Fabian and Banner got out of Finch’s Lexus, climbed eight steps and flashed their ID at the uniformed officer manning the tape at the open front door. Ducking under it they both took out white foot covers from the box inside and slipped them on their feet.
‘Where’s the FOA?’
‘Upstairs,’ the officer informed Banner.
They both climbed to the first floor but Fabian didn’t recognise the gangly uniformed man with the ghost of a red beard outside the open door of the bathroom.
‘Webber?’ It appeared Banner did. She turned to Fabian. ‘This is Sergeant Webber. I was briefly his mentor… year before last?’
‘Actually it was early 2015.’
‘Wow.’ Banner shook her head.
Webber’s half smile evaporated when he met Fabian’s eye. ‘Looks like her assailant got in through the patio doors. Her valuables appear to be intact. We’re knocking doors now but no witnesses as yet. I had to immediately remove her basset hound from the property. We found it upstairs, victim’s blood around its mouth. Its howling alerted the neighbours.’
Under the circumstances, it appeared he’d secured the scene for Forensics as well as he could. Fabian nodded at Mills, the pot-bellied pathologist. ‘Tight in there?’
He stood up awkwardly from his crouching position in the small bathroom and winced, the skin wrinkling the top of his bald pate. The circle of hair around it was now entirely grey.
As long as he’d worked with Mills the man had been talking about early retirement. Fabian stepped inside the bathroom. Another tech in the same white overalls as Mills was hidden behind the door making notes on a clipboard. The smell of coconut was potent. It reminded Fabian of the shampoo Tilly used. Emily Mortimer was backed up against the wall, her eyes half open and her body tucked against the tiles between the bath and the sink as if she had been cowering there, her legs wide and one black marabou slipper angled off her right foot.
She was wearing a peach dressing gown that had ridden up exposing her naked torso and a dark patch of blood around a deep slit below her left breast. Blood had streamed down over her slight middle-aged spread and between her legs. The white towel turban on her head was still wrapped tight. Fabian estimated her to be in her mid- to late-forties.
Her top lip had been cut by whichever blade had carved up the bottom of her face, which was caked in blood. It was sprayed on the tiles surrounding her, on her curled fingers and in her palms. Looked like she’d attempted to fend off the blade. Dark red paw marks dotted the floor.
Mills sighed. ‘I’d like us to get finished up so we can give this lady some dignity.’
‘Estimated time?’ Fabian noticed the bloody hand marks on the edge of the mustard-coloured bath.
‘I’ve only just started but… likely in the last eight hours.’
Cousins hadn’t been taken in until around eleven. He’d had ample opportunity. Green Park wasn’t far from Fitzrovia. Did that explain his false story about being at his sister’s when they’d called on him?
‘When can you tell me for sure?’
‘Backlog as usual. Probably not until this evening. I’ve only just finished with Janet Wells.’
‘So we’re looking at the same blade?’ Banner asked over Fabian’s shoulder.
‘Can’t jump the gun but I’d say the wounds suggest so.’ Mills rubbed his red eyes.
Fabian got a waft of a familiar aroma under the coconut. It attended every homicide scene and lingered in the nostrils. It didn’t matter if the body was fresh like Emily’s. Its sickly sweet edge would remain with him long after they’d left the scene. ‘The contusions to the face, still arbitrary?’
‘These are the most severe but, again, appear to be inflicted without any precision. No attempt to replicate the specific wounds of the others.’
Banner moved further into the room. ‘Looks like she put up a fight.’
‘I’ll be taking samples from under her nails but I think she ended up in that corner and had nowhere to go while he stabbed down at her. Her dog’s smeared a lot of the scene.’
Fabian surveyed the blood spattered up the trunk of the sink.
‘They’re dusting downstairs but if it’s like the other scenes they’re only going to find her prints.’
Fabian straightened again. ‘What’s the garden like?’
‘Paved. It was raining last night though. They’re searching the edge of the park.’
‘OK. I’ll leave you to it.’ Fabian knew there was little to be done until they’d finished their sweep and Mills had completed his examination.
‘Sir?’
He turned to where Webber was hovering on the landing.
‘Got a neighbour downstairs. Says he saw something.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fabian went downstairs with Webber, and Banner followed. Waiting outside on the road was a tall man in a dark raincoat and beanie hat.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Fabian. I’m told you might have seen something?’
He nodded.
‘Last night?’
‘Day before last.’
‘Are you a neighbour?’ Fabian briefly regarded the three other rubberneckers who were standing only a few feet away.
The man nodded. ‘Live in the street adjacent to this one – Willowfall. But this is on my walk when I take my dog out.’
Fabian moved to the other side of the drive and gestured for the man to follow. ‘What did you see, Mr…?’
‘Streke. Gavin Streke.’
Fabian noticed the deep red veins in Streke’s pale blue eyes and the broken capillaries in his cheeks. High blood pressure, alcohol abuse or both. He looked to be mid-forties.
‘I’m at number 94.’
‘The officer will take your specifics.’
‘I work from home and took Banjo out for his afternoon walk.’
‘What time was this?’
‘Always three o’clock. So I was probably walking through here just after. I saw two people standing over there.’ He turned and pointed to the tall hedge of the house opposite that was lit orange by a streetlight.
Fabian registered the large recess in it.
‘Used to be a bus stop there but they took the shelter out this year.’
‘Two men?’ Fabian rubbed his palms against the cold.
‘Man and a woman. They had jeans and dark coats on.’
‘Exact colour?’
‘Can’t remember. It had been raining but had stopped. They still had their hoods up. Struck me as odd.’
‘You couldn’t see their faces?’
‘No, but I could hear their voices. Sounded like they were having an argument. I walked past on the same side and they turned to face the hedge. Thought it was strange. I guessed they didn’t want me eavesdropping on their tiff, but they did exactly the same when I walked back the other way from the park.’
‘How long were you in the park?’
‘I’m usually there for about twenty minutes.’
‘And they hadn’t moved?’ Banner narrowed her eyes at the spot.
‘No. I just walked on my way with Banjo. That was it.’
‘Do you know the owner of this house?’ Fabian gestured to the property behind them.
Streke shook his head. ‘No. I don’t know anyone who lives in this street. What happened in there?’
‘This is a murder investigation.’ Fabian watched his eyes widen.
‘Murder?’
‘How tall were they?’ Fabian continued.
‘Both looked to be around the same, average sort of height.’
‘Anything else specific you remember?’
Streke blinked a few times and shook his head.
‘But you got the impression they were trying to hide themselves from you?’
‘That was my reading of it. I didn’t give it another thought until I heard all this commotion.’
‘How long have you lived here?’ Banner asked.
‘Moved here in ’96.’
‘We�
�d like to take a full statement from you. Have a good think about who you saw. If there’s anything else you remember, no matter how insignificant you think it is, let me know.’ Fabian fished out a card and handed it to him.
Streke accepted it. ‘I will but I really don’t think there’s anything else I can tell you.’
‘You’d be surprised. Webber will take your details.’
Streke nodded at Fabian.
‘If we can just step away from the property, sir.’ Webber led him away.
Fabian watched him go. Had he seen two potential suspects? Perhaps he was right and they’d simply been a couple embroiled in a squabble they didn’t want to share.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Finch was driving Fabian and Banner back to Horseferry station and negotiating the traffic along Piccadilly when Banner’s phone went. She leaned through from the back seat. ‘It’s McMann. Cousins has his alibi.’
‘His sister?’ Fabian hardly needed to ask.
‘Yep,’ Banner confirmed.
‘Don’t tell me, for every date.’
‘The eighth and the twenty-seventh. Reid says he’s working on the rest.’
‘That’s Candice Langham and Keeley Riding.’
‘Reid says we have to charge or release him.’
Fabian snorted. ‘We’ve only held him a couple of hours. They’re both going to have to sit tight.’
‘Shall we bring his sister in?’ Finch accelerated and stopped again.
Fabian nodded. ‘As soon as possible.’
Banner listened to the phone. ‘According to Cousins she’s elderly and has mobility issues.’
‘Convenient,’ Finch commented drily.
‘Find out if she can come in and how we can facilitate that.’ Fabian still had Emily Mortimer’s slit-open mouth imprinted on his thoughts.
‘Hear that?’ Banner said to McMann and then rang off.
Fabian watched a courier bike slide effortlessly between the narrow gap between them and a stationary black cab. ‘If she’s housebound, Cousins can pick any days he wants to be there. His phone records will tell us if he was though.’
‘But he says he has it switched off most of the time.’ Banner shivered.
‘So he says. We were able to reach him OK though. He’s hiding something at home for sure. There’s something there he feels he has to explain.’
‘The usual?’ Banner pulled up her collar.
‘Maybe – he seems pretty uptight, so it may be porn on his hard drive he’s afraid of us finding.’
‘Or a certain type of porn.’ Finch nudged them forward a few feet.
‘We’ll have the path report this evening, so we won’t know until then if Cousins could have definitely murdered Emily Mortimer. Meantime, we’ll work on the assumption that somebody named after the next street leading off Mortimer has been targeted. What are the options?’
Banner consulted the map on her phone for Fabian. ‘Nassau, Berners, Newman or Cleveland before Goodge Street. That’s if the route doesn’t head back towards Great Titchfield.’
‘Newman. Didn’t Cousins mention a Newman Arms?’
‘The Orwell pub,’ Banner reminded him. ‘And a location for Peeping Tom. Cousins didn’t say anybody had actually been murdered there.’
‘Newman and Cleveland are the most likely but let’s find out how many Nassaus and Berners we have in the Greater London area.’ Fabian’s phone buzzed, and he balked at the name in the display before answering.
‘Fabian? I told you to keep me briefed!’ Metcalfe sounded incensed.
‘I was on my way to see you. I’m just en route from a crime scene.’
‘I know all about Emily Mortimer. Why didn’t you tell me you had a suspect?’
Had McMann been reporting back to him? ‘Potential suspect, sir. I wanted to be sure before I came to you. I’m waiting on a report from Mills before we know if we should interview him further.’
‘You’ve requested a search warrant. Sounds like enough potential to me.’
‘He has alibis for two of the dates so far—’ Fabian mitigated.
‘Straight to my office when you’re back.’ Metcalfe cut the call.
Fabian knew he couldn’t stall him any longer.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Metcalfe breathed unevenly through his nostrils as Fabian updated him about the murder route. He knew imparting the discovery was going to worsen his position. But there was no way he could withhold from the DCI and now every stage of the investigation would have to go through his office.
‘And you were going to tell me about this when exactly?’
‘Just before I got called to Emily Mortimer’s house. I wanted to be sure before I came to you.’
Metcalfe’s head was blotchy red and he appeared to be struggling to subdue whatever rage was waiting to bubble out of him. ‘There’s nothing ambiguous about this, Fabian.’
There was no point denying what he’d done but he hoped the DCI recognised a situation he’d probably been guilty of himself before his promotion.
‘Maybe you need reminding of how fast you can be back looking for arsonists in Doddington.’
Obviously not. But he reminded himself that Metcalfe wasn’t in his job because of his actual police work.
‘I want daily reports.’
Fabian was tempted to ask him if he wasn’t getting those from McMann already.
‘And if the media still haven’t connected the victims I want you to keep it that way as long as possible.’
‘But if the route tells us the names of the intended victims…’
‘Only their surnames. And the murders aren’t focussed in one area of the city. I don’t want to start an unnecessary panic. You haven’t been talking to any of your media contacts?’ He regarded Fabian distrustfully.
‘No.’
‘That may have worked with the Wisher case, but we don’t need any grandstanding on this one. The less oxygen the perpetrator has the better.’
‘But I’m not even sure that that’s what he wants. Maybe he intends to finish the route before he reveals his motives.’
‘Precisely why we should make him believe he can. You’ve been to Fitzrovia?’
Fabian nodded. ‘That’s how we picked up Cousins. He does murder walks in the area.’
‘But he has alibis?’
‘Care of his sister.’
‘Have you interviewed her?’
‘She’s on her way in. I really need a warrant to search Cousins’s flat though.’
‘I’m looking into that.’
‘Thank you, sir. Is that all?’ But Fabian was positive it wouldn’t be.
‘Proceed with caution.’
Fabian knew exactly what that meant.
‘I won’t countenance any disregard for procedure, and I don’t want to be hearing about progress from anyone but you. However insignificant you deem it to be.’ His temper looked as if it were about to boil over again.
‘I understand, sir.’
‘Do you? McMann is feeling like an outsider. I know Banner has more experience but I want him integrated properly into the investigation.’
And Fabian guessed why. ‘I’m going to need more personnel.’
‘Did you hear me?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You’re happy with DS Banner?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Fabian wasn’t about to see her replaced by McMann.
‘She’s talented…’ Metcalfe almost said it with contempt. ‘But I’ve recently been considering whether she’s best placed on the ground or in a more administrative departmental position.’
Fabian clenched his jaw. ‘She’s a first-class officer who’s worked closely with me for the past three years. I certainly wouldn’t want to jeopardise this investigation by taking her off it. Just in terms of continuity—’
‘OK, you’ve made your point.’
‘I hope so.’
Metcalfe saw the look in his eye and nodded. ‘You’ll get more men and office
space.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Fabian tried to sound grateful but failed.
Metcalfe tossed his head in the direction of the door and Fabian didn’t linger.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Stephan Cousins’s sister looked to be in her seventies, but Fabian suspected she was much younger. She had nicotine yellow hair that hung unevenly to her bony shoulders, and her complexion was the same shade. Her cheeks were hollow and her mouth folded where her false teeth should have been.
As Finch wheeled her into the interview room she looked about it. ‘Where’s Stephan?’ her lips demanded loosely.
‘He’s with one of my colleagues and he’s absolutely fine,’ Fabian reassured her and briefly stood from behind the table. ‘I’m very sorry to bring you in so early in the morning.’
‘I don’t sleep anyway,’ she grumbled.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Fabian and this is Detective Sergeant Banner. Your brother’s solicitor—’
‘I don’t need them. I can clear this up quickly enough. You can’t keep Stephan cooped up here any longer. He’s much too sensitive.’ She lifted a maroon leather handbag from the side of her chair and clutched it defensively in her lap.
Fabian sat and suspected the conversation wasn’t about to go as he’d envisaged. She might be an invalid, but it looked like Francesca Cousins was far from infirm.
‘Does he have his medication?’ She glowered at him.
Fabian exchanged a look with Banner. ‘He’s made no mention of it.’
‘Of course he hasn’t. He’s embarrassed. Difficult enough to get him to take it as it is. Have you not got the radiator on in here?’
‘I’m sorry but we’re having some heating issues.’ Banner waited for Finch to leave. ‘Can I ask what he takes medication for?’
‘Anxiety. So you holding him here is going to undo all the progress he’s made in the last couple of years. He’s very fragile.’
That didn’t surprise Fabian. ‘We’ll have someone make sure he’s got his medication.’
Francesca grunted. ‘This is ludicrous. He’s never been in trouble with the police in his life.’
That much was true. Stephan didn’t have a record. ‘We called him last night and he told us he was with you.’
Never Say Goodbye: An edge of your seat thriller with gripping suspense (Detective Tom Fabian Book 1) Page 7
