by L M Krier
'Will you attend yourself?' she asked.
'I was going to do so, yes, with Mike Hallam. Kevin Turner is also providing some uniform officers to keep curious onlookers at bay. I'm anxious to keep a lid on this as much as possible. The last thing we want is word of this leaking out and causing fear and panic.'
'My sentiments entirely,' the Ice Queen nodded. 'I think your involvement can be more hands on once again at this stage, now that we have three possible victims. What you mustn't do, under any circumstances, is start getting involved in interviewing any suspects. Any half-decent defence lawyer would have a field day with that, once your personal connection to one of the victims became known.
'And I concur, we don't want a public spectacle making out of the exhumation. I don't need to tell you that, apart from frightening the public, it is likely to push your killer underground. I hope we can count on every officer in this station to keep quiet?'
'Ma'am,' Ted said stiffly. There had been leaks on previous cases and their source had not yet been fully discovered. Ted strongly suspected that those leaks had been external. He trusted all of his team implicitly, even Maurice, who was inclined to speak before thinking. He knew that Kevin Turner felt the same about his uniform team.
But it wouldn't be the first time a police officer had made a few quid on the side by getting too friendly with the local press. Ted particularly disliked and mistrusted the local newspaper reporter, who was the bane of his life, always sniffing round when there was anything big happening.
Ted rose to go, picking up the file on DC Vine. 'I'll study this in detail and let you know my decision by tomorrow, if that's all right.'
'I should have mentioned that if you do decide to take her, DC Vine is not immediately available. She is currently on two weeks' enforced leave of absence with a strongly worded recommendation from DI Austin to consider her future very carefully.'
Ted laughed. 'It just gets better and better. I look forward to meeting this DC Vine.'
Chapter Eleven
'Midnight is a bloody silly time to be hanging round in a graveyard, boss,' Mike grumbled, as he hunched his shoulders against the persistent drizzle.
'Is this your first one, Mike? Exhumations are usually done at night,' Ted said patiently. 'That way there's less risk of onlookers, so it's more likely we can keep it under wraps.'
Ted was not feeling any more enthusiastic himself. At least he was better equipped than Mike, being a keen hill walker. His waterproofs would withstand a lot worse than this and they were breathable, so he was not feeling hot and sweaty inside.
Mike was wearing an ancient waxed jacket, which looked as if it had seen better days and not been re-proofed since he bought it. It was no wonder he was faring badly with the weather. The Professor was in a long waxed coat and matching hat. The way the rain was running off both, it was clear she took better care of her outdoor gear than Mike did.
They were both impressed that Professor Nelson had turned out in person for the occasion. She was not obliged to be there, but as she had explained to Ted, 'You may think me a terrible ghoul but this case really fascinates me. Poisonings are comparatively rare, and ones utilising plant toxins are rarer still.
'I'm hoping to start on this one very early tomorrow morning. Or rather, I should say later this morning, as it's past midnight,' Professor Nelson told them. 'I appreciate that doesn't leave any of us much time for sleep, but I am anxious to get started and get the toxin analysis done as soon as possible. But I must warn you that some plant toxins become untraceable after a period of time and I'm not sufficiently au fait with the subject to know off the top of my head which ones, without detailed research.
'So gentlemen, whose turn is it to come to this one?' she asked, looking from one to the other.
Ted and Mike exchanged unenthusiastic glances. Neither of them particularly liked attending post-mortem examinations. With this potential victim having been dead for three months by now, they both fancied it even less.
Mike reached in his pocket and pulled out a coin.
'Toss you for it, boss?' he suggested.
'No, it's all right, Mike, I've got this one.' Ted looked across at the grave, surrounded by screens against prying eyes, with diggers working under arc lights. 'In fact, it looks as if they're nearly done here, so why don't you get off home. I'll go and get a few hours' sleep, then I'll see you at the hospital, Professor,' he said, keeping it formal in front of his DS. 'What time would you like me there?'
'Well, I have a very busy day ahead so would it suit you if I said six o'clock? I generally start work at sparrows' fart,' she replied. 'Then I could get this one out of the way before I start. Or is that too early?'
Ted groaned inwardly but said, 'No, not at all, that's fine, I'll be there. And thanks for hurrying this one through yet again for us, it's a great help. We really appreciate it.'
He waited until he had seen the newly exhumed coffin safely installed in the hearse and on its way to the hospital ready for the post-mortem before he left the scene and headed for his car. On his way through the gates, he paused to exchange a few words with the two uniform officers Kevin Turner had provided for the operation. Ted was universally popular in the station precisely because he made time to talk to everyone and accorded the same level of courtesy to all, regardless of rank.
'Thanks for this. It's not much fun for you, especially with this dismal weather. Did you see anyone sniffing about? Any signs of our friend from the local paper?'
'Nothing and no one, sir,' one of the constables told him. 'Is it finished? Can we knock off now?'
'Just wait until everyone leaves and the machinery has gone, if you wouldn't mind. And make sure the gates are securely locked up again. I don't want anyone seeing the freshly disturbed soil, reading the headstone and putting two and two together.'
Trev was already in bed asleep when Ted got in and slipped quietly under the covers next to him. It would have been easier to wake the dead than disturb his deeply sleeping partner, spread-eagled as he was across most of the bed, underneath a heap of cats.
With Trev's patient help, Ted had finally mastered the art of setting the alarm on his mobile phone. He was not a natural with technology. He would get a scant four hours or so of sleep before having to get up again, but he decided it was better than nothing.
He wondered if Bizzie would sleep or if she had gone straight to her autopsy suite. Despite her visit to his house, Ted still knew little about her, outside the professional side he saw when they worked together. But mutual respect and a feeling almost of friendship was slowly building.
It was still raining when he left the house shortly after five-thirty. The drive to the hospital was not long, but Ted hated to be late for anything . He had risked only a green tea with organic honey to start the day. He was usually quite good at post-mortems but he didn't relish being present for one on an older, partly-decomposed body.
He knew that, theoretically, it would be relatively well-preserved but he was still not looking forward to it. He had checked before leaving that he was well armed with his menthol lozenges. Other officers liked to use a smear of pungent vapour rub or tiger balm under their noses during a post-mortem. Ted liked the additional comfort of sucking the throat sweets, which reminded him so strongly of his father. He wondered what his counsellor would make of that, if he told her.
'Morning again, Edwin,' the Professor greeted him brightly. 'Did you manage to get any sleep?'
'A few hours, thanks. Better than nothing,' he said. 'What about you?'
'Oh no, no need of it. I'm a real night owl. I often don't sleep. At the most I get by on about four hours. I'm like Margaret Thatcher in that respect, although I hasten to add that it's the only thing I have in common with that woman. Now, are you well-armed with your sweeties and can I get started?'
Ted took the hint and passed her the packet before she began, before helping himself.
As usual, she kept up a running commentary for the tape. Once again, ther
e was not a great deal to report.
'I'm relying heavily on toxicology for this one, and hoping there is enough with the remaining samples I can take to give us the results. I note that the original death certificate records the cause as heart failure and that would seem to be the logical conclusion to be drawn from what I have seen so far.
'However, we will now have the benefit of tests which the doctor signing the certificate did not have. From what you say about this and the other deaths, there would be really no reason to suspect anything untoward at the time. Sadly, elderly people, especially in communal living, like the care homes, are very prone to viruses and gastroenteritis. Either can easily prove too much for them, even if they don't appear frail.
'It isn't helped by the fact that they are very often dehydrated. They always have the heating up like a tropical greenhouse in those places, and frequently the residents don't get anything like sufficient fluids. Water in equals pee out, of course, which is not always what they want, from a care management point of view. Sudden violent vomiting and diarrhoea on an already weakened and dehydrated system can often be fatal, and very quickly.'
Then she paused for breath and said, 'Sorry, Edwin, I'm on my soap box. Luckily Mummy hasn't had to resort to a home yet, but Daddy was in one before he died. Whenever I went there, I would fling open his bedroom window and give him several glasses of water. I was not popular.'
Ted smiled. 'I can imagine,' he said.
'That's me just about done for now. Would you care to join me for a cup of truly disgusting vending machine coffee, before we both begin the rest of our day? I would welcome some company at this ungodly hour, and the canteen won't be open yet for a halfway decent cup.'
Ted had the sudden impression that she was a lonely person, not good at making friends. He was happy to afford her a few minutes of his time. She was right about the coffee. It was foul.
It turned out to be another intensely frustrating day, with little progress. Steve had been ringing round all the law firms in the immediate area, trying to trace an Angela Mortice.
'She either doesn't work on or near our patch, boss, or she uses a different name at work,' he said, at the morning briefing. 'Always supposing she exists at all, and that really is her name.'
'I think we've been round all the local homes as well now,' Mike told him. 'We've had no more deaths reported and no further sightings of this woman, whoever she is. We haven't started on the hospitals yet. I thought we could do that today. It may mean checking ward by ward, but I highly doubt there is any kind of record kept of hospital visitors. I imagine the staff are far too busy looking after sick people.'
'Sir, what about the cake shop?' Steve suggested. 'The one this Angela Mortice has been buying the fondant fancies from? It may not be connected, as that home doesn't seem to have had a death yet which fits the pattern. But maybe it's someone setting themselves up to be just an innocent visitor before they strike?'
'Brilliant idea, Steve, that's well worth checking out. If she was a regular and always bought the same cakes, it's possible that they might remember her. Ask the home for the name of the shop.'
'I'll volunteer to go and check it out, boss,' Maurice said quickly, with a wide grin. The whole team laughed. Maurice was known for his fondness for sweet things, especially since he had stopped smoking. Although Ted had noticed he was eating less and looking altogether better since he had had Steve to look after.
'All right, Maurice, just for your cheek, you get that one. Take Steve with you. He might be able to control you,' Mike told him. He was in charge of assigning tasks to the team.
It proved to be yet another dead end. The shop didn't know the woman, just remembered that she came in occasionally for fancies, but they could offer no clue as to who she was or where she lived or worked. At least Maurice and Steve brought back a box of cakes for the rest of the team.
Ted felt completely weary by the time he got home that evening. It was not just having been up late then having to go in early for the post-mortem. He felt he was going round in circles and making no headway. He also had the strong and disturbing notion that he was missing something, something blindingly obvious, in the little information they had already.
He hoped Bizzie would do her best to rush through the latest results, although he feared already that it was going to prove to be another killing, with the same MO.
Trev and the cats were watching the news when he got home. He sank down wearily beside them on the sofa and leaned against Trev, his head on his shoulder. There were delicious smells wafting from the kitchen and he realised just how hungry he was.
'I hope I didn't disturb you when I got back in the wee small hours, or when I staggered out again at the crack of dawn,' he said, lifting his head so he could kiss his partner's cheek, then slumping back against the scatter cushions.
Trev laughed. 'Good grief, we've lived together for eleven years and you still think you're capable of waking me up when you're in stealth mode? No chance! Hard day?' he asked solicitously.
'I feel like we're going round in circles,' Ted told him. He seldom talked about his work at home, but he sometimes briefly outlined a current case. He had spoken a little more than usual about this one as it involved his own grandmother.
'We've got two certain and one possible poisonings and absolutely no suspect at all. Normally we'd have at least one at this stage. The only name that's cropped up to date is this Angela Mortice and we can't get a lead on her.'
'Angela Mortice?' Trev queried, looking at him incredulously.
'Why, do you know her?' Ted asked.
Trev laughed. 'Ted, I know you're neither a language scholar nor a Catholic. But come on. Angela Mortice?' Seeing Ted's blank look, he continued, 'Angelus Mortis. The Angel of Death? Are you sure someone is not pulling your leg somewhere along the line?'
Ted stared back at him. 'Sometimes, I am just so breathtakingly stupid I astound even myself. Could that possibly be our motive? Someone who's set themselves up to rid the world of old people with dementia? That opens up a whole new can of worms.'
Chapter Twelve
'Right team, listen up, I have a confession to make,' Ted said at the start of the briefing the following morning. He had already told Mike he had things he wanted to say before handing over to him to assign tasks for the day.
'I am a complete bloody idiot. It's official,' Ted said with a self-deprecating grimace. His team members sat up straighter and looked at him in surprise. It was so unusual for the boss to swear at all, even mildly, that it must be something serious.
Ted was standing in front of the white board, marker pen in his hand, as he continued, 'Our mystery woman is not Angela Mortice, M-O-R-T-I-C-E.'
As he spoke, he crossed out the name Maurice Brown had written there underneath Ange, Angie and Angela. 'It's almost certainly not her real name, but whatever it is, it's more likely to be Mortis, M-O-R-T-I-S.
'I'm too stupid to have realised, but Trev, who as you all know speaks several languages, and who was brought up a Catholic, was quick to point it out. Angelus Mortis is Latin for the Angel of Death. Whoever this woman is, she seems to be having a pretty sick joke at everyone's expense.'
The team members were quiet for a moment, then Maurice Brown spoke up. 'Bloody hell, boss, I'm sorry, that was my fault. I should have checked the spelling.'
Ted shook his head. 'Not your fault at all, Maurice. The home wouldn't necessarily have known the spelling unless she had ever written it down for them. That seems unlikely, since most of the homes don't keep records. Even where there is a visitors' book, she may well never write in it.
'Now this development is worrying. It was disconcerting enough having two, possibly three killings where we've not yet established the connection,' Ted continued. 'But a name like this suggests someone on a mission. And we know just how hard they are to catch. So ….'
He was interrupted by the phone on Mike Hallam's desk ringing. The DS answered it, said, 'Yes, he's here,' and handed the phone
to Ted.
'Hello, Ted? It's George,' the familiar voice of the coroner's officer greeted Ted as he answered. 'You've been giving us a fair bit of work of late and it seems there's another possible one for you that we've just been informed about.'
Ted groaned. It was not the sort of news he wanted. 'Thanks for letting me know, George. What have you got for me?'
'There's an elderly woman patient who died at the hospital late yesterday. A sudden, unexpected death. It's been called in as suspicious because the symptoms were out of character with what she'd gone in for. Mr Happy asked me to let you know. I'm just emailing you all the details we have.'
Ted smiled to himself at the nickname. The senior coroner was not known for his sunny disposition, and Ted was not the only one who found him hard to get along with. He often wondered how George had survived working with him for so long.
'Thanks, George. We really didn't want another one, but thanks for letting me know. I'll talk to Professor Nelson about the PM.'
He hung up then looked at his team. 'Sounds like another one,' he said grimly. 'At the hospital this time, which is a worrying departure. Mike, I think you and I should go down there as soon as we can, to establish facts and details while they're still fresh in everyone's minds. In the meantime, do you want to brief the team on what we discussed earlier, please?'
'The boss and I talked about damage limitation, at this stage,' Mike told the team. 'As we don't have a lead on this Angela, whoever she might be, we thought we might go at it from the prevention angle. I want you to get out there, round all the homes, and talk to managers or senior staff about implementing a ban on relatives giving food directly to residents.
'Now, it's not going to be popular, it won't win you any friends. And I imagine most of them will say they can't do it. But I want you to stress to them that they need to try. I also want you to do it without spreading alarm, if you can.
'Get them to say anything they think will sound convincing. They need to test blood sugars or something. I don't know, I'm neither a nurse nor a care worker. But they need to think of something to make sure any food brought in isn't given directly to anyone, until further notice. The boss and I will talk to the staff at the hospital when we go this morning and see if they can impose the same rule, for the time being. It's not much, but it's the best we can do for now.
