by Tim Ellis
‘Thank you.’
‘…but to save you time, I’ve put together a summary of each case.’ She passed him three pages of typed information.
‘Very efficient.’
‘I try, Inspector. Social Workers – like the police I suppose – have no life beyond their work. I sat at home looking at each file through your eyes, but no one jumped out at me. None of the schizophrenics were considered dangerous, and there was only one twenty-three year old male who was considered anti-social. He swore at people a lot because he had Tourette’s syndrome.’
‘I’ll take the files anyway, if you have no objection?’
‘Of course.’ She passed them to him, and he passed them to Richards.
‘Bring them back when you’ve finished with them, Inspector.’
‘That seems to cover everything except… are any of the staff who worked with Miss Mathews still here?’
‘Just one person – Peter Riley. Would you like to talk to him?’
‘If its not too much trouble?’
She pressed a button on her intercom. ‘Adele, could you ask Peter Riley to come to the interview room, please.’
Adele answered in the affirmative.
Parish threw back the last of his coffee, stood up and offered his hand. ‘I wish that everyone I dealt with was as helpful as you, Mrs Linden.’
‘It’s Miss actually, Inspector, always been far too busy to get married, and the work I do made me realise I was better off alone.’
‘Sorry, I never get the salutation right… Too many choices.’
She opened the door and pointed down the corridor. ‘Second door on the left. If there’s anything else I can do for you, please don’t hesitate, I’ve always liked a good mystery.’ Then she was gone.
Before they reached the second door on the left Richards whispered, ‘You had sex with her didn’t you?’
‘What, with Mrs Linden?’
‘You know who I mean, Sir.’
‘We’re about to interview a witness, Richards, so I don’t consider this to be an appropriate time to discuss my past indiscretions.’
‘I knew it.’
Inside the interview room, they spoke to Peter Riley who said he was forty-one, but looked closer to sixty-one. After questioning him for five minutes Parish realised that Riley knew nothing relevant to the case, thanked him for his time, and let him go.
They headed for the lifts.
‘Did you cheat on my mum, Sir?’
‘Not that its any of your business, Richards, but no I did not. I’ve told you I’m not the cheating kind. If you cast your mind back, I knew Carrie before I’d even met your mum.’
‘That’s all right then.’
‘I’m off the hook?’
‘Yes, Sir. Where are we going now?’
‘The Planning Department.’
‘Oh?’
‘It was your idea, Richards.’
‘It was?’
‘All I can say is that it’s a good job one of us has got his head screwed on the right way.’
‘It is?’
‘You asked how he knew, and I said make a note of it.’
A light shone in her eyes. ‘I did.’ She took her notebook out. ‘How does he know about the abandoned buildings?’
‘There you go, you do remember.’
‘You think its someone in the Planning Department?’
‘That would be convenient.’
Stepping out of the lift on the first floor they followed the signs to the Planning Department and knocked on a glass window.
A bald-headed man in his twenties appeared. ‘Hello?’
Parish waved his warrant card. ‘I’d like to speak to the person in charge, please.’
The man pressed a button and a door clicked open. ‘Please come through.’
Beyond the door was a large office with overflowing desks, floor, filing cabinets, and windowsills. There was paper everywhere. The man picked a path through the paper towards an office at the far end of the room, stuck his head through the door and said, ‘Sir, it’s the police.’
A sallow looking man with wiry hair and wearing a green sleeveless cardigan came towards them. ‘Roland Pettigrew, Head of Planning. How can I help?’
‘We’re interested in your abandoned buildings?’
‘Oh?’
‘I’d like to know who would know about them?’
Roland’s face screwed up.
‘The murders Mr Pettigrew,’ Parish prodded him.
‘Of course, the women who are left in the abandoned buildings. You’re looking for the people who would know about them?’
‘Yes.’
‘The whole world knows about the sites that are available for redevelopment.’ He turned to the computer on his desk and began clicking his mouse to navigate on the Internet. Then he swivelled the screen towards them. ‘Redevelopment Opportunities in Redbridge. Our Archivist – who’s off sick today – keeps it up to date, but anybody who has a computer and Internet access can look at it. Sorry, that’s not much help, is it?’
‘No, not really,’ Parish said getting up. He shook Pettigrew’s hand and said, ‘Thanks for your help, anyway.’
‘You’re welcome, Inspector.’
They followed the same path through the labyrinth of paper to reach the door, and were let out by the bald-headed man.
While they were waiting for the lift to arrive Parish said, ‘So now we know how he knows.’
‘It doesn’t help us though does it, Sir?’
‘No, except we don’t have to think about it anymore. It’s another thing crossed off our ‘To Do’ list.’
‘I suppose so. Where are we going now?’
‘Where do you want to go?’
‘I’ve heard that Mauritius in the Indian Ocean has lovely beaches, Sir.’
‘Well, you’re driving, Richards. If we end up there instead of at the station you won’t hear me complaining, but the Chief might have something to say about it because I’m meant to be briefing him in thirty-five minutes while you take the pool car back.’
‘Well, I’ll just point the car, and we’ll see where we end up.’
‘Go for it, Richards… I hope you’ve had your Malaria injection?’
‘You always have to spoil it, Sir?’
Chapter Fifteen
His first reaction when he saw Mary Richards and her boss going into Redbridge Council offices was to panic, but then he realised that they were probably visiting Social Services to find out about that Social Worker bitch he’d killed seven years ago.
He recalled her coming to the bungalow when his dad was released from the hospital after the stroke. She wasn’t his Father’s regular Social Worker. She’d said the other one was sick and she was filling in. The bloody bitch had told him that the old man needed to go into a care home because he couldn’t take care of himself.
‘I’ll take care of my Father,’ he’d said to her, but the cow said that because he had autism, which impaired his social functioning, it was impractical. She said he could barely look after himself never mind his Father.
At he wits end he’d attended confession, and God had chosen him to be the instrument of His will, to punish the sinner for living with another woman. He’d taken her the very next day, mutilated her, and hung her up like a carcass to rot in the derelict school.
The beautiful Mary Richards came out of the Council offices laughing, and he fell in love with her all over again. She had a beautiful laugh, and she was going to make him very happy.
He followed them back to Hoddesdon Police Station. After dropping off her boss, Mary returned the car to the garage, and then walked back along Brewery Road and down the High Street to the station. He knew it was the ideal time to take her. He drove home, eager with anticipation. Tomorrow night, Mary Richards would belong to him. Now, he had to go home to prepare the secret room, acquire a van, and tell his Father.
***
Before he went to brief the Chief, Parish popped in to the
incident room to see Dan. The academic had his coat on, and appeared ready to go.
‘I hope we’ve been looking after you, Dan?’
‘It’s fine, Inspector. Cryptography is a solitary profession. I’m used to working on my own. I helped myself to coffee, and I knew where the toilets and canteen were, that’s all I needed.’
‘And the third message?’
Dan slid a piece of paper towards him, and Parish picked it up:
Script = Theban
Level 2
GTQBTWIZBZGKKWXJGCAWCGYVBTKIVYZGTGTVMGCMJKYOWLJYYBUWGYZ
Level 3
KYWRYQOLRLKXXQDAKZHQZKVCRYXOCVLKYKYCNKZNAXVTQEAVVRFQKVL
Plaintext
ANYONE WHO HAS SEXUAL RELATIONS WITH AN ANIMAL MUST BE PUT TO DEATH
‘Thanks, Dan, this seems to clinch it. The murders are definitely punishment for sins.’
‘So it would seem. That particular one comes from Exodus 22:19.’
‘What’s the world coming to?’
‘Exactly!’ Dan stood up and stretched upwards. ‘Well, I’m ready for another massage. I’ve booked the Deep Tissue and Indian Head Massage for tonight. You should join me, Inspector?’
‘I wish I could, Dan it sounds just what I need, but unfortunately I still have work to do.’
‘I’ll start back tomorrow, if that’s all right with you?’
‘I was thinking the same thing. If there are any more messages, I could fax them to you?’
They shook hands. ‘That would be fine. Give my regards to Constable Richards.’
‘Of course. Your car will be waiting at the front entrance to take you back to the hotel, and thanks again for all your help.’
‘I hope you catch the lunatic soon, Inspector, goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Dan.’
***
‘Richards still in the sin bin, Parish?’ the Chief asked when he sat down in an easy chair in the Chief’s office and helped himself to the percolated coffee.
He smiled. ‘No, she’s redeemed herself.’
‘Oh?’
‘She’s had Cheryl in administration querying the Electoral Roll for men that live alone in and around Grove Lane.’
‘You think our killer lives round there somewhere, don’t you?’
‘Yes. Well, Richards suggested identifying men living on their own, and from there we’ll investigate each one to see if they match our profile.’
‘You stumbled on a good one there, Parish.’
‘I know, but let’s keep it between ourselves, Chief? If she knew, she’d drive me crazy.’
‘Yes, I can imagine.’ He finished signing papers at his desk and joined Parish at the coffee table. ‘So, what’s been happening?’
‘Richards told you about the condom Toadstone found. Forensics identified a DNA profile, but there’s no match on the database. They also discovered he has diabetes and erectile dysfunction, which supports what the Graphologist and Doc Michelin said.’
‘You just need to find him and then you’ll be able to place him at the crime scene?’
‘Yes, Chief. If we have no luck identifying a suspect with what we’re doing now, we might have to ask local men to volunteer their DNA.’
‘We’ll face that when we come to it.’
‘Toadstone also found a size 11½ shoe print under the van, and based on the black art of human sizing ratios he suggests the killer is between five-eleven and six-one.’
‘Interesting how the pieces gradually come together like a complicated jigsaw puzzle.’
‘I’ve thanked Dr Jeffers and sent him back to GCHQ before he spends all your budget on massages.’
‘I can recommend the Shiatsu massage, Parish.’
‘Seems like everybody’s getting a massage except me.’
‘I’m sure Angie would oblige if you asked her.’
‘Maybe I will. Anyway, Dan has deciphered all three messages and identified them as quotes from the Bible. They tell us that the women were being punished for the sins they’d committed.’ He read the three plaintext messages out.
The Chief shook his head. ‘Is there no end to the inhumanity of human beings?’
Parish wondered if the Chief expected an answer. ‘It doesn’t look like it, Chief,’ he said and took a swallow of his coffee. ‘So, it could be that he’s a visionary killer – being told to kill by God – a schizophrenic. Anyway, I’ve got a Father Rosario from Our Lady of Sorrows Church in Hoddesdon coming in to see us at nine o’clock – maybe there’s a bigger picture to all this that I can’t see.’
‘How much…?’
‘We might make a small donation to the Church Roof Fund, Chief.’
‘Good idea, I’ll get Debbie to organise a cheque.’
‘Talking of Debbie, you could bring her with you on Sunday, you know?’
‘Why would I want to bring my secretary with me, Parish?’
‘Everybody knows, Chief.’
‘Everybody?’
‘Everybody, including the cleaning staff.’
‘And I thought we were being discreet. I’ll see what she says. She might… Well… I’ll speak to her.’
‘Good – there’s also a couple of leads that we can’t wrap our brains around at the moment. First, how would he know that these women had committed sins?’
‘You might want to ask the Priest this morning. A Priest would know about sins, they sit in the confessional listening to people admit their sins. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I did this, I did that, and I did the other.” And the Priest will dole out a suitable punishment, “Say a hundred Hail Mary’s etc.”’
‘It had crossed my mind, Chief, but the killer couldn’t be a Priest.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well…’ He had no valid reason apart from the obvious. ‘Because they’re Priests.’
‘Don’t discard the idea completely, Parish.’
‘No, I won’t, Chief, but… a Priest?’
‘They’re human like everybody else.’
Yes, they were. They had affairs, abused children, stole money – why not murder? ‘The second lead we had was the abandoned buildings. Richards wondered how the killer knew where they all were, but we found an answer to that question. Redbridge Council produces a website with all the derelict buildings on titled ‘Redevelopment Opportunities in Redbridge’. The whole bloody world knows about them.’
‘No help in narrowing down your suspect list then?’
‘None at all. There’s also the Court Order I asked Debbie to get for me.’ He pointed to the paper on the coffee table that the Chief’s secretary had given him with a smile on his way in. ‘We’ll find out if there’s any released mental health patients that fit the profile.’
‘You’re covering all the bases, Parish.’
‘We also met Doc Michelin for lunch yesterday, and he confirmed that the killer tries – but doesn’t succeed – in sexually assaulting the victims, which is presumably due to the diabetes causing erectile dysfunction. From there, we visited Beatrice Nosworthy. She said that Tanya Mathews had the feeling she was being watched in the days before she was murdered, but didn’t see anyone. Then, we went to Redbridge Council…’
Walter Day put his hands up to his face and mumbled, ‘Oh no! I haven’t got to apologise to the Town Clerk this morning, have I?’
‘Relax, Chief. We popped in to see the Director of Social Services about Tanya Mathews’ caseload, and she was very helpful – fancies herself as a detective.’
‘Everybody thinks they can do our job better than us, Parish.’
‘Anyway, Miss Linden gave me the files with a summary of each, and I’ll look through them tonight. After that, we made a quick visit to the Planning Department, and I’ve told you what we found out there. What we didn’t do was cause any trouble.’
‘I’m glad about that, Parish. In fact, I can’t see any reason to go back to Redbridge Council, can you?’
‘No, Chief.’
‘What about the press?’
&
nbsp; ‘My next planned briefing is Saturday morning, but I’m not going to tell them what the messages say – it’d be like throwing human flesh into a piranha tank.’
‘Very colourful. Anything else?’
‘No that’s it, Chief. Richards and I are going home now.’ He threw back the last of his coffee, stood up, and headed for the door.
‘Same time tomorrow night, Parish?’
‘Goodnight, Chief.’
Richards was waiting at her desk. ‘Are we going home now, Sir?’
‘Most definitely. Have you spoken to Cheryl?’
‘Didn’t need to, she’d left the database results on my desk. Thirty-seven men live alone at varying distances from Grove Lane.’
‘We’ll have a look at them tomorrow.’
‘I could…’
‘You’ve got studying to do. If I’m not mistaken, you have a National Investigators Examination in six days time.’
‘Yes, but…’
He held out his hand for the list. ‘I’ll take them, so that you’re not tempted to deviate from your plan of action.’
She slapped them into his hand. ‘Sometimes…’
‘…I’m so mean?’ he ventured.
‘Yes, you are.’
‘So, you don’t want to know what the third message said?’
‘Did Dan solve it?’
He told her.
‘Oh God, Sir, she really was having sex with animals,’ she said pulling a face. ‘Do we know which ones?’
Parish threw his head back and laughed. ‘Why?’
‘Well… you know?’
‘If I said a rhinoceros and a skunk, would it make any difference?’
She stood up. ‘Are we going now, Mr Mean?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
On the way home Parish stopped at the local shops and dragged Richards into the Chemist where they bought a Snore Free Nose Clip.
