Deceit is in the Heart (P&R15)

by Tim Ellis

  ‘Hello, Inspector.’

  ‘Hi, Doc. Got anything for me?’

  ‘He’s right-handed.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, that’s it.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘What did you expect? He kills them by cutting their throats. The wounds go from left to right, which indicate he’s right-handed.’

  ‘And there’s nothing unusual in or on the bodies?’

  ‘None of the pathologists found anything.’

  ‘Thanks for your help anyway, Doc.’

  ‘And I’ll see you Friday?’

  ‘Of course. I’m a man of my word.’ He’d thought about telling her that he felt cheated, hoodwinked, defrauded; and how he absolutely had the nagging suspicion that he wasn’t getting value for money, but decided that saying nothing was the better part of valour. She already thought he was a cheapskate He didn’t want phony adding to her list of descriptive words for him.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘Oh, one other thing.’

  ‘I’ll expect dessert after the meal if you’re asking me for another favour.’

  ‘That goes without saying.’

  ‘What’s this “one other thing” then?’

  ‘You collect antique wax seal fobs, don’t you?’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘That’s what I asked.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  He heard the childlike excitement in her voice. ‘Do you simply collect them, or do you suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD)?’

  She laughed. ‘Where fobs are concerned, OCD are my initials.’

  ‘Your parents have a lot of explaining to do. I have pictures of about ten fobs on a gold bracelet that you might be interested in. I’d like to listen to what your OCD has to say about them.’

  ‘You’ll send them now?’

  ‘Tonight.’

  ‘Why not now?’

  ‘I only have the pictures on my phone. I need to transfer them to my laptop and then I’ll email them to you.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting.’

  He ended the call, and was about to ring Richards, but thought better of it. She’d be at work, and he didn’t want her to get into trouble for taking personal calls when she was meant to be working.

  ‘Passengers for BA7956 to London Gatwick, please proceed to Gate 9 for boarding.’

  Hanging the strap of his holdall on his right shoulder, he followed the signs to Domestic Departures and Gate 9.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Stick pulled into The Strawberry Duck on the A46 and parked up. They made their way inside and, after ordering drinks, found a table to sit at. There were a few locals at the bar, a pair hairy builders playing darts and three families filling up another room.

  ‘What . . . ?’ Stick began.

  Xena held up her hand to stop him. ‘Food first. If you want my expert opinion you have to pay for it.’

  After studying the menu for five minutes the middle-aged waitress appeared at the end of the table. She was thin, hot and looked as though she’d heard about the end of the world but had been asked not to say anything. ‘Would you like to order?’

  ‘Twenty minutes ago,’ Xena said.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘We would liked to have ordered our food twenty-five minutes ago.’

  ‘You’ve only been in the pub for five minutes.’

  ‘What happened to the customer always being right?’

  ‘That customer isn’t here today, Madam.’

  ‘I see . . .’

  Stick interrupted. ‘’Yes, we’d very much like to order our food now. I’ll have the salmon and spring onion fishcakes, please.’ He and the waitress stared at Xena.

  She screwed up her face. ‘Against my better judgement I’ll have the Chef’s steak and ale pie, and don’t spit on it.’

  ‘I can’t promise anything, Madam.’

  Xena opened her mouth to complain, but the waitress was already half-way to the bar. ‘We should call in the food safety people. In fact, wasn’t Bannister something to do with food safety?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because.’

  ‘It wouldn’t hurt you to be nice to people.’

  ‘You’re like a broken record. I’m nice to the people who matter.’

  Stick pulled a face. ‘Mmmm!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘It’s a good job, because if I thought you were even thinking that I wasn’t nice to you there’d be repercussions.’

  ‘I never would. So, what do you think about Gary Bannister and his missing wife?’

  ‘I think . . . In fact, you tell me what you think for a change, numpty.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I’m sure you’ve had at least one original thought since we left Bannister’s pigsty.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well?’ Xena pressured him.

  ‘It looks like she was taken, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Don’t talk rubbish.’

  ‘That’s what Bannister thinks. And I have to admit, all the signs point in that direction.’

  The waitress brought their food. ‘Enjoy.’

  ‘You don’t mean that, do you?’ Xena said.

  ‘No. I hope it chokes you.’

  ‘If it does, my partner will arrest you for premeditated murder.’

  ‘It’d be worth it,’ she said over her shoulder.

  Stick began putting salt and pepper on his meal. ‘Well, if she wasn’t taken, maybe she’s our dead body.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Why not?’

  Xena took a swallow of lager. ‘You’d like me to do all your thinking for you, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Maybe she came home from work, put on the pink dressing gown, made herself a coffee, began preparing the evening meal. Then, somebody knocked on the door, she was bundled into a car, murdered and dumped on the waste ground.’

  ‘You’re an imposter, aren’t you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You don’t have the first idea about police work.’

  ‘I’d like to hear your version of events then.’

  ‘I know you would.’

  ‘Well?’

  Xena rested the knife and fork against her plate, dabbed at the corners of her mouth with the paper napkin and took a swallow of lager. ‘She came home from work, realised what the next fifty years of her life would be like, called the man she’d been having an affair with and asked him to come and take her away from her life of drudgery. He came over in his new Mercedes, picked her up – and unlike Lot’s wife – she never looked back.’

  ‘Leaving everything?’

  ‘Everything.’

  Stick grinned. ‘That’s a nice bedtime story you’ve made up.’

  ‘You don’t think there were any clues in the events leading up to Kimberley Bannister’s disappearance?’

  ‘The clues point to her being taken.’

  ‘Why do you think that is, numpty?’

  His brow furrowed. ‘Because she was taken?’

  ‘Or?’

  ‘Or . . . she wasn’t taken, but it was made to look as though she was?’

  The corner of her mouth creased upwards. ‘Sometimes, getting you to think like a detective is akin to coaxing a dehydrated periwinkle out of its shell with a pin.’

  ‘Is that what you think – that she made it look like she’d been taken?’

  ‘No self-respecting woman would leave her handbag, purse and mobile phone behind, and simply walk away.’

  He stopped eating. ‘Exactly my point.’

  ‘But that’s why she did it.’

  He put another wedge of fishcake in his mouth. ‘Ah! She did it because no one would ever believe she’d do it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Or she really was abducted.’

  ‘Did Mr Bannister provide us with any clues?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Wrong. Of course
he did.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘Who did the cleaning in the Bannister household?’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘Did he help out at all?’

  ‘I would say not.’

  ‘Do you help Jenifer?’

  ‘We share it equally.’

  ‘Whose work did he think it was?’

  ‘Women’s work.’

  ‘What did he say when I suggested that his wife might be seeing someone else?’

  ‘She knows better than that.’

  ‘Which suggests what?’

  ‘She’d done it before?’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The last time he taught her a lesson?’

  ‘Now we’re getting somewhere. Is this the type of man you’d like to spend the rest of your life with?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘What about having his baby?’

  ‘I don’t think I’d like to have anyone’s baby.’

  ‘At least you have the choice.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Why do you suppose she left her identity documents behind?’

  ‘She didn’t need them anymore?’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘She wasn’t coming back?’

  ‘That goes without saying, but who is she now?’

  ‘That’s a very good question.’

  ‘To which the answer is?’

  ‘Somebody else?’

  ‘How can we find out if my version of events is closer to the truth than yours?’

  ‘Ask Kimberley?’

  ‘But if we can’t ask her?’

  ‘What about her mother?’

  Xena nodded. ‘I think there’s more to Bannister than we’ve seen. She changed her identity to escape from him. Why would a woman do that?’

  ‘Fear?’

  ‘Exactly. So, what’s our next move, numpty? Bearing in mind that we’ve now wasted a day and a half following red herrings.’

  ‘We just need to confirm that Kimberley Bannister is still alive, so we could send a couple of uniforms to her mother’s address to find out.’

  ‘Will she tell them?’

  ‘Only if we promise not to inform Bannister.’

  ‘Make it happen, Stickamundo.’

  Stick phoned the Duty Sergeant and made it happen. ‘If that’s what really occurred, then I’ll let Jodi Grammatke know in Missing Persons to close the case.’

  Xena’s phone vibrated.

  ‘Hello, Doc.’

  ‘I’ve completed the post mortem. You’ll receive my written report tomorrow. As promised, I thought I’d call and give you the benefit of my vast experience.’

  ‘I’m full of anticipation.’

  ‘If you recall, the skin over the right clavicle and upper thoracic ribs had been eaten away by animals and the bones were protruding through the skin . . .’

  ‘How could I forget.’

  ‘Well, cause of death was not decapitation. The head was removed with an axe post mortem. The reason the animals feasted on that particular part of the body, was that the woman had been stabbed in the chest, but not in the heart. It’s what killed her. The blade nicked the right subclavian artery – she bled to death. Based on the wound, I’ve included a diagram and probable measurements of the blade, but there’s nothing unusual about it. I’d say a standard carving knife. Also, I found evidence of a tattoo, which suggests that the killer probably knew what the animals would do to the wound if he left the body in the open. In fact, it’s also possible that he removed the tattoo before disposing of the body.’

  ‘But you can’t say for sure?’

  ‘About the tattoo or removing it?’

  ‘There was definitely a tattoo, but what it was I have no idea. As for removing it – that’s an educated guess. However, if the animals hadn’t eaten the flesh, I would have been able to obtain an outline – at least – of the tattoo.’

  ‘The tattoo might help us with identification. What about the: pattern analysis of nightdress?’

  ‘Nothing unusual, but I did obtain a DNA profile from a scraping of skin beneath one of her nails. Of course, there’s no match, but if you find me a suspect . . .’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do. Thanks for calling, Doc.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  Stick was staring at her.

  She gave him the short version of what Doc Paine had told her. ‘We seem to be doing everybody else’s job but our own,’ Xena said, pushing the empty plate away. ‘That was the worst food I’ve ever put in my mouth.’

  ‘Your plate is empty.’

  ‘I didn’t realise it was so bad until I reached the end. I’ve a good mind to make a scene, get the manager out here and tell him what I think of this shithole he calls a pub.’

  ‘My meal was okay.’

  ‘If it had stated on the sign outside that the food was “okay”, would you have come in here? In fact, would you have brought Jenifer to eat here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No? Are you sure? Because from where I’m sitting it looks like you’re quite happy to settle for “okay” food.’

  ‘Should we go now?’

  ‘You’re going to pay, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s what people do before they leave.’

  ‘I haven’t made a scene yet.’

  ‘You ate all your food and drank all your drink. I don’t see that you’ve got anything to complain about.’

  ‘You know nothing, do you?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ***

  ‘KOWALSKI?’

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Are you in there, Kowalski?’

  ‘Down here, Sir.’

  The light from a torch picked him out like an escaped prisoner. He waved, then grimaced as his leg shifted position.

  ‘Who’s that with you, Kowalski?’

  ‘It’s . . . she’s a friend of my wife’s. Anyway, how did you find me, Sir?’

  ‘Turtledove . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry to say she’s dead.’

  ‘No, she’s not dead. Oh, she’s in a pretty bad way that’s for sure, but luckily for you she managed to crawl back up those stairs and tell us what had happened – otherwise we’d be none the wiser. I told you there was something special about her.’

  ‘You certainly did, Sir. I thought . . . Is she going to be all right?’

  ‘We’ll have to wait and see. I certainly hope so.’

  ‘And me, Sir.’

  ‘I’m going to recommend her for the Queen’s Gallantry Medal (QGM), and give serious consideration to demoting you. Since I promoted you to DCI at Hoddesdon you’ve attracted trouble like a magnet.’

  ‘I know you have my best interests at heart, Sir.’

  ‘Anyway, I’ll let the rescue team make this hole bigger so they can get you out.’

  Bronwyn nudged him.

  ‘Oh yes! We need medical attention fairly urgently in here, Sir.’

  ‘Don’t worry. We guessed as much. There’s a team of paramedics out here itching to get in and perform open-heart surgery.’

  ‘Bronwyn – that’s the woman in here with me – has been shot in the stomach, and . . .’

  ‘Shot in the stomach?’

  ‘The man who killed the old woman, came down here and shot Bronwyn before I arrived and then he went after Jerry . . .’

  ‘Where is Jerry now?’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Quarter to four.’

  ‘She should still be at work, but she might have gone home.’

  He heard the Chief Constable shout some orders, and then stick his head through the hole again. ‘Let’s hope we’re not too late.’

  ‘I’m hoping that as well, Sir.’

  ‘Thanks for not telling him it was my gun,’ Bronwyn whispered.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Oh, I think when I get out of here I’m going to skip over to that kebab place opposite the lock-up, order a ba
nquet and pour water down my neck until I leak.’

  ‘That good, huh?’

  ‘I’ll be surprised if there’s any blood left in me.’

  ‘I shouldn’t be too concerned. I hear they can work medical miracles these days. If they can’t save your body, they’ll whip your brain out and transplant it into a sheep or a rat.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re here to give me hope, Kowalski.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  Eventually, the rescue team made the hole large enough for the paramedics to scramble through with a stretcher. Kowalski ordered them to work on Bronwyn and take her out first.

  ‘Make sure you stay alive,’ he said to her before the paramedics carried her out. ‘If you die, Jerry will say it was my fault and make my life a misery.’

  ‘I’m touched.’

  He squeezed her hand before she disappeared up the tunnel.

  Once Bronwyn had been manhandled through the hole, the Chief Constable crawled through it to keep him company while he was waiting for the paramedics to return.

  ‘What’s this all about, Kowalski?’

  ‘You know as much as I do, Sir. Well, that’s not strictly true. I haven’t actually seen them myself, but apparently there are fifty-plus graves in this tunnel.’

  ‘Graves! Surely not children’s graves?’

  ‘Yes, Sir. Shallow ones.’

  ‘This is a disaster of epic proportions.’

  ‘Especially for the children and their families, Sir.’

  ‘Of course, that’s what I meant.’

  ‘Did Toadstone show you the ledger?’

  The Chief Constable nodded. ‘Yes. There are some hefty names in there.’

  ‘And a lot of them as well.’

  ‘We’re talking about de-stabilising the government, Kowalski.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about that, Sir. I was talking about justice for the dead children and their families; about locking criminals up who have literally got away with murder for decades; and about repatriating dead children with their loved ones. The stability of the government is not my concern.’

  William Orde was quiet for a handful of seconds. ‘No, but it falls within my remit, Ray. As I said, the information has to be managed. Of course, ultimately it won’t be my decision. Before I left Chelmsford, I briefed the Commissioner, who has no doubt briefed the Home Secretary by now. Anyway, he’s sending a Special Advisor to take charge of the investigation . . .’