Or was the killer a spurned boyfriend whose revenge had gone a vicious step too far? It was possible, but she didn’t think so. Love, betrayal, and beatings commonly went hand-in-hand, but intentional disfigurement was rare. By all reports, Sheila had never indicated she had any close relationship with anyone.
No, motive wasn’t the key to solving Sheila’s murder. The real evidence was in the chain of events. Find where and when, and she’d find who. There was nothing new about that.
There was a knock at her office door, and she looked up to see Paula Ford. Without a word, Paula held up a tabloid newspaper with a headline that screamed “Sheila Slashed!”
“We didn’t release that! Who the hell . . . ? Get everyone in the room, right now.”
* * *
After five minutes of making sure that everyone knew she could dress them down as well as Benford ever had and that there was no doubt whatsoever about her position on maintaining security, Elaine felt like it was time to move on. “So if you know something, come forward by the end of the day. I don’t want to start an internal investigation, but I will if I have to. Is that perfectly clear to everyone?” From the stunned expressions throughout the room, she knew it was. “Simon, please bring everyone up to date on what you found at the Leaside industrial estate.”
Simon stood. “In the unit, we found a chair set against a wall, various debris, and what appeared to be small blood smears and splatters. It looked like someone had wiped the place down, but enough was left to suggest that something violent happened. A SOCO team is there now. As soon as we’re finished here, I’ll go back and have a look through the rest of the estate. We’ve called a locksmith to get us into the locked units.”
“Good work. Be sure to have SOCO get a paint chip from the wall. If it matches the one Kumar found in Sheila’s hair, we’ll be certain that’s where she was killed.”
Simon nodded, then Bull spoke. “Wouldn’t that be a bit too close for comfort, given where her body was dumped? Usually a killer will dump the body some distance away.”
Elaine nodded. “Perhaps there wasn’t time, or maybe something interfered. Or maybe the guy got lazy. We don’t know. Right now, let’s concentrate on finding out where Sheila went after she got off the bus. Follow up with Mrs. Connolly to see if she passed Sheila on her way to the store, and if there’s no joy there, organize some uniforms and start a house-to-house. Who saw her walking down the street or go into a house? Who saw a young drunk girl and a slim hipster get into a posh Audi sports car? My hypothesis is that from there, they went to the industrial estate. A sign on the street showed a leasing agent, a Geri Harding. She’s on holiday, can’t be contacted, but she’s due back at the beginning of next week, and she works with a solicitor in Newham named Jackson Greene. Any luck tracking down Jackson Greene? Evan?”
Cromarty stood. “We’ve done a bit of background. Office is in Newham. He’s known to Vice to have some rather dodgy clients . . . strip clubs, massage parlors, and such.”
“So he definitely deserves a visit. I’ll give him one later. What about the ownership?”
“The property is owned by a company called Cambrian Estates, which is owned by Bitola, a company registered in Macedonia, of all places. Cambrian bought the property a year ago but has done nothing with it. They don’t have a website, and the only UK address appears to be a council flat in Cardiff. We’re on to our embassy in Skopje to follow up on Bitola and have a call in to the former owners of the property and their agent to see what they can tell us.”
Elaine considered. “So we have a dodgy solicitor, a Welsh front, and a Macedonian holding company that may turn out to be nothing more than a postal box. Someone is hiding something. It may or may not have anything to do with Sheila, but if we can find out who had access to the warehouse, we might learn something. Stay on it, and keep the team informed.”
At Evan’s acknowledgement, she continued. “One more thing. Paula, I need you to dig deeper with Leah to see if you can find out any more about Sheila’s habits. Teenagers always withhold information, and if you sense that, push her. Push gently, but push her. And give some uniforms Sheila’s picture and send them to clubs in the area to talk to the bouncers and bartenders. Have them ask about Danny. Sheila was underage, so maybe she was turned away at some point.”
FOURTEEN
For whatever reason, the next morning Elaine was optimistic enough to wear a light-green silk blouse, her reasonably nice second-best suit, and a complementary-hued scarf. Paula Ford followed her to the office and shut the door.
“Hmmm. Nice choices. I like the scarf. Definitely a step up from your usual. Either you’re making progress or you’ve found a new man.”
Elaine laughed. “Wouldn’t that be something? If it was a new man, I’d have worn my red satin teddy under all this.”
“A red satin teddy? Better and better, girl. You can’t fool me . . . let’s see . . . the new DI came down from Newcastle. Not too shabby to look at, and he has that boyish Northern charm. I heard he’s single.”
“Don’t you start any rumors.”
Paula lifted her eyebrows. “Okay, I’ll start an office pool.”
“Don’t you dare. Remember, I’m the guv now. You do that and you might find yourself partnered with Jenkins.” She gave Paula a smile and picked up her notes. Together they walked to the front of the incident room.
“All right, boys and girls. What have we got?”
She looked at Simon, who took the cue. “SOCO should have the final report on the industrial estate by early afternoon. The rain has let up for now, and the water in the drain will have subsided, so we’ll finish up looking for anything in the mud and check farther downstream just in case.”
“Right. Keep at it.” She raised her eyebrows at Evan. “Any luck yet on finding a pattern of some kind? Related cases? What about the company ownership?”
“We’re still waiting for our Macedonian Embassy to get back to us. They should have something later today. I’ll do some more digging on the shell companies and Greene. And I have some data on similar crimes over the last five years.”
“Okay, then. Let’s meet in my office in fifteen minutes.” She scanned the room. “Fine. Good work, everyone. Keep at it, and be sure to check in with either me or Paula if you have any news or need anything.”
Evan’s knock came precisely fifteen minutes later. He entered and sat.
“Okay, where are we?”
Evan placed his laptop on Elaine’s desk and turned it so she could see the screen. She saw a spreadsheet matrix, a web of rectangles filled with data in tiny print.
Evan pointed at the bottom row of the data. “We’ve found roughly eighteen hundred cases within the last five years. First we divided them into murder and GBH, then solved and unsolved. We’ve got sixteen unsolved murders and fifty-seven unsolved GBH. Most of the unsolved cases are categorized as gang related.”
Elaine chuckled. “Does this come with a magnifying glass? I can barely read it. I don’t see any correlation. We need to extract a pattern if there is one.”
Evan grinned. “Well, I can make the type size larger, but you’re right. This is the raw data. Any patterns we look for are dependent on our base assumptions and predispositions. So what I’m wondering is . . . patterns in what? Are we looking for victim type? Male or female? Or method? Time frame? Or maybe location? Are we looking for a signature? There’s a lot of inconsistency and variation in how the original information was entered. I wanted to run some ideas past you but mostly get your ideas. Sorry I’m not further along, but beyond this, I’m not quite sure what you’re thinking.”
“Okay, fair enough. First, no need to apologize. You’ve made progress. I’m a bit uncertain myself on what we’re looking for, so let’s see if we can narrow this down.” Elaine leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “What I’m thinking is that the killer has done this before. The more I think about it, the more I think that the victim was random but the crime was premeditated. I mean, whether
it was Sheila or some other young woman, it didn’t matter to him, and I’m sure it’s a him. Rape wasn’t the motive. For whatever reason, he wanted to beat someone up. He didn’t even care if he killed them or not. He finished his punching bag routine and dumped her there.”
Evan cleared his throat. “I understand what you’re saying, but he must have picked her for a reason, even if it wasn’t personal. So we’re looking for female victims?”
“Let’s not worry about female or male victim right now. We’ll winnow that down later. Why don’t you start sorting by location? Can you overlay the incidents on a map?”
“There’s a software app I can use for that.”
“Great. Then get started.”
“Once I have the locations clustered, I can filter it for time. That can help point out a cycle if there is one. Weekly, monthly, whatever. And also, the more we know about Sheila, especially about what she wasn’t, the more we can narrow it down.”
“Explain. You lost me.”
“Well, if she wasn’t on the game, and if she wasn’t using or dealing drugs, then why was she chosen? Can we eliminate, or at least discount, victims in our database who were?”
“There’s not much in crime that’s completely random.”
“I know, but saying that she’s a somewhat wild teenage girl who wasn’t using drugs and who wasn’t on the game defines her type.”
“I see. That’s a point, but I think it’s cutting too fine. And it points at motive. Right now, I’m more concerned with means and opportunity. Let’s not look too closely at those criteria until we’ve got it all sorted by location and date.”
“Right. There’s one thing that’s bothering me. You said it yourself. Maybe it didn’t matter that Sheila was the victim or not—the only thing he wanted was a victim. And suppose we find a pattern. Suppose we can connect more than three similar murders? What then?”
Elaine had wondered when this would come up. If they strongly linked three or more similar unsolved murders, they would have to inform the Serial Crimes Unit. “Good point, and if that’s what we find, we’ll decide then. Let’s not think about that right now.”
Evan rose to leave, but she stopped him. “I’m looking for patterns, Evan. In the crime, in the property where it occurred, in anything. Map the crimes, map the properties. Also, pull together any public records for Greene that show who he represents. We need connections. Do you think that will keep you busy for a while?”
Evan laughed. “There’s nothing like being needed.”
He had no sooner left than Cranwell entered and closed the door. “A word, Elaine. I’ve had a call from Commander Hughes. The press is clamoring for progress. He wants to make a statement and also implied that a public appeal might be in order.”
“What? We’re not at that point yet. We need to re-create Sheila’s activities.”
“I think we should certainly include that, but he wants more. Perhaps we can ask for anyone who saw her at a club last Friday?”
“We’ve got uniforms canvassing the nearest dance clubs with her picture, but there’s no result yet, and we’re not at all sure if she ever made it to a club. It was Friday night in London. There were thousands of girls out on the town who fit Sheila’s description. We would be interviewing for a year. If he can give us another week, then perhaps we’ll have something more concrete, and we can appeal for more specific information.”
Cranwell sighed. “Okay. A week. Go over everything again. If we don’t have anything solid by then, we’ll do a television appeal. And thanks for taking over so smoothly. Let me know if you need help.”
“Thank you, sir. We’ve got a good team, sir, for the most part.”
“Speaking of your team, I’ve reassigned Jenkins. He’s up for a disciplinary review, and he’s damn lucky his bollocks are still connected. I suggested that he work on his attitude or consider a change of career, perhaps as a security guard. He put all the blame squarely on you, even though there were complaints from other officers.”
“How has he lasted this long, sir? I’ve never met anyone more insubordinate. How many disciplinary reviews has he had? Three? Four? But he always comes back. It’s like he has some dark angel watching over him, protecting him from any consequences.”
“That doesn’t bear thinking about. Just be wary of him, Elaine.”
Did he just call me off? Careful, Lainie. “I can handle Jenkins.”
“I’ve no doubt you can, if you see him coming. Anything else?”
“Not right now, sir. I’ll keep you posted.”
Cranwell left, and Elaine turned to look out her window. Staring into space helped bring decisions to the surface of her mind. The teams were interviewing bouncers, Sheila’s friends, Leah’s neighbors, and the houses within two blocks of the Khoury’s store, with no luck so far. She needed to start over. She referred to some notes, picked up her mobile, and dialed.
“Peter Willend.”
Elaine took a deep breath. “Hello, Dr. Willend. Peter. It’s Elaine Hope. Please don’t be alarmed, but I’d like to speak with you again about the night Sheila died. May I interview you this afternoon?”
There was a long pause before he replied. “I guess you’re not going to arrest me again or you’d already be here. Let me check my diary. Oh, wow, what luck. It turns out that I’m free this afternoon, as I have no job anymore. What time?”
* * *
Peter set a cup of coffee in front of Elaine. “You take it black, as I recall from the first time I entertained you here. But there’s the milk and sugar if you want it.”
“Thank you.” Elaine sat forward and placed her arms on the kitchen table. He’s different, she thought. Subdued and wary. She couldn’t blame him.
“Dr. Willend . . .”
“Peter, please.”
Elaine began again. “Dr. Willend, the last time I was here, you were a suspect. We have cleared you. I have no doubt of your innocence. But you are still the last person we know of to see Sheila alive. I thought perhaps there may be something else you recall from that night that may help us.”
“If I can. I think I covered it last time, but I wasn’t very relaxed. Why don’t we walk through it?”
“All right. Anything more you can recall may help. Take it a step at a time.”
He did. “Okay, the bus stop. She was wary of me. Maybe it was the hoodie. Wait. She texted someone. Or got a text and answered. I don’t know which. I recall seeing her face in the glow of the phone, and she looked like she was keying something.”
Elaine noted it. They had not found Sheila’s mobile. She continued. “The bus ride?”
“She was at the front. I didn’t pay any attention to her. She got off first. Then I went into the store and didn’t see her again.” This time Peter paused. “No. That’s not right. I did see her again.”
Elaine leaned forward. “What was she doing?”
Peter sat back, his eyes gazing unfocused, over her shoulder. “The lady was paying Hassan for canned goods. Cat food, whatever it was. She had her hands full, so I held the door open for her. As she walked through the door—the lady, I mean—she dropped her umbrella. I picked it up and opened it for her. When I handed it to her, I saw Sheila turn the corner at the end of the block.”
“She turned. You’re sure?”
“Yeah. She turned right.”
So that’s new information, Elaine thought. They didn’t need to go house to house on all the surrounding streets because she hadn’t gone straight down the high street. “Was there anything else? Any other activity you noticed?”
“Not that I can recall. Cars passing. One turned about the same time she did.”
“Did you see what kind?”
“Small, that’s about it. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Pardon me for a moment,” she said to Peter, and she dialed Paula on her mobile.
“Sheila turned right on Crouch Hall. Have the house-to-house concentrate on Crouch Hall and each side street, all the way down
to, what is it, Hurst? I think. Pull uniforms off the other streets and focus them there.” She listened as Paula repeated the instructions. “Right. Thanks.” She rang off.
“You look a bit stressed. Something I said?” Peter’s voice was friendly.
Of course I am, Elaine thought. She said, “I’m in the middle of an investigation. There’s always stress.”
He poured another cup for her from the French press. “But you came back here. It feels like you’re starting over, doesn’t it?”
“We had to. This is excellent coffee, by the way.”
“Hawaiian. It’s the same you had last time. You deflected.”
“I wasn’t deflecting, Dr. Willend,” she snapped. She looked away, then back at him. “Yes, I guess I was. ACPO is turning the screws.”
“Please. Can’t you call me Peter now? Who’s ACPO?”
“Chief police officers. It’s a term we use for the upper ranks. My bosses need a result; they’re watching me.”
“You didn’t start the investigation. You had to start over.”
“Right, but that doesn’t matter. It certainly doesn’t mean anything to the press or the public.”
Peter shook his head. “We do our best, don’t we?” At her questioning look, he continued. “Doctors, police, engineers, whoever. Most of us do, anyway. We’re human, but we’re not supposed to be. The letters behind our names remove that excuse. Or a rank, like yours.”
“Maybe our mistakes cost more.”
“They surely do. It’s obligation. We’re in the same boat.”
“I guess we are.” And you understand what it’s like, don’t you? Elaine thought. She asked, “You can’t put it down?”
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