“Cheers, guys.” He winked at Frances who was perched on the edge of Cal’s desk.
She smiled.
“Okay. I know you’re all wondering why I’ve called you together. But something else has come to light and I need to run it past you.”
“Intriguing,” Frances said. They all muttered their agreement.
“What would you say if I told you we missed something vital? And that Muldoon isn’t our killer?”
“What do you mean?” Les barked, not amused in the slightest.
“Is this a joke?” Ginger Dave got to his feet.
The others grumbled something but Adam didn’t catch what.
He waited for them to settle down again.
“Let’s go back to the first murder. What did we learn?”
“Sally’s apartment had been trashed and her neighbour knifed to death,” Cal volunteered.
“They are the facts, but what did we learn? Frances? What did you learn?”
“About Sally?”
He shrugged. “If you like.”
“She’d recently split with her boyfriend, her boss. He left her for another woman. Also a colleague.”
Adam nodded.
“What else.”
Frances chewed her lip. “We found out Muldoon was abusive and a womaniser.”
“Did anything strike you as odd at that moment?” Adam pressed.
“I guess I wondered why she would be so upset with him being such a douche-bag and all.”
Adam nodded. “What else did we learn?”
Frances’ forehead furrowed. “That Sally was Charlie Kemp’s daughter?”
“Okay. So Sally Kemp, daughter of the ex-Chief Constable, is the target. She happened to be away from home at the time which probably saved her life. She’s our main priority. Right?”
They all nodded in agreement.
“Michael Curtis, a gentle ex-naval officer, had been either coaxed out of his apartment, or else he heard the commotion and approached the culprit. Either way, he wound up dead. Our first victim.”
The team listened intently.
“Lana Davis, the other woman, told us she finished with Muldoon because of something Sally confided in her. She said he lost the plot, and when Dean, her father, arrived home they had an altercation resulting in Muldoon being punched by the older man. Nobody saw him after that.”
“We know all this, boss. Tell us something juicy,” Ginger Dave said.
The rest sniggered.
“All in good time, Dave. Who examined Muldoon’s office and laptop?”
“I did, boss.” Ginger Dave said.
“And what did you find?”
“Absolutely nothing.” Dave shook his head.
“What did his workmates say about him?”
“That he was a nice guy. Hardworking, respectful, but he kept himself to himself outside work hours,” Julie offered shyly.
Les nodded. “They all said the same. He was focused and really just lived for his job.”
“Didn’t that strike you as odd? That a man so devoted to his career would face losing everything over a fling?”
“Stranger things happen, boss.” Ginger Dave shrugged.
“I agree. It struck me as odd, I must admit,” Adam continued. “We interviewed Lana, and that night she and her father were murdered in their sleep. The excrement left at the scene matched Muldoon’s DNA. Muldoon was on the missing list, having left without his phone, wallet or car. How can that be?”
He glanced at them all, one at a time. They all shrugged, shaking their heads.
“Imagine there had been no murders. What if a missing person report was the first time we heard of Muldoon? His personal belongings are found at the hotel. His car found in the car park. Vanished off the face of the earth. What would’ve been our first reaction?”
“Abduction, boss,” Julie said.
Adam raised his eyebrows and nodded. “We’d have assumed foul play. A man doesn’t just go missing. But because we already have his name in relation to a homicide, we automatically assume he’s absconded because he’s guilty.”
“But the evidence,” Frances said. “We found Muldoon’s fingerprints on the murder weapon used to kill Michael Curtis, and also on the crowbar used to access Sally’s apartment. Not forgetting the bloodstained clothing in his car.”
“If you had a man locked up, trying to frame him for something, how easy would it be to get hold of his fingerprints? His hair? His crap for that matter?”
A collective gasp went around the room.
“Natasha Barker, another of Muldoon’s exes, spoke to the local news team. She gave Muldoon and Sally a proper slating. That same night Natasha and her friend were attacked and killed. Same DNA, same murder weapon, no fingerprints, no footprints, even though the path leading to the house was a quagmire. Why would someone go to the trouble of hiding these things when he’s leaving his calling card anyway?”
“Because it wasn’t Muldoon, boss,” Cal said.
“Do you all agree that we missed some crucial clues? We all seemed to be suffering from tunnel vision. Beautiful Sally Kemp, daughter of the ex-chief, told us Muldoon did it, and we accepted that as gospel.”
They all looked sheepish as they nodded.
“I’m as much to blame. But now, we need to put this right. Agreed?”
“Agreed, boss.”
“Several other instances occurred. On Friday night, I saw someone tampering with Amanda’s new car. By the time I got outside, they were gone, but as you know I found a message for me on the windscreen. Then, on Sunday, someone entered my house and did the opposite of ransacking it. To be honest, after a hectic morning with the kids, it already looked as though it had been ransacked.”
They all laughed.
“Whoever entered, tidied the house from top to bottom.” He pointed at the photos showing his kitchen cupboards and the dishcloth over the tap. “They blocked the toilet up with a mound of turd. Then they climbed on my bed, leaving hair on the pillow and marks on the duvet where their shoes finished.” He passed the photo around. “Now, I’m six-four and Muldoon six-two. Last night, I measured the marks in relation to the pillow, and there’s no way Muldoon did this. This person couldn’t have been more than five-seven.”
“That’s quite short for a bloke,” Ginger Dave said.
“Hold that thought, Dave.”
“On Monday morning, I received this.” He handed the envelope around, giving them a few minutes to get the gist of the contents. “I didn’t say anything to you as I just thought it was a wind-up, not for one minute thinking it could be associated to the case. But later on, Sally showed us a similar envelope. It contained photographs of her at her father’s bedside, taken the night before, while the PPU were outside.”
“Cheeky bastard,” Les said.
“That same day, the DCI received an exact copy of that lot.” He pointed to the envelope. “He obviously had to report it, and now Amanda and I are under investigation.”
“They don’t think you kidnapped her though, do they, boss?”
“Of course not. But that won’t stop them digging up as much dirt as they can.”
“True,” Cal said. “I’m sorry, boss. You don’t need this right now.”
“Monday night, someone broke into the Kemp household and cut the throats of Charlie and his nurse, Dana Morgan. Charlie was already close to death and thankfully wouldn’t have felt a thing, but Dana didn’t move from her chair when the killer stabbed her in the throat. She bled out fast and furiously, the blood coating most of the room.”
He paused as they muttered amongst themselves for a few seconds.
“Sally said she made herself some beans on toast, and after a nap she had a long soak in the bath. Afterwards, she dressed in a silky, satiny number, styled her hair and applied a full face of make-up. She then went downstairs to say goodnight to her dad.”
“Goodnight?” Julie said, surprised. “Why did she get dressed and made up just to say goodnight?�
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Adam was pleased she’d picked up on that discrepancy. “Yes, I also thought that a bit odd when she told me. Anyway, she got downstairs and Muldoon confronted her in the hallway. After a scuffle, she vomited on the carpet, taking the opportunity to run when he backed off in disgust. He lunged for her, slipping on her vomit and crashed to the floor dropping the knife. Sally raced to grab the knife and stabbed him in the chest. End of Muldoon.”
“But I thought the killer wasn’t Muldoon?” Julie said.
Adam held one finger up before continuing. “Felix called me to his examination room. Not a drop of blood was found on Muldoon, apart from his own, yet the evidence showed he hadn’t washed in a week. His feet were filthy, underneath his shoes and clean socks.” He opened a box and took out a bag containing a pair of running shoes and handed them to Cal. “He wore freshly laundered clothes, but he was caked in dirt, mainly faeces. Felix said in-between his buttocks looked as though he hadn’t wiped in a while.”
Frances gagged again.
“Look at the laces, Cal. What do you see?”
“The knots are the wrong way round, as though someone else tied them from the front.” Cal smiled, pleased with himself.
“And Felix found Muldoon’s own blood on his foot, underneath his socks and shoes, indicating someone put them on after Muldoon was stabbed.”
“In fact, under his clothes, he resembled a person who’d been shut up in a room for a week. And get this, his stomach contents revealed beans on toast.”
Ginger Dave shook his head. “You mean to say—”
Adam held up his hand. “Hold on, before you say anything, let’s examine the evidence.”
Chapter 45
Adam straddled a chair before continuing.
“Okay, now think. Who is the only other person who had a grudge or anything to gain from each of the killings? Aside from Michael Curtis, whose death was most likely collateral damage?”
He glanced around at the blank faces. Ginger Dave looked bored.
Adam took a deep breath before continuing. “Lana Davies betrayed Sally in the worst way possible—she stole her boyfriend. Getting rid of Dean was a smart move, and something Miles would have done if he was indeed the killer.”
“Still don’t get you, boss,” Cal said, looking at the rest of the team.
“You will. Think of the news interview. Natasha Barker blamed everything on Sally calling her some terrible names. Angela Smith just happened to find herself caught up in it all.”
“Now hang on a minute.” Ginger Dave said, suddenly interested.
Adam raised his hand again. “Charlie Kemp was all but dead anyway and possibly becoming a nuisance. Or maybe he and Dana Morgan witnessed something.” He dropped his notepad to the desk.
“There are a lot of maybes in your theory, boss,” Les said.
“I know. But bear with me. When Frances and I visited Sally’s apartment yesterday, she proceeded to tell me how much she enjoys cleaning. I offered to fetch a glass of water for her and, after searching several cupboards for a glass, I noticed each cupboard was in perfect order, just like this.” He pointed once again at the photo. “And her dishcloth was folded perfectly and hung on the tap exactly like someone had done at my house.” He glanced around at them all again. They all stared at him, open-mouthed. “Sally is five-seven, an incredibly good actress, but she is also our killer. Of that I’m in no doubt.”
“What about the photos taken from outside the house showing Sally at her father’s bedside?” Frances said.
“Most phones and cameras have built-in timers. A great way of cementing her place as a victim and a target,” Adam said.
“But...I still don’t understand. The house was being watched. How did she get past the PPU?” Julie asked.
“That was one of the sticking points I had last night, but this morning I read the reports, and they mentioned the comings and goings of two nurses, one driving a green Volkswagen Passat, the other a blue Honda. There was always at least one nurse with Mr Kemp at all times. But sometimes they both stayed.” He let the information sink in for a few seconds. “So, I got to thinking, after a long shift, why didn’t they leave as soon as the next nurse arrived? One night the second nurse arrived, the first one left, only to return again two hours later.”
“So what does all that mean? I’m still lost,” Frances said.
“I called the nursing agency and they informed me that Dana Morgan was the only nurse on their books working for Mr Kemp. His daughter was his second carer.”
Frances drew a sudden breath. “But why did the PPU think Sally was the nurse?”
“She more than likely wore a disguise, and used a different car. I checked the number plate details off the PPU report and the supposed nurse’s green Volkswagen Passat was registered to Charlie Kemp.”
“Fuck me, boss! You’re amazing,” Les said.
Ginger Dave threw his hands in the air. “Nah. I still don’t buy it. No way would little Sally do that. Not to her own dad.” He began pacing, angrily.
“Dave, the little girl you remember grew up. And she’s clever. She almost got away with it. But believe me, she did this.”
Dave scowled at Adam and turned away.
“So what do you want us to do, boss? It seems you’ve got enough to go on already,” Cal said.
“As far as my superiors are concerned, we’ve had a result—Muldoon is out of the picture and everything is cut and dried. No loose ends. Just the way they like it. Now I have to go back to them with this little lot and convince them we’ve made a mistake. The problem is Sally makes a convincing victim. If we don’t have enough evidence, she’ll walk.”
“So we need to do some digging?” Julie said.
“Exactly. We need to find out every little detail of Sally Kemp’s past. She’s clever, but we’re one step ahead because she isn’t aware we’re on to her. We need to find out where the hell she kept Muldoon locked up. It would need to be somewhere isolated. Otherwise, somebody surely would’ve heard his cries for help or, at the very least, witnessed some strange comings and goings.”
They clambered to their feet, eager to begin.
“Frances, I don’t intend for you to stay. Get off home. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Not on your life, boss. I want to stitch the bitch up as much as you do.”
“Please yourself. I’ll begin compiling the evidence. Cal, could you arrange a meeting with the DCI for this afternoon? Hopefully we’ll have more to show him by then. If not, I’ll just wing it.”
“Will do, boss.”
“Julie. Will you check Monday morning’s CCTV footage from the front desk? Let’s see who dropped the envelope off.”
Julie nodded and rushed to her desk.
Ginger Dave turned and strode from the room.
“Where’s he going?” Frances asked.
Adam shook his head. “I’ve no idea.” He left them all hard at it and went into his office. DCI Williamson wouldn’t have time to spare to listen to the whole scenario. He would break it all into bite-sized chunks, and hope he had enough to convince his boss they needed a search warrant, if not a warrant for Sally’s arrest.
Cal appeared in his doorway. “Appointment booked for three-thirty, boss. The DCI only has ten minutes to spare, though.”
Adam shook his head in annoyance. “How the hell will I condense this little lot down to ten minutes and get him to take me seriously?”
“I can help you, boss.”
Adam scrubbed his hands over his face and groaned. “Nah, you’re alright, Cal. I can do it.”
The reports spoke for themselves. Yet trawling through them would take more than the allotted ten minutes, so he compiled a bullet list with a reference link to the relevant report.
He knew the DCI wouldn’t want the shit storm without concrete evidence, yet looking at the list it was all circumstantial.
He could hear the DCI’s comments without even showing him. Nothing he hadn’t said to himself several ti
mes already. But call it a gut feeling—he knew. He just fucking knew.
After a few hours reading and re-reading the file, he got to his feet and stretched. Without more evidence, an arrest was out of the question. Unless Sally made a full and frank confession based on what he already had. But there was little or no chance of that.
“How’s everyone doing?” he asked hopefully, as he walked into the main office. He nodded at Ginger Dave who had returned and was sitting back at his desk.
Everyone shook their heads apologetically.
“Nothing yet,” Frances said. “She’s got no prior convictions. In fact she’s squeaky clean.”
“I’m trying to find any derelict buildings close by, but I’m not having much luck,” Les said.
“Maybe she used her apartment?” Cal piped up.
Adam shook his head. “It was a crime scene for a few days and he definitely wasn’t there then.”
“Oops, I forgot.” Cal winced.
“No, it’s okay. The place must be somewhere as close and as convenient as the apartment. But where?”
Cal shrugged.
“Maybe check with the council. See if either Sally or Charlie Kemp own any other properties in the area.”
“Will do, boss.”
“I need to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. What do you all want from the bakery? My shout,” Adam said.
Ginger Dave suddenly perked up and rubbed his rotund stomach. “Steak pie and a custard slice for me, boss.”
“Julie?”
“Hmm, the same as Dave, please.”
“Les?”
“Nothing for me, thanks. I brought a packed lunch.”
“You sure? How about a cake?”
“I have some rich tea biscuits, I’m fine.”
Adam shrugged. “Suit yourself. What can I get you, Frances?”
“Oh, surprise me. I’ll make a pot of tea.”
“Cal?”
“A chicken salad roll, please?”
“Okay, shan’t be long.”
Adam strolled along the street to the bakery in the next block, calling Amanda as he walked.
“Hi, Daddy. We were just talking about you,” she said.
“Who’s we?”
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