by ML Rose
CHAPTER 29
It was past 6 PM by the time Arla and Harry got back to the station. Arla had skipped lunch, and she was famished. The team were busy at work. Parmentier, the scene of crime head scientist, had submitted his preliminary report. Lisa, Rob, Rosslyn and Gita had spent the day in traffic’s CCTV control room, tracking Dr Vaughan’s car, and the mysterious black convertible bearing the blonde woman to his house. Arla ordered a round of pizza for everyone, and a salad for herself.
She sank into her office chair, and dragged up another chair to put her feet up. Rosslyn and Gita walked in, Gita bearing a tray of coffee and biscuits. Arla thanked them, and lifted the cup of steaming coffee to her lips. It smelt and tasted heavenly. She gazed at the biscuits longingly, then pushed it away. She massaged her temples, then glanced at her sergeants.
"What have you got for me?"
Rob knocked on the door, and Arla waved both him and Lisa inside. Harry had left to relieve the childminder, and look after Nicole. Arla knew she had to be home soon, unless there was an emergency.
Rosslyn opened the proceedings. "Dr Vaughan’s blue Maserati left the parking lot in Clapham at 10 PM. "She scrolled through the screens of her laptop, then enlarged one. She got up and went to Arla's table, placing the laptop so Arla could see the screen.
"After that, we see the Maserati on the A3, driving southbound to the victim's home." Arla used two fingers to zoom in to the black and white image. It became pixelated, but she could make out there was someone in the passenger seat.
Rosslyn tapped an icon in the top right-hand corner of the screen, then dragged it to the CCTV image. The car was magnified, and Arla could now see, with more clarity, the faces of Dr Vaughan and the man sitting next to him. The man still had his hood on, and he wore glasses.
"What about an e-fit image?"
Lisa said, "We got that already. The hooded man is about 6 feet, slim build but big shoulders. We think he's got dark eyes, and dark hair. Caucasian."
"Narrows it down," Arla breathed. But it was a start, and better than nothing.
Rosslyn tapped the screen again, and several boxes appeared. She skimmed through them and enlarged another image. The timestamp was 10:28 PM, and the Maserati turned left into Dr Vaughan’s street. The passenger was still present, and Dr Vaughan was driving.
"So," Arla leaned back in her chair as Rosslyn took a seat. "Clearly, the hooded man went to his house. But did he go inside?”
“He’s not been picked up on CCTV after that, guv,” Gita said. “On the main roads, I mean. Of course, he could have used the back roads to escape, knowing he might get picked up by the cameras.”
“Yes, possible. If we assume he went inside and then killed the victim, he’s now suspect number one.”
“Anything from the search on the Common?” Arla asked.
Rob spoke up. "They found an area of flattened grass opposite the doctor's chambers. It's where the common begins. There’re trees, and shrubs, and some of the undergrowth was hacked away by a knife. It was clearly used as a hiding place." He shrugged. "Of course, it could be some bum or beggar. But why would they be out there in the cold?"
Lisa said, "And why opposite that building?"
"Excellent," Arla enthused. "Did scene of crime find anything in that place?"
“Not so far. Parmentier said he has samples of the grass to see if any skin cells or saliva are stuck to it, but it will take some time.”
Rob tugged at his collar, relieving some of the pressure on his neck. "More interestingly, we found boot prints. They match the boot prints inside the parking lot. Mary had a look at them. I emailed them to her. She agrees that it's the same person."
Lisa said, "And that's not all. We found a matching record in the boot print database."
Arla punched the air in delight. "Fantastic. Who is it?"
There was a moment's pause, as all four detective sergeants looked at each other. Lisa said, "That's where it gets a bit weird. There was a burglary at Sandra Pitt's house, near Sloane Square. The alarms went off, and the security guards woke up. Nothing was stolen from the house. The burglar came in through the garden, and got inside the main house. That tripped off the alarms."
Arla frowned. "The burglar’s boot prints match our suspect’s?"
"Yes. He’s burgled a couple of other houses as well. He was never caught. None of those houses are of interest to our suspect list. But the boot prints match."
Arla tapped her lower lip with a forefinger." So, the fact that he tried to burgle Baroness Pitt's house cannot be a coincidence, right?"
“I don’t think so, guv" Lisa said. "Sandra Pitt saw Dr Vaughan several times in the last three months. Is that a coincidence as well?"
Slowly, Arla shook her head. "Did any other patients come to see Dr Vaughan several times in the last three months?"
The rest of the team shook their heads. Geeta said, "Rosslyn and I have been through the list, guv. Sandra Pitt is the only one who attended regularly."
Arla exhaled, and stood. “I felt there was something wrong with Sandra Pitt’s statement. Not sure why, but I didn’t believe her when she told me she’d never met the victim before.” Her eyes flicked from left to right. “And now our suspect burgled her house. I wonder why.”
Rob asked, “Is Sandra a suspect?”
“She might have had the opportunity, if she was at home. But I’m struggling to find motive. Unless there’s something in her past with the victim that we don’t know about.”
“Shall we bring her in?”
Arla considered for a few seconds, then shook her head. “No. Let’s wait. She doesn’t fit the profile of the woman who visited the victim last night.”
"Okay," Arla steepled her fingers in front of a face. "Given that we never caught this guy, we know nothing about him. We can't establish a motive for him murdering the victim." She sat down, then swung her chair to face the team. "Unless he's John Churchill," she whispered.
Rosslyn asked, "The gynaecologist who worked with the victim?"
Arla nodded. She told them what the matron Gillespie had revealed. Geeta gaped at her. "Dr Vaughan had an affair with Dr Churchill's wife?"
"Imogen Churchill," Arla said. "She lied about knowing Dr Vaughan. She was surprised, and embarrassed when I asked her."
Arla explained to the team why John Churchill fit the physique of the hooded man, and his love of rock climbing.
"And Mrs Farquharson said he had a blazing row with Dr Vaughan one evening, at the chambers."
Lisa said, "yes. This doesn't look good for John Churchill."
Arla said, "We can ask for his shoe print, and do a gait analysis. Do we have enough footprints in the common, or the parking lot, for that?"
Rob nodded. "Yes guv, we do. He left a lot of prints walking up and down the common. Mary said we can definitely match his gait to a suspect’s."
"Then I suggest we bring John Churchill in for questioning." Arla shook her head, staring down at her hands. "But I'm not sure if he's the burglar. who knows?"
"Okay, that's one suspect done. Next in line is the blonde woman. At what time do we think she arrived at Dr Vaughan's house last night?"
"Miss Wilson, the elderly lady opposite thinks almost 11 PM. The other two witnesses give a time of 11:05 and 11:15," Rosslyn said, looking at her tablet screen.
"So, between 11 and 11:15. By that time the victim was inside with the hooded guy."
Arla said, "Natalie Chapman fits the description of this woman. She doesn't have an alibi for last night, and she lives close by. The motive could be some unsettled disputes from their past. It could very easily have been her."
CHAPTER 30
Now that Arla was responsible for the functioning of five police stations in south-west London, she had a lot of admins to deal with. A female detective constable in the Tooting Police Station had complained about a male detective inspectors’ sexist behaviour. That took up another half an hour of her time, and she signed off with the promise she would de
al with it first thing the next morning.
By the time she got back home to Tooting Broadway, where she had lived for the last 10 years, it was past 8 PM. Nicole would be asleep. She opened the door and then shut it softly, aware from how quiet the apartment was that she was correct.
Harry appeared at the kitchen entrance, and she waved at him. She sighed in relief as she took off her shoes, then joined him. She gave him a quick update, then went to get changed while he fixed her a drink. She checked on Nicole. The two-year-old was curled up in the foetal position, one thumb in her mouth as she slept soundly. Arla blew her a kiss, then got changed quietly.
Harry was in the lounge, with the door shut. The TV was on. She accepted the gin and tonic from his hand with a murmur of thanks. The apartment smelt of heavenly lamb curry and pilau rice, which meant Rita had dropped off some of her cooking. Arla felt her belly rumble in anticipation. Having the salad while the others munched on their pizza had been difficult.
Harry asked, "Did Parmentier get back to you?"
Arla smacked a forehead. "Yes, I saw the preliminary report. Sorry, I forgot to bring it.”
"Don't worry. You've got too much on your plate. Considering we have two suspects already, it's a good first day's work."
They went into the kitchen, and had their dinner. Harry poured himself a glass of red wine, but Arla declined. She wasn't allowing herself more than two units of alcohol in a day.
She contemplated Harry as he sat, sipping from his wineglass. Harry never seemed to put on weight. True, he went out running and cycling to keep himself fit. But he also had a voracious appetite. She wondered where he put all that food. His belly was as flat as a teenage boy’s.
He caught her looking and raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nothing. Shall we move to the sofa?"
Harry agreed, and she settled in front of the TV, while he locked the door. Then he joined her. Arla stretched out, putting her head on his lap. Harry put his feet up on the ottoman.
He stroked her hair, as she stared up at him. His eyes were fixed on the screen. It was now or never. "Did you think about it?"
Harry was distracted. He frowned. "About what?"
She decided to say it plainly, like she always did. No point in beating around the bush. "I want to get married, Harry."
She felt him stiffen, from the muscles in his thighs, to his spine. He licked his lips, then put the remote down. His hand moved from hers.
"Is there any rush? Aren't we fine the way we are?"
"Yes. But I want to get married, Harry. Every girl does. You know that."
Harry breathed out, appearing to deflate a little. "And you know how I feel about the whole thing."
Arla sat up, and folded her knees, then wrapped her arms around them. "I'll sign a prenup. I've told you."
"Yes, I know."
"Then what's the problem?"
He hesitated. When she looked at him, he wouldn't meet her eyes. Eventually, he cleared his throat, and glanced at her. "You know I love you, right?"
She nodded.
"You and Nicole mean everything to me." Then he smiled, that slow, easy way his full lips moved that made him so lovable. "And I want us to…" He glanced down her body.
"To have another baby," she completed for him. She came close and rested her head on his shoulder. "In which case, we more or less are married, aren't we?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
She reached down to hold his hand, but it was stiff. She traced a line across his thumb. "Then what's the problem?"
He moved, and slowly got up. Arla stared at him, as he took two steps away from the sofa and put both hands on his waist. "After seeing my friends go through their divorces, I'm just worried. They got married, had children, but the love went out of the window. What if that happens to us?"
"First of all, you're not looking at all the happy marriages. Millions of people get married, have babies, and are still married when they're 80 years old. What about them?"
Harry didn't answer. Arla continued. "Just because two of your friends had bad marriages, doesn't mean all marriages are bad. Your parents were happy, weren’t they?"
Arla knew Harry's parents had their ups and downs, but they stuck together like most couples do. Harry's father had died tragically from a stroke at the age of 65, a few years back.
"I'm just happy with the way things are. And so are you, right?" Harry looked at her hopefully.
Arla was getting frustrated. She also had a sinking feeling in her heart, and it left her feeling cold. Her childhood had been tragic and difficult. She had never known her mother. More than anything else in the world, she wanted to give Nicole a stable family life. And no, she didn't think she was being demanding.
"I want to get married before I fall pregnant again," Arla said, looking at him pointedly. Harry's jaws went lax.
"Are you saying you won't try unless we are married?"
Arla was both happy and sad. She was sad that Harry was still resisting. It made her anxious, and she didn't want to go there. Happy, because the man she loved wanted to have another child. She stood, and kept her voice low. "Yes Harry. That's exactly what I'm saying."
She could feel him tense, and the burn in his stare as he glared at her. She met his eyes, and her jaws firmed. She opened the door and walked out of the room.
CHAPTER 31
Arla got a coffee and a fruit and yoghurt salad from the canteen. She checked the time. It was 8.30 AM. The canteen was almost deserted, save a few uniformed officers and detectives who were part of the on-call team. Arla waved at them and strode down the corridor to the detectives open plan office. Rob and Lisa were at their desks. Lisa waved at her. She pointed to her open laptop.
"Marlon, the caretaker at Dr Vaughan’s Clapham Chambers sent over the rest of the CCTV images. There is one you might find interesting."
Arla sipped on a coffee and leaned up over Lisa's shoulder. The grainy black and white image had been edited, and it appeared smoother. It was evening, and the date was two weeks ago. The door to the rear parking lot opened and a man stepped out. Lisa clicked on a box and zoomed into the man's face. It was John Churchill.
"This must be the evening he came to see Dr Vaughan. When they had an argument."
"I know," Lisa said. "Keep watching."
John moved into the car park then stood, looking left and right. Slowly, he advanced towards Dr Vaughan’s blue Maserati. He cupped a hand over the driver-side window and looked. He took a torch out from his pocket, then straightened. He turned around and looked at the door. Then he shone the torch inside the car. He went to the passenger side and repeated the process. Then he got inside a grey BMW, and drove out.
"Has he visited Dr Vaughan before?"
"The CCTV images only go back four weeks, unfortunately. Anything before that is automatically deleted."
"If he had visited, Mrs Farquharson would have mentioned it, I guess," Arla said. Then a thought struck her. "Actually, no. It's only because she heard John's raised voice that she knew he was there. He wouldn't be making an appointment as a patient, would he?"
Lisa grinned. "Not to a gynaecologist, no."
Arla smirked. "Okay, Rosslyn and Gita can go and see him to collect his DNA swab. If there is a match either in his house, or in the car, then we need to bring him in."
Arla went into her office and rang Parmentier. He was his usual upbeat self. "Well, well, the Queen of crime has landed."
"I was always here if you cared to look," Arla remarked. "I've read the report, but did you find anything else interesting at the crime scene?"
Parmentier paused for a minute, and she imagined he was scrolling through his laptop. She could hear the tell-tale clicks on the keyboard. Then he cleared his throat. "Actually, I did. I found fragments of a pink cashmere sweater on the dining chair. Remember where we found food fragments on the table on the floor?"
"Yes?"
“There, and our swabs revealed some skin samples as well on the table. All the cutl
ery had been washed, which is a shame. But from the skin samples we could get a match. I found the victims DNA on the table, obviously."
Arla was getting excited. "But the other skin cells you found could bear the DNA of the person Dr Vaughan had dinner with?"
“Exactly."
A vague, indistinct thought was buzzing round Arla's head. She couldn't pin it down, but she knew it was important.
"She asked him, "Are you sure it was a pink cashmere sweater?"
"Whether sweater or jumper or a top, I don't know. But it was definitely cashmere wool. And it was dyed pink."
"Pink”, Arla repeated. Her fingers went to her forehead, pressing on both sides. Why was this important?
Then her eyes widened. Natalie Chapman was wearing a pink cashmere turtleneck top when she opened the door to her and Harry. Arla sat bolt upright, and gripped the phone harder.
“Are you sure it was cashmere and not any other type of wool?”
“Because when we put a strand of fabric in the analyser, it breaks it down according to molecular weight. This weight is unique, no two types of fabric have exactly the same MW, as we call it. And cashmere is known as the lightest wool, therefore the lowest MW.” He guffawed. “Hence the price. Just ask my wife!”
"What else did you find?"
"Not much else really. Just read the report. But I thought you might find this interesting."
"Any chipped off nail varnish? Any sign of lipstick on the glasses?"
"Nope."
Arla stood, and began pacing the room. "When can you get me a DNA sample match?"
"In 48 hours, unless you demand an urgent one."
Arla said, "I will have two samples for you by this afternoon. And yes, I will need them done as urgent. Please put my name down as authorising officer."
"Your wish is my command. Anything else your humble servant can do?"
Arla grinned. "That's it for now. Thanks, Derek."
Arla opened her laptop and logged into HOLMES-2. The acronym stood for home office large major enquiry system. She went to the forensic boot print and gait analysis database. She could see Mary Aitken's recent search and matches on Dr Vaughan’s case. She pulled up the old files.
