by Clare Revell
His gaze fell on Isabel. “Did you get those tests done?”
“Yes Guv.” At least she could reply in a positive manner, rather than give him another excuse this time. “I need to fill you in about a development.”
He waved a hand. “You have the room.”
She stood, not having expected that. “OK, umm…”
DI Holmes pointed to the front. “Here, where we can all see you.” He slid into her chair to prevent her sitting down again.
Isabel sucked in a deep breath, shoving down her nerves as everyone’s gaze settled on her. No one ever paid her attention apart from in a vicious way before. What if no one listened or they laughed at her?
Zander shot her a smile. “Just start with last night and go from there, Is.”
“OK. Zander and I got asked to go see the coroner, Arend Van Houten, at the morgue late last night.” She tugged the photos from the file in her hand and passed them around. “Each victim had a small red mark at the base of the skull. Each mark was hidden in the hairline and not immediately obvious. Now, we found syringes at two of the crime scenes.” She held up another two photos. “The second one we found with Esther’s body, and I gave it to Arend to examine. He found it contained Conium maculatum. Poison hemlock. So he ran further tox screens on all the bodies. All of them proved positive. So we have our cause of death.”
DI Holmes frowned. “Don’t they use that in executions?”
Isabel nodded. “Yes. Now we all know this bloke likes his religious connections. He dresses them in baptismal robes, washes their feet, and so on. When I got home last night I did an Internet search on poison hemlock. It was said to be found growing at the foot of the cross, sprinkled with Christ’s blood.” She pulled a print out from the folder.
DI Holmes held out a hand. “May I?”
Isabel handed it over. “The Slayer is also collecting trophies. A necklace that the victim never takes off is missing in every single case.”
DI Holmes glanced over the group. “Now the necklaces weren’t mentioned at the press conference, nor will they be, along with the word ‘guilty’ and the connection with the stolen paintings. They fished for information about that at the press conference but didn’t learn anything concrete from us. I also don’t want the cause of death made public yet.” He stood and moved to the front. “Thanks, Isabel.”
She gratefully reclaimed her chair.
DI Holmes held up a photo. “We have CCTV footage of our killer from the latest crime scene and an approximate height and build.”
Zander cleared his throat. “Sir? Where are Robert and Mark? Shouldn’t they be here for this?”
“I’ll get to that in a moment. Isabel, if you let Harry and Steve have your New Wine and Keswick lists, they will narrow it down to women living in Headley Cross or within a ten-mile radius.” He pointed to the boards in the other room. “As you can see from Isabel’s map, he’s working a set, very tight location. We’re going back to the beginning with this case. I don’t care if we’re in here all day, people, we are reviewing each case.”
Isabel raised a hand. “Sir?”
“What is it?”
“I did have a couple of other things I needed to do out of the office.”
“Whatever it is, will have to wait. Five women are dead. The murderer is still out there and we’re no closer to catching him. The press are going to want answers I don’t have.” He grabbed a pile of folders from the desk. “There is one for each of you.”
Zander took the files and handed them out.
DI Holmes continued. “OK, before we start properly, and yes there will be coffee, Robert and Mark are no longer part of this squad.”
A shocked silence descended on the whole team, only DS Philips didn’t seem surprised. But then as he was the Guv partner, Isabel assumed there wasn’t anything the Sarge didn’t know.
She raised a hand. “Why?” As she asked she guessed it was her fault. Something else she’d done wrong.
“I transferred them out last night. As of today, they are back in uniform and working the streets.” He looked at her, then at the whole squad. “This is my unit. I picked each and every one of you because your unique abilities add to the cohesiveness of my team. If anyone doesn’t like that, there’s the door. You can put your transfer request on my desk.”
“Sir, I…” she began, faltering. “I didn’t mean for…”
DI Holmes shook his head. “Isabel, this isn’t your fault. They were the ones with the issue, not you. Bullying is not acceptable in whatever form it takes. Be that snide comments, refusing to follow orders, or withholding vital information because the person who asked for or needs it is black or white or Asian,” he paused, “or female. Being the only woman on my team is a compliment, not an inconvenience. If you weren’t up to the job, you’d be answering emergency calls.”
He glanced up at the door. “Come.”
A tall woman stood there. “Is this a bad time?”
DI Holmes smiled. “Not at all, ma’am. Some of you may remember DCI Welsh from her time here as DI running this squad before I took over. Right, give me five minutes, and then we’ll start. Zander, you can make the coffee.”
Zander rolled his eyes. “But Guv, that’s women’s work. Do you want me to make the drinks because Isabel can’t make coffee to save her life?”
DI Holmes shot him a black look.
Isabel grinned. “You’ll have to excuse him, Guv. He’s a tad hormonal this morning. He’ll be fine once he takes a couple of pain killers and curls up with a hot water bottle.”
Everyone laughed.
Zander shook his head at her. “Guess I deserved that.”
“Yeah, you did. Oh, and don’t forget the biscuits with the coffee. The good ones. Not those horrid fly cemeteries you insist on buying.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “We have good biscuits?”
Zander stood. “We found the Sarge’s secret stash at the back of the top cupboard yesterday. They’re chocolate ones.” He dashed from the room quickly.
DS Philips tried to look upset. “Is nothing sacred?”
DI Holmes grinned. “Doesn’t look that way, Dane. OK, no one go anywhere. I’ll be back in a bit.”
The new bloke looked worried as the door closed. “Did he really fire someone for bullying?”
DS Philips nodded. “One thing you need to know about the DI. He never says anything he doesn’t mean. And two, he’s fiercely protective of everyone on his squad. He’d readily take a bullet for any of you.”
Austin chuckled. “Three, the Sarge can’t count. Four, never ask Isabel to make you coffee or tea because it’s always ninety-nine per cent milk and horrible.”
Isabel chucked a pen at him. “Five, don’t rely on the bus to get you here for an eight-thirty briefing, because it won’t.”
The door opened and Zander came back in.
“Oh and six, Zander isn’t remotely human until he’s had at least ten cups of coffee in the morning.”
Zander pulled a face at her. “Only ten? I thought it was eleven. Jason, how do you drink your coffee? Other than in a cup.”
“Black, no sugar please.”
Zander nodded. “One neat coffee coming up.” He pointed at Isabel. “And not sure what we’re counting, but seven, don’t annoy this one because she has a very protective partner who has her back.”
She huffed. “Eight, don’t let Zander drive you anywhere. His car has a magnetic attraction to bollards.”
DS Philips laughed. “Seriously, DI Holmes runs a tight ship, but we’re a team. More than a team, we’re a family. Just remember that and everything will be fine.”
~*~
Zander headed back into the outer office to finish making the coffee.
DI Holmes and DCI Welsh exited the Guv’s office.
“Sir,” Zander asked, “can I have a word?”
DI Holmes nodded. “Good to see you, ma’am. I’ll bear that in mind.” He headed over to Zander. “What’s up?”
“Arend redid Isabel’s blood tests at the morgue last night. He said he’d run the tox screen himself. He’s worried she’s been exposed to this hemlock. He said there obviously wasn’t enough in the needle stick to kill her, but it would have been flagged up in her original bloods. I got those results faxed over to him to double check.”
DI Holmes frowned, concern filling his eyes. “Is she OK? Should I send her home?”
“She’s fine, scared and worried, but fine. He’ll ring here once he knows either way.”
“OK.”
Zander picked up the tray. “And thanks for, you know, the other thing.”
DI Holmes nodded. “I’d do it for anyone. Teasing and banter are one thing. What they were doing was something else altogether. Especially withholding information and then trying to blame Isabel for it. It’s reprehensible.” He paused. “So, where are the good biscuits, then?”
Zander laughed. “Top shelf behind the powdered milk that no one uses and is probably out of date.”
DI Holmes reached up and pulled both milk and biscuits down. He checked the milk and then lobbed it into the bin. “Dated three years ago. Slightly out of date. Not as bad as a tin I found in the cupboard at home the other day. That was twelve-years old. What did Isabel need to do today that’s so important? Do you have any idea?”
Zander shook his head. “She’s got this bee in her bonnet about the fire over at her gran’s place. She’s convinced it’s not accidental.”
“Hmmm.” A thoughtful expression crossed DI Holmes face. “See where she’s going with it. It’s probably nothing, but don’t dismiss it out of hand. If investigating it further will help her with grieving then so much the better. But your priority is this case.”
“Sure. I’ll do that later.” Zander hefted the tray.
DI Holmes glanced at him. “Actually, I’ll move everyone back into the squad room. The boards are here, and I’ve had the tip line number routed to a desk here. That way Jason can man the phones and be in on the briefing as well.”
Zander put the tray down. “Sounds like a plan, boss.”
16
Finally everyone was up to date on everything that happened in all five cases.
Zander was beginning to think DI Holmes would instigate a field trip to every crime scene as well. Maybe he still would later on, but he broke the meeting just before twelve.
Zander turned to Isabel. “Hungry?”
“Not really.” She looked back at her pink notepaper.
“Did we cover everything on your list?”
She ran her finger down the sheet. “Umm, New Wine and Keswick are being done. Tip line is covered. Necklaces are done—just waiting on the photos for those. Religious connection to poison hemlock is done. Uh, yeah.”
He frowned and stabbed at the paper with his finger. “Uh, no. What does that say? You should have been a doctor with handwriting like that.”
She angled her head. “It’s called cursive script. Some of us still use it. And it says fire.”
“The one at your gran’s?”
She sighed. “Yeah. But it’s fine.” She scrunched the paper up and tossed it into the bin. “Don’t worry about it.”
He put a hand on her arm. “Hey. The Guv called lunch. Therefore we’re on our time now, and if we want to look into something else we can. Talk to me. What are you thinking?”
“Something just doesn’t add up, that’s all.” Her fingers drummed on the desk top.
“Like what?” Zander moved and perched on the edge of her desk.
“This bloke rents the room at Gran’s. He plugs in all that stuff—phone charger, laptop charger, razor charger, heater, and so on. For one thing, a heater? It’s been in the low eighties for days now. Who needs a heater? And for another, he immediately goes on a three week business trip. With no charging cables. Meanwhile, Gran says nothing to me about taking in a lodger and she would have done.”
“That’s a good point about the cables.” Zander had to acknowledge that much. “And the heater. Unless it also doubled up as an air conditioner. Some of these can be reversed to blow out cold air.”
“The thermostat was set too high. Maybe this bloke was cold blooded, but I doubt it.” She paused. “Where do you keep your charging cables?”
“Phone charger lives in a drawer when not plugged in. The laptop charger lives in the bag with the computer as the battery never lasts more than six hours. The phone lasts a day maybe two depending how much I use it.”
Isabel snorted. “That’s all the time. You don’t ever not have it in your hand.”
“That’s a double negative. Besides, look.” He waved both hands at her. “No phone.”
“Hah! That’s only because the Guv threatened to take them away if he saw any this morning.”
Zander laughed. “True. And the razor charger…”
“You don’t use a razor. I’m surprised you even own one.”
Zander pretended to sulk and rubbed his beard reflectively. “What was this bloke’s name again?”
“Patrick Villiers. I have his statement on file somewhere.”
“Look him up on the national database. See what comes up.”
Isabel typed quickly and frowned as the results came back. “Nothing. He doesn’t exist. No driving license. No national insurance number. No criminal record according to this. No bank account. And the address he gave draws a blank as well.”
Zander reached for the phone on her desk. “I’m calling the FIU. Get them to go over the place again. I’m beginning to think you’re right. This wasn’t an accident.”
Isabel tapped again and peered at the computer screen. “Right. I’m now looking at his original statement on the computer. It says here that he works for…” She broke off. “You won’t believe this.”
“Yes, can I speak to David James, please? It’s DC Ellery.” He covered the mouthpiece. “I’ll not believe what?”
“Leaney Holdings.”
“What?” he repeated.
“Patrick Villiers works for Leaney Holdings. This ties in directly with our murders.”
Zander did a double take. “Don’t jump to conclusions, but yeah that is a connection between this case and the fire. One moment.” He turned back to the phone. “OK, can I leave a message? Ask him to call me as soon as he gets a chance. It’s to do with the death of Mrs. Kowalski. Thank you.” He pressed the cut off call button. “I think you’re wrong. Why would a bloke who goes to all that effort to hide his identity then give his place of work? Makes no sense. Maybe you wrote it down wrong?”
“I’m sure I didn’t.” She rummaged through the sheets on her desk and thrust the paper under his nose. “See? This is his original statement—paper version.”
Zander pointed. “And that clearly says Everett Publishing. Totally different company. Where did you see Leaney Holdings?”
Isabel frowned and looked back at the computer. “Here. But I didn’t type this up. You did. See. It’s got your initials at the bottom of the page.”
“I did?” He frowned. “I wouldn’t make a rookie mistake like that. I must have had my mind on other things. I’d have written it down correctly when I interviewed him.” He redialled the phone. “Either way, he’s a person of interest now, purely because he doesn’t exist. I’m getting a sketch artist up here. You’ll describe this bloke, and we’ll go from there.”
“Thought you were hungry.”
“I’ll order in.”
Forty minutes later, Zander took the last piece of pizza from the open box on the desk. He’d coerced Isabel into eating a couple of slices, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. At least they’d agreed on the description of Patrick Villiers and now had a sketch of him.
Isabel put the sketch of Patrick Villiers onto the board with the photos of the victims. Then she frowned and took it down. “I’ll get another board. At least until we confirm the connection.”
“OK, don’t be long.”
She scrunched her nose. “I will be five foot four and not an
inch longer. You can recycle the rubbish.” She winked and headed from the room.
DI Holmes surveyed the mess on the two desks. “What’s going on?”
“A possible connection between the fire at Mrs. Kowalski’s and our murders. It’s pretty circumstantial at the moment, but Isabel is getting a third board. It beginning to look as if it wasn’t accidental after all. So I’ve asked the FIU to take a closer look.”
“Say that again slowly.”
Zander took a deep breath. “Patrick Villiers, the lodger at Mrs. Kowalski’s that no one knew about, moved in three weeks before the fire. However, the fire began in his room, when his overloaded plug, containing his laptop charger, phone charger, razor charger, and electric heater caught fire. He’d been on a three week business trip—without them.”
DI Holmes raised an eyebrow.
“The same Patrick Villiers, incidentally, has no bank account, no driving license, no car, no record, and the address we have for him on his statement doesn’t exist. He gave his place of work as Everett Publishing. But Isabel found his name on the computer statement as working at Leaney Holdings. Could be a typo on my part as I typed up his statement, but it’d be worth looking into either way.”
“I agree that is a possible connection. And check the place of work. Chances are he was lying about that as well.”
Zander nodded. “Plus which, Isabel said Mrs. Kowalski told her everything and would have mentioned letting the spare room out to a lodger. Which she didn’t.” He held out the paper. “We got the sketch artist up. This is Mr. Patrick Villiers.”
DI Holmes studied it, and then gave it back. “Run that through everything. I want this bloke found. How do you know what he looks like?”
“Isabel and I met him at the house after the fire. His accent would have been pretty easy to fake.”
“Get over to Everett Publishing first. Check with the other staff. Perhaps they’ll have a photograph of him and other details. Then go to Leaney Holdings and talk to the staff about their boss.”
Isabel wheeled the board into the room and set it up by the others. She picked up a pen. “What do I call this one?”
