Killed in King's Cross

by Samantha Silver

  The two of us made our way to the accident and emergency ward, where we explained to a nurse that we needed to speak with the doctor who saw Alyssa Fenman the day before.

  “I’m afraid that due to confidentiality laws, I’m unable to comment about anything regarding the woman’s care,” the nurse replied.

  “We do not care about Alyssa or her wrist injury,” Violet said. “You can call her for permission if you’d like. We simply need to speak to the doctor and any nurses who may have dealt with her to determine if anyone overheard something that might give us a clue as to who killed her brother.”

  The nurse looked from side to side for a minute, as if trying to decide what to do. I could tell she was on the edge, so I leaned forward.

  “You know that body found at King’s cross yesterday? That was Alyssa Fenman’s brother. And we don’t think he’s the first victim. If you help us, you could be helping us find a serial killer.”

  At those words the nurse’s eyes widened and she got up, motioning for us to wait for a moment as she got another nurse to take over the admissions desk. The nurse came out from behind the reception area and Violet and I followed her outside where she sat on a concrete wall, then sighed.

  “As long as you don’t ask me anything medically relevant to Alyssa Fenman, I suppose I can answer your questions,” the nurse said. “I saw her when she came in with her brother.”

  “Did you notice anything in particular about him?” Violet asked.

  “He seemed to be rather jumpy,” the nurse replied. “He didn’t like the beeping of the heart rate monitor when I checked her pulse, and I have a feeling that he would have benefited from seeing a counselor.”

  That fit in with what Alyssa told us; his reaction to the beeps might have been because of his PTSD.

  “Did you hear him speak to anybody, or use his phone, or mention what he was going to be doing later that day?” Violet asked, but the nurse only shook her head.

  “Sorry. He didn’t mention anything of the sort. He was all about his sister, doting on her. I don’t think he mentioned himself even once.”

  “All right, thank you. Could you tell us which doctor saw her?”

  “I guess so. If it will help find a killer. Speak with doctor King. He should be here now; his shift started two hours ago. I’ll buzz you into the A&E wing, and if you wait by the nursing station he’ll show up there eventually. He’s the one with a parrot tattoo on his arm.”

  “Thank you,” Violet said.

  “Was it really her brother who was the victim of that murder yesterday?”

  “It was,” I replied sadly. The nurse shook her head.

  “I hope you find the psycho who did that.” And with that, she strode back into the hospital, with Violet and my following after her. She buzzed us through as she had promised, and Violet and I made our way to see Doctor King in the hopes that he might be able to shed some light for us.

  We found him a couple of minutes later, and he looked exactly like the kind of kid that I absolutely hated back in medical school.

  With brushed back blonde hair, a Jay Leno chin, blue eyes and a sneer that gave him the impression of looking down on everybody he saw, I had to admit my first impression of Doctor King was not the best one. He reminded me of the private school kids that came into medical school thinking they were the hottest thing around, driving Mercedes cars while the rest of us took the bus. It wasn’t that I resented them for being rich, it was that I resented them for being rude about it. And sure enough, on his right bicep was a picture of a grey and pink parrot of some kind, just as the nurse had said.

  However, as soon as he spoke, I felt a little bit bad for rushing to judgment.

  “Violet Despuis, you’re that famous detective that I’ve read about in the papers,” he said, shaking her hand when she introduced herself. “I’m glad to see that you’re working on this King’s Cross case. It’s a horrid business. And who might you be?”

  “Cassie Coburn,” I said, and Doctor King extended a hand to me as well. “I work with Violet in a consulting capacity.”

  That was my new fancy way of saying I followed her around, complained about her eating habits, and occasionally managed to supply some important medical information.

  “Well, obviously I’ll do anything I can to help. What do you want to know?”

  “Did you notice anything about Alyssa’s brother?” Violet asked, mirroring the same question she had asked the nurse a few minutes earlier.

  “Well, apart from the obvious that the man had some mental issues,” Doctor King said. “I’m no psychologist, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he was suffering from posttraumatic stress.”

  “That is correct,” Violet nodded. “His sister confirmed that for us.”

  “Right. Well, I’m afraid I didn’t notice anything else that caught my attention.”

  “Did he mention any plans he had for later on that day?”

  “You know, now that you mention it, I think he did say something about meeting a friend in the park before going back to his sister’s that afternoon.”

  “He spent most of his time in Regent’s Park. Did you catch the friend’s name by any chance?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Doctor King said, shaking his head. “Either he didn’t mention it, or I can’t remember. But he was definitely going to meet a friend. That’s a nice place for someone in his situation to spend his time, the view overlooking the park is excellent. But I’m afraid I can’t be more helpful.”

  “All right, thank you docteur.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance. Do you have a card? If I think of anything else, I’d like to call you.”

  Violet pulled a card from her wallet and handed it over to the doctor, who saluted her with it the way that men do before tucking it into the pocket of his lab coat.

  As we left the hospital, I turned to Violet. “Well, at least now we know what we’re looking for in Regent Park.”

  Chapter 9

  Luckily for us, Regent’s Park was only a couple of minutes’ walk from the hospital, so there was no need to take a taxi and instead Violet and I enjoyed the brisk walk, on a morning that was a little bit warmer than the previous few had been.

  “Wait here one moment,” Violet told me just before we entered the park, and she entered a little bakery and came back a few moments later with a bag full of goodies.

  Regent’s Park reminded me a lot of my personal favorite park in London, Hyde Park. Huge, wide paths were lined on either side with giant trees that had all lost their leaves at this point in the year. Hedges and smaller bushes dotted the landscape, as Londoners of all types enjoyed the atmosphere of the green space. There were mothers with their children being pushed along in strollers, business people on the phone who use the park as a shortcut to get where they wanted to be, tourists taking pictures of everything they could see, and dogs being taken for a walk, stopping to sniff every few meters.

  Regent’s Park was pretty big, even by London standards. I didn’t really know where to go, and obviously, neither did Violet. We ended up walking rather aimlessly along the paths, looking around, until finally Violet pointed at a man sitting under one of the large trees off to the side, on the grass. He was surrounded by an army duffel bag full of stuff, and was obviously homeless. Maybe he knew Joseph Fenman.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Violet asked, making her way over to the man. He grunted at her and held his bag closer to him. “I’m wondering if you know a Joseph, or Joey Fenman?”

  Realizing Violet wasn’t there to accost him, the man relaxed a bit, then took a croissant from the bag Violet offered him. “Joey? Yeah, I know him. He’s not around today, though.”

  “He was killed yesterday afternoon,” Violet replied, and the man let out a low whistle.

  “No kidding? Well, rest in peace, my man.”

  “Did you know him well?”

  “Sure. As well as I know anyone around here.”

  “He was supposed to
meet someone here yesterday afternoon. Any idea who that was?”

  “News to me. If you head out towards the zoo, though, there’s a man round that way named Pete. He might know. He and Joey were close.”

  “Thank you,” Violet replied. “As I do not know yet why Joey was killed, you may want to take some extra precautions with your safety. “It is possible that whoever killed your friend is targeting the homeless.”

  “Thanks for the warning, but I can take care of myself,” the man replied.

  “So could Joey,” Violet replied. “Please, be careful.”

  “Will do. Thanks for the food,” the man replied, and Violet and I made our way back towards the path, heading north to the London Zoo.

  We found Peter lying on a bench, watching the clouds.

  “Peter?” I asked when we saw him, and he sat up. Violet offered him the bag of croissants, and he eagerly took one.

  “What can I do for two gorgeous young ladies this morning?”

  “We heard you were supposed to meet with Joey Fenman yesterday afternoon,” Violet replied.

  “Sure. Joey said he found a lady who worked at a restaurant a ways away who was always willing to give us some extra food at the end of the night. We were going to see her before they shut, but he never showed.”

  “You didn’t see him at all yesterday?” I asked.

  “Well, I saw him in the morning. Then his sister called on that fancy phone of his, and he told me he had to go, and he’d meet me back here later. I stayed out here until late, but he never came back.”

  I frowned. So Peter was the man Joey had planned on meeting. That jived with what Doctor King had told us at the hospital. And yet, he had never made it here. I assumed Peter was telling the truth; he was too tall to be the man in the video we had seen at the hotel, and his hair was far too long. There was no way he could be the killer, so what reason did he have to lie?

  “Do you have any idea why Joey did not come to meet you?”

  “None at all. Just know he wasn’t here when he was supposed to be.”

  “Alright, thank you,” Violet said, and as we left the park, she was quiet.

  “We’re out of leads, aren’t we?” I asked.

  “There are always more leads we can follow. Sometime between the hospital and the park, Joseph Fenman disappeared. It is a question of finding out why. I will leave you to go home, and I will endeavor to discover more information that may be useful.

  “And what happens if you don’t find anything new?”

  “Then, with this being a serial killer, we wait until he strikes again. He will strike again, and when he does, he will leave more evidence in his wake. We can only hope that he decides to do it publicly once more.”

  “Great,” I said. “Well, I hope we manage to find him before then.”

  “As do I,” Violet replied. “However, it is not promising that we are this low on evidence this early in an investigation.”

  Leaving me with that thought, I headed off and tried to decide what I was going to do. I didn’t really want to go home; all I would do there was think about the case and try to ignore the pile of admission papers on my desk.

  Normally, I would call Jake, and see if he wanted to spend some time with me, but with the pathology report needing to be done as quickly as possible, I had a sneaking suspicion that Jake wasn’t going to be able to get away for a while to have lunch with me. Besides, at this point, when he got off from work I suspected his number one priority would be getting some sleep.

  Instead, I texted the one person that I knew would be more excited than anybody else about a potential serial killer: my best friend Brianne.

  While she was a medical student, Brianne was definitely obsessed with crime and murder. She thought what Violet did as a job was the coolest thing ever, and was always eager to hear about her new cases. I asked her about it once, and Brianne told me that Violet’s stories were better than any true crime podcast could ever be.

  I sent her a text and found out she was at work. Brianne paid for her education in part by working at Chipotle on Baker Street, and I was always happy to stop by and have a delicious burrito bowl that tasted exactly like home. Chipotle had gotten me through quite a few late exam nights in my day.

  I made my way back to the entrance of Regent’s Park where we had come in, which was closest to Baker Street, and headed down to Brianne. She was working the counter, and as soon as she saw me she gave me a smile as I got into line.

  “The usual?” she asked me, and I nodded.

  “Yes, please. When’s your break?”

  “Whenever I want, really. I’ll probably take it after this lunch rush is over,” Brianne replied. “If you take about twenty minutes to eat that food, that should be about long enough.”

  “Cool,” I replied, taking my food and sitting at one of the tables as I waited for Brianne’s break to start. Sure enough, when the line died down about twenty minutes later, she made her way over to me, a burrito bowl in hand.

  “I could eat four of these after today,” Brianne commented, shoving a giant forkful into her mouth. “This day has been crazy. I don’t know if it’s a full moon or what, but everyone wants Mexican food today, and everyone is definitely not on their best behavior. I had one man complain that there were too many spices in the rice – the rice! – and a lady who asked if it was possible to make her burrito look ‘less ethnic’.”

  “I didn’t know it was possible to live in London and dislike food from other cultures,” I laughed. “I swear, this place makes San Francisco look monochromatic.”

  “I know, right? It was a problematic comment on a whole bunch of levels. But anyway, enough about me. Are you really working with Violet on that King’s Cross murder?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “It was in the paper this morning. Violet Despuis, famous detective, helps police to solve brazen daylight murder.”

  “Well, it’s no surprise the papers have it wrong as usual, the victim wasn’t killed during the day. He was actually killed the night before, his body was moved onto the roof of the train station, and then just dropped through the glass panels before rush hour started.”

  “That’s insane,” Brianne replied through a mouthful of rice and chicken. “But so it’s true, Violet is working on it, and you’re helping her?”

  I nodded. “Definitely. I mean, I’m not sure how much I’m helping at all. I’m basically just following her around and seeing what happens, but it is interesting.”

  “Do you know who did it yet?”

  I shook my head. “No, and we’re actually out of leads. Violet’s out looking to see if she can figure out what happened to the victim after he left the hospital, where he was with his sister who sprained her wrist, but if not, then I think all we can do is wait for the killer to strike again.”

  “So you think it’s a serial killer,” Brianne said, her mouth dropping open.

  “That’s what Violet thinks, anyway. I think she’s right, I don’t think it’s the first time that this person has killed someone. He’s too good at it. I think I know Violet well enough by now that I can say that no first time killer would manage to fool her for this long.”

  “Definitely. If I’ve learned anything from watching a lot of TV, it’s that serial killers often require validation. He’s probably killed a number of people before, but the police have never linked them together, or come even close to figuring out who he is. He’s probably gotten frustrated, and decided to commit this crime for the attention. By dropping the body in the middle of the busiest train station in London right before rush hour, he guarantees that the police are going to have to pay attention to him now.”

  “But doesn’t that increase the risk of him getting caught? If he likes killing so much, why doesn’t he just keep doing it without drawing attention to himself?”

  “Because the serial killer in this situation needs to feel smarter than the police. He’s taunting them. It’s exactly the same as the Zodiac
Killer back in your neck of the woods.”

  I nodded slowly. That made sense, for sure. “Okay, so under your theory my guess is that when he kills again, he’s going to make it a public spectacle once more?”

  “That’s right,” Brianne nodded. “I’d be willing to bet almost anything on it.”

  “Well, personally, I’m hoping that Violet manages to get a lead from whatever she’s doing and that we’ll be able to catch the killer before he strikes again.”

  “I must say, if I was a serial killer, I definitely would not want to be working out of the same area as Violet Despuis,” Brianne said.

  “Well, maybe that’s why you’re not a serial killer,” I laughed.

  “Not that you know, anyway,” Brianne said with a wink.

  I laughed. Brianne was always fun, and it was nice to talk things over with her. She always had an interesting perspective on the crimes that Violet and I were trying to solve. And in this case, I had a sneaking suspicion that she was right about the serial killer. What she had said made sense. Maybe he was now trying to get the attention of the police, and trying to prove that he was smarter than them by not being caught.

  He had to be especially arrogant to think that he was smarter than Violet, though. My money was definitely on her.

  Chapter 10

  After half an hour, Brianne had to go back to work, and I wandered around somewhat aimlessly. Christmas was just a few days away, and while I had found something for Jake ages ago – he had mentioned that he needed a new watch in passing, so I bought him a nice one – I had absolutely no idea what to buy Violet. What did you get a woman who seemingly had all the money in the world, and at the same time, apparently no interest in material things? I made my way back to my apartment after two hours, none the wiser in terms of a gift. Normally, for someone who had everything, I would bake cookies. But Violet would just complain about the fat and sugar content, and I refused to make healthy cookies as a gift out of principle. So, I was just going to have to keep hunting for a gift and hope I came up with an idea in time.