Fever of the Bone

CHAPTER 34

Sam rang the doorbell and took a step back, taking in the expansive double front of Nigel Barnes’s house. ‘Doesn’t look like the recession’s hit Nigel yet.’

‘Is he still in banking?’ Carol asked.

‘No, he moved into insurance five years ago. I’ve no idea what that means. Who knows what those bastards actually do?’

Carol grunted. She didn’t want to be here. When Sam had walked into her office and proposed they deal with Nigel Barnes here and now, she’d protested. ‘It’s nine o’clock on a Sunday night.’

‘Exactly. He’ll be off his guard. And besides, we’ve hit the quiet before the storm in the murder investigation. We’re waiting for the guys on the ground to come up with actionable information. We’re waiting for Stacey to find something to move us forward. We’re just sitting around fretting because we can’t do anything to stop this bastard in his tracks. We might as well be out there doing something useful.’ He gave her a sidelong grin. It might have been sexy if she’d been remotely interested in Sam. As it was, she read it as his attempt to get under her guard. ‘Think how nice it would be to hand it to Blake all tied up in a bow, totally out of the blue.’

It had been the perfect line and so here she was. Instead of catching up on her sleep or reading the reports coming in from the divisions, she had Sam’s back on a doorstep on a fourteen-year-old case where they had next to no evidence. ‘He’s not in,’ she grumbled.

Just then a light turned on in the hallway. Sam gave her a triumphant smile before rearranging his face for the man who opened the door.

Judging from the photos in the file, the years had been kind to Nigel Barnes. Forty-three years old and still no trace of grey in the heavy shock of blond hair whose style was reminiscent of Michael Heseltine at the height of his Tarzan reputation. Smooth skin, no bags under his light blue eyes, his jawline still taut. His mouth and chin were too weak, his nose too fleshy, but he’d made the most of what he had. Carol thought he looked as if he’d spent more time in a facial spa than anyone should. He looked politely baffled at the sight of them. ‘Yes?’

Carol introduced them. ‘I’m afraid we have some bad news for you, Mr Barnes. I think it might be better all round if we were to come inside.’

His face seemed to harden. His lips barely moved as he said, ‘You’ve found them.’

Carol dipped her head. ‘Yes. We have.’

‘Where?’ He shook his head, as if he couldn’t take it in.

‘Where you put them,’ Sam said, his voice cold and clipped.

Barnes took a step backwards, instinctively trying to put the door between them. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘What are you talking about?’

Sam stepped forward and put his foot in the doorway. ‘We’d like you to come down to the station with us and answer some questions.’

Barnes shook his head. ‘Are you out of your mind? You tell me you’ve discovered the bodies of my wife and child. And you want me to come to the police station? As if I was a suspect? ‘

‘I never said anything about bodies,’ Carol pointed out. ‘I just agreed that we’d found them.’

Barnes’s eyes narrowed. ‘You said you had bad news. That’s hardly what you’d say if they were alive and well and living in Brighton.’

‘There’s more than one kind of bad news. You’re the one who jumped to the conclusion I was talking about your wife and child. Please get your coat, Mr Barnes. This will all be much easier in the police station than on your doorstep.’

‘I’m not coming anywhere with you.’ He tried to close the door but Sam leaned into it. His muscles were more than a match for Barnes, who had gym bulk but no real strength.

‘You can come voluntarily or I’ll arrest you,’ Carol said.

‘Arrest me?’ He sounded incredulous. ‘I’m the victim here.’ He was still pushing against the door.

Carol rolled her eyes. ‘Nigel Barnes, I am arresting you on suspicion of perverting the course of justice. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Sam, cuff Mr Barnes.’

Barnes suddenly stepped back from the door, catching Sam off-balance. Only a desperate grab at the door jamb saved him from sprawling on the floor. ‘There’s no need for that,’ Barnes said, his voice tight. ‘I’ll get my coat.’

‘Sam, go with him. You are under arrest, Mr Barnes,’ Carol called after him.

It took twenty minutes to get him back to the station and another hour for his solicitor to show up. Carol was so tired she wanted to lay her head on the desk and cry, but at least Sam would be leading the interview. He thought she was doing him a favour because of the work he’d done on the case; the truth was she didn’t think she had the energy to question Barnes properly. The one pleasant surprise while they’d been hanging around was finding Tim Parker’s third attempt at a profile on her desk. As she read it, her smile grew. So that’s what Tony had decided to do with him. She supposed training him to be better was a preferable option to ripping his arm off and hitting him with the wet end, which was what she’d felt like earlier. Trust Tony to find a way through the mess.

And now she had to pray Sam could do the same.

The waiter offered coffee; both women ordered espressos. Elinor caught Paula’s eyes and burst out laughing. ‘Docs and cops - the only people who can drink espresso after dinner and know it’s not going to keep them awake.’

Paula smiled, a lazy smile that spread across her face like jam on a toddler. ‘I don’t usually have something this entertaining to stay awake for, though.’

‘Me neither.’ Elinor drained the last of her red wine and sighed with pleasure. Tonight she appeared to have cast off the weariness of work. Somehow she’d found the time to put her hair up in some complicated pleat and change into an aquamarine silk shirt that made her eyes look like jewels. She was radiant, apparently illuminated from within. Paula thought her skin actually glowed. She felt amazingly lucky. ‘Thank you for making time for this,’ Elinor said.

‘Like you said, we both have to eat. And there’s nothing else I can do tonight except go over my witness statements again till I’m cross-eyed. I’m just glad you were free.’

‘Even Mr Denby has to set the slaves free sometimes.’ The coffee arrived, hot and strong, and they appreciated it in a moment of quiet.

Paula couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a relaxed evening. It was what she’d longed for, but she couldn’t quite let go of the old cop’s maxim: hope for the best, expect the worst. But this time, she seemed to have beaten the house. The conversation had flowed easily between them. They liked the same music, their reading overlapped enough for them to share opinions, they had similar taste in films. They both loved red wine and red meat. Elinor even confessed that she enjoyed the occasional cigarette. ‘One or two a week,’ she said. ‘Last thing at night, with a whisky.’

‘If I could smoke like that, I’d be happy,’ Paula admitted. ‘With me, it’s all or nothing. I want to quit again, but I know I have to work up to it.’

‘You stopped before?’

‘Yeah. I was doing really well until . . . Oh, it’s a long story.’ And I don’t want to tell it unless this starts to go somewhere. ‘The five-second version? A friend of mine - a colleague, actually, but he was my friend too - he got killed.’ And I nearly died too, but that’s where I don’t want to go tonight.

‘I’m sorry,’ Elinor said. ‘That must have been difficult. It’s strange how often the death of people we love brings out the self-destructive behaviour in all of us.’ And she’d left it at that, which Paula had been grateful for and impressed by.

Now, as they finished their coffee and split the bill, there was an unmistakable frisson between them. Paula wanted to touch Elinor’s skin, to feel the electricity flow from fingertip to fingertip. Not that she wanted to rush into anything. She had too many reservations. About herself, not about Elinor.

They stepped out of the restaurant into a vicious swirl of wind. ‘God, it’s Baltic,’ Elinor exclaimed. ‘When did that happen? It was really mild when we went in.’

‘Time flies when you’re having fun. It’s actually Wednesday now.’

Elinor laughed and tucked her arm through Paula’s. ‘You know what I’d really like?’

Paula’s chest constricted. She felt delight, desire and dread combine inside. ‘I’m far too well brought up to guess,’ she said.

Elinor squeezed her arm. ‘I like that you’re not presumptuous. And I’d like for us to get to know each other a great deal better.’

‘Yes,’ Paula said cautiously, wondering where this was going.

‘And I don’t want this evening to end just yet. I know it’s late, but do you want to come back to mine? For a coffee? More conversation?’

They paused for a moment under the canopy of a shop. ‘I’d like that,’ Paula said. ‘I’d really, really like that. But please don’t take this the wrong way. When you say coffee, it would have to be just that. I have to be in the office first thing, showered and alert and in fresh clothes.’

Elinor chuckled. ‘In that case, we’d better go to yours, don’t you think?’ Before Paula could reply, Elinor had pulled her into an embrace. It was an electric moment for Paula. Her body tingled and her ears rang. She heard a soft moan and realised it had come from deep inside her. She wanted the kiss to go on for ever.

When they finally parted, they were both breathing heavily. ‘Oh my,’ Elinor said.

‘Shall we go?’ Paula said, her voice a squawk. She cleared her throat, patting her pockets. ‘We can get a cab.’ She stopped short. ‘Hang on a minute.’ She opened her bag and raked through the contents. ‘I don’t believe it. I’ve left my bloody keys in the office. I was in such a rush not to be late for meeting you . . . I can picture it. They’re sitting on my desk, in front of my computer.’

Elinor shrugged. ‘No problem. It’s no distance to your office. We can walk over and pick them up then get a cab from there.’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘No. And this way I get to see where you work.’

Ten minutes later, they were stepping out of the lift on the third floor of Bradfield Police HQ. The night duty officer hadn’t batted an eyelid when Paula signed Elinor in. It made her wonder just how many of her colleagues used the office for their out-of-hours trysts. ‘We’re down here,’ she said, leading the way but not letting go of Elinor’s hand.

There was a light on in one corner of the office, a desk lamp augmented by the eerie light of Stacey’s monitors. ‘Stacey? Are you still here?’ Paula called in surprise.

‘I’m working that Central Station CCTV footage,’ Stacey replied. ‘You shouldn’t kiss your girlfriend in the lift, it’s on the internal cameras.’

‘Oh shit,’ Paula said. ‘It’ll be all over the intranet tomorrow.’

‘No, it won’t,’ Stacey said absently. ‘I’ve already wiped it.’ She stood up, her head barely appearing over the screens. ‘I’m Stacey,’ she said. ‘It’s nice to see Paula getting a life. That’ll make three of us.’

Paula couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Stacey make such a long speech that wasn’t about ICT. ‘This is Elinor,’ she said.

‘I remember you from the Robbie Bishop investigation,’ Stacey said. ‘You’re the one who spotted the poisons. Very impressive.’

Paula was gobsmacked by this exchange. Did Elinor have this effect on everyone?

‘Thanks,’ Elinor said. She was wandering round the room, checking out the whiteboards, getting the feel of the place. ‘This place has a good vibe. Very grounded.’

Paula laughed. ‘You wouldn’t say that if you were here at nine in the morning.’

Stacey had sat down again behind her screens. ‘Since you’re here, Paula, come and have a look at this. I’ve been working on it for a bit, I think I’ve got something.’

Paula looked at Elinor, checking whether this was OK. Elinor smiled and waved her away with her hand. ‘On you go,’ she said. ‘I’m fine.’

Stacey blanked four of her screens, leaving two live. ‘This one here is the enhanced footage. See, the time here: four thirty-three. Plenty of time for Seth to have got here from school.’ She clicked her mouse and one of the figures moving through the station entrance was highlighted. The others faded into grey background. Another click and everything about the image sharpened and clarified. ‘I think this is Seth.’

‘I think you’re right. Kathy showed me some video of him this afternoon. I’d say that’s definitely him. So where does he go?’

More mouse clicks. Stacey had stitched together shots from several cameras that showed Seth moving across the concourse. He passed the Costa Coffee outlet and then disappeared. ‘Where did he go?’ Paula asked.

‘There’s a blind spot between Costa Coffee and Simply Food. There’s a passage that leads to the car park. I think he met someone and they left together.’

Paula groaned. ‘That is the shittiest luck.’

‘You think?’

‘Well, what else?’

‘Somebody who knows exactly where the cameras are and what they cover.’

A long silence. Then Paula said, ‘That’s a very interesting idea.’

‘I know. The nice thing is that he’s not quite as clever as he thinks he is.’ Stacey tapped some keys and the other monitor sprang into life. A fragment of monochrome video played for a few seconds. Stacey paused it and clicked the mouse. A figure that might have been Seth leapt into relief. ‘I think that’s Seth again.’

‘Could be.’

‘It’s the right area and the right time. OK, it could be practically anybody. But for the sake of argument and right time and right place, let’s say it is Seth. Now look at this.’ Another tap on the mouse button. A second figure was highlighted. Only half of him was visible because he was cut off by the Simply Food storefront. And the shot was from behind him so nothing of his face could be seen. But he definitely had his hand on the might-have-been-Seth’s arm.

‘That’s him,’ Paula said, the heat of the chase suddenly in her head.

‘For all the good it does us. We can probably tell his height and that he has collar-length dark hair, which might be a wig. But that’s all.’

‘Have you looked for him on the rest of the footage?’

Stacey sighed. ‘I know you all think I can do magic, but there are limits to my powers. This is needle-in-a-haystack time. I’ve had a try, but there are just too many possibilities.’

‘Still, at least we can put out an appeal. We can be very specific about where and when. We might get something to go on.’ Paula put an arm round Stacey and hugged her. ‘You are truly brilliant.’ She looked over at Elinor, who was browsing some papers on Kevin’s desk. ‘This woman is a genius.’

‘Someone has to be. It’s always good when they’re on your team. Well done, Stacey.’ Elinor seemed distracted and looked up, a thin frown line between her eyebrows. ‘Is there a reason why you haven’t released the fact that the victims are related?’

For a moment, Paula couldn’t make sense of what Elinor had said. ‘Well, we know the cases are related because of the MO. We’ve said we believe it’s the work of the same killer.’

Elinor shook her head impatiently. ‘No, I don’t mean that. I mean literally related. As in, relatives.’

‘What are you talking about? They’re not related. Why do you say that?’

Elinor held up two pieces of paper. ‘These are their DNA profiles?’

‘If it says so on the lab reports. It’s routine. We DNA-profile all murder victims.’ Paula was halfway across the room, followed by Stacey.

Elinor kept looking from one piece of paper to the other. ‘Well, unless there’s been a cock-up at the lab, these two people are close blood relatives. I’m not an expert, you understand? But I’d say they’re either cousins or half-siblings.’