by Carole Pitt
'This bit was a bugger to mow,' Daly said as he rearranged the sumptuous seat cushions. He settled down and sighed. 'When I mentioned to Jean that hardwood chairs gave me back ache she ordered these off Amazon. A bargain, buy four and get two free.'
Elizabeth admired the blue and white striped heavy canvas covers. 'Very comfortable,' she said.
'What you reckon to the letter then?' Daly asked.
'I don't know yet, let's wait for Patterson's take on it.'
Daly jumped up and startled her. She half expected him to start pacing, his way of dealing with anxiety. 'Sorry Liz, I made him a coffee and didn't offer you another one.'
'That would be nice,' Elizabeth said. 'While you're doing that I'll gather my first thoughts. What I do suggest is we go through the contents thoroughly before handing it over to a specialist.'
'I must've read the damn thing at least twenty times and I'm none the wiser. What bothers me is why someone went to such an effort to write gibberish. That won't help me solve three bloody murders. As for threatening me and the sarcastic comments, it can only be some crank who hates me, the bastard.'
After Daly hurried off, she got up and headed off towards a broken fence. Whether Daly liked it or not his wife had made a good property choice. Yes, she considered, the garden would need high maintenance but experienced landscape gardeners were plentiful in rural Gloucestershire. The ground sloped upwards making it easy to see over the old fence. The low-lying clouds had lifted and the view across the valley became clearer. Living here, the Daly's would have the best of both worlds, not too far from civilisation, yet peace and tranquillity in abundance.
Tucked away in another corner Elizabeth found an interesting plot devoted to what she instantly recognised as a collection of poisonous plants. Not just Foxgloves, that adorned many gardens, including her own, but other rarer and more deadly species. She recognised Hemlock, the ominous looking Wolfsbane and Belladonna. Most she didn't know, and assumed they weren't native to the UK. She hoped Daly and Jean realised how lethal they were, especially with the puppy around. Yes, if you were a serious botanist she could understand their usefulness, other than that, why would anyone want a collection of deadly plants. She looked closer, careful not to brush up against the burgeoning foliage. Most of them were flourishing, unlike the border plants. She was relieved when Patterson shouted to her. She took a last glance and went back to the table.
Daly arrived with a tray. On it, a large metal coffee pot, a cream jug and three cups. He rummaged in his pocket and produced a half bottle of malt whiskey. 'A drop of this in the coffee might aid lateral thinking.'
'I hope you're going to get rid of all those deadly plants,' Elizabeth said.
'Next thing he'll be growing cannabis,' Patterson said.
'I think there's one cannabis plant hiding up there but it's hard to tell these days, there's so many varieties. Anyway, Jean's organised a bloke from Cirencester Agricultural College to do the landscaping. He came over last week and we showed him the poison plot. Apparently some of the stuff is rare and he wants to save it.'
'He's not asking you to keep the plants, surely?' Elizabeth said.
'Don't be daft. He's taking them back to the college.'
'In the mean time you shouldn't let the dog out here. Where is he?'
'He’s Charlie now. Gone to a puppy training class with Jean,' Daly glanced at his watch. 'Bugger, she'll be back soon so let's make a start on this letter.'
'That’s a good name,’ Elizabeth said.
‘I agree,’ Patterson said. ‘We need to think about what this person isn’t saying, rather than what he is saying.’
Elizabeth found her glasses. 'First and most important question, is this our killer?'
'No,' Daly answered.
'Possibly.’ Patterson said. 'What about you Liz?'
'Not sure. The tone's odd, not full on taunting but definitely finds us amusing. Sounds like he enjoys observing us fumbling about which is characteristic of a serial killer.'
Daly poured a generous slug of whisky into his coffee and offered around. Elizabeth turned to Patterson and shook her head.
'Why so certain it isn't the perp?' Patterson asked Daly.
'I'm not, that would be daft. I'm leaning towards a hoax, someone playing games. These types of communications are often deliberate distraction tactics. As Liz has pointed out it's typical of ‘let's confuse the cops and have a good laugh.'’
'Or the complete opposite,' Elizabeth added. 'There are more sinister motives to the poison pen letter, using it as a form of revenge by making terrible accusations against innocent people. How do we know Moore was a fraud? We only have this writer's word for it. Anyas Lacroix and Moore had a sexual relationship and she believed he had genuine problems. She certainly wasn't frightened of him. Let's start with the first paragraph. You'll agree it has a very different tone to the rest. It comes over to me as a factual statement, but it's ambiguous and could mean anything.'
'It's a bit too literary for me,' Patterson said.
Elizabeth looked up from the letter. 'I thought the same. This person can certainly string a sentence together, so they're not uneducated.'
Daly unscrewed the whisky again. 'This bloke's definitely got an attitude problem.'
Patterson finished his non-alcoholic coffee. 'Most serial killers taunt the police. They seem to get off on it.'
'I don't believe this person fits the profile of a prolific serial killer,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Also not yet convinced Moore’s death is linked to the other two,' Elizabeth said.
'Come on Liz, we have to consider the possibility,' Patterson scorned.
Daly turned his head towards the kitchen door. The phone was ringing. 'Hang on, while I answer it.'
He almost ran back to the house and Elizabeth wondered about Daly's whisky fortification. She'd noticed he was anxious and wondered whether this call was the reason.'
Patterson's phone was the next to ring. He looked at the screen. 'It's Gardiner.'
'Answer it then.’
He moved away and Elizabeth understood his embarrassment. The conversation was brief. Patterson slumped back down. 'We don’t need to send a uniform to babysit Lillian Fowler as she’s asked Gardiner to leave; she wants to be left alone. Gardiner has also borrowed some interesting photos from her.' Patterson sat up quickly. 'That woman is certainly weird. Didn't you say she befriended Moore?'
'Forget that one. Lillian Fowler definitely didn't kill Moore. She was comatose at the time.'
'I'm not saying she did, but both Fowlers have some explaining to do, as does Carstairs when he gets back.'
'Have you got Howell's number?'
Patterson pulled out his phone and scrolled through. 'Do you want me to ring him now?'
'Tell him to meet us at the cottage with the key.'
Daly sat down, breathing heavily. 'That was Grayson on the blower. Dr Dalman has suffered a serious attack at the lab. She was working on the reconstruction, when...'
Elizabeth interrupted. 'When what?'
'Whoever assaulted her took a blunt instrument to the clay head and completely destroyed it. If it was recognisable before, it certainly isn't now.'
'Did Dalman see who assaulted her?' Patterson asked.
'No, she was also clouted over the head and carted off to hospital.'
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The crime scene technicians had arrived and parked at the back of the morgue- laboratory suite behind the hospital. Elizabeth knew it wouldn't take long for the news to travel. Her main worry was Will Crosbie, the Cheltenham Echo's intrepid crime hack who often managed to be one-step ahead of them. She wished one of the nationals would lure him from the area. Fortunately, there was no sign of him.
The two new laboratories were at the far end of the recent extension thanks to the anonymous donor who had left a fortune to refurbish the original building. They hurried along the corridor and saw Grayson standing outside the specialised lab Dalman had taken over. He was talking to a uniform
ed officer.
Grayson introduced Daly to the officer. 'This is Sergeant Williams, he took the call?'
'Who found her?' Patterson asked Williams.
'Dr Dalman's assistant, Gemma Buckley. She told me the Doctor Dalman hadn’t needed her to come in today. Miss Buckley explained that she’d intended to work late last night and come in early to work on the reconstruction. At such a crucial point, she preferred to be on her own. However, Miss Buckley had mislaid her phone and came in hoping she'd left it in the office. Lucky, she did, or Dr Dalman wouldn’t have been discovered until much later.'
'Is Miss Buckley still over at the hospital?' Elizabeth asked.
Williams shook his head. 'I think so.’
'Do you know if Dr Dalman has regained consciousness? Elizabeth asked.
'She came round shortly after the paramedics arrived. They checked her out and confirmed she wasn't in any immediate danger but needed further medical attention.'
Elizabeth smiled. 'Thanks Sergeant, I'm sure you could do with a break now. She turned to Grayson, 'Tell me about this crucial point she'd got to?'
'I think she was ready to take the first cast. After she'd completed that procedure, she would the rest of the layering.’
Grayson pushed open the door and Elizabeth saw at first glance the devastation. Andrea Puttenham, the crime scene manager and two technicians were busy in one corner of the lab.
The intruder hadn't only decimated the skull. He or she had found the time to annihilate extremely expensive equipment, including Dalman's computer.
'Oh my God,' she cried. 'How much will all this cost to replace?'
'A fortune,' Grayson shouted. 'Although everything is insured, replacing it will take weeks. Virginia hadn't wasted any time. She had also begun preliminary scans on the Cirencester victim's skull. Even if she recovers quickly, there's no equipment for her to work with. Whoever did this wasn't just content to put her out of action. He made doubly sure she couldn't carry on by destroying the tools of her trade. I doubt Virginia would want to come back here anyway, she'll be too frightened.'
'So what do you suggest we do?' Daly asked.
'You'll have to find another way to identify your victims.’
Grayson was annoyed and Elizabeth understood why. He had championed Dalman for the job, probably pressured her into it. At the time, Elizabeth acknowledged they hadn't realised how lucky they were to get someone of her standing and she began to wonder why Dalman so easily agreed. Was Grayson having an affair with her or were they, as he claimed just good friends. She couldn't ask him outright but she would definitely look into it. Why, of all the places Dalman could have accepted a commission, did she opt for Gloucestershire? Those thoughts spun around her head as she watched Daly blunder his way into the crime scene.
Grayson ordered him to stand back. 'You should know better Ted.'
Daly stopped in his tracks. 'Apologies, wasn't thinking straight for a minute.'
Andrea Puttenham got to her feet. 'No weapon yet but I'm beginning to think it was one of her own tools. I need Gemma to do an inventory then we'll know for sure.'
Daly checked the time. 'Patterson, nip round to the hospital and bring the girl back here. While you're there tell the nursing staff Liz and I will be over shortly to have a quick word with Dr Dalman. Then contact that Howell bloke and tell him you’re coming over to Cartairs's cottage.'
'What if I can't get hold of him?'
Daly rubbed his chin. 'Carstairs struck me as a very meticulous man. I reckon he's the type to leave a spare key somewhere. All you have to do is find it.'
Patterson left and Elizabeth studied the room trying to get some idea of what must have happened. 'What kind of tool?' she asked Andrea.
'From the fine shards, probably a small ball headed hammer.’ She picked up a small fragment of clay and Elizabeth could see it had formed part of the nose. 'Bloody shame about all this machinery,' Andrea moaned as she bent down to examine the floor.
Elizabeth stared at the workbench and noticed a few drops of dried blood. 'Any luck with footprints,' she asked her.
'Not in here, we might get lucky in the corridors except the world and his wife has traipsed up and down. We'll be here for ages.'
The determination to scupper the investigation was what interested Elizabeth most. This person did not want the victims identified. That was obvious. Daly excused himself and went outside with Grayson. Andrea pointed to a small amount of blood on the wall. Elizabeth hadn't noticed for all she was standing directly opposite.
'Looks like Dalman gripped one of her smaller tools when she was attacked. Possibly a scalpel and she cut her hand with it. She must have hung on tight for that to happen. Seems to me whoever did this crept in without her noticing. No doubt she was too absorbed in her work.’
'We're going over to talk to her. Hopefully she might remember something.'
'I wouldn't bet on it,' Andrea said.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
As they walked through the hospital car park, Patterson and Gemma Buckley were coming towards them.
Daly noticed her pallor and didn't want to detain her too long. The girl was probably still in shock. 'Has anyone checked you out?' he asked.
Gemma gave a faint smile. 'I might look feeble but I'm okay. Just want to go home and sleep for a bit.'
'I'd like you to do something before you leave, if you're up to it? The crime scene manager, Andrea Puttenham would like you to check Dr Dalman’s tools,’ Daly said.
'You mean all her tools?’
'Everything she used during the course of her work,' Elizabeth added.
Gemma nodded. ‘I’m happy to help anyway I can.’
‘I assume you want me to confirm if any of them are missing?'
Daly patted her on the shoulder. 'Clever girl, only if you don't mind doing it right now. It's very important. Sergeant Patterson will stay and help, then drop you at home.'
Daly hated hospitals not that he'd been a visitor that often or even a patient. In his teenage years, he'd ended up in casualty a few times. Once as a young uniformed officer, he'd chased a villain and slipped on dog shit, breaking his wrist. Considering his earlier unhealthy lifestyle, he'd avoided the place like the plague. Just crossing the threshold made him feel queasy.
Liz, he understood didn't appreciate the institution either. At reception, a large woman greeted them. She reminded Daly of an old-fashioned matron, exuding the, ‘do not mess with me’, warning.
'Ah you're here for Dr Dalman,' she said. 'She sleeping so it wouldn't be a good idea to disturb her. Not after such a nasty experience.'
Daly didn't fancy arguing with the woman, he didn't feel up to it. His covert trip north was playing on his mind. Now he wished Brotherton hadn’t mentioned this mysterious file and took some comfort in the idea it might not exist. If it didn’t then he was off the hook. So much stuff went missing and it was so long ago. Blaming Brotherton was probably unfair. Instead, he would blame the outfit assigned to demolish Park Road police station, who, he’d decided were a bunch of no-good cowboys despite their fancy suits and arrogant attitudes. Unscrupulous employees infiltrated every business and no doubt, one or two working at Park Road had already rummaged through the storerooms to see what was worth nicking. The force’s overpaid administrator was at fault for not moving the remaining evidence quickly enough.
He zoned out while Elizabeth employed her negotiation skills on the big nurse. Daly pondered on the modern slap dash approach to everything. In the old days, people respected police officers, not anymore. He opened his eyes and saw the nurse scowling at him. He scowled back. Everybody treats us like vermin, he thought. We’re on a par with those basement rats. His focus swung back to Brotherton. He'd have to own up to ACC Reynolds, tell him he hadn't found the files. Then Liz would demand the facts. Now some nutcase had destroyed Dalman's work they would have to start again and he had no idea where to begin. He needed to stay optimistic, but here, in the hospital reception, optimism was as elusive as Br
otherton’s file.
To salvage his reputation, he'd suggest Reynolds instigated an in depth review of how they stored cold case evidence. Cordover Street might stand for another two hundred years. He doubted it, but what he didn't doubt was how many serious criminals were walking around free as birds. All those unsolved crimes, he pondered. Since the staggering advances in forensics, the odds on putting some of the bastards behind bars had to improve by the day.
Elizabeth was using all her persuasive powers. 'We promise to be quiet. Sit for a few minutes and if Dr Dalman doesn't wake up, we'll leave and come back when she's feeling better.'
Nurse Leyton was not one who swayed easily. 'I can’t allow it. Ring tomorrow morning and that's my final word.'
Daly waited for Elizabeth's rebuttal, but a young doctor had overheard the conversation and approached them. Daly disliked him immediately. It was bad enough having suave, good looking cops without doctors resembling Hollywood movie stars. Apart from objecting to this one’s obvious charms, he'd never trusted any of them.
'The doctor smiled showing immaculate white teeth and Daly made a mental note not to smile while in his presence.
'It's okay nurse. Dr Dalman is capable of receiving visitors. We can't put obstacles in the way of our police officers, can we?’ He introduced himself as Dalman's consultant neurologist. Daly was flabbergasted. He didn't look more than thirty, but with so many cosmetic enhancements available these days he was probably ten years older.
'Has anyone updated you on her condition?' he asked.
'We're just police officers, not important enough,’ Daly said, stony faced.
'Well, you'll be pleased to hear there's no permanent damage. She was extremely lucky and I hope you catch whoever attacked her. Dr Dalman is world renowned.'