Soul to Keep

by Clare Revell

  Zander took a photo of the card on his phone as he didn’t have his notebook. He was grateful DS Philips was taking notes of the conversation though. “Do you have postcards of them?”

  “Yes, I do. I can get them for you. As you can see they are all by Dominic Higgins. Esther was particularly fond of his work.”

  “And he gets all the money from the sale?”

  “I take a finder’s fee and other payments, but Dominic gets a vast chunk of it.”

  Zander nodded to the card index. “Is that a list of everyone who has bought paintings from the gallery?”

  Farrell’s fingers ran over the box. “Yes. I prefer this albeit slightly old fashioned system as I find the cards easier to cross reference and find things. Obviously all the records are on the computer as well.”

  “Mind if I check some other names with you?”

  “Sure.” Farrell opened the box. “Fire away.”

  Zander shifted on his seat. The bloke made him uneasy, but there wasn’t anything Zander could put a finger on. “Kevane.”

  Farrell flicked though the cards. “No.”

  Was this idea being blown from the water before it had even fully taken hold in his mind? “OK. Rollin. Orkney. Yardley.”

  “Yes to all.” Farrell held out the cards.

  DS Philips frowned. “Ashlyn Orkney was a student. How did she pay for one?”

  “Her father paid with a credit card,” Farrell said. “She fell in love with the painting in the window by all accounts, and he didn’t want to disappoint her.”

  Zander took photos of all the cards. Why all of them bar one? Unless… “One more name. Ranklin.”

  Farrell smiled. “Yes. Joseph is one of my best clients.” He produced the card. “All these people are dead.”

  Zander raised his gaze and stared at the man. It wasn’t a question. He knew. But then it was all over the news. “I’m afraid so, yes.”

  “You don’t think that I did it? That the link between the killer and victims are Dominic’s paintings because of the stolen ones?”

  Now where had that come from? Zander cleared his throat. “They all bought paintings from you. They were all found with one of the Ten Commandment paintings that were taken from your gallery.”

  Farrell didn’t react, but then Zander hadn’t expected him to.

  “But then you already knew that, didn’t you, Mr. Vixen? What I want to know is how.”

  “I have my sources.”

  “What source? Because that information wasn’t in the press conference or released any other way.”

  “The art world is a fairly small one, DC Ellery. People talk. Word gets around.”

  Zander and DS Philips exchanged a long glance, before turning back to Farrell. “We need the name of your source.”

  “I can’t give you that. But I can tell you that this isn’t over.”

  “And you know this how?” DS Philips tone changed.

  “Whoever your killer is, he is making a point. Ten paintings, ten murders.”

  Zander rose. “That is all the more reason for you to tell us your source. Otherwise, I’m arresting you for obstructing an investigation, and you will be charged and in court by the end of the day.” He checked his watch. “But if you want I can drag this out for another hour or so, until all the courts are closed. Then you’ll have to spend the night in a cell at the nick and attend court first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Farrell sighed. “Very well.” He tugged open his desk drawer and reached inside. He dropped several torn sheets of paper onto the desk.

  Zander recognised them as sheets from a police notebook. The writing was Isabel’s. From the way DS Philips straightened, he’d made the connection as well.

  “My information comes straight from the horse’s mouth. Izzy needs to watch who she gives things to.”

  Zander tugged an evidence bag from his pocket and using a pen, slid the sheets of paper into it. He pocketed the bag. “Don’t leave town.”

  Outside he looked at DS Philips. “This isn’t good, is it?”

  “No.” DS Philips pulled out his phone. “Don’t call Isabel. I’m filling the Guv in first and we need to let him take the next step. He’ll deal with this mess however he sees fit.” He dialled quickly. “Nate, it’s Dane. We have a problem.”

  18

  Zander sat at his desk. DI Holmes’s raised voice could be heard reverberating throughout the entire room, despite the fact his office door was closed. Zander tried not to listen, but it was so hard not to do so. To give Isabel her due, she just stood there, taking whatever the Guv threw at her. Glancing over at the door, Zander could see the Guv pacing through the glass panel as he yelled.

  The phone rang on Isabel’s desk.

  Zander grabbed it. “DC York’s phone. This is her partner, DC Ellery speaking.”

  “Zander, it’s Arend Van Houten.” The coroner’s Dutch accent was worried. “I have those blood test results. Is Isabel around? Only she isn’t answering her mobile, and I really need to get hold of her.”

  “She’s in with the DI. Can I take a message?”

  “Any chance you can interrupt? This is really important.”

  “One moment.” Zander put the call on hold. He rose and walked across to the Guv’s office. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

  DI Holmes spun around. “What?”

  Zander opened the door. “Sorry, Guv, but the coroner is on the phone for Isabel. He says it’s urgent. It’s the blood test results.”

  DI Holmes scowled. “What line?” he asked snatching up the handset.

  “Two.”

  DI Holmes punched the button and shoved the phone at Isabel.

  She took the phone woodenly, no colour in her face whatsoever. “Hello, this is DC York…”

  Figuring they should give her a modicum of privacy, Zander motioned to the Guv. “Can I have a word, sir, in the main office?”

  DI Holmes jerked his head. “Don’t move, Isabel,” he said and followed Zander out into the main squad room. “What do you want?”

  “I’ve been trying to work out how Farrell got hold of Isabel’s notebook.” Zander spoke quietly, hoping the tactic his mother used on him would work now. The more he yelled, the quieter she spoke, until in the end he stopped yelling and listened to her.

  “She says she has no idea when she lost it or where it is.”

  “That’s the thing. It’s only been the past day or two that she’s not had it. She won’t go near Farrell. And not simply because I won’t let her, either. The only way he could have got ahold of those pages, is if he violated the PIN to do so. A deliberate attempt to get her into trouble as some kind of twisted revenge. Which worked.”

  “It could have been carelessness on her part.”

  “I doubt that, sir.” Zander sucked in a deep breath. “Last time I remember seeing her with it was at Esther Leaney’s murder site.”

  A stiff cry from the office caught his attention. He glanced up in time to see Isabel drop the phone and run for the door, hand over her mouth.

  “Isabel?”

  She ignored him, heading for the corridor.

  Zander set off after her. “Isabel, wait up.” She didn’t stop, sliding around the corner and into the ladies. Zander paused for a second, and then followed her in, going where no man has gone before. The thought echoed in his head.

  Three of the doors were closed. Behind one of the doors someone threw up. For a moment he debated leaving, but didn’t. “Isabel?”

  “Bit busy…” She threw up again. “Go away.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  After a moment the toilet flushed, and the cubicle door opened. Isabel stood there, pale, trembling.

  “Isabel? Are you all right?” She shook her head, turning to throw up again.

  Zander pulled open the door to the ladies, ready to call for help, only to find DI Holmes standing in the hallway. “Guv, is the police surgeon around today?”

  “I’ll call her in myself
if need be. Is Isabel OK?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  DI Holmes nodded. “Bring her to my office soon as you can. I’ve have the doc waiting.”

  Zander nodded. “Sure. And maybe you should call Arend Van Houten back. Find out what he told Isabel. Also yell at him for telling her whatever it was over the phone. Because whatever is wrong with her, she shouldn’t have found out like this.”

  ~*~

  Isabel came out of the cubicle. She felt horrible. Was it time to go home? Perhaps Zander would take her if she asked nicely. She wanted to curl up in a heap and not move again. Ever. She glanced at Zander. “You’re still here?”

  He pushed up from where he leaned against the sinks. “Of course. I’m worried about you.” He paused. “And you should have seen the looks I got from female officers for being in the wrong place.”

  “There’s no need for you to worry about me.” She let go of the cubicle door and lost her balance.

  Zander stepped forwards and caught her. “There’s every need. We should get you sat down.”

  “I just need a minute. Help me to the sink.”

  “Sure.” Zander helped her, keeping his hands around her waist as she splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth.

  She’d give anything for a toothbrush and paste right now. Or gum. Something minty to take away the vile taste. She glanced up at the mirror and grimaced at her reflection. OK, she did look as bad as she felt. But then who wouldn’t after a phone call like that? Not to mention a dressing down seconds before it.

  She glanced at Zander’s reflection and saw the worry in his eyes. She gripped the sink tightly. “Any chance of a ride home?”

  “Not yet. Don’t want you throwing up in my car.”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine. Really.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not convinced. Come and sit down.”

  “Outside, then,” she suggested. “Two minutes in the fresh air and you can drive me home with the windows open.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s gone five. No one will miss us.”

  “Actually, they will. Guv wants us in his office. Don’t think he’s finished talking to you yet.”

  Isabel sighed as her heart sank. Great. She fought the urge to throw up again. “So he can carry on yelling at me?” Tears burned her eyes and she blinked hard. “Tell him…tell him I’m not well and I’ve gone home. Or tell him I quit and I’ve gone home. Or just plain gone home.”

  “Not this again.” Zander sighed. “You’re a broken record, Is. Going home isn’t the answer to everything, you know. Sometimes you have to put on your big girl knickers and face up to stuff. I know you didn’t lose the notebook intentionally, but somehow it ended up in Farrell’s hands.”

  “The Guv said,” she whispered. That just made the whole situation worse.

  “We need to know how before we arrest him for breaking the PIN.”

  She had to agree with him. “I have no idea how he got hold of it. I haven’t seen him. Not since I lost it. OK, I don’t know where I lost the wretched thing, but I haven’t been anywhere near him. So I don’t have the foggiest idea how the book ended up in his possession.”

  Dizziness caught her unawares and she grasped onto the sink tightly, not wanting to fall in a heap on the tiled bathroom floor. “Please, just take me home. I honestly don’t feel well.”

  “You don’t look it. I’ll take you in a few, I promise. Let’s get you sat down and find you a glass of water first.”

  Reluctantly she agreed and let go of the sink. Her traitorous legs betrayed her and she staggered.

  Zander caught her, swinging her into his arms. “Now you’re really worrying me,” he told her. “Forget the water. Strong, sweet tea is the order of the day.”

  She didn’t want to be carried, she wanted to walk, but knew she really didn’t have a choice. The coroner’s words echoed around her mind. But as devastating as that was, it didn’t compare with seeing the Guv again.

  Zander carried her back up the corridor to the squad room. Mercifully it was still empty. At least no one else had witnessed her utter humiliation.

  Zander carried her through the squad room and into the Guv’s office.

  DI Holmes, DS Philips, and Dr. Chandler stood there.

  DI Holmes studied Isabel. “I’ve asked the police surgeon to come and check you over.”

  “Talk about overkill,” Isabel muttered.

  “Humour him,” Zander said. “I won’t take you home otherwise. I’ll check you into the ED myself.”

  Isabel rolled her eyes. “At least put me down. I threw up and then lost my balance. I’m not sick. I’ve felt better, but just need to go home and rest. I don’t need to be checked over. By anyone.”

  DI Holmes raised an eyebrow. “Well, I called her in. So at least let her do her job.”

  “That’s not a request, is it?” Isabel sighed. “Fine.”

  Zander set her on a chair, and stood behind her. A protective hand covered her shoulder.

  Dr Chandler unpacked some things from her bag. “Going to start with your blood pressure.”

  Isabel nodded as the doctor fastened the sphygmomanometer around her upper arm. She hated these things almost as much as she hated needles. She got awful pins and needles in her hand for ages afterwards.

  Dr Chandler frowned. “Your blood pressure is sky high.”

  “That would explain the headache,” Isabel said quietly.

  “You get a lot of headaches?” Dr Chandler took her wrist to check her pulse.

  “Sometimes. Stress related usually or sometimes cycle related.”

  Zander snorted. “Yeah, riding a bike can do that to a person. Just the thought sends my blood pressure through the roof.”

  She glanced up at him. “Not that sort of cycle,” she said, her cheeks burning.

  He rolled his eyes. “I thought we had to avoid the ‘you’re a woman so put up with it’ conversation.”

  Her lips twitched.

  “Was that a smile?” Zander’s eyes twinkled.

  Isabel shook her head and then winced at the pain. “No.”

  “OK. I was just checking because this is the Guv’s office and you’re not allowed to smile in here. Cry, yes. Sulk, feel horrid when he yells—which he does a lot—but, smile? No.”

  Isabel bit her lip, trying hard not to smile now. She glanced over at DI Holmes to see him covering a smile.

  “When was the last time you had this checked?” Dr Chandler asked.

  “The hospital, I guess, when Zander took me the other week. After the needle stick.”

  “I’d like you to go and see your GP and get it checked more often. Headaches can be a symptom of hypertension—very high blood pressure—which left untreated can cause serious health and heart issues. But it’s easily controlled with medication which won’t impact your career as a police officer. Does anyone in your family have it?”

  Isabel shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Can you ask them?”

  “Not very easily. I have no family. It’s just me.”

  Dr Chandler nodded. “OK. Well, see your GP as soon as possible. Preferably tomorrow.”

  DI Holmes leaned against his desk. “What did the coroner want? I tried calling him back, but he’s been called out of the office.”

  “He had the blood test results.” Isabel picked at a nail, keeping her gaze downwards. “The set of bloods he did was fine. But the original ones from the needle stick…” Her voice faded. She swallowed hard, shaking her head.

  Zander moved in front of her and hunkered down. He gently tilted her face so he could hold her gaze. “Is? Whatever it is, we can do this together. Is it HIV?”

  She shook her head. “No. They found a trace of something in the tox screen. It’s why they were chasing me to have them repeated. It’s only now we know what was in the syringe that…” She sucked in a deep breath. “They found very faint traces of poison hemlock.”

  Dr Chandler glanced over from where she packed up her bag
. “You’re blessed to be alive.”

  DI Holmes straightened. “She is?”

  “There is no cure or antidote for poison hemlock. It’s why they use it in executions. It really is amongst the deadliest plants out there. Go see your GP tomorrow. If there’s anything else you know where I am.” Dr Chandler headed out.

  Isabel shoved a hand through her hair. “Arend said…he said there should be no long term effects, and that I’ll just feel sick a bit on and off for a few weeks until it clears my system. Which I have been. I thought it was just something I ate or lack of sleep or stress or just woman stuff.”

  Zander rubbed her arm. “I knew you’d been feeling rough, but yeah, assumed something else was the cause. All the more reason to tell me next time.”

  Isabel shuddered and bit her lip. “He also said they need to exhume Gran’s body.” Her heart broke afresh and she swallowed hard, not wanting to throw up again. “If the fire is arson, they…need to know…if…”

  Zander hugged her. “They want to do a tox screen to rule out murder,” he said gently.

  Tears ran down her face and she buried her head in his shirt for a moment to hide them. Then she sucked in a deep breath and rubbed a hand over her face. She glanced at the board in the squad room. “Arend thinks that maybe it was the same killer given the link between the two cases.”

  She looked over at DI Holmes. “I screwed up, Guv, losing my notebook. I’m sorry. I’ll clear my desk and resign.”

  DI Holmes shook his head. “No you won’t. I need you on this case, now more than ever. Go home, get some rest and come at this fresh in the morning.” He paused. “Actually, Farrell only had a few pages from your notebook, not the whole thing. I want SOCO to dust your place for prints tonight. You don’t have to sleep somewhere else unless you want to.”

  She frowned. “Dust my place for prints?”

  “In case Farrell or someone broke in and stole your notebook,” DI Holmes explained.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Zander stood and pulled her up. “I’ll take you home. Via the chip shop. Then we can shift the sofa in your lounge, check under it for books and cat toys and stuff.”

  She held his gaze. “That’s not resting, but the lift and chips sound good. I’ll eat and you can look for the books and cat toys and stuff.”