by M A Comley
“Huh, only work part-time, do you? I was expecting your call all evening, even cancelled a dinner engagement I’ve had planned for weeks, so that I wouldn’t miss you.”
“I apologise. The control room should have told you that I wouldn’t get back to you until this morning. And no, I don’t work part-time, just the usual forty-five to sixty hours a week.”
“Oh, I see. Right, do you want to come out to see me or what?”
Lorne’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “Can you tell me the information over the phone?”
“If you want. I thought you coppers liked to deal with such matters in person. Makes no odds to me, love.”
“If you’d rather that I came to see you in person, I can do that this morning.”
“I don’t care. Here’s what I know, you decide from there. I recognised the clobber you showed on the TV. My friend Elaine owns a jacket and shoes just like that. The picture was a little grainy on the TV last night, I couldn’t quite tell if it was her or not, but I think it was.”
Lorne scrabbled around for her pen and notebook. “Elaine what?”
“Crap, now you’re asking. It’s a weird name like Syps or something like that.”
“A foreign name?”
“Yeah, an unpronounceable one. Syps or Sypo. That’s the best I can do.”
“Do you have an address for Elaine? Does she live locally?” Lorne looked up to see Katy enter the incident room along with AJ. She waved and gave them the thumbs-up and pointed at the phone. They joined her, and she angled the notebook for them to see as she continued to jot down the address of the assumed victim.
“Yep, ten Minton Road. It’s a posh house. You can’t miss it, as it’s the biggest gaff on the street.”
“That’s brilliant. We’ll chase it up today. Does Elaine have any family?”
“Yeah, a husband, Joseph. He’s a businessman, doesn’t spend a lot of time at home.”
“You’ve been really helpful. Can I have your address? When was the last time you saw Elaine?”
The woman gave Lorne her address and pondered the last time she’d laid eyes on her friend. “Must be two to three weeks ago.”
“One last thing, do you have a contact number, a mobile number perhaps, for Elaine’s husband in case he’s not at the property?”
“Sorry. I don’t. They have a few members of staff. If you turn up at the house, I’m sure someone will be able to help you further.”
“Thanks, and I’m sorry for waking you up so early.”
“No problem. I hope the news is wrong and that Elaine is still alive and out there somewhere. It would be dreadful to think I won’t see her again.”
“I hope so too.”
Lorne hung up, reclined in her chair while AJ and Katy perched on the edge of the desk next to hers.
“Well, it looks like we might have an identification at last. How do you want to play this, Katy?”
“Shall we pay the hubby a visit now?”
Lorne nodded. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”
• • •
Lorne and Katy pulled up outside the large house that some might call a mansion, but over the years, Lorne had visited houses much larger and grander than this one. The driveway was empty, dampening their hopes of finding the husband at home.
The front door opened. A lanky man with a balding head enquired, “Yes, can I help?”
Not knowing the proper surname of the husband, Lorne asked, “Is the homeowner in please?”
The man looked them both up and down. “You don’t look like double-glazing sales people.”
Katy showed her warrant card. “We’re not. What is the proprietor’s name please?”
The man hesitated and frowned. “It’s, er…Mr. Syposz. He’s not here right now.”
“Syposz you say?” The man nodded. “What nationality is that?” Lorne asked, taking out her notebook. She added, “Can you spell that for me?”
He spelled it out and added, “Polish. Mr. Syposz is very well-educated and runs several businesses in this country, successful businesses, I hasten to add. A delivery firm is his main one.”
“A delivery firm? Delivering what?” Katy asked the man abruptly.
“What does it matter? He’s not here and not likely to be back until late this evening.”
“And the lady of the house? Is she in?” Lorne smiled at the man, trying to keep him on her side instead of pissing him off, like she suspected Katy’s tone of voice had.
“No. She’s away at present. If you leave me a card, I’ll get Mr. Syposz to contact you some time during the day.”
Katy took a step forward. “I’ve got a better idea. You give us your boss’s number and address where he can be reached, and we’ll get out of here.”
“But…”
“No buts, sir. His number or we’ll get a warrant to search the property.”
“What? Why on earth would you go to those lengths? What is this visit about?”
Katy shook her head. “That information is for Mr. Syposz’s ears only. His number is?”
The man’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll be right back.”
While they were waiting for him to return, Lorne leaned in and whispered, “Funny thing to say, ‘a delivery firm,’ isn’t it?”
“I guess we’ll find out what type of deliveries when we get there. That’s going to be our next stop.”
“Thought it might be.” Lorne winked at her.
The man returned and shoved a piece of paper at Katy. She took it from him. “I appreciate it, thank you. We’ll drop by and see Mr. Syposz later this afternoon. Goodbye.”
The man gave a curt nod and shut the door in their faces.
“Wise owl, telling him that.”
Smiling, Katy unlocked the car and they both got in. “Wouldn’t want Mr. Syposz receiving any unwanted tip-offs, would we?”
• • •
The office turned out to be on the ground floor of a three-storey townhouse about five miles away. Lorne and Katy entered the building without too much trouble, but the secretary typing on the computer thwarted their attempt to walk into the office unannounced.
“You can’t go in there. Who are you?”
Katy flashed her ID in the woman’s face. “Police. We don’t need an appointment. Is Mr. Syposz in? And don’t bother lying to us.”
The office door opened and the man standing in the doorway glared at them. “What’s going on here?”
Katy waved her ID in his face and introduced them. “We’re here to ask you a few questions, Mr. Syposz. May we come in?”
He stepped back to allow them access. When Lorne passed in front of the man, she could hear his breathing coming in short, sharp bursts.
He said, “Take a seat. Questions in regard to what?”
Lorne noticed that his accent was very faint and that he did indeed sound well-educated, as his butler, if you could call him that, had intimated.
Katy took charge of the questioning, while Lorne observed the man and his actions. It was her forte, people-watching, especially observing people under stress.
“Your wife.”
“I’m not with you, Inspector? What crime could my wife conceivably have committed?”
“Did I mention that she’d committed a crime?” Katy said, glancing Lorne’s way, wearing a confused expression.
Lorne played along. “No, I didn’t hear you mention that.”
“Then why are you here?” the man demanded.
“Where is your wife, Mr. Syposz?”
“On holiday, with her sister.” His response was calm, accompanied by a wide grin.
Lorne took an instant dislike to him, but she couldn’t pinpoint why.
“Where?”
“In Florida—that’s in the United States. Why?”
Ignoring his question, Katy pressed, “When did she leave?”
“About two weeks ago.” His hand crashed down on the desk. “I refuse to answer any more of your questions until you tell m
e why you are enquiring as to my wife’s whereabouts.”
“Have you heard from your wife since she left?”
“No. Damn you. I demand to know what this is all about!”
“And you have a contact address where we can reach your wife?”
He pushed his chair away from the desk and marched towards the door. “I’ve had enough. If you haven’t the decency to answer my questions, please leave.”
“Why are you so angry, Mr. Syposz?”
“I’m not. All right, I am. I’ve asked you a number of times to tell me what this is all about, and you’re intent on playing silly games. Games that I have very little time to play, Inspector. My business is a very busy one. Ten minutes out of my busy schedule could put my men back two or three days. Either get to the point or say goodbye.”
“Very well. Please take a seat,” Katy conceded.
Lorne could tell her partner’s smile belied the anger bubbling inside.
Once Syposz was seated again, Katy took a large breath before she said, “I regret to inform you that we believe your wife’s body was found earlier this week.” Katy showed him the photo of who they presumed to be his wife.
The man’s jaw hung open as the words registered. He shook his head slowly in disbelief, then, after the initial shock had died down, he buried his head in his hands and sobbed.
Lorne looked sideways at Katy, whose expression mirrored her own. It was too much—the man appeared to be playing up his role as the grieving widower. Maybe I’m being too harsh. Who knows how foreigners react to the death of a loved one compared to us Brits? It was hard for Lorne not to think badly of the man blubbering in front of her. She motioned with her head for Katy to keep questioning him.
Katy cleared her throat. “Mr. Syposz, is that your wife?”
“It’s difficult to make out. I think so.”
Continuing Katy asked, “I appreciate how upsetting this must be for you, but we still need to ask you more questions. The sooner we do that, the quicker we can catch the murderers.”
His hands dropped onto the table with a thud. “Murderers? I don’t understand. I thought you were telling me that my wife had died in an accident abroad.” He never looked at his wife’s picture again, instead his gaze drifted over to the window, he took a pressed white handkerchief from his trouser pocket, and wiped his eyes. He made a point of looking down at the cloth before glancing out the window.
Again, Lorne made a mental note of his actions. The way he was avoiding eye contact was a major sign that he wasn’t telling them everything.
“There are reasons why we won’t be asking you to make a formal identification of her body; however, we will be needing some form of DNA sample from your home. For instance a hairbrush…surely your wife has one?”
His hand pinched his forehead between his eyes. “I’m not sure. She might have taken it with her.”
Lorne nudged Katy with her knee and wriggled in her chair. Katy nodded once giving her permission to speak.
“Would you mind accompanying us to your house, Mr. Syposz?” Lorne questioned.
“For what reason? I’m confused.”
“There’s no need to be confused, sir. The sooner we get the DNA sample the better.”
“I’m confused, Inspector—”
Lorne shook her head. “I’m a sergeant. DS Warner.”
His mouth twisted as if annoyed by her interruption. He went on to discount Lorne completely and spoke directly to Katy instead. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I’m confused. You came here today to tell me that my wife’s body had been found and yet you’re asking me for DNA to verify her identity. How do you know that you have the right person?”
“Have you not seen the local news or read the evening paper this week?”
“No. I’ve been busier than normal. Making the most of my wife being out of the country, or so I thought. Why?”
Lorne inhaled a sharp breath, hoping that Katy wouldn’t show all her cards. “Your wife’s case was featured on Crimewatch and again last night on the local news, and in an article in the local paper.”
The man appeared to be perplexed as he thought over Katy’s statement. Is he guarding what he says? Or genuinely confused and unable to ask the obvious questions a husband in this situation would be asking?
“Unfortunately, your wife’s head was removed, which has made the task of identifying her all the more difficult.”
He flung himself back in his chair and began to bounce. “What? How? My God.” His hands covered his face and the sobbing took over once more.
It was all too much for Lorne. She nudged Katy’s knee again. Katy took the hint, forcing her to stop wasting time and ask, “Can we go to your house now, sir?”
His hands dropped, and he eyed Katy with disgust. Lorne winced, recognising that they were both about to receive a tongue-lashing.
“First you come in here and break this news to me abruptly, and then you go on to treat my grief in such an…offhand manner. While I appreciate your desire to get on with the case, I think your ‘sympathetic ear’ could definitely use an overhaul, Inspector. Have you no shame for the way you treat a grieving spouse?”
“I’m sorry you’ve taken it that way, Mr. Syposz. I have made it perfectly clear throughout this meeting how important it is that we get on with the case and find your wife’s murderers. If you want to drag your heels over this, then it’s going to cause us problems.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, for a start, our investigation will have to change course.”
The man sat upright and looked agitated by Katy’s tone. “I’m not with you, Inspector?”
“Maybe you know more about your wife’s death than you’re leading us to believe?”
He got to his feet and stormed round the desk, angrily shoving his face close to Katy’s. “Are you accusing me of murdering my wife?”
Katy raised an eyebrow and turned to face Lorne. “Did I imply that, Sergeant?”
Lorne shook her head and her mouth turned down at the sides. “I didn’t hear it come out as that, ma’am.”
“Sit down, sir. Intimidation tactics don’t work on us, I’m afraid.”
The man backed up, instead of sitting down as requested. He stood over by the window. It was at that moment Lorne wished she could read minds.
What’s going on it that head of yours?
Reluctantly, he said, “I’m sorry. I was wrong to behave that way. What do you want from me?”
“Apology accepted. We need to go to your house right now and collect several of your wife’s belongings.”
“Very well.”
The three of them left the office after Mr. Syposz informed his secretary that he wouldn’t be gone long. He hopped in his red Porsche, and Katy and Lorne followed him back to his house. He left them waiting in the car while he nipped inside the house and returned with a hairbrush, toothbrush, and the bathroom glass his wife used to rinse her mouth after brushing her teeth in the morning. Lorne put on plastic gloves, took the items from him, and popped them into a clear evidence bag.
“Can I get back to work now?”
Katy nodded. He walked over to his car, but halted when Katy called after him, “We need your wife’s sister’s address and phone number…and also your wife’s flight details before you leave, sir.”
His eyes widened in anger. He slammed the car door shut and stomped into the house again. He then exited the house with a sheet of paper in hand, which he thrust at Katy, and marched back to his car. He roared out of the drive, throwing up gravel, some of which skittered across the bonnet of their car as he left.
“Not too happy about that, I’d guess.” Lorne laughed. “Pretty spiky throughout our meeting, I thought. Not sure what to make of the guy so far. Should we be delving into his background too?”
“Yep, I reckon. I’m of the same opinion—his actions were way off the mark back in his office. Of course, we might be doing him an i
njustice.”
“It’ll be interesting to see what we can come up with all the same.”
“Let’s not dwell on it for now. Onwards to the sister’s house, yes?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A woman in her early thirties smiled at them as she opened the porch door to her tiny cottage. “Hello.”
“Tania Meadon?”
“I am. And you are?” She folded her arms and tilted her head a little.
Katy flashed her ID and introduced them. “We’re wondering if you can help us with our enquiries?”
“You better come in.” They walked into the low-beamed lounge that was dominated by an inglenook fireplace. “Please, take a seat.”
“Thank you.” They both sat on the sofa opposite the woman’s preferred choice of a winged Queen Anne chair. Katy continued, “Can you tell us when you last saw your sister, Elaine?”
“Let me think, possibly three weeks ago.”
“According to her husband, you should have been on holiday with her at this moment?”
The woman nodded. “That’s right. You’re worrying me. What’s this all about?”
Katy smiled at the woman. “So it’s your belief that your sister is out of the country. Where?”
“We booked a hotel in Florida. Unfortunately, I had to postpone at the last minute. Has something happened to Elaine?”
“Yes, I have to regretfully inform you that your sister’s body was recovered this week.” One of Tania’s hands covered her mouth while the other clung to the area of her jumper over her heart. Lorne and Katy waited patiently for the woman to recover sufficiently enough before Katy said, “We’re treating the case as a murder enquiry. Can I ask why your sister was leaving to go on holiday alone? Why wasn’t the holiday postponed for another date?”
“An opening arose for me to have a mole removed, possible cancer. I had to jump at the chance before the slot was offered to someone else.”
“And your sister refused to postpone or cancel her holiday?”
“She needed the break. It was my idea for her to stick with the arrangement. My God, I can’t believe she’s dead. In a strange country, too. God, what about her body? Should I go out there and bring her back? Repatriate her? Does her husband know about this?”
