasn’t in his room when the uniforms called the first time. I believe he is still in the hotel though, sir. We don’t have a record of him leaving today.”

  Collins nodded. “Good. I’ll see if he’s in his room now.”

  Collins stepped into the elevator and used the key card he’d been given by the hotel. The elevator swept him up to the forty-fourth floor in seconds.

  When Collins stepped out, he couldn’t help hoping that Barry Henderson would be able to tell them something that would take the case in a new direction. They needed to move as quickly as possible. The twenty-four hours following a murder were the most crucial in generating leads. It was when people’s memories were freshest.

  Collins knocked on Barry Henderson’s door.

  When ten seconds passed with no response, Collins raised his hand to knock again.

  Bloody hell. The bloke better not have done a runner. Right now, he was their best chance of identifying their main suspect.

  But before Collins could knock again, the door was opened and Barry Henderson looked at him in a sad, resigned way.

  “Police, I presume,” he said.

  Collins showed his warrant card and introduced himself. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, Mr. Henderson.”

  “If you like,” Henderson said with a shrug and stood back to allow Collins to enter the room.

  It was a luxurious suite. The bed hadn’t been made and the sheets were rumpled, but other than that, the rest of the room was tidy.

  Barry Henderson sighed. “It’s a horrible business,” he said. “Poor Beverley.”

  “Did you know Beverley well?”

  “Yes. I’ve known her for over twenty years. We both started off in the publishing business together. She worked in America for a time. Did you know that?”

  Collins scribbled down a note. “Wh
en was that?”

  “Oh, years ago. Back in the early nineties.”

  “Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm Beverley?”

  Barry Henderson sighed again and looked up at the ceiling. “Well, she certainly wasn’t Little Miss Popular. But I can’t imagine anyone she knew would want to do this. She could be hard, detective, but you need to be in this business. She had to be ruthless sometimes in the best interest of her clients.”

  “Could you tell me where you were last night and what you were doing between ten pm and midnight?”

  Barry Henderson blinked. “Why?”

  “It’s a question we are asking everybody, Mr. Henderson. We need to know people’s whereabouts. It helps us work out a clear picture of events.”

  Barry Henderson shrugged. “I see. Well, I was at a launch party for a book, some ridiculous celebrity cookery book that they hadn’t even written themselves. Of course it was written by a ghostwriter, which is so popular these days.” Barry Henderson looked longingly at a packet of cigarettes on the dressing table. “After that, around eleven or so, I came back here with Beverley and we had a nightcap in the bar. She left before I did, but I didn’t stay much longer. It had been a long day.”

  Collins asked a few more questions before pulling out his phone and showing the still image from the CCTV to Barry Henderson.

  “Is this you, sir?”

  Barry Henderson looked surprised. “Well, yes, it is. That’s me last night.”

  “And who is that standing beside you?”

  Barry Henderson blinked and looked back at the image. “I don’t know. I don’t even remember anyone else being in the elevator.” Barry Henderson shrugged. “I don’t have a clue who it is.”

  An understanding seemed to pass over Barry Henderson. A shadow flashed across his face. He raised a hand to his mouth. “Do you think that’s the person who harmed Beverley?”

  “We are just gathering the facts at the moment, sir,” Collins said. “Now, you were on the phone at the time. Who were you speaking to?”