The Maggie Bainbridge Box Set

by Rob Wyllie

  Commie bastards always get what they deserve.

  But this time, the troller wasn't hiding his identity behind a stupid handle. The author being the man known to his followers simply as D-V.

  Chapter 8

  Jimmy checked the map on his phone again to make sure he had got it right. Yep, 8 Harbledown Road, Parsons Green. It was another one of Maggie's hospital passes and so he wasn't exactly looking forward to this mission. But it had to be done. Go and talk to Allegra Ross and see if Benjamin ever spoke about the pre-nup. That was her orders, and Jimmy Stewart always obeyed orders.

  Almost all of the properties in the street had been converted into flats, most configured with one dwelling on the ground floor and one above. The street exuded prosperity, every house smart and well-maintained, their elaborately-carved window surrounds pristine and whitewashed, front doors glossy with shiny brass letterboxes and handles. Not surprising when you wouldn't get any change from a million quid, even for the rare one-bedroom attic conversion.

  Number 8 however turned out to be the exception, but in a good way, an end-of-terrace still in its original two-storey layout and with a two-car parking space alongside its end wall, currently occupied by a Range-Rover sporting a current-year plate. A hundred-grand car and a two-million-pound pad. Nice, but perhaps not so unexpected given the family background of Allegra Elizabeth Ross. New money, that's what they used to call it, the Ross family having built an industrial dynasty out of ships and armaments starting in the early nineteenth century. They might not be titled, but the family wealth ran to half a street in Mayfair and a couple of country estates. Compared to what she had grown up with, Allegra was slumming it in Parsons Green.

  Jimmy had tried to call in advance to make an appointment, but Allegra it seemed wasn't taking calls. Hardly surprising after the murder of her lover, when even thicko DCI Colin Barker would know that the partner is the prime suspect in ninety percent of cases. And if he didn't before, Yash Patel of the Chronicle had brought him up to speed with that particular statistic. In all events, Allegra was probably already sick and tired of answering questions, and on top of that, it would surely only be a matter of time before the media ended their self-imposed and brief period of respect for the bereaved actress. Then it would be open season on her relationship and her life, and everything in between. Not something to be envied.

  He closed the picket gate behind him on its clasp and pressed the bell. From somewhere inside, he could hear the faintest of rings. Good, at least it was working. He waited a few seconds and tried again. This time, he heard nothing. So what, probably the battery had taken its last dying breath, they didn't last long. Not a problem. He reached for the brass knocker and then stopped dead, puzzled. His action had caused the door to open a fraction, and a further light push revealed that it had been left on the latch. Odd.

  'Miss Ross? Miss Ross?' Cautiously, he opened the door and went into the narrow hallway.

  'Miss Ross?' A door on the left led to a small tastefully-decorated sitting room, where effort had obviously been made to retain as much period detail as possible, the centrepiece being a fine tiled fireplace and oak surround. Half a dozen sympathy cards were displayed on the mantelpiece, and several more were arranged haphazardly on a small coffee table. Jimmy could only imagine Allegra's present emotional state, trying to come to terms with the murder of her lover, although maybe the relationship hadn't been in the best shape given what he'd witnessed at the awards do. Suddenly it occurred to him that it wasn't outside the bounds of possibility that Ross had done it and that he could now be in the home of a killer. He hadn't thought of that before entering the house, and he realised with some annoyance how careless he had become since he left the army. You probably weren't going to fall foul of a booby-trap in SW6, but it was sloppy nonetheless.

  He returned to the hallway and continued his search of the ground floor. A door was located directly opposite that of the lounge. He tried the handle but it appeared to be locked. It wasn't unusual for these old houses to have locks on the internal doors, and in any case he assumed it was only a cupboard. Something to look at a bit later.

  As was the fashion, the original back parlour and kitchen had been knocked together and extended out into the garden, with full-width bi-fold glass doors drenching light into the room. Jimmy wasn't a student of interior design but he guessed that the stunning top-end kitchen would have cost as much as his own tiny Clapham pad. Of course there was twin Belfast sinks, an island unit the size of a football pitch and, naturally, an Aga. Further proof that Ross enjoyed a money-no-object lifestyle, and he was certain it wasn't paid for by her part in a crappy soap.

  With no particular objective in mind other than nosiness, he started opening all the cupboards. On these Helmand house sweeps you always did a search, and on a good day you might find a stash of ammunition or some bomb-making chemicals, forlornly hidden just as the front door was kicked in. That wasn't going to happen here, but you never know. And half way around, his half-hunch proved accurate.

  In the centre of the island unit was fitted an elaborate waste-bin system. He gave the handle a gentle tug and the unit slid open as in slow-motion. Two large-capacity nylon bins were suspended from a cradle, and the first, clearly designated by the actress for paper waste recycling, was stuffed to capacity with used kitchen-roll. Used, blood-stained kitchen roll.

  'Miss Ross!' Now Jimmy's call was more urgent, worried. Looking down, he saw the faintest spots of blood on the white wood floor. Dropping to his knees to get a closer look, he noticed an effort had clearly been made to scrub off the spillage but the trail was still discernible. A trail that he, still on his knees, was able to follow back out in to the hallway and up to the locked door. He jumped up and pulled on the handle again but it wasn't going to move, and since it opened outwards, it couldn't be burst open by putting a shoulder to it. Rushing back to the kitchen, he grabbed a short broad-bladed knife and returned with it to the cupboard.

  Examining the lock, Jimmy saw it was of a sturdy mortis design and his improvised tool was unlikely to be strong enough to prise it open. However the hinge-bearing edge of the door showed more promise. Those in contrast to the mortis were of flimsy construction and soon began to yield as he jammed the blade of the knife between the hinge plate and the door. Within a few seconds he had prised the top hinge free of the architrave and not much later the lower one was also freed. Carefully, he let the door topple out of its frame, and releasing it from the lock, rested it against the wall.

  To his surprise, he saw that rather than concealing a cupboard, the door led to a steep stairway disappearing down into the darkness. He hadn't considered that these homes should have cellars, but this clearly was what it was. He felt along the wall for a light-switch, but in vain. He took his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and fired up the searchlight app, aiming the penetrating beam down the dank stairwell.

  Jimmy edged his way downwards, one step at a time, in trepidation of what he might discover in the gloom. Before he had even made it half-way his fears were realised. Clearly visible at the bottom of the stairs, the body of Allegra Ross lay in a crumpled heap, congealing blood still creeping from a head-wound. He jumped down the last few steps and gently placed his fingers on the jugular, feeling for a pulse. It didn't bear thinking about, the number of times he'd had to do this, and you always knew when it was hopeless. Like in this case. Allegra's body was already cold and her beautiful face was betraying the first signs of rigor mortis. Jimmy guessed she had been dead four or five hours. Nothing could be done for her now.

  The emergency services' operator was quite insistent. Polite but firm. An ambulance was on its way, but it was very important to be sure that the injured party was dead. She knew it was a difficult thing to ask, but could Jimmy please feel for a pulse once again? If there was even the slightest chance that the casualty was clinging to life, maybe some emergency first aid could be administered, winning precious minutes before the paramedics arrived. Jimmy didn't l
ike to tell her that he'd seen dozens of dead bodies and he knew quite well what death looked like, thank you very much.

  'Ok, hang on a minute please.' He was only going through the motions, but he understood why it had to be done. In Helmand of course, he had seen many separated body parts. Too many, the ghastly images still causing him regular nightmares, and he didn't expect them to fade away any time soon. But this was different. God, how had he missed it? He knew why. The understandable desire to nowadays keep as far away from death as was humanly possible.

  At least he knew there was no point in taking Allegra's pulse now. He shone his phone torch on to the back of the severed hand to read the spidery message that was written on it.

  Leonardo

  Chapter 9

  Frank had spotted them across the crowded lounge, and aware what his brother had just been through, waved to indicate that he was going to the bar before joining them. A few minutes later, he appeared with two pints and a large chardonnay for Maggie. And then noticed that Jimmy had already been hitting the single malts.

  'Sorry bruv, didn't realise you were on the fire water, although I'm glad I didn't notice 'cos pints are a lot cheaper. But anyway, how are you feeling? I heard you've been in the wars. Aye, sorry, maybe not the best turn of phrase but you know what I mean. Hope you're ok.'

  'Yeah, no bother, I'm fine,' Jimmy said. 'But it's not something you want to see every day, I can tell you that.'

  'What, the hand? I'm with you there pal. A bit grizzly to say the least. Anyway, I heard you've been put through the wringer by my best mate big fat Colin. I suppose he thinks you did it, am I right?'

  Jimmy smiled. 'Not exactly, but he did make it clear in his normal pompous manner, and I quote, that I would remain a suspect until my alibi was fully checked out and verified. He even asked me if I had a current passport and was planning to leave the country any time soon.'

  'What?' Frank said, amused. 'He must have learned that line from the cop shows.'

  'Yeah, it did make me smile. But obviously, his main interest was in finding out why I'd gone to Allegra's in the first place.'

  'Oh aye? And why did you go there?'

  Maggie intervened. 'We thought we would ask her if Benjamin had ever mentioned anything about the pre-nup. I mean, I know the timing might have been insensitive what with the death of her boyfriend and everything, but we do still have to do our jobs.'

  'What Maggie meant to say was that she thought I should go and ask Allegra about the pre-nup,' he said, in a mock-bitter tone, 'but of course I never got the opportunity.'

  Frank gave him a sympathetic look. 'Well I do feel sorry for what you've been through. It must have been awful.'

  'It was, bloody awful. And I guess you heard about that thing scribbled on her hand?'

  'Leonardo?' Frank said. 'Yeah, I heard. Look, I haven't told you this before, but this MO is exactly the same as the Benjamin Fox killing. Exactly the same. The right hand chopped off, the Leonardo thing, the lot.'

  Jimmy frowned. 'Right hand, did you say? It wasn't Allegra's right hand, it was her left hand. I'm one hundred percent sure about that.'

  'Well it probably doesn't mean anything,' Frank said, giving a shrug.

  'So do you have any idea what it means?' Maggie asked. 'You know, Leonardo.'

  'Absolutely no idea,' Frank said. 'But the good news is Pete Burnside and his wee team have been moved onto the case to boost the numbers so we might start to see sense emerging from Paddington Green for once.'

  Maggie nodded. 'I know this will sound crazy, but it just came to Jimmy and me that there might be something linking Allegra's murder to the Jamie Grant abduction. And now you've told us that Benjamin Fox was killed in the same way, I think it's an even stronger possibility.'

  Frank raised an eyebrow. 'How so?'

  'Well, we found out that Charles Grant was very active on social media in the months leading up to little Jamie's abduction. Some of his postings were very provocative. He made a lot of enemies, virtual ones at least.'

  'Is that right?' Frank said, interested.

  'Yes it is. Anyway, Jimmy and I had this idea that if the abduction was some sort of a revenge attack, then maybe online would be a good place to look for suspects.'

  'What, you think someone got upset just because he twittered or whatever you call it?'

  Maggie nodded. 'Well, why not? Some of the stuff is really vicious and personal, you should see it. And as it happens, there was one name in particular who seemed to have it in for him in a big way.'

  'Yeah,' Jimmy agreed, 'some weirdo going under the name of da Vinci. Don't you see? Leonardo is that odd message left behind by the murderer, and da Vinci is the handle of the person who's been harassing Charles Grant big-time. I mean, it's got to be more than a coincidence, hasn't it?'

  'Leonardo da Vinci, eh?' Frank said, giving a half-smile. 'Aye, I've heard of the guy. And as you say, quite a coincidence.'

  'There is something else too,' Maggie said. 'You know that Fox, Ross and Grant were friends who all shared the same politics? So we were thinking that maybe the abduction and murder of Jamie Grant wasn't about the money at all. That it was actually designed to hurt them, a kind of punishment for their political views. The Grants had their son murdered and Fox and Ross were killed themselves. So was it some sort of revenge, you know, someone trying to teach them a lesson?'

  'We don't know for certain that the wee lad's been murdered,' Frank said, although he knew that he was clutching at straws with that one. 'And actually, we don't know that Fox, Grant and Ross were friends either. That's still to be established.' He hadn't meant it to sound condescending, but it did.

  'And we thought it might be a good idea if you could talk to the boy's mother too,' Maggie said. 'Charles Grant's wife I mean. They're separated now, I guess the strain of the abduction and everything caused that.'

  That had been job number one on the wee list that he had slipped into the Shark folder. But, anxious to avoid offending her, he decided on a diplomatic answer. That didn't mean that they weren't still bloody amateurs though.

  'Aye, that might be a good idea Maggie,' he said, hoping the sarcasm he felt hadn't crept into his voice. 'I'll maybe get one of my guys to look her up.' It was good to remind them that he was the professional and he had the full resources of the Metropolitan Police at his beck and call. Or at least, he had that great pile of slovenliness known to his colleagues as DC Ronnie French. 'Yeah, I'll maybe get Ronnie to look at it.'

  'Ronnie?' Jimmy asked.

  Frank gave a grimace. 'You don't want to know. But I'll ask him to look her up, and in the meantime, I'll see what we can do about your da Vinci.'

  He saw her eyes widen. 'That would be amazing if you could. I think it might be important to our enquiries.'

  Frank gave a snort. 'Oh, so it's our enquiries now, is it?'

  He thought about it for a moment. From his brief skim of the file, he knew that none of this social media stuff had come up in the official enquiry. In fact, pretty much nothing at all had come up in the official enquiry. He'd just need to be careful how he played it of course, because he didn't want his mate Pete Burnside implicated in the mess, but yes, this was definitely worth looking into.

  ‘Aye, this might be another one for fat Ronnie to take a look at. Not promising anything mind you, but I'll see what I can do.'

  'Good man,' Jimmy said, smiling, 'and if you've got any other cases you'd like us to help you solve, well, we've opened a new criminal investigations division. I'll give you a card.'

  'Bugger off,' Frank said affectionately, but then his voice took on a serious tone. 'But just remember, we're dealing with a double killing here, and a missing wee boy who's probably been murdered too. There's dangerous people out there so please don't be doing anything stupid.'

  'I understand Frank,' Maggie said soothingly.

  He took her tone to mean she understood but that she wasn't going to pay any attention to him.

  'Well be careful, ok?' Frank said.
'Anyway, I've got some bad guys to catch. Must dash.' He always said that, even though there wasn't much bad-guy catching going on in Department 12B. And with that, he was off.

  ◆◆◆

  It was always good to talk through the ins and outs of a case with colleagues and the meeting had proved useful, serving to clarify a few things in Frank's mind. Of course it was ninety-nine percent certain that Allegra Ross was killed by the same person who killed Benjamin Fox. Both had been bludgeoned to death with a blunt instrument, both had a hand severed and the same baffling message written on it. But in one case, it was the right hand that had been cut off, in the other it was the left. Was that significant? He had no idea, but he had managed to stop the media publishing any details of the MO, so few people knew that it was Fox's right hand that had been removed. It might be nothing, but it might prove to be something in the future.

  But who did it and why? Were they killed to be silenced, or was it indeed revenge as Maggie and Jimmy thought? Or was it some other reason altogether? There were so many questions, and until he had some answers, they wouldn't get very far. He wasn't concerned about this state of affairs because he knew that cases like this always started slowly and messily. With a few promising lines of enquiry already in the bag, that was enough for him at this stage.

  As for the link to the Jamie Grant affair, there was no denying that the Leonardo and da Vinci thing was rather bizarre. The problem was, there was more than a two-year gap between the wee kid's abduction and the Fox and Ross murders, which made him seriously question if there actually was a connection. He wasn't ruling it out, but for now he was going to work on the assumption that it was simply a coincidence.

  Besides, tomorrow morning he had that conference call scheduled with the guys from Lyon, when he might find out if his crazy hunch with regard to the abduction had any substance to it. If it did, and in truth he had no expectations of the outcome, they would be looking at a whole different ball game. Then, Operation Shark would be up and running with a vengeance.