Through a Glass Darkly (9781301753000)

by Ellis, Tim

  So much for looking like a professional. Now, she resembled a homeless person grubbing in waste bins rather than a barrister in the making. She hobbled to the car and promised herself that she’d never again get caught out like that.

  Is that the type of situation social workers had to deal with? Although she’d had a bad experience with them herself, in this instance she felt sorry for them. No wonder women and children lived in fear of their lives. The law didn’t seem to be very effective in protecting these vulnerable people.

  She set off back towards the office. When she reached the junction at the end of the road she sat there and cried. It wasn’t until she heard the sound of a horn beeping insistently behind her that she continued on with her journey. If she felt like this, God knows how Leanne Pettigrew must be feeling. Yes, she had to get Leanne and the baby away from him – and the sooner, the better.

  ***

  It didn’t take him long to navigate his way through passport control and collect the only two bags left on the luggage carousel.

  As he exited through customs he saw a dark-haired attractive young woman in a British uniform holding up a piece of cardboard with “DI Parrish” written on it.

  He stopped in front of her. ‘Only one “R”,’ he said.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Parish only has one “R”.’

  She laughed showing perfect white teeth. ‘We had a debate about it in the mess. I said one, but I was outvoted.’

  He shook her hand and a whiff of perfume wafted up his nose. ‘Jed Parish.’

  She looked over his shoulder as she shook his hand. ‘Lieutenant Vera Palmer. I thought there was meant to be two of you.’

  ‘You thought right. My partner fell down the steps of the plane. She’s probably broken her ankle. An ambulance took her to Larnaca Old General Hospital – that’s where we’ve got to go now.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll need to make a phone call to let HQ know where we’ll be. Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee while I make the call.’

  They walked to a cafe. She bought him a coffee and then disappeared to make the phone call.

  ‘There, they know where we are now.’

  ‘Ready when you are then,’ he said standing up.

  She made a move to take one of his two bags. ‘Do you want me to . . . ?’

  He tightened his grip on the handles. ‘Call me a dinosaur, but I wouldn’t dream of letting you carry one of my bags.’

  Lt Palmer smiled. ‘A lot of the older officers and soldiers are dinosaurs as well. They were brought up to believe that women are the weaker sex.’

  ‘I’m not going to have that discussion with you.’

  She started to walk towards the main doors and said over her shoulder. ‘Come on then. You don’t mind if I drive, do you?’

  ‘Just so long as you’re not map reading. Everybody knows that women have no sense of direction.’

  ‘What type of dinosaur are you?’

  ‘The type that’s on the verge of extinction.’

  ‘That’s for sure.’

  He lifted the bags into the back of the open-topped Land Rover and slid into the front seat next to Palmer as she crunched it into gear and set off.

  ‘Is the hospital far?’

  ‘No. About fifteen minutes.’

  ‘What about afterwards?’

  ‘I’ve been told to drive you to the Four Seasons Hotel in Limassol. They must like you because it’s a five star hotel. You have two rooms booked. Tomorrow, a driver will come and collect you at nine o’clock and take you to see the Deputy Commander, Air Commodore Peter Beckett in Episkopi.’

  ‘You’re not going to be driving me around then?’

  ‘I’m a Lieutenant not a driver, Sir.’

  ‘And yet, here you are driving.’

  ‘You’re a visiting dignitary. It seemed appropriate to send an officer to meet you and take you to your hotel.’

  ‘Do you know anything about the murder?’

  ‘Only what I’ve read in the local English paper.’

  ‘Which is?’

  She glanced sideways at him. ‘I don’t know if I should . . .’

  ‘I won’t tell anybody.’

  ‘You look reasonably trustworthy.’

  ‘I’m flattered.’

  ‘Major Thomas Durrell was arrested on Sunday 8th April by the Cypriot Police. They say he raped and murdered a local woman by the name of Caterina Makhairas. He’s also implicated in the disappearance of three other women who they haven’t yet found: Kitty West – an American tourist; Feri Leonidas – another Cypriot woman; and Janie Gayle – a British tourist from Cornwall.’

  ‘Do the papers say what evidence the local police have?’

  ‘No, but I’m sure they’ll tell you tomorrow.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I think you do. Just between you and I.’

  ‘There’s talk in the mess.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Some of the officers know him.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘They say he’s a bit strange.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Keeps himself to himself.’

  ‘That’s hardly a crime.’

  ‘There’s a rumour.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘That he raped one of the female officers.’

  ‘And she didn’t report it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I think you can imagine why not. Besides her career being ruined, it would also have been a Lieutenant’s word against a Major’s. The Army have come a long way in a short time, but when all is said and done it’s still an old boys’ club.’

  ‘Much the same as the police?’

  ‘I’m not qualified to comment.’

  She pulled into the hospital car park. ‘I’ll stay here.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Unless you want to lug your bags through the hospital.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘So, I’ll wait here for you.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll try not to be long.’

  ‘The one thing we learn real quick in the Army is how to wait. If it was an Olympic sport, I’d be in the British team competing in Brazil.’

  ‘I’ll just find out what’s happening to her and then I’ll come right out.’

  Richards had been taken to the X-ray department. He had to wait in the waiting room for twenty minutes until she came back.

  As soon as she saw him she burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry for being such a horrible person, Sir.’

  ‘So you should be.’

  ‘You’re not going to leave me here, are you?’

  ‘I’d be within my rights.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What did the doctors say?’

  Her bottom lip quivered. ‘Whatever they said, they said it in an alien language.’

  ‘Wait here.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  He found a nurse who spoke English and found out what they were doing with Richards.

  ‘The prognosis isn’t good,’ he said when he went back to her.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The nurse said that your ankle isn’t broken, but your personality needs a course of electric shock treatment.’

  ‘You’re a pig.’

  ‘You’ve torn your ligaments.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means that they’re releasing you into my custody on crutches. They can’t do anything with the ankle because it’s so swollen, and you’re to rest it and keep it elevated for the next six weeks.’

  ‘Six weeks!’

  ‘You should be thankful it’s not broken.’

  ‘Oh, I am. Look! I’m all bruised where I slid down those flippin’ steps.’ She showed him her right arm and the back of her right leg. ‘I look like I’ve done ten rounds with . . . Who would I have done ten roun
ds with?’

  ‘A gorilla?’

  ‘Yeah, one of those. What about the investigation?’

  ‘There’ll be no investigation for you.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘You’re no good to me as you are, and I haven’t got time to babysit you. You’ll be on the next plane back to the UK, and don’t think you’ll be going to that wedding either.’

  ‘But . . .’

  Two nurses appeared. One thrust a pair of crutches at Richards. The other handed Parish a box of drugs. ‘For the pain,’ she said. ‘Two every four hours if needed.’

  They helped Richards stand, showed her how to use the crutches and pointed her towards the door.

  He told Richards to wait at the entrance while he went to get Lieutenant Palmer to drive round and pick her up.

  They eventually decided that the front seat would be a problem, so arranged the back of the Land Rover to enable Richards to sit up with her leg raised. Then they set off towards the Four Seasons Hotel in Limassol.

  ‘You’re short of a partner now, aren’t you?’ Lt Palmer said into the wind.

  ‘If the truth be told, I have been for a while.’

  ‘I heard that,’ came from behind them.

  ‘You were meant to.’

  Chapter Three

  They arrived at Woodford Green at ten past ten and parked up. The forensic tent had been positioned around the dump site at the bus stop. A considerable crowd had formed and the media trolls were out in full force.

  Bodies were usually hidden, or disposed of in out-of-the-way places, but this was on a main thoroughfare – a bus stop! The killer was making a statement and wanted the body found quickly.

  Questions were shouted at him as he made his way through the crowds.

  He ignored them, and it was him ignoring them. Usually, he left the responsibility of ignoring the press to Xena, but this time – it was his responsibility.

  The palms of his hands were clammy and his throat was as dry as the Kalahari dessert.

  ‘Got any water?’ he asked Koll.

  ‘No. Are you nervous?’

  ‘Do I look nervous?’

  ‘Yes.’

  They put on forensic suits and the other paraphernalia so as not to contaminate the crime scene with their bodily detritus.

  Di Heffernan and Doc Paine were in attendance. A team of forensic officers were scurrying round like locusts picking the site clean. The flash from a camera ricocheted off the walls of the tent and a camcorder was pointed in their direction as they ducked through the flap – and action!

  Stick introduced Koll as his interim partner.

  ‘Congratulations on the promotion, DS Gilbert,’ Di Heffernan said. ‘I was sorry to hear about DS Blake.’

  ‘She’s been promoted as well.’

  ‘Lucifer must be having a laugh at our expense.’

  ‘You’re not really sorry about DI Blake at all, are you?’

  ‘Regardless of how I feel about her, I still wouldn’t wish what’s happened to her on anybody. I hope she gets well soon.’

  ‘Thanks. The Chief told me earlier that she came out of the coma this morning. I’ll be going to the hospital to see her later. I’ll let her know you were asking after her.’

  ‘Tell her the get well card is in the post, and I would have sent her a box of Anglesey Farmhouse Chocolates if I hadn’t eaten them all myself.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Di.’

  ‘Shame.’

  ‘So, what have we got?’

  ‘A disgusting jumble of body parts.’ She passed Stick an evidence bag with the contents of a wallet inside. ‘You’re lucky, the killer has left you the victim’s identity.’

  Stick moved the items about in the bag with his fingers and thumbs. There were a number of credit cards, forty-five pounds in notes, a piece of paper with a shopping list written on it in pencil, a photocard driving licence, a University of Essex ID card, an old receipt from an Italian restaurant for seventy-three pounds, an NHS card with a patient number on it and a fading colour photograph of a plain-looking woman in her mid-twenties. On the back of the picture was the name Shirley Bridges – June, 1983. ‘His name is Mathew Pitt . . .’

  Koll wrote the two names down in her notebook.

  ‘. . . and he lived alone at 12 Old Ferry Road, Wivenhoe in Colchester CO7 9NM. He was fifty-seven years of age and worked as a senior administrator at the University of Essex Medical School.’ Stick handed the evidence bag back to Di Heffernan.

  Doc Paine stood up. ‘Which is interesting, because someone has been performing surgical procedures on him.’

  ‘The Chief said there was, “A body of sorts”,’ Koll said. ‘What did he mean by that?’

  Doc Paine indicated the two plastic bags. ‘Take a look for yourself.’

  Both Koll and Stick edged forward.

  Koll peered into the open bags. ‘I can see an arm and . . .’ She used her finger to count. ‘One, two, three . . . feet.’

  Stick shook his head. ‘Why are there three feet, Doc? Are there two bodies in the bags?’

  ‘Congratulations on your promotion by the way, DS Gilbert.’

  ‘Thanks, Doc.’

  ‘Look, until I get these two bags back to the mortuary and examine their contents, there’s not a lot I can tell you. I’d say time of death . . . of the majority of the body parts, which I’m assuming is Mr Pitt, was within the last twenty-four hours, and that a number of surgical procedures were carried out on him prior to his death. What he died of . . . Well, that’s anybody’s guess at the moment.’

  ‘It wasn’t suicide or natural causes?’ Stick asked.

  ‘Hmmm, let me think.’

  Koll said, ‘Was he tortured?’

  Doc Paine shrugged. ‘It depends on your definition of torture.’

  ‘Okay,’ Stick said. ‘Well, I suppose that will have to do for now. We’ll take a trip to the University of Essex and see if they’ve been using Mr Pitt as an experimental subject.’

  ‘Somebody has, that’s for sure,’ Doc Paine said, signalling forensic officers to put the two bags into large plastic containers in preparation for transportation to King George Hospital.

  ‘What about the post mortem?’

  ‘I’ll start it as soon as I get back. You say you’re going to see DI Blake later?

  ‘Yes, on my way home.’

  ‘Well, if you call in and see me before that – say about five o’clock – I should be able to tell you a lot more about what Mr Pitt et al. have been subjected to.’

  ‘Thanks, Doc.’

  Koll shuffled her feet. ‘We’re not going near Shrub End, are we?’

  ‘You’d know better than me. Is Shrub End near the university?’

  ‘Not far away.’

  ‘Maybe you should go back to Hoddesdon then.’

  ‘No, I’ll be all right. There won’t be anyone from Shrub End station at the university. I’m being paranoid.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘Yes. I’m fine.’

  Outside, as Stick was half-in and half-out of the paper suit, his phone vibrated in his trouser pocket and he nearly fell over trying to retrieve it.

  ‘DC Gilbert?’

  ‘You don’t want to be a Sergeant anymore?’ the Chief said.

  ‘Oh yes, DS Gilbert. Sorry, Sir. I still haven’t got used to it.’

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘At the bus stop in Woodford Green. We were just leaving to go to the University of Essex in Wivenhoe.’

  ‘I’m glad I caught you then. I’ve just had a disturbing conversation with an Inspector Singh from traffic.’

  ‘Traffic?’

  ‘They were called to an accident on the A406 involving three cars and found that the driver of the lead car had been shot with a high-powered rifle.’

  ‘Shot?’

  ‘You’re doing it again, Gilbert.’

  ‘Sorry, Sir.’

  ‘I want you to get over there, talk to Inspector Singh and see what
he’s got.’

  ‘Two cases, Chief?’

  ‘Is that a problem, Gilbert? A DS should be able to multitask.’

  ‘Problem? No, no problem, Sir.’

  ‘Good. I’ll see you at eight-thirty tomorrow morning.’

  The call ended.

  ‘We have two cases?’ Koll said.

  ‘So it would seem.’

  ‘A shooting?’

  ‘Yes. On the A406. It’s nearly on our way.’

  ***

  Cookie’s finger hovered over the “Enter” key on her laptop. She’d already got Romeo and Harley killed, did she really want to risk more lives by giving Group 323 a mirror image of the data she’d copied into her online vault from the Basement 7 server?

  It had been a week since she’d escaped from Basement 7 by the skin of her teeth. She’d been sitting on the information, wondering whether to pass it on or delete it. In the end, she’d decided that her two friends’ deaths had to be worth something, so she was going to send a copy of the data to Group 323.

  She’d planned to send the information anonymously, but they needed to know what had happened – she called Annie Ritch.

  ‘You got out in one piece then,’ Annie said.

  ‘Yes, but two of my friends didn’t.’

  ‘Bastards.’

  ‘And I guess that’s what happened to your people.’

  ‘Fucking bastards. Guy Fawkes had the right idea.’

  ‘Don’t worry, the people who killed them are dead. I left my calling card.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had one.’

  ‘Devastation and mayhem wherever I go.’

  ‘You should come back to us. We try to leave a lot of that in our wake.’

  ‘You know I’m not a joiner, but I might have something for you.’ She told Annie about the files of alphabetical codenames she’d downloaded into her vault.

  ‘Might have something for us? What do you mean? Do you want us to pay you for them?’

  ‘How much are you offering?’

  ‘We don’t . . .’

  Cookie laughed. ‘Don’t be stupid, Annie. You can have it all for free, but I wanted to warn you that . . .’

  ‘The Prime Minister won’t be our friend anymore’