by Tim Ellis
Toadstone wrote down a name and telephone number on a piece of paper. ‘The Graphologist, Sir.’
Parish took the scrap of paper. ‘Thanks, Toadstone. Is… Amanda Sprinkles… Another strange name… Is she a member of Mensa as well?’
‘Yes, she is.’
‘With our ordinary names, Richards, we’ve got no chance of being accepted as geniuses. Right, as much as I’d like to chew the fat with you Toadstone, Richards and I have got to go and tell the Chief that we have no clues, no leads, and no chance of catching the killer.’
Parish headed for the door.
‘Could I have a word, Mary,’ Toadstone said.
‘I’ll wait outside, Richards, but remember I have the attention span of a gnat.’
‘I remember, Sir.’
Outside, he walked along the corridor to the Reception desk and introduced himself to the blonde-bobbed Receptionist, whose name was Wendy Morgan. He discovered that she knew who he was, and that she’d been working as a receptionist in forensics for three months. She flirted with him, and passed him her number. He said thanks and put it in his pocket, but told her he was already taken.
‘I’m ready when you are, Sir,’ Richards said rather loudly.
Parish smiled and said goodbye to Wendy Morgan.
As they walked down the stairs Richards said, ‘I hope you’re not cheating on my mum already, Sir?’
‘I thought we’d talked about separating home from work, Richards?’
‘That doesn’t mean you can two-time my mum with a trollop, and I won’t say anything.’
‘Did you see me kissing her? Were we having sex on the floor behind the reception desk? Did you hear me arrange an assignation in a dingy hotel room for later tonight? No, Richards, you didn’t see or hear any of those things. We were talking, she began flirting with me and gave me her number, I said I was already spoken for. You have to remember that I’m a fantastic looking guy with a brilliant personality. Wherever I go women desire me, but for your information I’m not the type of guy who cheats on a woman and you should know that already, Richards. And anyway, I think I’ve found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Have you got any more accusations or questions?’
‘Sorry, Sir. Does that mean you’re going to marry my mum so that I won’t be an orphan anymore?’
‘Shut up, Richards. Anyway, what did you tell Toadstone?’
‘I told him that because he’s a work colleague, I couldn’t possibly go out with him.’
‘Good move, Richards.’
‘Thanks, Sir.’
‘It also means that you can’t go out with anyone else at the station that might take your fancy.’
‘Oh yes, I forgot about that.’
***
Parish knocked on the Chief’s door.
‘Come in, Parish.’
He opened the door and stepped inside the large yellow-painted office. The Chief sat behind his mahogany desk and was halfway through a two-inch report on firearm statistics, a copy of which lay in Parish’s in-tray. Behind the desk was an array of photographs on the wall that told the Chief’s life story in pictures from his training at Hendon through to him receiving the OBE at Buckingham Palace. ‘I changed my knock so you wouldn’t know it was me, Sir.’
‘I know, that’s how I knew it was you.’
Parish’s top lip curled upwards. ‘If you say so, Chief.’
The partners sat down in the easy chairs placed around the glass-topped coffee table, and the Chief moved out from behind his desk and joined them.
‘A coffee and a tea?’
They both nodded.
‘Two coffees and a tea please, Debbie,’ he shouted through the closed door to his secretary. ‘So, how’s your first day back been, Parish?’
‘Yeah, good, Sir.’
‘What about you, Richards?’
‘I’m glad Inspector Parish is back, Sir.’
‘And more importantly, how’s the investigation going, Richards?’
‘Me, Sir?’
‘You do know, don’t you?’
‘Well yes, Sir, but I thought you’d want DI Parish to tell you?’
‘I much prefer your voice, Richards. Begin when you’re ready.’
‘On our way in this morning I briefed the Inspector on the two murders. It’s my fault we’ve only just started the investigation, Sir. I should have let Inspector Parish have the file…’
‘Carry on, Richards,’ the Chief said. ‘We all make mistakes, the important thing is not to repeat them.’
‘Okay, Sir. When we arrived, we sat in the car and made a list of things to do. Since then, we’ve started an incident board, met with Doc Michelin at the hospital so that he could brief us on the post mortems, and been up to forensics to find out what Mr Toadstone found at the crime scenes. Also, a Mr Daniel Jeffers has arrived from GCHQ to decipher the messages.’
‘Any leads?’
‘Doc Michelin was very helpful as always, Sir, but the post mortems provided little in the way of clues. We did discuss the killer’s motive, and decided that he’s probably degrading the women to get revenge for something a woman – or women – has done to him. Mr Toadstone in forensics found nothing that could help us either, but he did make the suggestion that we should get the handwriting on the messages analysed by a graphologist. He gave us a name of a woman who will do it for free.’
‘For free?’ the Chief said. ‘I like the sound of that.’
‘See, Richards.’
‘What’s that, Parish?’
‘I’ve been teaching my trainee detective here about frugality, Sir.’
‘Always a good lesson to learn, Richards, especially in these financially desperate times, and more importantly the financial year ends on the 31st March?’
Richards said, ‘We were discussing whether a personality profile by a graphologist would be the same as a psychological profile by a criminal profiler. What do you think, Sir?'
‘Well, it seems to me that if the graphologist’s profile is free, you should see if it’s of any use first, Richards. If it’s not, then you can fall back on the criminal profiler. There doesn’t seem much point in acquiring two reports if they both say similar things, especially if one of those reports is going to cost us thousands of pounds. I’m sure the fees of criminal profilers increase on a monthly basis, so I’m with Parish on this one.’
Parish nudged her. ‘Happy now?’
‘All right, Sir, but…’
‘No buts, Richards,’ Parish interrupted her. ‘A lead detective could throw millions of pounds at an investigation and still get nowhere. You have to know when to say, “Enough is enough”. As a trainee detective, money doesn’t enter your thought processes, but the higher up you go the more it impinges on an investigation.’
Debbie came in with three coffees on a tray and put it down on the table between them. She was in her late fifties, but had lovely long honey-blonde hair out of a bottle, a wrinkle-free face from a pot of anti-ageing cream, and a tight smooth neck compliments of a cosmetic surgeon in Woodford Green.
‘Thank you, Debbie,’ Parish said and smiled.
‘You’re welcome, Inspector.’ She squeezed his shoulder on the way out. ‘Glad to see you back.’
‘Parish is right, Richards. I know you’d like to think that money is no obstacle to obtaining justice, but it is. What we have to do is budget effectively. We have to make sure we have the right resources in the right place at the right time.’
‘Okay, Sir.’
‘Anything else you want to tell me, Richards?’
‘When we made up the incident board we plotted the murders onto a map. Because the killer is choosing his victims from within a small area we think he lives locally.’
‘Seems logical. What about the murders being seven years apart?’
‘I was coming to that next, Sir.’
‘Sorry, Richards.’
‘Inspector Parish and I think it’s the only real clue we’ve got. I started a data
base search for prisoners that have been released from prison in the last three months, but I haven’t had chance to examine the results yet because we’ve been so busy.’
‘Is that all, prisoners released from prison?’
‘For the moment, Sir. If necessary, we’ll also look at mental health patients released into the community, but as you know it’s more difficult finding out that information because its meant to be confidential.’
‘A productive first day, I would say. Well done, Richards.’
She smiled and tossed her fringe back with the back of her left hand. ‘I couldn’t have done it without Inspector Parish, Sir.’
‘At the moment, but pretty soon I’m sure DI Parish will become surplus to requirements, and then I’ll be able to trim my budget even more.’
‘I wouldn’t want to stay if you got rid of Inspector Parish, Sir.’
‘I’m joking, Richards.’
‘Oh, okay, Sir.’ Richards pursed her lips. ‘Remember, you’ve got your outpatients appointment at three o’clock tomorrow. Do you want me to come with you, Sir?’
‘Thanks for reminding me, but I’m sure I can remember to go to a doctor’s appointment.’
‘You can spare me, can’t you, Sir?’ Richards said to Parish.
‘Of course, Richards. You go with the Chief. He’ll need moral support.’ Parish smiled at the Chief.
‘Thanks, Sir.’
‘It’s not necessary, Richards.’
‘I know, but I’m coming anyway. I’ll meet you here at two o’clock then we can go together.’
Walter Day smiled and resigned himself to Richards’ company. ‘I’ll see you at two tomorrow afternoon then, Richards.’
Chapter Five
‘Parish and Richards, as I live and breathe,’ Kowalski said as they came back into the squad room. He sat in a chair with his feet up on the desk as if he had all the time in the world. ‘How’s your first day back been, Jed?’
‘I noticed that you’ve been out working, Kowalski, so it’s been a good day.’
‘You’re confusing me with someone else, Parish. You know damn well that I don’t work, and trying to say that I do could be construed as slander.’
‘Sorry, Kowalski. I thought because you weren’t here… Well… I was obviously mistaken.’
‘Obviously. What about you, Richards, are you glad DI Parish is back? Don’t you miss our little get-togethers in the broom cupboard?’
‘Yes, I’m glad Mister Parish is back, Sir.’ Richards stood up and looked around. ‘You keep promising to take me to the broom cupboard for ages, but you’ve never told me where it is, and even though I’ve looked for it I can’t find it.’
Kowalski roared with laughter. ‘We could find it together, Richards?’
‘Maybe next month, Sir. At the moment DI Parish and me are trying to find a killer.’
‘That sounds like hard work to me, Richards.’
‘It is, Sir.’
‘Then, I’ll sit here and wait until you’ve finished.’
‘Okay, Sir.’
‘Stop talking to Kowalski, Richards,’ Parish said. ‘Has that database search finished yet?’
Richards moved her mouse to bring the computer screen out of hibernation. ‘Seven hundred and fifty-three criminals have been released in the last three months, Sir.’
Parish shook his head. ‘What’s the world coming to, Richards.’ He shouted, ‘This is your fault, Kowalski.’
‘I want a paternity test,’ Kowalski responded.
‘Sirrr,’ Richards squealed.
Ed Gorman, Kowalski’s partner, said, ‘Good one, Ray.’
Kowalski grinned. ‘Thanks, Ed. I should be on the stage.’
‘Seven hundred and fifty-three criminals released in the last three months, Kowalski,’ Parish said. ‘You’re obviously not keeping up with your quotas. If we’re not careful there’ll be empty cells in the prisons, and that would never do.’
‘Sounds serious, Jed, but you know that thirty-nine percent of those will already be back in prison by now. That’s two-hundred and ninety-four, Richards.’
‘Thanks, Sir.’
‘Still, four hundred is a lot to be back out on the streets, Ray.’
‘It’s because you took a month off, Jed. Now that you’re back, things will return to normal.’
‘I suppose.’
‘You two are having me on, aren’t you, Sir?’
‘We’re being deadly serious, Richards. If it wasn’t for the thirty-nine percent of recidivists, Kowalski and I would be sunning ourselves in the Bahamas, draped on sunbeds by the pool, drinking Bahamas Mamas and watching the Oomegooly bird fly off into the sunset.’
Richards laughed. ‘What’s an Oomethingy bird?’
‘You could come with us and find out for yourself, Richards,’ Kowalski said. ‘Pack your skimpiest bikini, or I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t bring one at all.’
‘Sirrr.’
‘Right, bugger off, Kowalski,’ Parish said. ‘Come on Richards, let’s go and see what Dan has been up to.’
‘Oh God, I’d forgotten all about him.’
On their way to the interview room Richards said, ‘That’s a lot of names on the list. What are we going to do with them?’
‘Too many to print out. First thing tomorrow morning you can start going through them. Don’t forget that these criminals have been released from prisons all over the country. Most of them will be harmless, but in amongst them all are murderers, rapists, and possibly our killer. In the end, you’ll find very few who live within fifty miles of Redbridge.’
‘Okay, Sir.’
Parish opened the door of the incident room. ‘Are you ready, Dan?’
Daniel Jeffers jumped. ‘Oh! Is it five-thirty already?’
‘Quarter to six actually,’ Parish said.
Dan closed the laptop, went over to the wall socket and unplugged the power lead, collected up the messages and his notes, and stuffed everything into his battered old briefcase. ‘Ready when you are?’ he said.
Parish was surprised that Dan wasn’t spilling over with information about the messages. Maybe they had to be tight-lipped at GCHQ, he thought.
‘Have you made some headway, Dan?’
‘Oh yes, sorry, I was miles away. The first message is in a language called Meriotic Demotic, which derives from Egyptian hieroglyphs and was used to write the Meroitic language in the kingdom of Meroe or Kush, which was an ancient African state now called Sudan. I’m afraid the scrambled letters still don’t mean anything, but we’re getting there.’
Parish drove to the five-star Prince Regent Hotel in Woodford Green and deposited Dan Jeffers in room 206, informing him that a car would collect him at ten in the morning. On his way out he told the receptionist to send the bill to Hoddesdon Police Station.
***
Trevor Naylor stood at the bar in The Alfred’s Head waiting for Pete Ranger to arrive. Besides the gel-haired barman, there were only two other men in the room, who appeared to be regulars. Naylor had downed one pint, and was starting on his second. He tried not to think about what Parish had done to him, but the more he forced the memory back into his subconscious mind, the more it made his head throb.
‘Hello, Trev,’ Pete Ranger said when he arrived.
They shook hands and Naylor bought Ranger a lager. Carrying their beers, the two of them moved to the fire and sat on a black leather sofa each. Above the hearth was a Jack Vettriano print entitled The Singing Butler, which depicted a couple dancing on a windy beach.
‘How’s Katie and the kids?’
‘Yeah good, they send their love.’
‘Back at them. What’s on your mind then, Chief?’ Ranger asked.
‘Well, for one thing, you can stop calling me Chief. Since that bastard Parish went crying to the Chief Constable that I was bullying him, I’m being forced into early retirement. Apparently, I’m a fucking dinosaur.’
‘Yeah, I heard. So, what can I do for you?’
�
��I need help to destroy Parish, Pete.’
Pete took a long swig of his lager and stared into the clear amber liquid. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go to Spain and put your feet up instead, Trev? You must have a fortune stashed away in that offshore bank account by now. If you take revenge on Parish you could lose everything – we both could.’
‘I can’t get Parish out of my fucking head. If I let him get away with what he did, I won’t be able to look at myself in the mirror.’
‘Someone as ugly as you shouldn’t own mirrors.’
They both laughed.
‘Parish first, then somewhere hot and sunny. I won’t be able to do it without you, Pete.’
‘Have you got something special in mind?’
‘Heroin.’
‘And I suppose you want me to get it?’
‘You always were quick off the mark, Pete.’
‘Tell me your plan then, Trev?’
After Naylor had bought each of them another drink, they leaned close together and spoke in soft voices.
***
They arrived home at seven-fifteen. Angie kissed him and held him tight at the door before he’d even taken his coat off. Digby, the three-month old black and white Schnauzer puppy Richards had bought him to aid his recuperation, jumped up at his leg and barked.
‘See, I told you nothing would happen to me today,’ he said stroking Digby’s head.
‘What about tomorrow?’
He held her at arm’s length and looked into her eyes. ‘Don’t start thinking like that, Angie. I’m a grown man, I can take care of myself.’
‘He can, mum,’ Richards said squeezing past them into the hall.
‘I’m a copper. A certain amount of risk comes with the job. You have to learn to accept that.’
‘Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,’ Angie said going along the hall and into the kitchen.
Parish threw his coat onto a hook in the closet by the door and followed Angie into the kitchen. He had to stop her thinking that each day was going to be his last.
‘I work in the Intensive Care Unit, Jed. I see what people do to each other with knives, guns, and all the other weapons. I worry about you.’
