by Matt Johnson
Nina jabbed button 43 twice more before doing as I suggested. A male voice answered and Nina explained who we were and asked to be allowed in. He politely declined but offered to come and help. He would be about five minutes if we didn’t mind waiting.
Nina kicked her feet impatiently.
‘You OK?’ I asked.
‘Not really. It’s just that I have other things to do today rather than wait for Relia to come home from shopping … and I told her I would be here at midday.’
‘Mind if I take a look at the photos?’
Nina handed the document folder over without replying. There were about a dozen sheets, each contained about twenty pictures of varying quality. Most were family pictures of missing girls; some were copies of passport photographs. Each sheet was headed with the Interpol logo. I flicked through them, slowly. They all looked remarkably similar. All women – late teens to early twenties; all white, all looking vaguely Eastern European. All reported as missing.
Nina lit up a cigarette as we waited. The simple action caused me to pause for a moment before continuing to amble through the pictures. It was the first time I had seen Nina smoke. I was surprised. Although she sometimes joined Matt and me at the end of the day to down a small Penderyn, I’d imagined Nina pursuing a healthier lifestyle.
She noticed my reaction. ‘Stress, Finlay. I don’t smoke many these days, but if I’m stressed I find that a little draw of nicotine gets me through.’
I turned to the final sheet of photographs. It was the saddest of all, showing the bodies and faces of unidentified female murder victims. There were eight, in date order.
‘None of my business,’ I said. ‘Just surprised me a bit…’ I stopped mid-sentence. The final pair of pictures caused me to halt the conversation. There was a name at the base of the picture, presumably a village or town, and the country, Romania. The first victim was a poor facial shot of a bruised face with what might at one time have been attractive blonde hair. The second showed the body where it had been found; it looked like a roadside in a wood. The victim’s dress was torn and dirty.
‘You OK, Finlay?’ Nina stubbed the cigarette out on the ground as we saw the caretaker approaching across the small car park. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
I stared at the picture. It was the unmistakable dress that the poor girl was wearing that caught my eye.
Yellow with red stripes.
Chapter 40
I paused for a moment before replying to Nina.
‘When were these pictures taken?’
‘No idea. Recently, though. They only came over the wire this morning. You sure you’re OK?’
The dress was very distinctive. Bright yellow, and even with the dirt that soiled it, the stripes were clear.
Just a couple of days previously I had been watching a girl wearing the identical dress lose a dance competition in the courtyard at Gheorghe Cristea’s home. I scanned the face in the photograph. It was dirty and dishevelled. I remembered that the girl at the wedding had also been blonde, but the face … it was impossible to be sure.
If it was the girl from the wedding then it might be I needed to do something about it. But it might not be, I thought. For all I knew, that pattern of dress might be common in Romania.
I handed the photographs back and mumbled, ‘I’m fine,’ just as the caretaker joined us and looked over the warrant card that Nina thrust into his face.
Using a master key to open the street door, our guide led the way up six flights to the third floor. Smartly dressed in matching blue trousers and jacket, the caretaker gave the impression of someone who really loved his job. He was about seventy, but as fit as a flea, and flew up the stairs as quickly as a man many years his junior might manage. Nina tried the intercom at the door leading to the flat corridors. Again, there was no response.
‘Do you have a contact number for her?’ I asked.
‘Yes. Hang on a minute.’
We waited while Nina rooted around in her handbag for her mobile phone. As she tapped in the number, I caught the old caretaker eyeing her up and down. In a black jacket with a white blouse and tight black trousers she could easily have been mistaken for a lawyer rather than a cop.
The caretaker winked and smiled. Lowering his voice, he leaned towards me and whispered. ‘Very tall…’
I nodded without responding. The caretaker was right. Nina was a good two inches taller than me in flat shoes. In heels, she would easily be six feet two.
There was no reply to the phone call. ‘Do you have a key to this door as well?’ Nina asked the caretaker.
‘Yes … and the flat door if you need to go in.’
Nina turned to me. ‘I’d like to, Finlay. OK with you? Just for peace of mind, really.’
I shrugged. It was her call.
The caretaker led the way along the narrow passage. When we reached Flat 43, Nina knocked hard and called out Relia’s name. There was no response. She knocked once more, this time harder still.
The corridor lighting was dim but, standing back whilst Nina knocked again and again, I spotted a mark on the door. I held up my hand to indicate that Nina should stop knocking. I looked closer. The mark was familiar. A trace left by the sole of a sports trainer. It was only visible by looking at the door from an acute angle, but it was there. It was the kind of smudge that a burglar leaves when kicking down a door.
‘See that?’ I pointed to the mark.
‘No … see what?’ Nina said.
‘Shoe mark. Looks like someone has forced the door.’
‘Shit.’
The caretaker interrupted. ‘Looks like they didn’t get in.’
‘Or the door was half open when it was kicked?’ Nina commented. ‘Can you open it? And try the mortise first, we need to know if the last person to leave locked the door … and be careful not to touch anything.’
Gently, the caretaker inserted the brass master key into the mortise lock. It was already open; either the last person to leave didn’t have the key or hadn’t bothered to lock it. The door opened easily as the Yale key turned.
‘Better leave this to us, mate,’ I said to the caretaker.
With the others stepping back slightly, I eased slowly and gently into the flat. All was quiet.
The door frame was intact with no sign of a forced entry. Behind the front door was a small hallway. Across the tiny space, there were two white doors, both slightly ajar. One appeared to be a bathroom, the other a toilet. To the left it looked like there was a single bedroom. The gentle sound of water running into a sink could be heard coming from my right. I guessed it to be the kitchen and eating area. There was no other sound or indication of life.
‘Relia,’ I called out.
There was no reply. Edging forward slowly, I headed toward the sound of the water. The door to the kitchen area was only slightly ajar, but even before I opened it fully, I knew what I was going to find.
It was the smell – warm, salty and sickeningly familiar.
The smell of fresh blood.
Chapter 41
Spilled cereal on the kitchen table suggested that Relia had just sat down to breakfast when she was disturbed.
The kitchen chairs were turned over and a drawer pulled open. Several large knives lay on the floor. I wondered if Relia had been reaching for a weapon to defend herself. What was certain was that someone had lost a lot of blood. The kitchen floor was covered in the fresh, congealing evidence of a desperate fight. There were skid marks where feet had struggled to gain grip. Blood was splashed and sprayed up the walls and across the work surfaces, on the unit doors and on the back of the door into the hallway.
A moment later, the caretaker called out. He had found something.
‘I thought we said to wait outside in the corridor,’ I said.
The caretaker looked ill, as if he were about to throw up. ‘Sorry,’ he answered. ‘I was curious.’
I stepped past him and into the bathroom. Again, the smell of blood hit me. Then I
saw the body. A woman. She was in the bath. A bare leg hung over the side.
Nina looked over my shoulder. ‘It’s her,’ she said. She squeezed past me and checked for signs of life. There were none. Relia’s injuries were clearly fatal. The killer had left her in a real mess. Blood splashes up the wall and over the shower curtain gave every indication that the attacker had used the bath to start hacking her into pieces. But, for some reason, the attack had stopped and then the assailant had tried to use the shower to clean up, leaving Relia where she was, but using bathroom towels to remove the last of the blood from clothes and shoes, then leaving them in a nasty pink pile on the floor.
As Nina put in a call to the local CID, I stepped out of the bathroom and went to check the front door again. I wondered whether Relia had been expecting someone and had opened it to allow her attacker in. Swinging the door open on the hinges, the hallway light again revealed the mark on the paintwork. I made a mental note to ask the Scenes of Crime examiner to have a look at it.
The local CID were quick to arrive. The caretaker went to open the doors for them and within a few minutes a detective appeared in the corridor with a scene-of-crime kit. A forensic officer was with the caretaker. The Area Major Investigation Team had been informed. It looked like all the bases had been covered.
‘It’ll be out of our hands now, Finlay,’ Nina said, as she joined me in the corridor. ‘The Murder Squad will take over. They’ll want witness statements and some other stuff but we can take care of that later. I need to get back and brief the boss.’
‘What shall I do – wait here?’ I said.
‘No, you better come back with me. The shit’s gonna fly on this, so you can help me dodge it.’
‘Why’s that exactly?’
‘Relia was supposed to be in the witness protection programme. I had a few problems: budgets … that kind of thing. There’s going to be people wanting to cover their arses and we need to make sure they don’t do so at our expense.’
We headed back to the car. At Nina’s suggestion we made a quick call at the caretaker’s flat before departing.
When we knocked on the caretaker’s door, the forensic Scenes of Crime Officer was in the process of taking a mouth swab from him to collect a DNA sample. He seized the chance to take similar swabs from both Nina and me. The poor caretaker was still shaking at the horror we had witnessed.
I mentioned to the SOCO about the foot mark on the flat door. He promised to make it his next job and we headed back to the Volvo.
Before getting in, I stood for a moment, thinking about what we had just witnessed, the sound of approaching sirens telling me the troops were on their way – uniformed officers who would seal off the entrances to the flats and make sure that the scene would be preserved for the forensic teams.
As Nina opened the car door, I asked, ‘Do you think we disturbed them?’
‘Possibly. It certainly looked like they left in a hurry. I couldn’t work out why the bastards put her in the bath, though. It looked like the fight started in the kitchen, so why not finish it there?’
I looked around the car park. ‘Maybe they hadn’t finished with her when we turned up … If we did disturb them,’ I went on, ‘which way would you go if you didn’t want to be seen?’
Nina glanced around, shrugged and then indicated the far side of the car park. ‘I’d probably have a car waiting over there. Drive away from the main High Street and avoid the crowds.’
‘Mind if I have a quick look?’
Nina sighed. ‘If you insist. Want me to come with you?’
I did. As we walked together across the tarmac, I scanned the ground. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just something unusual – a clue that might indicate a route taken by the escaping killers.
I didn’t have to wait long. On the other side of the parking area I noticed a well-trodden route across a flower border – a short cut used by residents to enter the streets behind the flats. On a low wall, I saw a dark, damp spot of liquid. Stopping to look more closely, I saw others, smaller and less obvious from a distance.
It was blood. And it was still wet.
‘Look at this,’ I said to Nina.
She crouched down. ‘Looks like she hurt one of them. This hasn’t been here long, not even dried at the edges. Wait here … I’ll go and get the SOCO.’
I did as I was told, looking around the trodden-down area as Nina headed off to get help. But within a few seconds, curiosity got the better of me and I started to move towards the street. I was careful where I walked. The last thing I needed was to spoil some forensic evidence that the SOCO might find.
All was quiet. Save for the lines of cars parked along both sides of the road, there was little to see. As the track opened up onto the footway, the direct route across the street was blocked by a shiny new Jaguar.
I pictured men moving at speed and imagined they might bump into the side of the Jag as they ran. I made a mental note to ask the SOCO to check the car paintwork for fingerprints. As I leaned down to check for myself, I saw a faint scuff mark along the sill below the passenger door.
Instinct told me to bend down and look under the car. It was dark. I couldn’t see daylight from the other side.
There was someone hiding underneath.
Chapter 42
For a second I stood up and thought. Whoever was hiding under the car almost certainly knew I had spotted them. And I had no radio to call for help.
Just as I was trying to work out how I was going to capture my suspect, Nina appeared behind me with the SOCO.
‘Got something, Finlay?’ she asked.
I raised a finger to my lips and, with my other hand, pointed to the road beneath the car.
Before we could react further there was a scraping sound from the opposite side of the Jaguar. A small man in dark clothing scrabbled out then sprinted off down the road.
Without a thought, Nina and I both gave chase.
For about twenty-five yards, I kept pace. But Nina did better. The man was fast but Nina had youth on her side and, after fifty yards, she was still with him. I was rapidly starting to lose ground.
I decided that alternative tactics were called for. Nina seemed to be gaining on him. She was tall, athletic and moved freely. And the cigarettes didn’t seem to have affected her fitness. But like me, she also had no radio, so if we were going to catch our suspect, we needed a quick plan.
I dived right into a small side street, in the hope that I might head them both off. I soon slowed to a jog, and then a walk as I struggled to regain my breath. I had only gone about two hundred yards when I heard the sound of someone climbing fences in a nearby garden. Whoever it was, they were in a hurry and appeared to be coming my way.
Crouching down behind a low wall, I waited. He was close. A second later and the small man leapt the wall next to me and landed on the pavement.
I made my move.
Only to find myself staring down the barrel of a handgun.
I automatically looked up at the face of my attacker. I’m not sure which of us had the greater shock. In front of me, as large as life, stood the same man that I had disarmed at Marica’s wedding.
It was clear he recognised me. His lips opened into a broad smile, exposing broken, yellowed teeth. Just like at the reception, he stood with the pistol pointed at me, the hand steady and near enough for me to grab. I raised my hands to waist height. If I moved swiftly, I just might…
But as I went to grab the pistol my opponent stepped backwards, shaking his head from side to side as he did so. He wasn’t going to be caught twice.
The smile faded as his lips curled into a snarl. I saw his hand tighten on the pistol and the index finger slide onto the trigger. He was going to shoot.
I dropped to the floor and dived forward, trying to take out his legs and get hold of the gun. But he moved aside before I reached him. I hit fresh air and landed heavily on the footway.
There was a shout. ‘No!’ It was Nina. She was behind me
.
I looked up. The Romanian levelled the gun at her. Then, he hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to fire.
With the gunman distracted, I tried to move closer to him. There was just a chance I could sweep his legs away. Before I had the chance, though, he turned and ran.
Nina bent down to help me. ‘You OK?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Get after him.’
She took off and I dragged myself to my feet and jogged slowly after her. Reaching a junction, I looked left then right. There was no sign of them. I was still breathing heavily. For a minute or so I stood quietly, as I got my breath back and my heart rate slowed. I swore at myself. Once again, I had been very lucky.
Soon, Nina came jogging back to me. She was alone.
‘Lost him?’ I asked.
‘There was a car, a grey one. It must have been looking for him. He jumped into the back seat.’
‘Get a number?’
‘Too far … sorry … I thought he was going to shoot you back there.’
‘Me too. Guess you distracted him.’
‘Come on,’ said Nina. ‘We need to find some uniform lads and get a description circulated.’
Several seconds passed before I summoned the courage to speak. Finally, I blurted the words out.
‘I knew him.’
Chapter 43
Nina looked puzzled for a moment.
‘The gunman?’ she said at last.
‘Yes … the fuckin’ gunman. Who the hell else did you think I meant?’
‘Whoa … steady. I’m not the bad guy here. You mean you recognised him?’
I took a deep breath. ‘Yeah … I’m sorry, Nina. I guess I should be thanking you … and yes, I recognised him.’
‘It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for me. For one moment I thought you were going to try and snatch the gun from him.’
‘I thought about it … he didn’t fall for it twice.’
