Bex Wynter Box Set 2

by Elleby Harper

  “Hello, my name’s Rebecca Wynter. You said you’re Dr. Vitalis’s housekeeper, Mrs Rosie Causer. Is that right?”

  The woman nodded, maintaining a surly silence.

  “We’re looking for Dr. Vitalis and his wife, do you know where they are?”

  She shook her head.

  “Does Dr. Vitalis normally leave you alone in the house?”

  The woman shrugged. Exasperation bit hard at Bex. She noticed the yellowish nicotine stains on the first two fingers of the woman’s right hand indicating a heavy smoker.

  “Listen, Mrs Causer, if you cooperate with me, I’ll let you light up a smoke to soothe your nerves,” she offered.

  Interest glowed like a cigarette tip in the woman’s eyes.

  “I could use something to settle myself. You lot storming in here like space invaders scared the daylights out of me.” She thumped her chest with one hand and pulled a rectangular box out of the pocket of her long cardigan with the other. “Okay if I light up inside?” She gave a cackle. “If the boss turns up you lot can pack him away before he fires me. Say, what’s he done to deserve a welcome like this?”

  “I can’t tell you that because it’s an ongoing investigation.” Bex stood up, removing herself from the vicinity of the smoke billowed around the woman like a shroud. “Do you have any idea where Dr. Vitalis could be?”

  “No idea if he’s not holed up in his office with his headphones on dabbling on that computer. Mrs V could be at their private quarters. She spends a lot of her day over there unless the retreat’s got clients.”

  “Do they have a lot of clients?”

  “No. Dr. Vitalis once told me this is a very select retreat and he screens all his clients carefully before allowing them here.” She snorted. “Still, it’s not for me to wonder how they make ends meet. They pay me well and that’s all that matters.”

  “Where are these private quarters?”

  “Oh, that’s just what Mrs V calls it. It used to be the gardener’s house in the days when this was some nobleman’s manor. It’s almost overgrown by the shrubbery these days. I don’t know why she wants to spend time there when they’ve got this place to live in. But, there’s no accounting for tastes.”

  “Are there any children at the retreat?”

  “Children? No, I’ve never seen hide nor hair of a child on this property.” The woman took a long drag on her cigarette and gave Bex a calculating look. “Mind if I help myself to a nip of brandy as well? Just to settle my nerves, like.”

  Chapter 30

  Saturday March 24

  Hidden behind a screen of latticed shrubbery, the gardener’s lodge looked like an oversized doll’s house in need of repair, Bex decided. Not far beyond it she could see the ring of armed officers, fully kitted with heavy armor plated vests, formed around the steel-reinforced door to the bunker. It had not been easy finding the entrance because the bomb shelter was blended into the gentle roll of Bluebell Hills, extending into the mound of one or more of the hills and downwards into the earth.

  If anyone was in that cottage they couldn’t fail to notice the police presence swooping past. Bex called Cole to relay the housekeeper’s news but he nixed her suggestion to investigate the gardener’s house.

  “We had two men do a sweep and it’s empty,” he countered. “Jack agrees with me that our best bet is to catch the Vitalises in the bunker. If they’re there we still have a chance to catch them unawares. The bunker walls are so thickly insulated they won’t have heard our approach. Remember to check out Vitalis’s office. I’ve got to go, they’re about to breach the door!”

  Standing at the front window, gazing over the extensive gardens to the hills, Bex gnawed on a knuckle. Sky beaten to a dull gray filtered pale dawn sunlight over the landscape, but from this distance and hidden by the cottage, she couldn’t make out any details.

  Cole wanted her inside the retreat, but she couldn’t summon the enthusiasm to rake through Vitalis’s study. She simply didn’t believe the doctor would store anything incriminating there. The man would be a fool to do that, so going through his papers would be a waste of her time.

  There were two points to Rosie Causer’s account that intrigued her. The first was that there were no signs of a child on the property, so if Fairchild was their daughter they were keeping her well and truly hidden. The second point was that Orla Vitalis spent a great part of her day away from the manor house. What drew Orla to the gardener’s lodge so frequently? There had to be something there that a quick sweep of the house hadn’t uncovered!

  Giving the armed officer a cursory order to stay with Mrs Causer, Bex tightened the straps on her protective vest and headed down a well-worn path through the tangled overgrowth to the cottage. Bare branches and sharp twigs snatched at her arms, but she brushed them aside.

  When she arrived, the door was unlatched, swinging open onto an entrance decorated with an antique hallstand complete with hats, coats and two umbrellas. On the opposite side stood a slatted bench covered with several pairs of outdoor shoes. But when Bex stepped beyond the vestibule into the house, there was nothing but empty rooms.

  Puzzled, Bex stepped from one small room to the next. It was as though the lodge was a movie prop. The front entrance would make anyone coming to the door believe this was a lived in home when it obviously wasn’t. No wonder the armed officers had only taken a few moments to declare the place empty. There were no closets or furniture for anyone to hide behind.

  Dusty blinds at the windows were closed leaving the bare rooms gloomy. Bex flicked on the light switches. The wooden floor in one of the rooms was covered by a large scatter rug. A couple of straight-backed chairs were pushed against the wall. What did Orla do here?

  Her roaming eyes returned to the rug, skewiff and with one end folded in on itself as though it had been disturbed. She lifted the end, tugging the carpet aside. Outlined against the worn floorboards was a large metal square, hinges counter sunk to fit neatly so there were no raised edges to show under the rug. Where did the trapdoor lead?

  Bex’s first thought was of Fairchild. A cellar or basement would fit the bill for her “house with no windows”! Was this why Orla came here so often, to spend time with her daughter?

  Bex stepped to the wall and snapped off the light, leaving the room in gloom. Then she moved to the door in the floor to test it. With only a gentle effort it opened fully so she could peer down. It was like looking into a well. Iron rungs bolted to the wall lead downwards. She cocked her head, listening intently. Was that faint rustling or was it her imagination? Was Fairchild trapped down there, unable to get to safety?

  Bex grabbed the flashlight from her vest and shined it downwards. The smooth rock face tunnel curved at the bottom, leading into a horizontal tunnel. It reminded her of the underground bomb shelter network photos on Cole’s computer. Was this a mini shelter for the lodge or was it possibly an alternative entrance to the main bunker?

  The sensible thing to do would be to return to the retreat and bring the armed officer here. But that would take time, during which the trapdoor was unattended.

  Taking a chance, Bex leaned down into the black hole, but her vision disappeared into shadows that were hard to penetrate. Whispers of sound swum upwards, echoing off the walls. Was it the hum of a childishly high soprano? Her nostrils flared at the faint tang of gasoline.

  She pulled back and quickly typed out a message to Cole on her phone.

  As soon as you can, bring an armed officer to the gardener’s cottage. Suspect another entrance to the bomb shelter.

  She dipped her ear towards the manhole, but the sounds had faded. Damn it! What did that mean? That Fairchild had fallen silent or that something had happened?

  She checked her phone, but there was no response. She walked over to the window, dislodging the dust mites as she lifted the blinds to look across to the breached steel door of the bomb shelter but there were no officers in sight. All the action was taking place inside.

  Restlessly she pa
ced back to the manhole, straining her ears, but she heard no more voices. Did that mean Fairchild was on her own? If so, perhaps Bex could whisk her out safely without alerting the Vitalises to her presence? No, no, going into a situation without a weapon was stupid! she scolded herself. On the other hand, she had no evidence there was a situation happening below her feet. It’ll be quick!

  She swung her body round to take a tentative step onto the first rung. Moving slowly, she placed each foot carefully to minimize the clanging her boots made against the metal, landing lightly on the ground. From the dim light filtering from above she followed the curved corridor around until at one end she could see a strip of light spilling from beneath a doorway.

  She thought she heard the soft, high pitched humming again, but it was difficult to pinpoint. Sounds seem to echo tinnily from every direction down here, bouncing off undressed stone walls and steel piping that ran above her head. There was also a constant drone, like some sort of ventilation system in operation.

  She headed cautiously for the light. As she neared it the smell of gasoline flooded the area. The door was ajar and she eased around it to look inside a room that appeared to be some sort of office area with a desk and several filing cabinets.

  Shock paralyzed Bex to the spot. She couldn’t stifle her reflexive gasp at the sight of Sophie Dresden soaking furniture with fuel from a five liter red plastic container.

  Chapter 31

  Saturday March 24

  At the soft sound, Dresden whirled to face her.

  Confusion swamped Bex. What was Dresden doing here? Surely she hadn’t involved herself in the investigation? Dresden couldn’t be aware the warrant was being executed because Cole had handled it himself.

  “Ma’am, I don’t understand why you’re here?”

  Gasoline vapors clogged the back of her throat as she spoke. Why on earth was Dresden spreading fuel around? It made the room a firetrap.

  Dresden swiped the back of her hand against her forehead, throwing back some stray strands. She was dressed in old jeans, a black hooded sweatshirt and loafers. Her toffee-colored eyes darkened.

  “DCI Wynter as I live and breathe. I told you to leave this investigation alone, but it looks like you couldn’t follow orders. I wonder if that’s Standing’s influence on your team. I must say, I find the result disappointing.”

  Bex could see the filing cabinet drawers had been flung open and papers were scattered ankle deep on the ground, covered with a snaking trail where the flammable fluid had dripped over them.

  Dresden tilted her head and considered Bex with a slight smile.

  “I hoped you’d take the threat seriously enough to back off.”

  Bex blinked several times, forcing back her shock so her brain’s gears could mesh into action. Incredulity raised her voice several notches.

  “You were the one who wrote that threatening note to me? Did you also throw that grenade into the drop in center?”

  “Yes I sent the note. After our interview that morning I didn’t trust you to follow through on my orders. And I was right. It wasn’t actually me that lobbed the grenade into the building, but it was my idea. Vitalis wanted to send you back to the States in a box as soon as I told him you suspected him. In retrospect, his was the better idea considering you’re still sneaking around behind my back.”

  Bex realized that Dresden was unaware of the search warrant and likely didn’t know that an entire team of armed officers was right now invading the bunker area. Could she turn that to her advantage?

  Dresden lifted her sweatshirt, digging into her waistband to pull out a pistol. She gestured with it, motioning Bex away from the door into the room.

  “Your meddling has spoiled my plans. I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you out of the story to salvage anything useful.”

  “You’re trying to scare me, but I doubt that’s even loaded. And you’re not trained in handling weapons.”

  “Trust me, I had my husband Lander load it. I don’t need training to shoot you at this distance. I’d have to be half blind to miss you.”

  Bex ran the odds in her head. Novices who hadn’t used guns didn’t realize how difficult they were to aim and hit a target, or how much the recoil could affect their aim. Plus she was wearing her bullet resistant vest. On the other hand, Dresden could get lucky with a bullet hitting her lower body.

  “I’d prefer to leave you here when I burn this place down, but I’ll shoot you if I have to, so don’t make any sudden moves. With your bleeding heart mentality that seems to think bad seeds can be repatriated into useful adults, you won’t be missed any more than those deadbeat teens. At least not by me.”

  Bex brought her mind to focus to make sense of the facts in front of her and Dresden’s words which proved she wasn’t here investigating Smithson Vitalis. There was only one reason to burn the place down: to destroy evidence. What type of evidence? Material that proved Smithson Vitalis was their serial killer? Or…?

  “You’re talking about all the missing people we believe may have been killed for their organs?”

  “Yes, those scumbags. When you check into their crimes you can see they’re hardened crims before they even hit adulthood. For the last few years, each one of them was handpicked by me because I knew their rapsheets inside out. They didn’t commit minor misdemeanors like shoplifting, they committed brutal crimes like rape and assault. I’ve been a copper for thirty years and I can predict the ones who’ll be in and out of jail all their lives. If they’re left to live on the streets, they’ll continue to destroy any number of innocent lives. We were doing society a service.” Dresden smiled. “More than that. Each of their deaths went into saving valuable, productive lives.”

  “What do you mean ‘we’? You’re saying you were involved in the serial killings to service a black market in human organs?” Bex couldn’t contain her horror. “Using those kids like they were some sort of spare parts?”

  “Precisely. We’ve saved captains of industry, sporting legends, politicians, people who are important in the world.”

  “Let me get this straight. You’re working to supply Dr. Vitalis with victims to kill? Were you using my drop in center as a recruiting ground? Is that why you were so keen on the no-drugs policy?”

  “No need to sound sanctimonious. I’m not forcing the doctor to kill. Vitalis started murdering patients in the hospital long before I met him. Luckily he was never Lander’s doctor, but during visiting hours I heard enough gossip to get suspicious about his activities. I discovered Vitalis is a cold-blooded killer who enjoys the surgical thrill of dissecting his victims.

  “I take credit for being the mastermind who came up with the idea of selling the organs he extracted and refining his methods. Vitalis didn’t care who his victims were, but I do. I let Vitalis go on killing provided he only takes the worthless lives I chose for him. He and Orla were able to fake all the forms they needed to make hospital staff think the donations were genuine to perform the transplant operations if he couldn’t do it himself. But the Vitalises are compulsive hoarders, so I’m about to destroy every record that Orla saved of the organ transplants they conducted for their clients.”

  Dresden scuffed a shoe over the scattered papers soaking in gasoline. A sigh escaped her lips.

  “You’re right, I had big plans to use your drop in center as a recruitment facility, until all that social media focus on the center’s activities meant I couldn’t risk having teens keep disappearing. And yes, I supported Clem’s no-drugs policy to help reduce damage to otherwise healthy organs. In the process of helping society, we turn a tidy profit. In fact it’s become quite lucrative. Rich people pay extremely well to extend their lives. That’s how Vitalis could afford to buy this place.”

  Bex shuddered. “You mean you murder kids like Yusef Karim?”

  Dresden laughed.

  “Exactly! He’s a perfect example. No one will miss him, not even his family.”

  “How could you? You’re a police officer! You’re
sworn to uphold the law. I thought that was why you instigated the Youth Crimes Team and why you hired me!”

  Dresden smirked.

  “I hired you because of your inexperience with our policing methods. I didn’t count on your unrelenting enthusiasm and uncanny instinct to nose out crime. You make a good officer. I’m sorry to have to kill you, but you’ve left me no choice.”

  “Everyone believed your passion for solving youth crime lead you to angling for promotion so you could end up a commissioner!”

  Dresden’s eyes glittered. Bex had never noticed the malice in them before.

  “Fools believe what they want! The Youth Crimes Team was my brainchild to suss out juveniles perfect for Vitalis’s knife. After Lander got shot I lost my idealism about cleaning up London, putting the scumbags roving the streets behind bars. You can call me a vigilante, but you can’t deny I’m doing society a service by removing these menaces from the streets.”

  “I call it revenge. I think you’ve never forgotten or forgiven that unknown shooter for injuring your husband. And now you’re benefitting from the most hideous of crimes.”

  “Benefitting?” Dresden spat the word out. “Lander lost his legs for the job and what did he get for it? Dismissal because he’s no longer a useful employee! The offender never even paid with a night behind bars! What I’m exacting from these kids is justice. I didn’t hesitate to blackmail Vitalis in exchange for letting him continue doing what he craves and I’ve used the money we made to invest hundreds of thousands of pounds in a world-renowned medical institute to fund a prototype exoskeleton to enable Lander to walk again.”

  “You’re mad if you think you’ll get away with this!”