by Ellis, Tim
‘How late?’
‘Seven thirty, eight.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Ah.’
‘It’s that Jed Parish again, isn’t it?’
‘You don’t really want to know.’
‘Just be careful.’
‘I love you.’
‘You’re just saying that, because I’ve got four of your offspring here driving me nuts.’
He smiled, and ended the call.
The Flower Grove was located at 184 Rowan Drive in Turnford – the neighbouring village to Wormley. A woman called Edith Burt ran it, and she was just shutting up shop.
‘I’m sorry, we’re closing,’ she shouted at him through the swirling snowstorm. She was moving pots of flowers, crates, hanging baskets, and planters into the shop.
He produced his warrant card. ‘Police.’
‘You could help.’
He wasn’t a community officer, but he helped her anyway.
Once everything was inside, and the door was locked with the “Closed” signed up she said, ‘Thanks. Well, what do you want?’
At the very least he expected a warm mug of cocoa, a seat by a roaring fire, and maybe a free bunch of flowers for Jerry. He got none of that.
‘A bouquet of white roses was sent to a Lisa Taverner at The Snooty Pig pub in Wormley. On the card someone had put “I Love You, J”. Can you tell me who sent them?’
Edith Burt was probably in her mid-thirties, had lank, mouse-coloured hair to her shoulders, a dress that buttoned down the front, and pink wellies on her feet.
‘Client confidentiality.’
‘No such thing.’
‘Oh yes there is.’
‘Look, I’m investigating a murder. I want the name and address of someone who bought a bunch of flowers. The world won’t end if you tell me.’
‘Don’t you need a warrant?’
‘No. You have information I need. Either you tell me, or I get the fraud squad down here to confiscate all your paperwork and close you down.’
‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘Are you going to put poison in it?’
‘I probably should, but seeing as you helped me bring in the pots and stuff, I won’t.’
‘A coffee would be good, half a sugar.’
‘Half? You may as well have none.’
‘Heart attack a while back.’
‘You’re one of the lucky ones. My husband died six months ago. He was only forty-two.’
‘Same age as me. Sorry.’
‘Yeah, and me.’
She made his coffee and they stood in the shop. ‘So, what date?’
‘Sometime in the last month.’
‘Did you ever play apple bobbing at Halloween?’
‘Is that where you have to try and get an apple out of a barrel of water with your teeth?’
‘That’s the one. Well, looking for a sale of a bouquet of white roses in the past month is a bit like that.’
‘I know some people in the fraud squad who would welcome the opportunity to bob for apples in your books.’
‘Do those threats actually work?’
‘You’d be surprised what people believe about the police.’
‘I don’t think I would.’
After twenty minutes she found what he was looking for. ‘He paid by credit card over the phone. His name was Jeremy Kincaid.’
‘Address?’
‘When you pay by credit card, does the receipt have your home address and telephone number on it?’
‘No?’ he offered, but he didn’t really remember.
‘That’s correct. It has your name and card number on it.’
‘Okay. Can I have a copy of the receipt?’
‘Do you think this is a stationery store? Do you see a photocopier here?’
‘Maybe I’ll just copy the details down in my notebook.’
‘Good idea, officer.’
He smiled. ‘You’ve been most kind.’
‘Too bloody true I have. If you weren’t married, I’d make you take me out to dinner. Just my luck.’
In the car he said out loud, ‘Yeah, the great Ray Kowalski has still got it – still a babe magnet.’
He phoned forensics and got Toadstone.
‘Where’s Di, Toady?’
‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that.’
‘I’ve been calling you that for years.’
‘Well, I don’t like it.’
‘Oh, okay. So, where’s Di?’
‘She’s out.’
‘Shopping, house hunting...?’
‘At a crime scene.’
‘I thought she was working with me.’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure you’re Toady?’
‘I’m evolving.’
‘Into what?’
‘The new me.’
‘My advice is to stick with what you know. I’m not keen on change.’
‘What is it that you want, Inspector?’
‘Got a name and a card number. Now I need an address.’ He read them out.
‘I’ll get one of my minions onto it, and ring you back when I have something.’
‘Since when have you had minions, Toady?’
The call had disconnected.
As he set off along the B176 towards Flamstead End, he wondered what was going on with Toady.
Simply Flowers on Rosedale Way had also shut. He had to bang on the door to get some attention. A woman leaned out of an upstairs window and shouted, ‘Is there something wrong with your fucking eyesight?’
‘Police, I’d like to talk to someone.’
She rested on her elbows on the frame and leaned further out of the window. ‘Go on, I’m listening?’
He laughed. ‘Very funny. Can I come inside before people begin to think I’m a snowman?'
‘Round the side,’ she said, pointing to the right.
He crunched through the snowdrift to a door at the side of the shop and was buzzed in.
‘ID?’
He passed her his warrant card.
‘It doesn’t look real.’
‘It is. There’s a phone number...’
‘I’ll believe you.’ She passed it back to him. ‘What do you want?’
‘During the past month a bouquet of white roses was sent to Lisa Taverner at The Snooty Pig pub in Wormley by a man we think was named Jeremy Kincaid. On the card he put “I Love You, J”. Can you confirm that for me?’
‘If you already know, why are you asking?’
‘As I said, I need it confirming.’
‘You expect me to go outside in this?’
He could understand why some cops just walked away. One day, they simply said, “Enough is enough”, and handed in their notice. He’d been close himself a few times. You become weary of the continual resistance. Of people who should know better, spitting in your face, holding their shoulders against the other side of the door, and knowingly pointing you in the wrong direction. It was an uphill struggle day-in and day-out. If you succumbed to the pressure, there was no telling where it would lead. Opting to go was the only sane response.
‘I’m in the middle of a murder investigation, Miss...?’
‘It’s Mrs... Angela Bladen-Hovell. Is that violins I hear?’
‘I’m afraid so. If you don’t help me, Tiny Tim Cratchit won’t get any turkey this Christmas.’
‘I expected you to threaten me.’
‘I could do that if you feel cheated in any way.’
She laughed. ‘I suppose I could help you just this once. Come on then, let’s go to the shop.’
She put a half-length fur coat on, and he followed her down the stairs.
It didn’t take her long to find Jeremy Kincaid. He’d learnt his lesson, and wrote down the details in his notebook rather than ask for a copy receipt.
‘Tiny Tim says, “Thank you”.’
‘I’m sure he does. Can I get back to Faith Mortimer on my Kindle now?’
‘Feel free.�
�
His phone activated as he climbed in the car.
‘Jeremy Kincaid lives at 31 Churchfields Lane, Broxbourne, EN10 8BN.’
He quickly wrote the address in his notebook.
‘You didn’t ask me to, but I thought I’d go that extra inch. Mr Kincaid works as a sales representative for Carn Galver Brewery in Devon, but the young lady I spoke to there seems to have lost contact with him. Apparently, all the reps are meant to keep their online diaries current, but he’s not where he’s meant to be today.’
‘Could be something to do with the weather?’
‘Could be.’
‘No wonder Parish says nice things about you, Toady.’
‘He does? Tell me more?’
Kowalski ended the call. Before he went slip sliding off to Broxbourne he needed to think through what he had, and there was no better place to do that than a public house that sold real ale and victuals.
***
‘Where’ve you been?’
Richards pulled a face. ‘You know where I’ve been.’
‘I didn’t mean you could take a two-week holiday in the Maldives before you came back with the pool car.’
‘I must have misunderstood.’
‘Clearly. Did I mention that there’s a second body?’
‘I just knew there would be.’
‘You didn’t say.’
‘I was hoping I was wrong.’
‘You think we’ve got another serial killer, don’t you?’
‘We have. There’ll be more bodies.’
‘What makes you such an expert?’
‘I don’t know how I know, I just do.’
‘I was hoping there would only be one body.’
‘That’s another reason I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to say it out loud in case it came true.’
‘Very helpful.’
‘I try.’
With Richards leading, they trudged along the corridor to the stairs.
Turning her head she said, ‘What have you been doing anyway?’
‘I told you.’
‘You didn’t spend all this time in forensics.’
‘Toadstone is broken-hearted.’
‘Not again.’
‘I told him to stop being a wet weekend.’
‘You didn’t? What does that mean exactly?’
‘I explained to him that outward change without inward change was like having a dog and barking yourself.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Police training.’
‘Mum’s right, sometimes you just pull words out of the air and fit them together to make rubbish.’
‘I resemble that. And guess what?’
‘What?’
‘I said guess.’
‘You know who the killer is?’
‘Be serious. We have a new member of the team arriving tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh?’
‘Guess who?’
‘Brad Pitt?’
They walked out via the back door into the car park, and ran through the swirling snow to the car.
‘Global warming,’ Richards said.
‘Global bloody freezing more like.’
‘So, who is it?’
‘Is that your best guess – Brad Pitt?’
‘Yes. Where are we going?’
He passed her the postcode for Folly View in St Margarets, and she keyed it into the satnav.
‘Lola.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘Nope.’
‘How on earth...?’
He told her what had happened in the corridor.
‘Inspector Threadneedle is evil, Lola’s right.’
‘Well, she won’t be bothering Lola anymore.’
‘She’ll bother you though, the first opportunity she gets.’
‘I’ll have to make sure I don’t give her any opportunities then, won’t I?’
‘Where’s she going to work?’
‘Do you know of any obvious gap she could easily slot into?’
‘No way? Working with Inspector Kowalski?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’re a genius.’
‘I told you I was.’
‘He won’t like it.’
Parish grunted. ‘Lola won’t like it either.’
‘She’ll drive him crazy, but they’ll be great together.’
‘I know. I gave myself a pat on the back for thinking of it.’
He told her about the visit of the Lord Chief Justice, and how Lord Peter Elias was the Worshipful Grandmaster of P2.
‘Bloody hell!’
‘You don’t swear.’
‘I know.’
‘We have to contact Catherine. They’re following her, and they’re going to kill her.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘Will you stop swearing.’
‘Sorry.’ Richards pulled out her phone and sent a text to Catherine: “Phone me, urgently.’
Within a minute her phone rang.
‘We need to talk,’ she said to Catherine.
Parish grabbed the phone off her.
‘It’s all right, we can talk on this phone. Nobody knows about this one.’
‘Good,’ he said.
‘Oh!’
‘They’re following you. We need to make you disappear today.’
‘But... I’ve got a secret place now.’
‘They’ll know about it.’
‘But...’
‘Where’s all the P2 information?’
‘At the other place.’
‘Go and get it, and then drive to St Margarets. Park your car in the car park at the railway station at twelve thirty. Go into the ticket office, and pay for a one-way ticket to London. Hurry across the bridge to the other platform, and leave through the small gate. Richards and I will be waiting for you.’
‘What if they follow me?’
‘Don’t worry, they won’t be able to.’
‘I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.’
‘Too late for that.’
Chapter Nine
They drove up the A1170 to St Margarets. At the Amwell roundabout they turned right along the B181 and found Folly View past Gilpin’s Gallop and Folloy Grove.
Even though it was snowing heavily they spotted the large blue police tent covering the sewage access point. The forensics truck backed onto it. After parking up they climbed inside the truck.
‘Hi Di, what have we got?’
‘We’ve got a very angry Di. Was it your idea for Dr high-and-mighty Toadstone to become Genghis Khan’s twin brother?’
‘Well...’
‘I thought so. He thinks forceful translates into despot.’
Parish held up his hands in submission. ‘I’ll have another word.’
‘You’d better, otherwise you’ll be investigating his murder.’
He watched the monitor again as the picture bobbed about. ‘Our man in the sewer?’
‘Yes?’
He looked around the truck. ‘No Doc Riley yet?’
‘I received a phone call. She’s stuck on the A414. We’ll be lucky if she gets here at all.’
‘What if she doesn’t?’ Richards said.
Di shrugged. ‘We’ll have to take the body to her.’
They all turned towards the screen. The man with the camera was breathing heavily, and talking into the microphone as he moved. The tunnel was larger than the one at Hailey. There was a large-bore pipe suspended from above, a walkway to the right, and brick stanchions at regular intervals. ‘Okay, I’m in the water now. It’s coming up to my waist. The body is right here...’ And it was. They could all see the naked decapitated body of a woman. ‘It seems to be snagged on an underwater wire mesh seam.’
The camera panned to witness two other people opening up a stretcher, and laying an unzipped body bag on it.
The camera panned back. ‘There are no hands and feet like the last one.’
‘Right, let’s move
her,’ the cameraman said.
As the body was shifted into the body bag and zipped up, they could hear the cameraman puffing and panting.
‘We could do without the heavy breathing, Di,’ Parish suggested.
‘Next time I’m going to send you down there.’
‘I was only saying.’
‘Well don’t. Do you know how difficult it is retrieving a body from the sewers?’
‘I can imagine.’
‘I don’t think you can. I think to really appreciate what my people have to contend with, you should go down there next time.’
‘Okay, Richards and I will get down and dirty if there’s another body.’
Di smiled. ‘I’ll look forward to that.’
Parish kept one eye on the time. It was twenty to twelve. The railway station wasn’t that far away. ‘Richards and I have got to go in about half an hour. They’re looking for the body parts?’
‘Last time I checked I’d been doing this job for twelve years. Now, you’re here trying to tell me how to do my job. Don’t think I’m not grateful for your expert guidance, but if you keep winding me up I’m going to go on a killing spree.’
‘I’ll shut up, shall I?’
‘The first sensible thing you’ve said.’
‘Come on, Richards. I think we’ve outstayed our welcome here.’
Once outside, they went into the police tent and waited for the body to be lifted up.
‘Di isn’t serious, is she?’
‘About the killing spree? No, I don’t think so.’
‘About us going into the sewers?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t want to go.’
‘It’ll be a good experience for you.’
‘I’ll stink like a toilet forever.’
‘You get to wear one of those rubber suits.’
‘You can’t make me.’
‘Oh, I think I can. This is what being a partner is all about. It’s no good scurrying for the high ground at the first sight of alligators. I need someone to watch my back and you’re it.’
‘Alligators! Where did the alligators come from?’
‘People import baby alligators as pets, but they’re not really pets once they begin to grow, so their owners flush them down the toilets, or release them into the drainage system.’
‘You’re having me on.’
‘It’s true. Check it out for yourself if you don’t believe me.’
‘I’m definitely not going down there now.’
‘Which reminds me,’ he said looking round. ‘Where are the sewage workers who found the body?’