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Dr Samantha Willerby Box Set

Page 74

by A J Waines


  Later that day, Katarina turned up at Dodd & Son Funeral Directors. She knew she was making a scene, demanding to see his body, but they weren’t helping. They tried to fob her off, but she barged past the receptionist, looking for her husband. She tried every door, shaking off Henry Dodd, the man in charge. Someone called the police, but Dodd cancelled the call-out. He didn’t want trouble.

  By then, she’d stopped shrieking and was having a bit of a breakdown. They let her sit in the Chapel of Rest with a cup of sweet tea. They soothed her, told her how sorry they were. They said she could see him, but explained he wasn’t ready yet. Said she should come back tomorrow and see her husband after he had been properly prepared.

  Finally she left, but not for long. She didn’t trust them. She was beside herself with distress and suspicion. Grief had done that to her, made her desperate. What if they didn’t wait for her tomorrow? What if they shut him inside the coffin and screwed down the lid before she had the chance to see him? Anything could happen tomorrow – she needed to see him tonight.

  Once it got dark, she went back. She prowled around the front entrance, but it was securely locked up. Of course it was – what was she thinking? She took a nearby side street that led round the back, coming up against tall wooden gates and a brick wall peppered with cut glass. A secure barrier under lock and key blocked her way. Loitering helplessly, she wondered how she could possibly get in. She jiggled the padlock in despair and that’s when her prayers were answered. It slid open in her hands.

  Chapter 28

  Thursday, July 12 – Day Seven

  My first thought when I woke the next morning was one of abject failure. The seven days were up and Aiden was as far from talking as I was from learning to fly. More to the point, he hadn’t produced any drawings that could be taken seriously in terms of identifying the killer. Instead, we had drawings of a woman who was missing and a decorative bird made of wire that I couldn’t decipher. Now, hanging over me, was the knowledge that he knew Pippa and was due to meet her the day after she disappeared. Furthermore, I was feeling guilty that I hadn’t mentioned this to the police.

  Before I took a shower I had a look at the list Naomi had given me of Pippa’s interviews. She’d carried out over twenty for The Bulletin since January. Some were with names I recognised; actors, Simon Callow and Zoe Wanamaker, artist Tracey Emin. Others were new film directors, young playwrights and up-and-coming artists, like Aiden.

  Kora Washington’s name wasn’t on the list, but I hadn’t expected it to be; she wasn’t in Aiden’s league. I read through all the names, but nothing flashed at me with any relevance to the case. I folded it up again, not even sure why I’d asked Naomi for it in the first place.

  I was about to go into the bathroom when I received a stilted call from DI Karen Foxton, informing me I was needed at the station. Her sombre tone gave me a bad feeling.

  I got there just as officers were filing into the meeting room. I grabbed the chair beside Jeremy. He’d gone down in my estimation, not only for suggesting Aiden looked at the crime scene photos, but also for the manhandled lunch, yet he was still the closest person I had to calling ‘a colleague’ on this case. He passed me the plate of digestives, looking contrite, but I was too nervous to eat anything. Edwin Hall, Joanne Hoyland and DI Foxton pulled up their chairs around the central table. Neither Keith Wilde nor Elsa Claussen were there, a saving grace that allowed my blood pressure to drop a fraction.

  ‘Just a general round-up,’ said Jeremy, opening his file. Even more relief. Perhaps I’d been too paranoid, assuming the police knew I was withholding key information. ‘As you all know, Kora Washington had traces of a strong laxative in her system when she was first admitted to ICU. By all accounts, it was definitely not the kind of substance she would have taken voluntarily. Sponge, her live-in partner, insisted that he’d never known her to need a laxative and would only ever have taken a herbal remedy if required.’

  ‘So we’re looking for someone who spiked her food that day?’ I suggested.

  ‘It’s looking that way. If Kora was dashing backwards and forwards to the bathroom, it would have given the killer the chance to get hold of her phone to fob off Mr Kent when he turned up in the car park.’

  ‘Anything else on him?’ Edwin asked.

  ‘There was no CCTV at the shop where Murray Kent said he bought groceries but, lo and behold, the sales assistant actually remembers him. A packet of crisps split open at the checkout, so Kent stuck in his mind. The time on the till slip was nine thirty, which is of course when Kora was on the towpath.’

  ‘So, Murray Kent has an alibi,’ I muttered, mainly to myself.

  ‘And tyre tracks behind the fence don’t match his van,’ added Jeremy.

  ‘Moving on… Simon Schiffer, the director of the Art Project, employs several cleaners on a duty rota,’ said Karen. The name rang a bell; he was Miranda’s personal tutor at CCAP and she often talked about him. ‘I spoke to the cleaner on duty that night, Sue Reed. She said she thought Lou Tennison, the caretaker, and Kora were the only ones there when she left just after nine. Sue didn’t see or hear anyone else.’

  Jeremy raised his voice. ‘Someone must have seen Murray’s van come into the CCAP car park and used Kora’s phone to pretend to be the caretaker and send him packing.’

  ‘Did Murray say it was a male or female voice on the phone?’ I asked.

  ‘Male,’ said Karen.

  ‘One more thing,’ said Karen. ‘Lou, the caretaker, doesn’t drive. He always gets to and from CCAP on foot. We’ve checked and he’s never owned a car and DVLA confirm he has no licence. There’s no way he could have got to the boat to set up the wire in time, without transport.’

  It was a complete conundrum. On the day Kora was targeted, everything seemed to have started with a strong laxative being given to her without her knowledge; although we couldn’t know for certain that she didn’t take it herself. Murray Kent said he had a call from ‘the caretaker’ telling him Kora had left in a taxi. Lou, the caretaker, said he hadn’t used Kora’s phone to call anyone. It was all he-said-she-said stuff, a jumbled series of statements that didn’t fit together. A Rubik’s cube.

  I was glad I wasn’t a detective. So much seemed to depend on personal accounts of who was seen, who said what, and what time it was. Trying to corroborate all the reports must be a logistical nightmare, especially when there was someone at the root of it who’d staged a macabre sleight of hand. It occurred to me that we were being presented with what the killer wanted us to see, not with what had actually happened. How the police were ever going to cut to the truth was beyond me.

  I had no time to contemplate the matter further as the door swung open and Elsa Claussen stormed in.

  ‘Listen up,’ she said, clapping her hands together just like my mother used to do when I was little. ‘We need to make some decisions.’ She rounded on me. ‘What progress have you made with Mr Blake? How close are you to getting a good sketch of the killer? Is he talking?’

  ‘Not there yet, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Right. Well, we haven’t got time to wait weeks for him to recover. I’m taking you off the case. It’s taking too long.’

  I was stunned. ‘What? You’re giving up on him?’

  ‘If you have nothing to show, it’s over.’

  Edwin Hall’s chair squeaked as he leant forward, making a sound that could have been mistaken for an objection. She shot him a glare.

  ‘We’re going to focus all our efforts on other lines of enquiry,’ she declared.

  ‘What lines?’ I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Especially not in such a snarky tone.

  Claussen took two paces forward, then one back. She didn’t have an answer.

  ‘Thank you for your help and all that,’ she said, ‘but, it was a mistake to expect anything from this… artist guy. Mr Blake is obviously mentally unstable.’ She gave me a plastic smile. ‘If someone could show Dr Willerby out, then–’

  ‘He’s good,’ I bl
eated. ‘If anyone can put together an accurate likeness of the killer, Aiden can.’

  ‘It’s a big if though, isn’t it?’ Her hands were on her hips, reminding me of my mother, again. ‘It’s over. The police will handle him from now on.’

  Great. As a reward for stepping in and giving up my holiday, the Ice Queen was ejecting me with the flick of her wrist. Aside from reeling from the affront, I was in turmoil. I couldn’t abandon Aiden now. Not when he was in such a vulnerable state and had started to trust me. This wasn’t some hit-and-miss experiment. You can’t start intensive treatment then disappear halfway through.

  Karen was on her feet, her arm out, indicating the door. ‘It would be medically detrimental to the patient,’ I said, taking tiny steps towards her, ‘to just leave him in the lurch, like this.’ I swung round and settled my gaze on Jeremy, waiting for him to speak up on my behalf. He returned my stare for a fraction of a second, then dropped his eyes.

  ‘Well – get him to a psychiatric ward, then – let them sort him out,’ snapped Claussen.

  Just when I thought matters could get no worse, Spenser Ndibi charged inside the door almost knocking me over. He looked grave and headed straight for Jeremy. He stooped down to whisper in his ear and an icy anticipation gripped the entire room.

  ‘Very bad news, everyone,’ announced Jeremy, looking shaken. He sighed heavily. ‘We have another body.’ He turned to Ndibi. ‘It could be linked. Give them the details, constable.’

  Spenser Ndibi shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ‘A body of an, as yet, unidentified woman has been found in undergrowth about three hundred yards from the spot Kora Washington was killed, by the steps at Medford Bridge. The body was found this morning and had been there all night.’

  Everyone seemed to have forgotten I was supposed to have left. Karen hurried back to her seat, so I surreptitiously slunk back to mine. More details were exchanged, notes taken and fresh decisions were made, but I lost track. I was still struggling to believe everything I’d heard in the past ten minutes.

  Another woman dead.

  I didn’t remember the meeting breaking up. I was outside in the car park, wandering towards the main road moments later, my head spinning.

  There was a more immediate concern, however. The DCS had made the decision that I should abandon Aiden, but I’d still been fighting his corner when PC Ndibi walked in. Aiden’s situation had now been swamped under the dreadful news of another body on the same stretch of towpath, but it still had to be addressed.

  I walked to the Tube, then changed my mind about heading underground and rang Miranda.

  I held my breath until she answered, then let it go with relief. At least she was safe.

  ‘I don’t want to row,’ I said plaintively. ‘I need a shoulder. Any chance it could be yours?’

  ‘What time is it?’ she whispered, without hostility.

  ‘Nearly eleven. Coffee time.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Just outside Camden Tube.’

  ‘Limo’s on the high street,’ she muttered through a yawn. ‘Half an hour.’

  I knew Miranda’s half an hour would be nearer twice that, but I didn’t mind. I walked along the high street, overshooting the café, carrying on to the canal at Camden Lock. There was a police jeep parked on the grass. Apart from that, you wouldn’t know anything untoward had happened only a short distance upstream.

  I walked down the ramp, through the market area to where it was quieter and leant on the railings watching the water. I mulled over the discovery of a second body; found so close to where Kora had been attacked. A week after the first he’d struck again. It was as though the killer knew I had a time limit and was making some kind of point. Was it another tripwire? Was the victim on her bike?

  A pigeon hobbled up to a pile of discarded crumbs by my feet. A length of cord had been caught around its legs and it was taking wobbly steps, one foot a pink disfigured ball.

  I wanted to cry.

  I should never have accepted this impossible assignment. I’d waded knee-deep into a quagmire, unprepared, unfamiliar with the world of crime and police investigations. Furthermore, I’d given the situation my all and failed to come up with the goods in time. If only I’d got Aiden to draw the right picture. Found a way to get him talking. Another woman had been killed. And it was all my fault.

  Chapter 29

  Miranda swanned into the café wearing a short suede miniskirt and tank top, a long scarf floating from her neck. Her hippy appearance always made her look ten years younger than me. I felt a sting of jealousy. This was nothing new. She didn’t carry any burden of responsibility on her face like most adults do. In fact, in most ways she still acted like a teenager; self-centred, impulsive, full of passion and rebellion. At times like this, I wished I possessed more of her wild, fighting spirit.

  Her scarf made me think again about the white one made by Aiden that had been wrapped around Kora’s neck when she was knocked off her bike. The police must have come to a complete dead end on that lead.

  I bought Miranda a hot chocolate and we headed outside, taking a seat in the smallest courtyard you could ever imagine. There was one rickety table and three folding chairs around it. Piles of gnomes sat alongside a miniature golden Buddha on a tray-sized patch of grass and tinkling bells on ribbons hung from nails in the wall. I expected someone dressed as a wizard to squeeze through the back fence any second.

  ‘It’s called a dreamcatcher,’ said Miranda, referring to the small hoop covered in netting and feathers that hung from the back door, batting around in the breeze.

  I nodded, not really interested. ‘We were so close,’ I said, showing her the small gap between my thumb and index finger. ‘Aiden was communicating… and he was drawing, using the sand tray and making little recognisable shapes.’

  ‘Had he started talking?’

  I scrunched up my nose. ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘Yeah, well, he never asked for therapy. Let the police deal with him.’

  The air was rich with a pungent smell of Indian incense. So much so that even my coffee began to taste of it.

  ‘I can’t leave him in the lurch,’ I told her. ‘He’s scared; he wanted me on the boat with him. He’s vulnerable. Besides, I have a professional duty to follow this through.’

  ‘I thought it was only supposed to be for a week.’ She licked the chocolate froth from her lips, slowly and sensually. ‘Are you hooked on this guy?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. He’s nineteen, for goodness sake. He could be my son.’

  She shrugged as if my argument held no weight whatsoever.

  ‘In any case, what about me? I can’t go back to my normal life at the hospital. Not with this going on.’

  I slammed my cup into the saucer with a clatter. I wasn’t ready to come back down to earth. Not yet.

  ‘Have some time off, instead,’ Miranda insisted. ‘Get on a plane. Maybe you could salvage some of the holiday.’

  Miranda’s answers to problems were always 180 degrees away from mine. Largely driven by hedonism.

  ‘I wouldn’t be able to relax,’ I said. I didn’t tell her that being with Aiden filled a vacuum, that his canal boat had become the remote getaway I was supposed to have escaped to. I couldn’t leave yet. ‘Besides, they’ve discovered another body, just near where Kora was found.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ she brought her hands to her mouth. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘They don’t know yet. Another woman. They only discovered her this morning. You mustn’t say anything.’

  ‘Why haven’t they nailed the bastard? Surely by now they’ve got something to go on?’

  I shouldn’t have said a word. The entire case was confidential, but in the last few hours my allegiance to the police had been crushed to dust. I told Miranda about Kora leaving CCAP on her bike, about Murray Kent and the late arrangement to meet, and the caretaker who said he didn’t make the call.

  ‘So, it was him? This Murray guy?’

  �
��No, apparently not. He has an alibi and other evidence doesn’t match up.’

  Before I knew it, I was telling her about Pippa and how Aiden was due to meet her the night after she went missing.

  ‘Are you sure you’re safe with this guy?’

  ‘Absolutely. He can’t have had anything to do with Kora’s attack.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I just know it. He’s too sensitive. Logistically, he couldn’t have killed Kora.’

  I hesitated, suddenly not convinced by that last bit. I couldn’t remember the exact reasons the police had given to exonerate Aiden. In fact, had they fully discounted him as a suspect? ‘In any case, he was miles away with me at Limehouse last night when the second woman was killed.’

  Miranda pulled a face that showed she wasn’t convinced.

  ‘Isn’t it hard, staying with someone who doesn’t say a word?’ asked Miranda. ‘Don’t you end up talking to yourself?’

  The question seemed ironic given Miranda’s history of hearing random voices inside her own head. Memories flooded into my mind of times when they’d instructed her, cajoled her, into destroying things and putting herself in danger.

  ‘You get used to it,’ I said.

  ‘And what about having to eat vegetarian all the time? Don’t rubbery halloumi sandwiches make you retch after a while?’ She pulled a face. ‘I assume you’re sneaking bacon sarnies into your cabin.’

  I shook my head. ‘Of course not – that’s the least of my worries. I’m getting a taste for veggie, actually, apart from the halloumi, that is – I’ve never liked it.’

  ‘Yuck, nor me.’

  ‘Cooking without meat means you have to be more creative with flavours. It’s refreshing actually.’

 

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