by Alex Caan
‘I think you should come back. Forget Hope, he’s a dick, we all know that. The rest of us need you.’
‘You seem to be managing fine without me.’
‘I think the rest of them are writing their resignations tonight, ready to leave if you do.’
*
Dr Kapoor looked exhausted when they met her. She was dressed in her normal clothes, but with a white medical coat over them. At least she wasn’t in quarantine, and at least that wasn’t the news she had for Kate. She still remembered the Ebola nurses finding latent strains behind their eyes and being readmitted. It had crossed her mind that the summons may have been to tell her they’d found something that meant she had to be back in isolation again.
They walked through empty corridors, following Dr Kapoor to the basement, where she said they had set up their labs. When they got to them, Kate was greeted by a woman who introduced herself as DS Joy Goldman.
‘I’m part of the Kensington and Chelsea station,’ she said. She was tall with dark blonde hair and black eyes. Well spoken, and smartly dressed.
Kate introduced herself and Zain.
‘I wasn’t expecting you at all,’ said Kate. ‘What’s going on, Dr Kapoor?’
‘Please sit,’ she said. They all took an uncomfortable stool each. Kate smelled sulphur and acid, mixed with burning.
‘Have you traced the Raxoman products yet?’ Zain asked.
‘Yes, I sent an email earlier. I don’t think the Raxoman products could have been used in the Leakey case. We checked the chemistry and structure, and they don’t match the neurotoxins used on Leakey at all. They also wouldn’t result in the sort of symptoms we saw.’
Kate didn’t think this could rule Natalie out completely. She may have got the toxins from somewhere else. Her motive was still strong, and under that sort of intense pressure, she may have been capable of anything.
‘That’s not why I called you here though. DS Goldman contacted me earlier today, and informed me of something quite startling. Do you want to fill DCI Riley in?’
DS Goldman nodded.
‘Earlier this morning I was called out to an address in Earl’s Court, on Cromwell Road. There was a strange smell coming from one of the flats in the building, so the landlord had gone in, in case it was gas, even though it smelt nothing like gas. The flat was unoccupied, so he didn’t think anything of it. Only, it wasn’t empty.’
Kate looked between the two women, but didn’t understand how this was related to the Leakey case yet.
‘What did he find?’
‘It was the body of a young woman.’
Kate felt her eyes widen. Was it Natalie Davies?
‘Did she have the same symptoms as Julian Leakey?’ she asked, in a whisper.
‘I’m not sure exactly what his symptoms were?’
‘Pustules on the skin, haemorrhaging of the internal organs especially the brain.’
DS Goldman didn’t flinch at the gory description, just shook her head.
‘No, ma’am. What killed the young lady were multiple stab wounds. We found the knife used at the scene. It was a frenzied attack, the multiple wounds inflicted were done so within seconds of each other we think. We had a post-mortem carried out earlier today, and it was conclusive. She had been dead about forty-eight hours.’
Natalie was still alive in that time period. So it wasn’t her.
‘How is this linked then to our investigation?’
‘We ran the girl’s DNA through our database, but we didn’t get a match on any known persons. Our tech guys ran another search, this time using broader criteria. And we got a hit to the Julian Leakey investigation.’
‘That investigation is locked down, you can’t access the details unless you are authorised,’ said Zain.
‘It was my team that were carrying out the autopsy,’ Dr Kapoor said. ‘When Joy’s team were given the red flag that linked it to Julian, they contacted me and asked me to check what the flag was. It was connected to the tests we ran on Julian Leakey, so I was able to check.’
‘What did you find?’ asked Kate.
‘Two things. Firstly, remember they found foreign blood on Julian Leakey’s body that wasn’t his? It was drenching his shirt?’
Kate nodded, finally understanding. Her heart had picked up.
‘The blood and DNA we pulled from there, matched that of the young woman. Her blood essentially was what was soaking his shirt.’
‘And the second thing?’
‘We ran fingerprints and DNA on the knife used. Only two people’s details were recovered from it. One was the young woman we found. The other, was Julian Leakey. I believe Julian Leakey may have murdered this woman, hours before he himself was killed.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
Cromwell Road divided into two parts. One side led to Gloucester Road, and some of the most expensive postcodes in South West London. The other side, split by Earl’s Court Road running through it, led to a twenty-four-hour Tesco, and properties that probably carried million pound tags but looked a bit more rundown.
Zain parked outside an Easyhotel, and they walked to the address DS Joy Goldman had given them. She was already there, waiting. Zain could smell weed, and saw there was a halfway house in one of the buildings they passed. A group of young men were standing outside, relaxed and talking amongst themselves. Zain nodded at them, but they ignored him.
Kate was walking quickly ahead of him, and despite her misgivings, she hadn’t once said she wasn’t part of this, and that she was asking him to lead. He could tell she was back. At least mentally, and at least for now and this case. And it felt right. Being by Kate’s side, taking direction from her. It was clear to him that she was the reason he was still on the force, or an early retirement and a different career would have been easier. He would have missed working with her.
The building DS Goldman was standing outside looked derelict. The paint was peeling, there were boards over the ground-floor windows, and rubbish bags on the stairs leading up to the entrance. Zain caught the smells of cooking and decay in the air as they approached the front door.
DS Goldman used a fob to unlock the main door, and they stepped inside. Newspapers and letters littered the small hallway, where a table with plastic flowers stood. A dismal projection of hope in the middle of the general wear and tear.
‘Nice. And I bet the landlord charges full whack,’ he said.
‘The residents aren’t much help. The lower floors are full of workers from Romania, sharing flats built for two between a dozen or so people. There’s a family on the middle floor, council tenants housed under emergency conditions. Involves domestic abuse. Students in the other flat there. Top floor is empty.’
Zain knew there were places like this and worse all over London. Still, he hated the greedy landlords that preyed on the vulnerable. That was for another day, though.
They walked up unsteady stairs, and Zain smelt the rot, and something else. The smell of human decay and death was still there. Like rubbish that had been left out too long.
‘The scene has been processed, and the cleaning team will be here in the morning. For now you can see how we found it.’
‘And there’s no ID at all for the young woman?’ asked Kate.
‘Nothing. No DNA match. We haven’t found anything on her person and there’s no reports of a missing person that might fit.’
They put on their plastic shoe covers and gloves. DS Goldman took keys from her pocket, and unlocked the flat door. They were greeted by the hum of flies, and the smell was overpowering inside. Zain didn’t think it was all related to the dead woman. The flat wasn’t anything more than a studio. The kitchen and bedroom were in one room, a door to the side leading off to a small shower room.
The bed was a sofa bed, covered in white sheets. They in turn were covered in blood. The red was smeared on the floor, scatter patterns of it on the walls, where it was black in places. There were footprints on the floor, again imprinted with the same crimson and m
aroon.
‘We found her face down on the sofabed,’ said DS Goldman. ‘There isn’t much else to see really. The flat is unoccupied, nothing in the cupboards or bathroom.’
‘Why hasn’t the top floor been rented out?’ Kate asked. ‘I’m sure there’s demand, so the landlord could find someone without much difficulty?’
‘They were both rented out to students until a few weeks ago, but they left without paying rent for a couple of months. The landlord has so many properties across London he hardly notices. The rent comes in, he’s happy. It took him a couple of months to realise the students hadn’t been paying. When he came to chase them, they were already gone.’
‘He probably deserved it’ said Zain. ‘Keeping people in conditions like this.’
‘They have hot water, electricity. I haven’t seen signs of vermin. So I would say they are quite well off comparatively.’
‘Comparatively, but you wouldn’t put up with this sort of stuff if it wasn’t London and everything wasn’t so flaming expensive.’
‘Supply and demand, simple economics,’ said DS Goldman.
‘Signs of a struggle?’ cut in Kate.
‘Not particularly. There were defence wounds on the victim, on her hands and arms, so she fought back. And we found skin and hair under her nails. Waiting for the DNA match on those, but I am sure they will belong to Julian Leakey.’
‘Can we get a face fit of the victim?’
‘Already done. Her face was relatively unscathed, so we have scene photos and a touched-up version run by our tech team.’
‘If you can send those over to us, we can try showing them to Julian’s staff, and his family. See if anybody can place the victim, make a connection.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Zain looked around, but aside from the copious amounts of blood there was nothing else to indicate anything serious had happened here.
‘I might go and question some of the neighbours,’ he said.
‘We tried. They didn’t see anything.’
‘They all say that. Let me stick the boot in.’
‘We have tried.’
‘No worries. Do you need a fob to get in?’
‘Yes. In theory. There are only limited fobs though, so the ground floor residents often keep the main door on a latch. They also admitted that if you push, the door opens.’
‘Any other way in?’
‘There’s an entrance leading out to a mess of a garden. But it’s surrounded by a high wall, and full of nettles. Not sure anyone would risk coming in that way, but we have had forensics do an examination.’
‘Let’s get those images over to Anya, and Julian’s staff. In the morning.’
‘Yes, boss,’ said Zain, smirking.
She was definitely back in charge.
Chapter Fifty
Zain was driving Kate back to Pimlico. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.
‘We need to identify the woman.’
‘You think it could be one of Leakey’s lovers?’
‘Possibly. Can you check on the women that were messaging him online? In case there’s a match to one of their profiles?’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Why would he kill her though? It really doesn’t make sense. He has a great life. What did she know that made him feel that this was the only way? He must have known he wouldn’t get away with it?’
‘Possibly he was set up?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. So Leakey’s killer killed them both, but framed Leakey? And left no trace of themselves?’
‘We don’t know that for sure. Leakey’s details raised a flag. If they’re processing some unknown person’s DNA, say the killer’s, they won’t get a match or a flag.’
‘No, but they’ll know someone else was there. They can build an unidentified DNA profile for them.’
‘True.’
They were passing Abbey Road Studios, then Lord’s Cricket Ground. Zain started humming a Beatles song.
‘You seem happy?’
‘Don’t I always?’ he said.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘So you’re going to stay then?’
She looked out of the window, as they headed through the whitewash houses of Regents Park and Baker Street. It was the sanitised part of London, at least on the surface. He knew some of those expensive houses were just like the one they had left, with dozens of people crammed into small spaces not built for so many people.
Kate was still thinking, but Zain couldn’t help feeling his mood being lifted. In a dangerous way.
Where would that lead exactly? She was with someone else; she was his boss. Kate Riley had shown him a kindness when so few others had bothered; it was just gratitude. His mind was trying to force her into another shape, another place.
Again that hurtful inner voice. You are obsessed with her, admit it.
No he was not.
‘How are your family?’ she asked.
‘Fine. Mum is visiting soon. With her new husband.’
‘What is he like?’
‘No idea.’
‘You didn’t go home for the wedding?’
‘No. Nobody did, not even my grandparents. She should get the message by now, she’s turning into a joke.’
‘Dr Kapoor said she was being called the Elizabeth Taylor of Mumbai?’
‘It’s funny, why do these pathologists read those stupid gossip magazines? Dr Mehta was the same.’ Dr Mehta was in post before Dr Kapoor. ‘My mum feeds tabloid gossip, that’s all. She married a Bollywood producer as husband number two, since then she’s a Z-list celebrity over there.’
‘Rani showed me her picture. She is a very beautiful woman.’
‘She’s my mother, she doesn’t have to be beautiful. You know she’s threatening to do their version of Strictly and Dancing with the Stars?’
Zain held back his resentment. His mother had focused on him after divorcing his father, making sure Zain was her priority. Until he turned eighteen and then left home for university. Correction, he didn’t leave home. Despite living in London, she made him go and stay in the halls of residence at SOAS. And then she had begun her own odyssey of marriage and divorce. He found out more about her daily pursuits from online columnists and bloggers than from her.
Still, she did message him every day and call regularly.
But he had been through too much without her; too much pain had entered his life and his body; he just didn’t know how to tell her. The words they exchanged were hollow, empty. Instead, it was his father who Zain had turned to. A man who hadn’t been there much after the divorce, who had his own new family. When Zain was in hospital the first time, recovering from the ordeal of being held captive and tortured, it was his father who had stepped up. A military man, he had held his son’s hands, and told him to wear the scars of war with pride.
It was a different type of war Zain had fought. On paper it seemed simple. In reality, he was completely lost. He hankered for that sense of belonging and purpose again. He couldn’t explain to anyone how on any given day he felt as though he had been pushed off a ravine, and was waiting for the ground to smack into him.
Kate Riley understood. She had been through her own version of hell, in which she too had lost everything that she knew, everything that anchored her. Betrayed by her own father, she had stuck to her internal moral compass, and she had fought him. That took guts, to put your own father away because you knew what he was doing was wrong.
Yet what had her reward been? In revenge her father had had her mother attacked, and Kate had moved from America to London. Why did it feel as though fighting for justice, against evil, seemed to end up destroying your life?
Zain was following the river now, heading towards Pimlico. It was lit brightly, the yellow flares and artificial lights bobbing in the gently moving water. All an illusion, just like the city.
Chapter Fifty-One
They were in the conference room, it was approaching lunchtime, and they were all on edge. Zain had told them
that Kate would be back today, had filled them in on the trip to Earl’s Court and the dead woman who had been found there.
‘I saw Anya Fox-Leakey this morning,’ said Rob. ‘She didn’t recognise the woman, but then again she’s not exactly the paragon of truth.’
‘Still, if anyone was going to charm her, it would be you right?’ teased Stevie.
‘I do my best. Anyway she had her lawyer woman there, so I didn’t really get much of a chance to be honest. I also took the e-fit to Leakey’s staff, but none of them recognised her either.’
‘I think I may have another angle on Anya Fox-Leakey,’ said Michelle. ‘I started to look at the money trail. Their flat is worth a cool two million, and they bought it six years ago, mainly using a cash payment. I calculated Julian’s salary based on his HMRC returns, and there is no way he could afford to pay for something like that.’
‘And what about his wife?’ asked Zain.
‘She inherited a small amount from her grandparents, but nothing to that value. And there is nothing in her normal account suggesting an income of that size.’
Zain couldn’t help but grin at her. The words normal account indicated Michelle was about to drop something.
‘Tell me,’ he said.
‘She has a shell account, in Panama. She was named in the leak, but her name got hidden among all the high-profile ones, because it’s under her maiden name.’
‘Do we have details of it yet? Any transactions?’
‘Not yet, but that got me to thinking. Anya must be smuggling something in those diplomatic pouches. And she must need help offloading it. So I checked her phone records more thoroughly. And I may have something. A Vince Hopper. He specialises in precious gems. Anya seems to call him whenever she’s back from one of her trips.’
‘And there’s your explanation for the money,’ said Zain. ‘What about the dead woman? Can we widen the search?’
‘I put an alert out,’ said Michelle. ‘The woman’s image is currently being circulated through various media channels and online. Hopefully somebody will recognise her and come forward.’