by Casey, Jane
‘You took your time.’
‘The traffic was terrible. We got here as soon as we could,’ I explained, cringing a little in spite of myself.
Derwent shrugged. ‘We’re here now. What’s going on?’
‘Have you ever come across Philip Kennford?’ Godley was speaking in a low voice.
‘As in the barrister? The QC? That Kennford?’
‘Got it in one.’
Derwent whistled. ‘This is his house? Fuck me, there’s money in getting criminals off the hook, isn’t there?’
‘Who is he?’
The inspector turned to look at me, unimpressed. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never come up against him, Kerrigan.’
‘I haven’t been doing this for very long,’ I reminded him. ‘Only a few of my murders have gone to trial yet.’
‘But you must have heard of him.’
‘Vaguely,’ I said.
‘Do you “vaguely” recall the Catford strangler? That freak who was raping and murdering women in their own homes? He did for eight of them before he got arrested.’
I ignored the fact that Derwent had dialled the sarcasm up to eleven. This one I did actually know. ‘Because his son got done for aggravated assault and the DNA showed he was related to the killer.’
‘Yeah, they’d got DNA from inside one of the victims and it was a near match to the son – close relation – so it was only a matter of going through the family and finding the guilty party. They only got DNA off one body, and only a trace of it at that because he used condoms most of the time – just couldn’t resist dipping into the last one he killed bareback, or he decided it was worth the risk. Maybe he thought he was in the clear because no one had ever come knocking on his door. Peter Harbold his name was, an accountant by profession, a pillar of the community – no one you’d ever have suspected. Twisted bastard, as we found out.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Godley warned, glancing behind him. ‘Kennford’s in there.’
‘I don’t care if he hears what I think of his client,’ Derwent snapped. ‘I don’t care if he hears what I think of the defence that got him off.’
‘He got off?’ I hadn’t remembered that.
‘He did indeed. The DNA sample wasn’t collected properly, according to Kennford. He found an expert to say it could have deteriorated before it was analysed so it couldn’t be relied upon. And Harbold had been very careful about covering his tracks so everything else was circumstantial. No confession, no difficulty in handling cross examination, no criminal record. The jury wouldn’t convict, even after a majority direction. Split down the middle. Cretins on one side, decent people on the other. The prosecution wanted a retrial but the judge said no go. No chance of winning unless there was new evidence, and there wasn’t.’
‘Are you that sure they were wrong?’ I asked, genuinely curious. I knew that Derwent didn’t have a lot of time for the jury system but he sounded particularly vehement.
‘I knew the officer in the case. Mate of mine. He wasn’t in any doubt about it. Couldn’t shake Harbold in interview. The guy had an answer for everything. He was prepared, my mate said. Just too smooth to be right.’
I nodded. I had done interviews like that, too. Innocent people got flustered. They tended to ramble, to answer at great length, trying to be as helpful as they could. Innocent people were nervous, generally. It was the guilty ones who took it in their stride.
‘You can’t blame Kennford for doing his job,’ Godley said. ‘And in this case, he’s a victim.’
‘Or a suspect.’
‘If you like, Josh. But you should probably speak to him before you make up your mind about that.’
‘Fair enough. Let’s have a crack at him.’
‘Crime scenes first.’ Godley led us across the hall. ‘I want you to get a look at them so you know what to ask.’
‘Scenes? So they weren’t killed in the same place?’ I asked.
‘No, Vita and Laura died in here.’ Godley pushed open the door. ‘But they weren’t the only ones who were attacked.’
I wasn’t really paying attention to the superintendent any more. I was fully occupied by scanning the room, seeing the before and after, order and disorder, life and death. The pristine chill that I’d noticed in the hall was here again, the pale colours and lack of ornament, except for the art on the walls. It was a large room and minimally furnished – a couple of designer chairs that looked more like sculpture than seats, black lacquered tables on either side of the fireplace, chrome and glass lamps. Modern, expensive, to my eye over-designed – and now disturbed. Two huge rectangular sofas faced one another at right angles to the fireplace, but one of them was pushed out of alignment and its cushions were scattered over the floor. A body lay in front of it, on carpet that was saturated with blood. She was on her back, her head tilted to stare blindly at the fireplace, which was itself painted with arterial spray. One leg was thrown negligently onto the sofa so her legs were splayed, but her clothes didn’t look as if they had been disturbed. She was lying as she had fallen, as if maybe she had been curled up on the sofa and had toppled off during the attack. The angle of her head was so extreme that I couldn’t see her face, but from the skinny jeans and camisole top, I thought it was the younger victim. Laura. Laura, who had evidently had her throat cut, right down to the bone. Laura, whose killer had only just stopped short of decapitating her. Laura, whose hair was matted with blood, whose clothes were soaked, who had died horribly. Laura, who had been fifteen. I swallowed and looked away, searching for the other victim.
She was at the other end of the room, at the centre of chaos. Vita had made it further than her daughter, probably trying to escape through the French windows that led to the garden. The curtain pole had come down on one side, the heavy silk material pooling under the body. I walked towards her, leaning to see. I had only spotted one injury on Laura’s body but Vita’s was a different story: multiple slashes and stab wounds that Dr Hanshaw was busy annotating. As far as I could judge, Vita had been slim with bobbed fair hair. Her trousers and top had once been pure white, linen and silk respectively. One of her shoes lay on its side by my feet and I bent over to look at it. A caramel-coloured suede loafer with a gold snaffle. Somehow I wasn’t surprised to see it was made by Gucci.
‘Blood.’ Derwent’s nose was wrinkled. ‘Like a butcher’s shop.’
I had been trying to ignore the smell, breathing shallowly through my mouth. It was exceptionally strong, and somehow worse for being fresh. The room was saturated. There was a trail leading from Laura’s body to where Vita lay, in scattered droplets and in small pools. A table lay on its side, the lamp that had been on it shining an oval at the opposite wall where a constellation of blood spatter gleamed. The base of the lamp had broken and porcelain shards littered the floor. Vita had fought hard for her life, and lost.
Derwent had wandered off and was now prowling around the room, whistling tunelessly and inspecting the fittings, generally acting as if he was there to look at the house with a view to buying it. Godley beckoned to Hanshaw and Kev Cox, one of our regular crime scene managers. ‘Talk us through what happened. Josh, come here. I want you to listen to this too.’
I had to hide a smile at Derwent being called to heel like a badly behaved dog. I didn’t hide it quickly enough.
‘Why don’t you ask Kerrigan what she thinks?’ There was a glint in Derwent’s eye as he strolled back towards us. ‘See what she makes of it.’
‘I’m not sure that’s fair.’ Godley’s voice was mild.
‘What do they call it – a teachable moment? This is a chance to show Kerrigan what she doesn’t know, isn’t it? And Kev and Glen here can show her how important it is that she listens to them rather than jumping to her own conclusions.’
‘I may not be very experienced, but I know better than to ignore expert opinion.’ I turned to Godley. ‘Look, I don’t want to waste anyone’s time––’
‘I don’t mind.’ Kev was one of the sweetest people
I’d ever met. Of course he didn’t mind. Hanshaw, on the other hand …
‘If you want to test your DC’s analytical skills, feel free.’ The pathologist folded his arms. ‘This should be good.’
And suddenly, they were all looking at me. I swallowed, fighting panic. I was still dry-mouthed from dehydration and my head throbbed, a tension headache that was only getting worse. I made myself concentrate. Show no fear. ‘Okay. I should point out I’ve only just come in, and I haven’t looked at the bodies closely.’
‘Understood.’ Godley had an encouraging expression on his face. I didn’t dare look at Derwent.
‘Well, what happened in here was quick. Neither of the victims had time to leave the room, and there are two exits so they had their choice of escape routes. That could mean there were two killers, but I’m not sure it’s beyond one person to have done this.’
‘Who was first?’ Godley asked.
‘Laura. She didn’t have time to get up off the sofa before she was attacked. I think the killer stood behind her to cut her throat.’ I looked over at the sofa, thinking. ‘Vita was standing up behind the other sofa when Laura was attacked.’
‘How do you work that out?’ Derwent’s tone was seriously sceptical.
‘She ran towards her daughter. That chair is knocked forward – it would have been in her way. If it had been the killer who knocked it over when he was going to attack Vita, it would have been lying on its back.’ I walked forward to stand at Laura’s feet. ‘Vita stood here and fought with the killer. She must have been aware that Laura was beyond help once she got close enough to see the damage that had been done to her. She would have known her life was in danger too. There’s blood here that’s cast off from the knife. That suggests multiple movements with a bloody blade, but it looks to me as if Laura was dealt with in a single cut. And whatever he used, it must have been very sharp.’
‘Two slashes, in fact,’ Hanshaw said. ‘But you’re right, the cutting edge was extremely sharp, and both strokes were decisive.’
‘Vita ran when she could get away from the killer. She lost one shoe here, the other over by the window. She must have been quite badly injured at this point because she was losing a lot of blood and I’m guessing she held on to the curtains for support.’ I considered it again. ‘Or maybe she was trying to hold them in front of her to block the blade.’
‘There are slashes in the material.’ Kev was nodding happily.
‘Those doors must be locked or she’d have got through them. I bet Philip Kennford is obsessive about home security – he knows too much about criminals not to be. There’s a keypad for an alarm system in the hall by the door, and the gate at the bottom of the drive is an electric one with an intercom. I’d say the key for those doors is kept somewhere inaccessible, and they’re never left unlocked.’ I turned to Kev. ‘Was there any damage to the front door? Or any other windows or doors?’
‘No signs of a break-in. The back door into the kitchen was open, but the other daughter was out in the garden, swimming. She’d have seen anyone who used that door.’
‘The other daughter?’ Derwent asked.
‘Laura’s twin,’ Godley explained. ‘Her name’s Lydia.’
‘What was she doing swimming in the middle of the night?’
‘You can ask her.’ Godley changed his mind as he said it. ‘Actually, no, you can’t. She’s in no state to be confronted by someone like you.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Derwent was grinning. He positively revelled in his reputation. He’d certainly earned it.
‘Well, if there wasn’t a break-in that just leaves two possibilities, doesn’t it?’ I said. ‘Either the killer was let into the house––’
‘Or he was here already,’ Derwent finished for me.
‘That’s all I’ve got.’ I looked at Godley. ‘What did I miss?’
‘What happened before the killer attacked them. And what happened afterwards.’
‘I haven’t been around the rest of the house yet.’
‘I know. I’m not asking you to guess.’ He raised his eyebrows at the others. ‘How did she do?’
‘Very well. For a police officer.’ Hanshaw was always more vinegar than honey. Kev was nodding too, though, and Godley smiled at me. I felt a warm glow that had nothing to do with the weather. At least I did until I caught Derwent’s eye and was reminded that the inspector didn’t like junior officers to be too clever. I quelled my instinct to look modest and gave him the same look back, my best attempt at cold steel. So you thought you’d found a way to embarrass me, did you? Too bad I’m sharper than you thought I was. Next time, try harder. Or better yet, don’t try at all.
Godley got back to business. ‘Right. Give us the details, Glen. What did the killer use?’
‘The blade was large. Something like a machete or a professional kitchen knife. Not serrated. All Vita’s injuries are consistent with cutting, so the killer didn’t get too close to her and I don’t have much hope for DNA traces under her nails. She has defence wounds to both hands and wrists – severed tendons in a couple of places. Three or four of her injuries would have been enough to do for her and I don’t yet know which was the decisive one. She bled out into her chest cavity, which is why she had time to fight before she died.’
‘Who are we looking for?’
‘The killer wasn’t playing about. You’re looking for someone strong and probably tall. Right-handed. Violent, as you might have noticed yourselves. The first victim’s throat is cut to the spine. I don’t see that very often. But there’s no sexual component, unless you think the killer has a thing for cutting. He or she treated both of them differently, which may be significant, but then again it may not. Victim one was despatched efficiently and quickly. Victim two fought, which may account for her more numerous injuries.’
‘Or the killer might have wanted to take his time with Vita. Anything else?’
‘Not until after the PMs. I’ll do them tomorrow morning, first thing.’
‘I’ll be there.’ Godley always tried to attend the postmortems. I preferred to read the reports afterwards. It was much less distracting to read the cold, clinical description of what had happened to the victims than to see their internal organs in full, lurid detail.
‘I’m happy for the bodies to be moved now.’ Hanshaw was already gathering his belongings.
‘The lads have finished in here until the bodies come out. Then I’ll send them in again, make sure we haven’t missed anything underneath either of these poor ladies.’
I hadn’t realised until Kev said it that the SOCOs had finished up while we’d been talking, slipping out of the room like paper-clad ghosts. He edged towards the door himself.
‘If we’re done here, I’m just going to check how they’re getting on upstairs.’
‘Good stuff, Kev. Let us know when you’re finished.’ Godley waited until they had left the room and we were alone with the bodies. ‘So?’
‘Laura didn’t stand up,’ I said quietly. ‘She didn’t even know she was in danger. She knew her killer or she wasn’t scared.’
‘You know him,’ Derwent threw at Godley. ‘What do you think of Philip Kennford?’
‘I think he would make a good suspect. If he didn’t have an alibi.’
‘Which is?’
‘The first officers who responded found him lying unconscious in his bedroom – he was out cold. He’s the other person who was attacked. If you can work out how he beat himself up, you can put him at the top of the list of suspects.’ Godley shrugged. ‘Until then, he’s in the clear.’
Derwent frowned, thinking. He opened his mouth but whatever he was going to say was destined to remain unsaid, because out in the hall Glen Hanshaw was throwing an epic tantrum.
‘Some bastard’s blocked me in. Would the person driving the blue Honda please move their fucking car? I’m warning you, you’ve got five seconds before I ram it out of my way.’
‘Whoops.’ The expression on Derwent’s fac
e could only have been described as naughty.
Godley raised his eyebrows. ‘Was that you?’
‘There was nowhere else.’ He sauntered towards the door, pulling his keys out of his pocket. ‘Better face the music, I suppose. How long have I got left?’
‘You’re into extra time. I’d hurry if I were you. Glen knows a hundred ways to kill a man without leaving a mark.’
‘Do I look worried?’ Derwent let the door swing closed behind him, but not before I heard him say in an ultra-innocent voice, ‘Sorry, is there some sort of problem?’
‘I’ve never heard Glen sound like that before.’ Godley sounded amused.
‘I’ve never even heard him swear.’
‘Josh does have a talent for bringing out the profane in people.’
‘That’s an understatement.’
Godley looked at me quickly. ‘You don’t mind him, do you?’
‘I’m used to him. I sort of don’t want to be there when he meets Philip Kennford, though. I don’t think he’s going to be terribly sympathetic.’
‘That’s why I keep him around. I’m hoping he can shake Kennford into telling me the truth. I have a feeling I’m being spun a line and I can’t think why.’ Godley shook his head. ‘Something about this just doesn’t seem right to me.’
I looked past him at the teenage girl’s body stiffening into its awkward pose. I didn’t say it, but it seemed to me patently obvious that there was nothing right about that at all.
Chapter Two
‘I’D HAVE THOUGHT you’d be too busy to stay.’ Derwent was standing with his hands in his pockets, a scowl on his face.
‘I have time.’ Godley checked his watch. ‘Well, enough to speak to Kennford and his daughter.’