by Paul Gitsham
‘So, who did kill Anish, and what was he doing at the Easy Break Hotel?’ asked Warren.
‘I don’t know; really I don’t.’
Warren believed her.
Chapter 43
Warren and Sutton returned to the office after the interview with Reva Vasava had been concluded. They’d formally arrested her after her admissions regarding the illegal cigarette operations, so she wasn’t going anywhere; Serious Organised Crime and Trading Standards wanted a chat. In the meantime, it gave the team time to plan their next move. Despite what Vasava had told them, they hadn’t ruled out a link between the family and Leon Grime, and had yet to address the subject of drug dealing. The motive for Anish Patel’s death was still unclear.
Sutton plucked a yellow Post-it note off his screen. He smiled and phoned the number on it.
Five minutes later, he rapped on Warren’s office door.
‘We’ve got a time of death.’
‘I tracked down the technician that identified Anish Patel from the serial number on the pacemaker that he was fitted with.’
The main briefing room was filled with everyone currently on shift, even Grayson; all eyes were on Sutton.
‘Anish was fitted with a fairly standard model. I won’t bore you with the technical details, suffice to say that Anish had an arrhythmia – an irregular heartbeat – caused by a genetic mutation that he inherited from his parents. It was undiagnosed in his mother and caused the heart attack that killed her. Anish was on anti-arrhythmia medication that worked well, but his cardiologist decided to fit him with a pacemaker as a precaution.
‘Pacemakers send a regular pulse of electricity to the heart to keep it in check. Anish’s wasn’t an ICD – an implantable defibrillator – so it wouldn’t have shocked him if he went into full-blown cardiac arrest.’
Sutton projected a graph onto the wall screen.
‘Besides helping keep a heart in rhythm, they are also a diagnostic tool. It basically acts like a simple ECG machine and records the heart’s activity, which the cardiologist can then look at during a check-up.’ He pointed to the graph. ‘This is a recording of Anish’s heart earlier on the Thursday. As you can see, the trace is fairly regular. I’m told that his cardiologist was pleased with his response to his medication and had no concerns.’
‘This is from a few minutes before Anish died.’
Sutton switched slides. The difference was immediate. The gaps between the peaks were still regular but noticeably farther apart.
‘His pulse rate was abnormally slow at this point.’ He changed slides again.
‘As you can see, the gaps between the peaks have now become very irregular. The pacemaker did its best, but it was fighting a losing battle.’ Sutton pointed to the end of the graph; the flat line unmistakable to anyone who watched TV. ‘He entered full cardiac arrest at 20:28.’
Sutton gave a moment for the importance of the timing to sink in.
‘His brothers can’t have been with him,’ said Pymm. ‘Manoj was at home in Cambridge, and Jaidev was still drinking in the sports centre bar.’
‘We also have a cause of death,’ said Warren. ‘Cardiac arrest after he entered arrhythmia. And that might change everything.’
This time it was Hutchinson who spotted the problem. ‘It might not be murder. It could have been natural causes.’
‘Unfortunately,’ said Sutton, ‘the pacemaker data tells us what his heart was doing, and when it was doing it, but it doesn’t tell us why.’
‘So why dispose of the body that way?’ asked Ruskin. ‘I get that it must have been pretty scary to suddenly find yourself with a dead body, but what they did to him …’
‘I see two possibilities,’ said Warren. ‘First of all, perhaps the person – or persons – believed that they were responsible for his death. We know that he had sustained a significant blow to the back of his head at some point that evening. Perhaps they thought that was what killed him?’
‘Could it have been the cause?’ asked Hardwick.
‘Inconclusive,’ said Sutton. ‘There was significant trauma, but the neurologist that Prof. Jordan consulted couldn’t say if it was enough to kill him.’
‘Which leaves the next possibility,’ said Warren. ‘The person who was with him did something that led to the arrhythmia – perhaps unintentionally. They then panicked and decided to dispose of the evidence.’
‘Could he have died during sex?’ asked Pymm. ‘We still don’t know why he was at the hotel. We know that at least some of the men he met on Rainbow Hookups were closeted. The person he was with could have been scared that whatever they were up to might become public knowledge.’
Sutton shook his head. ‘I asked that exact question. The technician thought it unlikely. His pulse, even before it started to slow down, and he entered arrhythmia, was fairly normal. Sexual arousal usually results in an increased heart rate. Plus, he was fairly fit, he exercised vigorously twice a week with no apparent ill effects.’
‘You said that his cardiologist was pleased with the way he responded to his medication,’ said Richardson. ‘Do we know if he had taken it that day? My dad’s getting a bit forgetful, and Mum always knows if he hasn’t taken his pills first thing because he gets tired and out of puff later in the day. If Anish had forgotten that day, then maybe he was at a greater risk of problems by the evening?’
‘Could be,’ said Sutton. ‘His pills were one-a-day, slow release. Assuming he usually took them first thing in the morning, it could have easily been thirty-six hours or more since he last had one if he forgot that morning. Unfortunately, we can’t tell if there are too many pills left in the packet.’
‘What about toxicology?’ asked Hardwick. ‘Would the medication levels in his bloodstream answer that question?’
‘The blood tox results are due back soon,’ said Warren. ‘I could ask Professor Jordan if they are able to add that to the screen, although I imagine that will take longer.’
‘Well, either way,’ said Grayson, ‘I still want to know why his body was disposed of and attempts made to conceal his identity. He was found by chance, and somebody sent text messages from his phone to make it appear he was still alive. Were they just buying time to clean up after themselves?’
He looked around the room. ‘It may transpire that Anish Patel died of natural causes. But in the meantime, nothing changes. We continue to treat this as murder. We’ll let the defence and the CPS fight over the charges.’
It was late in the evening and most of the day shift had finally left. Warren, Sutton, Ruskin and Richardson remained, seated around Richardson’s workstation.
Warren looked over at Sutton; the bags under his friend’s eyes were pronounced. There was someone that needed to go home. Grayson beat him to the punch.
‘Great work today, people,’ he said, shrugging on an expensive-looking, full-length raincoat as he exited his office. ‘I just got confirmation that SOC are going to raid that “gentlemen’s club” that the brothers Patel frequented.’
He looked out of the darkened window; icy rain battered the glass, with some of the fatter drops lingering and joining together. ‘Get yourselves home,’ he ordered. ‘The forecast is for snow flurries later, you don’t want to get caught out.’
‘Nothing you can’t cope with, eh, Moray?’ asked Richardson as Grayson headed towards the lift.
‘Yeah, I still can’t get used to the way England grinds to a halt as soon as more than a millimetre of snow falls,’ replied the bearded Scotsman as he retrieved his cycling helmet from beneath his desk.
‘So, you’ll be cycling home in nothing but skimpy lycra then?’ teased Sutton.
‘I might put some gloves on,’ Ruskin allowed.
Warren smiled, enjoying the banter but too weary to contribute.
‘Grayson’s in a bloody good mood, considering we’ve just lost one of our most promising lines of inquiry,’ said Richardson, once the lift had whisked the Superintendent out of earshot.
‘Of cours
e he is,’ said Sutton. ‘We’ve just uncovered a major drugs and gambling ring and got full confessions from Reva Vasava and Jaidev and Manoj Patel regarding a cigarette smuggling operation. That’s red faces all around for SOC, you know how much he’ll enjoy that. I’ll bet you he’ll be down in Welwyn tomorrow first thing, rubbing it in before he makes it in here for the day. He might even give us some of the credit.’
Sutton was probably right, but Warren struggled to match Grayson’s mood. Whittling down the suspect list was an essential part of any investigation, but it was only helpful when the actual culprits remained on the list, and Warren wasn’t entirely convinced that was the case. They still had no idea who was with Leon Grime that night, and he still refused to admit to being involved. And they still had no clear motive; there was too much of Anish Patel’s day-to-day existence that remained a mystery – his killer could well have come from a part of his life that they knew nothing about.
A few minutes earlier, he’d released both of the Patel brothers on bail after re-arresting them on suspicion of a raft of charges relating to their illegal cigarette operation. Exactly who amongst the three siblings had played what part was for SOC and Trading Standards to determine. It also sounded as if they and a number of local businesses would be getting a visit from HMRC to determine how much tax they had defrauded through under-reporting the sales of Suniti’s Sundries.
They were welcome to them; Warren had no desire to clap eyes on any of them again. No family was perfect and Warren tried not to judge those in situations that he’d never experienced personally, but in this case, the way Anish Patel had been treated by those who should have loved him the most left a sour taste in his mouth.
Rachel Pymm had continued to work her magic throughout Reva Vasava’s interview and during the follow-up with her brothers. By the time Warren had elicited admissions from both men about their true whereabouts on the night of Anish’s murder, Pymm had confirmed the location of their mobile phones at the warehouse on the Fowler Estate. She’d also chased up the manufacturers of the family’s various prestige vehicles, who used the GPS trackers embedded within them to verify that they had driven there in Manoj’s Range Rover and remained for several hours; certainly long after Anish was confirmed dead.
They’d also confirmed that Gotam Patel’s Range Rover was parked in his driveway, alongside Reva Vasava’s Mercedes, all of that night. The smart CCTV camera and security system that protected both residences showed that Anish’s father, his sister and her husband had all been home that night, as had their mobile phones, which had remained connected to the houses’ wireless routers. Snippets of a voice recording of Gotam Patel using the smart speaker in his home to turn up the heating that evening, and Reva Vasava using hers to play music, were merely icing on the cake.
‘Fancy a quick pint, Warren?’ asked Sutton. ‘The Prince and Pauper has finally started stocking passable alcohol-free beers.’
‘Not tonight, mate.’
Sutton nodded his understanding. Despite the day’s successes, neither man would feel like celebrating until they’d got justice for Anish Patel. Besides which, Warren and Susan were due an important conversation that they’d been putting off for far too long.
Sunday 11th December
Chapter 44
Mornings off, even at the weekend, were rarer than hen’s teeth at this stage of a major investigation. Nevertheless, Warren had made a promise to himself that he would at least have a leisurely breakfast with his wife. It was now well into December, and Christmas was fast approaching. The festive season had been overshadowed the previous year by the couple’s recent loss, and Warren was determined to make up for that.
He’d also sent a text the previous evening, ordering the rest of his team to have a lie-in – nobody was to set foot in the office before 10 a.m. At least the threatened snow hadn’t materialised.
The previous night’s discussion had gone better than Warren had hoped. He’d arrived home late and was worried that despite his best intentions he would need to postpone their talk until the following morning. But Susan was waiting for him, and to his surprise not only was the brochure from the fertility clinic open, the clinic website was displayed on her laptop.
‘We have the money, we should do it,’ she greeted him.
Warren had been expecting, if not an argument, then at least a lengthy conversation. But if there was one thing he had learned about his wife, it was that when she made a decision the last thing she wanted to do was dither.
That night as they lay in bed, Susan started talking. It was pitch-black, but he could tell from her voice that if he turned the light on, he’d see the shine of tears in her eyes.
‘I’m scared.’
The statement was as profound as it was simple.
‘When the first couple of attempts failed, when the pregnancy tests came back negative, I was able to kid myself that it wasn’t a big deal. It was disappointing but life goes on, you know? I was lying to myself, but I could cope. After all, we’d been trying the old-fashioned way for so long, I was used to it. I didn’t let myself truly feel hope.’
She gave a big sigh. Warren said nothing, just squeezed her hand.
‘When I got pregnant last autumn, I finally started to let a bit of that hope in. I knew that there was a long way to go – for any pregnancy, let alone twins – but I couldn’t help myself.’
Her voice caught and Warren kissed her head. There was nothing he could say. There was nothing he needed to say; he just needed to let his wife speak without interruption. All she wanted was for him to listen.
‘When we lost them, it just hurt so much. I wasn’t ready for it; I never realised how much worse it would be than the other times.’
She turned her head. ‘And I’m scared how much it’ll hurt again.’
Warren recognised all the feelings she was describing. The constant disappointments, month after month, as they tried to get pregnant. Then the cautious optimism that he too had tried to repress, which nevertheless was soul-crushing when thwarted by another failed implantation.
And then the excitement that he just couldn’t dampen when the pregnancy test finally came back positive. He remembered the fear in the pit of his stomach as they went for the ultrasound and then the elation as the ultrasound detected not one, but two tiny heartbeats.
Then the elation turned to dread; he was going to be a father! How the hell was he qualified to be a dad? To two of them. What if he messed up? What if he was a disappointment? What if he couldn’t be there? If he was snatched away like Gary Hastings?
Yet despite knowing it intellectually, the only fear he never really considered was Susan losing the babies. Miscarriage happened to other couples. They’d fought so hard for these babies, surely the universe – surely God – had decided it was time to reward them? And to reward them with not one but two?
But it wasn’t to be. The 11thof November 2015 was the day the universe showed it wasn’t ready to let them off the hook just yet.
The pain had nearly broken him; Susan too, although she had tried not to show it.
But her steadfast avoidance of the topic in the months gone by had made the damage clear to him. He’d felt himself sinking into despair. How could he fix something when he couldn’t even address the problem?
Would they try again, or not? He didn’t know, but he knew that it was a decision that they had to make together, and to do that they had to talk. And so he’d taken the gamble. Asking for the brochure, if only to act as a catalyst for a conversation that he didn’t know how to start otherwise.
Finally Warren had whispered back in Susan’s ear. ‘I’m scared too.’
Chapter 45
‘Gamma Hydroxybutyrate,’ said Professor Jordan. The toxicology report had finally returned, and he’d phoned immediately.
‘GHB,’ said Warren. ‘Isn’t that used as a date rape drug?’
‘That’s one of its uses. Slipped into someone’s drink, it makes them drowsy, and also affects short-te
rm memory, so when the victim wakes up, they have no recollection of what happened to them. At higher doses it can cause cardiopulmonary arrest – basically a heart attack.’
‘And there were traces of it in Anish’s blood tests?’ said Warren.
‘Yes, but unfortunately, even if Mr Patel did consume the drug, and it did lead to his death – entirely possible, given his pre-existing heart condition – it might not have been administered non-consensually. The drug is used recreationally, particularly in the gay and rave communities. It causes a feeling of euphoria and sometimes increased sexual arousal.’
Warren considered what Jordan had said. Anish had been using the hotel covertly, perhaps for sexual relations. Could he have been using GHB recreationally?
Was his death an accident?
‘We’ve traced Mr Brown Bear, one of Anish Patel’s contacts from Rainbow Hookups,’ said Pymm. Warren and Sutton were standing next to her workstation. ‘Karen’s idea about tracing his ex-girlfriend through her kids’ school paid off; the girls had their father’s surname, but she was listed on the system as sole contact. They moved back to her mum’s in Warrington, but the previous school got a request for records from the new school. We have his full name, Deepak Basu, and his address.’
‘What has he got to say for himself?’ asked Warren. Anish had made contact over a year ago, and as far as they could tell it was him that had ended the relationship a week later. But if the man’s former neighbour was correct then maybe he held Anish responsible for what appeared to be the subsequent breakdown in his relationship with his family? If Anish had been the one to tell his girlfriend of their affair – perhaps as some sort of extortion attempt – that could well have left the man angry enough to kill him, although why it had taken so long was something Warren was keen to know.’