by Clare Revell
Zander was right, Isabel concluded as cameras flashed and journalists began yelling questions at them. It was a feeding frenzy.
“Gill Prichard, Headley Gazette. Isn’t it a little late to be asking the public’s help, Inspector? Four murders, four girls who could have been pre-warned. How’s the Slayer taking them?”
DI Holmes leaned forward. “In answer to your first question, it’s never too late to ask the public for help. We need people to be vigilant. If you’re going out, make sure someone knows where you are. Take a phone with you. Don’t go out alone unless you have to do so. We don’t know how he’s picking his victims, which is why we are asking women to take extra care over the next few weeks. We will catch him. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Sid James, Evening Post. Have you found all the stolen paintings from the art gallery?”
Zander leaned forwards. “No comment.”
“Have any of the paintings been recovered? Do you know who took them?”
“That is a separate on-going investigation being handled by other officers at present. So I can’t comment.”
“But you were the officer who responded in the first instance?”
Zander’s hands clenched under the table. “Which part of no comment didn’t you hear, Mr. James? It’s not my case, and it’s not why we are here.” He ran over the basic facts again, being interrupted by countless questions from the packed room of reporters. Finally he looked at DI Holmes.
It seemed to be an unspoken code, as DI Holmes brought the press conference to a close and stood.
Isabel gratefully left the room. “Are they always that bad?”
“Worse,” Zander grumped. “I need to double check something with Jinx, the tattoo artist, before we get back to our crime scenes. We’d reached the third one. Coming?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. Need to make a pit stop first. You know I was kidding about the tattoo, right?”
Zander nodded. “Leviticus nineteen, verse twenty-eight. Do not cut your bodies for the dead or put tattoo marks on yourselves. So no, I’m not getting a tattoo. No matter how much Jinx pleads.”
“Sounds good. A friend got this temporary one when we were fourteen. House mother almost blew a gasket.”
Zander frowned. “House mother?”
Darn. She’d slipped up. “Umm, yeah. She was in care. I’ll see you by the car in ten minutes.” Isabel headed to the stairs quickly, before Zander could ask more questions.
“Isabel, wait up.” The DI’s running footsteps echoed behind her.
Reluctantly, she slowed to a virtual standstill. Now what? “Yes, sir?”
“Is everything all right?” he asked, his gaze holding her fast.
“Why shouldn’t it be?”
“Just making sure.”
She nodded. “I’m fine. Haven’t seen Farrell for a whole twenty-four hours. Well, almost. Did you give him the PIN?”
“Last night. He wasn’t happy, but there isn’t much he can do about it. You know, you can talk to me if there’s something bothering you, right? Especially if it’s work related.”
Isabel glanced at the exit. That man, like Zander, was too perceptive. Couldn’t a woman have any secrets in this building? “I’d better run. Don’t want to keep Zander waiting.”
~*~
By the time they arrived back in the office it was almost four. Isabel had managed to avoid the subject of home and family, changing it every time Zander brought it up. Hopefully now he’d just drop it and forget the whole thing. She placed her handbag on the desk and froze.
Her gaze fell on the brown envelope in her in-tray. “Zander…” She pointed.
“Don’t move.” Zander strode across to the Guv’s office and tapped on the door.
“Come.”
He opened it.
DI Holmes and DS Philips sat deep in conversation.
“Sorry to bother you Guv, but the mail’s been.”
“I’ll check the cameras.” DS Philips rose.
DI Holmes crossed the room with Zander.
Isabel raised her gloved hands. “I’ll feel pretty stupid if this is something else entirely. Like a bill.”
“Better safe than sorry.” Zander pulled out his phone. “OK, I can email these across later. Hold it for me?”
Isabel held it whilst Zander took photographs of the postmark, handwriting, and back of the envelope. Her fingers trembled as she carefully opened it.
She removed a postcard and examined the picture. “It’s an alley.”
Zander peered over her shoulder. “So it is.”
“There are hundreds, if not thousands of those, all across town. He’s set us an impossible task. There’s no way we can patrol all of them, but he knows that.”
“Probably banking on it,” Zander muttered.
“He’s not afraid of public places or being caught, so my guess is this is somewhere populated and not in a quiet part of town.” Isabel bit her lip. “He’s making a point—I just don’t know what that point is.”
Zander snapped pictures of the card. “Maybe we can track it down somehow.”
Isabel turned over the postcard.
“I AM THE LORD YOUR GOD. HONOUR YOUR FATHER AND YOUR MOTHER. 5-16.”
Zander grabbed the art gallery brochure and flicked to the paintings. “So, painting number five is called The Old Folks. That’s not much help as everyone has parents.”
“Not everyone,” Isabel muttered. She slid the card into an evidence bag. “And he’s speeding up.”
DS Philips came across to join them. “The letter came via post and internal mail. A civilian worker called Cheryl Baines brought it up from the front desk. They didn’t see who left it, but are checking the cameras down there.”
“Want Isabel and me to talk to her or check the footage?” Zander asked.
DI Holmes shook his head. “No. See if you can find the alleyway. The clock is ticking.”
9
Zander sat at his desk, Isabel beside him, trawling Internet images looking for the alley. He’d rather be doing a foot search, but Isabel was right. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. They had worked until almost ten the previous evening, and it was now approaching four o’clock in the afternoon.
Almost twenty-four hours into the one day’s grace the Slayer was giving them, and still they were no closer to finding this alley.
His phone had beeped several times, and he’d ignored it. When it rang twice, he put it on silent and threw it into a drawer, slamming the drawer with a satisfying thud. He would toss it in the bin, but he needed it. Sometimes.
An hour later, footsteps crossed the room. “DC Ellery?”
Zander glanced up to see a uniformed officer standing there. “Can I help you?”
“Someone to see you.” He nodded to the woman standing next to him. “She said you were expecting her.”
Zander scowled at the sight of an annoyed Rosa standing in front of his desk. “Thank you. I’ll deal with it.”
Isabel elbowed him sharply. “Her. She’s not an it. She’s a her.”
Zander nodded. “Yes. Her. Thank you, constable.” He turned his scowl to Rosa as the officer left. “What are you doing here?”
“I tried calling. I sent you several texts asking if we were still on for tonight. You’re not answering your phone.”
His scowl deepened. Tonight? What was happening tonight that she had to hassle him during working hours? “We’re busy. I’m working, we both are.”
“So I see.” Rosa looked pointedly at Isabel. “Looks cosy.”
“Rosa I don’t have time for mind games. This is our office. We’re working. It’s what we usually do all day.”
“I need to talk to you. Now. Alone.”
Isabel pushed her chair away. “I’m going over there.” She grabbed the notebook.
Zander grabbed her arm. “You’re going nowhere, Is. We’re working, not doing anything wrong. Rosa, I already told you, I don’t have time for idle chitchat. Whatever you wan
t will have to wait.”
“It’s important.” Rosa’s eyes flashed and her brow furrowed.
“And so’s this.” Zander’s temper flared, irritated beyond belief now. “We’re working a murder case. A quadruple serial killer case, and we’re running out of time before four become five!”
Rosa leaned over the desk, shoving her face into his. “Either we talk here or we go outside. I don’t think you want everyone overhearing this.”
DI Holmes cleared his throat from the doorway of his office, and looked pointedly at Rosa. “Zander. Take it outside, please.”
“Fine.” Zander shoved his chair back so fast it hit the desk behind his. He rose and snatched his jacket. “Have it your way, Rosa, but only because I got ordered to speak to you outside. I’ll be five minutes, Is.”
“Sure. Don’t suppose you’ll miss anything.”
“I won’t miss you.” He held her gaze. Despite his anger, the usual teasing they’d adopted came out automatically.
“Charming,” she complained, eyes twinkling. “I shan’t miss you either, DC Brat.”
Zander pointed to the door, refusing to touch Rosa as he escorted her from the building. He didn’t say a word until they were outside in the sunshine. “I can’t believe you did that! You can’t just turn up and expect me to drop everything, Rosa. Just like I can’t walk into your classroom, and expect you to stop teaching to talk to me.”
“But you can interview me over lunch with a friend. You remember don’t you? Phil and I were having lunch and you come in, plonk yourself down uninvited, and start hassling us over some kids in my class.”
He heaved a sigh, shaking his head. He’d been following up on Ashlyn Oakley’s murder, and that line of questioning had been some time ago. He wanted to shake some sense into her, but that would be overkill and would only inflame the situation far more than was warranted. “Is that what this is about? Seriously? Some kind of revenge. I was following a line of enquiry. I was not accusing you of anything and you know it. And why bring it up now after so long?”
“That isn’t the way it came over when you spoke to me. It was downright embarrassing. Being interrogated in front of Phil like that.”
“For Pete’s sake!” Zander hissed out a breath between his teeth. He had no idea why she was doing this now. Or why if it upset her so much, she’d waited this long to say something. He took two or three paces, trying to calm down.
He spun around, lowering his voice. “Ashlyn Oakley was the nanny of three kids in your class. We are investigating her murder, along with those of three other women. The killer was watching her outside your school. One of your dinner ladies was also murdered by the same bloke. The chances are he will strike again unless we catch him.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Then why aren’t you out looking for him?”
“That’s what we are doing! You have no idea what real police work entails, do you? How many hours are spent in the office following leads, looking things up?”
Her eyes flickered. “I didn’t come here to pick a fight.” She shouldered her bag and turned as if to leave.
No way was she doing this to him. He blocked her path swiftly. “Then what are you doing, Rosa, because it sure seems like a fight is what you want? Why else pick something ridiculous to complain about? Why did you come over here? I mean, you might as well tell me. You’ve ruined what I was trying to do anyway.”
She sucked in a deep breath, refusing to look at him. “I came here to say goodbye.”
He frowned. “Goodbye as in what? Why come all this way to tell me you’re leaving? And at least have the common courtesy to look at me when you speak to me. Or am I worth less than one of the eleven-year-old kids in your class?”
Finally, Rosa looked him in the eye. “Goodbye as in I’m breaking up with you.”
“What?” Zander staggered back, winded as if she’d punched him in the stomach. How did they get to this from her initial "I need to check with you about tonight."? “Why? Because I’m working too much? Because I didn’t return your numerous texts and calls? Because of Isabel? Are you jealous?”
Rosa shook her head. “No. I—there’s someone else.”
Zander narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had his suspicions, but to hear it was almost more than he could bear. He needed to hear her say it. “Who is he?”
“That’s not important,” she muttered. “Things haven’t been right between us for a while. You know that. I didn’t intend for this to happen. I didn’t wake up one morning and find someone else. It just…”
“Who is he?” Zander repeated. “Anyone I know?”
“You’ve met him, yeah.”
He sucked in a deep breath. Be the bigger man here, Zander. “Well, I hope you and Mr. Whoever will be happy. Goodbye, Rosa.” Tamping down his rampant reaction, he turned to leave. He refused to lose it in front of someone who didn’t care two figs about him. Had she ever loved him? Or had he just been a dalliance, someone with whom to pass the time until Mr. Right came along?
“Is that it?” Rosa asked.
Zander stopped. “What do you want me to do? Demand you tell me his name so I can call him out? Challenge him to a duel? Guns at fifteen paces or handbags at dawn?” He spun around.
“That’s not fair…” she began.
“It’s perfectly fair!” he yelled.
“I thought you’d, I don’t know…”
“What? Fight for you? Declare undying love and demand you stay? Propose?” Then he scowled. “I’m not playing this game, Rosa. You want out of this relationship, then fine. It’s over.” He headed back inside the building, letting the outer door slam shut behind him. He glanced around to see Rosa climb into a waiting car and kiss the driver. Phil. He’d recognise the man anywhere.
Zander took the stairs. He was numb, but honestly, not as upset as he’d expected. Rosa was right. Things had been off for a while. What passion there had once been had died long ago. Now kissing her was like kissing one of his sisters. His pride hurt more than anything else. Along with the fact, in this case, he hated being right. He went into the squad room and dropped heavily into his chair. It creaked beneath him.
“Is everything OK?” Isabel asked.
“Yeah, peachy,” he muttered. “Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?”
“Zander, talk to me.”
He swung his chair to face Isabel. “She dumped me.”
“What?” Her pretty face fell and her eyes clouded. “You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” he snapped. He knew he shouldn’t take his frustration and anger out on his partner, but he also knew she was the only one who wouldn’t mind. “She dumped me. For Phil.”
As expected, Isabel didn’t recoil. She watched him carefully, then reached into her bag and pulled out a bar of chocolate. She broke off a piece and offered it to him. “This works for women. I’m not sure it’ll help you the same way, but it’s worth a try,” she quipped. “Either way, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
He shrugged, shoving the chocolate square into his mouth. “Probably for the best, anyway. So where are we?”
“Looking for alleys to hide a body in,” she quipped.
Zander glanced at the clock. “What’s the point? We’ll never find it, and he knows it. We’re running out of time.”
DI Holmes came out of his office. “Go home the pair of you. Whilst it’s still light.”
“Guv,” Zander began.
DI Holmes glared at him. “You were here until gone ten last night. Go home. Come at it fresh tomorrow. You have five minutes to get out of here.”
Zander was tempted to ask or what, but didn’t dare. Instead, he tugged open the desk drawer. His heart fell at the sight of the envelope with today’s date written on it in big, black letters. He’d forgotten about that. That’s what Rosa had meant when she asked about tonight. She’d probably hoped he’d give them to her as a parting gift.
“What?” Isabel asked as he
sighed.
“May as well throw these away.” He picked up the envelope. “Tickets to tonight’s performance of Blood Brothers. I bought them ages ago. Rosa knew about them, so it wasn’t a surprise or anything.”
“I love that musical,” Isabel said. “I tried so hard to get tickets, but failed. By the time I got through to the box office, they’d all gone. I’ve seen it before, but wanted to see it again.” She paused. “Seems a shame to waste them. How about I go with you?”
Why hadn’t he thought of that? Zander swung his chair to face her. “Are you sure? You’re not just feeling sorry for me?”
She tilted her head. “Oh, yeah, just like Marilyn Monroe.”
He tried not to smile at the quote from the musical. “Oh, just go wait for the ninety-two bus, will you?”
She chuckled. “I would but I don’t have the right name. Besides, the ninety-two goes the wrong way. Although I don’t think there even is a number ninety-two bus. What time does the performance start?”
“Half past seven. We need to be there by seven fifteen at the latest.”
“Then I’ll buy dinner first. We’ll try that new place in the precinct.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” Going out tonight was the last thing he wanted to do, but probably what he needed. No point dwelling on the past.
Isabel’s mouth dropped. “Shut up. You? Not hungry? Quick, let me write that down as it’s the first time in living memory that Zander Ellery isn’t hungry.”
He shook his head, not in the mood for her teasing, even if it was meant in good faith.
DI Holmes cleared his throat. “Why are you both still here? Do I have to throw you out myself? Because I will.”
Isabel stood. “We’re just leaving.” She jerked her head to the door encouraging Zander to get up. “I’ll even pay for my ticket.”
“There’s no need. I’ll take you. Have to admit I’ve been looking forward to it.”
“I insist on paying my way.” She grinned. “Just to prove it’s not a pity date or whatever. It’d be a crime to waste them.”
“I guess it would.” Zander stood. “Come on, better go before the Guv really does pick us up and throw us out of here. I’ll drive you home to change. But, no, I don’t want to go for dinner first. It really would make it a date if we did that. And it’s too soon. And don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t date my partner.”