Dominion of Darkness: (Parish & Richards #19)

by Tim Ellis

  ‘Thanks for your help.’

  Xena addressed Stick. ‘Ring the Duty Sergeant, tell him to get a copy of the likeness from the forensic artist, distribute it to all officers, and put out an APW as well.’

  Stick nodded and made the call.

  The light was fading fast and the salvage crew began positioning arc lights and plugging them into a mobile generator. Some of the men were erecting a tent and organising food.

  Roundhouse appeared. ‘I hope you’ve got your thermal underwear on, Blimp.’

  ‘Keep your nose out of my underwear, Rollicking.’

  ‘We’ve done this a few times before and have come prepared, Bunn. Unfortunately, we only have enough food for the men who are doing the work. So, I hope you’ve got a fire on the go, jacket potatoes in tinfoil in the embers and pork sausages ready for sizzling, because we could be here for some time?’

  ‘What are you saying, Rasputin?’

  ‘I thought I’d just said it, Bonk.’

  ‘So, you want us to go?’

  ‘I don’t care what you do. All I’m saying is that, if you’re staying, don’t think I’m going to warm you up when you begin showing signs of exposure.’

  ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If you fuck up, there’ll be no one here to witness it.’

  Stick nudged her. ‘I think we should go.’

  ‘Whose side are you on?’

  ‘My side – I’m freezing. Did you bring any potatoes or sausages?’

  ‘Do I look like I did?’

  ‘Yep!’ Hazel said, standing up and shuffling round the marina to her houseboat. ‘It’s time I was tucked up in my bed with a good book and a hot toddy.’

  ‘I can give you a call when we’re done, Blob,’ Roundhouse said. ‘If you feel it’s necessary, you can come back and inspect our work before we shoot off back to London.’

  Xena eyed him, took out a business card, wrote her number on the back and passed it to him. ‘If it’s after midnight – don’t bother.’

  ‘Forensics will be arriving soon anyway,’ Stick said. ‘They’ll sign off on the boat when you’ve raised it.’

  ‘Nice meeting you, Detective Inspector Blink,’ Roundhouse said.

  ‘The feeling isn’t mutual, Inspector Peter Rabbit. Just remember, if you fuck up I’m going to make your life a misery.’

  ‘I’ll try to remember.’

  In the car Stick said, ‘Back to the station?’

  ‘No. Take me home. I’m freezing.’

  ‘We should have left sooner.’

  ‘Who would have supervised those apes if we hadn’t been here?’

  ‘Good point.’

  ***

  ‘You’ve got a fucking nerve, Kowalski.’

  ‘Hello, Bronwyn. How are you?’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m just about to base jump from an outcrop on Kilimanjaro wearing only a wingsuit and a pair of flip-flops.’

  ‘If I were you I’d try it without the wingsuit.’

  ‘Mmmm! That’s an enticing idea.’

  ‘It’ll take a lot less time to reach the bottom.’

  ‘So, did you get my email?’

  ‘Contrary to popular belief – I’m not your dogsbody.’

  ‘Did I mention that I’d read the police and post-mortem reports relating to the death of Jodie Wilkins?’

  ‘It’s about time. And?’

  ‘The case remains unsolved.’

  ‘No wonder the Chief Constable wanted you back – you’re a legend in your own reflection.’

  ‘The reason it remains unsolved is that there were no leads – no DNA, no fingerprints, no hair, fibres – nothing. The only thing that might have offered the investigation team a lead was the manner of her death. Not the fact that she was raped and sodomised, but that she was strangled with a skinny black silk scarf, which was then tied around her neck, and a flower left in her hair. If I’d been the Senior Investigating Officer I’d have been hoping for a second murder . . .’

  ‘You have lots more murders now.’

  ‘Yes I do, and as soon as I get access to police resources I’ll send off official requests to the police forces in the various countries for all the information they have concerning the prostitute murders. And one of the advantages of being back in the force is that I’ll be able to get those foreign reports translated fairly easily.’

  ‘That sounds a bit more like it.’

  ‘I’m glad you approve.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

  ‘Other than the West India Docks murder though, we still don’t know whether HMS Westminster was in any of the other ports when these prostitutes were killed. Have you asked Perry . . . ?’

  ‘He hasn’t come back to me yet. In fact, I’m a bit worried. He was meant to Skype me six hours ago.’

  ‘Can’t you Skype him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you emailed him?’

  ‘Is the world square?’

  ‘Well, you’ll be seeing him in a couple of days anyway. Did you ask him about the type of flower his boss is growing?’

  ‘I was waiting to hear back about that as well.’

  ‘Try contacting the ship?’

  ‘You can only do that through official channels, apparently. And even if I could, what would I say?’

  ‘That you were worried about your boyfriend, because he’d missed one call.’

  ‘You make me sound like a hysterical teenager.’

  ‘So, you haven’t found out any more?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ve arranged a meeting with the SIO at the time – a Detective Inspector Munro Carlyle – at Limehouse Police Station for twelve o’clock tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll meet you there and . . .’

  ‘You’re a civilian.’

  ‘Carlyle doesn’t need to know that. You could say . . .’

  ‘And you look like a civilian with your piercings, tattoos and weird clothes.’

  ‘Weird clothes! They’re only weird to an old-aged pensioner like yourself. You could say I was undercover.’

  ‘Undercover! As what?’

  ‘Are you saying I look like a prostitute?’

  ‘You said that, I didn’t. But maybe a little less cleavage would . . . Look, I’ll meet Carlisle at Limehouse Police Station, find out if he knows anymore and then meet you at one o’clock in the King Charles pub for lunch. While we’re at Canary Wharf, we could take a look at the site where Opal was murdered and probably visit West India Docks as well. How would that be?’

  ‘That might work.’

  ‘It’s a date then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, are you ready to tell me about the folder yet?’

  ‘Have I not told you?’

  ‘No?’

  ‘It must have slipped my mind. Cracking the password into the folder was no problem. And yes, there were ten little files sitting in that folder waiting to be opened.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Unfortunately, each file is protected by KRYPTOS.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘You have one chance to open a file with a password. If you guess wrong, KRYPTOS shreds the file – no second chance.’

  ‘Shreds – as in destroys it?’

  ‘Correct. Password-cracking software, which relies on multiple attempts at guessing a password, can’t be used on a file protected by KRYPTOS. In fact, the only known solution is to have the correct password.’

  ‘Some hacker you are.’

  ‘I’ll treat that with the contempt it deserves. I’ve contacted several of my online hacking associates to see if they’ve found a work-around, but I’m not very hopeful. So, I’ll see you in the King Charles pub at one o’clock tomorrow for my free lunch?’

  ‘I don’t know if I feel like buying you lunch now.’

  ‘And don’t keep me waiting.’

  ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘I asked you to find out everyt
hing you could about Tom Baguely.’

  ‘Walking the streets at night is making me forgetful.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘If Tom Baguely had any secrets, he didn’t publish them online. I found nothing. Except . . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I came across one reference to a name in his emails: Quester.’

  ‘Quester! Is that a game?’

  ‘I googled it and found a Quester Pharmaceuticals Limited. It’s a German company that have their Headquarters in Leipzig, which used to be in East Germany as a matter of interest. They have a factory on the Rush Green Industrial Estate in Romford.’

  ‘Thanks, Bronwyn.’

  The call ended.

  ‘She can’t open the files?’ Bolton said.

  Once they’d left the Baguely house at Lambourne End, he had to drive Bolton back to his office so that she could retrieve her car and go back to Romford. Now, they were sitting in his office drinking a coffee that Bolton had made.

  ‘No, but she might have found us a lead.’ He passed her the memory stick. ‘You may as well hand that to forensics and give them a shot at cracking it. Bronwyn still has her copy intact, and there’s a copy in my email SENT folder, so there are three copies now. Apparently, the files inside the folder are protected by a piece of software called KRYPTOS. You only get one chance to key in the correct password. If you get it wrong the file is shredded.’

  ‘That’s not very community-spirited.’

  ‘No. She’s still looking for a way into the files, but she says she’s not feeling optimistic.’

  ‘Maybe we need to go back to Lambourne End? Baguely liked to write his passwords down. If we’d known what we were looking for, maybe . . .’

  ‘Not tonight, Josephine. And as you heard me say, I have a meeting at Limehouse Police Station at twelve tomorrow, lunch at one and then a sightseeing tour of an old crime scene afterwards.’

  ‘And you don’t want me to come with you?’

  ‘I’m sure Bronwyn would love to meet you, but I think you’d be better employed searching for the passwords at the Baguely house and doing some research on Quester Pharmaceuticals to try and establish a link between them and Baguely. I’ll meet you at the station at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. After we’ve looked at the case and made sure we’ve covered all the angles, you can go to Lambourne End, I’ll go to Canary Wharf, then we’ll meet at Quester Pharmaceuticals at four and rattle a few chains. After that, we’ll go back to the station and re-group.’

  Bolton stood up. ‘Sounds good to me, Sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Make sure no one is following you on the way back. The killer doesn’t know we’ve got three copies.’

  ‘I’ll keep my eyes open.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Wednesday, February 24

  He pushed her in the back.

  ‘Will you stop doing that?’

  ‘Keep going.’

  ‘I am keeping going.’

  ‘Do you think you’d keep going if I stopped motivating you?’

  ‘I’m sure I would.’

  ‘Should we rest here?’

  ‘That would be good.’

  He pushed her in the back. ‘Keep going. I knew you’d want to stop at the first opportunity.’

  ‘You tricked me.’

  ‘Hardly a trick. It was like the temptation of Eve – you couldn’t resist the forbidden fruit.’

  ‘This is hardly life and death – it’s for charity.’

  ‘You’re right. Should we walk and catch our breath for a while?’

  ‘Don’t think you can fool me a second time.’

  ‘Are you sure? I mean, maybe I’m being a bit harsh with you.’

  ‘Maybe! Definitely.’

  ‘So you’d like to stop and walk?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I think I will.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Well, if you are . . .’

  He pushed her in the back. ‘Keep going.’

  ‘I hate you.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘How far have we run so far?’

  ‘You call what you’re doing running?’

  ‘I’m running.’

  ‘Waddling more like. You could double as a penguin on one of those television wildlife programs.’

  She laughed. ‘I hate you.’

  He pushed her in the back. ‘Keep going.’

  ‘That was a long three miles,’ Angie said when they got back to the house.

  ‘You want to try running it, mum.’

  ‘Waddling.’

  ‘Especially with Herr Adolf here.’

  ‘And we ran five miles today, not three.’

  ‘You said we were running three miles.’

  ‘And you said you wanted to stop every five yards.’

  ‘Only because you kept tricking me.’

  ‘I’ll be leaving in about twenty-five minutes.’

  ‘Twenty-five minutes! You’re crazy. I might take a day off sick today.’

  ‘Twenty-four minutes.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear me – I’m sick?’

  ‘Twenty-three minutes.’

  ‘Tell him, mum.’

  ‘You don’t look sick to me, Mary.’

  ‘I’m going to ring Social Services. They’ll take me into care when I tell them how you’ve mistreated me.’

  ‘I’ll let you drive my new second-hand Qashqai.’

  ‘I’m getting ready.’ She ran up the stairs like a mountain goat.

  ***

  ‘I knew you’d let me drive your jalopy eventually.’

  ‘Think of it as a reward for running five miles.’

  She grinned at him. ‘I can’t wait to see what I get when I run twenty-six miles.’

  ‘Blisters – lots of them.’

  ‘I thought you said we were going to Zebra Events at Canary Wharf this morning?’

  ‘As you’re well aware, subsequent events have ridden roughshod over my original plan for the day. We’ll probably travel there this afternoon. When we get to the station I want you to make the coffee . . .’

  ‘That’s an important task.’

  ‘Very important. You know I can’t function without coffee.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘We’ll go into the incident room and bring the board up-to-date.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Then, I’ll go and brief the Chief on my own . . .’

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘Yes. You have more important work to do. When we interview the Kingdoms at ten I want us to be fully prepared.’

  ‘Do you think either of them will talk?’

  ‘No, I don’t. And after I’ve briefed the Chief, I’ll give a press briefing.’

  ‘I haven’t been to a press briefing for ages.’

  ‘And you know the reason why as well.’

  ‘If I get media exposure, it’ll increase my chances of attracting a man.’

  ‘Taking your clothes off at a press briefing in front of the whole world is not the way to attract the right sort of man, Richards.’

  ‘I’ve never taken my . . .’

  ‘It always starts with one button. Tell me you haven’t undone your top button to reveal an ample cleavage at the request of a cameraman?’

  ‘That’s hardly . . .’

  ‘There you are then. Proof-positive that you become hypnotised in front of all the cameras and flashing lights. You remind me of Mowgli in the Disney cartoon of Jungle Book when Ka the snake is asking the boy to trust him with his pinwheel eyes. It’s as if the cameras trigger a genetic predisposition in you that makes you want to tear off your clothes with wild abandon.’

  ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘I’m protecting you from yourself, Richards. Do you think the Chief Constable would applaud your attempts at copying Gypsy Rose Lee?’

  ‘Was she a stripper?’

  ‘One of the
best, apparently. And think how embarrassed your mother would be. And let’s not forget Digby. That dog wouldn’t be able to show his face round the neighbourhood for weeks, months, maybe even years.’

  Richards pulled into the car park and they made their way up the stairs to the squad room.

  ‘So, you’re saying you don’t want me at the press briefing?’

  ‘Did I not make myself clear?’

  ‘I’ll make the coffee, shall I?’

  ‘That’s the best idea you’ve had all day. I’ll be waiting in the incident room, so make it snappy.’

  She was back within five minutes with two mugs of coffee.

  ‘When you’re ready,’ she said, standing at the incident board with a marker pen poised.

  ‘Okay, so we have two murders . . .’

  ‘What about the bodies forensics found at the Kingdom’s house on Sutherland Road?’

  ‘That’s a separate case entirely. We’ll interview Selwyn and Portia Kingdom at ten o’clock as planned, get what we can from them and then pass the case on.’

  ‘Pass it on!’

  ‘I don’t know if you’re familiar with Essex, but Walthamstow is in the London Borough of Waltham Forest. It used to be part of Essex until 1929, but now it’s not. As such, if it’s not in Essex then it has nothing to do with us, and what do we do with cases that have nothing to do with us?’

  ‘Pass them on to the Mets’ Homicide & Serious Crime Team?’

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘They’ll get all the glory.’

  ‘Glory! Is that why you joined the police?’

  ‘Well no, but some glory would be good.’

  ‘If you want glory, maybe you should apply to join the Met.’

  ‘I might just do that.’

  ‘I mean, you have a number of cases under your belt now.’

  ‘I have, haven’t I?’

  ‘You’ve been well trained.’

  ‘Some people might say that.’

  ‘You’re eligible for promotion to Sergeant if you take and pass your Sergeant’s exam.’

  ‘I am, aren’t I?’

  ‘I’ll write you a glowing reference.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you.’

  ‘I’ll show you where the forms are kept.’

  ‘You want to get rid of me, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m only thinking of you. Do you want to remain the partner of a back-of-the-woods Detective Inspector, solving cases that are bereft of even a smidgen of glory? Or become a celebrated Detective Sergeant, and after time a Detective Inspector, in the Mets’ premier league team. You’ll have so much glory you’ll have to rent extra storage to keep your awards, commendations and medals in. Your cases will appear in text books as a guide to others . . .’