"Could've been. It must have been very sharp, and the thrust would've had to be perfect. It isn't easy to cut a head off so cleanly with one slash of a blade. Unless, that is, the victim was standing still to make the killer's job easier, which doesn't make any sense."
"Could he have immobilized or drugged him?"
"We'll check for drugs in the laboratory," the pathologist answered. "But I can't see how he could have been immobilized. There are no rope marks. Besides, his wife saw what happened. She said it was a sword fight."
Aidan didn't know what to think. It was strange enough that somebody would kill another person with a sword. To tell the truth, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen a real sword. He'd never worked on a case like this. Typical weapons were flick or kitchen knives. But swords? It seemed very strange. Nevertheless, the sword fitted the witness's description of what had happened. He decided to wait and hear what Lance had found out. It might have all been made up. Or maybe the wife had simply lost it from the shock.
"Aidan," Wystan yelled behind his back. The Inspector's voice didn't sound exactly happy. "Come here."
"Fuck!" Aidan said, gritting his teeth. "See you later, old man. I've got to see what's up with the boss."
"Be careful, Aidan," Fletcher warned him. "The rumour's doing the rounds that they're putting a lot of pressure on him in this case, and that he's not happy with you."
"Great. Then why did he give me the case?"
Fletcher just shrugged his shoulders as Aidan turned around and walked towards Wystan. The Inspector's enormous stomach looked like it was going to burst the buttons of his shirt, and his usual poor dress sense was underlined today by the choice of the ugliest tie Aidan had seen this year or any other. It not only didn't go with the suit but the colour was so bright he felt like throwing up.
"Fine place to meet," Aidan said when he made it to the Inspector.
"I hope you're working on this," Wystan grumbled. "Taking it serious. This time I don't want to hear about any problems."
"Nor do I. You can give it to someone else if you haven't got faith in me. But if things don't work out right it won't be my fault. You know who's going to be the lawyer this time?"
"That's enough, Aidan." Wystan was tired of going over the same thing time and time again. "That's history. Whoever they assign to this case is irrelevant."
"I don't look at it that way, Inspector. That imbecile ruined my investigation and made me responsible. I'm not going to take the rap for that. They don't crucify him when he loses a court case, but if I make a mistake…"
"That doesn't justify what you did," Wystan pointed out.
Aidan knew he was right. Six months earlier he'd lost a case and the drug dealer who had been so hard to bring to justice had walked free. The lawyer had put the blame on him, sullying Aidan's image to discredit him. His insubordination hadn't helped, the year that his drinking problem had got out of control and various not very flattering psychiatric reports. His wife's death five years before was brought up. It didn't create an image that the jury would have expected from a law enforcement officer.
The whole affair highlighted his sense of impotence. His anger threatened to consume him. His had been the key statement, and without witnesses the profile established by the defence lawyer brought the whole affair down. When the lawyer accused him of making the whole thing up, Aidan punched him in the mouth in front of the whole court, breaking two teeth.
"He deserved it," Aidan said defiantly. "They shot me in the arm. They were close to killing me and this individual got angry because his legal reputation suffered a little."
"Do you really believe that we resolve all our problems by thumping people?" Wystan paused and Aidan realized that he was making an effort to contain himself. The Inspector continued his speech, controlled. "You weren't expelled because I think you were right, but I'm not going to tolerate you going around punching every Tom, Dick and Harry. Is that clear? I want this time to be different. No confrontations. Take what I'm saying seriously. You're walking a tightrope. Another problem like the last and it won't matter how good a detective you are. The force and the public want normal blokes who know how to control their tempers."
"Understood, Inspector," Aidan said grumpily. "I'll get whoever killed this dwarf in the black suit."
"You already know that this murder has attracted the curiosity of the press. Being decapitated by a sword makes an interesting headline. It's going to be a very public case and there's going to be a lot of pressure. So no scandals, thank you very much."
"How come all of these jokers are here so soon?"
"Must've been the neighbour," Wystan explained with a shrug. "She found Mrs Black in a state of shock. She informed us straight away and without any doubt anyone else in hearing distance… what do you know about the case?"
"Almost nothing. I've just arrived, I've only had time to glance around a bit and talk to Fletcher for a while."
"Well, get up to date, quick. The victim is William Black and he doesn't have a record. There are no drugs in the house, no weapons, nothing suspicious. No sword, either. He'd just moved into this house with his wife. There are no children. He worked with computers for a multinational that's got a branch near here."
"I'll see what I can find out. I've sent Lance to question the wife."
"Keep me informed, Aidan," Wystan said.
Aidan nodded without much enthusiasm and went looking for Lance. The conversation could have been worse. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken with the Inspector like that. There'd been almost no tension, not like almost every other time they'd spoken in the last few years, when it had turned into an argument. They were like chalk and cheese, their different points of view keeping them far apart. Aidan knew Wystan was a good man and carried out his job in an exceptional manner and kept corruption to a minimum. He didn't fly off the handle for no good reason. And the thought crossed Aidan's mind as he walked out of the room that maybe the fault was his.
It seemed that Lance was still questioning Mrs Black. He was seated beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder. He was much better at this sort of thing, and Aidan treated him like a brother, but sometimes he just couldn't stand him. Lance was too protective and Aidan needed to be alone from time to time.
The thought came to Aidan that he hadn't looked at the head of the victim. It was lying on the floor next to the wall. He guessed they didn't want to move it for some legal reason. He walked over and bent down and began to study the former Mr Black in detail. The hair was very dark, almost black, like the eyes. The mouth, half open, showed perfect teeth. Aidan couldn't take his eyes away from the man's lifeless face. He looked familiar, in fact he could swear that he knew him from somewhere. But that wasn't possible, he thought, because he never forgot a face. His visual memory was faultless, and that had always served him well in the job. But his intuition was screaming at him that he was missing something this time.
"You can take a photo," Lance said behind his back. "You don't have to stay there all day staring."
"You know something?" Aidan said standing up. "Look closely. Does his face look familiar?"
"Are you saying it does to you?" Lance leaned over and studied the face, "I've never seen this bloke in my life."
"I don't know why," Aidan said, thoughtfully, "but I could swear I know him from somewhere."
"Let's hope he's not one of the lawyers," Lance said, smiling.
"Very funny. Now tell me what you found out."
"A seriously interesting story. It seems the killer entered the house and started a fight with this poor bastard," he said, looking at the head on the floor. "The pair of them drew medieval swords and this here was the result. As far as Mrs Black knows her husband had never had a sword in his hand his whole life. She didn't even know he owned one. Wait, wait!" he said, stopping Aidan interrupting him, "I still haven't told you the best. The killer was dressed exactly the same as her husband, except he was dressed in white.
"Di
d she sound affected by the medication?"
"Let me finish, mate. You're going to love this. The killer looked exactly the same as her husband. She was explicit on this point. They were identical except for two details. The killer was blond with blue eyes. Everything else matched down to the finest detail. What do you make of that?" Lance opened his hands and smiled as if he'd just performed some magic act and was waiting for the applause. "This is going to be the best case we've ever had. And the press is going to love it, especially when they get wind of this. What I liked most about it was the suits. We're going to be famous, mate. We'll be a feature in all the tabloids. The investigators of a medieval murder. No, you don't like that. What about detectives investigate sword duel? Yeah, that's better."
Aidan looked at William Black's head again. He wasn't crouching but his eyes hadn't left the head. He hadn't even heard Lance's last words; he was too absorbed in trying to work out why William Black seemed so familiar. For the first time he concentrated on his surname and something clicked. It had to mean something. He was vaguely conscious of Lance speaking at his side. He ignored him deliberately and then an idea came to him. He crouched down quickly and extended his hand towards the head.
"Hey!" someone from the pathologist’s team called out. "Nobody can touch it. At least not without gloves."
"You'll know that these prints are mine," Aidan explained after closing William's eyes.
"Why did you do that?" Lance asked, intrigued.
"Now the hair," he murmured to himself.
"Are you going to tell me why? Come on, I don't like being ignored. What's happening?"
"I've got it!" Aidan exclaimed, pulling himself away from staring at the head and turning to his partner. "Did Mrs Black say whether her husband had family in London?"
"I didn't ask her about that," Lance answered defensively. "She's too knocked up by what's happened to answer any more. I just kept my questions to the murder."
"Go back and find out if William had family in London, in particular, a twin brother."
"What?" Lance asked, frowning. "What gave you that idea? I leave you a few minutes alone with this head here and you've gone nuts. You haven't been drinking, have you?"
"Stop playing the fool and do what I asked you to. It might lead to a good clue about who cut our friend's head off here."
* * * * *
CHAPTER 4
"Look, doctor, it's nothing personal, but I'm out of here," James White said, getting out of the bed. He'd made up his mind that the hospital wasn't for him. "Give me something decent to wear and I'm on my way."
"I can't let you go, Mr White," the doctor explained patiently. "We still don't have all the results. We still need a blood test and your blood pressure has to be taken."
"You don't seem to be a bad bloke so I won't tell you what I really think about all of this," James said, walking to a wardrobe in search of something to wear. The only thing that he had was a hospital gown which zipped up from the back. "Where are my clothes?"
"You'll get them back later. Now, get back into bed. You can't walk around the hospital like that."
"Shit! You're not even half as healthy as I am," he said, dodging the doctor and making for the door. "I've been locked up here for a day since the accident, putting up with all sorts of questions and stupid medical tests. If you think this stupid gown is going to stop me walking out of here, you don't know me very well. My clothes are as important to me as my respect for your medical opinion is. There's no way I'm staying here."
At that point, the sexiest nurse that James White had ever set eyes on entered the room and he completely lost the thread of what he was saying as a flood of his favourite sexual fantasies poured out of his head as he looked at the collection of curves that had just walked in. He was in the bed with her, running his hand over…
A strong tug on his arm brought him back to reality with a jolt. He hadn't even noticed that the nurse had led him back to the bed and was taking his blood pressure. James couldn't, or rather didn't want to, miss even the smallest detail of that moment. He knew his mouth was half open and hoped he wasn't drooling.
"I'll take this opportunity to visit other patients seeing as you've gone quiet," the doctor said, accustomed to the effect the nurse had on patients. "I'll drop back later, Mr White."
"Yes, yes. Whatever you say, doctor," James mumbled, turning his attention back to the nurse as the door closed. "And when does your shift end?"
"I've still got a good while to go," she answered indifferently.
"I can wait. We could have a drink when you finish."
"I've already got plans," she answered, securing the cuff around his arm and preparing the syringe. "Another time, perhaps."
"Is it because I'm short? You can't have everything. If you take off your shoes, maybe…" James said, leaning to one side and closing an eye while he calculated her height.
"Stay quiet, Mr White!" the nurse ordered, pulling him back to his previous position.
"We could go to the cinema. Sitting down you won't notice the height difference. What do you think?"
"I would like to but I told you I've already made plans," the nurse said, extracting the syringe and yanking the armband off. She put cotton wool around the prick mark and taped it. "And your height's got nothing to do with it. I like men with a sense of humour. There, we've finished."
"Wait! Don't leave it there. I'm the funniest man in this damn city. I swear it. Just let me know where you'd like to go. Give me a clue."
"Maybe. I'll think about it," the nurse said, opening the door. "I'll drop in later. See you then."
"Rest assured, I'll be here," James called after her in case she couldn't hear him as the lock clicked shut the other side. "I guess I'll be here. I'm not going to move from this bed."
Despite everything that had happened in his sanitary jail, James rubbed his hands energetically and rolled over on his back on the bed, going through his seduction routines. He discovered he didn't have as many as he would have liked. And his tendency to beg had to go. That hadn't brought him much luck in the past, even though he only resorted to begging when everything else had failed. It's what you do when you've got no dignity and lack options. In a desperate situation anything's better than nothing. But surprisingly his style seemed to have gone down well with the nurse. The smartest move would be to play the funny man like he'd promised her.
The thread of his thoughts was cut sharply as another sensation invaded his mind and body.
"Here we go again."
He got up and walked to the mirror on the back of the wardrobe door. He wasn't surprised to see himself dressed in an elegant white suit. He ran his hand softly over the suit sleeve and sighed deeply.
"In the end, what can I do? There's no point resisting."
James White went to the door, played with the handle, and pulled lightly. The lock opened as if it were made of paper and bounced on the floor. James calmly left the room.
# # #
The chubby security guard nearly swallowed his coffee when he saw Aidan Zack's battered car again. For the second time in a day he'd have to put up with the insult of seeing the detective put his curious vehicle in a no-parking zone. It was a wonder the pile of dented metal on wheels was still drivable.
Aidan Zack and Lance Norwood got out and walked towards the entrance. The guard approached them with a grim look on his face.
"Police business," Aidan proclaimed before the guard could warn them. "The car better be here when I get back."
"And without a scratch," Lance added.
The guard was lost for words. After they'd walked out of hearing range Lance said, "If I was a big bastard like you I'd scare the shit out of everyone too."
"I doubt it," Aidan mumbled to himself as he entered the hospital.
"I heard you," Lance said, following him in. "OK. We're here again. Let's concentrate on the job in hand. Do you really think this idea of yours about them being twins makes sense?"
"If it bothered yo
u so much, you could've stayed at Mrs Black's house, looking for clues. Or all the other stuff that police do to make sense out of investigative work."
"Are you kidding me?" Lance asked, surprised, trying to keep up with the big man. The hospital was full of people and the smell of medication hit him as soon as they entered. "That's what real detectives do, that's why you are better at that. I just came along to keep an eye on you and see if you wanted to check yourself in. You belong here. They say the psychiatric wing isn't too bad."
Although he wouldn't admit it, Aidan knew that Lance was as curious as he was to see if they were on to something about James White, the miraculous survivor of a traffic accident, and William Black, the poor computer technician who had been decapitated. They didn't have to look any further than their surnames, Black and White, to get the feeling that something was going on. It could have been a coincidence, but if it was, it was a big one. Not to mention the fact that William Black was dressed in black when he was killed and James White walked away from the worst traffic accident in living memory dressed in white, without a scratch.
Nevertheless, the most amazing thing was their physical similarity, except for the colour of their skin and eyes. It had taken Aidan some time to realize that Black and White were identical, given the fact that Black's head wasn't on his shoulders. But when Susan Black showed him photos of her husband he could see that they were indeed identical.
Mrs Black had explained to them that her husband didn't have any brothers. Aidan found that hard to believe, given that such similarity was not likely to be the product of chance. But she'd insisted there was no twin brother. So, in Aidan's mind in the end it came down to whether she actually knew about the existence of the twin. It wasn't something that he could have debated with her. However, he'd seen James and talked with him and had no doubt that he was right.
When he told Lance he knew he'd committed a grave error. His jokey partner didn't let up after that. Aidan was hallucinating. Mental problems did that. It was the reason he'd come with him to the hospital, to keep tabs on him.
The Big Ben mystery Page 4