by David Blake
News of this sent whispered discussions flying around the room.
Raising his hands to placate those in attendance, Burgess called out, ‘I know what you’re all thinking, especially as he was released only a couple of hours before this happened, and we’re not ruling him out - which is why we still have him up on the board as a suspect. We’re also keeping his boyfriend, Stephen Perry, up there as well. However, at this stage we think it’s more likely that someone else is doing this, deliberately trying to incriminate Richardson; someone who knows him and is holding some sort of a grudge. Due to his sexual orientation, and that both victims were raped, we believe this is most likely to be a man who is gay, or at least bi-sexual. Someone who at some point has had sexual relations with Richardson. It is very possible that whoever did this may have been planning it for some considerable time, so much so that they froze a sample of his sperm. If that was the case, that means that the person responsible could have done so months, if not years before. So our first priority is to look into his past relationships. We need to find out about anyone he’s had a relationship with. Tanner and Jenny, I’ll leave that with you.’
After seeing them nod their agreement, Burgess looked over at Vicky Gilbert. ‘We also need to look into Emily Harris. Vicky, if you could begin that process. See if there’s anything that connects her with either Simon or Jane Richardson; friends, work, school, anything.
‘DCI Barrington and myself are about to issue a statement to the press outside. Nothing fancy, just enough to give them the facts as they stand. Hopefully that will stop them from going away and writing up something about how Simon Richardson was released only to murder again. Obviously we won’t be releasing the name of the second victim, not until we’ve told the husband, and he’s been able to formally identify the body. I’ve chosen the short straw for that, and I’ll be heading over to meet with him immediately after we’ve issued the statement.
‘It looks like we have a particularly nasty individual out there roaming the Broads, someone who not only seems happy enough to take the lives of innocent young women, but also feels it necessary to rape and mutilate them afterwards. It goes without saying that we need to work fast. Does everyone understand what they’re doing?’
All those in the room nodded their agreement, and as nobody seemed to have any questions, Burgess concluded the briefing. ‘As soon as you get anything, let me know. That’s it for now.’
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
THE MOMENT THE briefing finished, Barrington and Burgess headed outside to issue a formal statement to the press, leaving the rest of the team to focus on their various tasks.
Working together, it didn’t take long for Tanner and Jenny to discover that before Richardson was married, he’d had a series of clandestine relationships with other men, all the way back to university, even though he’d been working hard to give the outward impression of being every bit the heterosexual male that society seemed more ready to accept. None of his various affairs and sexual liaisons stood out in any particular way. They’d all been either one night stands, or the relationship had only lasted for a few weeks.
What also became clear was that he’d had the idea of using the institution of marriage as a façade to hide his true sexual orientation for some time, certainly long before he’d met Jane. Prior to marrying her, he’d been engaged twice before. Without making the effort to ask him directly about this, they could only assume that he’d gone ahead and married Jane because he felt that there were only so many times he could break off an engagement before questions began to be asked.
As Tanner and Jenny were delving into Simon’s past, over at the cluster of desks near the whiteboard, DS Gilbert waded through Emily Harris’s personal files, desperately looking for anything that could connect her to either Simon Richardson or his late wife. Thankfully it didn’t take her long to find it, and the moment she made the connection, she raced over to Tanner and Jenny, her auburn curls knocking against her shoulders, to announce, ‘It’s the IVF clinic! Emily Harris and her husband were using the same one as Simon and Jane. Buxton Manor!’
As Tanner and Jenny stared at each other, Jenny said, ‘That’s where whoever did this must have got hold of Simon’s sperm sample!’
‘Which means that the murderer either works there, or has access,’ said Tanner.
‘Unless someone broke in,’ cautioned Jenny.
As they pulled their coats from the backs of their chairs, Tanner smiled at DS Gilbert. ‘Good work, Vicky! We’re going to head straight over there. If you could tell Barrington and Burgess where we’re going, that would be appreciated.’
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
ABOUT HALF AN hour later, Tanner and Jenny were back at the now familiar Buxton Manor, but unlike their first visit, when they were fishing for a motive for Simon Richardson to have murdered his wife, now they were looking for a killer.
Behind the reception desk sat the same outwardly cheerful-looking receptionist, who heard them come in, glanced up, and with a surprised look, said, ‘Oh, hello again!’
‘Good morning,’ said Tanner, with formal politeness. ‘Is Dr Khatri free?’
‘I doubt it! He’s very busy today.’
‘I’m sure he is, but please inform him that Detective Inspector Tanner and Detective Constable Evans are here again.’
Giving Tanner the briefest look of defiant belligerence, the receptionist picked up her desk phone.
After a brief conversation, she returned the receiver to its cradle, forced a smile and said, ‘He’ll be down in a minute. May I get you a coffee?’
‘We’re fine, thank you,’ said Tanner, with brusque dismissal, before turning around to look for somewhere to sit.
Directly behind him sat two young couples, at opposite ends of a row of eight chairs, all nervously leafing through some of the lifestyle magazines that had been arranged with neat precision over a low mahogany coffee table.
Tanner was just about to indicate to Jenny that perhaps they should take a seat themselves, when the side door creaked open, and Dr Khatri’s head appeared.
Looking directly at Tanner, in a low voice he said, ‘Would you like to come through?’
Back inside his office, with the door firmly closed, directing Tanner and Jenny to take a seat, the doctor asked, ‘How can I help you this time?’
Diving straight in, Tanner said, ‘Another body was found early this morning.’
Leaning back in his chair, Dr Khatri said, ‘I heard on the news. But I’m not sure what that has to do with either myself or the clinic.’
‘She’s yet to be formally identified,’ continued Tanner, ‘but at this stage we believe her to be Mrs Emily Harris.’
The doctor showed no immediate sign that the name meant anything to him, and at first did nothing but to continue to stare at Tanner with his dark sunken eyes. But after a moment or two, he leaned forward in his chair, reached over to his laptop and clicked the mouse a few times. ‘I assume you already know that she’s a client of ours.’
‘We do.’
‘OK, well, I’m obviously very sorry to hear this. How do you think we can help?’
Deciding to get straight to the point, Tanner said, ‘We need to know where you keep your clients’ sperm samples; and more importantly, who has access to them?’
‘What on Earth do you want to know that for?’
‘We’ve found the same man’s semen inside both victims.’
‘But…wouldn’t that suggest it’s the same…?’
‘That was our original belief, but we now have reason to think that someone is using the sample in order to frame someone.’
‘You mean…Simon Richardson?’
Tanner said nothing, but maintained his steady gaze at the doctor. ‘So, we need to know where you keep your clients’ samples, and who has access to them.’
Sitting back in his chair, Dr Khatri said, ‘Our fertility samples are kept in our lab, down in the basement.’
‘Who can gain access?’
/>
‘It’s strictly limited to lab technicians only.’
‘It’s kept locked, then?’
‘Well, not during the day, no, but it is at night.’
‘So you’re saying that anyone can go in there during the day and help themselves to whatever they like?’
‘It’s not as easy as that! There’s always someone in there, from nine to five at least, and we all have to wear identity tags.’ He glanced down to take hold of his own which hung loosely around his neck and held it up for them to see. ‘Furthermore,’ he continued, ‘if someone was to go in there with the intention of stealing a sperm sample, they’d have to know what they were looking for, and how to find it, even more so if it was a particular individual’s.’
‘So who would such people be?’
‘Only our lab technicians, really.’
‘What about you?’
‘Well, yes, me as well, I suppose.’
‘Just for the record, may I ask what you were doing last Saturday night, between ten and eleven o’clock?’
As his eyes widened with horror, he said, ‘You can’t possibly think it was me?’
‘I’m not suggesting anything, Doctor. I’m simply asking where you were last Saturday night.’
With his professional demeanour beginning to show signs of cracking, he said, ‘I was at home! I’m sure I was!’
‘On your own?’
‘Our children have moved out, but my wife will have been there.’
‘Nobody else?’
‘Who else do you think would have been?’
‘I’ve no idea; it’s just that wives don’t make great collaborative witnesses, at least not in a court of law.’
‘You’re not serious?’
Instead of answering, Tanner moved the conversation along. ‘Has anyone noticed any samples going missing?’
‘Not that anyone’s told me.’
‘How about break-ins?’
‘Again, not that I know of. The building is fitted with a privately managed security system, so I’m sure we’d have known about it if there had been any breaches.’
‘Going back to Emily Harris. How long had she been a client of yours?’
The doctor checked the file he’d opened on his laptop. ‘The Harrises first came to see us back in November of last year.’
‘Do you know if they knew the Richardsons?’
Continuing to look at the screen, the doctor said, ‘If you mean, did one refer the other, then I’m afraid I couldn’t say.’
Tanner hadn’t meant that, but it had given him another idea.
‘Could you tell us who did refer them?’
‘As I just said, I can’t, no!’
‘May I remind you that this is a murder enquiry!’
‘So you’ve said, but under absolutely no circumstances am I allowed to start going around telling people who referred who. It would completely undermine the service we offer!’
‘I can come back with a warrant.’
‘Then I suggest you do that!’
Deciding that it was probably best to change tack, Tanner asked, ‘Do your clients ever meet up together, socially?’
‘I have no idea what goes on beyond these walls, but I’d have thought that would be unlikely. The vast majority of them come here for privacy and discretion. Fertility problems are hardly something people like their friends to know about.’
‘But maybe if they happened to bump into each other in reception?’
‘Well, of course it’s possible, I suppose, but it would have nothing whatsoever to do with the clinic.’
Tanner knew he was clutching at straws, and decided to call it a day.
‘OK, that will do for now. Thank you for your time, Dr. Khatri. But before we leave, we’re going to need the names and contact details for everyone who has worked here, going back to when Mr and Mrs Harris first became clients.’
Pushing himself up from his desk, he said, ‘If you speak to Susan on reception, I’ll ask her to sort that out for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have clients whom I’ve already kept waiting for quite long enough.’
CHAPTER FORTY
BACK OUT IN reception, there was only one couple left waiting, there to see Dr Khatri. As soon as the receptionist saw Tanner and Jenny emerge, she asked them to go straight through.
After they’d passed through the side door, she looked over at Tanner and said, ‘I understand you’d like a list of our staff?’
‘Along with their contact details, yes, please,’ replied Tanner, before adding, ‘As far back as when Emily and Clive Harris first began coming here.’
After raising an inquisitive eyebrow, the girl said, ‘That shouldn’t be a problem,’ and turned her attention to her computer’s monitor.
As Tanner waited, he strolled over to take a look out of a lead-lined window into the carpark, leaving Jenny leaning up against the reception desk.
Pretending to take an interest in some of the leaflets out on display, in a conversational tone, Jenny asked the receptionist, ‘So, how long have you been working here – Susan, isn’t it?’
‘Who, me?’ the girl replied, glancing momentarily up from her computer screen. ‘Gosh. It’s been so long, I’m not sure I can remember.’
‘I suppose you must get to know the clients quite well?’
Re-focussing her mind back to the task in hand, somewhat absently she replied, ‘Most of them, I suppose. At least the regulars. I can’t say I like them very much though. Too stuck up for my taste.’
‘I take it you knew Simon and Jane Richardson?’
Abandoning her database search, she stared up at Jenny, and in a half-whisper said, ‘Of course! And for Mr Richardson to have been accused of murdering his own wife – that must have been just awful for him!’
‘Do you know if any of your clients would know each other socially, outside the clinic?’
Returning to her search, Susan shrugged. ‘I’d say most of our clients are referred here by their friends. They tend to stick together, that lot. We also offer a ten percent reduction in our fees whenever someone does, which I doubt most of them can turn down.’
‘I don’t suppose you take a note of who referred who?’
‘Yes, of course. We have to.’
‘Do you know if anyone referred the Richardsons?’
‘Hold on, let me just print this out and I’ll take a look for you. But don’t tell anyone I did. I’m really not supposed to.’
As the electrical hum of a laser printer began whirring under the desk, it wasn’t long before Susan said, ‘It was Mrs Ruth Lambert, Jane Richardson’s mother. Apparently, she’s been coming here for years for other reasons. Long before I started working here.’
‘And what about Clive and Emily Harris? Did anyone refer them?’
A moment later, the girl said, ‘It was Ruth Lambert again! Do you think that’s important?’
Jenny wasn’t sure, but one thing she did know was that she didn’t want the receptionist to think that it was, so she dismissed the idea. ‘I doubt it. From what I hear, Mrs Lambert knows just about everyone!’
With a knowing smile of conspiratorial agreement, Susan abandoned her computer screen and reached down to retrieve two pieces of A4 paper which the printer had churned out.
Placing them on top of the high desk, she called over to Tanner, possibly a little too loudly, ‘I’ve printed that list out for you!’
Returning to the desk, Tanner picked up the pages and began glancing through the list, making sure that each name had a phone number and contact address beside it.
‘And this is everyone who’s worked here, since the Harrises had their first consultation?’
‘It goes back six months, which is about when the Harrises first came.’
‘OK, well, thank you for your help. We’d better be on our way.’
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
AS SOON AS they were out in the carpark, crunching back over the gravel towards the XJS, Jenny took out her notebook and sai
d to Tanner, ‘Did you hear that Ruth Lambert referred both her daughter and Emily Harris?’
‘I did, yes, but I suspect you were right when you said that she probably just knows a lot of people.’
‘The right people, at least,’ agreed Jenny.
Approaching the car, she went on, ‘Speaking of knowing people, I can’t help but think I recognise her from somewhere.’
‘Who?’
‘The receptionist. Susan Follett.’
‘I can’t say the name rings a bell.’
‘Me neither, but her face does. I just can’t remember from where.’
Tanner stopped beside the driver’s side door and turned back to look over at Buxton Manor, pulling out his phone as he did.
Taking it off mute, he checked his messages.
‘I’ve had a missed call from Burgess,’ he said. ‘I’d better phone him, else he’ll have a go at me for not bothering to stay in touch.’ He pressed the dial button. ‘Hi, it’s Tanner. You tried to call?’
‘That was half an hour ago!’
‘Sorry. We’ve been at Buxton Manor, where the IVF clinic is.’
‘Yes, I heard. How’d you get on?’
‘We managed to speak to the lead IVF consultant again. Their sperm samples are kept on site, and although they’re secured at night, from what I could make out, just about anyone could have access to them during the day. He’s provided us with the names and contact details of everyone who’s worked there since Emily Harris first came in.’
‘What about break-ins?’
‘He doesn’t think it’s likely. They’ve got a privately managed security system, and he‘d have been told of any breaches. I think our focus should be on the staff working there, so I suggest we start having a chat with those on the list of names.’
