by Tim Ellis
KP interrupted. ‘Let’s try and tie it all together, shall we? We might have a better idea then.’
Suzie piped up. ‘I’ve deciphered the message from the Sally Renshall murder.’
What does a believer have in common with an unbeliever?
‘Yes,’ Wardle said. ‘It is as I thought. It’s from two Corinthians six, verse fifteen. The full text reads: What harmony is there between Christ and Belial? What does a believer have in common with an unbeliever? Belial is also a Prince of Hell. He reigns over the Northern Reaches and also commands eighty legions of demons.
I was certainly impressed by his knowledge of the Bible. He had brought one with him and hadn’t referred to it once.
KP went over to the map and plotted the location of the fourth murder. ‘It’s below where Gillian Wilkinson and Sally Renshall were murdered.’ She stood there for some time, drawing lines between the points with her mind. At last she said, ‘It could be a hexagon, Sir.’
‘The number of the beast,’ Wardle said absently.
‘Pardon,’ I said.
‘From the Book of Revelation thirteen, verse eighteen: Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six.’
‘But a hexagon is only six-sided,’ KP said. ‘Not six hundred and sixty-six.’
He smiled. ‘Yes, I know, but the number six could be allegorical rather than literal.’
Impatience clearly evident in my voice, I said, ‘If there are only five demons, how does the sixth one fit in?’
‘There is considerable debate in theological circles about the number of seraphim cast out of Heaven. Some think that Leviathan was also of the order of seraphim. He tempts men into sacrilege.’
‘So what you’re saying now, is that we could have six murders?’
Wardle looked flustered and began to stutter. ‘I… I’m not saying… anything about the number of murders…’
‘Could there be seven, eight, ten, twenty or a hundred? Bloody hell man, how many?’ I stood up and the chair crashed to the floor. ‘I need a break,’ I said and stamped out, nearly knocking the door off its hinges on my way through it.
***
I opened the door to my office. The fax from Interpol lay on the top of my in-tray. I picked it up and scanned down the sixteen pages. Horrific murders occurred across the world, but none related to this case. I had a sinking feeling as my mobile rang. I looked at the number displayed. A wave of relief washed over me.
‘Harte,’ I said.
Chief Inspector, my name is Peter Stokes from Stokes and son funeral directors.
‘Yes, thank you for ringing, Mr Stokes. I need you to arrange a funeral for a friend. Can you do that?’
Of course, Chief Inspector. His voice sounded smooth and sincere. The name of the… friend?’
‘Miss Sally Renshall.’
And where might I locate Miss Renshall?
‘Hammersmith Hospital, contact a Dr Terri Holmes for collection. She will have the death certificate.’
What type of funeral would you like, Chief Inspector? The prices ranges from…
‘Price is no object. I want the best you’ve got.’
Would you like us to arrange flowers?
‘I’d like you to arrange everything, Mr Stokes. She has no next of kin. I suppose I was…’
I understand, Sir, burial or cremation?
I had no idea. I didn’t even know whether she was religious, or for that matter what religion she was. ‘Cremation,’ I said at last.
Where did Miss Renshall live, Chief Inspector?
‘Bermondsey.’
That would be Camberwell Old Cemetery, unless you wish to keep the ashes?
‘No, a small plot underneath a tree would be nice.’
And the headstone, Sir, do you wish to choose it yourself or leave it to us?
‘I’ll leave it to you, but something with angels on the top looking down would be appropriate.’
And the wording on the headstone?
Tears suddenly welled in my eyes and ran down my cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Stokes, I’ll need to give that some thought. Can I ring you tomorrow?’
Of course, my private number is 09087 567843. Will there be a ceremony?
I wrote down his number on a post-it pad. ‘No, please keep it very simple. I’ll be the only one attending.’ Not their responsibility! Bloody hypocritical bastards, I thought. I wouldn’t even tell them when or where the funeral was.
As you wish, Sir. I think that covers it. I will contact you in the next few days with the details, Chief Inspector.
‘Thank you, Mr Stokes.’
I ended the call and wept.
***
KP knocked and entered. ‘Are you feeling all right, Sir?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘You’ve been crabby all day.’
‘Crabby? That’s not like you. Say what you mean. I’ve been a right bastard.’
‘Well, I think you should be a bit more civil to Suzie and Jonathan, they’ve helped us enormously.’
‘Only a bit?’
‘All right, a lot then. You’re lucky they’re still here.’
‘I am?’
‘Yes, and talking of still being here, Mr Darwin has been downstairs in reception since ten this morning.’
Patrick Darwin, of course, I’d forgotten all about him. We had entered the station through the back door after parking our cars. I looked at my watch – it was twenty-past one.
Getting up I said, ‘We’d better go and speak to him.’
I followed KP down the stairs to reception.
‘Mr Darwin,’ I said, walking towards him and offering my hand. He stood up. Just in time, I remembered the last time I shook his hand and redirected it to pat him on the shoulder. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. Another murder, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh dear!’
Using my body as a shield, I keyed in the door code. I ushered him into the corridor leading down to the interview rooms. I took him into the first one we came to.
‘Thanks for coming, Mr Darwin. I know it’s Saturday, but it seems that Darwins is at the centre of these murders.’
‘Murders…? Oh! You mean Gerard Stone’s daughter, Irene. Yes, I spoke with Pieter Meintjes last night. That was terrible, but surely not connected to poor Gillian’s death?’
‘Unfortunately, yes. There have also been two further murders, which lead back to Darwins.’
‘Another two?’ He looked as if he was going to faint. The blood had drained from his face.
‘Would you like a glass of water?’ KP asked him.
‘I don’t suppose you have anything a bit… No, water would be fine, thank you.’
KP left and came back with a clear plastic beaker of water from the cooler in the corridor.
He took it and drank half of it. ‘Very kind, thank you,’ he said, the colour returning to his face. ‘Who… I haven’t heard anything.’
‘The third one, a Miss Sally Renshall, occurred on Thursday. We have only just found out that her mother, Elizabeth Shepherd, used to work for you.’
‘My God, Elizabeth, but she and her husband died some years ago… a car crash wasn’t it?’ He seemed to be searching his memory. ‘Yes, I recall now, there was a daughter, went to stay with her grandmother.’
‘The latest one was this morning, India Soames.’
He searched for, and eventually found, a red checked handkerchief in the pocket of his green corduroy trousers. He couldn’t control himself and started blubbering. He used the handkerchief to loudly blow his nose and then dab his eyes.
‘Poor Owen and Rosie,’ he said at last. ‘Poor India. Who is doing this Chief Inspector? What possible reason could they have for murdering innocent children?’ He broke down again.
I waited until he had recovered enough to continue.
‘We’re struggling to find a motive that will lead to a suspect at the moment, Mr Darwin, and we
were hoping that you could point us in the right direction.’
‘But… I don’t know who would want to murder young women. You asked me that the last time we met. Have you got no ideas?’
‘We have a number of leads that might help to jog your memory. First, something happened prior to 2002 to trigger the first murder – Irene Stone. Second, between 2002 and 2008, the killer was prevented, for whatever reason, from killing again. Third, there seems to be a Biblical connection to the murders.’
‘It was a long time ago Chief Inspector, my memory isn’t what it used to be.’
Not helped by an abundant supply of Glenfiddich, I thought.
‘My officers are pouring over your files as we speak, but five thousand is a lot of files. We need help Mr Darwin, before he kills again.’
‘Maybe I can help with the files. The names will act as prompts. I’m sure I will recall the details of each case. Every one of them was discussed at the monthly meetings, you know. There are just too many for me to sit here and scour my memory without help.’
I was sure Ali would be pleased with the help. ‘That’s very generous of you, Mr Darwin. The officers will be pleased with any help they can get. At the moment, they need to read each of the files before they can make a decision. It is time-consuming.’
‘I must phone Mildred, my wife, tell her I’m helping the police with their enquiries.’ He half-smiled at the irony.
‘We’ll wait for you outside, Mr Darwin.’
He came out shortly afterwards. ‘Lead the way Chief Inspector. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can prevent him from murdering someone else.’
I think he was glad to be of some use.
***
KP and I escorted Mr Darwin down to the basement. It was five past two. The team had moved the tables into the corridor.
‘Sir,’ Ali said as we approached. ‘We’re half-way through the files. Up to now we’ve found three possibles, two daughters of previous employees and a past member of staff.
‘Good. I’ve brought you Mr Darwin to help.’ I turned to Patrick Darwin. ‘At the moment, they’re identifying possible victims from your personnel files.’
‘Who have you identified so far,’ he asked Ali.
Ali looked at me.
‘He’s here to help. They’re his files. Tell him.’
Ali picked up three files that had been put to one side of the table we were stood next to.
She opened the first one. ‘A Peter Heldur has a daughter…’
‘They moved to Australia in 1997,’ Darwin interrupted her.
Ali put the file down on the table and opened the second one. ‘This one was an employee, who left in 2004, a Janice Danton…’
‘Sadly, she left because she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She died December that year. We all went to the funeral. It was terribly depressing a few days before Christmas.’
‘The third one is the daughter of a Pamela Johnson…’
‘Hopefully still alive, but probably dead,’ Darwin said. ‘She went missing in 2002 backpacking in Australia on her gap year. Not a word since. It didn’t help, but Pamela gave up her job and she and her husband went out there. I haven’t heard from them since.’
‘We’ll check whether they came back and if they did, where they’re living now,’ Ali said.
‘I’m just glad that my own daughter is abroad,’ Darwin said.
We all looked at each other.
‘How old is your daughter, Mr Darwin,’ KP asked.
‘Twenty-seven. Why?’ He scanned our faces. ‘She’s in Burma with the Voluntary Service Organisation… the Tsunami… helping out. She isn’t due back until Tuesday next week – Christmas Eve. We’re spending Christmas together.’
‘Are you absolutely sure she’s still out there?’ Ali asked.
‘Well… yes. She rang us last week. Why… you don’t think…?’ He staggered and put his arm out to steady himself.
Brian brought a chair round and guided him onto it.
Darwin took a hip flask out of the back pocket of his trousers, unscrewed the top and took a deep swallow of the contents.
The smell of whiskey permeated the corridor.
‘We don’t think anything at the moment, Mr Darwin, but we should make sure that your daughter is where she says she is.’
‘Paul, go and check with the VSO that…’ I turned to Darwin. ‘What’s your daughter’s name?’
‘Letitia… Letitia Darwin.’ He brought the handkerchief up to his eyes and started crying again. ‘She’s going to start in the firm… I’m sorry.’
‘Be as quick as you can, Paul,’ I said. ‘Let’s put Mr Darwin’s mind at rest.’
‘Right, Gov.’ He strode off up the corridor.
‘Are you OK to continue, Mr Darwin?’ Ali asked him.
‘Yes, yes, but please… call me Patrick if we are to work together. Let us proceed.
Whilst the others shifted the files to and from the room, Ali voiced the name on the file. Patrick said either, ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. On two occasions he reached out to take the file, had a quick glance and then said ‘No’. There were only two files in the ‘Yes’ pile, both of whom were past employees and had daughters of around the right age.
‘OK. Brian, I want you to contact the families and explain the situation. Find out where the daughters are. If they’re not at home, let’s get them there. Then arrange for a female constable to be stationed inside the house and a squad car outside.’
He nodded, collected up the two files, and marched down the corridor, passing Paul coming back.
‘VSO says Letitia Darwin is still in Burma. She’s due to fly into Heathrow on Tuesday, arriving at half past six in the evening.’
‘Thank God,’ Patrick said. ‘Right, should we get started on the client files now,’ he said.
Paul took Brian’s place in the chain, and they started the process again.
‘Don’t forget to grab lunch,’ I said.
Pea had obviously been to the cafeteria. ‘We’re taking turns, Gov,’ she said holding up a family-sized biscuit.
KP and I left them to it.
***
As we walked into the incident room, Jonathan stood up, his face red. ‘Now look, Chief Inspector, I’m not saying anything about how many murders there might be. You’ve asked me to come here on a Saturday to help and…’
I held up my hands to stop the flow. ‘Relax Mr Wardle. I apologise again. I’m a bit edgy today.’
I heard KP mumble, ‘A bit!’
Suzie didn’t look up from her laptop.
‘So, have you got anything more for us, Mr Wardle?’
‘No, but you keep asking me why?’
‘Why what?’
‘Why the biblical quotes. Why the killer is using them.’
‘Yes. And…’
‘I think it might be something to do with Satanism, black magic, or witchcraft, rather than religion.’
‘It’s possible.’ The thought had crossed my mind.
‘Well, if that’s the case, then I’m the wrong person.’
‘Who would be the right person?’
‘I know a Catholic Priest, a Father Jacob, who has studied the dark side of religion for many years. He could be of some help. Shall I ring him to see if he’s available?’
‘Why not?’ I said genially. ‘The more the merrier.’
I saw Suzie look up at me. I held her stare. Nosy bitch, I thought, get on with your deciphering.
‘He’s the priest at Chelsea Old Church, Cheyne Walk. It is said that Henry the VIII married Jane Seymour there after the execution of Anne Boleyn.’
‘Ring him then.’ God, he didn’t half prattle on.
***
I meandered back to my office and shut the door.
Picking up the phone, I dialled the number Mr Stokes had given me.
Raymond Stokes, the funeral directors who care. The voice was monotone, but respectful.
‘Mr Stokes, its James Harte.’
<
br /> Chief Inspector, we have like minds. I was about to ring you myself with the details of the cremation.
‘Excellent. Can I first tell you what I’d like on the headstone?’
Of course, let me get a pen… When you’re ready.
‘As the flowers are made sweeter by the sunshine and the dew, so my world was made brighter by knowing you.’
Beautiful, Chief Inspector, I’m sure Miss Renshall would be very pleased. Underneath I shall of course add the name and the dates.
‘Thank you, Mr Stokes. The details?’
Ah yes. I heard the rustling of paper. Tuesday the 24th, Christmas Eve, at ten o’clock. The cremation will take place at Honor Oak Crematorium, and a small plot beneath an oak tree has been purchased at Camberwell Old Cemetery. There will be one car to transport Miss Renshall’s remains from the crematorium to the cemetery. One last thing Chief Inspector, do you wish to view the body before it is cremated?
‘Thank you, Mr Stokes.’ I couldn’t face looking at Sally again, I would remember her beautiful face and laughing eyes in life, not in death. ‘No, I do not wish to view the body.’
Then, I shall see you at ten on Tuesday, Chief Inspector.
‘Thank you for your help, Mr Stokes.’
It has been my pleasure to ease the burden, Chief Inspector.
I put the phone down.
KP popped her head round the door.
‘Have we given up knocking now?’ I grumbled.
She smiled. ‘Let’s eat, misery.’
I folded the paper with the funeral details on and put it in the inside pocket of my jacket. I stood. ‘Have you got nothing better to do than look after my dietary needs?’
‘No.’ Smiling, she took my arm and led me down the corridor.
‘And stop smiling so much,’ I said.
Chapter Ten
I felt stuffed after a lasagne with salad, followed by jam roly poly and custard. Ali came in, bought a bottle of still water and joined us.