We Are Death

by Douglas Lindsay

  Jericho found himself smiling. She had a nice mouth. If nothing else, he thought, he could enjoy watching her lips while she talked. And the thought had him shaking his head.

  ‘Don’t be getting any ideas, Chief Inspector.’

  He asked the question with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘I know your reputation, there was quite enough written about you in the newspapers this year.’

  ‘You believe everything you read in the papers?’ he asked.

  ‘Perhaps you’re right. Particularly not your newspapers. Even so, you did admit, did you not, to sexual relations with your colleague on what became the Durrant case?’

  Jericho held her gaze for a moment, then lowered his eyes. He surprised himself by having to stop a smile crossing his face. She was so much more direct than the stuffy panel of suits who’d interrogated him two days earlier.

  ‘So,’ she continued, as she had also learned of Jericho’s legendary taciturnity – although that was less in evidence in these dying days of his career – ‘you should know that I’m happily married and have three children under the age of ten. There will be nothing between us.’

  He looked at her again. This time he did smile.

  ‘Quite a relief,’ he said. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘I find you unattractive. I am unsure how you have managed to charm so many women.’

  Jericho let his eyes drift off to the side, a rueful look. He didn’t think he wanted her saying anything else.

  ‘Although you’re not as rude as everyone said you’d be.’

  ‘Are we done here?’ he asked.

  She seemed to be surprised that he’d cut her off in the middle of her psychological assessment, then she shrugged and said, ‘Yes, of course. I said I was done.’

  *

  The body was laid out in traditional fashion. The head, which had been split apart by the bullet, had now been deconstructed further.

  Trueblood was still at work. Jericho and Badstuber stood on the other side of the table, watching. There had been little conversation. Trueblood appeared to be humming Chim Chim Cher-ee. Jericho, as ever, found himself fascinated. He enjoyed the slow movements of her hands, the delicate insertions of the scalpel, the occasional heavy lifting of viscera.

  Badstuber did not seem quite as enthusiastic. Her face was tight, tense, as though she was having to stop herself vomiting. She hadn’t spoken beyond a quick hello on being introduced to the doctor.

  ‘You dug out the bullet?’ asked Jericho, as Trueblood seemed to have come to the end of a verse.

  ‘Yep. It’s off to Bristol, you’ll need to speak to them to get specifics.’

  ‘OK, thanks. Anything further on the point of entry? Can we rule out the midget?’

  Trueblood looked at Jericho and smiled.

  ‘I’m afraid not, your midget is still in the frame. The gunshot was fired, as we thought, from very close range. Definitely no more than three feet. And it entered the forehead travelling up at an angle of around sixty degrees. So, as we talked about, either someone was sitting in a car, or the killer was a lot shorter than the victim.’

  ‘Or maybe they’d bent down, say to tie their shoelace, caught Carter unaware, he looked down at him and caught a bullet in the face.’

  Trueblood considered this and then nodded.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘Definite possibility.’

  Without a word, Badstuber backed away from the table, then walked quickly from the room, her hand to her mouth. They watched her until the door closed, then turned back to the cadaver.

  ‘It’s not for everyone,’ said Trueblood. ‘She seems nice.’

  ‘How would you know, she hasn’t said anything?’

  ‘I mean, nice-looking. Attractive.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jericho.

  Trueblood smiled. ‘You’re probably off co-workers.’

  ‘I’ve already been warned off.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘Her.’

  ‘God, what did you do, Robert?’

  ‘I didn’t do anything. She knew me by reputation, so felt the need to let me know she’s happily married with three kids.’

  ‘No way!’

  ‘Yes. That happened.’

  ‘Well, good for her. She saw you coming.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to do anything.’

  Trueblood gave him an eyebrow, then looked back down at the corpse.

  ‘Anyway, I completely approve. I should have warned you off too. Bit disappointed that I never actually had to.’

  ‘I already knew you had three kids and were happily married before we met.’

  ‘Well, maybe I’ll let you off.’

  She let out a sigh, then looked up from what was left of Evan Carter’s face.

  ‘What else can I tell you? He hadn’t had sex recently, he’d been drinking but not to excess, not even remotely. I mean, I doubt he would even have been drunk at all. No drugs in his system. Pretty clean all round. Very fit.’

  ‘So I’ve been hearing.’

  ‘Shame.’

  ‘Loss to the gene pool?’

  ‘Exactly... Any idea who killed him?’

  He shook his head, nodded as a way of indicating that he was done standing over the corpse.

  ‘We’ve only just started,’ he said.

  *

  Sitting in the car on the way back to Wells. Briefly on the M5, before they would turn off and head for Street and Glastonbury. Badstuber staring straight ahead. No conversation since they’d left Taunton. Jericho wondered if she’d been sick.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t like cadavers,’ she said. ‘I can look at pictures, but the real thing is upsetting for me.’

  ‘That’s reasonable,’ said Jericho.

  ‘I didn’t realise we were looking for a dwarf. You suspect a dwarf?’

  ‘No, we don’t suspect a dwarf. We were joking.’

  ‘You think dwarves are funny?’

  ‘Not that we should rule out a dwarf. It’s just, someone sitting in a car seems more likely.’

  He glanced at her. She was staring straight ahead.

  ‘What are we going to do now?’ she asked. ‘I have my own ideas, but you should also have input.’

  That’s big of you, he thought. Up until this point Jericho had just been going along with having the Swiss inspector in tow, without really considering the implications. Suddenly he was looking at having a partner, and someone who considered herself an equal partner, despite the difference in rank. And if not equal, she certainly wouldn’t be considering Jericho her superior.

  He had a brief moment of wishing that Haynes was beside him. Not so he could definitely be in charge. It was the comfort of it, the familiarity. If he really was leaving the police in just under a month, why did he have to get used to someone new now?

  ‘We’re assuming that this is related to the Kangchenjunga expedition, because these two men were there together,’ said Jericho, forcing the words out of his mouth. ‘But they could have had some other contact, could have known each other for years for all we know.’

  ‘Yes, we need to speak to Geyerson,’ she said. ‘I intend going to Morocco.’

  Jericho didn’t answer. He didn’t want to go to Morocco. It made sense, of course. Yes, they could get someone there to speak to Geyerson on their behalf, but an investigating officer always wants to do the interviewing himself. He wants to see the look in the eyes. He wants to form his own impressions. And in this case, he was curious to learn whether Geyerson really was as objectionable as was being said.

  Nevertheless, however much it was taking him out of his comfort zone to work with another officer, it was nothing compared to how far out of it he was going to be if he travelled to Morocco.

  He looked ahead, along the M5.

  ‘We should go and speak to Connolly’s parents,’ he said, feeling the need to give the day some kind of positive direction. ‘They might have some idea of his relationships with the other mem
bers of the team.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ll call the station, get the address, get someone to set it up. We should head straight there. We’re on the right road. Ninety minutes from here.’

  She didn’t say anything. He glanced at her, the impassive face staring forward.

  ‘What did you learn about Connolly in Grindelwald?’

  ‘It was interesting.’

  He waited for something else and, just as he was about to prompt her with some irritation, she continued.

  ‘He was known in Grindelwald. Went there often, always stayed at the same hotel. They said this time he was different. The first time back since the Himalayas. He was louder, brasher, more confident. He’d only been there two nights before he was killed, but he made an impression. Something had changed.’

  ‘When was the previous time he’d been?’

  ‘Late last year, in preparation for Kangchenjunga. Small climbs, nothing major like the Eiger north face or some such thing. A lot of running, training in the mountains. Getting fit. Now, however... he had no interest in fitness. Like so many young men, alcohol and women.’

  ‘Maybe he just didn’t have anything immediate to train for.’

  ‘That had not mattered in the past. Always he was interested in fitness. Now, alcohol and women.’

  They drove past the Glastonbury turn-off, and Jericho lifted his phone to ring the station. They definitely needed to speak to Connolly’s family, but ultimately this investigation had one major direction, and that was heading towards the High Atlas.

  15

  Haynes knocked and walked into the office, feeling stupidly nervous. Hadn’t seen Professor Leighton in seven months, but he’d done a lot of thinking about her in that time. His latest infatuation, he ruefully called her. Not something he readily admitted to anyone.

  There was no specific reason he hadn’t called her. He could have done. Could have lifted the phone at any moment and asked her out. Asked her to come to the West Country for the weekend. He could have said he was up in London, and why don’t they have dinner? No reason at all. Except every time he’d come to lift the phone, he hadn’t been able to do it. A ridiculous, almost teenage level of shyness.

  How stupid, he would think, lying awake late at night, how stupid! Call her in the morning, it’s not that hard. And then the morning would come, and he would not make the call.

  Now, however, there was a reason, and the call had been very easy. And she’d seemed delighted to hear from him, rather than frosty at the fact that he’d never called to ask her out. Even that aspect he had over-analysed the previous evening. If she’d really wanted and expected him to ask her out, wouldn’t she have been annoyed at him suddenly calling out of the blue about work?

  Somehow, at some point, he had managed to shut his brain down and get some sleep.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  She was already standing and walked round her desk when he entered.

  ‘Lovely to see you,’ she said, then, to his surprise, gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  They had a moment as they separated, then she laughed and said, ‘Sorry, that’s not terribly professional, is it?’

  ‘That’s... it’s fine...’

  ‘Come in, come in, sit down. Coffee? Milk, no sugar?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘I’ll be naughty and ask Matt to get it for me. He won’t mind.’

  Sitting down, she made a quick call, hung up and looked across the desk at him.

  ‘So, Sergeant... A business call, I presume.’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Your secret society is back?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I thought maybe you or the chief inspector might have been hunting for them after everything that happened last time. Did you find another expert?’

  He thought he detected a touch of insecurity in the question and suddenly wondered if she’d been actively waiting for the call he’d been too pusillanimous to make.

  ‘Are you free for dinner tonight?’ he said suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I wondered if you wanted to have dinner. I mean, you know, not as a work thing. Just dinner. I should have called sooner. Like, seven months ago, but the time...’

  ‘You’re in London all day?’ she asked, which struck him as avoiding the question. And then he realised that it had been a fairly stupid thing of him to blurt out, as he wasn’t going to be in London all day. Jericho was expecting him back that afternoon. So, if she said yes, was he suddenly going to have to retract, or was he then committed to coming back up? And train times and the unfeasibility of it started fizzing through his head.

  ‘Sergeant, I can see all sorts of things flying around inside your head. D’you want to share any of them with me?’

  ‘Yes, sorry. Not sure. I mean, not sure about London, but it doesn’t matter. You’re right, it probably doesn’t–’

  ‘Yes.’

  Haynes hesitated. Needed a moment to clear out all the crap and think in a straight line. Never had been much good with women.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Yes, I’d like to have dinner. We can sort out the logistics later, but I can travel, if you can’t stay up here. I’m not in work tomorrow, so if we end up meeting halfway, or having dinner in Somerset, or in London, it doesn’t matter. Dinner would be lovely, thank you. So, you know, clear that part of the conversation out of your head. I’ve said yes. Are we good?’

  Haynes smiled ruefully, nodding. And indeed, his head was starting to clear. Felt like a bit of an idiot, and yet he appeared to have got away with it.

  ‘So, did you ever establish who was sending those cards? The press said it was Sergeant Light and this man Durrant, but I doubted that, right from the first time I heard it. So I assumed you’d still be looking.’

  ‘We should have been. I guess the chief inspector made the decision not to. Hoped that perhaps it was all done. He’s had to deal with the fallout of being left so much money, but he’s managing to give the bulk of it away. But, yes, he was burying his head in the sand and, as it turns out, even more than I thought.’

  He reached inside his pocket, took out the two cards, and placed the first one in front of her on the desk.

  She let out a low whistle as she picked it up.

  ‘Uh-oh. Death. Nice. When did he get this?’

  ‘It was left beside his hospital bed.’

  ‘In January?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he’s only just shown it to you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what about the other one?’ she asked, indicating the one he was holding in his hand.

  He leaned forward and handed her the second card.

  ‘Put through my door yesterday during the day at some point.’

  She looked up from the cards.

  ‘Your door?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Shit... sorry, language.’

  She shook her head, looked worried.

  ‘I mean, you know the Death card in Tarot mythology... it’s not all about death. It needn’t necessarily signify physical death. It can be an end to something, it can be about rebirth, re-awakening. Signifying change. However,’ and she shook her head, indicating the two cards, ‘the markers one often finds on the Tarot to indicate those aspects of the card, they’re not here. The white rose, the rising sun, the boat to carry souls across the river. These cards are saying something else, and given what the previous cards were saying, it would seem pretty obvious what that is. Nice emblem too... What’s going on with that?’

  Her eyes drifted between Haynes and the cards.

  ‘I’m worried about you,’ she added.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Haynes.

  ‘All those people Durrant murdered were fine right up until the moment he stabbed them.’

  ‘Reasonable point. Anyway, this card that was sent to me coincides with a new... with a murder investigation. Happened yesterday morning. And it transpires that
it might be linked to a murder in Switzerland the day before. Two men – out of five who are all somehow connected. And as you’ll see on this new card, two of the five hanging men are actually dead.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like a coincidence.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’

  She looked more closely at them.

  ‘There is a tremendous amount of detail here. You haven’t blown these up?’

  ‘Haven’t had the chance yet. I wanted to–’

  ‘Come on, we can do that here. I’ll go and use my womanly wiles on one of the lads downstairs, see if I can get him to do that now. And if it doesn’t work, you can do that thing, you know, that all policemen do. Look scary, or whatever.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She smiled as she walked round the desk. The door opened, and an older man appeared carrying two cups of coffee on saucers.

  ‘Right on time. Thanks, Matt. Just pop them on the desk.’

  She paused, looked at the coffee cups, shrugged.

  ‘Let’s drink the coffee, I’ll put a call through and warn them we’re coming in a few minutes.’

  Haynes sat back down and watched her walk back round the desk, thinking how stupid he’d been not to make the easy, straightforward and anticipated telephone call at some point that year.

  16

  ‘I could tell he was embarrassed. John drove him away, he really did. I know it. If he hadn’t been so...’

  Her voice didn’t seem to be breaking, but she stopped talking, shook her head. Stared at the carpet. She had barely looked Jericho in the eye, and hadn’t looked at Badstuber at all. Jericho was sitting opposite her on a couch, Badstuber standing at the window.

  She didn’t sound bitter. Bitterness would come, as would so many other emotions before final resignation and acceptance.

  There was a policeman at the gate, a cameraman and three or four journalists. A slow day in Cheltenham, Jericho had thought as they’d arrived. He hadn’t expected there to be any press, and they’d immediately perked up when the cameraman had recognised him. Word wasn’t getting around that Jericho was in the house, because it wasn’t as though any of the journalists wanted to share the story. They were waiting for him to come out, then they could raise the stakes.