Tanika wasn’t wrong.
When she led Judith, Suzie and Becks across the main Incident Room, they could all feel the eyes of the other officers drilling into them. Who were these outsiders? These women? Judith held her chin up in pride, Becks looked at her feet, and Suzie glared back at them as though she’d be prepared to take them all on in a fight.
Tanika took the three women into a small conference room.
‘Okay, this is yours. Whatever you want, just ask, and I’ll get one of the team to bring it to you.’
‘Then we’d like everything you’ve got on all three cases,’ Judith said.
‘I’ll get my data manager to bring through the files.’
‘Seriously? Just like that?’ Becks asked, amazed.
‘But before you go,’ Judith added. ‘I’ve got three questions. Firstly, have you had the Rothko checked in Stefan’s house? The one without the frame?’
‘I got an expert to check it over, just like you asked me to, and he said it’s the real deal.’
‘It’s not a forgery?’
‘The brushstrokes, pigments and age of the materials all suggest it’s an authentic painting by Rothko.’
‘Now that’s very interesting.’
‘But why would Elliot steal a worthless frame from a real Rothko worth hundreds of thousands of pounds?’ Suzie asked. ‘It’s the only bit that’s not worth anything.’
Judith ignored the question.
‘And can you tell me what sort of antique pistol the killer’s been using?’
Tanika smiled, relieved finally to be open with Judith.
‘It’s a Second World War German Luger pistol.’
‘Why would the killer use a German pistol?’ Suzie asked.
‘That’s what I’m hoping you three will be able to tell me,’ Tanika said.
‘Then I’ve got a question,’ Becks said. ‘Please could you explain what’s going on with those medallions you and Judith talked about?’
‘Well, I have to say, Judith’s guess was correct. As usual. The killer left a medallion at the scene of each murder. The first had the word “Faith” carved into it, the second and third had the words “Hope” and “Charity”.’
‘But why?’
‘I believe it’s a message for the police,’ Judith said to Tanika.
‘That’s what I’ve been thinking as well,’ Tanika agreed.
‘What makes you say that?’ Becks asked.
‘It must have been,’ Judith said. ‘Who else was going to see the three bodies after they’d been killed? And you know what I can’t help noticing? There isn’t a fourth part of the saying, is there? It’s just “Faith, hope and charity”. Three words. Three bodies. So the killer’s telling the police, it’s over.’
‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ Tanika agreed.
‘But the fact that it’s Masonic has to mean something as well. Have you checked to see if Andy Bishop’s a Mason?’
‘Not yet. We’ve been kind of busy. But I’ll get someone to look into it now.’
Tanika turned to leave the room, but stopped in the doorway as a thought occurred to her.
‘You said you had three questions.’
Judith smiled.
‘Have you found a copy of the Borlasian magazine in Iqbal’s house?’
‘You were serious about that?’
‘Could you send someone to his house? There’ll be a copy of the most recent magazine, and I very much think that page 74 will have been torn out.’
Tanika looked from Judith to the other two women, but all she could see was the same eagerness. She sighed, giving in to the force of nature that was Judith Potts.
‘Very well. I’ll send an officer to check it out,’ she said and made her exit, closing the door behind her.
As soon as they were on their own, Suzie looked at the others in utter amazement.
‘What the fuck are we doing here?’
‘Ssh!’ Becks said, appalled. ‘You can’t swear in here, it’s a police station.’
Suzie wasn’t listening as she got out her phone and started pressing and swiping it.
‘You know, I took your advice, Judith,’ she said. ‘I got back in touch with Amy, and it’s the best thing I ever did. Hey, Amy,’ she said into the screen, ‘guess where I am?’
Suzie turned the phone around, and Becks and Judith saw that Suzie had started a video call.
‘What’s that, Mum?’ a voice said from the speaker of the phone.
‘I’m in Maidenhead police station!’
‘What have you done now?’
‘Nothing! The police want my help, can you believe it? And these are my friends, Judith and Becks. Go on, say hello,’ Suzie said to Becks and Judith as she trained the camera on them.
Becks and Suzie started to wave awkwardly to Suzie’s daughter, which was the exact moment that the door opened and a female officer brought in three manila files that were bulging with paper.
‘Oh my God, that’s a bloody copper!’ the voice of Suzie’s daughter said from the phone.
Even Suzie had the good grace to look embarrassed.
‘Of course it’s a copper,’ she whispered loudly into the phone. ‘I told you, we’re at the police station.’
With a tight smile, the female officer put the three files on the table and then left the room.
Once she’d gone, Suzie said, ‘Well, she looked like she had a stick up her arse, didn’t she?’ She then told her daughter she’d speak to her later and hung up. ‘Now how do you want to do this?’ Suzie asked, rubbing her hands together like a mechanic who was about to pop the bonnet on an old car.
‘With less swearing and video calls, I think,’ Becks said.
‘How about we take a case file each?’ Judith said brightly.
‘Good idea,’ Becks said. ‘I’ll take Liz Curtis’s, if that’s okay? Seeing as I knew her.’
‘Then I’ll have Stefan Dunwoody’s case file,’ Judith said.
‘Which leaves me with Iqbal, and that’s who I’d want anyway,’ Suzie said.
The three women took seats at the table and started to leaf through the paperwork in their files.
‘You know what I want?’ Suzie said almost immediately. ‘A nice cup of tea.’
‘Oo, good idea,’ Judith said.
‘I’ll sort it out,’ Becks said, getting up and leaving the room. A few minutes later she returned with a little plate of biscuits and three steaming cups of tea.
‘Well, isn’t this nice,’ Judith said as they settled down with their tea and biscuits over their files.
‘So what do you think we should be looking for?’ Suzie asked.
‘In the first instance, I suggest we just get acquainted with the files, the witness statements, pathology reports and so on. But I think that what we’re really looking for are links between the three victims. Because their deaths have to be connected. They were killed within thirteen days of each other. Find what that link is and we’ll be able to work out who the killer is.’
‘But why don’t we focus on Elliot Howard and Andy Bishop?’ Suzie asked.
‘I think that way lies madness. For the moment at least,’ Judith added.
‘How so?’
‘Because whenever I try and think about those two, I end up tying myself in knots. Andy Bishop couldn’t have killed Stefan or Iqbal, he was out of the country at the time of both deaths. So he’s in the clear. Even though he has a motive the size of a barn door to want Iqbal dead. And Elliot couldn’t have killed Stefan either, even though he’d hated him for years for stealing a Rothko painting from him. Not unless Elliot somehow killed Stefan before choir practice and the gunshot I heard from the river that night just after 8 p.m. was staged for my benefit. Which doesn’t sound very likely, if you ask me. And as for why Elliot would want to kill Iqbal Kassam or Liz Curtis, well, that’s equally as impossible to imagine. And that’s putting aside the fact that Elliot was at an online auction when Liz was killed, so he can’t have killed her anyway.�
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‘But it has to be one or other of them,’ Becks said.
‘I’d agree with you there,’ Judith said. ‘Their fingerprints are all over the murders. Metaphorically at least.’
‘Maybe someone’s setting them up?’ Suzie said.
‘Although that’s not true for Liz Curtis, is it?’ Becks said to Judith, holding up her folder.
‘What’s that?’ Judith asked.
‘We may be able to find connections between Andy Bishop and Iqbal, and Elliot Howard and Stefan, but we’ve got nothing yet that suggests any kind of a link between either man and Liz Curtis. Have we?’
‘Which is my point exactly,’ Judith agreed. ‘We’re only guessing when it comes to Andy Bishop and Elliot Howard. Whereas we aren’t when we come to the victims. We know they were killed. We know their deaths are related. So I suggest we try to find out what that link is.’
‘There isn’t one!’ Suzie said. ‘Nothing links a local art dealer, a taxi driver and the owner of a rowing centre.’
‘Nonsense. Something links them. Or they wouldn’t have been killed. We simply have to discover what it is.’
‘It’s funny you should say that,’ Becks said, indicating a report in her file. ‘I’ve got a list of all of the clients who Iqbal had in his taxi here. And so you know, he never drove Elliot Howard. Not once. It’s the same for Andy Bishop. And Stefan Dunwoody, for that matter. But he did drive Liz Curtis. Two weeks before she died. It cost fifteen pounds.’
‘And that’s exactly what I mean!’ Judith said, enthused. ‘Because her husband Danny told us she’d used Iqbal’s taxi, and that’s the proof right there, isn’t it? Liz met Iqbal two weeks before she died. And we know she was a regular in Stefan’s art gallery as well. So that’s one clear and direct link between all three of them. Liz knew the other two victims.’
‘Although her husband said it shouldn’t be much of a surprise,’ Suzie said. ‘What with her running the rowing centre her whole life and going to church and everything. She knew everyone in Marlow.’
‘It’s still a connection,’ Judith said with finality. ‘So we just need to keep looking for other connections between the victims. For example, I see here that Stefan Dunwoody went to Sir William Borlase’s School.’
‘Just like Iqbal did,’ Suzie said.
‘You see? That’s another link.’
‘But not Liz,’ Becks said, looking up from her file. ‘She went to Great Marlow.’
‘Very well. We should still keep looking.’
The women set to their work, the silence of the room only disturbed by the occasional sound of a page turning, or a brief slurp of tea, or the crunch of a chomped biscuit.
‘Here’s something,’ Becks said, looking up from her file.
‘What have you got?’ Judith asked.
‘It’s a report on Liz Curtis’s social interactions. The police have been through her phone calls. And her electronic diary. And analysis of her emails and web history and everything. It’s very impressive what they’ve done, it’s her whole life. And there’s nothing suspicious about it at all.’
‘There must be something,’ Suzie said.
‘Honestly, there isn’t. Liz led a totally blameless life. There are countless work emails sorting out bookings for the rowing centre, phone calls to family, that sort of thing. She barely had a social life beyond that. But although her diary’s a blank, there’s one entry.’
‘Go on,’ Judith said.
‘It says “Rowing dinner”. It was for last month.’
Judith pursed her lips.
‘Her diary’s completely empty apart from that one entry?’
‘For months on end. Just blank. And then you get “Rowing dinner” on the fifth of August. So I wonder if any of the other victims attended it?’
‘Good thinking!’ Suzie said.
‘The fifth of August?’ Judith asked.
‘That’s right.’
‘Now that’s interesting,’ Judith said, and started flicking through the file on Stefan Dunwoody’s murder. ‘If I’m not much mistaken, that was the same day that Elliot Howard went to Stefan’s art gallery and had his argument with him.’
‘He had his argument with Elliot at Henley Regatta,’ Suzie said.
‘No, that was a few weeks before. I’m talking about when Elliot went to Stefan’s art gallery and argued with him there. Here we are.’
Judith found the witness statement the police had taken from Antonia Webster, Stefan’s assistant. She quickly scanned it.
‘Yes, it says here, Elliot argued with Stefan in his office on the morning of Monday the fifth of August. Which we now know was the same day that Liz attended a rowing dinner in the evening.’
‘You think the two events are connected?’ Becks asked.
‘I’ve no idea, but I’ll tell you this much,’ Judith said, realising something. ‘Rowing’s something that links Liz and Elliot.’
‘It is?’
Judith told the women about the school photos she’d seen on Elliot’s office wall that showed him in various rowing teams.
‘So he used to row,’ Suzie said. ‘I like it.’
‘And seeing as Liz once represented Great Britain,’ Judith said, ‘maybe they met through rowing?’
‘I don’t think it’s likely,’ Becks said, checking in her file. ‘She’s much younger than Elliot. Here we are, she’s fifty-four year’s old.’
‘Elliot is fifty-eight,’ Judith said after she’d found the relevant information in her file. ‘And you don’t have mixed boys and girls crews, do you? So it’s unlikely they rowed together. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t both go to the same rowing dinner that night, does it? It’s still a possibility. One moment.’
Judith left the room and found Tanika in conference with another police officer.
‘DS Malik, can you find out what Elliot Howard was doing on the night of Monday the fifth of August? But maybe ask for his movements for the whole week so he doesn’t know it’s specifically that night we’re interested in.’
‘Okay,’ Tanika said. ‘Happy to. And by the way, you were right about Andy Bishop. We’ve spoken to the Master of the Masonic Lodge in Marlow, and Mr Bishop’s a Freemason.’
‘What about Elliot Howard?’
‘I also asked about Elliot and he’s not, nor has he ever been, a Mason.’
‘Stefan Dunwoody?’
‘It’s the same for him and Iqbal Kassam. The only Mason in all of this is Andy Bishop.’
‘Well, that’s good to know. I’ll tell the team,’ Judith said, and bustled back to her office.
As Judith returned, she found Suzie and Becks deep in conversation.
‘Don’t let me interrupt,’ Judith said as she retook her place at the table.
‘I’m reading Iqbal’s crime scene report,’ Suzie explained for Judith’s benefit. ‘And it makes for grim reading, I can tell you. But there’s one thing that jumps out at me. The killer didn’t have to break in to kill him.’
‘You think Iqbal let him in?’ Judith asked.
‘Not at five o’clock in the morning, which was when he was killed. And according to the pathologist’s report, Iqbal had a heavy dose of sleeping pills in his system when he was killed.’
‘He’d been drugged?’ Becks asked in dismay.
‘It’s a prescription sleeping pill. Iqbal told me he took pills to help him sleep when he’d been on a night shift. But I don’t think he opened the door to anyone that night.’
‘So the killer had a key?’ Judith asked. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’
‘That’s the only thing that makes sense, but I know how security conscious Iqbal was. I mean, he wouldn’t even give me a key to his side gate so I could pick up Emma. Every day he’d open the gate for me, or leave it open when he knew I was coming. I even asked him about it one day. I said it would be easier if he just gave me a key, but he wouldn’t. He said he’d rather let me in.’
‘So if he wouldn’t give a key to you, who
would he give a key to?’ Judith asked.
‘That’s the thing, we all went to his funeral. The only people there who weren’t us had been told to attend by Imam Latif. There’s no one he’d give his key to.’
‘You’d give it to your neighbour,’ Becks said, almost to herself.
‘What’s that?’ Judith asked.
‘We don’t give the front door key of the vicarage to anyone. But we have given a copy to our neighbour.’
‘Of course!’ Judith said, suddenly excited. ‘You give it to your neighbour, that’s exactly what Iqbal did.’
‘But how does that help us?’
‘Because Iqbal’s neighbour was Ezra. And they were good friends, so I’m sure Iqbal trusted him with a key.’
‘But Ezra’s dead,’ Suzie said. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Think about it. There’s Iqbal’s key in Ezra’s house. In a cupboard. Or a drawer. Ezra dies, and who inherits his entire estate, including the contents of his house? One Andy Bishop. All Andy has to do is go through Ezra’s house, as I’m sure he did after the old man died, and he’d have found the spare key to Iqbal Kassam’s house.’
‘Hang on, I don’t understand,’ Becks said. ‘Are you saying Andy Bishop killed Iqbal after all?’
‘All I know is, Andy had a motive to kill him, and now we know that he might have had the opportunity as well. In fact, he’s possibly the only person who’d have been able to let himself into Iqbal’s house without needing to break in.’
‘But he was in Malta at the time,’ Suzie said.
‘Then what if they’re working for each other?’ Becks said.
The women looked at each other.
‘Keep talking,’ Suzie said.
‘Well, Andy Bishop kills Stefan Dunwoody for Elliot Howard. And then Elliot Howard kills Iqbal Kassam for Andy Bishop.’
‘Yes, I wondered about that myself,’ Judith said. ‘But I’m sorry to say it doesn’t add up. Take the first murder, that of Stefan Dunwoody. Elliot was at choir practice, so can’t have been the killer. And Andy was in Malta, so he can’t be, either. No, there’s something we’re missing here. I can feel it. Something obvious, something “hidden in plain sight”. If we could only work out what it was!’
The door opened and Tanika entered, holding some printouts. Before she could speak, Suzie turned to her.
The Marlow Murder Club Page 22