by S G Read
‘Things have to be looking up.’ Rebecca remarked.
Clayton walked back to his desk, where they were waiting.
‘Ladies first I assume.’ Clayton said diplomatically and sat down.
‘Now that I have a DNA sample from the Carswell creep, I have matched it with the DNA we were able to get from the baby and he was the father.’ Chastity announced.
‘So you did get DNA from the skull?’ Rebecca asked.
‘No, it was Bill, he managed to isolate the two sets of DNA from the sludge in the plastic bag.’ Chastity admitted.
‘And you are going to tell me that now the red tape has been cut, you have managed to trace the money trail to Carswell.’ Clayton assumed.
‘His aide actually, but it all came out of taxpayer’s money!’ Gerald answered. ‘He also paid a rather large lump sum out of the same fund and I assume that was to get rid of her.’
‘What! He paid for a hit man out of taxpayer’s money?’ Rebecca complained. ‘How stupid can you get?’
‘It looks like it sergeant.’ Gerald attested.
‘He’s lucky he’s dead!’ She hissed.
‘He probably wouldn’t agree, Rebecca,’ Clayton argued, ‘his sort, usually come out from the other end of an inquiry squeaky clean.’
‘So where does that take us, sir?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Looking for her killer, when I find her killer, I will find his killer.’ Clayton asked.
‘Nature killed him,’ Chastity announced, ‘he had a massive heart attack.’
Rebecca laughed.
‘Serves him right, I bet that made the killer freak out!’ She declared.
‘I can picture it, I wonder if he tried the kiss of life, it would make a change for a hitman.’ Gerald added.
Chastity looked at him, turned on her heel and hurried away.
‘You’ve given her something to look for.’ Clayton exclaimed.
‘Glad to be of assistance.’ Gerald replied and he left.
‘So how do we find him, Clay?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Let us see what Bill has found.’ Clayton answered.
They took the lift to Bill’s laboratory and found him deep in thought as he studied specimens.
‘I know what you are going to ask me Kemo Sabe. Yes I did find something but only one thing, a hair. It was down the edge of the carpet in the bedroom, the rest of the flat was spotless but the hair did not get vacuumed when he was cleaning.’ Bill offered.
‘So it won’t link him to the murder, it will just tell us that he was in the flat at some point.’ Clayton replied. ‘We need something to link him to the murder when we find him. Did you get any DNA from it?’
‘Is the pope a catholic? Of course I did, this is Bill you are talking to.’
‘All we have to do now is to find another DNA sample with one of the bodies.’ Rebecca added.
‘Well we are going through everything with a fine toothed comb, and there is a chance we will find something, but what, I do not know.’ Bill replied.
‘If he was that careful with the flat, imagine how careful he was with the bodies,’ Rebecca complained, ‘and we still have to find him!’
‘How is the photo fit coming on?’ Clayton asked.
‘We have several likenesses, and the person supplying the information in each case, swears it is the caretaker.’ Bill answered.
‘So we are looking for the seven dwarfs then?’ Rebecca chimed in.
‘Something like that.’ Bill agreed.
Rebecca and Clayton returned to the office to find Gerald waiting for them.
‘Have you more news?’ Clayton asked.
‘Yes, I was delving into the caretaker’s financial affairs, not easy as he paid cash for most things, but the account receiving the payout from our MP traced back to someone living in Peckham. A flat in Peckham and it was a caretaker’s flat.’ Gerald answered.
‘We have more digging to do.’ Rebecca declared.
‘It sounds like it,’ Clayton agreed, ‘at this rate we’ll be digging up lift wells all over London!’
‘Bill will be pleased.’ Rebecca remarked.
‘We won’t go off halfcocked though,’ Clayton warned, ‘can you double check your findings before we act and then we will show all the photo fits around the flat to see if anyone recognises our man as their caretaker.’
‘It sounds to me like he enjoys a good disguise.’ Rebecca complained.
‘I agree but just one who recognises him is good enough for me and if two of them recognise a different picture each, I won’t complain.’ Clayton replied.
‘How come, Kemo Sabe?’ Bill asked.
‘It means that he has set disguises and therefore he will always look like one of the photo fits.’ Clayton exclaimed. ‘It is a bit like wearing a target when you are on a firing range. Someone will spot him and we will have him under surveillance from then on.’
‘You won’t arrest him then?’ Bill asked.
‘Not unless you can point the finger in court and swear that it was him!’ Clayton answered.
‘You literally want the smoking gun then?’ Bill asked.
‘If he uses a gun but we will stop him from actually killing someone this time, it might not go down to well with the public.’ Clayton answered.
‘Especially with the family of the person he kills, Kemo Sabe.’ Bill agreed.
‘Unless they were paying to get rid of the dead person.’ Rebecca argued.
‘There is that,’ Bill agreed, ‘but then they will be in handcuffs anyway.’
‘And I’d be put out to grass.’ Clayton added.
They returned to the office and took stock of where they were. They had DNA from their suspect who had several faces according to the people describing him. Each one was on his own when they helped build a photo fit to stop two of them arguing about what the suspect looked like. When the photo fits were ready, uniformed officers would take them to the flats the suspect was thought to have worked previously, to see if there was a match. Clayton and Rebecca decided to go along for the ride. Clayton wanted to see the flats and the lift. Rebecca, on the other hand, was bored just leafing through paperwork in hopes of a hither to missed clue.
They drove to the flats concerned and with the help of uniformed officers went flat to flat, trying to find someone who recognised him. Clayton and Rebecca went round one floor, flat by flat with the photo fit description and managed to get several hits, although they were not always the same photo fit, but it was something. When they met the uniformed officers and found out that they had had the same success, Clayton took his mobile phone out of his pocket.
‘Bill, I need you to do some investigating.’ He invited when Bill answered.
‘Is that digging?’ Bill asked.
‘Not at first, they might be just inside the lift well like the woman, no one looks down there it seems.’ Clayton answered.
‘I will bring my tools and see you there then.’ Bill offered.
‘Do you know where is then?’ Clayton answered.
‘I hoped you would tell me.’ Bill answered.
‘I’ll text you the address.’ Clayton offered.
‘With Rebecca’s mobile, I suppose.’ Bill retorted.
‘You’ll get the address one way or the other.’ Clayton exclaimed and ended the call.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned to Rebecca.
‘He’ll come if we text him the address.’ He advised her.
‘And as you just put your phone away, the detective in me thinks that you want me to text the address to him.’ She retorted and a few seconds later the message was on its way.
‘We work so well together.’ Clayton replied.
‘We do as long as I read your mind on occasions.’ Rebecca retorted.
‘All good practice for the job Rebecca, I am surprised the CI hasn’t been down about our engagement, you know how the grapevine is in this station.’ Clayton replied.
‘He’ll be doing his ostrich impressio
n, I expect.’ Rebecca commented.
‘Ostrich impression, I don’t see him as a fast runner.’ Clayton declared.
‘He’ll be burying his head in the sand and hoping it will all go away, figuratively speaking.’ Rebecca explained.
‘Oh that old chestnut, ignore it and it hasn’t happened,’ Clayton declared, annoyed that he had not picked up on what she meant, ‘the wedding invite will come as a bit of a shock to him then!’
Rebecca laughed. ‘It sure will.’
Bill took an hour to arrive and as soon as he was busy excavating, Rebecca drove Clayton back to the office. They rode up in the lift together and walked into their office.
‘You do realise that we still have to pick a day, a venue and most important of all, a dress.’ She replied.
‘I am not wearing a dress.’ Clayton answered lightly and looked at the papers in front of him.
‘Why not, you have the legs for it?’ Rebecca answered in the same vein.
‘But I would have to shave my legs, Rebecca, or the stockings would snag.’ Clayton answered and looked up to see the chief inspector standing in front of him.
‘I didn’t take you for a cross dresser Inspector Moore, still it takes all sorts. I understand congratulations are in order.’ The chief inspector said candidly. ‘I did expect it sooner but you were always slow and methodical, which is what I want on the case we are working on, no mistakes! What news is there on this missing caretaker?’
‘He is in the wind somewhere, sir, but we have photo fits of him…’ Clayton started to answer.
‘I know I have seen them!’ The chief inspector answered while he was speaking.
‘…we also have a DNA sample which we hope to link to the murders.’ Clayton continued.
‘So you still think the two murders are linked?’ The chief inspector asked.
‘Yes, sir, the money trail from the flat Gerald was chasing, ended up being paid out of Carswell’s parliamentary allowances.’ Clayton answered.
‘So more misuse of tax payer’s moneys, I don’t know how this country survives.’ The chief inspector complained and turned to go.
‘While you are here, sir, I was wondering if you would do me the honour of being my best man.’ Clayton announced before the CI left.
The chief inspector turned back.
‘I do know a few stories I could tell,’ he mused, ‘are you sure about this?’
‘I have never been surer, sir.’ Clayton answered.
His idea was to find out just what the chief inspector knew about his cases and any trickery he knew about would come out, then at least he would know what the chief inspector did not know about, or at least he was not admitting to knowing about it.
‘Then I would be proud to be your best man, Clayton, but on your head be it!’ The chief inspector answered and walked out.
‘I know what you are doing, Clay, you want to know just what he does know about your underhand practices.’ Rebecca chided. ‘It’s a bit like waving a red rag in front of a bull.’
‘Bulls are actually colour blind, Rebecca,’ Clayton replied, ‘and that just goes to show that you are ready for my job.’
‘Ready maybe but I don’t want it if I have to put you out to grass, Clay.’
‘Well, you know my thoughts on that, so don’t dwell on it, just put in for inspector.’
‘I already have, Clay.’
‘Good, then that is why he was ready to face the fact that we are getting married.’
‘And you should have worked that out.’
‘That I should have, Rebecca, my mind was elsewhere at the time, trying to work out where our caretaker is,’ Clayton answered, ‘and how many more bodies are we going to find? We will have to keep the lid on the fact that we have found more bodies.’
‘We haven’t actually found anymore yet but I know you expect to. We should also be looking into how his clients find him.’ Rebecca suggested.
Clayton walked over and kissed her, not a quick peck but a lingering kiss, in front of anyone who could see.
‘Did I say something good?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Yes you did, we need to see Gerald and Bill in that order.’ Clayton answered and walked out.
Rebecca followed him, she caught him up at the lift.
‘Are we checking to see if he paid for any adverts somewhere?’ She asked.
‘We are, and we are also going to see what papers come into the flats, to see if the same one was delivered to all the flats at some point.’ Clayton answered.
‘Worth a look in the corner shops as well, on their advertising board, if they had one.’ She added.
‘Another good idea, Rebecca,’ Clayton observed, ‘and it is worth trying for a description from the owner, it might work.’
‘Yes, if he put an ad in the window, I wonder what it said if he did, he could hardly say, get rid of unwanted people the easy way, ring Fred on, and stick his telephone number there!’ Rebecca exclaimed.
‘Yes, it is a very difficult thing to broach; will you kill my wife for me?’ Clayton agreed.
‘Wait until we are married,’ Rebecca complained, ‘you might enjoy it.’
‘What having you killed, hardly, it has taken me this long to pluck up the courage to ask you.’ Clayton retorted.
‘Surely not, not the lone ranger, and besides, I meant you might enjoy the marriage.’ Rebecca replied.
‘I intend to.’ Clayton assured her.
The lift arrived and they stepped inside, they were still kissing when it stopped at the floor Gerald’s office was on but when the doors opened, no one would have known. They walked into Gerald’s office and found him working as usual. He looked up when he walked it.
‘A question?’ He asked.
‘Yes, as a hit man, he had to have clients and I wondered just how they contacted him.’ Clayton answered.
‘Hang on, you haven’t married her yet.’ Gerald retorted.
‘How droll, I have already heard that one from her.’ Clayton replied and nodded toward Rebecca.
‘You want me to look at all the money he spent, any which was traceable and find out where he advertised.’ Gerald concluded.
He opened a file, took out another file from the file he opened and gave it to Clayton.
‘I did it earlier today, I was hoping to surprise you with my efficiency when I brought it down to your office.’ Gerald complained.
‘You just did,’ Clayton declared, ‘is there a short answer?’
‘He was paying for a post office box, all his work passed through there.’ Gerald answered.
‘No other regular payment?’ Rebecca asked.
‘If he did it was cash, the post office box is by standing order.’ Gerald answered.
‘Is?’ Rebecca questioned.
‘Is.’ Gerald repeated. ‘It is still being paid for but from a different account now.’
‘So he has gone straight back to work then.’ Clayton concluded.
‘It certainly looks like it.’ Gerald answered’
‘I wonder if we could somehow lure him out into the open.’ Clayton mused.
‘He will have protocols in place to stop him walking straight into a trap.’ Gerald warned.
‘Oh yes, it will have to be someone above reproach and I think he will steer clear of MPs for a while,’ Clayton replied, ‘he found out just what they are like, the hard way!’
‘Do you have someone in mind?’ Rebecca asked.
‘I have but I don’t know if she will agree.’ Clayton answered.
‘You could just ask her.’ Rebecca suggested.
‘Well she isn’t here at this moment in time.’ Clayton replied and saw the disappointed look on Rebecca’s face. ‘It wasn’t you Rebecca, not that you would not be able to pull it off but I am guessing that he was in the crowd watching when we were investigating the first body in the flats, so he will have seen you with me.’
‘Oh, I never thought of that.’ Rebecca exclaimed. ‘You’re right of course and I suppose sh
e is the next best choice, if she will do it.’
‘You know who I mean then?’ Clayton asked.
‘Above reproach, it has to be Lady Carstairs but I’d love to be there when you ask her.’ Rebecca answered.
‘I knew you were up to my job.’ Clayton declared happily.
‘Are you leaving then?’ Gerald asked.
They had actually forgotten that they were still in his office.
‘Heaven forbid,’ Rebecca declared, ‘who will run things when I am raising the family?’
‘So it’s true?’ Gerald exclaimed. ‘I had heard rumours.’
He stood up and shook Clayton’s hand then kissed Rebecca on the cheek.
‘I wish you two all the happiness there is.’ He added.
‘Why, thank you, Gerald,’ Rebecca said with a big smile.
‘Yes, thank you, Gerald and thank you for all the good work on this case.’ Clayton agreed and they left him to work on.
They drove to the flats where both the MP’s and his mistress’s body was found and parked. They decided to walk to all the local shops. In front of each shop they perused the window before they went in and then looked for a notice board inside as well. If they had a notice board, they read all the adverts, to see if any construed the possibility that someone could have an enemy killed for money. They took note of any that did not have a landline number and made a list to phone later before they spoke to the shopkeeper. One ad was repeated in all the local shops, big or small.
Now they went back to the shops one by one to ask about the person who had put the advert in the shop window. Each shopkeeper described the person who had put the ad in and sometimes it was a woman!
‘He does like to dress up.’ Rebecca declared.
‘He might have got a girlfriend to put it in for him,’ Clayton suggested, ‘one more shop and we can go home.’
At the next shop it was a man who put the ad in and he came in monthly to pay cash. The surprising thing was the fact that the shopkeeper’s son had installed a state of the art security system which recorded the day’s filming on a disc and the shopkeeper had all the discs from when it was installed.
‘I keep them in case anyone comes to case the joint and then returns to rob me,’ the shop keeper explained, ‘I have been robbed twice before it was installed but not since.’