“Yes, of course.” He leaned against a counter, trying to look relaxed. He felt relieved that she was focused on the computer, because that meant he didn’t have to make small talk, a skill he’d already decided he didn’t possess.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, grateful for something to do. Dani was calling him.
“Hey, Dani,” he said, as he answered.
“Hi. I’m still at the station. We’ve got a hit on P. Gibson.”
“Okay. So, you’re not coming to the morgue?”
“I’ll leave that to you, while I sort everything out at this end. Let me know what the anthropologist says.”
“All right. I will.”
“When I’m finished here, I’m going to head back to Temple Well. I’ll see you there, later.”
“Great. See you later, then.” He ended the call and looked over at Alina. “DI Summers isn’t coming, after all.”
“Oh, okay,” she said airily. “Well, I am done with my report, so I can show you what I have found, if you like.”
“Yes, of course. That would be great.”
She pushed back on the chair and stood up. “I have set up what we need to see through here.” She opened a door that led to the actual morgue, a large white-tiled room with stainless steel tables sitting in a neat row, and matching steel drawers set into one wall.
“What I want to show you is over here,” she said, leading Tony to one of the tables, where two skulls had been placed side by side on wire stands that raised them a foot or so above the table surface. The jawbones were missing.
“These are the skulls of Joanna Kirk, on the left, and Daisy Riddle, on the right,” Alina said. “I have removed the mandibles to show you better what I found inside the cranium of each girl.”
“Inside the craniums?” Tony asked. He suddenly remembered a scene from The Silence of the Lambs, where Agent Starling found a moth pupa inside a corpse’s throat. He hoped the killer hadn’t done something similar to these girls.
The anthropologist nodded. “Yes, inside the craniums. Here, let me show you.” She took a small torch out of the pocket of her white coat and held it beneath the skull on the left, shining the light inside. The effect was that Joanna Kirk’s skull lit up like a Halloween pumpkin, the empty eye sockets now glowing.
“What am I looking at?” he asked, unsure why she was doing this.
“Lean forward and look through one of the eye sockets, to the rear of the cranium.”
He did as she asked, bending over and placing one eye near the empty socket. This position afforded him a view inside the skull, and on the back of the cranium, he noticed two marks that looked like they’d been scratched into the bone.
“They’re Xs,” he said, straightening.
Alina nodded. “Two Xs, to be precise. She took a pen and a notebook from her pocket and drew two Xs, in the pattern Tony had seen them inside the skull. Then she ripped out the page and placed it on the table.
“Now, we do the same with Daisy,” she said, moving around Tony to the second skull, and shining the light in the same manner. “Have a look.”
Tony bent over, and looked through Daisy’s right eye socket, into the interior of her skull. He saw the marks straight away, only this time there were more of them.
“There are more of them,” he said, straightening again.
She nodded. “There are eight of them.” She ripped another page out of the notebook—one she’d already drawn on—and put it on the table, to the right of the other.
“These were made post-mortem, of course,” she said. “Probably after the body had been in the ground for some time.”
“So, he dug them up and made the marks.”
“It seems so, yes. Some sort of sharp tool was used to engrave the Xs into the cranium.”
“These weren’t done recently, by the person who dug them up and left them out in the open.”
“No, the marks are many years old.”
“So, they were done by the original killer.”
She frowned behind her glasses. “The original killer?”
“It’s a theory I’m working on. The person who’s been leaving these girls for us to find isn’t the same person who killed them.”
“Interesting. Do you have a scientific basis for this?”
“I have a psychological basis for it, and psychology is a science, so, yes.”
She seemed to hesitate, and then said, “I would like to hear more about this.”
“Well, the fact that these bodies are coming to light now indicates that—“
“What I mean is that I would like to discuss this with you over…a drink, perhaps?”
“Oh, I see.” Was she asking him out? “Umm, yes, of course. I’d like that.”
She smiled. “Good. I will give you my number before you leave, and we will arrange something.”
“Yes, that’s great!” He felt suddenly elated, but he had to focus on the task at hand.
He looked at the two patterns on the notepad pages and tried to decipher them. “I don’t know what this is.”
“It looks like a constellation of stars,” she offered.
“It does, especially the pattern with the eight Xs.”
“Perhaps you have noticed that two Xs from the original pattern are incorporated into the larger pattern,” she said.
Tony hadn’t noticed, but now that he looked closer, he saw that the two Xs in Joanna’s pattern were indeed part of the eight-X pattern from Daisy’s skull.
He screwed his eyes up and put the heel of his left hand to his forehead, something which sometimes helped him think. “Why did he put this design inside their skulls? Why go to the trouble of digging up the skeletons to mark them like this?”
“It must be something very important to him,” Alina said.
“Yes, very important.” He tried to put himself into the killer’s head. “What is most important to me? The thrill of killing? The power I hold over these girls?” The answer came to him in an instant. “The collection.”
He opened his eyes and pointed at Joanna’s skull. “Joanna Kirk was killed twenty-two years ago. There are two Xs.” He turned his attention to Daisy’s skull. “Daisy Riddle was killed seven years later, and now there are eight Xs, including the original two. It’s the collection.”
“The collection?” Alina asked, obviously confused.
“Yes.” He focused on the patterns on the notepad pages, surer of himself now. “They’re the locations of the graves. When he marked Joanna’s skull, there were only two; her’s and someone else’s. By the time he marked Daisy’s skull, there were eight. In the intervening seven years, he’d killed and buried six more girls.”
“I see,” the anthropologist said.
“The collection is the most important thing to him,” Tony told her. “He’s did this to mark each girl’s place in it.”
Alina pointed at the page with only two marks on it. “So, this tells us that Joanna was his second victim.”
“Yes,” Tony said, “One of these Xs represents Joanna Kirk.”
“So, who is the other?”
He traced his finger over the two marks on the paper. “I believe it’s Mary Harwood.”
Chapter 20
“Can I take these with me?” Tony asked, picking up the two pieces of paper.
“Of course,” Alina said. “I have put copies of the marks into my report, but I thought someone from the team should see these right away, in case they are important.”
“They are,” he said. “Thank you.”
She walked back to the office, and he followed. As they entered the room, he said, “I have to go and see what Dani has uncovered regarding a person of interest. Before I go, though, you said you’d give me your number?”
“Yes, of course.” She took the notepad out of her pocket, wrote on it, and tore out the page, which she then handed it to him. “We can discuss your theory,” she said.
“I’d like that,” he said, putting the pie
ce of paper into his pocket.
“Then I will wait to hear from you.”
“Great.” He felt himself grinning uncontrollably, so he backed out of the door. “Okay, bye.”
When he got out into the corridor and was walking back to the main part of the hospital, he exhaled. “You could have handled that a bit cooler, Tony.” Still, he had Alina’s number now. There would be an opportunity to be cool later.
He got back to the Mini and slid in behind the wheel. Already, doubts were beginning to creep into his head. When should he ring Alina? If he rang her tomorrow, would he seem too keen? If he waited until the following day, would he seem disinterested?
He gritted his teeth in frustration. He could help track down serial killers—he could even enter the house of the Lake Erie Ripper alone—so why did he find it so difficult to navigate the complexities of relationships?
He hadn’t even asked Alina out. She’d asked him. So, he knew she wanted to see him in a social setting. Everything else was just details.
But it was in those details that he became lost.
He put Temple Well into the SatNav, started the car, and left the hospital grounds. The News came on the radio, the announcer saying that police were still searching for the killer of Daisy Riddle and Joanna Kirk. Chief Superintendent Ian Gallow had confirmed that the two deaths were being treated as the work of the same person.
“Joanna was his second victim,” Tony said. “Daisy was his eighth.” And he was certain that Mary Harwood had been his first. She and Joanna had both disappeared twenty-two years ago, only a few months apart, and in the same area. The Xs scratched into Joanna’s skull confirmed that the killer had dug two graves at the time he’d added Joanna to his collection. Tony was certain Mary Harwood was in that other grave.
That meant the information Dani had uncovered on Mrs Gibson could lead them straight to the killer.
“But you think the killer is dead,” he told himself. “Your theory is that someone else uncovered Daisy and Joanna. Not the original killer. Because you think he’s dead.”
So, if his theory was correct—and he had every reason to believe it was—finding Mrs Gibson could lead them to the dead killer.
Where was the justice for Daisy’s and Joanna’s families in that? How was Colleen going to feel when she found out that the man who had driven Mary away in a Land Rover twenty-two years ago would never be punished?
At least the families would know what had happened to their loved ones, and the girls would be able to finally have a proper burial.
It made Tony wish his theory was wrong, that the killer was alive and well, so he could be put behind bars and rot in a jail cell for the rest of his days.
But he knew, deep down, that the chances of that were slim to non-existent. He was sure the killer was already dead. Daisy and Joanna wouldn’t have been unearthed and left for the police to find, otherwise.
He reached Temple Well and parked in the small Chapel View Guest House car park, next to Dani’s Land Rover. Before getting out of the car, he rang the DI.
When she answered, he said, “I’m at the B&B. Where do you want to talk? Your place or mine?” Even as he spoke the words, he cringed inwardly.
“I was thinking we might have a drink in that pub down the road,” she said. “I’m starving, and they do food.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I’ll be down in a couple of minutes. Meet you outside.”
“Okay.” He ended the call. Why couldn’t he be as nonchalant about going for a drink with Alina as he was about going for one with Dani? He knew the answer, of course; Dani was a workmate, a friend. He wasn’t attracted to her.
That wasn’t strictly true. The DI was attractive, there was no denying that. But he wasn’t attracted to her like he was to the Eastern European anthropologist. That was why he had no trouble talking to Dani. That was why he could go for a drink with her and not feel like an inexperienced schoolboy who’d never been around girls before.
She came out through the door and waved at him through the windscreen. Tony got out of the car and locked it.
“How was your meeting with Alina?” she asked. “Productive?”
“Yes, it was, in fact,” he said, not sure if she was teasing him.
“Well, I’ve got some info about Mrs Gibson. There’s one detail you’re especially going to like.”
“Oh? I’m intrigued.”
“I need something to eat first.”
“I won’t argue with that.” He realised how hungry he was. “I could murder some good pub grub.”
“Right, let’s go.”
They walked quickly down the street, buffeted by the cold wind. The chapel sat on the hill to the north, silhouetted against the dark evening sky. Its towering walls and arches looked lonely and uninviting.
The Chapel Arms, on the other hand, looked warm and inviting. Tony could smell the food as soon as he could see the pub. Light spilled from the windows, and chatter and laughter came from inside. That sound was amplified as he pushed through the doors and stepped into the crowded space.
“I’ll find us a table,” Dani said, raising her voice so he could hear her over the hubbub.
“Right. What are you having?”
“G&T, please.”
He nodded his acknowledgment, and as she went off to find a table, he fought his way to the bar. A young man in his twenties had just finished serving another customer and nodded at Tony. “Evening, sir, what can I get you?”
“A pint of bitter, and a gin and tonic, please.”
The bartender rang up the sale and began pouring the drinks.
“Is it usually this busy?” Tony asked, raising his voice, as Dani had done, to be heard over the din.
“Not usually, no. It’s all these journalists. The Press is everywhere. It’s great for the village.”
“Hmm.” Tony wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He was pleased that the economy of the Temple Well was booming, but disappointed that the discovery of two dead bodies could be a cause for celebration in any way whatsoever.
He paid for the drinks and found Dani sitting at a table in the corner, perusing a menu. As he sat down opposite her, he said, “Decided what you want?”
“I’m going to have the vegetarian lasagne,” she said, handing him the menu.
“I don’t need to look at that.” He put the laminated card into its holder on the edge of the table. “They must do some sort of cheeseburger and chips.”
“Right, I’ll get this,” she said, standing up and taking her purse out of her handbag.
“Are you sure?”
“I am. You deserve it. It seems your theory was spot on.”
“My theory?”
“I’ll tell you when I get back,” she said. “Let’s just say that it’s looking more and more likely that our Mrs Gibson is the person who dug up those bodies.”
Before he could get any more information out of her, she disappeared into the crowd, heading for the bar.
Now Tony really was intrigued.
When Dani came back and took her seat, he said, “So, tell me what you’ve found.”
She took a sip of her G&T. “Mrs Gibson is Penny Gibson. According to the records the support team found, she lives at Miller’s Dale with her husband James.”
“So, she lives close to Harwood Farm.”
“Yes, and this is the bit you’re going to like. Her husband, James Gibson, is recently deceased. That makes Penny a widow, just like in the scenario you outlined to me in Bakewell. I mean, psychological insight is one thing, Tony, but being psychic is something else. Perhaps you should do Tarot readings on the side.”
He gave her a thin-lipped smile. The scenario he’d described had simply been an example of how this situation could have played out. He hadn’t expected it to be some sort of prophecy. Besides, if he looked at this rationally, there was nothing to say his off-the-cuff remark was actually correct.
“Just because her husband is dead doesn’t me
an I was right.”
“I know, but it sounds suspicious, don’t you think? This James Gibson dies and then the two bodies turn up. And the widow of the dead man is the same woman in the photographs Mary Harwood took.”
He had to admit there was something going on here; there were too many coincidences for there not to be. But he wasn’t ready to go pointing the finger at anyone in particular just yet.
“What else do we know about this James Gibson fellow?”
She took her notebook out of her pocket and flicked through it. “He ran a woodworking business. Died from a heart attack. He was discovered by a customer who’d gone round to see where he was after he didn’t turn up at the customer’s house to do some joinery work. Next of kin is his son, Robert.”
“Why not his wife?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Tony nursed his beer while he thought about it. If Penny wasn’t her husband’s next of kin, that could speak to the type of fractured relationship he’d referred to in his hypothetical scenario. Perhaps it was more than hypothetical, after all. Perhaps Penny had disinterred the bodies of Daisy and Joanna due to some breakdown of the relationship between her and her husband before he died.
Everything seemed to fit into place.
So why did he think there was still a piece of the jigsaw missing?
“We need to talk to her,” he said.
“We’ll drive out there first thing in the morning, if you like.”
The food arrived, and Tony ate his cheeseburger in silence, his mind going over the possibility that they’d cracked the case. From the look of Dani, as she happily tucked into her lasagne, she certainly thought so.
“What did you find out at the morgue?” she asked between mouthfuls.
“Hmm? Oh, yes, the morgue. Something interesting. Well, interesting from a psychological standpoint, anyway.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pieces of notepad paper. They were crumpled from being in his pocket while he was driving. He dropped them on the table. “Tell me what you think of those.”
Dani picked one up and examined it. “Looks like someone’s phone number.”
Silence of the Bones: A Murder Force Crime Thriller Page 17
