JM05 - Deadly Ritual

by DS Butler

  He headed back to the dentist, pulling his jacket tightly around him. The October chill had definitely set in now, after a mild September.

  The dentist’s surgery stood out amongst the row of shops. The outside was painted bright white and the sign over the large front windows was blue-and-white. It gave the surgery a clean, sterile appearance.

  As Collins entered, the bell above the door rang. A young woman, with her auburn hair tied tightly in a bun, sat behind a white desk. She looked up and smiled at him.

  Collins noticed that, although her gleaming teeth were an unnatural shade of white, she wasn’t wearing a grill.

  Collins pulled out his ID and introduced himself. As soon as the woman realised he wasn’t a customer, the bright smile dropped from her face.

  She pursed her lips, then said, “Well, we have two dentists working here. Which one do you want to speak to?”

  Collins had no idea. He smiled at her. “Both of them.”

  She picked up the phone on her desk and thumped in four numbers. “Dr. McGuire? Yes, there’s a policeman out here. He wants to speak to you… Yes, that’s right, a policeman.” She hung up the phone. “He won’t be a moment. If you’d like to take a seat?”

  Collins put his hands in his pockets, and decided no, he wouldn’t like to take a seat. They were all just hard back chairs and looked pretty uncomfortable. Besides, he’d been sitting down in his car since he left Essex at six o’clock this morning.

  The dentist didn’t take long to arrive.

  He came out into the reception area, looking very worried. He completely ignored the receptionist and walked towards Collins.

  “Police?” The dentist raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure how I can help you.”

  Collins showed his ID again and tried to reassure him that he just needed some help with an enquiry.

  “You’re Dr. McGuire?”

  “That’s right,” the dentist said. “I’m one of only two dentists who work here full-time, though we have five others who work on a part-time basis.”

  “Do you fit grills?” Collins asked.

  “Ah, yes.” The dentist seemed to relax now that he was on familiar territory. “It is my specialty.”

  “We’re trying to identify a murder victim. He was wearing a grill, which we think was made by your dental surgery. It had a logo of an H and S in a circle, just like yours.” Collins nodded at the poster above the reception desk.

  Dr. McGuire nodded. “Well, of course, I’ll try to be as much help as I can, but the grills aren’t actually made here. We just take a cast of the patient’s teeth. The casts are sent away, and the grills are made off site. It typically takes a couple of weeks for the grills to be produced. When they come back, we call the patient to come in for a fitting. If there are any problems, we make changes to the grill. So it takes a long time. Of course, there are some cowboys out there. Some people set up on their own without any dental qualifications… That can lead to all sorts of problems, teeth grinding, ulcers—”

  Collins interrupted. “Very interesting. But I would like to know if you would recognise the grill?”

  The dentist nodded. “Ah, I see. It depends on the type, but if it is our high-end stuff, I would. They are unique, and I do keep records, photographic records actually, of each grill that we’ve made. Not for this type of thing, obviously. I wanted to use the photographs for a brochure. So patients can flick through and decide which grill they’d like to have.”

  Dr. McGuire got to his feet and walked across to the reception desk. He said a few words in a hushed tone to the receptionist, who leaned under the desk and pulled out a file.

  “I’m sorry about having to talk out here,” Dr. McGuire said to Collins. “But we don’t really have an office area, and my dental nurse is prepping for the next patient.”

  Collins nodded. “It’s fine. I’m sorry to disturb you at work. Hopefully we can get this done quickly, and you can get back to your patients.”

  The dentist nodded and opened up the file. “I don’t suppose you know when he would have had the grill fitted?”

  Collins shook its head. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Can you describe it?”

  “I can do better than that,” Collins said and pulled out his mobile phone. He scrolled through the photo app until he found the photograph of the grill that Evie had forwarded to him.

  He showed the display to the dentist. “Do you recognise it?”

  The dentist pulled it towards him. “I see, yes. It’s a gold base, so not one of our top end grills. The top end ones of course are made of platinum. But there is something… Yes, this is interesting. Most people prefer diamonds, but I see this one is a ruby,” he said, pointing at a tiny speck to the right of the grill.

  “Yes, I’m not sure it’s unique,” he said. “If I recall correctly, I’ve done a couple of those. Just a moment.”

  Dr. McGuire started to flick through the pages of the file.

  “Here we are,” he said. “Yes, that’s right. It’s this one. It wasn’t that long ago—only six months.”

  Collins took the file the dentist offered, and compared the two images. The one on his phone and the blown up image the dentist had shown him did look very similar.

  “Are you sure it’s the same one?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s an art, you see, this type of work. Far more interesting than tooth whitening and fillings,” he said.

  Collins allowed himself to feel a spark of hope. “Does that mean you’ll have this on file? You’ll have the patient’s details?”

  The dentist nodded. “We should have. It’s got a reference number. I just need to check that against the spreadsheet of patient references on the computer. I won’t be a moment.”

  The dentist left Collins sitting on a hard plastic chair and headed off to check the computer.

  For want of anything better to do, Collins picked up one of the flyers on the table. It offered twenty percent off tooth whitening for the rest of October.

  Less than two minutes later, Dr. McGuire returned with a huge grin on his face.

  “Excellent, we have him on record,” he said. “I don’t suppose I should really be sharing patients’ records… But as it’s a murder investigation no doubt you could get a warrant anyway.”

  Collins nodded. “Exactly.”

  The dentist shrugged and handed Collins the printout. “That’s the name we have on file. Adam Jonah. And his address. Of course, that would have been six months ago, but hopefully it’s up to date.”

  “Excellent,” Collins said. “Thanks very much for your help.” He nodded at the dentist and started to walk towards the door.

  “Oh before you go,” Dr. McGuire said, “we do have an offer on at the moment. I guess you’re not really a grill man, are you?”

  Collins shook his head.

  “No, I thought not. But there is twenty percent off on tooth whitening this month,” Dr. McGuire said, waggling the flyer.

  “No, thanks,” Collins said and closed the door behind him.

  He couldn’t believe putting bleach on teeth did them any good, and he was perfectly happy with his own slightly off-white colour.

  16

  AS SOON AS COLLINS had phoned the station and given them the name and address of Adam Jonah, Tyler had put in a request for a warrant.

  A few hours later, a small team of officers, including DC Collins and DI Tyler, gathered outside forty-two, Herring Lane, Poplar.

  One of the uniformed officers hammered on the door. They weren’t really expecting an answer, and they were surprised when a young man answered the door.

  He’d clearly only just got out of bed. His frizzy hair stood on end. He blinked as he stood there barefoot and bare-chested.

  He wore a pair of navy tracksuit bottoms several sizes too big for him, and he had to keep one hand clamped on the waistband, holding them up.

  “What’s this all about?” he demanded to know.

  He was shown the warrant, and he stood as
ide to let the officers in, but not without making a hell of a lot of noise as he did so.

  “You can’t just come in here. You’ve got no reason to break in here like this. This is my home.”

  DI Tyler turned to him. “You live here?” The man hesitated, then nodded. “And your name?”

  The man chewed on his lower lip as his eyes darted right then left.

  Tyler crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not a difficult question.”

  The man rolled his eyes. “It’s Kofi. Kofi Ayensu.”

  “Well, Kofi, do you know a man called Adam Jonah?”

  Kofi hesitated, then said, “Why? What’s he done?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you answered the question, Kofi. I don’t like my questions being answered with questions,” DI Tyler said. “You’ll find this will go a lot easier if you cooperate.”

  “I am cooperating,” Kofi said. “Hang on. What are they doing?”

  He pointed at two uniformed officers who were stripping his bed.

  Tyler didn’t answer. “Did you know Adam Jonah?”

  Kofi nodded. “Yeah, of course I do. We share the flat.” He hesitated. “Hang on, why did you say did I know him?”

  His head whipped around taking in all the officers in his flat. Everyone was busy searching cupboards and pulling out drawers. Nobody paid him any attention.

  “He’s all right, isn’t he? Adam?” Kofi asked.

  “When did you last see him?”

  “A few days back,” Kofi said. “But that’s not unusual. I work nightshifts, he works days. Often we don’t see each other for days at a time.”

  Kofi walked away from Tyler and moved through the bedroom doorway. “I don’t understand what’s going on. What’s happened to Adam?”

  “We believe Adam has been killed,” Tyler said, watching Kofi closely for his reaction.

  Kofi’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “No, not Adam.” He ran a hand through his frizzy hair. “Are you sure?”

  “We think the body we found is Adam, but we’ll need someone to identify the body. He’s not been formally identified yet. We’ve been led to believe it is Adam from the grill he was wearing over his teeth.”

  Kofi’s shoulders slumped. “He did wear a grill.”

  Kofi seemed to be about to say something else, when one of the uniformed officers called out to DI Tyler.

  “Sir, I think you’ll want to see this.”

  The officer pulled out a tray from under the bed.

  DI Tyler walked towards him. His eyes focused on the objects on the tray.

  After a moment, Tyler stopped and looked at Kofi. “Are these yours?”

  “So what? Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Tyler raised an eyebrow, then looked back at the collection the uniformed officer was now cataloguing.

  A red cloth lined the tray, and on the cloth, there was a bowl and several white candles.

  What looked like a ball of hair was crammed in beside the candles.

  But what interested Tyler most of all was the fact that the bowl was full to the brim with blood.

  17

  “WHAT DO YOU THINK?” DI Tyler asked. “Do you think he did it?”

  DI Tyler and Mackinnon stood in the darkened room, staring at Kofi Ayensu through the one-way glass.

  Kofi Ayensu stared back. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there.

  Kofi would only be able to see his reflection. The one-way mirror had a reflective coating applied in a very thin layer.

  The only reason Kofi Ayensu couldn’t see them was because the room he was sitting in was very brightly lit, so there was plenty of light reflected back from the mirror’s surface.

  In the room behind the mirror, where Tyler and Mackinnon stood, the glass acted as a window. With the lights dimmed in the viewing room, very little light was reflected, so they had a perfect view of Kofi, fidgeting and chewing on his nails.

  Mackinnon exhaled. “I don’t think he did it. I mean, he’d be some kind of fool to keep the blood laying around if he did. And the flat is definitely not the scene of the murder. The SOCOs have turned the place inside out. There were small areas of blood and a little bit of blood splatter, but nowhere near the amount we would have found if he had killed Adam Jonah there.”

  Tyler nodded. “True, but he could have killed him somewhere else, and brought the blood back.” Tyler shrugged. “Maybe as a sick souvenir?”

  Mackinnon didn’t think so. But it was one of those gut feelings that he couldn’t really explain, and definitely not something that he could rely on when preparing evidence.

  “Okay,” Tyler said, running a hand through his grey hair. “I’m going to go back in. I’ll take DC Webb in with me this time.” Tyler glanced at his watch. “Round two.”

  Mackinnon stayed where he was, ready to observe the interview.

  He checked his mobile and saw a missed call from Chloe. He quickly typed a text, promising to call her soon.

  A moment later, he saw DI Tyler entering the interview room followed by DC Webb.

  As soon as the door opened, Kofi’s head sprang up, and he slapped his palms flat on the table.

  “This is racism,” he said. “It’s just stupid. I would never have hurt Adam. I don’t know what to say to make you believe me, but when I get out of here, I’m gonna find myself a lawyer. That’s right.” He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “Uh-huh. I’m going to get lawyered up, then you better watch your step. This is racism, pure and simple.”

  Tyler didn’t react. He set down the paperwork, pulled out a chair and sat down. DC Webb did the same and they introduced themselves for the purpose of the tape.

  Kofi groaned, leaning back in his chair.

  “It doesn’t look very good for you, Kofi,” DI Tyler said. “Your flatmate has been murdered, and you didn’t even notice he was missing. We’ve found evidence at your flat, including a bowl of blood.”

  “I already explained that,” Kofi said. “We work different shifts. We often don’t see each other for days.”

  Kofi’s shoulders slumped. “You’ve got to believe me. I wouldn’t have hurt him. He was a friend. I’ve known him for years.”

  Kofi chewed on a fingernail. At this rate, he’d have none left. “Look, there was something a bit odd about Adam in the last week or so. He kept going on about how his luck was going to change, how he was going to meet a spirit guide called Mr. X, who had offered to help him.”

  Tyler smirked. “Mr. X? Really? You’re going to have to do better than that, Kofi.”

  There was a knock at the door, and DI Tyler paused the tape then walked across the room to open the door.

  Mackinnon couldn’t see who it was from the viewing room, so he opened the door and stuck his head out into the corridor, just in time to see Collins standing there with a handful of papers.

  Collins looked a little sheepish.

  DI Tyler closed the interview room door behind him. “Shit! Are you sure?”

  Collins nodded. “Yep, she said something about looking under a microscope and seeing nuclei or was it a nucleus? Not exactly sure on that bit. But anyway, she’s one hundred percent positive the blood is from a bird, most likely a chicken.”

  Tyler shook his head. “So we don’t have anything. We have nothing at all to link him to the murder. Apart from the fact they shared a flat.”

  Collins shook his head and took a step back. “No, I’m sorry, sir. The blood definitely wasn’t human.”

  Tyler nodded, then headed back inside.

  Mackinnon ducked back into the interview viewing room.

  Kofi’s eyes followed Tyler around the room, until he sat down.

  “Talk to me, Kofi,” Tyler said. “Convince me you are innocent.”

  “I shouldn’t have to. It’s only because my religion is different from yours. That’s why you are suspicious. I was doing a purification ritual. I’m starting a new job soon. I needed the good luck.

  “You think a purifi
cation ritual is weird? Well, what about all the Christian stuff? You know, drinking Christ’s blood and eating parts of his body. That’s pretty weird to somebody who’s not Christian.”

  “It’s nothing to do with religion, Kofi. We need to find out who killed Adam, and right now, the only suspect we’ve got is you.”

  Kofi shook his head vigorously. “No, that’s not right. Why aren’t you talking to his boss? They had a huge argument last week. He should be a suspect not me.”

  Tyler leaned forward in his chair, and Mackinnon straightened up. This was more like it.

  Kofi saw the interest on DI Tyler’s face.

  He nodded eagerly. “Yeah, he had a huge argument with his boss, and he was sacked last week. It got physical,” Kofi said and nodded. “He’s the one you should be questioning.

  “Adam told me his boss threatened him. He said if he saw Adam round there again, he’d kill him.”

  18

  ALFIE SAT AT THE table with Aunt Erika and Uncle Remi. They sat in silence. The only sound was the ticking carriage clock on the mantelpiece.

  Alfie’s plate was covered with meat stew and mashed potatoes. He felt his stomach roll. He couldn’t eat all this. He was never hungry anymore. But if he didn’t eat that would make them angry.

  Alfie looked up and saw his uncle staring at him with narrowed eyes. Alfie looked away.

  Alfie reached for the salt and sprinkled it all over his mashed potatoes.

  “Not so much salt,” his aunt said. “Why do you need so much? You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

  Alfie bit his lip.

  “Sorry,” he whispered.

  He leaned forward to place the salt back on the table, but his elbow caught his glass of water.

  It seemed to happen in slow motion. The glass tipped perilously for a moment before falling on its side and flooding the tablecloth.

  Alfie’s uncle exploded with rage. He stood up, yanked back his chair, which made a screeching sound against the tiles, and made a grab for Alfie.