A Rush of Blood

Fifty-five

‘Two women?’ McGuire repeated.

‘That’s what Ramanauskas said,’ McIlhenney told him. ‘That and a lot more. Whatever went wrong in Tomas Zaliukas’s business life happened last week, for that’s when he sent for his brother. You know, up to now we’ve been looking for this Desperate Dan guy for Linas’s murder, but now I’m not so sure. When I was interviewing Marius I spun him a line about Jonas having taken care of him and of the Gerulaitases, taking revenge for his brother, but now I’m wondering whether it might just be true after all.’

‘But what about the girl’s statement? That points to him, doesn’t it?’

‘The girl was out of her scone, Mario. She might have heard Jonas rowing with Linas, not the other fella. He could have arrived and found him dead already.’

‘Would Jonas be capable of killing him, the way it was done?’

‘Oh, yes. Ramanauskas saw him in action; the two of them had a run-in before, apparently, and Jonas dropped him like a stone.’

‘Mmm,’ the head of CID murmured. ‘The boss did tell us he has a heavy-duty military background. Let’s prioritise him; put out a statement saying that we’re anxious to interview him.’

‘About the murders?’

‘No, let’s not blow it up. Just say we believe he’s in Scotland and need to talk to him about his brother’s suicide.’

‘We could get Crown Office permission to issue his mug shot.’

‘We don’t need it if he’s not officially a suspect. Use the picture, but play down the statement. Say we believe he may be in Scotland but may not know of his brother’s death. That should stop the press from getting too excited.’

‘OK. I’ll brief Royston.’

‘You better be quick,’ McGuire laughed. ‘He’ll be out the door any minute. The boss doesn’t like people whose minds are elsewhere.’

‘True. Where are you, by the way?’

‘I’m sitting in my car outside the Gerulaitis house. I had a text from Frances Kerr, the fire investigator, while I was in court, telling me she wants to see me on site.’

‘Did she say what it was about?’

‘She used the word “development”, but without the vowels. Whether it’s positive or negative, I’m about to find out.’

‘How did court go?’ asked McIlhenney.

‘Routine, as always; no plea or declaration and a remand in custody. No application for bail for us to oppose. Ken Green never showed up, though. The fiscal’s office had to get a duty solicitor to represent our man; not that he needed much. After his chat with us he was dead keen to be locked up.’

‘Funny, so was Marius. I’ve left Becky and Jack to take his statement. We’re going to do him for possession of heroin for the moment. Once Anna Romanova’s fit enough, we’ll put him in a line-up. If she can identify him, we’ll do him for trafficking as well.’

‘Maybe Green will turn up to defend him. I wonder where he’s got to?’

‘He’s probably decided to steer clear of this business. Handling the licensing for massage parlours is one thing; defending a pimp on a police attempted murder charge is something else again. Mario,’ McIlhenney murmured, ‘given what we know now, should we think about going to the court and having those licences revoked?’

‘That’s not our decision, mate; it’ll be for somebody with “Chief Constable” in their rank. But if we do that, we’ll need to be sure we get a result. At the moment, what we know and what we can prove are two different things. The only girl we have in our custody is Anna, and she was kept in Jankauskas’s flat.’

‘True. In that case we’d better find these two women that Marius told us about.’

‘Before they dispose of the witnesses?’ McGuire suggested.

‘I don’t want to think about that. Who do you think they are?’

‘Auntie Aggie and Katey; they have to be.’

‘Who the fuck are Auntie Aggie and Katey?’

‘Did you not read Desperate Dan when you were a kid? Go and look them up. I’m going to pick my way through the ashes.’

The head of CID ended the call, and stepped out of his car. He took a pair of wellingtons from the back seat, pulled them on to replace his moccasins and walked round to the back of the house. Frances Kerr was standing in the garden, smoking a cigarette. ‘Jesus,’ the chief superintendent exclaimed, ‘I thought that would be a sacking offence in your job.’

‘Only if it contaminates a fire scene,’ she retorted. ‘Are you telling me that polis don’t smoke?’

‘This one doesn’t, nor any of his close colleagues. It’s not banned, but our boss disapproves, since we’re all required to be physically fit.’

‘So are we, but smoke’s part of our lives.’ She took a last draw, then ground the butt into the grass. ‘Come on and I’ll show you what I’ve found.’

She led him through the conservatory and into the devastated kitchen, then on, until she came to a door at the far end. It was blackened but intact. She pushed it open; behind it, McGuire could see the remnants of what had been a stair. It had been replaced by a ladder. ‘Follow,’ said the investigator. She took the lead in descending, into a spacious area, brightly lit by temporary lamps.

McGuire sniffed, and at the same moment felt glass under his feet. ‘Wine cellar,’ he said, a declaration rather than a question.

‘Spot on,’ Kerr conceded, ‘or it was. Everything’s gone now, every single bottle has either exploded or had its cork blown out.’

‘But how did the fire get down here?’ the head of CID asked. ‘The ceiling’s almost intact; surely it didn’t burn down the way.’

‘You’re not dumb, big boy, are you? It is possible that sparks dropped through and ignited this area, but that’s not what I think happened. Come on and I’ll show you.’ She led the way across the basement, to a frame where once there had been a door. ‘The dogs found this,’ she told him, as a preamble. ‘They’re worth their weight in Pedigree Chum, those two. Look.’ She stood back, to let him see inside a small chamber. In the centre of its concrete floor was a shapeless black mass, soaked and stinking.

‘This was a storeroom, of sorts,’ she said. ‘We found odds and ends among the debris, including four lengths of melted plastic. . only they were just outside the door.’

‘Plastic?’

‘Yes. They might have been restraints, so your forensic people tell me. Pull-on handcuffs. The one thing I know for sure is that they’d been cut. Now,’ she continued, ‘see that black stuff? When I went over the scene at first I was a bit puzzled by the conservatory. I found the ashes of chairs, and a sofa, old-fashioned wooden furniture, but I didn’t find any upholstery residue. Finally I reasoned that since it was winter, they weren’t using the place, and they’d put all the cushions away somewhere. I don’t think that now. I believe that the couple could have been killed down here, by people who wanted to make it appear that they’d died in a fire.’

‘How? How was it done?’

‘The way I see it, they were tied with those restraints, hand and foot, the conservatory cushions were brought in here and ignited with petrol. It’s the simplest accelerant of all, and that’s what the dogs scented. I’ve looked at the soot on the walls. It tells me that the material was old, and not flame resistant at all. It would have been lethal. As I see it, Mr and Mrs Gerulaitis were shut in here, hog-tied and helpless. The area would have filled with smoke in seconds and they’d have died within minutes. When they were, the room was opened. They were dragged out, the cuffs were cut off them and left where I found them. The victims were then carried upstairs, placed by the locked door and the main fire was started, in the way I’ve described. Meanwhile down in the cellar, the original fire was left to burn, to make us think, as we did until you questioned it, that there was only one seat, upstairs. To make absolutely sure, they should have left the door open at the top of the stairs, but maybe they couldn’t, maybe there was too much smoke, so they took a chance that the floor would burn through, as it did, although not completely.’

‘How did they get out?’

‘I’d suggest that they locked the door behind them and went out through the conservatory. We’ve only found one key, and we’ve looked all through the house.’

‘Jesus. How many people are we talking about?’ McGuire asked

‘Given that there were two victims,’ the investigator replied, ‘you’d normally assume that there were at least two of them as well, but I suppose it’s conceivable that one determined person could have done it. One thing’s certain, though; however many there were, one of them had to have been an expert. The fire upstairs was started in exactly the way I described this morning, by a damp towel placed on exposed wiring. No layman could improvise that. You’re probably looking for someone with a degree, or a qualification in electrical engineering, and with a knowledge of chemical reactions as well, given how they were killed.’ She paused. ‘Or maybe you’re looking for a fireman.’

‘Any suggestions?’

She smiled. ‘None that I know.’

‘That’s brilliant, Frances,’ said McGuire. ‘Would it stand up in court?’

‘Ah, that I don’t know for sure. We can’t put the dogs in the witness box, and we can’t prove that those plastic ties were used on the victims, but we can identify that smoke in their lungs, and show where it came from. Some of it did come up through the floorboards, though; I’ve established that too.’

‘But can you rule out accident?’

‘In my own mind, yes. In the minds of a majority on a jury. . I’d have to wait and see.’