Dead on Your Feet

by Stephen Puleston

  Drake produced the photofit identikit picture. ‘We’re looking for somebody who matches this description. Does he look familiar to you? Did he come into the shop at all?’

  She took a moment to stare intently at the image. ‘Yes. There was someone who called – he was selling CCTV cameras. But we told him ours was broken and that headquarters wouldn’t pay for new ones.’

  Drake struggled for a moment – it sounded so matter-of-fact. The killer had been in the shop. It meant they were closer now. Drake’s pulse hammered. ‘Can you describe him?’

  ‘I don’t know – ordinary, I suppose.’

  ‘When was this? How long ago?’

  ‘I can’t remember. It was quite a bit before Johnny got the cameras fixed.’

  ‘Fixed?’ Drake almost shouted. ‘What the hell do you mean? I was told they were broken.’

  ‘Keep your shirt on. You can ask Johnny.’

  ‘Who on earth is Johnny?’

  Now she sounded offended. ‘No need to take that tone with me. He helps out two mornings a week.’ She lowered her voice. ‘He isn’t quite right. But he’s great with the electronic stuff.’

  Sara piped up. ‘Is Johnny here? It is very important.’ She gave Drake a smile that combined a gentle chastisement and grudging respect.

  The woman disappeared into a room at the rear of the shop, appearing moments later, gesturing over to Drake and Sara. They weaved past carousels of old clothes to join her.

  ‘This is Johnny. I hope he can help you. I’ve got to go back and look after the till.’

  Drake could hardly contain himself. Johnny was trying to grow a beard but his hormones weren’t allowing him much success. He had an open, inquisitive sort of face that gave Drake and Sara an innocent smile. Sara dragged over two chairs stacked in a corner. They sat down. Drake tried to reassure him. ‘I understand you’re an expert with the CCTV coverage.’

  ‘Somebody at head office sent an engineer to have a look at the system. Everyone thought it was broken. But I fixed it. I go to this day release course in the local college and we did some electronics and computer. It’s my favourite subject.’

  Sara leant over. ‘So, which mornings do you work?’

  ‘Thursday and Friday, and I go to college two afternoons. The rest of the time I help to look after Mum.’

  Sara again. ‘Penny tells us you’ve been able to fix the CCTV cameras.’

  Johnny nodded, pleased with himself.

  ‘When was that?’ Drake said.

  ‘Two weeks ago. I know cos it was just before that woman was killed in the shop opposite. And it was before I repaired those stereo systems over there.’ He jerked his head at a shelf of hi-fi equipment.

  ‘Do the recordings have a date?’ Sara continued.

  ‘Of course, would you like to see some?’

  ‘What we would really like to see would be the coverage for the day after the woman was killed.’

  Sara spoke in clear, measured tones that disguised the urgency. Drake held his breath.

  Johnny fiddled with the mouse and eventually his monitor came to life. It took a few minutes to find the right recording.

  ‘Here we are.’

  An image of the shop floor filled the screen, as did the window and the street beyond. Sara was the first to respond. ‘There’s the van, boss.’

  Drake stared at it. ‘Fast-forward the damn thing.’

  Johnny pouted and Drake regretted sounding so brusque.

  The minutes seemed to stretch interminably as the counter on the screen clicked forward. It wasn’t until twelve-thirty pm that a figure walked quickly across the shop front, unlocked the van and got in. Drake knew exactly who he had seen. Sara turned to him, wide-eyed in acknowledgement.

  Chapter 39

  Drake called Mike Foulds after formally telling the shop manager he was seizing the computer equipment. She looked stunned, Johnny beamed. Drake’s mobile rang; it was Winder.

  ‘You won’t believe this, boss,’ Winder said. ‘We’ve been able to trace Ellingham’s sister. She’s a hospital nurse.’

  ‘Bloody hell. Did you find an address?’

  ‘Yes—’

  ‘Is she working, today, now?’

  ‘Luned is checking at the moment.’

  ‘We have a recording of Ellingham getting into the van outside the charity shop.’

  Winder whistled down the telephone; Drake heard him bellow over at Luned, whooping with delight.

  Drake finished the call and joined Sara in his car, heading back to headquarters only after a uniformed officer had arrived to wait for Foulds.

  He raced back, knowing he had to build a cast-iron case against Ellingham. After parking he made his way with Sara to the main entrance and then up to the Incident Room.

  Drake beckoned the team into his office. Sara plonked herself on one of the visitor chairs, Winder and Luned standing behind her.

  He looked over at Luned. ‘So have you found Ellingham’s sister?’

  She nodded. ‘She started a twelve-hour shift this morning at eight am.’

  ‘Good. Now we need to find out if Ellingham is at home.’ Drake snatched at the telephone on his desk and called the nearest police station. He dictated clear instructions for uniformed officers to drive out to his home, establish his whereabouts and if he moved, to follow him.

  As he finished, Sara sounded a cautionary note. ‘We can’t prove the video was actually taken from that van.’

  ‘The forensic analysis is strong compelling evidence. And we have the vehicle. And one of his mobiles was triangulated to an area near the van.’

  Luned made her first contribution in a measured tone. ‘So what would be his motive?’

  ‘Revenge – Gloria Patton had rejected his work. And with Noel Sanderson out of the way he gets a slot in the art festival.’

  ‘Rhisiart Hopkin?’ Sara said

  Drake sat back. Hopkin’s murder didn’t fit into the pattern for the other two. Drake had to face the reality that his explanation was looking too far-fetched.

  Drake looked up at Winder. ‘Have you been able to trace his girlfriend – Valerie?’

  Winder glanced at Luned. They both shook their heads in unison. ‘It was probably his sister,’ Winder added.

  Drake read the time on his watch, reminding himself of his appointment with Superintendent Price. Glancing at his inbox, he saw the attachments to emails from Aberystwyth University and the National Art College of Wales. Filling in the blanks on Jeremy Ellingham’s past meant he could plan an arrest.

  ‘We need to know everything about Ellingham’s sister.’ Drake dismissed his team, pleased there was a renewed determination on their faces.

  Drake recognised the name of one of Ellingham’s tutors from his own studies in Aberystwyth. Ellingham had proved to be a difficult student, aggressive and uncooperative. His failure to attend lectures had been largely ignored but failing to sit an examination at the end of his first year meant he had to re-sit. The record of Ellingham’s meeting with the senior tutor recorded ‘unprovoked aggression’ and ‘foul and abusive language’ and eventually he was expelled. An obsession with Welsh history to the exclusion of other topics had ensured his university career was short-lived. So Drake focused again on the scene in Hopkin’s home. If he was right then everything was intended to refer to prominent Welsh politicians. People who had made a difference to the lives of other people. Just as artists aspired to do. It was another link to Ellingham but how could he prove it?

  The justification for artists who scraped a living relied on their self-serving rationale that their work could only be valued if it was in a museum and enjoyed by everyone. Drake wondered if he was overdue an interview with Ellingham.

  Winder brought Drake coffee in his usual cafetière. Drake stared at it suspiciously, hoping it had been made properly. But he had more important things to worry about than correctly brewed coffee. He plunged the filter and poured the drink.

  An officer called him after driving past Ell
ingham’s home. ‘It looks like he’s in, sir. The lights are on.’

  At least they knew where Ellingham was that morning and they had traced his sister who must have provided him with the drugs he needed or else told him how to get them. He pictured her image from the initial meeting when, as ‘Valerie Reed’, she had offered Ellingham an alibi. He smiled to himself as he savoured the prospect of interviewing her. Preparation was the key now they had two prime suspects. He turned to Ellingham’s website again and the video he had watched earlier. After five minutes he almost switched it off, a worry developing, but then he caught sight of something on a shelf. The noise from the Incident Room died to a whisper. He managed to zoom in, before squinting at the screen.

  He jumped out of his chair and jogged out to the board.

  Grabbing the photograph of the mantelpiece from the panoramic image, he paced back to his room, nodding for Sara to follow him. He sat down and drew himself up to the desk. He held up the photograph alongside the monitor.

  ‘There, can you see it?’

  Sara stared at the screen, realisation dawning on her face. ‘Jesus, it’s the same piece of ceramic.’

  ‘Ellingham left it there. He must have done. It was a record of his work. The whole thing was a sad reflection of a twisted mind.’

  ‘He overlooked this video.’

  Drake nodded. ‘Now we’ve got him.’

  The rest of the morning disappeared in a flurry of telephone calls and brief, snatched exchanges with Sara and then Winder and Luned before Drake left the Incident Room for his meeting with Superintendent Price.

  In the senior management suite he remained standing. He couldn’t sit still. He kept glancing at his watch, realising that for Price this appointment was routine. The door to Price’s office glided open. The superintendent waved over at Drake. ‘Ian, good, you’re prompt.’

  The large conference table was strewn with papers and folders. Price sat down by his desk, gesturing at one of the chairs.

  ‘We’ve made progress, sir.’

  Price stared at the monitor, making Drake feel like a distinct bystander.

  ‘Good. I saw your briefing memorandum for DI Metcalf. I suggest we have a formal meeting on Monday. I’ll send it to her over the weekend.’

  Drake cleared his throat. ‘We’ve now got a clear suspect. And enough to make an arrest.’

  It was the hard tone to Drake’s voice that got Price’s attention. At last, Drake thought. The superintendent narrowed his eyes, blinked several times. He leant both elbows on the desk and gazed over at Drake. It took Drake no more than a few minutes to summarise most of the evidence implicating Ellingham. Price scribbled the occasional note, curling his lips, but didn’t interrupt.

  ‘There’s still no link to Hopkin’s death.’ Before Drake could reply, Price continued. ‘We can’t prove definitively that the filming was taken from the van, so the fact that Ellingham is seen driving it away may not help you.’

  ‘We found video evidence that one of Ellingham’s ceramics was in Hopkin’s home. It’s a direct link.’

  Once Drake finished, Price sat back, scratching his head before taking a deep breath.

  ‘I suppose you want my agreement to make an arrest?’ Price paused. ‘I’m not convinced about motive – suggesting he’s killed a man to immortalise the whole thing as a piece of art installation is sick. Really fucking sick.’

  Thinking like a defence lawyer made policing so much more difficult, Drake thought.

  ‘The fact that he is a performance artist is a tenuous link to suggest he might pretend to be Damien Hirst and wear a dark bushy beard around Conwy. Or indeed dress up as a fisherman at the end of Llandudno pier.’

  ‘We’ve got enough to justify an arrest.’

  Price sighed. ‘You’re hoping a lawful arrest will lead you to discover more evidence.’

  No shortcuts. And definitely nothing to help any half-decent defence lawyer.

  Drake had said everything he wanted to say. As the superior officer Price had to make the call. The superintendent scanned his notes again. He cleared his throat.

  ‘If I’m right, sir, this man is a danger. He has killed three times already. He won’t stop at killing again.’

  Price drew his chair back to the table. ‘You’re right, arrest Ellingham and his sister.’

  In his haste to leave, Drake bumped into two civilians who had arrived to see Superintendent Price. He mumbled apologies and jogged back to the Incident Room, taking the stairs two at a time.

  Winder was pinning a grainy image to the board. Luned and Sara were emptying boxes of pre-packed sandwiches and soft drinks from a bag, which reminded Drake he felt hungry; it was lunchtime after all.

  ‘How did you get on?’ Sara said.

  ‘Both arrests authorised.’

  ‘We’ve found the driving licence image of Rhian Ellingham,’ Winder said.

  Drake stepped towards the board and dropped his gaze to the photograph. He stared at it intently. ‘There must be some mistake.’

  ‘What do you mean, boss?’

  ‘This isn’t anything like the woman I saw.’ Suddenly Drake realised that ‘Valerie Reed’ wasn’t Rhian Ellingham after all. He had been stupid to even contemplate the possibility a brother and sister would embark on a killing spree. A dark reality struck him. Ellingham had dressed up for his performance as Damien Hirst and for his performance as the fisherman at the end of the pier. Maybe he had dressed up for another performance: as Valerie Reed.

  It annoyed him to think that Ellingham must have enjoyed dressing up, taking time with the make-up, getting the hair just so.

  ‘That bastard Ellingham pretended to be a woman.’ Drake clenched his jaw, trawling through his memory for details of his interview with Valerie Reed. She – he – had given Ellingham an alibi and Drake had been completely fooled.

  He fisted a hand.

  ‘Difficult to believe,’ Sara said.

  ‘He must have some other premises somewhere where he kept all this stuff.’ Drake paused, letting his anger abate. ‘All we have to do is find it.’

  Chapter 40

  Drake sat at one of the spare desks in the Incident Room.

  ‘It’s hard to believe he could dress up so convincingly as a woman,’ Sara said.

  Winder wore an amused expression as though the idea of a man walking around in drag was totally alien.

  ‘He’s been planning this for months,’ Drake said, recalling his discussion with Ellingham’s neighbour. Drake flopped back in his chair and let out a long breath. Sara offered Drake one of the sandwiches. ‘You should eat something, sir.’

  Drake fiddled with the packaging of a chicken salad sandwich. A soft drink can fizzed when Winder cracked it open. The priority would now be to arrest Jeremy Ellingham, find a cell for him in the area custody suite and execute a search of his premises. At this stage Drake couldn’t afford to have doubts. The evidence was compelling, his team had worked well, and Superintendent Price supported his decision.

  He leant over the table. ‘We’ve got a lot to do.’

  Drake and Sara would arrest Ellingham, and Winder and Luned were delegated to arrest Rhian.

  It took Drake half an hour to reach Ellingham’s property. A patrol car followed.

  Drake parked outside. Behind them a marked police car came to a halt.

  Sara reached over and dragged two stab jackets from the rear seat. They were taking no chances. They left the car and Drake strode up the path to the front door. He had rehearsed in his mind the first words he would say to Ellingham. The standard phrases about his arrest and then the caution. He hammered on the door. He heard the sound of footsteps on a quarry tiled floor.

  The door opened. ‘How can I help?’

  Drake stared at the woman, trying to fathom out whether it was Ellingham. He pushed out his warrant card. ‘I’m looking for Jeremy Ellingham.’ He craned to look over the woman’s shoulder.

  ‘He’s not here. Take a look for yourself.’

&n
bsp; Drake barged past her, Sara following. They went into every room before returning to the kitchen. Drake jogged out to the old shed, rattling the chain and padlock that were keeping it securely locked. He put his hands to the window, peering in, but saw nothing.

  Back in the kitchen, Sara jotted down the name and full details of the mysterious woman.

  ‘This is Ann,’ Sara said

  Ann piped up. ‘He’s a friend of my brother’s. He told me I could stay here; I was kicked out by my partner last week.’

  Drake stared at her, tempted to pull her hair just to be certain. But she had no make-up on, and having paid attention to the way she looked, it was clear it wasn’t Ellingham. She was thinner, smaller. ‘Where is he? Drake demanded.

  ‘How would I know?’

  ‘Well, he bloody well lives here.’

  ‘He comes and goes at all hours. He’s been dead busy last couple of days. He said that he wouldn’t be around much. Complained that he had a lot of work to do. But he’s a bit weird if you ask me.’

  Drake raised his voice. ‘I want to know exactly when you saw him last.’

  She recoiled slightly, blinking rapidly. ‘I can’t remember. You can’t talk to me like that. I haven’t done anything wrong.’

  Drake nodded at Sara and they returned to the car. Sara kept up with his brisk pace. His mobile rang, it was Winder.

  ‘Bad news, boss. Rhian Ellingham is in theatre and can’t be disturbed.’

  Drake cursed silently. He finished the call as he reached the car. ‘Where the hell is he?’ Drake paused, recalling Ann’s comments. ‘He must have been referring to the arts festival when he mentioned work. I’ll speak to Huw; he might know Ellingham’s whereabouts.’

  Drake fumbled with his mobile and after the third ring, Jackson answered.

  ‘Hello, Ian.’

  ‘I need to speak to Jeremy Ellingham. Do you know where I can find him?’

  ‘Sorry, I know he was busy this afternoon. He told the committee he couldn’t attend the performance.’

  An invisible vice tightened itself around Drake’s neck. ‘Performance? What do you mean?’