THE WEST LONDON MURDERS an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detective Rob Miller Mysteries Book 2)

by BIBA PEARCE

  She nodded, but didn’t quite meet his eye.

  Rob thought about pushing her, but then decided against it. She’d been through enough and she’d just deny leaving the front desk. Her job depended on it.

  “Okay, Miss . . . ?”

  “Kurylenko, but you can call me Daria.”

  “Okay, Daria. You’ve been great.” He saw Jo glance at him in surprise. “Just one more thing, did you take a copy of Mr Patterson’s ID documents when he checked in?”

  She straightened her back. “Of course. And his credit card details.”

  “Okay, we’ll need a copy of those,” said Rob. Even though they had the contents of his wallet, which would give them much the same information, it didn’t hurt to be thorough. “Also, do you know if he made any calls from his hotel room?”

  “I don’t think so, but I can check for you.”

  “Please.”

  She got up and walked across the lobby to the front desk, then disappeared into the office again. After five minutes, she was back. “This is a copy of what I have.” It was a printout of the guest register complete with Patterson’s driver’s licence and credit card details. “He didn’t make any phone calls from his room.”

  “Perfect.” Rob nodded at the others to leave. “Thanks again.”

  Chapter 11

  They waited to cross the busy street outside the hotel.

  “Why didn’t you ask her why she left her post?” asked Jo.

  “I knew she’d deny it,” he said. “And I didn’t want to push her. It could mean her job.”

  Jo studied him for a moment. “You know she was lying.”

  “Yes, but she had a cigarette box in her back pocket, so she probably went out for a smoke.”

  “Or a toilet break,” added Mallory. “She was the only one on duty.”

  True. The killer could have waited for her to leave the front desk and then slipped in unannounced. There was no automatic locking system on the front door. The Pear Tree Hotel, for all its chic interiors, wasn’t that modern. The front door was left unlocked during the day, with all visitors asked to report to reception, and locked at night when the night manager was on duty.

  “Mallory, contact the owners and ask if there’s a camera on the premises,” said Rob. “I didn’t see one as we went in.”

  “Neither did I,” echoed Jo.

  “And let’s get on to the council. There’s bound to be CCTV coverage in the street. Hammersmith is riddled with them.”

  “Let’s grab a coffee.” Jo pointed to a Starbucks across the road. It was situated on the corner of a busy junction and the smell of exhaust fumes was heavy in the air, replaced by the comforting aroma of roasted coffee beans once inside. They ordered and took a table by the window.

  The warm, cosy shop was a welcome change after the gruesome scene in the hotel room. Mallory cradled his English breakfast tea. “Are we assuming that the person who killed Yousef also killed Dennis Patterson?”

  There was a pause.

  “Yes, we are,” said Jo. “The similarities can’t be ignored.”

  “But Yousef was a drug dealer and Patterson was a travelling salesman. Yousef lived in West London and Patterson was from up north.” Mallory sighed. “I don’t see the connection.”

  “I have to admit, neither do I.” Rob took the lid off his Americano to help it cool down.

  “Maybe Patterson was a courier,” suggested Jo. “He did travel around the country selling dental products. It would be the perfect cover for a drug dealer.”

  “Did you see how neat and tidy that guy was? Everything was unpacked and put away, even though he was only staying a few days. Besides, he’s got a decent job. I can’t picture him as a drug mule.”

  Jo sipped her cappuccino. “It takes all types,” she muttered.

  She was right. Drug gangs used everyone from kids to vulnerable adults to distribute their merchandise. Just because Patterson was a neat freak and a family man, didn’t mean he wasn’t working for them.

  “He could have been blackmailed.” This from Mallory.

  Jo perked up. “Good point. That’s a possibility. We’ll have to speak to his wife.”

  “She’s in Harrogate,” said Rob. “We’ll get one of the detectives up there to talk to her and we can tune in via video link.”

  “Okay.” She drummed her forefinger on the edge of her cup. “There must be a connection somewhere — why else was he murdered?”

  Rob fell silent for a moment. “There is a possibility that this has nothing to do with the county lines gang.”

  Both Jo and Mallory stared at him.

  “What if we’re looking at this the wrong way? Maybe we should be trying to figure out what Yousef had in common with Patterson, not vice versa.”

  “Patterson was a married white dental salesman who, from what we can see, didn’t do drugs. Yousef was an unmarried drug dealer of Arabic descent.” Mallory spread his hands. “They didn’t have anything in common.”

  Jo studied Rob intently. “Do you really think Yousef’s death was non-drug-related?”

  “I’m saying it’s a possibility.”

  She sighed.

  “We have to keep an open mind,” Rob continued.

  Silence again as they thought about this. Eventually, Rob said, “Let’s see what Forensics comes up with. They might pick up something when they dust for prints or maybe the killer was careless and left a sample of his DNA on the body.”

  “Hotel rooms are a disaster, forensically speaking,” Jo pointed out. “So many people go in and out of them and you’d be surprised at how badly they’re cleaned.”

  “Ugh.” Mallory shuddered.

  “But we can hope.” She tilted her head and smiled at Rob.

  “Well, someone was in that room other than the victim,” he said.

  “I’ll get Patterson’s phone records,” Mallory suggested. “He looks like the type of guy to have a contract.”

  “Agreed,” said Jo.

  Rob chugged down his Americano. “Maybe that will tell us who his mystery guest was.”

  “We don’t know whether he was expecting a visitor,” Jo said. “The killer could have surprised him.”

  “Except he was wearing a business suit and the room was immaculate. The cleaners hadn’t been in yet, so he must have tidied it himself. I think it’s safe to assume he was expecting someone.”

  “But who?” murmured Mallory.

  “The same person Yousef was expecting,” finished Rob.

  “If it wasn’t drug-related, who could it be?” Jo wrapped her hands around the cardboard cup like she was trying to draw warmth from it.

  “What sort of person does home appointments?” asked Rob.

  “Accountant. Business consultant. Tax advisor,” suggested Mallory.

  “Loan shark. Prostitute. Masseuse,” said Jo, her thoughts darker than Mallory’s.

  “There’s no indication that these were sexually motivated attacks,” said Rob. “And I’m still not convinced a woman would be able to overpower a man like Yousef. Patterson is smaller, but he’s still got some bulk on him.”

  “And he was married,” interjected Mallory. “Would he be fooling around with prostitutes?”

  Jo raised an eyebrow. “Who knows? He might.”

  “I can’t see it.” Rob agreed. “Your loan shark theory sounds more plausible. Patterson could have got himself into debt and needed a way out. When he couldn’t pay back the money, they came after him.”

  “But Yousef didn’t need money. He was minted.” Mallory said.

  Rob sighed. “We’re chasing our tails here. Let’s wait until we get the victim’s bank statements and speak to his wife. She might be able to shed some light.”

  * * *

  “I’m going to call Tony Sanderson to take a look at the two murders,” Rob informed them on the way back to the station.

  Mallory was driving, with Rob sitting beside him and Jo in the back. She leaned forward between the seats. “Is he your prof
iling friend, the one who wrote that book?”

  “Mind Games, yes. I thought he might offer some useful insights. Maybe even help us link the two murders.” Granted, it was a long shot, but he was desperate. Their two victims couldn’t be more different and if there was a connection between them, Rob couldn’t see it.

  “Hmm . . .” Jo didn’t sound convinced.

  “I thought you’d be all for it,” said Rob. “You didn’t waste any time bringing one in on the Stalker case.”

  “That was a serial killer, but these are drug-related murders. I’m not sure your profiler is going to be of much use. Especially since . . .” She paused.

  “Especially since your raid will bring in our chief suspect, anyway.” She still hadn’t told them who it was, although he knew they had a name, thanks to the information provided by Companies House.

  She nodded. It was clear Jo thought this man was responsible for both murders.

  Mallory pulled into the police car park. As they climbed out of the vehicle, Jo’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen, then excused herself to answer.

  “Bloody raid is going ahead,” Rob muttered under his breath. He’d been watching Jo’s face and he could tell by her flushed expression and barely concealed excitement that he was right. Mallory raised his eyebrows. Rob kept his gaze trained on Jo. “Tonight, by the looks of things.”

  “At least we’ll be able to question him once he’s in custody,” Mallory pointed out reasonably.

  Rob sighed. “Yeah, after everyone else has had a crack at him.”

  Chapter 12

  “So this is where it all happens, eh?”

  Rob grinned at his old friend. “Hey, Tony. Good to see you, mate. Thanks for coming in so early on Monday morning.”

  “No problem. I have some time before my first lecture.”

  Rob got to his feet and they hugged, much to the astonishment of the rest of the team. Rob wasn’t known for overt displays of affection, but then he and Tony went way back. They had first met at the police academy in Hendon. Tony had been studying criminology at the time and had come to see what a day at the police academy was like. Rob had been asked to babysit him and they’d been firm friends ever since.

  Tony scanned the open-plan squad room with its rows of neat white desks, flat-screen computers and spot lighting and nodded approvingly. “Very impressive. I feel like I ought to whisper like in a library.”

  Rob laughed. “No, it’s not like that. Come on, let’s talk in the incident room. It’s more private.” He led his friend across the room to where a glass office stood empty. The walls were soundproof, and although you could see inside, it felt totally separate from the rest of the floor.

  “So, I hear congratulations are in order.”

  It took Rob a moment to realize he was talking about Yvette. “Thanks, yes. We got married in France. It was a very quiet affair.”

  Tony grinned. “I heard. Well done on catching that bastard last year. I did try to call a couple of times, but your mobile was off.”

  “Sorry, we needed some downtime.”

  “I understand. It must have been tough. You guys did well to see it through.”

  Had they? Maybe that’s all they’d done — seen it through. And now, where were they? Still picking up the pieces?

  He didn’t say any of that. “How’re Kim and the kids?” Tony had a boy and a girl, two years apart.

  “Kim’s working flat out at the hospital and the kids are growing up fast,” he said with a smile. “They’re nearly in their teens now. I believe that’s when the fun really begins.”

  Rob laughed. It was good to see Tony again. It had been a frustrating weekend. The raid had gone ahead like he’d predicted in the early hours of Saturday morning and continued throughout the weekend. Jo had left to go back to the NCA headquarters shortly after they’d got back from Hammersmith as she wanted to be where the action was. She’d called briefly on Sunday morning to say they’d arrested over fifty people in a county-wide crackdown, including alleged county lines drug boss, Asir Ahmed, who would be charged with conspiring to supply class A drugs.

  So, they’d got ‘Mr Fox’, Yousef’s boss and possible killer.

  While Rob was pleased the organized crime group had been brought down, he still wanted to question Asir Ahmed in connection with Aadam Yousef’s and Dennis Patterson’s murders. He’d asked when he’d get the chance, but Jo had been vague and non-committal. It wasn’t her call. He’d have to go through the official channels, she’d told him, which could take days, if not weeks.

  Feeling depressed, he’d taken Trigger for a long walk in Richmond Park and then fixed the loose board in the back fence. Yvette actually ventured out into the back garden and sat gingerly at the table, wrapped in a blanket and watched as he’d hammered the board back into place. Her session with Becca must have helped. It was a start.

  “Is this your new case then?” Tony nodded towards the whiteboard upon which photos of the two crime scenes were pinned.

  “’Fraid so.”

  Tony stood in front of the board and studied the gruesome images. “Multiple stabbings?”

  “Yeah, both victims. Same MO.”

  “Looks vicious.”

  “There was a lot of blood. Both victims were stabbed at least six or seven times.”

  Tony nodded slowly. He was one of England’s foremost criminal profilers and had worked with most of the law enforcement agencies in the country. The UK wasn’t as advanced in the behavioural sciences department as the United States, but they were getting there. Profilers with Tony’s experience were rare and therefore in great demand. It was a good position to be in. In addition to consulting, Tony was a lecturer at the University of Surrey, where he taught their master’s programme in criminology.

  “The killer continued to stab them after they fell?”

  “Yes, according to the pathologist over half the stab wounds were inflicted post-mortem.” They could tell by the way some had bled more than others.

  “You can be certain of one thing — this was a frenzied attack committed by someone fuelled by rage.”

  No offence to Tony, but it didn’t take a genius to figure that much out.

  “There must have been a lot of blood spatter,” Tony said. “Hard to get away without being seen when you’re covered in blood.”

  “That’s the thing.” Rob sat down. “We think the killer cleaned the murder weapon and possibly himself before leaving the crime scene.”

  Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, tell me more.”

  Rob explained about the blood in the sink at both scenes. “At Yousef’s house it was obvious, as if the killer had rinsed himself off. Unfortunately, we didn’t find any DNA. At the hotel where Patterson was murdered there were minute traces, but it was still there. Again, no DNA.”

  “So, your killer is forensically aware. They’re cleaning the blood off the weapon, their hands, maybe even their clothes before leaving the scene.”

  Rob nodded. “It seems that way.”

  “Any CCTV?”

  “No, nothing we could find. The killer made sure of that. Yousef lived in Hounslow while Patterson was in a hotel in Hammersmith. As far as locations go, there is no link.”

  “Do you think the killer had a vehicle?”

  “I’d say so, wouldn’t you?” Rob asked.

  Tony nodded. “Again, with the blood spatter it would make sense.”

  “We’re working on narrowing down the vehicles outside Yousef’s house, but we still have a way to go. Hammersmith is pointless since the hotel was on a major road. The volume of traffic is too large to sift through. We might be able to cross-reference if we get a lead.”

  Tony read through the forensic report. “Your killer is a careful, meticulous individual, a planner. These murders were set up perfectly. The victims granted the killer access, even dressed up for them, so I’d say you’re looking for someone articulate and well dressed, someone who can pull off a professional image.”

 
“If only we had some DNA, but there was nothing left at either crime scene. Either the killer was meticulously clean, or they wore gloves and a hazmat suit.”

  “Or they were a woman.”

  “What?” Rob stared at him for a long moment. He’d dismissed the killer as female due to the aggressive nature of the attacks and the strength required to overpower the victims. He said as much now.

  Tony drummed his middle finger on the table. “The attacks are well planned, the appointments set up in advance. The murderer times it so the victims are alone and there’s nobody else around. Any evidence of the meeting is removed, for example their mobile phones are missing, the whisky glass rinsed out, removing all traces of DNA, and in the second murder, the traces of blood in the sink were negligible.”

  Rob was still unconvinced. “Could a woman inflict this level of carnage?”

  “Of course. Don’t underestimate the fairer sex. I agree, it’s unusual for a woman to go for such a violent method of murder, but it’s not unheard of. And while this is messy—” Tony gestured to the whiteboard — “it’s not showy. There are no blood-written signatures on the walls, no jibes aimed at the police, no dismemberment or shocking effects, which tells me there was no ego involved.”

  Rob frowned. “Okay . . .” It was hardly conclusive.

  “Then there’s the level of control. The killer has a deep-seated rage against the victims, but she’s cool-headed enough to get access to them before she lets loose with the knife. After that, she’s back in control again. Boom.”

  Rob rubbed his forehead.

  “So much so that she even remembers to clean off the knife and possibly herself before leaving the scene of the crime. She probably wore some sort of protective clothing, a trench coat or jacket, nothing obvious, and removed it before she left so as not to attract undue attention.” He gave Rob a wry glance, “Women are far better at that level of control than men, but obviously I’m generalizing.”

  Okay, what Tony was saying did make sense, but it was still just a theory. “Would a woman be strong enough to attack a man of Yousef’s size? The guy was nearly six foot three.”

  Tony pursed his lips. “Yes, if the element of surprise was on her side. Your victims never saw this coming. They trusted her and gave her access to their house and their hotel room.” He gestured to the board.