by Ellis, Tim
‘We need something else to reduce the number further.’
‘What?’
Stick examined the board. ‘We’ll run a check for incidents that occurred on the A406 in the past year.’
Koll’s brow furrowed. ‘I should imagine that we’re going to get as many – if not more – incidents as we’ve got potential shooters.’
‘Probably, but without a decent lead, we’re shooting in the dark.’
‘The killer isn’t.’
‘No.’
‘What about the blue Vauxhall Astra?’
‘On its own – not helpful. If we find the killer, and it is his car, then it’ll be a nail in his coffin, but I guess there must be thousands of people who own that make and colour of car.’
‘So, we haven’t really got anything, have we?’ Koll said.
‘No.’
‘And if the victims are random, they’re not going to be any help either.’
Stick stared at Koll. She’d plaited her hair, wrapped it up in an impossible knot and pinned it to the back of her head with a black plastic crocodile clip. He wondered how a woman could do that on her own. Maybe the hotel she was staying at provided maid service with experience in plaiting and pinning up hair. Maybe she’d done it herself using mirrors, aching hands and arms. She was very pretty he supposed. Although, he wasn’t sure about the way her chin ended in a point. She had lovely green eyes, small gold studs in her earlobes and teeth he could only dream of.
She waved a small hand in front of his face. ‘Hello, Sarge. Are you still with me?’
He re-focused his eyes and shook his head. ‘Sorry, I drifted off for a minute there.’
‘Tired?’
‘A bit.’
‘Maybe we should call it a day.’
‘Let’s finish off.’ He took a swallow of the lukewarm coffee. ‘What if the victims aren’t random?’
‘How so?’
‘I don’t know.’ He bowed his head, closed his eyes and locked his fingers together in the strands of the wiry hair at the back of his head. ‘Okay, we have nothing, but we still need to talk to John Henn’s relatives. What about Mathew Pitt?’
Koll moved across to the other incident board. ‘Mathew Pitt was abducted sometime on Friday or Saturday last weekend, taken to an unknown location, tortured, killed and then dumped at the bus stop on Monkham’s Lane in Woodford Green.’
‘Was it connected to those children?’ he asked out loud. He didn’t expect an answer, but he got one anyway.
‘I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.’
‘But who?’
‘A father looking for his child?’
‘I don’t see it,’ he said. ‘The way Pitt was killed was far too elaborate for it to have been a father out for revenge – Pitt’s death was planned.’
‘Maybe he was tortured in an attempt to force him to reveal where the children were?’
‘With antique medical instruments? No, I just can’t see it. Not only that, Pitt had been paralysed – he couldn’t move or speak.’
Koll shrugged and carried on talking through what she’d written on the whiteboard. ‘He was a senior administrator at the University of Essex Medical School, fifty-seven years old, lived at 12 Old Ferry Road in Wivenhoe and had no relatives that we know of . . .’
Stick interrupted. ‘There was a picture of a woman in his wallet.’ He referred to his notebook. ‘Shirley Bridges – June, 1983. Do we know who she is?’
Koll wrote the details on the board. ‘No.’
‘We’ll have to look into that.’
‘I’ll do it tomorrow.’
Stick rested his chin on a balled fist. ‘If you’re still here.’
‘You can’t work two cases on your own. The Chief will have to give you someone else. I’ll brief whoever becomes your new partner.’
‘Okay.’ He wasn’t as optimistic as Koll about the Chief being free and easy with another partner.
‘Pitt wasn’t well-liked by either staff or students,’ Koll continued. ‘Also, because of the quality of the dismemberment, and the manner in which the limbs were amputated in stages, Doc Paine suggested that the killer might be a surgeon.’
‘Yes . . .’ He found the list of university staff and students that Gill Shearer from clerical had fed into the database and began shuffling through the names until he reached the end. ‘Nothing,’ he said.
‘You didn’t expect to find someone who’d had previous convictions for torture and murder, did you?’
‘It would have been nice.’
‘What about the medical equipment?’
‘What about it?’
‘I’m just wondering if there’s some way we can trace it.’
‘It would be a massive job, even if we knew what we were looking for.’
‘Well, there was the tourniquet, that contraption thing on the head, the hacksaw and the knife . . .’
‘There are probably specialists who sell them, but there’s no guarantee that the killer bought the equipment in this country. He could have bought it over the internet, bought replicas instead of the real things, made items himself, asked someone else to makes pieces for him, stolen them, been left them by a relative . . .’
‘Okay, it was just an idea.’
‘And a very good idea as well, just not feasible.’
‘What about the . . . Oh! I forgot that stupid woman deleted the message of the person who rang in sick pretending to be Mathew Pitt.’
‘She wasn’t to know, but yes, it’s a pity. Someone might have recognised the voice.’
‘Everything points to the killer being someone from the medical school though, doesn’t it?’
‘I think so. We’ll . . . I’ll have to go back there tomorrow and do some more research.’
‘What about the children?’
‘Shrub End have got that case now. Although I’m not sure your Chief Inspector Pine will do anything with it. As far as he was concerned the case was open and shut, but I chatted to the children before he and Sergeant Chalker arrived and they told me that there were another two children in the cages who were removed and never came back.’
‘I doubt very much that they were set free,’ Koll said.
‘Extremely unlikely. I’m going to speak to the Chief about the case and see if something can’t be done. Maybe CEOP – the Child Exploitation and Online Protect centre – can take it on.’
‘Hasn’t their remit recently been extended?’
Stick nodded and stood up. ‘So I believe. Right, you’ll have to come with me to the hospital while I visit DI Blake, and then we’ll go back to your hotel and hope we make it through the night.’
‘Are you sure you want to do this? I can’t imagine they would . . .’
‘Look, if DI Blake thinks they’re going to come after you, then we need to listen to her – I trust her instincts.’
‘Okay, Sarge.’
***
It wasn’t far to Paphos from Konia, and they found Number 11 in Aristo Coral Bay village easily enough.
‘Very nice,’ Parish said, standing outside the white-painted villa, which was so close to the beach they could hear children squealing as they splashed about in the sea.
‘Coral Bay is the best beach in Paphos,’ Maddie said. ‘I wish I’d brought my bikini with me.’
He glanced at her. ‘I’m sure you’d look lovely in a bikini, but that’s not really why we’re here, is it?’
‘Sadly, no. But all work and no play . . .’
‘. . . Keeps Jed Parish out of trouble.’
They let themselves in through the metal gate and pressed the door bell, which was followed by a pig oinking.
Maddiel smiled.
‘Do you think they’ve got a real pig?’ Parish asked.
‘Why don’t you ask them?’
The door opened and a slim woman in her mid-fifties with short grey hair, a wrinkled neck and tired eyes said, ‘Hello?’
He produced his warrant card. ‘Detective Inspector
Parish from Hoddesdon Police Station in Essex, and this . . .’
She smiled. ‘You’re a long way from home, Inspector. You’d better come in and have a rest after your long journey.’ She stood to one side and ushered them in. ‘Go straight through to the patio. My useless husband Gerald is there. I’ll get a jug of lemonade before you die of thirst.’
He guessed she was trying to be humorous.
The marble patio nestled in the shade of a trellis covered in pink bougainvillea. There was a round table with six chairs and two sun loungers. One of the loungers was filled by a wrinkled grey-haired man in shorts and a white linen shirt over a substantial paunch.
Next to the patio was a pool, and beyond that they could see the white sandy beach and the sun bouncing off the sea.
Dixie Lang returned with a jug of cloudy lemonade and four glasses on a round tray. Ice chinked on the side of the glass jug as she put it on the table and poured lemonade into two of the glasses. ‘Sit down for goodness sake,’ she said to them. ‘You’re making the place look untidy, and that’s Gerald’s job.’
Gerald smiled. ‘Which I do admirably, my dear.’
‘You certainly do.’
Parish sat down.
Maddie wandered to the end of the patio. ‘The pool looks good.’
‘You can have a swim, if you want?’ Dixie suggested.
‘I haven’t got my costume with me.’
‘My daughter is about your size.’ She took hold of Maddie’s arm. ‘Come with me.’
Maddie looked at Parish. ‘Is it all right, Sir.’
He opened his mouth to speak.
‘Don’t worry about him, dear. It’s my house. If he doesn’t agree to you having a swim I won’t answer his questions.’
‘Welcome to my world,’ Gerald said.
The corner of Parish’s mouth went up. ‘It’s not too dissimilar from my own actually.’ He leant over and offered his hand. ‘Jed Parish, Detective Inspector with Hoddesdon Police in Essex, and the young lady is Sergeant Madison with the Royal Military Police at Episkopi.’
‘Gerald Lang, retired banker. You’re here about Caterina?’
‘Yes.’
‘Terrible business.’
‘Do you think Major Durrell murdered her?’
‘Absolutely not. I don’t particularly like Tom, but he wouldn’t have murdered Caterina.’
‘Did you know they were seeing each other?’
‘Everybody knew.’
‘In the drama group?’
‘Yes.’
Just then, Maddie ran onto the patio in a red bathing costume, threw a towel on the chair next to him and jumped in the pool with a squeal.
His eyes wanted to follow her, but he forced himself not to look.
Dixie Lang came out of the house, stopped at the table and sat down. ‘I have shorts if you’re interested?’ she said to him.
‘Very kind, but I’m on duty.’
‘She said you wouldn’t.’
‘She was right. So, what can you tell me about the Major and Caterina?’
Dixie poured herself some lemonade. ‘They were in love.’
‘How did everyone feel about that?’
‘I don’t know what you mean?’
‘Well, was everyone at the drama group happy for them?’
Dixie glanced at her husband.
Gerald pursed his lips. ‘You have to tell him, dear.’
He waited.
Dixie took a breath. ‘There was . . .’
‘You really want to come in, Sir,’ Maddie called from the edge of the pool. She was smiling, and her chin was resting on her forearms.
He knew, that if he took Maddie up on her offer, it would be like throwing himself in front of a speeding train. Would he have jumped in if it had been Richards calling him? Yes, he probably would have done. He was hot, sweaty and it had been a long day, but Maddie wasn’t Richards. If he’d noticed anything during the day, it was that Anne-Marie Madison definitely wasn’t Richards.
‘Yes,’ Dixie said. ‘You should go in and cool off.’
Jumping in that pool would have the opposite effect. He ignored her. ‘You were saying?’
‘There was someone else who was in love with Caterina before Tom came – Jackson Wyberg. She wasn’t interested, but that didn’t stop him lusting after her.’
‘What happened?’
‘Well, as soon as it became clear what was happening between Tom and Caterina he left the group.’
‘How long ago was that?’
‘Three months.’
‘Did you tell Inspector Kefalis about Wyberg?’
‘Of course, but he’d already decided that Tom had killed her.’
‘Yes, I think we’ve come to that conclusion. Do you know where he lives?’
‘You don’t know what you’re missing,’ Maddie shouted. She threw herself backwards and began splashing her legs.
Dixie smiled. ‘You should really go in.’
‘I would, if I was you,’ Gerald said licking his lips.
‘You wouldn’t know what to do if you did jump in that pool, you old fool.’ She grabbed Parish’s arm and dragged him up. ‘Come on, I won’t take no for an answer. You’ll get Wyberg’s address if you go into the pool.’ She led him up the marble staircase to a bedroom, found a pair of shorts a tramp would have been embarrassed to wear, threw a towel on the bed and said, ‘Get changed. I’ll be waiting outside.’
He could have objected in the strongest possible terms, ordered Sergeant Madison to climb out of the damned pool and get dressed, thanked Dixie and Gerald for their kind hospitality and left the premises forthwith. But . . . he was tempted. In fact, he’d been tempted from the moment he’d met Maddie. Of course, there was no way in hell he was going to give in to that temptation – his name wasn’t Samson, Antony or Paris. The sooner he jumped in the pool and had a swim, the sooner he could climb out and get on with his life. He put the awful shorts on, went downstairs and dived in the pool.
‘Is this brilliant, or what?’ Maddie said when he surfaced.
‘It’s very nice.’
‘Very nice! You men are all the same.’
She began to drift towards him, so he dived under the water and kicked towards the other end. He started swimming lengths, but she got in his way. Before he knew it, they were face-to-face and her body was touching his.
He threw himself backwards, found the edge of the pool and climbed out. ‘Yeah, that was good. We should go now. I’ll get changed first.’
‘Thanks,’ he said to Dixie as he dried himself. ‘We have to go now.’ He made his way upstairs and put his clothes back on.
Maddie was standing outside the door wearing just the bathing costume. ‘You didn’t mind me having a swim, did you?’
‘No, of course not, but we should go now. Richards will be wondering where we’ve got to.’ He stepped around her. ‘I’ll wait downstairs for you.’
‘I won’t be long,’ she said stripping off the bathing costume even before the door had closed.
He knew exactly what she was trying to do. Well, it wouldn’t work. Angie, Jack and Digby were waiting for him at home. He’d made his choice. He was happy with that choice, happy with his life and that was an end to it. Maddie was certainly a beautiful woman, but so was Angie. There were a thousand . . . a million beautiful women on the other side of the fence. He was just lucky that one of them had agreed to marry him and have his baby. Christ . . . she’d even taken a bullet for him. There was no way in hell he would ever betray her.
Chapter Fifteen
‘What time do you call this, numpty?’
‘Late?’ he ventured.
‘If you’d left it any later, it’d be tomorrow.’
He sat down on the plastic chair at the side of her bed. ‘I see you’re feeling a bit better?’
‘Where’s your new partner?’
‘Interim partner, and her name’s DC Isolde Koll. She’s in the canteen waiting for me.’
‘You do k
now they’re going to kill her?’
‘Yes.’ He opened his coat to reveal the shoulder holster with the Walther P99 sticking out of it.
‘Are you crazy?’
‘Probably.’
‘I hope that thing isn’t loaded.’
‘What good would a gun be without bullets?’
‘What are you planning to do with it?’
‘It’s called a gun. I’m going to protect my interim partner.’
‘You’re crazy.’
‘You’ve said that already.’
‘You’ve changed.’
‘They made me a Sergeant.’
‘They’re crazy as well.’
‘You must have recommended me.’
‘Now I know you’re crazy. I would never have done anything like that. You’re the worst partner I’ve ever had. So, tell me what a mess you’ve made of today then.’
He told her first about the visit to see Samantha Morrow’s mother, about the estranged husband, about GeneTest and the possibilities that Morrow’s client list had opened up for them.
‘Sounds like . . .’
‘But then this afternoon a second person was shot on the A406, so we’re focussing on the killer instead of the victims now.’
‘You still need to profile the victims,’ Xena said.
‘I know.’
‘He’s choosing them for a reason.’
‘Maybe, maybe not. Maybe he makes himself comfortable, looks through the sights and shoots the first person who comes along.’
‘He could be doing that, but if he was he’d be more likely to keep pulling the trigger until he ran out of bullets and wouldn’t care if he was caught or not. The fact that he shoots one person and then pulls out, suggests that he’s choosing his targets and he doesn’t want to get caught.’
‘I was going to do victim profiles anyway.’
‘Of course you were. What about the other case?’
‘You’ll never believe this.’
‘If you’re involved I’m prepared to believe anything.’
He described the trapdoor that led to the room with the three children in cages.
‘It was only by luck we found it.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me.’
‘I told Koll to call the police and an ambulance.’