by David Carter
‘A woman living on her own, maybe, unless the killer brought it with him.’
They both heard Lena shouting up the stairs. ‘Is everything okay up there?’
‘They’re in the house,’ said an alarmed Gibbons. ‘Get them outside. They’re contaminating a crime scene.’
‘What do I tell her?’ asked Hector.
‘Nothing, not yet, tell her Guv will be here soon, and he’ll decide on that.’
Hector nodded, knowing that the woman would give him a hard time, but sometimes that was the job. He went downstairs and ushered the pair of them outside, doing his best to avoid their probing questions.
In the offices of ASNB Miroslav Rekatic unlocked the cupboard that was located along the corridor outside his office.
‘That’s it?’ said Karen, nodding down at a neatly folded up black piece of kit, a piece of machinery in its folded state resembled some kind of fancy picnic chair.
Miro nodded.
Karen slipped on latex gloves and pulled it out.
‘Expensive, was it?’ asked Walter.
Miro shook his head. ‘No, not really.’
Walter nodded his head, knowingly.
They were looking for blood, though none readily showed itself, but it could have been carefully cleaned, though blood spatters are almost impossible to eradicate completely. If there was blood anywhere on the incapacitator it would be found.
Walter and Karen knew that huge advances had been made in forensic science in recent years, and if they didn’t fully understand the technology, they knew enough to know that it worked, and incredibly well. Walter thought about it.
It’s called luminol chemiluminescence reaction, and is responsible for the glow of lightsticks, the reaction found to detect traces of blood. The luminol solution is sprayed where blood is suspected of being. The iron from the haemoglobin in the blood serves as a catalyst for the chemiluminescence reaction, and that causes luminol to glow blue when the solution is sprayed where there is blood.
It only needs a tiny amount of iron to catalyse the reaction; Walter knew that, he’d read up on the subject, so fascinating was it. The problem is the blue glow only lasts for about 30 seconds before it fades, which is usually enough time to take sufficient photographs in order they can be investigated more thoroughly. The trick is to make sure the cameras are on hand and working and ready to roll.
‘Evidence,’ said Walter.
‘Be my guest,’ said Miro, apparently happy to see the specialist equipment away and out of the premises.
Karen’s phone rang.
She looked at it and nodded and walked away and listened to Jenny, as Jen relayed the news.
‘Have you any plans to leave the country?’ asked Walter.
‘Not in the next three months.’
Walter nodded and said, ‘Good. Come to that, I’d rather you didn’t leave the city, or if you plan to, you tell us first.’
‘I can do that; I’m keen to help in any way I can. I liked Ellie Wright a lot, and I didn’t kill her.’
‘We’ll need to talk again.’
‘You know where I am.’
‘Indeed, we do.’
Karen came back and said, ‘We need to go, Guv.’
She picked up Miro’s machinery and stared at him hard.
Miroslav licked his lips, but didn’t say a word; happy they were on their way. A minute later they were outside, heading back to the car.
‘What’s happening?’
‘Body, Guv, suspicious circumstances, a woman, believed to be thirty-six.’
‘Where?’
Karen relayed the address, as they arrived back at the car, and carefully placed the seized equipment in the boot. They didn’t have an evidence bag big enough. Every car couldn’t carry every piece of necessary equipment, every time. It just wasn’t possible.
‘Who’s there now?’ asked Walter, settling into the front seat.
‘Gibbo and Heck.’
‘Just thinking back to Miro for a moment, what did you make of him?’
‘A creep!’
‘And a murderer?’
‘Could be. He certainly had a temper on him. Did you see the way he spoke to the switchboard operator?’
‘Couldn’t miss it. Can’t we go any quicker?’
Karen grinned and opened the window, took out the blue light and stuck it on top of the car, activated it, closed the window, and rattled around the Chester inner ring road as if there was a murderer in town, cars scattering every which way before them.
Twenty
It was a busy scene outside Belinda Cooper’s neat house. Doc Grayling’s Jaguar was there; he’d arrived quick, thought Walter. Behind that, a grey unmarked van, the trademark sign of the SOCO people, who’d just arrived by the look of it, as they were busy taking equipment out of the car, and lugging it round the side of the house.
In front of the van, half on the pavement and half on the road, was another unmarked car that Karen recognised, almost certainly the transport that brought Gibbons and Browne to the scene, while behind that was a marked police car. One officer inside, busy on the radio, the other on the pavement talking to a man and a woman, and getting a hard time of it, by the look of things.
Walter opened the car door and heaved himself out. The woman spotted him immediately and rushed over to see him.
‘Are you in charge here?’
‘I am.’
‘Can you please tell me what the hell is going on? I’m Lena Freeman, I’m Belinda’s best friend and workmate.’
‘I’ve just arrived, I know as much as you do,’ he said, trying to get past her.
‘She’s all right, isn’t she? Please tell me she’s alright.’
‘We’ll let you know just as soon as we have something to say,’ said Walter, squeezing past her, as the uniformed officer tried to hold her back, as Walter headed toward the side of the house, Karen hustling behind. He heard the neighbour muttering, ‘It’s always the same; they never say anything at all, in cases like this.’
‘Cases like what?’ said Lena, though any reply was lost in the melee.
Walter and Karen glanced at the busted glass in the French doors, and the shards of glass on the carpet. They stepped gingerly around the debris and headed for the stairs. Hector Browne was at the top.
‘Up here, Guv, Doc Grayling’s here,’ and he pointed toward the front bedroom door.
Inside, Doc Grayling was kneeling down over the body. Gibbons was standing with his back to the window, taking everything in, for no matter how many dead people, and how many cases he had witnessed before, there was always something extra to be learnt, or some useful tip that the senior bods might impart. Give him his due; he soaked up expertise like blotting paper capturing ink. Never missed an opportunity.
Doc Grayling heard the coming of big black sized 10s and glanced back over his shoulder, expecting to see Walter Darriteau, and he was not disappointed.
‘You got here quick,’ snorted Walter.
‘Pure luck! I had an appointment two streets away.’
‘What have we got?’
‘Young woman dead, broken neck, and I’d bet my pension on that being the murder weapon,’ nodding at the vintage varnished baseball bat that lay on the bed, now ensconced inside a clear evidence bag.
‘That’s exactly where we found it, Guv,’ cheeped up Gibbons.
‘Who found her?’ said Walter.
‘I did.’
‘TOD?’ said Walter, switching back to Grayling.
‘Give me a break, Walter, I have been here precisely five minutes.’
‘A ballpark figure, man, a rough guess? Your best estimate, give me something.’
Doc Grayling sighed loudly and said, ‘She’s been dead twenty-four, maybe thirty-six hours, rigor mortis well set in, as you can see, always starts from the head downwards, as you know, stiffening the body to this effect, allowing you guys to refer to dead people as “stiffs”.’
‘Do we ever refer to dead people as
“stiffs”, Sergeant Greenwood?’
‘No, never, Guv.’
‘You know what I mean, plenty of your people do.’
‘In films and TV programmes, maybe, but this isn’t a film or a TV programme, or a gruesome story, or a blockbusting novel, but someone who has sadly met a premature end. The body will receive every respect.’
‘All right, Walter. Keep your hair on.’
‘Anything else you can tell me?’
‘Not yet. You’ll get the full report just as soon as....’
‘You can possibly manage,’ Walter mumbled, finishing off the sentence.
‘That’s correct, Darriteau.’
Walter nodded and glanced at Gibbons, and then at the mobile phone on the bedside table.
‘Bag that up. Hector!’
Hector appeared in the open doorway.
‘Find any computer equipment, tablets, mobile phones, answering machines, diaries, notebooks, and anything else that could contain emails and messages and letters and other vital information. Bag them all up and get them to the station.’
‘You got it, Guv.’
‘Karen, I want to know everything about the deceased. Marital status, sexual preferences, partners, blood relations, financial status, friends, workplace colleagues, last visitors, etcetera etcetera, and especially I want to know if she has any history of prostitution. Get Jenny on that to help you.’
Karen nodded and jumped on her mobile.
‘You think she might have been on the game, Guv?’ said Gibbons.
‘I have no idea, but we are going to find out.’
‘Doesn’t look like a house of iniquity to me,’ suggested Doc Grayling.
‘I’ll bow to your superior knowledge on that,’ said Walter.
‘What about the empty wine bottle?’ said Gibbons.
‘That’ll need bagging too, and the glass, you know the drill.’
‘Give us a few minutes,’ said the young SOCO guy who Walter recognised, and there was a pause, and photographing and filming and recording of everything in that bedroom, and eventually in the entire house, got under way in earnest.
Walter clapped his heavy hands together and yelled to anyone who was listening, ‘And I want more officers here now, pronto pronto, door-to-door, looking for sightings of visitors and callers, pedestrians and cars, and anything at all that could be described as unusual, get Nicky Barr on that, and don’t forget: Nothing is to be uttered outside this house about this case without my say so, and if anyone tips off the press they will have me to reckon with.’
‘Sure, Guv,’ said Gibbons, enjoying every moment of his day. ‘Keeping it zipped!’
Strange phrase, thought Walter. Almost American. Keeping it zipped, Gibbons had obviously been watching far too much American cop TV.
‘And another thing, Hector, check out the immediate neighbours. Are they known to us, are we looking at a neighbour from hell scenario here?’
‘On it, Guv,’ said Hector, and the team went to work, looking for evidence they hoped would lead them to a killer.
That afternoon the main briefing got under way at half past four. Everyone knew they would be in for a late night, but that came with the job, went without saying; don’t sign up if you don’t want the hassle. Don’t sign up if you can’t cope. It would be the first time for Nicky Barr.
It was generally accepted that Karen was the most able presenter, and she kicked things off with a recent colour photo of Belinda Cooper, staring down at them from the Hytec display system, an almost 3D image that looked as though it could speak. If only it would. If only it could. Who was the murderer, Bel? Thought Walter. Did you know him, or her? Anything you can give us could be mighty helpful.
‘She was thirty-six, generally well liked, worked in a travel agency in the city centre, she wasn’t gay, and so far as we can tell, she did not have a partner at this time.’
‘Maybe on the lookout for one,’ suggested Nicky.
‘Maybe an Internet dater,’ suggested Gibbons.
Walter considered that thought. Seemed a fair possibility, and he tried to remember if he had ever accessed her dating info. He couldn’t remember doing so, for if he had he might have been interested, though she might not have been interested in him, seeing as he was more than twenty years older than her. A decent line of enquiry though, for everyone knows there is a fair share of weirdo’s skulking around amongst those characters online.
‘Jenny, check the main dating sites,’ said Walter. ‘See if you can find her details on there, and if she is, find out who’s been in touch.’
‘Sure, Guv.’
Nicky said, ‘Won’t all that info be on her phone and computer?’
‘It will,’ said Walter. ‘But we haven’t yet cracked her passwords.’
Karen took up the thread.
‘Lena Freeman is her best friend at work and a veritable mine of information. She says Bel enjoyed five relationships, talked about it quite a bit, even joked about her five just men. She said Belinda only ever went for tall men, wouldn’t entertain what she called “pipsqueaks” – a word she used quite often, apparently. One of the five is a guy called Gareth Williams, a solicitor, who works just across the road from the travel agents for a firm called Jones, Rees & Wilbert. Here’s his pic from their website,’ and they all looked up at the smart looking guy, at his extravagant dark bouffant swept back hairdo, and dark eyes.
‘How tall is he?’ asked Jenny.
‘Not yet known.’
‘The second guy she was seeing goes by the name of Iain, note the slightly unusual spelling, with two i’s, we want to know who he is and where he is, but the other three are as yet unidentified.’
‘Be nice if we could link Belinda with Flanagan,’ suggested Hector.
‘Or Miro,’ said Walter.
‘Or Crocker or Nesbitt, come to that,’ said Gibbons.
‘Yes, all right,’ said Walter.
‘Do you think this case and the Ellie Wright case are linked?’ asked Nicky.
‘Nothing as yet to say they are,’ said Walter. ‘But two suspicious deaths in less than a week sets alarms bells ringing in my head.’
‘Let’s not complicate matters by splurging all the available intel together at this point,’ said Mrs West. ‘Treat them as separate inquiries, until we know different.’
‘What info are we getting from her personal effects?’ asked Gibbons.
‘It’s early days yet,’ said Karen, ‘but there’s sure to be lots of that once we get into her devices.’
‘I hear what you are saying about not mixing the two enquiries, ma’am,’ said Walter, ‘but we could immediately rule out Crocker, Nesbitt, Flanagan and Miroslav, if they have cast iron alibis for the Bel Cooper murder.’
Mrs West scratched her dainty chin and said quietly, ‘True, but it’s a wide time frame. We are not sure yet when she met her end.’
‘Should have that back soon, ma’am.’
Walter’s mobile rang. Everyone paused and checked him out, as he glanced at the phone screen and took the call. ‘Thank you,’ he said twice, and then, ‘thank you for that.’ He looked at everyone, and said, ‘There are tiny traces of blood on the incapacitator.’
‘On the what?’ said Gibbons.
‘It’s a piece of bondage gear we seized from Miroslav,’ said Karen.
‘Now all we need is some DNA from Ellie to check if it’s hers. Get on to the mother. See if she has a hairbrush or something.’
‘Be strange if it was Bel’s blood,’ suggested Jenny.
‘Unlikely, but possible,’ said Walter. ‘We can check for a match on that PDQ.’
‘Again,’ said Mrs West, ‘don’t get sidetracked by merging inquiries prematurely. We all know of cases where doing that has brought us nothing but untold grief. There’s as yet nothing to say they are linked.’
That’s why we are crosschecking, thought Walter, to see if there is a link.
Mrs West again. ‘Walter, will you go and see the solicitor guy? See
what he can tell us. He might know who his love rivals were, if nothing else.’
‘Will do, ma’am.’
‘Did Belinda Cooper have any known enemies?’ asked Jenny.
‘None as yet identified. She was a popular person, liked by all, so say the early opinions of everyone we have yet spoken to,’ said Karen.
‘What about the spouses and former partners of the five just men? There might be a bitter and twisted individual in there somewhere,’ suggested Hector.
‘Possible,’ said Walter. ‘Check it out, Heck, as and when we know who they are.’
‘Anything on the SOCO report yet?’ asked Gibbons.
‘Not yet,’ said Karen. ‘Due anytime.’
‘That should be useful,’ said Mrs West.
Walter’s phone burped again. He glanced at a new message. It was dumping in from Doc Grayling.
Baseball bat definitely the murder weapon.
TOD now thought to be between midnight and 2am yesterday morning. Full report to follow.
Walter relayed the news and then said, ‘Obviously any and all suspects must account for their whereabouts at that time.’
‘We should ask them all,’ said Mrs West. ‘Rekatic, Flanagan, Nesbitt, Crocker, and this Williams guy.’
‘Flanagan’s tag curfew has not been breached, ma’am,’ said Jenny.
‘That’s him in the clear then.’
‘If the tag info is reliable,’ muttered Hector.
‘Don’t start that again!’
‘Sorry, ma’am.’
Walter put his phone away and said, ‘Karen and I will speak to Williams and Rekatic. I want Gibbons and Hector to speak to Flanagan, Crocker and Nesbitt. All first thing tomorrow.’
‘The sooner we get into Belinda’s technology the better,’ said an increasingly grumpy Mrs West.
‘Tech boys say we should be in there before seven tonight,’ said Karen.
‘If there is nothing more on the Bel Cooper case immediately,’ said Walter, ‘can we talk about Ellie Wright for a moment.’
Mrs West pulled a face and nodded and muttered, ‘Go for it.’
‘How did you get on Nick, checking out the pub clientele?’
‘I was just going to tell you about that,’ he said, grinning and revelling in his moment in the spotlight.
