by Emily Selby
'And?' Katie asked, staring at him. He was so annoyingly economical with sharing information early in the case!
She opened her mouth to make a stinging comment but closed it as quickly as a realisation hit her. Actually, this was an interesting pattern that fitted with his personality.
'Is it a real postcard? I mean,' she added, seeing his eyebrow crawling up. 'Was it written by him? What about fingerprints?'
Jack's face relaxed a little.
'From my very quick look, the card is probably not entirely real. The greetings are handwritten, and Mrs Weatherspoon believes it's his, but the address has been printed and glued onto the card. Also, in my amateur graphologist opinion, the content of the card was written by two different people. I think Archie Blackburn might have started writing the message, but it was finished by someone trying hard to make it look like it was in his hand.'
'I see. Fingerprints?'
'Sent to the lab.'
'What about the card Erin received?'
'I haven't seen that one yet. She's looking for it.'
The door screeched, and the hallway filled with voices.
'SOCOs have arrived,' Jack said, turning to walk out of the kitchen.
'What?' Katie asked.
'Scenes of Crime Officers,' Jack explained and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. 'Let's get going, shall we?' he added.
As he was already in the hallway, she wasn't sure if his words were directed at her or at two people in the hallway, dressed in white coveralls, so she stayed put.
Jack and the SOCOs marched into Archie's room and Katie watched them from the hallway, leaning on the door frame.
The officers swiftly moved around the room which, although much fresher, seemed smaller when crowded with people. Jack headed straight for the diary on the table, flicked through it and slid it into a clear evidence bag.
'What's that?' he asked, examining the brass knob on the shelf.
'It was on the cupboard door, to your left,' Katie explained and added a brief summary of the cupboard fridge and the bag of potatoes story.
Jack listened, nodding.
'Did the room look like this when you walked in here this morning?' he asked.
'Yes, except for the smell,' Katie replied.
'It doesn't look like he had a party here the day before he disappeared.'
'I think he was a bit obsessed with cleanliness and order. Besides, two visitors don't really make that much mess, do they?' Katie said smugly.
Jack arched his brow. 'I see you're well informed,' he said in a clipped voice.
Katie mentally stuck her tongue at him, keeping her actual facial expression as perfectly neutral as she could.
'It's what Mrs Weatherspoon told me.' She explained the disinfectant and dishes issue. 'What do you know?' Katie asked Jack, hoping he'd be less stingy since she’d given him so much information.
'His daughter came in by herself,' he replied in a tone a little warmer than before. 'Her boyfriend or rather ex-boyfriend was also invited, but he didn't turn up. She bumped into someone who Mr Blackburn introduced to her as an old friend, but didn't name. That old friend was leaving when she arrived. We're trying to identify him. Any intelligence on this one, Detective Redford?'
A warm wave crept on Katie's cheeks. Nice to be appreciated...
'Sadly, not yet. Apparently, Archie was a lonely man.'
'Yet, someone came to his so-called birthday party and even offered him a job. I can probably safely assume the subsequent "staying with his friend for longer," was a ploy to gain time.'
'A ploy? By whom? What for?' Katie rattled off her questions, stopping just before the 'so-it-was-a-murder' rolled onto her tongue.
'Good questions. Probably by someone who wanted to cover up the fact that Mr Blackburn was dead before posting those cards.'
'How do you know he didn't come back to the house after he went away with his friend? Can you already tell without an autopsy?'
'No. You're right, I can't. But it looks like the victim was quite peculiar about noting everything down. Maybe except secret jobs for friends,' Jack added. 'But he wrote down a little note about that thing on the 27th, there is nothing after that until early December, when he has a doctor's appointment with a question mark and a mid-December note on sending a Christmas card to Erin. Did you say there were potatoes in a bag on the floor?'
'Yes, why?'
Jack crossed back to the table and took the diary out of the evidence bag. He flicked through a few pages. 'Here,' he said, '27th at mid-day, he was to do some shopping, noted: potatoes, tea, sugar,' Jack carried on. 'I guess, judging by what I've heard, he did not come back home that evening; otherwise, he would have put the potatoes away.'
'Agreed. What about the doctor's appointment?'
'He didn't attend. I checked with the surgery and spoke to the practice nurse who told me about a missed appointment. She thinks this might have been because he was directed to see a different doctor, not the one he used to see.'
Now, it was Katie's turn to arch her brow. 'Why did he have to be directed to see another doctor? They don't do it lightly, from what I've heard.'
'The nurse wouldn't disclose anything, but I'll arrange to talk to his doctor. He was seen a few times lately, which was unusual. Apparently, Mr Blackburn had been avoiding doctors for a while.'
Interesting comment. Why was Archie Blackburn directed to see another doctor? Didn't Mrs Weatherspoon say Archie hated doctors? Katie made a mental note to explore it further.
'Have you found his bike?'
Jack made a tip of a hat gesture again.
'You're keeping the pace up, I must say,' he said. 'No, not yet, but we've only searched the property at Number 1, Stream Drive and the direct environment. I understand you're now neighbours with-'
'With a derelict house where someone died under suspicious circumstances?' Katie cut in. 'Yes. And how do you know that? Been gossiping?'
'Only to your new neighbour, and our old friend, Mr Roy Dunbar.'
'So, you know about the tire marks and a car stopping by the old house on the day after Archie's death, or shall I still call it disappearance?'
Jack sighed. 'I think we're safe to assume he died on the 27th of November in the late afternoon.'
Katie nodded. She already knew that. 'How long will you be here?' she asked, glancing at her watch. It was nearly 4 pm.
'A couple of hours, give or take. Do you need to go?'
'Quite soon,' she replied. 'Here is a deal for you. I'll leave you the key. When you’ve finished, check the house is secured, with no food or other perishables laying around and return the key to me. I've promised Mrs Weatherspoon.'
'Deal,' Jack replied simply, but the twinkle in his eye told her he wasn’t upset at having to take her instructions.
Katie handed the key across. A senior police officer should be able to secure a house to the elderly homeowner's standards, shouldn't he?
She rushed from the house, keen to have some headspace to process all the information she had just acquired before Julia was back home.
6
The pre-Christmas traffic slowed her down so much that when she finally arrived home, she barely had time to whip together a simple evening meal for herself and Julia before rushing out again to pick her daughter up from the holiday program.
That morning, she’d promised Julia they were going to put up the tree and there was no way she could put it off any longer. Julia was spending the week between Christmas and New Year with her dad in York, and she wanted to enjoy the festive atmosphere in her own bedroom. This was going to be their first Christmas in the new house, and Katie was keen to make it as festive as she could stand. Moreover, the fact it was 18th of December and they didn't have decorations up, was all Katie's fault.
'Too much crime, not enough normal life,' Katie murmured to herself, draining pasta and putting it aside in the colander. When all the ingredients were ready to be put in the oven once she’d returned with Julia, Katie grabb
ed her keys and left.
The afternoon proceeded at a fast pace, with Julia and Katie decorating the tree and putting up multiple stars, reindeers and Santas all over Julia's bedroom and the living room. Katie defended her right to a glitter-and-jingle-bells-free zone in her own room but gave in when Julia wanted to hang the remaining elves and stars in the kitchen.
'Now, the wreath,' Julia said. 'Where is it?'
Katie jumped down from the chair she was using to attach the last star to the top of the curtains. 'It should be in the box where the tree was.'
Julia dived into the box. 'It isn't here. Did we even take it from our old house?'
Katie paused, casting her mind back and chewing on her cheek. 'I'm not sure, baby. I'll get a new one.' A sudden thought crossed her mind. 'From the garden centre,' she added.
A catch up with Dorothy Ravencroft was never wasted time.
Katie’s phone rang just as Julia headed to the living room to watch her daily allowance of TV. She read the caller ID, Jack, and her heart leaped.
'I'm outside, with the key. May I come in?'
Darn it, how do I look?
Fully occupied with the decorating, she’d forgotten Jack was going to bring the key back.
'Coming downstairs right now,' Katie replied and ran to open the door, pausing to check her hair in the hall mirror on her way to the head of the stairs.
Jack's usually pale cheeks burned a little, and his dark hair was ruffled. White smudges broke the dark elegance of his trousers. She wondered if he was still wearing the birthday jumper under his winter jacket.
'Find out anything interesting?' Katie asked, taking the key to Mrs Weatherspoon's house from his hand and beckoning him in out of the cold.
He sneaked in and closed the door.
'Beside a year's supply of hospital strength hand sanitiser, basic foods, meticulously folded wash-out clothes and a few technical books, nothing. He lived a simple, modest life.'
'And yet someone wanted him dead,' Katie blurted out.
His eyes glinted.
'I see you've made up your mind. A hunch?' he asked and blew out a breath, which showed as a little white cloud in the air. Katie watched it disappear, desperately trying to come up with some evidence to support her statement. Over the previous few weeks, she had made an effort to be more logical and analytical in her thinking. Yes, she wanted to become involved in serious crime solving, so she needed to work on it. She should pop into the bookshop and get that book on thinking styles she saw the other day.
She folded her arms. Somehow, it gave her a tiny boost of confidence.
'Have you found his bike?' she asked.
'We did. In the stream, further up.'
'How do you know it was his bike. A hunch?'
His jaw tensed. 'No. Not a hunch. I do collect evidence to support my hypotheses,' he said slowly. 'There was a bottle of his favourite hand sanitiser in a sack attached to the frame. As the sack was floating, it was nearly dry inside. We may be even able to find some latent fingerprints on the bottle.'
'I see... But they would be Mr Blackburn’s fingerprints, presumably.'
Jack nodded.
'Then, here's my theory and evidence to support my hunch. A man who seems to be unconnected to anyone dies in an incident in a derelict building. The incident might have been staged. The perpetrator visits the site the following day. He or she also sends a postcard to the dead man’s landlady to buy time or create an alibi for themselves.'
Jack smiled. 'You may want to add the card they sent to his daughter as well, if this can support your hu-, your hypothesis I mean.'
Katie pressed her lips and clasped her arms with more force. 'I am respectful of your methods, why can't you show me the same respect?' she asked through her teeth.
'I'm not disrespectful to your methods, it's just that I'm still waiting for evidence to support your claim it was a murder.'
Katie ran her tongue around her paper-dry mouth. 'The bike. Why would anyone throw his bike into the stream? You can't claim he did it himself because that's just stupid. He would have had to walk home, and it's too far. If his death was accidental the bike would have been found opposite the workshop or further down the stream, not up where you found it. It might have been a prank, but honestly, I can't see this as such. Who would have done it? And why such a coincidence: a staged accident and a prank coinciding?' Katie paused to catch a quick breath and carried on. 'But I can see how someone might have wanted the bike to spend some time in the water to remove any forensic evidence. And, let's not forget the bike wasn't seen around the property on Tuesday when Roy was mowing the lawns.
'So, it must have been already in the stream, or still on the property during Roy’s visit. Someone must have moved it then, and it wasn't Mr Blackburn. He might have been eccentric, but I don't imagine him parking his bike in the water and up the stream. Does my hypothesis make more sense now?' She finished her tirade and had to buckle her knees, otherwise, she would have wobbled. Where did all this come from? Did she really manage to connect all those dots by herself? When did it happen?
He stared at her, his piercing blue eyes seeming to drill right into her brain.
'All right.' He shoved his hands into the pocket of his jacket. 'You've got a point. The bike is a strange thing.' He looked away and when he turned his face towards her again, there was a sparkle of admiration in his eyes. 'Good thinking,' he said warmly.
She nodded, basking in the glory a little longer than she probably should.
'Before I go then, do you have any news for me?' he asked.
Katie's cheeks burned.
'Oh, I'm such a bad hostess. I've been keeping you on the landing. I should have invited you properly in,' she blabbered. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'
'No, that's fine.' He waved his hand. 'I've got to go, sorry. So have you heard about anything that may be relevant?'
'Nothing yet, but I'll do my sniffing around, pardon the pun.' She flinched, remembering it was her literal sniffing that brought on this case. 'Did you find any fingerprints in the room or on the postcards?'
'The cards were difficult to process. Lots of prints, some were his, others were probably postal workers, not much of use. In the room, mainly his, two more sets on the broken door handle, one, belonging to you, and the other - presumably of the landlady, as there were similar ones all over the house. We found another set on a couple of drawer handles.'
'Yes, both Mrs Weatherspoon and I touched the broken handle,' Katie confirmed. 'I don't think I touched anything in the room besides the paper bag and cleaning the carpet. The unidentified set, maybe it's his daughter's or the mysterious friend's?'
'I think they’re from his daughter. They are definitely female. We can now determine the gender of the person who left the prints with quite a high accuracy. And Erin Blackburn said she'd moved around the room and touched a few things when she was there that Sunday.'
'Interesting,' she said, making a note to get some more books on forensic science from the local library for the holiday season. Or maybe try and borrow some from Jack?
'What is she saying about her final meeting with her dad, the so-called birthday party?'
'He invited her. He didn't normally celebrate birthdays, but it was his big sixty, she said, and he had a thing for round numbers. He called her a few times, begging her to come to his party. Apparently, they had been estranged, but she wanted to give him another chance. Do you know anything about it?'
'Sadly, not much,' she said and shivered. It was a chilly evening, frost was in the air, and the front door was a bit drafty. 'I'll see what I can collect.'
'You go back into the warmth, Katie,' he said quietly and put his hand on her arm. Her skin burned even through the two layers of clothing she was wearing. 'I don't want you to catch anything nasty.'
'Exceptcatching the nasty murderer of an eccentric old man?' she said, cocking her head. The warmth from her arm spread over her chest. Was it only two nights ago when he walked her back to h
er car after the lovely dinner and held her hand a little longer than necessary for a platonic handshake?
'Oh, that...' he gasped. 'No catching of criminals. It's my job, okay? Figuring out who it is, gathering evidence to support your hunches, and insisting that I listen to you - definitely yes, but not getting yourself into dangerous situations, please. I care too much about you to let anything bad happen.'
Her chest filled with fluttering butterflies.
'And, it's your duty to share any potentially important information relevant to this case with me,' he added, looking at her severely.
'And vice versa,' she cut it and patted his hand. She held his gaze until he pulled his hand away from her arm. The spot still tingled.
'Okay, I promise,' he said. He turned on his heel, opened the door and a few seconds later, he was back in his car, driving away.
Katie hugged herself tight. The sound of her ringtone filled the silence behind her back.
She shut the door on the howling winter wind and ran back upstairs.
Who was calling her now?
7
Katie accepted the call from Mrs Weatherspoon.
'Hello, Katie, how did it go?' she asked.
'They came, they saw, and they conquered,' Katie replied and corrected herself immediately. 'I mean, they collected some fingerprints and other stuff around the house.'
'Did they find anything to explain what happened?'
'I'm not sure,' Katie said slowly, suddenly becoming acutely aware of every word leaving her mouth.
"Do you think Archie's death was an accident, or, you know...' Mrs Weatherspoon's voice broke into a whisper. 'A murder?'
Katie cleared her throat and chose a safe response. 'What do you think, Mrs Weatherspoon? Can you think of anyone who might have wanted poor Mr Blackburn dead?'
Mrs Weatherspoon smacked her lips a few times.
'Honestly, I can't. He didn't have many friends, poor Archie, but I can't imagine him having any enemies either.'
'What about his ex-wife?'
'But Katie,' Mrs Weatherspoon gasped. 'She's been dead for years!'
