Purple Death

by Brian L. Porter

  “Connor,” he said as he snapped the flip phone open.

  It was Simon Fox.

  “Sir, I've found that address you asked me to get.”

  “Good work Fox. That was quick. Where does he live?”

  “Well Sir, it was easy really. Mr Forbes lives right here in Richmond, in Henley Close, less than three miles from your own address actually.”

  Connor's immediate thought was that Maggie Prentice had been misdirected by Forbes to make sure she didn't try to find him in Richmond. She'd been adamant that he'd told her he lived a long way from the town these days. He didn't trust her, of course, and why should he?

  Fox continued.

  “Do you want me to go round there and see him Sir? Is he connected to the investigation?”

  “Yes, he most definitely is,” Connor replied.

  He thought for a moment. By his reckoning Forbes would be in his seventies or eighties now, and even if he were the mastermind behind the murders it was unlikely that he'd pose much of a physical threat to the physically fit and muscular young police detective. The decision made, he spoke into the phone again.

  “Listen Fox, I want you to take two uniformed officers with you and get round to that address. I have to warn you that Andrew Forbes is our chief suspect for the aconite poisonings. I doubt he'll put up much resistance, but be on your guard. Try to convince him that you want him to accompany you to the station on some routine matter relating to a complaint received from a neighbour, or something like that. If you can think of a better pretext to get him to go with you then feel free to use your initiative.”

  “Yes Sir,” Fox replied, eager to be on his way and pleased that Connor trusted him to go out and bring in the suspect on his own.

  “Go on then, get on with it man,” said Connor, almost able to feel his young subordinate champing at the bit.

  “Right Sir, I'll be off then.”

  “OK, Fox, and just be careful. If you get him to come in quietly, or even if you don't, give me a call and let me know. I should be back at the station in a couple of hours if this infernal traffic eases up a bit. Hopefully you'll have him there by then”

  Connor clicked the phone off to enable Fox to go about his task.

  “Was that wise, Sir?” came the voice of Lucy Clay from the drivers' seat. “He's very young and inexperienced.”

  “He's old enough to have made it to the detective ranks Sergeant. That makes him old enough in my book. He's also a damned fine officer and I think we should have a little faith in the men in our team to get the job done, don't you?”

  “Yes of course, I'd just hate to think of him getting into trouble out there that's all.”

  “Oh come on Lucy,” Connor softened a little. “He's going to see an old-age pensioner who might be the killer of at least six people but who probably walks with a Zimmer frame when he's not mixing his deadly concoctions. Fox will also have two uniforms for back-up as well so I don't think he'll come to any harm, do you?”

  “Of course he won't Sir. I suppose I'm just tired from this incessant traffic we've had to contend with.”

  “Not for much longer I hope Lucy. They all seem to be moving a bit faster now than for the past half hour.”

  It was true. The nearer they got to London and its environs the thinner the stream of traffic became as drivers turned off towards their final destinations. When he saw a sign that said `Richmond-on-Thames 30' he at last began to feel that he was nearing home.

  “Nearly there Lucy. Only thirty miles to go. Just over half an hour at this speed, eh?”

  “Definitely won't be long now Sir.”

  The vibration in his pocket was followed by the ring tone of his phone once again.

  He answered quickly, knowing it was probably young Fox with news. It was.

  “Sir, I'm at the home of Andrew Forbes, and I hate to have to tell you this but…”

  “But what, Fox? Don't prevaricate, just tell me.”

  “Well Sir, we got here a short while ago and couldn't get an answer from knocking at the door or from ringing the doorbell. We began to take a look through the downstairs windows and that's when we saw him, just lying there.”

  Connor's heart began to sink as Fox continued.

  “We managed to find a window that was only half shut and believing that the occupant of the house might be in some distress we entered the property without a warrant…”

  “Yes alright. We don't need the legalese Fox. You were quite justified to enter under those circumstances. Just tell me what you found.”

  “Yes Sir, I'm sorry. Anyway, Mr Forbes was lying on the floor of what appeared to be his study. I doubt very much that he could have been the aconite poisoner Inspector, because he seems to have been dead for a number of days. I'm no forensic expert of course but the body was in a bit of a state if you know what I mean Sir, not fresh, like, and from what I could make out it looks like he could be another victim of the poisoner himself. He was all curled up and it looked as if he'd died in great agony. His face was all contorted and…”

  “Ok, Ok, I get the picture. Look, whatever you do don't touch anything. I suppose you've called it in to the station?”

  “Yes Sir, forensics are on their way, and D.C.I. Lewis is coming over as well.”

  “Give me the exact address Fox. We'll be in town soon and we'll join you there.”

  Connor hung up on Fox and turned to Lucy Clay.

  “Bloody hell Lucy. We've missed one. Forbes wasn't the killer and in fact it looks like he might've been the first bloody victim. Either Maggie Prentice was lying to us about the killer's name or the sick son of a bitch used Forbes's name in order to throw her, us and everyone else off the scent. If we don't find this bastard fast the trail is going to go stone cold. Oh yes, and by the way, the Boss is going to be waiting for us when we get there and I can promise you he isn't going to be a happy man. Put your foot down if you please Sergeant, and switch the bloody siren on. It's time to get these buggers out of the way. This is an emergency call after all, right?”

  “Right Sir,” she replied, and the unmarked car suddenly accelerated in response to the pressure of her right foot, and Connor and Clay completed their journey to the accompanying sound of the siren that ensured a smooth passage for the final twenty miles of their drive.

  22 Henley Close

  Number twenty two Henley Close, Richmond-on-Thames needed no finding once Lucy Clay turned into the leafy, tree-lined cul-de-sac. Three police cars stood outside the property, lights flashing, and a team of paramedics were unloading a stretcher and other equipment from an ambulance, its twin blue flashing lights joining those of the police vehicles in giving the late afternoon gloom a surreal `twilight zone' effect.

  Nearby another official looking vehicle stood, though this one was devoid of the roof lights that identified the rapid response emergency vehicles. On its side was the simple and unobtrusive emblem of the Constabulary with the words `Forensics Unit' appended just below the police force's coat of arms. It looked empty and deserted which meant that the forensics team had already begun their examination of the death scene.

  Three unmarked cars stood slightly to the side of the emergency vehicles. One was easily identified as the grey jaguar that was the preferred means of transportation of Connor's boss D.C.I. Harry Lewis, one was immediately recognisable to Connor as being Catherine's and the other was without a doubt the vehicle used by Simon Fox to drive to Forbes's house. Lucy Clay pulled her Mondeo up close to Lewis's jaguar and she and Connor were out of the car in seconds, pausing only to stretch their muscles after the long drive from Cornwall before making their way up the driveway towards the front door.

  As they neared the door a figure stepped out from behind the heavy oak door of number twenty two. Detective Constable Harry Drew looked pale and shocked. Lewis had brought Drew with him when he'd decided to visit the scene in Connor's absence and of the two Harrys it was obvious that Drew was the more sensitive to whatever he'd seen in the house. Lewis w
as more than experienced when it came to dealing with dead bodies, and Connor knew it. Unlike some D.C.I.s who were little more than `glorified desk jockeys with degrees' as Connor often described them Lewis was one of the `old school'. He'd worked his way up to his current rank, having started his career in the police force as a beat constable and stopping along the way at all ranks on the way to his present position. Connor respected him and Lewis was well-liked by everyone at the station.

  “Are you alright Drew?” Connor now asked the young detective.

  “You look a bit pale if you don't mind me saying so, Harry,” added Lucy Clay.

  “It's a bit bad in there Sir. The body looks as if it's being lying there for a week or more I would say. I've seen bodies before Mr. Connor, but not when they've been ripening for so long. The doctor and the forensics people have made a start, on Mr Lewis's instructions but I never realised it would smell that bad Sir, really I didn't.”

  “I know what you mean Drew. Get some air and don't come back in until you're ready. We can take care of everything now, anyway.”

  “Thanks Mr Connor. I appreciate it.”

  “Take your time Harry,” came from Clay as the two officers walked past Drew and into the house of death.

  The smell of decomposing human flesh was recognisable as soon as Connor and Clay passed over the threshold from the fresh air of the outside world into the fetid atmosphere of a house that had contained its dead occupant for many days. The smell ranked at number one in Connor's all time list of things to avoid, but he knew that in his job it was something he couldn't evade. The air in the hallway was filled with flies, and the two officers had little doubt as to what had been the insects' food source for the past few days. The pungent smell of death reached out to grip their nostrils as they moved along the passageway towards the study, the room easily identified by the sounds of their fellow officers and the other specialists in the room as they went about their unenviable business.

  D.C.I. Lewis was in conversation with Catherine Nickels as Connor and Clay made their entry into the room. They stopped upon seeing the two newcomers and Catherine smiled as she caught sight of Connor.

  “Hello Sean.”

  “Hello Catherine. You caught the call this time, eh? Hello Sir,” he directed the last to Lewis.

  The chief inspector nodded in greeting.

  “A bad business Sean,” he said.

  “I could have left it to one of the others but thought it best to come along myself,” said Catherine in response to Connor's question.

  “We got here as soon as we could Sir,” Connor aid to Lewis, aware that he was involved in two separate conversations.

  “I know. You seem to have done well in Penzance from what I've heard. We've been here for a while. Before I say anything else I think I'll let the good doctor here fill you in on what she thinks from her preliminary examination of the body.”

  Catherine led Connor and Clay to the far side of what had obviously been a working study until recently. As they crossed the room Connor took in the rows of books that lined the purpose-built shelves along the wall opposite the window. Novels by authors such Conan-Doyle, Poe, Patterson and Christie stood on one shelf, with the lower tier taken up by books on forensic science, legal procedures and one, `Investigation Procedures and The Art of Covert Surveillance' was an obvious `How To' guide for private investigators and served to remind Connor that the victim, like himself, had been in the same business; different tracks perhaps, but at least for the most part, on the side of the angels.

  Two forensic technicians were at work gathering whatever trace evidence might be present, and dusting the room for prints. So far the killer had left no real evidence to distinguish his or her presence at any of the previous crime scenes. Perhaps this time the police would get lucky.

  Catherine led them around the heavy old-fashioned mahogany desk to where the remains of Andrew Forbes lay on the floor, just below the wide expanse of the room's expansive bay window. From the position of the body it was evident to Connor that the victim had probably been sitting in his leather office chair when he'd been hit by the effects of the aconite. He'd fallen to the floor in his agony and panic and must have rolled around for some time in his death throes before coming to a final stop in the curled-up foetal position so common in the victims. His chair was slightly to one side of the desk, where it had rolled on its casters as Forbes had hit the floor.

  “I don't think there's any doubt about the cause of death Sean,” Catherine began. “I'll be able to confirm it after the autopsy of course, but you can take it that I'm ninety nine percent certain that death was due to aconite poisoning.”

  “Turning his nose up again at the sight and the stench that pervaded the room, Connor asked,

  “Any idea how long he'd been here before we found him?”

  “A week, maybe a little longer? Again, I'll be able to find out with a bit more certainty when I get him back to the lab for examination. There's been significant insect activity on and in the body, so that will help to give us a more definite timeline to when he died.”

  Connor shuddered. Lucy Clay, fighting back the urge to heave, was the next to speak.

  “It proves that we're on the right track though, Sir. Whoever is doing this is somehow connected to the Prentice case. They have to be, surely. Maggie Prentice thought that Forbes was the man behind it all; I think she firmly believed that. You said in the car that the killer used Forbes's name to fool her and us, and I agree, so I think it points to the killer being connected with the original case in some way. He's being very clever in his efforts to cover his tracks and his identity, but we're closing in on him, I'm sure of it.”

  “Listen Sean.” It was D.C.I. Lewis. “I've sent a couple of officers around the Close to see if anyone saw or heard anything suspicious in the last week or so. If we're lucky someone might have seen The Chocolate Woman or whoever it was when they came to visit Forbes.”

  “I don't think it was her Sir.”

  “You don't?”

  “No. I also don't think it was her who delivered the aconite to Judge Tolliver. Both he and Forbes here were directly connected to the original Prentice investigation, and I have a feeling that they knew their killer personally. He would have wanted to make sure they died. Remember how Tolliver had a large enough dose to kill a horse in his body? I could be wrong of course but I think the killer stayed and watched Tolliver and Forbes die out of a sense of gruesome satisfaction.”

  “And the others?”

  “Sam Gabriel, Virginia Remick, Arminder Patel, David Arnold and the Strides were different. They were, I assume, the offspring of others who were connected to the case. We know the Strides and Arnold's connection, tenuous though it was but we still don't know how Patel, Remick or Gabriel were involved. We need to concentrate on that and try to establish what their or their family's links to the case were. Once we find those links we're going to be even closer to tracking this evil bastard down.”

  At that moment the paramedics asked for and were given permission by Catherine Nickels to remove the body if the police were finished with it for now.

  Lewis looked questioningly at Connor, who nodded to his superior. There was little more he could discover from the body here at the scene and to be honest, he'd be glad to get the rank-smelling remains of the ex-private investigator out of the house. As soon as the body had gone and the forensic people gave their assent Clay followed Connor's order to open the windows of the study. The fresh air was a welcome intrusion into the foul stench of putrescence that would pervade their lungs for some time to come. It would be days before the smell of death left that room, but for now, just the touch of the lightest breeze from outside was a relief to those present at the death scene.

  Catherine exited the room behind the paramedics and would follow the body to the mortuary where she would begin her detailed examination of Forbes's remains without delay. As the forensics team continued their minute investigation of every inch of the dead man's st
udy Connor gestured for Clay to follow him out of the room, which the sergeant did with haste and with relief.

  “Your thoughts, Sergeant?” he asked as the two of them stood just outside the front door gulping in lungfulls of sweet tasting fresh air for the first time in over half-an-hour.

  “I have a feeling that Mr Forbes was the first victim Sir. I think the killer made sure of his death before he commenced with the other killings. We didn't know of course because no-one came and found the body until today. That would mean, if my theory is correct that Forbes not only knew his killer as you suggested in there, but that he could also in some way be the key to all that's happened so far.”

  “Good thinking Lucy,” Connor grinned. “Those are my thoughts exactly. Let's go back in there and take a closer look at that study. Forbes had a computer, it's on his desk, and there's a bloody great filing cabinet just waiting to be searched in the corner of the room.”

  An hour later, the detectives emerged once more from the house to take the air and relieve their lungs of the odour of decomp. They'd found nothing, but that in itself had told them something. Andrew Forbes had kept scrupulous records on his computer of every case he had ever been involved in. When it came to the case of his partner's death however, there was no trace of a single file relating to it. That meant that either he had never recorded the details on his hard drive, unlikely, or that the killer had stayed long enough in the house to access the files and delete them, highly likely. The filing cabinet had produced similar results. In this case it was obvious to the searchers that files had been removed. There was a huge gap in one of the filing cabinet drawers that indicated a number of missing files. Connor would bet his life on the fact that they were the Prentice files, particularly as the missing papers all appeared to be from the master file under the heading `P'.

  Connor had ordered the forensic technicians to remove the computer and have it sent to the specialists at headquarters for closer analysis. The killer may not have been aware that although he'd deleted the files, modern police technology would allow their computer analysts to retrieve and recreate them from somewhere deep within the computer's hard drive. Connor neither knew nor understood the technology involved in the process, but he knew it could be done.