by Tara Lyons
11
Delighted to return to the office and find an array of missed calls and messages from officials in the Cumbria Constabulary, Hamilton instructed his team to communicate the intelligence they’d uncovered. While they made detailed notes on the evidence board, he left them and headed for his office.
Despite Inspector Bennett demanding his call be returned immediately, his patience was obviously trying, as Hamilton spied an urgent email flagged red waiting in his inbox. Momentarily distracted, he read Fraser’s scribbled message, explaining the pathologist, Amy Sullivan, also needed his attention. The name wasn’t familiar, but the anticipation of possibly uncovering information about Warren Speed’s post-mortem bubbled inside him. However, he realised the Chief must have been successful in pulling a few strings, so he thought it only fair to address Inspector Bennett first.
He grabbed the phone receiver while glancing over the email. Frowning, he moved in closer to the screen, surprised to read Inspector Bennett had granted permission for the Met to take over Speed’s investigation. With its links to London, and their lack of evidence pointing to a possible suspect, he assured Hamilton his team would do their upmost to assist him. Bennett had already liaised with the pathologist, his PSCOs were in the process of collating all the case information, and Hamilton would have everything by the end of the day. He raised an eyebrow, nodding as he read over the final paragraph. He hadn’t expected such swift movement from Bennett, and it impressed him. Whether the sarcastic Inspector was happy about it or not, things were rolling in Hamilton’s direction. Content that the email explained all he needed, and eager, now more than ever, to get Amy Sullivan on the phone, he punched in the number left for her. He drummed his fingers on the desk while the dialling tone droned his ear. He heard the American twang of the woman’s voice immediately, and realised she was the pathologist he’d met at the Lake Windermere crime scene.
‘I’ve been expecting your call. Thanks for getting back to me,’ she said.
‘The pleasure is all mine. I’m glad Inspector Bennett has given the go-ahead for you to share the post-mortem details with me. Anything you can tell me at this stage would be appreciated.’
‘I think I’ll be able to tell you quite a bit, Detective. I’ve received the toxicology report for Mr Speed, and we’ve discovered something interesting.’
Hamilton frowned. ‘I got the impression Inspector Bennett didn’t have much evidence to go on.’
Amy groaned, almost a light-heartedly chuckle. ‘Some people don’t like being told … they don’t have time for things they can’t understand, or have no control over, shall we say. But I suppose I can only speak for myself when I say what we’ve found is extremely helpful to the case.’
He imagined he wasn’t the first to dislike Inspector Bennett’s way of working, and he smiled to himself. He’d enjoy working with this fiery pathologist.
‘I’m all ears. Give me what you’ve got,’ Hamilton said and poised his pen to make quick notes.
Amy spent a few minutes explaining that Warren Speed had been injected with a lethal toxin, prior to the twenty-one stabs wounds to his back. Before his death, Speed suffered from botulism, a fatal condition that involves muscle paralysis.
‘Wait,’ Hamilton interrupted. ‘Why does this botulism poison sound so familiar?’
‘You and Joe Public would refer to it as Botox.’
‘Are you trying to tell me Warren Speed was Botoxed to death?’ His chuckle was immediately followed by a wince; had he reacted in the exact same manner as Inspector Bennett? ‘Sorry, Amy. Please continue with the details.’
She cleared her throat, and he could imagine her rolling her eyes at his comment. ‘The recommended doses of Botox used for cosmetic treatments are too low to cause a systematic disease. However, an injection of unlicensed and highly concentrated botulinum toxin may cause severe botulism.’
‘And just explain what that actually is again, please,’ Hamilton said, while writing furiously on his notepad.
‘Botulism is a rare disease but potentially fatal … and in Mr Speed’s case, it was maliciously given via two injections in his neck. It begins with the weakness of the body; he may also have suffered blurred vision and speech problems. There would have been cranial nerve and muscle paralysis, shortly followed by paralysis of the respiratory system.’
Hamilton blew a puff of hot air and lowered his pen, the information swirling around his mind. ‘Jesus! I can hardly believe what you’re telling me.’
‘Inspector Bennett had the same problem. Anyway, botulinum toxin is one of the most potent toxins known,’ Amy continued. ‘I did of bit of research before I called you because, I won’t lie, Botox is not my field of expertise. Plus, you don’t see it used as a murder weapon a lot on the shores of Windermere. Now, although the exact lethal dosage can’t be quantified, it’s estimated that a man of roughly eleven stone would need to be injected with between 0.09 and 0.15 milligrams of the toxin to cause this amount of damage.’
Hamilton hummed slightly. He wanted her to know he was still listening and taking the details seriously – if this was the evidence the toxicology report gave him, he’d take it – but he needed things to form a clear pattern of understanding in his mind.
She must have understood; Amy continued to fire more information. ‘Okay, you must have seen images of the small bottles or vials that are regularly used for these types of things in hospitals and clinics, right? That one vial contains 0.5 milligrams of Botox. Your murderer would have only needed to get their hands on a couple of vials, inject it into Mr Speed, and wait for the weakness to take over … which wouldn’t have taken long at all.’
‘Would he have been aware of his surroundings, or the knife attack?’
Amy sighed. ‘It’s hard to say for sure. It also depends how long the killer waited after the Botox was injected before the attack, but it’s possible he knew. He would have literally been helpless to stop it.’
Hamilton shook his head. ‘I’m still trying to get my head around this. People really will use anything at their disposal. So, which of the two was the actual cause of death?’
‘It’s too close to call. Untreated, the injection overdose would have broken down his muscles and respiratory system – there really was no need for anything else. But the multiple stab wounds meant he lost a lot of blood. I couldn’t find anything of significance about those wounds, except the sheer frantic nature of them, and that your killer carried some serious upper body strength.’
‘Or was consumed by complete rage,’ Hamilton added. ‘Was there anything else of interest found at the scene, the footprints, perhaps?’
‘There were far too many in the end, Detective. My team took some samples of those nearest to the dock, but in reality, they could have been from the tourists running from the vessel. We’re still working on it. A single cigarette butt was found, next to where we found samples of Mr Speed’s blood in the soil. It’s also being tested, and other examinations are still being performed. But I’m happy to release the body to the family now. If there’s anything we find that can assist you, I’ll be in touch straight away.’
‘Thank you, Amy,’ Hamilton said and swapped the receiver into his other hand, rubbing the left, clammy one along his trousers. ‘I appreciate the level of detail you’ve given me.’
They bid each other farewell, and Hamilton sat back in the chair, soaking up the silence. His mind buzzed with unanswered questions, possible scenarios, and potential leads. Astonished at the facts he’d just learnt, he was grateful his wife had never been interested in the Botox hype, especially as so many of her friends had. Granted, the pathologist had explained that, cosmetically, it wasn’t lethal, yet the thought of how something injected into people on a daily basis could so easily be used to overpower and kill a man, made him shudder.
‘Are you really so surprised, boss?’ Dixon said, after Hamilton relayed the information to the team. ‘You can extract poisons from leaves that grow freely in some countrie
s. Did you know if you eat the leaves of a hemlock plant, you’re wide awake to any and all pain, but your body is paralysed?’
‘You know a lot about this stuff.’ Clarke raised his hands and stepped away with a grin.
‘Remind us never to accept a dinner invitation at your house,’ Rocky chimed in.
Fraser laughed. ‘Isn’t that what happened to Michelle Pfeiffer in that film … what was it called … Oh, yes, What Lies Beneath?’
‘Yes, I’ve seen that,’ Dixon exclaimed. ‘It sounds familiar, but I can’t remember what was used; I don’t think it was hemlock.’
Hamilton crossed his arms over his broad chest. The sound of his tanned loafers slapping against the tiled floor brought their conversation to a sudden halt.
‘So, are we saying the killer could be a doctor or a nurse? Or perhaps a dermatologist?’ Rocky asked.
‘It’s possible, I guess.’ Hamilton sighed. ‘We need to do a bit more digging into Botox and how easily accessible it is to the general public. The killer would have only needed a couple of vials, so the pathologist led me to believe. Find out if it’s easy to buy, or would the killer need to work in the vicinity of such establishments in order to swipe what he needed. We now know how Warren Speed died, but nothing leading up to his death, or why he visited Lake Windermere. That’s our top priority; I want to know what his movements were in the days before his murder and who he spoke to. Also, let’s revisit Felicity Ireland and delve more into her fiancé’s life, separate to Donna Moran’s disappearance.’
‘Before we crack on, gov, let me just quickly bring you up to speed,’ Clarke said. ‘We managed to pin down Todd Bell at home, but we couldn’t track down Holly Walker. Fraser’s digging about now to see if she has a work address.’
Hamilton perched on the desk next to his partner. ‘Okay, you two hang back with Fraser and dig into the information we need for Warren Speed. Dixon and I will cover Ireland and Walker. What did you get from Todd?’
‘Nothing really, boss,’ Rocky answered. ‘Felt like a waste of time, if I’m honest. He pretty much re-told his original statement.’
He accepted Rocky’s honesty, knowing it was exactly that, rather than a complaint. ‘Yes, seems to be a recurring theme with this bunch of friends.’
Clarke rubbed a hand over his square jaw line and grunted. ‘Ever get the feeling we’re looking at the wrong people, and that we should be concentrating more on Donna Moran’s whereabouts. I mean, it was her name found inside Warren Speed’s mouth. Perhaps this group of friends aren’t telling us anything different because there is nothing new.’
‘But if that’s the case, we can’t ignore the fact they could all be potential victims,’ Dixon added.
Hamilton enjoyed watching his team debate. It was in moments like this they uncovered new leads, or ways of thinking. He also thought it was a great way for them to bond, without it being forced. He got a real insight to their personalities when they were just throwing about their ideas for the investigation.
‘I take everything on board,’ he said. ‘I don’t think it will do any harm interviewing all those who had a close connection to Donna Moran and her disappearance. We’ll couple that with research we gather on Warren Speed, see if we can ascertain why he was at Lake Windermere, and go from there. Fraser, did you get a chance to speak with Joan Moran?’
She brushed the loose strands of blonde hair over her shoulder and crossed her legs. ‘I did, and the news of her daughter’s case being re-opened was a huge shock to the woman. She was at work, so I said I’d pop into her later, on my way home, and have a chat with her. She sounded quite shaky on the phone. I think face-to-face would be easier for her to comprehend.’
Hamilton nodded, regretting the way he’d originally allowed Fraser to liaise with the mother. After all, he of all people understood the agony of losing a child; worse for this woman who knew nothing of her daughter’s whereabouts.
‘Yes, that’s definitely a more sensitive approach,’ he said. ‘Leave here whenever you need to, Fraser. We’ll see you first thing in the morning, if we’re not back by the time you head off.’
12
‘It’s a good thing you phoned ahead to see if Felicity Ireland was still at work,’ Hamilton said, as he indicated and manoeuvred onto the North Circular from Western Avenue.
‘Yes, it’s just a shame her home is double the distance than her place of work is from the station,’ Dixon replied and gazed out the window.
He clicked the button on his door, allowing the window to roll down halfway. The cool breeze, as he accelerated to forty miles per hour, was welcoming; the tension in his small Corsa stifling. He’d hoped to have made some connection with the newest member of his team by now, and knew he’d have to bite the bullet sooner rather than later.
The speed dropped as Hamilton took the exit for Harrow and Wembley, and they were soon cruising through Stonebridge. Stopped at a red light, he took in the area and marvelled at the different cuisines available in one row of shops: Italian, Jamaican, Indian, and Chinese. It mirrored the diversity of ethnicities of the people mulling around the street. It was one of the reasons he loved London; no matter what postcode he found himself in, it was always submerged in a richness of cultures.
The iconic Arch of Wembley Stadium dominated the view as they progressed on their journey. Illuminated in a brilliant, white shining light, it was hard to miss. Thankfully, an event hadn’t been scheduled for the venue this evening, as it disrupted the traffic and parking considerably. Of course, when he’d visited for a football match a few months previously, he couldn’t have cared less, happy to mill along the pavement with other supporters. But when trying to drive even ten minutes down the road, with revellers walking out in front of the cars dismissively, or diversions and road blocks along the path, he could understand the frustrations event days brought the locals.
‘Ever attended an event at Wembley?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, we came to see Disney on Ice last Christmas with the … kids. Obviously.’ She bit her lip and looked away from him again.
Hamilton sighed, took the next left onto Uphill Drive, and parked on the single yellow line outside Felicity Ireland’s home. Once he’d cut the engine and unclipped his seatbelt, he turned to face Dixon.
‘I hope you know, you can talk about your kids without feeling guilty,’ he said bluntly.
She finally returned his gaze, the richness of her sun-kissed skin highlighted the warmth in her brown eyes. But he couldn’t help noticing the sadness in them too, and wondered if there was something more she refused to share with him.
‘I just feel like a prat,’ she finally blurted. ‘My comment earlier was cruel and insensitive, and I should have known better. Your lovely wife was kind enough to share with me what you both suffered … losing a child is just … it’s just unthinkable amounts of pain. Then I come to work, wanting to make a good impression with you, but instead, I rock up to the office late, speak without thinking, and end up sounding like a right crank.’
Hamilton laughed at the turn of phrase she used to call herself an idiot. She may look exotic and mysterious, but Dixon couldn’t have sounded more like a Londoner than she did in that moment, he thought. He appreciated how nervous she must feel, and knew it was imperative they formed some semblance of a relationship in order to understand each other.
‘Listen, everyone’s life story has its scars. You’ve seen mine. They’re painful and never-ending, but ultimately, they make us who we are. The demons in my life will haunt me forever, but I wouldn’t want anyone to treat me differently because of them. Don’t stand on ceremony around me, don’t feel like you can’t share your experiences with me – the good and the bad. Especially those involving your children. My team are all very important to me, and I want to work closely with each and every one of you. How other people’s stories play out sometimes depends on us.’
Dixon nodded and slowly smiled. ‘That’s a nice way to look at things, boss, and thank you. I’m grateful
for the kindness you’ve shown me.’
‘Let’s chalk this up as a lesson learnt, and move on.’
‘Sounds like a plan. Now, let’s get back to business.’
The tension visibly subsided from her shoulders as she mirrored Hamilton’s movements, unclipping her seatbelt and exiting the car. The pair walked across the road and headed for a large town house. A perfectly tended to front garden welcomed them. Surrounded with charming trimmed hedges, it offered privacy to the downstairs windows from the busy street. A small water fountain, adorned with colourful flowers, and a jet-washed path led to a polished black door. They waited a few minutes, almost prepared to give-up, when Felicity finally answered wearing yellow marigolds and a deep flush to her cheeks.
‘Miss Ireland, we would like to have another chat with you please,’ Hamilton explained.
‘I’m sorry, no … now is not a good time,’ Felicity replied and pulled the rubber gloves from her hands.
‘I promise we won’t take too much of your time. But it’s imperative we discuss Warren Speed with you.’
Worried the woman would slam the door in their face, Hamilton took a step closer. It was then he noticed the sweat beads glistening on her forehead and heard the sharp panting of her breath. He peered over her shoulder into the house, but could see, or hear nothing of interest.
‘Is everything okay, Miss Ireland?’ Hamilton asked. ‘You look a little flustered.’
‘Yes,’ she replied quickly. ‘I’m fine, just … keeping busy. Come in.’ She pulled the door open further and stepped back into the large hallway.
‘Thank you,’ he said and followed Felicity inside.
Suddenly, she rushed in and pulled a door closed. ‘I’m painting the kitchen at the moment, you know, keeping my hands busy, like I said. We can talk through here.’
Once they were all settled in the grand, yet homely, living room, Hamilton explained the progress of Warren’s investigation and his team’s involvement.
