by Carol Wyer
‘What if this investigation is compromised because of her mental health? She’s clearly not well. For fuck’s sake, Emma. I’m going to say something. We need to tackle her about it—’
She hoped Kate hadn’t overheard any of it. She’d changed the conversation as soon as she’d spotted Kate in the office, making out they were arguing about Cooper. She rang Morgan for the third time, but again he didn’t pick up.
She left another message. ‘Morgan, you total shit. Answer your phone!’
She stomped up the drive to Raven Cottage. Above her, skylarks sang brightly and the morning sun’s rays warmed her back, but nothing could put her in a good mood. The truth was, Kate was behaving strangely, mumbling to herself, and Emma had also noticed her boss’s obvious reliance on medication. She had a huge amount of respect for Kate and didn’t want to see her unravel. She hoped the investigation would retain her superior’s focus and keep her mind off the horror she’d witnessed in January.
Faith climbed out of the VW Polo and joined Emma outside Raven Cottage.
‘Hi. Sorry I’m late. The sat nav took me a circuitous route. Ervin said you want to dust for prints, check for DNA, that sort of thing.’
‘Yeah. There’s some kinky stuff inside. We’d like it tested.’ Emma led the way up the path to the house, where both pulled on plastic overshoes and gloves before stepping over the threshold.
‘Where first?’
‘Upstairs,’ said Emma.
Faith turned her head this way and that and wrinkled her nose at the faded floral wallpaper as she climbed the stairs. ‘This is nothing like his apartment.’
‘I think this place served a different purpose and decor wasn’t his priority.’ Emma reached the landing and made a sweeping motion towards the bondage table. ‘See what I mean?’
‘Oh!’
‘And there’s some equipment in the travel chest.’
They crossed the room to the coffer and Faith peered inside. ‘He certainly enjoyed experimenting. That’s quite a haul.’
Emma grunted a response. She didn’t want to look through it all again, so when her phone rang she excused herself and pounded down the stairs two at a time.
‘Why didn’t you call me?’ she hissed at Morgan.
‘I just have.’
‘Fuckwit. I meant earlier.’
‘I was busy. I’ve been trying to track down Cooper.’
‘I thought you might have gone blabbing to DCI Chase.’
Morgan sounded affronted. ‘We talked about that. I took your advice. Kate knows what she’s doing.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘Anyway, I had a stroke of luck. Turns out Cooper used to work on the sly at another establishment – a private members’ club in Stafford.’
‘You told Kate?’
‘No, I rang you cos there were twenty missed calls from you, and I thought you needed to talk to me urgently.’
‘Twenty? You’re exaggerating. Maybe three or four.’
‘Or eight.’
‘Okay, eight.’
‘I thought you must be pining for me and I should ring you first before you fretted yourself to death,’ he said.
‘Don’t flatter yourself. I only wanted to liaise with you. I’m over at Ian’s cottage with Faith. She’s testing a load of bondage stuff I found here.’
‘I’ll resist making a clever comeback.’
‘Ha!’
‘Look, I’ll have to catch up with you back at the station. I’m monitoring something here in the hope it’ll lead me to Cooper. I think I’ve worked out his Achilles heel – Sierra, his daughter. She’s his universe, so he isn’t going to go into hiding without trying to at least communicate with her and let her know he’s okay.’
‘Sound tactics, and they might work. Good luck.’
‘Good luck with your toy box.’ She heard him guffaw as he hung up.
Back inside the house, she looked around downstairs rather than go back up to the bondage room. There wasn’t much lying about, but her eyes fell on a spiral notepad lying on the desk where the jar had been placed. Faith called down and she wandered upstairs with it in her hand.
‘I wondered if you wanted the other bedroom checking as well,’ said Faith.
‘Yes, please, although I think we should focus on his “play room”.’ Emma flicked through the pages of the book. They were blank.
‘Okay. Cool. What have you picked up?’
‘Oh, nothing important. A notepad, but there’s nothing written in it; no names of lovers or clues. Looks like a few of the pages have been ripped out.’
‘Let me see.’
Emma handed it over and crossed the room to look outside so she didn’t have to stare at the bondage table.
Faith examined it. ‘Sometimes, depending on the pressure put on the pencil or pen, we can detect what was written. It passes through to the sheets below. Want me to see if there was anything important?’
Emma turned round. ‘Go on then. We’ve nothing to lose.’
Faith opened her forensic case on the floor, fiddled with a plastic pot lid and sprinkled powder similar to photocopier toner into a flat plastic container.
‘Let’s try this,’ she said, selecting a make-up brush from a bunch of brushes, which she rolled lightly across the powder and over the blank sheet of paper. Emma watched as she shook the residue into the container, giving the back of the book a gentle tap, dislodging the excess powder.
The message was clear to both women. It read:
Chris Young
Gazette
Wednesday 2 p.m.
Maddox Club
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
TUESDAY, 8 JUNE – LATE MORNING
The Lodge, Superintendent John Dickson’s home, stood well back from a leafy road and was afforded a modicum of privacy thanks to a hawthorn hedge.
William was on the pavement beside his car, a phone clamped to his ear. Kate joined him and waited for him to hang up.
‘Ervin’s on his way,’ he said, as soon as he’d terminated the call. He escorted her down the path and towards the wide-fronted house with a glass-fronted porch, where John Dickson was waiting. It seemed peculiar seeing him in civilian clothes: a pair of jeans and loose-fitting sweatshirt.
He scratched at the back of his neck. ‘Thanks for coming over so quickly, Kate. William tells me Ian received something similar.’
She glanced at the glass object on the floor. ‘Where did you find it?’
‘Here.’
‘The door was unlocked?’
‘We always leave it unlocked for parcel deliveries. My wife shops online regularly, so it’s easier to have goods deposited here if we’re both out than left with neighbours. Obviously, the front door is locked and alarmed, so there’s no danger of the place being broken into.’
‘Neither of you have touched it?’
‘No, my wife’s in Kent, looking after her mother. I was at a conference yesterday and stayed over in London. I travelled back first thing this morning, and when I got here, this was waiting for me.’
‘I see. Was the jar in a box?’
‘No. It was exactly as you see it.’
Kate crouched down to study it more closely. The glass jar had a screw-on lid, and was the type used for pickling or for jams. It had been filled with a translucent liquid in which floated an eye, the iris the same shade of blue as Ian’s. It was most likely in some sort of fixative, presumably formaldehyde or formalin. ‘Are there any signs at all of a break-in?’
John shook his head. ‘Everything appears to be as I left it.’
‘I assume it’s Ian’s eye, isn’t it?’
‘It certainly matches his eye colour, sir.’
Dickson’s breath was heavy as he exhaled. ‘If it is his, I think we can logically assume I’m the killer’s next intended victim.’
‘What about your wife? Does she have any connection to either Alex or Ian?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Elaine’s never met either of them. You
can’t possibly imagine she’s a target.’
‘The jar was delivered here, but not addressed to you, sir. There’s a chance it is intended for her.’ Kate had to consider the possibility, regardless of the dumbfounded look on her superior’s face.
He blinked repeatedly before shaking his head slowly. ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. Elaine’s been with her mother for over two weeks and is likely to be there at least another two, if not longer. If it had been intended for her, the killer would have deposited it in Kent.’
‘Kent’s a long way to travel,’ Kate insisted, and earnt a scowl.
‘Are you going to take this threat seriously?’ he demanded.
‘Indeed, I am, but I wouldn’t be doing my job correctly if I didn’t consider all options.’
Dickson pursed his lips, ready to disagree, but then lifted both hands in obeisance. ‘You’re right. I’ll arrange for an officer to be stationed outside her mother’s house. You’d better come inside. William said you wanted to ask me a few questions.’
Kate followed him into the house along a peach-carpeted corridor, past framed photographs hung along the length of the wall. Most were of Dickson with various individuals, some of whom Kate recognised immediately – the local MP, a couple of footballers, a well-known actor and the prime minister. There were others, taken at police balls or gala events, of Dickson in full dress uniform next to a pleasant-faced sandy-haired woman in a ball gown. A cabinet containing china figurines stood at one end of the corridor, where Dickson stopped, opened a door and ushered Kate and William inside.
The sitting room overlooked a garden, expertly designed to include a stone path that meandered between borders of pastel-coloured flowers to a lily-covered pond and then around to a summer house the colour of an insipid blue sky. Kate was offered a round leather chair rather than the cream settee filled with floral cushions positioned strategically to face a wall-mounted television.
‘Fire away, Kate,’ said Dickson, perching on a footstool he’d dragged across. The settee was obviously out of bounds to visitors and Dickson.
‘What can you tell me about Raymond Maddox and Xavier Durand?’
He contemplated a response, rubbing the patchy stubble on his chin. She’d never seen him other than immaculately attired, with slicked-back hair, and clean-shaven. ‘I met Raymond during a skiing holiday in Courcheval, back in 2000. I was with Alex and a couple of other chaps from my local pub at the time. We met both Raymond and Ian in the hotel bar. We got talking, discovered we were all from Staffordshire, and over the following days, skied the runs together and chatted at night. For a few years we kept in touch – even went on another trip back to Courcheval as a group and met up a few times afterwards, but I haven’t seen Raymond for a long time. As for Xavier, he ran the hotel bar at the Ski Lodge hotel where we all stayed, so we knew him. Nowadays, he manages the Maddox Club.’
‘What do you know about the Maddox Club?’ Kate asked.
‘It was Raymond’s project. He set it up with help from a few of us – Alex and Ian both put up money for the venture. I’m not sure who else invested.’
‘Did you?’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t have any spare money to put into any venture.’
‘Have you ever been to the club?’
‘Several times. That was actually where I last saw Ian. Alex invited me along to join him and Ian for a meal there. Ian was celebrating getting an article published in a medical journal. It turned into a heavy drinking session and I ended up going to bed before the pair of them. I didn’t see Ian the following morning.’
‘You stayed over at the club, then?’
‘We all did. They have a few rooms there. Alex, or Ian, sorted it out. I can’t remember who.’
‘When was this?’
‘The first week of January. I’d need to check my diary.’
‘Alex and Ian were both members of the club, weren’t they?’
‘Correct. Raymond granted them lifetime membership for helping him get it off the ground.’
‘Sir, can you think of any reason a killer would target either man?’
He ran his hands over his chin again and Kate wondered why he hadn’t shaved before he left London. ‘No. I wish I could. It would help your enquiries if I could provide some clue or even a theory as to why both of them became victims. More importantly, it might throw some light on why the jar was left at my door.’ He looked at William, who’d been sitting quietly for the duration. ‘William, I think, given the circumstances, it would be prudent for me to move to a safe house while Kate’s team continues to investigate. If Ian was murdered shortly after receiving Alex’s eye, I can’t ignore the fact the killer could have me in their sights.’
‘I agree.’
Kate opened her mouth to ask why they weren’t increasing the manpower on this investigation now that two high-profile victims had been killed, but Dickson was staring at her. ‘How far along are you in this investigation, Kate?’
‘We’re still following up active leads,’ she replied.
‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how imperative it is to identify the perpetrator quickly before they act again.’
‘Indeed, and about that, sir, don’t you think we should increase our manpower? If we’re dealing with a serial killer, we ought to involve more officers.’
‘I disagree. I believe you and your team are best suited to identifying the reasons behind these killings and unmasking the person or persons responsible.’
‘That’s quite a demand, sir. There’s only three of us.’
‘Three exceptional officers.’
Kate passed over the flattery. ‘I still think it’s a big ask for such a small unit.’
‘We’ll have to agree to differ on the matter. Upscaling the operation will only serve to suggest we can’t cope.’
‘Surely it would show we are taking the matter seriously—’
He lifted a hand, his voice crisp. ‘Perceptions differ. The media will pounce on the fact we’ve increased manpower and reach all sorts of conclusions. I don’t want this to turn into some sort of media circus and the public being panicked as a consequence. Moreover, they’ll expect immediate results, ones that will have to be delivered promptly if a large operation is involved.’
‘And probably will be if you second more officers—’
Once more, she was silenced. This time with a cold look. ‘It’s important we keep a lid on it as best we can. So far, we have two victims. And potentially, I could be the third. Why I have been targeted is a mystery to me and, although I feel it’s prudent I retire from sight for the moment, I doubt this case has anything to do with a group of men who met on holiday.’
‘Sir, with respect, we can’t ignore the connection.’
He gave a weary sigh. ‘I understand your unease, but I strongly suggest you don’t focus on this line of enquiry. It will only result in misdirecting the entire investigation.’
She didn’t follow his logic. Telling her to look elsewhere for the perpetrator only made sense if he wanted her to steer away from the holiday in Courchevel – if he was trying to cover up something or protect somebody. And why was he not more concerned about receiving his friend’s eye? She’d have expected him to want to help them out, throw out ideas and potentially save his life. It didn’t add up. The fact was, she couldn’t trust Dickson and the best way to deal with this was to go along with him. ‘Am I to understand you don’t wish it to be known you have been targeted by the killer?’
‘We have enough difficulty keeping morale high within the police force without something like this getting out, not to mention we would lose face with the public.’
‘I don’t see how, sir.’
He tapped his fingers again. ‘Imagine the headlines, then: “Killer Mocks Staffordshire Police by Targeting Senior Officer” or “Senior Officer Goes Into Hiding”. It’s a matter of the public’s perception. Do you really not comprehend?’
She gave in, even though she felt hi
s reasoning was weak. This wasn’t the time to argue. She had to back off before he lost his rag and chucked her off the case. ‘I understand. Could you give me a list of names of the men who were in your ski party?’
‘It was almost twenty years ago. Nothing sinister happened. It was a ski trip to Courchevel, Kate, an exclusive resort in the French Alps, not some orgy on a beach in Ibiza, and we were respectable men in our late thirties and forties, not drunken students on spring break.’ Spittle flew from his lips in a light spray as he spoke.
‘I’m not suggesting otherwise, but if I knew who else was on that trip, I might be able to connect some dots. I can’t find any other connection between you, Ian and Alex, other than the ski trip.’
‘Then you’d better look harder, Detective. I chose you to lead this investigation because you are astute and fastidious. It appears my life might now depend on you. Don’t you think I’d tell you if I could think of any good reason as to why Alex, Ian and I appear to have been targeted by some lunatic?’
Kate concurred. If Dickson’s life was in danger, she had an obligation to protect him and find the perpetrator quickly before they could act again. ‘I’ll have Ervin examine the eye. In the meantime, it’d be wise for you to go to a safe house.’
William shuffled forward on his seat. ‘I’ll sort that out. Are you okay to move out today, John?’
‘I can be.’
‘Then that’s how we’ll play it for the moment.’ William got to his feet and Kate followed suit.
She returned to her car, where she phoned Ervin, told him of the latest development and made arrangements for the eye to be collected from Dickson’s house. She hung up and gave a heavy sigh. Dickson might be the killer’s next intended victim. If that was the case, why had he been targeted?
‘Well, well, well! Dickson is playing a clever game. He’s got you all running around protecting him, when we both know he’s in no danger whatsoever. He arranged for Ian’s eye to be delivered to his house while he was conveniently away at a conference and his wife was with her mother to throw you off the scent. He’s extricating himself from all this by going into legitimate hiding, and he’s got William wrapped around his finger. Either that, or William knows more than he’s letting on,’ said Chris.
