Soul to Keep

by Clare Revell

  ~*~

  Isabel studied the meagre contents of her wardrobe and sighed. No, meagre wasn’t the right word. Pathetic was more like it. OK, so this wasn’t a date, but it was the theatre and that meant dressing up in something fancy. She had a choice of precisely two posh frocks. On a whim, she’d bought a pale blue number on sale over three years ago and never worn. It was probably too tight. Or there was the tried and trusted full-length red satin.

  That boiled down to no choice at all.

  She laid the red satin on the bed and turned to the mirror. Hair up or hair down was her next dilemma. Up, tame the mass of curls for a change. Also slightly more fancy than down and messy like normal. Fifteen minutes later, she’d perfected her make-up, pinned her hair in place, and secured it with almost a whole can of lacquer and half a million hair grips.

  Isabel stepped into her dress and slid it upwards. She fastened it and turned this way and that, pleased with the way she looked in the mirror.

  Mr. T meowed loudly and pawed at her skirt.

  “Don’t you do that,” she told him, disentangling his claws. “I have to take you to the v-e-t for a manicure soon. Those claws are too long and too sharp. And you’ll be fine without me. You have fresh food and water, and lots of soft places to sleep.”

  Mr. T purred and rubbed against her hand.

  The doorbell rang.

  The cat leapt into the air and dove under the bed.

  Isabel laughed. “Silly moggy.” She headed down the hallway to the front door.

  Zander stood there, clad in a tux and a bow tie. His eyes widened as his gaze took her in and swallowed her whole. “Wow.”

  Isabel grinned. “Wow, yourself.” She checked her locket was straight and grabbed her wrap and bag. “You scrub up well. You need to try that look at work. You might make Mr. January of the police charity calendar for next year.”

  He smirked. “Maybe the Chief Super and other blokes would cut you some slack if you showed up like that. You could be Miss December.”

  “Hah!” She wrapped the shawl around her shoulders. “He hates women, remember. This would just confirm what he thinks of me.”

  “Nah, you’d need a plunging neckline and a skirt that thinks it's a belt for that,” Zander told her, a grin lighting his face. “Neckline down to about here.” He pointed to his naval.

  “Not happening. Not even over my dead body.” She preferred modest, round necked dresses that hid everything, but a bit of satin never hurt now and then. Shutting the front door behind her, she followed Zander to where he’d parked his battered red car.

  “Back to dead bodies again.” He winked. “It’s my night off.”

  “Better hope the Guv doesn’t ring and want help hiding one.” She laughed and climbed into the car for the fifteen-minute drive to the town centre.

  Zander smirked. “You have no idea what your ring tone is.”

  “No.” She reached for her bag. “Then I shall ring you and let it play as you can’t answer your phone whilst driving.” She sat straight. “Maybe I’ll just ring you at work instead.”

  He glanced at her. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Isabel didn’t respond.

  Oops. That was the wrong thing to say, because who would be able to resist that one? He’d obviously forgotten what she’d said about dares; she did them twice and took pictures. So at work at some point it was. Just when he’d assume she’d forgotten all about it.

  The theatre car park was full, so Zander turned around and drove to the shops, parking behind the supermarket. “Sorry.”

  “It’s not even five minutes away, Zander. It’s a fine night for a walk. It’s not raining. Plus, we have plenty of time.”

  They walked through the alley into the pedestrianized shopping centre. She could see the theatre on the other side of the road. “Besides, this way we won’t be queuing to get out of the car park at the end of the show.”

  “Good point,” Zander said.

  They crossed the road and into the theatre courtyard. The hexagonal, oak clad building had a bustling café out the front. Lights shone around the roof, the name of the musical blazing for all to read.

  Isabel stood still. “I’ve never been in here.”

  “It’s a lot bigger than it looks. They used to televise the snooker from here a long time ago.”

  She glanced at him. “Really?”

  Zander nodded. “I love watching snooker. I’m rubbish at playing it. Gramps had this table he’d set up in the lounge. After I ripped a hole in the green baize I was forbidden to even look at it.” He opened the main door for her. “Ladies first. Want a drink before we go in?”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  He glanced at the tickets. “We need door seven which is up those stairs. Stay here while I go and get a couple of programmes.”

  Isabel followed him, making sure to lift her skirt so she didn’t tread on the hem. She didn’t want to trip on the fabric and fall flat on her face. She’d deliberately worn flat shoes, though she wouldn’t admit she didn’t possess a pair of stilettos. The one pair of high heels she did own had gone in the bin after her first day in CID when she wore them.

  Zander showed their tickets at the door and headed inside the auditorium. He strode down to the front row. “Here we are. Fifteen and sixteen.”

  Isabel looked at him. “Centre front seats in the stalls and you were going to throw the tickets away? These aren’t cheap, either.”

  Zander shrugged.

  Isabel sat down and laid her wrap over her lap. She flicked through the programme. Several of the cast were the same as the previous times she’d seen the musical.

  “How many times have you seen this?” Zander settled beside her.

  “Five. Cried every single time. You?”

  “Twice.”

  She put the programme onto her lap. “One of my favourite bits is the last scene, when you get the cops surrounding the stage with guns. Actors with fake guns, obviously. It’s the way they suddenly appear in full uniform. There’s always a few people in the audience caught out by that every single time.”

  The lights dimmed and the orchestra began playing.

  Isabel, as always, became caught up in the magic of theatre. She’d always loved acting, considered doing it as a career at one point, but that had become the road untraveled. Distracted by a light beside her, she frowned to see Zander on his phone more than once. Couldn’t he leave the thing alone for a couple of hours? Shame he hadn’t left the handset in his desk drawer.

  The interval came all too soon.

  Zander dashed to the ice cream seller, becoming the first in the queue. He brought her over one. “Need to go and make a quick phone call. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be long.” Isabel took the ice cream and settled back to eat it, the words of the songs running through her mind. She finished the ice cream and pulled the packet of tissues from her bag, knowing she’d need them for the second half of the play.

  Zander didn’t reappear until the music began for the second act. “Sorry,” he whispered, as he slid into his seat.

  “Is everything OK?”

  “Yeah, just took a little longer than I anticipated.”

  Isabel turned her attention back to the stage as the lights came up. Once again, she lost herself in the show. She jumped at the gun shots even though she knew they were coming. She cried through the ending, taking comfort in the sobs coming from the seat next to her. At least she wasn’t the only one.

  The applause finally died down.

  The lights came up and she turned to look at Zander. She frowned. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “There’s blood on your shirt.”

  He glanced down. “Oh. I had a nosebleed during the interval. That’s what took me so long. Shall we go?”

  She stood, sliding her wrap around her shoulders. They joined the throng of people moving slowly to the exit.

  Outside it was still warm, even thoug
h it was dark. They walked back through the precinct to the alley.

  “Strange,” Isabel commented. “The lights are out.”

  Zander flipped up the torch app on his phone. “Not a problem…” He straightened, dropping the friend persona, becoming all business like. “What’s that?”

  The torch illuminated something white in a doorway.

  Isabel’s stomach dropped. She had a bad feeling about this. “I don’t like this.”

  “Me, either.” Zander walked slowly into the alley.

  Kneeling in a doorway, dressed all in white, was a girl with long, dark hair.

  Isabel reached out a trembling hand and felt for a pulse she knew wouldn’t be there. “She’s dead, Zander. We need to call it in.”

  10

  Blue flashing lights filled the darkness as Isabel bagged the painting found by victim number five.

  Sirens wailed and doors slammed. Uniformed officers swarmed, marking off the area with crime scene tape.

  Zander stood guard over the body, making sure no one touched her.

  “Dressing for the crime scenes now, are we, Zander?” DI Holmes appeared from nowhere, his steel gaze taking in Zander’s tux and Isabel’s full-length gown.

  “No, Guv. We went to see Blood Brothers.”

  “Saw it last night. They had someone sign it for the wife. What have we got?”

  Zander checked his notebook. “Esther Leaney, thirty-two. Director of Leaney Holdings. The painting was found next to the body. It’s painting five, The Old Folks, which depicts the artist’s parents.”

  “How long has she been here?”

  “No more than three and a half hours,” Isabel said. Despite the warm evening, she shivered. This wasn’t the best outfit to be wearing and there was no way she could hitch up the dress decently.

  “That’s very precise.” DI Holmes glanced her way. “And how do you know that?”

  “We walked through here at ten past seven on the way to the theatre. Zander parked behind the shops.”

  DI Holmes glanced around. “There’s plenty of CCTV, so maybe we’ll catch a break on this one.”

  The coroner arrived, clad in white. “Evening, all.”

  Zander nodded to him. “Hi, Arend.”

  Arend Van Houten grinned. “A bow tie. Zander, I didn’t know you owned one.”

  “And it’s not even pink,” Isabel added quickly. “Would be even better if it was.”

  Arend smiled. “And a lady in red. My evening is made.”

  Zander sighed. “Not quite the ending we had in mind though. I don’t need to ask you to do this one quickly.”

  “Some time tomorrow. I can’t guarantee it’ll be first thing in the morning.”

  “That’s fine, thank you.”

  Isabel shifted her feet and then frowned. “What’s that?”

  Zander glanced at her. “What?”

  Isabel bent down. She pushed a pile of leaves aside with a pen. “Another syringe.” Her frown deepened as her mind whirled. “Got a bag handy?”

  Zander handed her one.

  “What are you thinking, Isabel?” DI Holmes asked.

  “That’s two crime scenes now with syringes. Maybe he’s drugging them. We need to go back and do a fingertip search of the others, see if we missed something.” She slid the syringe into the evidence bag. “Arend, can you do me a favour?”

  Arend looked up from his examination of the body. “Sure.”

  A uniform officer came over. “Guv?”

  DI Holmes followed him.

  Isabel held out the bag to the coroner. “Take this?”

  Zander reached for it. “I can take it to the lab myself.”

  Isabel shook her head. “It’s fine. Arend, can you find out what this is? And fingerprint it?”

  “Sure.” Arend tucked it into his case.

  “Isabel, there’s no need.” Zander glared at her. “I can do it.”

  “I know you can. This just cuts out the middleman,” she said. “Besides, that way the tests will be done at the same time as the tox screen. It might speed things up a little.”

  DI Holmes came back over to them. “OK, leave them to it for now. Come back first thing when it’s daylight. Uniform will do the notification, you two can do the follow up tomorrow. Go home, get some shut eye.”

  Zander nodded. “Yes, Guv. Is, do you want a lift?”

  “Please.” She followed him to the car. As she slid inside, her gaze went back to the blood on his shirt. “You need to rinse that out in cold water before you wash it to get the blood out.”

  “You mean hot water.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Hot water will set the stain. Scrub it in cold water first and then wash as normal. That’s just cold water, no soap. Under a running tap is best.”

  “OK. Thanks.” He shut her door and rounded the car quickly. He jumped in and started the engine.

  “Have I done something wrong?” she asked. “You’re being really short with me now.”

  “There was no need to hand that syringe straight to Arend. We could have handled it same as normal.”

  “I didn’t want it going astray. They never did tell us what was in that needle that stuck me. For all I know they lost it.” They hadn’t given her the test results either, which was fine with her.

  “We need to chase it up,” he said, pulling out of the parking space. “Don’t want you dropping dead on me.”

  “First thing,” she said, as always sitting on the edge of the seat by the door.

  “And quit doing that. You should know me well enough by now to know my hands aren’t wandering anywhere near you.”

  “Sorry.” She tried to relax into the seat, but it wasn’t easy. “Old habits die hard, and this one is harder than most.”

  Zander didn’t say another word as he drove.

  When he pulled up outside her house, Isabel grabbed her bag and opened the door. “Night, then.”

  He still didn’t reply.

  Isabel got out of the car and watched as he drove off without a word. She shook her head and headed inside. She’d catch the bus in the morning. Get into work early so she could check the New Wine list and see if her gut instinct was right. If it was, then Ms. Leaney was on the list.

  ~*~

  Zander wasn’t happy by the time he arrived at work, barely in time for the eight-thirty meeting. Isabel hadn’t answered her door when he’d called to pick her up. When he’d rung her to make sure she was OK, she informed him she was already at the nick. He dumped his coat on the back of his chair and gave Isabel the stink eye. “Well?”

  She glanced up from the papers scattered across her desk. “I wanted to get a head start on this. Esther Leaney was on both lists. Leaney Holdings is a small, family run property rental company. She took over from her father when he retired on health grounds last year. There are sixteen employees…”

  Zander held up a hand, cutting her off. “Tell me in the car. We need to go revisit those crime scenes, and then speak to her next of kin. Do you have that information to hand?”

  Isabel grabbed a sheet of paper off her desk and shoved it into her bag. “Yes. Her parents are Joy and Albert Leaney. They live in the Cedars Retirement Home.”

  Zander nodded, heading across the office, leaving Isabel scrambling to catch him up. “And where did Ms. Leaney live?”

  “Thirty-eight Deerwood Estates.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s the same place as the first two victims.”

  “Yes.”

  “OK. So that’s crime scenes, Cedars, Deerwood Estates, and then back here for the CCTV.”

  Isabel sighed. “You know, if you’d said you were coming to pick me up this morning, I’d have waited.”

  He turned and scowled. “I usually do collect you.”

  “I didn’t want to assume and then end up being late when you didn’t arrive.” She shouldered her bag. “I can’t win. Are you still sulking over me giving Arend that syringe last night instead of letting you handle it
?”

  “I’m not sulking,” he muttered.

  DI Holmes stood in the squad room doorway, hands on hips. “Where are you two going?”

  “Crime scene,” Zander replied. “Then to talk to Ms. Leaney’s parents. That has to be the link somehow if the painting is the clue to why the Slayer picked her.”

  “Staff briefing before you do anything.”

  Zander shook his head. “No time. Have a long list of things to do. We’ll update the board when we get back.”

  DI Holmes expression darkened. “Isabel, go on ahead. Zander, my office. Now.”

  “Guv…” Zander wisely shut up. “Fine.” He stomped across to the Guv’s office.

  DI Holmes shut the door firmly. “What’s going on?”

  “I told you. We have to revisit the crime scenes—”

  “I don’t mean that!” His commanding officer cut him off sharply. “I mean between you and Isabel. Last night looked like a date, and this morning you are sniping at each other like an old married couple.”

  Zander sighed abruptly. “There’s nothing going on. It wasn’t a date. And don’t give me that look.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Rosa dumped me yesterday when she came up here. I was going to throw the theatre tickets out, but Isabel said she loved the musical, and offered to come with me to save wasting them.”

  “And this morning?”

  “Nothing. Just a misunderstanding. If there is nothing else…”

  “Go.”

  Zander headed to the door.

  “One last thing,” DI Holmes added. “I’m assigning more people to this case.”

  Zander spun around. “Isabel and I can manage. Besides, you already tried that and they left Isabel in the lurch. She had to do all that list paperwork by herself. So there’s no point.”

  “Zander!” DI Holmes roared. “Five murders and you’re no further forward than you were at the start.”

  “Are you taking us off the case?”

  “No, I told you that yesterday or the day before. I’m simply adding a taskforce. You and Isabel are still leads on this case.”