by M A Comley
“Have you done anything about obtaining DNA from the staff?”
“Do you want me to? What about a warrant?”
“Bear with me two minutes. If the staff members have nothing to hide, then in my opinion, they’ll be willing to offer us a sample of their DNA.”
“You’re a crafty mare at times, Lorne Warner.”
“Just doing my job, Patti.” Lorne marched into the bank, which was temporarily closed to the public, to find three women and a young man talking to AJ. Lorne introduced herself and said, “I’m truly sorry for your loss. Who found the victim?”
The young man raised his hand. “Tanya and me. He was just lying there, covered in blood. I rang 999 immediately and ushered Tanya inside.”
“Are you up to answering some questions?” Lorne’s heart felt heavy as she observed the tortured expressions of the staff.
“Of course, we want the person who did this caught as soon as possible,” the young man said.
“That’s our aim too. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“It’s Nigel Manning. I’m the assistant bank manager.”
“I take it that you’ve informed head office of the incident?”
“Yes, directly after I rang 999, I called my area manager.”
“I wonder if any of you would object to giving us a DNA sample? It’s more to eliminate people from our enquiries early on than anything.” Lorne clarified when Nigel looked shocked by her request.
“I have no objection to that, Inspector. Does anyone else?” he asked the three stunned women, who all responded by shaking their heads.
“Wonderful. Maybe there’s an office we can use for privacy? It’ll only be a buccal swab.”
“Yes, my office,” he replied without hesitation.
Over the next half an hour, Lorne and AJ jotted down each of the staff’s statements and took the DNA samples. Before leaving the bank, they also obtained a copy of the CCTV disc, though Lorne was dubious whether it would offer much in the way of clues because of its positioning in the car park. She was more hopeful that one of the cameras on the side or front of the building might highlight a strange vehicle in the vicinity that morning. That was their first priority once they returned to the station. But in the meantime, Lorne had the daunting task of visiting the victim’s wife and sharing the sad news of her husband’s untimely demise.
Lorne parked outside the large home on a main thoroughfare into the heart of Fulham. She admired the Georgian façade of the imposing two-storey terraced house, aware of the high costs involved in purchasing and running a house in such an affluent area. “Are you ready for this?” she asked AJ.
“The least pleasant part of the job, eh?”
“Just leave the talking to me, and you’ll be fine.”
AJ did the honours of ringing the doorbell. A woman in her early thirties opened the door. In her arms was a small child of around eighteen months.
Lorne gulped and flashed her ID at the woman. “Mrs. Sonia Grade? I’m DI Lorne Warner, and this is my partner, DS Alan Jackson from the Met Police. Is it possible to come in for a moment to speak to you?”
Mrs. Grade seemed puzzled. “I’m sorry, what is this about? I have a clinic to attend with the little one shortly. I don’t wish to be rude, but I don’t want to be late for the appointment, either. They’re like gold dust.”
“It is important. Please, it would be better inside.” Lorne smiled, and the woman reluctantly stepped aside to allow them to enter her beautiful home.
After closing the front door, she swept past them and into the large lounge. She placed the child into a playpen in the corner of the room and sat down in the easy chair next to it.
Lorne inhaled a deep breath before she began talking.
The woman raised a questioning eyebrow at Lorne’s delay.
“I’m sorry. There’s no easy way of telling you this, Mrs. Grade. I regret to inform you that your husband died this morning.” Lorne lowered her voice when she mentioned the husband’s death in case the child understood what was being said.
The woman’s hand covered her mouth, and a sob escaped her throat. “What?” she whispered after a few seconds.
“Maybe it would be better if we called a member of your family to be with you, to look after the child while we speak?”
“Yes.” She extracted her mobile phone from her handbag next to the sofa and rang someone. “Mum, can you come over? Please... don’t ask me to tell you over the phone. Just get here, quickly.” She hung up. “Mum lives around the corner. She’ll be with us in a few minutes. Is that okay?”
“Of course.”
A strained silence filled the room; only the child’s happy chortles could be heard.
Moments later, the front door opened and slammed shut, then a slim lady dressed in an olive-green trouser suit entered the room. “Hello. Who’s this, sweetheart?”
Lorne flashed her ID again and introduced herself.
“Police? What’s this in connection with? Should my grandchild be in the room to hear this?”
“It’s Daniel, Mum. They say he was found dead this morning.”
Lorne saw the colour drain from the mother’s face and then asked her to take a seat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name?”
Looking stunned, she replied, “Janet Falk. Oh my goodness, how?”
“I was just about to explain the circumstances to your daughter but was conscious about your grandchild overhearing the facts.”
“But I should be here when you tell her, for support. Can’t he look after Amelia for a few minutes?” Mrs. Falk asked, pointing at AJ.
Lorne looked at her partner. “Would that be okay with you, AJ?”
“Sure, it’ll be good practice.” He approached the playpen as Sonia stood and picked up the child again.
“I’ll settle her into the highchair; you can watch over her there, if that’s okay?”
AJ left the room with Sonia and Amelia. Mrs. Falk’s gaze landed on Lorne through narrowed eyes as she asked, “Was he held up at the bank?”
“No, it was nothing like that. The incident happened outside his workplace.”
The lounge door opened, and Sonia walked back into the room and sat down. “How did it happen?”
“As I’ve just explained to your mother, Daniel’s body was found outside the bank. He never made it into work this morning.”
“What? Did someone hijack him to gain access to the bank?”
Lorne shook her head. “We don’t think so, although we could be wrong. A Forensics team are at the scene investigating all the possibilities.” She cleared her throat and continued. “I have to ask if anything suspicious has occurred in your husband’s life lately? By that I mean, has anyone contacted him? Threatened him? Tried to coerce him into doing something detrimental to his reputation?”
Sonia frowned and glanced at her mother. “Is she asking if Daniel was possibly on the take, Mum?”
“I don’t know, dear,” Janet replied. She turned to face Lorne. “Are you? Is that what you think this is about? I know how risky it is being a bank manager these days. They’re perceived as being a soft touch to gain easy money.”
Lorne swallowed hard. She didn’t really want to deceive the women any longer than necessary. “You’re not going to like what I have to tell you. However, I think you should know the full facts concerning your husband’s death, Sonia.”
“You’re worrying me, Inspector. Please, come right out with it. I’d rather know from the outset what the facts are.”
A quick assessment told Lorne that she felt the woman could handle the horrific truth. “Very well. Your husband was found murdered, lying in a pool of blood in the rear car park at the bank. Unfortunately, his attacker cut off part of his anatomy. To date, we can’t tell you the significance behind such actions. Usually an injury of this kind implies that the assailant has been intimate with the victim in some way. In this instance, the nature of that intimacy is yet to be ascertained.”
“I don’t understan
d. What are you telling me? What part of him has been removed?”
Lorne sighed heavily and held the woman’s gaze with her own. “His penis.”
Sonia broke down, and her mother rushed to be by her side.
“What kind of perverse world are we living in, Inspector? Why would anyone do that to another human being? Why?” Janet whispered as if voicing the words too loudly would double her daughter’s pain.
“I don’t know, but I’m certainly going to do my utmost to find out. Has your husband mentioned anything out of the ordinary happening at work, Sonia?”
“No, nothing that I can recall. My head is all over the place right now.” She stared at her daughter’s playpen, her eyes narrowing as she thought.
“Have you thought of something, Sonia? It doesn’t matter if you think it’s insignificant. At this moment, we have very little to go on, so any clues you might give us could help us to solve the case quicker.”
“Something jumped into my mind. I was getting Amelia’s breakfast ready this morning when the phone rang. I thought it was a prank call. The caller listened but refused to say anything.”
“About what time?” Lorne withdrew her notebook from her pocket.
Sonia’s hand touched her temple. “I don’t know. I suppose around eight fifteen to eight thirty. I got annoyed with the caller. They caught me at the wrong time because Amelia had just spilt her cereal over the floor. I shouted down the line and called them an unsavoury name.”
Lorne smiled. “You’re entitled to if it was indeed a nuisance call. And they said nothing at all?”
“No. Do you think there’s a connection? Did my outburst cause my husband’s death?” Sonia broke down again.
“Please, you mustn’t think that, Sonia. We’re unsure how or what took place at present. It might have been a hostage situation gone wrong for all we know. The speculation could be endless until we get the clarification we need from the pathologist. Her report should be back within the next few days.”
“Can I see him?” Sonia asked, apparently willing to accept Lorne’s statement.
“Of course, but that won’t be allowed to take place before the postmortem has been performed. The pathology department will contact you directly, to give you the option and times when visits are permitted.”
“Thank you. Will I recognise him? Was he badly beaten also?”
“No, there was barely a scratch on him, except for the injuries we’ve already discussed. Would you mind if I took a look at your phone? Is the number still registered, or did you delete it?”
Sonia picked up her mobile and handed it to Lorne. “I didn’t have time to delete the number. It should still be registered as the last call received.”
Lorne jotted down the digits. She was tempted to redial the number but thought better of it. If the call had come from the murderer, the last thing she wanted to do was tip the person off. “Hopefully, this will lead us to the guilty party. It’s a start anyway.”
“So you think you’ll be able to trace the person using the number?” Janet asked hopefully.
“Providing they haven’t dumped the phone by now. That’s a distinct possibility, especially if they’ve realised how foolish it was to ring Sonia. If indeed it was the murderer who called. There are always a lot of what-if scenarios we have to chase during an investigation, but they all tend to come together and point us in the right direction, in the end.”
“Do you need anything else, Inspector? I’d like to take care of my daughter now,” Janet said, patting Sonia’s hand.
“I think that’s it, except to express my sincere condolences and to assure you that I will do everything in my power to bring this person to justice.”
“I hope so. How will I cope without Daniel?” Sonia cried and buried her head in her hands.
“I know it’s a bit of a cliché, Sonia, but time is a great healer. Obtaining justice can also ensure that healing is achieved more quickly. Did your husband have life insurance? Is the house on a mortgage?”
“Yes, he had insurance, and yes, we have a huge mortgage.”
“I’m sure the insurance will cover it. I know it’s not nice discussing such matters, but there is still a need for practicality going forward, if only to give you peace of mind. Perhaps leave it a few days for things to sink in.” Lorne rose from her seat and walked towards the lounge door. “I’ll collect my partner and shoot off, if that’s all right?”
Both women followed her into the hallway. Sonia went ahead to rescue AJ from Amelia’s playful antics.
As soon as AJ re-joined Lorne, they left the grieving women and returned to the station.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Claire left Lucy’s house in Norfolk around mid-morning. Grinning, she drove back down to London, happy to be away from the drab existence of country life and looking forward to going out that evening on the social scene at a plush restaurant, not that she could afford it. She would need to do what she always did: entice a member of the opposite sex to pay for her meal. The ploy had worked thousands of times over the years. She had no reason to believe that night would be any different. In her experience, men often went to restaurants and sat at the bar, waiting to pounce on what they thought was easy prey. She had tempted many a desperate man with her beauty and her flirtatious nature, leading them to think that dessert would be on offer at a nearby hotel, only to do a runner at the restaurant once the bill appeared. She had a gift that would stand her in good stead for years, providing she kept her looks and her slim figure intact.
Claire pulled into her drive and was surprised to see Olga sitting on the granite steps of her home, looking like some kind of vagrant. The only thing missing from the scene was a begging bowl. “Olga? What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a daughter visit her mother now and again without getting the third degree?”
Claire eyed her with contempt. She hated it when her children disrespected her, even more so when that daughter was her youngest, and a shameful drug addict to boot. “You look like shit. If I get my hands on your bloody dealer, I’m going to shove him in a wood chipper. You’re a disgrace to this family.”
“Thanks, Ma. I had a feeling I wouldn’t get the support I needed here. I never have in the past; why should today be any different? I’ll leave you to your world of grandeur and snobbiness and take my drug-filled sorry arse out of here.”
“Stop your whining, child, and get indoors before the sodding neighbours lay eyes on you.” Claire hauled her daughter to her feet and looked down at her bloody hand in horror. “What the?”
“I didn’t intend to do it, I swear. Everything just snowballed, and before I knew what was happening, it was too late to back out.”
“Inside. Don’t say anything else until we’re on the other side of the door.” She shoved her daughter in the back and wiped her blood-soaked hand down Olga’s sweatshirt.
Once the door was closed, Claire folded her arms and cocked her head to the side. “Well?”
Olga’s foot circled the marble hall floor a few times as if she were searching for the courage to speak.
Claire growled and stomped off into the living room, where she felt most at home, surrounded by the luxurious swag-and-tail brocade curtains, plus all the antiques her former husband had lovingly collected over the years and left behind after the divorce. Claire sat down in the high-backed Queen Anne chair and crossed her arms. “I’m waiting. You have precisely five minutes to tell me what has gone on, or...” She deliberately left the sentence unfinished. She’d learnt over the years that those kinds of threats had far more success. Olga went to sit down on the fabric sofa, but Claire shouted, “Don’t you dare.”
Olga glared. “That phrase has been directed at me more often than anyone else in this family. Maybe if you’d treated me with more compassion, I wouldn’t be in this mess now.”
“What are you referring to with that sweeping statement? Your drug addict status? Or the fact that it looks like you’ve just ended someone’s life?
You make me sick. Yes, I’m guilty of saying ‘don’t you dare’ more to you than any of my other children, but I’m also guilty of spoiling you more than the others. I blame myself for giving you far too much money over the years, money that you’ve seen fit to waste on filthy drugs. Why? Why have you turned to that disgusting habit? None of the others have. Why you?”
“The need to suppress the feelings of hate towards you and the rest of the family is a considerable factor, Mother.”
Claire’s temper rose. “And you think telling me that is going to transfer the guilt you’re feeling onto me? Is that it? I’m assuring you, Olga, it isn’t. You’re despicable. Tell me what you’ve done. Now!”
Olga started to walk back and forth in front of her. “Teagan asked me to carry out a job for her.”
“Let me stop you right there. Since when does Teagan give the orders around here?”
Olga shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Was there money involved?”
Olga’s hand covered her eyes before her bitten fingernails tried to scratch her face. “Yes, fifty thousand.”
Claire shot out of her chair, grabbed her daughter’s shoulders, and shook them violently. “What? Where the hell did she get that kind of money?” Claire was furious. She’d been rubbing pennies together for the past few months, trying to think of numerous ways to supplement her income, only to hear that her eldest child is bandying around tens of thousands of pounds.
Olga tensed up and tried to struggle out of her mother’s grip. “I don’t know, Ma. Don’t frigging have a go at me. I did what I was asked to do.”
Claire pushed her daughter away, furious about her family’s deceit. “I’m the one who gives the orders, and do you know why that is? No? Then I’ll tell you—because I’m the one with the brains. This week alone, Teagan has messed up more times than I have in all the decades I’ve been doing this. What bothers me the most is the rest of you are so willing to go along with her plans—plans that are doomed to failure because of her lack of insight. Out with it, who have you killed and why?”
“I don’t want this shit. All I wanted was to make some easy money. There’s no way I’m going to get caught up in the middle of this.”
