Souls of Men

by A. R. Ashworth

  The coda to “Night and Day” interrupted him.

  Elaine blurted, “Do you mind, Dr. Willend?” The music stopped.

  She briefed the SOCO team. “You’re doing the garage and the MINI Cooper, the basement, the ground floor, and the second floor. The locked rooms on the first floor and the computer equipment on the second floor are off limits. I’ll show you when you’re ready. We’re looking for hairs, stray fibers, and such. The usual samples.”

  She turned to Willend, who was still at the piano. “Party time is over, Dr. Willend. You will confine yourself to this room until further notice. You may not enter any room unaccompanied or any room that has not previously been processed. Under no circumstances will you go outside to your car. Do you understand?”

  “Certainly. Search away.” He plopped down on the sofa.

  The teams split up and began their searches. Willend switched on an e-book and began to read. Elaine busied herself with searching through the various magazines and drawers, monitoring the SOCO progress. After a while, Willend stood and asked Elaine if he could use the toilet.

  She replied, “The team isn’t finished upstairs yet, so you’ll need to wait.”

  Bull spoke up. “They’ve searched the toilet off the back of the kitchen. He may be able to use that one.” One of the technicians overheard and confirmed.

  “Okay. You can use that one, but Bull will need to accompany you.” Willend shrugged and walked toward the back of the house. Bull fell in behind him.

  Elaine was annoyed. She had not known that there was a toilet on this floor. Why had Willend not directed her there earlier? While they were gone, she got the attention of one of the SOCO techs.

  “Do you know if the team found anything peculiar about the toilet in the back?”

  He shook his head. “I searched it and bagged a few stray hairs, but there was nothing unusual. I took some swabs and sprayed for blood, but I didn’t find any. Riffled through the magazines. Lifted prints. Nothing out of order.”

  “Thanks.”

  When Willend returned, she turned on him. “What are you playing at? Earlier you directed me to the toilet upstairs. Why didn’t you simply point to the back of the kitchen?”

  “Perhaps you really needed to pee, but I suspected that you mainly wanted to nose around in private, so I sent you to Kate’s floor. Did you jiggle a door handle?” An amused smile curled his lips. “I’ve watched Midsomer Murders. Sergeant Jones must know every loo and medicine cabinet in the entire Midsomer County. If I’m going to be a suspect, I want it to be as briefly as possible.”

  “Even innocent people are rarely as calm as you’ve been.”

  “I believe in picking my battles,” Willend said. “You’re investigating a murder, and you’ll do what you think you need to do regardless of anything I say. Resisting and being stubborn just clutters the mind and the soul, and it makes it hard to see things. I’m not hiding anything from you.”

  “Not at all? It’s a rare person, or psychopath, who doesn’t feel guilty about something.”

  “True, but I haven’t broken any laws that I’m aware of, so no guilt about that, at least.”

  “You won’t discuss your family. Did you pick that battle because you feel guilty about that?”

  Willend’s jaw tensed. He waited a moment before responding. “You agreed not to search my computer, so may I go upstairs? I have some work to do. Someone can come with me, and I’ll leave the door open.”

  She considered the options and turned to Bull. “Let me know if the team finds anything.”

  She followed Willend up the stairs to the top floor of the house, where he took a seat in front of two very large computer screens. He indicated an office chair. “If you want to look over my shoulder, you can sit there. I need to check my e-mails and also talk to one of my colleagues at the hospital.”

  Elaine watched as he opened his e-mail program and scrolled through his inbox. The first e-mail he opened was from “Kwillend,” which simply said that the trip had been inspirational and successful. She and Nora were coiled around each other like garter snakes in springtime and did not want to come home. Elaine raised her eyebrows. Quite an image. Willend replied simply, “How lovely for you. Don’t.” There followed an e-mail from a lacrosse teammate about some games planned over the next few weeks. Other than that, he read a few e-mails from colleagues that dealt with hospital business and medical questions. He responded to them all.

  He next downloaded some files and displayed them on the large monitor. To Elaine, they looked like X-rays or scans of a person’s lower body and legs, but something was odd—the legs were at the wrong angle. Elaine had studied psychology at the university, not anatomy, so she was no expert.

  Willend turned to her. “I need to talk to a surgeon on my team at the hospital. Do you mind if I open a video connection?”

  “No, go ahead.”

  Willend clicked a few buttons with his mouse, and a woman’s voice emerged from the speakers next to the monitor. “Hello, Peter. I’m here. Just a second.” The image of a woman appeared.

  “Hi, Sheena. Any news about Hamid?”

  “I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. I left messages.”

  “Sorry about that. It was unavoidable. What did you need?”

  Elaine listened while they talked about the condition of a young boy named Hamid. After a lengthy conversation full of medical terminology, Sheena explained that she had talked to Hamid’s parents, and they were okay with continuing the screening process. Willend waited for her to finish, and said, “Okay, Sheena. Go ahead and admit Hamid to the hospital and finish all the necessary screening. I probably won’t be able to come in to see the boy until tomorrow. Is that it?”

  Sheena cleared her throat. “The police were here earlier today. They showed us a picture of you and started asking questions. How well do we know you, how often do you ride the bus, do you often lose your temper, what has your behavior been like lately, things like that. We’re all upset about it. What’s going on, Peter?”

  “I was on a bus at the same time as a girl who was later found murdered. They got my picture off the CCTV on the bus. It’s nothing to worry about. Everything they are doing is routine for a murder investigation. They have to follow it up. Sooner or later, they’ll strike me off the list and find who really did it.”

  “Well, I am hoping it is sooner rather than later. We’ll soon fall behind without you here.”

  “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. I know you’ll all hang in and do a great job, especially you. You’re a rock star, even if you don’t realize it. I need to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Peter.”

  Willend closed the connection and turned to the diagnostic images on the large HD screen.

  Elaine spoke. “That’s a huge computer monitor. What is it you’re looking at?”

  “Sheena, that’s Dr. Farad to you, sent me X-ray and MRI images from an eleven-year-old Bangladeshi boy who broke his pelvis and leg in a nasty accident. His recovery didn’t go well. A rural doctor in his home village back in ’Desh tried to help him by lashing him into some ancient braces. I’m sure he did the best he could with what he had to work with. What else could he do? At least it gave the boy some mobility. To the local doctor’s credit, when he heard about our foundation, he contacted the local liaison, and they referred him to us for possible admittance into our program. Sheena performed the initial screens, and these are the pics. I’m going to interview him and his parents tomorrow, and we’ll run some more tests to make sure they are good candidates for the surgery.”

  “What foundation is this?”

  “It’s called Children Walk. Based out of Stockholm.”

  “The parents are candidates for surgery too? Like donors?”

  “Ah. No, not physically. Only in the sense that parents live for their children, and they need to understand all the risks and costs of their decision.”

  “Risks and costs.”
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  “Yes. There are risks and costs to everything; you know that. They don’t pay money for any of these surgeries—the foundation covers it. But there are huge emotional costs that they have to understand and cope with.”

  “Such as?”

  “What is the price the boy pays if we do nothing? Given the family’s low status, he would have a rotten future. He couldn’t help on the farm, and there’s little or no social support. About all he would be allowed to do is beg or work in some sweatshop. What if we begin the process and discover that it won’t be successful? We, and they, would need to control the emotional damage and figure out a new strategy. And what if the surgery is successful, which means months of painful rehabilitation here in Britain and even more back in ’Desh? Do they let him stay in a clinic on his own? If not, who’s going to run their farm while they’re away? There are truckloads of questions.” He watched Elaine quietly absorb what he was saying, then continued, “So are you finished with me?”

  At that point, Bull knocked at the door. Elaine rose, and she and Bull moved a few steps down the hallway.

  Bull spoke quietly. “The SOCO team found a blood stain in the basement. It looks old, but they were able to get enough of a sample for testing. There were some drops in the carpet of the car as well.”

  “Thanks. Wait here.” She returned to the door of Willend’s office. “Has there been an accident in the basement recently?”

  Willend looked surprised at the question. “No, not since I’ve been living here. Why?”

  “No one has cut themselves or been injured?”

  “Not that I know of. Did they find blood?”

  “What about your car?”

  Willend thought for a moment. “If they found blood there, it would be mine.”

  Elaine motioned for Bull to replace her at the door. She walked down to the basement, discussed the find with the SOCO technicians, and dialed Benford.

  “Sir, the SOCO team found what looks like blood in the basement of Willend’s house. They got an indication with the UV gear, so they checked closely and found some blood under the bottom of a wall baseboard. They think they have enough for DNA comparison. It appears too old to be from Sheila, but you never know for sure. Willend claims there haven’t been any accidents in the basement since he’s been living here. They also found some more recent blood drops in the boot of his car.”

  “What’s the basement like?” Benford sounded excited.

  Elaine scanned the room. “It’s clean. Well lit, plastered, and painted. Some boxes full of books and clothes stacked in the corner, with a note taped on them that says ‘OxFam.’ An old chair and sofa. There’s a toolbox and a workbench with a vise attached. A clothes washer and dryer. A door to the outside that looks like it leads to the garage. I don’t see anything sinister that would suggest any torture.” Elaine cast her eyes around once more. “Wait. There are two eye bolts screwed into a beam on the ceiling. That’s all I see right now.”

  “Excellent. Tell the SOCO guys to go over the basement again, inch by inch, and have them fast-track the blood. Then arrest Willend and bring him in. We’ll hold him until the blood results can confirm Sheila was there or in his car.”

  “Sir, are you sure about arresting him? Even though we have suspicion, it’s based on pretty thin circumstance. What does the prosecutor think?”

  “It’s him. Arrest him, Elaine.”

  She recognized his tone. There was no point arguing. “Yes, sir. I’ll keep you posted.”

  She turned to the technicians. “All right then. Inch by inch. The floor, every wall, and the ceiling too. We’re looking for blood, tissue, hair, fibers, fluids, you name it. Scrutinize anything that doesn’t look like it belongs and everything that does. Was anything hung from those bolts? Was something dragged up the steps, out the door, to the garage? Is that toolbox locked?” A technician lifted the lid of the toolbox, tugged its drawers, and shook his head. “Check everything in it, then do the same for the car and the garage. Let me know when you find something.”

  The technicians looked miffed at being instructed in the obvious, but they turned to their tasks. Elaine started up the stairs but paused with a thought and spoke again. “Is there anything that can tell us if the basement has been cleaned recently?”

  The two technicians looked at each other, clearly annoyed that she would ask such a question. One spoke. “It doesn’t appear to have been cleaned for a while. Exactly how long, I don’t know. There’s a slight layer of dust on the top surfaces. The bench and the toolbox, mainly. The floor is painted and has about the same amount of dust. Perfect for footprints. The only shoe marks we found were between the stairs and the washing machine, and those could have been several days old. We took some oblique shots of the footprints. Once we finish here, we’ll see if the prints match any shoes in the house. It will be in our report.”

  “Right. Of course. Thanks.” Elaine headed upstairs, motioning to two uniforms to follow her. They went upstairs, where she strode into Willend’s study.

  “Dr. Willend, can you account for your whereabouts yesterday, January 26?”

  Willend looked taken aback. “I was here until nearly two in the afternoon. Until about five, I was at a lacrosse practice. Then I came home. I didn’t go out after that.”

  “Was anyone with you while you were here at home?”

  “No.”

  “When was the last time you went into the basement?”

  “Tuesday or Wednesday, I think. Tuesday. I did some laundry.”

  “And you have not been back down there since?”

  “No.”

  “When did you bleed in the car?”

  “After a lacrosse practice. I accidentally got popped in the nose by a stick. It dripped for some time.”

  Elaine thought that was a reasonable explanation. She doubted the blood in the basement was Sheila’s. She didn’t know whose blood it was, but they would test it all anyway. Still, given what she knew, arresting Willend didn’t make sense. They didn’t have enough evidence.

  No matter, she had her orders.

  “Peter Montgomery Willend. I am arresting you for the murder of Sheila Jane Watson. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

  “What the hell is this?” Willend looked dumbfounded. Bull took Willend’s arm, but he jerked it away and confronted Elaine face-to-face. “Are you nuts? Do you seriously think I murdered that girl?” Another constable grabbed hold of Willend’s arm, and he and Bull pulled him away from her.

  Elaine took a step forward and looked Willend in the eye. “Dr. Willend, I suggest that you cooperate and come quietly.” Willend’s angry blue eyes bored into her, his body pulling against Bull’s grasp. As Elaine watched, he took a deep breath and relaxed. A uniform handcuffed him, and together they all marched out to her car and drove to the station.

  Two hours later, Elaine stood with Benford and Cranwell, watching Willend and his solicitor through the window of the interview room. Elaine turned to Cranwell.

  “We’ve been over his entire story from beginning to end, and he’s told us exactly the same thing he did before. He swears he knows nothing about any blood in the basement.”

  “Did SOCO find anything else?”

  “No more blood. There was dust, a bit of grease and oil, a few metal filings on the tools and the vise. Not any other blood in the basement or in the rest of the house. A couple of hairs from the basement have the root bulb attached, so they’ll probably get some DNA from them. We’ve instructed forensics to fast-track it all.”

  Cranwell nodded. “Good. We can hold him for thirty-six hours. If it’s going to take longer, we’ll get an extension. Get him to his cell, and schedule a press briefing for noon tomorrow. Then you can call it a day.”

  * * *

  Elaine pulled her thick robe tighter around her body, plumped the pillows behind her back, and
settled against them. She had needed that long shower. Steamy water and a soapy loofah always worked wonders. But she had a nagging unease.

  Liars always cracked. Always. As pressure was applied from different angles, as new evidence mounted, as the interrogator’s speculations shifted focus, circled around, and grew, a liar either changed his story or denied the evidence. Willend hadn’t.

  The more she thought about it, the more her gut growled out his innocence. Everything they had was circumstantial, and it was weak at best. The CCTV from the bus showed opportunity, perhaps. As far as means, he had two hands, as did several million other men in the city. How many dark cars are there in London? The only evidence they could nail him on was if the blood in the basement or in his car was Sheila’s. Without that, the Crown Prosecutor would laugh them all the way back to the station. Benford and Cranwell wanted Willend too badly.

  She scowled. Willend. The guy is not a killer. He’s a good-looking charmer and a bit of a smart-ass, but what does that matter? Maybe he killed someone in Iraq, and perhaps he could kill in the heat of the moment or in self-defense, but he is not a man who would cold-bloodedly slaughter a young girl. He showed deep emotional resistance when asked about his family. He’d closed up, so he’s probably carrying some guilt around about that. Was he driving when they died in the accident? Did it occur in Britain? She’d have Cromarty look for an accident report. It wouldn’t get them any closer to the real killer, but no matter. She wanted to know.

  Throughout her entire life, Elaine had always wanted to know. Even when she was a young girl, she had made sure to notice things. In public or at family gatherings, she had watched the people around her go about their activities. Then she had asked questions with the candid curiosity of a child, usually to the embarrassment of her parents. She had always felt she needed to understand why people did what they did, and that innate need had never gone away. If her personality had been slightly different, if she had focused on bugs or trees or test tubes, she would have become a scientist. But she became a detective, and every day she donned the job and its necessities like a comfortable coat she could never part with. Some things don’t change.