Before I Wake

by Clare Revell

  DI Holmes nodded slowly. “OK, have at it. By the way, you have a driving lesson at eleven-thirty. DS Pat King from the police driving course will meet you outside in the car park.”

  Her heart sank as her stomach tied itself into knots. “Sir, I…”

  “I’d hoped Zander would be here, but I’ll find someone else I trust to ride shotgun if he isn’t. Just until you’re comfortable enough with Pat.”

  Her phone rang. Gratefully she snatched it up. “DC York.”

  “Hi, Isabel. It’s Arend returning your call. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Yes. I was wondering if any of the other girls had a head injury or a cut of any kind other than Lexi Eke.”

  “Yes. It was all in the autopsy reports I sent over.”

  Isabel groaned. “One sec. I’m putting you on speaker. Guv? You need to hear this.” She hit the button on the handset as DI Holmes turned back to her desk. “Could you repeat that please, Arend?”

  “All the injuries were listed in the reports I sent over, but yes, one of the other girls had a head wound.”

  Isabel’s stomach pitted. “Can I take a wild guess?”

  “Sure.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Esther Leaney.”

  “Correct.”

  “And for bonus points, her blood type is AB negative.”

  “Which was also in the report I sent.”

  “Not in the ones that I saw. I wouldn’t be asking otherwise. Can you do me another set and I’ll be over to pick them up at some point?”

  “Sure. They’ll be ready by lunchtime.”

  “Thanks. We’ve had a lot of files gone missing, including some of these. One last question. Any of the other girls AB negative?”

  Papers rustled. “No. Just Esther and Lexi. I’d better go start getting those files ready for you.”

  Isabel hung up, feeling physically sick. She wrapped her arms around her middle and swallowed hard.

  “Isabel?” DI Holmes sounded concerned.

  Maybe she did look as bad as she felt. “I can’t believe I’m even thinking this,” she said quietly.

  “Thinking what?” He perched on the corner of her desk; his voice almost as low.

  “Both of those murder scenes. Zander vanishes around the time the girls were killed. He comes back covered in blood. He tells me it’s just a nosebleed and I know he gets them. I also know he’s AB negative. Once maybe, but twice?”

  His phone rang. “DI Holmes.” His face froze, then he scowled. “I’ll be right there. Don’t touch anything.” He stood, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Isabel, with me. There’s been another one.”

  12

  Isabel rang Zander as the DI drove to the crime scene. His service car had lights in the grill and windows and a siren. Which was just as well, as he didn’t bother to stop at the red traffic signals, but only slowed sufficiently to get through safely.

  She groaned as the phone went to voice mail again. “Zander, it’s me for the third time. Answer your phone, will you?” Ending the call, she tried ringing the landline. It rang and rang. As she was about to hang up, someone answered.

  “Zander’s phone.”

  Isabel put the call on speaker. She assumed it was Mike. “I need to speak to DS Zander Ellery, please. Put him on.”

  “You the chick he lives with, right? We met briefly this morning.”

  “I’m calling from Thames Valley Police, and I need to speak with him urgently. Put him on the phone.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Keep your hair on.” Thudding followed. Then a raised voice. “Hey, Zander. Get your drunken behind out here. There’s a bossy cow on the phone for you.”

  Isabel cringed, wishing she’d hadn’t put the call on speaker. “That’s his rather inebriated mate who apparently crashed on the couch last night.”

  “Is Zander drunk?” DI Holmes sounded even shorter than he had when they’d left the nick.

  “He says not, though he stank like a brewery when I left.”

  Clunking echoed from the phone. “Who is it?” Zander asked sharply.

  “DC Bossy Cow,” she snapped. “You’re on speaker, and I’m with DI Holmes.”

  “Isabel?”

  “How many DC Bossy Cows do you work with?” She’d love to slap him right now, but fortunately for him, he wasn’t within reach. “I need you to snap out of whatever you’re on and—”

  “I’m not on anything. I told you that. What gives you the right to talk to me like that?”

  DI Holmes pulled sharply to the side of the road. He stuck the hazard lights on. “Give me the phone.” He took it off speaker and opened the door. “Zander, it’s DI Holmes.” He slammed the door.

  Isabel leaned back in the seat and folded her arms, so glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of the Guv’s wrath. Lord, I so want to be wrong about Zander. But this isn’t like him. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t screw up and it has to be nothing more than a coincidence, doesn’t it? Him being AB negative, the same as the two victims at the crime scenes where he was covered in blood too? A coincidence he’s missing at the times the girls were killed?

  The car door opened. DI Holmes got in and tossed her the phone. “Here.” His tone was curt, his eyes stony, and lips set.

  “Thank you.” She wanted to ask but didn’t.

  “I’ve asked Austin to collect Zander and take him to the nick. He won’t be driving anywhere until he’s been breathalysed.”

  “You really think he’s drunk?” she asked quietly. That was better than what she was thinking.

  “Either that or he’s putting on a front for this mate of his.” He started the car and pulled out, lights and sirens going again. “Where was he last night?”

  She shrugged. “No idea. He said they were in a club until it closed. He went out around seven or just after. I heard the car come back and the key in the lock around three.”

  “So he was missing all night?”

  “To be fair, he could have been in, and I wouldn’t have known if I were sleeping.”

  “Text and ask which club.”

  It wasn’t a request. At least she still had her phone in her hand.

  Which club were you in? Guv in a foul mood. Whatever did you say to him?

  His reply was immediate.

  Told him to go get a life and stop living mine.

  She hissed. He really didn’t know when to stop.

  Stop acting like a child Zander!

  If you're going to be like that you take a hike too. If he wants to know that badly he can ask me himself.

  Isabel tossed her phone into her bag. “He says ask him yourself. Sorry.”

  DI Holmes swung into the car park. “I expected nothing less. Who’s that?”

  Isabel glanced at the man in the car park, wringing his hands and pacing. “Club owner, Fred Smith. I should warn you, he was less than helpful yesterday, until Zander suggested vice and immigration take a look at the club. Then he was falling over himself to provide us with whatever we wanted. Needless to say, we suggested that vice and immigration check out the club anyway.”

  Mr. Smith rushed over as they got out of the car. “This is terrible. I thought you people were going to stop him. The bin men found her at half past eight when they came to change them over. She’s between them.”

  Isabel nodded to the Guv. “This is my boss, DI Holmes. Can you show us?”

  Mr. Smith hurried over to the dumpsters. “We left the cameras angled just as you asked. I have the footage ready for you.”

  “What about inside the club?” DI Holmes asked.

  Mr. Smith nodded. “I can get that for you. There was a power cut last night and we had to close early. But the outside cameras are on a different circuit so shouldn’t have been affected.”

  A uniformed officer approached. “Sir, the camera cables have been cut on the outside of the building.”

  Isabel’s attention was caught by the body. Bound and gagged, wearing white, the girl with the long dark hair knelt in the s
mall gap between the bins, almost tucked away out of sight. Walking away from the two men, Isabel headed to the body. She pulled on gloves and carefully lifted the hair back.

  Unlike the previous six bodies, her face wasn’t a mask of serenity. Her eyes were open, her mouth fixed in a scream of terror. Yasmin.

  Isabel cried out and turned away, hand over her mouth.

  DI Holmes reached her side in an instant. “It’s fine.” He glanced at the body, then looked away, visibly shaken. “Deep breaths.”

  “Sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. She ripped off the gloves. “I hadn’t expected that.”

  “Nor me. Take a minute, and we’ll do this together.”

  “I’m fine, sir.” The last thing she wanted was to show weakness in front of her senior officer.

  He gave her a tight smile. “I know you are.”

  The penny dropped and she nodded. “Yes, sir. A minute’s fine.” Perhaps she wasn’t the only one affected by murder sites after all. Zander always seemed so blasé about them.

  Frank and Tony arrived. “What can we do, Guv?”

  “Go with Fred Smith, the club manager. Watch the CCTV footage and find out what time the cables to the outside cameras were cut.”

  The men nodded and headed inside.

  “You got a notebook, Isabel?”

  She nodded, pulling it out, along with a pen. “Actually, I have three.” She wasn’t making the same mistake again. “Notebooks that is, not pens.”

  “I’d like you to sketch the layout whilst I take photos. As the forensic stuff and other bits are going missing, I want us to keep a record off the system.”

  Isabel started drawing. “I never was any good at art, so this will be basic stick figures and boxes, I’m afraid.”

  “Basic is fine. Also mark where the painting is on it.”

  Isabel glanced around as she drew. “I can’t see it.”

  “Has to be somewhere.”

  Isabel handed him the notebook and pen. Tugging more gloves from her pocket, she put them on. She slid behind the bin, careful not to touch the body. Nothing either side. No syringe either. “I found her bag.” Isabel pulled out the driving licence. “Mrs. Yasmin Bowery, 29 Anderson Avenue. She works in the admin department of H and P—just over there. It’s a shared car park for the club, H and P, and the printers. She goes to St. Crispin’s. We saw her last night as we were leaving here. She left before we did.”

  “Last night?” DI Holmes raised an eyebrow.

  Isabel held his gaze. “Yes. Last night.”

  “He’s escalating.” DI Homes pulled out his phone. “Harry, it’s DI Holmes. I need you and Jason to go to 29 Anderson Avenue and do a notification. Body is that of Mrs. Yasmin Bowery. Isabel said she saw her last night.” He paused. “Find out when she got home and when she was last seen… No, we can handle things here. See you back in the office.”

  Isabel clambered up the side of one of the dumpsters and flipped the lid open. “Um, Guv, I didn’t think these had been emptied or moved.”

  “Shouldn’t have been. Why?”

  “It’s empty.” She jumped down and checked the other one. “Same here.”

  DI Holmes climbed up beside her and peered in. “So, we could have lost the painting?”

  “If he put it in here and the bin men changed it despite the body, then yeah.”

  “Stay here!” He leapt down and headed inside the club.

  Isabel looked at the crime scene from her vantage point, relieved that the Guv was going to vent in a direction other than at her for a few minutes. The sun glinted off something by the victim’s left foot. She was about to climb down to look, when Arend arrived.

  He grinned up at her. “Morning.”

  “There’s something shiny by her left foot.”

  Arend snapped on a pair of gloves and checked. “Syringe.” He bagged it. “What are you doing up there?”

  “Admiring the view and thinking” she shot back. “Actually, I’m really looking for the painting. The bins have been emptied even though they shouldn’t have been. The Guv is fuming.”

  “I bet.” Arend knelt by the body. “Actually, come here a sec.”

  Isabel’s heart sank. “Must I? Have you seen her face?”

  “Seen worse. If you want the painting, you’ll come down. It’s underneath her.”

  Isabel jumped down as the DI stormed over to them, face as dark as thunder. “They saw her and emptied the bins anyway. Apparently one of them held her still. I’ve asked uniform to pay the company a visit and arrest them for evidence tampering. Shouldn’t be hard to make the charge stick once we have their prints.”

  “The painting’s underneath her,” Isabel said.

  “I’ll need photos in situ before you move it,” Arend warned.

  “Just make sure we get it as soon as you’ve finished with her,” DI Holmes said. “I don’t want any more evidence going missing.”

  Isabel knelt beside the body and pushed the gown to one side. “Guv, can I borrow your phone? Just so we have all the photos in the one place?”

  DI Holmes handed her the handset, camera app open. “What do you see?”

  “Eyes. Same as before.” She took several photos.

  “Guv, you need to come and see this!” Frank’s voice carried a level of urgency.

  Isabel rose and scurried to catch up DI Holmes.

  “What is it?”

  “This is the outside footage from last night.” Frank pointed to the screen. “Normal club goers. All members. Then at 10:50 PM this car arrives.”

  Isabel shivered. “Zander’s car.”

  “Yes. He and this bloke...”

  “That’s Mike,” Isabel interrupted. “He stayed at Zander’s last night.”

  Frank gazed at her. “And you know this how?”

  Isabel covered rapidly. “He was there when I arrived for a lift at half seven this morning. Zander told me.”

  “Anyway, Mike Spector, thirty-nine. Used to work out of Fleet Street nick before he left to run a private security company. He’s a member here, Zander isn’t. He signs them both in and they’re here until close. Mike drinks a lot. Looks like Zander stuck to orange juice. We’d have to check the bar records to see if any of those had anything added to them.”

  “He said he got beer spilled on him,” Isabel said.

  “Which he does at one-thirty. They leave here at two.” The screen flicked back to the car leaving. “But at two-fifteen, the same car drives back in. Someone gets out, but the hat means we can’t see who he is. Then the cameras go down.”

  “Get those tapes down to the station,” DI Holmes instructed. “I want the tech blokes to take a look. Isabel, with me.”

  She followed him back into the car park. “Sir, I—”

  “Not a word.” He pointed the keys at the car and unlocked it. “Get in.” He strode across to where Arend knelt by the body.

  Isabel watched him for a moment, then did as she was told. She shut the door and fastened her seatbelt. “Oh, Zander,” she whispered. “What have you got yourself into?”

  DI Holmes got into the car beside her. He shut the door and twisted to face her. “Right, he’ll send me those files again. The postmortem will be at three this afternoon. You and I will go, take copious notes and type them up ourselves. He’ll still send the official copy, but I’m not taking any chances.”

  “What about Zander?”

  “Leave him to me. Did you ever come across Mike Spector at Fleet Street nick?”

  She pulled a face. “His reputation preceded him. He left before he was pushed. I never worked with him, kept out of his way.” She picked at a fingernail. “He can’t have recognised me as he assumed Zander and I were living together.”

  “Hmmmm.”

  “Or he did, and he assumed that all cops are like he was. A womanizing, male chauvinistic idiot.”

  “What time did Zander get home?”

  “I heard his car and the key in the door at three. Then I heard two voices, but
I didn’t fall asleep ’til gone midnight, and I wasn’t getting up to speak to him. Figured he was a big boy and could get to bed all by himself. Surely what he does in his off hours is his own business?” She tilted her head. “Are you in boss mode or church elder mode?”

  “It matters when he puts himself at a murder scene. Again. Not to mention missing at the time of another murder.”

  “It’s a coincidence. It has to be.”

  “Three times?” DI Holmes checked his watch. “OK, we need to get you back for your driving lesson.”

  “Already? If you don’t mind, sir, I’d rather give it a miss. There’s more important stuff I should be doing.”

  “It’s not up for debate. This is just as important.” He started the car.

  ~*~

  Back at the nick, DI Holmes parked next to a car marked police driving school.

  Isabel sighed. “Sir. I’d far rather work the Slayer case. That’s seven now and—”

  “You’ll be fine,” he interrupted.

  She opened the door. “We who are about to die…”

  DI Holmes snorted. “You sound exactly like my teenage niece, so I shall tell you precisely what I tell her. Shut up complaining, attempt it, and prove me wrong. She never has proved me wrong yet.” He got out of the car and went over to the man standing by the other car.

  Isabel reluctantly trudged over to them. She’d hoped Pat was a woman.

  “Thanks for doing this Pat. Isabel, this is Sgt. Pat King.”

  Isabel held out a hand. “Hi. I think we met at a home group Bible study thing that Zander took me to.”

  “Yes, we did.” Sgt. King shook her hand.

  Harry came out of the building. “Here to ride shotgun as requested.”

  DI Holmes nodded to him. “Thanks. Isabel, Pat and I go back a while. You’ll be quite safe with him. See you in a couple of hours.”

  The look on her face must have been comical as all the men laughed. “T-two hours?”

  “All my lessons are two hours. Jump in.” Sgt. King looked at Harry. “You sit in the back and you don’t say a word, either in the car or to Isabel afterwards.”

  Harry grinned. “Fly on the wall, Sarge.”

  Isabel rolled her eyes. “Got any bug spray?” She headed around to the passenger seat.