For the second time that morning, Paolo shook himself awake wondering what the hell the noise was that had disturbed him. His clock wasn’t set, so what was it? It took a few moments to work out it was his phone vibrating against a glass. He’d switched off the ring tone, but left the vibrate setting on.
His head felt like someone had filled it with porridge. His brain was in there, but surrounded by so much sludge the thoughts couldn’t get in or out. Suddenly the phone became still and the room held only a blessed silence, but then the vibrations started up again, even worse this time because the phone had buzzed itself across the bedside table and was cosying up to his keys. Maybe it was Jessica. He reached out a hand and snatched it up.
“Hello,” he said.
“Paolo, that you?” Dave’s voice demanded.
“Uh, huh, what d’you want, Dave? I was sleeping.”
It was amazing how lack of sleep mirrored the way a hangover felt. Dry mouth, groggy head, shaking body.
“Sorry, but you’ve got to wake up. We’ve got another one. The car park opposite the new gay club. Cleaners found the body in a car this morning.”
Paolo was suddenly wide awake. “What is it with this killer and making sure the bodies are discovered Saturday morning? Where are you?”
“I’m at home, but I’m about to head out to the crime scene. Want me to pick you up on the way?”
“Yes, please,” said Paolo, climbing out of bed with the phone held to his ear. “By the time you get here I’ll have had time to wake myself up under a steaming hot shower.”
He switched the phone off, his mind buzzing with questions, but there was no point in speculating. He needed to get over to the crime scene. Maybe this one would point them towards something that linked the first two victims.
By the time Dave knocked at his door, Paolo had showered, dressed, swallowed a cup of instant coffee and had just finished working his way through a bowl of cornflakes.
“Come in for a moment, Dave. I intend to call CC, but didn’t want to wake her too early. I think it would be a good idea to get as many views of the crime scene and surrounding area as possible. Maybe one of us will pick up on something the others miss.”
Dave nodded. “We certainly haven’t got very far on the first two murders, have we?”
Paolo shook his head and picked up his phone, hitting speed dial for CC’s number.
“Mpft?” CC said.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Sir?” she said, and Paolo could hear she was instantly awake. “What’s up?”
He gave her the bare details he knew. “I want you to meet us at the car park. Can you call Andrea and get her to come over as well. We need all hands on this one.”
“Er, yes, sir. I’ll, er, call Andrea. Yes.”
“Do you have a problem with that?” Paolo asked.
“Oh, no, sir. No problem at all.”
Paolo could hear reticence in CC’s voice and was about to comment when he heard a woman’s voice in the background asking what the call was about. He couldn’t swear to it, because he didn’t yet know her very well, but he was fairly sure it was Andrea speaking.
Well, well, he thought. We live and learn. As long as relationships didn’t cause problems in the office, he had no issues with work colleagues getting involved outside the station. Sadly, all too often when the relationship broke down, so too did the ability to work together.
“Come on, Dave. Let’s see if there’s anything useful to find on this one.”
The car park was already taped off when they got there, but that didn’t stop onlookers from straining their necks trying to see round corners into the car park. One man was remonstrating with the uniformed officer manning the tape.
“I’m telling you to let me in. You can’t do this. I need my car. I’ll go to the press and tell them how you treat members of the public.”
The officer shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s more than my job is worth to let you in. This is a crime scene.”
“What the fuck has that got to do with me? There’s my car. Right there,” he said, pointing to a dark blue Saab. “It’s nowhere near your poxy crime scene.”
Paolo stepped forward. “What seems to be the problem, sir?”
The man whirled round. “You’re the copper who was on television yesterday. Can you please tell this idiot that I need my car? He seems to think he’s got the right to keep me from going in there.”
Paolo shrugged. “Sorry, but that’s exactly what he does have, the right to keep everyone out. We’ll be through here in about an hour. Perhaps you could come back then?”
“I don’t want to come back in an hour. I want my fucking car now. I only left it there because I’d had too much to drink to drive it home. See what happens when you obey the law? You get treated like a criminal.”
“Were you in the club across the road last night?” Paolo asked.
“What’s it to you if I was? Typical copper, picking on anyone who’s a bit different.”
Paolo sighed. “Shall we start this conversation again? Would you like to step inside the tape so that we can have a chat about whom you saw in the club last night? You might be able to help us.”
“Are you saying it was a clubber who got done in? It doesn’t surprise me. They’re a right anti-gay bunch of shits in this town and your lot don’t do anything to protect our rights.”
Paolo was beginning to feel as if he was pushing a boulder uphill. “Sir, were you or were you not in the club last night?”
“Yes. There’s no need to get narky with me.”
“Dave, nip upstairs and see if the deceased was carrying any identification with a photograph.”
“If he was in the club, he’d have an ID card with his photo on,” the man said.
“Thank you, Mr?”
“Williams. Cornwall Williams.”
Paolo’s face must have betrayed his surprise because the man laughed.
“I know, stupid, isn’t it? Apparently it’s where I was conceived. Like anyone wants to advertise where their parents did it.”
“Mr Williams, please come through. When my colleague comes down, I’d like you to have a look at the ID card, if there is one, and tell me if you remember the man from last night. Then, as long as you leave your contact details, I can’t see any reason why you can’t retrieve your car and enjoy the rest of the weekend.”
Dave reappeared with a club card ID in a plastic evidence envelope. He passed it to Paolo.
“Why’s he dressed like a spaceman? It’s not contagious up there, is it?”
“No, Mr Williams, that’s standard wear so that we don’t contaminate the crime scene. Now, did you see this man?” he asked, holding out the ID card.
“Yeah, I remember him. He was only in the club a short time, but instead of dancing or drinking, he wandered around as if he was searching for someone. I don’t mean like he was looking to get picked up. It was more as if he was searching for a particular person.”
“What made you notice him?” Paolo asked.
“Well, you can see he’s an oldie. Older than me and my mates, anyway. He stood out a bit. The club caters for my age group mainly. Early twenties. Anyway, as I say, he didn’t stay long.”
“Did he leave with anyone?”
“I don’t think so. I wasn’t really watching him and if he hadn’t been creeping around looking in all the corners of the room, I probably wouldn’t have noticed him at all. Oh, hang on. I’ve just remembered. He must have got a phone call because he stood in the middle of the dance floor like a prize pillock and people had to dance round him, but I don’t know if he left straight after that. I don’t think I saw him again.”
“Thank you, Mr Williams. You’ve been most helpful. Give your name, address, phone numbers and email to the constable and then you can go. With your car,” Paolo added when he saw the belligerent look return to the man’s face.
“Let’s go upstairs, Dave. CC and Andrea can find us when they arrive.
Who’s on duty? Dr Royston?”
“No, sir. It’s Chris. Apparently Dr Royston wasn’t answering her phone. Chris isn’t too charmed. He’s not supposed to be on call this weekend.”
Paolo shrugged and slipped the ID card into his pocket. “Barbara covers for him far more often than she should. So what if he’s had to give up a Saturday to come in. He’ll live, which is more than we can say about our victim. Let’s see what Chris can tell us.”
They walked up to level four and Paolo donned protective coveralls, to match those Dave was wearing, before stepping out into the car parking area. There were already evidence markers in place on the concrete floor and the forensic photographer was busy taking image after image.
Paolo waited until he was sure the man didn’t want to cross their path and then went to a parked car, where the pathologist was studying the body.
“Hi, Chris, what can you tell us?”
“Not very much at the moment, except that he wasn’t in the car when he was injected.”
“How can you tell?” Paolo asked.
“Point of entry of the needle,” Chris said. “The serum—”
“Insulin?”
Chris frowned. “Too soon to tell. The serum was injected here, on the outer right thigh, where the thigh is almost touching the seat. The angle is impossible if he was sitting here. He would need to be standing up for anyone to inject at that precise point.”
“Okay, so we need to find where the attack took place.”
For the first time, Chris smiled. “I can show you where I think it happened,” he said. “Come with me.”
Paolo and Dave followed him to the far side of the floor where a black BMW was parked.
“I think this might be the spot. We found a syringe under the car. I’d be amazed if it wasn’t the murder weapon. Also, I’d be willing to bet my house that those fingerprints on the car’s door belong to the killer.”
Paolo thought he was probably right, but until they had someone to test the prints against, they weren’t as helpful as they could have been.
“I take the syringe is already bagged for evidence?”
Chris nodded. “And the envelope from the dashboard. Same as the first two, only this one says three out of six. Anyway, I’m finished here. We’ll be taking the body away now.”
“Any idea when the autopsy will be? Will you be doing it?”
“To be honest with you, I have no idea on either count. Dr Royston needs to get her act together. I don’t know when she’s coming in half the time these days. I shouldn’t have been on call this weekend. I had plans for today.”
Paolo watched as he stomped back to the victim’s body.
“Not a happy camper, that one,” Dave said.
“No,” Paolo agreed, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how out of character it was of Barbara to leave her assistant to cover for her. She might rip his head off, but he decided to call in at her apartment later. Something was definitely out of kilter with her and he had a strong feeling she needed help to get through it, whatever ‘it’ might be.
At that moment CC and Andrea came through the level entrance. Paolo shook off thoughts of helping his friend. Right now he had a crime scene to manage. He waited for the two women to walk over.
“CC, I want you and Andrea to track down the club’s owner and get the names and addresses of his bouncers. The victim’s name was Peter Bishop and we have a witness who saw him in the club last night. Call on the bouncers. See if you can establish time of arrival and departure. Did they see him with anyone? You know the questions. Here, take his club membership ID card with you,” he said, handing over the evidence bag.
“Dave, you come with me.”
Paolo led the way to where a young policeman was questioning an older man. Judging by the cart next to them, the older man was the cleaner who’d found the body.
“Dave, you talk to the constable to bring us up to speed on what he’s found out so far. I’ll have a chat with the witness.”
Paolo tapped the uniformed officer on the shoulder and signalled for him to go with Dave, then turned to the older man.
“Good morning. I’m Detective Inspector Paolo Storey, in charge of this investigation. I know you’ve already told the constable everything, but would you mind going through it again with me?”
“Is good.”
“Thank you,” Paolo said. “Let’s start with your name. I can hear from your accent you’re not originally from around here, so you might need to spell it out for me.”
“I Polish. Name is hard. You give paper. I put.”
Paolo handed over his pad. AMBROZIJ MACIEJEWSKI the man wrote out in capital letters.
“Thank you, Mr Maciej…Maciej…”
“Is Maciejewski. Is hard for you.”
“It is, sir. Thank you. Now, can you tell me what you found here this morning?”
“I come early always Saturday. I begin up,” he said, pointing skywards, “and I end down.” He swept his arm as if encompassing the world, ending by pointing at the floor.
“You start on the highest level and work your way down through the floors?”
“Tak,” he said, nodding.
“What happened when you reached this floor?”
“I broom. See man in car. Jak to powiedzieć? Is not let.”
“It’s not allowed?”
“Tak! Is not allowed for sleep in car. I…” the man mimed tapping on the car window, “but he no wake. I do more loud. He no wake. I pomyśleć he dead. I call policja.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Paolo continued to question the man, but it quickly became clear he hadn’t seen anything or anyone before he found the body. Having got the man’s address and phone numbers, he allowed him to go home.
“I no do rest?”
Paolo shook his head. “Not today.”
“I no paid if no do rest. Boss he say no do, no pay.”
“Don’t worry about your boss. I’ll explain to him why you weren’t able to finish cleaning. You will get paid for today. I guarantee it.”
The cleaner went to push his cart away, but Paolo stopped him.
“Sorry, sir. You’ll have to leave that here for the time being. We’ll make sure it gets put back wherever it needs to go.”
He watched as the man made his way towards the stairs, thinking how hard life must be for anyone wanting to make a living in a country where they couldn’t communicate in the official language. That’s what it must have been like for his great-great-grandfather when he first came over from Naples in 1892. Funny, he’d never thought about it like that before. Did his Italian forebear arrive with any knowledge of English? Probably not. He forced thoughts of his ancestors out of his mind, but thinking of his Italian roots brought up memories of last night’s conversation with Jessica.
Dave came back, effectively shutting off Paolo’s uncomfortable thoughts. Paolo sighed with relief. That road was still too painful to travel easily.
“What have you got, Dave?”
“The vic’s name we already know, but his car reg checks out with a Peter Bishop living here in Bradchester. I’ve got the address and phone number. I’ve tried it, but just get the answering machine.”
“Okay, we’ll leave forensics to finish up here and pay a visit to his home. Have you got his house keys?”
In answer, Dave held up a bunch of keys. “Found under the car. House, car and various others.”
“We can work through the rest once we know more about him. You get another chance to play with your Sat Nav.”
“I don’t know why you don’t like them. Beats not knowing where you are all the time.”
They walked over to the stairwell. Just before putting his foot on the top step, Paolo turned and grinned. “I always know where I am, I just don’t always know how to get to where I’m going. By the way, have you arranged for us to collect the CCTV footage?”
“Yes, sir. It’s not held on the premises. It’s covered by a security firm who have contr
acts with all the city car parks. I’ve spoken to their office and it’s ready for collection.”
“Great, we’ll stop off there on the way to Peter Bishop’s place.”
Half an hour later they pulled up outside a well-cared for apartment block in Westside, one of the newer developments in Bradchester.
“Have you noticed, all three of our victims lived in nice areas?” Dave said as he locked the car.
Paolo nodded. “We don’t know yet what Peter Bishop did for a living, but I’m willing to bet it was in a professional capacity and earned him a good living. I’ve got a feeling the missing link in this case is to do with what the victims did, rather than who they were.”
“What makes you think that, sir?”
Paolo shrugged. “Could be intuition, could be desperation, just wanting to see a link where none exists. I’m baffled and I don’t like it.”
Dave touched the fob to the security sensor and the door latch sprang open. They walked into a spacious central lobby smelling faintly of lavender. Lush greenery grew from planters along one wall facing gleaming lift doors on the opposite side.
Paolo contrasted this entrance with that of the tower block where he and Dave visited Conrad Stormont’s ex-wife. It could have been used in a television documentary showing the true divisions in society. Coming home to a place like this would make anyone want to care for their environment. Living in the council block would have exactly the opposite effect.
“Which of the flats is his?” he asked.
“Number 23. Lift or stairs?”
“Lift,” Paolo said. “We’ve climbed enough stairs recently. Let’s give our legs a rest.”
The lift opened onto a long corridor and Paolo couldn’t help but make another comparison. There was no litter to step over. Instead, the parquet corridor flooring shone with cleanliness.
“Do you ever feel life isn’t fair to those on the bottom rung of society?” Paolo asked as Dave tried various keys in the lock before the door swung open.
Call It Pretending (#3 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 12