by Clare Revell
Zander shuddered.
He could almost hear the clamour of debauchery coming from the painting. Had that nineteen-year-old kid really painted this? Or had he copied it from something else? Either way, they needed to check. Then, if need be, get the kid a psych evaluation pronto.
Arend pointed to the case. “Should be a large enough evidence bag in there.”
“Thanks.” Zander bagged the painting and stood to one side as the forensic officers carefully transferred the girl into a black body bag. He frowned. “Hold up. What’s that?” He pointed to her wrist. “There’s something above the duct tape.”
“It could be anything.”
“Or it could be important.” Zander stepped closer for a better look. He pulled on a fresh glove and clasped the girl’s wrist in his fingers. Black ink swirled above the tape. It was definitely a design of some sort. “Possibly a nightclub stamp. Could tell us where she was last seen.” He yanked out his phone. “We’ll meet you at the morgue.”
“Sure.”
Tucking the painting under one arm, Zander dialled as he headed up the path. It rang twice before the voicemail kicked in. “Guv, it’s Zander. We’ve got another murder. Same MO as before. Isabel and I are en route to the morgue for the post. Arend will do it now. Fill you in when we get back. We also recovered the second painting. It’s looking more likely that our murderer is also the art thief or knows him.”
Isabel stood at the top of the path, waiting for him. She wasn’t at all happy if the pouting frown was anything to go by.
“What’s up?”
“They haven’t even spoken to him.” She sounded as exasperated as she looked.
“Who hasn’t spoken to whom?”
“The fisherman. He called this in just after six this morning and then went home. Uniform didn’t get here until lunchtime. They took an hour to find the body and then called Arend.”
“That won’t please the DI any. Did they get his name at least?”
“Yes.” Isabel checked her notebook. “Amir Koresh. Lives over the greengrocers on Beck Street.”
“We’ll head there after the PM. The Guv can deal with uniform. I’ll leave him another voicemail.”
“He’ll love you for that.”
Zander chuckled. “He’d better.”
~*~
Zander stood next to Isabel by the observation window. Below them the post-mortem was about to begin. He’d offered his partner a chair, but she’d refused. He kept close by her side, in order to catch her if she fainted again.
Below them, Arend gently cut the tape from the dead girl’s wrists. “Interesting.”
“What’s that?” Zander asked.
“The mark on her wrist. It isn’t a nightclub stamp as we first thought. It’s looks pretty similar to the logo of a bar, but this isn’t ink. It’s a tattoo. A bull—Taurus, I think.”
“Which bar?” Isabel asked.
“A new Irish one on the other side of town. The wife and I have been there a couple of times. The food is excellent. It’s called the Lao Órga.”
“Can you spell that for me?” Zander hovered his pen over his notebook.
“L-a-o. The O has a forward slash over the top of it. O-r-g-a. It’s only been open a month or so.”
“It’s definitely a tattoo?”
Arend looked at his assistant. “Take a photo of it for me.” He raised his head again. “I’m sure. I’ll email the picture to you as soon as we’re done.”
“Text it to my phone as well, please,” Zander said. “It might help when we track down the tattooist.”
“Sure. Give me a minute here.”
Isabel turned her back to the window. “You want me to track down the tattoo place?”
Zander nodded. “Yeah, and we’ll check out this bar as well.”
“Picture sent,” Arend said.
“Thanks. Let us know what else you find.”
Arend frowned up at the window. “Are you not staying?”
Zander glanced sideways at Isabel. She was really pale, and her hands were wrapped around her stomach. As much as he wanted to stay, he would do the honourable thing and get his partner out of there. “No. Going to find out where our victim worked. Do you have her stuff?”
“Yup. It’s right here. Feel free to come and look.”
“Come on, Isabel.”
“In there?” She shot him a horrified gaze and swallowed hard. “I—I need to find the ladies room.” She clamped a hand over her mouth and ran from the room.
Zander sighed. Still, she’d lasted longer than the previous time. “Meet you by the exit,” he called after her. He headed down one level and into the autopsy room. His nose wrinkled at the smell. He pulled on a pair of gloves and headed over to where a handbag sat on a tray. “Is this everything?”
“Yes.”
Zander carefully went through the bag, shoving aside the feeling of how wrong it seemed. A girl’s handbag was sacred. Rosa guarded hers with her life and seemed to keep everything but the kitchen sink in it. He checked the cards in the back of her purse. “Driving licence says her name is Sally Rollin from Manchester,” he read aloud from the ID. He pulled out another card. “And she has a university student ID card. Mind if I borrow these?”
“Chain of evidence, Zander.”
“Preaching to the converted, Arend. I’ll sign them out and you can have them back.”
“Take photos. I haven’t checked them for prints yet.”
Zander muttered under his breath but took photos.
Arend glanced up. “And she wore the same brand of expensive matching underwear the previous girl did.”
Surprise filled him. “Really? Didn’t expect that. Maybe her parents give her more money than a normal student gets. Send the report soon as you have it.” Then he headed out to find Isabel. She was standing by the car. “Are you all right?” he asked as he reached her.
She pushed away from the car door. “Yeah.”
“I assume you lost your lunch?” He unlocked the car.
She jerked her head in response. “You assume correctly. Sorry. Where are we going?”
“The university. Turns out Miss Rollin is a student.”
“What about the fisherman? Shouldn’t we talk to him? Besides, it’s past five and the university staff will have gone home.”
He tutted in exasperation. “OK, fine. We’ll go track down this fisherman.”
~*~
The next morning, Isabel walked with Zander across the university campus. Hopefully this wouldn’t be a waste of time like the previous evening. The fisherman could barely remember the time of day he arrived. He’d seen nothing, heard nothing, discovered the body, called the police, and, as soon as he’d ended the call, he’d left as it was nothing to do with him.
Isabel glanced at the students they passed. “I feel so old.”
“Hah,” Zander scoffed. “Wait until you hit my age.” He paused. “Or the Guv’s.”
She laughed. “I don’t ever intend to get that old. I’m going to stop aging when I’m thirty.”
He chuckled. “I have it on good authority he’s no more than thirty-seven. He made DI really early.” He held the door open for her. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you, kind sir.”
“Welcome, my lady.” Zander headed over to the desk and showed his ID. “We need to see whoever is in charge, please.”
“One moment.” The girl at the desk picked up the phone. “Mr. Spence, I have a couple of police officers to see you.” She glanced up. “He’s in a meeting. What’s this in connection with?”
Zander leaned closer, so he’d be heard on the phone. “One of your students is in serious trouble. And if we don’t speak to someone now, we’ll be back with a warrant, a news crew, and the Chancellor himself.”
The girl paled and began to relay the message but was obviously cut off. She put the phone down. “Vice Chancellor Spence will be out in a few. Have a seat over there.”
“Thank you.” Zander flopped into
one of the chairs and looked at Isabel. “I mean it’s not like the poor girl is going anywhere. Or like we still need to inform anyone.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, his sarcasm appearing to fall on deaf ears. “Once we get a list of her classmates and friends, we’ll need to talk to all of them. This might end up taking all day.”
“That’s fine with me.” Isabel winked at him. “Nice warm day, field trip…what more could we want?”
Zander laughed. “True. And no DI breathing down our necks demanding to know answers we don’t have.” He settled back in his seat and studied the paintings on the wall, still tapping his fingers.
Isabel picked up one of the magazines and flicked through it. Sometime later, she gazed at her watch. “How much longer are we going to wait? It’s been half an hour.”
“No longer. This is ridiculous. We’ve waited long enough.” Zander pushed to his feet. “Let’s go get that warrant.”
A portly gentleman wearing a tweed suit that barely fastened waddled over to them. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I was in a finance meeting.” He held out a chubby hand, revealing stained cuffs on his sleeves. “Gareth Spence. I’m the Vice Chancellor.” He nodded to the petite blonde beside him. “This is Francesca Gordon. She’s in charge of student services.”
“DC Ellery and DC York.” Zander dropped his hand as soon as he could. “We’re here about Sally Rollin. We understand she’s a student here.”
“Let’s take this into my office.” The Vice Chancellor led them down the corridor into a dark, oak panelled room. A huge desk all but filled the space. A comfortable chair stood behind it, with four plastic ones in front. “Have a seat.”
“Sally is in her third year. She is due to take over my position in student services at the start of next semester.” Francesca frowned. “Has something happened to her?”
“She was found murdered on the banks of Mill Lake yesterday afternoon.”
Francesca gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “That was her? I saw it on the news. I didn’t think for a moment…”
Isabel studied the Vice Chancellor. His face was impassive, no visible sign of reaction at all. “We need to know when she was last seen on campus. What classes she did. Who her friends were, that kind of thing.”
“I’ll ring her tutor.” Francesca reached for the phone. “He’ll be able to help with some of that.”
The Vice Chancellor tapped on the computer keyboard. “Her grades were good. She is...was studying drama and teaching.”
“We’ll also need her home address and her lodgings here.”
“I can do that.” The Vice Chancellor tapped a few more keys. Did nothing shake this bloke?
“Good,” Zander said, his tone giving away how annoyed he was. “Because we’ve already wasted enough time waiting in your corridor.”
Three hours later, having spoken to the other students in Sally Rollin’s classes, her tutor, and flatmates, Isabel headed back to Zander’s car. The day was half over and they were no further forward. She eyed Zander over the roof of his car. “This doesn’t make any sense. If she broke the second commandment, what did she do? Attending university is hardly bowing down to an idol. She was in the choir, played the piano, was top of her classes, and on course for a first.”
Zander held her gaze. “There is a connection. There has to be. We’ll find it. But right now, let’s head back to the nick and compare notes on the two cases.”
11
Isabel had finished writing up the incident board when Zander wandered in, whistling. She frowned. “You do realise it’s still May, don’t you? Even if it is the thirty-first.”
“And that matters because?” He raised a brow.
“You’re whistling Deck the Halls.”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll change it.” He winked and began whistling Silent Night.
“Enough.” She tore a piece of paper off her notepad, scrunched it up, and hurled it at him. “I repeat. It’s May.”
“And you’ve never heard of Christmas in May?” Zander put a hand over his heart. “I’m shocked.”
“It’s Christmas in July, not May. And that is still too early.” She nodded to the file in his hands. “Please don’t tell me that’s tinsel and mistletoe.”
“No. Wish I’d thought of that. It’s the post-mortem results.” He tossed her a green marker pen. “You can do the honours as you’re already there.”
Isabel caught the pen and pulled off the lid. “Shoot.”
“The blue fibres found on Sally Rollin match those found on Iona Kevane. Same expensive red matching underwear. However, Sally’s blood/alcohol limit was roughly sixty percent proof.”
“Huh?” She wished he’d speak English, not rubbish. “That’s not a real thing. Is it?”
“No just slang for six times over the legal limit.”
“Really? Her friends didn’t mention her drinking.” She put the pen down and picked up her notebook, flicking back through it. “Good girl, church, fun loving…”
“Most students drink a lot. Did you manage to find the tattooist?”
She shook her head. “Nope. There are twenty-five tattoo parlours in Headley Cross alone. It’ll take forever to find the right one. And that’s assuming she had the tat done here and not elsewhere.”
“Then let me help. According to the pathologist, the ink contained a trace amount of a carrier agent. Thus, it’s not used by most places. The ink was made specifically for one tattooist, and there’s only one shop in town that does that. And it’s right across the road.”
He dropped the file to his desk. “Let’s go.”
~*~
Isabel wrinkled her nose as she and Zander stepped inside Squid Inx by Jinx. She glanced around the tattoo parlour. “Cute name. Catchy. Needs a good clean. Health and safety would have a field day in here.”
“Yup.” Zander raised his voice. “Hey, Jinx. You here?”
A long-haired bloke with dreadlocks came out of the back room. He wore a red tee, ripped black jeans, and sneakers that used to be white. Any visible skin was covered in tattoos. “Yo, Zander. ’S’up my man?” He thumped Zander on the back.
“Jinx. Always a pleasure.”
“And who’s the little lady?”
“Isabel York. His partner in crime,” Isabel helpfully added. Worth it simply for the look of absolute horror that Zander shot her.
“My what?”
She shrugged. “Live with it.”
Jinx laughed. “So, what can I do you for, mate? Are you finally getting that tat?”
“Nooo…” Zander broke off. “No. We had a girl found dead with your work on the inside of her wrist.” He pulled out his phone and showed Jinx a photo of the tattoo. “Recognise it?”
“Yeah, I remember that one. I did a whole bunch of them for a group of uni girls. Not a sorority or whatever they’re called in the States, but the same kind of thing.”
Zander scrolled to the photo of Sally.
Jinx’s eyes widened. “That’s her? She’s dead? Wow…how?”
“Murdered yesterday. What can you tell me about her?”
Jinx strode to the desk and flung open a ledger. He ran his finger down the page. “Here you go. May fifteenth. Whole troop of girls came in—all wanted star signs done. It took all afternoon.” He turned the book around.
“Mind if I take a copy?” Zander asked.
“Be my guest. I remember Sally Rollin, though. She was very quiet. Seemed unsure of the whole process and almost backed out several times, but her friends convinced her in the end.”
“Did she sign a consent form?”
Jinx nodded and pulled open a filing cabinet. “I have it right here.” He placed it on the desk. “I make everyone sign one regardless of age. That way they can’t sue me for wrongful tattooing once they sober up.”
Isabel wandered across to the photos on the wall. Some of them were really good. “You did all of these?”
“Sure did. The zodiac ones are in my book over here.”
/> She headed back to the desk and flicked through the book. She had no idea there were so many designs out there, ranging from simple to intricate, tiny to huge. Although why anyone would want one was beyond her. Never mind a huge one that covered everything.
“What’s your star sign?” Jinx asked.
Isabel glanced up. “Oh, I don’t believe in all that. I have no idea.”
“Fair enough. Humour me—when’s your birthday?”
“March twenty-fifth.” She shot Zander a grin. “Sorry, no cakes off me any time soon.”
He grinned back. “Nor me. Just have to find someone who does have a birthday soon to buy them.”
Jinx rolled his eyes. “March twenty-fifth makes your sign Aries. So, your element is fire, colour is red, day is Tuesday. Ruled by Mars, and that makes you moody, short-tempered, and impulsive.”
Zander laughed. “I don’t believe in all that either. But that description sounds about right.”
“I am not moody,” she snapped, trying to look cross and not give into the laughter bubbling up as she stamped her foot. “What about Zander?”
“April thirtieth,” he said.
Jinx studied him. “Taurus. Your element is earth, colours are green and pink. Your days are Friday and Monday and ruled by Venus. You’re stubborn, possessive, and uncompromising.”
Isabel snorted. “Pink? Oh, wait ’til we get back to the nick. The boys will love that. We can get hours of teasing out of that.”
Zander pulled a face at her. “All wrong. Can we get back to work now?” He turned his attention to Jinx. “She agreed to the tat?”
“Yeah. She had a very low pain threshold though. I kept having to stop. In the end she left with only the outline done. The others were finished.”
Zander photographed the list. “Thanks.”
Jinx leaned his hip on the desk. “Some kind of sisterhood thing they had going. It was kind of creepy. Almost like a coven.”
Zander raised an eyebrow. “You thinking witches coven?”
Jinx shook his head. “No, man. Not that kind of creepy. Just a feeling, ya know.”
The bell over the door jingled, and a blonde woman wearing very little came in.
Jinx stood. “Excuse me. Miranda is here for her next session.”
