The Christmas Killer

by Alex Pine

  ‘Well, you can start with that cow Janet Dyer,’ she said. ‘She was really pissed off with him for going to her house yesterday. And if he had ended their relationship she probably wanted to get her own back.’

  Just then the door to the pub opened and a man and a woman entered. James recognised Beth the barmaid and assumed the guy was Josh the chef.

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ Beth said when she spotted Sonia. ‘But all hell has broken out and …’

  She trailed off mid-sentence when she realised that the atmosphere in the room was charged and that her boss was clearly distressed.

  ‘What is it, Sonia?’ she said. ‘What on earth is wrong?’

  It was up to James to put the pair of them in the picture. They were already aware that a body had been found and that was why the police had descended on Kirkby Abbey. But they were shocked to learn that the dead man was Charlie Jenkins.

  James told them the pub would have to remain closed and asked them if they would sit with Sonia for a while. He learned from Sonia that her parents were still alive and living in Leeds, and her twenty-two-year-old daughter, Maddie, was living and working as a nanny in Dubai. Charlie had a mother in York and a brother in Sheffield.

  He asked Beth to write down their contact details and told Sonia that he would make sure they were all told what had happened.

  ‘I want to break the news to Maddie myself,’ Sonia said. ‘I’ll call her.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She nodded. ‘I can’t let a stranger do it.’

  James fully understood where she was coming from. He knew that in her position he would feel the same way.

  ‘I have to go and see what’s going on, Mrs Jenkins,’ he said. ‘But I’ll arrange for an officer to come and stay with you. He or she will answer any questions you have and keep you informed of progress with the investigation. I’ll come back and see you in a little while.’

  She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. ‘You have to find out who did this to Charlie. He was far from perfect, but he didn’t deserve to be murdered like that.’

  James nodded. ‘I promise I will do everything I can to find whoever did this. In the meantime, I’d like your permission for us to go through your husband’s belongings. It’s possible we’ll find something that will provide us with vital information.’

  ‘Do whatever you have to,’ Sonia said, before breaking down in tears again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  There were still dozens of people in the square when James exited The White Hart. They were mostly huddled together in groups or being spoken to by uniformed officers.

  It was much gloomier now, thanks to a threatening mass of dark cloud that hung over the village, looking ready to unleash another pile of snow.

  He picked out one of the uniforms he’d never met before, and asked her to go and stay with Sonia Jenkins.

  ‘Don’t let her out of your sight,’ he said. ‘And call me if there’s a problem. I’ll be back shortly.’

  As he started walking in the direction of the field he heard someone call out his name. He turned to see Father Silver striding towards him after breaking away from a group that included the school’s headmistress, Lorna Manning, and Peter King from the grocery store.

  ‘I’ve been hoping to catch you, Detective Walker,’ the priest said. ‘I think we need to talk.’

  James guessed what was on the priest’s mind. He’d want to know if there was a link between the body and the card delivered to the church.

  Before engaging him in conversation, though, James made sure there was no one else close enough to hear them.

  Father Silver’s face was pinched and solemn. He was no longer wearing the Santa Claus hat and his scalp was shiny beneath what little hair he had.

  ‘How much do you know, Father?’ James asked him without preamble.

  ‘I know that a body has been found in the field on the other side of the footbridge,’ the priest replied. ‘According to rumours that are already circulating, it’s a man and he was murdered. I heard what the woman who came across him said about the blood. Now I want you to tell me if you think it’s got anything to do with the cards we received.’

  ‘It’s too early to know for sure, but I very much doubt it,’ James said. ‘You haven’t told anyone about the messages, have you?’

  ‘Of course not. You asked me not to and I completely understand why. But I would like to know who the victim is. You were seen going into The White Hart just now, so it’s got people wondering if it’s Mr Jenkins.’

  ‘It is,’ James said. ‘I’ve just informed his wife and she’s naturally very distraught. He was out walking his dog when it happened.’

  The priest made the sign of the cross on his chest.

  ‘If it’s all right with you I’ll go and do my best to help comfort her,’ he said.

  ‘By all means. But be aware that she’s a suspect. If she says anything that makes you in the least bit suspicious, you must let me know.’

  ‘Of course, but I have to tell you, Detective Walker, that I’m not as confident as you are that this has nothing to do with the messages in the cards. It seems like too much of a coincidence.’

  ‘But coincidences do happen, Father,’ James said. ‘So why don’t you pray that what we’re dealing with here is exactly that.’

  James carried on towards the footbridge and on the way he met Giles Keegan, who was heading back to the square.

  ‘There’s a uniform on the bridge now so I’m no longer needed,’ Keegan said. ‘But it was a good thing you asked me to go there when you did. I managed to stop two people venturing onto the field to have a look.’

  ‘Thanks for your help, Giles,’ James said.

  ‘You’re welcome. I had a brief chat with DS Stevens who, as you might know, I worked with for a time. I told him to call on me if he feels there’s anything more I can do to help. I hope that was okay.’

  James experienced a jolt of irritation. He wanted to tell Keegan that he should have spoken to him first as he was the most senior officer, rather than the DS. But he held back and said, ‘Of course, Giles. You might be retired but you’re still one of us. Did you know Charlie well?’

  ‘Quite well, I suppose. I’ve been a regular at The White Hart for years. He was an affable guy and we sometimes played cards together. But it’s worth you knowing that he hasn’t always been faithful to his wife. Not so long ago he got caught out having an affair, but she forgave him.’

  ‘Do you think she could have done it?’

  The question took Keegan by surprise and he gave it some thought before responding.

  ‘I suppose it’s possible,’ he said. ‘We both know from experience that everyone has it in them to react violently if they’re pushed hard enough. And it could be that in Sonia’s case she was emboldened by booze. You might not be aware that she has a bit of a drink problem.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Well, it’s been obvious for ages to anyone who visits The White Hart on a regular basis. I lost count of the number of times Charlie told her to go and sleep it off and to stop drinking the profits. It could be quite embarrassing at times.’

  James checked his watch. ‘Look, I’d like to have a longer chat with you, Giles, but not right now. Can we get together later so I can pick your brain? DCI Tanner told me that you know everything there is to know about this village and the people who live here.’

  He grinned. ‘Just call me. You have my number. I live by myself so anytime will be fine. As far as I know this is the first murder ever committed in Kirkby Abbey so I’d like nothing more than to help solve it, even though I’m retired.’

  At the crime scene, a lot had been achieved in a short space of time and SOCOs in pale blue protective overalls were going about their business with grim determination.

  All the snow had been removed from Charlie’s body and the forensic pathologist, Dr Pam Flint, was carrying out a close examination of the wounds.

  Daisy the dog had be
en lifted out of the snow and placed on a blanket.

  About a dozen uniformed officers were carrying out a search of the immediate area and a few villagers could be seen watching from a distance.

  James noticed that the ancient beech tree stood between where the body lay and the rear of The White Hart. He was glad because it meant that Sonia wouldn’t be able to see her husband.

  DS Stevens was watching the pathologist working on the body, and as James approached him, he said, ‘Any joy with the wife, guv?’

  ‘She claims that the last time she saw him was when he took the dog out for a walk just before midnight,’ James said. ‘They’ve been sleeping in separate rooms and when she got up this morning she saw that he wasn’t in his bed and assumed he’d gone out for another walk.’

  James relayed what else Sonia had said and told Stevens about the couple’s marriage problems.

  ‘It got quite nasty over the past couple of days,’ James said. ‘I bore witness to it myself only yesterday, when I saw them having a spat.’

  He described what he’d seen in the alley next to the pub and what Annie said had happened after the school nativity play.

  ‘So what does your gut tell you?’ Stevens asked.

  James shrugged. ‘That Sonia Jenkins might or might not have murdered her husband. She had motive and opportunity, but she seemed genuinely shocked and upset when I told her that he was dead.’

  ‘So is she the only suspect we have?’

  James told him about Janet Dyer and said they needed to find out if Charlie had any enemies.

  ‘I think we should bring in more help,’ Stevens said.

  ‘I agree. Meanwhile, I’ve asked uniforms to carry out a door-to-door along the road leading to the square, to find out if anyone saw or heard anything late last night.’

  James shifted his attention to the pathologist, Pam, who was still crouching next to the body.

  This was the first time their paths had crossed because none of the cases he had so far dealt with in his new role had involved a corpse. But she had a solid reputation and was highly regarded by his colleagues in Kendal.

  He was about to introduce himself when she stood, lowered her face mask, and turned towards him.

  ‘You must be Detective Walker,’ she said. ‘DS Stevens here told me you’re SIO on this case.’

  ‘That’s correct. It’s good to meet you.’

  ‘Likewise. But we’ll save the handshake until later so that I don’t cover you in blood.’

  She had a stern face and deep voice, and James took an instant liking to her.

  ‘So what can you tell us about our victim?’ he said.

  ‘As you’re probably already aware, there are stab wounds to the chest and stomach that were inflicted by a long-bladed knife,’ she said. ‘Either one of them could have proved fatal. There are no obvious defence wounds so I’m guessing he was taken by surprise. It could be that his killer jumped out from behind that tree over there and attacked him. As for time of death, I would say around midnight.

  ‘But these are very much initial observations. I’ll be able to tell you more once I get him back to the mortuary. I’ve asked for the body to be picked up as soon as possible, before the bad weather closes in.’

  ‘What about his dog?’ James said.

  ‘I’ve carried out a cursory examination and can tell you that there are no surface wounds of any kind. The poor thing almost certainly froze to death. I gather the temperature dropped to minus twelve last night and that’s seriously low for a dog that size. I suspect she didn’t want to leave her owner.’

  As Pam crouched down again next to the body, Stevens told James that he had been through the victim’s pockets and all he’d been carrying was a set of keys and a mobile phone. Both items had been bagged and were in the forensic van.

  ‘I tried to check the phone,’ Stevens said. ‘But it’s password-protected so we’ll need to get the techies to have a look.’

  The DS then raised the subject of the message in the Christmas card.

  ‘So what’s our position on it, guv?’ he said. ‘Are we taking the view that this could be the first of a series of murders or do we treat it as a one-off that’s unconnected to the threat?’

  ‘That’s an issue I’m grappling with,’ James said. ‘And I realise that it’s going to seriously affect how we move forward with the investigation.’

  ‘You’re not wrong there, guv. In fact, I’m already struggling to get my brain around it. Take Sonia Jenkins, for instance. I accept it’s quite possible she killed her husband in a fit of rage, but I can’t imagine her sending you that card or the dead partridge. Or threatening to kill a bunch of other people because she believes they deserve to die.’

  James nodded. ‘That’s exactly the problem we’re faced with. So I can only suggest that at this stage we simply follow the evidence. That includes finding out who had a grudge against Charlie Jenkins, and if that person also has a serious problem with other people in this village.’

  ‘That’s sensible, I suppose, but it’ll make things much harder.’

  ‘I realise that,’ James said. ‘But the fact is, the only way we’ll know for certain whether or not we’re dealing with a serial killer is if he or she claims another victim.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When Annie returned home her mind was spinning in circles and she was struggling to suppress an ugly fear that was making her stomach churn.

  The news about Charlie Jenkins had hit her hard. He was someone she had known, the first boy she had ever kissed when they were at school together. She’d seen him just two days ago and had spoken to his wife only yesterday.

  It just didn’t seem possible that he was dead.

  Brutally stabbed.

  Murdered.

  Annie could not banish the thought that he might still be alive if James hadn’t played down the significance of the message in the Christmas card.

  Was it a failure on her husband’s part that he hadn’t taken it more seriously? Should he and his colleagues in the police have acted immediately to ensure that everyone in Kirkby Abbey was made aware of the threat? Maybe then Charlie would have stayed indoors instead of taking his dog for a walk in the middle of the night.

  The parcel with the dead partridge and Christmas card had been left on their doorstep on Friday evening, and around thirty hours later, on Saturday night, Charlie was slain.

  Twelve days. Twelve murders. Twelve victims. And they all deserve what’s coming to them.

  Those words from the message in the card were on repeat inside Annie’s head. It was enough to convince her that Charlie’s death was not a coincidence. And she did not believe for a single second that Sonia was responsible. James was obviously hoping that she was, because then it would prove to be an open and shut case, yet to Annie it was anything but.

  All her instincts were telling her that this was the start of something profoundly wicked. Something that had been planned with the aim of causing a great deal of pain and suffering. A lot of thought had gone into packaging the dead bird and preparing the cards that were sent to James and Father Silver.

  Of course, there were lots of unanswered questions. Why were James and the priest singled out? Why the reference to The Twelve Days of Christmas? Why now? Why here?

  Then there were the two men who had already aroused suspicion. Daniel Curtis and Keith Patel. They were both seen close to the house around the time the parcel was placed on the doorstep. It seemed odd to Annie that Curtis had been lurking outside the school. And wasn’t it strange that Patel had in his home a pack of those distinctive Christmas cards?

  These were all avenues of inquiry that she hoped James would pursue. And she was sure he would. In fact, she experienced a twinge of guilt for assuming he was taking the wrong approach. After all, he was a top rate copper and had investigated dozens of murders while working in London. He knew what he was doing, and who was she to suggest otherwise?

  Thinking about it was making her che
st feel tight so she poured herself a glass of water and sat at the kitchen table.

  There was just too much to process, too much pressure to handle all at once.

  One consequence of these ghastly events was that she was no longer looking forward to Christmas. She decided that when James got home she would tell him that they should cancel his family’s visit. It wouldn’t be fair on them. They should do the sensible thing and tell them to stay safe in London.

  The dark irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her, either. It was beginning to look as though they had moved from one hell to another.

  It seemed inconceivable that within weeks of setting up home in this quiet Cumbrian village a murder would be committed. They had come here to feel safer, and to distance themselves from the likes of Andrew Sullivan and the rest of the scum who made London so dangerous and unpleasant. But it seemed that trouble had followed them, and it looked set to ruin their first Christmas here.

  Annie was still sitting at the kitchen table ten minutes later, wondering what to do with herself during the rest of the day, when her phone rang. She expected it to be James and was surprised when she saw that it was her Uncle Bill who was calling. She had tried to ring him several times after he failed to show up in the square, but he hadn’t answered, so she was in no mood now to listen to any more bullshit excuses.

  ‘Are you deliberately trying to wind me up, Bill?’ she said before he could get a word in. ‘I thought you came here to spend time with me, but you keep disappearing.’

  ‘I know, Annie, and I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  ‘So where are you now?’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing. I’ve done something really stupid and I’ve got nobody to blame but myself.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when I see you. But right now you have to come and get me. Please, Annie. I’ve fucked up and I need your help.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  James spent some time at the crime scene taking notes and snapping photos on his phone.

  He watched Charlie Jenkins being manoeuvred into a body bag while, at the same time, his dog was wrapped in a blanket. They were both carried away from the field to a waiting vehicle.