by Tim Ellis
‘She came to see us on Friday morning. Stayed for about an hour – from ten-thirty to eleven-thirty.’
‘Did she seem worried about anything?’
‘I don’t think her and Jimmy were on speaking terms, but she knew he’d come round.’
‘Did she tell you the reason why?’
Maureen interrupted. ‘Not in so many words, but we got the impression it was over the baby. Catrina wanted to keep it, but Jimmy said it was too early in their relationship to be thinking about children. Neither of them were earning a lot of money.’
‘Do you know Jimmy?’
‘Yes, she brought him to meet us a couple of months ago.’
‘Did you know she was seeing someone else?’
They stared at him.
Greg shook his head. ‘No, she didn’t tell us that.’
‘You don’t seem surprised,’ Richards said.
Maureen seemed to be staring into a long ago past full of mother’s memories. ‘Catrina always did like the boys. The trouble she caused us. She couldn’t say no – that was her problem . . . Oh, not like that. At least I don’t think so. And certainly not back then.’ A whimsical smile appeared on her face. ‘I remember, she had seven boyfriends at one time. We told her that she could only have one, but she was so pretty – all the boys wanted a piece of her. She said she’d have as many as she wanted. No, one boyfriend was never enough for our Catrina.’
‘With the nursery closed down, what was she doing?’
‘Doing? What do you mean?’
‘With all the time off?’
‘Nothing.’
‘She wasn’t going on holiday?’
‘She talked about it, but hadn’t decided on anything yet. I think her and Jimmy . . . but with the argument . . . and now you saying she was seeing someone else . . . I don’t know what to think anymore.’
‘What about money?’
‘She liked what she was doing. The wages were low, but we helped her out where we could.’
‘You’re both retired?’
Greg nodded. ‘Yes. I have two pensions – used to be in the military, and then I worked in insurance.’
‘What about the month of August? Did she get paid when she wasn’t working?’
‘Oh yes,’ Maureen said. ‘Her annual salary was divided into twelve equal parts, so that she always had a monthly wage.’
‘When can we see her?’ Greg asked.
Richards wrote a number on a post-it note that she kept in her notebook, so that she didn’t have to tear any pages out, and passed it to Mr Golding. ‘If you ring this number and ask to speak to Doctor Riley, she’ll make the arrangements for you to go in and formally identify your daughter.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Do you know if Catrina had any enemies?’ Parish continued.
Maureen’s eyes opened wide. ‘Enemies! No, not Catrina. Everybody loved her.’
‘Did you know that she did a lot of social networking?’
Greg’s brow furrowed. ‘Social networking! What does that mean?’
‘On the internet.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, we don’t bother with that. It takes us all our time to work the television and that digital box thing.’ He pointed to the shelf underneath the cabinet that the television was sitting on. ‘Why they couldn’t just have left things as they were is beyond me. Now, we have more channels than you can shake a dirty stick at, but there’s never anything on worth watching – beggars belief.’
Parish looked at Richards, but she had no questions. He stood up and said, ‘We’re very sorry for your loss.’
‘You’ll let us know . . .’
‘Of course, but you have to understand that some things can’t be divulged until after the investigation, and even then . . .’
Greg Golding nodded.
Richards handed Mr Golding one of her cards. ‘Don’t get up. We’ll show ourselves out.’
Once they were outside and walking towards the car Richards said, ‘What now?’
‘I think we deserve some lunch after that.’
‘Yes. I always think about the police coming round to inform mum and me about my dad, and how I felt.’
He squeezed her shoulder. ‘People are lucky if they make it through life without a tragedy befalling them. Anyway, enough doom and gloom – let’s go and eat.’
***
‘Is it time yet?’ Xena said, drawing stickmen in the pools of spilled milk, coffee and tomato ketchup on the table.
‘Another forty-five minutes.’
‘We should . . .’
‘. . . Stay here and have another coffee.’
She belched. ‘I’m already three quarters full.’ Her mobile vibrated. ‘Blake?’
‘It’s Constable Edna Piper from Central Despatch, Ma’am.’
‘Yes?’
‘A body has been found.’
‘I’ve already got a case, Piper.’
‘Apparently, or so I’ve been informed, this is the body in that case, Ma’am.’
‘Where?’
‘Theobald’s Lane, off the B198 near the Tesco Sports Ground in Cheshunt. There’s a place where lovers pull in . . .’
‘. . . And fuck like bunnies?’ She was jealous. Tom McDougall seemed to have forgotten her. And what was worse, he’d forgotten to tell her that he’d forgotten her. She hadn’t heard from him in over a month, and the last time she’d had sex was when Noah crashed the ark into Mount Ararat. And she was a monkey’s fucking uncle if she was going to ring him – he should ring her, and grovel like he meant it. If she rang him, he’d think he could forget her anytime he damn well wanted to, and that she’d simply call him and beg him to please remember her. Well, he could fuck off. An attractive and pleasant woman such as herself wouldn’t have any trouble finding a stud.
‘I’m sure you’d know that better than me, Ma’am.’
‘I hope you have union representation, Constable.’ She ended the call. ‘Did you get that?’
‘Get what?’
‘The address?’
‘Of what?’
‘Sometimes, I feel like I’m in another dimension from the rest of you idiots. When somebody gives me the address of where we can find a body, you’re meant to write it down.’
‘When that somebody gave you the address, did you repeat it out loud so that I could write it down?’
‘I’m absolutely positive I did.’
‘You didn’t.’ He took out his notebook. ‘What was it?’
‘Have you forgotten it already?’
‘I never had it.’
‘And I suppose you’re going to blame me – your superior officer – for your gross incompetence? You’d better ring despatch back, tell Constable whatever-her-name-is that you forgot to write it down and can she please give you the details again, pretty please?’
‘I never should have withdrawn my letter of resignation.’
‘That’s one thing we both agree on. Well, stop standing there like piffy on a rock bun and ring despatch. We now have a confirmed dead body, and this is a murder investigation.’
‘What about the woman in ITU?’
‘She’s not going anywhere. And while you have your phone out call that bitch Heffernan and tell her to pull her finger out of her arse, and get over there.’
Stick rang despatch, and then Di Heffernan in forensics.
As they were walking towards the car park Xena said, ‘That’s not what I ordered you to tell the bitch.’
‘You need counselling.’
‘What I need is a partner who can follow simple instructions.’
‘You want a “Yes-man”?’
‘That would be good. Do you think you can be one of those for me, Sticky wicket?’
‘No.’
They became snarled up in queues due to road works, and the volume of traffic on the M25 and A10. As a consequence, it took them a good thirty minutes longer to reach Theobald’s Lane than it should have done.
‘Who
found the body?’ Xena asked a uniform standing guard at the crime scene tape.
He pointed to a woman wearing a green Barbour jacket, matching corduroy trousers and wellies. A Border Collie was panting next to her.
‘Name?’ Xena said.
‘Lady Nicola Thorpe.’
‘Lady?’
‘My husband is Lord Thorpe of Theobald, don’t cha know?’
Xena’s eyes glazed over. ‘So, you found the body?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘Rupert found the body.’ She turned to the dog, patted its head and slipped him a treat. ‘Good boy.’
‘Did you see anyone else?’
‘No.’
‘A car?’
‘No – except the motor vehicle over there.’
She passed Lady Thorpe a business card. ‘If anything does come to mind, please call me.’
Di Heffernan had beaten them there and she threw the first barb at Xena. ‘You took your time.’
‘That’s because I can. It’s your job to wait for me, not the other way round. If you recall, I’m a DI and you’re a shrew-faced nobody. Well, what have we got?’
‘A dead body.’
‘And that’s the culmination of all your years at university, is it? Waste of time and money if you ask me?’
‘Well, they wasted enough of both on you, so you’d be an expert on the subject.’
Stick stepped between them. ‘Ladies! Can we stop all this bickering and do what we came here to do?’
‘She started it?’ Xena said.
‘I expected more from you Di.’
Di looked away.
Xena shoved him in the arm. ‘Didn’t you expect more from me as well, Stickleback?’
‘No.’
They were standing in a lover’s lay-by, just off Theobald’s Lane. There were sycamores, oak and larch trees on both sides of the lane. The lay-by itself was full of muddy ruts where cars had parked, patches of grass, accumulated litter and drug paraphernalia.
Forensic officers had erected two tents. One hid the body, and the other a seven year-old dark-grey Ford Fiesta belonging to the victim. Photographs, digital recordings and measurements were being taken, the undergrowth was being systematically searched, and officers were erecting lighting and trailing the power cables back to the white forensic truck parked further along the lane in anticipation of still being at the crime scene long after dark.
After they’d donned paper suits, plastic shoe covers, masks and gloves, Di led them into the tent containing the body. The ground around the corpse had been covered with twelve-inch square interlocking aluminium tread plates to preserve any evidence beneath.
‘His name is Robert Vines . . .’
‘Jesus!’ Stick said. ‘Are those what I think they are?’
‘Yes, and the dog gave them a good licking before her ladyship pulled it away.’
Stick pulled a face.
Xena peered at the dead man lying half on his side. Next to him – in a coagulated pool of blood – lay his penis and testicles. ‘The world would be a much better place if they did that to all men,’ she said.
‘That’s one thing we can agree on,’ Di Heffernan muttered.
Stick gave a nervous laugh. ‘Present company excluded, of course.’
Xena grunted. ‘Present company would be positioned first in the queue, if I had my way.’
‘Very kind.’
‘The least I could do.’
‘I’m sure Doctor Paine will confirm this . . .’ Di continued, ‘. . . but it appears that Mr Vines was kneeling down with his hands secured behind his back when he was garrotted . . .’
‘Is that a posh word for strangled?’ Stick asked.
‘No. It’s the Spanish name for a weapon used to strangle someone, and that’s what was used here.’ She pointed to the marks around the victim’s neck. ‘I’d say that was twisted wire.’
‘So, he was strangled?’ Xena said.
‘Executed, more like.’
Xena bent down to look at the victim’s wrists. ‘It looks like . . .’
‘Yes, a plastic restraint.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Not here.’
Stick’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘What about the . . . you know?’
‘Hacked off with a knife after he was dead. As you can see, there’s not much blood.’
‘At least he was spared that,’ Stick said.
Xena looked at him. ‘Don’t talk rubbish. I’m sure – given the opportunity – that he would have preferred life without his dick and balls rather than death by strangulation.’
‘No, I think you’re wrong. No man would choose that.’
‘Me – wrong? I can’t even imagine such an eventuality. Maybe we should use you as a guinea pig.’
‘I’d choose strangulation.’
‘Kneel down then.’
Di intervened. ‘Can we get on?’
‘Yes, please,’ Stick said, shuffling an arm’s length away from Xena.
‘I know you haven’t found the plastic restraint,’ Xena said. ‘But what about the garrotte and knife?’
‘My people are conducting an outwards spiral search, but we’ve found nothing yet. It’s beginning to look like the killer took everything with him.’
‘Her.’
‘Pardon?’
‘The killer is a woman – his girlfriend.’
‘I see.’
‘And she’s under guard in the ITU at King George Hospital.’
Stick interrupted. ‘But she’s saying that someone made her do it.’
‘Made her do it! What does that mean?’
Xena rolled her eyes. ‘Probably voices from God or the Angel Gabriel, but we won’t know until we get back to the hospital. They gave her a fucking sedative so that we couldn’t speak to her.’
‘Mmmm!’
‘Why are you grunting like a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig?’
‘Underneath the tread plates are a mishmash of footprints, which need to be recorded and analysed.’
Stick scratched his head. ‘Would a woman have the strength to strangle a grown man?’
‘Kneel down,’ Xena said. ‘Let’s do a field test.’
‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
‘Very much.’
Di said, ‘An average woman would struggle using her bare hands, but a garrotte makes it a lot easier. Especially if the victim is kneeling and the killer uses a knee in the middle of the back. All a garrotte consists of is a length of wire – twisted wire in this case – and a metal or wooden grip at each end.’ She knelt down and pointed to livid purple marks on the back of Vine’s neck. ‘See how the wire crosses?’
Stick and Xena leaned forward.
‘Uh huh,’ Stick said.
Di formed fists facing upwards, as if she had a grip in the palm of each hand, crossed her forearms and pulled them outwards. ‘It wouldn’t take much strength with a garrotte to strangle a person.’
‘What about the car?’
‘Being processed now.’
‘At least we’ll have some background information when we question the woman,’ Stick suggested.
‘Not much,’ Xena said.
‘Nothing is ever good enough for you, is it?’ Di said.
‘Nothing is usually what I get from you.’
‘She doesn’t mean that,’ Stick chipped in.
Xena pushed him out of the way. ‘Yes she does mean that. Just do your job, and give me something I can use.’
A smiling Doc Paine came into the tent. ‘I trust everybody had a wonderful holiday and returned rejuvenated ready for the winter onslaught?’
Xena and Heffernan stared each other out.
Stick said, ‘Welcome, Doctor. The Inspector and Di are just having a little disagreement about the weather.’
‘So I can see.’
‘We were just about to go. When will you be doing the post mortem?’
‘Tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock.’
He grabbed Xena’s elbow. ‘We’ll see you then, Doc.’ He glanced at Di. ‘Thanks for your help Di. I’ll come up tomorrow morning and get an update.’
‘You’ll be welcome, Rowley. But don’t bring the sour-faced cow with you.’
‘Did you hear what she called me, Rowleeeeeey?’
‘I heard.’
They began walking back to the car. Thankfully, the press hadn’t found out where they were yet, but they both knew it wouldn’t be long before they would have to feed the beast.
‘I’ll be using you as my star witness when I haul her up on charges.’
‘Are you sure you want to do that?’
‘Meaning what?’
‘You know that I’m programmed to tell the truth. If I tell the disciplinary panel what Di said, I’ll also have to tell them what you said.’
‘I was as nice as grandma’s apple pie.’
‘Of course you were.’
‘And anyway, you’re my partner.’
‘You want me to lie for you to a disciplinary panel?’
‘That would be good.’
‘No, I can’t do that.’
‘After all I’ve done for you.’
‘For which I’m very grateful, but you seem to have forgotten all the things I’ve done for you, such as saving your life.’
‘Don’t try to riddle out of your responsibilities, Sticky nuts.’
They climbed into the car.
‘The hospital?’ Stick asked her.
‘Don’t talk to me. Can’t you see that I’m devastated by your betrayal?’
Chapter Four
Jerry walked down the three flights of stairs to Apartment 16/7 and knocked on the door. She knocked twice more, but each time there was no answer. Next, she tried Apartment 15/7, but the result was the same.
After knocking on Apartment 14/7, the door opened and a woman with short curly grey hair was standing there. ‘Hello?’
‘Are you the person who lives here?’
‘No, I’m the mother of the person who lives here.’
‘My name is Jerry Kowalski. I’m representing the woman who lives in Apartment 17/7.’
‘Uh huh. Do you have some form of identity?’
‘I have my student card.’ She took the card out of her purse and showed the lady.
‘You look a bit old to be a student.’
‘I’m a mature student doing a law degree at King’s College, London.’
