She could see his mind weighing up the possibilities. She decided to press on. ‘Our Scientific Services Department are good at what they do, Mr Fenton. If you were really nowhere near the warehouse when it went up in smoke, and you were at the party as you claim, they’ll find dust or grass particles, common with Nicholson’s garden, buried in the fibres of your clothes.’ She paused, relishing his fear. ‘Of course, on the other hand, if you murdered Watson and torched the warehouse, they’ll find blood particles, ash and any number of other traces, proving you were responsible. If you want to prove you’re innocent, hand me those clothes now.’
‘I need to speak to my brief first.’
‘No, you don’t. You just need to give me those clothes. A word of warning, though, Mr Fenton, if you give me clothes you weren’t wearing that evening, and the SSD are unable to find traces from either venue, I’ll know you’ve lied to me, and that won’t help you at all.’
Looking uncertain, he moved across to the built-in wardrobe and opened it. He pushed several tailored suits to one side. He turned, a look of panic on his face. ‘It’s not here.’
Lies: desperate men will say anything to get out of trouble.
‘What isn’t?’
‘The suit I wore that night.’
‘That’s a bit convenient, Mr Fenton.’
‘Fuck you! I’m telling you it isn’t here. I was wearing a cream cotton jacket, and trousers, with a maroon-coloured short-sleeved shirt. It was a warm evening.’
‘So, where are they?’
‘That’s what I’m telling you: I don’t know where they are, but they’re not here.’
Kate lost patience and pushed him out of the way as she marched to the open doors. She pushed several suits across the rail, but there was no cream-coloured apparel.
She looked at the various picture frames on the bedside table. Here was a man who wasn’t camera-shy. ‘Do you have a photograph of yourself in the suit, to verify that you’re not making it up?’
He scanned the photo frames himself, a look of desperation on his face. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘So where is the suit now? Did you take it to the dry cleaners?’
‘No. It was a new suit and I’d only worn it that night. I hung it in the closet on Tuesday morning when I woke up. The shirt should be in my linen basket.’ He raced into the en suite bathroom, yanking the lid off a basket in the corner. He began pulling out clothes, and then tipped the basket upside down, allowing clothes to fall to the floor. ‘I don’t understand. I definitely put that shirt in here, but it’s gone too. Whoever left that machete, must have taken my clothes.’
‘Why would anyone do that?’
‘To make me look guilty.’
‘We’ll be on our way for now, but we’ll be back in touch once the weapon has been analysed.’ She nodded to Laura to lead the way back down the stairs. As they reached the bottom, Kate turned to face him. ‘If you’re really as innocent as you claim, you have nothing to worry about, but don’t make the mistake of lying to me. Enjoy your brunch.’
Back in the Audi, Laura was giddy with excitement. ‘I can’t believe you found it! Bit of a shit hiding place if you ask me, but then nobody said criminals were smart. What next?’
It was too easy: the photograph; the tip-off; finding the weapon within ten minutes: she was being played. But then, Fenton had motive, means and opportunity. He hadn’t given her any reason not to suspect him.
‘We’ll go via the lab and drop this off. Hopefully, you can convince them to process it as a priority.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. Then I promise you can return to the office and carry on updating HOLMES2.’
‘Thanks, ma’am. I’m sorry I doubted you.’
‘Forget about it. You were right to question my decision, and I encourage you to challenge any decision if it doesn’t feel right, just make sure you do it in the right way. I’ve got high hopes for you, Laura. Keep your head down and your nose clean, and there’s no reason you won’t be an SIO yourself one day.’
Laura’s eyes twinkled as Kate fired up the engine and pulled away from Fenton’s house, trying to ignore the voice of doubt in her own mind.
47
It was nearly lunchtime by the time Kate returned to the office and dropped her bag on the table. Laura had gone up to the Scientific Services Department to ask them to process the machete as a matter of urgency. The supe would go ballistic in the morning when he found out what she’d done, but if she could demonstrate that she’d found the machete used to behead Watson, any punishment would be mitigated.
She tried not to picture how that conversation was going to go. The top brass in London hadn’t been so worried about her maverick moves when her record was unimpeachable. She’d avoided disciplinary measures even when she’d knowingly broken protocol, because she’d always managed to deliver the guilty bastards. All those senior officers who’d once jovially slapped her on the back suddenly deserted her after what happened to DC Amy Spencer.
Kate shook the unwanted memory from her mind.
The two detectives from Underhill’s team, who she’d seen earlier, were still down there, although what they were actually doing was anyone’s guess. She was tempted to wander down and give them a fright, but she didn’t have the energy. As soon as Laura returned and confirmed they’d have the results first thing, Kate would be on her way home. Hopefully the electrician had been and the intruder alarm was now fitted.
She’d thought about checking Chloe and herself into a hotel for a few days. She had yet to hear from Rob about Serena’s condition and his parents weren’t due back until Wednesday. That day couldn’t come soon enough as far as Chloe’s safety was concerned. With an alarm installed, the stalker wouldn’t be back without waking the rest of the street. Not that he should bother again, not now she’d done what he’d asked. Assuming Watson’s DNA was found on the blade, Fenton would be arrested tomorrow, and life would return to normal. She could only hope.
At the moment, though, she had no way of identifying the mystery stalker, but that wouldn’t stop her. Once Eleanor Jacobs’s killer had been identified, and punished, she wouldn’t rest until ‘John’ or whatever his goddamned real name was, was behind bars too.
She checked her watch and let out a yawn. Her in tray was now overflowing with papers, but a third of the way down she saw an A4 sized envelope poking out, awkwardly. She hadn’t seen it when she’d arrived this morning, but then she hadn’t really looked at her in tray when she’d arrived, too focused on what she needed to do at Fenton’s.
She pulled the envelope out. It was her name on the internal mail, but the envelope didn’t say which department had generated it. Puzzled, she opened the envelope and looked inside, before tipping the contents onto her desk.
A DVD case clattered on the wooden surface. She turned it over in her hands; the case was transparent, and she immediately recognised the scrawled handwriting on the insert.
THE ANSWERS ARE IN FRONT OF YOU. I’M WATCHING YOU.
It was… it was impossible: the police headquarters was a secure fortress compared to her own home. Nobody could get up to these offices unless they were supposed to be here.
Unless her stalker was a police officer?
She scolded herself for the ridiculous thought as she sniffed the envelope, looking for something – anything! – that might give them away. But, of course, there was only the faint smell of cigarettes. She opened the case and studied the DVD, gripping it carefully at the edges and lifting it up to the light; no prints, either.
Returning the disk to the case, she picked up the envelope and marched to the opposite end of the room. ‘Hey guys, did either of you see who left this on my desk?’
A portly man whose forehead was beaded with sweat looked up and studied what she was holding. ‘Nah, sorry.’
‘What about you?’ she said to the similarly sized detective who’d just taken a large bite of his sandwich. He held up a finger while he chewed and then swallo
wed his mouthful. ‘Nah, sorry. Hold on, that’s an internal mail envelope. It can’t have come today.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s Sunday. They don’t deliver on Sundays. It must have arrived yesterday, or Friday.’
‘No, it can’t have. I’m sure it wasn’t on my desk when I arrived this morning.’
He shrugged as he took a second bite, though this one smaller. ‘I don’t know what to tell you, ma’am,’ he said as he chewed. ‘If someone left it today, it wasn’t from the mailroom.’
‘And you didn’t see anyone over by my desk at any point this morning?’
The two men exchanged glances, before the first responded. ‘Our desks face away from your end of the office, ma’am, so, sorry. Underhill is downstairs interviewing one of Yen’s colleagues. I can ask if he saw anything.’
‘Forget it.’
She spun on her heel and hurried to the small box room reserved for viewing security camera footage. The room contained a single desk, a workstation, and a television with a built-in DVD player. Checking that nobody had seen her enter the viewing suite, she closed the door and lowered the blind. She pulled the desk chair over to the television, before inserting the DVD and pressing play.
The screen stuttered into life.
The image had a line of white static running along the top, a telltale sign that it was more than likely taken from a security camera of some sort. The room on the screen was made up of a series of curtained cubicles, and a tiled walkway separating the cubicles from a large and unmanned desk. Most probably a hospital.
One of the curtains at the far end was pulled back, but it was impossible to see into it from the angle of the camera. A thin nurse in blue emerged and disappeared out of shot.
A feeling of dread grew in Kate’s gut.
A second curtain was drawn back, this one closest to the camera. A short, and rounder, nurse emerged and headed to the desk, depositing a clipboard on the side, before turning to address whoever was in the cubicle.
Kate paused the footage. Was that Olivia Yen? She got closer to the screen, studying the frozen image: right shape and build for sure. Kate glanced at the date in the bottom corner of the screen. The footage had been captured last Thursday: two days before she’d drowned.
She restarted the recording as the woman who looked like Olivia Yen continued to talk to the patient hidden by what remained of the curtain. Then he stepped forward.
Kate spotted the dressing around his right wrist, first. As her gaze moved upwards, she recognised the sweater draped around his shoulders. And then she saw his face.
Kate gasped. Fenton knew Olivia Yen.
On its own, the video wasn’t proof that Fenton had anything to do with her murder. Yen would have treated hundreds and thousands of patients during her nursing career; but who had made this tape and left it for her? And why?
How was she going to explain this to her team?
Had she shared the first photograph and explained matters sooner, then explaining how the DVD had appeared wouldn’t have been so challenging, but there was no way the supe would just accept an anonymous tip-off like this. He was pragmatic, but he wasn’t the sort to ignore awkward questions.
But she couldn’t sit on the evidence. What if she’d been wrong and Fenton had, in fact, executed Watson, as well as Yen? What if they were just two victims in a trail of bodies?
48
Kate ignored Trish’s third call as she continued to pace the small video room.
Could Fenton really be a serial killer?
Every nerve in her body was yelling ‘No,’ but her instincts had been wrong before. She’d learned the hard way not to underestimate what people could do. She’d vowed never to close her mind to any odd behaviour, especially where a crazed suspect was concerned.
The DVD finished its fifth play. Forensically, it was as useless as the image of him holding the machete, but it gave her an angle to explore. She knew she had no choice but to follow it up.
She sprinted back to the office, just as Underhill was leaving. She chased him down, catching up with him in the canteen and asking for five minutes of his time.
Underhill carried his crisps and chocolate bar to the table, and sat down opposite her. ‘Sorry, did you want something to eat?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Right then, what’s so important that you want to interrupt my dinner break?’
There wasn’t time to tread carefully. ‘I want to know who you’ve got in the frame for Olivia Yen’s murder.’
He opened the crisps and placed one in his mouth, chewing as he spoke. ‘I don’t see why that’s any concern of yours. You worried I’m going to win our little wager?’
‘No. Come on, it’s just the two of us here. Nobody knows we’re even talking. You any nearer to closing it?’
‘We have one suspect: her former housemate. They had a spat, and he was forced to move out.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘Away on holiday, according to his landlord, but we have search teams looking for him.’ He picked a bit of crisp from his gum, before wiping his finger on his trousers. ‘What’s it to you anyway?’
Kate hid her revulsion. ‘Is there anyone else in the frame?’
He ate another crisp. ‘Like whom?’
‘Have you considered that her death might not be a one-off?’
‘What do you mean? A serial killer on the loose?’ He snorted.
‘Why not?’
He erupted with laughter. ‘Oh, that’s brilliant. I think I’ve heard everything now!’
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that we go months without a suspicious death and then three turn up in a week?’
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he emptied the rest of the crisps into his mouth. ‘You are priceless, do you know that? Not only determined to lead your own enquiry, but you want to solve mine, too.’
‘Well, tell me, have you looked for any clues between what happened to your vic and what happened down at the docks?’
‘You’re kidding, right? This is real life, Matthews, not an episode of Midsomer Murders.’
‘How can you be so certain if you haven’t checked for links? Maybe Yen and Watson were connected to the same person or people.’
‘You think a nurse living in shared accommodation moved in the same circles as a known criminal like Watson? Do me a favour! You’ll be telling me next the same person killed your vic.’
Kate looked away.
He hurled the scrunched-up packet towards the bin, missing. ‘Besides the fact that there is no evidence linking the crimes, the MOs are different for a start. Yen drowned, Watson was decapitated, and yours was… fed to death, wasn’t she? These are three crimes involving three different killers, and if you think differently, you ought to get your head examined.’
She should have anticipated his reaction.
He stood and took a bite of the chocolate bar. ‘You want some advice, Matthews? If you want to win back the support of the unit then catch the sicko who bound that lawyer to the table. Stop looking for trouble where there isn’t any.’
49
The DVD stopped and Kate turned to Laura. ‘Well?’
Her expression was one of anxiety rather than excitement. ‘Where did you get it, ma’am?’
It wasn’t fair to dump this on a junior officer, particularly one she’d already manipulated into breaking the rules. ‘That doesn’t matter right now. What’s important is it links Fenton to Yen.’
Laura narrowed her eyes. ‘Links them? What do you mean? This doesn’t tell us who killed her.’
Kate pointed at the screen. ‘Don’t you see? It was him.’
Laura spoke slowly to avoid misunderstanding. ‘You think Fenton killed Yen?’
Kate nodded eagerly. ‘Yes. And Watson. He killed them both.’
‘Ma’am, are you okay? You seem agitated, and you’re not making any sense.’
Kate searched the walls for inspiration. ‘The DV
D was sent to me by the same person who gave me the photograph of Fenton with the machete.’
‘And you said that was Jimmy Torero.’
Kate didn’t have time to explain why she’d blamed it on Torero. ‘That doesn’t matter. Look, the person who told me Yen was a nurse, gave me the photograph of Fenton and sent me this DVD. He’s trying to help us prove that Fenton is responsible for two murders.’
Laura looked uncomfortable. ‘Just because Fenton – if that is him – was treated by the nurse last week, it doesn’t automatically mean he killed her. Ma’am, I know you trust your instincts, but I’m going to need a little more than that.’
‘Hey, listen, I know. We can’t take it to the supe without something concrete, but will you help me, Laura? Help me connect the dots and find the evidence to prove it?’
‘Don’t you think you should discuss it with Underhill and Hendrix first?’
Kate huffed. ‘I tried Underhill but you know what a jackass he can be. We’re on our own for now, but I know between us we can figure this out, and when we’ve found the real link, we’ll involve the others. What do you think, Laura?’
Laura sighed. ‘What do you need me to do?’
Kate resisted the urge to hug her. ‘Underhill wasn’t forthcoming with what his team have learned about Yen. Can you pull it up from HOLMES2, and look for anything that might link Fenton to her?’
‘Can you be more specific?’
Kate pulled a face. ‘Not really. We know Fenton has a shady background, and you know the clubs he’s involved with. Check Yen’s bank statements and see if she ever visited one of his businesses… um… Fenton’s crew are involved in loan-sharking and drugs; was she in debt or did she buy drugs from him? That kind of thing.’
Laura slapped her hands on her knees and stood. ‘This is going to take some time to review.’
‘Order takeaway on me. Here, take my card.’
Laura pocketed it. ‘Underhill and his men are in Incident Room 1; should we work from IR-2?’
‘Good idea. I’ll work it from the opposite angle. I’ll study Fenton’s file and the Watson case and search for links to Yen and the hospital. It would be good to find out how he injured his wrist in the first place.’
Dead to Me: A serial killer thriller (Detective Kate Matthews Crime Thriller Series Book 1) Page 19
