by Clare Revell
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Help with the wake and so on. I’m more than happy to provide the sandwiches. And I can round up the ladies who make cakes for church functions, so you won’t need to worry on that score. And it won’t cost you a penny either. We do it for love, no other reason.”
“Thank you. That’s really kind of you.”
Zander tried again. “Paula, can we have a word someplace quiet?”
She shook her head. “I’m actually really busy. Brit’s late again and—”
Zander interrupted. “It’s about Brit.”
Paula froze and only Zander’s quick save prevented the tray of crockery sliding to the floor. “No.” The gasp turned into a whisper. “The waitress they mentioned on the radio. Was that her?”
“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Zander set the tray back on the table.
“Yeah, this way.” Her voice trembled. “We’ll go into the office.”
Zander and Isabel followed Paula into the kitchen, where they collected her husband and café chef, Trevor, and then headed into the office.
“The waitress was Brit, wasn’t she?” Paula asked, sinking into a chair.
“I’m afraid so. Her body was found earlier this morning.”
Paula covered her face with her hands.
Trevor put a hand on her shoulder, also visibly moved.
Zander gave them a couple of minutes to assimilate the news. “Other than that, we know very little right now. The radio told you most of it.”
“I don’t understand. She was always so careful. She never took a ride or even had a drink with someone she didn’t know. How could this happen?”
“That’s what we aim to find out. When was the last time you saw her?”
“Saturday night. She worked until close.”
Trevor pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Lia. Best she hears this from me rather than anyone else. Those girls were close.”
Paula nodded as Trevor stepped to the other side of the room to make the call. “She left around eight. She didn’t have plans for Sunday other than church, but she wasn’t there.”
“Did she have a boyfriend?”
“She was seeing Ivor Jones from church, but not sure how serious it was.”
Zander wrote the name down. He’d get Isabel to talk to him today. Normally he’d go, but he had other things to do.
“I really can’t believe this is happening.” Paula grabbed Trevor’s hand as he ended the phone call and sat beside her once more. “What did Lia say?”
“She’ll come in as soon as she can. She’s pretty upset. Jordan’s with her though.”
“That’s good. Brit was one of the best.” Paula wiped her eyes. “She never did anything wrong. Can I ask something? The radio called him the Prayer Slayer. Said that all the girls are left as if in prayer. Is that right?”
“Yeah.” Zander chewed his bottom lip. “But I really can’t discuss details with you.”
“Fair enough.” Trevor eyed him. “But Brit makes four. What are you people doing to catch him?”
“Everything we can,” Isabel said. “And we’re as frustrated as you are that he’s still out there. Did Brit have any holiday booked for the summer?”
“She was going to New Wine. The second week, same as always. She loved going there. She sometimes went to Keswick as well but couldn’t afford both this year.”
Zander raised his gaze and caught Isabel staring at him.
There was the link they were expecting, but didn’t really want to hear.
~*~
Back in the car, Zander reached for his seatbelt. “Get back to the New Wine organisers today. We need a list of everyone attending week two from this area. This is too much of a coincidence now to be random.”
“Sure.”
“Actually, just get a list of everyone going. I’ll draft in a couple of the others to help sort them into the right age and sex bracket. I also want you to track down the boyfriend, Ivor Jones, and see if he saw Brit after she dropped you home on Sunday morning.”
“Will do.”
He frowned as she rubbed her wrist again. She’d been doing that on and off all morning. “What’s up with your arm?”
“Hmmm? Oh, it’s nothing.”
Zander reached out and pushed up her sleeve. His heart sank at the bruises. “That isn’t nothing, Isabel. Who did that? Or is that a stupid question?”
“I already told you, I saw Farrell at lunch on Sunday. He wanted information about the paintings. I refused to give him any. He didn’t like that answer.” Her smile was tight and unyielding. “You don’t say no to him.”
Zander glanced heavenward and back. “You have to report him now, you have no choice. That’s assaulting a police officer as he was asking you about a current investigation. Or if you decide to be stubborn, and won’t press charges, then let the Guv have another word. A proper one this time. Make it official at least.”
“I told him as much myself.”
“Then do it. Think like a cop for once and not a woman in love.”
Isabel rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not. I stood up to him. It won’t happen again. So there’s no point.”
“There is every point, woman! Men like that don’t stop simply because you asked him nicely.” He sighed, exasperation making his temper even shorter than it already was. “Either you tell the Guv or I will.”
“You have an exam to get to. Then you’re out all day, so you can’t.”
“Exactly. And I need to head over there now. But I’ll drop you off first. You’ll have to tell him.”
“I have a list of things to do as long as my arm,” she objected. “I don’t have time for a heart to heart with the Guv.”
Zander shot her the do-as-your-told look that his previous partner had used on him many a time. “You’ll tell him or I will. And that’s a promise, not a threat by the way.”
“Fine. I’ll do it. Once I get in. I have other things to do first that are way more important.”
He deepened his scowl. She could be so infuriating at times. Farrell Vixen was a menace and one of these days he’d really hurt her. But she just couldn’t see it. “Promise me, Isabel.”
Isabel hefted a huge sigh them offered him her little finger. “Want me to pinkie promise?” As he shook his head, she dropped her hand. “OK. Drop me at Ivor Jones’ place. I’ll talk to him, and then go back to the nick.”
“And how will you do that?”
She fished in her bag and waved her travel wallet at him. “Have bus pass, will travel. You know you ought to try travelling by bus sometime. It’s fun.”
3
Isabel gave Zander a quick hope-the-exams-go-OK hug before he dropped her off at Ivor Jones’s home. She was certain that he breathed a prayer under his breath, just as she did. If he passed his exams, then he’d be looking for a sergeant posting. That meant since he could go anywhere, he might consider leaving here. Their squad already had a DS and didn’t need a second. She didn’t want that. She liked working with him. He was the one person who always had her back, even if he did nag like an old woman at times.
She’d caught Ivor just as he was leaving for work. The interview proved a total waste of time, but at least she could mark it as done on the list of jobs Zander had given her. She hopped on the bus to return to the nick, trying not to think of Zander’s possible career move.
The squad room was empty, for which she was grateful. She was tired of the comments that being the only woman in the squad garnered. Most days it seemed they were all against her, Zander, the Guv, and the Sarge being the only exceptions. Another reason she didn’t want her partner transferring anywhere.
Isabel dropped her bag into the bottom drawer of her desk and eased into the chair. She grabbed the phone and dialled the number written on the pad beside it.
“New Wine, Rebecca speaking. How can I help you?”
“This is DC York from Thames Valley CID. I was wondering if you could send me a list of everyone who’s registere
d for week two of the convention this year, please? I spoke to a,” she checked the sheet on the desk, “Simon Gardener yesterday, and he assured me it wouldn’t be a problem. I could get a court order, but that takes time we don’t have.”
“I’m afraid that information is protected, and we can’t—”
Isabel rolled her eyes and cut the woman off. “That’s fine. I’ll get a court order.” She slammed the phone onto the receiver. Sighing heavily, she shoved the chair backwards as she headed towards the DI’s office. A court order had to go through him. Halfway there, her desk phone rang. She shook her head and turned back towards the desk. Grabbing the phone, she took a deep breath. “DC York.”
“This is Simon Gardener from New Wine. I can give you that list you were after now. Would you prefer fax or email?”
“Both, please.” She gave him her contact details.
“I’ll see to this now. If you don’t receive them within half an hour, please let me know.” He gave her his direct number.
“I will. Thank you.” Isabel hung up. No sooner had the phone settled, than it rang again. “DC York.”
“Isabel, this is Arend Van Houten. Just wanted you to know I’m doing the postmortem at three.”
“I’ll be there, thank you.” Isabel hung up again. She glared at the phone, almost daring it to ring once more. When it didn’t, she took a deep breath and glanced into the DI’s office. He sat behind the desk, reading a file. She’d promised Zander she’d talk to the Guv about Farrell, but speaking to him really was the last thing she wanted to do.
Asking for help was a whole other kettle of fish. To her, it was a sign of weakness. She hadn’t survived ten years in the care system to be weak and dependant on others now. If one was weak, one didn’t survive. Simple as that. But both men had offered to help her. And she had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Zander had a point. Warning Farrell off herself hadn’t worked. So maybe…
Summoning up every ounce of courage she had, Isabel walked to the Guv’s office and knocked.
“Come.”
Isabel opened the door. “Sir, can I have a word?”
DI Holmes closed the file and leaned back in his chair, giving her his full attention. “Sure, have a seat.”
Isabel closed the door and stood in front of the desk. “It’s about Farrell…”
DI Holmes indicated the chair again. “Please, sit down.”
She perched on the edge of the chair. “This isn’t easy, I, uh…” She picked at a nail. Maybe she should just not bother him at all.
“Take your time. Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”
“Please. Milk and two.”
DI Holmes rose and crossed the room. “Did Zander get off OK?” He poured two cups.
“Yeah. Just after nine or thereabouts.” She accepted the cup the DI offered. “Thank you.”
DI Holmes settled into the chair beside her. “So, Farrell.”
“He accosted me on Sunday after church. He wanted to know if it was true his paintings were found at the murder sites. He grabbed my arm hard when I wouldn’t give him the details of the case.”
Concern flickered in her boss’s eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
“It’s a bit bruised. I’d have got the arnica cream on it if I hadn’t been suffering from the migraine. But I needed to go home and sleep.”
“Show me.”
She pushed up her sleeves. “Zander wants something done. He’s afraid something bad will happen to me if things continue this way, but he won’t say as much. I don’t want him risking his career by doing something stupid like decking Farrell.”
“It’s not up to Zander.”
“I promised him I’d talk to you.”
DI Holmes shook his head. “It’s not up to Zander,” he repeated. “Or me. What do you want to happen?”
Isabel looked at her fingers. She’d torn the nail clean off, almost to the quick. “I want Farrell to stop,” she said finally. “To leave me alone. To accept that whatever we had is over. I keep seeing his car everywhere. Or at least I think it’s his. He never leaves it where I can see the number plate.”
DI Holmes pulled over a pad of paper. “OK, let’s do this properly. Do you want to make a formal complaint against him?”
Isabel looked at him, worrying another fingernail. “I want him to realise it’s over between us, but I don’t want it to get ugly, and make things worse. I told him on Sunday that this was assaulting a police officer and did mention pressing charges, but I don’t want to mess up this investigation if I can help it. Maybe if we issue a PIN. I’ve issued several of those while on the beat. Nine times out of ten they work.”
“A Police Information Notice is a good place to start. We tell him that his behaviour is unacceptable and that you don’t want it. That you’ve made us aware of the bruises and harassment and if he doesn’t stop, we’ll take things further. Zander and I can deal with any contact with him during the case.”
Isabel nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’ll deliver it myself this afternoon. Hand it to him personally.” DI Holmes’s pen hovered over the paper. “Sure?”
She nodded. “Yeah.” Ten minutes later it was done, and she signed the bottom of the sheet.
DI Holmes glanced up at her. “How are you settling in here?”
Slightly surprised at the abrupt change of subject, Isabel went with it. “Enjoying it.”
“But?”
“No, buts…” Well there were, but she wouldn’t dob the whole squad in. She knew what happened to a grass who ran to the DI at the slightest little thing. That sort wouldn’t be her.
“Isabel?” His gaze suggested he knew more than he was letting on, but it wouldn’t come from her.
“It’s just—what if Zander passes the exam? He’ll be leaving.”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.”
She nodded. “OK. I also spoke with Ivor Jones, Brit’s boyfriend. He couldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. He hadn’t seen her in over a week. He’d been working long hours and so had she. I’ll let you see the report as soon as it’s typed up. The autopsy is at three, so I’ll be out of the office just after one as it’s a couple of bus rides away, and I have a few errands to run on the way.”
“Do you want me to come?” DI Holmes asked. “I could drive.”
Isabel shook her head. “I have to do it alone at some point. Besides, I told Zander I could cope with whatever came up today, and I don’t want to let him down. Aside from that, I have a huge list of all the people going to New Wine this year I need to go through. We figure he’s going after women in the local area, so I want to limit it to a fifteen-mile radius of Headley Cross to start with.”
“I’ll get Robert and Mark to help. It’ll take you a month of Sunday’s otherwise.”
She wanted to refuse, but didn’t dare. “OK.”
DI Holmes stood and strode to the door, flinging it open. “Robert, Mark. Here a sec.”
“Guv.” The two men entered the office rapidly, looks of distain crossing both faces as they saw Isabel.
“I’m assigning you to help Zander and Isabel with the Slayer.” DI Holmes spoke rapidly. “The more people we have tracking him the better. Isabel will fill you in, but for now there is a list of New Wine attendees that needs sorting through and narrowing down.”
“New Wine? Is that some kind of wine tasting club?” Mark asked, a huge smirk on his face.
“No, it’s a Christian convention,” DI Holmes began.
Shivers ran down Isabel’s spine. She knew where this was going even before the Guv had finished speaking.
“All the murdered women were booked to attend this year. Isabel needs help culling the list to women who live locally. She can give you copies of the sheets and tell you exactly what she needs. Off you go.”
Isabel headed over to her desk, dreading the next few minutes.
“See, even the DI doesn’t think she can cope,” Mark started. “A woman has no place
here.”
Robert nodded. “Bet we can solve it in five minutes flat. Give us the list, we’ll do it.”
Mark’s phone rang. “Yes.” He listened and looked at Robert. “It’ll have to wait. That cute traffic cop who made eyes at us yesterday? Marie Someone with the blonde hair? She needs our assistance with something.”
Both men dashed from the room.
Isabel shook her head, flopped down into her chair, and let her hands thud on the desk. “Very well. I can do this myself.” She clicked a few keys on the computer and opened the email. Thirty seconds later it was downloaded and opened. She raised her eyes heavenward. Forty-seven pages, each with at least twenty-six names per sheet, if not more.
She sucked in a long, deep breath aware of DI Holmes watching her from his office. His fingers were tapping on the desk, and his eyes smouldered. Maybe he’d seen the whole exchange. After all, his door was open, and the voices carried when the room was empty. Even when the door was shut, the glass panel meant he could see everything.
But she could do this. Isabel drummed her fingers on the desk, trying to remember her spreadsheet class in school. Yes, it was years ago, but the knowledge was there somewhere. She just had to tap into it.
Finally, after a good two hours, Isabel hit save, gave the edited file a new name, and then printed the revised document. She emailed the new document to herself and Zander, wanting it backed up to keep it safe. Once the twenty pages had been printed, she placed them in a folder and left it on her desk.
Glancing at her watch, she realised it was almost one-fifteen, and if she didn’t hurry, she would miss the bus. And she hated being late.
~*~
Zander stood in the hallway, coffee in hand. Around him milled all the other officers sitting the exam. Some were chatting, others like him, were just lost in their own thoughts. The first exam had gone OK. Aside from the question on hostage negotiation, which he’d been afraid would come up. He hadn’t exactly fudged that one, but knew his answer wouldn’t be right or by the book.
He’d been tempted to lie, to give the answer he knew the examiners were looking for, but he hadn’t. Instead he detailed the reasons for his response. Letting out a deep breath, Zander leaned against the wall and sipped the coffee. He’d failed the whole thing on the basis of that one answer and he knew it. So why was he still here?
