It isn’t long before Grandad begins to fade. Archer helps him to his room and into bed. Closing the door quietly she goes back to the living room and calls Quinn.
‘Klara found more footage of Armitage manhandling Elaine Kelly near Infernos,’ he tells her. ‘Looked like they were having some sort of row.’
‘What do you mean “manhandling” her?’
‘They were arguing, she was trying to walk away from him and he grabbed her arms and shook her.’
‘When was this?’
‘A few weeks back. I asked him what that was about and he denied it happened until we told him about the footage. At that stage he broke down and swore that he had nothing to do with her murder. He said they’d had sex just the once. He’d wanted to see her again, but she refused and he was “upset”.’
‘Did you ask him about the note?’
‘He denied any knowledge while taking a beamer.’
‘Taking a what?’
‘His face beamed red . . . Belfast slang, ma’am . . . anyway, I’m going to go at him again shortly. By the way, I released Frank Kelly. We’re keeping an eye on him, though . . . and Hicks brought in the pranksters. Three middle-class and over-privileged white boys who share a house in Islington. Hicks is charming them now in the way that only Hicks can do. I’m about to join him.’
‘Let me know how that goes.’
‘Will do. How’s your grandad?’
‘Sleeping.’
‘You should be too.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘Goodnight, ma’am.’
‘Goodnight, Harry.’
38
A
FTER A LONG HOT SHOWER Thomas Butler finishes drying himself and stands in front of the bathroom mirror brushing back his wavy damp hair with his fingers. On the cabinet beside the sink is a neat row of tubs and tubes containing hair wax, body moisturiser, face moisturiser, deodorant, toothpaste, mouthwash.
His phone pings.
Hey, tiger. Not long now.
I know. Can’t wait to meet you. AT LAST!
Haha. Me too. Listen, I’ve sent an Uber to your address to pick you up. It’s a silver Toyota Prius driven by someone called Dimitri.
Aww . . . thank you . . . you didn’t need to do that.
I want to make sure you get here. ;-)
I’ll be there. Don’t you worry.
He’ll be there in ten minutes.
I’m almost ready.
Later. X
Bye. XXX
His date’s name is Jack and they have been communicating for a few weeks now, exchanging horny pictures and talking about all sorts of stuff, not just sex stuff. He is smart, hot as hell. Thomas is beyond excited.
He quickly moisturises his body and face, brushes his teeth and gargles with an acidic purple mouthwash that stings his gums. Dipping his fingers into the wax, he massages it through his thick brown hair and styles it like a young Hugh Grant in that movie, whatever it was called. He hurries out of the bathroom and down to his bedroom, where he changes into freshly pressed chinos and a fitted white polo shirt.
From the dresser he lifts his bottle of Dior Homme Sport and sprays his neck with the glorious lemon-and-woody scent. He grabs his wallet, phone, keys and coat and heads down the hallway.
He stops at Spence’s room. The door is open. Spence looks up from his desk.
‘Well, look at you, Tommo,’ he says in a singsong voice. ‘Got a hot date tonight?’
Thomas smiles wryly and is surprised he doesn’t flush. ‘Maybe.’
Spence’s face lights up and he jumps up from his desk. ‘Bloody hell, mate. After all these years you’re finally on a date! Who’s the lucky girl? It’s a girl, isn’t it?’
Thomas pulls on his overcoat and looks away. ‘Fuck off, Spence,’ he replies with a grin.
‘Course it is!’ says Spence. ‘I can’t wait to tell Binks. That’ll shut her up once and for all.’
Thomas feels a twang of irritation and opens the flat door. ‘Just don’t say anything, Spence. It’s none of her business.’
‘Right, right, our secret. Who is she, Tommo? Do I know her?’
‘You know her very well.’
‘Fuck! I’m dying to know. Who is it? Tell me!’
Thomas hurries out the door. ‘It’s your mother, Spence.’
Thomas hears Spence laughing. ‘Fuck you! Make sure you do everything my asshole father couldn’t, you dirty bastard!’
Across the street Thomas sees a silver Toyota Prius parked on the side of the road. The driver is silhouetted by the light spilling from the grocery store. A man and woman stroll toward it and speak to the driver, but he shakes his head and they walk away. The driver turns and seems to be looking his way. Thomas crosses the road and looks in through the passenger side window. The driver is wearing thick black-rimmed glasses and a flat cap.
‘Taxi for Thomas?’ he says.
The driver nods and as Thomas jumps inside he activates the central locking and the engine kicks into life. Thomas has no idea where he is going. ‘It’s a surprise,’ Jack said.
They drive through the backroads for twenty minutes heading west and out of town, which is unusual but he doesn’t question it. He takes out his phone and messages Jack.
In the cab. See you soon. X
A few moments pass but Jack doesn’t respond. Thomas sighs and slips the phone back into his coat pocket.
The driver turns off a dual carriageway and onto a dark slip road.
‘Where are we going?’ asks Thomas.
‘We are almost there,’ replies the driver. His accent is foreign. Eastern European, perhaps.
Thomas shrugs and sits back.
The car slows and passes through an old iron gate that is covered in uncut and neglected trees and shrubs. Up ahead he sees an old building, a crumbling gothic manor house with turrets and battlements across the roof. It has church-like windows which are boarded up and others that are empty and black. The path to the house is overgrown with weeds and grass. The front door is slightly ajar, a greenish light seeps through the crack.
‘I am to wait for you both here,’ says the driver.
Thomas feels a sense of relief that they are not staying. He recalls Jack mentioning that he has recently bought an amazing new place. Is this it? He gets out of the Uber and walks towards the door and hears classical music, like a string quartet, coming from inside.
His phone pings.
He takes it out. A message from Jack.
Behind you.
Thomas frowns and hears breathing. He turns and jumps.
The Uber driver is behind him. He is tall and broad.
Thomas steps back. ‘What do you want?’
The man doesn’t respond.
Thomas turns to walk away but the man is suddenly on top of him and drags him to the ground. He is strong. Much stronger than Thomas. The man is choking him with the crook of his arm. He tries to scream for help but can’t even breathe.
Oh God. no . . . please, please no!
Thomas feels himself weakening. He struggles but black spots appear before his eyes. His vision begins to blur and suddenly he is no longer conscious.
39
T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING ARCHER HURRIES back from the local shop with a tote bag full of supplies for Grandad. She is relieved that his spirits have lifted and he seems his usual cheery self, despite the fact that his memory is a little hazy.
‘What nightmare?’ he asks.
She unpacks milk, cheese, ham, bread and a copy of the Guardian from the bag. ‘Don’t you remember?’
He arches his eyebrows. ‘Are you making this up?’
Archer smiles at him and doesn’t want to cause him any more concern. ‘Perhaps I’m mistaken.’
‘I’d remember if I had a nightmare, you know.’
‘I know you would.’
Archer’s phone rings. It’s DCI Pierce.
‘Hello.’
‘DI Archer, it�
�s Clare Pierce.’
‘Ma’am, good morning.’
‘I sent a WhatsApp to the team. Did you read it?’
Archer glances at her phone and sees notifications on the WhatsApp icon. ‘Sorry, ma’am, I missed it.’ For some reason she has muted herself from the group and cannot recall doing that.
A second call comes through from a number she doesn’t recognise. She ignores it.
‘I wondered why I hadn’t heard. Anyway, I’d like to get everyone together for a meeting this morning at 9 a.m. There is new important evidence from the Greenwich Peninsula. I’m waiting to talk with Peter Davis about it and may be late.’
‘We’ll make a start without you.’
‘Thank you.’
Pierce hangs up and Archer considers just what this new evidence could be and why she needs to talk to Peter Davis about it. She wonders, but has her suspicions. She listens to the voicemail.
‘Hi, Grace, Mike here. Incredible stuff about the Marshland Martyrs. I was wondering if we could chat about it and Bernard Morrice too. Call me back. Bye.’
Archer deletes the message with a sense of bafflement. Hasn’t she made it crystal clear to Hamilton that he will get nothing from her? And since when are they on first-name terms? It irritates her that he has her number and she wonders how he got it. She will try and uncover that mystery later. She has enough on her plate as it is.
Archer gives Grandad strict instructions to relax today and not venture out.
‘Your wish is my command. Don’t worry, Grace. I’ll light the fire, read the paper and listen to Radio 4. What more could a man want in life?’
Archer chuckles and kisses him on the head. ‘I’ll call you later.’
Outside the house she stops for a moment and checks the news on her phone. The Marshland Martyrs dominate the headlines, but to Archer’s disgust the articles she scans seem to focus less on the victims and more on the killer, with one in particular describing him as ‘a visionary, albeit a psychopathic visionary’. Archer feels a chill run down her spine. The language used to describe the killer is changing subtly and as a result so are people’s opinions. The three pranksters with their matching @nonymous hoodies are testament to that. She spots a link to Mike Hamilton’s latest offering and despite herself clicks on it. She can’t bring herself to read the entire article but words like ‘screwball’, ‘fruitcake’, ‘whack job’ and ‘talentless’ almost leap from the screen. There is nothing of substance about Elaine Kelly, Chau Ho or Megan Burchill. It’s as if they have already been forgotten. Archer wonders if the media have learnt nothing from history. She pockets her phone, dropping it in as if it’s contaminated. Pulling up the collar of her coat, she makes her way to Charing Cross feeling like there’s a dark cloud over her head.
At the incident room almost one hour later Archer has printed off an agenda for each member of the team. They are seated around the conference table.
‘First up, DCI Pierce has some new evidence from the Greenwich Peninsula, which she’ll share with us when she arrives later. Os, what do we have on Ben Peters and Hilary Richards?’
‘Nothing on Hilary. She is still missing. We’ve interviewed her family and friends and they say it’s unlike her to just disappear. Also, Forensics combed her flat, but found nothing. As for Ben Peters, nothing much on the forensics side either from the flat or the camera. Seems the killer covered his tracks really well. Forensics suggested he might have worn disposable boots and rubber gloves, which can easily be purchased online. Regarding the Last Supper and the Hanged Man videos, like you, we are certain that Ben Peters is the subject of both. However, aside from wearing the same clothes there is nothing else to prove that Peters is the man in Hanged Man. That’s where we’re at, I’m afraid.’
‘OK, thank you, Os. Could you look again through the CCTV near his home. See if there is anything we missed.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Toze, what do we have from SOCO on Chau’s home?’
‘They are certain there was a chase, possibly from her room, through the building and down to the basement where the killer pushed the gurney to the window to climb out. As you spotted, ma’am, he entered the building by breaking in through the window. Our assumption was he then drove her out from the car park. The building is unused so there is no lighting or working cameras. Also, our door-to-door revealed pretty much nothing, so it was an easy ride for the killer. That said, SOCOs are still combing the building. They have a lot of ground to cover.’
‘Thanks, Toze. Stay close to them and let me know straightaway if anything comes up. Klara, what do you have?’
‘A few things actually. Elaine Kelly’s phone was last used by Elaine at her flat seven nights ago. CCTV shows her leaving with her son Jordan and getting into a silver Toyota Prius.’
‘An Uber?’
‘Possibly but there are no records of an Uber driver picking anyone up from the Aylesbury Estate that night.’
‘Perhaps the killer was posing as the Uber driver,’ says Quinn.
Archer nods. ‘Very likely.’
‘I’ll keep looking.’
‘It won’t be easy,’ says Os. ‘London is packed with Toyota Priuses. It’s like an invasion.’
‘What about Megan Burchill?’ asks Archer.
‘A similar story to Elaine. Last used her phone in her flat the night she disappeared. She was seen leaving it and getting into a black car. There are several black cars from that night that we are looking into. Nothing concrete yet. One thing of interest is that all three women were single, and one of them, Megan Burchill, used dating apps.’
‘That’s something we should look into. Can we get access to their accounts?’
‘I’ll get in touch with the app owners. We will need a court order.’
‘Do whatever it takes. Thanks, Klara. By the way, did the phone number from Olinski’s diary ever pop up?’
‘I’ve been checking almost every day and I’m afraid not.’
‘DS Quinn, what have you got?’
‘We released the three pranksters this morning. Neither DI Hicks nor I think there is anything that links them to the murders. They’re just opportunists.’
‘And Jason Armitage?’
‘He is still in custody. It seems he was responsible for breaking into Elaine Kelly’s flat.’
‘How is that possible?’
‘The Forensics report came in late yesterday. Armitage’s DNA is all over the place. He was searching for something. It took a while to get the truth from him but he finally admitted to writing the “I will cut you” note to Elaine. He said he broke into the flat to try to find the note. He reckoned if we found it, we’d use it to incriminate him because of his previous convictions.’
‘Do you believe him?’
Quinn shrugs. ‘Hard to say. On the one hand he has a history of violence, but on the other he is a bit of an eejit and I’d be surprised if that was an act. He did say that when he arrived at the Aylesbury Estate someone else was hurrying down the stairwell. A man wearing a hoodie and carrying a backpack. When we pressed him further on that he was able to remember that he had the smell of spray paint about him. His description of the man seems to fit the person we saw on CCTV in Alaska Street.’
‘Did he see his face?’
‘No. When Armitage heard him coming he scarpered out of sight and hid behind the bins. We searched his flat and found no evidence of spray paints, preserving chemicals or artistic tendencies. I say that, but I did come across some impressive doodles of stick men, like a six-year-old might draw.’
‘Good work. Thank you, Harry.’
Archer notices Pierce walking across the office. She enters the incident room and plops her large leather bag onto the table.
‘Good morning, ma’am,’ says Archer.
Pierce offers a half smile. ‘Where are you up to?’ she asks as she pulls off her calfskin leather gloves one finger at a time and unbelts her long dark coat.
Archer gives her a potted summary.<
br />
Pierce folds her arms and listens with her customary poker face. ‘Thank you, DI Archer, and thank you, everyone. I know you have all worked incredibly hard and have faced challenges but we need to push harder.’
Pierce hesitates before continuing, leaving what seems the longest pause.
‘The Olinskis delivered nine cabinets in total. Somewhere in London there are three more cabinets. Do everything you can to find where those cabinets could have been delivered to. There are lives at stake and the public is losing trust in us. Where are we with Lewis Faulkner?’
‘We’ve interviewed family and friends, his ex-wife too, who confirmed he was abusive. We also know he had been drinking and taking drugs. He clearly has his demons. We are putting everything into finding him, but it’s almost as if he has vanished into thin air.’
Pierce lets out a heavy sigh. ‘Do whatever it takes to find him.’
Archer blinks and waits for Pierce to reveal her new evidence, but the DCI picks up her coat and bag and turns to leave. ‘Ma’am, you said you had new evidence from the scene at the Greenwich Peninsula?’
All heads turn to look at Pierce.
‘I’m afraid not,’ she replies. ‘I’d like to speak with you privately, please.’
Archer addresses the team. ‘That’s all for now. If anyone is unsure of what is expected of them, please let me know.’
Archer follows the DCI to her office.
‘There is new evidence, however, it’s highly sensitive and will shake things up for the public and unfortunately the government. Forensics have found fingerprints on one of the cabinets. It seems the killer isn’t so thorough as he likes to think. They have been matched to Lewis Faulkner. Faulkner is now our number one suspect. I want you and Quinn to concentrate your efforts on tracking him down. I’ve issued his arrest warrant. That should be enough to get access to his apartment. Not a word to anyone else about this.’
‘I’ll need Klara to come in on this.’
Pierce nods her agreement. ‘That’ll be all, DI Archer.’
Archer leaves the DCI’s office and catches Quinn’s eye. She points towards Klara’s hub and he follows her there. She closes the door behind her and repeats Pierce’s news.
The Art of Death Page 22