by M. L Rose
Luke shuffled forward in his seat, a light suddenly gleaming in his eyes. “Yes, a blue car. You know what, it was a Ford. Like a Ford Mondeo or something.”
CHAPTER 76
Arla hung up after speaking to Johnson. Harry and the rest of the team were gathered in her office.
“OK, we got the green signal for the new safe house, and a specialist firearms officer to guard the premises. Johnson had to pull strings for that. The TV appeal is going ahead, too.”
“Our actress should be calling media relations any time now,” Harry said.
“Good. I want to give Cherie the news myself. Is she still in the family room?”
“Yes guv,” Rita said.
Arla held up her right thumb and counted. “Number one, we get the rest of Stanley Mason’s emails, bank details and his entire case load as a judge. Over his whole life. No exceptions. I need three of you to do that, so we get somewhere by tonight.”
“Number two, we get hold of this blue car that Luke mentioned. Check the CCTV on the main roads near Cherie’s house. This happened two years ago. I know it’s a tall task, but we could get lucky.”
The team filed out, and Arla, followed by Harry, went to see Cherie. She was still huddled on the sofa, but Emily was sat next to her, holding her hand. Two cups of tea were placed on the table, one almost empty, the other untouched.
Cherie had more colour to her cheeks, but her eyes still had the vacant, listless stare. She didn’t turn to look when Arla stepped inside the room.
Emily stood and left. Harry closed the door while Arla sat next to Cherie.
“We found a place for you,” Arla said. “It’s in Dulwich. You have a friend there, right? Jill Hunter, I believe her name is.”
“Yes.” Cherie looked relieved. “Thank you. But is this place safe?”
“No one, apart from DI Mehta and myself know about this address. No other member of my team. My boss gave it to me over the phone, on a secure line. You will be very safe here.”
She saw Cherie glance at Harry. Arla said, “I can vouch for DI Mehta. He won’t tell anyone.”
Cherie shrugged. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
Harry broke his silence. “You won’t be leaving via the rear car park. In fact, you will be disguised as a uniformed sergeant and leave in a police van. The van will be followed by a CID car to make sure it’s not being tailed.”
Arla said, “This time, if someone is after you, believe me, we will know. The safe house in Dulwich is in a prominent street corner, with CCTV everywhere. The audio-visual team will monitor the live feeds. We simply pick up anyone seen acting suspiciously.”
Cherie seemed more reassured. Arla told her about the SFO as well. Cherie asked, “Is that necessary?”
“Best to be safe than sorry,” Arla said.
Harry opened the door and called Emily back inside. She was instructed to take Cherie to the uniformed officers department.
Cherie hung back to ask Arla a question. “Inspector Baker…”
“Call me Arla.”
“Ok, Arla. I just wanted to say thank you. I’m sorry if I came across as being rude before.”
“Don’t worry. You’ve been through a few major shocks. It’s understandable.”
Cherie’s eyes were moist. She went to say something but then thought the better of it. She followed Emily out of the door.
Harry’s phone rang. He spoke on it briefly before hanging up. “Film crew are in place. Smita just turned up with the actress. Her name is Kirsten, friend of hers obviously.”
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 77
Two squad cars blocked the exit to the road in either direction. Two trailer vans were parked on the pavement. A long haired, bearded man wearing a black jacket was speaking to the cameraman, who held a large camera from a rig on his waist. Several crew members were fixing lights up on tall tripods. They were fiercely bright, turning the murky afternoon incandescent.
One of the trailer doors opened and Smita stepped out. She was followed by a woman as tall as Smita, with shoulder length blonde hair. Harry called Smita’s name and she turned.
She gave Harry a peck on the cheek and hugged Arla. The affection seemed genuine. Not for the first time, Arla wondered what Harry had told Smita about her.
“This is my friend, Kirsten,” Smita introduced the actress to them. Arla shook hands politely.
“Any instructions?” Kirsten asked. She was stick thin, Arla noted, much lighter than Cherie. She was young and attractive, and Arla guessed the director would have some way to make her appear older.
Before Arla could speak, the hirsute man in the black jacket bustled over. He looked Arla and Harry up and down. “Are you the coppers?”
“Yes,” Arla said.
“My name’s Tim. I’m the director for a lot of these shoots. I need to get it done quickly I’m afraid. After this I have a commercial ad shoot for a clothing company.”
“Don’t let me hold you up then,” Arla said.
“Any instructions?” Tim asked. Everyone laughed and he looked bemused.
“That’s just what I asked,” Kirsten said.
“That’s actually my job,” Tim said, suddenly stiff and serious. “Yours is to follow instructions and act them out” he added pompously. He looked at Arla again. “Well?”
“Your directing better be good, Tim,” Arla said in a sharp voice. “We need lots of responders to this one.” She told him what Cherie had been through. Tim waved a young man over. A mask was produced by one of the crew from a trailer, and the actor put it on. It was a ski mask covering his face.
“That’s the best we can do,” Tim confessed.
“He was wearing a hooded top covering his face,” Arla said. “It was a dark top as well, and he wore black trainers.”
Tim barked out orders, and the crew member disappeared inside the trailer van again. This time he took longer, the actor inside the trailer with him. Kirsten vanished inside the ladies’ trailer. When she emerged, Arla had a job recognizing her. Her hair seemed shorter and she had put on at least 5 Kg in weight.
Smita leaned towards Arla. “More clothes, covered by a larger size jacket. Makes her look bigger. Plus, the camera puts on more than ten percent weight when seen on screen. That’s why us actresses have to diet so hard.”
“And exercise more,” Arla said.
“Yup. Before a role, I literally live in the gym, drink soup and smoke.”
“Smoke?”
“Yes. Nicotine reduces appetite. It does work.”
Arla was dubious. “Sure it doesn’t become a habit?”
“The smoking you mean? Nah, not for me.”
Arla asked, “Do you enjoy what you do?”
Smita seemed surprised. “Yes, of course. You can’t do it if you don’t enjoy it. It’s bloody hard work for next to no money. Unless you get lucky.”
“That’s the main factor.”
“Absolutely,” Smita agreed. “Get lucky or know someone famous.”
“Like Luke Longworth,” Arla said, and immediately regretted it. To her mind, Luke was anything but lucky.
She was aware that Smita was observing her. Arla put on a bland smile, but from the expression on Smita’s face, she knew the actress saw through it.
“It’s messed up, right? This whole thing.” Smita said softly.
Arla nodded. “Yes. I can’t say much more at this stage. But I am doing everything possible to bring this mad man to justice.”
“Hope Harry’s helping,” Smita said, raising her eyebrows.
“Oh, he’s a bit lazy you know, but he’ll do.”
Smita laughed. “Maybe he pays more attention to how he dresses. Like a peacock.”
Arla couldn't help joining in. “That’s him alright.”
Harry turned to them and frowned, like he knew he was being spoken about. Tim’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“Take your positions please. Start rolling on my count of three. Three, tw
o, one. Lights, camera, action!”
Arla watched as the cameraman followed Kirsten from behind as she walked down the pavement.
Nobody saw the figure on the sturdy branch of a tree, less than twenty meters away, high above the ground. He had binoculars to his eyes, attention focused on the scene below.
CHAPTER 78
By the time the shooting was done, it was past six o’clock. Arla and Harry said goodbye to Smita and Kirsten, who were off home. They shared an apartment in Acton Town, West London. Arla decided to call on Banerji before she got back to the office. The pathologist was still at work.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, taking off a green surgical gown and dumping it in the bin.
Arla tried not to gag on the stench of formaldehyde. “Any more news on the new victim? Stanley Mason.”
“He’s there,” Banerji pointed. “Guess you want to have a look.”
“Not really,” Arla said. “It’s late, and we still have bits to tie in at the office. Why don’t you just give us a rundown.”
“Come to the office. He was the first body I did this morning, and my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
They sat down in Banerji’s small but comfortable office. Photos of the Taj Mahal, and huge temples hung on the wall.
Harry pointed to one massive temple complex, with what seemed like hundreds of conical shapes rising in the sky. “South India?”
“Yes,” Banerji said, adjusting his glasses. “India’s most ancient temples are in the deep south, where the Muslim invaders couldn't reach.”
Arla sat down, gratefully accepting the cup of coffee that Lorna, Banerji’s secretary, offered her. “Let’s get to the case, doc.”
“Righty ho.” Banerji adjusted his glasses and pulled up a folder on his laptop. “OK, so MO is the same as you know. I got metal fragments from the skull. And yes, it’s that Molybdenum stuff. Matches the hammer you got from the suspect’s house.”
Banerji continued. “The multiple lacerations we saw on the lower and upper limbs were done with a serrated knife, available easily in any store. The lines on them are jagged. The victim must have been moving while he was cutting him up.”
Arla grimaced. “Horrible.”
“He’s a nasty piece of work. Time of death is the same as I told you earlier, I am glad to say. Between two and three pm, closer to two. He was half dead from the neck throttling, then he was tied up, as seen by the rope marks on his ankles and hands.”
“Any DNA on him?”
“Yes, as it happens. Some hair and skin cells. Which is odd. Despite the time he had, he became careless. The hair cells were on the ground, by the broken vases. No matches on the police databases though.”
“Maybe he got angry and lost control this time, right? He destroyed things the old man liked. Maybe even made him watch it. Like he bore a grudge against him,” Arla mused.
“Possible.”
Banerji said, “And I checked the DNA against that found in David Longworth’s house. There’s no match.”
Arla nodded. “Thanks, that ties in with what’s happened so far.” She told him about Luke. Banerji listened in sober silence.
“He will still get done, won’t he? For those films he made, I mean.” Banerji was speaking about Luke.
“Yes. And charges against Simpson will be opened again.”
“That’s something positive, at least. What a mess this is.” He looked up at Arla. “This is someone who is manipulating us very carefully. You need to watch yourself Arla.”
“I will, doc. Don’t worry.”
Finishing their coffees, Arla and Harry stood. They bid Banerji goodbye and headed back to the station.
Arla walked into the office to find Rob, Lisa, Rita, Rupert and Larry hard at work.
Arla said, “Is anyone hungry? It’s past 7.”
Pizza was the unanimous vote so Arla ordered it.
Lisa stretched and yawned. “Got all the emails of Stanley Mason. Makes interesting reading.”
Rob and Harry returned with coffee for everyone. Arla sipped hers. “Go on then.”
“Stanley was in close contact with a man whose name is only CX. Cyber Crime tracked the email—it came from the dark web. We have no idea who CX is. What we do know is he was emotionally blackmailing Stanley Mason.”
“Really? How?”
“It gets strange here. About some crime Mason had committed when he was younger. Apparently, he hurt someone related to CX, a woman or girl. CX writes how he is watching from hell, and will take Stanley prisoner one day.”
Lisa tapped the screen. “There’s pages of this stuff. He really pours vitriol on the screen, guv. This CX guy had a serious grudge against Stanley.”
Arla rose and went Lisa’s side. “Let me see.” She pulled up a chair and sat down. As she read, her frown got deeper. “Goodness me, this is vile stuff. He talks about torturing him and everything. Just the way he was, in fact.”
“And see how far it goes back. Over the last three years. This CX guy has been doing it to Stanley for a while.”
The pizza arrived and they started eating. Harry said, “You’re assuming this CX is a male.”
Lisa wiped her mouth with a napkin and said, “He describes how he’ll cut him up and so on. And that’s how Stanley was killed. So, it stands to reason this is the same person.”
“What about the blue car? The one Luke talked of?”
“Nothing as yet, guv.”
“And did you see anything on the CCTV footage from outside the station? Anyone keeping tabs on us?”
Rob said, “I spent a couple of hours with the AV guys in the control room. Went through dozens of reels. There’s a lot of blue cars parked on the roads around the station. Several of those cars have a direct view of the front and back. Without more details, it’s a needle in a haystack.”
The pizza arrived and Arla swallowed a mouthful. It tasted great and she hadn't realized how famished she had been.
“Rob’s right. Even if we did find it, if it’s a stolen car, we’re back to square one.” She switched to Lisa. “What about the cases that Stanley sat on as a judge? Anything there?”
Rita answered. “Still going through them. He worked more than twenty years as a judge. It’s a massive pile.”
“Narrow your search with David Longworth, Mike Simpson and…” Arla thought for a few seconds, “James Fraser. See if they were ever in a case that involved Stanley Mason. She frowned, a new path opening in front of her. “Especially Mike Simpson. And do a search for all the young female crime victim cases he dealt with.”
Rita wrote everything down. “That should help a lot. Now I know what to look for.”
“There has to be a reason,” Arla said, “why this madman targeted David and Stanley. We need to find the link before he strikes again.”
CHAPTER 79
Arla was sat in the doctor’s waiting room. A toddler walked up to her, put a hand on her knee, and raised his snotty face to her. Then he grinned. His mother bustled over and grabbed him.
“Sorry, he’s very friendly,” the woman said. She had another baby in the pram. She took out a packet of crisps and gave it to the boy, who promptly threw it on the floor.
“Looks like you have your hands full,” Arla said.
The woman bent down to pick up the packet. “You have no idea.” Then she gave Arla a look up and down. Arla was dressed in her usual black trouser business suit, hair in a ponytail, mascara but no makeup. She knew what the woman was appraising her for.
Single. No children. Married to the job.
Well, she was wrong with the first one. Technically, she was in a relationship. One out of three wasn’t bad. Her mind went back to Harry. They finished around 8 last night, when Arla bid them goodbye. Harry went back to see his mother, and Arla spent the night alone. She missed Harry when he wasn’t there. Was it the same for him? Sometimes she wondered.
The reception room was full. Children coughed and sneezed, old people sat quietly
with walking sticks and walking aids. Arla had arrived at nine am sharp to attend the meeting with Laura Douglas’s doctor. She hoped she wouldn't have to wait long.
It was ten past nine when the receptionist rose and called out Arla’s name. She was instructed to go through the double doors and into room 4. Arla knocked and was told to come in.
Dr Griffiths was almost bald and looked to be in his sixties. He greeted by Arla by standing and shaking her hand.
“I understand you wanted to speak about Laura Longworth.” The doctor seemed intrigued. “May I ask why?”
“Well, and her husband too, David Longworth. They were both patients at this practice.”
“Yes, they were.”
Arla already knew Cherie wasn’t a patient here. She was still registered with her previous GP in Hammersmith.
Dr Griffiths said, “Are you any close to solving Mr. Longworth’s murder?”
“No. That’s why I’m here. What can you tell me about him?”
“A nice man. But he was depressed after Laura’s death. I wanted to start him on antidepressants, but he didn’t take them.”
This was news to Arla. “But his medical records don’t state depression.”
“I know. But it does mention bereavement reaction. It became prolonged in his case.”
“Anything else you noticed about him?”
“Like I said, he seemed to just lose the zest and appetite for life. It does happen.”
“Any changes after he married the second time?”
The doctor shrugged. “Not much, no.”
“Did you know his previous wife, Laura?”
Dr Griffiths hooded his eyes slightly as he gazed at Arla. “You know, this is the first time I’ve thought about it. Maybe because of your questions.”
“What do you mean?”
“Laura was depressed as well. But in her case, it took a worse turn.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was addicted to diazepam tablets.”
