by Tim Ellis
‘Agreed.’
‘The fourth murder was Colin Jackson in an alley at the back of the Pepper Pot café, but again there was nothing to suggest the killer worked here. All we knew was that each of the victims once worked for Redbridge Council. Do you go along with that?’
‘Yes. Except…’
‘Except what?’
‘We don’t know yet whether Colin Jackson, or whoever he is, worked for the council.’
‘Okay, a minor point, but can we move beyond that?’
‘Okay.’
‘Finally, we’ve got Graham Pearson who was killed in a lift here. Although everything is connected to Redbridge Council, there’s no reason to believe the killer works here. We’ve had two murders committed here, but in public places. The other three murders were committed elsewhere.’
‘If we think that Graham Pearson recognised the killer, what were both of them doing here at the same time? I find it hard to believe it was a coincidence.’
‘Maybe the killer followed Pearson in off the street?’
‘If that were the case, he’d have had the marlinspike and the token with him. Also, and this really spooks me, if he killed Pearson in the lift with a punch to the throat, and then had to go and get the marlinspike and the token, how come no one saw Pearson’s body? As soon as the killer stepped out of the lift, someone would have pressed the button and whoosh, the dead Graham Pearson was travelling from floor to floor. He’d have been found by someone long before the killer could come back and stab him in the heart and put the token in his mouth.’
‘Unless…?’
‘. . .Unless they had a key to take the lift out of service.’
Parish grasped Richards’ upper arms and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You’re a genius, Richards.’
She flushed like a solar corona. ‘I’ve been trying to tell you that for a week.’
‘And the only people who have keys to the lift are employed here?’ Parish said.
‘Yes.’
‘You could have said something before. We’ve sent most of the staff home now.’
‘We only need to talk to the ones who have a key to the lift.’
‘Yes, you’re right.’ He strode back to the security office and knocked.
Ollie Townsend opened the door. ‘Yes?’
‘Mr Townsend, do you keep a record of the staff that have a key to the lifts?’
‘Er, yes, Inspector.’
Ollie Townsend was standing there, not moving.
‘Could you give me a copy?’
‘Oh, sorry. Yes, of course.’ He went back into the office and took a file from the top of a filing cabinet and pulled out a page. ‘Seven security staff, the Town Clerk, the three maintenance engineers and six directors: a total of seventeen people altogether.’ He passed the sheet of paper to Parish and said, ‘You can have that one. It obviously needs updating. I’ll print off another copy.’
Parish looked at the list, which had five columns. The first column was the date of issue, then a key number, the name of the person it was allocated to, their job title and, lastly, a signature. He noticed Martin Squires had a key, but Diane Flint’s had been returned.
He was just about to take the list outside and give it to Sergeant Rice, when something occurred to him.
‘It says here that there should be twenty keys. Seventeen were issued, one has been returned, so you should have four left. Is that right?’
Townsend went to a board with numbered hooks on and said, ‘Number 83, if memory serves.’
‘Are there any missing?’
Townsend looked at hook number 83 and his face dropped. ‘There’re only three, Inspector.’
Parish took a pace forward until he was only an inch from the Head of Security’s face. ‘I should arrest you and throw away the key, Townsend.’
Townsend looked away.
Even though he wasn’t hopeful of a result, Parish took the list out to Ken Rice and said, ‘I’d like you to gather as many of these people in reception as you can find, Ken.’
‘Okay, Jed. Leave it with me.’
It took Ken Rice and three of his officers fifteen minutes to round up eight of the seventeen people. The Town Clerk had remained in the building, like the captain of a sinking ship. The three security staff were also still on duty. Only one of the maintenance engineers was available – a Mr Bogdan Krawiec. One had already gone home and the other one was on holiday. Of the six directors, those of social services and finance were dead and the Director of Personnel was sunning himself in California. Of the other three, only the Director of Environmental Services had remained. The Director of Education was out visiting primary schools and the Director of Crime and Public Safety was in Finland to see how it was able to maintain such a low crime level.
Parish addressed them all. ‘It’s possible that the killer might work here and have a key to the lift,’ he said. They all looked at each other as if the culprit could easily be identified. ‘What I’m going to do is ask that you volunteer to have yourself and your possessions searched.’ He waited, but no one objected. ‘Thank you. One of my officers will be with you shortly.’
While the search was being carried out, he spotted Susan Tollhurst, the Finance Manager, at one of the tables.
‘Susan…’
‘Oh, hello, Inspector.’
‘Did Pocahontas recover your financial data?’
‘That girl is a bloody genius. She was worth all the food I had to go out and buy for her and more. If we’d called in a company to do what she did, it would have cost us tens of thousands of pounds. She knew exactly what had happened and was familiar with the software that the bastard Squires had used to delete the accounts. She had us back up and running within three hours and had re-established our off-site back-up account as well.’
‘So everything’s as it should be?’
‘Nearly. The forensic accountants have a copy of our computer accounts now, and they still have our paper-based records. We’re also no nearer finding out why Brian Ridpath was being paid £2,000 a month, but it’s certainly not the disaster we thought it would be.’
‘I’m glad. Have you any idea when you’ll be getting your records back?’
Her eyebrows knitted. ‘Don’t you know?’
‘They’ll only contact me if they find something relevant to my investigation.’
‘And you’ve heard nothing?’
‘Not a word.’
‘It seems as though that bastard Martin Squires knew how to hide something.’
It was forty-five minutes later by the time everyone had been searched. No marlinspike or tokens were found. Parish realised that whether the killer worked at the council or not, he had evaded them.
‘Let’s knock it on the head, Ken,’ Parish said to Sergeant Rice. ‘Send those remaining home and let the security staff lock up. We’ve done all we can here. Thanks for your help and thank your men for me.’
‘No luck then, Jed?’
‘He’s like an eel. I thought we might have struck lucky this afternoon, but he’s slithered through the cracks again.’
‘Bad news about the Chief.’
Parish’s heart began racing. ‘What news?’
‘That he was rushed into hospital last night.’
‘Oh yeah. Richards and I went to see him this morning. He said he’d mixed up his medication.’
‘Well, you couldn’t blame him if it wasn’t an accident. You get to the end of your working life and pack your Union Jack shorts and a cooler bag full of beers for the beach, and then some jobs worth tells you you’ve got cancer: a crappy retirement package, if you ask me.’
‘He said he’ll be back to work on Monday.’
‘The man’s a saint in my book, Jed. Anyway, I see you’ve got yourself a hot-looking partner at last.’
‘I hadn’t noticed, Ken.’
‘Yeah right. You’re the only one that hasn’t, then.’
‘See you tomorrow, and thanks again.’
Paris
h checked his watch. It was quarter past seven. ‘Come on, Richards. Let’s get out of here.’
Chapter Twenty
They ran the gauntlet of reporters.
In the car, Richards’ mobile activated. Looking at his watch, Parish waited impatiently while she listened to whoever was on the other end of the connection. He had to go back to Hoddesdon Police Station, collect his car and then drive back to his flat. He needed to shower and change before Angie came at eight o’clock. At this rate, he’d get home just before she knocked on the door. Being a homicide detective was definitely not dating friendly. He was used to the long hours and hadn’t minded in the past because he’d had no social life to speak of, but now he wanted one. Unfortunately, he’d really picked the wrong time to start wanting a social life. Now that he’d been promoted to DI he needed to focus all his energies on proving that the Chief had been right in recommending him for promotion. The trouble was he wanted Angie as well. Was it possible to have both?
Richards disconnected the call and said, ‘That was my mum. She said she’ll be a bit late tonight.’
‘Okay, let’s…’
‘I knew you two were seeing each other,’ she said, laughing and starting the engine.
‘You’re a scheming cow, Richards. That wasn’t your mother on the phone at all was it?’
‘No. I sent myself a fake phone call.’
‘Well, now that you know, I’ll have to get myself another partner.’
She stopped laughing. ‘No, don’t say that.’
‘You’re too nosy for your own good. Our working relationship will change now.’
‘No, it won’t. I promise I won’t start calling you ‘Dad’.’ She grinned.
‘See, it’s started already. You think of me now as your mother’s boyfriend instead of your boss. No, you should have left well alone. Don’t say anything else. I need to think. Drive.’
‘I promise…’
‘Which part of ‘don’t say anything else’ don’t you understand?’
‘Sorry…’
He glared at her.
At the station, he said, ‘Your job in the morning is to sign out the pool car, go and collect the warrant from the CPS and then to come here and pick me up. Do you think you can do that without getting into any more trouble?’
‘Yes, but can’t we pretend I never found out?’
‘It’s too late for that now, Richards. You’ve burned your bridges and smashed your boats beyond repair; there’s no going back.’ He climbed out of the car and slammed the door.
Once she’d driven off, he smiled. That would give her something to think about over night. If he were still a DI in the morning after he’d seen CI Naylor, he wouldn't really get rid of her. She’d proved today that she had an enquiring mind, even if it did extend to his private life. He knew he couldn’t blame her though. She was looking after her mother like any good daughter would.
He laughed all the way home. A bloody fake phone call. He would never have thought of that. She was becoming an asset. Getting the warrant for Beech Tree Orphanage without being asked proved that. He’d need to have a word in Kowalski’s ear, though. Propositioning Richards in return for information was an abuse of his position.
***
When he answered the door, he was still wet from the shower and had a towel wrapped around his waist. It wasn’t what he’d planned, but what else could he do? In his mind he’d cooked spaghetti Bolognese with parmesan cheese and garlic bread. A bottle of Yarra Valley Pinot Noir red wine was breathing at room temperature on the table next to the candle. And After Eight mints were sitting in a box waiting to be devoured. He’d already showered, was wearing a black suit and open-necked shirt, and had switched the electric blanket on ready.
‘Is this your way of saying let’s go straight to bed?’ Angie said, looking him up and down as she stepped inside.
He kissed her on the lips and shut the door. ‘It’s my way of saying I’ve only just got in.’
‘Yes, I know. Mary rang me in tears. She says you’re going to get another partner because she found out about us.’
Helping her off with her coat, he said, ‘She tricked me into giving our secret away. Anyway, let me go and get some clothes on before you think about taking advantage of me.’
She followed him into the bedroom. ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ she said, taking off her dress. ‘Let’s take advantage of each other.’
Parish didn’t need asking twice and he was glad that the quilt cover was only a couple of days old. They fell on the bed kissing and groping like teenagers. The first time was always the same, he thought: always rushed and nerve-wracking; wondering if you’d match up to previous lovers; whether you were too quick, too small, too noisy. Having sex was not for the faint-hearted, that was for sure.
Afterwards, under the quilt, when they were lying in each other’s arms in the darkness, he said to her, ‘If I thought you were trying to bribe me, you know I’d have to arrest you.’
‘I don’t have to bribe you, Jed Parish,’ she whispered. ‘I know you won’t get another partner, but if you want to arrest and torture me some more, I suppose it would be foolish of me to resist.’
He pulled her tight and kissed her. ‘After two dates, you’re suddenly an expert on Jed Parish.’
Her hands strayed to his erection. ‘Yes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.’ They made love again without the panic and he knew then that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman.
‘You’re right. I’m just teaching your nosy daughter a lesson. She’s got to remember that I’m her boss and playing tricks on your boss can have serious consequences.’
‘You’re being mean. She really likes you, Jed.’
‘I know, but she’ll get over it.’
Angie switched the bedside light on and threw back the quilt.
Parish watched her walk naked to the wardrobe and put on one of his shirts.
‘All this lovemaking has made me hungry,’ she said. ‘I hope you’ve got some food in?’
‘Ah, well…’ He hadn’t really had chance to do any shopping. As far as he could remember there wasn’t much of anything in.
Angie went into his kitchenette. He heard her rummaging around in his cupboards and drawers, but stayed in bed, embarrassed that those cupboards and drawers belonged to him.
She came back and framed herself in the doorway smiling. ‘I can see that a woman’s touch is needed in this flat.’
‘I just park myself here when I’m not working,’ he said defensively. ‘I really did mean to get some supplies in, but Mary will tell you that we didn’t have much time today.’
‘I’m not criticising you, but I’m still hungry. What about a Chinese takeaway?’
He smiled, climbed out of bed and began getting dressed. ‘Now you’re talking.’
‘Don’t think we’re going to eat fast food on a regular basis, because we’re not, but it’s okay in an emergency and, looking at the green furry things in your fridge, this is a dire emergency.’
He found the menu for the local takeaway and gave it to her. ‘Choose what you want; I’ll ring in the order and then pop out and get it.’
It wasn’t the evening he’d planned and he thought he’d ruined any chance of a long-term relationship with his lack of planning and preparation. Women like Angie should be the centre of the universe, not an afterthought. But as he drove her home, she said, ‘I’d like us to do that more, if that’s all right with you, Jed Parish?’
He realised he’d been holding his breath forever and breathed out. ‘I’d like to do it more as well, Angela Richards.’
They agreed that making love with Mary in the house would just be too weird for both of them, and so they decided that their lovemaking should be restricted to his flat. She would come round again tomorrow night and bring some food with her.
They were kissing goodnight in the car when Parish heard tapping on the roof. He opened the window and peered out.
‘I’m sorry
, Sir. Please don’t get rid of me.’
‘Richards! I’m in here with your mother. You standing out there watching us through the window like a voyeur is bordering on the obscene. I’m not going to get another partner, but my relationship with your mum is off limits. Do you understand?’
‘Oh yes. Thank you, Sir.’ She pushed her arms through the opening and pulled his head towards her, but as she kissed him on the eye his head clanked on the glass. Then she ran off back into the house squealing.
‘Thanks, Jed,’ Angie said.
‘Tell her when you get inside the house that I’d better not end up regretting my decision.’
Angie leaned across and kissed him on the lips. ‘You won’t regret any decisions you’ve made tonight, Jed Parish.’
***
Wednesday, 22nd January
He thought he’d beaten the nightmares, but they returned with a vengeance during the night. He jerked up in bed with a scream on his lips at ten past four. Sweat dripped off him as if he’d been lying in a sauna and his heart was on its way to bursting. He tossed and turned until six o’clock and then he got up. What the hell was going on? He was thirty-six for God’s sake, long past the age when nightmares should be troubling him. He was standing in the shower with his eyes closed and forcibly shifted his thinking away from the dark tunnel, that he never seemed to reach the end of, to Angie. He thought of her warmth, her softness, her whispering as he made love to her and began to get an erection.
Out of the shower and dried by ten past six, he threw on some clothes. Breakfast, that’s what he needed. But to make himself breakfast he had to go to the mart and get some food.
It had been snowing during the night. He’d thought the bad weather was over, but clearly he was wrong. An inch of snow had settled over the existing frozen slush, and the pavements were like glass. With great care, he managed to walk the half-mile to the mart where he bought the essentials: bread, milk, sugar, coffee, butter, bacon and eggs. He was sure he had some baked beans in the cupboard, but he bought a tin anyway. He also bought a newspaper so that he could read about the case. On the way back, he slipped and banged his elbow and hip, but he managed to make it home.