Bex Wynter Box Set 2

by Elleby Harper

  “Got it. I have something else that’s interesting. It turns out that most of Abigail’s business dealings are handled by Lillian Perry. She also handled Abigail’s divorce settlement and the law firm is executor for her will. You asked me to find a connection between Abigail and Mikayla and this looks like it. Susan Gibbs from the same law firm was the pro bono lawyer for Mikayla’s assault charge.”

  Bex felt the caffeine zap through her veins as her body came to high alert. Was this the break they had been searching for?

  “Do you want me to call into Lady Lillian’s office and ask a few questions?”

  Idris’s tone was innocent, but in her mind Bex immediately vetoed the suggestion. Quinn’s wife, Isla Standing, was one of the firm’s partners and Idris looked for any opportunity that put him in her vicinity. Plus Perry Grais Standing was the drop in center’s biggest supporter. The interview with Lillian would need to be handled with delicate precision.

  “No,” she said decisively. “Leave the information with me, I’ll see to it.”

  * * *

  The plush carpet in Lillian Perry’s office left a trace of footsteps when Bex entered. Lillian sat behind a desk so sleek it looked like a space age product from a distant planet.

  “Good to see you again, Bex.”

  Lillian rose to shake Bex’s hand across the width of her maple and brushed aluminum desk. A curved computer screen sat on the saddle leather surface in front of her. Her tailored pant suit and new pixie hair cut lent more femininity to her form and her square jawline. She had abandoned her customary cravat for a jaunty plaid bowtie.

  Bex slid onto one of the upholstered Italian seats in front of the desk.

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” she said.

  “You told me it was important and in relation to one of our clients. Is this a formal call? Do I need to have my lawyer present?”

  Bex cracked an obligatory smile at the joke.

  “You handle Abigail Ewing’s personal and business affairs, I understand.”

  “That’s correct.” A polite shield descended over her features. “Is this to do with Abigail’s sudden death? Was there anything untoward about that?” Her voice was sharp.

  “Not at all. The autopsy confirms her death was from natural causes. I’m trying to track down a potential link between Ms. Ewing and a missing person.”

  “Oh.” Lillian seemed genuinely taken aback. “Well, I’ll answer what I can.”

  “First of all, I understand that Abigail’s divorce wasn’t amicable. Is that right?”

  “I don’t think that’s secret. Perry Grais has worked with Abigail Ewing’s company for a decade or so. We weren’t her personal lawyers, however, until the divorce hearing. Each party in a divorce has a duty to tell the opposing side everything about their client’s financial circumstances as it might affect the divorce. Not to do so, opens them up to perjury charges down the track if they are found to have misled their partners and lawyers are left in the precarious position that we must breach our client’s trust and report them of any suspected tax evasion. That happened with Abigail’s lawyers so her relationship with them came to an abrupt end and she hired us. But obviously once her husband was aware that she was trying to lessen her payout to him the divorce became an acrimonious bun fight.”

  “And what about Ms. Ewing’s will?”

  “The will is waiting to go through probate. It’s a complex estate so that could take a number of weeks, or even months. Once it’s cleared probate anyone is entitled to request a copy of the will, but until then it’s a private matter between executors and beneficiaries.”

  “Could you at least tell me if there was anything that struck you as unusual about the will, such as bequests to people outside her normal sphere?”

  Lillian raised her eyebrows skyward. After pursing her lips for a minute in thought she said, “I don’t think it’s breaching any confidence to let you know there were a number of bequests but they were all to long-term employees or former employees. Not what you were expecting I daresay?”

  It had been a long shot that Abigail had provided for the person who supplied her liver transplant.

  “I understand one of your lawyers, Susan Gibbs, took on a pro bono case last year for Mikayla Parkinson. Can you confirm if Mikayla ever came to this office?”

  “Not without checking our records.”

  “I have the dates of her court case if that helps?”

  “Leave them with me and I’ll get Reagan to check into our appointments.”

  “Could you correlate that with any visits to your office by Ms. Ewing? We’re interested to see if the two of them were ever in the office at the same time,” Bex explained.

  Lillian’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, but she asked no questions.

  “Of course, that’s easy to do. Is there anything else we can assist with?”

  “Thank you, I appreciate your help.”

  “Good. Now that’s out of the way, tell me how the drop in center is going? I heard there was some drama last night?”

  Chapter 16

  Friday March 16

  Bex sat in her office reviewing the notes from her team.

  Energy consumption for Bluebell Retreat was high but not outrageous. Smithson and Orla Vitalis had bought the property eight years ago, set up the retreat six years ago and bank records revealed the business was doing well enough for them to now own the property outright.

  Idris’s background check on Vitalis revealed he had been a surgeon with London Central Hospital before starting the retreat. One of his colleagues called him “scalpel happy” and said he had a reputation for scheduling surgery on patients when second opinions varied.

  There had only been one reported death at the retreat two years ago. The death certificate listed the cause of death as respiratory failure during the night. Dr. Vitalis had signed it and it had been witnessed by the local medical examiner. No questions had been raised about any suspicious circumstances. Lester Emerson had been in his fifties and in poor health. A record of the interview with Emerson’s family had shown no surprise at his death. Emerson had been on the waiting list for a heart transplant.

  Bex sat back, wondering about the odds of another of Dr. Vitalis’s patients awaiting an organ donation. Or perhaps that was par for the course? People awaiting organ transplants tended to be unwell and probably benefited from a health retreat.

  She resumed reading.

  Orla Vitalis was a qualified nurse. She had worked at Bethanie Convalescent Nursing Home before moving to a number of different departments at London Central Hospital. She was considered hard-working and diligent in her duties.

  There was no record of the Vitalises having children.

  Discouraged, she slumped over her desk. They were getting nowhere with this case. They still had no idea where Fairchild was. Despite what her gut told her, there was little hard evidence of any murders taking place.

  She rubbed at her temples as she perused a list of the Retreat’s casual employees, ranging from yoga instructors to cooks and cleaners. Was it worth spending man hours questioning other staff? She decided she would hand the information over to Cole and let him make the decision.

  * * *

  Saturday March 17

  A leaden pall covered the afternoon sky. Rain sluiced down so hard the wipers on Georgie’s ancient Honda had difficulty clearing the windshield, while Reuben’s erratic driving seemed to hit every pothole between Ealing and Hackney.

  “You really didn’t have to come with me,” Bex said through gritted teeth as they lurched out of yet another rut in the road.

  Josh had phoned Bex and told her there was something she needed to see urgently at the drop in center. He refused to give her any more details so Bex had begged to borrow Georgie’s car. Reuben had been visiting his mother and insisted on accompanying her.

  “Honestly, if I have to sit through one more special on the royal wedding I’m going to throw up,” Reuben said. “I love
mum to pieces but I’m not the royalist she is. We were about to come to blows over control of the remote, so your entrance was timely.”

  “I thought I sensed the tension,” Bex said.

  Reuben’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

  “It wasn’t just that. Did you see her hair, Bex?” His voice was strained.

  Bex had indeed noticed that Georgie had exchanged her flyaway gray locks for a chic new hair do in golden honey tones.

  “I think she looks terrific. Losing the gray takes ten years off her age.”

  Reuben’s lips thinned disapprovingly. Splitting his attention between the road and her, he said, “I’m not some kid who can’t see that she’s attempting to make herself more attractive for Eli Morgan, who keeps sniffing around!”

  “Road, Reuben, road!” Bex muttered. She was not a fan of Reuben’s driving.

  “She’s fifty-two not twenty-two, so she’s making herself look ridiculous!”

  Hidden by the dark, Bex smiled to herself. For her, age mattered less than attitude. There had been a twenty-seven year gap between her and Zane. She had never given it much thought because she knew men half Zane’s age who radiated far less energy and enthusiasm for life.

  “Your mom still has half her life to live, Reuben. You don’t want to condemn her to loneliness for that long do you?”

  “Eli’s not even divorced,” he said in a tone of outrage. “He needs to sort out his personal life and leave mum out of it until he has. You know he’s six years younger than her as well.”

  Reuben drew the car to a bumpy stop and they both made a dash for the drop in center. Bex didn’t mind the rain. Inclement weather was a good motivation to encourage kids to find a welcome haven and Josh had become a dab hand at providing hot coffee and cocoa to warm chilled bodies.

  A hum of excited voices greeted their entrance and Josh’s face was alive with anticipation. Large hands at the end of bony wrists held a collection of knives, packets of cigarettes and some plastic bags that no doubt contained illegal substances. She knew the boys grumbled about this rule and tried to circumvent it, but Bex didn’t want them making drug deals or bringing their vendettas to the premises. She had purchased expensive replica weapons for them to practice with which were less lethal.

  “Be with you in a minute, Boss. I’ll just stash these in the locker,” he said, walking towards his office.

  Torben Derichs left his portable stand to join them.

  “We had a good number of volunteers for drug testing today,” he informed her.

  “I can see there’s a good crowd here. What’s going on?”

  Josh rejoined them.

  “It was Yusef’s idea. His mates Vinnie and Macca were steaming for a fight, looking to take it to the street with knives. Yusef talked them into coming here to settle their differences.”

  “I call it an honorable duel between adversaries. Pistols at twenty paces,” Torben added with a smile.

  Josh’s face clouded with confusion.

  “No weapons involved, Boss,” he insisted. “That’s the point Yusef made, that the two of them could fight it out evenly matched, fist to fist. Plus we’ve got the doc here if anyone gets really hurt.”

  “I don’t think that’s the job Torben signed up for,” Bex protested.

  “No, it’s not, but I can stay until the end of this fight if you need me. My wife’s taken an extra shift at London Central, so she won’t miss me for a few hours. Hopefully my surgical skills won’t be needed. Yusef insisted both boys be clean for this fight and their drug tests were negative.”

  “I think I can see what Josh means,” Reuben said, craning his neck to look over the top of the throng gathered in the gym area. “Quinn looks like he’s refereeing a boxing match between two kids who are really slugging it out with each other. Oh, and I see DSU Dresden at the side.”

  “Quinn set the ground rules before they started. He has street cred here from when he worked at Hackney, so they trust his rep to be fair. I think he brought your boss along because the local rag is here again. The fight’s almost over, but I thought you’d be glad to see what’s happening, Bex. This is what you wanted for the center isn’t it? Better that the boys fight it out here than one of them getting stabbed in the street?”

  Bex felt a warm swell of satisfaction.

  “Yes it is, Josh, this is exactly what I wanted.”

  “Come on, then, I don’t want to miss the knock out.”

  Chapter 17

  Monday March 19

  When Bex headed into the office, reports from three new burglaries were sitting in her in tray. She sighed. The message from Dresden was clear: concentrate on the work the Youth Crimes Team had been established to deal with.

  Mikayla Parkinson’s case was stalled. If it wasn’t for Fairchild, she would be prepared to call it quits.

  Her phone rang.

  “DCI Wynter, it’s DI Yabsley here. DCI Mackinley has some information for you and wondered if you could attend his office upstairs?”

  Bex’s heart thudded with hope. She considered demanding that Cole come down to her office instead, but his presence in her cramped space tended to leave her feeling unsettled.

  “Can’t he tell me over the phone?”

  “It’s too important to disclose over the phone.”

  “Very well, I’ll be there in five.”

  Moving fast, her long legs took the stairs two at a time and she ran the gauntlet of curious stares from Cole’s team on her way to his office. She barely tapped at the door before opening it.

  Uttering a squeak, a compact brunette bounced to her feet, her face a pretty shade of embarrassed pink. Recovering from her surprise, she checked Bex out with a quick look that swept from her feet upwards.

  “Yabsley said you wanted to see me?” Bex returned the stare coolly, before addressing Cole.

  Cole grimaced and his eyes closed briefly. “Yabsley, eh?” The warm Scottish burr bubbled with hidden laughter. “Thanks for that brief, DC Somers,” Cole dismissed the young woman. “Oh, and could you please tell DI Yabsley to cease and desist.”

  Somers frowned. “Cease and desist what?”

  “Yabsley will know what I mean.”

  “Right, guv.”

  Bex stepped away from the door to let the woman through.

  “Cole, what’s so important that you couldn’t tell me in a phone call?”

  “It looks like Yabsley beat me to the punch because I was going to call you. But now you’re here, sit down. I’ve got some news from my informant.”

  Bex settled herself in front of Cole’s desk.

  “I haven’t got anything on the backyard abortion angle, but my bloke had his ear to the ground and has picked up on an old rumor. About ten years ago, some bodies turned up missing most of their internal organs. Hearts, kidneys, spleens, all gone. Surgically removed. Rib cages cut open to leave empty cavities.”

  “Sounds like an urban myth,” Bex said, disappointed. “How reliable is your guy?”

  “He says he spoke to a bloke who swears he found the bodies in this condition.”

  “Where were the bodies dumped? Is there any evidence we can check?”

  “They were John Does in body bags waiting in the hospital mortuary to be disposed of. The bloke was an orderly at the hospital sticking his nose in where it shouldn’t be. When he found the bodies he was too shit-scared to report them to the police.”

  “The missing organs could have been removed for hospital research. I don’t call that conclusive evidence of a black market trade,” Bex argued.

  “Easy enough to check if there was ethics clearance given for such experiments. If not, who was removing the organs? My money’s on one of the hospital’s surgeons. Removing an organ for transplant purposes requires a degree of skill that your ordinary hatchet job murderer doesn’t have. A doctor at the hospital is the logical choice.”

  “Did your snitch give you a name of the hospital?”

  “London Central. That’s where
Dr. Vitalis worked isn’t it?”

  “Is your snitch prepared to handover this witness’s name or come forward and make a statement?” Bex queried.

  “No. But I think you should do some more digging into Dr. Vitalis. Check his patient lists at the hospital and see what his death rate was like. Oh, and talk to some of the Bluebell Retreat staff. They might be prepared to dish the dirt on their employer.”

  She shifted forward to the edge of her seat, her intense gaze stabbing Cole’s.

  “Let’s put an alert out covering the hospitals to keep an eye out for any of the missing teens’ DNA that we have on record. I want hospital staff to be extra vigilant and perform thorough validation checks on the authentication of all donated organs. If there’s a black market out there supplying hospitals we have to stop it. It’s the only way to save more lives.”

  Cole angled his head away from her eyes, brooding.

  “I understand you want to do something instead of feeling helpless. But what you suggest will start a panic. Let’s do this sensibly. Send two of your lads around to have a quiet word with the hospital staff, but don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  Dark, fractured thoughts swirled through Bex’s head. Extracted organs from the unidentified bodies of missing teens? She fought to catch her breath against the rising tide of helpless rage.

  “No! I don’t want to sweep this under the carpet! I want the hospitals on high alert. I want every hospital administrator to be made aware that we’ll prosecute if necessary and that if they don’t do just diligence with validation checks then we’ll hold them liable.”

  “Damn it, Bex, that’s taking matters too far! You’re going to end up with more trouble than you can resolve,” he argued.

  “I don’t care.” Bex’s mouth was rigid with stubbornness.

  “Well I do and I’m in charge. No sweeping statements and no media attention. The most I’ll allow is a courtesy call on hospitals to remind them to keep their records up-to-date. Very QT.”