by Clare Revell
“Drove,” Robin said. “We parked just over there. There was us and one other car—a red sedan.” He gave the model name. “The registration plate was filthy, so we couldn’t read it. The back plate was missing. Well most of it. The first two letters are RG which doesn’t really help much.”
“Not really.” Zander scribbled in his notebook. “That’s virtually every single car in town including mine. What time did you get here?”
“Three forty-five. We parked over there,” Robin pointed to a silver sedan. “Let OT out and followed him. He went straight here.”
“And she was dead when you arrived?” Isabel asked.
“Yes.” Bryan spoke for the first time. “That’s when we called it in.”
“What time did you call?”
Robin checked his phone. “Three-fifty. Like I told you a minute or so ago.” He waved the phone under Isabel’s nose to prove what he was saying. “Anyone would think we’d killed her.”
She scowled. “Would you rather do this down the station? Did you see or hear anything?”
“No. The other car left as Bryan rang the nick. I didn’t see the driver.”
“So Bryan rang using your phone?”
“I left mine at home,” Bryan said. “Didn’t think I’d need it, ’sides which, it’s still charging.”
Isabel glanced at Zander. “We’ll pull the CCTV and see what that shows us.”
He nodded and turned to face the two men. “The coroner doesn’t think she’s been dead long.”
Robin angled his head. “Doesn’t surprise me. She was still warm when I felt for her pulse. But we saw how she’d been left so we called it in.” He checked his phone again. “We need to go. We’re due on shift soon.”
“Then go,” Zander said, obviously losing patience with them. “But you’ll both need to come by the station later to give formal statements. Ask for DS Philips. He’ll take them.”
The men nodded, rose, and headed towards the car as swiftly as they could.
Zander waited until they were out of range. He groaned in obvious frustration. “What a pair of absolute numpties. She’s warm when they find her, but they don’t attempt CPR? They just call it in.”
“It’s an obvious crime scene, to be fair.”
“Don’t defend them. That’s beside the point.” Zander shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “If she was only just dead, they could have revived her, or at least attempted it. We know the Slayer is killing girls on site or just before. They probably interrupted him.”
Isabel shuddered at the thought. She put a hand on his arm. “Hey, deep breath. We’ll find him.”
He scowled. “Since when did you become me?”
“Since I grew up and became older than you,” she teased. But even that fell flat. “You need coffee. And lots of it.”
“Tell me about it.” Zander yawned. “And sleep, but neither of those things are happening any time soon. At least, not much before ten or eleven o’clock tonight. And here’s the Guv.”
DI Holmes strode over, a tray of take away cups in his hand. “Morning. What have we got?”
“Coffee, I hope.” Zander took the offered cup. “You have no idea how much I need this, right now.”
“I can guess. That’s why I stopped off on the way here.” DI Holmes handed one to Isabel.
“Thank you, sir. You’re an angel in disguise this morning.”
“You’re welcome. So, fill me in.”
Isabel gratefully sipped the hot liquid, letting Zander do the talking. She could understand his anger with Robin and Bryan. They’d always been idiots and were the instigators of all the trouble in her previous job. Where they led, everyone else followed. Nothing could ever be proved, but she had her suspicions as to why their clear up rate was so much better than anyone else’s.
A uniformed officer came over. “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but the coroner wants a word.”
“Tell him we’re coming.” Zander looked at DI Holmes. “Care to join us, sir?” Not waiting for an answer, he strode over to where the coroner knelt by the body. “What’s up, professor?”
Arend pointed. “She has mud on the hem of her dress. The soles of her feet are also dirty. I’m fairly certain he was disturbed this time. A couple of her fingernails are torn and there is dirt under them.”
Isabel’s gut twisted. By the looks on the other officer’s faces, they hadn’t made the same leap she had.
“Disturbed how?” Zander asked.
Arend glanced at him. “She wasn’t just warm when they found her. She’d only been dead a matter of seconds. He didn’t have time to clean up.”
2
Zander climbed into the car and slammed the door behind him. His hands shook with rage. This bloke should be in custody now. Instead, because of two bumbling beat cops, he was still out there. He hit the steering wheel, letting his anger get the better of him.
Isabel shifted beside him.
How was she so calm? A sideways glance showed him that actually she wasn’t. Something simmered in her eyes. Not wanting to overreact and force her into a meltdown, he reined in his temper. “You OK?” he asked. “Or is that a stupid question?”
“Stupid question.” Her voice trembled for an instant. “Drive to the precinct. The coffee shop opens at seven. I’ll buy. I need more caffeine than what the Guv provided with his coffee.”
“Fine. Not going to argue. It’s going to be a very long day.” He started the car and then fastened his seat belt. “They could have revived her. She needn’t have died.”
“I know,” came the quiet voice from beside him.
He pulled out of the car park violently, wheels spinning and gravel flying in all directions. “Maybe we should go to her parents place first. Then the Three Sixteen. Find out how long she’s been missing. Coffee will have to wait, I’m afraid.”
Isabel drew in a short, sharp breath. “Didn’t you hear me? I said, I saw her on Sunday lunchtime and she drove me home.”
“Where’s her parent’s café?”
“Bath Road, almost in the town centre. It took about ten minutes to walk there from church. It’s called Over the Yard Arm.”
Zander jerked his head. “I know where it is.” He concentrated on driving, glad the roads were still empty. But then it was still early. His stomach growled, but who knew when he’d finally get something to eat.
“Speaking of Sunday,” Isabel’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Why did work page you?”
“Missing kid,” he grunted. “I found her hiding in the woodshed at the bottom of their garden. She wanted to teach her parents a lesson because they grounded her.”
“How old is she?”
“Ten. But I doubt she’ll try that again. If she wasn’t in enough trouble before, she is now.” He pulled into the precinct car park. “It’s no good. I need coffee. Then we’ll head over to do the notification.”
Isabel opened the car door. “I’ll get them. I won’t be a sec.”
“You’ll be several.” He pushed back into the seat, not in the mood for humour.
“Probably.” She jumped out of the car and shut the door.
Zander let out a long slow breath, watching her head down the alley into the shopping centre. Am I missing something basic here? Something that stops these murders being random? Or is this bloke really stalking women and killing them deliberately for their first mistake?
His phone beeped and he pulled it out. “What do you want, Isabel? You’ve only been gone half a minute. Surely you’ve not run into trouble already?” he mused opening the message.
Do you want bacon?
As his stomach growled again, Zander decided that was a stupid question. Normally he’d send back a stupid answer, but this morning that was probably not a good idea. Isabel might just take the no as a literal no and not get him anything.
Yes please.
OK. Three minutes.
Zander reached out and switched the radio on. Perhaps the local Christian music station would prov
ide the much needed comfort his soul required. But before he could change channels the news began.
“This is Pat Wallace with the news at seven o’clock. Police have found the body of a young waitress in Howth Park. Believed to be the fourth victim of the Prayer Slayer, the dead woman was found by two off-duty police officers shortly before four AM. Her name hasn’t been released yet. However, she did work and live locally.”
“How the heck did they find out so fast?” Zander thumped the steering wheel and grabbed his phone from his lap. He punched the screen hard as he dialled. As soon as the call connected he began speaking. “This is DC Ellery, Thames Valley CID. I need to speak to the station manager or whoever is in charge. Now.”
~*~
Isabel waited for a minute for Zander to open the car door, but he was busy talking on the phone. She set the takeaway bag and cups on the car roof and did it herself.
Zander’s angry voice assailed her. “My name, as I’ve told the previous five people I’ve spoken to, is Detective Constable Ellery, Thames Valley Police. I need to speak to whoever is running your shambles of a radio station newsroom this morning, before I come down and arrest every last one of you for obstructing an investigation!”
Isabel held out the cup and bag, only to have a finger waved at her. Fine. Leaving him to his snit and rant, she flipped back the top of her coffee and took a long drink.
“No, your news report about the body in Howth Park! I want to know where your information came from.” Zander’s angry voice grabbed her attention again. “I am listening to the news now.” He scowled. “Really? Well I suggest you check your sources a little more carefully and make sure you confirm any information you receive with the senior investigating officer, i.e. me, first. Before you broadcast it to the world. Otherwise, you might find we don’t share any information with you ever again. And that is no threat, Ms. Jones; that is a promise. Why? Because thanks to your ineptitude, her relatives will have learnt of her death on the news!” He ended the call and tossed his phone into the space between the seats. “Can today possibly get any worse?” He snatched the cup off the dashboard and ran his fingers over the tall red and silver object in his hands. “New cups?”
“Yes, I splashed out and bought reusable ones. We save twenty-five pence on each coffee this way. It’ll take about twelve coffees and the cups have paid for themselves.”
He took several long gulps.
“What’s up?”
“It’s hit the news.”
“Already?”
“Apparently the body of a waitress was found in Howth Park just before four AM by two off-duty police officers. Oh, and get this. It’s already been attributed to the Slayer because of similarities between previous murders.” He unwrapped the bacon roll and took a huge bite.
Isabel coughed as coffee went down the wrong way. “You’re kidding? The only people who know that are—”
“Cops,” he interrupted, mouth full of bacon. “Along with the coroner, and he won’t say anything to the press because it has to come from us.” He started the car. “Ring the Guv. He can deal with it. I might just knock those two morons into the middle of next week if I see them.”
“You and me both,” she muttered. “But you don’t want to do it?”
“Hit them or call the Guv? I have two exams today. I don’t have time to deal with an assault charge as well. And you know full well using a phone and driving is illegal. I don’t have time to get arrested today, either.” He placed his cup into the cup holder in the middle of the car. Taking another bite of roll, he pulled from the space.
“You know you shouldn’t eat and drive either,” she chided. “Mind you, at least you won’t spill it like you do if you drink and drive.” Not even that got a smile. She turned her attention to the phone, finding the Guv’s number and hitting call.
“Think you’re funny?” Zander asked.
“I’m trying.”
“Very trying,” he muttered.
The call answered on the third ring. “Holmes. What’s up, Zander?”
“It’s Isabel, sir. Zander’s driving. We have a problem. It’s on the news already. The body of a waitress found by two off duty cops, looking to be the work of the Slayer.”
“What?” DI Holmes growled.
“Yeah. Zander rang the station but all they’d say was a source. We’re doing the notification now. Starting with her parents, then the Three Sixteen, where she worked.”
“What time does Zander need to leave?”
“Eleven as the first exam is at twelve. Then he’s gone all day. But I can handle anything that crops up, and if I can’t then I’ll ask for back up.”
“OK. Leave the radio station to me.”
“Will do.” Isabel gripped the overhead handle as Zander swung sharply into Bath Road. This was why she hated going anywhere by car. No control over what happened. OK, the same could be said of a bus, but at least that was bigger and less likely to…
Thought vanished as blue lights flashed up ahead. “Guv, we have to go. There are blue lights up ahead. Something’s going on.” She ended the call as Zander pulled up outside the café. Two marked cars blocked the road outside. “You are kidding me.”
“Wish I was,” he muttered. He leapt out of the car and slammed the door.
Isabel scrambled to catch up. “Zander, wait.”
Zander shoved the door open, ignoring the closed sign.
“We’re closed.” The man’s voice trembled, raw emotion clearly evident in his eyes.
Isabel’s heart ached for him and the sobbing woman beside him. Brit’s parents. The two uniformed officers beside them were the men from the park earlier. Why didn’t that surprise her? She pulled her ID from her pocket. “I’m DC York, and this is my partner DC Ellery.” She jerked her head at Robin and Bryan. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”
Zander scowled at them. “A word. Over there.” He jerked his head at the other side of the room, waiting until the two uniformed officers moved before following them.
Isabel turned. “Mr. and Mrs. Yardley?”
Mr. Yardley glared at her. “If you’ve come to inform us about Brit, you’re too late.”
“I’m really sorry for your loss.”
“Don’t bother. It’s your fault.” He spat the words at her.
Taken aback, Isabel stood her ground, mind whirling. Her stomach twisted. She didn’t need anyone else to point the finger at her. She felt guilty enough as it was. “My fault?”
Mr. Yardley rose, finger stabbing the air between them. “Yes. Your fault. She took you home on Sunday. She never came back.” He took several steps towards her. “Get out!”
Not wanting to go face to face with the angry man and inflame an already bad situation, Isabel turned on her heel and left the café. His words echoed in her mind, repeating the same thoughts she’d had since they’d found Brit by the side of the lake. Her fault.
Zander came outside. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Isabel sucked in a deep breath, meant to be calming, but only served to make the turmoil within her ten times worse. She headed to the car, the drizzle matching her mood, struggling to contain the grief and loathing. She rubbed a hand over her face, and then moved it through her hair.
Zander followed her. “Isabel? Where are you going? I need you in there.”
She shook her head. “Her parents don’t want me there. If I stay it’ll just make things worse than they already are.”
He pressed the car keys into her hand. “OK. Stay here.”
Isabel unlocked the car and climbed in, not looking at him. As he walked away, she let the tears fall, for Brit, for her parents, and for the other victims they had failed by not catching the bloke.
Zander returned five minutes later and shoved a tissue into her hand. “The Guv can deal with that too. I’m pretty sure those clowns rang the radio station.” His jaw was set and his eyes glittered, anger just under the surface. “Let’s go to the Three Sixteen and hopeful
ly get there first. You got the car keys?”
Isabel handed them to him. “Here.”
He shoved them into the ignition. “So what happened back there? Why’d you walk out?”
“Her father blamed me. Told me to leave. Figured it was best that I did.”
Zander started the car. “It’s not your fault. I already told you that.”
“Brit took me home and never came back. Whichever way we look at this, Zander, I was probably the last person to see her alive. That makes it my fault.”
~*~
Zander parked outside the Three Sixteen. Fortunately there wasn’t a uniformed car or officer in sight. Just as well, because he seriously would be in danger of decking the next person, cop or not, who interfered in his investigation. He sent the Guv a text, then turned to Isabel. “OK, you’ve had your twenty minutes pity party. Now you woman up and do your job.”
Isabel raised an eyebrow, her face splotchy and her eyes red. “Woman up?”
“The female equivalent of man up. This was not your fault. The chances are she went home or saw a friend or something, rather than go back to work at her parent’s café. You said it was her day off.”
“Yeah.”
“So, take a deep breath, wipe your eyes, and let’s go to work.”
She pulled down the sun visor and peered in the mirror. “I look dreadful.”
“No change there, then. Blame your mascara or something.”
He gave her a minute to pull herself together and fix her face with something from her handbag. “That’s better. Done?”
“Yes.”
“Goodo.” He got out of the car and headed to the café. It was already busy and not yet eight o’clock.
Paula glanced up from clearing the one empty table in the room. “Morning.”
Zander didn’t return her cheery smile. That was beyond him right now. “Paula, can we have a—”
She didn’t give him time to finish his sentence. “We were really sorry to hear about Mrs. Kowalski, Isabel. I know how fond of you she was.”
Isabel blinked, biting her lip. As usual the mention of her gran’s death sent her sideways. To her credit, she recovered quickly. “It was mutual.”
