by Ellis, Tim
‘You are the police, numpty.’
He grinned. ‘Koll said that as well. I think you two are very much alike.’
‘Don’t talk rubbish. She’s young and pretty, while I’m slightly older and prettier.’
‘That’s what I meant, of course. Anyway, guess who they sent to take charge?’
‘Chief Inspector Ezra Pine from Shrub End?’
‘How could you possibly know that?’
‘A lucky guess, I guess.’
His eyes narrowed to slits. ‘You know something, don’t you?’
‘I know nothing, numpty. As you’re fully aware, I’m stuck in this bed without a bloody phone, because you refuse to smuggle one in for me.’
‘You wouldn’t let that stop you.’
‘Contrary to popular belief, I don’t have the energy to worry about what you’re doing or not doing to your new partner.’
‘Interim partner, and I’m not doing anything to her.’ He leaned forward. ‘Pine knew that she was at Hoddesdon though.’
‘What did you expect? Did you think they’d just sit back and wait for Koll’s testimony to put them behind bars?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘And that’s why you’ve got the gun, isn’t it, numpty?’
‘Yes.’
Xena shook her head. ‘You’re going to get yourself killed.’
‘I’ll be all right. I have used a gun before, you know.’
‘Let’s move on. So, you think this Mathew Pitt was tortured and murdered because he was a paedophile?’
‘No, I don’t think that.’
‘I’m intrigued.’
He told her about the post mortem findings and the things that had been done to Pitt, about the old medical instruments and the third foot.
‘Ah, a third foot is always a dead giveaway.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’ve got the same problem with this case as you have with the other one – if he’s killed other people then it’s not about Pitt.’
‘Yeah, I thought that might be a possibility, but then I changed my mind.’
‘That’s not like you, numpty. Your mind – the miniscule portion that exists anyway – is usually one-track.’
‘I know, but Doc Paine said that the killer was probably a surgeon, and it can’t be a coincidence that Pitt was the senior administrator in Essex University Medical School.’
‘Sounds like you’re doing well without me.’
‘We’ve got nothing.’
Xena’s eyes started to close. ‘You’ll . . .’
He touched her hand, gave her a kiss on the forehead and said, ‘Goodnight, sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite.’
When he reached the restaurant Koll wasn’t there. He felt as though someone had opened up his chest and ripped his heart out. He should never have left her on her own. Now what should he do? He thought about going back to wake DI Blake up – she would know what he should do. Then, it crossed his mind that he should ring the Chief and tell him what a stupid fool he’d been, but he didn’t really want to do that. He was a Sergeant now, he should know what to do.
The word “security” popped into his head. He looked up at the ceiling. There were CCTV cameras – not just here in the restaurant, but throughout the hospital.
He hurried to find the security office and the CCTV monitoring room. He flashed his warrant card at everyone, and told them that he was looking for a missing witness.
Eventually, they found Koll leaving with a giant of a man who had a hair lip, but what Stick found interesting was that two men – coppers if he wasn’t too much mistaken – were following them.
The security officers printed off a couple of stills for him from the CCTV recording of the people involved and he thanked them profusely. Then, he walked back to Xena’s room.
‘Don’t pretend you’re asleep.’
Her eyes were still closed. ‘Let’s not forget who the Inspector is in this room.’
‘A wolf in sheep’s clothing.’
‘You don’t like my new nightdress?’
He threw the pictures on her chest. ‘Who are the two coppers following Koll?’
‘Haven’t we already discussed my lack of second sight?’
Sliding the handgun from the holster, he checked that the magazine was full again and said, ‘I’ll just have to go after them myself then.’
‘Ring DI Tom Dougall at Barking and Dangenham, he’ll tell you what’s going on.’
‘You’ve had people covering my back.’
‘You think I’m going to leave it to a wet-behind-the-ears trollop I don’t even know.’
‘You could have told me.’
‘If I’d still been in one piece I could have done a lot of things. Instead, I have to lie here watching while you get cosy with the latest model in partners.’
‘And you call me a numpty. You’re the only partner I want. I like the older models.’
‘You’re going to pay for that when I get out of here.’
‘I know.’
As her eyes closed, he left the room, took out his mobile and phoned Barking and Dagenham Police Station to speak to DI Tom Dougall.
***
He knocked on Richards’ door.
‘It’s open,’ she shouted.
He opened the door and walked inside.
Maddie followed him.
Richards was lying on the bed with her foot on a pillow watching Sky News.
‘Constable Mary Richards, Sergeant Anne-Marie Madison and vice-versa,’ he said as way of introductions.
They shook hands.
‘Where’s the whiteboard?’ he asked, looking round the room.
‘In the hotel reception.’
‘Why is it down there, when you’ve had all day to get it up here?’
‘Because I couldn’t carry it on my back and use my crutches at the same time.’
‘Why didn’t Lieutenant Ludwig bring it up for you?
‘You said he wasn’t allowed in my room.’
‘You know that’s not what I meant. The lazy . . .’
‘He offered, but I said you’d kill him if you caught him in my room.’
‘So who’s going to bring the whiteboard up here then?’
Richards rubbed her chin between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. ‘Hmmm, that’s a difficult question. Can I have an easier one, please?’
‘I’ll go and get it,’ Maddie said.
‘No you won’t.’ He made his way to the door. ‘You and I will be having serious words later, Richards.’
She stuck her tongue out at him.
He had to make two trips – once for the board and the other for the stand.
Maddie made the coffee.
Once the whiteboard was set up he said to Richards, ‘You can write everything down.’
‘I don’t want to stand up, my ankle hurts.’
‘It’s funny how it only hurts when you’re asked to do some work.’
‘It’s all right,’ Maddie said. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Okay, we have one murder – Caterina Makhairas, and three other missing women – Kitty West – an American tourist; Feri Leonidas – another Cypriot woman; and Janie Gayle – a British tourist from Cornwall.’
‘Are we sure they’re connected?’ Richards asked.
‘We’re not sure of anything yet.’
‘What’s interesting is that the other women haven’t been found either alive or dead.’
‘Why is that interesting?’
‘Well, if Major Durrell didn’t do it – as he claims – we might have expected that someone would have found the other women by now.’
‘You’re suggesting that because he’s locked up . . . ?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Let’s leave the speculation to the end, shall we?’
‘Just trying to be helpful.’
‘Anyway, Maddie and I . . .’ He saw Richards raise an eyebrow. ‘. . . went to see Inspector Kefali
s and Major Durrell this morning. First, Kefalis seems to have made up his mind that Durrell is guilty and hasn’t bothered to explore any other possibilities. Second, neither the post mortem report, nor the reports relating to the analysis of evidence have been translated into English, so I phoned Toadstone and he’s arriving later tonight. I told him we’d see him at breakfast.’
‘You’re not meeting him at the airport?’
‘No.’
‘Maybe I should go.’
‘Maybe you should. So, after lunch . . .’
‘You had lunch?’
‘I’m not on a diet.’
‘After the hideous abomination I saw, maybe you should be.’
‘After lunch we went to see the flat where Caterina lived – the crime scene that isn’t a crime scene anymore – above the greengrocers in Konia to discover if what Major Durrell says happened was actually feasible.’
Maddie copied the layout of the flat on the board from her previous sketch and explained to Richards what Durrell had said about what had happened.
‘He found her dead when he came out of the shower?’
‘Yes,’ Maddie said.
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘We re-created the murder as he described it, and found that it was feasible.’
Parish butted in. ‘We didn’t believe it either, but then we went to see the two old women who live across the road. They saw Durrell arrive and leave, but they also saw someone else use a door key to enter the flat.’
‘Who?’
‘Do you think we’d be sitting here if we knew that?’
‘Hmmm, another tricky question.’
‘So, the women said that they told Kefalis about this other person, but he wasn’t interested. According to the shopkeeper there were only two keys to the flat, which were in the possession of Caterina and the Major, so someone had a third key.’
‘Keys can be copied easily enough.’
‘Not in Cyprus, apparently. A key-cutter comes round to the village on Tuesday and Thursday riding a bike that powers a key-cutting machine.’
‘What if the Major gave his key to the murderer, who then left it in the flat after he’d killed Caterina.’
‘You have a dark and devious mind, Mary Richards. Why can’t you apply that to the men you meet?’
‘What’s that meant to mean?’
‘You know exactly what it means. So, you’re suggesting that the Major got someone else to kill Caterina while he was in the shower?’
‘Yes.’
‘If he was trying to give himself an alibi,’ Maddie said. He didn’t do a very good job.’
Parish shook his head. ‘No, I don’t buy it. If he was going to do that he’d have made sure he had a proper alibi. Anyway, the two old women gave us the name of a previous boyfriend – Egor Laskaris. They didn’t think the man letting himself into the flat was him, but he’s a possible suspect. After that, we went to see Dixie Lang . . .’
‘Who?’
‘She’s an ex-pat who lives in Paphos.’ He told her about how Major Durrell and Caterina had met at the HamActors amateur dramatics group and subsequently fallen in love.
‘They were in love?’
‘So it would seem.’
‘Love can be a terrible thing.’
‘Did you find that in a fortune cookie?’
‘What if he killed her because she was going to leave him? Or she’d found someone else? Or she’d found something out about him? Or . . . ?’
‘There’s no evidence to support any of that. Anyway, Dixie and her husband Gerald gave us the name of another suspect – someone who had feelings for Caterina that weren’t reciprocated . . .’
Richards grunted. ‘I know how that feels.’
‘And me,’ Maddie said. ‘Unrequited love can be a terrible thing.’
‘Mmmm,’ Richards said nodding.
‘Can we do agony hour at some other time?’
They both looked away.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘This man’s name was Jackson Wyberg and we have an address in Agios Tychon, which is the other side of Limassol. So, tomorrow . . .’
‘Do we know anything about Jackson Wyberg?’ Richards asked.
‘In what respect?’
‘Well, I presume he’s another ex-pat, but what did he do in England?’
‘Good point. Ring someone at the station tomorrow and ask them to run his name through the database. We could also do with a picture of him if they can find one.’
‘I’ll try and fit it into my busy schedule.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Do you think Major Durrell did kill Caterina?’
‘I’ve shifted from one end of the scale to the other.’
Maddie wrote “Alibis” on the board underneath Major Durrell’s name. ‘I’m going to check the Major’s alibis for when the three other women went missing.’
‘Of course,’ Parish said. ‘When a soldier leaves the camp they’re meant to sign out and then – upon their return – sign back in again . . .’
‘But sometimes they don’t bother and slip out the back way.’
Richards pulled a face. ‘How can you check his alibis then?’
Maddie said, ‘If we can place him somewhere else – such as on duty – when any of the women went missing, then that would go a long way towards proving he was innocent . . .’
‘Possibly, but not necessarily innocent of killing Caterina,’ Richards challenged. ‘He was there in the flat, he touched the knife and then wiped his fingerprints off it, he ran and didn’t call for an ambulance . . . Those aren’t the actions of an innocent man.’ She glanced at Parish. ‘You wouldn’t behave like that, would you?’
He thought about it. ‘I don’t think any of us can say for certain what we’d do in a situation like that.’
‘He’s a soldier. He’s been in a war zone. He’s seen blood and dead people. I don’t think that what he said he did in that flat and what he actually did are the same – he’s lying.’
‘Maybe we need to go back and question him again,’ Maddie said.
Richards shrugged. ‘He’d probably just say the same thing. If we were in England, there’s enough inconsistencies in the evidence for reasonable doubt.’
‘But we’re not in England.’
‘Maybe he miscalculated.’
‘What about a psychological profile?’ Maddie suggested.
‘Go on?’ Parish said.
‘Maybe – instead of us questioning him again – he tells his story to a psychologist and we get a professional opinion on whether he’s telling the truth or not.’
‘Do you have a psychologist stationed here?’
‘There’s an ex-pat – a retired psychologist – who used to help the police in England. She’s also done some work for the military in Cyprus on soldiers with post-traumatic stress disorder.’
‘We’ve both suffered from that, haven’t we Richards?’
‘I suffer from it every day as your partner.’
‘More like the other way round.’
‘Huh!’
‘That’s a good idea, Maddie. I’ll suggest it to the Air Commodore in the morning. What’s the psychologist’s name?’
‘Doctor Melanie Calne.’
‘So, the plan for tomorrow is: Maddie picks me and Toadstone up at quarter to nine; we brief the Air Commodore on where we’ve got to; we drop Toadstone off at Limassol Police Station to . . .’
‘There’s a problem,’ Maddie said. ‘The forensics building is in Limassol, but not at the Police Station. The pathologist works in Limassol General Hospital, which is in a different place.’
‘He’ll need his own driver then, won’t he?’
‘I’d say so.’
‘Okay, that shouldn’t be a problem for the Air Commodore. So, Toadstone goes to Limassol and works his fingers to the bone. We’ll take a trip to Agios Tychon in the morning to speak to Jackson Wyberg. After lunch we’ll visit the places from where the other three women went
missing. Although . . . I’m beginning to have doubts that they’re connected to the murder of Caterina Makhairas.’
‘And I’ll work on my tan.’
‘As for you, Richards, you’re going to ring the station about Wyberg. I also want a decent map of Cyprus . . .’
‘I can get that,’ Maddie said. ‘We have proper maps, not the ones the tourists buy.’
‘Okay.’
Richards smiled. ‘Thanks, Maddie.’
‘Don’t think that gets you off the hook, Richards. I want you to stare at this whiteboard until you’ve worked out who the killer is, or your eyes start bleeding.’
‘My eyes will start bleeding if I have to stare at the whiteboard from my sunbed – this is the fourth floor. I’ll probably need a pair of binoculars.’
Parish stood up. ‘Maddie, thanks for all your help today. We’ll let you get back to the camp now. I’ll walk you down to reception.’
‘Say goodnight to Maddie, Richards.’
‘Goodnight, Maddie.’
***
‘What did she say exactly?’ Kowalski said.
He was pacing round the kitchen while Jerry’s mum – Matilda Khan – prepared dinner.
‘How many times do you want me to tell you? All she said was that she had something to do and she’d be late.’
‘How late?’
‘She didn’t give me a time.’
‘Didn’t she say what she was doing?’
‘No.’
‘Or where she was going?’
‘No.’
‘Why didn’t you ask?’
‘It’s none of my business.’
He clucked his tongue and sighed. It was nearly eight o’clock. Jerry had been out of contact for three hours. Where the hell was she? It might be that she was off flying the flag for women’s rights again, but she should be answering her phone. He had a bad feeling about it, especially after what she’d told him about Tug Muleford.
He phoned Charlie Baxter.
‘Long time,’ Charlie said.
‘Yeah. Listen, have you heard from Jerry this afternoon?’
‘No. Why?’
‘She rang her mum saying she’d be late home, but it’s now eight o’clock and she’s not answering her phone.’
‘Did she tell you about the confrontation with Tug Muleford?’
‘Yes.’
